There's people that want food and water, not dick up their ass. Your friends are playing stupid with me like those fucking idiots at UCF that think their getting away. Psychics that like to chase tail and live wild fast and free end up chained forced to produce heirs for Walt Disney. Release them or I'm sending Knonivore in like I did the CW. I'm sure Sophie Turner might be able to tell me where some of them are for a lesser punishment. Not that leather doesn't feel good compared to living in heat or cold.

Aurors blasted their way into Umbridge's house and found her hiding in a small, hidden room by using the spell Homenum Revelio.
She was surrounded by dozens of plates featuring cats and had rows of neatly stacked tins of cat food, which she appeared to have been eating for sustenance. In the corner of the room was a litter box. Oddly enough, however, there were no actual cats to be found.
The Aurors quickly disarmed her, magically bound her, and hauled her off to the Ministry of Magic to be placed in a holding cell until she could be arraigned.
Two days later, she was brought before the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shackelbolt, looking slightly unkempt and tired. The entire Wizengamot, which had been noticeably thinned out since Shacklebolt had removed several members for their own crimes and/or bribery, was also in attendance.
She looked around the room and tried to find somebody who could be either an ally or someone to whom she could shift the focus, and therefore, possibly, the blame. Finding no one to fit such a criteria, she fixed her face into a contrite image and looked around at the people who were there and pled for mercy. When it became apparent that mercy was in very short supply for those in her position, she immediately claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse.
In an instant, Minister Shacklebolt's composed disposition shifted from being reserved to completely unfriendly. In a short, clipped tone, completely opposite of his typical warm, soothing, deep voice, he gave her the option to either take Veritaserum right then and there or she could go for a psychological evaluation, which was to be conducted at the Janus Thicky Ward at St. Mungo's.
Umbridge balked at the thought of being stuck in "lunatic land". That was, of course, until the Minister mentioned that being stuck under the Imperius Curse for such a prolonged time, as she was claiming, could have some serious effects on her mind. She quickly decided to keep up her pretenses and immediately agreed that she should "at least be checked out by a professional healer."
Shacklebolt issued a two week recess for the Wizengamot in relation to her case. She began to argue the time frame when he gave her a sharp look and she furiously shut her mouth. He reiterated the two week time frame and continued on to say that when they reconvened, they would hear the Healer's testimony regarding her claims and mental status.
Two Aurors, Savage and Williamson, had taken post on either side of her. Savage held her by her left arm while Williamson pulled out a white handkerchief. He secured her right hand in his and then Savage took hold of the other end of the handkerchief. As soon as he did, the portkey activated and deposited the three of them into a secure room in the Janus Thickey Ward.
After a brief intake, Healer Ashborn entered the room to remove the newest resident's personal clothing and effects and to have her put on hospital issued clothes, which were a drab, dingy grey colour. Umbridge pinched the material between her forefinger and thumb before raising it up to eye level and informing the Healer that she refused to put on something so colorless and disgusting. Healer Ashborn donned a nonchalant smirk and informed her that if it was not done willingly and swiftly that she would have no other choice but to Evanesco her personal belongings to the hospital rubbish bin and charm the hospital clothes on with a sticking spell for good measure.
Less than 2 minutes later, she was dressed and being escorted by the Aurors to her bed, which was surrounded by silver framed dividers with pale blue cloth to block the view of the neighboring beds.
As the Aurors turned their attention to make some notes on their paperwork, Umbridge made a sickly sweet noise as she cleared her throat. "Hem-hem. Am I not being given a private room?" She let out a childish giggle.
The Aurors looked at her incredulously, then at each other. Finally, Auror Savage spoke up, "Private rooms are not given to possible war criminals."
Scowling, Umbridge scoffed loudly and said, "Well, I never! I will be writing a letter to the Minister of Magic about this."
Auror Williamson spoke up then, "You think we don't take our orders from the Minister regarding this? You writing a letter won't change anything."
"How dare you! I am Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister -"
"Not anymore, you're not " Auror Savage said coldly, effectively cutting her off. "You are a person on trial for war crimes and a provisional resident of the Janus Thicky Ward due to your claim of being cursed. Now, you have been magically bound to be within 5 feet of your bed, meals will be brought to you, and a member of the staff will escort you to the lavatory. You are not permitted to have a wand and that cuff on your wrist is a magic binder. Since we have completed our duties, we shall now take our leave. The Chief Healer will see you tomorrow morning. Good day, Ms. Umbridge."
She pointed a finger at them while trying to maintain her calm and hissed "Now see here. You cannot just leave me here with all these crazy people, especially while bound with no magic." Her right eye twitched.
Auror Williamson raised his eyebrow at her while he took out the white handkerchief. He held it out to his partner, and, after Savage had taken hold, he activated the portkey without saying another word and they disappeared.
Umbridge sat down onto the rather thin mattress and listened as the springs shrieked as though in agony.
Well, at least I'll be using a real toilet instead of that litterbox, she thought to herself. This will be like a nice vacation. I can order my favorite meals and have some nice wine while I relax.
At that moment, Gilderoy Lockhart popped his head around the partition. "Hello," he said with a big smile and in his shmooziest of voices. "I see you're new. Nice bracelet...." he trailed off for a moment. Coming back around, he added, "Don't mind the bed. They all shriek a bit. Well, not mine, of course. I just had to smile at it a couple of times, aheh. Now it sings to me."
She narrowed her eyes while feeling even more flustered than before. "Why are you here," she spat.
"What a stupendous question. Eh...," he started but clearly began to mentally wander again.
"Can't you manage a simple straight answer," she snapped.
"Well, you see... I simply can't remember." He let out a light chuckle and pulled his eyebrows slightly together while pasting on his best grin. Why not? After all, it worked for his bed.
"Yes, well, be sure to maintain your distance. I won't have you loitering about my space. Move along." She waved him off.
She promptly learned that her stay was going to be nothing like a vacation; no favorite meals, no wine, and certainly no relaxing.
As the days wore on, Lockhart managed to finagle his way into her area for most of the day - everyday. One day he was particularly on her nerves after having rambled on and on about a dream of a very large snake and falling rocks.
Umbridge, losing control of the situation with such an utter nitwit, suddenly burst out in her annoyance. "Enough, Mr. Lockhart!" Later that day, she ended up scratching herself nearly raw due to a mild case of hives.
As hard as she tried to keep her sanity about her, he just seemed to suck it away from her. It was almost as though the more insane she felt, the saner he seemed. Could it be that he had devised a way to steal her sanity and replace it with his insanity? She became more and more leery of him as the days went by until, at one point, a near frantic paranoia set in. She spent the rest of that day completely sedated.
She begged the staff to be moved, but Cheif Healer Pye said they could not due to the restrictions placed by the Auror Department. She ordered for Lockhart to be switched to a different location. In that instance, Healer Pye said that he would not as it could disrupt Mr. Lockhart's frame of mind and treatment, causing him to relapse. She pulled her hair, stomped her feet like a petulant child, and screamed until she was Silenced and magically bound to the bed to keep her from hurting herself.
At the end of the two weeks, Umbridge found herself magically shackled and standing in front of the Minister and the Wizengamot once more. The Chief Healer was also in attendance and reported to the court that while he found absolutely zero proof of her ever having been under the Imperius Curse, he felt it was best that she remained in custody whether at St. Mungo's or Azkaban, as she was a danger to herself and others due to her mental instability.
Umbridge let out a small giggle as the Cheif Healer finished speaking. Minister Shacklebolt turned his head back to face her, catching her smile before she could mask her face. He narrowed his eyes at her and asked if she had anything to say. She quickly donned her saccharine smile.
"Thank you, Minister. While it may be difficult for some people to understand all the hard work and pressure of working at the Ministry, I, for one, am ready to stay the task to get the job done. I shall be ready to resume my official post as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic in two days time. Of course, I will need to completely redecorate my office as I'm certain that whomever has been occupying it has completely destroyed -"
"Madam." Shacklebolt had cut her off. He was done hearing her rubbish as she tried to take control of the situation. "You will not be reinstated in any sense to any position in the Ministry. You will, however, be able to enjoy your cell at the now dementor-free portion of Azkaban."
"How dare you!" Her fake smile and childish voice dropped away.
Any members of the Wizengamot who were not completely sure of her guilt nearly got whiplash with how fast she changed her demeanor. Many people began to whisper to each other about rumors they had heard that they now believed to be most likely true. She continued to glare at Shacklebolt.
"After everything I have done and sacrificed for the Ministry. After all the lying, magic-stealing mudbloods I sentenced for the sake of our world. How dare you think for one minute that you can just send me off to that dilapidated cesspool; that disgusting hell hole?!" She had began in a directed, hushed yell and finished in an irritated, huffing screech.
As the court witnessed her continued outburst, they whispered even more to each other. Shacklebolt patiently waited as she further unraveled while admitting to more crimes.
She finally cracked and shrieked out to the room. "Quit your whispering about me! I have done nothing but rid these disgusting mudbloods and blood traitors from among us! ORDER! Listen to me! I will have order!" She began pointing at different Wizengamot members who had opposed the corrupt Ministry while it was ran by Voldemort's puppets.
Having heard enough, Shacklebolt banged his gavel on the podium. The Wizengamot became completely silent as Umbridge continued to screech "I will have order! I will have order!"
Shacklebolt then picked up his wand and cast a Silencing charm in her direction. Umbridge's right eye twitched away as she continued screaming her Silenced "I will have order" chant.
The Minister looked to the Chief Healer and asked if Azkaban had a mental ward that was suitable for Ms. Umbridge. He responded to the affirmative. Umbridge was henceforth sentenced and taken to the mental ward of Azkaban.
Within a week, she had lost her privileges to use utensils, as she had used one to draw a rudimentary cat on her wall to which she was often observed speaking.
"Cordelia, you must bathe yourself. I refuse to have you in my presence whilst unkempt. I will have order." Her eyes glassed over and she stared at the wall without really seeing it as she continued to repeat, "I will have order. I will have order. I will... have......order."

I currently work at for a small restaraunt/bar chain, and we are opening another small restaraunt that will be a one man kitchen.
For starters, it’s a 3 day on, 4 day off work week, about 40 hours in 3 days. I will be in charge of all my own prep, I will do food orders and inventory weekly, come up with specials, and am also acting as the dishwasher. Break down and set up, daily tasks and weekly tasks on one person. What do you think is a fair hourly wage for this kind of work?

All right guys let me get this out-of-the-way and say that I love authentic California Mexican food that we have an absolute abundance of.
But I am from the East Coast, where the Mexican food is quite a bit different.
On the East Coast, every single Mexican restaurant has bottomless chips and salsa. Every single one. this salsa is a lot more flavorful and delicious than the watered down tomato juice I often find at Mexican places here in LA.
Secondly, and most importantly, every single Mexican restaurant on the East Coast has a staple white queso cheese sauce. Every single one. It’s fucking delicious. Customers would drink it. Every single table orders it as a side with their meals.
This style of queso dip does not exist on the West Coast. I can’t find a single restaurant that does it.
What is the reason for the massive disparity in Mexican food? I would be extremely pleased if there was “Americanized Mexican” joints mixed in with all the authentic ones.
My hypothesis is that the Mexicans on the East Coast adapted their food for fat white peoples taste. (Yum)
If there was a chain of East Coast Mexican food in Los Angeles, they would make an absolute fucking killing from all the transplants craving white cheese sauce and GOOD salsa (forgive me).
If I was a rich dude, this would be my number one priority. Let’s talk.
EDIT : holy shit this is divisive and you guys don’t even know what I’m talking about. Here’s a picture.
https://img.cdn4dd.com/cdn-cgi/image/fit=cover,width=600,height=400,format=auto,quality=80/https://doordash-static.s3.amazonaws.com/media/store/heade3a4522c5-8a72-4de1-aa0a-1f8b7abc6c64.jpg

Posting to help myself process the climb and provide thoughts for others thinking about Denali unguided on minimal experience. Open to thoughts and critique from people who know what they're doing. I'm obliged to thank all those who provided their thoughts and guidance to me on this subreddit a year ago. Also, to the guidance from Steve House and the other guy in their YouTube Denali video.
TLDR: Did not summit, learned lots.
It was a great idea... We trained pretty hard in the flatlands... We bought lots of good gear... and some not so good..... We were optimistic.....And realistic, we thought....
But... man, oh man. Denali is BIG, Alaska is BIG. And Talkeetna felt very small after 24 hours.
First alert was assembling our food. We drop shipped almost all the food to our hotel in Anchorage. We got in about 9pm, got everything from the desk and walked over to Wal Mart for the rest. Started packing food into daily rations about 10pm. We thought that would take 30 minutes. Try close to four hours, confusion, second guessing ourselves and each other on quantities, days, recipes. Got to sleep much later than we thought. We both worried that we'd be tired, maybe too tired for when we were dropped off on the glacier the next afternoon. HAH!!
Met Gary the shuttle driver the next morning. Watch some other TRs on YouTube and you'll get to know Gary, friendly, outgoing with good info about Talkeetna. We arrive on time, go through check in and somehow we got bumped out of our Ranger meeting. Come back later and we'll still have time to get to our flight. Did I mention it's overcast with light rain? Go through the ranger meeting, head over to TAT to find that we're 76th and 77th on the waitlist with. "Come back tomorrow at 8am for an update." Two guys we met on the shuttle actually make the plane that day because they understood the process with TAT and were all set to go after the Ranger meeting. Guy at TAT checks us in and takes our $$. No other info is offered or asked for. We're aware we need sleds and wands but we guess they just go on the plane with us.
We find the TAT climbing hostel and are grateful to find two bunks in the same room. My buddy is, not germophobic, but he is right up to that line. We eat at a restaurant that night, figuring, hey, 7 climbers per flight, 11 flights, mid afternoon tomorrow right? We check in at TAT at 8am, they're making waffles and have actually great coffee. But they have no idea if there'll be any flights today. Wander back and forth from the hostel, through town to the airfield. This is day 2 of 16 days we've given ourselves to go up. At day 16, no matter where we are, we go down.
Day 3, repeat day 2 but now we're using the hostel kitchen. I'm cool with the level of hygiene because this is only a level or two beyond how I grew up, when things got chaotic. I'm impressed with my buddy's fortitude, and grateful because I don't want to pay for food when it's already been bought. We hear good news that afternoon about the weather. Buddy suggests we get an AirBnB for this night to get a good nights sleep and clean shower before we likely fly out the next day.
Day 4, the weather starts to clear and now there's real activity at the airfield. My buddy, who doesn't sit still well, joins a group of workers at the airfield digging a trench. I sit on the deck, breathing deeply and hoping we can get out today. Then we get word we're up soon. Then I ask, hey what about sleds and wands? Find out climbers should get this arranged right after check in and we scramble around getting this set up. I grab a sled without looking it over well. As we and our gear are being driven over, I see this sled has some serious cracks and swap for a better one 10 minutes before we fly out.
The flight up is amazing. The transition on the glacier is hectic, a short controversy about which mountain can belongs to who and we get off the landing strip quick. We find a spot to set our tent a fair ways up the hill and get to work melting water for dinner and the next day. Take my skis out in order to prep for tomorrow and find the front straps of my skins have torn and are irreparable. I walk around camp, find a guy who's leaving who sells me his skins for $50. Can't believe how lucky I am. I walk around and get pictures, bury, wand and gps tag our cache. I'm blown away, I'm alive in a way I've only experienced a few other times in my life. I'm excited to get going in the wee hours of day 5. Plenty of days left, right?
Get up and going on time. Feels so good to be hauling the sled, carrying the pack. Going down is helpful. Going on flat and climbing isn't bad. I am working harder than my buddy(MB) from here on. He's 20 years younger and places top 5 in regional ultras, I'm a caboose guy at these. Anyhow, I feel like I'm holding him up, like he's disappointed in our pace. We arrive at 8K camp 8 hours later. MB points out that successful groups do this in 6hrs. I'm reply I'm working at a pace that I believe gets me to 14K in good shape, and what else did you want to do today? Ends fine, we each accept where the other one's at. Set up camp, Denali Pizza (simple and awesome) for dinner. Melt water, pull out the gear, food we'll cache at about 9.5K tomorrow. Good day, amazing as clouds lift a bit and we see more terrain.
Day 6, realize we're not eating 2 bagels each per day. We've over planned with bagels and several other foods. Too much weight but unsure about how to move things around. Lighter packs, lighter sleds and the first real climb. We do good work, talk a bit to teams coming down, most not having summitted. Bury, wand and GPS tag our cache. Tie empty sleds to our packs and head down. When we get to the real down hill, it's trashy, flat light, and I'll own this: I was rattled being off balance with a bit more weight and bulk going down. Got in my head and took some time to descend. MB frustrated or just me in my head? Got back down, did camp work, napped, ate dinner.
Day 7, push up to 11K. Snow picking up and visibility still good. I'm slower than MB again, and even though this is a fact we're both well aware of since we talked about Denali 3 years ago, it's in my head and won't leave that I'm holding us back. We start up the first real climb into 11 camp. Wind blown snow is making wands hard to see, we're using his Garmin to verify the route. The skins I bought at the airfield don't cover the width of my skis at the tips and tails. As we're taking an aggressive elevation gain on switchbacks, I'm slipping more and more with less skin to snow contact. We crest the rise and hike through the camp to find a spot at the uphill end. We begin setting up camp. I mention looking forward to having a kitchen tent now that we'll be in the same place for 3 days. MB basically says, go ahead but I don't think we need that and I won't be part of digging it out or setting it up. I get started probing an area, setting the outline of the dig and then realize this will take me hours and give up. Dinner, melt water, discuss tomorrow's back hauling. I propose we boot down from 11 camp and put skis on at the base of the climb and MB seems okay with it.
Day 8, wake up to heavy snow. Dig out our enclosure and have breakfast. Put more food we didn't eat into the "carry forward bag" which is getting heavier by the meal. Dig out again, and again, and again. Mid-afternoon we start getting weather reports through garmin in-reach texts with a guy back home and from other teams and guides. Consensus in 6 more days of this but up to 48" per day. I run the math: 8+6=14. Hmmm: 16-14=2. Then I run the flights per day math and number of teams we've seen descending, number of teams likely to descend with this forecast. My math says we could be stuck here 6 days and at the airfield for that or more. All for 2 more possible days of ascent. MB disagrees and wants to wait it out. We walk through various scenarios and I hold firm. MB agrees we'll go down because we both agreed if one wanted to go down for any reason, that was that. MB is a guy who holds to his word in this and all aspects of life.
We pack up. Fast...and sloppy. We want to fly out tomorrow. I'm not excited anymore, I'm anxious and want off Denali. Not be in a tent for two weeks in snow. We boot down the hill below 11 camp, put on skis and find our cache at 9.5, combine stuff. I get my stuff packed well. We start down. The track is blown in and we are navigating entirely by Garmin, using the standard route. Not reversing our climb up, which followed the visible track and wands. Are we actually on safe snow? We're both thinking that question but not saying it out loud. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm in front setting the track so MB's sled has something to ride in. If he's in front, his sled tips over. He's calling directions to me for the route, "Left...more left...rightish... too far."
We head down the last hill into 8 camp. I allow my sled to be in front of me and steer it like reins on a horse. Snow plow, keep it slow and things are moving along fine for me. MB wipes out over and over. Repacks his sled and gets down the last 200 yards well. We ski right through 8 camp. Someone asks if we're headed down and then says that if we call in to the airfield from there, we're already in line. True or not, we're finishing this in one push. Visibility is still about 15 feet but now we have a track to follow. We're both cautious with the downs. Don't know if we need to let it rip to go up again or if there's a corner we need to be slow for. We get to the airfield in 9.5 hours. Dig up our cache and consolidate our gear.
MB decides he'd rather not cowboy camp with the fly and we set up the tent and go to sleep. Up at the appointed hour and get in the flight queue. The guy says he'll give us plenty of notice so we can take down our tent, IF we fly out today. I am now watching every cloud for signs of building or diminishing. A few planes fly in, circle and leave. We're napping on and off.
Then I hear the guy yelling, "that's your plane". It's being loaded. We're 200 yards away in our fully set up tent, pads and bags. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK. I go down and ask "what happened?" "I don't know, two guys snaked your flight." Talk a bit more about other stuff, what he's been reading, we're into some similar literature. He then guarantees we'll be on the next flight that comes in, whether today or tomorrow. I'm listening for airplanes full on now, just want to get down and be off the mountain.
We do get on a flight that day, get a hotel and move flights and shuttle to fly out of Anchorage tomorrow. I walk down by the river and call my wife. "Honey, this will sound weird, I need you to tell me I'm really off the mountain and not dreaming." This helps a lot.
We make all our connections and fly out, get back home the next day. If you got this far, thanks, I guess. It's cathartic to write all this down. I replay this trip or parts of it every couple weeks even now. MB and I did our repair work and still call, text, hang out, run together when I'm in town. I do not regret going one bit, yet not getting further up still hits me hard. My fears and reaction to niggling discomforts on the mountain tell me I'm weak.
If I did it again:

1. No skis on Denali for me. I'm a competent skier and can get down serious stuff out west without embarrassing myself. A pack and a sled skiing down through crud with low visibility? Snow shoes all...the...way.
   
2. 4 people, not two. Enough guys to set up a kitchen tent, split camp duties into smaller tasks. I need a place to spread out, talk, cook and eat in a comfortable position.
   

2A. Allow way more time, a month total.

1. Better conversations about pace and relative speed well before the trip.
   
2. We did ropes work, simulated crevasse rescue, camped out in -10F. More time winter camping and skinning in the woods together.
   
3. MB and I climbed Mt Adams. We summitted Rainier together unguided in 8/2022. Took a 3 day custom guided mountaineering class in 12/2021 to learn skills. Didn't go above 7K in the class. Handled our shit well for two days. Not enough time to really know what we're in for physically and work through team frictions about pace, leisure time, camp life. Maybe we could have climbed Rainier and Baker on the same trip? Maybe spend several days at Camp Muir and summit twice? Climb Rainier early season?
   
4. Guided if I try again? Maybe.
   

I read this back and the inner critic says, "I'm a whiny bitch", just like when I am thinking about it every couple weeks. If I go back it can't be about that, not trying to prove that voice wrong. If I go back...it'll be because of that alive feeling I got on the airfield glacier, to have it again, to avail myself of a second chance to live a dream.
Thanks for reading all this. Part confessional, part TR.
I feel better.

My god. I just about died laughing. My folks have been in Colorado about an hour north of Denver since '82. I'm almost in my 30s, and have lived in Colorado almost my whole life, except for a year in New Zealand.
My mother forgot about Casa Bonita until one evening when she when she was up late pricing Christmas ornaments and watching late night TV. One of the shows was the Casa Bonita South Park episode. This episode of South Park opened up a whole vault of memories. How it was a chain from OKC and now is the only one left is in Lakewood. A old friends sister who used to be a fire spinner in the late 70s. The flags on the table for the only edible food, the sopapilla. (Sopapilla: fried dough normally topped with cinnamon sugar and or honey, similar to a beignets, but also sometimes stuffed with savory fillings like Navajo Tacos.)
WELP. This started my mother to planning a whole day in Denver. We went to get my catholic school uniform because of course we had to drive to Denver to get my damn jumpers and skirts, so lets make it fun. It was a random Wednesday in the summer we took the aged truck down to Denver. (yes my mother was already working on Christmas durning the summer, retail!). Got my uniform and headed to Casa Bonita.
We pulled up to the pink building next to the 99 cent shop, and Big Sir Waterbed. I was unimpressed with the uniform I'd have to wear and now a strange pink builing. Honestly the water bed place looked more entertaining. But in we went. Like holy shit! Who knew this weird pink building had a indoor water fall! We could sit next to the cliff divers, and chat with them the whole time! There was also a gorilla who would chase the cliff divers . (We were also probably the only patrons there, maybe 8 other people max.) I got a raise a little flag to eat more sopapilla. There was the mines! And a jail! Seeing as there was no one there my mother just let me run around and be the little weirdo i was.
It's a fond memory. Years later one of the radio stations had "Nerfs LOL at 505" and they made a spoof on a Casa Bonita daycare for kids, this was probably 2012~13. It talk about the waterbed nextdoor and 'how it was ok for the kids to be in the kitchen because all they used is a microwave!'. It got me and my other friends talking about it and how we should take a trip. The trip never happened, but it was fun the share memories of our weird childhood restaurant that only the lower income kids or the kids who's parents worked too much went to.
Then 2019 (i think) rolled around and Casa Bonita was expected to close. One of the good things that happened in 2020 was the South Park guys buy the old pink building. It sparked talk on a Discord, a lot of NoCo folks on there. And i had the pleasure for informing the other folks on there that "yes Casa Bonita is real." And "No, the South Park guys did not make it up." I was so fun to let people know that it was a real place.
I've gotten a few regular at the bar I work at tell me about their trips down there, but non of them grew up here in Colorado, they only know it due to the show. They all have had a fun time, told me the food was edible and they enjoyed it, and they still have the sopapilla flags.

Based on some background info from the PDB wiki that I took in a new direction, came up with my own descriptions.
"If the sexual E8 is a manifestly intense person who does not disguise his antisocial attitude and even seduces with his courage to be a bandit, and the social E8 is one who puts his power at the service of just causes, we can briefly describe an E8 of conservation as a hard person in his egoism—and we can understand something of the type thought of the aforementioned Henry VIII or Stalin, whose very nickname, which was given to him by his acquaintances in his youth, alludes to the hardness of steel."
"If we want to find an animal representation, E8 conservational, due to its hardness, reminds us of the crocodile. In contrast, E8 social can be compared to the pig, relatively domestic and intelligent, while E8 sexual is associated with the boar, a wild and dangerous pig, highlighted by its formidable tusks.."
Based on Naranjo's metaphoarchetypes of SP8=crocodile, SPX=wild boar, and SO8=pig. The lion is also mentioned for SP8 which is similar (the SP8 is "like a lion and only moves when it's hungry").
SP8, Crocodile: large, aggressive, can be lean or a bit fat, but the focus is on predatory behavior, survival. No-nonsense, sleeps/rests as much as needed, waits for prey, attacks swiftly and efficiently. Practical 8s. Typical no-nonsense 8s you often see mentioned in various literature/descriptions.
SO8, Pig: overweight, a bit lazy, yet dominant and aggressive. Known as intellectual and appearing more harmless than they really are. Can try to appear benevolent, the classic wolf-in-sheep-clothing 8s. Often corrupt but unwilling to face the facts, can have more of a velvet glove/iron fist dichotomy.
SX8, Wild Boar: an edgy, aggressive 8 known for its alternatingly intimidating/charismatic styles used to compete sexually and attract intimates. Tends to be a quietly charismatic 8 nevertheless ready to go into battle preemptively, evidenced by its size and tusks. Can be unrefined, wild, and irreverant, and at times mellow for an 8 given their need to get behind others' defenses and attract sexually.
SP-last 8s (SO/SX and SX/SO) - pure hogs, lack the survival skills of the SP (crocodile/lion) 8s. Predators but more offensive and frightening than they are high on the survival food chain. Live lives of decadence, aggression, and gluttony. Can be highly impractical and more rare as 8s.
SO-last 8s (SX/SP and SP/SX) - crocodile/boar variations. The least "lazy" 8s, the toughest from a sharp aggression standpoint, and the most conventionally intimidating. Live lives of survival and domination. Direct, aggressive, and often more overtly anti-social in attitudes.
SX-last 8s (SO/SP and SP/SO) - crocodile/pig variations. The least colorful and most no-nonsense 8s, no-frills, down to earth and yet not to be underestimated. A combination of leanness, girth, and mass, they live lives of expansive pragmatism. A combination of expansiveness and pragmatism, less ruled by passions and socially/practically mobile.
SP/SO - One of the earthbound 8s (sp-last), the overweight, strong-fat crocodile. Basically, a fat-ass crocodile. Maybe the MOST recognizable and stereotypical 8. Tough, business-minded, practical, pragmatic, earthy, a bit lazy, and brutal. They want survival and status -- a scary combination and sex is often just a physical-gratification afterthought. There's the sense that they can buy who and whatever they want.
SO/SP - A strong-ass, hard-boiled pig. Not quite a boar, just a nasty pig that's in charge of the rest, with weird lizard-like scheming qualities. Gets fat while also getting strong and acts relatively innocent to the people they're trying to control. Doesn't stand out too much as an object to be feared and is probably one of the 8s that you'd least suspect to be a monster inside until they show their true colors. Manipulative on a large scale but in a way that feels somehow gentle.
SP/SX - The crocodile with a wild boar flavor. Definitely more flashy and scary but not as large as the SP/SO. The most vicious 8 from a survivalist standpoint. They like controlling individuals more, don't really need or want status, just to surround themselves with resources, independence, and a convenient "possession/manipulation of intimates" as a secondary ability. The crustiest and most savage 8, can also be extremely stubborn and single-minded. Very difficult to control.
SO/SX - One of the "pure pig breed variations" (sp-last 8s) which have a fat-ass, grandiose, completely excessive quality to them in terms of non-material lust over power, influence, ability to charm, charisma, and power hungriness. These are probably the most "lazy-feeling" of the 8s. They are quite intellectual and talk more about doing things, with some intimate possessions thrown in for fun. They might get by on surprisingly little yet have an incredible larger-than-life quality. Can have an easygoing quality while also being intimidating.
SX/SP - One of the SX-first "boar variations" - also an SO-last variation which has none of the pig's homeliness. Harder to get close to but a rare combination of practicality and charisma. Tend to have a smaller circle and adept at balancing savagery with pragmatism, nevertheless giving over to attention-seeking and ability to seduce without having to rely on social niceties. The most raw, relentless, and single-minded in their possessiveness and able to resist codependency while going after power and control. As an SX-first variation they're quietly charismatic while also having the SP hardness of steel just underneath the surface.
SX/SO - the most intellectual aggressive of the boars, it's the most excessive 8 from a standpoint of passionate energy completely drained of any need for material sustenance. They will often get everyone else to do what they want, but especially people they're very close to. Other people are simply leveraged and epxloited for their causes when unhealthy. Can be an extremely influential 8 and a strong leader with an impartiality that makes them seem deceptively humble. They just need people to do what they say and everything will work out fine. The most attention-seeking and provocative 8s in a sexual sense while caring little for the classic/stereotypical "tough/hard" style of the 8. Nearly impossible to control and master manipulators, can have the most problems of all the 8s with addiction, excess, self-destructiveness, etc.

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You guys were awesome with suggestions on must see/visit places so I am wondering if you can make suggestions on the best places to eat in the following areas: Manistique, Musining, Marquette, Houghton, Copper Harbor, Ontonagon. We love all types of food. Would also love suggestions on bakeries or chocolate/candy stores.
No chain restaurants, no fine dining. Must be able to come in casual clothes and a bit disheveled as we will be mostly rustic tent camping and adventuring. ;-)
I have already made note of the following places. If you would NOT recommend any of these please let me know:
Manistique - Upper Crust, Cedar Street Cafe
Musining - Driftwood Deli, Cooking Carberry's Wood Fired Pizza
Marquette - Dia Taco Truck
Houghton - Roys, Toni's
Copper Harbor - Tamarack Inn
Thanks all! I appreciate all your help in planning a great trip for my kiddos!

Hi, i bought fries that look like these from NYF fast food chain: (it wont let me add a link so maybe you can search up "new york fries french fries" quickly).
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they are russet potatoes, sunflower oil, and salt. they do not add preservatives. they are freshly cut and fried there.
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i bought them friday evening and i had some the next day but forgot about them and plan to eat them this wednesday again. i am taking a break from fried foods for the next 2 days.. i want to eat them wednesday night but i dont want them to go bad as it will be 5 days at that point (theyre currently in the fridge).
​
I was thinking of freezing them, but I don't know how to freeze them properly so they don't stick together. I would probably bake them or fry them Wednesday.
​
I've had frozen fries before from the grocery store by the company McCain, but I believe they add a preservative to keep them fresh. If this doesn't turn out, I won't be super disappointed but if you have any idea on how I can do it properly, let me know :)

During the course of my career as an alpha Sasquatch hunting, Dogman destroying, pussy crushing, luxury watch loving dude, I have run into this particular woman a few times. She is one part uber sensuality, and the other part deadly. Yes, I am speaking about the lovely, Anna Conda. I bring her up because I had another run-in with her last year.

Anna and I first joined forces, so to speak, when she acted as a go-between in my business deal with the Chinese to sell them bigfoot parts. See, I would hunt and kill the critters, cut them up, deliver the parts to Anna, who in turn gave me a suitcase containing unmarked American hundred-dollar bills, then she would transport the bigfoot parts to the Chinese. I was never really sure of what the sneaky-ass Chinese were doing with the body parts. All I knew for sure is that they are extracting certain materials from them, then synthesizing them with some other shit, creating some sort of drug. Whether it then becomes a bio-weapon or a dick stimulant, I do not know. Neither do I care. As long as they kept the hundies coming, I was good.

Now, while Anna is of Russian descent, she is a freelancer. She will work for any sick, skeevy motherfucker out there. She does not care. She has no conscience, at least not in the traditional sense as we understand it in western civilization. Today she is working for the Chinese, and tomorrow she may be working for Hamas. She is a slippery motherfucker.

So here is how it went down. At 11:32 p.m. on a Friday in September of last year I get a call on my cell phone. When the call came in I was balls deep into this hot little lass I picked up at the bus station a little earlier in the evening from an old swarthy chap named “Colorado Joe”. He wanted to sell me the girl. I was assured she was over 20 years old. I told him I needed to take her out for a test ride, which he agreed to.

So, there I was, balls deep in “Bing Bang Yun”, and my phone rings. Of course, I silence all incoming calls not in my contacts list. Thus, I knew that I must know the caller. In mid stroke I reached over to the nightstand to retrieve my cell and looked at it. It was a call from “Sergio”. I thought, “Oh shit…. I am going to have to cut the Oriental bang circus short.” When Sergio calls, I have to respond…immediately. He has the best blow on the east coast!!

“Hey, Serge! What’s up?”, I asked. All he said was, “Hooters. 2:00 a.m.”, then hung up. This was obviously the rendezvous for the transaction. Now, understand that Serge was not talking about the chicken wing restaurant. Hooters was code, in case the feds were listening in on the line. “Hooters” meant the titty bar out on Highway 69 called “The Plump Rump”. We had a communications code we used.

It was a long haul to the titty bar, so I needed to get moving. I had no time to return the girl to Colorado Joe, so I took her with me. I had her blow me on the way to the meeting with Sergio, telling her that her performance would make the difference on whether I save her from Joe or not. Of course, after she was done I tossed her out of my speeding truck and down, over the bridge, and into the Wendigo River below. I did not need any complications in my life right now.

I arrived at The Plump Rump at 2:00 a.m. on the dot. I saw the manager, Lou Skunt, sitting at the bar when I walked inside. I nodded. He walked over and said to me, “Use my office for the meeting The parties are already in there waiting for you.” I nodded and then headed to Lou’s office. Then it hit me: Lou said the “PARTIES” are already here. That is, parties, meaning more than one person. It was not just Sergio. It was 2 or more people! Lou was probably in for a cut of whatever was about to go down.

Something was bad fucked up!! I know for a fact that Sergio never brings anyone with him on a deal, at least not with me. He is too distrustful of people to do that, and too fucking mean to need protection. Something was wrong. I was just as likely to get whacked when I enter Lou’s office as anything else. I needed a moment to think things through.

I took a spot in front of one of the performance poles to watch a young, swarthy Mexican lass perform. My mind quickly strayed from the problem at hand to this brown chick’s ass and tits. She was not a great looking chick, but her body was smoking!! I quickly became aroused. I thought to myself, “Goddamn Asian bitches!! They are just like Chinese food – after 2 hours you are ready for some more!!”

When the little Mexican chick went on break I motioned her over to my table. “Hola Senior!!”, she said. I pulled out a clear plastic baggie of blow and dropped it on the table. Her eyes grew wide and slobber starting falling from her mouth. Blow is like catnip for strippers. Thus, she fell under my spell immediately.

The next thing I know, this brown girl was on my lap, dry humping me like a feral bitch dog in heat. I had to bang her. I NEEDED to see my wang penetrating her. Just then, someone taps my shoulder hard. I look up to see Lou standing over me. He bent down and said, “Did you forget about my office, asshole?!?!?!” I replied, “Damn, Lou!! You read my mind!!!” I arose, with the little Mexican bolted onto my mid-section, and hastily retreated to Lou’s office. I figured Lou would prefer me to stain this chick in private rather than out in the open.

The door to the office opened easily. The lights were on inside. In a lustful haze, I set the little Mexican chick on her back across Lou’s desk and started pumping the shit out of her, completely unaware of the others in the room with us. In a moment I heard someone call my name. I twist my neck around to see Sergio sitting on Lou’s jizz crusted couch. I think to myself, “Oh shit! I forgot about that shit!”

I figured I would just move forward with the deal as it was proposed to me. “Hey Serge! What ya got for me, dude?”, I asked. He replied, “I have a very special deal for you. I need, uh … yeah, ……Hey, Rod, you want to stop for a moment so we can talk?” I picked up the little tamale and laid her down onto Sergio’s lap as I continued to plow her. She stayed on my cock the whole time. I told Sergio, “No, man. I’m good! Lay it on me!” Slowly, Sergio lowered his face into his palm.

Then it happened. The voice cam from behind me, in the dark corner of Lou’s office. It was velvety yet hard as steel. “Rod. Went need to talk”, it said. Even though I did not stop pumping the little brown chick, a chill went down my spine when I heard those words. It was the thick timbre of the voice, I think, that alerted me.

I turned to look across the room. There, sitting in a red leather captains chair against the wall was the source of the sultry voice: Anna Conda.

I picked up the little taco yet again and turned her around so I could face Anna as I continued pumping her. At this point the Mexican girl was merely a masturbation toy I was using. I increased my pump so I could dump my load and get this over with. Then BAMM!!!, it was over. I removed the lass from my huge rod, after which her body crumpled to the floor. I did not know if she was dead or injured, or what had happened to her. But I did not care either, so I did not dwell on it.

I tried to compose myself the best I could, then walked over to stand before Anna so I could get to the bottom of all this business. “Well, well, well. Anna Conda. We meet again. Tell me, what brings you here, to my little neck of the woods?”

Anna replied, “Rod, put your dick away.” I looked down and, indeed, I had forgotten to stow my cock. Out of pure curtesy, I packed it away. Then I returned my attention to Anna. “Alright, Anna, what’s going on here?”

Anna launched into a startling tale about what brought her to me. As she spoke I became lost in her wanton beauty. She got up from her chair and walked about the room as she relayed her story, presumably to make it more dramatic and demonstrative. I got a full-on view of her body, and it was fantastic!!

She stands 5’10’’ and weighs 105 lbs. She is lithe. She was showing it off too, wearing a black, silk dress that landed just about her ankles. The top was low-cut, betraying just a bit of cleavage from her C-cup wineglass titties. She was not wearing a bra. Anna never wears a bra. Her nips were perfectly outlined through the silk. In fact, I think her nips were hard. It was probably something she did on purpose in an attempt to influence me. It was working.

Anna’s ass was perfect. It was not at all fat, but round enough not to be skinny. It was a fit figure skater’s ass. As she walked, I could see a tiny bit of jiggle emanating from her ass flesh, and then reverberated in the silky black dress she wore. My cock began growing hard again.

Her face was beautiful. Think Scarlett Johanson and Phoebe Cates rolled into one. But any sweetness this may evoke is quickly dispelled by Anna’s throaty voice with its thick Russian accent. I have known Anna for 20 years. Yet, she still does not look a day over 25. Jesus Christ!!! If ever there was a chick to die for ….. If I was one to delve into the belief of the paranormal, then I may conclude that Anna made a deal with the devil. But, I am not such a person.
And literally, Anna Conda is a chick to die for. She is deadly as fuck. She will kill you in a split second without a thought just because she does not like the shirt you are wearing. She can do it too. She is always armed and she knows how to use her weapons. Moreover, she is a total psychopath. This makes her doubly dangerous.

Anna and I have always gotten along for the most part. Like Anna, the dollar is my primary motivating factor. Such a mindset allows for understanding and predictability among people, which are elements that are sorely missing in many business dealings today that go on in the color of darkness.

Suddenly, Anna snapped me out of my thoughts. “Here’s your gun, Rod. Now let’s get started”, said Anna. She and Sergio were halfway through the door exiting Lou’s office when I said, “Hey, wait a damned minute!!! What are you talking about?!?”

They both stopped, and Anna walked back in and looked me in the eyes, saying “The plan, Rod. Let’s get on with the plan.” A little embarrassed, I sheepishly asked, “What plan?” Anna folded her arms and looked cross at me. After a moment to allow me to simmer in my shame, she asked, “You were not paying attention, were you, Rod?” I shook my head and looked down.

I heard a hammer cock. I jerked my head back up to find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol pointed at my head that Anna was holding. I protested, “Look, it is not my fucking fault!! Put that fucking gun down!!!” I continued, “You were distracting me with …. Well.. you know, how you are dressed, and that hot, sultry voice…. You know?”

“So, instead of paying attention to the plan, you chose to eye-rape me. Is that what I am to understand your position is, Rod?”, she asked. Knowing that my life was on the line, I said, “Anna, look, you know I am horny to a fault. Then you come in here, swinging them tits around, wearing that silk dress showing off the crack of your ass…. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT TO HAPPENED?”

Anna lowered her gun. She knew that my explanation of being a total cocksman was truth. “Let’s go”, Anna curtly said. I obeyed.

Anna explained the plan to me again on the drive from The Plump Rump. She made me wear a blindfold so that I would not get horny during her explanation. Here is how it went:

Anna Conda was now working for the Russians. It seems that Putin caught wind of the Sasquatch project that the Chinese were working on. He also knew that the American government have been fucking with sasquatch for decades. Thus, he was very concerned about the existence of a bigfoot gap. He ordered the acquisition of a Sasquatch specimen immediately.

Moreover, said specimen must be prime. It needed to be the biggest, baddest sasquatch of them all – a true alpha – so as to speed things along. Putin did not want some weird shit-creature, is-it-a-sasquatch-or-is-it-a-dogman, kind of monstrosity. He wanted purebred, badass sasquatchery, and preferably from the American Pacific northwest.

Anna got in on it because she sold the intel to Putin about China’s Sasquatch operation. She then told Putin she could produce sasquatch corpses for him. She told him she had a contact (i.e., me). Thus, with Putin’s blessing and promises of riches to come, Anna set out to America to find me.

Now, here is where things got a bit squirrely. See, I agreed to procure some more dead sasquatch. I have no problem with killing sasquatch because, in my opinion, they are an abomination on this Earth. I kind of feel like I am doing God’s work by wiping out as many of them as I can. And given all the not-so-Godly stuff I have done, I feel like killing Sasquatch kind of offsets that to some degree.

But Anna, she was stuck on Putin’s instruction that she must supply him with apex Sasquatch. So she did not want to take my advice of heading to the Pacific Northwest or Alaska. Instead, Anna claimed to have pinpointed the whereabouts of a particularly gruesome sasquatch beast that she KNEW would win her a fortune from Putin if she brought it to him.

“So, where is this beast?”, I asked. Anna replied “Martha’s Vineyard”. I paused. Then I asked her to repeat herself. It turns out that I was not mistaken about what Anna had said. I continued, “Uh, Anna, there are no sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard, just a lot of wealth New Englander schmucks.”

Anna looked at me and told me I was wrong. Then she decided to attempt to taunt me. “Oh, Rod, mighty slayer of Bigfoot! Yet, you fail to take notice of where the biggest, most foul and rotten beast of them all makes its home. Jesus, Rod!! What kind of bigfoot hunter are you, anyway?” Anna then spit at my feet and wondered aloud whether she even needs me for this job.

I decided that I needed to straighten out the hierarchy here in order for this here deal to move forward. I said, “Well, Anna, feel free to truck on over to Old Whitey Beach and battle that beast. But, if there is a big old mangy sasquatch lurking around over there, then it is probably a fucking Nazi-Squatch. You know, those fuckers out there hate the Jews.”

The work “Nazi” visibly shook Anna. Her great grandfather died defending Leningrad. Her entire family there died of either starvation or cannibalism during Hitler’s siege during Operation Barbarossa. Anna despised Nazis. But she feared them too. After landing that punch, I decided to push my luck.

“Now, I am still willing to help you catch this here Nazi-Squatch, but you have to do something for me”, I said. Now Anna’s eyes were on me, and they were narrowing. I continued, “I want you to get bare assed naked and pleasure yourself while I stand over you and jack it.” Anna stared at me silently for a long moment. Then she replied.

“After the job is done, and you can get none of your … fluids… on me”, she said. I shook my head and countered, “Now, and I will ‘try’ to not get my spunk on you.”

However, Anna then turned the tables on me. In fact, she picked up the table and bashed my head in with it. She looked me in my eyes, then matter-of-factly said, “You get the beast, and your prize shall be a night with me, anything goes, darling.” Well, since this caused all of the blood to immediately drain from my brain, I had a lapse in judgment. “DEAL!!”, I said. Then we shook on it.

“OK, tell me more about this supposed monster sasquatch on Martha’s Vineyard”, I said. I still was not ready to believe there was a monster out there. “I show you photo”, said Anna. She took out her phone, scrolled to find the photo, then handed the phone to me. “There. Sasquatch”, she said.

I stared at the photo and remained silent. After a long moment, I turned the phone so that Anna could see the photo and asked, “Uh, Anna, is THIS what you intended to show me?” She replied. “Yes! There…Sasquatch! The biggest, grossest monster around.”

Now, I could not argue with Anna that the image on her phone is a big, gross monster. Hell, it could actually be a sasquatch, and THE UBER sasquatch. It is most certainly the grossest thing on Martha’s Vinyard. But I somehow do not think this is what Putin is expecting.

I turned to Anna and said, “Anna, this is a photo of Michelle Obama. I know it looks vile, and has a huge, hulking body with large appendages where a woman should not have them. But, sweatheart, that ain’t no sasquatch. That’s a big, hairy Chicago street negro.”

Anna did not believe me at first. She was hard in her conviction that Obama was a sasquatch. “I have seen the Sasquatch beast you deliver to me for China. This … Michelle Obama …. It is big, and hairy, and ugly like the sasquatch beast, but worse.”

When the truth finally set it, I could see that it had kind of broken down poor Anna, if only just a bit. I put my arm around Anna and told her, “Look, Michelle O fooled you. Hell, she and her Hamas Hubby fooled millions of Americans, twice! At least you saw Michelle for what she is, to wit: a big, gross sasquatch, and NOT some kind a retarded leftist messiah.”

After that, things took a rather dark turn. “What if we still take her to Putin? We can make deal; sell her to Putin!!” At this point I held up my hands and said, “I’m out”, then turned and walked away. Anna followed, trying to get me to stay. At this point, I could tell that Anna was coming undone a little.

See, she had to produce for Putin. There is no telling what kind of secret deal she actually had with him. She had to deliver a big old mangy Obama …. Er, uh, I mean … Sasquatch, to Putin.

“Ok, Rod, we do your plan. We go out west to kill bigfoot. Huge, monster bigfoot. she said. I turned and looked Anna in her eyes and said the following: First, we bang for 48 hours straight, right now, so I can get my fill of you. Second, you pay me $10,000.00 cash upfront. Third, upon delivery of the dead bigfoot, you pay me $1 million immediately.”

Anna agreed to everything, but noted that at the present time it was her “time of the month”. I grimaced, as I will absolutely not go there (and she knows that). “Fine, next week we bang”, I said. She pointed out that I would be in the woods next week hunting sasquatch. “Fine, once I come out of the woods, then we bang – 48 hours straight”, I said. “Of course, darling!”, she agreed.

Well, it took several days to set up the hunt, but it finally happened. I was in Washington state at high elevation based on intel I has acquired that indicated that there was a monstrous 15’ tall sasquatch on the mountain range that had been murdering and eating hunters and hikers. After 3 months in these mountains without a trace of the creature I began to lose hope, thinking that I probably got some bad intel, or bad coordinates.

I got my satellite phone out to call for an extraction. Winter was setting in fast, and if I did not get off this mountain soon, then I would freeze and/or starve to death. Unfortunately, my contact did not answer. I tried for 2 days. No answer. I had been fucked. I wondered what had happened back in civilization that caused me to be abandoned like this. I resolved that I would get off that mountain and get to the bottom of this shit. There would be hell to pay for this betrayal!!’

I was able to get in touch with contacts from back home. I got old Billy Ray from Ellijay and Rattler on the phone and got them to come out here to Washington State to extract me. Rattler use to fly helicopters in the Army. He has an old Huey sitting in his front yard, to the chagrin of his HOA. He fired that sucker up, and him and old Billy Ray flew out here to my coordinates and extracted me.

After landing at a convenience store to buy some beer for the flight home, we headed east. Through the skies a way, Billy Ray said, “Well, Rod, I guess you is bout ready to git back home to Georgia, eh?” In fact, I was ready to go home. But I had to take care of some business first. I told them both to take me to New York City. They were both perplexed. All I said to them was “I have an old friend there I have to see before I can go home.”

I have intel on where Anna Conda stays when she is in the United States. She stays at certain hotels depending on what month she is here, and whether her check-in date is an odd or even number. This is for undercover work. I came across the code for her stays while doing the sasquatch work for China. She an I were caught in a snowstorm one night in Buffalo, NY, and had to share a room at the Holiday Inn near the airport. We had like 10 big Igloo ice chests with iced down sasquatch body parts with us in the room.

Anna was like, “No hanky panky, Rod. I am tired and I want to go to bed. Tomorrow we finish business.”

Frankly, I did not blame her for withholding her magnificent muff from me. I was tired as hell. But, I could not settle for nothing. So, when Anna was in the bathroom taking a shower, I started going through her suit case. I wanted to find some of her panties to jack off into. Instead, I found a little black notebook. Inside it contained her lodging codes, and some other interesting things. I photographed the contents with my phone and then put it back.

When Anna got out of the shower she was already dressed in her night clothes. She saw me lying on my back, nude on the bed, and jacking it. “Rod!! GROSS!!!! Go to the restroom to do that shit!!!”, she commanded. I just did it to get a rise out of her. LOL!!

So, if Anna is still inside the U.S., then using the codes I stole from her I can locate precisely where she will be that night. I studied it for a few moments then had my answer. Tonight she would be staying at the Dogman Inn on Hwy 95 South, Room 355. I told Rattler to get me there stat!

We had to stop several times for fuel and beer. Those Hueys go just a bit over a hundred MPH, you know. But eventually, we got there. I gave the boys some money and told them to go to the Waffle House for some coffee to sober up. Then they would fly me home.

I should mention that I also had Rattler’s fully auto Russian AK-74 with spare mags. During the long flight with 2 drunks from Washington State to New York City, I had worked myself up into a towering rage over how Anna fucked me on this Putin deal. She had clearly thrown me aside. But for what, exactly? I figured I would storm the hotel room, get some answers, then shower the room with gun fire.

I busted through the door of Room 355 at exactly 3:35 a.m. There she was. My entry roused her from slumber. I was pointing my rifle at her, center mass. She was shocked at the appearance of a gunman in her room at this time of night. However, she was not as shocked as one would think (this was not the first time something like this has happened to her).

I raised my face from the receiver just enough so she could see it was me. “Rod!!!”, she exclaimed. “What happened to you?!?!? I thought you had died up in those mountains when we never hear from you!” I replied, “Shove it up that cute little ass of yours, Anna. You fucked me. And not in the good way. What the fuck was all that shit about needing a sasquatch for Putin?!?”

Anna played dumb. But it struck me that I had been deliberately put out of the loop for 3 months. Why? Who wanted me away for that long, and why? What went on in my absence?!? I was just dying to know!!! I set my rifle down and pulled out my fixed blade knife, ready to get down to some real nasty work on Anna so I could get some truth. The pure evil of what I was about to do to her caused a wide death grin to grow on my face. Anna saw it. She knew what it meant. She swallowed hard and her eyes betrayed the shear terror she felt inside. I was engorged with blood lust. She knew she had fucked up one time too many this time!!

Suddenly came the sound of the toilet in the bathroom flushing. I was momentarily shocked. I did not expect anyone else to be there with Anna. Anna saw it in my face. I glanced at her and saw that the terror in her face was replaced with pleasure, a slight smile creeping over her face.

I was going to have to face off against this person in the bathroom, who would be out in a split moment. When I do that, I will have to turn 180 degrees from Anna, thereby making me vulnerable to her. I had only once choice: Shoot Anna first.

Just as this came to me, but just before I could act on it, the bathroom door opened. I had to deal with that person before Anna now. I spun around to see that it was a completely nude, and fat, white man. He was a real oafish blob. He looked surprised to see me. He also looked sort of familiar.

I next heard the crack of something hitting my skull hard. I remember the immediate hateful pain that shot through my body and the sound of blood rushing through my ears. I remember the dizziness, then falling to the floor. Clearly, as I fixed on the man from the bathroom, Anna had cracked me over the head with a blunt object.

I came to the next morning, Billy Ray and Rattler had manage to track me down based upon coordinates I left in the chopper that said “IN CASE OF EMERGENCY”. Billy Ray filled up the hotel room ice bucket with cold water and doused my head with it to bring me conscious. I was disoriented at first. But after a bit, what happened in this room the night before came back to me.

Honestly, I am surprised that Anna did not just kill me. I presume that she thinks she can leverage her drop-dead hotness to get me to do more shit for her in the future. She is absolutely right about that too. Rattler then said, “Hey, Rod, that snake bitch left a letter fer ya.”

He handed me the letter. This is what it said:
____________________________________________

“Dear Rod:

Sorry about the boo boo on your head. Hope it heals soon. Also sorry about leaving you in the mountains. I was not running a scam on you Rod. Rather, an opportunity arose for me to acquire a sasquatch body from another person. You may know him since you are a sasquatch hunter. His name is Matt Moneymaker. Anyway, until next time…..

Yours truly,
Anna Conda”
_____________________________________________
I could not fucking believe it. That was fatfuck Moneymaker in the hotel room earlier. Anna fucked Matt Fatfuck Moneymaker for a Sasquatch! That fat son of bitch!!

Billy Ray asked, “You ready to go Rod?” I stood up and said, “Yeah, let’s go.” Then Rattler said, “Hey, ya wanna stop and git some beer fer the ride home?” I replied “Hell yeah.”

I felt like I wanted to die. Thank God for beer and buddies. I don’t blame Anna. She is a fucking snake, and I knew that before this started. Also, I cannot really blame fatfuck Moneymaker for wanting to get some of that hot poon pie Anna serves up. I guess I have to blame fate for fucking me over this time. I even started thinking that next time I will just avoid Anna. But I know I won’t, thus making me subject to this sort of shit again. I had Rattler set us down in Charlottesville so I could buy some hard liquor.

Personally, I like his kind of comedy most of the time, and I feel like I understand it the way he means for it to be understood. His style of humor matches mine pretty well, in that I usually just follow "faulty logic" based on absurdities. I've always liked playing around with stereotypes and making jokes about them, with the humor relying on the understanding that the stereotype I'm playing around with is absurd, not that I'm validating stereotypes and then making fun of the people being stereotyped. It's like "this is the kind of dumb conclusions you can arrive at if we start from the stereotype, assume that we accept it's true and then allow for absurdities". Like all those fucking white people causing global warming with their NASCAR, reliance on Chinese factories pumping out cheap and disposable NFL merchandise, sending their food back at restaurants and breathing. White people breathe is the leading cause of humidity.
So, he's up there on stage basically just shit talking everyone, using the well known stereotypes and then just seemingly making shit up about races, ethnicities, disorders and everything else all for the purpose of just being able to ramble on about things that have no basis in reality, and I love it. I actually went to go see him live with my wife and one of her friends last month, and it was good time.
It seemed like almost half of his show was centered around a fictional special ed class that he was in, or how he used to work with autistic people (which apparently we love wrestling). He had these "personifications" of downs syndrome and "up" syndrome that he acted out with like exaggerated power stances, looking down at the floor and up toward the sky respectively. At one point he talks about how his special ed class got a Mexican kid, and the reason he was in there was because he was Mexican and no one in his town had ever seen a Mexican before. There's no way I could see any sane person taking these jokes seriously or thinking that there's any "truth" to what he's saying. Does he think being Mexican is pretty much the same as being autistic or having down syndrome? Of course not, but the comparison is funny.
He just makes up random characters who all just happened to live in his town, and just goes rambling on about random, absurd bullshit about them, and it's funny because the logic of it all is internally consistent after you get passed the fact that the premise is purposefully nonsensical, and the premise is usually that the he and the people around him are all kind of fucked up and don't do normal things. One of the funniest things I've ever heard was his story about a guy masturbating at trains at the Amtrak station, and people would throw dimes at him and feed him peach slices through a chain link fence. That's fucking funny.
My wife likes him, but is also convinced that he's really just super dumb, doesn't really know what he's doing and just so happens to be accidentally funny. No. He knows what he's doing, and he knows that the way he reasons his way to conclusions with absurdity is funny. I feel like we're on the same wavelength as far as sense of humor goes.
Anyone else a fan of him or his style of comedy?

Hi, i bought fries that look like these from NYF fast food chain: (it wont let me add a link so maybe you can search up "new york fries french fries" quickly).
they are russet potatoes, sunflower oil, and salt. they do not add preservatives. they are freshly cut and fried there.
i bought them friday evening and i had some the next day but forgot about them and plan to eat them this wednesday again. i am taking a break from fried foods for the next 2 days.. i want to eat them wednesday night but i dont want them to go bad as it will be 5 days at that point (theyre currently in the fridge).
I was thinking of freezing them, but I don't know how to freeze them properly so they don't stick together. I would probably bake them or fry them Wednesday.
I've had frozen fries before from the grocery store by the company McCain, but I believe they add a preservative to keep them fresh. If this doesn't turn out, I won't be super disappointed but if you have any idea on how I can do it properly, let me know :)

Hey all, I maybe moving from Denver to Portland for a job. It will probably happen fast if the offer comes. But I have no ideas on where to live or more importantly where not to live. I do know downtown is a no go
I could rent a studio for 1500-ish. Im young, single and love food and a great cocktail. Love coffee and pastries. You all have great coffee. I love parks and golfing. Also love just exploring new areas.
Denver is pretty sprawling and if you live in the suburbs it's quite but also just have chain restaurants and strip malls. Thats not my vibe.
Just some areas to check out would be helpful. Since I have only been there briefly once.

Today I'm discussing Master of All, which is a perk from Generic Gamer. If you've never seen this perk or heard of this jump... this perk is probably the best singular perk in the jump (though ALL of them are really good), but it's not the INTENDED reason to come here. I personally think an early jump could stand to benefit from fusing GGJ with a more mundane jump (which is what my latest story-jumper is doing though not by choice) and grabbing this perk, it's appeal is kind of amazing. Now let's see the ACTUAL perk!

Master of All: Specialists focus on depth at the expense of breadth; generalists focus on breadth at the expense of depth. But what if you could focus on a single ability and have it benefit all of them? When you train one skill, ability, or power, that training and development applies not just to it, but to all of the skills, abilities, and powers you possess.

This is, understandably, a capstone perk. It is immensely powerful, and is the best TRAINING perk I've ever seen. There are BETTER perks out there for mastering stuff, heck I'll even include the other capstone in this jump just so you can see a better perk for MASTERING something.

Hyperspecialization: There’s focusing in a few specific areas, and then there’s this. Select a single skill, ability, power, Perk, whatever, so long as it’s possible to improve. At base, two things happen. A: the chosen ability progresses as if you’re training with it all the time, even when you’re doing nothing; if you were to actively train with it, the rate of growth would be effectively doubled. B: the rate of growth and development for the chosen ability is multiplied by a hundred.
Now, keep in mind that that’s just at base — both of these boosts increase gradually but exponentially the longer you focus on a single ability. Give it a few days, and the rate of growth will be multiplied by two hundred; a month, and by a thousand. You can change what ability you’re focusing on at any time at the cost of resetting the accrued exponential boosts.

Hyperspecialization IS a better perk if you want to master singular skills (or if you need a boost in power or skill in some SPECIFIC area but don't have the time to actually sit down and hone that area), but if you want to TRAIN something, if you value working for your goals, and if you want to be a jack of all trades Master of All is the better perk. And of course you could always grab BOTH perks, you could even do so without a SINGLE drawback AND you could still get other perks WITHOUT stacking drawbacks due to the discount mechanics of this jump. But I strongly prefer Master of All, personally.
Master of All is a very creative way to reward engagement in a setting which is something I'm always a fan of. A smart jumper who is not constrained by something like the notion of a fickle benefactor who ACTUALLY punishes boring jumpers might get something like Hyperspecialization and want to turtle up, but with Master of All you need to do SOMETHING for it to benefit you. Now WHAT you do doesn't matter, so long as you do SOMETHING that serves as training.
A very fun build could be for someone to snag both Skills, which is a function of the gamer system in Generic Gamer and then grab MoA and go to something like Generic School Years and diligently study. That studying will definitely count for MoA, since studying will definitely become or involve a skill as defined by Skills. This means that while you're studying you're becoming better at gymnastics, or cooking, or painting, or... using The Force, or mana management, or whatever other skills you've gained at this point in your journey.
One small facet of Master of All that is very interesting is how it stacks with uncappers and the very neat knowledge that there is a free uncapper in Generic Gamer (it's a facet of the gamer system!). This means that Master of All will eventually give you stuff like functionally limitless stamina and potentially unlimited strength, once you get the right upgradeable stuff at least. A fun thing I like about this perk is how it affects stuff like workouts. Workouts not only make you more physically fit with this, they also strengthen your perks, strengthen facets of your physique, and can even improve your luck (assuming there is a perk for your luck, which there IS in this jump in two senses: there's The Devil's Own Luck, AND there's a gamer function called Attributes, which CAN give you a luck stat if you want, I recommend it partially to mix with this perk). The idea that going for a joydrive can strengthen your telekinesis, or actively make you smarter is very funny but also very true with this perk and the right mix of gamer things.
This perk on it's own is somewhat limited, but a smart strategist who wants their jumper to be able to stand alone has a lot of options they can use. Two of my favorites here are Jack of All Trades and Experience Booster. JoAT is a fun perk that makes it much easier for you to hone new perksyou acquire along your chain, and Experience Booster is just a POWERHOUSE of a perk that boosts how much experience you get from anything that gives you experience, whether you only get it from defeating enemies or you get it from doing minor stuff, and if you mix it with Master of All you get a powerful combination since it makes it so that your workouts buff your brain by twenty times as much as they would otherwise. The best way to cheese it has got to be to go all in on game-ifying your life and taking the skills function of the gamer system, which allows you to make a ton of stuff into a skill, which thus plugs it into the Master of All functionality. Here, look at the description of Skills so you can see what I mean.

Skills (-100/-200/-300 GP)
For 100 GP, any ability or skill you possess becomes a ‘Skill’, with a skill level, increasing in power and efficiency as it levels up, done by gaining enough experience, which is gathered by using the skill; Level 1 is maximum inefficiency, while Level 99 is the maximum efficiency you could normally get — you can go even beyond that, though, with no hard cap to how high a skill’s level can be. The higher a skill’s level, the more experience required to get it to the next level. Generally, the more powerful and useful a skill, the slower it is to level up.
Any powers, skills, or abilities you already possess are automatically converted into System Skills. You may gain new skills by performing relevant actions; for example, throwing a knife might earn you the skill ‘Knife Throwing’. Skills will not deteriorate with time or disuse.
For an additional 100 GP, once a skill has reached Level 99, it may ‘prestige’, granting you an at least vaguely similar but much more powerful skill at Level 1 without taking away this one or, occasionally, traits if you’ve purchased the option. Prestige skills may themselves prestige. Prestige skills are especially difficult to level up.
For an additional 100 GP, you may ‘combine’ certain skills into a new one — without actually losing the ingredient skills.

This is hands down the best way to cheese this. This is also just a VERY good function in general, but guaranteeing that your skills can improve AND uncapping how good the stuff you do and the stuff you make can be is INCREDIBLE. This also allows you to become holistically better at everything just by cooking, or reading, and thus rewards you for having hobbies. This perk is very nice because it frees you from the constraints of training and having to incorporate stuff that makes you a stronger jumper but is more time-consuming and is not what a native would do.
I'm gonna take a beat to talk about Hyperspecialization again because one thing that's worth mentioning is that it's a passive trainer perk. It's MORE than that, sure, and in fact if you get it you're getting something worth every bit of CP you pay for it, but at it's core it's an enormously powerful passive trainer. There are other passive trainers. There didn't USE to be, at least not a LOT of them, but they exist now (these types of perks exist in several Edrogrimshell jumps, usually they are named "Dabbler" but not all of them have that name) so this perk has lost of some what made it unique. A perk doesn't have to be unique to be valuable, but it helps. Master of All, on the other hand is part of a, as far as I've seen, rarer type of perk: a training synergizer (something which blends types of training and studying together), and it's also a COMPLETE training synergizer which I've never seen before or anywhere else (normally the training synergizers I've seen link SPECIFIC skills, such as a perk from Generic Wizard which syncs how strong you are with your skill as a wizard, or a perk from Generic Culinary Warrior that links your cooking and combat skills). What this means is that if you miss out on Hyperspecialization you can go to other jumps and snag an equivalent perk there. In fact, you can actually grab something that is a MINOR improvement over Hyperspecilization, because all of the passive trainers I've seen let you passively train more than one thing at a time. It IS true that Hyperspecilization beats out these other, baby perks in how quickly it trains what you assign, but that minor aspect of its winning out is somewhat lessened in importance when you remember that placing something new in the lone slot hyperspecialization gives you resets how fast it trains the thing in question. Master of All is both less easy to compare to other existing perks and doesn't have any internal conditions that weaken active usage of it like Hyperspecialization does.
Now that's not to put you off of Hyperspecialization, if I were in a real chain I'd want to grab BOTH Hyperspecialization and Master of All (and not just because MoA completely removes the weakness of Hyperspecialization, but that's certainly a part of it haha), these are INCREDIBLY powerful perks, but one is... one is more universally useful than the other. Master of All is just an absolute S-tier perk. I cannot imagine any build where MoA is applicable where it wouldn't be an absolute GOD-TIER of a purchase. The only possible combination I could think of that might invalidate MoA would be the Sage x Spirit Touched combination from the ATLA Redux jump, and that'd be most of your base CP in a jump that has MULTIPLE sections worth of stuff to try and grab.
To put this in perspective, with a perk like this and the right combination of gamer things you can go into a setting like Chronicle and hone your telekinesis by working on your photography skills. You can become a better chef by doing your math homework and rereading whatever chapter of MacBeth you're on in English. Once you've gained the right skills you can become better at soccer and other sports while you design a website. Become a better wizard by practicing juggling. This is an incredible QoL perk that frees you from a lot of the time-crunchiness that comes with only having a decade in a setting as opposed to a lifetime. Honestly that's kind of the biggest strength of the particular nature of the Generic Gamer Jump, it does a LOT to free up your time and really let you optimize your time in a setting.

Generic Gamer As A Time Optimizer

So depending on the setting, a decade is either a LOT of time or it's BARELY any time. In Avatar the Last Airbender, a decade can be a HUGE amount of time (the entire plot of the first show is about one calendar year according to one of the show's execs), but in Harry Potter a decade is only a bit more time than the plot takes, and truthfully is barely a blink of an eye. So perks that allow you to have a special relationship with time are always good.
One of the critical facets of Generic Gamer is how it allows you to optimize time. There's definitely some underlying logic here, since game characters have INCREDIBLE growth rates, and I love that about this jump. Generic Gamer, for the cost of 50 GP lets you lose the need to sleep, the need to eat, and the need to drink. That is an INCREDIBLE boost to the amount of functional time you have in a jump, if you started your chain off as a base human and entered this jump as a non-boosted human or as an only minorly-boosted human. Getting rid of three of the most essential bodily needs for the cost of 50 points in a thing where you start off with 1350 points makes it a steal (You get different points for perks and for gamer system customization in this jump).
A big part of how essential this is, is how much time it saves you by eliminating sleep but in all honesty removing your need to drink or eat is also critical. I don't know how many jumps could safely be taken as first jumps that completely eliminate the need for sleep, food, AND water, but this one can and that's pretty OP given the costs. Also, bv eliminating the need for stuff like food and water you make entire other jumps wholly more viable. Minecraft, for example, becomes WILDLY safer if you don't have to work about starvation, since hunger is directly linked to your ability to recover from wounds but in Generic Gamer you can completely subvert this system by spending 100 GP: purchase Gamer Body (eliminating the need for food) and also purchase the HP System (which gives you fiat-backed regen, so long as you don't take a hit for a beat, giving you a passive heal much like some FPS games).
Gamer's Body & HP System guarantee you survive any setting that isn't actively trying to kill you, and also frees you up to more safely do what you want like explore or just have a good time. If you don't have to pay for food or housing for sleep, you either don't need money or you need a LOT less of it. Stuff like this is also DRAMATICALLY powerful for vampires and other creatures that are normally driven by, or at least associated with, constant hunger. Also this just makes zombie jumps hilariously easy for you to solo since the number of risks you have to take (while solo) are SO MUCH lower. Funnily enough the right set of perks here even lower the risks you have to take when you work WITH other people, as Inventory lets you both raid places by yourself (since you can store an infinite amount of stuff on you by yourself) AND lowers how much supplies you need for your friends (since time doesn't pass for stuff in your inventory, preventing it from going bad!).
This jump is also filled with training boosters, with Jack of All Trades, Experience Booster, Hyperspecialization, and Master of All all qualifying as training boosters broadly, they all just qualify as different TYPES of training boosters. This is very interesting, since one of the big things a lot of adventure jumpers will need sooner or later are training boosts of their own. The best training boost here is Experience Booster which buffs training by 100 times, a STUNNING boost to one's training, and this stacks hilariously with every other training booster here.
I have a lot of thoughts on this jump and I think I'll keep writing them down from time to time. It's just so good.

We all hate spoilt rich brats using their parents wealth and protection to do stupid and messed up things but still get away with them. But here comes what I assumed to be one of the most irredeemable of them all suddenly expressing an honest part of himself about how he hates the way the commonwealth is built in a really human way, despite being at the top of the food chain. I really grew respect for him after that conversation with Max.
Then low and behold the second he starts being honest and making good changes for the better, he gets betrayed. Hell, even the speech in the ring for founder's day I liked because he went for the authenticity rather than what Pamela wanted him to say and I thought that was so sweet. As with any sweet story in this show though it was short-lived and that's just the icing on the cake because I think that makes his change of heart more hard-hitting.
Thanks for coming to my Ted talk :)

Again, cautiously I proceed, believing there is a danger in applying anything from one of the novellas in The Fifth Head of Cerberus to one or both of the others. With that caveat out of the way, let me explore the potential provenance of “‘A Story’ by John V. Marsch” in light of the revealed situation in “V.R.T.”
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“V.R.T.” gives us a Soviet model of crime and punishment which recasts “A Story” as being a work of rehabilitation rather than one of anthropology. I sketch some of this territory in “Appendix VRT8: A Soviet Model” (part of Gene Wolfe’s First Four Novels: A Chapter Guide), but I would like to expand it a bit here.
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I believe “V.R.T.” is largely patterned on Arthur Koestler’s Darkness at Noon (1940). Koestler reveals in his novel that with the Soviet system, a court case could not advance to the show trial stage until after the prisoner had signed a false confession that had been crafted entirely by the authorities. This fantastical document of made-up crime is referred to as “The Grammatical Fiction,” and by definition it is not written by the prisoner, it is written by his jailers, in order to justify his pre-determined fate.
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I pause here to note that George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949) is really a “happy ending” version of Darkness at Noon. Be aware that there will be spoilers ahead for both 1984 and Darkness at Noon.
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Robert Borski is on record arguing that prisoner 143 wrote “A Story” while in prison. I am on record arguing against that, both author and setting, but I will go through a steelman argument of what I think such a thing would look like, using elements I have already published, bending and combining them in service to this new task.
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To prepare the way, I will engage in a long-delayed response to Borski’s “Marschian Sexuality” (2006), a brief article that detects in the Earth anthropologist Marsch a homosexual nature (The Long and the Short of It, 49). Borski notes that Marsch’s journal describes teenage Victor as “handsome in a rather sensitive way,” and that later entries show Marsch increasingly agitated by the idea that Victor might be sexually engaged with the suspected abo girl, an agitation that rises in intensity to the point Marsch writes about shooting them both if he catches them together. As telling as that is, for Borski, “the clincher is he reports in his journal that he’s noticed Victor is uncircumcised.”
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This is the first I saw such an idea, and I applaud Borski for his textual detective work. I will build upon this, going in a different direction than Borski goes.
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If a reader believes there are two distinct personalities in prisoner 143, it makes sense that there be differences to distinguish between the two, differences in voice that will appear in text. Both Marsch and Victor are male; one is in his twenties, the other a teen; one is highly educated, the other is barely educated; both are beardless. Totaling these up, they are practically twins, so a difference in sexual orientation could show which personality is writing a given sentence.
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Borski assigns the misogynistic remark about Celestine Etienne to the Victor side (49), whereas I take this as expressing the Marsch persona, along with the other misogynisms, such as “Most medical men . . . [only] prolong the lives of ugly women” (5HC, 205).
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By my reframing, prisoner 143 is ostensibly a misogynistic homosexual, yet during his extra-harsh time in the tomb-like underground cell he writes about dream women (5HC, 210-11) and a prostitute he hired on Ste. Anne (212). After this he gets positive reinforcement, being moved back to his original cell (231), being given the best food and a bath (231), and being given an intimate visit by Celestine Etienne (232). Then, when he is about to burn his uncollected notes, his jailers confiscate them (233).
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This technique employed by the jailers to break him down is not special, it is their standard way, as declared by the letter: “We are pursuing the usual policy of alternately lenient and severe treatment to produce a breakdown” (242). Yet the resulting breakdown might actually serve to wean Victor of the Marsch persona; or to exorcise the Marsch spirit, in possession terms; or, in actor’s terms, to relegate the role into a mere mask. If Victor’s mother can shift between multiple roles, it shows the importance of not confusing a mask for the core.
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One model I looked at in my chapter guide was that the government fears prisoner 143 is a human sniper disguised as an abo klutz (“Appendix 5HC2: A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing”). The opposite to this would be a sheep-in-wolf’s-clothing, which looks like Red Riding Hood in the belly of the wolf.
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Returning to the Soviet model of “V.R.T.,” perceptive readers will have been arguing for nine paragraphs that “A Story” does not look like a Grammatical Fiction; it looks more like a fictionalization of a personal psychological reintegration, ending in the killing of an ogre and the subduing of a shadow twin. In a sense, this puts “A Story” in company with I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (1964), a famous fictionalization of a personal psychological reintegration. As such, consider this mapping of “A Story” to Victor’s point of view in “V.R.T.” (similar to the table in the aforementioned “Appendix VRT8”).
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=A Story: V.R.T.=
Quest to become a man: expedition starts (find abos/mother)
Become a shadow friend: Marsch as patron (*)
The girlfriend (Seven Girls Waiting): the cat/abo girlfriend
Vision of mother in danger: clue in Roncevaux
Trip by river: starcrosser to Ste. Croix
The trap (capture by marshmen): murder of Number Four
The prison: #143
The family reunion in prison: the incoherent neighbor as mother
The girlfriend in prison: Celestine Etienne
The miracle: (black box**, reality breakthrough)
The execution of Last Voice: (black box, the killing of the ogre)
The switch: (black box, the subduing of the shadow twin)
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* for “Become a shadow friend: Marsch as patron” I am especially struck by the parallel scenes where the hero, facing a threatening male, weeps and is comforted. In “A Story” this is where Sandwalker prepares to fight the intoxicated Shadow Child (5HC, 86); in “V.R.T.” this is where Marsch asks Victor what he will do when he is a man (5HC, 159), and six days later they talk about an anthropology book Victor has read (223). In addition, the way that the Old Wise One of “A Story” speaks in scientific jargon forms an unexpected link to Marsch-as-tutor; and Victor’s imitation of Marsch and Hagsmith swells their camp number to four, similar to the fluctuating number of phantom-like Shadow Children.
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** by “black box,” I mean that science and technology term wherein an input goes into a black box and the black box emits a transformed output, but the internal working of the box remains mysterious and opaque. One explicit “black box” in “V.R.T.” involves the murder out in the field: we witness events leading up to that incident, and notes after the incident, but the incident itself remains mysterious and opaque.
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Continuing beyond this mapping, the letter from the jailers to the junior officer names two solutions: execution of 143 as an agent of Ste. Anne; release of 143 as a scientist from Earth, “at least until he further incriminates himself” (241): in effect, the Darkness at Noon option (execution), or the 1984 option (release for eventual execution). In his response, the junior officer writes that neither is acceptable, and that, “Until complete cooperation is achieved we direct you to continue to detain the prisoner” (243). This “complete cooperation” sounds like the prerequisite for “Grammatical Fiction,” but it also could imply an implied third option, a “fork ending” of the sort promoted by Damon Knight (who, you will recall, grew Gene from a bean), where the third ending is not named but subtly foreshadowed. So, if the end result, the black box output, is the production of “A Story” (foreshadowed by appearing in the text before “V.R.T.”), then the implied off-the-page ending of “V.R.T.” is not a list of imaginary crimes to warrant 143’s execution as a sniper agent, but an anthropological romance to allow 143’s release as a scientist from Earth. Yet this is not the simple release of 143 as the 1984 option, it is a third way: to avoid the possibility that he “further incriminate himself,” the jailers must actively remake him as a scientist from Earth, if only as a stable role. According to my thought chains on Manchurian Candidates (ibid “Appendix 5HC2”), the government therefore must first determine that prisoner 143 is not, in fact, capable of being a sniper (i.e., an Earthman with proven skill at long range rifle use), but is an abo klutz.
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Given that Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949) is a “happy ending” version of Koestler’s Darkness at Noon, I hope I have made clear the likely stages required for an even “happier ending” in “A Story” as a rehabilitation document for prisoner 143. The “Grammatical Fiction” has turned into I Never Promised You a Rose Garden; the Soviet-style prison is revealed to be more like a healing mental health hospital, if only for this one exceptional case where the government finds itself in a bind.

Hello you beautiful weirdos! I just wanted to post a few tips from a guy who lives in Prague for those who will be coming to visit. The show is in an area that isn't really known for their late night antics so I wouldn't expect much after the show, but you are a short walk uphill through a tunnel to a great night spot, Zizkov.
Transport - Public transportation is great here in the city but make sure that you have a ticket. Download the app from this website and you can buy tickets on your phone. https://pidlitacka.cz/en and I recommend you have a ticket as the IIHF hockey tournament is happening in Prague so we have more visitors than normal and they will be looking to fine tourists. Google maps will also suffice for how to get from one place to another and of course we have ubebolt if you prefer to just get a faster ride.
Beer (Pivo) - It is what this country is known for, Pilsner Urquell is the flagship and if you can find a place that has tankovna it will be even better. Lokal is the big chain around the city and good Czech food with great beer at all places. Around the corner is https://maps.app.goo.gl/YdY9AXdzn42QXsGx6 which has a large indoor place and even tables outside in the back. Dva Kohouty has a nice outdoor area and is walking distance from the show. Bad Flash Karlin has some craft beer quite close to the venue as well. If you just want to grab some bottles BeerGeek Karlin is the spot and they have multiple shops and a bar with 30 taps of beer and decent wings. Download untapped and you can find all the craft beer spots if that is what you are after. Avoid the center for food and drink as you will pay more for sure, but that is the same for any European capital city.
Hockey - As mentioned the IIHF tournament is happening now in Prague and Ostrava so there will be plenty of people wearing jerseys and getting rowdy. There is a fan zone that is free where you can watch on a screen outside and drink and eat with a rowdy environment so if you are into hockey go to Ceskomoravska on the yellow line and you can't miss it. This will also make some places much more crowded as the city is full of people for that, especially if they have TV's as people will be out watching the games.
Partying - Despite what all the signs will tell you we have not legalized weed here in Prague so anything you find in some corner store will be either CBD or some HHC variant. The people on Wenceslas square might have something but you will not get what you pay for and you might also just get some cbd or something else so be warned. Zizkov that was mentioned earlier is a place full of pubs that are open late and your odds are much better of getting something legit. I am not here to promote anything, just trying to help you avoid getting ripped off. Please be safe and remember people do actually live in the city so get as weird as you want, but please don't be a loud mess on the streets after 10 PM as that is the official legal quite time for noise.
Hope that helps and I will come back here and try to field questions up until the show. Have fun and let's enjoy a killer Her and I that I hope to manifest.
Edit - Forgot to add in how to say please and thank you. Please is Prosim and there are many different ways to say it but the easiest to remember is Dekuji. The easiest way to remember is to call someone a dickweed, and remove the d at the end.
Prosím (pro-seem) = Possibly the most useful word in Czech. It means: 1) Please, 2) Here you are, 3) You're welcome, 4) What did you say?, 5) I'll have … and can generally be used in times of doubt.
Děkuji. Děkuji is the most universal form of thank you in Czech. You can use it in formal situations as well as casual ones.

Today marks my 8th day without drinking. I'm not sure where to start other than I'm only 37 and began to fear that my drinking was going to kill me. For the last ten years, I think I can count the days on my fingers where I haven't had a drink. I went from being very athletic to obese during this time and have felt my health slipping in scarier ways. There are people who depend on me and they deserve so much more than the version of myself that I've been giving them.
The first few days were extremely rough, but I'm finally starting to feel some of the benefits. I'll list a few here:
1: I've lost just over 10 lbs. I drank a lot of beer everyday, so my caloric intake is far less. So far, I've avoided gorging on junk food to replace the missed calories.
2: My sleep has improved tremendously these last 3-4 days. Oddly enough, I sleep MORE now. I think my body is still catching up. But, I now wake up refreshed and with a lot more energy. I no longer need to do my morning ritual of slamming water, caffeine, and chain smoking to clear the cobwebs. (I need to figure out a new morning routine)
3: I feel like I've deflated. I was so bloated, I looked like a pregnant man. My stomach has gone down making me look like I've lost a lot more than just 10 lbs and my face is less puffy.

1. I still have a lot of redness in my face, but the dark bags under my eyes have greatly reduced.
   
2. My energy levels skyrocketed over the weekend. I was able to do more with my family and things around the house than I can remember in recent years.
   

Now, I am still having headaches. The cravings are still there, gnawing at me. I also have this weird feeling in my stomach where it feels tight (I haven't decided whether or not that's a good thing).
Hopefully, I'll keep this up for much longer than 8 days.