Hey everyone,
I've been experiencing some lightheadedness when I take my Adderall (15mg in the morning and 10mg in the afternoon), buspirone (5mg three times daily), and finasteride (5mg daily). In the morning, I also usually have a cup of coffee and sometimes a pre-workout before my workouts.
Despite drinking plenty of water, I still feel pretty lightheaded, especially when I'm driving. Has anyone else experienced this? Any suggestions or tips on how to manage it would be really helpful.
Thanks!

Hey all—
I’m a student whose provider is in VA, and I got accepted to do some research in MA this summer, which is great!
My only issue is that my provider isn’t licensed in MA, and I’m on Adderall XR and IR. I’ll be in MA for 10 weeks and will need 2-3 refills over that span.
Has anyone dealt with this before? How did you manage it?

Hello everyone, I've been lurking around on this subreddit for a while but I'm finally posting because I have an important question. I had an abortion about two days ago and it's my second Abortion. I've had to work so many hours recently because I'm starting to tag on a few more expenses such as a car and a new lease coming in so I ended up having my abortion in the middle of my shift at work. While I was taking two Misoprostol pills, I took it with a little bit off water and it completely dissolved in my mouth within a few minutes so I immediately took another two and they lasted 15 minutes. It took 1.5 hours before I could be able to be on a toilet at home and pass the clots but ever since I've started, the cramping in my pelvis won't stop. It's like I'm painless one second and then it feels like I need to be passing a clot during the abortion but nothing happens, it just hurts. The first time I did it, I was able to be in the privacy of my own home, took the four pills all at once and then I passed everything. There was a long period of bleeding for a week after but nothing like continuous cramps like this time. Did I do something wrong? Do I need to take more Misoprostol?

So for the past month I’ve been taking my Adderall exactly how the doctor prescribed it but I felt like it was possibly losing its effectiveness. Recently I read a post about how electrolyte imbalance and dehydration can cause your Adderall to be less effective. So I started taking an electrolyte pack and drinking water in the morning when I take my Adderall and it has made a huge difference! So if you are feeling how I did obviously check with your doctor but it might be worth trying! Definitely a sense of relief for me because I need my meds to be effective in order to function my best! Absolute life saver!

UPDATE: I'll try again using a scale - here is how CoPilot translated cups into grams - thank you, u/nondualishuz.

• Sourdough: ½ cup is equivalent to 4 ounces (since 1 cup = 8 ounces).
• Water: 1 cup is equivalent to 8 ounces.
• Whole-wheat flour: ½ cup is equivalent to 4 ounces.
• Unbleached bread flour: For 3 to 3½ cups, it would be 24 to 28 ounces (as 1 cup = 8 ounces).
• Salt: Since salt is measured in teaspoons, not cups, the conversion is different. Generally, 1 teaspoon of salt weighs about 0.2 ounces. So, 2 teaspoons would be approximately 0.4 ounces.
• Cornmeal: This is typically used for dusting and the amount can vary, so it’s best to use as needed.

Remember, these conversions are based on the assumption that you’re using standard US cup and ounce measurements. The weight of ingredients can vary depending on the ingredient’s density and how it’s packed into the cup. For baking, it’s often recommended to use a kitchen scale for more precise measurements.
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Hi, I bake sourdough and baguettes regularly with good success. However, I have made the recipe below twice and failed both times. The crust turns out hard (not just crunchy), and in the second batch the bread did not brown.
The two deviations I made from the recipe below were:
-- I used a mixer with a dough hook for step 3 - and the flour was a bit challenging to mix in. Would a food processor with a steel blade (one of the options the recipe called for) really work better? Seems like it would destroy the gluten structure you are trying to build.
-- I also used a baking steel which made the bottom brown, but the top of the loaves stayed pasty white.
Ideas? I like the idea of a part-whole wheat baguette using leftover sourdough starter. The loaves are also quite good (nice texture, good tang) - it is just that crust.

• ½cup sourdough (I used fed sourdough)
• 1cup water
• ½ cup whole-wheat flour
• 3 to 3½ cups unbleached bread flour, plus flour for the work surface
• 2 teaspoons salt
• Cornmeal for baking sheets

1. Combine the sourdough with the water and allow to sit until the sourdough relaxes and begins to dissolve, about 20 minutes. Beat in the whole-wheat flour and one cup of the bread flour, cover tightly with plastic wrap and allow to rise until very bubbly and light, six to eight hours depending on the warmth of the room.
2. Beat in the salt and another cup of flour, again cover and let rise until double in size, five to seven hours.
3. Transfer the mixture to a kneading bowl or food processor with a steel blade and knead in the remaining flour, a third of a cup at a time, until the dough is smooth, shiny and elastic. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes.
4. Sprinkle a baking sheet with cornmeal. Divide the dough in half and roll each half into a thin snake about one-and-a-half inches in diameter. Place the snakes, well separated, on the baking sheet, cover lightly with a dampened tea towel or plastic wrap and allow to rise until double in size, about one to one-and-a-half hours.
5. Heat the oven to 450 degrees. Make several shallow diagonal slashes across the loaves with a razor blade and put the sheet in the oven. Being careful not to get burned by the steam, throw about a quarter cup of water onto the oven floor and shut the oven at once.
6. Bake the bread for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the baguettes are crusty and well browned. Cool on wire racks.

I am pretty into my plants and soil health. I imagine draining 450 gals of water from our CalSpa is not good for soil microbial life or my landscaping. I'm a mostly-organic gardener, health-conscious etc. and yes the hot tub represents the most (non-psychoactive) chemicals I've knowingly allowed into my life. Would all the dissolved solids immediately clog one of those in-line hose filters? Maybe a sediment filter first? Or what about...and I shudder to ask this because it sounds utterly precious... some service that will come drain the bulk of it for me & remove it from my property...? Also... isn't that going to flood my yard a bit? I live in N. Idaho. Suggestions?

sorry long post and once again needs probably a consult from a specific tax legal advisor but not sure what speciality I should be looking at.
Disregarded Entities have very little support documentation with the IRS in general since revenue is rolled into the parent.
In a complex tax scenario would love folks take.
A company (Cat corp)was purchased by a client (stock sale) from a very large publicly traded company (let’s call it Borg corp). Borg corp had previously bought that company alongside a few others in a collective holdings (Let’s call it Anz corp) in 2019. Anz corp bought the original company (cat corp) bought in 2012. So we’re talking lots of mergers, bankruptcy and more between all of them. Messy.
Cat company was a company that made a lot of money (millions) with almost 80 percent profit margins and came crashing in 2014 and sold to a particular young individual as a shell in 2020 for almost nothing. Borg company made billions so it was like letting go of their catering budget. long story short this young individual had convinced Borg corp to allow him to do a management buyout.

1. Anz corp buys Cat corp in 2012
2. Anz corp buys more companies through 2017 and files chapter 11
3. Borg corp comes buys Anz corp and subsidiary and in sells Cat corp remains to the individual
4. Individual was a manager at Cat corp who did a management buy out but had a lot of pressure to do a stock sale
5. Client turns Cat corp to an S corp from a disregarded entity under their holding company Dog corp
6. By 2023 Anz corp is dissolved completely / Borg corp continues to be a massive company public ally traded company

Client knows Cat corp was treated as a disregarded entity since inception in 2012 and was part of the original acquisition and knew all the folks doing the transactions well.
He gets entity records finally from the IRS having had some doubts and could not do it prior to sale. Bad move to not do this prior to sale yes but those were the circumstances offered.
Finds no tax filings 1120 filed ever since revenue was attributed under Anz corp and then under Borg corp.
However he finds in 2014 Anz corp has moved the company Cat corp under a related Anz corp company and sees Payroll 941 payments being made on the entity in a timely manner. So payroll started being paid during 2014-2018 according to fax transcript from the IRS under Cat corp.
2012-2013 simply says requested data not found.
These 941 payments stop in the 2019 acquisition by Borg corp - it’s around 400k / year we are talking . we don’t know why and can’t get an answer from them now but they seem to be good and proper record keepers.
The Problem
long story short - Dog corp wants to think about closing the company Cat corp or sell it in the future and don’t want any future issues with the IRS process. To close an EIN the IRS would have to see all returns filed. Since it’s disregarded but payroll was made in some years under particular ownership be not under another structure - how would the client be able to do anything if the IRS asked them to file. How do you even know there is an issue? On paper it seems maybe there was some reason to have payroll under the entity while it was under particular ownership structure. different corps employ different strategies and the new owners aren’t privey to those details. New owners knows Borg corp exec well enough but as a publically traded company you can imagine how difficult it is to get them to help. What if the IRS say they are missing payroll or even worse should have filed a return for 2012 and 2013 - extremely high revenue years?
How would they be able to provide anything as Anz corp doesn’t exist nor have records that far back. What do people do when it’s impossible to reconstruct tax filing information due to it being decades old from some long gone entity. client has been up to date with filings since acquisition.
I’m talking hypotheticals here since the individuals here are extremely concerned about the EIN closing process.

Hey all. I have a private well. I had a company come test it today and recommend me a system.
They said the system would require a cartridge filter, water softener (which would also remove minerals and metals), and UV system.
In addition, they strongly recommended a reverse osmosis system for roughly $2,000. Can someone tell me how necessary that is?

TEST RESULTS

Water Clarity Details 100% Clear-Minor sediment
Water Odor HOT/COLD-Both
Total Dissolved Solids Details (EPA Secondary MCL 500) 642ppm
Total Iron Details (EPA Secondary MCL .3 PPM) 0.25ppm
Total Ferrous Iron Details (Dissolved Iron) 0.25ppm
Total Ferric Iron Details (Over 5 Microns) Orange, Yellow, or Brown color directly from well. Trace
Total Ferric Iron Details (Under 5 Microns) Light yellow discoloration in supply. Trace
pH Details (EPA range 6.5 - 8.5) 7.0
Hardness Details (Grains Per Gallon) 1 Grain Equals 17.1 PPM 3.0-4.0gpg
Manganese Details (EPA Secondary MCL .05 PPM) 0.125ppm
Total Compensated Hardness Details Hardness+ (Dissolved Iron x4) + (Manganese x5) 7.0
Free Chlorine Details (EPA MCL 4.0 PPM) NA
Total Chlorine Level Details (Chlorine Plus Chloramines) NA
Silica Details (in PPM) 13ppm

My most recent diet I’m down 8lbs in 6 weeks but according to the eufy scale (which I know it isn’t accurate, but it seems fairly consistent) my loss has come from 4.9 fat and 3.1 muscle. My body fat % is still at 22%. I can gain weight fairly easily, both muscle and fat go up, and then both muscle and fat go down. Im smaller overall, clothes looser, a bit visibly leaner, but definitely have lost muscle size in six weeks.
My TDEE is ~2600, I’ve been eating for 6 weeks around 2100 with 170g protein. I’m male, 39, currently 166lbs. Lifting weights with progressive overload 4 days a week, all my lifts have gone up reps or weight during the cut. 1 day of boxing, then some light cardio 2-3 days a week. 8-10k steps a day. Sleep 8hrs a night. 1gal water a day. I’ve tracked all my food; my numbers are exactly where they’re “supposed to be”. No cheat days, always hit my protein targets. My diet is high protein vegetarian. Lots of eggs, yogurt, kefir, cottage cheese, whey and casein shakes, fake meats. Supplements are creatine, fish oil, D, zinc. Medications are wellbutrin and low dose 5mg adderall.
Wondering if I’m missing something easy I’m not thinking of, or something medical to think about. Know there isn’t an easy answer, but wondering if anyone has had similar issues and some ideas of things to look into. Trying to get a lower BF% but really struggling to lose fat while keeping muscle. Thanks.

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

In the world of nanotechnology, the art of assembly is a delicate dance of molecules and reactions. It is a process that requires precision, patience, and a deep understanding of the intricate relationships between building blocks. In this essay, we will delve into the step-by-step process of crafting PMPC25-PDPA70 polymersomes, a complex nanostructure with unique properties.
The journey begins with the selection of two key ingredients: MPC (2-Methacryloyloxyethyl phosphorylcholine) and DPA (Dopamine acrylamide). These molecules are the foundation upon which the polymersome is built, each with its own unique characteristics. MPC, with its water-loving head and water-repelling tail, provides a hydrophilic-hydrophobic balance that is essential for the polymersome’s structure. DPA, on the other hand, is the dopamine-inspired component that confers adhesive and reactive properties to the polymersome.
The next step is the linking of these molecules together in a chain, a process known as Atom-Transfer Radical Polymerization (ATRP). This sophisticated technique is akin to building a Lego structure with specific instructions, where each molecule is carefully added to the growing chain. The initiator molecule kicks off the chain-building process, while copper bromide and bipyridine act as catalysts, speeding up the reaction and ensuring its smooth progression.
As the reaction unfolds, the researchers carefully monitor its progress, using Nuclear Magnetic Resonance (NMR) spectroscopy to confirm that all the MPC has been incorporated into the growing chain. This is akin to taking a snapshot to see how the Lego structure is coming along, ensuring that each piece is in its correct place.
Once the MPC is used up, the researchers add more DPA to the mix, continuing the chain-building process and incorporating the dopamine-inspired component. The resulting mixture is then filtered through silica gel, removing impurities and leaving behind a pure solution. This solution is then subjected to dialysis, a process that removes smaller molecules, and finally, freeze-dried to produce a fluffy powder of PMPC25-PDPA70 polymer.
But the journey is not yet complete. The researchers must still verify the quality of the polymer, using techniques such as Gel Permeation Chromatography (GPC) to separate the polymer chains by size. This analysis is akin to running a race, where smaller chains move faster, while larger chains lag behind. The results confirm the polymer’s characteristics, ensuring that it meets the required standards.
The final step is the creation of the polymersomes themselves, a process known as self-assembly. The polymer powder is dissolved, spread into a thin film, and then rehydrated to form tiny, bubble-like structures called polymersomes. Alternatively, the polymer can be dissolved in acidic conditions, and then the pH slowly raised, triggering the polymer molecules to self-assemble into polymersomes.

In the end, the art of assembly is a testament to human ingenuity and the power of science. By carefully crafting each step, the have created a complex nanostructure with unique properties, a true marvel of modern technology.researchers 

In the world of nanotechnology, the art of assembly is a delicate dance of molecules and reactions. It is a process that requires precision, patience, and a deep understanding of the intricate relationships between building blocks. In this essay, we will delve into the step-by-step process of crafting PMPC25-PDPA70 polymersomes, a complex nanostructure with unique properties.
The journey begins with the selection of two key ingredients: MPC (2-Methacryloyloxyethyl phosphorylcholine) and DPA (Dopamine acrylamide). These molecules are the foundation upon which the polymersome is built, each with its own unique characteristics. MPC, with its water-loving head and water-repelling tail, provides a hydrophilic-hydrophobic balance that is essential for the polymersome’s structure. DPA, on the other hand, is the dopamine-inspired component that confers adhesive and reactive properties to the polymersome.
The next step is the linking of these molecules together in a chain, a process known as Atom-Transfer Radical Polymerization (ATRP). This sophisticated technique is akin to building a Lego structure with specific instructions, where each molecule is carefully added to the growing chain. The initiator molecule kicks off the chain-building process, while copper bromide and bipyridine act as catalysts, speeding up the reaction and ensuring its smooth progression.
As the reaction unfolds, the researchers carefully monitor its progress, using Nuclear Magnetic Resonance (NMR) spectroscopy to confirm that all the MPC has been incorporated into the growing chain. This is akin to taking a snapshot to see how the Lego structure is coming along, ensuring that each piece is in its correct place.
Once the MPC is used up, the researchers add more DPA to the mix, continuing the chain-building process and incorporating the dopamine-inspired component. The resulting mixture is then filtered through silica gel, removing impurities and leaving behind a pure solution. This solution is then subjected to dialysis, a process that removes smaller molecules, and finally, freeze-dried to produce a fluffy powder of PMPC25-PDPA70 polymer.
But the journey is not yet complete. The researchers must still verify the quality of the polymer, using techniques such as Gel Permeation Chromatography (GPC) to separate the polymer chains by size. This analysis is akin to running a race, where smaller chains move faster, while larger chains lag behind. The results confirm the polymer’s characteristics, ensuring that it meets the required standards.
The final step is the creation of the polymersomes themselves, a process known as self-assembly. The polymer powder is dissolved, spread into a thin film, and then rehydrated to form tiny, bubble-like structures called polymersomes. Alternatively, the polymer can be dissolved in acidic conditions, and then the pH slowly raised, triggering the polymer molecules to self-assemble into polymersomes.

Personal Info: M / 33 / 5'11" / 170lbs / Diagnoses: GAD, MDD, PTSD and ADHD. Current Med-list: Adderall 40mg XR, Adderall 20mg IR (as needed in afternoon), Cymbalta 90mg, Propranolol (as needed for anxiety), Buspirone 15mg and Prazosin 2mg (PTSD nightmares, not for blood pressure)
I have a very intense fear of the dentist. This has resulted in me putting my dental health on the back burner and now it has gotten to where I cannot ignore it. I have to go but my fear is so bad I cannot sit still without tremors and feeling like I can't breathe/hyperventilating. Currently I take propranolol as needed for anxiety but it depends on how intense the anxiety is. Would it be acceptable to ask my psychiatrist for a prescription for a single dose of .5mg Clonazepam? I will not be driving there or driving back. I just need something to get me through the appointment without losing my shit.

I hope you guys will be able to help. ;-) I am looking for a reliable recipe for bamee noodles and I am struggling to find a good one. The ones I found online vary greatly. Here are the problems:

1. Eggs or no eggs?
   
2. Kansui or Thai lye (น้ำปูนใส). If using the lye, should I dissolve it in water first, or can I safely add the dry product straight into the dough?
   
3. How to make the noodles curly?
   
4. What the optimal hydration should be? A friend of mine has all the equipment for ramen noodles production so low hydration will not be a problem.
   

I would be soooo grateful if you are able to share a recipe or a link.

I was diagnosed with ADHD in my 30s, about 5 years ago. I tried a few medications and couldn’t sleep well (doctor and I realized I clear medicines EXTREMELY slow so moved to instant release and it was much better) but soon after that I was trying to get pregnant at the time so I stopped taking meds.
Fast forward to a few months ago, my kid is 3 and I was having a really hard time with focus. I decided to try medication again.
I began with 5mg IR adderall (I split the dose into 2) and even on the first day it was completely life changing. My brain stopped doing a million things at once. Sleep was hard at first but that side effect passed.
I also have terrible IBS which is better and my mood felt more even and balanced.
However, 5mg stopped working pretty quickly and didn’t last long enough. So I went to 10mg.
Now all the above positive effects and I was sleeping better and it was lasting most of the work day if I divided up my doses right.
But then I felt like 10mg wasn’t quite working the same and I am now on 15mg
I’m just feeling worried I’m developing tolerance but maybe this is normal? I began medication early March of this year.
It’s been so life changing in so many positive ways I really want this to keep working.

Since after World War II, linguists, due to lack of interest in Kurdish studies, have often neglected the pre-Iranic substratum in Kurdish and focused merely on the Irano-Kurdish layer. Of the Urartian language is not much known either (about 300 words), however, a strong majority of its known words have a identical or at least close equivalent in Kurdish. Urartian though closely related to Hurrian, sound more similar to Kurdish than does Hurrian; this may depend on the fact that Hurrian was spoken at an earlier time period. Mannaean was another Hurro-Urartian-related dialect spoken south of lake Urmia.
It is also worth noting that Armenian scholars have found a few Urartian words in Armenian, which appear to be borrowings via Kurdish.
Urartian: Ale (he says) Kurdish: Ale ئەڵێ (he says)
Urartian: Shuri (sword) Kurdish: Shur شوور (sword) Armenian: Sowr
Urartian: Kuri (foot, leg) Kurdish: Qul قول (foot, leg)
Urartian: xur (deep) Kurdish: xuqul/kur خووڕ/قوول/کوور (deep),
Hurrian: agul (carve) Kurdish: 'kol-[în]' کۆڵین : (to digg), kêla: (plow)
Urartian: shini (you, plural) Kurdish: hin هین/هون (you, plural, cf. sh>h a regular sound change in Kurdish)
Urartian: apa (he/she/it) Kurdish: awa, aw/ava, av cf. Kurdish p>w and p>v ئەوە (he/she/it)
Urartian: Sale (kid) Kurdish: Zaro زارۆ (kid) Armenian: jar (he-goat)
Urartian: tali (stick) Kurdish: têla (stick, cf. Kurdish a>ê)
10) Urartian: papi/bab/babani (mountain top) Kurdish: pope پۆپە (head)/ bani بانی (mountain top)
Urartian: qal/kar (kill/slay, subjugate) Kurdish: qir قڕ (kill, slay, cf Kurdish a>i)
Hurrian: shur (war) Kurdish: sher شەڕ (war)
Urartian: bidia (turn) Kurdish: bada-n بادان (turn)
Urartian: da (give) Kurdish: da, دا (give, Iranic and other IE languages have a similar lexeme)
Urartian: xus/hush (throw) Kurdish: xis-[tin]/hawish-[tin] خستن/هاویشتن (throw, cf Kurdish u>i)
Urartian: karbe (rock, stone) Kurdish: karra کەڕا (rock, stone) Armenian: qar (rock, stone)
Urartian: quira (earth, dust) Kurdish: qur, xol قوڕ/خۆڵ (earth, dust)
Hurrian: arte (earth, soil) Kurdish: ard ئەرد/هەرد (earth, soil, cf Kurdish rt > rd)
Urartian: $erab (dry) Kurdish: chora چۆڕا (dry) Armenian: caraw (dry)
20) Urartian: eue (and) Kurdish: u ئوو (and) but see even Iranic ''ut''
Urartian: tur ( to leave) Kurdish: tor-[an], تۆران to leave
Urartian: ul (to go) Kurdish: lu-wan لوان (to go)
Urartian: ulhu (order) Kurdish: ol ئۆل (religion)
Urartian: bura (slave, servant) Kurdish: bora بۆرە (commoner, low-class)
Urartian: xarxar (destroy) Kurdish: xirxal خرخاڵ (destroyed)
Urartian: ale (but) Kurdish: lê لێ (but)
Urartian: duli (grape) Kurdish: trê, tirî ترێ (grape, cf. l>r and u>i) Armenian: toli (grape)
Urartian: kapi (capacity measure) Kurdish: kap/qap کاپ/قاپ (capacity measure)
Urartian: nah (to bring) Kurdish: hên-an/han-în هانین/هێنان (to bring)
30) Urartian: pare (toward) Kurdish: pîr پیر (toward),
Urartian: pile (water canal) Kurdish: pil-û-sk پلووسک (rain canal)
Urartian: tan (lay down) Kurdish: dan-[an] دانان (lay down)
Hurrian: id- (hit, strike) Kurdish: -d- (hit strike); ([lê] d-[an])
Urartian: teq- (to thump, to break) Kurdish: teq-[în] تەقین (to thump, to break)
Urartian: uzgi (power, strength) Kurdish: wuze وزە (power, strength, cf. Kurdish u- > w-)
Urartian: mari (lord, horseman) Kurdish: mir میر (lord, compare also with the Semitic ''Amir'')
Urartian: shu/shia (to go) Kurdish: chu, چوو (to go, cf. also Iranic ''shiyaw'')
Urartian: euri (lord) Kurdish: hêwir هێور (brave)
Urartian: xarari (calm) Kurdish: oqre ئۆقرە (calm), Armenian:
40) Urartian: zar (orchard) Kurdish: zar زار (orchard) Armenian: car (tree)
Urartian: ur (to place down) Kurdish: wer-[in], وەرین (to place down, cf. Kurdish u-> w- )
Urartian: wal, (to win) Kurdish: wêr-an وێران (to dare)
Urartian: zelbi (descendant) Kurdish: zol زۆڵ (bastard)
Urartian: zeld, (to shatter the enemies) Kurdish: zal زاڵ (to shatter the enemies)
Urartian: qarqar (throat) Kurdish: qurg قورگ (throat, compare also with the Irano-Kurdish garû, and Persian galu, there is also another word in Kurdish: qurquroska)
Hurrian: kut/kud (to make fall, to kill) Urartian: qot (piece) Kurdish: kut کوت (piece), kut-a کوتان (to smash), kud (to kill)
Urartian: xubi (valley) Kurdish: qopi قۆپی (valley, vale, plain)
Urartian: xare (to march, to raid) Kurdish: xar غار (to march, to raid)
Hurrian: Hiuri (smoke) Kurdish: Hulm هوڵم (steam)
50) Urartian: $ue (river, lake) Kurdish: chom/gom چۆم/گۆم (rive lake) Armenian: cov (lake)
Hurrian: tiv (word) Urartian: tiw (to speak) Kurdish: diw-an دوان (to speak)
Urartian: abeli/aweli (attach, increase) Kurdish: awale/awela ئاواڵە/ئاوەڵا (open)
Urartian: an, (no) Kurdish: na, نا (no; there is also a similar equivalent in Iranic)
Urartian: ari-beri Kurdish: birin برن (to carry, there is also a similar equivalent in Iranic)
Urartian: ewani/ebani (land) Kurdish: -wan وان (suffix used after place-names)
Urartian: kulune (side) Kurdish: qulin-chk قولینچک/ qurne قوڕنە (side, corner) Armenian: koln
Urartian: man (to stay) Kurdish: man مان (to stay), (resembles even Iranic, cf. New Persian ''mandan'')
Urartian: mana Urartian: me (prohibitive particle) Kurdish: me مە (prohibitive particle)
60) Urartian: pahi (cattle) Hurrian: pedari (cattle) Kassite: badar (bull, cattle) Kurdish: patal پاتاڵ (cattle) Armenian: paxre
Urartian: par, to take off Kurdish: pirr [-dan] پڕ (to take off, cf. Kurdish a>i)
Urartian: kamn (old, earlier) Kurdish: kavn/kawn کەڤن/کەون (old, cf. m>v but also Iranic ''kohan'' which has led to Kurdish ''kon'')
Urartian: pe? (under) Kurdish: pe? پێ (under, foot, cf. even Iranic pey)
Urartian: shid (build) Kurdish: chê-[kirin], چێ (build cf, kurdish d>nil)
Hurrian: awari Kurdish: awari ئەواری (land, country, field, cf. kurdawari, کوردەواری / warê me وارێ مە) (Armenian agarak has been suggested as an Armenian loan from 'awari'. Kurdish has even 'garak' with the same meaning). Urartian: ur (territory)
Urartian: qapqari Kurdish: gamaro (p>w>m cf Kurdish ziman Urartian: sher (hide) Kurdish: sheshar شێر/وەشارتن (hide)
Urartian: quldi (uninhabited) Kurdish: kawil (کاول) (annihilate,destruction)
Urartian: ar- (give) Kurdish: ar- (give, dialectal as in Slêmanî, for example: ''bi-ar-ê'': بیەرێ ''give him'')
70) Urartian: ture (destroy) Kurdish: ture تووڕە (angry)
Urartian: aba (desire) Kurdish: awat ئاوات (desire), aw-in ئەوین (to love)
Urartian: ada (again) Kurdish: idi ئیدی (another, anymore)
Urartian: shal-i (year) Kurdish: sal ساڵ (year, but Iranian ''sard'', New Persian has also ''sal'') Armenian: tari
Urartian: šeh-i/eri/e, living Kurdish: zhiyar ژیار (living)
Urartian: arnu-ia (come to the aid of) Kurdish: hana هانا (come to the aid of, cf Kurdish a- >ha- )
Urartian: lak- (to destroy) Kurdish: Rûx-[an] رووخان (to destroy)
Urartian: 'are (granary) Kurdish: harr هاڕ (granary, cf Kurdish ha-<-a, notice 'zimharr' زمهاڕ, meaning 'winter granary')
Urartian: ieshti (here) Kurdish: hêsthte هێشتە (now)
Urartian: meshe (part, tribute, share) Kurdish: mûche مووچە (part, tribute, share)
80) Urartian: pi$ushe (joy) Kurdish: pishû پشوو (holyday, vacation)
Hurrian: sheshe (six) Kurdish: shesh شەش (six, but it is the same even in Iranic)
Urartian: izidu (admonish, command) Kurdish: ezidi ئێزیدی (name of a native religion in Kurdistan)
urartian: yarani (kind of cultic building, altar) Kurdish: yari یاری (name of a native religion in Kurdistan)
Urartian: aleu (dignity) Kurdish: alewi ئالەوی (name of a native religion in Kurdistan)
Urartian and Hurrian: /-i/, /-iye/ (his, her, its) Kurdish: /-i/, /-y/ ی (his, her, its)
Hurrian: /-v/ (your) Kurdish: /-w/ و (your)
Urartian: ushanu (award, bestow, feel affection for ) Kurdish: wuchan وچان (rest, reprieve)
Urartian: napahia (submission, bondage, domestication) Kurdish: nawi نەوی (low, a low level, position or degree), (p>w)
Urartian: tur (defeat, destroy) Kurdish: dor- دۆڕ (defeat)
90) Urartian: sal-zi (steep, abrupt) Kurdish: sila سڵا (height)
Urartian: sil-e (woman, doughter) Kurdish: selar سەلار (mistress of the house, beautiful woman) (note ''Selardi'', a lunar goddess of Urartu)
Urartian: lutu (woman) Kurdish: lute لووتە (quoquettish woman)
Urartian: uldie (vineyard) Kurdish: lote لۆتە (grapes hanged in order to be sun dried in a vineyard)
Urartian: nikidu (water) Kurdish: niqdo/niqût نقووت/نقدۆ (water infiltration, water dropping, water penetration), (plus some other cognates of the word)
Urartian: kan/kain (in front of) Kurdish: kin کن (in front of, near) (but cf. also Iranic ''kenar'')
Urartian: haš-ia: (be interested in) Kurdish: haz حەز (be interested in, love, like)
Urartian: d-u-: (do, cause to do) Kurdish: da/di: ده/د (do, cause to do, used as a preffix for verbs)
Urartian: shalur (medlar) Kurdish: shalor شەلۆر (nectarine) Armenian: salor (plum) (clearly borrowed via Kurdish)
Urartian: mure (house) Kurdish: mal ماڵ (house)
100) Urartian: urishi (weapon) Kurdish: hereshe هەڕەشە (threat), /(there is also ''huruzhim'': هوروژم attack)
Hurrian: shini (two) Kurdish: shingil شنگڵ (twin, twin fruit)
Urartian: egur-hu (free) Kurdish: xorayi خۆرایی (free)
Urartian: bad-gul (surround) Kurdish: bawe-xulê باوەخولێ (turn around, also a kids game)
Urartian: aish-ti (leap, jump) Kurdish: hej-an هەژان (quake)
Urartian: ibirani (whole, complete, full) Kurdish: pirani پڕانی (majority)
Hurrian: hinzur (apple? pear?) Kurdish: hencor هەنجۆر (unripe melon)
Urartian: kut-u (reach) Kurdish: (geh<*ged) گەهشتن/گەیشتن (reach)
Urartian: ai/ay: (look, take care) Kurdish: aw-ir ئاوڕ (look)
Urartian: di/erasia (fear) Kurdish: tirs ترس (fear, but cf. also Iranic ''tars'')
110) Urartian: Ti/er-usi, measure for liquid Kurdish: Telîs?تەلیس measure of unit
Hurrian: ben Kassite: ban Kurdish: minal مناڵ (child)
Kassite: nadz (shade) Kurdish: nisê نسێ (shade)
Kassite: ulam (son, child) Urartian: alaue (man) Kurdish: law لاو (young boy)
Hurrian: çugi Kassite: tsugi Kurdish: chuk چووک (small)
Hurrian: ewri (dog) Kurdish wer-în وەرین (barking of dog)
Hurrian: shiye (watery) Kurdish: she شە (moisture)
Urartian: zainua (high) Kurdish: zinar زنار (high cliff, high boulder)
Hurrian: shalmi (ashes, to burn) Kurdish zhilemo ژیلەمۆ (burning ashes)
Urartian: amash (burnt) Kurdish mêsh مێش (burnt ashes) (cf. ê 120) Hurrian: puhi (nose) Kurdish: (kepû) کەپۆ (nose)
Urartian: shepuiaru (spoil) Kurdish: sheprêwشپڕێو (disorderly)
Urartian: mesh- (distribute, share) Kurdish: wesh-[an] وەشان (distribute, share)
Urartian: teribi (monument) Kurdish: tirb ترب (monument, grave) (not be confused with Arabic 'turbat': soil)
Hurrian: fur-i (viw) Urartian: wur-i (view) Kurdish: wuria وریا (viewer, careful), awur ئاووڕ (sight), (even the Kurdish verb ''ruwan''-[in] (view) is likely connected to the Urartian ''wur'', rarther than being a metathesis for Iranic ''negar'')
Hurrian: halv- (enclose) Kurdish: hal- هاڵ (enclose)
Urartian: kul-me (wealth, prosperity) Kurdish: kel-k کەڵک (profitable, usefulness)
Hurrian: pâl (false) Kurdish: fêl فێڵ (fraud)
Hurrian: tapsh- (destroy) Kurdish: tawjm تەوژم (pressure), tapi (destroy)
Hurrian: apxe (louse) Kurdish: aspe ئەسپێ (louse)
130) Hurrian: kapp- (fill) Kurdish: kipp کپ (filled)
Hurrian: azhoge (meal) Kurdish: azhge/zig (stomach)
Hurrian: kul- (to speak) Kurdish: qul- قوول (to speak aloud)
Hurrian: timeri (black) Kurdish: tem تەم (darkness)
Urartian: tara-gie (powerful, strong) Kurdish: daraqat دەرەقەت (to be powerful, to be strong)
Urartian: tam-hu (eliminate separate) Kurdish: toq-[andin] Urartian: shi-u (carry away) Kurdish: shi-[andin] (send)
Urartian: anda-ni (right) Kurdish: and ئاند (right)
Urartian: irb-u (take away grab) Kurdish: rev-[andin]/rif-[andin] (take away, grab) (but cf. also Iranian 'robudan', take away, grab)
Urartian: pit- (beat apart, destroy) Kurdish: pis-/pichr- (beat apart, destroy)
140) Urartian: tishni (heart) Kurdish: dine دنە (encourage) (cf. t > d & sh > nil)
Urartian: ti-ni (name) Kurdish: deng دەنگ (voice)
Urartian: bauše (word) Kurdish: wuše وشە (word)
Urartian: durba (revolt, rebel) Kurdish: tola (revenge)
Urartian: hut-ia (to ask) Kurdish: qut-abî (student)
Hurrian: fir (remove, untie) Kurdish: fir, firê (throw)
Hurrian: halme (singing) Kurdish: hore هۆرە (singing)
Hurrian: havur (heaven) Kurdish: hawr (cloud), (note also Indo-Iranic abra)
Urartian: agu (lead away) (of IE origin?) Kurdish: ajo-[tin] ئاژۆتن (lead away, drive)
Hurrian: asti (woman) Kurdish: astê (name of a beloved woman in Kurdish folklore)
150) Hurrian: tav/(-b) (to cast metal) Kurdish: taw (thaw, melt)
Hurrian: ai (if) Kurdish: ai (if)
Hurrian: alilan (lament) Kurdish: lalan (lament)
Hurrian: çabalgi (fault) Kurdish: çapal چەپەڵ (dirty)
Hurrian: xiyari (all) Kurdish: xir (all)
Hurrian: çere (donkey) Kurdish: ker (donkey)
Hurrian: çik- (break) Kurdish: shik- (break)
Hurrian: xîri (hour, time, moment) Kurdish: xêra خێرا (soon, hurry)
Hurrian: xizli (coiled) Kurdish: cexiz جەخز(coiled)
Hurrian: xub- (to break, to destroy) Kurdish: qup- (to break, to destroy)
160) Hurrian: istani (between, among) Kurdish: astang ئاستەنگ (obstacle)
Hurrian: izikun- (to wail) Kurdish: zikan- (to wail)
Hurrian: kakari (sort of ritual bread) Kurdish: kullêre, kellane (sort of ritual bread)
Hurrian: magunni (desire) Kurdish: magirani (desire)
‌Hurrian: shakari or sagari (sprout, bud) Kurdish: chakara چەکەرە (sprout, bud)
Hurrian: arushal (hurry) Kurdish: halasha هەڵەشە (stressful)
Hurrian: heni (now) Kurdish: henu-ke, niha, neha (now)
Hurrian: parili (crime) Kurdish: palamar پەلامار (attack)
Hurrian: adi (thus) Kurdish: dai (thus)
Hurrian: ak-i/u (other) Kurdish: -ka (other)
170) Hurrian: we (thou) Kurdish: ê-we (you)
Hurrian: buru (strong) Kurdish: wure ورە (strength)
Hurrian: çam (rip) Kurdish çam (bend)
Hurrian: zurgi (blood) Kurdish: zûx (blood), (compare, xwênaw=zûxaw)
Hurrian: xahli (cheek) Kurdish: kulm (cheek)
Hurrian: halwu (fence made with stones) Kurdish: hêl هێڵ (fence)
Hurrian: xawirni (lamb) Kurdish kawir کاوڕ (young sheep)
Hurrian: xamaz- (oppress) Kurdish chaws- (oppress)
Hurrian: hendz (constrain) Kurdish: hêndj (constrain)
Hurrian: xerari (sinew) Kurdish: kiroje (sinew)
180) Hurrian: xeshmi (bright) Kurdish: gesh (bright)
Hurrian: kalgi (weak) Kurdish qals/qirj (weak)
Hurrian: nali (deer) Kurdish: nêrî (male adult goat)
Hurrian: nawn- (pasture) Kurdish: naw- (pasture)
Hurrian: ul- (to, eat, to devour) Kurdish: lawar( la-war-) (to devour)
Hurrian: ubi (stupid, insane) Kurdish: hapa (stupid, insane)
Hurrian: ashxu (high) Kurdish: shax (mountain), also 'asê' means: uppward, high.
Hurrian: kaziari (high mountains of the Mesopotamian valley) Kurdish: kazh (high mountain)
Hurrian: kewiranna (the senate, the old men) Kurdish: gewran (the big ones, the adult ones)
Hurrian: kuzh- (to keep, to retain) Kurdish: kush- (to hold in hands, to press in hands), alt: Kurdish qoz- (to catch)
190) Hurrian: nekri ( Hurrian: shalhi (to listen) Kurdish: shil (listen)
Hurrian: siba (dry) Kurdish: zuwa زوا (dry)
Urartian: dibi (building, room) Kurdish: diw دیو (room)
Hurrian: shu (day) Kurdish: shawa-ki (morning, day)
Hurrian: shirat (narrate) Kurdish: shirove (narrate)
Hurrian: tishan (very much) Kurdish: tizha تژە (full)
Urartian: sutug (tear away, unjoin) Kurdish: shetek (knot)
Urartian: gey (anything) Kurdish gi گ (anything)
Hurrian: baz (enter) Kurdish: baz (pass by)
200) Hurrian: xeban-: (to set moving) Kurdish: xebi- خەبتین (to be active)
Hurrian: hamadz-: (to oppress) Kurdish: chaws- (to oppress)
Hurrian: haz- (to hear) Kurdish: bihiz-: (to hear)
Hurrian: xaz (to oil) Kurdish: xiz (oily, slippery)
Hurrian: pas- (to send somebody) Kurdish: pas- (to send, as in 'hal pasardin': 'to send into exile')
‌Hurrian: shagari (ram) Kurdish: shak (young sheep)
Hurrian: pal (know, understand) Kurdish: fêr (learn)
Urartian: -kai (position, in place) Kurdish: -ka (location suffix)
Urartian: muš- (true, fair) Kurdish: mušur موشوور (fairness)
Hurrian: abi (in front of) Kurdish: ba (in front of, near)
210) Hurrian: shimi (sun) Kurdish: shem (sun) (focilized in shemshemekwere, ''blind for the sun'': ''bat''.
Urartian: derzu/derju (order, arrangement) Kurdish: darêj- (order, arrangement)
Urartian: tep- (throw down) Kurdish: tep- (throw down)
Urartian: atqan: (to consecrate) Kurdish: tarxân (to consecrate)
Urartian: shuki (as) Kurdish: waki < hoki Hurrian: hur (drink) Urartian: xurishe (irrigator) Kurdish: qurishke قوریشکە (cup)
Urartian: ulx (flow out) Kurdish: bilqبڵق (b Urartian: alga-ni (mountain) Kurdish: Lêj لێژ (abrupt, steep)
Urartian: auiei (somewher) Kurdish: awê ئەوێ (there)
Urartian: puluse (inscription, stele) Kurdish: psule (voucher, receipt)
220) Urartian: niribe (herd) Kurdish: ran (herd)
Urartian: iese/ieshe? (I, pronoun) Kurdish: ez ئەز (I, resembles also the old Iranian 'azm', but which one is 'az' actually derives of? Armenians claim Armenian 'yes' (I) is derived of Ur. 'iese
Urartian: armuzi (family, clan, generation) Kurdish: hoz هۆز (clan) + rama (seed, from to-rama)
Hurrian: hemz (surround) Kurdish: amêz, hembêz ئامیز (hug)
Urartian: zani (cry out) Kurdish: zhan, jan, ژان (agony)
Hurrian: karshi (lips) Kurdish: kalpa کەڵپە (animal lips)
Hurrian: wirwir (loosen) Kurdish: wilwil ولوڵ (loosen)
Kassite: ash (earth, soil) Hurrian: esh (earth, soil) Kurdish: ax ئاخ (earth, soil)
Urartian: qarmexî (gift, present, sacrifice, celebration) Kurdish: qelin قەلین (gift, dowry)
Urartian: -atuhi (-ness) Kurdish: -ati (-ness)
230) Urartian: aman- (vessel, pot) Kurdish: aman- ئامان (vessel, pot)
God of lightning and storm Hurrian: Teshup Urartian: Tesheba Kassite: Tishpak Kurdish: Tishk تیشک (light, radiance)
Hurrian: shu (hand) Kurdish: shop (hand palm)
Hurrian: chilman- (to break, vanish) Kurdish: chilmis- (fade)
Urartian: shur (wall around a castle, fence, borders of the kingdom) Kurdish: shure (wall around a castle, fence)
Hurrian: xalwu (fence made with stones) Kurdish: xal خەڵ (fence made with stones)
Hurrian: ya/ye (who, which, what) Kurdish: ya/ye (who, which, what)
Hurrian: tun- (to win) Kurdish: tuna توونا (defeated, destroyed)
Hurrian: taridi (pot) Kurdish: tirar (pot)
Hurrian: kol (let off) Kurdish: kol (let off) (as in ''le kol bunewe'')
240) Hurrian:shir (to be suffiecent) Kurdish: têr (to be suffiecent)
Hurrian: ha (take) Kurdish: ha
Hurrian: tijari (spindle) Kurdish: teshi (spindle)
Hurrian: ábri (stock of wood-logs) Kurdish: awirdu (stock of wood-logs), awirig (oven)
Hurrian: baq- (destroy) Kurdish: baq- بەقین (explode)
Hurrian: bashi (mouth)Armenianlake Urmia Kurdish: bêj (to say), (common a>ê)
Hurrian: pashixi (message) Kurdish: pazhux (answer)
Hurrian: tad- (love) Kurdish: dalal (beloved) (common d>l)
Hurrian: tagi (beatiful) Urartian: taugi (clean) Kurdish: daq دەق (cheerful)
Hurrian: hild-/held- (high, raise, elevate) Kurdish: hild-/held- هەڵدان/هڵدان (rasie, elevate)
250) ‌Hurrian: kabli (copper) Kurdish: paqir پاقڕ (copper)
Kassite: kukla (slave) Kurdish: kukla (doll), kukm (homeless)
Hurrian: kumdi (tower) Kurdish: kumadj کۆماج (column)
Hurrian: kubakhi (hood) Kurdish: kumik (hood)
Urartian: korde (uncultivated, desolate) Kurdish: kode (uncultivated, desolate)
Hurrian: kundzi (to kneel) Kurdish: kudik (knee)
Hurrian: Xiríti (trench) Kurdish: Xir (trench)

Here. And I’d like to start by noticing that Steve Sailer is obviously Delicious Taco’s dad. Having said this.
Good episode. Lots of engagement which I suppose is a net positive for all involved. Obviously a lot of the injury stems from a distortion. The episode’s content fantasized and in fantasy warped into something constituting a threat (no, an outright assault) to the listener’s person. One can simply listen to the episode and see that some (in fact the bulk) of the negative responses are from people reacting to some spectral absent-presence rather than to what is actually being said over the course of the 2 hour long episode. The voices and the discourse have instead been shaped into sonic receptacle containing the reflection of something wildly ugly. Injuriously ugly.
Past few days have been brutal. Found myself doom-viewing the main sub, should know better at this age. Feels like I’ve been transmogrified into an absurd and wretched thing. Must've transgressed against a gnome or something. Fascinating to think about.
I would like nothing more than to shame you.
Miami Summer is a killer. Urine is blood-orange. And my mother deserves better sons.
Why would A&D do this?
Witnessing the rankest comments. In bygone age I’d found them tolerable. Having imagined them delivered by high society homosexual. A damned dandy; chubby, sinister, and flamboyant. Capri on a stick limply held between index and middle fingers, twirling wrist ash’ing on expensive Persian rug. The blurry ghosts of his mother and the kid brother who drowned in the pond all those years ago glaring at him from far-off corner. Clearing throat he launches into sing-song slander head peeling back cackling at his own wickedness. Vile and venomous but charming. Instead what we get is 30+ year old mentally-ill men. Men whose Twitter activity has atrophied their cock and balls. Genitals withering away like the Worker's State, in its place a gasping cloaca, worry not I can clock em from miles away. The odious cloaca-havers are soon joined by ruined drug-addled children and the other women. They talk about A&D in disgusting ways. This is unfair and nasty. I confess to being angry. Sweating blood-specked kerosene. Let the scent fill up the empty air between us. My wrath singeing those overgrown nose hairs.
Of the two I think Anna is the one that inspires the harshest parasocial spite. So much so that I’d recommend she take some protective measures against evil eye and tongue. Maybe take baths with hyssop herb, rose water perfume, and holy water.
It’s as if Anna Khachiyan is a Giant Floating Vagina with teeth and a noticeable overbite. Viewed from another angle it transforms into a Madonna encircled by cherubim. Perhaps we are cruel to Anna in order to be kind to our mothers.
All very pre-Oedipal.
Had to step back and parse it out. Anna draws a comparison between herself and Sailer while also asking him a great question,
07:12-07:49
Anna: “I started reading it during the pandemic because it was the pandemic. I was pregnant and bored and I really relate to you as a person who everyone thinks is like evil and monstrous on the internet, but is actually like quite agreeable and mild mannered in real life. And I was going to ask you this question last, but I may as well just ask it now. How do you feel about your new found popularity? And especially, how do you feel about the fact that you have been effectively adopted by or identified with the hard right?”
The first part of the above extract, the sympathetic recognition, brings to mind a bit of 20th century Hermetic theory concerning harmful thought-forms. Our unconscious self-destructive impulses animating the fantasy-phantasm of the other. Inhabiting their shape. Gaining a degree of autonomy. This artificial entity is vampiric by default, provoking what the Czech magician Franz Bardon calls a "magical persecutory complex"... He goes into detail about such entities in Step VI of his seminal work, Initiation into Hermetics. Describing different types of artificial elementals and phantasms along with details on how to consciously go about creating and dissipating them. One of those artificial psychic entities, the one that concerns us, he calls the schemata. Bardon details two variants, one connected with paranoid persecutory fantasies and the other with erotic obsession. The first type comes about when someone who is “easily excitable, easily influenced or self-important” (Narcissist?) has a run in with another person who has, to put it mildly, a memorable visage and dark personality. The schemata is born from the phantasm modeled after this demonic-looking disagreeable person. The victim begins to attribute all kinds of minor inconveniences to the influence of the ugly person. Deludes themselves into thinking that the ugly/disagreeable person is a powerful black magician. Everything appears to reinforce their paranoid delusions. The schema grows in power feeding off the anxieties of their creatohost. The person might end up committing suicide. This was the persecutory schemas desire, having achieved its goal Bardon notes, “how great is the shock when such a spirit realizes on the mental plane that he has committed a very successful magical suicide. What a bitter disappointment! The demonic looking person, however, has no idea what happened; he was actually only the means to an end.”
God gave us eyes so that we might notice things.
The way I see it:
Being social animals the subject of our fantasy, of our fixations, is the fantasy of the other. What makes the human Human is not that we desire but rather that we desire the desire of the other. An excess desire. We fantasize about what the other is fantasizing and enjoying. Our fantasy of the fantasy of the other is the outlines a fundamental lack within our person, a negativity. Experienced as a splitting of consciousness. Intuiting this lack, becoming aware of it, and attempting to articulate it, we are self-consciousness. This negativity or void is in psychoanalytic terms, the unconscious. We likewise intuit that there had once been some original state. One without lack and contradiction. A state of fullness, without the division between self and object. A harmonious whole. A pure consciousness or as Freud refers to it in Civilization and its Discontents an oceanic feeling. The Original Desire, one that is authentically my own, which was not the desire of the other but which unites our desires in itself. This desire is the extinction of all desires.
The eye that perceives the lovely is at once the eye that perceives what I lack. Perceiving this lack, which explains my present condition, I covet. This is an evil eye. The lover’s gaze is of the same type as the infirm or pathic gaze. Reminded of Zizek’s formulation of one of Hegel’s insights, “Evil resides in the very gaze which perceives Evil all around itself" itself a variation of Meister Eckhart’s “the eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me.” The recognition of evil, the ability to see and judge evil, stems from our ability to recognize disparity. This disparity is already present within our own person, the split-consciousness. The feeling cognized, the awareness of our condition as beings separated from the whole. The clairvoyance of the tyrant and the philosopher.
Suppose that psychopathology is born from our inability to recognize an image as an image.
I intuit something more in this person, something they’re hiding. It can’t just be envy, no. It has to be because I can feel that this thing they’re hiding is sinister. It can’t just be that I feel animosity towards this person, no. It has to be because this person is evil and not just an isolated evil but rather a symptom of a much larger evil. An evil that is responsible for all the suffering in the World, for why my World isn’t the way it should be. It can’t just be attraction, no. It has to be that I intuit something more in this person, something hidden, that I must destroy in order to go on living.
If vile shit comes to mind (as vile things often do, especially when one is immersed in ambient algorithmically-summoned vileness, namely outrage and atrocity porn) they won't affirm it to themselves or try to justify or rationalize it or present it as a rational political stance. And they don’t abstract this particular form of vileness into the primary lens through which they view and interpret cultural phenomena. Unreflexive racial animosity is ugly and fetid. We’re capable of recognizing it, feeling it, as something pathological. We’re also capable of laughing at it. Laughing at ourselves. Look at what our ladies have to say about Stuart Seldowitz (the dude who went viral harassing a halal street vendor) in I’ll Be Missinger. “He sucks,” “he’s a loser,” “he’s obviously sick,” and that he gives the impression of someone who lives alone, will die alone, and will be found weeks or even months after the fact.
Perhaps Red Scare is special in how it manages to elicit absurd, wildly inappropriate responses from listeners. Vulgar and revelatory was it? Steve Sailer elicits a similar response and has become an expert in turning said absurd reactions to his advantage. Generally the cooler-head in any given exchange. While the other person shouts obscenities at a ghost, smashing fists against the post, looking crazy, like a proper hysteric. Sailer breaks the fourth-wall, making eye-contact with the would-be noticer, with a little shake of the head, a little chuckle, a little shrug… “you’re noticing right? See what I have to put up with? Imagine these people defining my legacy.” Still he seems to take it with the good humor of an uncle who will still call you on your birthday, despite your drunken outburst during holiday get-together he will admit to not having resisted the temptation to provoke you, it use to be fun, recall all the cool bands I introduced you too? We use to be best buds, “do you really think anything I’ve said merits this sort of response? Honestly?”
Has to be a cheap trick. A technique employed by an old trickster in decades long honing of craft. Maybe not. Maybe what we see is precisely what we get. Most of the very upsetting things being jokes sincerely intended to lighten the mood. Steve Sailer doesn’t care about the particular political orientation of his audience. He just cares that he has an audience. Grateful for the fans he has. Nonetheless happy that they’re not seething malcontent racists. Even if one disagrees with the methodology, the heuristic, the conclusions. That’s secondary, perhaps even tertiary to the recognition sought. His craftsmanship as a writer.
Why I loved his conflict with Will Stancil. Stancil inspired a lot of pondering for me. Putting things in place…
01:29:22-01:29:28
Anna: “You come for the race science and stay for the prose-styling and vivid story-telling.”
In trying to survive as a writer exiled from Mainstream Conservative media (ConInc) during the Bush Jr years. In fact, correct me if I’m wrong but the cancelation that actually impacted Steve Sailer, setting him down the path we find him in, was brought about not by blue-haired hall monitor millennial leftists but by his “fellow” Conservatives. I imagine that he just went with whoever was willing to take him adapting to the editorial standards and audience sensibilities of the publications willing to provide him succor. Not charity mind you but an ability to engage in his own little labor of love.
Read some Sailer. Might get into that later. But that’s the initial impression I got from Steve. Would be utterly mortified if memorialized as a Racialist Ideologue rather than as an entertaining and thought-provoking journalist. Think I also benefited from seeing how he’s actually received by people who are navigating through (or in certain cases, are mired in) the marginal “Hard Right”-spaces or the Rightwing Digital Ghetto. End up realizing that he isn’t hateful, that what you see is precisely what you get, that he privileges craft over ideology, that his reception and exile from Neocon dominated media outlets (remember these are the people gushing ecstatic over the US invasion of Iraq, manufacturing consent for our adventures in the Middle East) was exceedingly unfair but that he nonetheless managed to persevere. And that he really never goes beyond Norm McDonald in terms of his sardonic wit or The Boondocks animated series in terms of his criticisms. His normality is a great source of stability and comfort for his readers; “noticing” and speculating about these topics doesn’t necessarily lead to one becoming a seething racist.
Returning for a moment to Will Stancil, this was what he inspired:
As the last man standing I spend countless hours immersed in detailed fantasies about the coming apocalypse and my enemy's bliss. A dumb and wicked happiness proportional to my suffering. Easy to imagine other people happy. Hearts unbroken. Unburdened, hydrated, sexually satisfied, debt-free, lucky, successful in all business endeavors. Brute, jezebel, schemer, parasite, rival, betrayer... the whole lot of them thriving. Frolicking in my mind's eye. When the time comes I won't forget that they were happy while...others...suffered.
Find that trying to void your mind of all thought or sit perfectly still for 10 minutes. End up feeling like something requires much less energy from us than nothing. Causes coalescing. Conspiring, to what ends?
You see. The very same principle appears to be at work here. Same pathological base that undergirds genuine racial or ethnic animosity. Fantasizing about the other’s enjoyment and being unable to distinguish between the persecutory Phantasm and the actual human being whose shape it appropriates.
Had a friend recommend forgetting. Forgetting is a dialectical exercise, first you have to acknowledge the thing living rent free in your head and acknowledge its origins... then you have to take the steps to stop feeding it. Letting the thought-form dissolve. Let it be put to rest. Reminded of the practice Orthodox Christian contemplatives call Nepsis.
Other approaches as well, acknowledging the presence of anima veiled in shadow.
But listen…
The podcasts I consume, are a reflection of me as a person. Being what I associate and consume. What does it say about me in particular? Reveal about me? That they should have Steve Sailer on the pod. Settling down. Perhaps some responses could be understood in this light. That a Sailer episode reflects poorly on the listener. Constituting a great betrayal of the love and energy and time I have dedicated over the years to you.
I’m not a racist.
Show me your likes on Twitter and I’ll tell you who you are. The most punitive and brutal god. The idea of the AI nu-god being this, utilizing that standard, is horrifying. Show me your likes on Twitter and I’ll tell you who you are, everything you are, and whether or not you qualify to live.
Shamed, I quietly remove the upvote I gave to the hysterical person and the downvote I gave to him.
Hysteria like a yawn is an empathic contagion.
Back to Anna it’s not because she’s ugly and it sucks that she might nurse this delusion. I actually think Anna is really pretty. Rather I think it’s because she’s a mom. She registers as a maternal figure. That’s one of the reasons I think people respond to her the way they do. As stated earlier. We are cruel to Anna in order to forgive our moms.
[To be continued: Wherein I say horrible things that should never be said to the people I claim to love. Will also interrogate Sailor Socialism]