So I was in Elektro, and I had found a car that had all the tires on it and only required a few parts. So I looted Elektro for a bit and eventually got all the parts needed, and after encountering a few players (official server that had like 50 players in it) and killing them I stashed my parts in a location that was fairly hidden, I hid them as I was going to wait for 2 of my friends to head here and we could fix up the car and attempt to drive out of there. So after stashing the parts in a factory, someone opens the 2 big red metal doors and at first I didn’t but when I did I was basically dead once I saw them, I didn’t have a lot of good loot on my guy and cared more about the parts. All I could make out before I died was it was a man wearing basically all yellow. Once I died I just respawned and was confident enough my stash would never be found (spoiler alert it was never found) so I didn’t really care and told my friends to be careful when entering the town. So right after I died one of my friends had just entered the town seconds later, and once they got in they noticed the yellow man I had described to them earlier. So my friend hides in a building and watches the yellow man, but after losing sight of him, just a few seconds later someone runs into his house and it’s a yellow man. He apparently got hit with a pipe wrench and died instantly after a single hit. (from what they described anyway) but after this my other friend was 5 or so minutes away from the town, and when they did arrived into the town they crept around and avoided both areas we died in, but after walking and being very paranoid and checking his surroundings constantly, the yellow man appears and waves at my friend then shoots him. My friend jumped so hard because he said it’s like he appeared out of nowhere, and while this is going down I had also just entered the town after trying to spawn in or near Elektro. I did. spawn in near a gas station outside of Elektro and made my way in. By the time I got in and went to check on my stash, it had been around 2-3 minutes since my friend died. So I scout out the factory and see no one outside it and from what I could tell no one was in it, I even heard the same gunshot which I assumed was from the yellow man. So I go into the factory and right as I enter I see yellow right around the corner and book it. I close the red doors and run as far as I can making sure he can’t see where I’m going. I eventually made it inside a small shed that was fairly far away, and right when I think I’m safe I hear someone outside, it had to be them. So I open the shed and no one is there, so I exit the shed and see no one. But here he comes around the corner, and bam I’m dead. At this point I was assuming I’m getting unlucky, yea maybe I just suck idk. But I spawn and am in Elektro, so Instead of going near where I died or where I stashed the parts I decide to just sit in a building, I’m my mind I’m thinking he will come to me, and I guess I was right, he came straight for me. It scared the shit out of me, just seeing yellow from all their gear and clothing gave me a heart attack. I fired at them, but it seemed infective, I was dead within seconds. At this point I’m starting to think this guys too good and I just suck at being stealthy and hiding. So after I died I kept respawning till I got a spawn near Elektro, and eventually I did, near that gas station again. And when I got this spawn my friend was waiting at the church/temple building, where he yet again encounters this player, so right as he encounters them up there I am in the factory (which is by the two apartments by the train wagons. I hear a gunshot and my friend tells me they died, I grab the crate with the loot and try to head out the red doors with it. I see something around the corner. It looks like the elbow of a player wearing yellow, and they peak their head. It’s him. My friend has just died a few seconds ago and he’s already here? My heart sank and I got so scared, I’m not sure why this scared me so much. But right as I see him I start walking the other way, I could hear him fighting zombies. So I made it into the factory bathroom and I start to logout. As the timer gets closer to 0 I can hear him coming, I was genuinely scared. And right as I hear him at the door, I’m officially logged out.
Sorry if this is horrible writing I was just explaining my experience. I tried to explain this exactly how it went down. But it’s not the same as experiencing it. If they were hacking or not they struck genuine fear in me. They just appeared out of nowhere most the time. As stupid as this sounds that very night I had a nightmare about DayZ, a yellow man was hunting me down. It felt sort of like slenderman. Anyway that’s all, I had to type this on my phone and after a few paragraphs my phone started lagging bad lol

Seems like a quality brand. Here is a video of them producing their trikes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbOALc5CUyA
I am thinking about getting me one of them. I mean what is there not to love. It's Chinese!
Before you give me hate for that keep in mind that Made in China has become the new 'Made in Germany' China is the world factory. They have the best engineers, disciplined workers, etc... 'Made in Germany' is really just a label for just 'made in China' because they just assembled it in Germany and the actual stuff is made in China. China produces the highest quality stuff. Example, Apple went to China. Chinese factories were the only ones that could produce their goods due to the tolerances required. They tired to went to India due to US pressure but couldn't.

Hiii! I'd like to start off by saying that it's tragic that there are others that share my suffering of having unwanted dogs pushed on them but I'm glad I'm not alone in that. None of you deserve it and I really hope that your situations get better someday because living with shitty dogs you never wanted fucking sucks! I myself am currently coping with a situation surrounding my dad and two dogs that belong to our neighbours. Allegedly at least. In reality? Hmm... bit more complex than that - I don't know if I'm just being overdramatic, it is kind of jumbled and really long, but I'm just so tired of dealing with this and I want someone to hear it
For some context behind the living situation, I am unfortunately at a few months into 27 still living with my parents who rent a townhouse 🙁 It's my own fault really and I have a feeling the situation I'm in now may be fate's rendering of judgement on me for growing up into a failure. It's a really long story but the summary is that I was in a deep depression spiral for a bunch of reasons leading me to make sooo many poor financial and educational decisions starting around late elementary school to last year. About 2 years ago I finally started taking steps towards fixing my problems which included some soul searching within, but I think I've got another year or two yet before I'd consider myself comfortable enough financially to finally get out of here and away from this demented doggy day care more or less for good. For what it might be worth, while I don't pay rent I do help out with chores and pay for various things in general - I've fronted pet supplies and vet bills, gas, groceries, purchased furniture, kitchen tools, paid my mom's car insurance when she's been late on it because of my dad's drinking, paid for maintenance stuff such as some supplies to fix holes or damage that my dad puts in walls and doors, among other things like you know, random stuff that needs fixing haha. I want to think I'm not a *complete* parasite, but I totally understand if you still see me as one. Really, I get it. I promise you I'm trying and I will be useful one day. Until then though, 😔
My parents currently own 3 dogs and 2 cats so it's already pretty crowded here and to top it off I have a mild allergy to pet hair so the only time I ever have a clear nose is when I'm out of the house: a 10yr old schipperke named Kallie, a 4yr old golden retriever named Sundance, and some kind of mix that reminds me of a GSD mixed with a pitbull I guess that's like idk 2-3yrs old - her name is Suzuki and she's a rescue that my parents brought back after selling something to a Kijiji buyer. Dunno her breed exactly though. The cats are a black cat named Ninja that we've had since 2014 and a tabby stray named Loki that followed us home from a dumpster a few years ago so we decided to keep her. I love them both so much and Loki is especially dear to me and is actually closer to being my cat than my parents' cat - I am 100% taking her when I leave. They are relevant to this further down trust me.
For the record I don't have issues with Kallie and Sundance and actually do love them a lot despite the fact that I'm not actually the biggest fan of dogs - they're an exception, and I warmed up to Suzuki about a year ago though she has an issue which is relevant for the problem animals.
Several other dogs that weren't ours have been through this house in the past as my dad is well, soft-hearted and naive when it comes to specifically animals. Some of them have been problems. Some of them represent Problems. All of the extra dogs have been unilaterally his decision and any voice of disapproval ignites a conflict. Right now there are 2 other dogs on top of the family 3 and these two are the Big Problems™️ rn: the first one is a shitzuo (emphasis on the SHIT) named Keno or Kino or who fucking cares I'll just call him Keno. The other one is a mix of something that looks a little like Suzuki, but is white and might have a little chihuahua in him. His name is Benji. I'll start with Benji since I actually have sympathy for his owner and as much as I find him annoying he has some potential to be a decent dog one day if given the proper support, but that's not my problem as it's not my dog.
Benji is a younger doggo, about a year old. His owner is a single mom currently going through a bad divorce from what I hear which honestly is really unfortunate and I do hope her situation improves someday. He's kinda friendly most of the time, but his owner has still not gotten him fixed, which is an issue particularly because of how much time he spends in the same house as Suzuki, who my mom has not gotten fixed either despite my offers to pay for it and attempts to schedule it for her. I regularly stop Benji's attempts to mount her, but I know I won't be able to stop it forever and I'm terrified of the outcome. Every time I bring it up to my parents, I am either blown off with a half-thought response or (in the case of my dad) straight up yelled at and threatened as this dog is apparently just "playing" or "fighting for dominance." 🫠 I just don't want to have to exist next to a bunch of puppies that my parents are completely incapable of taking care of but there's nothing I can do about it. God, imagining the noise level and smell of the house makes me shiver. Aaaaaa. Benji is also an extremely pushy and jealous dog as he's still very young and isn't being trained adequately by either his owner or my dad - I cannot pet the family dogs without this little annoyance trying to worm his way in and interrupt. One positive I can think of is that he at least defers to me and folds over in submission the moment I express any kind of disapproval. Well, that and he isn't Keno.
Keno is.... a fucking NIGHTMARE that is driving me to insanity and I am devoting basically the rest of this rant to this untrained monstrosity and its neglectfully absent handlers. I have never, in my entire life, EVER, hated a dog more than this shaggy, aggressive, shrieking rat. It all started about six months ago when some neighbours who I've never met in my life got this stupid idiot dumbshit animal as a rescue. My mom let it come over once and I had one of those really bad gut feelings. My dad then suggested to them that he could keep an eye on it, as both of the owners work all day and don't get home until later while my dad is at home usually as he's on disability. From then on this curly-haired terror has been at our house almost 7 days a week, for at LEAST 12 hours a day. Let's see if I can describe just much I hate this animal without hitting a character limit.
The dog wasn't (and still isn't) yard trained or outside-trained in general. This dog is like 2 years old or something and every time I've brought it up my dad freaks out and says "that's not going to happen, that's just how he is! Get used to it!" My dad's solution is to cover our ENTIRE front entrance into the building hallway in piss pads. Yea, training pads. These are filled up multiple times a day - sometimes multiple times an HOUR ... you can imagine the amount of garbage this creates which my dad then complains about having to deal with (he's the ONLY reason this dog still comes here) - and yes, he throws the used piss pads in the KITCHEN TRASH, YOU KNOW, THE ONES WITH FECES AND URINE ON THEM 🙃The dog regularly misses too and wastes all over the floor and wall! I rented a carpet cleaner for when I moved rooms and my mom decided to use it after to clean up the entrance way, hahaha, it was pissed up less than 2 hours later! The doors and walls around there are starting to be stained by dog piss and it gets worse when the pads get moved around for whatever reason. If you were to look closely, you may see tiny streaks from where the dog rushed to its mandatory shitting sessions. We used to have a bench beside the door for putting on shoes and stuff, and the closet was actually used for coats, hats, and things. Now the whole area has been devoted to this walking feces factory and on top of that the perpetually soiled pads sit in front of our downstairs bathroom as well. Suffice to say that I have not used that washroom in nearly six months and only make use of the upstairs one now. Petty? Maybe. Legend has it that some of my makeup is still in there.
As mentioned earlier, from what I've been told this dog is a rescue. It has behaviour problems. Crazy, I know. You'd be shocked to know that its owners are not experienced with handling rescues. It barks at many, oh many things. There is not a single multicellular organism in this city that this thing has not barked at. When it gets let outside, the very first thing it does is run to the end of the yard and shriek at the sky! And this thing is one of those dogs that has the projection of a large dog, but the bark of a small one. Yea, it's actually piercing, and if I'm in the same room as it my ears physically hurt when it barks and leaves my ears ringing. Definitely an effective deterrent, as I don't really leave my room anymore while it's here, so I guess I basically don't leave my room anymore except to go to work or cook... Of course this dog does more than bark though! It's actually fairly aggressive, too, because of course it is. You cannot discipline this dog, both because of the coddling my father does for it and the dog's own reaction to various techniques. Very growly and bares its teeth. I went to close the living room curtain once and the dog snapped at my hand, biting me. It has bitten me again one other time when I shooed it out of my new room that I was cleaning out (note: my dad yelled at me later because it's "Keno's relaxing spot" and I'm cruel to take that away from it, don't worry it hasn't been back in since) I'm not allowed to teach this dog in any way, as any genuine attempt from me (mainly out of desperation to make what time I have left in this house livable I don't actually want to teach this mutt, I want it gone) is swiftly shut down by my dad who says once again that the dog will never learn and that's just how it is. GREAT. GET RID OF THE FUCKING THING THEN IF ITS UNFIXABLE. Oh, it's your "duty" to ensure the dog doesn't get put down apparently, because that's what will 100% happen if the dog gets given up according to him. He's not a "killer" 🙄 mf hearing that is unbelievably infuriating this dog will have no fucking chance in the future if it doesn't get given up at least now it could potentially be taken care of by someone halfway decent at it. I've told him multiple times that him ENABLING these dipshit owners is just causing more problems for this awful animal further down the road. I hate the shit out of this thing and I'm still trying to think of its well-being. UGH.
God tho, words cannot describe how much of a trigger this dog's bark is. I hate it. I cannot stand it. It's an audible plague. It worms through earplugs, headphones, walls. I cannot get it out of my fucking mind. Even on the few days this dog isn't here, I can still hear it shrieking away a few doors down. It's barking as I type this part someone save me this dog allegedly was supposed to go home an hour ago. The latest this thing has stayed was until 11:30 PM. What the fuck.
Apparently the dog is fixed. However for some reason it repeatedly tries to mount Suzuki. It does not do that with the other dogs who are all fixed. Huh. Oh, it also likes to rub up against the only part of our couch with an arm rest and has claimed it as its territory - actually briefly fought with Benji over it two weeks ago. Mom said it was a serious incident but nothing came of it, as usual haha. Whatever, point is this dog is a problem in yet another way. I love being told off about not wanting this dog to rub its fucking ass up against my thigh while I'm trying to just sit on the couch for whatever reason at the time.
What makes my blood boil the most about the behaviour though is how this dog treats our cats and even the other neighbour's dog. It's a fucking menace, an actual danger. It chases and harasses our cats in some attempt to police them or something. If Loki jumps onto a high point that she regularly lounges at, he dashes at her and barks at her. If Ninja meows at the door to be put on a leash in the yard, he barks and chases him. This dog has lunged at our cats more than once. I'm scared that something is going to happen to them because those things happen way faster than one can stop them. I don't know if I could handle seeing that image in reality. I really don't think I could. I hope I don't have to and even writing about the possibility gives me anxiety and the fact that my dad jokes about how Keno "definitely came from a family where he was supposed to keep an eye on a cat" just brings me to my fucking limit as it is. I nearly had that sort of scare a couple months ago when Benji and Keno were scrapping in my dad's room. I saw that they were getting too aggressive, but my dad has made it umm, very clear that I am not allowed to police them on it. So yea, it happened super quick - Keno clamped down on Benji's throat and hurt him. While the little guy lived, he now has a semi-persistent cough and at the time I genuinely thought the dog was gonna cross the forever bridge as he was struggling to breathe for like 10min. What changed from this incident? Well, nothing! My dad blamed Benji. I feel really bad about the incident as there was a brief window where I could have stopped it, but my fear of causing an argument with my dad led to an animal getting hurt, even if it's one I'm not a huge fan of.
Where are the owners? Haha. At work apparently. As mentioned, the dog is here nearly 7 days a week, at least 12 hours a day, usually longer than that (7am to 7pm, but this dog has fucking arrived at like 6:10am before.) Weekends are supposed to be a reprieve from this demon, but every couple weekends it'll come over on those days too and sometimes for completely fucking random reasons! Aren't owners usually comfy leaving their dog at their house for two hours? Why the fuck are these people unable to do that? Why do my parents get no notice apparently? Why do my parents take this shit? I am not allowed to voice disapproval towards this dog or the situation of any kind - my dad immediately launches into a tirade more colourful than a pastel palette if I even slightly remind him that I hate this fucking thing. My mom shuts me down - "That's enough.", "Don't", "I don't want your dad to get angry" the last time this happened my dad insisted that either I "love all of them or abuse all of them, no pick and choosing" he then drank himself silly and forgot about it. Why did that happen? I came in the door and pet our dogs plus Benji because he was actually behaving pretty well for once!
Yea the owners are so shitty. Benji's owner has told my mom (who then relayed it to me) about how they find it funny and cute that their awful dog pisses all over our walls and barks teehee 😊 at least Benji's owner tries and walks our schipperke at night sometimes. Keno's diabolical yet incompetent owners very clearly know they have a golden goose in the form of my father who is only spineless when it comes to dogs. He has sadly attached himself to this stupid mutt, and I'm worried that I'm going to have to deal with it for as long as I associate with my parents, at least until it passes. In fact, my dad has straight up said that he considers this dog his own, and part of the family. Many times he has mentioned that poor Keno's "REAL FAMILY" is here in our house. Keno's owners apparently pay my dad $100 a month sometimes for the privilege of letting it ruin this house for a minimum of 60 hours a week. Damn they got a good deal. The owners have other issues too, but basically I just can't believe that this is the hill my dad (and by extension my mom as she's been stockholm'd by my dad) is willing to die on. I can't believe this fucking dog has so much sway in things here. I can't believe my dad constantly praises and gives it love while in the same breath detailling very specifically how much joy I suck away from his life and how much of a regret of his I am. How do I stop being worth less to him than this dog? Before this thing, it was a neighbour's chihuahua named Oreo that also pissed all over the place and yapped. Despite the fact that I'd sometimes exit the shower and have to step over dog shit, I'd much rather have that yappy dog back then keep dealing with this hellspawn. At least back then my father pretended to care about me. I wish this thing would just fucking leave. I wish my mom would actually put her foot down like she says she is. I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of being told about how I'm supposed to just LIKE this shitty dog and how my open dislike of it is animal abuse or some shit that's like actually untrue (what the fuck.) I do my best to just ignore it as much as I can but this dog has driven me to crying fits more than once because it Just. Doesn't. Stop. The reminders are everywhere. It's sunken its teeth into every fucking aspect of life here and I am so miserable. If I could afford it I would move out yesterday. I want out so badly but can only bide my time while bitching like some drama queen because I was an idiot
Wow, this has ballooned way beyond how long I thought it'd be. Oops. Hey, even if you don't read it, it felt pretty good to type.
tldr: THESE 2 DOGS ARE SHIT BUT ONE IS SHITTIER AND THE WORST

[I wrote this article about Macbeth for my college's newspaper, and I thought this subreddit might enjoy reading it!]
I have joked before that Shakespeare’s two favorite subjects–surpassing love, murder, madness, and crossdressing–are botany and birds. If you’ve been to New York City you might be aware of the “Shakespeare Garden” in Central Park, whose theoretical aim (though it proves nigh-impossible in practice) is to house specimens of all the plants which Shakespeare mentions in his plays. As it turns out, Bard quotes make for quite a diverse garden: there are roses which assuredly would smell as sweet by any other name; there are daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty; there’s holly, heigh-ho; there’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance, there’s pansies, that’s for thoughts, there’s fennel for you, and columbines–no word on whether or not they could find any violets, though. I suppose there’s no objection to be made against those who complain that Shakespeare’s language is “flowery”; even as vicious a villain as Iago deigns to express his philosophy on life by way of botanical metaphor: “Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners.” And, of course, the plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream revolves around a magical flower which makes people fall in love.
I doubt anyone will object to my claiming of birds as Shakespeare’s other poetical fixation: I suspect that the majority of falconry knowledge which most non-falconers have today comes from reading footnotes in their copies of Shakespeare plays, explaining exactly what Richard II means by “How high a pitch his resolution soars,” or why Hamlet says “Hillo, ho, ho” to Marcellus. But while plants are so common in Shakespeare that I don’t know of one play which we might say is especially densely forested with references to them, there is one play that stands out as particularly full of birds in comparison with the rest of the Shakespearean canon. That play is Macbeth.
This is the sort of thing that one only notices after having read a play so many times that the actual events of the plot become akin to the meter of a poem–beats which must be hit, and which start to feel so natural that one hardly notices them–and one’s attention drifts away from the big, important speeches and toward the more utilitarian words and odd little moments that bridge them. I am not the first to point it out, but it is, all the same, a delightful quirk of the play, and could be a good way for Sophomores to throw their classmates for a loop in seminar [Note: Students at our college study Macbeth during their Sophomore year.]: why are there so many birds in Macbeth?
KING. Dismay’d not this/Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? SERG. Yes,/As sparrows eagles… -Act I, Scene II
LADY. …The raven himself is hoarse/That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan… -Act I, Scene V
BAN. This guest of summer,/The temple-haunting martlet, does approve/By his loved mansionry, that the heaven’s breath/Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze/Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird/Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle… -Act I, Scene VI
LADY. Hark! Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d, the fatal bellman… -Act II, Scene II
LADY. I heard the owl scream and the crickets cry. -Act II, Scene II
PORTER. …come in, tailor; here you may roast your goose… -Act II, Scene III
PORTER. ‘Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock… -Act II, Scene III
LENNOX. New hatch’d to the woeful time: the obscure bird/Clamour’d the livelong night… -Act II, Scene III
OLD MAN. …On Tuesday last,/A falcon, towering in her pride of place,/Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d. -Act II, Scene IV
MACBETH. …Light thickens; and the crow/Makes wing to the rooky wood… -Act III, Scene II
MACBETH. If charnel-houses and our graves must send/Those that we bury back, our monuments/Shall be the maws of kites. -Act III, Scene IV
MACBETH. Augurs and understood relations have/By magot pies and choughs and rooks brought forth/The secret’st man of blood. -Act III, Scene IV
LADY MACDUFF. …the poor wren,/the most diminutive of birds, will fight,/Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. -Act IV, Scene II
LADY MACDUFF. How will you live? SON. As birds do, mother. LADY MACDUFF. What, with worms and flies? SON. With what I get, I mean; and so do they. LADY MACDUFF. Poor bird! Thou’ldst never fear the net nor lime,/The pitfall nor the gin? SON. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. -Act IV, Scene II
FIRST MURDERER. What, you egg! -Act IV, Scene II
MACDUFF. …there cannot be/That vulture in you… -Act IV, Scene III
MACDUFF. …O hell-kite! All?/What, all my pretty chickens and their dam/At one fell swoop? -Act IV, Scene III
MACBETH. The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!/Where got’st thou that goose look? SERVANT. There is ten thousand– MACBETH. Geese, villain? -Act V, Scene III
Above I have listed every ornithological reference that I’ve found in the Scottish Play; as we peruse them, we certainly cannot conclude that every individual reference is of the same kind, or carries the same import. I will not pretend, for example, that, just because geese and ravens are both birds, the Porter’s invitation for the imagined English tailor to cook his goose in Hell merits as much attention as Lady Macbeth’s ominous declaration that “the raven himself is hoarse”. Nor do I think that any individual reference particularly demands explication; by itself, any one of these bird-invocations seems perfectly natural. Shakespeare’s talent is such that he can repeat a motif in such a way that on the macro level it is obvious yet on the micro level it hardly feels present. But that macro level is what interests me here: what impression is created, on the whole, by the presence of so many birds in this play? I have a theory, which, though it may seem far-fetched, I think merits at least some consideration, and which, at the very least, I have not seen stated elsewhere, and so may make a novel contribution to the conversation.
Macbeth is both Shakespeare’s most supernatural tragedy and his most Sophoclean; these two superlatives are inextricably related. The appellative Weird given to the opening scene’s three Sisters–derived from the Old English wyrd, meaning destiny, and famously given its more familiar connotation by Shakespeare himself in this very play–is, among the Bard’s works, unique to Macbeth; and just as that word appears nowhere else in Shakespeare, so is the concept it represents absent in all tragedies but this one. Though Hamlet may cry out against outrageous fortune, and though Othello may rhetoricize about how no man can control his fate, it is only in Macbeth that we truly feel that the events we see play out before us are fated, predestined, inevitable. [See Note 1.] The ghost in Hamlet commands his son to revenge his foul and most unnatural murder, but does not tell him it is certain that he will succeed; indeed, would not the drama be sapped of its intrigue if that level of certainty were present? Meanwhile, the supernatural interlopers in Macbeth offer the Scottish thane not a mission, but a prophecy: All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be king hereafter! From its mystical opening word–When, not If–the Scottish play makes us aware of the certainty of all that is to befall our tragic antihero. Macbeth is thus a different sort of tragedy than Shakespeare’s others, and it works by an inverted mechanism. While the tragedy of, for example, Desdemona’s death is that it may have been prevented, the tragedy of Macbeth’s destruction is that it represents the fulfilment of fate; and this is the very same mechanism by which Oedipus Rex operates, complete with its own “Weird” character in the form of the seer Tiresias. Though Calvin managed to accept that some men are destined for greatness and others for ruin, this idea is, to Shakespeare and Sophocles, nothing short of agonizing–the stuff of tragedy.
Now: what does all of this have to do with birds? Consider these words from Antigone, spoken by Tiresias to Creon:
You shall learn, when you hear the indications of my art! As I took my place on my ancient seat for observing birds, where I can mark every bird of omen I heard a strange sound among them, since they were screeching with dire, incoherent frenzy and I knew that they were tearing each other with bloody claws, for there was a whirring of wings that made it clear… (Lloyd-Jones translation)
Consider next these words from Oedipus Tyrannus, spoken defensively by Oedipus to Tiresias:
Why, come, tell me, how can you be a true prophet? Why when the versifying hound was here did not you speak some word that could release the citizens? Indeed, her riddle was not one for the first comer to explain! It required prophetic skill, and you were exposed as having no knowledge from the birds or from the gods. No, it was I that came, Oedipus who knew nothing, and put a stop to her; I hit the mark by native wit, not by what I learned from birds. (Lloyd-Jones translation)
The practice of divining the future from birds–be it from their behaviors, their cries, or their innards–was, to Sophocles and his contemporaries, not superstitious hokum, but a practical science at which one could be skilled or unskilled, and it bodes ill for Oedipus that he is so quick to disregard it in favor of his own native wit. [See Note 2] By Shakespeare’s day, the practice had long been relegated to the realm of outdated hocus-pocus, but the Bard still saw some truth in it; in Macbeth, there is a recurring sense that, when the world is sick with some great wrong, its first symptoms manifest in the behavior of birds. When the “fatal bellman” the owl shrieks in the night, Lady Macbeth takes it as a sign that her husband is about his bloody business. The day after the murder of Duncan, as Ross converses with an Old Man about the strange things they’ve seen the previous night, “unnatural/Even as the deed that’s done”, the killing of a falcon by a mousing-owl–an omen straight out of Sophocles–is mentioned before the madness and cannibalism of Duncan’s horses, even though the latter would surely be more immediately noticeable and ghastly than the former.
These are the most obvious examples of birds as ill omens in Macbeth; yet even the more innocuous invocations of birds throughout the rest of the play continually turn our thoughts back to the ancient Greek understanding of fate and prophecy, and thereby remind us that, however savagely he may fight at Dunsinane, Macbeth’s fate is as fixed as that of Oedipus. The birds have already foretold all.
Note 1: The closest thing there is to this kind of fatalness in another Shakespearean tragedy is the several superstitious occurrences in Julius Caesar–both the soothsayer’s message of “Beware the ides of March” and the bestial portents such as the lack of a heart in an offering and the whelping of a lioness in the streets. Still, I will insist that these omens do not convey a sense of fatedness to the audience as strongly as the Weird Sisters in Macbeth by virtue of their being told to Caesar himself, not to Brutus, the play’s true protagonist, and by the fact that Shakespeare elsewhere uses dialogue to throw some doubt upon the idea of predestination: "Men at some times are masters of their fates:/The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings." -I.ii
Note 2: The Liddell-Scott Greek Lexicon identifies at least two separate verbs referring to bird-based divination, both of which are present in the quoted passages: Tiresias uses ορνϊθοσκοπέομαι, observe birds, interpret their flight and cries, while Oedipus uses οιωνίζομαι, take omens from the flight and cries of birds. The latter term comes from οιωνος, a large bird, bird of prey, such as a vulture or eagle, and so distinguished from a common bird, while the former comes from ορνις, which more generally refers to a bird, including birds of prey and domestic fowls. Birds of both kinds are present in Macbeth; there are οιωναι, such as the “falcon, towering in her pride of place”, as well as ορνες, like the Porter’s goose and cock. I therefore see little value in interrogating the kinds of birds invoked by Shakespeare, the specific cultural associations and significance of the owl, the raven, or the wren; rather, if we reduce them down to their barest existence as birds, animals of the class Aves, and consider them in an ancient Greek light, then things become a bit clearer.

It is a man, old and scraggy. He wears a jacket that lays over the red plaid button shirt and blue jeans. He wears an old baseball cap and a pair of glasses. He yelled something to Dad, holding his hands up like he was pleading, although we couldn’t hear it over the truck engine. They talked, but we couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“Hey, what are they saying”, I asked, while petting Matt’s hair, calming him. The old man then put his hands down and came close to Dad in a cautious way. They seem to start having some kind of conversation.
“I don’t really know, hopefully, something good”, Mom answered. They talked for a little while, with daylight beginning to disappear, giving us a sense of dread, and making me more worried about what weird creature was going to show up. Eventually, the old man turned and pointed toward what I think is the northeast. They then shook hands and walked back to their respective vehicles. “What’s going on”, Mom asked as Dad got into the truck.
“Well, our new friend here invited us to dinner at his farm”, Dad replied.
“Does he have supplies?”
“Well, he says has supplies for us to make the journey.”
“Should we even trust him? We just met h-”
“Relax, he’s just an old man, living alone at his farm, feeding his cows. What could go wrong”, Dad countered. The old man then entered the truck that was running and drove slowly, expecting us to follow him.
“Alrighty then, but we have to be cautious”, Mom said, with her suspicions of the old man. We then followed the old truck along the dark, frozen road. It just feels like something is going to show up along the road, but nothing happened. Matt did eventually stop crying, but he is still upset about the Joe escape thing.
“Where are we going”, Matt lamented, with the prior series of events in mind.
“I guess somebody is offering us dinner”, I answered.
“Why can’t we just go home?”
“It’s only going to be a stop, like a hotel. After that, we go to our new home, I guess”, I said, taking another look at Matt and cradling to comfort him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stared out into the darkness. I looked to the sky from the window and I faintly saw something in the clear, dark sky, lit up by the waning moon. They were brilliant, green auroras that defy the bright moon, dancing across the sky like ribbons in the wind. The truck eventually took a right-hand turn into another road, with us following suit. I can see a bright, orange light emerging from a patch of tree. When we passed by, it seemed it was a house, at a farm, burning in a massive flame.
“I guess those people aren’t so, uh, lucky”, Dad said, taking a quick look at it before looking at the road. Passing by, we went on and continued to follow the old man’s truck. We passed onto another intersection until he turned into a driveway to what I believe to be his farm. Going into the driveway, I can see an old house, along with a dilapidated farm further away, barely visible by the headlights. The old man parked by the house, where there were a few other trucks there. We parked alongside the truck and we got out into the cold, near-silent night.
“Welcome to sanctuary, where all are welcome”, the old man bellowed. This is the first time I’ve heard his voice. Matt was the last to get out of the truck, slowly and clumsily climbing out of the truck.
“What’s your name”, my Mom politely asked the old man.
“Oh, I guess your husband didn’t tell ya. My name is Steven, but you can call me Steve”, the old man said, with some crackling in his voice. “I am very proud to host a dinner for you and your family”, he continued. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Oh, my name is Janice”, Mom replied, quite pleased at his politeness.
“Hello, Janice, and what are their names”, Steven asked, pointing to me and Matt.
“That’s my daughter Kate and my son Matt”, Dad said to Mom.
“Oh, what wonderful names for a couple of beautiful children you have”, Steve grinned. “Come, it is dangerous out here.” We followed him to the house, which looked like it had seen better days. He entered through the double-set door, the first a solid door and a screen door behind. Entering the house, it smelled like what you’d expect, old man. Looking onto the floor is made of glossy wood and walls with cracks, likely caused by the earthquake. It is dark in there, lit by candlelight from many candles, yet it’s fairly warm here. I don’t know why we went into the house, but Dad was right, Steve is just a lonely, old man. Matter of fact, there seems to be nothing wrong here, other than the cracks in the walls. “Sorry, the power went out. Had to resort to the candles. I knew my wife would come in handy”, Steve explained as he took his coat off. “Oh, supper will be ready right away. Had to use the fireplace to cook. Also, can you take your boots off?” We took our boots and set them aside. We went into what seemed to be a living room, with dusty old-style furniture.
“So, where do we sit”, Mom asked.
“Oh, well, follow me”, Steve commanded, leading us to the dining room, with a long, wooden table and six wooden chairs, along with their corresponding old-fashioned plates, glasses and cutlery, lit up in the candlelight. We noticed that everything on the table was covered in a thin veil of dust. “My apologies, the recent shocks dropped a bit of dust on the table”, he explained as he noticed us looking at the plates and moved into another room nearby. “Take your seats if you like.” We all settled onto the chairs, and blew off our plates of the dust settled there.
“When will we eat”, Matt impatiently said.
“Once Steve comes out with the food”, Mom answered. Matt sat there with a tired look on his face. Dad seemed to be in a better mood than before and it looked like he wanted to start a conversation.
“Hey, should we talk about something”, Dad asked. I then see Steve with a bowl and a silver plate.
“Here we go, may not be much, but at least it’ll fulfil the soul”, Steve said, smiling when he served us mashed potatoes and meatloaf. “So, shall we pray?” That came unexpectedly, as we are not too religious, but we were in his house and gave us shelter and food.
“Sure, we can do that”, Mom said and we all bowed our heads and put our hands together. Steve cleared his throat
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food to feed the soul in these hard times. I shall pray, in the name of the Lord and Jesus Christ, that these hard times shall be over, so we can get on with our lives. Amen.” We raised our heads and grabbed whatever food there was onto our plates. “Oh, there’s no gravy, so we have to deal with bare potaters and meatloaf.”
“Oh, not to worry. Thank you for the food”, Dad thanked Steve. We began to eat the food once we got it sorted.
“So, what brings you here”, Steve asked.
“Well, there is an evacuation order in effect for this area, so we had to go to Regina”, Dad explained, with Steve taking in every word. “So, we came from Strasbourg, we tried going south towards Regina, but we hit an obstacle in the way and we had to take another route, leading us here.”
“And we encountered a few odd things along the way”, Mom added.
“Huh, interesting. What do you guys think is going on”, Steve inquired.
“By the things we saw, we have no idea. Dinosaurs, devil dogs, hell pigs, the whole deal. I shouldn’t forget the earthquake. They told us a pipeline leak caused by the earthquake”, Dad clarified to Steve.
“Hmm… is that so”, Steve wondered. “Wonder what I think is happening? The Rapture is happening. Do you know how the Bible tells us of the end times? Good people sent to be with God and his kingdom, the rest here to suffer the Hell unleashed by Satan.” By this point, he was beginning to rant, but we couldn't stop it as we all began to feel tired and powerless. “So, the Devil will send his demons in the form of these illusions so that they can torment the sinners. It is happening, it is-” Steve manically continued as I drew towards blackness and his voice becoming less coherent. My vision is now all black.
I saw those same lights, but more rapidly than before. I then emerged onto the same clear sky, but something felt different. I can smell something in the air. I can smell what seems to be chemicals in the air. Looking down, I was terrified. Dark, grey rock in the shape of ropes and folds, similar to those I saw of lava flows on a volcano in pictures. This went on as far as the eye could see. I can see no tree this time, just the cooled lava everywhere. I then walked, feeling every bump and crag. I thought I walked forever until I heard a rumbling sound and woke up.
I am in total darkness. It is cold and it smells like cow manure. I tried to move my hand, but it seemed to be bonded behind my back by a rope. I tried to move my feet, but they were also bound by rope to the legs I tried to speak, only to realise my mouth was agape by a cloth in my mouth. I heard shuffling nearby but I could not see. It was then shone in light when Steve entered the door, holding a candle, revealing all of us in the same situation. I then can see what we are in. We are in that same wooden dilapidated barn we saw earlier and seems to be more damaged than the house, wood creaking can be heard.
“These sedatives are more effective than I thought. Maybe I should use them more often”, Steve smoothly explained, like he’s some kind of agent and began pacing. “Wonder why you are here? Well, I wondered the same thing to myself, why didn’t God take me to his heaven? When I first heard of the government telling us of those evacuation plans, I thought it was that, a leaking pipe. I began to notice things I couldn’t believe myself, at least at first. Earthquakes, weird creatures showing up, people disappearing, the whole spiel. I connected the dots. The Rapture is happening, for sure, but why me? Why was I the one left here on this Earth”, Steve calmly ranted, pacing around the barn, but it seemed to sound crazier and angrier the more he paced. “I thought I had lost my way. I’ve been unfaithful to God and his son. But, I realised that God always has a plan and he left me on this Earth to serve a purpose. I wondered what my purpose was until I had a moment.” He then stopped in place and calmed down. He turned to look at Mom with accusing yet crazed eyes.
“I’m supposed to keep the sinners here in line, to earn a place in God’s kingdom, or suffer in Hell. I know you are a sweet woman, Janice, but your treachery with Satan is over and I am going to do what’s right.” Mom then looked at all of us, with assuring eyes like that of an innocent yet caring mother we all know knew. I began crying and trying to speak through the cloth, but I was helpless to watch by. “Forgive me, Father, for what I am going to do.” He then pulled a knife from his pocket and plunged it into Mom’s neck with no mercy. I looked away once he did that, trembling, with tears pouring out and my vision glazed and I fell limp. I could see my brother tearing up, but he did not look away. I can hear Dad behind me, with his screams of agony and anger covered by the cloth. It felt like I was in slow motion, taking in every moment.
I then heard the chair, screeching as Steve dragged the chair containing Mom’s lifeless body towards the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. I couldn’t bear to see my mother like this. I shut my eyes very hard and hoped it would go away. The door then shut, leaving us alone with a candle, fearing what would come next. I stared at the candle, seeing it dance in the flames like a woman dancing in the darkness. Is this how it’ll end, I thought. End up dying to this sick man? My Mom was killed in front of me. I sobbed with that thought, then I began to think about the inevitable death of me. I hope there’s something after I die. Maybe I’ll see Mom again.
It was silent for a while, nearly no sound other than our moans. Dad seems to be fidgeting at the back of his chair, rocking it slowly. Looking past him, I shuddered at the glistening pool of blood, where Mom was last alive, could be my fate. I then see Dad release his arms from the back of the chair and remove the cloth from his mouth. He silently stood up and bent down to untie his legs from the chair legs. He then went to me and removed my cloth.
“H-h-how did you do that”, I silently wept, fearing that Steve would show up at the door and kill us all.
“My binding is loose. The old man probably took a liking to me”, Dad whispered. “I should remove your binds.” He untied them, releasing me, doing the same for Matt. “Now, we need to be quiet.” We then walked, quietly, along the painfully creaking wood in the near dark, following the blood trail, glistening in the candlelight. We cringed and dreaded each sound we made and watched the door in case it began to creak open. A few silent steps later, we made it to the door and we slowly opened it so as not to make any noise. What was revealed to us is nothing new, other than the blood trail continuing in the snow directing towards the back of the barn. “Okay, Kate, Matt, you guys run to the truck.”
“What about you”, I sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me”, Dad responded, giving me his keys and forcing them into my hand. “If I’m not back in a few minutes, leave. Don’t look back, take care of your brother, okay? I love you, no matter what happens.” He then kissed me on the head and ran to follow the blood trail. We quickly walked towards the black truck, stranded there for maybe hours. Getting closer, freedom is getting closer. When we got to a fair distance to the truck, I heard footsteps behind me and, the next thing I knew, I was knocked over to the ground into the hard snow on my face. A hand turned me over to give me a glimpse of a crazed Steve, his eyes wilder than before.
“Oh, yes, trying to escape”, he bragged. I looked at him, frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights and he caressed my face with his bloodied blade. “You do have a pretty face, but I’m afraid you are just one of Satan's creations, made to pull me to lust.” He then raised his knife in the air when a familiar side emerged, out of the blue.
Joe came and bit him in the arm that was holding the knife. Steve screamed in agony the moment he realised what happened. He shook Joe off and stood up to stand his ground. I stood up as Joe hissed and walked around the crazed being he wounded, not in fear but in aggressiveness. “Is this one of your pets, demon”, Steve screamed as Joe came in for another attack, but Steve countered that with a slash to the snout. Joe then ran away, whining, into the darkness. This sequence of events gave me the chance to enter the truck on the driver’s side. I had some trouble starting it, besides this is my first time driving a truck.
Steve menacelily walked towards the when Dad came barreling and tackled him to the ground. Dad was on top when he went limp. I finally put the keys in the engine turned it on and backed out, with memory serving me the instructions on such a vehicle. Steve pushed Dad’s body and stood up, but by that time, we left the farm.
“Turn back, we have to get Dad”, Matt cried, but I was very emotional, accepting what happened. I felt that, without my parents, I feel… useless.
“Dad’s dead”, I screamed at Matt and he began gagging uncontrollably in tears. I began to feel sorry for him. “Sorry, I, I don’t know.”
“It’s okay”, Matt sniffled. “I guess Mom and Dad are dead anyways.” It was silence for a few more minutes, tears welling in our eyes.
“Hey, our parents are in a better place”, I said, trying to make the situation positive.
“But we are stuck here, without them? Don’t we deserve to go to a better place?”
“Don’t say that”, I huffed and I paused for a bit. “I know we are in the, uh, right place now. Let me tell you something, once we get to Regina, I will take care of you, no matter what life throws at us.”
“What about Joe”, Matt asked.
“He’ll be fine. He probably found his girlfriend already.”
“Hey, don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“I, uh, I don’t have one. That I know of”, I spoke, bringing me back to Sam, remembering that she’s the only friend that I ever knew, and I left her. Without her, I felt alone, no one would ever relate. I began to tear up. “I don’t have any friends. I am alone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean? I’m your brother!” I looked at Matt, and smiled, happy that he acknowledged that we were in this together.
“Thank you”, I thanked him. I slowly stopped on the road, just to hug Matt hard, crying my eyes out. We then heard what sounded like an elephant in front of us. We looked up to see a walking snow-covered brown fur wall with four pillar-like legs in front of us. Its curved tusks gleaned in the light and the eyes reflected in the light. The furry trunk waved around like a searching snake from a tree. We both knew what it was.
“Hey, look at that, a woolly mammoth”, Matt said, excitement running through him. At this point, we weren’t surprised.
“Yep, that is a woolly mammoth”, I added. The mammoth turned to us on the road, seemingly confused about where it was. It looked at our truck and seemed to growl, like an elephant. We are starting to realise this thing is becoming aggressive.
“Uh, should we move”, Matt asked. I remembered hearing something about standing your ground in case of an encounter with an elephant. I hoped it would work for a bigger, furrier version of one.
“No, we have to stand our ground.”
“But, it’ll attack u-”
“Trust me!” I then honked my horn and it backed up. It then rushed, then stopped, a mock charge. Eventually, it moved out of the road, disappearing into the darkness. We sighed in relief.
“That was close”, Matt sighed. I then continued to drive in the night, headlights leading the way. The road is bumpy, as noticed by every ditch and peak we hit, but surprisingly, Matt was fast asleep. I began to get comfortable driving and used to the road by that point. It was silent for a while until we hit a smaller intersection. That is when the truck shut down, completely and stopped. I tried the gas many times but with no effect. There is no light, nothing. It is near-darkness here, shone only by the moonlight.
“Shit”, I yelled, desperate to turn the truck on without much success. Matt woke up, confused.
“What happened”, he yawned.
“The truck turned itself off. I can’t get it back on”, I fretted and at that moment, Matt was just as panicked as I am.
“Why?”
“I-I don’t know. One moment, we were driving, another it just-”, I quavered, when I heard something rustle in the distance. We stood still, hoping whatever it was didn’t find us. I looked around, hoping to see something in the moonlight. I then see a long, walking animal. It looked like some sort of alligator at first, except for a dinosaur-like head. Once I strained my eyes to the darkness, my fear levels rose as I could see it walk on its hind limbs, with its forelimbs dangling nearly touching the ground.
It was wandering around on the road when I heard a near-crocodilian growl at Matt’s side of the truck. Another of those creatures appeared, seemingly looking into the window like a hungry bear, giving us a chance to see its scaly head. Its exposed alligator teeth gleaned in the light like knives, but more terrifying was the eye. Its serpentine pupil shone brilliantly in the light like eyes in the dark. It then ducked down, gave a hiss, and moved towards the other one. A few more showed up and formed a group.
“What should we do”, Matt asked. “Should we stay?” I looked around, hoping for another way to escape them without them noticing. I further strained my eyes and mentally mapped out the area. There is a cemetery on my right-hand side, a grain bin storage yard on my left and a series of trailers on the other side of the highway, which is ahead of us, from the storage area. There, I see a series of white, storage buildings, something we can go to and wait it out inside.
“Okay, so slowly open the door”, I instructed Matt. The click of the doors opening cringed us. We looked at the group, but there was no response from them. We then, as slowly as we could, opened the door and stepped out. Still no response. Matt then quietly ran to the other side, towards me. “Okay, we are going into the storage yard and go to the other entrance”, I said, pointing to the other right-hand corner. I wanted to get as far away from these things as possible before making a safe crossing. “Then, we cross the highway on the other side, run into the buildings and stay there for the night. Are you ready?”
“I guess”, he whispered, looking at me in fearful doubt.
“We are going to do this”, I whispered back. We then silently ran over, having to rely on our night-adapted eyes, to the corner, walking past the bins. We made it and nothing behind us so far. “We’re good so far.” We then crossed the road and noticed nothing. We noticed a tanker truck, leaking some sort of fluid across the road. I easily recognized it as fuel, based on its distinctive, sickly smell. I wouldn’t be worried about it if it weren’t for a collapsed light pole that is somehow still flickering with electricity near the area where the fuel would be flowing. We quickly avoided the fluid when I froze to see the group of the walking alligators, running towards us. “Run!” Matt tried to run, but one of those things appeared and clamped its jaws at the back of his neck. He yelped in pain and it took him down to the ground. “Matt”, I yelled, helplessly watching as the creature tore into him.
Matt reached out his arm before the others came to him, then a flash of fire came. At this point, I knew what happened, but I couldn’t even think before it exploded. It blew me towards the building, far away. I was knocked out for a few seconds before I regained consciousness, groaning in pain on the ice. I noticed something especially painful just below my chest. I reached towards the area with my hand. I pressed on it, more painful than ever and raised my hand, only to see blood, brightened by the fire. I realised I was wounded, maybe by shrapnel made by the explosion.
I looked toward where the truck was and all I saw was a blaze. Those things weren’t there, at least. I also noticed something else, too, there’s no Matt. I tried to look around for something, some sort of sign of my brother within the fire, but I saw none. I then wept, realising I had failed. I have failed to keep him safe. I have failed to give him a better life. I failed him as a sister. I could’ve done better. The thoughts poured in as tears glazed my eyes. At that moment, I failed to look around me.
I noticed a dark thing beside the blaze. I thought it was Matt, preparing to greet him back, even though I knew he couldn’t survive the explosion. The image became clearer and clearer as I noticed it was one of the walking crocs that, glazed by the fire, was coming towards me.
“Just kill me”, I screamed, preparing to painfully die to meet my maker. The creature was about to attack me when something large, silent as the wind, came charging and clamped down its massive jaws, filled with conical teeth on the hapless creature and raised it. The crocodile struggled before going limp with a crunch within its strong jaws. The big, dark and scaly monster that it is towered over me and is as long as a bus, possibly longer. Its large legs are a contradiction to its small arms that hide beneath its scarred, bulky body.
It turned to look at me with an oddly bird-like expression, revealing in the firelight numerous scars from battles I could never know and looked at me with its beady bird-like eyes, breathing out wisps from its nostrils like a dragon in the cool air. I recognized it as a creature I know too well, a T. Rex. I breathed heavily and sickly, looking at the thing, nearly expecting me to drop the body and go after me. Instead, it simply walked away, carrying its bloody prize with it, and steadily retreated into the darkness.
I then lay down in agonizing exhaustion on my back, thinking of the next step of action like I'm on a suicide mission I would never come back from. I looked in the direction of the graveyard and had one thought. I guess I am dying. a graveyard will do. I struggled to stand up, noticing my blood-soaked clothes and felt a broken left leg. I grasped my wound, limping step by step and enduring the sharp pain while shaking in the cold. Every step I took, I remembered all the memories, good or bad, that I had with my parents. My brother. My friends. My family. I eventually reached the cemetery and slouched at a tree.
“Guess I’m joining you, guys”, I said, speaking to the snow-covered gravestones, only to hear something. A familiar sound of chirping emerged and, lit by the blaze, it was a sight I can hope for. “Joe, what are you doing here”, I depressingly cheered as Joe went to me and curled up in my lap as if he were a cat. I noticed the new-found scar he had on his little snout, but I paid no mind as I petted him. “I guess you came back. Thank you so much for what you did”, I thanked him, not expecting such a loyal creature would be with me, comforting me, to the end, like what my mother used to do when I was a newborn. I heard another noise, this time a deep rumble.
I thought it was another earthquake coming, but it got louder the closer it got to me, becoming more animalistic only felt small vibrations I barely felt. Joe stayed put, oddly enough, as T. Rex, different from the first one, came. It walked towards us until it stopped short of us. It began to produce a low-pitched, bird-like purring, attracting Joe. I realised something, that this T. Rex is Joe’s parent. He joined the rest like him, whom they showed up and all chirped around.
The grown Rex then brought its snout closer to me, not to kill me, but to look at me. It did not reveal its teeth and was still purring. I put my hand out and its nose came close to it. It rubbed it against my hand and started to pet its cold, scaly skin as it breathed through its nose and put it on my chest. I rested my head on it before it pulled away. It gave out a hiss, but I knew it wasn’t that of a threat, but more of a thank you for bringing its small, sometimes immature, child home.
That gave me relief, as it felt like I at least did something for once. They walked away, along with Joe, towards the darkness amongst the gravestones in the cemetery. I glimpsed one last desperate look at Joe before walking beside his parent. I looked up at the sky and I could see all the stars, twinkling, and the dancing green auroras. I began to feel limp and felt the cold embrace of death coming over me, tears pouring out of my eyes. The sky then grew brighter and brighter, the stars faded into the light and I could see my family welcoming me to a new home. It then slowly went black, darker than a cave.
You would think this is the end of me. It wasn’t, or else I wouldn’t be writing this right now. I eventually woke up in a hospital in Regina. I was told I was rescued by a team that transported me while I was in a coma. The doctors said I was very lucky to be alive, as the shrapnel narrowly avoided my vital organs. After that, I was adopted into a new family, but I was only with them for a couple of years before finding a new job and moving out.
As for Sam, I don’t know what happened to her. I would like to think she is safe, somewhere else. As for my family, I think of them all the time. I was in a depressive period right after that. Eventually, over the years, I accepted that they were gone and went to a better place. For Joe, I would like to think he is all grown up, like his parents, and becoming the king of the jungle. I hope we meet again.
As for the evacuated area, it wasn’t some pipeline rupture that caused an evaluation, but an anomaly, with the exact reason not known. There are excuses for the claims of weird stuff going on in there, from disease to chemicals, to eventually a previously unknown geological event, but I saw through it all.
You may ask how, it's because I've been there. Take it or leave it, this is the story I have. As the decade came by, cover-ups were made to hide it, even walls were put around it. Since the incident, the exclusion zone grew from a mere 80 kilometers in diameter to 460 kilometers in diameter, emptying entire cities of the likes of Regina and Saskatoon. I had to move to North Battleford, by the recommendation from the same government covering it up, making me think that time will tell before the floodgates of truth open.
The anomaly didn’t have a name initially, however, over the years, everyone agreed on one name in particular: The Saskatchewan Anomaly.

Everyone's worst nightmare when fighting bots, especially on higher difficulties, is having a bot drop called in when you're trying to take a base or complete an objective.
The amount of guards at most bases isn't a big deal, it's the fact that dropships full of tanks, hulks, devastators and even factory striders can show up in moments if you miss even one marauder with a flare gun and those guys are very trigger happy with their flares.
I've been trying stealth missions with the spear though, and often there's nothing in a base that I need, all I want is to take out the fabricator. I can do that with the spear from the top of a hill and then just run off to the next objective but the base I just attacked often calls in a bot drop anyway because their fabricator just exploded and they think they're going to be assaulted.
It actually makes completing my next objective much easier because the next base can't call in a drop for another 90 seconds or whatever the time limit is and I can just take out the guards that are stationed there without worrying about being swarmed.
So I'm doing it by accident just by moving on quickly from one base to another without sticking around to fight, but has anyone tried standing on a hill and using something with basically no bullet drop, like a quasar or an AMR or a Dominator, to kill one marauder on the other side of the map just so they'll call a drop to their location and leave you free to take your actual objective in peace?

I am looking at a preowned 2019 Titan Pro 4X and noticed that although the dealer lists the wheel size as 18 in, I can see in a picture that the they’re 17 in (the tire clearly says 275/70R17). Factory would be 18in.
1) Are they likely to knock some off the price for this when I mention it? How much? 2) Should this generally be a concern? They literally just listed it so I understand why there could be a mistake, but I’m wondering about the change… is it just a matter of personal preference whether I still go for it (assuming previous owner changed to 17 for off roading?) or a big concern regarding value?

I can't complete one drop. I'm beyond aggravated and frustrated. I have verified game files. Today I un-installed and reinstalled the game. I set the fps cap with medium graphics using a 4070. I have ran pc monitoring software on the side to see if my temps are hot, or if I'm pushing my system too hard; temps are normal, and utilization doesn't go above 60%. I'm tired of this. I drop and have a wonderful time with random people killing bots/bugs. Strategems are still a blast. But I have yet to Evac today, or yesterday. I just want to finish a game without it crashing; quite a few if I may be so bold. I don't want to take a break because I have so much fun, and I shouldn't have to break because of this reason I feel. I love the dev involvement with the community, and actually taking into consideration thought out ideas.
BUT SWEET LIBERTY CAN I PLEASE FINISH JUST ONE DAMN MISSION WITHOUT IT CRASHING?!
I hope no one else has this problem as frequently as I have because I want the game to be enjoyable to others. If anyone else does have this problem, I feel you.

I'm on a mission to declutter and surround myself with high-quality items that will stand the test of time. Tired of disposable junk, I'm focusing on finding well-made pieces that bring me joy and function for years to come.
Take mechanical pencils for instance. I used to buy cheap plastic ones that would break constantly. The lead would shatter, the clicker mechanism would fail – a frustrating cycle of replacing junk. Then, I discovered the magic of a well-crafted metal pencil! My Rötring cost a bit more upfront (around £20) but it's been with me for years. It feels great in my hand, the weight is perfect, and let's not forget – it's incredibly durable.
This approach goes beyond pencils! My trusty Hohner Marine harmonica (considered a top-shelf brand) was only £35, and it delivers incredible sound quality. Even the Fiskars scissors on my desk – they're not just sharp and easy to use, but their design adds a touch of elegance to my workspace.
So, who else out there has found a hidden gem? Share your favorite low-cost, high-quality items in the comments below! Let's inspire each other to declutter and invest in things that truly last.

And it was pretty fun.
I dunno if I'm just late to the bandwagon, but I never really gave the AMR a chance. My thought process was always "you're just using a weaker Autocannon that doesn't have explosive damage... just use an Autocannon."
And while, yes, the AC is still probably going to be my go-to for bots for a while, I can't say I didn't have a great time.
I ran engineering kit light armor (from Democratic Detonation), the new Tenderizer, my Redeemer sidearm, and stun grenades. The Redeemer's been at my side and saved me from so many close-range encounters and Berserkers, and the Tenderizer's range and low recoil gave me an option to take out chaff (and even Devs if I felt like it) from medium to long range.
For my backpack slot I ran the Supply Pack. From my previous experience with the AMR I knew it was ammo hungry, but I wasn't really expecting that it would be as ammo hungry as I heard. I probably would need to practice a lot with the AMR before being comfortable running without a backpack.
I also ran Eagle Airstrike and Orbital Precision Strike, mostly because I've gotten fairly good at aiming both of those.
We encountered a total of 3 Factory Striders in the mission. I was able to snipe all 6 chainguns off of those things and (save one death from the Factory Strider's main cannon), easily ran underneath the beasts -- stunning their waves of Devastators -- to unload my mag quickly into its belly and deal serious damage. Two Striders I took out with just the AMR, the third required a Precision Strike to finish off because I was out of ammo.
I also encountered some gunships, and I wouldn't really say the AMR is great at dealing with them because it took a LOT of shots to kill a single one. I'd suggest you check with your teammates to make sure they have appropriate AA weaponry, or just use an HMG Emplacement or Autocannon Sentry if you're able to.
Hulks became a breeze, their face plate is very easy to hit with a precision rifle, especially after being stunned.
Berserkers became more problematic than usual. I'm used to damaging them with the Autocannon's AOE, and then finishing them off with a few Tenderizer or Redeemer shots, but the single-target nature of the AMR meant I had to adjust. Luckily I had a lot of stims thanks to my backpack.
If you haven't already, give the AMR a chance against the bots. You may find a new favorite support weapon.

2 years later, from 7 miles new to 50k miles, and still going strong!
I am a lucky few it seems. I have all factory parts outside of a front bumper, one wheel and all four tires.
Short story shorter. Front bumper, I got Wham Baam Honda Bumped in a parking lot. Pot hole bent wheel. Used up the Pierellis.
I can say with all confidence. This car... It rattles like crazy. Speakers are crackling. Visibility is poor. The driver door is huge and unwieldy. The back seats are tiny. The trunk is too small....... I still wouldn't want to trade it in for anything. Neva is what I've always wanted in a hot hatch. 2 years later and the SMG's have only gone up while the MPG's keep going down.
Tahoe, Yosemite, Malibu Canyon, and all the Twisties in California are such a blast. I can't help but crack a smile every time Neva Crackles and Pops. Not to mention I love how it looks from every angle. Not FK5 CTR boy racer but also not GTI egg. It's perfect. It's stock stance looks so cool. Especially from the back 🍑 ... I don't feel like I have to lower it. The way it looks is just amazing to me.
Neva's got some battle scars. The front bumper was not painted with the correct white when it was replaced, most can't tell, but I can. She's got some road rash, I never got around to PPF her. We go raw and we go hard.
She's got a slight rough idle in normal, sometimes. I'm usually in N or Custom N (normal springs) so it's a non-issue. Has a bit of a tremble at speed, I believe it to be my commute road though as when I'm on "new" asphalt I don't feel the tremble. Everything in the engine bay sounds healthy.
50,000 miles of nothing but Smiles, Surprises, and Ngagement. Sorry I had too...
Drive safe everyone!

So tired of posting here just trying to work through this crap. He got a new phone recently because his old phone was swelling and the battery was a huge fire risk. The box to send the old one back came today. He factory reset his old phone (previously had accountability app on it) without me being present or telling me. We specifically discussed waiting until boxing it up to do this (it's not boxed up yet).
How can we keep deducting from this already overdrawn trust account?! It's so dumb. We had a decent talk last night but I've still been detached and just tired of the crap.
On top of it, my phone was playing music in the car so it was connected via Bluetooth. The car also tells you when you receive texts. He hooked his phone up while I ran into a store briefly and then reconnected mine when I came out. Why? He already had music playing on his. It's just weird and shady. His new phone does have an accountability app too but...
He has been doing ok at telling his two former work friends that he doesn't want to receive certain things via text and asked them to text each other separately if they want to send that kind of crap. He usually tells me when they send stuff but I happened to see things that he deleted from them that was inappropriate. He did not tell me. Why the inconsistency? This was yesterday and today he told me he'll be truly honest with me. BS!! I've asked for that over and over.
I am separating myself emotionally but it's just annoying at this point. I don't know how you can just keep digging holes while you're seemingly trying at recovery.

Dad of a 3 MO. My wife is such an amazing mother. I always knew she would be one but seeing it unfurl has been incredible.
I have supported her really well, and she said I’ve been exemplary but in my mind I’m just doing my duty, and I can’t help but be inspired from her efforts. She is tireless.
From day one she never complained about breastfeeding. I have seen how hard it is to do it and kudos to all the moms who do it. One day I read a post here from a Dad who was concerned that his wife would get annoyed when the baby was hungry and it was time to feed (no shade and judgement - it’s hard and there’s PPD). That made me worried about asking her. But she assured me that it was her priority, “what am I gonna do let him go hungry?”. No mather what, even if she was sick or tired or hungry she said I will feed him.
Those first few weeks she was bed ridden recovering from a tailbone injury and the baby would keep her in bed all day for weeks, she would just lay there and admire him.
Our son is so healthy and is often mistaken for a year old child, even though he’s only approaching 4 MO. All thanks to her (and in part my efforts because I feed her )
She is so dedicated in pumping and feeding him, both of which are difficult esp in days where she’s so drained. It’s my mission to support her.
For her first mother’s day I made it special by getting matching customized first Mother’s Day shirts, a photo frame customized with their names, and flowers (and some gifts from Sephora). I got Mother’s Day balloons and gift wrapped jt myself, even though I suck at it. She was so happy and said I made it special for her, but I also thought of my son and that I was doing it for him. It makes me sad to see so many stories of husbands and dads dropping the ball. To the moms: so much is on your shoulders and you deserve so much.
I can do so many things my wife can’t and I wish I could trade sometimes. Things such as eat fresh food but she can’t because the baby is at her breast. We’re pretty much equal but no matter what, it can’t be 50/50 because babies rely so much on their mothers.
I am so grateful for this journey. I love being a dad and caring for her and my son. He’s such a happy baby and loves laughing and is mostly always smiling (unless he has gas lol), because I think he sees that he has two involved parents.
Dads never forget to say thank you to the mom for everything. I make it a point to always say “thank you for feeding him” whenever I can because I know it can be hard. Of course the response is always “of course I love my son”
To all the moms: your babies are lucky to have you and whether your husband did something for you or not know this: you have a special bond with your child that cannot be replicated. Some of us dads are jealous of that. You are lucky to have that.
Happy Mother’s Day!

I have an early (Vin high 2000s) GT. I got my car back tonight after the second round of fixes (Lucid calls them 'campaigns').
The big things they replaced were the 900V battery, the wonderbox, and the connections between, but only the battery had anything wrong with it. They changed the wonderbox and updated battery design at the same time, so you have to replace them both at once as well as the connectors. I was told to expect a small increase in efficiency.
Sadly, they would not give me the old wonderbox nor the old battery.
Other stuff inspected/adjusted:
Charge port door
Wiper harness
EPS harness
Rear DCU
Cabin battery negative terminal retorqued
Brought all tires to factory spec inflation
Other stuff fixed/replaced:
Key fob battery (they do this every time your car goes in)
Coolant hose bracket
Read door harness (they found this during the visit - the harness had come loose so they replaced the whole thing)
So mostly minor stuff outside of the main battery replacement.

This is cancer in pure form currently - look, it was difficult before factories were a thing, but still doable, now it's straight up insane in the worst way - you have to rescue 50 targets while being overwhelmed with enemies AND FACTORIES. These things are not bile tinans, they can eat two 500kg and still operate and there can (or, more accurately, there WILL) be more than one of them.The only viable-ish strat i've found is this: you spawn outside of the obj, two of you distract bots away from point, one guy goes looting and one goes to obj and does the thing(I think he better wear light armor for less chance of being spotted, but I didn't test that one yet). None of those rescue-missions i've played where we had a standard direct contact with bots were successful, so any stable working starts for this one?

I used to be only a bug squasher because I thought the robots were scary, until I got taught how to more effectively share liberty with the metal menaces. Let's share our best tips to help encourage our comrades to help with the major order.
These are mine:

• Stay mobile, don't get swarmed. When the bots start coming they just keep coming. They'll keep swarming even after the objective is done, don't let them sucker you into using a bunch of reinforcements fighting over ground that doesn't matter.
• Stay covered and move between cover. Don't get caught out in empty space, even if you have to go the long way around. If you need to make some space between you and the metal menaces, be sure to put some cover behind you as you go.
• Destroying factories next to jammers will destroy the jammer. For command bunker missions, save a laser to throw in and soften up the turrets in the center.
• I normally run Dominator as primary, but occasionally dispense democracy into their metal domes using the Diligence Counter Sniper. Aim appropriately.
• Don't stress about the walkers. Grenades trip them up and the part under the forward screen where the legs attach is only medium armor.
• Heavy armor feels super great as it significantly improves your survivability.
• Orbital Gas Strike + Orbital EMS is a killer combo on drops. Eagle airstrike is as well, and is a general swiss army knife against bots.
• The manual autocannon and the sentry are fantastic if you're playing <7. My recent preference has been for the recoilless rifle for 7+ over the more sleepy quasar. The rocket sentry is also in my rotation as an alternative to soak pressure for the squad.

Good luck, and go share some democracy with the bots!

Ran several bot mission missions today that were all a breeze. Even one flag mission where the three obj where located all within 150 meters or so of another.
Multiple missions team deaths was under 2
Patrols were non existent
2 Factory striders in all the missions together
Is it possible Joel made some adjustment to make the MO easier? Anyone else noticing helldive is extremely easy today?
-this was all on the planet we are currently defending

My game crashes so consistently that solo playing is nigh impossible. Atleast when i play with friends i am able to rejoin them but as far as i know if my game crashes even with random people in the game theres no way for me to rejoin the game? Im sick and tired of wasting 30+ minutes on a mission just for it to crash in the final few minutes of the game only for me to not be able to rejoin and get credit for it.

This body would enjoy budgetary and functional autonomy; it would be directed by experts interviewed by Congress, who would serve a mandate (in this sense, similar to that of the central bank). This would be important to protect it from political influence and bureaucratic slowness.
It is worth mentioning that these specialists would receive very high salaries and possible bonuses precisely with the purpose of attracting the best and motivating them. (I open a parenthesis to clarify that this selection process by Congress would be governed by law, which would require those chosen to have the appropriate credentials, as well as unblemished conduct, without political party ties)
Its role would be to develop a standard curriculum to be followed by all basic and technical schools in the country, for each type of course. This curriculum must reflect the basic and professional education skills that are being demanded by the productive sector.
To this end, the body would work closely with businesspeople. Agency officials would visit factories to talk and collect data to prepare a study on the state of the national workforce. Do workers not know enough math? Do they need to improve their writing? Did the mechanics who recently graduated from the technical course not delve deep enough into topic X or Y? The idea is simply to find out what is lacking in terms of skills in the workforce and then improve the CV.
How they would do this would be up to them. Obviously, they would not do it alone and would rely on a large number of subordinates at different hierarchical levels. It would be up to them (the upper echelons of the organization) to decide how to organize the hierarchy and internal processes. (the law that creates the body would define some crucial guidelines to be observed, as well as describe the mission of the body. Making a parallel, it would be like the law that created the central bank)
Furthermore, it would be up to the body to prepare a certification (with theoretical or practical tests) to verify whether the student graduating from a basic or technical education course has acquired the minimum skills required. If you do not pass the certification, you will not receive the training diploma and, without it, there will be no formal recognition of this training.
The objective of this body is to create a reference of educational quality to be observed by basic and technical schools.
The body would not intervene in or manage schools. It would just be testing students and creating statistics based on that. It would be up to school administrators (whether public or private) to take action based on student performance on certification. If a public school has a high exam failure rate, it would be a motivator to change the principal and make adjustments.
PS: I believe that there are already structures that resemble this proposal in terms of function, but designed along these lines (and with the proposed prestige) I believe not.
PS: please ask intelligent questions.
PS: If someone demonstrates with arguments that this idea is foolish, I will give a delta.

I recently quit my job at a gas station due to the frustration of dealing with ignorant customers. Canadians, in particular, seem to lack common sense compared to Americans I've dealt with.
Despite suggesting a pay-first policy to prevent issues, management ignored it. Dealing with complaints, security issues, and people driving off without paying made the job unbearable. I'm tired of dealing with these idiots and wish to move somewhere with smarter people.
Additionally, I'm exhausted from dealing with cash and the ridiculousness of accepting bags of small change for large bills just because it's "legal tender." I refuse to tolerate that anymore!
To make matters worse, there are no decent job opportunities where I live other than retail and factory jobs, which I am unable to do much due to my disabilities…