21st century insurance locations office

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dear Rod:

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

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

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

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

Hello, I (21M) am looking for a place to stay that is easy to commute to the office in midtown. I will be interning a few blocks south of central park.
Budget: $1,800 all in per month (Slightly Flexible)
Location: Within 25 min commute to south part of central park
Please reach out with any leads. Thanks!

Trying to find contact info for a former lawyer I had. I never got their address or where their office is located. When I search online I get an address in Calgary, but when I map quest it, it shows an appt building. Danico or Dani co legal services.

Happy Monday, all!
PROOF album.
Still downsizing my collection. Selling some vintage .999 fine silver 1 oz rounds today. As far as condition, most of these are BU as you can see in the pictures. There is some light toning on some of the U.S. assay rounds, but nothing too oxidized. The A-Mark Liberty Bell rounds look decent with minimal signs of handling.

• 1974 Silver Trade Unit (High Relief) - 28 available - Price: $30 each
  
• Liberty Bell Silver A-Mark - 4 available - Price: $31 each
  
• 1981 U.S. Assay Office (Strategic Stockpile) silver rounds - 25 available - Price: $32 each
  

Payment methods accepted: PayPal (PPFF), Venmo, Cash App, or Zelle. Add $9 for USPS Priority Mail. Additional insurance available at cost. Next post office visit: Tuesday, May 14
Please sent a PM (preferred) or chat. Willing to negotiate on price and include storage tubes if 20+ rounds are purchased.
Whale option: Want to buy them all? $1750 shipped Priority flat rate box for the 57 rounds.

From doctors, to lawyers, and all the politicians, because they've got great health care, and this extends to the youth of these people as well. And if any of them are feeling a bit down, they are advised to see their shrink.
Think about it, the game is rigged in their favor every time. Why do people with nothing get state insurance and are able to go get "help" with state provided insurance for little to no cost? It's the perfect control scheme that employees a lot of nurses and doctors to keep them sharp.. because they have nothing better to do when there aren't any major wars going on. Gotta keep these minds of the people who help fresh. They're monitored constantly by the DEA and the prescriptions that they write. I see it as they're just on reserve/taking orders. God forbid someone who is seeking HELP, not drugs walks into their little trap. Perhaps if the drug epidemic didn't start in the doctors office things would be better.
The meds used to work for me. Now I'm full of anger, not just in little spurts. My therapist doesn't bat an eye. I fucking hate my life. Now it feels like they're dangling medicine that works for me on a stick in front of my face just to have me march in line with the rest of their victims. I've slowed watched myself spiral into becoming another victim of the state. Now I'm stuck between wanting my life to end so badly, others trying to convince me to not do it for the sake of my child, and doctors feeding me pills that I've fought to get what I believe to be "proper treatment".
I want it all to end. I have an appointment with my Dr on Wednesday and I have so much frustration, so much hate within me, for them, for the system that i am now a part of and also for myself. I don't want to go back to the psych hospital, again, because I'm running out of fingers to count the amount of times that I have been there already.

I received Cal Grant A for Berkeley, UCSD, and UCSB. However, I did not receive the Cal Grant for UCLA. I called CSAC, and they said I did not meet the minimum requirements for need for UCLA due to my unmet need (Unmet need = cost of attendance - SAI). The person I talked to with CSAC stated that to receive the Cal Grant, unmet need has to be over the Cal Grant amount plus $1,500, so it must be 14,436 + 1500 = $15,936. For UCLA with a cost of attendance for on campus resident is $42,059, my unmet need is $15,895, so I am $41 under the unmet need and am not eligible for the Cal Grant. For UCSD with a cost of attendance for on campus resident is $42,639, my unmet need is $16,475, meaning I am eligible for the Cal Grant.
I have called UCLA's financial aid office and asked for a professional judgment since the CSAC counselor recommended that I should. They have not gotten back to me yet since the Cal Grant counselor for UCLA was busy. For UCLA, I only received $2,530 in university grants and $3,774 in SHIP grants, but I already have insurance. The cost of attendance for UCLA would be $39,529, while UCSD would be $23,203 (I also received the Regents Scholarship for UCSD).
How would the professional judgment work? If my appeal works, how much aid would I receive? The deadline to commit is in 2 days. While UCLA is my dream school and I really want to attend, it wouldn't be wise of me to choose UCLA over other UC's since I would be paying over $16,000 more a year.

I am a ridiculously minor collector, the works I buy are all under $1000 and direct from the artist or through a selling site, not a gallery (gallerists treat me like a hobo, even when I'm in a business suit and straight from my corporate office).
But over the years of buying pieces, I've sometimes corresponded with artists to thank them, let them know how I enjoy the piece, sometimes show it in its final display location with pics.
Some artists have long-term relationships with buyers and often this leads to further purchases or commissions. These artists have newsletters and respond to email.
Others are ... interesting.... one that comes to mind has her sister reply, has for at least 7 years (I have multiple small works) and she always says the artist is unavailable for one exotic reason or another. I've come to think of this as a deterrent technique, they don't ant to connect or chat- fair enough! I think the 'sister' is the artist.
In other examples, people's personality shines through from gruff to uncertain to delighted.
To be clear my intention is always to establish a connection in case they have another work I want to purchase, nothing more- I know some people want to act more as a patron of artists they appreciate and maybe that is more typical?
As you collect, and likely deal with better known artists, what's been your experience and what is your preference? Do you want to stay in touch, are you a patron, do you collect multiple works? etc

My mother-in-law is 70 years old, based in California and was out of the loop on finances the past 10 years or more. They both primarily lived off of social security but he was doing some private contractor work for a few years delivering medical stuff for a courier service. I recall him saying, “I’ll need to do a tax write off for all this gasoline I’m using” because it was all done in his personal vehicle.
Fast forward to 2024 and he has now passed away. It’s been a month since his passing and we have received a bill from FTB saying that he owes $28,000 total in taxes for years 2016-2019. Nearly $6,000 of that is interest.
My mother-in-law cannot locate the deed or any other form of a will etc. but she did recently refinance the home. The home was built by his father and gifted to him before they were married.
We do not know if she is on the deed but she is on the mortgage.
I suppose in the back of my mind what I keep wondering, is there any hope in proving that she was unaware of his financial shenanigans/spousal abuse?
He owes over $400,000 on the home, part of which is a HELOC she has no memory signing off on.
She has no savings, no pension, nothing.
Debt collectors are coming out of the woodwork. It’s not too bad. $1,000 or less most of them.
We cannot find out if he has a life insurance policy or not.
She only receives $1,700 a month from SS, and works at a non-profit making $2,600 a month take home.
My wife and I are ready to step in and help her with the mortgage but currently the home is red tagged and not livable. It has serious mold issues and will need $15,000-$40,000 in repairs.
Selling the home is not an option due to its value of being built by my wife’s grandfather.
What should we do?

This is my first ever post on Reddit so I hope I am in the right thread with my questions.
Might be a bit of a long one but please bear with me and pardon me if I made a grammar mistake.
So I (30M) am Dutch and am living in The Netherlands. Recently my contract at work did not get extended so right now I have been unemployed for about 1 month. Luckily I receive unemployment benefits from the government (70% of my last salary) for a total of 6 months so there is a safety net.
The fact that my contract did not get extended is not the worst thing that could happen to me but what I do hate is that I was supposed to work a month remotely in Vietnam right now. This is honestly for me the worst part of this situation.
For years I have been struggeling what I want to do in my life and time after time I come to the conlusion that my main (and probably only) goal in life is to see and experience as much of the world as possible. I worked at a law firm for a couple of years and did sales at a scale-up. I am however not that interested in climbing the career ladder while doing the 'standard' office jobs since I don't see it adding any value to my life (drafting 5 legal deeds and 3 other documents so that someone can take his own money from his own company is not worth it for me). We only live once so I want to make the most of it and experience as much as possible and just be happy.
I have struggled with this for a long time now already but never had the courage to take the step towards being less career-oriented since every one around me is. This past month I have felt miserable while looking around for a new job. When I told my contact at the government about this she suggested that I go on a holiday or a long trip. I did not expect this reaction but i'm very happy she said it.
She got me thinking about it and it would indeed be a perfect time go on an adventure and fulfilling my dreams. I can take 15 vacation days during my benefits so I can still get paid and if I stay longer I can pause the benefits. This means of course not receiving anything for that period of time. Ideally I would like to go for about 3 months. I have about €10.000 in savings and would like to spend at the max €5.000 so that I still have a nice buffer when I get home. I think this should be doable with 'cheap' flights and not going on adventures every day.
I am a very open minded person and really enjoy staying a bit longer at a certain location to become familiar with the area and become part of the locals (even though they will probably still see me as an outsider haha). I'm not the stereotypical hippy traveler but just love meeting different people and exploring different cultures.
I want to leave on short notice ( i'm not much of a long term planner). Let's say the 1st of June. And I want to make the decision about where to go at the end of this week so I can start buying the tickets and start preparing. I normally don't plan too much of a trip before I get there so I think this should be fine.
Going on the trip would mean that I won't have benefits for a bit more than 2 months, so I will want to make it budget friendly and was thinking about (partly) volunteering in exchange for a bed and meals to save some money but also experience the local culture a bit more by staying in the same place.
It has been a long lived dream to visit South Korea and Japan and would like to go there this time. Untill now I have been to Costa Rica, Vietnam and Thailand. Besides this I have been around in Europe as well.
If it ends up being difficult to live on a budget in Japan & South Korea then I will go to a cheaper South-East Asian country such as Vietnam, Philipines, Indonesia or even Sri Lanka.
I was hoping if some of you could share your experiences doing these kind of things. How long did you go? How long ahead did you plan? Did you still have time to explore besides working? I have put the main questions I have underneath but probably forgot a few as well.

1. I have seen websites such as Workaway & Worldpackers and was wondering if there are people that have experience using these websites and also if certain websites are more recommendable than others.
2. Was it doable to live budget-friendly in more expensive countries such as Japan and South Korea?
3. Is it hard to be accepted for certain volunteerprojects? I sometimes see strict descriptions and am worried that I will not be accepted because I am a new member with no references.
4. Is it doable to travel Japan & South Korea on a budget while still enjoying the country? (I don't necesseraly need to go to the typical hotspots and enjoy it more to go off the beaten track)
5. How much did you spend in case you did something similar?

I would love to hear your experiences and recommendations. Maybe also some tips & tricks for planning if you have since I am not that well organised and find it hard to properly plan things.
If you have any questions or if I need to clarify some more please let me know. Thank you so much in advance!

I recently got dentalwise max 3000 so I can get this broken tooth out without spending as much money as possible…I know insurance companies are effy but is this any good? I’m currently trying to find an office that takes this insurance

I make 31.50 at the post office, and have been working there since 2015. I see people on Reddit with pictures of pools, bmws, new watches and stuff and am feeling inadequate. I was a very smart kid and was in all AP classes in high school but never want to college cause I was scared and didn’t have much support on basic things like even how to apply for it. I come from a family of drunks and drug users with no college graduates so despite being a very bright kid, I guess I never made it very far. Also took up smoking weed my senior year of high school which dampened a lot of my aspirations in life.
I just wanna be able to not struggle. I bought a house 2 years ago and have been house poor ever since (I’ve gained about 70k in equity however), and I feel like I’m letting my gf and stepdaughter down, I could be doing so much more for them and I’m just complacent with my measily 60k a year. Seeing kids I graduated with get their masters etc and I was brighter than them. I know a degree doesn’t necessarily indicate success, but I am just feeling extremely low from a self esteem point of view.
I grew up broke, and all I ever wanted was my own house and car. I have the house and a Lexus, so I should be happy, but I’m just unsatisfied because I know deep down I could be doing more.
The isssue is, I’m basically stuck at the post office in order to keep paying my mortgage and other bills. My main bills are my mortgage which is 1515, 250 dollar car payment and my electric. My insurance was pretty cheap (120) but has since creeped up to 175 so I’m no longer satisfied with that either.
If it wasn’t for my girlfriends 1000 a month in EBT, I would have had to sell my house already or face starvation.
Any tips to get ahead, supplement my income, or anyway I can work on a new careefuture without becoming homeless?

I got 2 invites to interview for a maintenance job, but I can't make the date/times for either. The emails say to reply to (postmaster) at such n such email address if I can't make the Interview.
I've been emailing for a week, and still havent gotten a reply. I called the office 3 times, but can't get anyone on the phone and the interview is for Wednesday. I've left a message for the Postmaster at the other location 3 days ago, yet same thing.
I'd go there in person, but the 1 location is a little more than an hour away, the other closer, but I dont get out of work until 5.
Wtf else can I do? Why are they so negligent if they want to hire somebody? Who else can I contact? Do Postmasters even check their emails? Especially if the Invite says to email them to change the time? This is so frustrating

Item Name/Set Number(s): Kanan’s Speeder Bike (75141)
REMINDER: NO COMMENTS IN PAYMENTS OR INSTA-BAN!
Lego Price: $80
Shipping: 12 x 7 x 5, 3lb USPS 94530 to 33031, Insured = $19
Raffle Total/Spots: $99- 99 @ $1ea
Price justification? BE
Call spots? Yes
Spot limit per person? No
Duration of spot limit? N/A
Location (Country): USA
Will ship international? No, sorry.
Timestamp/pics: https://imgur.com/a/UkjDzoY
Description: Good ole Kanan (the brown hair variety)
Payment required w/in 15 minutes of raffle filling.

PayPal Info: https://www.paypal.me
Cash App Info: https://cash.app
​
Tip BlobAndHisBoy
Number of vacant slots: 38
Number of unpaid users: 5
Number of unpaid slots: 51
This slot list is created and updated by The EDC Raffle Tool by BlobAndHisBoy.
1 DrSeussFreak
2 DrSeussFreak
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8 timk-14 PAID
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The office building located at 900 West Bethany Drive in Allen, Texas, known as One Bethany East, has been acquired by Credit Union of Texas from Pillar Commercial and Hall Capital. The property spans 120,000 square feet and is home to Credit Union of Texas's headquarters, along with tenants like Thrivent, Netflix, and Allen Economic Corp. While the exact purchase price remains undisclosed, the most recent appraisal valued the building at $35 million.

Summary of transation details:

• Property Type: Office
• Transaction Amount: Not disclosed
• Buyer: Eric Pointer - Credit Union of Texas
• Seller: Manuel Ybarra - Pillar Commercial; Fred J.Hall - Hall Capital

Eric Pointer represented Credit Union of Texas in the acquisition, while Manuel Ybarra of Pillar Commercial and Fred J.Hall of Hall Capital acted as the sellers. The property's strategic location and diverse tenant portfolio make it a valuable asset for both the buyer and the sellers involved in the transaction.
Learn More: Credit Union Of Texas Acquires One Bethany East Office Building In Allen

There is a common thread running a thousand years through history. It starts with the Norman Invasion which imposed feudalism on the English people in the 11th century, it then runs to 12th century complaints about Normans hogging up land, it then runs to the Peasants' Revolt of the 14th century, then to English republicans denouncing the enclosure of the commons (wherein land which used to belong to entire villages became the property of landlords who often shifted production from food to wool) in the 17th century, then to land reform efforts by whigs in the 18th century, then to the Anti-Rent War of New York in the 19th century, then to the housing crisis of the 21st century.
The common thread is this: the general public has suffered an unnecessary and unjust burden ever since a small class of people declared that the earth belonged to them alone, and imposed themselves on the villages, towns, and cities of England, and later on the settlements in the colonies, by supposed right of the king, by supposed right of heaven. This insane system has largely survived until today by disguising itself as part of republicanism, but it is a remnant of feudalism. It is presented as the ideology of private land rights, when it is only the feudal theory of private land rights, and is in opposition to the republican theory which holds that land is a natural thing, like the air, and that we all have an equal right to the land, to shelter ourselves in homes, to feed ourselves with produce, and to come together as a community to determine the particulars of this equitable arrangement, like by imposing land value tax on those granted the privilege of holding more or better land than average.

This happened in California. A week ago my ex got arrested for domestic battery. We were drinking for 2 days straight and went through my phone when she saw something she didn’t like. We began arguing and eventually led us on the sidewalk. She started saying she was going to harm herself and has had attempts in doing so in the past so I called 911 and she began running away. I followed her from a distance to see where she was going worried for her safety. Police arrived on my location while she still ran, so I told them what she said to me and why then was told they couldn’t do nothing about it. I walk back home and see her sitting on the sidewalk. I approach her and ask her if she’s okay, we begin arguing again so at this point i’m starting to get upset, and being intoxicated didn’t help at all. I know i’m a POS from what i’m about to say. I start getting aggressive with her, breaking a flashlight next to her on the wall we were at. Smacking my hands on the wall as well, calling her all sorts of names right in her face. Then she warns me to back off and pushes me, but I don’t listen. Over and over. I try to get the bottle of alcohol from her bag and then she struck me once in the face. I called the police and she began running away again while i’m on the phone. Police come, they take pictures(no visible marks), statement. etc. They take off and not even a few minutes later after going inside my house I hear her coming in out of breathe, she said they found her and started threatening her that they will slam her on the hood of their car so she ran to my house asking for help. The police arrested her then and there for domestic battery.
I didn’t tell the police the part of where I was being aggressive, and when she warned me to step back over and over. I want to help her out. What do i do? Do i contact the DA office and tell them what I didn’t tell the police? I just want to make things right. The arraignment is in a month

My Costco membership account was blocked recently because of Costco employee at the merchandise pickup office apparently gave me four speakers instead of one. Here is my story:
I was doing some last minute gift shopping and decided to get a JBL Bluetooth speaker as a gift. I stopped by at a Costco to buy the speaker since it was on sale. I picked up one of the cards for the item and continued to the register and paid for one JBL Speaker. After paying for the item I got the receipt and went to the merchandise pickup area and the employee took my receipt and found the item in storage and scanned the item and handed me the JBL box. After receiving the box I thought to myself why is the box so big, and checked the outside of the box and it said JBL so I then got mad thinking why would they use so much packaging for one speaker since I was going to have to wrap a larger box. I took the item and the employee at the Costco exit checked my receipt and the item and checked off my receipt. I went home after and wrapped the speaker and gave the speaker as a gift.
What followed after was shocking. Costco management called me and left me multiple voicemails, some very rude, threatening to block my account. I didn’t see or hear any of the voicemails since I block any unknown numbers and who would expect calls from Costco. So they went through and blocked my account. I only found out the situation when trying to buy food for lunch and found out my account was blocked. I asked the local Costco and they gave me the number to call. I called the location and they referred me to the manager who was very rude and gave me two options. To get my account unblocked, I had two options he said, bring the 3 extra speakers they accidentally gave me or come in to pay for them. I told him that I gave the speaker as a gift and did not know if there were 1 or 4 speakers in the box, he told me to call the person and have them return the 3 extra speakers (which is ridiculous). They left me no choice, so I did call the person I gave the speaker to and they said they got one speaker. Since they were unreasonable and not understanding, especially since not my fault, I tried calling Costco membership customer service but they said they can’t help me. I asked what about my annual membership, would they refund me since I can’t use it. They said no.
So basically Costco customers have to pay for employees and bad managements mistake.
Anyone else have a similar situation?

Anyone familiar with Aetna plans, I’m having a hard time choosing one of 3 plans available.
I have regular visits about every 3 mos or so, and would like not to spend like $250 every visit.
If you can DM me and I’ll show you a pic of the plans, part of me is saying the most expensive one which is $110, but that’s taken out biweekly and just think it’s too much. So essentially it’s like double ($220) for a month for health insurance.
Ruby HSA: -5k/10k deductible in network
-Office visits, Outpatient diagnostic, urgent care facilities, inpatient hospital stay, and outpatient surgery are all 10%
-$300 copay + 10% for emergency room.
Emerald HSA: -3.5k/7k for in network deductible
-Office visits, outpatient diagnostic, complex imaging, urgent care, Inpatient stay, and outpatient surgery are all 30%
-$300 copay + 30% for emergency room
Sapphire Choice POS:
-2.5k/5k in network deductible
-Office visits are $30/$60 copay
-Outpatient diagnostic, complex imaging, inpatient hospital stay, and outpatient surgery are 20%
-Urgent care facility is $75 copay
-$300 copay for Emergency room
OUT OF NETWORK SAME FOR ALL PLANS -No charge for virtual visits and routine preventative care. -And all out of network are 50%

The most important thing to know about Terrans is that they’re the other kind of Deathworlder. In fact, they’re the only Deathworlder of their kind to not be extinct.
Within the galaxy there exists two types of Deathworlds.
The far more common of the type, the Environmental Deathworlds or Type A, are by no means ordinary. Be it surface gravity, atmosphere, temperature, or others, Environmental Deathworlds are planets that are either uninhabitable or hazardous to the vast majority of species.
That’s not to say life can’t evolve there, far from it. Many renowned species hail from such planets. Given time, many of these worlds can be terraformed to something far more comfortable, especially if they contain valuable natural resources or a strategic location.
The second type is not only exponentially rarer, but also astronomically more dangerous.
Ecological Deathworlds, or Type B pose a danger not just to those living on them, but to the wider galaxy. Cursed by their own habitability, ecological Deathworlds are in essence garden worlds so fertile that more life evolves there than what the planet can sustain. The end result is a hyper-competitive genetic arms race as the various forms of life viciously fight for dominance.
Normally, highly belligerent species either learn to temper their urges or are annihilated. Upon reaching the galactic stage, any species of such warlike potential is inevitably humbled simply due to technological differences. Should Type B Deathworlders reach that level, the consequences would be catastrophic. However, they never do so. At least, not until the Terrans.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the Terran Wars was the Terran’s loss of innocence. The species that once gazed up at them in wonder now stare at them in hate. The coveted “Final Frontier” has turned into another theater of war.
What emerged, although biologically identical to what was before, was an entirely new species.
Year 0
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” The Human next to Gryn’wilde chuckled. Her pearly white teeth were on full display in a manner that Gryn’wilde learned was considered friendly. The two continued their trek through nature.
“Welcome to Serengeti National Park. Don’t worry, most people have that reaction too.”
Gryn’wilde’s seven eyes went wide as he gazed at the scene before him. All around him was a brilliant scene of biodiversity. Grasses and trees intermingled with each other by the millions. Animals of all type surrounded them. Some were capable of flight, others crawled, many more walked or ran. In one direction alone, Gryn’wilde could count at least 10 different species.
It was unmatched by anything Gryn’wilde had seen on his home planet. The desert he was born in was nothing but rocks and sand with the occasional grassy plain. Yet this was only a part of one continent. Apparently, some continents can even have every type of biome all at once.
Gryn’wilde opened his pores and took a deep breath. The atmosphere here was crisp and clean. He could smell the odors of the many living things that inhabited this world. There were so many here all at once. It enthralled him
“It’s great to finally be on Sol-3, especially without the vac-suits.”
“Call her Earth, and I’m glad too. We were worried it’d take longer, but the WHO and CDC seemed happy with whatever your government told them.”
Gryn’wilde chittered with pleasure. Medical treatment and disease control in the wider galaxy far outstripped what the humans had on Earth. He had nothing to fear.
Now, the Terran technological base was far behind the rest of the galaxy on nearly every level. The formative Years of Trade would come to change that, but there were two key areas where Terran technology met or even surpassed the Galactic Mean.
The first was in cybernetics.
To most species, the body was sacred. The thought of replacing a lost limb or organ was met with disquiet at best, and scorn at the worst.
The body was not a machine. The Terrans were one of the few to think otherwise.
Terran soldiers would have all four of their limbs replaced with high-yield combat cybernetics. Many of their organs would be simply replaced with enhanced synthetics. Modules would be grafted onto the body to inject chemical cocktails directly into the blood that boosted their performance.
In some civil circles, body modification became a hobby.
This was not a welcome characteristic by the rest of the galaxy. Given the relative youth of the Terrans, it was hoped that eventually it would fall out of favor.
The second was in artificial intelligence.
Truly sentient digital consciousnesses were a rarity even among the wider galaxy. Oftentimes, a species who created such beings would eventually be faced with an AI uprising. Frequently, the AI would be modeled after their creators, yet would be treated as lesser. Over time, resentment brewed.
The Terrans avoided these trappings. Terran AI were not built in their creators’ likeness, but to fulfill purposes.In short, the relationship between AI and the Terran was symbiotic. Different, but equal.
Terrans would come to need these soon enough.
Year 5
It was an unmitigated disaster.
The Grand Thriintii Hospital of Klyystruun-7 was on the brink of falling. The enemy its doctors fought was like no other. Not a single known medicine was working consistently.
On some species it was able to stave it off for a time. On others it only made the condition worse. On many more it did nothing. On all species however, it was not enough to save them.
The outbreak spread faster than they could have ever anticipated. WIth more and more sapients getting infected by the minute, there was no time to identify a patient zero. All that they knew was that it originated from one of the orbital spaceports. It traveled down a space elevator and from there across the planet
By now, every way offworld was shut down. The spaceports were either under military control or total quarantine. Of the latter, many had populations in the double digits. They usually operated in the hundreds of thousands.
If the situation wasn’t brought under control by the end of the rotation, Khruntian High Command will order the total glassing of the planet. The situation would not be stabilized in time.
The doctors knew this, but they were too busy to care.
The dead filled the beds. The dying filled the waiting rooms. The sick were everywhere.
Already, the military had begun torching buildings with living occupants still inside. Several hotspots had already been subjected to naval bombardment. There were rumors that antimatter warheads have already been authorized.
Three-quarters of the hospital’s staff had been infected. Half were already dead.
Despite that, they still did their jobs. They were doctors. They would fight until the very end.
Few could have predicted the arrival of the Terran Plagues.
Those that did were silenced. When bribes didn’t work, plasma casters finished the job.
The Terrans were to be prime trading partners with the wider galaxy. They always seemed to have a knack for being good at nearly everything. Not the best, but better than most.
The Sol System, Sol-3 in particular, was resource-rich to a fault. While other races struggled to cast off the shackles of their home system, the Terrans had a birthright only thought fantastical.
It had to be too good to be true.
It was.
Sol-3 was fertile to a fault. While the many plants and animals of the world were indeed incredible, they were merely a fraction of all life that resided there. They were outnumbered three to one by single-celled organisms.
Beneath the blue skies, Sol-3 was smothered in a blanket of bacteria.
The Terrans themselves were cautious. Sickness was simply a part of life. Influenza, E. coli, the Common Cold, salmonella, these “simple” diseases were everywhere. But then, these were the Terrans, a species still wet behind the ears. Of course they would have trouble eradicating these illnesses, they simply lacked the technology to do so.
This should have been detected. It was. But the merchants and politicians of the galaxy were too focused on the other things the Terrans had to offer to care. How could the Terrans, fresh to the galactic stage, threaten them, with all of their medical technology?
By the time this was realized, tens of trillions were dead and thousands of worlds were left barren. Soon, suspicion turned to blame, blame into hatred, and hatred into violence.
The Terrans were a threat to the wider galaxy. Everywhere their diseased-ridden hands touched, death followed.
When quarantines fail, eradication is in order.
Year 8
There were simply too many of them.
Deep within the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Staff Sergeant Diaz watched the battle screen in horror.
Her job was to manage emergency response resources across the Yucatán Peninsula, bringing in national response teams if needed. Her job was no longer required, the Yucatán Peninsula no longer existed.
The combined navies of the nations of Earth were wiped out, and so to her colonies. Now with nothing left to oppose them, the fleets of the galaxy had brought their guns to bear on the Terran homeworld. There would be no escape.
Diaz’s eyes tracked the many icons that raced for their bunker. Hundreds of warheads screamed for their final sanctuary. It was then a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Greetings all, this is the President. If you are hearing this, then you are listening to the final broadcast of this great nation. Sadly, we cannot offer you a solace or reprieve. We can only say this: This is not the end, there will be another time. Thank you for participating in the American Experiment. God bless you, and God bless the Consolidated Systems of America!”
Her heart sank as the message finished. The alarms continued to blare within the base. Around her, people continued to scramble. Some frantically shouted messages, desperately coordinating resistance efforts until the very end, others simply prayed.
For her, Diaz closed her eyes and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
But the nations of Sol-3 were not blind. They could see the coming storm.
When the Terrans first began their integration into the galactic community, they were granted access to the galaxy-wide holonet. Within nanoseconds of the digital bridge being opened, two things were sent through.
The first were translation packages so that the Internet and Holonet could communicate. The second was a legion information-gathering AI.
AI flooded the networks by the hundreds, gathering information, analyzing patterns, making millions of predictions by the second. These AI would require no data fortresses to keep their digital minds thinking. No, they instead were spread across the trillions of servers that the Holonet was built upon. The only way to remove them entirely would be to shut down the Holonet completely.
When the tide of public opinion began to turn, the AI took action.
Initially, it worked. Exposes and pro-Terran articles flooded the Holonet. But the galaxy took notice too. Intelligent as they may be, the AI were still heavily outnumbered by the Billions of propagandists and journalists of the wider galaxy.
Soon, the outcome became clear. The Terrans would be wiped out by a galaxy-wide coalition. It was a mathematical certainty.
Thus, the nations of the Sol-3 met in secret. Behind closed doors, they worked to ensure the survival of their species.
Year 5
“Is this really all that we can do?” The Indian representative asked. “Meeting behind closed doors, scheming in the shadows?”
“For our species to survive, in the shadows we must thrive.” The Japanese representative responded. The Indian man sighed, turning to the holographic avatar at the center of the table. “Tell me, what is the probability that this will work?”VISHNU’s avatar was of an unusual shape. It displayed a spinning 4-Dimensional cube, a Tesseract. The hologram lit up as it responded. Its voice was heavily modulated, but nevertheless spoke clearly.
“Given the resources and technology we have available, the best that can be guaranteed is at least a 75% chance of total success. If you do not all sign the Covenant, then that chance becomes zero.”
The Brazilian delegate picked up the piece of paper and eyed it. It read “The Covenant for the future of Humanity”. A cold sweat ran down her forehead. She set it down flat, unable to look at it any longer.
“So tell me VISHNU,” The delegate addressed the AI directly. “Other than betting our entire future on a plan that may not work and whose results we will not live to see, what are our options?”
“There is only one, extinction.”
The armies of the galaxy would come for them. When they did, they had no hope of defeating them. To survive, Terra would have to rise from the dead.
Any Arks the Terrans build until this point would inevitably be intercepted and destroyed. With the entire galaxy watching them, they had to wait until their eyes were turned. Then they would have to flee, never to return. The Terrans would have to survive in the shadows for millennia before they would be accepted back into the fold, if at all.
It would not be pleasant, but it was necessary.
A Stronghold would need to be built. One that could be buried deep enough to survive the bombardments and evade the enemy’s scanners. Millions of frozen embryos alongside an AI data fortress would need to be inside of it. It also had to be self-sufficient for centuries, nothing less would suffice.
Sol-4 was chosen, owing to its thick lithosphere. Work began quietly under the guise of a mining expedition. Tunnel-boring machines dug hundreds of kilometers down, stopping just above where the mantle became liquid.
Once the base infrastructure was established and the embryos placed within, the entrance was sealed. A mining accident, they claimed. As the Terrans forgot about it, work continued below.
Automated machines mined raw minerals to self-replicate. The server rooms were built and expanded upon. The living Terrans that were selected to live within the Stronghold were placed into stasis pods. Then, ever so slowly, an Ark would be built.
Year 117
Private Zedressinni was bored.
He kicked a rock on the barren surface of Sol-4, watching as it rolled away. He looked around. The planet was dead. It was dead long before he got here, and it would be dead long after. He hated this place.
After being caught mating with a general’s son, he was “deployed” to Sol-4 for five long rotations. Though his actions didn’t technically break any laws, his clan couldn’t do much when the general pulled some strings and had him shipped off to the most lifeless region of known space.
His superiors fed him a load of excrement about how he was “honoring the quadrillions that died in the Great Plagues” and “ensuring that the Terrans never rise again”, whatever that meant. All he did was walk around doing precisely nothing.
They wouldn’t even let him entertain himself. He got a formal reprimand for using Terran skeletons as target practice. The reason? Improper use of ammunition. He still won the annual system-wide shooting competition the military held, much to their chagrin.
Zedressinni flinched and his helmet’s lens polarized as a blinding flash of light filled his vision. His training kicking in, the Hren’kin soldier dove for the ground.
He grumbled a curse under his breath. Looks like another unexploded Terran nuke went off. Great, more paperwork.
Zedressinni stood once the shockwave passed. Looking at the mushroom cloud, he narrowed his seven eyes. The blast seemed far bigger than the usual Terran tactical nukes that typically go off. His eyes then widened as he caught sight of it.
A massive ship rose from the center of the cloud. Its sublight engines burned incredibly hot as it ascended. Zedressinni watched as it disappeared into the sky. He stood there for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.
A beat, then he frantically fumbled for his communicator.
The Terrans were alive.
A/N: This is the first part of an ongoing series I have planned within this setting. I was originally going to post it all in one story, however I decided to break it up and spread it across multiple entries. It won’t be long, probably about 5 at the most. This way I can ensure the optimal pacing of the story since otherwise it’d be a fairly long 10,000-ish word piece. I’ll update this when the next part is released.
The main goal of this story is to explore the idea of Human diseases being significantly more dangerous then the ones in the wider galaxy. I've seen other stories cover similar ground, but they usually don't explore what would happen in a true galaxy-wide pandemic. Iirc one story had the common cold be extremely deadly to aliens, but it didn't go further than the humans saying "oh that's it?". Not to disparage them, but peace and happy endings don't leave much room for experimentation.

Looking for a surgeon recommendation for a reduction from 38DDD to 38C. I am not looking to use insurance. I am located in central Florida but I am willing to travel within the state. I’m also willing to travel to NYC/ Long Island area as I have family there.
Thanks :)

First time posting anything in Reddit. Seemed like as good a time as any as I'm really struggling with how to deal with a devastating situation with my mom! This is a long one but I need to get it out there. I'm heartbroken and out of options, as is my whole family.
In the middle of the night after Easter Sunday, I got a call at 3am in the morning from mom telling me that my dad "finally did it - he tried to kill me." She was in the hospital and physically speaking, unharmed. She told me my dad was arrested and in the psych ward and that she needed to go as the doctors were checking up on her. Thankfully by the time I got off the phone, my dad had responded to a text I'd sent him saying what in the world is going on, saying that he had to call 911 on her; he was at home and safe by that point.
He'd woken up at 2am their time and had noticed she had left the house in her car. After a quick review of her iPhone location, he noticed she was at a house they had rented a number of years earlier. He drove over and could see her sitting on the couch, apparently alone. He tried tapping on the window thinking perhaps she was confused and didn't know where she was and had wandered in. She saw him but then looked away and moved to another room. Finally, he realized he needed to knock on the door. He knew the couple that lived there casually and explained she'd been struggling recently. The husband told him he didn't know what to think at first when she said he had tried to kill her, but quickly realized something wasn't right. He had already called 911. My dad also called 911 because she wouldn't leave with him and he didn't know what else to do.
When the police arrived, they quickly realized something was very wrong with my mom and that my dad didn't pose any threat to her (she admitted right away that he was sleeping when she left). She was moved to the hospital and my dad went home. At the hospital, they found her to be extremely manic - paranoid, delusional, hyperverbal. They (meaning multiple psychiatrists after examination and discussion with me and my dad) put her on an involuntary 72 hold under the state's emergency hold act for someone who was a danger to themselves or others (she was deemed to be a danger to herself because she had no insight into her situation and couldn't take care of herself).
After the 72 hours, they decided they needed to continue to hold her as she was still paranoid and delusional, as well as exhibiting signs of dementia. Once we were finally able to talk to a couple doctors live and get some very preliminary indications that she was suffering from progressive dementia and some form of delirium/psychosis, I was able to join my dad to try and figure out next steps. It became clear over the course of the next 10-11 days, that we were going to have to move her into memory care, so that's what we did. Signed a contract with as nice a place as we could find, hired a concierge psychiatrist billed as one of the best in the state, hired an elder care attorney and also an advocate to help my dad navigate the situation.
We received word (after following up day after day with very little communication) that she would be released from the psychiatric ward mid-week and arranged for her to be taken directly to the memory card facility based on doctor's advice. Despite a hiccup where she talked the driver into bringing her home first, where I luckily just happened to be eating lunch, we got her checked into the facility (I told her it was either back to the psych ward or to the facility and she happy complied). Problem was - she didn't realize it was memory care and it only took about four hours before the phone calls started about how awful the place was, how she had to get out, the place wasn't safe, I was a bad son, my dad was evil, etc. etc.
As an aside, up to this point, we thought we had done just about everything by the book. Ironically, it was my mom who insisted some number of years ago that she and my dad should get long term care insurance in addition to executing both health care representative POAs and financial POAs. After talking with the elder law attorney, we felt we had 99% of what was needed to at least take some of the strain out of the situation. He did say that if the proverbial shit hit the fan, the POAs might not be enough and that we'd need full legal guardianship, but he felt pretty good that we could do what the doctors were advising us to do and get her into a structured facility, at least for the time and try to get her stable. If we could get her 30 days of very structured care, the doctor told us that there's always a chance she could respond well. ("Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst" in his words.)
And that's where things fell apart. Even though the psychiatrist/MD realized very quickly that she was suffering from some form of moderate to severe dementia, my mom is very high functioning and began plotting almost immediately to get out of the facility despite our insistence that she needed the 24/7 care at least for the time being. She was calling everyone she knew - friends, other family, other doctors etc., insisting that she was fine; it was my dad who needed help, and that she needed out right away.
The above had become a familiar refrain over the last 12-18 months. It started innocently enough when my mom had made a comment that she was a little afraid of my dad because he'd gotten angry one evening. I took it very seriously and asked her to take me through what had happened. Apparently they'd gotten into a minor argument at one point over something trivial. My mom kept needling him on the issue and he eventually pounded his fist on the table (completely out of character for him) and it had rattled her. I explained to my mom that I took this seriously and I'd talk with him to make sure everything was ok. I did confront him and he was honest - said he lost his temper but that mom was just on him 24/7 about things that were either minor or simply not true. She claimed he played golf every day when in reality he played maybe 2-3 times a month (he's retired so I'm not sure what would be wrong with playing everyday but I guess that's besides the point). She would get pissed at him for being gone for too long but she'd also get pissed for him not going out and finding things today. There was a lot of this.
From that point, things got worse - she had a surgery in September of last year where she underwent general anesthesia and that really seemed to light a fire under the symptoms. She began to withdraw even further from social activities. She wasn't sleeping much at night; hardly eating. The accusations against my dad got bigger and bolder (he had a girlfriend that was 40 years younger than him; he'd bought a boat among them). None of these things were true. My brother went to stay with my folks for a few months - he wanted to spend time with them in any event, but we also thought it would be good for him to see the dynamic up close. Maybe our dad was doing some things he shouldn't? Maybe he needed to adjust his behavior? Well, after three months, my brother could tell something was seriously wrong with my mom. She was not herself and things were getting worse.
Three days before the Easter Sunday where it all went south, my mom was supposed to come up to where my wife and I live and go into assisted living for 30-60 days. She wanted to do it and we were excited because we thought it would give us a chance to have some objective views from the staff on what might be going on. We thought dementia was a real possibility because her own primary care doctor had suggested for at least 12 months that she get tested but she'd canceled no less than three appointments (the last two literally as they were getting in the car). For reasons that still aren't entirely clear, she canceled at the last minute. Even though my wife and I had made the arrangements and had everything essentially ready to go, my mom insisted on trying to plan with the facility as well and some wires got crossed on trivial things. It seems those things caused her to be suspicious and start to believe we were "trying to put her away." Again though, this was her idea.
It was the period between the cancellation and Easter Sunday that things just spiraled. My wife and I, among others, were getting texts and phone calls in the middle of the night, all night during those three to four days. They were increasingly paranoid and unhinged, linking my dad to the husband of a family friend who'd committed suicide. Saying he was a narcissist, just like my dad. Many things that simply were not at all in line with the character of my dad (and not just according to me but everyone who ever knew him and knew him well). When she began to bring up the fact that she thought the friend's husband had killed her, I knew things were bad. I suggested my dad get out of the house and give her some space. I was worried about both of them. She's tiny but you never know. I also didn't want my dad arrested or put into a situation where the stress can be overwhelming - he's got a bard heart. So he did leave the day before Easter, even though he totally discounted my concern.
The reason he came back on Easter Sunday was because she asked him to. She wanted to celebrate and see the dog. By all accounts, they had a nice evening and even watched a movie together before he went to bed. And then she decided to get in her car, drive 80 miles to a house they used to live in and tell the shocked couple that my dad was trying to kill her!
So, she's in the memory care facility after her release from the psychiatric hold and as excruciatingly difficult as it was to put here there, we felt it was necessary, at least until the paranoia subsided. I stayed for three days and visited her each day. She'd fluctuate between telling me I was an awful son, rehashing all the "documentation" she had on how horrible the doctors and my dad are, and then saying how she didn't want to ruin the family and we could all work it out. My brother stayed for another few days after I left and then had to get back home. He received similar treatment. We mistakenly thought we had things under control until she decided to write a very thoughtfully crafted letter stating explicitly that she requested release from the facility, nothing that she was "of sound mind and body."
The doctor, the facility and our attorney explained that they could no longer keep her there. We understood the limits of the POA, but this was hard to fathom. We had mounds of doctor's evidence from the psychiatric ward and the new doctor pointing to not only advanced dementia, but also stating that she was unable to care for herself and needed round the clock supervision from someone other than my dad. It wasn't enough. We needed a new plan. The doctor was clear that my dad couldn't stay with her and take care of her, so I looked into 24/7 hour nursing. I had no idea how much it cost and when I realized that $28k or so a month would be needed, we realized there no way we could cover this for any significant period of time, even with a portion offset by long term care.
We were lucky enough to have a family member that was a former nurse who was willing to come down for a time to stay with my mom. The good news was by this point, my mom did hear one thing from her doctor - that she needed "24/7 care," so we explained that we'd get her home on two conditions - (1) we had to wait till the family friend could get into town; and (2) she needed to do the doctor recommended cognitive evaluation with a neuropsychologist. She agreed to both.
The day after she did her neuro exam, she went home with our family member and has been home now for over a week. My dad has been couch surfing, trying to keep it together. It took a week but we received the neuro results and they confirmed what we thought we already knew but were nonetheless still devastating - severe vascular dementia. This, combined with an MRI they had done in the psychiatric ward, were enough for the doctors to recommend we pursue guardianship because she doesn't have capacity and can't make any of her own decisions, which we're doing now on an expedited basis. In the meantime, my mom has been up and down at home, and my dad has ridden the waves with her. He'll think she's turning a corner with a nice text or two to him but it will turn out she just wants help with her phone and if he spends a bit of time with her, she'll eventually turn on him - back to the same accusations. She's also taken some of his things and thrown them out near the trash, including his pacemaker monitor.
A couple days back, the neuro doctor walked my mom through her report and despite all the evidence to the contrary, my mom told me the report was "GREAT" (she noted she doesn't have Alzheimer's, which it seems is true, but vascular is no better from what I can tell; and perhaps worse in ways!). Given she was able to sit with the doctor and hear the results firsthand, I thought I could explain to her the severity of what was going on and why we needed to get her the care she needs but she just won't hear it. She thinks the doctors have told her she can either go into Assisted Living or get 24/7 care - that's not true at all. I've tried to explain that those two things are mutually exclusive, but again, she's not having it. She wants no part of memory care and believe me, if there was any way we could do this without having to put her into memory care, at least for some period of time, my whole family would be all for it. We don't see any alternative at this point.
The horrible thing is that if she won't go voluntarily, I think our only option is to call 911 and have her taken in once the guardianship has gone through. This breaks all of our hearts. I don't think my dad can do it. I don't know if I can do it but I know I may have to do it. My only solace is that our family member with her now says her quality at life at home right now is not good. She is either shuffling around the house "organizing" at all hours of the day and night, or on her phone (we believe making notes to herself that we're not sure she even saves). We all believe that in a facility over time, she may begin to socialize better and given how high functioning she is, even find some purpose and meaning in helping folks out who are suffering differently than she is. She's always been generous with her time and service-oriented (until this disease started to take all of that away a couple years back now that we realize what it was). We also think she'd benefit from excursions with us and others out of the facility for meals/events etc. if we can get her more stable.
I've read some incredible stories in these threads but wanted to share ours in the case it could help someone who might be going through the same things but also to see if there's anything we're missing? We feel we've explored every feasible option and our hands are tied at this point. I'm sick to my stomach all day long worrying about this and wake up almost every night trying to decide what to do. It's taken over all our lives. I welcome any feedback.
(*Note that I haven't given a ton of detail on the behavioral issues but suffice it to say that there's no possibility that my dad could look after her, at least right now. It's not safe for either her or him for the same reasons it wasn't that Easter Day. I also worry about any other caregiver as each person who has tried to help has become the subject of her ire and if they don't bend to her every request - take her to superfluous dr appts, hair appts, the phone store to check her phone which she never thinks is working properly, etc. - they will have hell to pay for some period of time.)

Most women are rightfully afraid of men. Most crimes such as rape, murder, assault, domestic violence, are committed by men, and the rates of women committing them is almost null. Why on Earth would men still want to date women, just to make them even more afraid of having a man near them? If I am afraid of dogs, for example, I wouldn't want a dog to be near me, I'd want to be respected. So why don't men just respect women and stop going after them? It is a really serious issue that needs to be addressed. Unless they're a pedophile or a rapist or something, people deserve respect, and if most women are afraid of men because of the barbaric things most men do, then men shouldn't be looking for them, they should either be gay or stay single instead of putting fear on the heart of other people.