I found a beautiful and new example of the Mjolnir on eBay and hopped on the chance to buy! I have never built a PC, so I’m seeking tips and recommendations for cooling for this pc. I would like to see if I can stick to air cooling, so please send your thoughts and recommendations!

I am a rising senior with great extracurricular activities, sat score, gpa, and awards. I am going to apply to an Ivy League as I have a unique internship there currently. My school doesn’t offer AP’s and I didn’t realize I could self study for the tests. I’ve completed my schools offered classes and will be duel enrolling in nearby college next year. Will not having AP scores negatively impact my application even if I have a letter of recommendation (written by the head of the school) stating that I am basically valedictorian of the small school I attend? Also, will me taking 8 community college classes next year make up for the lack of AP’s self studied or am I just cooked?

CANCER ZODIAC TAROT READING - UNEXPECTED INCOME MAY 2024

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJ5mIkLhCyY
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First truck! Two weeks ago I bought a 2002 F150 XLT Supercrew with the 4.6 V8 automatic 4x4. It has 164k miles on it. Up until now I've only driven beater cars and knew nothing about working on them, and now I wanna learn everything I can about this truck so I can work on it myself.
From looking on forums and talking to a mechanic, I suspect that it has a clogged exhaust. On the freeway, even if i floor it, it hits a wall at just over 2k rpms and won't accelerate quickly. On a city street I can get it to rev up to about 2500 but it still feels like pushing it. It is sluggish to accelerate at all on even a mild uphill incline. In park it revs just fine. My buddy and I are going to test pressure at the o2 sensors upstream of the catalytic converters to verify if pressure is excessive. Knocked on the cats a bit and they didn't seem to rattle. Already replaced fuel filter and air filter. Air filter seemed to help a bit but not much. No check engine light and its not giving any codes.
Everything under the car is pretty rusty, so we are thinking of just replacing the whole exhaust system and installing it ourselves. I figure doing this I'll spend about as much as paying a shop to fix whatever part of the current system is clogged. I love the truck and don't mind putting time and money into replacing parts, as long as it's not a lemon, as in something I should just resell and move on. Occasionally it will take a few tries to start. It has recently developed a clunk shifting into 1st gear, which wasn't happening when I test drove it.
Carfax shows that the car was originally purchased in California - does anyone know if this engine is different - like will I need to get different cats / exhaust for it?
Any recommendations (and general advice) much appreciated. Pretty excited to dive into working on this thing! Thanks all -

I have a really tiny PC (I bring it with me on planes as a carry on!) which means it's really hard to get dust out of the crevices. I've tried compressed air but it's not strong enough to be effective. It also freezes up really quickly. When I searched up PC dusters on Amazon I get a lot of pretty cheap options but I'm always afraid that they're not really safe to be used inside a PC and are more meant for outside use for keyboards and monitors and stuff. My PC is my literal baby and I'd cry if I fucked it up while cleaning.
Can anyone link me or direct me to a product (preferably on Amazon) they found effective, decently cheap and for sure safe to use on the inside of a PC. I've seen people recommend datavac but $100+ is a bit out of my price range. My max is like $50. Thank you!
Also little side question, I know people say to dust your PC every 3-6 months. Do you guys think I should do it more often because it is so small?

First truck! Two weeks ago I bought a 2002 F150 XLT Supercrew with the 4.6 V8 automatic 4x4. It has 164k miles on it. Up until now I've only driven beater cars and knew nothing about working on them, and now I wanna learn everything I can about this truck so I can work on it myself.
From looking on forums and talking to a mechanic, I suspect that it has a clogged exhaust. On the freeway, even if i floor it, it hits a wall at just over 2k rpms and won't accelerate quickly. On a city street I can get it to rev up to about 2500 but it still feels like pushing it. It is sluggish to accelerate at all on even a mild uphill incline. In park it revs just fine. My buddy and I are going to test pressure at the o2 sensors upstream of the catalytic converters to verify if pressure is excessive. Knocked on the cats a bit and they didn't seem to rattle. Already replaced fuel filter and air filter. Air filter seemed to help a bit but not much. No check engine light and its not giving any codes.
Everything under the car is pretty rusty, so we are thinking of just replacing the whole exhaust system and installing it ourselves. I figure doing this I'll spend about as much as paying a shop to fix whatever part of the current system is clogged. I love the truck and don't mind putting time and money into replacing parts, as long as it's not a lemon, as in something I should just resell and move on. Occasionally it will take a few tries to start. It has recently developed a clunk shifting into 1st gear, which wasn't happening when I test drove it.
Carfax shows that the car was originally purchased in California - does anyone know if this engine is different - like will I need to get different cats / exhaust for it?
Any recommendations (and general advice) much appreciated. Pretty excited to dive into working on this thing! Thanks all -

I’m in private practice and see a child who is almost 8 and cannot read, cannot identify letters, does not know sound-letter correspondence, and needs a visual model of every letter in order to write it.
How much in private practice do you all target these early literacy skills? When I gave him a book for the PLS-5 test items for pointing to a word, showing the front cover, etc., he did not score any of the items correctly. He did pretty well on the rest of the PLS, but he couldn’t do anything related to reading, story recall, letter identification, phonological skills, among the rest of the early literacy skills. I think that’s ultimately what took his score so low on the expressive portion.
I’d like to recommend that we stop with speech services so he can get reading intervention elsewhere, because he’s missing very foundational skills related to reading (even knowing the letters of the alphabet). Because his performance on the PLS is really not indicative of a language disorder, but more likely a learning disability. His working memory is also VERY poor; can barely remember 4 words provided.
How much of this do you target in private practice as an SLP? This feels much more appropriate for a reading intervention provider or tutor.

Hi I’m traveling with my daughter to see Taylor Swift at Wembley Stadium next month for her birthday and am looking for a good place to stay that is affordable. What area should we shoot for? Any specific recommendations? Priorities outside of cleanliness are: 1) affordability 2) access to public transit (within 10 min walk) 3) location 4) air conditioning lol. Will take any suggestions you have. Not sure yet what else we will do outside of the concert. Thank you!!

So I live in Yorkhill (West End, Glasgow) and it's a fairly usual day, just walking back home at 22:30 and decide to nip into Tesco to get some fruits for breakfast tomorrow. I get into a Tesco Express around a 4 mins walk from my flat, grab my fruit, pay and leave. Nothing too unusual - everything's fairly standard. As I leave, I spot a man outside smoking a cigarette who seemed to give me a distinctive stare - I don't think much about it, just pop my AirPods in get walking home. The walk home is through quite a shady dim area, but again I've done the same walk for the past 2 years - nothing really seems unusual.
You can't really figure someone's following you cause it's dim and also 22:30 at night, and the street was fairly quiet for this time but around half-way through I seem to notice the same guy outside Tesco following me - but again, he's just probably going along the same way so I don't think much of it but just start speed walking a wee bit.
I get to the main building door (which is mostly see through cause it's not a new build but not a tenement either), pop my key in and get in - decide to check if I've got any mail so I head down behind the stairs where the mailboxes are - pick up a few letters and turn back and see the exact same guy who I saw following me all this time standing outside my main door. He seems to point to the door handle and tries pushing it and then starts vigorously wiping the door glass with a tissue. Luckily my door locked right behind me when I came in and it wasn't the time where it closes but doesn't lock. I just look at him as he points at me from behind the door, and I try to get up the stairs as fast as I can to my flat.
I'm quite sure he doesn't live here but I'm split into whether I should have gone to the door and checked if he wanted something or should have just got to my flat as soon as I could. I haven't dropped anything or sort but also left a bit confused cause it's the first time something like that has happened, I've never had anyone follow me home before. I also live on a very sharp turn so unless you know where I live or were right behind me/in good distance it would be hard to know which building I've got into.

I've looked through the USA guide but the prices and all the different numbers/letters get overwhelming for someone who has very little knowledge of TVs. I've used the same 50inch, 60hz, 1080p Emerson TV which I run at 1920x1080p since ~2010 and really want to upgrade to something that's a HUGE leap from what I have now. The 1920x1080p really seems super nice looking but I'm assuming that upgrading would be a night and day difference. I've sat 1ft away from this tv for all the time I've had it so a monitor would probably give instant buyers regret, I've gotten use to and prefer my giant screen. I would love to experience 4k and a higher refresh rate, however my motherboard (z390 phantom gaming 4s-ib) does not have HDMI 2.1 it has HDMI 1.4, would that be a problem/a barrier to jump into true 4k? When I see those TVs in best buy I wonder if my eyes have ever worked right they look so amazing and vivid. The TV will be used with a PC and only a PC, so gaming and YouTube is basically all it will be used for 24/7. The room is a bedroom with no direct sunlight hitting it period, mostly kept dark due to personal and cooling reasons. The price point of all the recommended TVs all are around ~$1700 that I was looking at, with that kind of price point I just really want to be sure I get something that I will be blown away with. Do these high end TVs get sales on Black Friday, should I wait for some special event or something along those lines? What would you get yourself to treat yourself with a massive upgrade with a range of around ~$1500? Thank you in advance and have a great day and night.

Source: https://www.fda.gov/medical-devices/safety-communications/do-not-use-cue-healths-covid-19-tests-due-risk-false-results-fda-safety-communication

Do Not Use Cue Health’s COVID-19 Tests Due to Risk of False Results: FDA Safety Communication

Date Issued: May 13, 2024
The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) is warning home test users, caregivers, and health care providers not to use Cue Health’s COVID-19 Tests for Home and Over-the-Counter (OTC) Use and its COVID-19 Test intended for patient care settings due to increased risk of false results.
Recommendations for Home Test Users and Caregivers

• Do not use any Cue Health COVID-19 Tests for Home and OTC Use that you may still have. Dispose of the entire test cartridge in the household trash.
• Talk to your health care provider if you were tested with the Cue Health COVID-19 Test for Home and Over the Counter (OTC) Use, and you are concerned about your results.
• Consider retesting using a different COVID-19 test that received FDA authorization if you tested negative on the Cue Health COVID-19 Test for Home and OTC Use and still have symptoms.
• Report any problems you experience with the Cue Health COVID-19 Test for Home and Over the Counter (OTC) Use to the FDA, including suspected false positive or false negative results. See Reporting Problems with Your Test.

Recommendations for Health Care Providers

• Do not use any Cue Health COVID-19 Tests that you may still have. Dispose of the entire test cartridge in your general waste disposal.
• Consider retesting your patients using a different FDA authorized test if you suspect an inaccurate result was given Cue COVID-19 Test. If testing was performed more than two weeks ago, and there is no reason to suspect current SARS-CoV-2 infection, it is not necessary to retest.
• Report any problems you experience with the Cue Health COVID-19 Test to the FDA, including suspected false results. See Reporting Problems with Your Test.

FDA Actions
The FDA issued Emergency Use Authorizations (EUAs) to Cue Health for two COVID-19 tests, both of which are intended to detect genetic material from SARS-CoV-2 virus in the nostrils. The Cue Health COVID-19 Test received initial EUA authorization on June 10, 2020. It is for use in point-of-care settings. The Cue Health COVID-19 Test for Home and Over-the-Counter Use received initial EUA authorization on March 5, 2021, and is authorized for use at home.
The FDA issued a Warning Letter to Cue Health on May 10, 2024, after an inspection revealed the company made changes to these tests and these changes reduced the reliability of the tests to detect SARS-CoV-2 virus. The FDA is warning home test users, caregivers, and health care providers not to use Cue Health’s COVID-19 Tests due to this increased risk of false results.
The FDA will keep the public informed if significant new information becomes available.
Reporting Problems with Your Device
If you think you had a problem with your device, the FDA encourages you to report the problem through the MedWatch Voluntary Reporting Form.
Health care personnel employed by facilities that are subject to the FDA's user facility reporting requirements should follow the reporting procedures established by their facilities.
Questions?
If you have questions, email the Division of Industry and Consumer Education (DICE) at [DICE@FDA.HHS.GOV](mailto:DICE@FDA.HHS.GOV) or call 800-638-2041 or 301-796-7100.

From the 50 research papers I received at the end of the semester, I would say about 1/5 contain plagiarism. Some are worse than others. Even some of my best students just couldn't help but copy and paste items material from the internet into their papers. They don't know how to put things in their own words. They're too proud of too lazy to put it in quotes and cite it.
Guys, it's killing me. Students I trusted. Some of them I wrote letters of recommendation for already earlier this semester. (Mistake #451: don't write a letter of recommendation for a student in your class. See if they can get through the semester without plagiarizing.)
It's hard not to take it personally. They're trying to pull one over on me. I know I shouldn't let it get to me, but it's hard not to.

Air, shelter, water, and food, all essentials of life we take for granted. The gratitude of being alive,
smothered by emotional baggage. Just a bunch of pill induced zombies, riddled by life’s perplexities. Not
me, not any more at least. No, now I wake up every day reborn with a newly discovered purpose in life,
thanks to, him.
Most would be emotionally devastated and seek long term therapy, after what I had endured.
Most would need to be heavily medicated, to calm their anxiety of the fear he would return. No, not me,
the person I once was, is now dead. Suffocated, frozen, dehydrated, and starved out of me. Who I was
perished, and I am grateful. I am offering you the same, but before we get started, let me explain how I
arrived at this place of serenity.
The night was the same as always. I had just finished gorging myself on junk food while binge
watching a reality show. Empty bottles of soda surrounded me as I surfed the streaming networks.
Knowing my weight was getting out of control, I still managed to finish off the bag of greasy potato
chips. My bottles of meds sat on the end table waiting for me. Depression, anxiety, stomach, and heart
pills all courtesy of the negligence of my life choices. One by one I swallowed the antidotes of a better
me. Yet, there never seemed to be a stronger version of myself, no matter how many pills I ingested.
Falling asleep, I told myself tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow I will try harder. As I drifted
off to sleep, I felt a sting in my neck, only waking up for a few seconds. My eyes opened just enough to
see him standing over me. Fighting to stay awake, my eyes latched closed, and I fell into the darkness.
Upon awaking, I could hear sounds of mumbles surrounding me. Feeling heavy and disoriented, I
managed to flicker my eyelids. As the minutes passed, my surroundings became more lucid. The foul
stench of pig shit singed my nose hairs. Dust from old haybales stimulated my sense of smell, inducing a
sneeze. An unimaginable pain coursed through my mouth. Still dazed and confused, I heard a voice say,
"we can't have that, now, can we?". Once again, I felt a sting in my neck, causing me to drift out of
reality.
"Wake up", I heard as I came to, "we need to get started". Started with what, I tried to ask. Yet,
my mouth wouldn't open. Tranquilized still, I thought maybe my brain just wasn't cooperating with my
body. Flexing my jaw, I tried again to speak, it was useless. All I could do was mumble. My words were
nothing more than muffled grunts behind a padded wall.
Looking around, I could see I was not alone. Vision blurry, I still managed to make out a large
silhouette of a man sitting in front of me holding a cutting needle and thread. He then placed the needle
on a barrel and stood up. Whistling, "The Sun will come out tomorrow", I began to look around. There were other people with us. Including myself, all tied to chairs and mouths sewn shut. Three of us were men. The fourth was a woman in her
mid-forties. She was crying and moaning uncontrollably. Mucus ran down her face dripping from her
chin. Trying to console her, I batted my eyes. It was all I could do without having the use of my mouth
and arms.
The injection he had no doughtily given me, had worn off. Like the woman, I found myself in panic
mode. My heart raced fast. I thought I would have a heart attack. Wanting to scream, I
couldn't. Wanting to run but I was incapacitated. Fighting my way out, entered my mind, but how? How,
with my hands bound behind my back. Besides, I wasn't a fighter, and the man was massive. He would
be very intimidating under any circumstance. His raggedy hair was sandy blonde with a mixture of gray.
Deep wrinkles hid behind a handlebar mustache, which stretched across his face. Thick eyebrows sat
untamed above his devilish eyes. Watching him, I tried not to make eye contact. I looked everywhere,
other than at him. The other two men looked as frightened as me. One man, the bigger one, had tears
but made no sounds. The other man was a very frail older man. He shifted side to side as he tried yelling
from behind his fastened lips. His arms bared scars of that of a junkie. His body, covered in scabs.
Cautiously, I looked around. A rusty old plow sat in the corner next to some feed sacks. A saddle
lay across an old broken table. Two horses stood quietly behind their stall door. I could see rays of light
shine through the cracks between the boards. It was daylight, knowing that gave me comfort somehow.
The barn was dusty, and as painful as it would be, I hoped I would sneeze again. At least then I could
scream. Abruptly the man stopped whistling and spoke.
Your mouths are bound together so that I cannot hear you. People talk too much, making the
world noisy. All loud with pathetic excuses of their weaknesses. I am not going to kill you. Your life is in
your own hands. Up to this point, you have wasted your life hiding behind your addictions. Cowering
and leaning on crutches of life’s temptations. I am here to save you from yourselves.
The rule of three is simple. You can survive three minutes without air, three hours without
shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. If you truly desire to live, then you will
triumph. If not, you will perish. I am here to help you unpack your emotional baggage. Air, the very
breath you breathe, you have taken for granted. So, please slow your breathing and relax. We are about
to begin.
While you were sleeping, I provided you with adequate fluids and nutrition. I cannot have you
starting off, on an empty tank. I want to be as fair as possible and make this a pleasant experience.
Though, I warn you it will not be easy, and you will have to dig deep within yourselves.
The burly man began whistling once again. He placed an egg timer on a barrel, grabbed a plastic
bag and spoke. You can survive three minutes with no air. Do you have the desire and strength to want
to live? For you, I truly hope so.
Standing behind the heavier man he turned the timer and then placed the plastic bag over his
head. The man jerked in his chair, thrashing about. One minute, he said. The man still moving wildly.
Two minutes, almost there just hold on. Three minutes he announced, ripping the bag from the head of
the now motionless man. “Oh dear, I guess he did not have what it takes, next”. My heart raced even
faster as he stood next to the now inconsolable woman. I would be after her. I had to slow my breathing
if I were to live. Picking up another bag, he stood behind her.
The air went in and out her nose as she hyperventilated. “There, there, I’m not going to hurt you”,
he said, as he patted her on the shoulders. “Three minutes is a miniature amount of time. I wish you the
very best.” Her legs kicked out lunging back and forth. Her muffled shrieks filled the barn. “Are you
ready?” He then reset the timer. Fearing for my own life, I turned my head and concentrated on my
breathing. Trying hard to block her out, I went to another place in my head. As hard as it was, I imagined
I was calm and at peace lying on a sandy shore. Desperately, I wanted to cover my ears. Her loud cries
soon became small whimpers. Then to gurgles as she choked on her own vomit. Turning my head back
towards her, I could see her convulsing as life left her body. “Not quite a minute, what a shame”, he
said.
Thinking back to when I was a child, and held my breath under water, outlasting my brother.
Back then, holding my breath was easy for me and I always won. Being in my mid-thirties, I wasn’t a
child any longer. Could I beat this, I questioned. Unlike the woman next to me, who reeked of tobacco, I
didn’t smoke. My chances were greater than those who came before me.
Excepting the inevitable, I practiced my anxiety exercises my therapist had taught me. Four, four,
four, inhale hold, exhale hold. If I panic, I will surely suffocate, I told myself. The other man was calmer
now and followed my lead. Our eyes locked on to one another as we breathed. “Very good, that is what
I want to see, a thirst for life, the will to live.”
Picking up a bag, he then stood behind me. I took a deep breath as he turned the timer. I felt the
panic trying to set in, but I pushed it deep down. Oddly enough, the tune he’d been whistling popped
into my head. “The sun will come out tomorrow”, played as the bag was put over my head. “So, you got
to hang on ‘til tomorrow.” Not wanting to see the blurred images through the bag, I closed my eyes. I
just kept humming the tune in my head. “One minute”, he said. Getting more difficult to hold my breath,
I could feel my heart beating faster and my blood pressure rising. The tune still reeling in my head,
“tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow”. “Two minutes”. I can do this, I’m almost there, but my
mind was getting foggy, and my chest tightened. My muscles tensed up as I felt my existence dwindle
away. The tune that kept me going had faded away somewhere deep into my brain. Hungry for air, I
started scratching my hands behind my back. I was going to die. Tomorrow, tomorrow, I managed to
think one last time. “Three Minutes”!
Air rushed through my nose, as I clung to the remaining life I had. It was the greatest feeling just
being able to breathe. I’d made it, I had beat him, I was alive. “Congratulations, you did well”. “Breath
and continue to appreciate the gift, I have given you”.
Tears rushed down my cheeks, as I sat watching the man set the stage for the last occupant. As
sympathetic as I was, I was overwhelmed too just be alive. Still fighting my anxiety, I closed my eyes,
four, four, four. Sounds of distress and faint scuffling could be heard, yet I refused to open my eyes.
Three minutes passed quickly. “We have another fighter, outstanding.” Opening my eyes, I seen that the
other man had also survived. “Two out of three, I wished it faired better.” “It is a pity they perished, yet
the pigs will eat well.” “Nothing should ever go to waste”. “Their carcasses are a valuable resource.” I
am thankful for their contribution.”
“I will let you rest up.” The next gift, is that of shelter.” “People of the world scratch and claw to
have bigger dwellings of that of their neighbor.” Never being thankful of the shelters warmth when it is
cold.” “Not a second thought about the materials taken from the earth to provide that comfort.” “I will
teach you to not care about the size or the looks. You won’t care if it’s a barn or a house made of sticks.
You’ll learn to be content as it shelters you from the storm.
Not understanding what was coming next, I tried thinking of ways to escape. Wringing my hands
together, I tried loosening the rope. He had his back turned removing the bodies from the chairs. Yet
somehow he still managed to catch on to what I was doing. “That’s a double sheet bend knot.” Try as
you might, you will not loosen or untie it.” “Yet I commend you on your perseverance.” “If you escape,
you will not learn the valuable lesson I am trying to teach you.” “Sit and be patient, like I told you
before, I’m not going to kill you.”
He was right. The more I tried twisting my wrists, the tighter the rope became making them bleed
and burn. “Why was he doing this and why me”, I wanted to ask. The inside of my mouth was so dry,
and I was thirsty. All I could think about was water to wash out the metallic taste left from the wounds
of my lips. Making eye contact with the other man, I wondered if he was as thirsty as I. “The storm will
be here soon, and we can continue.”, he said as he removed a hacksaw hanging from the barn wall.
We watched as the man carried on as if he’d done this before. He laid the saw across a table.
Sweat dripped from my head as I panicked. What was he going to do to us? I thought. Do not worry, this
saw is not for you, he said as he placed the woman’s body on the table. He then began to dismember
her legs. He continued to hack through the bodies throughout the day. He would casually take breaks
between the removal of the body parts. After he was done, he used a rusty old wheel barrel to take the
parts out of the barn. He kept his word. I could hear the pigs happily squealing as he fed them.
The light that had previously comforted me dwindled away as darkness approached. As frightened
as I felt, all I could think about was water. “It is time”, he said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “I will
untie your arms so you can move freely. I encourage you to move as much as possible to keep the blood
circulating. Frostbite and hypothermia are inevitable if you let yourself settle. You can wear the clothes
you have on, but nothing more.
The barn was heated with an old wood stove. Our captor had fed it wood throughout the day. Yet
the wind from the storm outside seeped through the cracks. A chill came over me, fearing what was
next. The four technique no longer working. He then placed a makeshift collar around our necks.
Connected to the collar was a chain. After untying the ropes from behind our backs he told us to stand.
Fearing what he would do, I did what he told me.
He then unlatched the wooden brace holding the barn doors shut, unveiling winter’s wrath.
Weather in Michigan was unpredictable and harsh at times. That night was no different. The wind
bustled through the doors as we all stood staring into the night. Snow was falling rapidly and had quickly
begun accumulating. “Tonight’s storm is only a mild one but will last a few hours.” “Having your mouths
bound is a positive.” “It will protect your lungs.” Your heart rate will lower the less you move so keep
moving to boost your circulation.” “You will have to endure three hours in the weather.” “This trial is
brutal, I know but if your life is precious then you will improvise, adapt, and overcome.
He then led us by the chains out of the barn and into a wooden pen. It didn’t have a roof but was
too tall to climb over. “I know you must be thirsty, but if you try and eat the snow you will only amplify
dehydration and hypothermia.” He then removed the collars and locked the door. As he walked away in
his rabbit fur coat, he turned and once again said, “Do you have the desire to live, for you I truly hope
so.”
Frantically I surveyed the pen looking for a way out. The enclosure was made of old pallets, thin
boards, and cattle fence. It was sturdy enough to keep us in but not the wind out. It must have been
about twelve feet wide by twenty-four feet long. Rubbing my hands along the gaps, I felt something
warm run down my fingers. I had sliced my hand along the inside of one of the pallets. He had secured
razor blades and sharp nails from the inside to keep us from climbing out. Even if we were able to make
it to the top, we wouldn’t be able to climb over the razor wire that spiraled along the perimeter.
More frantic than I, the other man ran back and forth. He was shaking and sweating profusely. How
could he be sweating in this weather, I thought. On the other hand, I had begun to shiver. My feet had
already begun to tingle. Wearing only gym shorts, socks, and a t-shirt, I knew I must keep moving. The
other man was more fortunate than I. He was wearing pajama bottoms, socks and a hoodie. At least he
had a layer to break the wind.
The snow was dry and easy to move. Thinking maybe we could get out from the bottom. I began
moving the snow with my hands. As I moved it, I motioned for the other man to help. My attempts to
get his attention went unnoticed. He had found a nail long enough to cut through the stiches in his
mouth. Watching him, I debated on doing it myself. Though I thought of the burly man and his hacksaw.
Deciding it was best to keep my lips bound, I watched him saw through his. He yelled in agony as blood
dripped from his lips. Be quiet, I wanted to tell him, he’ll hear you.
When the last stitch broke the man dropped to his knees gasping and crying. He then stood up,
removed himself from his pants, and began urinating in the snow. “I’m Evan”, he said shivering and still
covering the white snow yellow. His urine smelled foul as the wind carried the smell. Not being able to
talk, I used a stick to spell out my name. Letter by letter, I spelled it out, Liam. He didn’t acknowledge
what I had written. He didn’t seem to care about what my name was.
Bending over he began to eat the yellow snow. Then pulling up his sleeves, he did something that
made my stomach churn. He picked off the scabs from his arms and started sucking on them. I now
understood he was detoxing and was trying to get a fix from the meth that had exited his body. I had a
cousin in jail once, who had described this same behavior from the inside. After doing this for a few
minutes he then spoke. Stuttering out his words, “I know it’s disgusting, but it is what it is.” “Now how
we gonna get out of this here, Liam. No matter what he was or what he spoke, it was comforting to hear
him speak to me.
Not knowing how to get out I just started moving. Shaking my head and still shivering, I began to
do jumping jacks. There wasn’t a way out and I was so cold. Knowing that I had to keep moving I
continued. I knew that if I didn’t move, my heart would slow and eventually stop. “You gonna listen to
that Behemoth or ya gonna try and help me find a way out?” Stopping, I once again tried looking from
the bottom. He looked for a way to climb over. Neither of us found a way to escape. Both of us,
shivering we stopped looking.
As we huddled together in the corner, a voice came from a speaker. “One hour has passed, two
hours remain.” Your lust for drugs trumps your lust to live.” “It will be your demise.” He’d seen, he’s
watching us, I thought. Not wanting to die, I began running in circles. The pain was excruciating. Every
step I took was like stepping on needles. My nose felt like it would break off.
“It’s no use, we’re gonna die, Evan said as he plopped on the ground. Using my arms, I motioned
for him to get up, but he refused. He sat in the corner with his teeth chattering and shoulders shaking.
While Evan sat, I continued. Running from one end to the other, tears freezing as they plummeted from
my eyes. As I ran, I tripped over something that caught my attention. It was a stack of a few boards
hidden under the snow. Uncovering them I counted them out in my head. There were several I dug out. I
crafted a fort in my head. We could use the wood for a shelter. Once again, I motioned for Evan to help.
Evan didn’t speak or move. “Two hours”, I heard as a voice projected from a hidden box.
Quickly I stumbled to Evan, shaking him. Tears ran down my cheeks as I faced the truth. I was
alone. Evan’s inability to try had snuffed out his life. He was dead. Time seemed to stand still in that
moment. Looking at his lifeless body, I realized he wasn’t a frail old man. He in fact was my age. The
drugs just made him look old. My sadness for him abandoned me to be replaced with anger. He should
have tried harder. I was now alone. He had left me alone.
Feeling numb and secluded, I wanted to give up. There wasn’t much fight left in me, yet
something in me snapped. I didn’t want to die. Ripping my wet clothes off, I threw them to the ground.
Trying to keep my temperature above freezing, I jumped and staggered in the snow. Laying Evan’s body
flat on the ground, I thought I would use it as a warm layer between me and the ground. One board at a
time, leaned them over Evan’s body and up against the pen, making an ominous clubhouse. Shivering
and naked, I crawled inside and laid on Evan’s lifeless body.
No longer having the strength to move, I lay crying. In the last hour I replayed my life. If only I had
another chance to do it all over again. If only I thought as my eyes closed. The door then opened, “Three
hours”. “Stand up.”, he said as he wrapped a fur coat around my frigid body. ”Come on, you have passed
but you are not out of the woods yet.” Replacing the collar around my neck he then led me back into the
barn.
“I have prepared a warm bath for you.” He then helped me lift my legs over a galvanized water
trough. “There, there”, he said, “Just sit and let the bath warm your blood. The pain of prickly needles
washed over my body as the numbness dwindled. Fading in and out, I watched him carefully remove a
stockpot from the stove. He poured the water from the pot over my head. “Just relax, you should be
proud of yourself.” “You have outlasted all who came before you.” “You’re a fighter and you value your
life. I watched as he warmed pot after pot, continuously pouring them over me.
“I will have to give you warm fluids intravenously.” “Try to stand”, he said as he lifted me up and
out of the trough. He then dried my body with a towel. After he dressed me in dry clothing, he led me to
a makeshift bedroom converted from a stall.
As he assisted me into the bed, I noticed a tray with medical instruments on it. What were they
for I wondered, but to tired to care anymore. He then placed the I.V. needle in my arm and covered me
up. “Rest up and sleep while I deal with the frostbite.” Before I was able to think about what he had just
said, I went out.
Waking up, I was no longer cold. The shivering and pain from the night before gone yet replaced
with new discomfort. My hands, feet, face, and head all pulsing. Slowly, I removed the blanket with my
bandaged hands to see my feet. Both were wrapped in bandages. Looking over my entire body, I
reached for my face. It was also bandaged. I could feel that my ears and nose were missing. “I know this
must be shocking to you, but it had to be.” “You had deep frostbite in your fingers, toes, ears and nose.
They had to be amputated. “I have sealed off the wounds and have given you antibiotics to fight off
infection.” “Be grateful your alive.”
“You are very ambitious, and I want to reward you for your success. “If you can continue to
cooperate, I will remove the stitches from your lips. “Don’t speak unless I ask you to.” “Can you give me
word that you can stay quiet?” I nodded in agreement.
As promised, he removed the sutures from my lips. Handing me a tin cup of water, he told me to
drink. Words can’t express how refreshing the first sip was. Not being able to control myself, I gulped
down the entire cup. Handing the cup back to him I managed to mumble, “more?” Violently, he struck
me in the face and stood up. “More, more more”, he yelled as he paced the floor. “Always wanting
more!” “You should have savored every last drop rather than gulping it down like a pig at a trough.”
“You have reached your third trial.” “Water is the source of all life and you will learn to appreciate it. Do
you have the desire to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.”
Locking the door behind him, he left the room. Feeling relief from his absence, I took a deep
breath. Concentrating on the air that went in and out my lungs, I was thankful to be alive. It had been a
couple of days since I was able to breathe through my mouth. I felt happiness and gratitude to just be
able to breathe. The blanket and bed kept me warm from the cold that seeped through the barn walls.
Feling relieved, I felt safe for that minute. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and just lived in the
moment. Looking for ways to escape no longer crossed my mind. Still fearful of the man, yet I felt a
strange feeling of gratitude toward him.
Mixed emotions danced around inside of me as I lay. Thinking of the others that were with me, I
pitied them. Had they truly wanted to survive, they would be alive. Had they fought harder, they would
have won against his trials. My sympathy for them abandoned my thoughts, replaced with
disappointment. Questioning my mental state, I laid wondering if I’d gone mad. How could I sympathize
with a man who had essentially tortured me. How could I be thankful to a killer, I wondered. As
comfortable as I was, I was thirsty. Three days was a long time to go without water. Knowing this, I
closed my eyes to try to sleep through it.
A familiar tune whistled through the cracks of the wall. My eyes blurry from crust, I wiped it away
with my bandaged hand. Curious, I tried peeking through a hole in a board. Seeing the two horses in the
next stall brought back anxiety from the first trial. Sounds of mumbling could be heard. Listening
intensely, I realized he had more victims. Wanting to scream out to them to calm their breathing, I said
nothing. Fearful he would kill me if I spoke. Though I didn’t have to. He was telling them to be calm and
they would live. If only they would listen, they could live. One after another perished throughout the
ordeal. Once again mixed emotions of sympathy and anger fought within me. I slammed my hand
against the stall boards. Why am I angry at them, I questioned myself. Hearing the distinct sound of the
hacksaw cutting through the bodies, I became sick. I crawled back in the bed and covered my head.
“Wake up, you have rested enough.” Leading me into the room where the bodies were, he
motioned for me to pick the parts up. “I will cut the meat and you will load it up.” “Do you
understand?”, he asked. I nodded yes and began putting the severed limbs in the wheelbarrow.
“Take it out back to the pigs.” “I trust you won’t try to run.” You will not get very far in your
condition and the weather” He was right, still bandaged and weak I knew I would freeze. Reluctantly I
put a arm, leg, and head in the wheelbarrow.
Once again, the cold made me shiver as I treaded through the snow. The night was calm. The
moon shined down on the solar panels that lined the buildings. I was on some sort of homestead.
Nearing the structure that housed the pigs, I cringed at the thought of feeding them. The squealing led
me to the hog house. Opening the door and entering, I gasped in horror. Piles of bones lay everywhere
within the house. The pigs squealed in delight as I tossed the body parts to them. The smell was pungent
and took my breath away. Not being able to hold back, I vomited the only liquids I had in me. After
unloading my delivery, I left to retrieve another load. Feet still bandaged, and I was cold, the thought of
running left my mind. Yearning for the warm bed, I trudged my way back to the barn. This went on
throughout the night.
“Almost done, this is the last of it.”, he said as he cut through a torso of a woman. “You have done
well, and I am proud of you.” “I know your cold and must be thirsty.” Yet, you still have forty-eight hours
left until you can replenish your thirst. “Keep motivated and you will triumph over your it” After the last
load was completed, he led me to the bed and rebandaged my wounds. Curiously looking down at my
severed toes, I seen I was missing five of them. The same as he bandaged my hands. I was four less
fingers. Two were gone from each hand.
My stomach grumbled as I tossed and turned. All I could think about was water and food. I
eventually passed out from the nights work. Waking up, I felt disoriented and weak. The hunger for food
and water still consuming my thoughts. “Twenty-Four hours left”, his voice said from outside the stall.
“Get up, I have more work for you.” “You have to earn your keep.”
The man then entered the room and placed the collar around my neck. “Here is a coat to keep
you warm, he said as he placed it on my back. Then he handed me some rubber boots. “These should
help keep your feet dry while you dig.” Wanting to ask, dig what, I didn’t dare from the fear of being
struck again. The task will be difficult but not impossible. Handing me a shovel, he led me to the spot he
wanted dug.
“The weather has let up and the temperature has risen. I can not trust that you might try to run.
He then locked the chain to a stake in the ground. “The hog house needs cleaned of the bones.” “Dig me
a hole big enough to bury the remains of the less fortunate.” “I will return in twenty-four hours.” You
have fared well so far, keep up the good work and you will be rewarded.” He then turned and walked
away.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and it felt warn against me face. The black sky turned to a
canvas of pastels. The view was stunning under any condition. After admiring the horizon, I started my
grueling work. Trying to dig with missing toes was difficult and excruciating. Placing the shovel into the
frozen ground, I bared down with all my weight. Breaking the ground seemed unfeasible, but I managed.
Letting out agonizing cries, I repeated the movements until I finally moved dirt.
Scanning around, my head was on a swivel looking for cameras. The thought of trying to escape
weighing heavily. Using my bandaged hands, I felt for any gaps in my collar. It was tight around my neck.
I Then looked for any weak links in the chain but found none. The steak the chain was hooked to must
have been buried ten feet, I thought as I gave it a tug. Giving up on any escape attempts, I continued to
dig.
The hunger and dehydration had started to take effect. My head pounded like a hammer on a
nail. I became nauseous. Fearing I might throw up, I sit and rested on the ground. Looking down at the
homestead, I wondered who the man was. Nearly falling asleep, I pushed myself up off the ground.
Visions of water surrounding me engulfed my every thought. God, I was thirsty.
After I finished digging the hole I fell to my knees in exhaustion. Worrying that if I fell asleep, I
would die of dehydration. Standing up, I desperately tried staying awake. The chain weighed down my
neck making it hard to stand. Using the shovel as a brace, I wedged it into the ground and balanced the
chain over top of the shovel. It lifted the weight off me, allowing me to stand easier. Standing and
swaying, I watched as day turned to night and night back to day. “Congratulations”, the man said as he
walked up the hill toward me.
“II knew you would conquer the test.” “You will soon be rewarded for your victory.” Leading me
back to the barn, I stumbled and fell. The man picked me up and helped me to my feet. As He laid me in
the bed, oddly enough I wanted to thank him. “Before I tend to your bandages, I am going to start an I.V.
to restore your electrolytes. He then handed me a cup of water. “Drink”, he said. Wanting badly to gulp
it down, I refrained and sipped slowly. The water was refreshing as it moistened my mouth. Water
wasn’t something I normally craved but, in that moment, it was all a I wanted. Living mostly on energy
drinks and sodas, I rarely drank it.
As I sipped, I thought about my body and how I had neglected it. Peculiar enough, the man was
giving me all I ever needed. He had somehow managed to push my stronger version to the surface.
“Good news”, he said as he wrapped the final bandage around my foot. “You have made it to the last
trial.” “But before we discuss that, I want to reward you on your accomplishments.” “I’m sure you have
questions, and I will allow you to ask them.” A little conversation will do us both some good.” I must say
I am as curious about you as you are of me.” He said as he poured me another cup of water. “But not
until you have rested.” “I look forward to it, I will see you this afternoon.” Locking the door behind him,
exhausted, I fell asleep.
Hunger pains interrupted my slumber. Turning about in the bed, images of food ravaged my
thoughts. Trying hard, I managed to push the vivid images of cheeseburgers out of my mind. Replacing
them with the image of the man conversing with me. What would I ask him, I pondered. Would I set him
off again and be fed to the pigs. One would think that I wouldn’t want to talk to him after he had cut off
my nose, yet strangely enough I did. I was curious about him.
My tossing about abruptly interrupted as I heard the man enter the room. “Well now, how do you
feel this afternoon?” He asked, as he pulled a old wooden chair next the bed and sat down. To scared to
speak I laid quietly. “It Is o.k., he said cheerfully as he patted my leg. “You may speak”. “Better but
hungry”, I managed to mumble. “Yes, I know you are hungry, but you have entered your final trial.” You
must endure three weeks with no food.” You have been here a week.” “Two weeks remain.”
“People of the world are gluttons. Indulging in prepackaged garbage to feed the body. Never
having to hunt or forge for it. If you make it the three weeks, you will have learned to appreciate what
you put in your mouth. You will think about what it is for, rather than just stuffing your face. Do you still
have the desire to live, for you I truly hope so.
“What is your name?”
“Liam, my names, Liam”
“Well, Liam, my names Doc” “It is finally nice to meet your true self.” I’ve been waiting along time for
this.” “You are now worthy to speak to.” “You have shed your old, infected skin and are growing new
skin.” “I have helped you thus far to create a better, you.” “You may speak freely”.
“Why are you doing this”?
“To save you.” “To rid you of the worlds temptations” “I am extracting all you have digested and
replacing it with the will to survive.”
“Who are you”, I fearfully asked.
“I am a doctor who the world cast out due to what they call negligence.” “I only pushed my patients to
better themselves and refused to subscribe fake antidotes”. “I didn’t hand them a crutch when they
could walk on their own.”” I left the city and moved off grid”. “Here I am free to practice as I see fit”.
“My patients now, are those that want to better themselves but just need a little push.” “Yet, none have
come as far as you, Liam.” “What is it, you desire, Liam?”
“A life of fulfillment”, I said.
“Are you not now, achieving that goal, Liam?”
Before I could answer, he told me, “Enough talk for the day”, we have work to do. “Don’t speak
unless I ask you to”. Unhooking my I.V., he then furnished me with warm clothes and boots again. “Grab
the wheelbarrow”, he said as we excited the barn. He then led me to the hog house. “I want you to pick
up the bones and put them in the hole you dug. Feeling weak, I pushed through the chore. The sight of
the mutilated parts wasn’t as repulsive to me as before. Yet, I did wonder who they were and where
they had come from. The day sped by quickly.
That night, I laid in the bed thinking of the man. Could he be right with what he was doing. I did
feel a new feeling of accomplishment. Had I truly shed my old self. Had he had given me what every
doctor before him had failed at. Questioning my own thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.
As the days went by, I would often help him rid the world of the weak. Every few days he would
bring in new patients. One after one they failed his trials. Some made it past the first, only to die in the
pen or the cooler, depending on the weather. We had many evening conversations where I learned
more about Doc, as he did me. Some nights I would listen to him mourn their deaths. He would often sit
by the stove talking to himself and crying. He would question their inability to understand what he was
doing. Finding myself somewhat sympathetic to him, I spoke out. “It’ll be o.k. you’re a good doctor, they
just don’t have a desire to live. “Thank you”, he said, “but do not speak unless I tell you”. With that I
climbed into bed and covered my head.
Ribs now visible, I was nearing death. No longer having the energy to help him any longer, I spent
the remaining few days in bed. As the final day approached, he came to me and said, If you don’t die
through the night, I will intravenously feed you the nutrients your body requires. Then you can truly live
your life. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled the blanket over me. You have been an outstanding and
cooperative patient and I thank you. Share to the world the gift I have given you.
Waking up, I was confused and again fighting off a sedated state. Rubbing my eyes in dismay, I
stumbled out of bed and tripped over my tennis shoes. Looking down at my disfigured feet, I was
perplexed at the sight of the floor. Continuously wiping at my vision, I scanned the room. Soda bottles
littered the nightstand. An empty potato chip bag lay empty on the bed.
Falling onto the floor, I curled up into a fetal position and cried. Visions of the dead filled my
thoughts. My mind was baffled with an emotional and ethical struggle. Four, four, four, I tried to
manage as anxiety reared its ugly head. “No!”, I yelled. I was alive and I was thriving. Quickly jumping to
my feet, I ran to my dresser mirror. It would be the first time, seeing the new me since my amputations.
Raising my head slowly my eyes met a man I had never seen before. A mangled mess stared back at me.
Yet, I didn’t see the ugly. I seen a victor. A man who fought for his life. I seen a man with the desire to
live. Admiring my new self, I calming starting whistling that familiar tune. I knew what I had to do.
The next few months, I spent talking to the detectives. Occasionally throwing them a false bone
toward their investigation. Had I not been a missing person, I would have avoided the police all
together.
A year has passed since my abduction. My life has changed for the better. I have faired well. I
often think about Doc and if he is still practicing. I did what he asked. I survive, appreciate, and share my
new gift to the world. I no longer spend my days waiting for life to toss me a crumb of its cookie. There
is value in the very air we breathe, the water we drink, the dwelling that shelters us, and the nutriment
we eat. Yet, it’s been difficult to convince people of this without some persuasion. So, please calm your
breathing. I am not going to kill you. This will only take three minutes. So, relax, do you have the desire
to live?” “For you, I truly hope so.

I was running Psvane CV181-T MkII tubes for a couple of months, quite enjoying them. They were more revealing, more transparent, and more airy than the stock JJs. However, I wanted to see what these Linlai E-6SN7 tubes were about though, so I ordered a set. They just came in and I am only burning them in now, but already I prefer these. More air on top, more slam on the bottom. A stunning change and I would consider it an improvement. Will need to do more critical listening when they burn in some more. Didn’t get a chance to really dig in and analyze imaging yet, only tonality and timbre. It’s also possible that they don’t have the same level of detail retrieval as the Psvanes do, but if they don’t, it’s not a lot less. All that said, just wow. Amazing tubes, HIGHLY recommend!

In 2022 I was denied housing due to a background check company (RealPage) reporting me as a violent criminal (which I am not!). They refused to fix their records and I had no choice but to engage lawyers (and the law required the company to pay the legal fees, so I paid nothing). They quickly offered a $50K settlement: $20K to me, $30K in legal fees to my lawyers.
Unfortunately, my lawyers misguided me in saying I didn’t need to pay taxes on my settlement - silly me, I should have consulted a tax professional. I never received a 1099 and didn’t think I needed to report this to the IRS. So, in January, I was hit with a CP2000 demanding almost my entire $20K in back taxes/interest/fees. I responded to the notice with full documentation, including a letter from my lawyers that they had paid taxes on their $30K.
The IRS responded last week that they will not adjust their decision, so I owe them everything I was awarded (money already spent on medical bills as well as housing during the time I was denied it).
Is this really it for me? The IRS gets double taxes and I get to go back into debt? Does this sound right, and if not would you recommend I hire a tax attorney to fight this?
Thanks so much in advance for your thoughts. I’m already in loads of debt and dealing with intense medical issues and this news makes me want to crawl in a hole and die.

Friend asked one of their instructor for a letter of recommendation. He not only refused to write one for them, but said that he decided against writing them for any student altogether. Is this a common thing? Maybe he feels like his students aren't qualified and doesnt want his name attached to them, or to avoid hurting students' feelings if he finds out he wrote one for one student but not another? lol. I guess it surprised me because if I were an instructor, I would want to recommend students who i felt deserved it. it just feels a bit much to flat out refuse every student.

Hello. My name is Bungling-Worm. You may remember me from my highly condemned submissions such as "Socialists-The Moralist Busybodies Preventing You From Beating YOUR Cheating C\nt of a Wife and Annoying Children", "Profit or: Humanity's Raisin Deter (sic).", "Who Really 'Needs' Clean Air and Water Anyway?", "Hayek Was Right! - How Fascism Saved Western Civilization™ From the Bolshevik Menace" and "SWEATSHOPS!-The Greatest Gift to Third-World Youths Since the Polio Vaccine.*"
Today I'd like to address my fellow capitalists. It's no secret that, much like the U.S. military in Iraq circa 2003-2011, we're losing the battle for the hearts and minds of our intended slav..subje...vict...vassa...thral...our fellow men™. For this reason my employer, Generic Right-Wing Think Tank Inc., in partnership with our good friends in the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency and the U.K. Special Intelligence Service (formerly U.K. Military Intelligence, Section 6), have contacted the eminent propagandist conservative philosopher picnic-boy and gained his gracious permission to make an official Part 2 to his highly acclaimed How to argue in favor of capitalism and against socialism, a helpful guide the table of contents of which is freely available (for a limited time only) here: https://www.reddit.com/CapitalismVSocialism/comments/1cqvdsv/comment/l3wuegi/
Without picnic-boy's pioneering achievements in sophistry this work would not be possible. Now, without further add-do (sic) I give you a sneak peak into the table of contents of How to argue in favor of capitalism and against socialism, a helpful guide: Part 2.

1. State, often and always without evidence (because none exists), that socialists control all mainstream news media, organized religion (especially the Catholic Church, the Jesuit Order, the Hasidic Colleges and every sect of Islam), Western academia, K-12 public education, the entire U.S. civil service/bureaucracy (from the municipal all the way up to the federal), the FBI, the CIA, the Justice Department, the Democratic Party, the Fraternal Order of Freemasons, Hollywood, all police unions, the AFL-CIO board, the entire federal judiciary, all the major drug cartels and organized crime syndicates, the Federal Reserve System and the governments of literally every single third and second world country, especially the far-right and non-white majority ones. At the exact same time, and this is really important so pay close attention, accuse socialists of being unpopular teenage losers living in their parents' basement who're too lazy to get a job.
2. When socialists remark upon how similar the claims in point 1 are to contemporary Neo-Nazi conspiracy theories and start to question how you feel about Jewish people turn around and accuse them of being "the real anti-semites" for "wanting to take all the Jews' money away ". In no way is this conflation of all Jews with rich capitalists a form of economic antisemitism. If someone points out that it is simply cherry pick quotes from Marx's "On the Jewish Question" out of context so that none of the parts where Marx makes it clear he is only critiquing Judaism as a religion while at the same time advocating for the political emancipation of Jews as people are clear to the reader. After that go on to talk about how much you support Israel and how much happier you think diaspora Jews would be if they permanently immigrated there. Also and for no particular reason talk about the "failure" of the Kibbutzim apropos of nothing and don't elaborate on anything.
3. Always portray struggles of democratic socialists within ML states/the Eastern Bloc as struggles for capitalism. Yes, it is true the people who organized the East German Uprising of 1953, the 1956 Hungarian Revolution, the Prague Spring of 1968, and the Polish Solidarity Movement of the 1980's (before the Vatican and CIA hijacked it) all demanded democratic socialism, yes they all said that, but what they "really wanted" was capitalism and don't you let any so-called "historian" tell you otherwise.
4. Pretend that socialists invented the very concept of the state and thus that all state rulers from the Roman Emperors, Egyptian Pharaohs, Greek Archons, etc. to modern Kings, Kaisers, Tsars and Presidents were/are "socialists".
5. Don't forget to liberally pepper your psychotic rants with plenty of freudian slips and accusations in a mirror. For example, make the claim that socialists want to destroy the family so that they can isolate, abuse and indoctrinate women and children while at the same time assert that wives and children are nothing more than an extension of "the individual" who need to be shielded by this individual from an unrealistically hostile and confusing world (literally everything and everyone outside the home).
6. Assert that socialists invented taxation and ignore that the first taxes in recorded history took the form of land-rents set by the first governments (which were councils of militaristic landlords).
7. Defend rent-seeking and landlordism so long as it's done by private individuals. Remember rent-seeking is only bad when the government does it because they spend that money on social parasites and welfare leeches, unlike landlords who spend it on their second families in the next state over.
8. Claim fascism is a form of socialism but also defend the legacies of lesser known fascist regimes, military dictatorships and other totalitarian right-wing governments whose symbols and mottos the people in your country haven't developed a learned fear response to yet the way they have the Swastika and the Fasces.
9. When leftists point out that the main victims of things like the Great Purge and the Chinese Cultural Revolution were socialists,communists, anarchists and other left-wing intellectuals who opposed Stalin and Mao's cults of personality either ignore them and maintain that the "real victims" were the tiny minority of "innocent" religious extremists, ultranationalists (who were "definitely not" fascist collaborators or spies), and resource hoarders who were killed or do a complete one hundred and eighty degree pivot and actually defend the Great Purge and Cultural Revolution because "The more left someone is, the more violent/dictatorial they are, therefore anyone to the left of Stalin and Mao would have been more violent than them and it's a good thing they were killed."
10. If you think any of these points are self-contradicting just remember that doublethink is merely a tool and "communists" (Stalinists) shouldn't be the only ones allowed to make use of it.
11. Ignore the mountains of evidence that an anti-Stalinist left exists. Portray these leftists as right-wingers and edit their most famous works to leave out the many mentions of their own support for socialism.
12. Remind your interlocutor(s) that socialism is gay and cringe.
13. Remember that reading is gay but total illiteracy is still kinda cringe (unfortunately). Therefore read as little as humanly possible without going full illiterate. Our recommendation is to only read blurbs from ancap websites, your favorite right-wing conspiracy theorists' social media threads and your fellow "capitalists' " reddit posts and nothing else.
14. In keeping with point 13 let the only things you "know" or "learn" about socialism be things you absorbed through osmosis and half remember from your high school history textbooks assuming you even read them at all. Never look at primary sources, never listen to people trying to explain things to you in detail, always complain that quotes provided to you are "blocks of text" or "unoriginal".
15. Remember that conformism, unquestioning obedience to authority, an unflinching belief in the correctness of the current socioeconomic status quo and conventional wisdom, and a general Panglossian worldview with a huge heaping of moral nihilism (which is definitely a real philosophical school of thought and not just a rationalization of one's own sociopathic tendencies) are actually somehow radical and that "conservatism is the new punk rock" of the 21st century.
16. Remember that guy begging for spare change you passed on your way to work? That was a capitalist. Capitalists are actually worse off than everyone else in society as hard to believe as that may seem. You see when it comes to capitalists' they're "cash poor, asset rich" which means all their wealth is tied up in assets like yachts and sports cars and mansions and designer suits and second summer homes and third winter homes and tropical island resorts where "nothing unethical ever happens so shut up about it already"...and you see they can't use these assets to buy groceries or clothing or even pay the "exorbitant" property taxes on their assets. So you see the real unfortunates in our society aren't the homeless or the victims of police brutality or refugees or the working poor, it's capitalists. These brave men and women take (minor) financial risks by using what little cash they have to found businesses, not for their own benefit but for ours, so that they can give us jobs and provide us with products and services and then what do these generous souls get in return for their herculean efforts? Just a whole lot of ingratitude from socialists and a bunch of tacky junk they can't even use to feed and clothe their many, many illegitimate and adoptive children that they're definitely not doing anything questionable with on their tropical islands that aren't even worth that much anymore because of rising sea levels (which have nothing to do with climate change, which is just a Chinese communist plot to make Americans poor don'tcha know?).

Welcome to our weekly identification thread. This is the themed post for all identification questions and requests, including dramas!
Before posting in this thread please take a look through our discussion resources - who/what/which is this section which outlines ways in which you can work out many of these requests for yourself.
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I wrote this piece based on the idea of mixing dragon and sea serpent blood. He basically gets some sort of ocean lordship. I purposefully haven't said much because I'm toiling with the idea in my head to actually write the fanfic. This is a simple scene at the point where Laena is "having" her final child.
Excerpt:
"Dracarys Vhagar!" The piercing cry jolted me from sleep, sending my heart racing as I bolted upright in bed. Time seemed to stretch, the world slowing to a crawl as a familiar clicking sound echoed ominously in the air. My mind raced with a single thought: 'No, it can't be...'
Disregarding my dishevelled state and clad only in underwear, I dashed to the window, gauging the distance to the ground below. The lone palm trees swayed in the wind outside as if offering silent reassurance that the fall wouldn't be too dire.
"A body fit for the lord of the seas I was promised, let's see how that goes..." With resolve hardening my nerves, I leapt over the balcony, the rush of air accompanying my descent.
Fwoosh!
Time seemed to freeze once more as I hurtled toward the staircase leading to the beach. As I landed with a jarring impact, the scene before me unfolded in chaotic clarity. My mother lay collapsed on the sand, a trail of blood staining the shore—a broken figure in the moonlight.
"Keligon zȳhon (Stop Her), Tiamat!" I bellowed, even as flames erupted from Vhagar's jaws. With a primal roar, the sea responded, and the serpentine jaws of Tiamat, the 'dragon' that hatched with me, emerged from the waves. Her various deep blue knobs, spines and horns contrasted with her large, sinuous, white body. She surged forward from the depths, her red eyes focused and the hood around her neck flared as her powerful jaws snapped shut on Vhagar's tail with a resounding crack. The clash of titanic forces reverberated through the water as Vhagar roared in defiance, its flames sputtering against the onslaught. Arcs of electricity crackled between each sharp fang, the resonance of the elements contrasting the deep of the night.
With gritted teeth, I ignored the pain from my fall and raced toward my mother's side. Vhagar's Dragonfire faltered, replaced by a pained cry as she struggled against Tiamat's grip. "Jikagon arlī (Go Back), Tiamat," I commanded, and the sea creature obediently released its hold, slipping back beneath the waves. In my mind, I could feel how concerned she was for me and my mother as well, our connection was special like that.
As Vhagar turned, disoriented and enraged, I approached cautiously, soothing words falling from my lips. "gīda, gīda, (calm, calm) Vhagar," I murmured, hoping to quell the storm raging within her.
Holding my mother in my arms, I noted that only half of her body was burnt, yet the flames seemed to only penetrate to the last layer of the skin. Her body was a charred echo of her past self, I asked her to be quiet as I asked for the water's help in healing her.
In my mind, however, I felt Tiamat indicate that dragonfire was the exception. Gritting my teeth, I asked my mother,

"would... would you like me to at least save the baby painlessly?"
She nodded weakly. I proceeded to ask the water within my mother to release the child, and it slowly began to push the baby out.
Amidst the cries of a newborn, echoing across the desolate beach, a figure descended the weathered stone stairs, casting a long, solemn shadow over the scene. The gentle lapping of the waves provided a haunting backdrop to the momentous occasion unfolding in the fading light of day.
"It's a boy, mother..." I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, choked with emotion. "I'll call him Laenor... in your and... and ah, uncle's honour..."
Tears welled in my eyes as I swallowed the rising bile, threatening to spill over as I gazed down at the fragile bundle in my arms. His cries, though piercing, seemed to fade into the background as I focused on the woman who had given me life.
Summoning the last reserves of her strength, my mother nodded slightly as she extended a trembling hand to touch my tear-streaked face. Her touch was both searing and tender, a bittersweet reminder of the love that bound us together. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a silent reassurance in the face of impending separation.
"My... special boy..." she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, yet filled with a depth of love that transcended words. "I... will... al...ways... lo...ve y-"
But her words trailed off into silence, the light fading from her once bright eyes as her spirit slipped quietly from this world. At that moment, as I cradled my newborn brother in my arms, I felt the weight of her absence settle over me like a heavy shroud. My mother is now forever lost to me...
Moving away from her body, I understood what she wished for, a true valyrian death. I moved towards the cause of the rapid footsteps and knew who it was from their build,
The tension between me and him crackled in the air like the static before a storm as I confronted him, my words dripping with bitterness and accusation.
"Father," I seethed, my voice heavy with venom, "I wonder... did you grant me that final moment with her out of respect, or was it merely your own disinterest in her that allowed it?"
Emerging from the shadows, Daemon regarded me with a cool detachment that only fueled my anger. His silence spoke volumes, a tacit acknowledgement of the rift that had grown between us.
"You are upset, I understand--" he began, attempting to placate me.
"Upset? UPSET?!" I erupted, the floodgates of my grief and frustration bursting forth. "My fucking mother just died! Your WIFE! At the age of 26! How could you have let this happen?!"
Daemon remained stoic, unmoved by my outburst. I continued to shout obscenities against him, pouring out my anguish and resentment until I was left gasping for breath.
"I tried... Everything," He whispered out, the weight of his failure resting silently on his shoulders. "Everything that the masters recommended, I did without question."
"You KNEW I was special," I accused, my voice trembling with betrayal. "Why did you not come to me?"
"Special, yes," Daemon conceded with a sigh. "But able to ensure a safe delivery? That was not something I expected to be within your abilities."
His words cut deep, slicing through the haze of my grief with a sharp clarity. I knew it to be true. I had not been clear with them about the extent of my abilities. I silenced him with a look, determination hardening my resolve.
"We will discuss this later," I declared, my voice firm. "After I have cremated my mother."
Daemon's gaze lingered on me, a silent acknowledgement of my authority at this moment. But his next words grated against me,
"And how will you do that without a dragon that breathes... fire?"
With a silent exchange, I passed my younger brother into his care, my jaw clenched with determination. Turning away, I strode toward Vhagar, my mother's final resting place.
"Dracarys, Vhagar," I commanded, but she remained stubbornly unmoved, defying my order. Frustration surged within me, but I refused to be stopped.
Raising my arms toward the open ocean, I summoned a thick tendril of water to wrap around Vhagar's throat. With a clenched fist, I repeated my command, forcing her head towards my mother's body.
"Vhagar. DRACARYS."
This time, she obeyed, her flames engulfing my mother's body in the ancient funeral rite of Valyria. As her body blazed, consuming my mother's earthly remains, I honoured her final request, granting her the dignity of a true Valyrian death.
"Keligon (stop), Vhagar," I murmured, the flames extinguishing at my command. She seemed to listen now, subdued by the solemnity of the moment. I let Vhagar free of the water tendril before stepping back towards my father,
"IF. And I truly mean IF," I emphasized, locking eyes with Daemon, "I find out that you had anything to do with her death or that you tell anyone of my abilities... That Targaryen blood that you are so proud of? I will ensure that it will be the very thing that pierces your heart. I swear it... on the memory of my dead mother."
My words hung heavy in the air, a solemn oath borne of grief and determination.
There was a moment of tense silence as my words reverberated between us, each syllable weighted with the significance of my resolve. Daemon's expression remained inscrutable, but I detected a flicker of unease beneath the mask of indifference.
With a final, piercing stare, I turned away, leaving him to contemplate the gravity of my vow. As I left the yard, I noted the small smile that replaced his expression for a fleeting moment.
Ascending the steps, exhaustion weighed heavily on my shoulders, mingling with the simmering emotions that churned within me. It was then that I realized the reason for Daemon's smile, the underlying pride that lay beneath his stoic facade.
Halting midway up the stairs, I turned back to face him, my gaze meeting his across the distance.
"You're proud, aren't you?" I questioned, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation.
Daemon looked up and met my gaze, his expression unreadable yet tinged with a hint of something akin to pride.
"Of course," he replied, his voice carrying a weight of its own. "After all, that part of you is finally out... The fire and fury of a dragon."
His words resonated within me, stirring a complex mixture of emotions. With a nod of acknowledgment, I turned away once more, leaving him to his thoughts on the desolate beach below.
Though my anger still simmered beneath the surface, tempered by the realization that some of my accusations had been fueled by raw emotion, I resolved to address them with a clearer mind in the days to come. For now, I needed time to process, to mourn, and to prepare for the challenges that lay ahead.
Yes, his dragon is a lagiacrus. Mutations n stuff, his power's influence. Anyway I hope you enjoyed that.

Hello, I'm a Canadian applicant for the Fall 2024 semester!
I was waitlisted for TMU Film Studies yesterday and am waiting for an admission decision for Media Production. This is my top school of choice and I really want to improve my chances of acceptance before I have to pay a nonrefundable deposit fee for another university. Could I send a letter of continued interest or past letters of recommendation and to whom? What are the chances of being accepted off the waitlist? Is anyone else waiting for a decision letter?
Any advice or suggestions would be much appreciated! :)