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

My little sister in law is a recent college graduate and nurse in MA wanting out of the state for many reasons. Her caveats were:

1. The anxious, unfriendly, passive-aggressive energy of a majority of locals. She says she understands and attributes it to the live to work tendency of the state, but she's had it. She says she wants to see more cheerful, gracious people. This is amplified by her being Latina (Puerto Rican and Brazilian) and growing up in more energetic, lively cultures where they're people oriented. She says if she didn't experience a more community oriented life before she came here she might have gotten used to the New England "Protestant Work Ethic" but that whole live to work to enjoy the fruits of her labors when she's older is not her thing. She's more present oriented despite tilting introverted, brainy, and favoring the sciences. She and a few of her friends have said there's a weird culture up here of women not feeling they can look feminine in order to be taken "seriously." I thought that was a flux, but I have witnessed this myself as well as heard it from other women. SIL really doesn't feel comfortable with this, finds it stiffling.
   
   1. The snobbery towards people that aren't wealthy or come from more realistic backgrounds. She says she hates the aggressive attitude a lot of locals take to people making normal income but having the gall to live in the state. Or living in towns/cities they're often relegated to because they are prized out of the suburbs. The irony with that is she says it's made her not want to move around people like that, and instead of seeing the suburban life in an idealistic way, it's become her nightmare situation. The lack of foresight, tact, or consideration has pissed her off. She wants to live around diversity because, according to her, there's more diversity of thoughts, looks, ages, and tolerance of different ways to live. If she ever decides she wants quieter pastures, she wants to see more types and looks of people also enjoying that because she doesn't want her future kids to see otherwise either.

2B. Diverse and that the diversity they have is integrated, not sidelined. She wants to see more of herself making and finding success. Being happy, not just struggling. She's firm on this one as she says even if she did have the money, she wouldn't stay in MA because of this. The contrast is depressing her. She's not content to just see different people she wants to see them actually have access to success, not just reside there. According to her living in a place, seeing certain people there, doesn't mean those people are thriving. She wants to see them thriving not just "there", like an afterthought.

1. Decent school system. The little sis is pragmatic and says most people can't and won't be geniuses. She just wants to have kids in a school district that will manage to give them a healthy education, and if she needs to amplify anything herself, she will.
   
2. She can buy a house herself without having to invest half a million at least for a dump that will forever need repairs and in a town the state doesn't invest in (with equally bad school districts to boot). The gist is she's not keen on paying bank to breathe here to say she's living her. If she has to do that, she'd rather move to NYC or any of the Californian places (which she's considering). She doesn't mind if she has to buy an apartment or condo somewhere instead of a house, but she wants to own and has enough saved for this that in some places she could easily buy a 200-300k place off the bat not including the extra access of a higher mortgage from her income and credit.
   
3. She doesn't mind winter but really wants more welcoming and playful locals. Or significantly less negative. Oh, and access to, uh (5B), family health planning because she struggles with birth control, and in the event her future partner also has issues with BC (according to her a lot of guys can be "weird" about this or using them so she wants to have a safe plan in case things go awry).
   
4. Decent healthcare system. Again, she's quite pragmatic in this regard. She'll manage with a system that's at least trying to improve and making strides in that direction. The plan is to visit these places this summer to fall and decide from her trips thereafter. She plans to move by this time next year. She loves being a nurse and is happy to admit that at least her job travels so she's not worried in that regard.
   
5. A place where the cost of living doesn't require her to be in school forever to prove reasons for employers to pay her higher despite her expansive experience. Or that she can manage to survive with the income she could be making wherever she is without too much strain. She's not liked seeing the sacrifices her colleagues have been making to barely manage basics to stay in MA with crippling student debt to boot. Seeing them work hard to just say they live here is not motivating for her, it's making her depressed. She says living here is making her feel like one of those broke nimrods that buy designer bag to posture they're well off but aren't really well off. She thinks that's stupid. She says living somewhere you can't manage is the same logic. She's hoping there's a chance someone is offering a similar thing or close in a more reasonable price. It won't be a designer, but as long as it's not crap and works just as great if not close, then that's the better deal. She wants to work, be the best nurse she could be, but also one day be a wife and mom. She wants to act and move out soon so she can also not miss out on the dating scene should she move somewhere the locals marry off quicker.
   
6. Her one big love about MA is that they have lots of brilliant creameries/ice cream shops everywhere. Her favorite season is Autumn/Fall. This is a superlative that she thinks makes up for a lot of the things she hates about the state. So maybe a moderate likelihood of those would be a nice incentive as well. Besides ice cream, her favorite foods are shawarma, lasagna, cheese steak, and mofongo. She can make those things but not making them when she's exhausted from work would be nice from time to time.
   
7. She likes having the ability to access the ocean once in a blue moon but willing to give it up if diversity is provided. She's not comfortable sticking out too much or not being able to find ingredients to cook traditional cultural meals. She finds being the loner anywhere frightening.
   

My husband and I adore her. We're protective of her and helping her with her goals by having her live with us so she can save her money for her dreams. We're 💯 on board with her judgment and think her reasons are sound. She's not the only one that has said similar things here, but she's one of the few that seems to have snapped out of the haze, willing to shake things up for her happiness. The family has proceeded to do everything in our power to see her come out winning. She's a fun kid. She's 23 and graduated both HS and college early. She was valedictorian but never really had goals to be a high roller. Didn't and doesn't want to be a doctor (yet). I don't think she wants to devote all her efforts to a career, to her, her career is to help her survive and sustain her future family. She loves her job but isn't a slave to the cause if it prevents her from enjoying life outside it. She's been working of her own volition since she was 12 out of liking having her own money (despite her parents being comfortably middle class, started by babysitting and doing her friends or older women's hair). She has an outdated but comfortable, clean, and reliable car that isn't requiring her to be constantly at the mechanics. She goes out to the milltowns from time to time to the clubs on weekends to have a reason to dress pretty and test her dancing skills. She says the ones in Boston just suck plus the guys suck at flirting. She thinks Dunkin is a blight on the world and that they did the world a grace in removing the "Donuts" to their name for daring to serve subpar donuts. The fact that they removed the French Crueler from the menu cemented her disdain. My husband and I think this is funny.
She's the woman always hosting a potluck or get-togetheparty for her loved ones, volunteering to babysit for her friends with kids and greeting her neighbors and offering food or help to her elderly, struggling or disabled neighbors. She wants to move somewhere that she could remain financially independent, survive on her own without relying on a marriage to do so, and be lovely to her neighbors without being looked at as an alien. She says it feels unnatural to live in a place where there's no social "wamrth." My husband and his siblings were all willing to buy her a renovated place to keep her here, and she's rejected this. It's more rewarding for her to manage herself as much as possible, plus she hasn't warmed up to the place enough to think it worth the investment. I think she has checked out of New England as a whole, therefore, I don't think the other states of the region are an option for her. I thought Vermont would manage as they run more friendly, but she's gonna stick out, and there's less of everyone else, which is important to her. If I had to sum up her personality, life ethos and how she views things, as embarrasing as it sounds, the song "The Hills Are Alive" from The Sound of Music is 100% spot on for her. The family has proceeded to ask anyone and everywhere to help her find a new home as we're noting this place is sucking the life off her. The distance doesn't matter as the family is super united. We agree with her that this state, while not bad, is decidedly not for someone like her and with her needs/dreams. She's stuck around because, like many families in any place, we've tried to keep ours close to us. The fear mongering in saying the other states aren't as ideal is only making her more antsy and entertaining leaving the country. Seeing her change is making us note what we hate about this place all the more and making us want to jump ship with her. To the family, the final straw came when we started noticing she's stopping wearing her beautiful lipsticks, wearing her big, pretty curly hair out, and not wearing as much color. It might be small to you, but this girl's been like that forever. She's stopped wearing pretty clothes and is often depression eating and gaining weight (and not caring). She's always been regimented about her fitness and in the last few months, she's just not caring. We're seeing the change as her taking her discomfort to herself, which a lot of women do when they're unhappy. With her, it is jarring since she's meticulous about everything naturally. Seeing her give up on herself and feeling resigned feels like hell has frozen over. We will all make a list from all the feedback we find, gift her a guideline to visit, and she'll make her decision after that. Please and thank you for your efforts. I'm sorry for the length of this query, but I figured to express all of her concerns to help in this makeshift matchmaking. I figure approaching questions like matchmaking helps in matching the humans to their potential new home.

Welcome to Reading The Big Book of Cyberpunk!
Each week we (u/FarragutCircle and u/fanny_bertram) will be reading 5-ish stories from Jared Shurin’s The Big Book of Cyberpunk, which includes a curated selection of cyberpunk stories written from 1950 to 2022! We’ll include synopses of the stories along with links to any legally available online versions we can find. Feel free to read along with us or just stop by and hear our thoughts about some cyberpunk stories to decide if any of them sound interesting to you.
Every once in a while, we reach out to people who have more insight, due to being fans of the author or have some additional context for the story. (Or we just tricked them into it.) So please welcome u/Valkhyrie who will be sharing their thoughts on "Feral Arcade Children of the American Northeast" by Sam J. Miller!
“Exopunk's Not Dead” by Corey J. White (published 2019; also available in the anthology A Punk Rock Future edited by Steve Zisson))
Exoskeleton-wearing punks Jack and Ramón dance in the mosh pit of a demolition site; also, Nazi Punks Fuck Off.

• Farragut’s thoughts: White is an Australian writer, and I’ve read them before with their Voidwitch Saga novellas for Tordotcom. This was a really sweet story and I loved the exo-punk scene that’s depicted—plentiful exoskeleton rigs plus large sized punk rock dancing. It’s always a pleasure when Neo-Nazis get their comeuppance. I definitely want to look up more of White’s stuff.
  
• fanny’s thoughts: This was a cute story where they all wear exoskeletons to the club. The music and club element of this story was great and I really felt like I could be there. Exoskeleton rigs, dancing, amazing music, and romance. The whole club stands up against neo-Nazis and I really appreciated that touch. It was a fun, interesting story.
  

“Études” by Lavanya Lakshminarayan (2020; also available in her mosaic novel The Ten Percent Thief, originally Analog/Virtual)
Nina is a lower class Analog desperate to earn Virtual citizenship and also do well at her piano recital.

• Farragut: Lakshminarayan is an Indian writer with some award success in her country. As best as I can tell, “Études” is a middle chapter of The Ten Percent Thief, her mosaic-novel (novel in short stories) set in Apex City (Bangalore, India). While it’s clear that there’s some elements that will get addressed in the full book, this story was great even on its own—Nina is really struggling as an Analog who was adopted by Virtual parents, and the fact that she’s prevented from the various chip/implants/assistive devices that her classmates get and use freely (she can’t even call her dad without her mom’s assistance). I also loved the discussion on music as played with soul vs. precise mechanicalness (also, my son started taking piano lessons and I’m struggling to even get him to practice, ha!). I definitely want to check out the full book. Highly recommended.
  
• fanny: This is a reread for me (my first of this anthology) as I read The Ten Percent Thief last year. I think this works well as a short story and shows enough of Apex City to understand. I really felt for Nina as she tries to navigate school and society without all the technology available to her peers. Nina believes she can play piano better with all the technology, but I loved seeing her determination and dedication when it was harder for her. She goes through so much and yes more is explained in the full book. Highly recommend both.
  

“Apocalypse Playlist” by Beth Cato (2020)
Orchid survives the apocalypse with help from all the music on her brain chip.

• Farragut: Cato is an American writer and poet whom I better know for her steampunk novels. In a series of vignettes divided by songs, we see how Orchid uses her music chip to keep herself calm and energized (I believe she’s on the autism spectrum hence why she had such an assistive chip in the first place). But in a post-apocalyptic future without much technology, she’s the only one who still has the old music that won’t die. It’s a very sweet and hopeful story, and I love that it exists.
  
• fanny: The vignette style of this story worked for me. We follow Orchid through a lot of her life and a lot of changes in the world. She relates to things through music it seems and needs the songs to stay calm. After many alluded to events, she is the only one with the old music. I loved the journey in this one through the vignettes.
  

“Act of Providence” by Erica Satifka (2021; also available in her collection How to Get to Apocalypse and Other Disasters)
Hailey, one of the few Rhode Islanders to survive the Great Wave, is intrigued by a game developer’s desire to make a game based on her experiences, though it doesn’t end the way she wants it to.

• Farragut: My favorite tidbit about Satifka’s presence in this anthology is the fact that the editor said he found her by searching “cyberpunk” on Amazon. Sharpen up those SEO, authors! This was a pretty moving story as Hailey is in a weird halfway state in many respects—an internal refugee in the United States who is alienated from her own sister who is a fellow survivor but found her own path as an always-online streamer. Though Hailey’s fate is sad, I really appreciated how Dalton’s game acted as a sort of therapy (and escape) for her traumatic experiences in the Great Wave that devastated New England.
  
• fanny: This story left me angry at Dalton’s exploitation of her story and complete lack of remorse. Bailey's fate is sad and the journey she goes on does help her process her trauma, I just wish it hadn't happened. Her sister is constantly followed by drones streaming everything and Hailey wants to tell her story too. In her own way once the opportunity presented itself. Dalton is very creative, but not very empathetic.
  

“Feral Arcade Children of the American Northeast” by Sam J. Miller (2021) (link to story)
Ish, Fenn, and Jenny seek out the mysterious Destroy All Monsters! arcade game, using all their powers.

• Special Guest Valkhyrie: Having absolutely devoured Sam J. Miller's superlative short story collection Boys, Beasts & Men earlier this year, I went into “Feral Arcade Children” with high hopes and was not remotely disappointed. Miller's strip-mall archipelago, simultaneously dystopian and deeply familiar, is lovingly, viscerally rendered along with its colorful school of underage inhabitants. I am continually in awe of the skill with which he weaves the supernatural into the tapestry of modern life, as if we might stumble across any of his characters with their ill-kept secrets and unnamable quirks around any corner at any time. A nostalgic, magical ode to an era of flickering screens and bootleg dreams that we'll never quite recapture. Five stars! Go read it!
  
• Farragut: Miller was the only person to bring mirrorshades to a panel reading of The Big Book of Cyberpunk at the World Fantasy Convention in Kansas City last year, which immediately puts him on top of the Cool Author Index. I’ve only read a couple of Miller’s stories before now, but he really nailed the voice of Ish, with his experiences as one of the “feral arcade kids”; I’m always a sucker for a truly authentic sounding narrator. The interplay with nostalgia and Ish’s evolving feelings about the similarities and differences between them, against the backdrop of the Destroy All Monsters! machine (and Fenn’s apparently teachable electric-sparking abilities?!) just made for a great time reading this. It’s one of the more magical-realist style stories that Shurin has included, but heck, this is great.
  
• fanny: I have read nothing by Miller and that seems to have been an oversight on my part. The way the author captured Ish’s voice and the atmosphere of the feral arcade children was too real. Fenn has a power to electrically shock the games and other things which he teaches to the other children. I am not clear on the Destroy All Monsters! game, but it made a good backdrop for the arcade archipelago. It also seemed to be kind of a metaphor for the world that these feral children are trying to inhabit. I liked this a lot and it was great.
  

That’s it for this week! Check back the same time next week where we’ll be starting a new section in the Big Book and reading and discussing "We Can Remember It For You Wholesale" by Philip K. Dick, "Speed" by Misha, "Computer Friendly" by Eileen Gunn, "I Was a Teenage Genetic Engineer" by Nisi Shawl, and "The Gene Drain" by Lewis Shiner.
Also posted on Bochord Online.

Howdy AgingParents,
This is more of a ramble and/or rant than anything else--though I suppose if anyone has any good advice that I'd be happy to take it.
I'm 37 years old and moved back home just under a year ago to take care of my mom. She's relatively young--only recently turned 70--and her mind is pretty sharp. I'd gather that, like many parents, she has become more prone to scams, but that might even be simply the age we live in where robo-calls and phishing emails are as banal as they are ever-present. But it's her physical condition that's been deteriorating, not her mind.
Her physical issues are plenty. She complains that her doctor writes that she has osteo-arthritis, which I understand is true (she does have this), as opposed to emphasizing rheumatoid arthritis (which she also has, as I understand it--I'm frankly not sure I really know the difference between the two), and various / multiple forms of neuropathy. She cannot feel her feet, and walking with either a cane or a walker is equally unbearable. She has an awkward gait and, for reasons no medical practitioner has explained to her (or to me when I am present), for a lack of a better term she *hauls ass* regardless of which tool she is using. She cannot control her quick speed, which inevitably leads to a fall. She uses self-talk constantly in this respect; "lift your foot up, [MomsName]," she'll say; "STOP IT, [MomsName], Stop moving", she'll say. On top of unknown possible timebombs like two coiled aneurysms in her head, she's had a broken knee, a broken shoulder, and a broken wrist all in the span of a few years.
With a walker, we have the experience of her being able to get perhaps 20-30 feet before she loses control of her speed and falls. The last time she used a walker for exercise was this December, when she fell on the driveway and broke her wrist. She insisted on doing it herself; I was out running errands when it happened.
With canes, she expends an enormous amount of energy simply standing still. The bulk of the time I am walking with her, and our arms are interlaced, or I hold her hands, both of'em. Over the year I've been back home, I've increasingly taken over the driving responsibilities, and now I'm the only one who drives. She had been initially opposed to this, viewing that driving was one of the few areas of remaining independence she had, but a fall this April in the shower, wherein her head hit the porcelain of the toilet bowl, changed her view immediately. We've since undertaken the work necessary to have her bathroom, which she has otherwise loved for my lifetime and beyond it, replaced with a walk-in-shower that comes with a seat and several railings or hand-holds (whatever you call the long pieces of metal that exist to be grabbed).
Falling is what prompted my return, in fact. Dad died in 2016, and mom had seemed okay physically at the time. Of course it was the worst thing to happen to her emotionally--she reflects on the loss of her husband, my dad, every day, not necessarily at protracted length, but it remains I'd wager the most persistent thought she has. That said, in 2017 and 2018, mom could do ballroom dancing lessons, something she had always wanted to do in her youth.
But in November 2022, mom informed me of a few falls on the driveway, and another time where she described having fallen in the kitchen, and being unable to get up for two days straight. The idea of my mom being alone on the kitchen floor for days in a row was upsetting to me. I did a surprise visit that Christmas of 2022, the first time I had seen my mom December 2016 after my dad died. My mom would maintain that she didn't want to ruin my life or my independence, but she also welcomed support, and I suggested that if she were to have a serious event again that I could drop things and come home and help. It made sense to me; career-wise, I had achieved many accomplishments, but everything I had achieved was in someone else's name, for someone else's glory, and if money were involved, for someone else's gain. What kind of son would I be if I allowed my mom to be isolated and alone, and to possibly die by having a fall that she cannot get up from, only to find out about it much later after the fact? The point, if I have one, being that my motivation to help my mom came from inside my own heart. I didn't feel any pressure from her or any other source.
In April 2023, my mom fell again, followed by a bout of sepsis and a heart attack whilst in the hospital. I made plans to come home.
At first my mom was very happy that I came to help her out, but so too began a new narrative that, in fact, everything was fine, and she didn't need any help at all. Not a few days after I had permanently moved back, though, and on July 4th as it happens, mom fell on the--well, I want to call it a patio but perhaps it's a terrace. What do you call a part of a backyard that is comprised of purposefully arranged bricks? It's whatever that is.
We would engage in a sort of back and forth for a few months as she recovered. My mom would insist that she didn't want to ruin my life; but I had already moved back home, and without the means to "go back" as it were to where I had been before. I would look for work and, despite every sense of being qualified, would find myself taking on side-gigs and smalltime jobs. Anything to get by, as it were, as opposed to furthering my career, where I'd either be overqualified for jobs, or underqualified, or--maybe worse--the prospective employer wouldn't understand my experience, much of which was abroad. Returned Peace Corps Volunteers would know what I'm getting at, I'm sure; how do you tell an American employer that, yes, you know how to live without electricity, how to build water catchments, how to write grants, how to create emergency plans, how to achieve a smattering of big objectives without financial support, ranging from organizing a community to identify and solve the problems at their school if only so it doesn't close down to how to successfully navigate the COVID-19 Pandemic without anyone dying for two years, and so much more, but also that none of that was your "real" job, only things that your community needed and wanted from you, and that, no, you had no formal training in many of these things, but you did the work because it was what was needed? Regardless, I've enrolled in a Masters program, which starts in a few weeks, for the explicit purpose of wanting to ensure I don't screw myself career-wise. Thankfully, the program is online; but there I go making this about me.
Over the time I've been back, my mom has gotten worse. In September 2023 she could bake a cake, and she could walk up the stairs if she did so holding both railings. She cannot cook anymore, as she drops things, and catches herself from falling, or I do. I've lost track of how many times this must happen. I'd suppose it's at least a daily occurrence that a fall is prevented. And it's perhaps weekly that a fall occurs but in such a manner where its worst outcomes can be avoided.
The stairs are another story. I don't understand it. In the morning, she is rather adept at coming down the stairs herself. She doesn't ask for my help and, given my schedule, I might not know she is downstairs until she's already here. But in the evenings when she goes to bed--it used to be 8pm, and these days it's usually closer to 6pm--she goes from Zero to Exhausted, like someone falling off a cliff. She cannot get up from the couch unassisted, nor can she get up the stairs unassisted.
Simply standing mom up can be challenging. One of her knees was replaced some years ago, and the other you can hear it creak as the bones slide. One of her shoulders was replaced as well, and the other is worse than her bad knee. She injured it sometime recently, though I frankly forget if it was during the April shower fall or another fall. For practical purposes it means she cannot raise it, and any significant movement seems to hurt her dearly.
I do all of the cooking and cleaning now. One time she nearly fell when the oven was open. She didn't fall; I stopped it from happening--but the image of her possibly cooking her face haunts me, and she has consented to allowing me to simply take care of the cooking. So I cook and I clean and I drive. She worries about money constantly--I think it's a result of her being poor until she met my dad, who was poor too but not in the "my soup can lasts me three days" way that mom was--and so I take care of the groceries and other things. I can't do everything; so I've hired out the lawnmowing, and a gardener to take care of weeds. I don't know about these things, but my mom was a Master Gardener--I understand that's a formal title that you earn through some mechanism--so I do it because it's important to her.
Anywho--my mom is in a lot of pain. As I write this, she fell again recently today. To some extent I think I should have expected it. I asked her if she needed help and she said "no." For whatever reason I took that as gospel as opposed to helping her to the couch. She's had much worse falls, but today's was her trying to carry coffee from the kitchen to the couch in the living room. She ended up spilling the coffee on the couch, and planting herself face first into the cushion. It took about 10 minutes to get her in a position that didn't hurt as much. Then she spent an hour on the floor quiet and looking at her tablet. Moments ago, just prior to writing this, I helped her upstairs to her bed. Since there are knee and shoulder problems (a rotator cuff surgery for one of them, probably needs it for the other too), that was a challenge. She had fantasies of being able to shred papers (she gets a lot of junk mail), and being able to take pictures of the lawnmower so she can sell it. Most of her daily desires are put on hold.
My mom is often anxious and stressed. She said it wasn't until I came back home and told her that she's retired (relying on social security) that she realized she still felt the stress of running a business, which she used to do with my dad. It's taken the better part of a year, but I've convinced her to not look at the news so much. She's spent most of her life wanting to write The Great American Mystery Novel. I have attempted to get her to enjoy these sorts of pursuits, though as of this writing that specific fantasy remains such.
But, by and large, my mom isn't happy. She comments daily on how she is deteriorating. She comments about how she doesn't understand why her doctors can't explain why she loses balance; why she wiggles when she tries to gain balance; why it uses so much energy to stand up and to walk; why she cannot stop herself from hauling ass and then either falling or catching herself from falling. She feels despair with medical practitioners, as a GP might suggest going off a specific drug like methotrexate, and the rheumatoid arthritis doctor might recommend it wholeheartedly. She is in constant pain but the only painkiller she is allowed other than over-the-counter stuff like Excedrin is either Cymbalta, which gives her suicidal thoughts, or Tramadol, which as far as I can tell doesn't actually touch her pain at all. She has no friends anymore; not that she had many when I was a kid growing up, but of the ones she had, they're all dead now themselves. Cancer; heart attack; a fall in the shower. And while she and I have a good relationship, she and my brother, my only sibling, ceased communication a few years ago.
My mom is a Catholic who believes very firmly in heaven and hell, and is convinced that if she were to guide herself to death that she would be in the latter. Yet every time she falls, like today, she becomes despondent, and almost cries--she stops herself, though I don't say anything about it; cry if you want to is my motto--and so she talks about death, and how she wants to die.
I don't know what to do when my mom falls so often these days, is so unhappy about her physical deterioration, and simultaneously wants to be "better" but also wants to die. From a purely clinical and/or sociopathic perspective, neither her nor I have the "tools", be it medicine or otherwise, to make for a quick and painless death--never mind it being obviously illegal, probably immoral, and her convinced she'd go to hell if she did try to off herself. From a purely my-own-personal-comfort perspective, I want my mom to be healthy again, and if it gives me nightmarish visions simply imagining her hurting herself near the oven then odds seem high to me that I'd never forgive myself if I helped her with any plan she might make. Not that she has one, as she doesn't.
She's quick to assert, in fact, that she doesn't really want to die, and I'm not in any position to want that for her either. To be pain-free, yes of course; that is very desirable. To have a purpose in life, yes of course; that is also very desirable. On the latter, for nearly 50 years her purpose was to work the business with dad, and to be married to dad, and to be a mom, and to be dad's caretaker when he had cancer. But it's hard to know where the "hope" is for her. I feel like the best I can do is make sure that she eats well, has her medicines, that she can be helped around to where she needs to be, and that she has plentiful books to read, tv shows to watch, and a laptop to write her book on should she become inspired to get started. To some extent I've thought about putting her in one of those elder-care facilities; but what prevents it from happening includes that I can recall from a very early age that that is one of her biggest fears is dying alone in a facility where she has no friends, no family, and at the expense of all of her limited earthly possessions and wealth. She wants to die at home, like dad did. But she also doesn't want to die--not yet, not for real. Just, y'know, if the pain could go away.
Mom is quick to assert that, if a job opportunity comes up, I should take it. She doesn't want to ruin my life, she repeats. I sometimes ask myself if I should look for such a job again. Or if I should try after I complete my Masters--after all, that keeps me on some sort of track that makes narrative sense to an employer, but also allows me to continue being my mom's caretaker. She's so grateful that I am around to help her, but also so worried that she is hurting me in some way by my choosing to be around.
That's almost what bothers me the most about it all. I've lived most of my life abroad, having moved away from home when I was 18. But unlike the great bulk of folks I know personally, I can't think of anyone I've ever known who had parents as ideal as mine are. I always felt like my mom and dad were "there for me" in ways other peoples' parents weren't. My mom would be sure to attend my softball games, or to somehow recall when I'd get home from school on a wintery day so that a cup of hot cocoa would be ready. My opinions were always sought and I was taught to be an independent free thinker. I'd have to make tough choices when I was three years old, like if I wanted to wear blue today or green today. When other three year olds might ask "why" about whatever topic--why does the sun shine? Why do people drive cars and not take the bus? Why do people eat meat? Why, why, why for whatever at all--and be told to stop asking, I would be engaged in dialectic. If I had a bad day at school, I had someone to talk to in detail about what happened. If I wanted to explore a philosophical conundrum of any kind, or a thought experiment--if I were alive in 1776, despite being a proud American today, would I be a loyalist instead of a revolutionary? though I remember having that specific thought at seven, not three--it would be entertained. If I was hungry, there would be food. There would be many hugs. There would be so many trips to the library. All good things, only good memories. This utter lack of childhood trauma is, I suspect, part of the reason I can even remember being three years old despite being 37 presently. (And I also wonder if it made me more prepared in some manner for adulthood traumas, of which there have been a few). Though I grew up socio-economically perhaps lower-middle class (i.e. never hungry with clean clothes), both my mom and my dad grew up astoundingly poor, and they made it a firm point to ensure that I would always know that I was deeply loved and deeply wanted. You'd have to be, I guess, right, if your mom had only two children, but five miscarriages between them.
I love my mom so much. I cannot stand the notion of her being isolated and alone and dying by some sort of otherwise preventable accident or mistake. There's no justice in my mom, who was the best mom anyone could ever hope to be, the superlative exemplar of what a good mom is, spending her twilight years without family or help. I don't feel trapped the way maybe others might, or maybe that I ought to feel myself. But so often I also don't know what to do. Does a career matter more than my mom? Or is the opposite true, and my mom is more important than any job I could have, particularly since I have the professional experience of knowing what career success looks like already, even if the credit went to someone else? If the best mom was always there for her son, then the best son is one who is there for his mom, right? I'm not necessarily Catholic in the way that my mom is, but isn't that part of honoring your parents? I mean, it's better to be there, provide emotional support and cook the best eggs benedict I can, than to be the guy who tells a colleague or friend "yeah buddy, my mom falls and hurts herself all the time and will probably die by falling on the kitchen floor again for days at a time--but I decided that was fine with me, because this job I am doing provides me fame or fortune."
I don't know, fellow internet people. Sometimes I don't know if I know anything at all. But my mom keeps falling, and I sure wish that she didn't. Thanks for reading.

Dubai stands as a beacon in the realm of real estate investments, drawing in discerning investors with its robust economy and flourishing property sector. Within its dynamic landscape lie abundant prospects for investors seeking to broaden their portfolios. Among these opportunities, off-plan properties have emerged as a focal point of interest in recent times. Let us delve into the enclaves hosting the most promising off-plan properties in Dubai.

Unveiling The Potential Of Real Estate: Premier Off-Plan Property Enclaves In Dubai To Keep An Eye On

Dubai has etched its name as a premier destination for real estate investments, magnetizing investors globally. Upon scrutinizing the merits and demerits of real estate acquisition in Dubai, one finds a plethora of advantages stemming from its strategic position in the MENA region, elevated lifestyle standards, compelling value propositions, and hospitable business climate.

Understanding Off-Plan Properties in Dubai

Off-plan properties in Dubai encompass projects at various stages of development, ranging from those in construction to those in the nascent planning phase. Opting for off-plan properties holds distinct advantages over acquiring ready properties, including favorable pricing and potential returns.
Moreover, off-plan properties typically offer greater flexibility in payment arrangements, enabling investors to disburse funds over extended periods. Prominent developers in the region consistently unveil their latest off-plan properties, enticing investors and affluent clientele to the emirate.

Prime ‘accessible’ Off-Plan Investment Enclaves In Dubai

Jumeirah Village Circle (Jvc)

Jumeirah Village Circle burgeons as a burgeoning community, presenting an array of accessible off-plan properties in Dubai. Catering to families and young professionals alike, this locale boasts an array of amenities such as verdant parks, educational institutions, retail outlets, and dining establishments. Prospective investors can select from a diverse range of residences, including apartments, townhouses, and villas.

Al Furjan

Al Furjan emerges as a swiftly evolving hotspot for off-plan endeavors, showcasing a diverse selection of residences. These encompass apartments, townhouses, and villas complemented by flexible payment options. Al Furjan’s appeal lies not only in its residential offerings but also in its superior communal amenities and seamless connectivity to Dubai’s arterial thoroughfares and public transit systems.

Arjan

Arjan’s off-plan properties present lucrative investment prospects within one of Dubai’s most rapidly developing residential precincts. Nestled within the expansive Dubailand area, Arjan captivates with its array of tourist attractions, including the renowned Dubai Miracle Garden and Dubai Butterfly Garden. Investors can peruse a curated selection of top off-plan projects in Arjan, boasting affordable accommodations compared to other Dubai locales.

Damac Hills 2

DAMAC Hills 2 (D2) emerges as an idyllic locale for families, distinguished by its superlative amenities and commitment to sustainable community living. As the neighborhood continues to evolve, amenities such as parks, recreational facilities, and retail outlets are set to proliferate. D2 stands as a premier destination for acquiring affordable villas in Dubai, with numerous off-plan and ready developments offering residences at compelling price points.

Dubai South

Dubai South unfolds as a burgeoning community featuring an amalgamation of ready and off-plan projects. Notable among these are The Pulse Residences, South Bay, and The Pulse Beachfront Villas, developed by Dubai South Developers. South Bay, an off-plan endeavor within the Dubai South precinct, enjoys a coveted location near Al Maktoum International Airport and Expo City Dubai. The development promises a diverse array of residences, including villas, townhouses, and contemporary living amenities.

Enclaves Housing The Finest Off-Plan Projects In Dubai — Boutique Residences

Dubai Hills Estate

Dubai Hills Estate sprawls as a multifaceted development offering an assortment of residential properties set amidst verdant expanses and panoramic vistas. This premier development boasts a championship golf course, retail and dining establishments, and seamless access to Dubai’s major thoroughfares. The allure of Dubai Hills Estate lies in its central yet secluded ambiance, appealing to investors and potential tenants seeking unrivaled recreational amenities and family-centric offerings.

Dubai Creek Harbour

Dubai Creek Harbour emerges as a captivating off-plan investment enclave, boasting picturesque waterfront panoramas and a medley of world-class amenities. Destined to become the cornerstone of Dubai’s waterfront communities, this development encompasses over 30,000 residential units alongside a myriad of commercial and retail spaces. Investors are presented with an array of options, ranging from luxury waterfront apartments to expansive duplexes and opulent penthouses.

Tilal Al Ghaf

Tilal Al Ghaf stands as a distinctive residential community developed by Majid Al Futtaim, centered around a captivating lagoon. Encompassing luxury villas and mansions, Tilal Al Ghaf is revered among the locales hosting the finest off-plan properties in Dubai. The master community spans over 300 hectares, featuring cycling tracks, jogging paths, and promenades, catering to outdoor enthusiasts. Moreover, the expansive lagoon, spanning 70,000 square meters, with its 400-meter beach and 1.5-kilometer shoreline, augments Tilal Al Ghaf’s allure.

Mohammed Bin Rashid City (Mbr City)

Mohammed Bin Rashid City (MBR City) emerges as a meticulously planned neighborhood situated near Sheikh Zayed Road (E11) and Al Khail Road (E44). This vibrant precinct boasts an array of amenities, including parks, private beaches, lagoons, educational institutions, supermarkets, dining establishments, and landscaped gardens, positioning it as one of Dubai’s preeminent mixed-use developments. Noteworthy among MBR City’s myriad advantages is its diverse array of off-plan projects, presenting investors with a plethora of investment opportunities.

Closing Remarks

Dubai’s real estate landscape presents a compelling avenue for investment, promising lucrative returns amid a burgeoning economy and thriving property market. By strategically investing in the locales hosting the finest off-plan properties in Dubai, investors can capitalize on the city’s exponential growth trajectory. However, prudent evaluation of the rationale behind off-plan property acquisition in Dubai is imperative before finalizing investment decisions. Moreover, partnering with InchBrick Realty can provide invaluable guidance and insights, ensuring investors make well-informed decisions in navigating Dubai’s dynamic real estate landscape.

Including all islanders, from all seasons, who would you award the following superlatives to:
Best Smile:
Best Hair:
Best Eyes:
Cutest Couple:
Best Besties:
Most Likely to Become President:
Best Dressed:
Biggest Flirt:
Class Clown:
Most Likely to End Up On (Another) Reality TV Show:

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Synopsis:
Juliette Contzen is a lazy, good-for-nothing princess. Overshadowed by her siblings, she's left with little to do but nap, read … and occasionally cut the falling raindrops with her sword. Spotted one day by an astonished adventurer, he insists on grading Juliette's swordsmanship, then promptly has a mental breakdown at the result.
Soon after, Juliette is given the news that her kingdom is on the brink of bankruptcy. At threat of being married off, the lazy princess vows to do whatever it takes to maintain her current lifestyle, and taking matters into her own hands, escapes in the middle of the night in order to restore her kingdom's finances.
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Action, Fantasy, Copious Ohohohohos.
Chapter 234: Tea Party
My mandatory tea parties were always a busy affair.
A small corner of the courtyard. A raised platform upon a veranda. And very occasionally, the bottom of the gnarled oak tree outside my window. The same one I’d never once climbed, but for some reason regularly had my mother’s maids waiting for me.
But no matter where my mandatory tea parties were held, I could expect a line of noble daughters as long as the gowns they wore to intrude upon my time.
It mattered little whether I was busily rolling across my orchard, busily rolling across my bed or busily rolling beneath a piano as I escaped the marauding footsteps of my tutors.
If I existed, then so did my company–or so they assumed.
The fact I had other important matters? As meaningful as walls were to badgers. Except that unlike the garden critters which threatened my peonies, I couldn’t punt nobility back over them.
I’d asked.
Twice.
Each day.
Instead, I did my duty, surrounded by the gossiping of 4th daughters and the heiresses of barns. All the while, I napped regally with my eyes half-open, emitting not a single snore to shame my family’s name. A dull state of affairs. But one I met with dignity and grace.
Yes … regardless of where my tea table was located.
Thus, even as I hosted a tea table lacking actual tea, surrounded by the armed dregs of my kingdom’s gutters, I did so with poise and stillness.
Because to do anything else would result in my loss.
Tension filled the air.
All around me, every hoodlum a baroness could bribe formed a circle around my makeshift table, their voices hushed. Amidst the silence of a moonlit night, they’d come prowling from every shadow a farmstead could boast, drawn to my presence like hounds to scraps.
For a moment, not a soul stirred.
And then–a drop of water fell from a well.
The disturbance echoed into the night. A noise like a thunderclap, heralding the sound of shuffling as elbows moved and knees bent. Even so, none dared to step forwards. Hands clenched in the darkness, the movement less than the gulping of throats and the licking of lips.
A moment later–
I moved … delicately placing a playing card atop a fragile pyramid’s 3rd and final layer of stacking.
Then, I gingerly stepped away.
The house of cards remained standing.
“Oooooooooooooooooooh!!”
Cheers erupted at once.
The carefully stacked cards toppled from the sudden cacophony. All around, the applauding was being cajoled by a loyal handmaiden diligently poking everyone who wasn’t applauding. Closer beside me, Renise sat ashen-faced as literal bandits jumped in excitement, their bewilderment over who their mysterious visitors were trumped by my natural talents.
And also my ability to try again, again and again, no matter how often the thing fell over.
“Ohhhohhoohohohohoho! Behold! Not even the perilous breeze and a slightly slanted table can match my delicate touch! See how I control a stack of cards like a conductor commands an orchestra!”
Once more, boisterous merriment sounded around me.
The ring of previously confused onlookers struck their fists into the air, their loutish acclaim enough to shake the dirt from their faces. My greatest achievement yet.
As Coppelia hopped back to her place at the table, I met her with a proud smile.
“... What do you think? Impressive, no?”
“Amazing~! I can’t believe you finished building a tiny card pyramid in just 38 attempts! That’s super impressive!”
“You’re missing several superlatives there. But yes, I am exceptional.”
Coppelia leaned over the table, her arms collecting the spilled cards.
“Right! My turn!”
“Huh? W-Wait, no! You cannot!”
“Ehhhh … but I want to try using up every card in the deck. I bet I can use all 45!”
I gasped in horror.
Why, if there were 45 cards in a deck and it took 3 cards to make a triangle, that would mean if she used every card available, she’d make something that was … X amount bigger than mine!!
Which was why–
“... Um, sorry for interrupting, but I need to mention something.”
Yes!
Which was why Renise raised a hand, knowing full well that maintaining my image amongst the hoodlum masses was clearly the priority here!
“Oh, did you want a go too?” asked Coppelia, offering the messy stack in her arms.
“No, um, I’m fine, thank you … it’s just that I believe Baroness Arisa has finally arrived.”
Suddenly, the sound of cheering faltered.
A gap in the ring of hoodlums opened. And then all eyes fell upon a girl in their midst. One who drew no recognition from me, but whose identity I knew from the guilty twiddling of thumbs by the ruffians she’d caught dawdling.
It took less than a glance to appraise her.
Large, grey eyes. Golden hair with more loose strands than a stablegirl after saddling a pony. A simple dress without embellishment, purposefully dishevelled at the shoulder.
The guise of a maiden, whose display of crafted innocence doubtless turned the heads of my farmers as easily as the louts she’d replaced them with.
Seeing her sweet appearance, I knew at once the measure of the foe before me. And I realised that this was no ordinary heiress to a barn.
No … this one was dangerous.
I could feel it in the discomfort in my throat.
The tugging at the roof of my mouth.
The twitching of my nose.
Indeed … my beloved snoreless streak was in grave danger.
She was, without doubt, the most dull noblewoman to have ever conspired against my kingdom. But she was still a noblewoman nonetheless. With a multi-purpose handwave, she dismissed my gathered audience. They promptly shuffled back to work, picking up sacks and organising goods to be properly counted by my inspectors later.
Then, she approached my table … and stared.
No words of contrition. No forehead to ground.
Just a stare, her eyes meeting mine like a prospector examining a diamond so beyond value that all words were lost. Including the pleading I should be ignoring.
I greeted her with a smile.
My ode to decorum. Renise could vouch for that, once she began explaining to Roland why whatever was about to happen was not my fault.
“Salutations, Baroness. And welcome to my tea table.”
The girl blinked. She glanced towards the house of cards Coppelia was building. I kept an eye on it as well. As did the mysterious puff of wind watching from my lips.
A moment later … the girl leaned across the table with a fingertip stretched towards me.
And then–
Poke.
She dimpled my cheek.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
Hmmmmmm.
Very well. 6.5/10. This was original, as far as insults went.
Willfully committing the greatest act of treason available to her, this enemy of the kingdom assessed the elasticity of my cheek as though I were a marshmallow to be melted.
She then pulled away, satisfied by the number of capital crimes she’d accumulated.
Indeed, this baroness truly was different to the rest.
“Heheh … heheh … hehhehehhehehhehehheeheheheh …”
At least until she began to laugh.
That was perfectly expected. Anything less and her peers in the royal capital would eat her alive. She might be a lesser breed of termite nibbling upon the kingdom, but for someone who’d so boldly committed treason, a weak cackle was the minimum we all expected.
Forcing Coppelia to shield her fledgling pyramid with her arms, this baroness hugged her stomach as she stepped away, throwing her head back to allow her girlish laughter to fill the air.
It was slowly and awkwardly parroted by those in the vicinity, led by the most experienced of her disposable goons. Having been vacated from their table, they now had nothing else to do.
I winced at once.
Less like a chorus of gloating and more an acapella of hiccups. An effort beyond either rating or saving. Still, one of us had to observe decorum. And so I waited as the last of the laughter faded.
Soon, it was replaced by a deep breath and a smile. One of mild curiosity as she casually plucked a playing card from the table and stacked it atop Coppelia’s budding pyramid.
The entire thing immediately collapsed.
I’d never seen Coppelia look so aggrieved.
“There appears to be a lack of tea, Your Highness.”
“Yes, well, we can’t have everything.” I sat down, warily eyeing the revival of the house of cards beside me. “I desire a tiara adorned with more black rubies than have ever been mined, a purpose-built catapult made to accurately launch new pillows through my bedroom window each morning, and a kingdom devoid of nobility causing my eyes to roll. Sadly, I only have the tiara and the catapult. Now, please sit. This will be a short conversation, but you may as well be uncomfortable for it.”
The baroness glanced down at the only vacant chair.
A stool which was missing a leg. One which appeared to have been recently snapped off. And was in front of Coppelia beside her house of cards. Some mysteries would never be solved.
She sat down regardless, re-angling herself without complaint.
“If you’d like, I can bring a choice of bergamot or chamomile. I believe that Lady Renise can vouch for the quality. Or at least the scent.”
“Indeed, the scent was lovely,” she replied. “I would gladly enjoy the aroma without drinking it again.”
“A fine endorsement. Should I ask for an evening tea platter to be brought?”
I waved away the offer.
“Thank you, but I’ve already been disappointed by lacklustre poison today. I trust whatever you serve your hired goons more. It must be exceptional. I see from your abode you’ve little else to pay them.”
“Thank you. I have great confidence in my selection of ales.”
“You should remain a tavern keeper, then. You clearly disappoint fewer people than as a schemer.”
“I feel that’s an unfair charge, considering you’ve little idea what I’m scheming. Even as we speak, my–”
I silenced her with a finger.
“Goodness, that sounds suspiciously like the prelude to you explaining your designs to me. Please don’t. Nothing can possibly torment me more than hearing the details of a plan so shallow a toad could skip across it.”
The baroness tilted her head slightly, her fixed smile never shifting.
“My, I never knew your opinion of us was so low. But then again, I heard so very little from you the last we met. It’s difficult to truly gauge your thoughts.”
“Many have tried. Scholars and geniuses amongst them. I’m afraid you are neither.”
“Then I’m delighted by the opportunity to become better acquainted. For the Crown Prince’s attendant to visit me is one thing. But for his own sister is quite another. Could it be that my schemes are perhaps deep enough to threaten something larger than a skipping toad?”
“On the contrary, I fear the puddle is so thin that it’ll invite all the flies to breed in it. There are enough in the countryside without those you draw from far afield as well. Especially with how proficiently you’ve already leeched the land.”
I pointed lazily at the blots around me.
There were too many to pick from. So everything it was.
And then I smiled kindly.
“Fortunately, nothing which has been damaged cannot be repaired. And, ah, what do I see here? Ample labour to see it done. To start with, the weeds acting as trip hazards need to be plucked. The dirt lanes potted with holes must be filled. The broken rooftops and walls which invite all the mice and their families should be repaired. And most of all, the overgrown hedgerows must be trimmed.”
The baroness raised an eyebrow.
She needed to raise it more if she’d missed the state of her own abode. It was inexcusable.
Committing treason was one thing, but being inefficient about it was quite another. Her imprisonment was now delayed because she hadn’t dedicated a single goon to maintaining infrastructure. Had this farm been in good working order, this conversation would already be about the soap design stage.
“I’m afraid my hired hands are currently preoccupied with more important tasks. And none of them involve gardening duties. You see, unlike with royalty, time is a valuable currency.”
I leaned forwards at once, my finger tapping my ear.
“... Hmm? What’s that? Could you say that again?”
“Those I’ve hired were selected for their specific skills, nurtured in the gutters by the very kingdom which chose to abandon them. I assure you, they are not here to trim hedges.”
“No, no, no, not that. The last bit.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want you to repeat the last thing you said.”
“... Time is a valuable currency?”
“Once more.”
“Time is a valuable currency.”
I nodded, satisfied I’d heard correctly.
And then–
I raised my hand to my lips, barely covering my smile. Coppelia nudged me slightly away from the direction of her growing card pyramid.
“Ohho … ohohohohohohohhoho … ohohhohoho … ohohohhoho!!”
Before me, a smile shook upon the face of a baroness as she listened to the sound of my beautiful laughter, echoing into the night despite the absence of surfaces to reflect it.
And still–I continued laughing.
Why not? It was such a beautiful line.
Especially when spoken with so little respect for irony.
Oh, but how little any of them knew that time is exactly what they had in abundance. For what else has my nobility done over the long centuries, other than to scheme in the shadow of their hovels since before the first peerages were ever offered in my kingdom?
No … it was not time my nobility needed.
It was knees to quiver beneath whichever member of my family was sitting in judgement before them.
And tonight, that was me.
Thus, I allowed my sweet laughter to trail into a series of small coughs, before I endeavoured to offer a few words of warm advice.
“You’re entirely correct, of course,” I said as I wiped the driest tear I’d ever known from my eye. “Time is a commodity. The 37,000 kilograms of camembert my father keeps in the wine cellar requires it. But I’m afraid that treason isn’t something which matures with age. It only becomes more needlessly complicated. For a full explanation, I’d like to direct you to the nearest history book on failed seditions. The Royal Villa hands out copies for free. Or would you rather wait until you’ve penned your own section first? I imagine there’s space somewhere between Duke Valence and Lady Lucina Tolent.”
The baroness’s smile remained unfaded. And yet a look of mild annoyance appeared in her grey eyes.
“I ask that you not compare me to those failures. I am not like them.”
“True. I could remember their names.”
A slight tinge of fluster met me, coupled with the start of a frown.
“Duke Valence grew old enough with bitterness that he simply disappeared, brushed aside by the wind or pushed out of some window. Lady Lucina Tolent pretended at being a dragon upon a pile of gold, only to be defeated without a single charred corpse in her wake.”
The baroness wrinkled her nose. She donned the look of someone who’d yet to hire a single advisor to point out the flaws in her masterplan and then be beheaded for it.
“I am not like them,” she declared. “Any of them. The mice scurrying over one another to climb the same leaning tower. This kingdom will not last, Your Highness. Not while its neighbours grow hungrier with each passing year. So you may rest assured, I’ve no intention of climbing that tower … I intend to help destroy it.”
Ugh.
It was always destroying things with these people, wasn’t it?
Why, if they only wished to sit on my father’s throne, all they had to do was ask! Depending on which ambassador he was scheduled to meet that day, he would gladly accept a holiday!
“A truly envious dream,” I said, as I watched Coppelia topping off her pyramid to the clear excitement of hoodlums in the backdrop. “To aspire to rule farmsteads and broken towers.”
Suddenly, the smile became 20% more zany than before. A terrible sign. I had to prepare a yawn.
“You’re not incorrect. That is my dream. But it would be a thousand farmsteads stretching from the Bay of Thorns to the Beryl Sea. And the tower I will inhabit will be as tall as the sky itself … and as white as the doves flown from its windows each dawn and dusk to the cry of a golden dragon.”
My mouth fell open. But not to yawn.
Instead, it was to match the widening of my eyes.
Indeed … the meaning behind her words were clear.
This baroness … why, she intended to offer herself to Granholtz!
All of this! It was some utterly unworkable, illogical and logistically impossible scheme to somehow climb the White Citadel! The governing heart of another nation to which she held neither citizenship nor familial relations!
As her intent became known, it was all I could do to feel the waves of despair coursing over me.
The baroness smiled in satisfaction at my stunned reaction.
She should be doing more than that.
She should be leaping for joy.
After all … if a baroness from my kingdom wished to sabotage Granholtz, she merely had to ask!
I’d gladly write the Grand Duchess a letter of introduction myself!
I could scarcely believe it! Such a glorious opportunity!
If this baroness defected, the results … why, they would be utterly extraordinary! If she were somehow accepted into the ranks of Granholtz’s nobility, she’d single-handedly cause more damage to their nation’s standing than any amount of jesters we sent to harass their embassy ever could!
My, to think I’d underestimated this baroness!
I assumed there were limits to ambition! But she managed to breach it so high that even dragons were craning their necks to see which peak she would vaunt over!
Such a noble purpose … I could not allow it to go to waste!
“I … I see,” I replied as my head spun to comprehend how this could work. “A lofty goal for one who doesn’t even own their own farm, true … but it might be possible.”
The baroness blinked, clearly not expecting my instant support.
“Excuse me?”
“Of course, you’d first need to raise your status. I suppose that’d begin by securing this worthless and decrepit farm. If you hire another handful of malcontents from the forests and the roads, then perhaps you’ll be able to defeat the mice which you clearly struggle with. It’s clear you don’t have enough cats. Have you considered acquiring more?”
The baroness’s smile twitched.
“You mock me,” she replied, her lips barely moving. “But I do not require your confidence. Only your anguish as you watch your entire kingdom fall around you.”
“No, no, no! You absolutely have my full confidence! But mine isn’t enough. You require more. You need status, wealth and fame. The nobility of Granholtz won’t accept a poverty-stricken baroness from the countryside into the vulnerable heart of their ranks. Especially one who clearly doesn’t have a whiff of class to her. They would spin you like a fowl on a stick. No, we shall have to plan this accordingly. For you to be accepted anywhere near the Grand Duchess’s tower, we must somehow convince all of Granholtz that you are not barely one rung from a commoner. A tall order. But achievable. Just.”
Finally, the smile faded.
Understandable, of course. The journey from a countryside baroness to an unwitting saboteur would be a long and arduous one. But with my help, anything was possible.
Sadly, her opinion appeared different. And so she turned her gaze to someone else for assistance.
There, within the shadows of a barn, a solitary figure rested against the wall.
The silhouette of a man, silent except for the emptied bottle falling to his feet.
The baroness gave a curt nod towards him.
“... I tire of this. A brief demonstration for the princess, if you would. To convince her of the gravity of her situation. And to invite her compliance. These two with her can be the first examples of the evening. Afterwards, you may immediately begin your task as detailed.”
The figure rolled his shoulder in answer, before slowly removing himself from the barn.
A moment later, his stubbled chin, dirtied waistcoat and tweed cap was revealed.
Amidst all the hoodlums present, here was one who fit the image so well it seemed he was dressed by the Royal Arc Theatre. As he shuffled beneath the moonlight, it was with the uncaring air of a lifelong pickpocket caught stealing for the 12th time in just one day.
The drunkard from the tavern looked up at me, his eyes lost amidst a haze.
And then he shrugged.
“I did warn you not to stick your hands in the flames.”
He massaged the back of his neck, all the while studying us at the table as if choosing the next bottle of Château de Riaré Hensoise to empty past his chin. Silence passed, interrupted only by the heels of hoodlums shuffling away.
A moment later … the man took in a shallow breath.
Clap.
A flash of darkness engulfed the moonlight.
But it had not come from him.
With a sudden urgency I had never known from her, Coppelia had stood up, her eyes wide and alert. She did not so much conjure her scythe as she did wrench it from the abyss.
Without preamble or hesitation, she raised it past her shoulders.
“[Moonlit Flutter].”
Her figure vanished, her stool blown into the face of a hoodlum who hadn’t applauded her finished house of cards. Warping the air, she flashed into existence above the slightly swaying drunkard.
Her scythe came down. The man never even looked at it.
Because the next moment–
“[Soulscape].”
A white light filled my eyes.
Somewhere, a house of cards collapsed. A baroness smiled. A tabby cat mewled.
And a tea party came to an end.
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The early deadline is May 22 for CBS EMBA Friday/Saturday – followed by the final deadline two weeks later on June 5. If you are just starting now – and especially if you still need to sort out your test score – do prioritize application quality over tossing something together to meet the earlier deadline. Otherwise, you are just accelerating the process of being dinged.
The EMBA program kind of operates like a PT program at CBS. There really isn’t any stated work experience minimum, which is UNIQUE. One of my clients got in at the age of 25 (he did have people management experience – however had just finished his online BA a month before applying!)
So, if you have the support of your employer, progression at work and a solid test score (or at least some evidence of quant skill) don’t let age or years of work experience keep you from applying.
APPLICATION TIPS
~Extracurricular activities~ – if this is a strength of yours, lucky you, they have 3 boxes for college and 3 boxes for post-college AND an unlimited text box to talk about your hobbies. This is unlimited for a reason – it’s more fun to be around people who are interested in a variety of different things. Rather than list your hobbies, also discuss how they have shaped you and why they are meaningful to you. If you have stuff to talk about here, this can be a game changer for overrepresented applicants.
~Short Answer Question~
~What is your immediate post-MBA professional goal? (50 characters maximum)~
Have a tight focus with regards to industry, role and geography. When you have those specifics down, you have enough information to take concrete actions that lead to a good outcome post-MBA. This is important as CBS is the only EMBA I know of that allows on-campus recruitment (OCR). They do look at your ROI equation and want you to feel it was worth it when you’re slogging through those loans or reflecting on the time spent.
~Essay 1~
Through your resume and recommendations, we have a clear sense of your professional path to date. What are your career goals over the next three to five years and what is your long-term dream job? (500 words)
The goals need to make sense given the program format. They do offer OCR – but last I checked, not summer internships so if you state IB, where you need an internship, this would be a bit of a red flag. Like other EMBA programs, the goal of progression within your same company or industry is ideal. Hopefully, what you learn at CBS you can “apply on Monday” and progress faster. Having an altruistic-oriented long-term goal is a bonus if it makes sense with the rest of your narrative.
~What they are looking for:~ does this person have the right background for their near-term goals? How logical does this person seem? Does this person have realistic expectations of the program? Can we help this person? If this person spoke about their goals to a recruiting company, would they reflect well on CBS or not? How good is the fit between their goals and what separates CBS – if we picked this person would they likely enroll (yield protect.) Clubs, OCR, block classes, NYC-based Executives in Residence, and a need for a NYC-based program are all good differentiators.
~Essay 2~
Please describe a professional situation where you faced a particular challenge. What was the outcome and what did you learn from the experience about your own strengths and personal development needs? (500 words maximum)
Replace the word “strengths” for “skills” and if it’s a work example, this question is very similar to the “behavioral” question for the Kellogg EMBA application and could likely be repurposed with some modification.
I would recommend that you first list all the problems that you have solved at work within the past 3 years. If you are coming up blank, think about how your activities have generated value at work. Then rank each in terms of the result achieved or importance of the problem solved.
You absolutely must coordinate with your recommender on which stories they will tell so you don’t repeat one of those here.
Now we get to the skills part. You might want to Google “list of managerial skills” to draw inspiration and further brainstorm. Conflict resolution, strategic thinking, adaptability etc.
Regarding execution, STAR or CAR for sure. STAR is situation/task/action/result, but I reframe this as problem/goal/action/result.
~Situation/Problem~: you want to pick something that is not massively technical; it can be conveyed in few enough words to leave room for parts that help them get to know you. Do not cover a whole project – the essay will sound like a white paper. Rather, pick a specific obstacle within that project or a certain aspect of it.
~Task~: the goal – which is basically the opposite of the problem. This is not a work project type task. Sometimes the task can be something like becoming a more active listener.
~Action~: this shows them how your mind works. Given the task (goal) what path did you pursue? You want to SHOW DON’T TELL and each strength needs some storytelling. It’s OK to focus on just 1 or 2 things. Deep not wide wins every time.
~Result~: it’s nice when you can quantify the result – by a lot – but anecdotal results are passable in a pinch. Don’t chuck out a story that shows passion and purpose because there is no dashboard of metrics attached. One example might be illustrating how you turned around a gossipy work environment and through this, everyone had better morale and therefore X good thing became possible or happened.
The pressure test here is that they come away with a sense of how you lead, what your role might be in your study group, what makes you “you” in the workplace, the kind of problems you are known for solving. Help them get to know you above all things. Speak plainly, directly and succinctly.
~Optional Essay~
Is there something else you feel would be helpful for the Admissions Committee to know? An optional third essay will allow you to discuss any topics that do not fall within the purview of the required essays. These might include, but are not limited to:
• Adverse circumstances in your background
• An exciting side venture in which you are working
• Areas of concern in your academic record
• Or just a fun fact!
This does not need to be a formal essay. You may submit bullet points. (500 words maximum)
Quite innovative - CBS has merged the getting-to-know-you book or movie essay with the optional essay. So, if you need to expand upon why your academic record is less than stellar, you can do that, but if not, it’s space to park almost anything else you haven’t included in the online application.
Expanding upon a leadership experience or passion project is great. Keep in mind they are looking for people who are what I call a social value-add – others enjoy the program more because of you. This is the only “personal” essay so I really urge you to use the opportunity.
Note: don’t avoid this essay because you think you are whining and making excuses for yourself. It’s a great opportunity to help adcom get to know you as a person, and the challenges that have shaped who you are. The more they understand you on a personal level the more they grow attached to you, campaign for you and the better your odds.
~Recommendation~
Take this seriously. For each question you want to have a claim – pointing to your USP – and then tell a detailed but accessible story to back up said claim. Recommendations are always important, but especially for EMBA because they want to know how others experience you (consider: you are the product they are selling to others). Also, it’s a way for CBS to gauge the kind of classroom contributions you would make. This is important for the EMBA where ideally students learn as much or more from each other as they do the professor.
Select your recommender based on the stories they can share – they are ideally an eyewitness to you solving problems, leading and being a strong team player. Prioritize this over title or status. Brainstorm with your recommender; coach and guide them. Choose a story together for each question. Have transparency over this part of the application. If they make statements that conflict with other parts of the application, you will be seen as too risky and likely be dinged.
~Common pitfalls~: recommender overly reliant on ChatGPT, pulls from review file without modifying, doesn’t answer the question squarely, doesn’t answer both the questions, doesn’t do any storytelling. Cramming and jamming a bunch of superficial stuff in there but nothing gets developed, the reader has no traction and so it has no impact. Uses industry jargon and acronyms, which prevents the reader from understanding anything. Use of conceptual superlatives and adjectives but nothing the reader can “see” or absorb.
Good luck to all!

Iruka : "This is the Third Hokage, it is said he had a superlative strength even compared to the other Hokage."
Nerd student : "Even the First Hokage?"
Iruka : "Yes."
Nerd student : "But wasn’t Hashirama considered as the strongest shinobi alive, the one who beat Madara Uchiha and caught the 9 tailed beast? "
Hiruzen : feels discomfort
Iruka : "ahem… don’t you remember that the Third Hokage mastered every jutsu that exist in the Leaf?"
Nerd student : "If so, then why when Kyuubi attacked the Leaf, the Third Hokage didn’t use the 2nd Hokage’s teleportation technique and relied himself to the 4th Hokage?"
Hiruzen : looks angry
Iruka : "How insolent and disrespectful are you…the…the Third Hokage mastered 1000 genjutsu alone!!!"
Nerd student : "But…how could he use the hidden clan techniques? Some of them require very specific condition like the expansion jutsu. "
Hiruzen : annoyed throat clearing
Iruka : "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! Si…Silent! Ok kids, it’s over for now, come back to class right now! Everyone will write 1000 times "The Third Hokage was the greatest Hokage of Konoha history, his unparalleled strength and wisdom made him the supreme shinobi".

Let’s pretend we are voting for the senior year superlatives in high school! How would you characterize the different people on the show?
Example, who do you think is best dressed, class clown, most likely to succeed, etc.
Feel free to also make up your own unique superlatives with a supernatural flair to them!
How would you vote? Let us know!

Hello Reddit. I (19F) have been having quite a difficult time tolerating this person I’ve known (19F). I consider her too sensitive. Like a huge baby, and it’s been slowly chipping at my sanity for the past 3 years of our damn-near intolerable friendship. I don’t know if it’s an extreme case of only child syndrome or whatever but I can’t even bring myself to care about a root cause anymore.
It’s nearing the end of classes, and so our instructor has decided to do something nice for the class. Some ideas like, giving our peers random awards or superlatives and whatnot. I expressed my excitement for this, and she was very adamant that it was a very very BAD idea. I was quite confused.
To note, our class is small. 30 people. We’ve all known each other for a long while, and I see no reason in being opposed to purely HAVING FUN.
I question her, and she responds: “Well, you need to understand that some people don’t like me the way that they like you, my name.” Oh, and that was the final straw for me. I should preface by saying I am typically a very lukewarm person- but my patience had simply thinned out.
I ended up being very very tired of this sort of attitude from her, and went on about how the world does not revolve around her, and that she is too sensitive, and that perhaps… people might not like her because she is such a negative nancy about EVERYTHING, and that it is utterly exhausting to be around her because of this.
Now, she ended up being so upset at me saying this she simply left the room. I do feel a bit bad, because it’s true… She’s not super well liked among our peers because she’s just plain strange, and so negative all the time. And so I’m left wondering: AITAH for not understanding her? Would it have been better for me to bite my tongue and nod ?

We all know the meme about letting the Rolex AD sleep with your wife in order to ascend to a higher position on the wait list. Well, I am here to tell you that it actually happens. You may wonder why I, Pisstank, am always writing dark stories about horological enthusiasm. The simple answer is that I am bitter, and writing about watch culture helps me to cope. Allow me to explain.
Ten years ago I was really hitting my stride in my professional career. I was earning well and had acquired much of the indicia of success (e.g., a nice house, a Porsche, a gorgeous wife, notoriety in my chosen field, etc…). It was at this time that I began to notice the really nice watches on the arms of my contemporaries. This awakening became painfully clear at a work lunch one particular day when I returned to the table after visiting the restroom to find my colleagues trying unsuccessfully to mute their snickering. I learned later from a friend that while I was away the entire table was making fun of me for wearing my beloved Seiko 5 Sports watch (everyone else wore Rolex, Patek, AP, and Hublot). I was aghast.
In my defense, I was born into a poor family of gun runners and human smugglers. When I had just turned 9 years old my entire family was viciously murdered by corrupt DEA agents. I escaped alive only because I happened to be across town at the time selling crank at a middle school.
After being orphaned, the state placed me with a foster family that would instill in me good, solid working class values. This is when my life turned around. In fact, this is what really saved my life. I learned the value of hard work and struggle. I worked to put myself through college without student loans, grants, scholarships, or help from anyone. I did the same to put myself through grad school. Once out of school and employed I worked my way up the ladder. It took time, a lot of time. But I managed to climb to the top and become very successful.
My contemporaries at the time were quite different from me. They were born into great wealth. They did not even HAVE to work. They only do so because it is the gentlemanly thing for people of their pedigree to do. I resented having to fit in with these fuckers. But corporate culture places a very high value on networking and contacts. You will lose out on many lucrative deals an opportunities to advance if you are not accepted into the elite group. So I played the game.
This is what was so horrifying about the lunch ordeal. Notwithstanding all my years of hard work and struggle, I almost fucked it up and lost EVERYTHING because I was still wearing that Goddamned Seiko 5! I was blinded by my damn middle class values. I had to act quickly and decisively or I would lose everything I had, and everything I had become.
The next day found me at a Rolex AD. Boy, did I get an education that day. I picked out a couple affordable pieces that appealed to me. The AD said he would be happy to sell them to me, but asked if I would be happier with something a little more desirable. God bless him, he could tell I was a virgin when it comes to Rolex culture.
Desperate to maintain my business and social stature, and near the point of an anxiety attack, I burst out in tears right there in the store. I started telling the salesman, Tango, about my situation. I could barely get any words out due to my blubbering and gasping for breath. Then a beautiful thing occurred. Tango placed his index finger on my lips and gently whispered “Shhhhhhhhh….”. The electricity that passed between us at that moment was exhilarating!
Tango took me into a back room at the Rolex store. Curiously, it consisted of only a queen size bed with rubber sheets and a trash can. I will leave what happens next to your imagination. It is not important. What IS important is thereafter Tango took me under his wing and taught me all about Rolexology, including culture, history, trends, and all the technical stuff. After Tango’s tutoring I was a bona fide Rolex Man.
Tango was brutally murdered shortly thereafter in a carjacking, so unfortunately he was unable to see the product of his work. I vowed to be the real deal from that point on in honor of Tango. Every time HBO or some other channel airs the film “Tango and Cash” I break down and weep uncontrollably.
Suffice it to say that going forward I was a pure Rolex Chad. Co-workers envied me. Subordinates wanted to be me. I would no longer be excluded from the elite because now I WAS THE ELITE. Getting MY approval was now required by those on the outside and trying to get inside.
Bunny and I were never in love. Personally, I could not stand the bitch. If she didn’t have a pussy and those good looks she would be worth nothing to anyone at all. The marriage was more of a business deal. Her well-to-do family told her she needed to get her shit together or she would be cut off from the family wealth. So she married a young up-and-comer. I married Bunny because she was from a well-connected family and it would open opportunities for me that I would not otherwise have as a single man.
Bunny could not give me a child. It turned out that she had been scraped so many times that she cannot even have kids. See, abortions leave scar tissue on the uterus. Usually it is no big deal. But after many procedures and you build up a shit ton of scaring. The egg cannot attach to scarred tissue. There is a surgery you can have to get rid of the scar tissue in order to increase the chances of pregnancy. But Bunny refused to have it. She said that such a surgery would label her a “whore”, and she would not have her station tarnished. We soon transitioned to an open marriage. Bunny had her lovers, and I had mine.
When the crypto boom came, and neckbearded yo-yos started making big money, the luxury watch market went mad. Prices surged. Inventories were restricted. It was a fucked up time. Long wait times were common. This drove me crazier than most anything else. I tried everything I could to advance on the wait lists and shorten my wait time (bribes, gifts, frequent visits, blow jobs, tickets to sporting events, etc…). It got to the point where I questioned my own importance.
Look, I owned several Rolex time pieces by this point. But I wanted more. Opulence must constantly be demonstrated in order to be revered. Power means nothing unless those around you KNOW of your power and envy it.
As I see it, with great power comes great responsibility. See, power causes envy. Envy is a primary motivating factor to drive an individual to strive for, and maybe obtain, great success. In order to facilitate envy, one’s power must be COMMUNICATED. We do this through opulence. In fact, for the good of the nation and humanity, powerful men have a DUTY to communicate their power so as to inspire others achieve. Most will fail, of course. But that is ok too because but-for peasantry we would not be gods among men.
It is against this backdrop that I sought out many luxury items, including time pieces. When it became difficult to obtain luxury watches, especially Rolex, I was incensed! Oh yes, it added to the whole exclusivity vibe that is part of Rolex culture. But more importantly, it prevented people like me from obtaining them. It also resulted in a bunch of booger-eating incels in crypto getting their dirty, sticky little hands on them. How pathetic! I resent this greatly. It cheapened the experience. This perhaps more than anything is going to destroy the culture of Rolex as a symbol of the personal success and power of a gentleman.
One day after a session of marriage counseling I took Bunny to a local Rolex AD. I was on their wait list for several pieces. I thought I would check in and buy Bunny some jewelry to build upon my purchase history. During our visit I noticed that the salesman, Chadwick Von Bangaho, was eyeing Bunny like a hungry wolf eyeing a raw steak. A light went on over my head!
I pulled Bunny aside and told her what was going on. It took very little convincing to get her to agree to fuck Chadwick. I then set it up with Chadwick. The son of a bitch would not guarantee me how many spots this would move me up on the list, only that “it would be taken into consideration when making inventory distribution decisions.”
So Chadwick took Bunny into the back room with the bed and banged her while I waited in the store. Thereafter we left together. About a week later Bunny tells me she would like to help me acquire my preferred time pieces and was willing to fuck Chadwick again … for ME. Truth be known, I don’t give a shit about bunny on any emotional level. I care about her as a prop in my life. Sure, she is a convenient lay. But I don’t love her. She is with me strictly to fulfill a certain role in my life that I play to my benefit. Essentially, she is like a Rolex on my wrist. So, yeah, I sold her pussy to the AD. Why the fuck not?
I continued to let Chadwick slay Bunny’s cooch for the next few weeks. Chad must have been hung like a horse because after he fucked Bunny it was like throwing a hot dog weenie down an empty hallway for me when I banged her. Finally, I got fed up with waiting and demanded to know when I was going to obtain my next preferred piece for all my effort. Chadwick told me that I definitely earned a bump up on the list for all the shit I bought from him, and that bartering Bunny’s ass to him was a smart move that got me higher on the list. Then shit got weird.
Chadwick told me that he had developed feelings for Bunny, and that Bunny felt the same way toward him. In fact, Bunny decided to leave me for Chadwick. He further explained that once he owned Bunny’s heart, the payoff to me stopped. I was infuriated!! I had been taking Bunny to this weasel for WEEKS!! Yet I only got credit for giving him my wife’s pussy TWO FUCKING TIMES!!!! Chad claimed that after the second fuck Bunny was HIS and that I was no longer the beneficiary!!
I flew into a rage and slapped Chadwick across his face. He then jumped over the counter and whipped my ass. Thereafter, the rest of the sales team beat me. Apparently, there is some sort of corporate culture at the AD that if you fuck with one of them, then you fuck with them all.
Right before I lost consciousness Chad said “You are off the list, Fucko!! Try to get in my store again and I will have you arrested!” After being unconscious for God knows how long, I awoke in an alley down the street. I hurt, bad. I also noticed that my butthole was sore and burning. I think those fuckers may have took me to the fuck room and raped me.
I made my way home with my tail between my legs. Upon entering my home I found there was a flurry of activity inside. Bunny was moving out and had an entire crew there to help her. “What the fuck is going on?!?”, I demanded. Bunny’s well-connected and powerful father suddenly appeared before me and punched me in the face. I lost consciousness again.
When I woke up my house had been ransacked. It looked like a disaster area. I decided I needed to get away and find some sanctuary. I needed some time to get my head together. So I threw a few personal things in a bag, including my Hulk, Kermit, and root beer GMT, and left.
I traveled to a vacation spot up in the hills that caters to the elite, called ‘Aristocrat Valley’. Inside the business office I managed to talk the clerk into renting me one of their luxury hillside chalets even though I had no reservation. When I attempted to pay with my credit card, the transaction was declined. I was mortified!! I tried another card, which was also declined. I assume this was Bunny’s doing. The bitch!!!
I was escorted out of the office by two large men, named “Killer” and “Meat”, who beat the shit out of me, literally, and left me bleeding and bruised in the parking lot. I crawled to my Porsche. But it would not crank up. I noticed that the fuel light was on. “Shit!”, I said. Out of gas and out of credit. Motherfucker!!
I traded my Kermit for a Toyota Camry and a tank of gas at a nearby store. The dude also required a blow job as a “convenience fee”. After he finished he beat the crap out of me and robbed me, taking my other Rolex pieces. It turned out that he had stolen the Camry. I became aware of this fact when I was pulled over later for a busted taillight. When the officer ran the tag number it came up as reported stolen during a BLM rally. The attending officer promptly beat the hell out of me and took me to jail.
I lost my job, my wife, my wealth, my social standing, and worst of all, my superlative time pieces. Today I manage an Arby’s in Birmingham, Alabama and I am married to an unemployed woman named ‘Heather Ray’. She was such a sweet, young, sexy thing when we first met at a meth sting operation. Who would have known that she would blow up to over 300lbs? Just more of her to love! She gave me my children: little Brandi Lee and her big brother, Chad Tom.
I tell this story not to scare anyone, but to educate. Is a shallow, social climbing ethos the best way to live? You are damned right it is!! Sure, I turned out to be a peasant. But that is ok because without people like me there would no winners for us to aspire to be. God bless us all, and God bless the United States of America.

Our band has a Awards concert where every band plays one song and they give out awards Such as for most improved player and they do speeches as well as showing baby pictures of the seniors and talking about their scholarships how much they got what college(s) They’ve been accepted to And what they plan to do after high school. They also do senior superlatives And they give every senior a plaque and a picture of their band class. The concert is usually about three hours long. Does your band do something like this?

hi everyone! i am a second year MOT student and my final semester with my cohort is wrapping up in two weeks. we like to do superlatives, and i was wondering which OT/school related superlatives yall have used in the past. we have 35 students, i’ve found about 10 so far, so im looking for around 25 more - meaning all submissions are welcome! we only have 1 male student btw, all other students identify as female. the plan is to give them out at a class picnic, but if some are deemed ~inappropriate~ we are also bar hopping that night and can be given out then without faculty nearby, so don’t hold back! 😂 TIA

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/DT6rlqm
Edit: price drops
Prices are shipped [CONUS ONLY]. Please Comment dibs first, then PM ME. Paypal FF ABSOLUTELY NO NOTES PLEASE. Can also do VENMO. I do not feel like parting out, I recently moved and dont have my work bench setup right now. Everything Is used with some salt, but absolutely functional. Optic glass is clean no scratches or gouges, aesthetically there is paint/scratches etc. All uppers have had rounds thru them, but not one exceeding more than 3-5k rounds. They will be dirty but otherwise are fully functional. Please feel free to ask questions. Uppers: .300 BO 10.5"- $550 $530 Shipped Rosco Bloodline 10.5" Barrel Vltor Mur Foliage green upper (No forward assist) PRI Gas Buster Ambi Charging handle Midwest combat rail 9.25" Liberty precision machine Eclipse Pin and weld flash hider Microbest Chromelined bcg Adj Gasblock .556 16"- $460 $440 Rosco Bloodline 16" barrel Keyhole Forge Upper Milspec Charging handle Cloud Defensive clear anodize hand-guard Microbest chromelined bcg Yhm extended flash hider Drew meyers Grip Stop .556 14.5" - $330 Rosco bloodline 14.5" Barrel Rosco GB and tube Forward Controls RHF 13.7" Hand-guard Milspec Charging handle A2 Flash hider Aero Upper .556 10.5"Piston - $490 $470 Pretty sure its an aero barrel 10.5" Superlative arms piston kit with bcg BCM MCMR 10.5" Hand-guard Q Cherry bomb muzzle Device BCM single latch charging handle OPTICS Aimpoint Duty RDS- $300 (salty, painted Serial # is K4970299) It is painted but fully functional, I have probably 2-3k rounds thru it. Never been dropped or ran in a class. Glass still looks great. EoTech Exps 2- $400 Serial A1812603 (salty, it has a wrap on it (i got it from someone in this subreddit) It has been used but not abused, probably 3-5k rounds thru it. Still works great, glass looks great. Never been dropped.

*fictional. It isn’t the official language from any of these countries.
Occigotian (endonym: Occorgțaķa or, in full, Ligaķe Occorgțaķa) is an Eastern Romance language of the Indo-European language family, originating in the Occigotian(West Ukraine) part of the Black Sea. It is the official language of Occigotia, Romania, Moldova, Mexico, The Philippines, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Ukraine, Turkey, Brazil, Peru, Chile, Canada and Georgia, while having co-official language status in Lebanon, United States(California,Illinois,Mississippi and Wyoming), China(Guangdong,Zhenjiang,Shanghai,Jiangsu,Hebei,Tianjin,Beijing and Fujian), India(West Bengal), Japan(Tokyo,Kanagawa-Ken, Okinawa and Hokkaido) and Bulgaria. Between Parenthesis means that more Occigotian live in that area.
Occigotian is a language spoken by 104 million people worldwide. The language was spread by the Occigotian Colonization. Between 1567-1646, Occigotian colonized 4 countries(Taiwan,Hong Kong,Macau and Phillipines) and 18 islands. Occigotian Diaspora that occurred between 1800-1945, where approximately 44,8 million people left Occigotia and neighboring occigotian-speaking countries and went to places such as Brazil, the United States,Canada,China,British Raj,Japan, Taiwan, Macau, Hong Kong, Mexico, Georgia, The Philippines, Chile and Peru. Currently, 70 million people speak Occigotian as their native language, 29 million as second language, and 5 million with intermediate or basic knowledge of the language.
—Alphabet—
The letters with asterisks are variants with diacritics: A /a/ Â* /ɑ/ À* /ɒ/ Á* /ɐ/ B /β/ C /c/ Ç/ç/ D /d/ Ḑ /ɟ/ E /e/ É/æ/ È /ɛ/ Ê* /ɜː/ F /ɸ/ G /g/ H /ʜ/ I /i/ Í* /iː/ Ì* /ɪ/ Î* /ɨ/ Ï* /i̤/ J /j/ Ĵ* /ʒ/ K /k/ Ķ* /k͡s/ Ḱ* /kʲ/ L /l/ M /m/ N /n/ Ń* /ŋ/ Ņ* /ɲ/ O /o/ Ó* /ɔ/ Ò* /ɔː/ Ô* /ø/ P /p/ Ṕ* /pʼ̤/ Q /q/ R / Ŗ* /𝼈/ S /s/ Ș* /ɕ/ T /t/ Ț* /ʦ/ U Û*/ʉ/ V /v/ X /ɣ/( Before H,Q,T and V, has /ks/ sound) Z /z/
— Digraphs — Lh /ʎ/ Sj /ʃ/ Rh /χ/ Th /θ/ Vh /β/ Cc /k͡ʃ/ Ph /pʰ/ — Trigraphs — Tsj /ʧ/ — Grammar —
In Occigotian grammar, nouns, adjectives, pronouns, and articles are moderately inflected: there are two genders (masculine and feminine) and two numbers (singular and plural). The case system of the ancestor language, Latin, has been lost, but personal pronouns are still declined with three main types of forms: subject, object of verb, and object of preposition. Most nouns and many adjectives can take diminutive or augmentative derivational suffixes, and most adjectives can take a so-called "superlative" derivational suffix. Adjectives usually follow their respective nouns. Verbs are highly inflected: there are three tenses (past, present, future), three moods (indicative, subjunctive, imperative), three aspects (perfective, imperfective, and progressive), three voices (active, passive, reflexive), and an inflected infinitive. Most perfect and imperfect tenses are synthetic, totaling 11 conjugational paradigms, while all progressive tenses and passive constructions are periphrastic. There is also an impersonal passive construction, with the agent replaced by an indefinite pronoun. Occigotian is generally an SVO language, although SOV syntax may occur with a few object pronouns, and word order is generally not as rigid as in English. It is a null subject language, with a tendency to drop object pronouns as well, in colloquial varieties. Like Spanish, it has two main copular verbs: sere and haxvare. It has a number of grammatical features that distinguish it from most other Romance languages, such as a synthetic pluperfect, a future subjunctive tense, the inflected infinitive, and a present perfect with an iterative sense.
Like most Indo-European languages, including English, Occigotian classifies most of its lexicon into four word classes: verbs, nouns, adjectives, and adverbs. These are "open" classes, in the sense that they readily accept new members, by coinage, borrowing, or compounding. Interjections form a smaller open class. There are also several small closed classes, such as pronouns, prepositions, articles, demonstratives, numerals, and conjunctions. A few grammatically peculiar words are difficult to categorize; these include fasû ("where is"—SAm., colloq.), mecrenuzeea("let's hope"), mecrenuzeeaman ("let's hope that"), and mà ("here is"). Within the four main classes there are many semi-regular mechanisms that can be used to derive new words from existing words, sometimes with change of class; for example, fatsje ("fast") → fatsjevoluțe ("very fast"), maḑire ("to measure") → mavairesanmo ("measurement"), ṕamgeŗņu(ķa)("pilot") → ṕamĵuŗve ("to pilot"). Finally, there are several phrase embedding mechanisms that allow arbitrarily complex phrases to behave like nouns, adjectives, or adverbs.
Following the general Indo-European pattern, the central element of almost any Occigotian clause is a verb, which may directly connect to one, two, or (rarely) three nouns (or noun-like phrases), called the subject, the object (more specifically, the direct object), and the complement (more specifically, the object complement or objective complement). The most frequent order of these elements in Occigotian is subject–verb–object (SVO, as in examples (1) and (2) below), or, when a complement is present, subject–verb–object-complement (SVOC — examples (3) and (4)): (1) {Ķa Mary}S {fuŗeveķa}V {ņu Paul}O, "Mary loves Paul." (2) {Ņu fasiņu}S {consxhiveélu}V {ķa merseden}O, "The mason has constructed the house." (3) {Ņu prunḑvel}S {namireélu}V ņu {Peter}O {ministre}C, "The president appointed Pedro (as) minister." (4) {Dal}S {fûńkredalu}V {ņu lupfe}O {úma baķxviț}C, "She found the book a bore." Any of the three noun elements may be omitted if it can be inferred from the context or from other syntactic clues; but many grammatical rules will still apply as if the omitted part were there. A clause will often contain a number of adverbs (or adverbial phrases) that modify the meaning of the verb; they may be inserted between the major components of the clause. Additional nouns can be connected to the verb by means of prepositions; the resulting prepositional phrases have an adverbial function. For example: Él caxhiaĵeiveélu {naj marțv} ķa maglvķa {farh dal} {daņu casjivétsji} {vaxta ķa farfthe}, "He carried {without delay} the bag {for her} {from the car} {to the door}."
Occigotian is a null subject language, meaning that it permits and sometimes mandates the omission of an explicit subject. In Occigotian, the grammatical person of the subject is generally reflected by the inflection of the verb. Sometimes, though an explicit subject is not necessary to form a grammatically correct sentence, one may be stated in order to emphasize its importance. Some sentences, however, do not allow a subject at all and in some other cases an explicit subject would sound awkward or unnatural: "I'm going home" can be translated either as (Ïxqe vaxta rhajme) or as (Lî ïxqe vaxta rhajme), where (Lî) means "I". "It's raining" is (haxvarea ķa ujve) in European Occigotian, or (haxvarea ujvento) in South American Occigotian, neither of which occurs with an explicit subject. Man ohuķazan serevo? "what time is it?" (literally "what hours are they?"). In European Occigotian, only in exceptional circumstances would "I'm going home; I'm going to watch TV" be translated as (Lî haxvarehî hinvento vaxta merseden;Lî haxvarehî hinvento axhve TV) ver televisão. At least the second eu ("I") would normally be omitted, if not both. Meanwhile, in South American Occigotian, the subject pronoun is more likely to be repeated. As in other null subject language with a SVO word order, the subject is often postponed, mostly in existential sentences, in answers to partial questions and in contrast structures: Akxhiveni mutsji ractsji ahê! ("There are many mice here!") — Verb akxhiveni, subject ractsji, complement ahê indicating place. Manse man sereéu? Sereîu lî. ("Who was it? It was me.") — Verb sereéu, subject lî. Dal ńe eareéu ķa kakme, maj eareu-ņu lî. (European Occigotian) or ...maj lî eareîu (Brazilian Occigotian) ("She didn't eat the cake, but I did.") — Subject Dal, negation ńe, verb eareéu, object ķa kakme; the complement divides itself into: adversative conjunction maj, verb eareu, object -ņu, subject lî.
Occigotian declarative sentences, as in many languages, are the least marked ones. Imperative sentences use the imperative mood for the second person. For other grammatical persons and for every negative imperative sentence, the subjunctive is used. Yes/no questions have the same structure as declarative sentences, and are marked only by a different tonal pattern (mostly a raised tone near the end of the sentence), represented by a question mark in writing. Wh-questions often start with Manse ("who"), ņu man ("what"), mahík ("which"), mońat ("where"), ķamońat ("where... to"), mansajgn ("when"), mac-là ("why"), etc. The interrogative pronouns manse, ņu man and mahík can be preceded by any preposition, but in this case ņu man will usually be reduced to man. Frequently in oral language, and occasionally in writing, these words are followed by the interrogative device sereét que (literally, "is [it] that"; compare French est-ce que in wh-questions). Wh-questions sometimes occur without wh-movement, that is, wh-words can remain in situ. In this case, ņu man and mac-lat are replaced by their stressed counterparts ņu man and mac-lat (South American Occigotian) or maclat (European Occigotian). For example: Ņu man/Man eareéu man dal akereéu? or Ņu man/man akereéu dal? "What did she do?" Dal akereéu ņu man? "What did she do?" or, if emphatic, "Dal akereéu ņu man?" Mac La? (South American Occigotian) / Maclá? (European Occigotian) "Ņu man?" En man dej akereéu man thûzi ajfekpeveéu? "On what day did that happen?" Thôman daj en man ajfekpeveéu? "On what day did that happen?" In South American Occigotian, the phrase (akereéu man) is more often omitted.
Ńe ("no") is the natural negative answer to yes/no questions. As in Latin, positive answers are usually made with the inflected verb of the question in the appropriate person and number. Occigotian is one of the few Romance languages keeping this Latin peculiarity. The adverbs xhâ ("already"), hacinka ("yet"), and ķuțumesc ("too", "also") are used when one of them appears in the question. Q: Tu gasjfaretuun daņu filme? A: gasjfareîu. / Ńe. Q: "Did you like the movie?" A: "Yes.", literally, "I liked." / "No." Q: Lî ńe havivreîu deińareîu heńat úm sjapfe? A: havivretuun! Q: "Didn't I leave a key here?" A: "Yes, you did!", literally, "[You] did." Q: Xhâ liaeretuun eșņu líabrio? A: Xhâ. / Iatze ńe. Q: "Have you already read this book?" A: "Yes", literally, "Already." / "Not yet." The word rhe("yes") may be used for a positive answer, but, if used alone, it may in certain cases sound unnatural or impolite. In South American Occigotian, rhe can be used after the verb for emphasis. In North American Occigotian, emphasis in answers is added with the duplication of the verb. In all versions of Occigotian, emphasis can also result from syntactical processes that are not restricted to answers, such as the addition of adverbs like moôt ("much") or moôtișimalle ("very much"). It is also acceptable, though sometimes formal, to use yes before the verb of the question, separated by a pause or, in writing, a comma. The use of rhe before the verb does not add emphasis, and may on the contrary be less assertive. Q: Gasjfaretuu țeņu filme? A: Gasjfareîu, rhe! Q: "Did you like the movie?" A:"Yes, I did!" Q: Gasjfaretuun țeņu filme? A: Gasjafareîu, gasjfareîu! Q: "Did you like the movie?" A:"I did, I did!" Q: Havivreél combosĵos ha eșķa çóre? A: Havivreél, havivreél! Q: "Are there any trains at this time?" A:"Yes, there are!" Q: Él gasjfareélu țeņu filme? A: Rhe, gasjfareélu... Q:"Did he like the movie?" A: "He did, yes..."
Occigotian has definite and indefinite articles, with different forms according to the gender and number of the noun to which they refer: singular plural meaning masculine feminine masculine feminine definite article ņu, Él ķa, Dal ņus, Éls dals the indefinite article úm úma úms úmas a, an; some The noun after the indefinite article may be elided, in which case the article is equivalent to English "one" (if singular) or "some" (if plural): uhanveî úm ķuțumesc ("I want one too"), uhanveî úms ķuțumesc ("I want some too").
Nouns are classified into two grammatical genders ("masculine" and "feminine") and are inflected for grammatical number (singular or plural). Adjectives and determiners (articles, demonstratives, possessives, and quantifiers) must be inflected to agree with the noun in gender and number. Many nouns can take diminutive or augmentative suffixes to express size, endearment, or deprecation. Occigotian does not inflect nouns to indicate their grammatical function or case, relying instead on the use of prepositions (simple and phrasal), on pleonastic objects, or on the context or word order. Personal pronouns, on the other hand, still maintain some vestiges of declension from the ancestor language, Latin.
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