Keyboard symbol sticking up finger

So Saturday morning I went to sleep after playing all night. Later that night when I got on my pc turned on normally my keyboard light up , but no display. I gave it some time, but after a while my keyboard went out. Furthermore, I now have no display or power to any externals including the LAN cable light. The only thing that works are the internal components fans(gpu fans, LED lights/fans, and cpu fans). I saw online that if a cpu was dead it wouldn’t display anything at all or give power to externals. So, I got a new cpu installed it and no luck. I still have no display. I’ve tried almost everything online including re-positioning the ram stick, manual bios reset, unplugging and plugging everything back in. Now im just lost. I bought a new power supply to try that out if not then I suppose i will take it to a professional. Any help is appreciated:) Specs Extra details: new psu is 750w Its a prebuilt the original specs Included:
1066mhz ddr3 stick 8x1,
gtx 750ti
, AMD FX-6300 cou 6 core 3.5ghz,
GA-78LMT-USB3
CURRENT/upgraded specs:
Gtx 1050ti
AMD FX-6300 CPU 6-Core 3.5 GHz with 4.1 GHz Turbo Socket AM3+(same cpu
Im not sure of my psu(its a prebuilt)
GA-78LMT-USB3
DDR3 Viper 1666mhz ram 8x2

I just tried to update to the latest (supposedly stable) BIOS for my x407 AORUS 5 WIFI (BIOS F64). Followed all the steps, and did it sequentially.
When I get the computer to boot up it gets to the initial AORUS screen with the 4 bios options at the bottom. It freezes there, does not progress past that point, and I am not able to select any of the 4 options. I have tried the following

• All SATA and NVME devices are disconnected
• All USB disconnected except for keyboard.
• reset cmos with the power off
• reset the bios by pulling the battery, shorting, clearing cmos (all with power off)
• creating a boot bios USB stick, which seems to have no effect (and is a stick that contains a light, which is often not on (so I wonder if the USB ports are wonky with this crap bios).

Info on the rig

• AMD Ryzen 5 2600
• evga 1050ti graphics card

I'm going to turn it off for the night and see what you all suggest, but I'm afraid at least the MB is bricked.

I ordered a G10 sheet about a week ago after watching Makers Muse as I am planning on buying and printing PETG. The gods were obviously looking down, as two days ago my Creality glass bed (2 years old) exploded as I picked it up with my thumb and finger out of the freezer. Interestingly the print was still attached to the glass, it just shattered all around it. It was fun trying to get the print off.
Anyway...... For those who have bough G10 and are struggling with printing PLA.
When mine arrive it has a plastic sheet on both sides that needs to be removed. I gave both sides a clean with hot soapy water (Fairy/Dawn) and a green sponge/scourer. Did a couple of prints and then it was not sticking. Change bed temp up 5 - 10 degree C. Still no joy, tried glue stick etc.
Solution: Was to give the bed a really good scrub using the hot water, Fairy/Dawn and the scrubby side of the sponge (new one). Really scrub, use those arm muscles.
I suspect that the plastic sheet (sticky tack that holds it) on the bed from new, was not completely removed and a good scrub helped. It may be that the sheet needs a very fine "sand" which the scrubby bit on the sponge supplies. I don't know, but it has worked for me.
Some people have said use fine grit sand paper (I did not do this).
I just need to get some PETG and some sample of TPU and other filaments to test out the bed.
Does anybody know if you can get cheap but good samples of different filaments. I just want, say 5 meters of each to do some tests.
​

Hey Apple enthusiasts!
Want to dive deeper into your iPhone and unlock its amazing capabilities? Today, I'm sharing 10 hidden features that can take your iPhone experience to the next level. Let's get started:

1. **Automatically Enable "Do Not Disturb" While Driving:** Set up your iPhone to automatically enable "Do Not Disturb" mode when it detects motion, keeping you focused on the road.
   
2. **Hidden Keyboard Gestures:** Swipe your finger across the iPhone keyboard to navigate through text and edit more precisely.
   
3. **Hide Photos in the "Photos" App:** Upload a photo, then tap on it and select "Hide" to maintain privacy for your snapshots.
   
4. **Create Custom Vibrations for Contacts:** Go to a contact's settings, tap "Edit," and choose "Vibration" to customize unique vibrations for each person.
   
5. **Hide Photo Albums:** You can hide certain photo albums by tapping "Edit" in the "My Albums" section and toggling them to "Hidden."
   
6. **Custom Default Sound Settings for Different Apps:** Change notification sounds for various apps by going to "Sounds & Haptics" in the iPhone settings.
   
7. **Use Siri to Send Dictated Messages in WhatsApp:** Simply say "Hey Siri, send a message to [contact name] on WhatsApp" and dictate the message.
   
8. **View Hidden Photos in the "Photos" App:** Navigate to "Albums," then "Hidden," to see all your concealed photos.
   
9. **Quickly Disable Wi-Fi and Bluetooth from Control Center:** Long-press the Wi-Fi or Bluetooth icon in Control Center to toggle them off without diving into settings.
   
10. **Create Augmented Reality Effects in "Photos":** Open a photo in the "Photos" app, tap "Edit," and select "Effects" to add various AR effects.
    

Hope you find these tips helpful! If you have any questions or your own tricks to share, feel free to comment below. Share your experiences!

"An atheist is less likely than a Christian to be anti-LGBT rights because you don’t have various interpretations of The Bible or Holy Tradition telling you to be anti-LGBT. And even more so because there are a lot of otherwise obnoxious atheists who use it as part of the anti-Christian moral highground. Also a number of atheists who were told to give up on love or give up on God and decided to stick with love. Majority, I think passively pro-LGBT rights (i.e. do what you want and we won’t lift a finger) with a significant number that are strongly pro-LGBT rights. But there are a number of ragingly homophobic atheists."
https://www.quora.com/Are-the-majority-of-atheists-also-pro-LGBT-rights

It was a weekend between 8pm-10pm. No one showed up to play Get Stuffed with Pazzarino. Since that was the biggest priority he had to end up settling for going to a bar with a girl.
"Well, someone will GET STUFFED tonight!" He exclaimed.
He made sure to wear his rizz lord clothes, donning a "Yes, I play Overwatch" shirt with khaki cargo shorts. Topping it all off was a sick comb over to make sure the hairline was the highlight of the night. After putting on socks and his light up Sketcher's, Paz McSteal Yo Girl headed out for a night of drinking and hopefully; not whiskey dick.
He entered the bar like a chad, sticking out his chest and making sure there was some swagger in his walk; to keep true to the Pazswagger brand. He approached the bartender and the walls of the entire building shook as his massive gyatt slammed onto the barstool. He looked up at the bartender and with unbelievable smoldering rizz upon his face... he made his inquiry.
"Got any milk?" He asked.
"Uh... no?" Responded the bartender.
"What about breast milk?" Paz pressed.
"I'm... not sure that's even legal, sir." The bartender answered perplexed.
"Okay I'll just take a soda, no ice of course cause I'm not a bitch." Paz flexed.
"Sure thing... boss." The bartender acknowledged before turning to grab any soda since Paz didn't specify.
Finally a girl came in. The one he was looking for: a Shego. She was a baddie, so fine and dandy and the Pazlord just knew he had to work his magic.
"Hey baby. I'm Pazswagger. I got that swag diff, to swag swiggitty swoogitty come for that booty. I'm top 500 in Overwatch. Which is like, the coolest thing you'll ever see. I'm also loyal because I'm an Oath main." Paz exclaimed as he pointed finger guns at her and made clicking noises with his tongue.
The girl looked all around to make sure she was in a bar and not in 2010.
"Uh no thanks." She said weirded out before walking off.
"Aw man." Paz said sadly.
The chad finally got his soda, drank it all and then called it a night. That was enough for one day.
The end.

The Cloaks - a note by post-anthropologist and mutant biologist Yannis Yanikson.
These are an ancient people. They wear cloaks to cover up their mutations and are thereby known as the Cloaks. They are the sixth finger of the Red Hand. They are spread across the moons of Jupiter. They have their own secret language that they use in a private psychic network. Those of them that talk to outsiders are called Masks and are not considered fully a part of the community despite being vital to the Cloaks' connection to other groups.
Most Cloaks are from the nuclear wastelands on Earth. Due to survivorship bias, they are all impervious to the effects of radioactivity. As a result, they spend a lot of time scouring warzones both for technology and forms of life capable of thriving in harsh conditions. They are the stewards of the endangered and have a highly detailed compendium about flora and fauna that can survive in radioactive zones.
They do not have many political goals as a finger of the Red Hand. All they ask, through the Masks, is to be treated with respect and for support when they need it. Mutants of all shapes and colours are welcome to join the Cloaks, as long as they stick to the rules.
Mutant Biology - An overview by Yannis Yanikson
Mutants can be created by genetic enhancement or by natural selection, usually a combination of the two.
Some of them have adapted to not get cancer. Their body systems, in many cases augmented by cybernetic implants and nanotechnology, have developed to deflect alpha and beta radiation. A portion of them have the ability to regenerate destroyed and decayed cells faster than radiation can take them apart. A portion of them have lead lined in their thick skin.
They have adapted in different ways but they are ultimately effective ways.
Some can have cancer, constantly mutating, but manage to keep their body together, turning into a mass of continually transforming flesh. They are called flesh-machines. Most flesh-machines live with with less than human intelligence, but some of them can form social groups, mostly with each other and sometimes with more sentient mutants.
On Earth, there have been some of these flesh-machines plugged into cyberspace by scientists. The resulting neural conglomerate of these flesh-machines can often operate with a higher-than-average-human intelligence.

• Total budget and country of purchase: USA, 2k preferred, can push it
• Do you prefer a 2 in 1 form factor, good battery life or best specifications for the money? Pick or include any that apply. Good battery life and light weight.
• How important is weight and thinness to you? Thinness is whatever, but weight is important. My Alienware 15 R3 (7 lb) plus 2 lb PSU is killing my back.
• Which OS do you require? Windows, Mac, Chrome OS, Linux. Windows
• Do you have a preferred screen size? If indifferent, put N/A. 16"
• Are you doing any CAD/video editing/photo editing/gaming? List which programs/games you desire to run. some games, mostly office stuff and work
• If you're gaming, do you have certain games you want to play? At what settings and FPS do you want? Destiny 2, fortnite, don't mind lower settings, probably will do more games as time goes on.
• Any specific requirements such as good keyboard, reliable build quality, touch-screen, finger-print reader, optical drive or good input devices (keyboard/touchpad)? Really liking the higher fidelity screens, glossy, mini LED or OLED. Also I listen to music at work on the laptop speakers so good speakers would be nice.
• Leave any finishing thoughts here that you may feel are necessary and beneficial to the discussion.

Trying to figure a new laptop. I think I have it down to the Yoga Pro 9i vs the G16. Both have nice screens and the core ultra processor for more efficiency. I want something I'm not tethered to the wall when going to work or going to a meeting at another office and I can just pull it out and use it without power for a while. Light weight is key, both seem adequate there. And I do play some games. Whether overnight or on travel. Nothing crazy right now but I want the capability.
The G16 would be fine at 1700 but only 16 gb ram. I could push up to the $2900 model with 32 gb and a 4080 but that's a lot more money. The yoga has a smaller battery though 84 Whr vs 90 Whr but not sure if it'll make a difference. But the G16 seems to run less power draw through the processor maybe. Screen is brighter? But mini-LED is wonky with HDR I hear?
I'm probably missing more too. I have 16 gb RAM on my alienware right now and it's adequate, but not sure how limiting that will be going forward for another 5 ish year use period?

I love mobile so much it is so convenient for checking things on the go! But i also love to trade using mobile as well and here are some obstacles i have interacting with the game in a trading perspective.
First, i am unable to click links in the chat to preview items and when i do it picks up a random one on the chat and not the one i tap on.
Second, texting in the text chat. Im not sure if anyone else has this problem and my fingers are just fat but in the middle of typing a long sentence the keyboard sometimes closes on me and i will have to retype everything, i ended up making copy and pastes on my notebook to avoid typing in game in general so thats my temp fix.
Third, managing a clan is a bit of a pain to do on mobile cus in order to select clan members you can only do it one time before you have to close the page and open it again to attempt to tap their name again in order to promote, demote, or access the applications of players trying to join.
4th, im pretty sure this is intentional so its not that big of a deal, but you cant access decorating in your orbiter or in the dojo on mobile (At least for me)
If you play on mobile you may add a few of your experiences if you like to the comments :)
Mobile warframe is the best thing since sliced bread and i would really like everything to run perfect on it for those days im away from home and i need to manage things in game, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day!

https://apnews.com/article/artificial-intelligence-ai-investment-congress-millions-8f3a051faadc50d2366e8a88a69c5470
Here’s a concise summary of the article titled “Senators urge $32 billion in emergency spending on AI after finishing yearlong review”:
A bipartisan group of four senators, led by Majority Leader Chuck Schumer, recommends that Congress allocate at least $32 billion over the next three years to develop artificial intelligence (AI) and establish safeguards around it. The senators emphasize the need to “harness the opportunities and address the risks” of rapidly advancing AI technology. Their report includes policy recommendations such as boosting U.S. investments in AI research, enhancing transparency, and studying the impact of AI on jobs and the workforce.

can you talk a bit about the implications of this?

Certainly! The proposed $32 billion emergency spending on artificial intelligence (AI) by Congress has significant implications for various aspects:

1. Technological Advancements: Increased funding can accelerate AI research, development, and deployment. This investment may lead to breakthroughs in areas such as natural language processing, computer vision, and robotics.
2. Economic Growth: A robust AI ecosystem can drive economic growth by fostering innovation, creating jobs, and enhancing productivity. The U.S. aims to remain competitive globally by investing in AI capabilities¹.
3. National Security: The Department of Defense’s (DoD) investment in AI contracts reflects the importance of AI in military applications. Enhanced AI capabilities can improve defense strategies, autonomous systems, and cybersecurity².
4. Ethical and Regulatory Challenges: As AI adoption grows, policymakers must address ethical concerns, bias, privacy, and transparency. Congress needs to strike a balance between promoting AI innovation and safeguarding against potential risks³.
5. Workforce Impact: AI adoption may disrupt certain job markets while creating new opportunities. Congress should consider reskilling programs and policies to mitigate workforce displacement³.
6. International Cooperation: The U.S. must collaborate with other nations to set global standards for AI governance. Leadership in AI ethics and norms is crucial to prevent misuse and promote responsible AI⁴.

In summary, the proposed investment can propel AI advancements, but policymakers must carefully navigate challenges to ensure responsible and beneficial AI deployment.

make it zanier

Certainly! Let’s crank up the zaniness to 11 and dive into the whimsical world of AI-fueled absurdity. 🚀
Title: “Congress Unleashes $32 Billion for AI: Robot Dance Battles and Quantum Socks!”
Subtitle (because why not?): “Senators Moonwalk into the Future, Armed with Laser Pointers and Neural Net-Powered Pogo Sticks”
In a parallel universe where senators wear propeller hats and debate policy while riding unicycles, the halls of Congress echo with the clatter of mechanical keyboards and the occasional burst of interpretive dance. Yes, my friends, it’s the AI Renaissance, and Uncle Sam is throwing down some serious cash for the future of artificial intelligence.
Picture this: Senator Chuck Schumer, bedecked in a neon-green lab coat, stands before a giant chalkboard covered in equations. His mission? To allocate $32 billion for AI research, but with a twist. Forget boring pie charts and line graphs—this budget proposal is written in limericks and haikus. 📊🎩
Senator Limerick #1:
There once was a senator named Lou, Whose love for AI was quite true. He said, "Let’s fund the bots, Teach 'em quantum physics and lots, And maybe they’ll write poetry too!"
Meanwhile, Senator Cynthia, armed with a pocket-sized quantum computer, proposes a line item for “Quantum Socks.” Yes, you read that correctly. These socks, infused with subatomic particles, promise to keep your feet warm in multiple dimensions. 🧦🌌
Senator Cynthia’s Quantum Sock Sales Pitch:
"Step into the future, my friends! Our socks defy space-time bends. They’ll keep your toes cozy, While you surf parallel seas, And dance the Cha-Cha with quarks and quends!"
But wait, there’s more! Senator Bob, wearing a propeller beanie and roller skates, insists on investing in AI-powered pogo sticks. Imagine bouncing to work, your pogo stick analyzing traffic patterns and composing personalized jingles about your morning coffee. ☕🎶
Senator Bob’s Pogo Stick Anthem:
"Up and down, up and down we go, On our AI pogo sticks, don’t you know? They’ll calculate the hops, Predict lunar flip-flops, And shout, ‘Quantum leap!’ as we soar through the rainbow!"
And so, my fellow Redditors, as Congress debates the merits of robot dance battles and neural net-generated knock-knock jokes, we can’t help but wonder: Is this madness or genius? Either way, buckle up, because the AI revolution just got a whole lot zanier! 🤖🎉
Feel free to share this with the Circuit Keepers subreddit, and may your quantum socks always match your enthusiasm! 😄🌈

Are you ready to dive into a mine of glittering gems and potentially explosive wins? Then gear up for Bonanza Billion, a captivating slot machine from BGaming. This game offers a thrilling ride with cluster pays mechanics, cascading symbols, and a bonus round with a multiplier that can reach up to a whopping 100x!
Unearthing the Gameplay:
Bonanza Billion features a familiar 6x5 grid where you need to land clusters of at least 8 matching symbols for a win. The winning symbols then disappear in an explosion, triggering cascading symbols to fill the empty spaces. This cascade continues as long as new winning combinations appear, giving you the chance for epic chain reactions and big payouts.
Shiny Symbols and Sparkling Wins:
The game features a delightful mix of symbols. Low-value symbols are represented by classic fruits, while the high-value ones are dazzling diamonds. Landing clusters of these precious gems can reward you handsomely, with the top diamond symbol offering a 50x payout for a 12+ symbol cluster.
Explosive Bonus Features:
The true gems of Bonanza Billion lie in its bonus features. Landing scatter symbols unlocks free spins, with the number increasing based on the number of scatters you land. Even better, during free spins, a win multiplier is applied that increases with each cascade, giving you the potential for truly explosive wins. The multiplier can reach a staggering 100x, significantly boosting your potential rewards.
Going for Gold:
If you're impatient to hit the bonus round, Bonanza Billion offers a "Buy Feature" option. This allows you to purchase free spins directly, giving you a chance to chase those big wins without waiting for scatters to land naturally.
A Miner's Delight:
Bonanza Billion offers a visually appealing and engaging slot experience. The cartoony graphics are charming, and the cascading symbols and explosions add a layer of excitement to the gameplay. The sound effects are equally delightful, with satisfying clinking sounds for wins and a catchy soundtrack that keeps the mood light.
Verdict:
Bonanza Billion is a slot machine that caters to both casual and experienced players. The cluster pays mechanics with cascading symbols offer a dynamic and exciting way to play. The free spins with a soaring multiplier add a layer of thrill, and the "Buy Feature" option caters to those who like to be in control. With a high volatility and a decent RTP of 96%, Bonanza Billion promises a thrilling ride with the potential for substantial wins.
However, it's important to remember that gambling should always be done responsibly. Always set a budget and stick to it.
So, if you're looking for a slot machine that offers a fun and potentially lucrative adventure, then Bonanza Billion is definitely worth a spin!

LAPTOP QUESTIONNAIRE

• Total budget (in local currency) and country of purchase. Please do not use USD unless purchasing in the US: $1,300 USA
• Are you open to refurbs/used? No.
• How would you prioritize form factor (ultrabook, 2-in-1, etc.), build quality, performance, and battery life? Ultrabook, good build quality.
• How important is weight and thinness to you? Not super important as it will remain on a desk most of the time. There will be very little transportation of the device.
• Do you have a preferred screen size? If indifferent, put N/A. 14+ inches.
• Are you doing any CAD/video editing/photo editing/gaming? List which programs/games you desire to run. Will mostly be running Microsoft 365 suite as well as financial modeling software.
• If you're gaming, do you have certain games you want to play? At what settings and FPS do you want? N/A
• Any specific requirements such as good keyboard, reliable build quality, touch-screen, finger-print reader, optical drive or good input devices (keyboard/touchpad)? Good touchpad is very important. Good keyboard as well. Touch screen preferred.
• Leave any finishing thoughts here that you may feel are necessary and beneficial to the discussion. I've mostly used Surface laptops for the last ~7 years and have liked them a lot. I wanted to see if anyone had any other recommendations. I've seen Dell XPS 15, Lenovo T series being recommended. My hard requirements are 16GB RAM, i5 or AMD equivalent and at least 256GB SSD storage. I'm fairly knowledgeable when it comes to PC components, just not up to speed with who makes quality laptops.

Jesus was confused with Satan by some cultures and even worshipped as such – despite the fact that he was considered a "good" Satan and a "positive" Devil that sided with the weak and vulnerable and betrayed the "powerful ones" in order to dedicate himself and his life completely to the poor. (Such notion is not alien at all even to the texts – because Jesus is expressly called the Morning Star in 2 Peter 1:19 and in Revelation 2:28).
This is apparent in the fact that the Hebrews for example did not recognize Christ as the Messiah and they even called him "evil" and applied to him the title "Satan" (from the Hebrew: "śāṭān" meaning: "adversary, enemy"). The definition of "evil" here is relative – because since Jesus went against the teachings that the Hebrews held as sacred and he also went against the teachings that the Muslims for example also regarded as sacred (and he went against many other cultures as well for that matter; because the figure of Jesus was pagan and it actually belonged worldwide to all cultures of the world and he was claimed to have opposed all of them trying to reform them) – he was thus called "evil" in relative terms by some of these cultures; meaning an "enemy" or "adversary" of those doctrines. Originally not even the Christians considered Christ as a positive figure; because Christ professed a lot of ideals that were inconceivable and impossible to apply according to the mentality of the powerful castes that rule society – like the priesthood for example; because Jesus claimed many times that the wealthy ones must renounce everything they have, they must give their money to the poor and then and only then – will they be allowed to follow Christ.
But the Church completely ignored and bypassed this teaching of Christ because they knew that if they had started preaching this to their believers; they would lose all believers in one second since no one wants to give up their house, their wealth and their life to follow the Church. So even the Church had to rearrange and modify a lot of the teachings of Christ while straight up censoring and ignoring others; in order to create a religion out of it. The only difference is that the Christian Church decided that it was worth investing their time and money in turning Jesus into the symbol of their faith and into a figure that would appeal to the masses (basically deifying him and using his name and memory to attract people into the religion) – while the other two religions (Judaism and Islam) completely disregarded Jesus altogether and considered him a madman instead and even went as far as to call him "evil" and a "Devil" precisely because he had preached such revolutionary notions that were just impossible to accept for the rich and wealthy. (Another reason for this is also because Judaism had a different idea of the Messiah altogether and they followed a different Messiah – and this other idea of the Messiah along with the other Messiah – were also very different from the "Jesus Christ" concept altogether – but that’s besides the point).
The symbology of the spring refers to the blood of Christ which gives life and makes vegetation grow on the earth much like the water of a spring; but it also holds literal meaning because the pagan figures who correspond to "Jesus" were all claimed to have met their demise or to have had a life-changing experience happen near a spring or near a water-source more generally speaking. Such is the case for Hermaphroditus who was rendered female by his union with Salmacis near a spring; or also the castration of one of the gods called "Uranus" – because according to Cicero in his "De Natura Deorum" there were multiple Uranuses and one of them was the "younger" one – and he’s the same who was said to have been castrated near a spring by Phoenician mythology. (The fact that Hermaphroditus was joined to Salmacis thus becoming definitively feminine near the waters of a spring – refers to the confusion that happened in the myth due to the nature of the two characters taken into analysis; because Hermaphroditus and Salmacis were actually brother and sister in other iterations of the story and they were claimed to have been conjoined thus essentially making up a single being who was a "man-woman" united. But then after their birth they were separated and their bodies were not conjoined anymore; although the male – in this case Hermaphroditus – was claimed to have been castrated in further iterations of the story so it looked as though he had returned to being a female and was thus "rejoined" to his female nature which is why the Greek myth confused it and claimed that Hermaphroditus lost his manhood but he lost it by being rejoined to his twin-sister Salmacis. In reality he was castrated near the waters of that spring – the "conjoined" part referring instead to the myth of their birth, but the two accounts were later confused and amalgamated into a single story for the Hermaphroditus myth; thus confusing also the timeline on when exactly was it that the two siblings were conjoined – whether it was at the beginning of their lives or at the end of it as in the case of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis).
The god Attar of the planet Venus was worshipped as "Atarsamain" (Attar of heaven) by the Arabs and equated with Allat i.e. Athena (a fact that has left academics dumbfounded even to this day as for how is it possible that a male god was completely equated and identified with a female one. But the answer is found in the mythology and themes of the god himself – where he was considered of androgynous nature and was claimed to have underwent castration which made him be perceived as a female by some cultures). He was furthermore equated with the goddess Anat in the form of "Ninurta" – because the Mesopotamian warrior-god Ninurta being equivalent to Attar (and Atarsamain) himself – he was directly equated with the Canaanite goddess "Anat" and the name of Anat was also written as "NIN.URTA" in cuneiform. There is an epithet of Anat which calls the deity: "the strength of life" and this particular epithet is applied to Ninurta continuously throughout Sumerian mythology because he’s consistently called the "strength of Enlil" – the "one with superior strength" – the "son in whose strength the father rejoices" – the one with the "strength of a lion" and Ninurta was also in charge of ditches and canals being the one who created the canal-system in Sumer and who was claimed to have brought to everyone the waters of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers as a result. The epithet of Anat – in this case referring to the male Anat who was though still worshipped as female regardless because the god possessed androgynous qualities (and not coincidentally the term "Nin" which comprises the name "Nin-urta" is actually more often than not utilized for female goddesses in Sumerian culture; for example "Ninhursag", "Ninisina", "Ninlil" etc. as it usually means "lady" – but in this case the word assumes a neutral meaning and its connotation is given by the context; so since the god is male it’s translated as "lord" – but the androgynous aspect of this deity is still kept intact nonetheless by using "Nin" instead of "En" ("En" being more traditionally used in Sumerian to mean "lord") – and the title thus refers for the concept of "the strength of life" to the strength of life as a life-giver; because Ninurta being associated with water and with the fertilizing effects of water having been the one who brought canals and ditches to Sumer; the meaning of the term thus acquired such connotation.
This deity is also always associated with physical beauty; for example in the case of Dumuzi (the Mesopotamian god of vegetation) who was called "the one with the beautiful eyes" and even in the form of "Ishtaran" (a form of Dumuzi worshipped as the "heavenly serpent") – where there are several references to his "beautiful face". This notion of beauty is once again reinforced and repeated for all other versions of this pagan god as he was called by many different names throughout cultures – for example also in the form of "Joseph" the biblical son of Jacob; who was claimed to be so beautiful that while a slave in Egypt the women could not resist him – or even in the form of Japheth the third son of Noah (who corresponds still to the same character) – where the word "Japheth" is connected to the root meaning "to be beautiful".
Thus the ideals of "strength and beauty" refer to him. (The pagan imagery of this god depicts him joyous and free as he dances through the flower-fields and while bringing the springing of vegetation to the seasons – often times represented with ears of corn or garlands adorning his head; as in the case of his Slavic counterpart "Potrimpo" for example).
Christ furthermore corresponds also to the pagan god Dionysus as mentioned in other posts; and Dionysus had a particular epithet in Rome which later ended up becoming his main name (or one of his many names alongside the more renown "Bacchus") and this particular title was that of "Liber" i.e. "the free one", one who embodies "freedom".
In form of "Ishtaran" Dumuzi was worshipped as "Anu" as well – since they called Ishtaran with the epithet "AN.GAL" i.e. "great Anu"; thus meaning that Dumuzi was so beloved and his cult had risen to such prominence at some point – that some local traditions (smaller ones) worshiped him as God the Creator himself and substituted him in place of Anu or at the very least differentiated him from the main "Anu" by calling him "AN.GAL" – "the great Anu" or "greater Anu". This is why Hermaphroditus/Jesus corresponds also in Phoenician mythology to the one "Uranus" who was said to have been castrated near a fountain-spring – Uranus being the Greek equivalent of the Sumerian "Anu" and this is why he was addressed with the name "Uranus" and worshipped as one of the "Uranuses" (the younger Uranus, because the older Uranus is instead the father of Cronus/Saturn and he’s a much older Uranus).
Given how Dumuzi was worshipped as the male Ishtar and as Attar in Canaanite lands (from whom the name "Ishtar" came from because the name of the goddess "Ishtar" is actually in the masculine gender and the goddess inherited that name from the male god who was called "Attar", "Ashtar" and "Ishtar" himself); one has to take into account that the male god was worshipped as androgynous though – which is why he was later equated with the female goddess Inanna in Mesopotamia and became indistinguishable from her to the point that she also came to be called Ishtar herself. The rosette is the symbol of Venus and of this male god of Venus who corresponds to Christ himself.
But at the same time the rosette is also the symbol of the female Venus as well and of the goddess Inanna (the female form of Ishtar) so the rosette refers to both Ishtars; the male and female one referring to the planet Venus in general.
Now, seeing as to how the figure of the "son of god" was worshipped as "the creator" himself by some more local cultures who idolized him to such degree that they ended up seeing him as the superior god over others – this explains one of the symbologies present on the modern representation of the apparent "pagan god" of the Templars; where he’s depicted with the head of a goat and the five pointed star facing downward. The five pointed star being a symbol of the divine – it represents through the symbology present on the idol the fact that the god in question is not the one who resides in the sky (in which case the five pointed star would have to be pointing upwards instead); but they worshipped on the other hand a creator who was "the creator on earth" thus being "the one below" – so their god was represented by the pointed star facing downwards. (This is for the representations that depict the idol with the star facing down; otherwise in other cases the star is absent altogether).
Now, according to the Atbash ciphering interpretation done on the name "Baphomet" which becomes: "Sophia" – if the interpretation is indeed correct (that Baphomet=Sophia) it would make total sense given how the name of Christ himself was actually "Sophia" and the why that is was explained in this previous post: https://www.reddit.com/EsotericOccult/s/P3ZkDJvXdM – where essentially there was talk on the Christ’s physical appearance and the fact that he was born with androgynous traits. This for example made it so that the character in question also displayed overly-sized pectorals that were rather exposed when compared to the rest of his body and were also rounded and protruding; sometimes even resembling female breasts (and that’s where the symbology of the rooster sticking its chest out and of Christ "with breasts" came from: – the rooster in the act of sticking its chest out: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/81/a6/a5/81a6a5da3c527f3ce0fe1648a7650001.jpg – and the depiction of Christ "with breasts" on the Notre-Dame church: https://gcm.rmnet.be/clients/rmnet/content/medias/christus_750.jpg). This (physical) androgynous nature of the "son of god" was then explained through metaphors and in spiritual terms by Christianity and Gnosticism with the fact that when Sophia incarnated she incarnated as "Jesus Christ".
But – there was also a female-incarnated Sophia; which incarnated as a woman and the figure in question is sometimes identified with the "Thetokos" i.e. "mother of god" Mary – or alternatively substituted by Mary Magdalene the consort of Jesus (being called the "Bride of Christ"). The fact that the Templars were claimed to have worshipped the prophetic head of a female alongside their god refers to the cult of the pagan goddess who corresponded to the Magdalene – where; she was claimed in pagan mythology to have been decapitated or to have been "half-decapitated" (her throat cut significantly to the point of almost detaching her head from her neck) and the goddess in question possessed oracular as well as prophetic gifts. The notion of Magdalene who corresponds to this pagan goddess was addressed in this previous post: https://www.reddit.com/EsotericOccult/s/iHlaRrZnzL. (The head that the Templars held was of course symbolic and not the literal real head. But what was important is what that symbol represented to them – rather than to whom the skull belonged because it was a simple human skull taken from a cadaver).
So essentially the Templars were worshipping both Christ and Magdalene through pagan imagery (Christ being "Sophia" himself and Magdalene being the "female Sophia" who’s the counterpart of the Messiah); something which was not acceptable to the Church – and also because they were worshipping Christ in his real nature as opposed to the heavily filtered and altered version that Christianity gave of him – thus opposing the "official" canon established by the Church altogether.

In Summary, 35f:

• Tested positive for Rheumatoids
• IGM: 8
• ANA 1:160
• Swollen Tongue for 2 years
• Newly developed Raynauds and chronically swollen hands and pinky joint sticking out
• Severe hip and lower back pain
• all of the usual exhaustion and sick feelings during flairs
• Incredibly painful period (first two days)

After two years of begging my doctor to run a thyroid or autoimmune panel, he finally did! I knew something was very wrong with me and the anxiety destroyed me over this time. Now that I have proof, I cannot get into see a Rheumatologist - the first one required another blood test, but my doctor dropped the ball and didn't tell me which - I learned when I called with the name of a different one who I had found on my own. This doctor did not require any additional info, but told them they would review my blood work and call if I was a candidate - it's been over a week without a call back and I am fully panicking. Since my first symptom appeared two years ago, I have developed Raynauds, my hands have been swollen with broken blood vessels since January, my toenails are lifting and growing in flat and straight, every morning I wake up feeling like a train hit me, if I walk for less than a mile, I am left limping from Hip pain. My tongue has not been normal since it first began to swell, the joint on my pinky is huge and if I mess with it, my ring and pinky finger will throb for an entire day....the exhaustion and feeling sick is just awful.
It took so long to get my doctor to take me seriously, and now I cant even get in to see a specialist. I am very nervous because I have kidney problems from 3 grandparents and heart disease and dimentia from one. I know these things are caused by inflammation and I want to stop that as soon as I can. I am 35 and just got engaged and desperately want to be a mother - the waiting game is so awful and I am beyond desperate to get more answers. Does anyone have any suggestions on what I can do to see a specialist? I had my blood work drawn during my period because I also wanted to test my hormones, and that was when it was suggested to do so. My symptoms are greatly reduced during my period and I am kicking myself, wondering if that is a factor in maybe altering my test results? I just don't know :(
ANY comments are welcome....Thank you!

I spilled some juice on my keyboard and I cleaned it up a bit rough and pressed a couple keys and it has now decided to type in ancient tongue with symbols, it has nothing to do with the keyboard or PC because I tried it on an old keyboard and it’s doing the same, anybody know how to fix this?

The pain was the worst thing`Dominick Mason had ever known…and he knew what it felt like to die. It felt like his brain was in a blender, being chopped to liquid for a Jeffery Dahmer smoothie and though it seemed melodramatic, he imagined he could feel himself losing brain cells by the minute. The sun, Merrick told him, would not burn him, but it would decay him faster, so sleep or rest during the day. With the sick, throbbing agony in the center of his brain, however, that was impossible. He spent most of the day curled up on his side, hugging his knees, and moaning. He had flashbacks to dying in his apartment, and that made things even worse. The room became too small, too close, the air too stale. His heart, filled with the blood of last night’s meal, pounded in his chest, and he went from slightly chilly to hot and feverish as blood was forced through his circulatory system. It mixed with the embalming fluid and left him feeling full and constipated. He didn’t want to get up, but he also didn’t want to go on lying there. He was the definition of miserable.
Before long, the pain became too great and he got up to pace, pressing his hands to the sides of his head and gritting his teeth. Merrick, who slept very little if at all, sat in his chair and watched, trying his best to talk him through it. “It’ll be over soon,” Merrick said. “The pain receptors in your brain are the first to go. When they burn out, you won’t feel anything.”
“When?” Dom asked, his voice raising with the tide of pain.
“A couple days?”
“A couple days???”
“The pain will lessen gradually,” Merrick said, “this is the worst of it.”
Dom believed that this was, indeed, the worst of it, but he doubted it would lessen gradually. For the rest of the day, the pain got worse and worse until every light blinded him, every sound turned his stomach, and the smell of anything made his gorge rise. The cloying smell of the embalming fluid, the light but unmistakable odor of dead flesh, and the scent of stale blood sitting in decomposing stomachs made him want to vomit, but he was afraid to. He didn’t think he could handle the sight of blood rushing from his mouth and splattering the floor. He still possessed enough of his facilities, he believed, to go insane.
Pain has a way of darkening one’s mood, and by the time the sun began to set, Dom was in the most sour mood possible. Even Merrick’s calm, fatherly voice was beginning to get on his nerves. When he took the oath to him the day before (or was it the day before that?), he turned his faith and trust over to Merrick entirely. He was finally accepted, included, finally had the love and fellowship that, in the pit of his soul, he had always wanted. Merrick understood him, Merrick was kind to him.
But deep down, Dom realized that he didn’t fully trust him. He said that his brain didn’t rot because he was “lucky.” That sounded like some bullshit to Dom. Why wasn’t Joe a blithering idiot too? Was he lucky as well? Did lightning strike in the same place twice? In life, people had done nothing but hurt and lie to Dom. Why would death be any different? He thought back to the strange liquid that always seemed to leak from Merrick’s nose, and Joe’s. He thought it was embalming fluid, but it never leaked from his own nose, or from anyone else’s. He tried to tell himself that it was far too soon to judge, but once he began to doubt something, his mind raced away. He felt a twinge of guilt, as Merrick had done absolutely nothing to deserve his doubt, but goddamn it, his head was on fire and he wanted it to stop. Anything to make it stop.
Just after sundown, the music began as Club Vlad opened for the night. It throbbed in the center of Dom’s head and made him want to claw his eyes out. When it became too much for him, he slipped away and stumbled into the sultry summer night. He came out in the alley running behind the club, clutching his head and breathing through bared teeth. He staggered, bumped into a metal trash can, and roared at the top of his lungs, as if he could purge himself of the pain by screaming.. His voice echoed and came back to him, making the pain worse.
Merrick was lying. He knew it. People always lied to him. His brain was rotting and PEOPLE WERE LYING! Flashing with anger, he slammed his fist into the brick wall of a Chinese restaurant. He barely felt anything so he did it again and again until his hand was lumpy and shaking. He sat heavily on the ground and pressed his hands to his head. It felt like maggots were burrowing into his brain, and he was suddenly terrified that they really were. He needed to stop this awful pain, but how?
An idea came to him.
The funeral home.
Maybe there was something there.
He was on his feet and lumbering there before the thought had even finished reverberating through his mind. It was a long shot, but he was desperate. On the way there, he stuck to the shadows, staying out of the light cast by the streetlamps and avoiding people. When he passed them, he kept his head down. When he reached the funeral home, he went to the back door where he and Jessie had gone the other day. He tried it, and it opened.
Inside, he bounced off the walls like a pinball, knocking over an end table and tearing at the flesh of his head, pulling it away in long, gray strips. He panted like a wild animal, his body a raging tempest of emotions. It was reaching a crescendo, he thought, his brain was about to go supernova. The world dimmed, things got really echoy. The young man he’d picked the embalming fluid up from was there, looking scared.
Flashing, Dom grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him against the wall, knocking a painting of a flowery field to the carpet. Everything seemed to go in slow mo. “How does Merrick keep his brain from rotting?” Dom heard himself demanding from far away. “How does he keep the pain away?”
The man trembled. “I-I-”
Dom slammed him again. “Tell me or I’ll make you like me.”
“No!” the man wailed. He shook his head from side to side, his eyes wet with fear.
“How?”
“He-He uses a solution,” the man stammered. “Some kind of special thing. It preserves his brain. That’s all I know.”
An idea occurred to Dom.
Holding the man by the back of his neck, Dom dragged him into the embalming room and pushed him against the table. His head felt like it was swelling. Hot, screaming, getting ready to explode. He looked around, found the embalming machine, and grabbed the hose. There was a sharp tip on it so that you could jam it into a body. He held it in his hand, hesitating for just a moment before pressing it to his temple. The man watched in horror as Dom slowly shoved the tip into his head. It tore his flesh, broke through his skull, and sank into his brain. He felt no pain, only pressure, but cried out anyway. His eyes rolled up into his head and a shudder went through his body.
“Turn it on!” he yelled.
“That’s not what he -”
“TURN IT ON!”
Starting, the man turned the machine on. Cold embalming fluid squirted directly into Dom’s brain. Almost at once, the pain began to ebb away, replaced only by a fuzzy sense of numbness. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, looking for all the world like an addict taking a hit of his favorite substance after a long and trying day. Fluid leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes and dripped down the back of his throat.
The man waited for a long time, then turned the machine off.
The pain was gone.
At least for now.
“Tell me again,” Dom said.
The man did. Merrick used a special preserving agent to keep his brain intact. Joe, the man suspected, got it as well. So Merrick had lied to him.
Dom felt betrayed.
And angry.
Leaving the man (Dom realized that he didn’t even know his name), he walked back to Club Vlad, his hands fisted in his pockets. All his life, he had been hurt, lied to, and ignored. All his life, people had done wrong to him. And all those years, he just took it.
He resolved not to be so accepting in death.
At last, he was going to stop being a sniveling little bitch and stand up for himself.
When he reached Club Vlad, he slammed through the back door and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he called out Merrick’s name. The old man was sitting in his chair, being attended to by Jessie and Matt. He looked startled when Dom came in. “You lied to me,” Dom said, stalking over to his benefactor.
“What are you talking about?” Merrick asked, doing his best to sound innocent.
“You lied to me!” Dom screamed. He bent over and got so close to Merrick’s face that he could have kissed him. “You told me there was no way to save my brain, but that’s not true. You’re pumping your head full of shit and letting the rest of us rot.”
A dark shadow flickered across Merrick’s face. “Watch your tone when you talk to me,” he said. His voice was low, menacing.
“Fuck you,” Dom said. “I should k -”
Suddenly, Dom was being grabbed from behind and yanked back, an arm around his neck. He cried out in alarm as Joe swung him around and slammed him face first into the wall. He heard his nose crunch, felt his teeth shatter. Next, Joe wrestled him to the glitter-sprinkled floor and wedged his knee between his shoulder blades.
Merrick watched with a sneer of disgust, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He wheeled himself over, Jessie holding his IV stand steady and following behind. “Listen, you son of a bitch,” Merrick said, “you’re lucky to be a part of this family.”
Cold fear filled the pit of Dom’s stomach, yet he wouldn’t back down, couldn’t back down. He had lived his entire life like a mouse in a burrow, he wasn’t about to live his entire death the same way.
“Fuck your family,” he said defiantly. “And fuck you.”
Merrick’s face darkened and he sat back in his chair. He looked at Jessie and nodded. She went away and came back a moment later holding something in her hand. Dom’s eyes widened when he saw what it was.
A wooden stake, one end honed to a razor point.
Why they had one of those lying around, Dom didn’t know; it’d be like Superman keeping a piece of kryptonite on the mantle over the fireplace. Merrick directed Max and Matt to hold Dom’s arms down/ Joe pivoted, kneeling on his head now so that Dom’s back was exposed. Dom’s heart slammed with terror and tremors raced through his body.
“Is this what you want, Dominick?” Merrick asked. “To die? To truly die?”
Dom swallowed hard. No, it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to live, to love, to have a family one day. He wanted a happy, normal life, the life TV and social media had been promising him since he was a little boy.
But all of that went out the window the night he died in his little apartment. There was no life anymore, just a grotesque parody of life. What was there for him other than death? Clinging desperately onto life for decades like Merrick? Stuffing himself full of embalming fluid and moth balls? Grinding for one more minute just so he could sit hooked up to a machine?
Dom spoke.
“What?” Merrick asked, not having heard.
Dom licked his lips. “Just fucking do it.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Expectation hung in the air. Finally, breaking the tension, Merrick nodded to Jessie. Kneeling down, she brought the stake up, and Dom closed his eyes.
This was it.
He braced himself for death.
Jessie brought the stake down just as a shot rang out, deafening in the small space. Her head whipped back, embalming fluid, skull fragments, and gray, sickly pieces of brain showering from the back of her head. She flopped back and landed on the floor with a sickening thud.
A woman cop, her black uniform in stark contrast to the burning white light, stood in the doorway to the hall, her gun drawn. Everyone did, indeed, freeze, more out of surprise than respect for authority. They all looked at her, their dead mouths agape, resembling children who’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Everyone on the ground!” she barked.
No one knew what to do. They hadn’t expected to be raided by the police so had not prepared. She jerked her gun and everyone instinctively flinched. “On the ground!” she repeated. To Max: “You too, bone boy.”
The first one to react was Joe. He sprang at her like a big, undead frog. She brought the gun around and fired, but he was already crashing into her. The shot went wild and struck the IV bag next to Merrick; he ducked and let out a sound of fear. The others rushed her, and Dom got quickly to his feet. Jessie lay on the floor, her mouth open in a silent scream and her bony fingers frantically examining the ragged hole in the center of her forehead. For a moment, he was frozen; everything was happening too fast. Then, when Merrick saw him and cried, “Stop him!, he came alive. Jessie tried to grab at his leg, but he kicked her hand away and stomped on it like it was a giant spider. On the other side of the room, Matt, Joe, and Max had forced the cop to the ground. Perhaps excited by all the action, perhaps just hungry, they began to tear her apart. She howled in pain, and the last thing Dom saw before he fled was her open, blood-filled mouth. Her eyes were filled with pain…with terror.
After that, Dom ran.
***
When the interloper was dead, Merrick directed Joe and Matt to dispose of the body. “Get rid of it,” he said wearily and rubbed his temples, “make sure it isn’t found.”
They rolled her into a carpet from the office, and the way her feet stuck out may have been comical under other circumstances.
Goddamn it, this was bad. Merrick’s entire philosophy rested on avoiding detection. He had done well in that regard. Whereas other vampires had attacked their villages and gotten themselves dug from the ground and staked, he had made it four decades. He never shat where he ate, and there is no bigger turd than killing a cop. They might dawdle on all the boys who’d gone missing - taken because their blood was stronger and more robust than the blood of girls - but they would not take a cop dying lightly at all.
Merrick owned various businesses around the country. He and the others would simply move on. Tomorrow night, they would disappear into the night. They had done it before and they would likely do it again. Once things were settled at their new base of operations, he would have Joe killed for all the trouble he’d caused.
And Dom?
Let him go.
The little rat wouldn’t last a month on his own.
“Jessie?”
Jessie sat against the wall, gazing into space.
“Jessi…start packing. We’re leaving tomorrow.”
She didn’t move, didn’t seem to hear. The shot had all but lobotomized her.
Damn it.
Joe backed the van up to the back door of Club Vlad, and then helped Matt carry the carpet-rolled body down the stairs. They loaded it in and closed the back doors. Together, they drove around looking for a place to dump it. Merrick wanted it to go unfound, but Joe doubted there was anywhere isolated enough in the city. On a whim, he drove to Washington Park, a vast expanse of green trees and shadows. There was a large pond there. It seemed the best option. They were leaving tomorrow anyway, so did it really matter?
Joe backed the van to a railing overlooking the dark water and put it in park. He and Matt got out, fetched the body, and carried it to the railing. They lifted and heaved it over. It splashed. Thus, they rid themselves of Vanessa Rodregiez.
***
Bruce sat anxiously up in his easy chair and waited for his cell to ring.
Parked in front of the TV by warm lamplight, a beer wedged between his legs, he’d been watching the 11’o’clock news when the phone rang. He picked it up and it was Vanessa. “Hey,” she said, “I think I found our body?”
“Which one?” Bruce asked and took a drink. “We have a lot of those these days.”
“Dominick Mason.”
Bruce sat forward in his chair. “Dead Dom? Where?”
“He just came out of a funeral home, ironically enough.”
“That sounds about right,” Bruce said. “Where are you now?”
“I’m following him east on Central.”
“Are you sure it’s him?” Bruce asked.
“I think so, but I’m not sure. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”
Bruce sat the phone aside and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At some point, he fell asleep sitting up, his head lulled to one side and his mouth open. He snorted himself awake, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He checked his phone and was perturbed to see that it was past 2am.
Vanessa hadn’t called.
He dialed her number and let the phone ring until it went to voicemail. Sighing, he ended the call, then waited a few minutes and called again.
Still no answer.
It was possible she had forgotten. Maybe the guy turned out to not be Dead Dom after all. She followed some random guy around, realized it, and that was that. Hell, she was probably too embarrassed to call and tell him about it.
Something told him that wasn’t right, however.
There was something else going on here.
Something…darker.
Just before 3am, his phone rang. He snatched it off the end table next to the chair and answered it. It was Burt, the night sargent. “Rodriguez is missing,” he said simply.
Bruce’s heart sank. “Missing?”
“Yeah, she hasn’t checked in for hours and she isn’t answering calls.”
“I’m on my way,”
Bruce tore through the house, pulling on his uniform, socks, and shoes in less time than it took a Daytona 500 pit crew to service a car. In ten minutes he was speeding down 787, the Albany skyline rising in the distance. As he hurried to the station, he thought back to his last conversation with Vanessa. She’d found Dom the Dead Man, the “corpse” who’d scared Ed Harris out of a 20 year career. Despite all their talk about vampires and the living dead, Bruce didn’t believe it, not really. Even so, he was sure that Dominick Mason had done something to Vanessa.
He checked in at the station before doing anything else. They had triangulated Vanessa’s last known location via cell towers. Cops were already out searching the streets for her. Bruce went out as well, intending to start from her last known position and work his way east on Central. The closest funeral home was Tebbutt and Frederick on Central. There was also Lasak & Gigliotti on North Allen Street. Bruce didn’t know which one Vanessa had seen Dom come out of, so he checked both.
Both were deserted at this hour.
Undeterred, Bruce drove up and down Central Ave. At one point, he noticed a shape in an alleyway that looked human. He hit the brakes, jumped out, and pointed his gun at it. “Freeze!”
An old wino stepped out of the darkness. “Alright, you got me,” he said, hands up. “I started COVID. It was an accident, I swear.”
Bruce sighed and put his gun away.
For two more hours, Bruce searched the streets of Albany for Vanessa. At 4am, he spotted a squad car abandoned in the rear parking lot of an abandoned gas station on lower Lark Street. He called it in and the desk sergeant confirmed that it was the one Vanessa had signed out that night.
Still there was no sign of Vanessa herself.
Just after dawn, as the city came alive and CDTA buses began lumbering up and down the streets, Bruce got a call on his cell. “A jogger found a body in Washington Park.”
Bruce was in his personal car. He had no bubble light, no siren. Even so, he sped through the streets like he did, blowing through red lights and stop signs with little care to himself or anyone else. When he got to Washington Park, he found an army cops by the pond, the scene cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape. He slammed on the brakes, threw open the door, and jumped out without even turning off the engine.
The body was rolled up in a carpet and lying on the bank. Two beat cops unrolled it at Bruce’s direction. “We should wait for -” one of them started, but Bruce cut him off.
“Do it.”
They compiled, and at the carpet’s center, like a rotten cream filling, was the body of Vanessa Rodregiuez. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes wide and staring. Her throat had been mangled and ripped away, her head nearly severed. Even in the black and red mess, Bruce could make out the teeth marks and puncture wounds. They may have looked like something else to anyone else who saw them, but he knew, in that moment, what they were dealing with.
A sharp pang of horror sliced through him, and his knees went weak.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the beat cops drew.
Bruce fell to, rather than knelt on, one knee. He bent over the body, a mixture of horror and grief welling his throat. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her in death, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he visually examined the body. She had bruises on her face, defensive wounds on her hands, and her gun was gone. Whoever had attacked her, she put up a fight.
Something glinted on her pants.
“What’s that?” one of the cops asked.
“I dunno,” the other replied, “but it’s all over the carpet.”
Indeed, there were glinty little specks all over it, winking like mocking eyes. Nice work, eh? We really fucked her up, didn’t we? Wink wink.
“It looks like…”
The other cop cut him off. “Glitter.”
Bruce flashed back to his visit to Club Vlad the other day.
There had been glitter everywhere.
Bruce stood up.
He had work to do.
***
Instead of going back to the station to start his shift, Bruce went to Lowes. There, he bought a mallet, a gas can, and a dozen sticks of wood. An employee in a blue vest used a machine to sharpen them to a wicked point and he took his purchases to the car. Next, he drove over to the Mobil station and filled the gas can. He was so hellbent on revenge that he sprang for premium, the good stuff. No expense shall be spared.
His final stop was at a Catholic church. He filled a canteen with holy water from the marble font by the door, then swiped a crucifix from the wall. He stopped by the station, went inside, and grabbed a black duffle bag with POLICE written across the front in yellow. He opened the gun cabinet in his office, took out a shotgun, and loaded it with shells. He grabbed a handful from the box and stuffed them into his pocket.
He was just finishing up when Bertha came in. “There you are,” she spat, “I’ve waited long enough for you to do something. I demand -”
Bruce shoved the duffle bag into her arms. “Make yourself useful.”
“What?” she demanded.
“We’re going to get your granddaughter,” Bruice lied. Kind of.
Bertha’s demeanor changed. “Good. It’s about time. I was starting to think you were a complete incompetent.”
Bruce didn’t answer. Outside, he plucked the bag out of Bertha’s hands and tossed it into the backseat. He slipped behind the wheel and Bertha sat in the passenger seat. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“Club Vlad,” Bruce said and started the engine.
“I want all of them arrested.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce said.
She barked orders the entire way there. Bruce was so deep in his thoughts that he barely heard her. The image of Vanessa’s ruined throat and terror-twisted face haunted him, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. Hot tears filled his eyes but he blinked them back and forced himself to calm down.
I’ll cry when I’m done killing, he thought.
A few minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of Club Vlad. It was a hot and sunny day and the place seemed even more ominous because of it. The windows were black, the front cast in perpetual shadows by the old marquee from when it used to be a theater. The place was surely closed, but Bruce could hear music still playing from inside, some techno dance bullshit. “Alright,” he said, “let’s go.”
Getting out, he slung the dufflebag over his shoulder and carried the shotgun, the canteen full of holy water clasped to his belt. Bertha carried the gas can, looking confused. “Why do we need this?” she asked.
“We’re burning the place down.”
Bertha blinked in surprise…then an evil grin carved across her face. “That’ll show the bastards.”
Unlike last time, the door was locked. Bruce used the butt of the shotgun to break the glass, then reached inside and unlocked the door, being careful not to cut himself. This was the point of no return. What he had in mind would probably get him kicked off the force or even thrown in jail - and we all know how tough jail can be for a former barnaclehead. The memory of Vanessa’s contorted face pushed him on, however.
He’d suffer any consequences he needed to just so long as he got the sons of bitches who did this to her.
Inside, the club was cool and cave-like. Strobe lights flashed, on and off, black and white, dazzling Bruce’s eyes. The bartender was at his station, cleaning up from the night before. When he saw Bruce and Bertha come in, he started. Bruce pointed the shotgun at him. “Don’t fucking move,” he commanded.
The bartender hesitated, then reached for something under the bar.
The shotgun kicked in Bruce’s hands, and the bartender flew back, turning as he crashed into the barback. Bottles, glasses, and mugs crashed to the floor along with the bartender. Bruce racked the gun, and the shell flew out. He moved low and fast now, expecting to be swarmed by vampires, living thugs who worked for vampires, or vampire thugs who worked for themselves.
Though the shot had been like thunder, no one came.
Bruce had no idea where to go, but he imagined that vampires were naturally gravitate to the lowest part of the building. Was there a basement? Shit, he should have looked up the building plans at city hall. Damn, this is what happens when you go off half-cocked. He searched around a bit, opening doors and sweeping the rooms beyond with the shotgun. He found no basement, only stairs leading up. “Stay close,” he said to Bertha.
In the lead, Bruce crept up the stairs, the flashlight on the shotgun providing a cone of clean, white light. At the top of the stairs, he went right, and came to an office and a store room. Backtracking, and bumping into a bungling Bertha, he went into the next room. It was large and open with a vaulted ceiling, almost like a ballroom. Here the same strobe lights throbbed on and off, making him dizzy. Was this to dazzle prospective vampire hunters?
Either way, this was the place. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, some curled up on their sides and others in the classic vampire pose: Flat on their backs with their hands laced over their chests. In the center, like the sun to the planets, Merrick Garvis lay slumped back in his wheelchair, his neck exposed for any potential assassin to come and cut. Not that it would kill him. At least Bruce didn’t think it would.
“They’re all dead,” Bertha whispered. She looked around and gasped. “There’s Jessie.”
Jessie lay on her back, her hands folded on her chest. She had a ragged bullet hole in the center of her forehead. “Oh, God,” Bertha wavered, “someone shot her.”
He hoped it was Vanessa. And he hoped it fucking hurt.
Looking around, Bruce couldn’t find Dominick Mason. Was he the one who killed Vanessa? Was it a group effort? He wanted the little son of a bitch bad, but it looked like he’d have to go on without him. They didn’t have much time.
Unshouldering the duffle bag, he knelt down and rummaged around. “Start splashing that gas on the bodies,” he said.
“But -”
“Just do it,” he snapped.
There must have been a harder edge in his voice than normal, because Bertha jumped and did as she was told. She upended the can and began to splash gasoline onto the sleeping forms, the smell of it acrid and strong.
Taking out a stake and the mallet, Bruce went over to Merrick and knelt down. He gripped the stake in one hand and placed it firmly against Merrick’s chest. He brought the mallet up and hesitated, the gravity of what he was doing finally reaching him. What if he was wrong? What if -
Merrick’s head whipped up and their eyes locked.
Too late.
Bruce brought the mallet down as hard as he could. The stake drove deep into Merrick’s heart, and the vampire let out a howling screech that rang through the chamber like the cry of a banshee. His bony fingers clawed at the stake and his head whipped from side to side, his back arching and his robe coming open. In the quick strobe pattern, Bruce was shocked to see that his body was little more than a wood frame, chicken wire, and cotton balls. His blacked heart was hidden behind a screen of mesh that the stake had easily torn through. It throbbed, seemingly in time with the strobe lights, and Merrick let out another wail.
Bertha screamed, and Bruce jumped to his feet.
The vampires, drawn by their master’s cries of distress, were rising to their feet. Two, four, six of them, pale and ethereal like ghosts in a gothic mansion. They came toward Merrick, and Bruice fell back a step. The old man had gone still and lay slumped to one side, his eyes open and his mouth slack, embalming fluid leaking from the corner of his lips. Jessie bent over him and touched his face. Though she moved like a zombie, with no human emotion, Bruce was crazily sure that it was a touch of tenderness and love. Merrick didn’t stir.
He was dead.
Jessie looked at him. Yellow liquid leaked from her eyes like tears. Instead of attacking him, she turned on her grandmother and slammed her against the wall. Bertha screamed and dropped the can. It landed on its side, its contents sloshing out onto the floor. A man that resembled the pictures Bruce had seen of Joe Rossi only deader rushed him, slamming into him and knocking the shotgun aside. It hit the floor and skidded away. Joe grabbed Bruce around the throat and squeezed. Still the lights flashed, off and on, off and on. The walls thrummed with the mechanized beat of dance music, pierced only by Bertha’s screams as Jessie ripped out her throat.
Joe leaned in, his fangs wicked and glowing in the light. Bruce clawed at the monster’s face, tearing away strips of dead flesh. Joe turned his head to the side, and Bruce kneed him in the groin. Even dead, getting kicked in the balls hurt like hell, apparently. Joe’s grip loosened and Bruce was able to shove him off. Bruce unclasped the canteen and frantically screwed the cap off as Joe recovered. Joe sprang at him again, and Bruce splashed him in the face.
A sound like sizzling meat filled the air, and Joe screamed at the top of his lungs. He pressed his hands to his face and danced around the room, his skin liquifying and oozing between his fingers. The others were coming now, led by a terrible skeletal thing. Bruce scooped the shotgun off the floor, brought it around, and fired. The blast hit the thing dead center, tearing it literally in half. The top half flew back, an all too human look of surprise on its face, and the bottom half fell over with a wet thud. Another vampire came at, and Bruce slammed it across the face with the butt of the gun. He heard its jaw crack, saw teeth flying.
Bertha lay dead on the floor, Jessie bent over her. The smell of Bertha’s blood attracted the others, who seemed to forget about Bruce, Merrick, and everything else. Joe was on his knees, wailing in pain, and the skeletal thing was pulling itself toward Bertha. A feeding frenzy broke out as vampires fought to get a piece of her the way piglets might fight over their mother’s teat. Bruce watched in a mixture of horror and fascination, but recovered himself. He grabbed the gas can from the floor and dumped the rest of its contents on Merrick’s body, the feeding vampires’ backs, and the floor, using the last of it to make a little trail to the door. He tossed the can aside, bent down, and stuck a match.
A huge, fiery whump filled the room, and fire streaked along the trail. The vampires all went up in a huge ball of flames, and fire shot up Merrick’s body, catching his robe, his hair, and the wooden frame that had kept him semi upright for God knows how long. Letting out inhuman screams, the vampires broke from Bertha’s corpse. One stumbled around, bounced off the wall, and fell; another toddled toward Bruce before falling to its knees. The half skeleton kept drinking from Bertha’s neck even as it burned.
The heat was enormous, baking. Bruce backed away, and the last thing he saw before smoke obscured his vision was Merrick Garvis.
He was literally melting.
***
Dominick Mason tried to go home, but he no longer had a home. All of his worldly possessions sat on the sidewalk in front of his building, discarded coldly as easily. His key didn’t work in his door and there was a FOR RENT sign on it. Why would it be any other way? He was dead. Sooner or later, everyone forgets you when you’re dead, and all the things you held so dear wind up in the trash. It was a hard pill to swallow, but most people aren’t around to see it after they die.
He was.
From his building, he walked east toward Washington Park. In the distance, thick, black smoke billowed into the air, and sirens rose. He barely noticed and wouldn’t have cared even if he did. No more rubbernecking for him. That was for the living.
The pain that had plagued him so the previous day came back, only less this time. Maybe he was imagining it, but it was getting harder to think. Not that he cared, really. What was there to think about anyway? How he had no one to mourn or miss him? How he died and not one single person, except for maybe his mother, cared, or even noticed? How he had done nothing with his life? Even to the women he’d slept with, what was he? Just another dating app hookup. They probably didn’t even remember his name.
Merrick had been right about one thing. Death was easy. It was life that was hard…life that hurt.
With that in mind, Dominick made his way to Washington Park. It was a vast and deep place with many small caves and thickets. Kids played on the playground, their cries of laughter scenting the still air. It had grown cloudy and began to rain. Still, smoke poured into the sky in the direction of Club Vlad. Dom didn’t wish ill on Merrick and the others, didn’t hope it was them burning. He didn’t care anymore. Not about them, not about anyone. For better or worse (and he would argue it was worse), his life was over. His time came days ago, he just missed the boat.
Picking out an isolated little area, Dom sat against a tree with his legs splayed out in front of him. He titled his head back and closed his eyes. Yes, thinking was hard now. His mind felt sluggish, cold. He was thirsty…so, so thirsty, but he ignored it.
Slowly, the bugs found him. Flies buzzed around him and laid their eggs in his skin. Beetles scuttled over him, followed by worms.
Next, it was the birds. They ate out his eyes and nibbled at his blue, bloated skin.
The animals came last.
Their appetites were bigger.
And they left little remaining of poor, outcast Dominick Mason.
***
That night, Bruce sat alone in his little trailer, a bottle of whiskey wedged between his legs and unshed tears in his eyes. He stared at his reflection in the darkened TV set and took long swallows from the bottle. He planned to drink until he forgot or passed out, whichever came first. He tried to not think about Vanessa, but in his addled state, he couldn’t control himself, and began to cry. When that storm passed, like the others before it, he chugged from the bottle.
As distant church bells clanged the hour - midnight - a feeble knock came at the door. Bruce took another drink and it came again. Getting up, he stumbled, nearly fell, and gripped the bottle tightly. He didn’t want to lose one precious drop.
Again, the knock.
“I’m coming,” Bruce slurred. He staggered to the door and fought with the lock. He was dizzy and seeing double.
When he got it, he opened the door.
The bottle dropped from his hand and clanked onto the floor.
Vanessa, clad in a puke green hospital gown, stood on the step, her hands pressed to her chest and a look of anguish on her milk white face. Her head tilted to one side, the wounds on her neck cleaned but open, gaping. Her dark eyes shone with tears. “I’m dead,” she said.
Breaking down in tears, she collapsed against him and they sank to the floor. She was cold and smelled. Bruce wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest anyway. “Shhh, it’s alright,” he said drunkenly. “Hey, it’s alright.
“I’m dead,” she repeated, and her voice broke. “I don’t want to die.”
Bruce held her close, trying to warm her icy skin. He didn’t know what to say, so he cried with her.
“You’re safe now,” he said, “it’s going to be okay.”
“I want blood,” she said and sobbed harder, “I want to hurt people.”
“Shhh,” Bruce said again. “It’s okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a utility knife. He flicked the blade across his wrist and searing pain shot up his arm. “Here,” he said and offered her his blood, “drink this.”
He did this without care and without thought. She needed him, and one barnaclehead always backs up another.
Vanessa hesitated, looking from his face to the oozing blood, unsure.
“Go ahead,” he told her.
Vanessa brought his wrist to her mouth.
And began to drink.

I didn't get the Vision Pro for any special use case that I could finally uncover. I think of it as simply a better way to watch media, and to be able to have separate windows (multi-monitors) in a portable form factor. Ideally, I would like this to replace a laptop and be something I could do casual things on (nothing that requires special software that would only work with a Mac or Windows).
The big holdup for me is typing. I am currently typing this post on my Chromebook, it would be too irritating to do this on the Vision Pro without a physical keyboard. I will say the air-typing with fingers actually impressed me, because I guess I was expecting it to be as shitty as Quest, and also Marques Brownlee convinced me that air typing with your eyes is better than using your fingers but now I can say I disagree from my experience. But it's still a pain to type anything more than a few words on. I could probably get used to it, but I would be settling for something worse than just grabbing my Chromebook to write up something.
I can't do voice typing, my mind just doesn't work writing posts and comments with my voice, I have to think while I type and go back and change a few things and sometimes scrap sentences. I could consider getting a keyboard for it but I also hate the idea of having another physical component that sits on my lap, but it's going to be needed if I want a decent typing experience.
One idea I like is to have the virtual keyboard projected on a hard surface so you are touching something solid physically like a touchscreen (Touchscreen keyboards like on an iPad aren't too bad imo).

Ok, love is not the right word, I just wanted to stick with the spirit of the Sellers inspired title. Here's the timeline, sordid details following:
5/8-5/24/23 - Job offered, finger printed, E-qip done, soft credit pull, no interim 7/?/23 - Interview scheduled with investigator, this was probably mid month, my in-laws were in town 8/14/23 - follow up interview w/ the same investigator, by video 10/20/23 - received LOI for things previously discussed with investigator - immediately retained safetyblitz44 4/24/2024 - finally turned in all documentation required by LOI
I waited 3 weeks to contact the FSO from the hiring company. I received a call back from the program manager pretty fast - they profusely apologized that I should have been notified 11 months ago that they were on a hiring freeze and could no longer offer me the position.
I let them know that this was OK and understandable - BUT, that I had still been in contact with DCSA, had an interview, LOI, etc. and that regardless my case should reflect that. They asked me to send my resume and told me they'd call back.
Not even 2 hours later, they call and let me know that YES I have been adjudicated favorably BUT that's when the company dropped my case. I will remain in this status for about 6 months total, during which time I need to find a job to activate me. This is not the end of the world, the PM referred me to a sub and I'm interviewing next week and I am reaching out to my network - someone is going to pick up a software engineer ready to be cleared, that's probably a non issue. I'm very lucky to find myself in this position at all.
Long version...
I was unemployed from late 2021 to early 2023 when I finally bit the bullet and went back to cleared work. I'm a software engineer and I've been cleared before, I didn't think it would be a huge deal, but I was wrong.
I have filled out the SF-86 a lot, I'm in my 40s and it started in the army in 1999. I have had cleared roles without much issue but I never really had red flags either.
This time I had some IRS issues and I checked "yes" to the having used drugs box. It was weed and I had stopped during the pandemic - it was a social thing and the pandemic sucked all of those aspects right out of it. Sharing seemed to make sense til then and I was never one to sit around getting high alone so it naturally tapered off more than a conscious effort to quit. But, I have no intention of doing it again, so giddyup.
When I met with the investigator for an interview it became clear why I hadn't gotten an interim this time but not why it never came up before. They asked me about "an arrest in March 1997" and all I could say was "HOLY SHIT, THAT'S ON THERE?!"
Now, having re-read the SF-86 a ton, I still can't quite figure out where I would have listed this other than at the end because all of the arrest questions from rev 2016 are "past 7 years" but, some way, somehow I will list this in the future because this was 26 years prior when i was 15.
When I was 15 I was at a bus stop by the school in my city when a friend drove by and stopped - a bunch of us got in. I was sitting shotgun and saw the vehicle we had just entered had no ignition and realized it was stolen and we were all going to get arrested, which we did. No charges, none of us stole a car, including the driver - she was riding in a second hand hot car - we were just in the thing. It was teenage stupidity all the way down. I never thought of it again other than as a hilarious anecdote because we were arrested and released to our parents and that was the end of it til that interview! LOL!
The investigator told me in no uncertain terms that this was why i needed an interview. They said they would have never had to do it otherwise. But, I'm still not sure where I would have listed it or what would have made me think of it. They showed me the FBI report that just said it was an arrest assumed felony. There's an EVER question about being charged with a felony but I was not charged. That was no issue after I explained it and I assume the FBI finally followed up with the rest of their report.
Otherwise we just talked about the stint with MJ use, long over, my IRS issues, and I brought up a bench warrant that I had in another state but explained there was really nowhere on the form to list it and that it was for an unpaid ticket from the year 2000 (misdemeanor) with no statute of limitations. I had only found out about it right before the pandemic, it became a low priority real fast. Same with the IRS stuff. I had stopped filing for a bunch of years just because I couldn't afford the 1099 I had been on one year. When you don't file once it's easy to keep not filing! But, in 2021, before the layoffs, I had hired an accountant to help me get it all straightened out. I just needed to file the missed year but I wasn't sure if that was the right move or not. I owed but I was broke and dealing with layoffs plus the IRS hadn't said anything - it's only human to hope they never do! LOL. I never did find any real sources to corroborate a time limit on failing to file, though, so I didn't really want to push that envelope.
When I got the LOI it was only for the 2 tax years I hadn't filed and the bench warrant. Just the words "bench warrant" told me I should get a lawyer and I did. Getting those tax returns processed and getting the warrant lifted took 7 months. Each time a deadline came up from DCSA I submitted everything I had - screenshots, correspondence w/ the attorney working on my bench warrant and the state the case was in - and each time they extended me further.
I ended up needing 2 lawyers - I initially hired the user mentioned above and they found someone who was bar'd in the state I needed. The bench warrant was for an unpaid parking ticket (that I could swear on a stack of bibles was paid at the time, but I can't prove that, so). It took several months to get proof. Same with the IRS stuff. I sent a large payment on the 2nd of January and it took til April to fully reflect on my account. It was excruciating. If you owe taxes and it's a one off, do yourself a favor and call the people who can waive the penalties. I was able to make reasonable payment arrangements online and THEN get 1/3 of my bill cut.
Mainly the lawyer made sure my "final" packet - the one I turned in for the first due date with all of my statements - was clear and correct and would reflect the steps I was taking. Wording on the LOI response is crucial to success along with proof - they will help make sure you are addressing the issues as requested by the LOI without overthinking it. I'm not a terrible writer but that isn't exactly the point. Once I hit that juncture I really wanted to be as sure as I could be that I was doing the right things. They can also help you put your case in perspective - they have experience with weirder or worse than yours. Plus, if you found them on reddit you can respond to them in gifs and memes and know they'll get it. All told for 7 months of counsel, an entire additional lawyer, and including all fees from that process, this cost $2500 and my retainer remainder was refunded as soon as we closed. No hearings or court time necessary, everything was remote and asynchronous.
One of the best parts of this outcome is how great it feels to know I'm truly "squeaky clean" again. It doesn't take too long, depending, I guess. If you look at my account you'll see one of the last weed plants I grew in 2015. Cultivation is one of those "in the past 7 years" questions and I was in year 8 which I may always get a silly kick out of. I did let the investigator know as it was relevant to some other info - but, I'm a horticulturalist at heart, which is also fully reflected in my hobbies. I have no desire or need to grow weed again but it's a thing I have done and have experience with which is nothing to be ashamed of.
Be honest - with yourself AND investigators. Don't be too squeaky of a wheel when it's taking a long time - sometimes that's a really happy accident. Get another job while you wait or keep your current one. File those late taxes now, not later. Old warrants for misdemeanors are cheaper than you think. Sometimes stuff really does come up that you had no reason to list but it isn't necessarily the end of the world.
Oh, and I've been naked on the internet and no one cared.