I have tried smoking banisteriopsis caapi multiple times before (but in changa form) and I love the taste of it so I wanna order a bag of the herb home for myself.
It would be a substitute for tobacco so I am thinking about 1 cigarette of caapi everyday. I am well aware of the dangerous interactions that RIMA has with many recreational substances and tyramine but I am curious about long term side effects instead, if there are any. Of course it is bad for the lungs like smoking anything is but I am wondering beyond that.
I have heard MAOI antidepressants can have some long term side effects but this would be pretty different. All the active ingredients in caapi (harmine,harmaline and tetrahydroharmine) are reversible inhibitors that only target MAO-A and not MAO-B.
Are there even any studies/research on this?

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The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

We are cruising into Cozumel this morning and I have to get this off my chest. This boat needs to be retired.
Now, some context to my personal opinion. We have cruised on Enchantment twice before. Once in 2006 and once in 2008. 2009 was our last experience with RCL before trying Celebrity, Princess, and HAL. Our most recent cruise was February 2024 on Nieuw Statendam.
When booking, we knew the ship was old, but the itinerary was appealing since we have not been to a couple of the ports yet.
I’ve read other reviews on here about how they enjoy Enchantment, the activities, the staff. Which yes, all well and good. But the boat itself is stuck in the 90s and falling apart. The sconces in our room are being held together with tape. A drawer in the closet is completely broken and does not function. The material on the wall and wood paneling is bubbling and peeling. The furniture is very warn and is scuffed and dirty. The balcony furniture is so uncomfortable and there are cigarette burns all over the table. More rust than one would like to see. Clumps of hair and dust in the corners of the room. If I had a Magic Eraser, I’d go to town on the walls.
At some point the cabinetry was updated in our bathroom but it doesn’t match the rest of the cabinetry.
The same trend goes throughout the rest of the trip. The decor is tired and about every seat that I’ve sat in has been held together with duck tape.
If I’m not mistaken, I feel like we had been able to walk the full promenade around the boat back in the day. The front part is now roped off for storage that looks unbecoming but is probably needed for anti-rust supplies.
And unfortunately, having dined on HAL recently, the food is not good. Or even adequate. Cheap ingredients, presented in a very mediocre way. Cold food in the Windjammer, very bad cuts of meat, the runniest crème brûlée we’ve ever had, and very inconsistent bar service. Three Jack and Cokes came out three different ways, three different sizes, and we have yet to find anyone who knows what a lemon twist is. This is our first cruise where they have a fee for room service and want to charge me $80 for 24 bottles of water.
Silver lining: I really love silent disco.
In 2006 and 2008 we had a great time. If it was either of those years this review would be much different. But it’s 2024 and cruise options aplenty. Enchantment is stuck in the late 90s and it’s time she’s passed down to Margaritaville sailings as it’s the true vibe that it’s putting out.
The staff has been friendly and unfortunately they have to be overly so, to keep you from noticing the boat is literally falling apart around you.
I realize I sound very bougie. I am one of “those” people now I’m sure! Let the hate fly. I have not been on any other RCL ships other than Mariner in 2009 so I realize there are newer RCL ships. We do not like the idea of Oasis sized boats.
In summary, maybe you’ve been on Celebrity and HAL and you’ve found your way over here and are considering Enchantment. Spend your money elsewhere.

I have so many questions and need to blow off some steam because wtf
What is with this place only recruiting literal children? And promoting almost entirely high schoolers as LEADERS?
Why are there a million “fixes” to being in the heat that isn’t a FUCKING CANOPY?
Why is the process of joining a new stand strikingly similar to falling for an MLM pyramid scheme?
Why is there a whole position dedicated to standing at the window and ANNOYING PEOPLE FOR HOURS ON END?
WHY ARE CUSTOMERS PAYING OVER HALF OF EVERYONE’S PAYCHECK???
Is toxic positivity and identity erasure an actual requirement to working here? Because it SURE SEEMS LIKE IT.
What’s up with minimum hours of scheduling changing every other week? Why so stingy when wait times are suffering and SO ARE CUSTOMERS as a result???
Why do I feel like I’m constantly being infantilized by this place???
WHY ARE WE GETTING SHIT MONEY AND SHIT HOURS WHEN THEY USE TORANI SYRUP OF ALL INGREDIENTS???
How are we not supposed to burn out when it’s so obviously this company DOES NOT CARE ABOUT ITS EMPLOYEES?
And why even with all of this is it so hard to leave?
I need a cigarette yall wtf

Ever since Covid attack on the world many Big brands and Stores have totally forgotten about customer service is priority forgetting that if we don't shop they don't profit. Many employees not all but many in all fields of postions are disrespectful to us , I know their's customers that are rude and they should be escorted out of store but they treat everyone as if we did something wrong Also Walmart should not remove 90 percent of their cashiers and replace with self check out to realize there is a high theft, well whats all the cameras for why are all the employees standing around watching most of them are to bust talking with each other and not paying attention. So why do we pay for their negligence. New rule per Walmart CEO Doug Mcmillon stated to me personally from young emlpoyee at Pico Rivera Walmart that Corporate went to their store and enforced no more self check out for customers with more than 15 items we have to go to one of the 4 to 6 cashiers and stand in another long line to pay so they make stand in line to stand in line ridiculous, Cashiers are over worked so they are taking their sweet time scanning our items because more work more stress no raise, funny that she said "you can self check out if you pay for Walmart+. If this is not price gouging, robbing us without a GUN who does Wal-Mart think they are. They have been stealing from us for years we know walmart is selling over priced under weighed meat and produce there is a class action lawsuit right now https://www.walmartweightedgroceriessettlement.com/submit-claim about this. Also has anyone noticed the produce from Walmart once cleaned with vinegar and water is rotten with in hours sometimes minutes. I believe chemicals are layered on produce to hide old rotten produce. American we are founded on freedoms and justice Usda and Fda well they are not protection us. Many other conti enets do not allow many ingredients banned in other countries, so why are staying quite and letting them they banned Menthol cigarettes because they cause cancer yet Government let's China sell us prop65 warning CANCER causing related merchandise. They also let fast foods sell CANCER casting food like McDonald's whom blatantly tells us we can get cancer eating their food wow. What happend to many of our voices and many of us forgot capitalism needs us no matter if Wealthy, Rich, Well to do , sustained, paycheck to paycheck, or receiving government assistance. We are all Human and should be treated with respect and dignity. We need to make a stand show that we love our family and humanity last but not least are ourselves. We want change then we must change first a closed mouth does not get heard nor fed. I personally am sick and tired of being disregarded and valued only while paying for services or items.I needed to vent..thank you Reddit for the platform.

With the Australian regulation bans on importation of disposable vapes on 1st of Jan 2024 and importation of reusable vapes on 1st of March 2024 in place, vapes in general are getting more difficult to come by outside of the prescription or pharmacy model.
New regulation of vapes starting January 2024 Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA)
Importation of vape liquid flavours, other than tobacco, mint and menthol are part of the regulatory ban on of 1st March 2024. So after stock imported before the ban, has run out, those flavours will be all that is available.
However, domestic manufacturing of 0% nicotine flavoured vape liquid is still legal, pending the outcome of voting on the bill to legislate a ban on domestic manufacture, advertisement, supply and commercial possession of non-therapeutic vapes in Australia, so that may change. If the ban becomes legislation, then DIY is an option (see further below).
This article outlines the steps to take and options to legally purchase vapes and nicotine liquid from an online pharmacy, with a prescription from an online prescriber. This will more than likely be an easier pathway than going to your local GP and pharmacy because many GPs are unfamiliar with vaping and many pharmacies don't stock vapes.
You will need to submit a script to see what is available, as they cannot legally show any vape products until your script is approved.
Getting a prescription and accessing an online pharmacy
There are online prescribers and online pharmacies that specialise in vaping products. Some are separate, others are one-stop-shops for both vape prescription and pharmacy services or partnered with each other.
You can get a script from online prescribers like quitrx.com.au or one-stop-shops like v-scripts.com.au, myduke.com.au and quithero.com.au, amongst others.
Generally, applying is an online questionnaire and the script is emailed to you, or access to an online pharmacy's products is granted.
Prices for prescriptions can vary. Some are free, but limited to their own products, for example myduke.com.au.
Quitmed.com.au and quithero.com.au have the biggest range of vape products, there are many others listed here. Some accept outside scripts, others from their partnered prescribers.
Nicotine vape liquid
You can buy ready-to-vape nicotine liquid, prefilled pods, or purchase nicotine concentrate from a pharmacy and mix it with 0% nicotine flavoured vape liquid.
0% nicotine flavoured liquid can be purchased without a script from vape stores like: vapoureyes.com.au, vapeking.com.au, vapelink.com.au, wickandwireco.com.au.
A more comprehensive list of online and 'bricks and mortar' vape stores in Australia is available here.
Nicotine liquid comes in freebase and salt forms. The difference between freebase and salt nicotine, is that freebase has a better 'throat hit' and is regularly used for vaping at lower levels of nicotine in a higher wattage device, although many use it at moderate levels with a lower wattage device too. Salt nicotine has an acid added, like benzoic acid, so is less irritating to the throat at higher nicotine levels and absorbs into the bloodstream quicker.
Note: disposable vapes generally contain around 50mg/ml (5%) of salt nicotine in Australia, even if there is no information on the label.
If you're coming off disposables, depending on the wattage of the device you decide to use (some are adjustable), 50mg/ml salt nicotine may be too much, so 25mg/ml (2.5%) to 30mg/ml (3%) may be enough. Freebase, at a lower dose, is also an alternative.
For freebase nicotine, the dose range is around 12mg/ml (1.2%) to 18mg/ml (1.8%), anything much above 18mg/ml tends to be irritating to the throat, so salt nicotine is recommended.
If you're coming off smoking, freebase maybe suitable in the transition to vaping because of the 'throat hit' that is similar to a cigarette. Otherwise, if a higher nicotine dose is needed or cravings aren't satisfied, salt nicotine is an alternative.
These nicotine levels are for low watt devices, not sub-ohm high powered vapes that are usually vaped with around 3-6mg/ml of freebase nicotine.
Nicotine concentrate
(Note: If you want things as simple as possible, skip this and go to 'ready to vape liquid' below).
100mg/ml freebase and salt nicotine concentrate are available to mix with 0% nicotine flavoured vape liquid. Quitmed.com.au and Quithero.com.au stock the best value salt or freebase concentrate at $32.90 for 100ml, at time of writing.
You can use a nicotine calculator to work out your desired nicotine level using 100mg/ml nicotine concentrate: Nicotine Calculator - Wick and Wire Co Australia.
If you want to add nicotine concentrate to 0% nicotine flavoured ready-to-vape liquid, you can remove the amount of mls from the bottle, to replace it with the same mls of your chosen mg/ml of concentrate, to get an accurate dose. It also provides enough of a gap in the bottle to do so. You can add the nicotine, without removing liquid to avoid wastage, as long as there's enough room. Just consider that it will be a less accurate dose, especially if a lot of concentrate is used. Alternatively, there are 'shortfill' 0% nicotine flavoured liquid bottles with a gap already.
Another option is a 0% nicotine flavoured liquid 'doubler' that is half filled with double concentration flavour, a bit like cordial. With a doubler, you replace the shortfall after adding nicotine concentrate with unflavoured PG/VG (more about PG/VG below).
With a doubler, you avoid flavour dilution that you would otherwise get adding nicotine concentrate to ready-to-vape liquid, especially when a lot of nicotine concentrate is required.
For example, if your desired nicotine level is 25mg/ml, you would be adding 30mls of 100mg/ml nicotine concentrate to a 60ml doubler. That would make 120mls of 25mg/ml juice when you add 30mls of unflavoured PG/VG.
Take precautions when dealing with nicotine concentrate: FAQ: "Spiking" 0mg e-liquid with your 100mg nicotine.
PG and VG
PG is Propylene glycol and VG is vegetable glycerin, they are the base of vape liquid that carries flavours and nicotine, making up the 4 ingredients of flavoured nicotine vape liquid. More about PG and VG here.
Vape liquid comes in a mix of PG and VG, usually around 50PG/50VG and 30PG/70VG, though there are other ratios.
When choosing vape liquid, 50PG/50VG liquid will carry flavour better and have more of a 'throat hit', being higher PG and is generally for lower wattage devices. 30PG/70VG liquid is smoother and produces more vapour because of the higher VG and tends to be used in higher wattage devices. 30PG/70VG can however, be used in lower wattage devices as well.
When mixing 100mg/ml nicotine concentrate, consider that it's usually PG based and can change the ratio of PG/VG in a 0% nicotine flavoured liquid quite a lot, depending on how much is added. 50PG/50VG together with a larger amount of nicotine PG concentrate might be irritating. In this case, using a 30PG/70VG 0% nicotine flavoured liquid, or a doubler and adding flavourless 30PG/70VG or 100% VG to the shortfall may be best.
DIY
Regardless of any bans, you can still make your own vape liquid. PG, VG and flavours will always be available as they are all used in food manufacturing. Stock of PG, VG and flavours can be sourced from basedrop.com.au and flavourworld.com.au. Recipes can be found at alltheflavors.com and advice on mixing vape liquid at .
Ready to vape liquid
You can buy ready-to-vape nicotine liquid in various strengths up to 50mg/ml (5%), however, you're limited to the brands and flavours on offer at pharmacies.
Prefilled pods
Devices with prefilled pods of flavoured nicotine liquid are also available. They are the most convenient, but also by far, the most expensive.
Flavour profile of disposable vapes vs reusable vapes
Many disposable vapers are looking to replicate the flavour of disposable vapes when they switch to refillable vapes. There is a lot more sweetener and menthol (AKA ice or ws-23 cooling agent) in disposables, so finding a vape liquid with a similar profile or adding sweetener and ws-23 might be an option. You can get advice about adding sweetener etc, at . However, higher levels of sweetener can potentially reduce the life of the coil in your refillable vape and you may get used to the flavour profile of vape juice for refillable vapes anyway.
Availability of vapes and coils/pods
There are plenty of vape devices available that are not approved by the TGA for sale in pharmacies, though stock of them and coils/pods will be an ongoing issue as importation of unapproved devices is banned.
The TGA has an approved list of notified vapes. Popular examples are the Uwell Caliburn G3, Vaporesso XROS 3, Vaporesso XROS 3 Mini and the Vaporesso Luxe X.
If you want to keep things simple, consider going for the XROS 3 Mini, it is a lower wattage 'mouth to lung' (MTL) pod device, with auto draw (inhale activated). It is similar to a disposable, and as similar as possible to a cigarette.
The XROS 3 differs from the XROS 3 Mini in that it has a fire button (with option of auto draw) and adjustable airflow so you can control the tightness of the draw and as such, it can be used for 'restricted direct lung' (RDL) as well as MTL.
The Caliburn G3 is also a MTL and RDL device with auto draw, adjustable airflow and wattage up to 25w (depending on the coil used), so you can control the amount of vapour produced.
The Luxe X is a higher wattage device (up to 40w), with adjustable airflow, that can be used for both (MTL) or 'direct lung' (DL) vaping and is the most versatile of the vapes above.
These devices, compatible coils/pods and others on the list can be found in pharmacies and vape stores (subject to availability).
Here is a link to vapem8.com.au, an Australian vape finder and comparison site to help find vapes, juice, pods, coils etc in stock, outside of pharmacies.
Any questions, ask on aussievapers.

A person goes to work in a feed mill. A person works from 3pm to 11pm. A person’s job is to maintain the well being of the facility. A person checks lights, checks fans, checks machinery, ensures product count is accurate, ensures well greasing of the facility, and ensures that the mass ingredient waste is kept clean on a daily basis. A person toils. A person goes home during at night. A person greets their pet, they eat dinner alone, they begin to feel sick.
A person rushes to their bathroom and begins to vomit. A person dry heaves in desperation for the relief of expelling whatever makes them feel so ill. A person begins to leak black from their lips before they fill the toilet with pure obsidian. A person looks exhausted. A person is disoriented, and resolves to brush their teeth and go straight to sleep.
A person wakes up feeling fine. A person is in confusion about how great they feel after experiencing such a sickness the night before. A person proceeds to complete their morning routine of brushing their teeth, combing their hair, drinking water, smoking a cigarette outside their house while they lace their boots, and leaving for work.
A person arrives at work and punches in. A person is told to immediately make counts as there is an issue with the sensor on one of the bins and that inventory discrepancies must be resolved. A person proceeds to climb an access ladder for the tops of the ingredient bins. A person makes their way cross the roof of access doors so that they can check the amount of corn left in a corn bin. While a person is peering down into the bin through the access door they begin to dry heave and convulse before puking black into the bin below. A person tumbles down into the bin in a fit of illness.
The supervisor is impatient. The supervisor is terrified that their boss the father will reprimand him for not checking the bins like he had asked first thing. The supervisor becomes frustrated with the person. The supervisor grabs their flashlight and begins to investigate why the person hasn’t returned. The supervisor is day dreaming of catching the person slacking on their duty. The supervisor proceeds to the bin on the roof the person was told to check. The supervisor is surrounded by night and the whirring of the machinery.
The supervisor approaches the bin and sees the person’s flashlight next to the closed bin door. The supervisor is now filled with terror. The supervisor rushes to the door and opens it. The supervisor inspects the walls of the bin frantically while shouting the person’s name when their beam fixes on what appears to be the remains of a large cocoon. The supervisor shuts the bin door in shock, and frantically attempts to get up to sprint toward the access ladder when a set of glowing red eyes lock on to him.
The figure with red eyes snarls as liquid black seeps from its mouth, moving closer towards the supervisor. The supervisor cannot believe his eyes, when the moon reveals the beastly adversary. Long stalks spiral out of the darkness from four angles, moving in a motion similar to a common coyote. The head of the figure follows as rows of corn trace the skull into a set of glowing red kernels right in the center. The figure is indeed a mutation of a corn plant into a monstrosity. The supervisor notices Judy before the figure lunges that there is something near the torso of the the figure. The supervisor notices the person’s name tag, Jimmy.
The supervisor attempts to say something, but can’t crack anything off in time.
Jimmy Cracked Corn plays

While the description of fengshui synesthesia provided so helpfully by your moderator on the right is correct ("Do you experience a vibe in a ...."), fengshui synesthesia is a poor description of this synesthesia. Smell + light + sensory + mood = vibe synesthesia, or SLSM=V synesthesia may be a better description. To get the best vibes, and they can be overwhelming (!), you need three to four ingredients, although two can be sufficient:

1. Smell. The smell needs to be different from the smells you are used to and has to be very specific to the situation which gives you the SLSM=V synesthesia. A good smell (hmmm, good smell!) is much much more likely to result into a good vibe than a bad smell, but any strong smell will do it. The stronger the smell, even a stinky moldy smell, the better. One of my best vibes is associated with a moldy smell.
2. Light. How light gets into your eyes needs to be different and special, it has to illicit an emotion, the first time you notice the light, you should have a "wow", or "huh?" reaction. Gemstones work really well, much better than anything else, but how light (incandescent light, sunlight) reflects from wood or from linoleum can also have a good effect.
3. A third sensory input: sound, temperature, tactile. This can be music or sound, but feeling/tactile works best for me. I can only recall two vibes in which sound played a major role (one on ABBA's Money Money Money the other on 10CC's Dreadlock Holiday). One vibe in which temperature plays a major role: walking outside in a crispy cold Dutch morning, OctobeNovember, with the typical smell of the industrial area I grew up in. Tactile is perhaps the strongest of the three: lying under a turquoise colored cover with a texture much rougher than I was used to.
4. Mood. Very important. Good moods help. Happiness is probably the one that gives the best vibes. Being in love? Yes, probably. Feeling more safe or less stressed compared to how you normally feel is also a good input. Being scared or stressed can lead to a bad vibe.

Let me give you examples of my best vibes.

1. Smell: A fabric softener which was new to me, because it was used by a friend's family. I was playing at their house as a 6-year old. Light: Looking at a deep dark transparent purple gemstone (probably glass) in a cufflink. This is how I discovered my SLSM=V synesthesia. When I switched to another cufflink with a transparent glassy stone, without changing the environment, the vibe changed immediately. By changing to looking at his moms pincushion, it changed again! All vibes were amazing and enormous. Third sensory input: probably the feeling of sitting on the carpet. Not very strong in this vibe. Mood: Happiness! We were good friends (still are after more than 40 years) and we connected well when we were playing, making up stuff, moving our Playmobil, Star Wars figurines and Lego around.
2. Smell: No specific smell. Light: Looking at a transparent LEGO piece. Sound: ABBA's Money Money Money. Mood: Happy and safe. Just playing at home, by myself. My mom working downstairs, hoovering. Later on, just listening to Mama Mia was sufficient to recall the vibe. It still does, but only for a few milliseconds. One of the first vibes I can recall.
3. Smell: Fabric softener / smell of my bed cover's fabric. Light: the pattern of my cover. It has a picture of Arabian Nights ("Sinbad", 1970s television series ). Third sensory input: The cover feels rougher than I am used to. It is also heavier. Mood: This was a time when things were changing in school. Very stressful but interesting time. I learned to read and write, made new friends. Found out I was in love for the first time, haha. My class was mixed with the year above us, and this gave a lot of stress because I was so easily intimidated.
4. Smell: A house filled with Camel cigarettes' smell, and food smells I was not used to. This was at our neighbors' house. Light: Interesting one. Their layout was mirrored compared to ours. This really threw me off. I made a separate post about this. Also, they had a chandelier which cast an interesting light pattern. Mood: Apprehensive? Not sure about this one. I was good friends with their son, seven years older than me, but both parents were intimidating. His mom was a bit overbearing but nice, and his dad was a bully. Third sensory input: Cannot recall. The smell was so overwhelming and different from the smell in our house, and the mirrored layout was also overwhelming. Just those two inputs were probably sufficient to create a vibe that was incredibly overwhelming, I really had to look twice when I went outside again to return home, because the view I was used to had "distorted". While nothing had changed, it felt like a completely different world. It took hours for the vibe to wear off.
5. I had a similar overwhelming experience returning from another friend's house as a six-year old. Their layout was very different. His mom was one of the nicest people I ever met, probably had a bit of a crush on her, while his dad was an idiot. So unpredictable. Very noisy man. Big moustache. Everything was so different in their house. Everything was done to make the kids happy. I was always treated as a special guest, not sure why. So different from how things were at home. There was so much happiness, while there was a lot of moodiness at our home. They once gave a birthday party for my friend in which they played different games and I won a sample of aftershave (as a 6-year old! showing how different everything was at their house). You see, smell. Their house was filled with gemstones. This was heaven. Upon return to my own house there was this strong contrast. At home, there was always tension when both my parents were around. With the vibe of their house/environment still stuck to me, it really did not mix with the vibe of our own house. This was difficult to deal with. My world came crashing down when his parents divorced and they all moved. Kuddos to my parents for sticking together.
6. Smell: moldy smell of my grandparent's cabin in the woods. Mix of tar and moisture/mold. Light: Light falling through the trees? Mood: Happy! Sound: things sound different in the cabin, the echo's are different. Other sensory input: everything is humid. Clothes, fabrics in the cabin.

Bad vibe:
Smell: Smell of erasers and pencils in our class. Smell of soap (different vibe) in school. Light: the teacher uses red stamps when she marks our work. Our learning to read method is very old school, it looks 100 years old. Mood: Stressed! I am at elementary school, just left Kindergarten and learn to read. Everything is so different. I don't like different. Some of the kids are much older. The teacher is nice and very patient. There is so much chaos in the class though, very liberal 70s. Still, after one or two months things settle down and I feel safe. But whenever I smell those erasers or the wood of the pencils, I fall back into misery.
Could probably add another hundred vibes, but you get the feel.
Your turn!

While watching the "Smoking is awesome" vid, it hit me – There's a shortage of reliable and accessible info on the health effects of Snus and nicotine pouches like ZYN. Which makes it especially bad that some highly popular social media influencers are tossing around misinformation.
There are known downsides like; problems with gums, potentially cancer (according to a 2019 Norwegian health report on Swedish snus), heart problems(?), and obviously the nicotine addiction. But what do the ingredients of snus (mainly nicotine/tobacco) actually do to our bodies and brains, both short-term and long-term. And how does this compare to inhaling cigarette smoke?
The research gap is pretty obvious compared to the wealth of studies we have on smoking, largely because snus users are a much smaller group globally. Most research comes from Scandinavia, and it's only in the last two decades that snus has become popular among young Norwegians and Swedes. Now its brand new cousin ZYN (nicotine pouches) are catching on in America. There's this whole new audience getting into the trend without accesible and solid info on what it does to them.
With Kurzgesagt's broad reach, a video might unintentionally promote snus, but it would certainly educate about this gray area and might inspire public demand for more research.

I stopped talking to my roommate a week ago. Some background…
A little over 2 years ago, she lost her job at the only employer she’d ever known. She spent most of the next two years unemployed and unmotivated. She did find a job she liked after about a year, but her division closed after a couple of months and she became a lump on the couch again.
About 6-8 months ago, she entered into a depression. She spent most of her days in bed or sleeping. She didn’t look for work. She didn’t want to talk about it either, so when she said she wanted to go to rehab 3 months ago, I was in full support.
Over the two years she didn’t work, I raised my own portion of the rent by $200 without being asked. Our rent only went up $25 over that time. My roommate would also ask for advances on rent or for money to cover bills, which was supposed to be included in my rent. This has caused issues in the past, as again I raised my own rent but was always being hounded for more.
Another reason I was glad she was going to rehab was that my roommate smoked and drank in large amounts. Again, she would ask to “borrow” from me when she’d run out. Post rehab, my “consumption” has halved just from not having to spot her constantly. I also cut back my drinking while she was in inpatient, and only drink on Fridays and never in front of her. She’d also get mean when drinking, making comments on my appearance on several occasions. So yeah, I supported her going to rehab to address her depression and substance use.
Post rehab, we’ve only hung out once. All of our old activities are triggering to her. Ok, I suggest new activities. No go. About a week after coming home, she starts bringing a guy from rehab to the home. The guy is a pendantic ass, and I’m not an expert but this whole thing seems like a terrible idea, but ok. Then she starts doing the same activities I suggested with the guy. Again, ok. Not super thrilled, but ok, maybe she needs time…
Last week I’m making my dinner when she comes in with the guy. She looks incredibly annoyed to see me in the kitchen,recovers quickly. She then tells me “Well, I was gonna make lasagna for dinner…”, and lays all the ingredients on the same counter I have my food on. In the moment, I gave in, stopped cooking and cleaned up so she could have the kitchen. I was really unhappy afterwards, but I really got pissed the next day when her “friend” suggested I use nicotine gum after he saw me smoke a single cigarette, the only one he’s seen me smoke in a month, my first one in over a year. I just looked at him like he was stupid and gave him a curt “No” before walking off while he was still talking.
I’d had it. I had been complaining for months about not having enough space. My roommate has the master bedroom and only her things in the living areas. My bedroom has to be three rooms in one and is half the size of her room. I also share my room with my cat, while her two cats get the rest of the space and one shits all over the house. Now I’m literally being sent to my room so she can cook dinner for her new “friend”. I’m angry and more than a little hurt, but I just want to gtfo, I don’t want another talk that leads to zero change. AITA?

A first timer's cruise on Aida may 1st - may 5th
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Since I used this group to prepare for my cruise it seems only fair to give a little back to the community and write up my impressions. Besides, Aida, the German market subsidiary of Costa, isn't a company that's discussed much here.
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About us We're a 50 year old Dutch couple living in the west of the Netherlands. We've never cruised before but our children are now of an age that makes it an option to leave them at home and enjoy a vacation with the two of us. As is fairly typical for people in this country that consistently tops the English proficiency index list our English quite good and our German is mediocre mainly due to lack of practice. I've visited Germany for business trips quite regularly and we've take summer holidays in Austria the past few years.
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The cruise We've had ideas about taking a very special holiday as a couple for some time now. Several ideas on our lists are luxury cruises in exotic locations but we realised we have no idea if we'd actually enjoy one. So we booked a short cruise to try it out. We opted for a 5 day cruise Warnemunde-Gotheborg-Aarhus-Copenhagen-Warnemunde.
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Booking Rather than booking through an agent we booked directly on the company's website. We found two basic options, they choose your cabin within the category you pick or you can do it for a surcharge. Since it's important to us to have twin beds and no double we picked the more expensive option and chose a sea view cabin at the front end of deck 4, the lowest passenger deck. You're not expect to pay right away but you get an invoice in the mail after several days. Once that confirms your booking you can start ordering excursions. We had a long look at those and noticed that quite a few nice excursions were already sold out or started very late in the day. So an 0800 mooring and then an excursion at 1530 the same day starting at the ship. So what are you supposed to do with the rest of the time?
We also used Aida's website to book parking on a partner company. 60 euros for parking for the duration of the trip in a guarded parking area and shuttle service to the ship.
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Embarkation Aida uses a high ceiling glass building at the port. At the entrance very surely security staff that is there to check your paperwork to make sure you're not there a minute too early or too late, you've got a 30 minute slot for embarkation and you better be there!
Inside Aida blasts some 90s pop at volumes high enough that I struggled to hear the boarding agent.But we had our reservation papers and she quickly gave us two preprinted barcode cards which are your key to everything on board.
At the security check they confiscated some snacks even though they met Aida's rules for pre-packaged foods. It also seemed that they'd learned customer service at the same class as the people at the door. Ship's own security staff were really friendly.
Also interesting to note that a LOT of people were already wearing an Aida lanyard around their necks. We discovered later that this is apparently a thing among fans to build a collection of aida branded lanyards and to display their brand loyalty this way.
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Cabin We'd opted for a sea view on the front of deck 4. Turned out to be a good spot mostly. Fairly quiet, except when mooring and just a minute walk to the embarkation area on deck 3. Cabin itself is small but did look exactly like the brochure. Clean. I was glad that the top 2 fold down bunks were there, this allowed me to take a mattress from there and put over the first since it was rather thin. Our package included 2 bottles of water per day which were promptly supplied by housekeeping. It did not include the extra, extra large bathrobe I'd requested at no extra charge at booking. I'm really tall so a normal bathrobe barely covers the essentials. Our sleep was good most days except one when it was quite windy and they used the stabilisers a lot which caused a sensation like someone shaking your bed.
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Being tall on board OK, I'm used to my feet sticking out the end of a bed, I can deal with that. I'm less used to walking with a slight stoop in corridors to avoid head injuries from sprinklers or exit signs. Entering elevators did involve some serious ducking down and maybe it was me looming over other people that caused people to almost never share an elevator with us?
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Food and drink There's 2 buffet restaurants on board which serve differently themed food at lunch and dinner while breakfast is pretty much the same. Quality wasn't bad most of the time but it wasn't really great either. I think breakfast was probably the best meal with loads of German classics as well as standard international fair and good breads. We were pleasantly surprised the first morning that one of the waitresses brought a whole pot of coffee to our table but we didn't understand why their coffee was cheap and weak tasting. The instant coffee we found at the tea counter (which had really good quality teas) was a better option.
If you made an effort it was certainly possible to eat healthy. Only thing they didn't ever understand was crispy fries, it was all British style soggy. There's an Asian restaurant which has 2 or 3 pre cooked dishes and a selection of raw ingredients you can pick and mix and have a cook prepare for you (without much in the way of seasoning) while you wait at your table. The concept isn't bad but the execution is, the buffet area is extremely crowded and there's no real room to do the necessary queuing for the cooks. Poorly thought out this.
Seating at all free restaurant was free, just find something. Dress code was no shorts and that was mostly followed.
The burger bar, Burgers at sea or something is an f-ing disgrace. A half hour wait gets you a small burger of very dry meat, a tiny cup of very sweet coleslaw and a mini portion of soggy fries. The steakhouse, one of the two restaurants on board where you pay for food and drink, was actually really nice. Good service, the "bison"meat was great and it is indeed cooked exactly to order. Worth the money!
We're not big drinkers so only tried the bar once or twice, would have gone more often if they offered decent coffee but for some reason they have Starbucks. Nice selection of gins, disappointing range of beers. No bar snacks except some cheap salty peanuts.
There's no room service.
The drinks package for our cruise for some strange reason only allowed for soft drinks and coffees. Apparently our trip was one day too short for the full drinks package. This didn't seem worth it considering they use a coffee brand we really do not like.
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Excursions Can't say much about those. We bought hop on/off tickets for Gothenburg and Copenhagen. Nearly bought a harbour tour at Aarhus but it was members only and for some bizarre reason the system allowed me to book but not my wife. By the time we'd sorted that out it was sold out.
After mooring in a Harbour you're herded to the buses in a fairly effective matter making it impossible to get lost.
Gothenburg's mooring location was really far from the city. At Copenhagen it was close enough that the hop on bus company actually ran shuttle buses to the cruise terminal. At Aarhus we moored within easy walking distance of the city. All three cities didn't exactly provide a scenic harbour.
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Gothenburg: City is a big construction zone. Fair bit of shopping, nice art museum. Good food and the old streets of Haga neighbourhood are a fun tourist attraction (tip: don't go for the cinnamon buns at that cafe with the huge line but the one 50 metres west)
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Aarhus: Lovely provincial university town. Aaros is a must see if you have any connection at all with modern art. The Gamla By is pretty unique in being an open air museum focussed on urban instead of rural setting.
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Copenhagen: Did the bus tour to see something of the city, quickly strolled through the masses at the old harbour and got very distracted by the Tivoli amusement park which features a roller coaster more than a century old.
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Wellness/sauna The sauna's nice, really clean, located at the top of the ship for a great view and a steal at 5 euros an hour. It's also a mixed gender naked sauna which suits us fine. We considered a wellness treatment of some kind but the staff person at the desk didn't exactly make this an attractive option to book so we skipped that.
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Information flow Ask a question to two different staff members and get two different answers. Onboard, use the app? The bordportal (ship's intranet) and log on with your email? Booking number? An arbitrarily assigned pin code? Eventually we learned that the paper program delivered to our door was most reliable best source of information
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Pool deck or rather the smoking deck Didn't try the actual pool it's tiny and crowded. On boarding day we did spend an hour or two on the loungers on the deck above the pool level it because it was exceptionally nice weather on the departure day. And then the constant smell of cigarette smoke got on our nerves. Because Germans love to smoke! And they're apparently allowed to smoke anywhere outside on the top decks! (Except the nudist area)
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Entertainment They have a group of 4 singers and 4 dancers/acrobats that performed a different show every day we were on board. Shows lasted 40-50 minutes and were really quite entertaining. There was also a talkshow hosted by the cruise director, didn't interest me much. Also saw a band in the "casino" area one night, wasn't bad but very loud. Personally I'd have liked to see some other options. Maybe a little jazz in the lounge? Piano player?
They also organise activities, we tried a dance workshop once which turned into a private lesson since we were the only couple showing up. I'd say they could get a lot more people if they'd share a little more information about these but..
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Staff A lot of the European staff is German. I found quite a few of these not exactly friendly. Not sure if they're just too busy or if my mediocre German was the issue. Asian staff in general was quite friendly and seemed fine with our German (theirs wasn't any better), some seemed to prefer English. I saw a group of them do a spontaneous surprise musical greeting for a regular guest celebrating birthday
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Guests Almost exclusively German, I noticed a Dutch family and was sure I picked up a little Polish and even some Czech. So call it 98% German. Age range was 40-75 with mostly couples and groups of female friends. A handful of young families.
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Our conclusion: Cruising in itself actually seems to suit us. There's something about a new location every day that gives you a nice feeling of travelling, making a journey. Would we do this again? Possibly. But not on Aida. I'd like a little more luxury and a lot less cigarette smoke.

Short for time: just a quick update for anyone else struggling to quit pouches, so apologies for spelling and grammar.
It is day 7 patching, using 21mg 24 hour patches, but only wearing them 12-15 hours a day. Hard finding good info on how fast and much nicotine is released if not wearing full 24 hours, though seems most patches its higher during first few hours, so guessing I am getting roughly somewhere from 12mg - 16mg a day.
The first 3 days there was noticeable withdrawal symptoms, despite patches technically having higher strength than what I had tapered down to on pouches, but since then I have largely forgotten about pouches. The only exception is when going for a snack or drink the usual thought "I'll have to wait til finish this pouch" pops up before remembering there isn't one. Also, extremely little to no withdrawal when I wake up, nor between the 1-2 hours later when put on patch and then waiting for nicotine to slowly release from it, which is vast difference compared to pouches.
Circulation issues that were causing me concern have occurred occasionally, but incredibly minor, brief, and nothing like they were using pouches. No waking during the night either, which got both when tapering down on pouches or if failed to manage pacing them and took too many from mid-day to early evening. Similarly, issues with energy, concentration, and hunger are all far less than were on pouches. I suspect the combination of faster higher level nicotine levels achieved AND all the sweetners in pouches was major reason for that.
The pouches I was consuming - Nordic Spirit - have 3 sweetners, though two are hidden in the ingredients list as 'fillers' rather than 'sweetners'. I am wondering if some of the withdrawal was body adapting to suddenly being deprived of what must have been significant amount of sweetners per day. Whole time trying to taper and quit pouches, there has been noticeable nicotine withdrawal symptoms I know all too well from smoking, but also something that felt different as well - which became more pronounced days 2-3 on patches as the usual nicotine withdrawal symptoms decreased. I also wonder whether sweetners impact how the body metabolises the nicotine in pouches - I have vague memory reading the added sugar in cigarettes increases nicotine delivery and addictive potential.
Got a lot on in my life just now, where I am going to be careful in reducing patch strengths, but given how easy it has been transitioning to patches, planning 2 weeks on each patch strength working down. Similarly, given how much easier found quitting cigarettes compared to pouches and how patches seem to be causing less issues in general, especially the end of horrendous withdrawal from moment of waking, I'm hoping that's reasonable balance between ambition and caution.
Honestly, I am surprised and relieved at benefits from switching to patches, despite nicotine consuming technically being roughly bit higher than tapered to on pouches. Though given the initial withdrawal symptoms and huge unknowns around pouch nicotine delivery, it could actually be same amount or bit lower. I'll admit I was one of those people who scoffed at others using patches to quit smoking, as never understood how others found it so difficult. Sadly, that also led me to avoid trying patches until now, along with beating myself up at struggling so much quitting pouches compared to smoking. I now wish I had tried patches sooner - and highly recommend it to anyone experiencing health issues / decrease quality of life on pouches and finding it hard to taper / cold turkey them.

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Celebrate your smoke-free milestones with Tabex. If you’re just starting out, embrace the path to a healthier lifestyle. For those who’ve been using Tabex, keep pushing forward. Your smoke-free future is worth every effort!

I commented on a post two days ago on how like others my experience trying to quit pouches is far worse than anything experienced quitting cigarettes. I'm nearly 40 and started smoking at 14. In those years, I have cold turkey quit cigarettes three times, managing to stop 1-3 years each time. Each time I quit, I'd be considered a moderate or heavy smoker. Quitting when smoking at my heaviest was a struggle, but one that, as long as other circumstances at time were manageable, I could push through. All three times involved little to no planning. Literally the last time I quit smoking was random whim, I was mid-smoke and decided I had enough, stubbed the cigarette and chucked rest in bin.
Pouches are a whole other story. I never craved a cigarette the way I do these monstrosities. When a heavy smoker I could reasonable pace cigarettes, and if an activity absorbed my full attention, I could go reasonable amount of time without noticing I hadn't smoked. Fair enough, I'd probably then chain 2-3 - but after the first it felt like mix of compulsion and choice on whether to have second or third rather than driven by pure addiction.
Pouches it quickly started to feel like nothing but compulsive addiction. They fast went from a "bit of energy to help push through workload" to catching myself popping a new 6mg pouch every half-hour. I can't count number of times I have tried to cold turkey pouches, but never made it past day 5. Worse, each time a cold turkey attempt failed, I ended up consuming more per day than what I did before the attempt. It felt each attempt to quit merely worsened the addiction. In the end, I bought a locked box with a timer as the cravings and withdrawal were so horrendous.
Thanks to the locked box I have incredibly slowly - and a hell of a lot of setbacks - gone from 15-20 6mg a day to 7-9 3mg a day. Each time I reduce the taper, it has been far harder than cold turkeying cigarettes. Even a few weeks into each adjustment, it remains sheer hell pacing them out. Well before the timer unlocks the box I start to feel withdrawal symptoms. And when I say withdrawal, I mean withdrawal rather than simply a strong craving. It has only been possible to taper as can mostly work from home and rely on the locked box. Each time I have had to go into the office, I fast end up consuming one+ per hour.
All that is a long rambling preamble to say, I have likely managed to get as far as I can with tapering, and decided best next step towards quitting nicotine is by switching to patches. An immediate issue was figuring out what patch strength to start with. There is barely any information on actual level of nicotine pouches release. Online sellers misleading, though likely deliberately, give the info for snus of 20-30%. The only research I could find on pouches gave 50-55% instead. That makes 7-9 3mg pouches anywhere from 10.5 - 14(ish)mg. So, that would be roughly the 'moderate' strength patch. Despite that, I thought for day 1 I'd try the 21mg patch rather than risk horrendous withdrawal on the 14mg patch.
And oh am I glad I did! Persistent withdrawal symptoms throughout the day as if I was making a significant reduction! Oddly, felt a nicotine buzz and wee bit jittery after few hours, yet withdrawal symptoms persisted. No idea if that's merely due to patch while delivering more nicotine cumulatively lacks the faster nicotine hits body has learnt to anticipate from pouch and/or my body also being addicted to other ingredients in the pouches. However, the intensity of withdrawal symptoms rose and fell slowly in waves over the day, which is unbelievably easier to manage than trying to pace pouches where intensity rockets.
Other positives:

• Energy, hunger, concentration while impacted by withdrawal symptoms were at least stable over the day compared to absolute rollercoaster experience with pouches.
  
• No mid-day or evening crash. Since became dependent on pouches been experiencing two major crashes each day 1. heavy fatigue for 2+ hours after initial 2-3 pouches for the day 2. anywhere from 5pm - 8pm all energy and motivation evaporates and I am left a zombie for the rest of the day.
  
• Heart-rate decent bit lower throughout the day. Still shockingly higher than before I started pouches, but this is big relief to see day 1.
  
• My watch stress measure remained low to mid-high throughout the day, whereas you can normally tell precise times I popped a pouch from the spikes to full red highest stress measures.
  
• No weird sensations in hands and feet that has had me worried about potential blood circulation issues from consuming pouches.
  

I can imagine this is going to be struggle to adapt to over 2+ weeks, but already feeling far more confident that if I can push through that I can eventually quit working down through the patch strengths.

It's Time To Treat Junk Food As Cigarettes

In a world inundated with convenience foods and fast-paced lifestyles, the prevalence of junk food has become a concerning issue. Often perceived as harmless indulgences, these highly processed and calorie-dense products can have profound implications for our health and well-being. In this article, we delve into the parallels between junk food and cigarettes, shedding light on the need to reevaluate our relationship with these dietary choices.

The Junk Food Epidemic

Junk food, characterized by its high sugar, salt, and fat content, has become ubiquitous in modern society. From sugary beverages and deep-fried snacks to processed meats and desserts laden with artificial ingredients, these products offer little nutritional value while contributing to excessive calorie intake and weight gain.

The Link to Cigarettes

While the detrimental effects of smoking on health are well-documented, the parallels between junk food and cigarettes are often overlooked. Both share common characteristics:

1. Addictive Properties: Junk food, like cigarettes, can trigger addictive responses in the brain, leading to cravings and compulsive consumption.
2. Health Consequences: Just as smoking is associated with a myriad of health issues, including heart disease, cancer, and respiratory disorders, excessive junk food consumption is linked to obesity, diabetes, and metabolic syndrome.
3. Social Acceptance: Despite growing awareness of their adverse effects, both junk food and cigarettes remain socially acceptable and widely accessible, perpetuating their consumption.

Understanding the Health Risks

Junk food consumption poses significant health risks, including:

1. Obesity: The high calorie and low nutrient content of junk food can contribute to weight gain and obesity, increasing the risk of chronic diseases such as type 2 diabetes and cardiovascular disease.
2. Metabolic Syndrome: Excessive intake of refined sugars and processed fats can disrupt metabolic health, leading to insulin resistance, high blood pressure, and abnormal cholesterol levels.
3. Nutritional Deficiencies: Junk food lacks essential nutrients such as vitamins, minerals, and fiber, leading to nutritional deficiencies and poor overall health.
4. Mental Health: Poor dietary choices have been linked to mental health disorders such as depression and anxiety, further underscoring the importance of a balanced diet for overall well-being.

Changing Perceptions and Behaviors

To address the junk food epidemic and its impact on public health, it's imperative to adopt a multifaceted approach:

1. Education: Increasing public awareness of the health risks associated with junk food consumption is crucial for fostering informed dietary choices.
2. Regulation: Implementing policies to restrict the marketing and availability of junk food, particularly to vulnerable populations such as children, can help curb its consumption.
3. Promoting Healthy Alternatives: Encouraging the consumption of whole, unprocessed foods through incentives and subsidies can steer individuals towards healthier dietary choices.
4. Empowering Individuals: Providing resources and support for individuals to make healthier food choices, such as cooking classes and nutrition education programs, can empower them to take control of their health.

Conclusion

As we confront the escalating rates of obesity and chronic disease, it's time to treat junk food with the same scrutiny and regulation as cigarettes. By acknowledging the parallels between these two harmful substances and implementing strategies to promote healthier dietary habits, we can mitigate the adverse effects of junk food on individual and public health. Together, let's redefine our relationship with food and prioritize the well-being of future generations.

Picture this, it’s 2005. 9 years old. Midwestern small town. Summertime.
You spend your days with your grandma and grandpa on your mom’s side of the family while your parents work. Day starts out by being dropped off around 6:30am. Mom carries you in and lays you on the couch. You fall back asleep until 7:30/8:00, when grandma wakes you up with a bowl of Oreo-O’s ready to go. Grandpa changes the TV channel to Nicktoons Network where Corneil and Bernie is airing. You munch your cereal while grandma and grandpa do some household chores before getting ready for the day. They’re heavy smokers, but you don’t mind. The smell brings you some comfort honestly. You glance outside and see the sun shining brightly and a lush green color flows into the house from the surrounding trees and bushes. Grandma’s wind chimes ring on the front porch from the slight breeze of the day. The rain from yesterday gives the air a rich, earthy smell.
Around 11:00/12:00, pawpaw asks if you want to run to the convenience store with him to get some deli meat for sandwiches for lunch. Of course you want to go. You both hop into his beat up truck and go about 1/4 mile to the local convenience store. Pawpaw tells you to go grab a toy and candy while he grabs the deli meat. You pick out a pack of Pokemon cards (a pack of EX Emerald, the newest and most popular set amongst your friends at school) and a Wonderball. You run to the register to give it to pawpaw so he can buy it for you. While standing at the counter, he is whistled over by a group of his lifelong friends. Some war buddies, some high school friends. You follow him over to the table where they’re all chatting about local events and the weather. Pawpaw sits down to talk amongst them while you pull up a chair to rip open your Pokemon cards. In the very back of the pack is a Deoxys ex! The current most popular Pokemon! You sit and think about how jealous your friends will be when you show them later this summer. As you relish in your excitement, you rip open your Wonderball packaging to reveal that beautiful, spherical, hollow chocolate ball. It’s a SpongeBob edition, so you know it’s loaded with your favorite characters inside. As you crunch into those powdery little characters, pawpaw starts to say his goodbyes to his friends and gets up from his chair. You both walk out of the convenience store, your face covered in chocolate and grandpa holding the bag of deli meats for lunch.
When you arrive back, memaw is sitting on the front porch smoking her noon cigarette. She smiles as you pull into the driveway. You both hop out of the truck and you rush over to show her your newest card. She uses her handkerchief to wipe the chocolate from your face as she shares in your excitement. You all walk into the house where memaw has some sandwich ingredients spread out on the table. Mayo, mustard, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and more. It’s a smorgasbord of ingredients! She whips you up the best turkey club you’ve ever had while you sit on the couch and watch Krypto The Superdog.
After lunch, memaw and pawpaw both lay down for an afternoon nap, but you’re not tired. Suddenly, you remember you brought your Gameboy Advance SP with Pokemon Ruby! You rush over to your bag and pull out the Gameboy, flip it open and power it on. The iconic sound of a Gameboy boot up rings through the living room as the game boots up. You sit on the couch and play for about an hour and a half before grandma wakes up and makes her way to the living room. She asks if you want to go play outside, and of course you do! You both venture outside where you make your way around exploring puddles and petting the local stray cats that your grandparents feed.
After an hour or so, memaw asks you to come back inside with her while she finishes some laundry. Pawpaw is finally awake sitting up on the couch and is watching the local weather. He smiles gently as you come through the door, his glasses glare a bit in the light of the sun coming through the windows. You sit on the couch next to him and tell him all about the bugs and plants you saw outside. He listens closely and nods along, letting you relish in the moment. After a bit of your rambling, memaw rounds the corner of the living room from the kitchen and asks if you want to go to the park. Of course you do!
You hop into the passenger seat of memaw’s beat up car as she climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key. You ride over to the city park, only about 4 blocks away, where memaw sits on the bench to watch as you climb the play towers and go down the slides. After only a few minutes, you see a friend from school! They rush over to you to say hi, and you immediately can’t help but brag about your cool new Pokemon card. They ask to see it, but you soon realize you left it at memaw and pawpaw’s house. That’s ok though, you’ll see them again this summer and can show them then. But until then, of course they won’t believe you.
After only an hour, a familiar car comes down the parkway. Mom! She came to the park to pick you up! You hop down from the jungle gym and rush over to her car where you meet her with a big hug as she gets out. She hugs you back and asks all about your day as you proceed to tell her every detail about the day and what all you did. She listens excitedly, admiring that her child has such a close connection to her parents.
After some time, you kiss and hug your memaw goodbye as mom takes you home. When you get home, you run straight to your room to boot up your PlayStation 2! You go straight to Jak III, one of the hottest games on the PS2. After a while, you notice the faint smell of spaghetti. Your mom suddenly hollers for you to come get washed up and ready to eat. After washing up, you make your way into the kitchen where your mom has a big plate of spaghetti and homemade garlic bread ready for you. As you eat, you turn on the TV to watch the latest episode of Ed, Edd, n Eddy. You glance outside and notice the sun has set below the trees, but it’s still bright outside. You hurry to scarf down the food so you have time to go out and ride your bike.
Once finished eating, you tell mom you’re going outside to play and ride your bike. She tells you to only stay on our street to which you reply “I know!” You hop on your bike and ride down the street to visit your neighborhood friend and school friend who also rides bikes and scooters. You both ride up and down the street until the street lights come on. Before you both head home, you make plans for the upcoming weekend to have a sleepover and discuss who is bringing what games to play on your PlayStations. You ride back down the street to your house, parking your bike alongside the house and making your way inside.
Coming through the door, you see your mom settled on the couch watching Law & Order with a small bowl of ice cream. She welcomes you in and you hug her, then you make your way to your room where you grab clothes for a shower. After your shower, your mom tells you she is going to bed and gives you a hug and kiss. You climb into your bed and bust out your Gameboy, but find out the battery is dead. That’s ok though, the charger is next to your bed. You plug it in, telling yourself you’ll only close your eyes for a few minutes while it charges. As you’re lying there, you think about how great the day. Drifting off to sleep, you can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow. ❤️
This is just a short little mixture of memories that I wrote up into my “perfect childhood day”.
Feel free to share yours below!

Morton White

29 April 1917 – 27 May 2016
Part of a Series on the Philosophy of History
Morton White and the Regularity Theory of Historical Explanation
Monday 29 April 2024 is the 107th anniversary of the birth of Morton White (29 April 1917 – 27 May 2016), who was born in New York City on this date in 1917.
White is known, among other things, for his rejection of speculative philosophies of history. It’s not always clear what philosophers mean when they say they reject speculative philosophies of history, but one suspects that this is a way to indirectly distance themselves from that bête noir, Hegel, or that other bête noir, Marx, whose birthday is just a few days away. He opens his book Foundations of Historical Knowledge with exactly this gambit, naming and shaming Hegel, Marx, Vico, Spengler, and Toynbee in rapid succession.
White says that philosophy of history is, “a discipline with a checkered past, a respectable present and, I hope, a brighter future.” Presumably Hegel and friends represent the checkered past. Why was this past checkered? Because they went about the business of philosophy of history all wrong. Now we are smarter and we know better. Here is how White characterizes the change in philosophy of history that delivered us from the bad old days of all that had gone before:

“Instead of seeking to chart the development of epochs, cultures, and civilizations, the contemporary philosopher of history is more interested in analyzing historical thought and language. Instead of trying to advance or defend some general theory of the historical process itself, the contemporary philosopher of history who is not dominated by the aims of Marxism or by certain forms of theology is now primarily concerned with the logic of history, anxious to elucidate terms that are commonly employed by historians and historically minded thinkers, and eager to advance toward a clearer understanding of the chief intellectual activities of the historian.”

Notice that White here invoked a desire to advance toward a clearer understanding of the chief intellectual activities of the historian. This is the familiar figure of the practicing historian—one might even say the familiar philosophical figure of the practicing historian, sometimes called the working historian—which I previously discussed in my episode on Siefried Kracauer, who was also interested in a philosophical exposition of the practicing historian. In my Siefried Kracauer episode I argued that the idea of the practicing historian serves the philosophy of history much as the idea of the practicing mathematician serves the philosophy of mathematics. The underlying idea here is that philosophers get too focused on peculiarly philosophical problems and lose sight of the actual problems faced by historians doing history, scientists doing science, and mathematicians doing mathematics (as though this were the proper remit of the philosopher).
If specifically philosophical problems are illegitimate, as is sometimes implied, then if anything remains of philosophy, we are left with the Quinean dictum that philosophy of science is philosophy enough. I’m not going to argue this point at present, but I wanted to mention it so as to be on the up-and-up on the motivations that drive a lot of contemporary philosophy. But is the practicing historian, or the practicing whatever who is invoked by philosophers, really the philosophically pristine figure that they are made out to be? Or might it be that the practicing historian is a construction of the philosopher of history who wants to attribute his views to this pristine figure so as to derive the disciplinary authority of some figure not attached to a particular philosophical school? This might sound like an uncharitable way to characterize the work of a philosopher, but I think we can legitimately ask this question in relation to White’s use of the figure of the historian.
White does not himself use the language of the “practicing historian” or “working historian” but instead uses “professional historian,” as in the following from his Foundations of Historical Knowledge:

“…professional historians write their histories about a limited class of things. Not any thing may be a central subject of a historian’s history. Historians write histories of nations, civilizations, scientific societies, philosophical movements, revolutions, economies, religions. They usually do not write histories of planets, animals, stars, rocks, or galaxies. So we know that they are primarily concerned with the social behavior of human beings. However, the problem before us now is not that of defining the class of things or subjects of which historians with a large ‘H’ may write a history. We are asking what features of a given subject should be mentioned in a history of that subject. And if we are seeking a definition of the notion of what features should be recorded by a professional historian, I do not think that any useful one can be supplied.”

Historians today do write histories of planets, animals, stars, rock, and galaxies. We find this in particular in the school of big history, which I discussed in a recent episode on my paper, A Complexity Ladder for Big History. Nevertheless, it remains true that professional historians are primarily concerned with the social behavior of human beings. This loose way of understanding history allows for differences in scope as to what properly constitutes history, but, even given his wiggle room, White concedes the impossibility of a definition of what is to be included in a history, and what is to be excluded. This is the familiar problem of the historian’s selection of his material.
The historian’s selection has been a target for critics of the possibility of objectivity in history. White addressed the objectivity question for history in his book Social Thought in America. I have not yet been able to get a copy of this book, but there is a section reprinted in Hans Meyerhoff’s anthology The Philosophy of History in Our Time. White’s Social Thought in America was first published in 1949, some years before Danto’s Analytical Philosophy of History was published in 1965. I mention this because White implicitly discusses the problem of the perfect chronicler, which we find fully explicit in Danto, and White doesn’t make the breakthrough that Danto did, namely, that the logical structure of a narrative sentence is distinct from propositions such as one would find in a chronicle.
A narrative sentence describes an earlier event in terms of a later event—for example, the future 16th president of the United States was born in a log cabin in Kentucky on 12 February 1809—which is a meaning that no chronicle, no matter how exhaustive, can capture. White has his own solution to this problem that is different from Danto’s, but since Danto’s work changed the field, White’s solution is not discussed today. But I wanted to mention this book by White—Social Thought in America—since it further develops the theme of the working historian.
As I said, I don’t have a copy of the book, but the extract from the book included in Meyerhoff is a discussion of American historian Charles Beard. Beard is among the most eminent of American historians, with a multi-volume work on The Rise of American Civilization and his influential book An Economic Interpretation of the Constitution of the United States, among many other works. Beard would seem to be a perfect candidate for a working historian or practicing historian or professional historian. Beard did, however, occasionally express himself on philosophical matters connected to history, so his work isn’t perfectly pristine with respect to philosophy.
What I find interesting is that White does not take Beard as a model of historical practice from which philosophers should learn, but in fact he critiques Beard’s views. This strikes me as both strange and as understandable. It is strange because, if the philosopher is supposed to take his instruction in history from the professional historian, presumably it would be White’s business to follow the lead of Beard and provide a philosophical justification for why Beard’s historical practice is the proper model for philosophy of history. Is it understandable because no philosopher can resist poking holes in the philosophical arguments of others, especially when those others are non-philosophers who are a soft target for philosophical argumentation.
White does a poor job of selflessly serving professional historians, but he does a good job of drawing out the philosophical presuppositions of professional historians like Beard, and in demonstrating their previously unnoticed consequences of these presuppositions. Beard redeems himself in White’s eyes only because he fails to heed his own philosophical views in his historical practice:

“It should be said in Beard’s behalf that he was the only member of the group I have examined who has given a full account of the methods and aims of the social sciences. It is not surprising, therefore, that his ideas should be subject to detailed criticism. He raced around fields where most of the others stepped lightly and infrequently. And very often he says what they really thought, while they merely mumbled it incoherently or kept it to themselves. For all his mistakes and his philosophical confusions, Beard’s later work in the methodology of the social sciences remains stimulating. It goes without saying that his errors in philosophy cast no reflection on his work in social science itself. In this respect he takes his position in a long and worthy line of scientists— physical and social—who have worked with standards in philosophy which they dared not use in science.”

This final claim that scientists have worked with standards in philosophy which they dared not use in science—the crucial condition for Beard’s redemption arc—poses many interesting questions. Should scientists dare to employ their philosophical standards in scientific practice? Is it possible for scientists to hold philosophical views, if only in subtle and difficult to discern ways, that do not influence their scientific practice? I have been assuming that one of the reasons philosophers appeal to the practice of working historians or the practice of working mathematician as the justification for authentic philosophical views reflective of a discipline is because these practices are believed to be purer because there are uncontaminated by philosophy.
Of course, the forbidden views the intrusion of which is particularly unwelcome are usually metaphysical views. One of the presumed ingredients of a speculative philosophy of history such as proscribed by White is too much metaphysics, or the wrong kind of metaphysics. It is entirely possible that someone might formulate a metaphysical philosophy of history that was not a speculative philosophy of history. For example, an analytical philosopher of history might formulate an ontology of historical objects, events, and processes while remaining entirely agnostic on any laws governing these historical objects, events, and processes.
Of course, we can ask why someone would take the trouble to formulate an ontology for history while carefully avoiding noticing any pattern that these objects, events and processes might exhibit, especially as the historical events and processes that connect historical objects to one another might themselves be taken to be laws of history. But let’s assume, for purposes of argument, that it is possible dance around any connection between events and to lay out an ontology of history that has nothing to do with laws of history.
I strongly suspect that the same kind of animus that has been directed against speculative philosophy of history by analytical philosophers would be directed also against a non-speculative metaphysical philosophy of history. White himself acknowledges pragmatists, naturalists, and realists are anti-metaphysical and united in their rejection of speculative philosophy of history, which implies the equivalence of metaphysical and speculative philosophy of history, but, as we have seen, careful observance of the method of isolation can separate the two.
I said earlier that Danto had changed philosophy of history so dramatically that earlier approaches to narrative, such as we find in White, have fallen out of notice since Danto’s work took the field. This is sometimes expressed as Danto inaugurating an era of post-positivist analytical philosophy of history. White belonged to the still-positivism period of analytical philosophy of history. The high water mark of positivism prior to Danto is represented by Carl Hempel. In my episode on Carl Hempel I mentioned his covering law model of historical explanation. This is the tradition within which White was working, though he called Hempel’s covering law model the regularity theory of historical explanation, and he glossed it like this:

“It will be convenient to begin by considering what is sometimes called the covering law, or regularity, theory of historical explanation. On this view an explanation of a war, a revolution, or an economic depression is similar in structure to an explanation of a fire. We may explain a particular fire, it is maintained, by deducing the statement that the fire has taken place from the statement that a spark has fallen into a wastebasket of dry paper surrounded by oxygen and from the law that whenever a spark falls into such a wastebasket under such conditions, a fire will take place. Some philosophers who accept this view contend that not only the truth of a singular explanatory statement in ordinary language, like ‘The lit cigarette caused the fire’ or ‘The bent rail caused the derailment,’ but also that of a singular statement in history books, like ‘The Moslem seizure of the Mediterranean Sea caused the breakdown of the Mediterranean Commonwealth in Europe,’ is dependent on the truth of a law. Ever since Hume, such a theory has exerted a powerful hold on philosophers, even on those who recognize and emphasize the limits of historical speculation. The idea that we can intuitively see causal connections between historical events without appealing to inductively established laws, or that causes have unanalyzable powers to bring about their effects, has seemed indefensible to philosophers of an empirical turn of mind, and they have therefore been led to the view that causal statements are either disguised statements of laws or are in some way dependent upon them for their truth. Even though historians in their explanatory statements refer to particular events like the Civil War and the conflict between Northern and Southern economic interests, philosophers under the influence of Hume and Mill have maintained that such explanatory statements turn out upon analysis to imply, involve, presuppose, or depend on general laws.”

The covering law model presents a subtle problem for the analytical philosopher of history. The analytical philosopher of history has renounced the possibility of finding laws of history. But the idea of laws of history is ambiguous. What is and what is not a law of history? The covering law model of historical explanation makes explanations of historical events into law-like statements, but how is an explanation of history distinction from a speculative philosophy of history that gives a lawlike explanation of events? Are we not, with the covering law model, offering laws of history?
White is sensitive to this problem. He was concerned that the laws of the covering law model might be mistaken for the faulty generalizations of speculative philosophers of history, and on this problem wrote:

“Although the ‘laws’ of certain speculative philosophers of history do not always turn out to apply to single examples, there is no doubt that they often apply to very few examples by comparison to the laws of natural science, and this paucity of inductive evidence may lead some critics of the regularity theory of historical explanation to complain that any law of the sort the regularist may employ in an explanatory deductive argument will resemble the allegedly bankrupt laws of the speculative theorist of history. Once again, however, it must be pointed out that there is no a priori reason to suppose that regularism involves an appeal to indefensible laws, and also that where a speculative theorist asserts a law that is not supported by inductive evidence and he cannot compensate for that defect by, for example, deducing it from more fundamental statements, he is justly criticized. The fact that certain speculative philosophers of history assert faulty generalizations is not an argument against the regularity theory of historical explanation.”

Is it only the indefensible laws of history that are bankrupt, leaving defensible laws of history intact? If this is the case, how do we distinguish between defensible and indefensible generalizations in history? If we can offer more fundamental laws from which our laws of history are derived, and the fundamental laws are among the defensible generalizations, does that get us off the hook? Have we successfully avoided a metaphysical philosophy of history if we can support our historical generalizations with inductive evidence or more fundamental laws?
When White argues that historians are really using a covering law model even when they don’t realize that they are appealing to this kind of explanation of historical events, he is making an appearance/reality distinction: the appearance of ordinary historical explanation is not that of covering law model explanations, but in reality this is what the historian is doing. The historian doesn’t know that he is using a covering law model of explanation. That is to say, the professional historian doesn’t know what he is doing as he is doing history. This seems harsh, but it is exactly this lack of self-awareness that White thinks redeems Beard, who, according to White, doesn’t impose his naïve philosophy on his historical practice. So much for historical practice as a guide to philosophy of history.
Moreover, if making an appearance/reality distinction is metaphysics, White is engaged in a metaphysical philosophy of history because he distinguishes between the appearance and reality of covering law models of historical explanation. In all fairness to White, I agree with the essentials of his claim: historians are presupposing a number of covering laws in their historical explanations. The problem is often that the laws are so many, so subtle, so elusive, and so intricately tied together that it would be difficult in the extreme to tease out the exact deduction that is being made. The complexity of history defeats ordinary human deductive powers.
There is a relatively unstudied backwater in the philosophy of history that would consist in reducing this complexity of history to a manageable form—perhaps through an adequate taxonomy of historical objects, events, and processes, which I earlier called a metaphysical philosophy of history.
Here lies an opportunity to demonstrate that a metaphysical philosophy of history is possible within the framework of analytical philosophy of history. There is no reason to believe that this cannot be done, but exhibiting such on ontology would be more convincing that merely arguing for its plausibility.

Video Presentation

https://youtu.be/5ulU0P3ir9g
https://www.instagram.com/p/C6YEiCLNuwd/
https://odysee.com/@Geopolicraticus:7/morton-white-and-the-regularity-theory:c

Podcast Edition

https://spotifyanchor-web.app.link/e/64tLDTq7cJb
https://podcasters.amazon.com/podcasts/a31b8276-53cd-4723-b6ad-a39c8faa4572/episodes/bd3101c1-93ad-462c-8a5b-b488ffb41015
https://www.iheart.com/podcast/269-today-in-philosophy-of-his-146507578/episode/morton-white-and-the-regularity-theory-172150253/
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This was such a stupid concept. You know what chaos cuisine would be? Put on a blindfold, grab thirty ingredients in a hotel pan and heave at a plate. Whatever hits the plate - there's your chaos.
If you carefully put a few carefully selected ingredients that are fine but unexpected together into a coherent dish that meets the diners' expectations - there's nothing chaotic about that. That's basic cheffing, right there.
Who says food can't be a tasteless slug? Why does chaotic food have to taste like anything? Maybe chaos tastes like cardboard. Why not? Maybe just lick the stupid menu. IT'S CHAOS! SO FUN!
Scoop a handful of shit out of the garbage can and serve it on a linoleum tile. Put a little plate with truffles and caviar on it. Balance it on top, with a flute of Dom on top of that. Give them a toothbrush and a cigarette to use as utensils. Add a quenelle of frozen mayo Finish with Himalayan salt and sezchuan pepper dust.
Sounds stupid, doesn't it. But it's chaos. Sort of. I just chose those random ingredients while I was typing. So as random as a human mind can get. Does it tase good? Obviously! It tastes like chaos. Sort of. If it matches the diners expectations for what food should be, then it's not chaos.
And if it is chaos, you can't tell me what that tastes like.
It's damn good slugs and that's chaos and those dumb judges can't tell me otherwise.
Chaos food, my ass.
PS - I put the discussion flair on this, but it's really just a rant I had to get off my chest. Should have chosen the Amateurs flair. I'm a professional chaos monster.