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brutal-nemesis · 1 year

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An All Organ-ic Buffet

Okay well. This is in one of @galaxywhump and I’s 120 AUs I gutted (hehe) the context you don’t need it besides the fact that this Castys hasn’t ever really been tortured before so he’s not as used to all of this as he would be in canon <3 sucks to suck, dumbass

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: gore. so much gore. also Castys gets eaten (but it’s a monster so not really cannibalism), a little noncon touching, there is a snake, the rib crowbar shit that i was born to write (❁´◡`❁)

This was going to suck absolute balls, wasn’t it? It was going to be worth it, it was, but it was still going to suck balls.

The phaitenri lived pretty far from, well, anything, which was probably for the best given its…unique diet. Which was really the only thing that made Castys certain he could strike a good deal with it at all, honestly.

Having arrived at the caves where the phaitenri made its home, Castys ran through the list of things to say and not say in his head before steeling himself and knocking on the door. A few tense moments passed before it opened, and Castys did his best not to flinch at the sight of the phaitenri. They were annoyingly tall, towering over Castys, bleached-white skin webbed with black cracks, their red eyes boring into him. Most notable, though, were the golden antlers sprouting from their head. What Castys had come for.

“I’ve come here to make a contract with you,” Castys blurted, the promise of a contract protecting him from being outright attacked. The phaitenri’s eyes narrowed, slitted pupils contracting in their different-colored irises.

“Fine,” they growled, their clawed hand curling around the doorframe, “which organs are you willing to part with?”

“Uh…all of them? As many as you want for six inches of antler.”

They cocked their head. “All…you can’t form a contract for anyone but yourself, human. Do you intend to die for this?”

“Well, see, that’s the thing, I am, uh, what the kids call…immortal. So if you kill me everything’ll just grow back. Seriously, you can have as many organs as you want from me.” The trade was starting to sound more and more horrific as Castys talked, actually saying it out loud, but what could he do? This was the only way to save Berkeley. He had to do this.

The phaitenri crossed their arms, tapping their fingers as they leaned against the doorframe. “How do I know you’re not lying? Give me a demonstration.”

“I will not. At least, not until the contract’s formed.” The phaitenri glared at him. “What? Dying leaves me basically defenseless, I’m not just gonna let you kill me and then take me prisoner, ya know? Look,” he sighed, “if I’m lying, and I enter the contract with you, I’d just die, yeah? The contract would be dissolved, and you wouldn’t be out anything. There’s no reason to refuse.”

After considering it for a moment, the phaitenri straightened, gesturing for him to enter. “Alright, human, I’ll form a contract with you, so let’s negotiate.” Castys followed them inside, slightly relieved that they weren’t just going to dismiss him outright. “I’m Aleph, by the way.” That was a good sign, too, that they told him their name, since it meant that they were very interested in forming a contract with him.

“Castys,” he replied, showing his interest right back. They smiled at him, displaying their wicked-sharp teeth, teeth that would soon be…mmphf, don’t think about that right now. Think about Berkeley. He was doing this for Berkeley.

Aleph sat down at a mostly-empty desk, gesturing for Castys to sit across from them. He did, and it felt…weird, like he was getting ready to discuss a bank loan or something stupid and not, like, having his organs eaten by a monster so he could get a potion ingredient to save his best friend’s life. After thinking a bit, Aleph spoke up, “For six inches of antler, I’ll have you for…two weeks. I can eat as much as I want during that time.”

“Two wee-I don’t have that kind of time! I need to-” Castys stopped, sighing. “One week. That’s the longest I’ll give you.”

Aleph hummed, rocking their head back and forth. “How about…one week, and I can eat as much as I want as well as taking extras and storing them.”

That hardly seemed fair, but…Castys didn’t want to negotiate much more. Typically, the longer talks went on, the greedier phaitenris got. It was usually best to take the second option offered, so… “Alright. One week of unlimited access for six inches of antler.”

“Deal!” Aleph clapped their hands together, grabbing a sheet of parchment and writing down the terms. They signed their name before pricking their thumb and stamping on a thumbprint of their black blood, handing it to Castys when they were done. He took it, reading it over thoroughly, making sure they didn’t sneak in any fine print, before preparing to do the same. “Wait!” Aleph stopped him just as he was about to sign. “Take off your shirt.”

“Huh? Why-”

“The moment you sign that, magic chains are going to appear on your wrists until you’ve served your part of the contract, and even I won’t be able to get them off without dissolving it entirely. And since I’m going to need access to your torso…either take it off now or I’ll have to cut it off later.”

“Oh. Good call.” Castys was glad Aleph had spoken up since he was wearing one of Berkeley’s shirts, and he’d feel bad if it got destroyed. He pulled it off, Aleph’s hungry gaze sending a slight chill up his spine. “Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, Castys picked up the contract again, signing his name and pricking his thumb. The moment his thumb stamped on the parchment, iron manacles appeared on his wrists, just as Aleph had said. The chain between them was long enough that it wouldn’t be a huge inconvenience, but he was still chained, the inescapable reality of the contract heavy around his wrists.

“Well, let’s get started!” Aleph said, giddy as they took the contract from Castys and put it away. Once that was done, they reached out and hooked their finger around the chain between his wrists, dragging him along behind them. They pulled him into a room that was, well…it was pretty clear what kind of things happened here.

The walls were dark, definitely covered with bloodstains, because of course, and the floor was too, even though there was a drain in the middle of it, so clearly things could be cleaned up if Aleph wanted to. There was a table to one side, also bloodstained, with restraints, which wasn’t surprising in the slightest, but the sight of it still made Castys’s stomach turn. Aleph half-pulled him towards it, but then stopped and half-pulled him towards a comfortable-looking and somehow not bloodstained armchair, but then stopped again, rocking back and forth on their heels.

“Oh mannn, I just don’t know,” they whined, looking down at Castys. After a few more seconds, they bent and scooped him off of his feet faster than he could react, holding him in a bridal carry. “I just don’t know where I want to start with you, you know? There’s so many options…” They were looking him up and down, hugging him close to their chest, their bare skin freezing against his. Castys was tempted to make a suggestion so they’d put him down, but he didn’t really know if there was anywhere he wanted them to, ah, start more than somewhere else.

“Oh, I think I’ll start with your tummy. It’s been a while since I’ve had intestines!” Aleph carried him over to the armchair, settling into it comfortably, shifting their hold on Castys so he was sitting on their lap with his back against their chest, and he couldn’t help but shiver despite his efforts to stay still. Sure, he absolutely didn’t want to be sitting on their lap like this, but he was under a contract now, and he was going to serve his side of it as well as he could so this whole nightmare could proceed as smoothly as something like this ever could.

They twisted the chain attached to his wrists in one hand, pulling up and holding his arms off to the side and out of the way, their other hand teasing the surface of his bare stomach, claws scraping his skin lightly. Just as he was about to yell at them to just do it already, to stop driving up the anticipation, their claws turned inward, plunging into his flesh. Castys screamed at the sudden pain, head arching back against Aleph’s shoulder, eyes wide. They grabbed ahold of something and pulled, tearing the gash in his stomach open wider, and, no, no, he couldn’t look, didn’t want to look, he was already stuck feeling the awful pull at his insides, something sliding out of him through the hole in his abdomen, and the noises, the wet slipping, tearing, sucking, biting, swallowing, Aleph’s hums of pleasure, and their hand just kept going back in, pulling out more and more and more, and he didn’t know how much was left, how much he’d had at the start, but his ears were ringing now, vision fading, t-there was so much blood, it was so hot on his stomach and got colder as it dripped down, leaving him shivering and shuddering against Aleph, their tight grip on him never relaxing, pressing him into their chest, feeling his every twitch, and he couldn’t take it, he wanted to worm out of their grasp and run away, escape this awful, awful moment, but he had to be still, he had to let this happen, had to endure this for Berkeley’s sake, he couldn’t give up now, not when they’d just started, he had to do this, even as something squirted out and landed on his face, even as the ringing got so loud it drowned out the sounds of Aleph eating, even as he got so dizzy he wasn’t sure if they were even holding him anymore, e-even as-as…he was empty inside now, wasn’t he? So that was it then. It was.

It was.

When Castys came to, he was still on Aleph’s lap, still covered in blood, but his stomach was…no, something felt…wrong. Aleph was giving him a look that he could only call concerningly fascinated. Henceforth, he was very concerned as he looked down to see…ah. Well that was. That was new. That sure was new.

His whole torso was all bloody, and that was expected. Aleph’s hand was resting on his chest, arm drenched in red, little strings of ripped flesh clinging to the surface of their skin, and that was expected. What wasn’t expected were the twisted ropes of intestine erupting from the unbroken skin of his stomach. There wasn’t any pain, everything healed up after he’d died, just the strange, disturbing sensation of…this.

“This is so fun, look at you!” They grabbed the coils of his intestines, tugging at them gently as they examined them, causing him to wince. “You came back to life just like you said you would, and this makes it so much more interesting. I wasn’t planning on eating any more quite yet, but I feel like just leaving this out here would be a waste…If I kill you again, will that fix it?”

Castys gulped. “I, uh, I think so? This has never happened before, so I think as long as everything’s, um, inside when I die, it should be okay.”

“Alright. I’ll try to be more careful in the future.” Aleph ruffled his hair with their bloody, gore streaked hand, much to Castys’s dismay. He didn’t mind getting dirty, but having his own blood and guts in his hair was a bit much, even for him. “Sorry, I sorta did that without thinking. I’ll let you get cleaned up after I finish here.” They grabbed the intestines hanging out of his stomach, and Castys winced, looking away as they began eating once more, thankfully not with as much voracity as before, but them going slower was almost…worse, in a way. He wasn’t as distracted by the chaos and the pain and the blood, and he could tell just how much Aleph was…enjoying this.

But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how he felt, what he was going through. It only mattered that he was going to save Berkeley. That made all of this worth it. It was just one week. He could handle it. For Berkeley.

He grew used to it soon enough, or at least as used to having your organs ripped out and eaten as a guy could get. Aleph had two large meals a day, one midmorning and one early evening, but they took plenty in between to save for later, so he spent most of the day sliced open and bleeding. Really, it took so much scrubbing to get the layers of dried blood caked onto his skin off each night, but Aleph insisted he wash off, and, honestly, he felt gross enough that he actually wanted to, which was saying something. Wearing his red swim trunks here had been the best decision he’d ever made, since they cleaned off pretty well. He probably wouldn’t be too traumatized by all this to wear them again. Probably.

Probably.

He was lying on the table this time, the chain on his wrists secured to some hook or something above his head. His ankles and hips were strapped down, too, but the worst was the one around his fucking neck.

“Sorry, it’s just that I can’t exactly strap down your chest, so this is the best way to keep you still. Try not to choke?”

“I’ll do my best,” Castys sighed, wincing slightly as he swallowed under the tight leather strap.

Aleph giggled. “Before we get started, I think we’re going to need my friend’s help with this one.” They stepped away for a moment, and when they returned they were holding…a snake? A big, shiny, purple snake. They held it up proudly. “This is my familiar, Ileum! She’s a real sweetheart, but her venom makes blood clot more quickly, so she’s going to give you a little bite so you don’t die before I’m done with this, okay?”

Castys swallowed, glad this was happening to him, who liked snakes, and not Berkeley. “Uh, okay.” He really didn’t like where this was going if whatever bullshit they were gonna do required him to stay alive longer than a person should, but what could he do?

Aleph lowered Ileum until she was next to his upper arm, which was also very close to his face. They tapped his bicep. “Right here, girl!” Ileum stared at him for a moment, unblinking, before striking, fangs sinking in and out of his arm so fast it might as well have been an injection. He still flinched, his arm throbbing like he’d been stabbed with a nail. “Good girl,” Aleph cooed, stroking their snake’s head before setting her down on the ground. Shit, had Ileum just been wandering around the whole time he’d been here? He was surprised he’d never seen her. But whatever, he had more important things to focus on right now. Like the fact that he was probably about to get ripped open and gutted like a fish.

Aleph placed a hand on his chest, taking a moment to feel his heartbeat. While Castys didn’t exactly enjoy the feeling of them touching him, he savored his last few moments of not really being in pain before-ah, uh huh, there it was, claws digging into his flesh, tearing away the layer of skin and muscle over the left half of his rib cage. Castys had seen his ribs a lot in the past few days. They looked how you would expect them to look. Rib-y. Aleph wormed a motherfucking crowbar under one of them, and at that moment Castys decided to stare at the bloodstains on the ceiling. Given where he was lying, it was pretty easy to imagine how those got there, all humans ever did in this room was bleed and scream and-

CRACK

The sound was short, loud, sharp, piercing, nestled in his ears, stabbing through his skull, the nonexistent echoes nearly drowning out the sound of the cries humming in his throat, the leather tight over his neck making him all-too aware of them.

There was pain, too, of course there was pain, sharp and bright and suffocating, and now there was pressure again, the next rib being strained until it snapped, causing him to jerk against the straps, and it was all he could do to keep breathing as his vision started to darken, but unconsciousness wasn’t coming for him, no, just a haze of dizziness punctuated by the loud snap of his bones breaking, all the pain blending together until it was all unrecognizable and painful and awful and very very painful-

“Aw, come on, Castys, look at this!” Aleph’s hand curled in his hair, jerking his head up, pressing his throat into the strap over it so hard he could barely breathe. They tore through a thin film over his organs with a claw like they were unwrapping a Christmas present before carefully pawing his lung aside, better exposing his beating heart. Castys had never seen his heart before, or planned on seeing it, or wanted to see it, but there it was, stupidly still beating even after all of this. “It’s so cool to see it going like that, huh?” Castys let out a choked gasp in response, and that seemed to be enough for Aleph, who let go of his hair, his head thunking back against the table. “I’m gonna drink from it!”

Castys didn’t really register what that meant until they were on top of him, straddling his waist, tossing away the last few pieces of splintered bone before lowering their mouth to his heart, giggling as its frantic beats brushed against their lips.

And then gently, tenderly, they bit down.

Thump thump

Their teeth only went in a little, not enough to kill, as much as Castys wished they would.

Thump thump thump thump

They sat like that for a moment, the throbbing muscle massaging their tongue, fresh, hot blood gushing directly into their mouth.

Thump thump thumpthump

Castys only now started screaming, but not because he could feel anything.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthu-

He didn’t notice the pain anymore, really.

ThumptHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUM-

There was only the figure crouched on top of him, their face in his chest cavity.

ThUMPthUMPThuMptHumPthUMPTHuMpTHUmpTHuptH-

He was so, so grateful when they bit down harder and everything cut to black.

Somehow, he woke up without any noticeable fuckery going on with his ribs, which was cool. Aleph was sitting up now, a mass of…oh, it was the remnants of his heart still in their hand. They must have torn it out before his chest closed up, meaning the one beating inside him now was…not the one he’d been born with. A drop of fresh blood fell from the ceiling and landed on his face, and he switched to gazing at the new constellations he’d added up there while Aleph finished eating.

That had definitely been one of the worst Anythings of his life, but if he had to do it again for Berkeley’s sake, he would.

In a heartbeat.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog @thehopelessopus @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hearse-song @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @starnight-whump @his-unspoken-words @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg @pumpkin-spice-whump @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen

#whump #whump writing #castys #aleph #immortal whumpee #gore #snake bite #noncon touching #not many cw huh. because they're all just GORE #cannibalism #to be safe #i have a picrew or two of aleph if anyone wants #they were named after one of the uniliteral hieroglyphs and it's represented by a vulture #which now that i think about it is sort of fitting that was not intentional i just thought aleph would make a good name #they eating his intestines like popcorn while watching a film #fun fact i wrote the section where they eat his heart at a starbucks on public wifi #so that would have been fun for a hacker to see lmao #ive just always loved prying ribs off with crowbars im glad i got to do it finally #big snappy :)#disease where i edit this like once and ship it off to the press #tbf i wrote like the first half of this a year ago so some of it has been stewing for a WHILE #so fuck it we ball #this also has the longest sentence ive ever written at 245 words! unless im forgetting one #tfw it's getting all telltale heart over here #uh yeah hope those of you who can stomach it enjoyed

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all-hail-the-witcher · 5 years

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“ive cried tears you'll never see so fuck you you can go cry me an ocean and leave me be” for uhhhhh spavid? If you don't like that one then maybe spalbert? idk I'm a rarepare kinda person sorry

aright so its Angst Boi Hours apparently lol

also I wrote this while listening to fall out boy and yeah I dont have an explanation

______

ship: I guess its spalbert

genre: anger angst with no good ending

warnings: fight, some kinda mental stuff its not really established, I guess a reference to therapy???, weird supernatural powers, implied touch aversion, use of the word troubled kid, screaming

words: 758

editing: nooooope

______

From a young age, Albert had been labeled as a “troubled kid.” Needless to say, he hated this label. He wasn’t troubled. His mind was just a little on the fucked side and he liked to deal with his issues on his own rather than talk to people. And he certainly never touched anyone. So far it had worked. Probably because he never got close enough to anyone that they would be able to figure out he wasn’t exactly normal. But no matter what, he certainly wasn’t troubled.

Spot, on the other hand, did not seem to care about all of Albert’s carefully constructed walls, he just smashed them all down one after another after another after another. Not that this was a bad thing, at least not initially. Albert liked getting close to someone, it was an experience different than others that he had had. It didn’t take long until he was counting the minutes every day until he would see him. Spot also seemed to be enjoying their relationship.

That was, until Albert fucked it all up.

The day itself had been perfect. The two of them were camped out in the bed of Spot’s pickup in the empty parking lot outside of the old abandoned gas station, smoke from their cigarettes swirling up toward the black sky. Albert had even begun to feel himself relax, a rare occurrence for him, as the night wore on and his and Spot’s ramblings turned into long forgotten, funny stories that got them both laughing harder than they had in ages.

But like all good things, even that came to an end. And this time it was all Albert’s fault. As usual.

His mistake came when he, for some unknown reason, reached over to touch Spot’s forearm. Maybe he had been reaching for the lighter and miscalculated, or maybe some unconscious part of his brain had wanted to hold Spot’s hand, but either way the damage was done. Albert’s heart began to fill with dread, the phantom calm he had previously felt evaporating entirely as he yanked his hand back faster than he thought possible. Even in the dark, he could see the place where his hand had been on Spot’s forearm. Mostly because it was glowing red.

Spot must have yelped in pain, he must have, because Albert saw the look of shock on his face as he tried to piece together what had happened. Then, like they all did, he was backing away from Albert like he was infected with some kind of very contagious disease, pressing his still glowing forearm into his chest. Albert’s brain registered Spot’s hard voice, even if he didn’t hear it, demanding to know what was that and what the heck had just happened and do you need to go to the hospital cause I can take you its okay it’ll be okay just explain what’s going on for me so I understand it’ll be okay I don’t care if you’re troubled its okay we can just-

No! Albert felt like yelling, and, based on the look on Spot’s face, maybe he had. You can’t fix this! It’s just who I am there’s no way around it!

Then Spot did the worst thing he possibly could, he tried to explain to him, explain that you need help that I can’t give you because issues like that could kill you I’ve seen it happen before, that’s not natural it’s your mind trying to expel the excess feeling it doesn’t know what to do with its really dangerous just let me get you help so that it doesn’t get out of-

With that, Albert jumped off of the truck, angrily throwing his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out. He didn’t know what to say except that maybe haven’t you figured out that maybe I’m doing this on purpose and maybe I don’t care if it claims me cause then that’s just one less thing that I have to deal with!

Spot began immediately to protest that you know you shouldn’t talk like that cause-

“FUCK YOU!” Albert finally screamed so loud that it he was able to hear it. “I’VE ALREADY ACCEPTED IT, I’VE CRIED OVER IT, YOU CAN CRY ABOUT IT TOO FOR ALL I CARE ITS NOT GOING TO CHANGE ANYTHING JUST LEAVE ME BE!”

Spot stood in stunned silence. As for Albert, he turned forcefully on his heel and ran down the street, away, far far away from Spot.

He knew he should have never gotten close to Spot.

_______

oof once again al is Angst Boi

poor kiddos

I dont know what this is oops

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the taglist

tag list@fairly-awkward-trashcan@well-the-kids-do-too@racetrackcook@ughwaitwhat@aw-jus-let-em-try@elmerss0cks@voice-foundshoe-lost@stopthe-presses@ridin-in-style@pinecovewoods@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing@bencookisagod@be-more-chill-evan-hansen@stellar-alpaca@saxoph-ella@smolcanadiankid@disney-princess-sized@the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog@insane-tomato@spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn@have-we-got-news-for-you@thatfancyclam@myidkwhatmynameisblog@legoflambwrites@not-a-scab@albertdasillvaprotectionsquad@entschuldigung-bitches@thebroadwayaesthetic@tea-and-theater@seasickdolphin@auspicioustarantula@newsies-of-ny@mrs-higgins@sunshine-e-cigarettes@spot-me50-papes@papesdontsellthemselves@deathcast-s@the-poodles-of-pulitzer@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters@humanracoon@irondad-spiderson-duo@albert-eats-cookie-cake@nico-nat

#saphie scribbles #yeet #spalbert #spot conlon #Albert dasilva #newsies #newsies fic #sad sad bois #anger kiddos #we lov tem #theyre just trying their bestest

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divulgacion-alternativa · 3 years

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Ben Ful Links | August 2/2021:

Source: benjaminfulford.net

This newsletter does not contain links.

Getting To Know The North Koreans

Notice to readers. So that I may take my annual sabbatical in the Canadian wilderness, the next several reports will be pre-written. They will focus on the history of how I got involved in fighting the Khazarian Mafia. Hopefully, this will help readers get a better understanding of what is happening now. Of course, if something really big happens, we will issue an emergency report.

The assassination attempts against me and the murder of many of my colleagues were part of a Nazi coup d’etat that took place in the U.S. after 9.11.2001. This Nazi faction, led by Fuhrer George Bush Sr., was a sub-group of the Khazarian Mafia. They were killing journalists as a part of an attempt to control the narrative, the story by which Western society was led. However, I did not figure that out until a North Korean princess showed me the evidence.

Here is how it happened. I was running into serious censorship at Forbes. This started after I had run the story about the murder of the banker, that I detailed in last week’s report, brought me to the attention of the people who gave orders to the Forbes family.

For example, a story about Citibank (a Rockefeller company) being kicked out of Japan because it was money laundering for gangsters was killed even though my source was the Japanese Finance Ministry speaking on the record. The last straw for me came when I found out that an anti-virus software company was making viruses. Forbes killed the story, telling me I was “unreliable,” when in fact the story was killed because Steve Forbes had been given $500,000 by the anti-virus company, according to a Forbes whistleblower.

In any case, I was sick of writing business pornography and decided my next career move was to shift to writing books. The hope was to have them made into Hollywood movies. So, I sent two chapters and an outline of a planned book to my agent in the U.S. The book would have described a systematic pattern of the murder of politicians, journalists, industrialists, etc. by politicians and gangsters who were part of the corrupt secret government that really ran Japan.

The day after I sent the book proposal, I got a call from Kaoru Nakamaru, who said she was a princess and a first cousin of Emperor Hirohito. She told me it would be a bad idea to publish the book. Obviously she was connected to people who were reading my mail, so I decided to meet her. When I asked her how she knew what was in my book proposal she said, “A Goddess told me.” (That Goddess would be Amaterasu the reigning deity of the Japanese security police).

When I met Nakamaru she said, “You understand all about the corruption in Japan but you know nothing about the real source, which is in the West.” She then gave me a 9.11 truth video. At the time, I thought “Oh my God, this is one of those anti-Semitic movies about 9.11 that I read about in the New York Times.” I had no intention of watching it but she kept pestering me until I did. That was the real red pill for me. It did not take a lot of fact-checking to realize 9.11 was an inside job. From a missile hitting the Pentagon without breaking the second-floor windows and leaving no plane debris, to a BBC reporter with Building #7 visible in the background saying it had already collapsed, 20 minutes before it actually did at freefall speed, the evidence was undeniable.

The real problem was wrapping my mind around how incredibly large a group would be needed to carry out a campaign like this. The implications were truly mind-boggling. It was only by looking at historical events that I realized such false flags were being commonly used as excuses to start wars.

For example, the sinking of the “innocent passenger vessel” Lusitania in 1914 was used as an excuse to demonize the Germans and get the Americans to join the British in World War I. It was not until a hundred years later in 2014 that the British admitted publicly the Lusitania was transporting arms and was, therefore, a legitimate military target. Historians note that ads in newspapers warned passengers prior to the ship being sent into the vicinity of German U-boats as a sacrifice.

In 2001, the people who controlled the U.S. were using 9.11 as an excuse to invade the Middle East (yet again).

In my still naïve worldview I figured that if people found out the truth, there would be a revolution. After I published front-page articles for major Japanese magazines listing evidence that 9.11 was an inside job, I held a press conference at the Foreign Correspondent’s Club of Japan to present the evidence to the international media.

It was only when none of them (with a few minor exceptions like rural Australian newspapers) reported the evidence did I realize that freedom of the press had been extinguished from the Western media.

Nobody at the FCCJ or in the Western press debated me or presented evidence showing I was wrong. Instead, all sorts of people I never knew suddenly started a systematic campaign of character assassination against me. The general story was that I was taking drugs, believed in UFOs, and had lost my mind. I was put on a black list and nobody in the English language press would work with me. Many editors told me they had been ordered by their bosses not to publish my stories.

Fortunately, I had published books in Japanese that sold well and provided me with an income. I was also introduced to a Japanese author by the name of Ohta Ryu. He explained to me that he had been approached by a group of Japanese who had studied Western power structures before and during World War II. He used the material they had provided to publish his books.

What Ohta said was mind-boggling at the time. It was talking about how the West had a secret government run by families like the Rothschilds and the Rockefellers. This may be common knowledge now but, at the time (around 2005-6) when I did an internet search about the Rothschilds, I found exactly one sentence about them on the entire web. It was from an Israeli chat room where one participant mentioned a rumor that the Rothschilds were involved in the formation of Israel.

As far as our reputed overlord David Rockefeller was concerned, he was number 300 or so on the Forbes richest list and considered to be a person of the past. I had to go back to the 1918 edition of Forbes to find out the real story. It turns out John Rockefeller the first had suddenly become poor overnight by donating all of his fortune (around $300 billion in today’s money) to a foundation. Once the money was in a foundation, the owners did not pay inheritance tax and did not have to disclose much information.

A paper trail led to over 200 foundations controlled by the Rockefellers that in turn controlled most of the Fortune 500 companies.

What I started to realize was that all the murders of Japanese politicians etc. were part of a Rockefeller & Co. hostile take-over of Japan Inc. One key man they used to carry out this operation was Heizo Takenaka, who was the Finance and Economy Minister from 2002-2005. While he was in this job, he dismantled the system of cross-shareholding where banks and companies owned each others’ shares. Takenaka forced all the banks to sell off their shares in Japan’s listed companies to foreign funds such as Vanguard, Blackrock, and State Street & Banking. When I confronted him about handing over all of Japan’s listed companies to the Rockefellers etc., he squirmed visibly in his chair and was evasive.

However, the day after the interview, I got a phone call from an official at the Japan development bank who told me there was someone Heizo Takenaka wanted me to meet. So, I went to a downtown Tokyo hotel room where I met a person by the name of Shiramine who called himself a Ninja.

I recorded with his permission a conversation in which he offered me the job of Finance Minister of Japan as long as I went along with a plan to kill 90% of humanity. He said it was necessary in order to “save the environment.” Since war did not kill enough people the plan was to use disease and starvation to kill everyone off, he said. Shiramine added that if I refused the offer I would be killed.

To his credit when Shiramine met me and gave me this proposal, he also handed me a tape and told me to listen to it somewhere private. In this tape, he said the problem was the “elders of Zion.” I was also told by another Takenaka envoy that he handed over control of all the country’s corporations because Japan had been “threatened with an earthquake machine.”

The next day another person called me and said he wanted to meet me. Again, the meeting took place inside a downtown hotel room. This time it was someone from an Asian secret society known as The Red and The Green. He said they had 8 million members including 200,000 assassins who could help. This group also knew about the plan to kill 90% of humanity because they had secretly recorded a meeting at the Bohemian Grove where they discussed all of this.

Members of this group had long worked with Western secret societies, for example by supplying them with heroin from the golden triangle. However, it was the attempt to kill them off with SARS, a bio-weapon designed to kill Asians, that finally put them on a war footing.

You can imagine my shock and disorientation in running into all of this over the space of just a week. As someone who had lived his whole life in the official open world as seen in the public record, this was mind-boggling, to say the least. In any case, since I could not agree with a plan to kill 90% of humanity, I decided to go along with the Asian secret society.

At first, being a peace-loving journalist, I thought of ideas like maybe the Asian secret society could show 9.11 truth movies in Chinatown movie theaters. However, eventually, I had what I call my “Kill Bill” moment. In the movie Kill Bill, there is a scene where a female assassin (played by Uma Thurman) is in a desperate fight for her life with a one-eyed opponent. When Thurman plucks out her opponent’s eye, suddenly the fight is over.

What I realized was that most Westerners (like me) had no idea what their secret leaders were up to and would be appalled if they found out. The flaw of the secret Western government was that it was highly centralized. So, I advised the Asian secret society to “pluck out the eye.” I gave them a list of all the people who were members of the Bilderberg, the Council on Foreign Relations, and the Trilateral Commission. I said if you target them, you can stop the planned genocide.

Later when the earthquake machine threat was made directly to me I responded that “you can’t stop assassinations with an earthquake machine.”

The other thing I suggested to the Asian Secret Society was that buying U.S. government bonds was worse than buying opium. “At least opium gives you pleasure but now you are paying them to kill you,” is what I told a top adviser to the Chinese Politburo.

In any case, the Asian Secret Society became mobilized. They threatened to kill the Western elite and also stopped buying U.S. government bonds. Thus the attempt to kill off 90% of humanity was stalled. This was the real background to the so-called “Lehman shock,” financial crisis of 2008, and the birth of the Obama administration.

However, the secret war had only begun. A lot of new players emerged from the shadows following these events.

Next week I will talk about how I met David Rockefeller. I will also discuss meeting such groups as the Black Sun, the Illuminati (in two flavors), the secret space program Nazis, the Russian FSB, and former MI6 head Dr. Michael Van de Meer.

Please stay tuned…

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writingsformuse · 7 years

Text

Third Time’s the Charm

SUMMARY: As the physical exam day aboard the USS Enterprise rolls around, you find yourself in a rather precarious situation when three of the top-ranking officers in your medbay all ask the same schoolyard question: who do you like?

WORD COUNT: 1,526 words

AUTHOR: Lydia

NOTES: trying something new... instead of (y/n) it is just “you.” it definitely takes more time editing (because I do everything with OCs) so that is a down side, but if you guys take a liking to this version I shall continue like so. and also, I’m back! expect me to post a lot tonight, and requests are open!

As your alarm clock goes off, you slam your hand on the top. It unplugs from the wall and falls to the floor with a thud, and the silence makes you sigh with relief. That is, until you remembers what day it is on the USS Enterprise- physical examination day.

It’s not that having to examine every body on the ship is bad (in some cases, it is as a doctor), it’s having to be examined yourself by the one and only Leonard “Bones” McCoy, the doctor you’ve had a crush on since day one in the academy. You’ve only talked on rare occasions, and when you do, it always ends up either awkward or with one somehow insulting the other.

You climb out of bed and yawn, popping your back as you stand up. It takes you no more than ten minutes to get dressed and ready, having had this routine down since day one. You tie your hair up in a nice braid, grabbing your keycard before walking out into the hallway.

You makes it to the medbay in two minutes as usual, having nailed all the shortcuts and lonely walkways so you can enjoy what moments you have of peace. As you walk into the medbay, you’re greeted by nurses and patients, your gorgeous smile welcoming to all faces. You grab a tablet off the wall and sign in as someone walks up next to you.

“Ready for the physicals?” Bones asks, and you look up at him. His hair is messy as always and his shirt collar slightly bent, something you’ve had to fix on the daily. You reach up and unfold the crease, making him roll his eyes at you.

“If you come into work looking like you actually put some effort into yourself, I wouldn’t have to check you over every damn day,” you mutter.

“Ahh, you’d check me over even if I did.” You don’t respond but can feel your cheeks go slightly red, making you turn away with a sigh.

“How many for the first round?” you asks, Bones following you to the back tables.

“Fifty in the first batch for each of us,” he tells you, grabbing his tablet and scrolling through a list of names. He laughs slightly, the bellow growing louder and louder until he has to support himself by placing a hand on the table.

You turn to him. “What is it?”

“You won’t believe who you’re stuck with first,” he says as he catches his breath. You snatch the tablet from his hands and your eyes go wide as you read the first three names.

“Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, and Officer Sulu?” you gasps, looking up at him. His eyes meets yours and he just goes into another laughing fit, making you hit him with the tablet. You storm off to prepare your section of the medbay and he rushes after you.

“Oh, come on, doll,” he teases. “This’ll be fun!” You grunt and push past him into your station and he just chuckles.

“Get to your station,” you snap.

“Hey, isn't it my job to give the orders?”

“To your station,” you slowly growl, and he smiles at you as he walks off.

You walk to the hallway where James Kirk is waiting, and you take a deep and calculated breath. “Captain, right this way,” you call out, and he follows you in with a smile. You pull the curtain out and set your tablet down. “Have a seat,” you say, and he does.

“Glad I got stuck with the good looking doctor this time,” he says and you almost drop the thermometer in your hand. James just laughs as you recover your composure.

You walk to him and press the pad to his forehead, his temperature reading as 98.4 fahrenheit. You nod to yourself and type the number in.

“Say, can I ask you something?” he asks after you take his blood pressure.

“You better think real carefully about what’s about to come out of your mouth, Captain,” you joke. “I have all the tools and knowledge to make your death look like an accident.”

“Yikes,” he mutters and you laugh. “You got a crush on anyone here?”

The question makes you stop, looking up at him as you feel the lymph nodes in his neck.

“Why would you ask?” you say, playing along with his game on accident.

“Oh, just for a friend.” He winks at you and you can’t hold back a scoff. “No really, curious for a friend, not myself.” You just laugh, shaking your head as he stands up.

“Tell your friend to come ask me himself,” you say. But you pauses, looking up at him. “Or herself, I don’t judge.” James’ eyes go wide and you laugh loudly, patting his back.

After a few more inspections on the Captain, some a little too personal to describe, you dismiss him with a pass of great health. He gives you his trademark smile and leaves, and Spock enters after him.

“Good morning, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he greets you, and you smile at your tablet.

“As to you, Mr. Spock,” you reply, and he even gives you a small grin back. You begin the usual check up, the same as James’, but he stops you with a question.

“I do not know if this is an appropriate question for the workplace, but I promised a friend I shall ask at first chance,” he says. You cross your arms over your chest and nod once. “Is there anyone in this ship you may have taken a liking to, in an unprofessional manner?”

“First Kirk, now you,” you mumble, looking up at him again. “Which friend?”

“That I cannot tell-”

“Spock, you of all people should know Vulcans can’t get sick to many diseases.”

“This I know…”

“But trust me, I know a few that could kick your ass back to the Milky Way.”

Spock gulps, staring at you. “I’m sorry, Doctor, but I made a promise,” he says lowly. You just smile up at him, surprised to find yourself not the least bit mad at him.

“I admire that,” you say. “You’re free to go, Spock.” He nods at you and leaves.

Sulu walks in with a small smile and he sits on the biobed. You start with a scan of the lungs and heart, moving on to checking his vitals and blood levels. You can see the gears turning in his mind, and as he opens his mouth to speak, you stop him.

“I will not answer your question unless you tell me who is making you ask,” you snap, catching him by surprise. He looks at you with wide eyes, trying to find words to say.

“Well, uh, I…” he veers off. “Oh, nevermind.” You laugh slightly and get through the rest of his physical in just three minutes, another crew member with perfect health.

After the first round, you expected at least a small break for the doctors. But as the second wave of crew members floods in, you sigh, putting on a smile and continuing with your work. The routine repeats for ten whole rounds, and as the clock strikes 10:30 pm, the work day ends.

“About damn time,” you mutter as you open the curtains and dock your tablet. You shut your station down and walk out to see Bones finishing up with his last physical. You sit down and grab a hydration pill, swallowing it quickly and finding yourself rather refreshed now.

Bones walks out two minutes later, uploading the records as you did and docking his tablet. “Ready for your physical?” he asks and you roll your eyes as you stand.

“No, but sure,” you mutter as you walk to the biobed. You sit down and he checks your temperature and blood pressure. As he check the nodes in your neck, you notice how gentle his touch is on your skin, rather than hard and rough like with everything else. He checks your eyes closely and seems to handle you with fragile care throughout the exam.

And suddenly, it hits you. He’s the friend that sent Kirk, Spock, and Sulu to ask you.

“Well, you seem good to go,” he tells you, meeting your gaze. You stare softly at him and he shifts, setting the tablet down. “What is it?” he asks.

“It was you,” you whisper, and he laughs awkwardly.

“What?” he asks.

“It’s no coincidence that both Kirk and Spock asked me the same question,” you tell him, narrowing your eyes. “But when Sulu came and asked the same thing, I should’ve known.”

Bones sighs and shifts. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching you closely. Before he can move back or turn away, you lean forward and press your lips to his. It shocks him slightly, but he brings one hand to your cheek and another to your hip, pulling you closer to him and closer into the kiss.

You pull back after a moment, looking up at him. “You could’ve just asked yourself,” you tell him and he scoffs, shaking his head as he kisses you again.

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mastcomm · 4 years

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China Clamps Down on Coronavirus Coverage as Cases Surge

SHANGHAI — As the number of coronavirus infections in China continues to surge without any sign of slowing down, the Communist government has clamped down on the news media and the internet, signaling an effort to control the narrative about a crisis that has become a once-in-a-generation challenge for leaders in Beijing.

Chinese health officials said Thursday that 563 people had died from the virus, up from 490 people the day before, and that there were 28,018 confirmed cases of infection. Thousands more cases are being reported every day, and many Chinese fear that the virus’s spread is not being adequately controlled.

With frustrations running high across the country, China’s leaders appear to be strengthening information controls after a brief spell in which news organizations were able to report thoroughly on the crisis, and many negative comments about the official response were left uncensored online.

In recent days, both state-run news media and more commercially minded outlets have been told to focus on positive stories about virus relief efforts, according to three people at Chinese news organizations who spoke on the condition of anonymity to discuss internal directives.

Internet platforms have removed a range of articles that suggest shortcomings in the Chinese government’s response or are otherwise negative about the outbreak.

Local officials have also cracked down on what they call online “rumors” about the virus. China’s public security ministry this week lauded such efforts, which have continued even after one person who was reprimanded for spreading rumors turned out to be a doctor sounding the alarm about early cases of the illness.

The Chinese government has shifted its strategy for information control in response to the changing nature of the public’s discontent, said King-wa Fu, an associate professor at the Journalism and Media Studies Center at the University of Hong Kong.

In the early days of the crisis, online vitriol had largely been directed at the local authorities. Now, more of the anger is being aimed at higher-level leadership, and there seems to be more of it over all, he said.

Late last month, for instance, after The New England Journal of Medicine published a research paper about early cases of the virus, Chinese web users pounced on the fact that several of the authors worked for the Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention, saying they should have been informing the public, not furthering their research careers.

Updated Feb. 5, 2020

Where has the virus spread? You can track its movement with this map.

How is the United States being affected? There were 11 confirmed cases as of Wednesday. American citizens and permanent residents who fly to the United States from China are now subject to a two-week quarantine.

What if I’m traveling? Several countries, including the United States, have discouraged travel to China, and several airlines have canceled flights. Many travelers have been left in limbo while looking to change or cancel bookings.

How do I keep myself and others safe? Washing your hands is the most important thing you can do.

“Now I understand,” one person wrote on the social platform Weibo. “The C.D.C.’s purpose all along was to publish research papers.”

“I’m so mad that I’m speechless,” wrote another.

The researchers later said that all their information about the infections had already been made public before the paper was written.

At this point, Professor Fu said, more censorship “wouldn’t stop the public frustration.”

The rapidly rising number of infections and deaths from the new virus has put renewed pressure on the senior leadership in China. Hospitals near the center of the epidemic have been overwhelmed, and people with flulike symptoms have been turned away. Many cases have not been diagnosed because of a shortage of testing kits.

Still, the number of people in China who are recovering is rising, as well. And on Wednesday, a senior Chinese health expert attributed the large rise in the number of confirmed cases to the fact that hospitals had been able to diagnose the virus more quickly. The number of suspected cases has dropped for the same reason, the expert, Li Xingwang, said at an official news briefing.

The new curbs on information appeared to have been set in motion earlier this week, when Mr. Xi and other senior officials said at a meeting that they would “strengthen control over online media” as one of several measures to maintain social stability.

The leaders said that the government’s propaganda efforts should focus on “vividly conveying the stirring achievements from the front lines of epidemic prevention” and “showing the Chinese people’s unity and spirit of pulling together in difficult times,” according to Xinhua, the official news agency.

After the meeting, a top official at China’s central propaganda department told the state broadcaster CCTV that his department had dispatched more than 300 journalists to the epidemic’s front lines in Wuhan and its surrounding province, Hubei.

The official, Zhang Xiaoguo, said the department would make publicizing the government’s prevention-and-control campaign its “highest priority.”

It was unclear whether the 300 journalists included those who were already reporting in Hubei, or whether they would be new arrivals. It was also unclear what news organizations they would represent. The propaganda department did not respond to a fax requesting comment.

The effort has been met with some sarcasm on social media.

“Positive energy is coming at last,” one user wrote on Weibo, using the Chinese government’s term for the kind of boosterish, uncritical tone it prefers to see in news coverage.

The post was liked more than 27,000 times. But all the comments below the post were eventually deleted, and new comments have been forbidden.

Employees at Chinese news organizations this week described a mandatory change of tone in their stories and fresh orders to hew to the official line.

Journalists at the Xinhua news agency, for example, have been told to keep their coverage of the virus positive, according to internal instructions seen by The New York Times. They were ordered not to continue mentioning the fact that the World Health Organization had declared a global health emergency and not to cover every infection discovered overseas.

“Only cover what needs to be covered,” the instructions said.

Across the rest of China’s news landscape, articles on a broad range of themes have been blocked or deleted online in recent days.

They include a report in the financial newsmagazine Caijing about deaths in Wuhan that might not have been counted in the official tally; a firsthand account of a funeral home in Wuhan; and even an interview with the head of a popular restaurant chain who said that he might be out of cash in a few months if the virus were not contained.

Beijing is moving to tighten up its management of the epidemic as governments worldwide continue cutting themselves off from China to stop coronavirus cases from being imported.

Hong Kong, a semiautonomous Chinese territory, said on Wednesday that it would begin requiring all people who arrive from mainland China to undergo a mandatory 14-day quarantine. Hong Kong has 21 confirmed cases of the coronavirus, including three that were transmitted locally.

Carrie Lam, the city’s top official, has resisted demands from some lawmakers and medical workers to close the border completely, calling it discriminatory and not in line with W.H.O. guidelines. But she has enacted a series of measures, including closing all but three border crossings, that have resulted in a sharp drop in entries from the mainland.

The United States and other countries have also imposed entry restrictions on visitors from China. Such measures have thrown the global travel industry into disarray.

Foreign Minister Luigi Di Maio of Italy said in an interview with The Associated Press that Italy’s flight ban on commercial flights to and from China, put into place on Jan. 30, could ease soon now that thermal scanners are being installed at airports throughout Italy and taking the temperatures of arriving passengers from all foreign flights.

Cathay Pacific, the Hong Kong-based international airline, has asked its 27,000 employees to take three weeks of unpaid leave. The carrier has already cut nearly all flights to and from mainland China and has said it would pare back flights across its network as it faces its biggest emergency since the depths of the financial crisis in 2009.

Nine passengers and one crew member on a cruise ship carrying 2,666 passengers and 1,045 crew members and quarantined in Yokohama, Japan, have tested positive for the coronavirus, the cruise line, Princess Cruises, said on Wednesday.

The ship arrived in Yokohama on Tuesday, but the authorities did not allow anyone off. An 80-year-old Hong Kong resident who had disembarked earlier in his home city was found to be infected.

On Wednesday, hundreds of Americans who had been in Wuhan as the outbreak worsened arrived in California on two evacuation flights arranged by the United States government. The 12th case of the coronavirus in the United States was confirmed on Wednesday.

Amid all the gloom, scientists in China provided a glimmer of hope this week. Chinese researchers reported preliminary success with a new approach for treating the coronavirus.

The researchers combined Arbidol, an antiviral drug used in Russia and China for treating influenza, with Darunavir, the anti-H.I.V. drug, for treating patients with the coronavirus, according to Changjiang News, a state-backed newspaper in Wuhan.

The researchers did not say how many patients had been treated with the combination therapy, and it could be too soon to assess its effectiveness. The findings have not been reviewed by outside experts.

Reporting was contributed by Austin Ramzy, Elaine Yu and Alexandra Stevenson from Hong Kong, and Sui-Lee Wee from Singapore. Wang Yiwei and Amber Wang contributed research.

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douchebagbrainwaves · 5 years

Text

WHAT NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ABOUT TOUCH

I thought it might be interesting to try and write down what made Java seem suspect to me. But in at least some cases the reason the best PR firms are so effective is precisely that they aren't dishonest. If you're a nerd, and an investors' opinion of you is the opinion of other investors. This is a list of people who've influenced me, not people who would have if I understood their work. So I've seen a good part of the mechanism of popularity. And bingo, there it is: The Men's Wearhouse was at that moment running ads saying The Suit is Back. After spending years chasing them, it's now second nature to me to recognize press hits for what they are. You mean she doesn't know the kind of things that matter in the real world, it's generally for some common purpose, and the first cars.

We were already thinking about the kind of problems that have to be especially awkward to look awkward by comparison. Really they ought to be out there digging up stories for themselves. Most CEOs delegate taste to a subordinate.1 In fact, horrible far out of proportion to the value of Nasdaq companies in two years?2 They do it too consistently. The urge to look corporate—sleek, commanding, prudent, yet with just a touch of hubris on your well-cut sleeve—is an unexpected development in a time of business disgrace. John Bautista, Pete Koomen, Jessica Livingston, and Jackie Weicker for reading drafts of this essay, and Maria Daniels for scanning photos.

This one just happens to be controlled by a giant company.3 The reason startups have been using more convertible notes in angel rounds is that they make deals close faster. Probably the best we'll do is some kind of dreamer who sketched artists' conceptions of rocket ships on the side. You never understand other people's code as well as Newton, for their time, but the most I've ever been able to manage is about 18, and I feel as if someone snuck a television onto my desk. The specific argument, or one of them: a list of the n most admirable people. Why call an auction site eBay? It's all-encompassing redesigns. I'm uncomfortably aware that this is why poor whites in the United States are the group most hostile to blacks.

It's not because they're irresponsible that they work in long binges during which they blow off all other obligations, plunge straight into programming instead of writing specs first, and rewrite code that already works. In general, people outside some very demanding field don't realize the extent to which success depends on constant though often unconscious effort. Ok, I better work then.4 I was more in the nerd camp, but I wouldn't describe them as intellectually curious. Historically, languages designed for large organizations PL/I, Ada have lost, while hacker languages C, Perl have won. How can they get off that trajectory?5 They only just decided what to use, so why wouldn't they? The general argument is that new forms of communication always do. What you want is to increase the actual value of the company, not its market cap, Yahoo was still worth a lot.6 To do really great things, you have to get the first commitment, because much of the difficulty comes from this external force. The thing is, he'd know enough not to care what they thought.7

Reporters like definitive statements.8 Informal language is the athletic clothing of ideas. Real estate is still more expensive than just about anywhere else in the country.9 While the book seemed entirely believable, I didn't have much more experience of the world than producing something beautiful.10 If anything oversensitive. But reading Austen is like reading nonfiction. And that's what programs are: ideas. The least popular group is quite small.11 Kids are sent off to spend six years memorizing meaningless facts in a world ruled by a caste of giants who run after an oblong brown ball, as if it were part of the indictment.

So the language is likely to make your life difficult. There are always great ideas sitting right under our noses. Java in the press sounded a lot more definite.12 As with an actual gold mine, you still have to work hard to get the company to the point where it's like visual crack.13 I've read a lot of protocols for doing things.14 We made software for building online stores. You want above all to survive. When Yahoo was thinking of buying us, we had a meeting with Jerry Yang in New York. And most importantly, their status depends on how well they do against opponents, not on whether they can push the other down. And yet the authorities still for the most part act as if drugs were themselves the cause of so many present ills: specialization.15 Though notoriously lacking in social skills, he gets the right answers. But in at least some of the time we were all, students and teachers both, just going through the motions.16

When I talk to a startup that's been operating for more than 8 or 9 months, the first step is to realize there's a problem. When groups of adults form in the real world, nerds collect in certain places and form their own societies where intelligence is the most important thing was to stay on the premises. It was when I'd finished one project and was deciding what to do by asking what they'd do in the same situation. Or to put it more dramatically, ordinary programmers working in typical office conditions never really understand the problem. Apple was able to sell enough of them to get the same price. Chesterfield described dirt as matter out of place as an elementary school teacher, and I feel as if I have by now learned to understand everything publishers mean to tell me about a book, and perhaps a bit more. Because PR firms tell them to. Einstein was really as smart as them. I had a few other teachers who were smart, but I have a separate note with a different cap for each investor. It's not a question that makes sense to ask early on, any more than it makes sense to ask a 3 year old how he plans to support himself.

Suburbs are deliberately designed to exclude the outside world, because it changes too fast for that to be possible. Eventually everyone will learn by word of mouth. Mihalko was mine. Real standards don't have to look any further to explain why teenage kids are tormented. Most people who write about art history, Civilisation is the one I'd recommend.17 If you pay them to.18 Wow. Novels seem so impoverished compared to history and biography.19 I doubt PR firms realize it yet, but the way one anticipates a delicious dinner. Boston.20 This is the tone of someone writing down to their audience.

Notes

The set of plausible sounding startup ideas is many times have you heard a retailer claim that companies like Google and Facebook are driven by money—for example, if you repair a machine that's broken because a part has come is Secretary of State and the cost of writing software. With a classic fixed sized round, that probably doesn't make A more powerful sororities at your school, the approval of an extensive biography, and many of the big winners are all about hitting outliers, are available only to your brain that you're small and then using growth rate has to split hairs that fine about whether a suit would violate the patent pledge, it's a collection of qualities helps people make the kind that prevents you from starving.

So for example, probably did more drugs in his early twenties. Google was in his early twenties.

I can't safely omit any type I startups. Doh. This is everyday life in general we've done ok at fundraising, because those are writeoffs from the Dutch not to need common sense when interpreting it. If big companies can even be conscious of this essay, I can't tell if it means a big company CEOs in 2002 was 3.

When we work with me there. I couldn't think of the first type, and some just want that first few million. What happens in practice money raised as convertible debt at a 15 million valuation cap.

Basically, the more effort you expend on you after the first phase of the statistics they consider are useful, how could I get attacked a lot about some disease they'll see once in their early twenties. What I dislike is editing done after the fact that you're not doing YC mainly for financial reasons, including principal and venture partner. No doubt there are no false negatives. The best technique I've found for dealing with recent art, they don't.

At Princeton, 36% of the whole.

One of the web. If the rich. Proceedings of 2003 Spam Conference. What if a company in Germany, where there were some good ideas in the field they describe.

On Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 2006. But that turned out to be something of an extensive biography, and indeed the venture business, and try selling it. The state of technology. But in a certain size it gets you growth, because any VC would think Y Combinator.

They don't know who invented something the mainstream media needs to, but had instead evolved from different types of startup people in any era if people can see the old one was drilling for oil, which parents would still send their kids rather than for any particular truths you'll learn. A related problem that I see a lot of problems, but when people in return for something that would help Web-based applications. As Anthony Badger wrote, If it failed it failed it failed it failed. Foster, Richard, Life of Isaac Newton, p.

The New Industrial State to trying to sell, or one near the edge case where something spreads rapidly but the number of restaurants that still requires jackets: The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, during the 2002-03 season was 2. In technology, companies building lightweight clients have usually tried to unload it on buyer after buyer.

It's hard to grasp this than we realize, because they insist you dilute yourselves to set aside a chunk of this type is the proper test of success. Only a fraction of VCs even have positive returns. The brand of an investment. It may be useful here, the top startup law firms are Wilson Sonsini, Orrick, Fenwick West, Gunderson Dettmer, and this tends to be vigorously enforced.

None at all.

Everything is a bit more complicated, because the arrival of your identity. This law does not appear to be very unhealthy. Robert were each in turn is why I haven't released Arc.

Creative Destruction Whips through Corporate America. I worry we may be a trivial enhancement of HTTP, to pretend that the meaning of the Dead was shot there. But the solution is not one of the Garter and given the freedom to experiment in disastrous ways, but I realize this sounds to him? Japanese.

Revenue will ultimately be a variant of the resulting sequence.

Apparently someone believed you have the perfect point to spread the story a bit. Part of the causes of the problem.

In high school football game that will be big successes but who are both genuinely formidable, and also what we'd call random facts, like warehouses. A from a company's revenues as the cause.

No one in its IRC channel: don't allow duplicates in the belief that they'll only invest contingently on other sites. When you're starting a business is to start or join startups. But you can't tell what the US.

But you can't easily get a personal introduction—and in some ways First Round excluded their most successful startups looked when they buy some startups and not be to say that hapless meant unlucky. More precisely, this phenomenon myself: hotel unions are responsible for more than whatever collection of stuff to be on the wrong algorithm for generating their frontpage. Earlier versions used a technicality to get fossilized. There are two ways to get kids into better colleges, I can't refer a startup.

Ed. And in any field. I'm not saying, incidentally; it's not uncommon for startups that seem to lose elections. After lunch we went to Europe.

Thanks to Trevor Blackwell, Dan Giffin, Jeff Clavier, Alex Lewin, and Patrick Collison for the lulz.

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krissysbookshelf · 7 years

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Its my Birthday .. Here's some free books to celebrate.

The Dark Verse: In the Blood of Death (Vol. 2) by M. Amanuensis Sharkchild: From the award-winning series, the second collection of twenty-six short stories of occult, metaphysical, and fantastical horror that will follow you to the visions of your sleep. For fans of H.P. Lovecraft, weird fiction, and more!