Chipotle mystery order quote answer
A subreddit for HVAC professionals - try r/hvacadvice for out-of-the-field questions or comments.
2010.12.22 13:29 relic2279 A subreddit for HVAC professionals - try r/hvacadvice for out-of-the-field questions or comments.
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2017.05.22 01:52 Tyrion_Baelish_Varys Keeping Track of Power and Politics
A subreddit dedicated to Keeping Track by organizing and summarizing the different notable developments involving, but not limited to, Congress, the White House, investigations, abuse of power, and election interference.
2012.01.02 17:31 groceryalerts Personal Finance For Canadians
2023.03.25 06:17 mo140 Already bored of the international break so I decided to rank all our managers of the PL era
I'm bored, no football, no money so all my flatmates are out and I'm not. Drinking beer at mine, just finished watching 21 grams (great film btw) fuck all else to do except rank our managers, here we gan.
But one of the few times I will give credit to oversized Samantha is that he was one of the first to call out Ashley's bullshit. But overall a very unmemorable time in nufc history
Sure he got us into Europe, but with pardew it always felt like individual moments of magic got us through, rather than actual good management and game plan (yes another break is fine I can already hear you type ben arfa nufc into youtube)
submitted by mo140 to NUFC [link] [comments]
15. McClaren
Yup, the worst manager of our PL history. He easily had the best transfer windows of the Ashley era, and still only managed a 1% better win rate than carver. His managerial record would be the worst thing about his person if its wasn't for his haircut.14. Kinnear
I do commend Ashley for answering the age long question "What if Abe Simpson managed a football team?" but I really wish he didn't answer this question with the team I support13. Bruce
Hows the 13th place did ya say? Aye only nice thing I can say is that his stint feels like a lifetime ago12. Carver
Congratulations, John, you are šnot last š The best coach in the premier league with the worst self awareness in the world. Match made in heaven. Oh well at least I got to see Mike Williamson scissor tackle a player into a camera even though the ball wasn't in play11. Dalglish
You may be surprised to find him this low down on the list but him dismantling the entertainers to have a reunion with his ex Liverpool buddies set us back years and I will die on that hill.10. Sounness
Now I'm no big fancy pants football tactician or anything, but, and correct me if I'm wrong, I think it's a good idea to not have your team fight each other in the middle of a match. Just my opinion though, and why listen to me? I'm not even on this list9. Gullit
"Yeah bro trust me I'm going to bench shearer for the tyne and wear derby trust me it's a great idea bro please trust me why are you turning on me bro it was a great idea it's not the reason we lost 2 -1 bro please" -Ruud Gullit, probably8. Alladyce
Ah how football changes, see back in the olden days Gargantuan Samuel wasn't known for his great escapes with tin pot clubs, he was known for rocking up to Europe with Jay Jay Okocha (I know you haven't heard that name in a while, it's OK you can take a break from this post to look at YouTube highlights)But one of the few times I will give credit to oversized Samantha is that he was one of the first to call out Ashley's bullshit. But overall a very unmemorable time in nufc history
7. Pardew
Jesus fucking christ why is pardew so high up on this list why do I spend so much of my emotional energy on this club it's no wonder in drinking cheap beer alone shitposting on a Friday nightSure he got us into Europe, but with pardew it always felt like individual moments of magic got us through, rather than actual good management and game plan (yes another break is fine I can already hear you type ben arfa nufc into youtube)
6. Roeder
https://www.nufcblog.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/UEFA-Cup-Newcastle-United-v-AZ-Alkmaar.jpg5. Hughton
Arguably the most unfair sacking in PL history, the only other contenders than come to mind are Dyche at Burnley and Tuchel at Chelsea, walking the championship to 11th place in the prem with not much investment is great return, deserved much better4. Howe
Still early days, but it's fair to say he's earned his spot high up this list. He's had us playing the best football we've seen in donkeys years. Lot of bright future under this lad3. Benitez
But I can't help but put rafa above. His football was nowhere near as sexy, but giving hope under Ashley is up there with Jesus walking on water. Rafa had a lot more to deal with than Howe, and I don't just mean the "hOwE HaS sAuDi MoNeY" but Howe gets to meet with the board, talk about the future and see a clear plan. Rafa didn't get any of that, and still brought hope2. Robson
A true gentleman, what can be said about Sir Bobby that hasn't been said already? Great football, great man. Go watch some highlights, this one isn't a break it's an order1. Keegan
From nearly getting relegated to the 3rd division to 2nd in the premier league. Keegan saved and transformed this club, they didn't call his team the entertainers for nowt. Legend.2023.03.25 06:16 Florestarosa The Legendary Sea Monster š
Part i
Renowned for his courage and groundbreaking discoveries that furthered along our knowledge of the mysterious sea, he became known as "The Underwater Pineapple," otherwise known as "Le Pinne Pomme" for short. Never again was he seen by his old world. Approximately two months ago, Le Pinne Pomme was born. Since his first adventure, his passionate love grew, and he knew his calling was to devote his entire life to the sea.
On his second journey, he discovered an underwater town. It was a smallish town, each house painted with magical pigment extracted from the eggs the sacred silemosils drop during their travels hither and thither. Silemosils are mystical octopus-like creatures that have a semi-transparent flesh decorated in spellspeckles which reveal unimaginable colors in the sunlight. These colors are a byproduct of the chemical reaction that occurs when sunlight activates their spellspeckle chambers, giving the silemosils the extraordinary amount of energy they need to glide easily through the water, which, for them, is a necessity, seeing as their hundreds of pinhead-sized mouths are made to feed on gloski, a unique variety of glowing amoeba with the sole purpose of providing silemosils with the nourishment they need. Gloski exclusively live in the depths of a rocky abyss not too far off from the town.
Acquainted with all of the townsfolk, and familiarized with every noun of the town, Le Pinne Pomme decided it fit to build a pineapple home on the outskirts. Little did he know his home rested above a cave, an extension of the rocky abyss.
As Le Pinne Pomme was resting comfortably on his bed for the night, he became queasy at the recollection of something uncanny during his interactions with the townsfolk. Earlier in the day, a wise lady cautioned him about an abyss near the town. Before he could respond, he was distracted by a group of youngsters eager to study this rare newcomer. Up until his drift he wondered what the wise lady was on about.
The next day, he went looking for the wise lady. Approaching each of the townspeople with his best description of the lady and a request for any information regarding the abyss she spoke of, everyone denied their knowledge. His suspicions propelled him to search for answers.
Le Pinne Pomme had been cooped up in his home gathering every piece of information about the sea he could get his hands on. After three months of leafing through every page of sea info he managed to procure at the library in the center of the town, the abundance of information he had absorbed finally assimilated. At that very moment, he beheld the apparition of a grand idea.
Swiftly, he gathered every page he had tossed around in his desperate search for answers. Clutching the papers, he dashed to the town's library, and upon his arrival he noticed an inquisitive crowd had followed him. The crowd was merely wondering why Sir Pomme was in such a hurry. When Le Pinne Pomme gave a brief explanation, and after seeing his determination, the caring crowd offered to help, and when the caring crowd offered to help, and after seeing their devotion, Le Pinne Pomme was more than willing to accept.
The group hurried into the library and assembled. Director Pomme appropriately assigned tasks and positions to the gentle devotees, based on his prior knowledge from his experience as a team member back in the time of his first adventure into the sea, and they quickly went to work. At some point Director Pomme had suddenly remembered seeing a lukiaplant near his pineapple home, and according to his research, this special plant lives above caves, as its roots must grow earthward and reach the bottom of the abyss, where it gets its nutrition from decomposed silemosils. If his calculations were correct, his house rests upon the cave of the rocky abyss. He knew his unrelenting desire to uncover the mysteries of the sea was boundless, and it will be written on his heart until his last.
Now appointed Leader, Captain Pomme's third journey commenced, and madness set deep within his soul as he prepared to face what could very well be the most terrifying creatures he will ever come to see. After casting about, the fresh team had finally found the entrance of the abyss, marking the location of the entrance with a small flag symbolizing their accomplishment. When the time came, the group thanked and waved their leader a most sincere, and emotional, farewell. For this was a journey Le Pinne Pomme knew he must experience on his own this time around.
Le Pinne Pomme descended 3 days into the unknown before reaching the rocky floor. He had lost track of time when the darkness was the only thing visible to him. However, the darkness was not all his senses perceived. Indeed, creatures of the deep kept small Le Pinne Pomme company during his downward journey. Contrary to his expectations, he was not chewed and digested, nor was he pierced and deceased. Halfway down the abyss, he encountered a most horrific sight, known as "The Legendary Malugmayut."
"The Legendary Malugmayut" is a story that has been told by storytellers and passed down in families for centuries:
"Once upon a time, in a mythical place unlike anything we have come to know, there dwelled an unfathomable seamonster, whose truth is barely to be told, known as "The Legendary Malugmayut." This humongous, despicable, and terrifying creature had been in hiding for centuries. There was once a fellow traveler with an unwavering determination to reveal the secrets of the deep. One day, he embarked on his long-awaited journey. He never returned to his home. The story after his departure remains forever untold."
Malugmayut somehow knew of this story, which is why he had never visited the town neighboring his home. He was scared of the storytellers and ashamed of himself, because his reputation had become his identity.
Le Pinne Pomme's madness kept him sane before the legendary monster. Though it seemed that their encounter was nothing more than a happenstance to his madness, Malugmayut believed in destiny. For the first time in centuries, he uttered words that shook every nook and cranny of that pocket in the sea. Le Pinne Pomme's madness was, too, shaken by the utterance, and his sanity recovered.
He had not been harmed, but he was drifting in and out of consciousness from the impact. When he came to, he could see only a turquoise sun surrounded by darkness, lighting up the creature's face, and casting its shadow on the wall painted with rainbow-colored swirls of seaplants and dotted with the eyes of the miniature fish of the abyss, camouflaged by the marvelous array of colors, reflective of the vastness of the mysterious sea.
The creature's face finally registered, and millions of bubbles floated toward the surface of the ocean. Every distant seacreature and plant suffered an intense recoil. Le Pinne Pomme knew that he was defenseless before this frightening monster.
After everything and every creature had calmed, Le Pinne Pomme intuitively understood that the creature did not have predatory or territorial intent, and he yielded his sane madness to the Malugmayut. A light bulb appeared, quite literally, and he realized that he knew nothing of life.
This wild creature was a beautiful sight. Le Pinne Pomme was humbled by awe. Despite Malugmayut's unusual form and appearance, there was a light in his eyes. Not the kind of light emitting out of Malugmayut's appendage, but a glimpse of hope in his presence reminiscent of a subtle gracefulness, perceptible to the sensing soul.
They locked eyes, and so did their friendship. What they saw in one another was an invaluable gift. A leap of faith they took, and great friends they became. They came to see that they had nothing to fear, and the thing they feared the most became most precious to them. Le Pinne Pomme never returned to his old homes. The pocket of the sea became his home, and the sea monsters his friends. Once again, the story was told.
submitted by Florestarosa to HFY [link] [comments]
Renowned for his courage and groundbreaking discoveries that furthered along our knowledge of the mysterious sea, he became known as "The Underwater Pineapple," otherwise known as "Le Pinne Pomme" for short. Never again was he seen by his old world. Approximately two months ago, Le Pinne Pomme was born. Since his first adventure, his passionate love grew, and he knew his calling was to devote his entire life to the sea.
On his second journey, he discovered an underwater town. It was a smallish town, each house painted with magical pigment extracted from the eggs the sacred silemosils drop during their travels hither and thither. Silemosils are mystical octopus-like creatures that have a semi-transparent flesh decorated in spellspeckles which reveal unimaginable colors in the sunlight. These colors are a byproduct of the chemical reaction that occurs when sunlight activates their spellspeckle chambers, giving the silemosils the extraordinary amount of energy they need to glide easily through the water, which, for them, is a necessity, seeing as their hundreds of pinhead-sized mouths are made to feed on gloski, a unique variety of glowing amoeba with the sole purpose of providing silemosils with the nourishment they need. Gloski exclusively live in the depths of a rocky abyss not too far off from the town.
Acquainted with all of the townsfolk, and familiarized with every noun of the town, Le Pinne Pomme decided it fit to build a pineapple home on the outskirts. Little did he know his home rested above a cave, an extension of the rocky abyss.
As Le Pinne Pomme was resting comfortably on his bed for the night, he became queasy at the recollection of something uncanny during his interactions with the townsfolk. Earlier in the day, a wise lady cautioned him about an abyss near the town. Before he could respond, he was distracted by a group of youngsters eager to study this rare newcomer. Up until his drift he wondered what the wise lady was on about.
The next day, he went looking for the wise lady. Approaching each of the townspeople with his best description of the lady and a request for any information regarding the abyss she spoke of, everyone denied their knowledge. His suspicions propelled him to search for answers.
Le Pinne Pomme had been cooped up in his home gathering every piece of information about the sea he could get his hands on. After three months of leafing through every page of sea info he managed to procure at the library in the center of the town, the abundance of information he had absorbed finally assimilated. At that very moment, he beheld the apparition of a grand idea.
Swiftly, he gathered every page he had tossed around in his desperate search for answers. Clutching the papers, he dashed to the town's library, and upon his arrival he noticed an inquisitive crowd had followed him. The crowd was merely wondering why Sir Pomme was in such a hurry. When Le Pinne Pomme gave a brief explanation, and after seeing his determination, the caring crowd offered to help, and when the caring crowd offered to help, and after seeing their devotion, Le Pinne Pomme was more than willing to accept.
The group hurried into the library and assembled. Director Pomme appropriately assigned tasks and positions to the gentle devotees, based on his prior knowledge from his experience as a team member back in the time of his first adventure into the sea, and they quickly went to work. At some point Director Pomme had suddenly remembered seeing a lukiaplant near his pineapple home, and according to his research, this special plant lives above caves, as its roots must grow earthward and reach the bottom of the abyss, where it gets its nutrition from decomposed silemosils. If his calculations were correct, his house rests upon the cave of the rocky abyss. He knew his unrelenting desire to uncover the mysteries of the sea was boundless, and it will be written on his heart until his last.
Now appointed Leader, Captain Pomme's third journey commenced, and madness set deep within his soul as he prepared to face what could very well be the most terrifying creatures he will ever come to see. After casting about, the fresh team had finally found the entrance of the abyss, marking the location of the entrance with a small flag symbolizing their accomplishment. When the time came, the group thanked and waved their leader a most sincere, and emotional, farewell. For this was a journey Le Pinne Pomme knew he must experience on his own this time around.
Le Pinne Pomme descended 3 days into the unknown before reaching the rocky floor. He had lost track of time when the darkness was the only thing visible to him. However, the darkness was not all his senses perceived. Indeed, creatures of the deep kept small Le Pinne Pomme company during his downward journey. Contrary to his expectations, he was not chewed and digested, nor was he pierced and deceased. Halfway down the abyss, he encountered a most horrific sight, known as "The Legendary Malugmayut."
"The Legendary Malugmayut" is a story that has been told by storytellers and passed down in families for centuries:
"Once upon a time, in a mythical place unlike anything we have come to know, there dwelled an unfathomable seamonster, whose truth is barely to be told, known as "The Legendary Malugmayut." This humongous, despicable, and terrifying creature had been in hiding for centuries. There was once a fellow traveler with an unwavering determination to reveal the secrets of the deep. One day, he embarked on his long-awaited journey. He never returned to his home. The story after his departure remains forever untold."
Malugmayut somehow knew of this story, which is why he had never visited the town neighboring his home. He was scared of the storytellers and ashamed of himself, because his reputation had become his identity.
Le Pinne Pomme's madness kept him sane before the legendary monster. Though it seemed that their encounter was nothing more than a happenstance to his madness, Malugmayut believed in destiny. For the first time in centuries, he uttered words that shook every nook and cranny of that pocket in the sea. Le Pinne Pomme's madness was, too, shaken by the utterance, and his sanity recovered.
He had not been harmed, but he was drifting in and out of consciousness from the impact. When he came to, he could see only a turquoise sun surrounded by darkness, lighting up the creature's face, and casting its shadow on the wall painted with rainbow-colored swirls of seaplants and dotted with the eyes of the miniature fish of the abyss, camouflaged by the marvelous array of colors, reflective of the vastness of the mysterious sea.
The creature's face finally registered, and millions of bubbles floated toward the surface of the ocean. Every distant seacreature and plant suffered an intense recoil. Le Pinne Pomme knew that he was defenseless before this frightening monster.
After everything and every creature had calmed, Le Pinne Pomme intuitively understood that the creature did not have predatory or territorial intent, and he yielded his sane madness to the Malugmayut. A light bulb appeared, quite literally, and he realized that he knew nothing of life.
This wild creature was a beautiful sight. Le Pinne Pomme was humbled by awe. Despite Malugmayut's unusual form and appearance, there was a light in his eyes. Not the kind of light emitting out of Malugmayut's appendage, but a glimpse of hope in his presence reminiscent of a subtle gracefulness, perceptible to the sensing soul.
They locked eyes, and so did their friendship. What they saw in one another was an invaluable gift. A leap of faith they took, and great friends they became. They came to see that they had nothing to fear, and the thing they feared the most became most precious to them. Le Pinne Pomme never returned to his old homes. The pocket of the sea became his home, and the sea monsters his friends. Once again, the story was told.
2023.03.25 06:03 PaddlingUpShitCreek BBBY Position Verification
 | submitted by PaddlingUpShitCreek to u/PaddlingUpShitCreek [link] [comments] |
2023.03.25 05:56 GamerExecChef BBQ for delivery to most of LA and Orange County, delivering on April 1st, menu in the comments
FINALLY there is enough of a break in the rain for a BBQ! I feel like I haven't posted here in forever!! I look forward to feeding you.
Notes from the Chef: Food is delivered cold with simple reheating instructions to have it perfect right out of your oven (oven is highly recommended).
I love getting tips and I know it is the culture in this country to tip, but in America, tipping may have originated after the 15th amendment, which gave black men the right to vote, as a way to not pay black workers fair wages (only white waiters would get tips). Regardless of its origins, today, it is an archaic tradition maintained by business owners who donāt want to properly pay their employees (somebody might be driven away by a 15% to 20% price increase, but if the owners pays the staff 15% to 20% less, and optionally leave it up to the customer and then that person doesnāt tip, the owner still made 100% of their money). As such, I do not subscribe to this business model and while if you do tip me, it will make me very happy, please do not feel the need to tip. The food is priced so that I make the money I need in order to build the business and support my growing family and, eventually when I have employees, properly pay them. Knowing you enjoyed the food and it made you happy, is all the tips I need.
Brisket - Handmade rub with Szechuan pepper and smoked over real wood for 14 to 20 hours until perfectly tender and juicy, with a grass-fed compound butter with rosemary, roasted garlic and thyme - 27/lb, 18/half pound
Burnt Ends - Smoked over real wood and cut into cubes, tossed in BBQ sauce to make amazing melt in your mouth bites - 32/lb, 20/half pound
Pork Belly Burnt Ends - Smoked for a few hours, the cut into cubes and tossed in sauce for little bites of heaven - 24/lb, 16/half pound
Korean Pork Belly Burnt Ends - Smoked pork belly burnt ends, but instead of BBQ sauce, given a seasoned cornstarch and flour dredge and deep fried and tossed in a Korean sauce (available in Mild, White People Spicy and Spicy), with toasted sesame seeds and green onions for garnish, suggested to be served over rice - 30/lb, 19/half lb
Custom Chef Cut Pork Ribs - These ribs are boneless pork ribs cut from the belly, with the pork belly still attached for a more juicy and meaty rib - 30/lb, 19/half pound
Sides
Baked Mac and Cheese - Freshly grated cheddar, gruyere and manchego cheeses in a dark roux with spices and chipotle peppers for a hint of heat. With a freshly grated parmesan cheese and panko breadcrumb crust - 16
Salad - Red onions, cherry tomatoes, corn, bell peppers, cucumbers and fresh herbs, on a bed of lettuce and basil and a handmade salad dressing. - 9
Beans - A mix of sauteed thinly sliced jalapenos, sauteed onions, roasted garlic, pinto beans and roasted cherry tomatoes - 9
Plates
Sampler Plate - 1/2 lb each of brisket, burnt ends, custom cut pork ribs, pork belly burnt ends and Korean inspired pork belly burnt ends. Plus a serving of baked mac and cheese, a side salad and beans, your choice of a dozen cookies, āThe Cookie Recipe Experimentā or 4 Coffee Chocolate Mousse Pies - 130, feeds 4
Dessert!
The-Best-Milk-and-Cookies, Cookie - An original recipe chocolate chip cookie, with handmade vanilla extract, topped with black Hawaiian lava salt - 2/cookie, 1 dozen for 20
The Cookie Recipe Experiment - You will get 2 bags of cookies labeled ā1ā and ā2ā. One of them will be my usual cookie recipe, the other will be a new cookie recipe I am considering and I need feedback. You wonāt be told which is which until after you tell me your preference - 20 for 2 bags of 6 cookies of each recipe
Coffee Chocolate Mousse Pie - A 3 inch pie with a handmade chocolate ganache, blended together with a cream base, on a handmade graham cracker crust - 3
How to Order:
Send me a PM with your name, number, delivery address and your order
Here is my instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elitecooking/
And my Imgur: https://imgur.com/usegamerexecchef/posts
submitted by GamerExecChef to LAlist [link] [comments]
Notes from the Chef: Food is delivered cold with simple reheating instructions to have it perfect right out of your oven (oven is highly recommended).
I love getting tips and I know it is the culture in this country to tip, but in America, tipping may have originated after the 15th amendment, which gave black men the right to vote, as a way to not pay black workers fair wages (only white waiters would get tips). Regardless of its origins, today, it is an archaic tradition maintained by business owners who donāt want to properly pay their employees (somebody might be driven away by a 15% to 20% price increase, but if the owners pays the staff 15% to 20% less, and optionally leave it up to the customer and then that person doesnāt tip, the owner still made 100% of their money). As such, I do not subscribe to this business model and while if you do tip me, it will make me very happy, please do not feel the need to tip. The food is priced so that I make the money I need in order to build the business and support my growing family and, eventually when I have employees, properly pay them. Knowing you enjoyed the food and it made you happy, is all the tips I need.
Brisket - Handmade rub with Szechuan pepper and smoked over real wood for 14 to 20 hours until perfectly tender and juicy, with a grass-fed compound butter with rosemary, roasted garlic and thyme - 27/lb, 18/half pound
Burnt Ends - Smoked over real wood and cut into cubes, tossed in BBQ sauce to make amazing melt in your mouth bites - 32/lb, 20/half pound
Pork Belly Burnt Ends - Smoked for a few hours, the cut into cubes and tossed in sauce for little bites of heaven - 24/lb, 16/half pound
Korean Pork Belly Burnt Ends - Smoked pork belly burnt ends, but instead of BBQ sauce, given a seasoned cornstarch and flour dredge and deep fried and tossed in a Korean sauce (available in Mild, White People Spicy and Spicy), with toasted sesame seeds and green onions for garnish, suggested to be served over rice - 30/lb, 19/half lb
Custom Chef Cut Pork Ribs - These ribs are boneless pork ribs cut from the belly, with the pork belly still attached for a more juicy and meaty rib - 30/lb, 19/half pound
Sides
Baked Mac and Cheese - Freshly grated cheddar, gruyere and manchego cheeses in a dark roux with spices and chipotle peppers for a hint of heat. With a freshly grated parmesan cheese and panko breadcrumb crust - 16
Salad - Red onions, cherry tomatoes, corn, bell peppers, cucumbers and fresh herbs, on a bed of lettuce and basil and a handmade salad dressing. - 9
Beans - A mix of sauteed thinly sliced jalapenos, sauteed onions, roasted garlic, pinto beans and roasted cherry tomatoes - 9
Plates
Sampler Plate - 1/2 lb each of brisket, burnt ends, custom cut pork ribs, pork belly burnt ends and Korean inspired pork belly burnt ends. Plus a serving of baked mac and cheese, a side salad and beans, your choice of a dozen cookies, āThe Cookie Recipe Experimentā or 4 Coffee Chocolate Mousse Pies - 130, feeds 4
Dessert!
The-Best-Milk-and-Cookies, Cookie - An original recipe chocolate chip cookie, with handmade vanilla extract, topped with black Hawaiian lava salt - 2/cookie, 1 dozen for 20
The Cookie Recipe Experiment - You will get 2 bags of cookies labeled ā1ā and ā2ā. One of them will be my usual cookie recipe, the other will be a new cookie recipe I am considering and I need feedback. You wonāt be told which is which until after you tell me your preference - 20 for 2 bags of 6 cookies of each recipe
Coffee Chocolate Mousse Pie - A 3 inch pie with a handmade chocolate ganache, blended together with a cream base, on a handmade graham cracker crust - 3
How to Order:
Send me a PM with your name, number, delivery address and your order
Here is my instagram: https://www.instagram.com/elitecooking/
And my Imgur: https://imgur.com/usegamerexecchef/posts
2023.03.25 05:53 Which_way_witcher Without spoilers - Does the show have a satisfactory ending?
After the profound disappointment Basgallop's other show, Servant, was with zero answers given to a very hyped mystery, can anyone confirm without spoilers if this show is worth watching? Does it answer anything in the end or is it all just mood and plot confetti?
submitted by Which_way_witcher to TheConsultantTV [link] [comments]
2023.03.25 05:52 PYROxSYCO Are they gonna use people as a literal weapon?
 | submitted by PYROxSYCO to engrish [link] [comments] |
2023.03.25 05:50 LoveMangaBuddy Read I Became the Mad Emperor - Chapter 32 - MangaPuma
A long but slowly serialized novel, [The Great Human-Demon War],Bang GwangSuk binge read it over and over, infatuated by the majestic world building and story development.One day, a mysterious message was sent to him.[This story ends here.Please use your power to save my world from ruination.]Before he could get an answer to the questions in his mind, a new world was presented before his very eyes ... Read I Became the Mad Emperor - Chapter 32 - MangaPuma. Read more at https://mangapuma.com/i-became-the-mad-emperochapter-32
submitted by LoveMangaBuddy to lovemanga [link] [comments]
2023.03.25 05:47 mha_1992 Where to buy/order Harley Davidson motorcycle parts for reasonable price?
I'm looking to buy a Harley Davidson motorcycle exhaust in Thailand or order online and get it shipped to Thailand. I found one website called mortardinn that has it for decent price but seems there might be custom fees and import duties that I have to pay extra and I have no idea how these would work.
I went to Harley Davidson official store but the price they quoted me is about 40% higher than from the motardinn website and I would have to wait 3+ months.
Anyone have any advice on where I could buy this locally for reasonable price? Or if I have to order online and get it shipped, anyone know what are the extra custom fees I might have to pay?
Please advise.
Below is the link from motardinn:
https://www.tradeinn.com/motardinn/en/vance---hines-eliminator-300-harley-davidson-fxlrst-1923-abs-softail-low-rider-st-117-22-ref:46712-slip-on-muffle139170792/p?queryID=f5999d3e3b3c91529619f6949b739e5e&buscador_search&_gl=1*hrgax7*_up*MQ..&gclid=Cj0KCQjwlPWgBhDHARIsAH2xdNehJAxCaGjzWk2wHRUzCJHjGR6BWdjHRcoqOwv9LKH3Vr2DBWDC7rwaAqUdEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds
submitted by mha_1992 to Thailand [link] [comments]
I went to Harley Davidson official store but the price they quoted me is about 40% higher than from the motardinn website and I would have to wait 3+ months.
Anyone have any advice on where I could buy this locally for reasonable price? Or if I have to order online and get it shipped, anyone know what are the extra custom fees I might have to pay?
Please advise.
Below is the link from motardinn:
https://www.tradeinn.com/motardinn/en/vance---hines-eliminator-300-harley-davidson-fxlrst-1923-abs-softail-low-rider-st-117-22-ref:46712-slip-on-muffle139170792/p?queryID=f5999d3e3b3c91529619f6949b739e5e&buscador_search&_gl=1*hrgax7*_up*MQ..&gclid=Cj0KCQjwlPWgBhDHARIsAH2xdNehJAxCaGjzWk2wHRUzCJHjGR6BWdjHRcoqOwv9LKH3Vr2DBWDC7rwaAqUdEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds
2023.03.25 05:46 Scary_Worldliness_25 Help!! 2015 Ford Taurus SEL. No power to engine and code P0305
Sorry this is going to be a long post but I need help. I have 2015 Ford Taurus SEL (it is a push to start idk if that matters) with just under 136K on it. A week ago I went to start my car, all the lights came and the radio (battery is a year old) but no power to my engine. I go to start it again, same thing happens. I try one more time, but this time I press the gas while starting, the car finally started. I took it for a drive, it seemed to be running fine. I park the car and turn it off for a little while, I go to start it again, it started without help but was obviously struggling to do so. While I was driving back home my check engine light came on. The next morning, I started my car and it started with no problem, I drove to work without issue and the check engine light went off. All weekend my car was fine. Until Monday, it was struggling to start and stay on unless I pressed the gas, it started having a very rough idle and very shaky while at slow speeds (under 45 MPH) 5 minutes into driving the check engine light came back on. Luckily I work next to a diesel mechanic, he was nice enough to hook up my car, gave me the codes and some idea of what the problem could be. I got code P0305. The mechanic said it might be a spark plug or coil. My regular mechanic couldnāt take my car for another week so I called different local shop that is suppose to be better than the one I go to. I tell the lady that answered what code Iām getting and it might to a spark plug or coil but I donāt know for sure, could they look at it? They tell me to drop it off Friday. I drop my car off today, they call me around 2pm with the first of many red flags. One she was in such a rush because she was leaving for the day that I could barely ask a question. She said my car is all setā¦. I was shocked since they didnāt call before doing any repairs, letting me the issues they found or give an estimate for the repairs. Iāve never had this happen before. She said they changed ONE spark plug, a coil and turned off the check engine light. I was confused and slightly annoyed, usually youād change all the spark plugs at once, now when another one goes out I need to pay 130$ in labor cost. She also told me some gasket is starting to leak, not bad yet but I should start thinking about replacing it. I tried asking some questions but got told my mechanic would answer that when I got there. I asked for the total for the repairs made today, she didnāt have a totalā¦She had to call me back, she calls back the total is 300$ (A little much for one spark plug and a coil I was expecting all my spark plugs to be changed for that price since I was quoted less than that from my regular mechanic if the spark plugs were the issue, but I let it go, because there are different shops.) I also asked why they only changed one spark plug changed. she was getting annoyed by my questions but told me the mechanic said the gaps werenāt bad on the other ones. I get to the shop at 2:30, the mechanic who worked on my car had also left for the day and the mechanic ringing me out legitimately couldnāt answer a single question I asked. I should have pushed harder for answers! I start my car and it still didnāt seem to have the normal amount of power but the idle was fine. I thought about going back in and saying something wasnāt right but I told myself I was being paranoid. I get home park my car for an hour, go to leave and the car doesnāt start again unless I press the gas!!!!!!! No check engine light yet but I havenāt drove it after the bad start up. I honestly donāt think they even looked at my car and just changed the parts out that I said might be the issue. That is not what I asked for! Iām certain they didnāt drive my car to check it out, I realized when I got back in my car I didnāt need to adjust my seat, Iām 4ā11 thereās no way they drove my car without adjusting anything and they would have felt my engine is clearly not getting enough power until you press the gas. So I have few questions, obviously the spark plug and coil wasnāt the issue, so what could be causing the lack of power to my engine? My next question is what can I do about this shop charging me but not fixing the problem? Iām calling Monday to complain but now I donāt have the money to pay for the repair that I need to actually fix my car. Iām a single mom 300$ is a lot of money to be out of. Sorry for the long post. Iām very upset and just want to know whatās wrong with my car.
submitted by Scary_Worldliness_25 to MechanicAdvice [link] [comments]
2023.03.25 05:44 No-Tomorrow8686 I'm not okay
I've never been good at expressing myself or how I feel due to the stigma and outlandish nature and severity of some of my issues. But in the short 19 years I've been alive, I've never told anyone the things I've done, or the things others have done to me in an attempt to take them to my grave. But seeing as I outlived the life expectancy I imagined, I figured typing it out would allow me to let go of it and feel better because I feel horrible. So, without further stalling, I think I'll just hop into it, starting at the beginning.
When I was little, I lived a life similar to what I'm accustomed to now. Alone and fairly lonely, the few friends I had were due to being more well-adjusted or, at the very least, less fucked up. In addition, one of my friends was the child of my mother's best friend, and we were about the same age. The earliest memory I have is when I was 4 years old and something I can't remember happened. I was upset about something, and my mom left me in the room to cry while she went and played with my friend. While this situation has little relevance today, I think it's a good example of the catalyst that drove my behavior all through my life to what it is now, mainly my relationship with my mom, along with others we'll get to later.
My mother was not the nicest to me, and as I grew older, I would learn how much of an understatement that was. So skip forward a couple of years due to my memory and the irrelevancy of them to the story. Basically, I was a normal-ish kid with a few friends here and there who occasionally got in trouble, for which I almost always got my ass kicked, but who didn't? Jumping back in at around 9 years old, I was in the third grade, probably my favorite year in school due to having met my best friends and getting along with most other kids. The abuse had already taken hold at this age; I was already pretty apathetic to most feelings and never smiled. It was so noticeable that when I finally did smile, a girl at lunch pointed it out like she had seen a unicorn. But I wasn't depressed; I was just angry and didn't know how to express myself.
As a result, I got into more trouble, some of it BS, some of it not, such as my music teacher sending me to the principal for mouthing curse words while quietly talking to myself. In my defense, I wasn't talking about her; I was all the way in the back and didn't know the ambiguous individual could read lips. In fifth grade, I had a female teacher and her assistant whom I disliked because the teacher, in my opinion, was a dick and her assistant would constantly misinterpret what I said as if I were speaking Japanese. She asked me for a paper, and it being a round table, I didn't want to bend all the way across the table to slide her the paper. So I slid the paper gently across the table, and, as anticlimactic as it sounds, the paper slowly made its way to her, and she did not even attempt to grab it or stop it. Instead, she let it fall on the floor and claimed I "threw" it at her. I got sent to my homie at this point, the principal (she wasn't my biggest fan either).
These two incidents led to some of the worst ass beatings I've received at this point in my life. I would later come home to my mom, who is about 2.5 times bigger and stronger than me, and she was furious. I was punched in my chest and thrown into a stool on the ground, followed by a merciless beating with a belt, and left alone to stare at a wall, wallowing in my sadness. I think I could have handled the physical abuse, but the most damaging was the mental and verbal abuse. I would be forced to strip down to my t-shirt and underwear and stand at the door for hours. while she faked phone calls to my relatives, telling them to come get me and that I'd be leaving, before telling me to go sit down. I was constantly threatened with my life if I didn't comply, told I was a worthless "father less individual", etc. I would yell and scream so loudly that apparently our neighbors could hear it, which led to DCFS being called.
How it was explained to me was that the lady next door was crazy (even though we knew her kid, who was like 2 years younger and went to the same school), and the DCFS agent would take me away to a horrible place, a foster home. My mother told me that if that were the case, I wouldn't be placed with my other family members; nope, straight to the government. She came in my room a week before the agent to "warn" me of the dangers I might face if I snitched on her. She made me watch an hour-long documentary about people who were abused by the staff of foster homes, drilling into my head that if I ended up there, the other kids would pick on me and steal from me. That the staff would repeatedly molest (she had a weird thing with this one; I was asked about it every other day if "someone was playing with my butt" completely unprompted from 3rd to 6th grade) me and my toe would be eaten by mice as she claimed happened to my cousin (apparently he needed his toe graphed back on but I never confirmed this with him).
All of this terrified me, so when the time came to nut up or shut up, my nuts retracted back upstairs, and I most definitely shut up big time. Unable to process my emotions, they started manifesting in anger, which led to me being excluded from certain events at school like the outdoor fun day. I had to stay inside while everyone else played. The principal told me that she was going easy on me, and had she been following the rules, I'd have been expelled from elementary school already (I did get suspended though). When it came time to visit the middle school near the end of the year, I had to beg them to let me go because apparently my reputation preceded me, and the middle school principal knew who I was and asked me not to come because of my behavior. My mother had an overwhelming amount of control over my life and others that I would only learn about when I was older (she was responsible for me being in the same class as my best friend 3rd through 5th grade and making sure they served food I would eat on an out-of-state field trip so I wouldn't starve). (It's not really negative, but it sets the tone for how it would soon turn negative.)
Sixth grade rolled around, but this time I got to stay with my great-grandmother in the south. The entire time away from my mother and I improved significantly; I made a lot more friends (probably because of southern hospitality) and overall had a good time (trust me, it was an oddly cool school with equally cool teachers) except for a couple other issues that came with living with my grandma. I returned the next year to mom and a new middle school. All that progress from earlier, yeah, went straight out the window almost immediately. My anger had subsided, and what was left developed into a deep depression and resentment for people, my mom included. I thought people were worthless, making friends useless, so I went out of my way to avoid most people for the longest time. Until I succumbed to my social urges and made a few friends by avoiding the lunch room and eating in one of the science classes with some kids I had other classes with. During this time, I was reluctantly in "therapy" (I had been there since elementary, just talking to social workers, but nothing came of it until now).
Trouble would always seem to follow me; anytime a message was relayed from the school to mom, it almost guaranteed an ass beating. I would seemingly get in trouble for nothing, and my teachers would unknowingly be sending me on my way down death row to meet the executioner. Once I got in trouble for "throwing" another paper. I didn't realize we needed it and put it in the recycling, but the teacher saw it and told me to keep it, so I put it under my seat, and it fell through the bars of my chair basket while I wasn't looking, and she was mad at me for it. I also told my math teacher to "stop harassing me" because every 5 minutes she was hounding me about completing some work I had no intention of doing. That mistake was damn near fatal because, for some reason, I wasn't allowed to feel harassed, and telling my teacher that was apparently way out of pocket. I should also mention I had good grades up until I eventually began failing them.
All of this leads to more violent abuse. I was shoved into a wall, which hurt my arm so bad I needed an ice pack (and had to lie to the nurse about why I needed it). The next day, I was repeatedly hit with a broom, picked up by my collar, and slammed into walls before being thrown on the ground. The physical pain would subside in hours, but because what was done and said to me never left, I would almost always be left to sit and stare alone with my thoughts, and because of this, my mental state would degrade rapidly. Nothing else could bring me to tears like the pain of the person responsible for your entire life, who was supposed to love you unconditionally, constantly tormenting you. Her words would pierce and sting, while the same thing said to me by anyone else would roll off me like water off a duck's back.
Unable to escape the constant beratement, and depending on the severity, this would send me into suicidal spirals, and when I hit emotional rock bottom and couldn't feel any worse about myself, it was the only thing I looked forward to and all I thought about for months. When people asked me, "NT (Me), what are you going to be when you grow up?" or "NT, you're getting older. Have you thought about what you're going to do when you reach x (usually 18+) years old?" I had no idea, no answer. In my mind, living to be older than 16 seemed impossible. They were right when they said time would fly by. Back at school, the stress was getting to me. During a random game of Uno, I broke down and expressed some of my feelings, along with the fact that I was almost getting my ass beat with random objects on a weekly basis.
This ultimately led to no improvements in my life, just more people in my business. The process of them trying to help was akin to getting a law passed, full of procedures and red tape they had to follow because there was no physical evidenceāI had no cuts, bruises, or wounds they could see. All they had to go on was the testimony of an emotionally disturbed preteen. They recommended I be placed in a mental hospital. I stayed after school while they called my dad to pick me up, and the car ride was silent until we arrived at the hospital. He asked, "Do you want to go in?" I said, "Yeah," and he couldn't figure out why he said I had it easy as a child. Because all I had to worry about was school and I had no bills to pay, I shouldn't have any reason to kill myself. I was essentially overreacting to him. So we went home.
Because I'm about to enter the next arc of my story. I'll share some extra fun facts that aren't directly related to the story, but I'd be remiss if I didn't. Our principal told us we had too many students for what the building was originally intended for. One day, while walking up the narrow stairs in between a crowd of kids rushing for their lockers, I was knocked over and trampled. I had at least two feet up my ass, one in my back, and one on top of my head, and I couldn't get up because no one could see me. Not long after, a teacher had to stop them from walking up the stairs so I could get up. When I got to my locker, the person whose locker was next to mine casually mentioned the trampling, and to be honest, it had only happened 30 seconds before, so I was pretty blown when she said that (I looked at her like, yeah, ambiguous individual, that was me y'all were just stepping on) and I told her, "Yeah, that was me." But let's not forget the time two of my classmates were fucking around playfighting and threw each other in such a way that the dude kicked me in the face. I sat in the same spot on the wall while waiting for my teacher, and, believe it or not, lightning does strike twice, because they were fucking around again and kicked me in the face in nearly the same way. This was an advisory class we had only once a week, and to make a long story even longer, I learned not to sit next to that wall anymore.
I began high school at the age of 14 and remained largely unchanged during this time. I still couldn't talk to anyone and dealt with the stress of going home to my mom, which significantly impacted how I behaved and how my grades would turn out at first. I had almost all A's before spiraling downward; at that point, I stopped caring what others thought of me and did whatever I could to make myself feel better. I would sleep in hallways on the floor, skip class, and do little to no work. I couldn't concentrate and wasn't worried about the consequences of my decisions until I graduated. The food in my house would run short, and my mom always told me if I ate it all before she went back to the grocery store, she wouldn't buy any more. I started skipping meals and eating less per meal to stretch the food we had, and at times I couldn't move without being doubled over in pain.
I was confined to my room almost constantly. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere but school, a couple of nearby restaurants, and back home. I couldn't leave my house if I wanted to hang out with friends (if only I had any) because I had to be in her presence at all times. I hypothesized about going to hang out with a female friend and was told I wouldn't be allowed to without her following behind us (I was 17 when I asked). If I wanted to hang out with a male friend, they had to go through a background check of sorts (it was easier to get a gun card than to get some friends I could hang with). I had to get their parents' phone numbers so she could talk to them, and then she would decide whether or not I could go, which wasn't even a guarantee. Imagine you're in school, and a kid who wants to be friends with you tells you they need your parents to talk to each other and give their permission. That's embarrassing. I would imagine I'd be laughed at and made fun of, or they wouldn't go through all the trouble for someone who was already known as an incredibly strange individual, so most of the time I never tried out of fear of this.
I had no way to cope surrounded by people, and knowing what some of them might think of me, I would put my head down for weeks in every class because at this point I was genuinely terrified of people. I had developed selective mutism and would not talk to 98 percent of students and about 80 to 90 percent of staff; when I did, it was in short, vague sentences and almost only when spoken to. Up until I was 15, the abuse continued the same as before, but as I got older, it became more Physical I had mostly stopped getting hit with belts, and when I did get hit, it was in the arm and chest, with the occasional hit in the mouth. I'd be backed into a corner while my mother yelled the most vile and hurtful things at me. I was told I ruined her life and that I kept her from having a life. If I ever lost my keys, I would immediately be in trouble, but if I lied about it, that was even worse. My mom worked from home before it was cool to work from home, so she was almost constantly home. If I had lied about having my keys, I would have been locked out of the house for hours until she finished working, rain or shine; snowing and cold; hot and humid; it didn't matter. But that mostly stopped when the damage it did to me became apparent, and I had a psychotic episode.
My mother was upset with me for some reason and was yelling loudly about how worthless I was, that she wished I was never born, and so on. (At this point, I was the most miserable I'd been in a long time. My mental state was comparable to the fragility of a ceramic plate: solid, sturdy, and functional. Just pray to God you don't drop it if you'd like it to remain intact.) I became late because I had misplaced my hat, but when I told her I had it in my pocket, she said, "Let me see it then; why is it not on your head? Put it on!" So I began looking for my hat in my bookbag, and when I found it, she snatched it from my grasp and smacked me on the head with it. I felt something click inside me, like a light switch being turned on. Without warning, I began having a psychotic breakdown. I put my hands on my head and started screaming as loud as I could uncontrollably, "I can't take it! I can't take it anymore," repeatedly while frantically shuffling like a chicken with its head cut off in front of my mom. I had no control over my actions, and my mother stopped me and pulled my hands off my head, but I wouldn't stop screaming, and she had to calm me down in order for me to stop. It was terrifying for the both of us because I think it was the first time she had ever seen anything like that, and it was the first time I ever did anything like that. The feeling was terrifying almost indescribable the closest comparison I could make is to the tea cup scene from get out. I felt like I got yanked out my body while simultaneously remaining in there like my soul was trapped behind my eyes and all I could do is watch.
After that experience, my mother began to soften her stance toward me, and the big 19 began, so I had virtual classes for about two years that I never finished, but I persevered and eventually graduated (while failing a significant number of classes), and when I did, I was enrolled in an alternative school. When I was eighteen, me and my mom got into an argument because I didn't want to go back to school. It was boring and sad because there were only two or three kids in my class, and we did elementary school work all day. There were no phones, we had to wear uniforms, and free time was scarce. The only slightly good part was that we worked a couple hours a day and they paid us. But it was only four dollars an hour, and we worked two hours each day unless you were in the special work program, which meant you worked two extra hours after school. With the long cab ride there, I'd get home around 5:30 to 6:00 every day, only to wake up at 8 a.m. and do it all over again. But we agreed that if I found a job before school resumed, I wouldn't have to go. I had a week and a half to do it.
I applied everywhere and even made it all the way through orientation at one place, but I was in a factory doing 12 hour shifts and about 4 miles from my house, so I turned it down because I was scared and had to be realistic because walking multiple miles through areas I'd never been to daily was just too much for me. I was told I had to leave if I wasn't working or going to school, and I couldn't stay the night. I was kicked out after calling my grandparents, who said I could stay with them. I packed two weeks worth of clothes and walked over there. The first few weeks were weird, but I finally saw the light at the end of the world's darkest and longest tunnel. For the first time in years, I knew what it was like to not be abused and verbally assaulted on a daily basis. But, unfortunately, I was beyond repair, at least on my own. I searched for a job and tried to enroll in college, but I was never taught or allowed to do that growing up. I was raised indoors and was never taught the skills needed to survive outside. I still didn't know how to talk to people, and I was terrified of them. I would have panic attacks a couple times a month and rely on others to feed and clothe me. I was wearing the same two weeks worth of clothes for several months until my great-grandmother sent me more.
Around this time I started smoking weed, and it was amazing how those first times getting high were the best and made me forget all about my problems and truly relax. But I didn't know what I was getting into and developed an exponentially growing habit. I started taking fake Xanax and getting slumped while I went about my day high as a kite. Just to forget about the majority of what I did the following day. The only reason my Xan problem didn't get out of hand was that I kept losing all of the pills after a few times, so I stopped buying them. But it was too late when I exhausted the small amount I had and began withdrawing. Let me tell you, like anyone else who has dealt with Xan withdrawals will tell you, they are not to be played with; hell isn't even a good enough comparison. It's something I truly wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. (My mom excluded.) I had severe paranoia, extreme agitation, a splitting headache that wouldn't quit, and panic attacks frequently (plus a strong urge to KMS as well, which is normal at this point). But I was lucky: Xanax is the only drug that can kill you by going cold turkey, and if your body became physically dependent, you were more than likely to have multiple seizures coming your way.
My replacement for Xanax was fake Mallinckrodt pills, aka dirty 30s, blues, perc 30s, or whatever name you used or knew they were synonymous with fentanyl or worse. (Believe me when I say they most definitely make things worse than fent) I'm confident I got worse because they didn't test positive for fent, which means its something the test couldn't detect. I turned full junkie and was smoking them off foil before I was 19. I overdosed twice going to sleep, and I was never confident if I was going to wake up. The opioid withdrawals are 100x easier than the Xans, and I was smoking drugs stronger than fentanyl. I quit those, and not too long after, I was taking fake ecstasy pills and Molly capsules, which, aside from the slight stimulant psychosis and vomiting, were probably my favorites. They let me experience happiness for the first time and gave me the ability to communicate and interact with other people. It felt like I'd been missing something my entire life.
Now I'm 19 on the cusp of being a broke "adult" with no real skills, aspirations, or anything positive going for him. This year I discovered while in high school I was diagnosed with autism, ADHD, ODD, social anxiety disorder, and antisocial personality disorder, all while attending school, and nobody ever told me or hinted at it to me in the slightest at all. I guess they just wanted me to cruise through life ignorant and struggling. I'm constantly reminded of how much of a burden I am because I can't do much more than take care of myself. I hide it somewhat well due to my lifelong fear of being mistaken for insane, but it takes an enormous amount of effort to even get out of bed and make something to eat. In order to keep the invasive thoughts and feelings away, I have to keep myself entertained and amused all day or else the feelings come rushing back. I honestly hate my life. I have little to look forward to and regret my almost entire life due to me ruining any chance at fun I had growing up because of how I behaved. I can barely leave my house, and if I go anywhere beyond a couple of blocks, I have panic attacks and get extreme anxiety that effects me physically. I feel my ability to comprehend and understand things slowing down. It's harder to focus and pay attention, and I feel almost like an alien when I'm around other people.
Recently, I had a phone call with my mom and had a panic attack (we haven't spoken in 2 years since I was put out). It was just like old times, when she was mad at me about a misunderstanding and was yelling and screaming about how I don't care that I'm wasting her money. (she bought my phone as a gift on a payment plan when I turned 18) As an adult I felt extremely disrespected by the things she said so before my mental health suffered anymore I hung up mid sentence and blocked her. The next day my phone was bricked and completely unusable, as it was technically not paid for, so somebody had to get me a new phone. Today I feel extremely hopeless towards any chance of repairing my life. I don't know what to do and I wish I did. I wish I could shake this dead man walking feeling I've got. Throughout the day, life doesn't even feel real at times. I feel as though if I keep hanging in there, eventually someone's going to find me hanging from somewhere. I don't know how my relatives do it. I could never imagine being their age. This isn't everything that's ever happened to me (I know it's hard to believe), but I feel I've described my story as concisely as possible in a semi-chronological order. Anything else would just be extra or I'd be repeating myself. With all that being said, my think noodle is hurting, and I think (clearly I do too much of this) I need to find it some dopamine. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this fully because, as God knows, I can't tell a living soul who knows me this. Night. -NT
submitted by No-Tomorrow8686 to offmychest [link] [comments]
When I was little, I lived a life similar to what I'm accustomed to now. Alone and fairly lonely, the few friends I had were due to being more well-adjusted or, at the very least, less fucked up. In addition, one of my friends was the child of my mother's best friend, and we were about the same age. The earliest memory I have is when I was 4 years old and something I can't remember happened. I was upset about something, and my mom left me in the room to cry while she went and played with my friend. While this situation has little relevance today, I think it's a good example of the catalyst that drove my behavior all through my life to what it is now, mainly my relationship with my mom, along with others we'll get to later.
My mother was not the nicest to me, and as I grew older, I would learn how much of an understatement that was. So skip forward a couple of years due to my memory and the irrelevancy of them to the story. Basically, I was a normal-ish kid with a few friends here and there who occasionally got in trouble, for which I almost always got my ass kicked, but who didn't? Jumping back in at around 9 years old, I was in the third grade, probably my favorite year in school due to having met my best friends and getting along with most other kids. The abuse had already taken hold at this age; I was already pretty apathetic to most feelings and never smiled. It was so noticeable that when I finally did smile, a girl at lunch pointed it out like she had seen a unicorn. But I wasn't depressed; I was just angry and didn't know how to express myself.
As a result, I got into more trouble, some of it BS, some of it not, such as my music teacher sending me to the principal for mouthing curse words while quietly talking to myself. In my defense, I wasn't talking about her; I was all the way in the back and didn't know the ambiguous individual could read lips. In fifth grade, I had a female teacher and her assistant whom I disliked because the teacher, in my opinion, was a dick and her assistant would constantly misinterpret what I said as if I were speaking Japanese. She asked me for a paper, and it being a round table, I didn't want to bend all the way across the table to slide her the paper. So I slid the paper gently across the table, and, as anticlimactic as it sounds, the paper slowly made its way to her, and she did not even attempt to grab it or stop it. Instead, she let it fall on the floor and claimed I "threw" it at her. I got sent to my homie at this point, the principal (she wasn't my biggest fan either).
These two incidents led to some of the worst ass beatings I've received at this point in my life. I would later come home to my mom, who is about 2.5 times bigger and stronger than me, and she was furious. I was punched in my chest and thrown into a stool on the ground, followed by a merciless beating with a belt, and left alone to stare at a wall, wallowing in my sadness. I think I could have handled the physical abuse, but the most damaging was the mental and verbal abuse. I would be forced to strip down to my t-shirt and underwear and stand at the door for hours. while she faked phone calls to my relatives, telling them to come get me and that I'd be leaving, before telling me to go sit down. I was constantly threatened with my life if I didn't comply, told I was a worthless "father less individual", etc. I would yell and scream so loudly that apparently our neighbors could hear it, which led to DCFS being called.
How it was explained to me was that the lady next door was crazy (even though we knew her kid, who was like 2 years younger and went to the same school), and the DCFS agent would take me away to a horrible place, a foster home. My mother told me that if that were the case, I wouldn't be placed with my other family members; nope, straight to the government. She came in my room a week before the agent to "warn" me of the dangers I might face if I snitched on her. She made me watch an hour-long documentary about people who were abused by the staff of foster homes, drilling into my head that if I ended up there, the other kids would pick on me and steal from me. That the staff would repeatedly molest (she had a weird thing with this one; I was asked about it every other day if "someone was playing with my butt" completely unprompted from 3rd to 6th grade) me and my toe would be eaten by mice as she claimed happened to my cousin (apparently he needed his toe graphed back on but I never confirmed this with him).
All of this terrified me, so when the time came to nut up or shut up, my nuts retracted back upstairs, and I most definitely shut up big time. Unable to process my emotions, they started manifesting in anger, which led to me being excluded from certain events at school like the outdoor fun day. I had to stay inside while everyone else played. The principal told me that she was going easy on me, and had she been following the rules, I'd have been expelled from elementary school already (I did get suspended though). When it came time to visit the middle school near the end of the year, I had to beg them to let me go because apparently my reputation preceded me, and the middle school principal knew who I was and asked me not to come because of my behavior. My mother had an overwhelming amount of control over my life and others that I would only learn about when I was older (she was responsible for me being in the same class as my best friend 3rd through 5th grade and making sure they served food I would eat on an out-of-state field trip so I wouldn't starve). (It's not really negative, but it sets the tone for how it would soon turn negative.)
Sixth grade rolled around, but this time I got to stay with my great-grandmother in the south. The entire time away from my mother and I improved significantly; I made a lot more friends (probably because of southern hospitality) and overall had a good time (trust me, it was an oddly cool school with equally cool teachers) except for a couple other issues that came with living with my grandma. I returned the next year to mom and a new middle school. All that progress from earlier, yeah, went straight out the window almost immediately. My anger had subsided, and what was left developed into a deep depression and resentment for people, my mom included. I thought people were worthless, making friends useless, so I went out of my way to avoid most people for the longest time. Until I succumbed to my social urges and made a few friends by avoiding the lunch room and eating in one of the science classes with some kids I had other classes with. During this time, I was reluctantly in "therapy" (I had been there since elementary, just talking to social workers, but nothing came of it until now).
Trouble would always seem to follow me; anytime a message was relayed from the school to mom, it almost guaranteed an ass beating. I would seemingly get in trouble for nothing, and my teachers would unknowingly be sending me on my way down death row to meet the executioner. Once I got in trouble for "throwing" another paper. I didn't realize we needed it and put it in the recycling, but the teacher saw it and told me to keep it, so I put it under my seat, and it fell through the bars of my chair basket while I wasn't looking, and she was mad at me for it. I also told my math teacher to "stop harassing me" because every 5 minutes she was hounding me about completing some work I had no intention of doing. That mistake was damn near fatal because, for some reason, I wasn't allowed to feel harassed, and telling my teacher that was apparently way out of pocket. I should also mention I had good grades up until I eventually began failing them.
All of this leads to more violent abuse. I was shoved into a wall, which hurt my arm so bad I needed an ice pack (and had to lie to the nurse about why I needed it). The next day, I was repeatedly hit with a broom, picked up by my collar, and slammed into walls before being thrown on the ground. The physical pain would subside in hours, but because what was done and said to me never left, I would almost always be left to sit and stare alone with my thoughts, and because of this, my mental state would degrade rapidly. Nothing else could bring me to tears like the pain of the person responsible for your entire life, who was supposed to love you unconditionally, constantly tormenting you. Her words would pierce and sting, while the same thing said to me by anyone else would roll off me like water off a duck's back.
Unable to escape the constant beratement, and depending on the severity, this would send me into suicidal spirals, and when I hit emotional rock bottom and couldn't feel any worse about myself, it was the only thing I looked forward to and all I thought about for months. When people asked me, "NT (Me), what are you going to be when you grow up?" or "NT, you're getting older. Have you thought about what you're going to do when you reach x (usually 18+) years old?" I had no idea, no answer. In my mind, living to be older than 16 seemed impossible. They were right when they said time would fly by. Back at school, the stress was getting to me. During a random game of Uno, I broke down and expressed some of my feelings, along with the fact that I was almost getting my ass beat with random objects on a weekly basis.
This ultimately led to no improvements in my life, just more people in my business. The process of them trying to help was akin to getting a law passed, full of procedures and red tape they had to follow because there was no physical evidenceāI had no cuts, bruises, or wounds they could see. All they had to go on was the testimony of an emotionally disturbed preteen. They recommended I be placed in a mental hospital. I stayed after school while they called my dad to pick me up, and the car ride was silent until we arrived at the hospital. He asked, "Do you want to go in?" I said, "Yeah," and he couldn't figure out why he said I had it easy as a child. Because all I had to worry about was school and I had no bills to pay, I shouldn't have any reason to kill myself. I was essentially overreacting to him. So we went home.
Because I'm about to enter the next arc of my story. I'll share some extra fun facts that aren't directly related to the story, but I'd be remiss if I didn't. Our principal told us we had too many students for what the building was originally intended for. One day, while walking up the narrow stairs in between a crowd of kids rushing for their lockers, I was knocked over and trampled. I had at least two feet up my ass, one in my back, and one on top of my head, and I couldn't get up because no one could see me. Not long after, a teacher had to stop them from walking up the stairs so I could get up. When I got to my locker, the person whose locker was next to mine casually mentioned the trampling, and to be honest, it had only happened 30 seconds before, so I was pretty blown when she said that (I looked at her like, yeah, ambiguous individual, that was me y'all were just stepping on) and I told her, "Yeah, that was me." But let's not forget the time two of my classmates were fucking around playfighting and threw each other in such a way that the dude kicked me in the face. I sat in the same spot on the wall while waiting for my teacher, and, believe it or not, lightning does strike twice, because they were fucking around again and kicked me in the face in nearly the same way. This was an advisory class we had only once a week, and to make a long story even longer, I learned not to sit next to that wall anymore.
I began high school at the age of 14 and remained largely unchanged during this time. I still couldn't talk to anyone and dealt with the stress of going home to my mom, which significantly impacted how I behaved and how my grades would turn out at first. I had almost all A's before spiraling downward; at that point, I stopped caring what others thought of me and did whatever I could to make myself feel better. I would sleep in hallways on the floor, skip class, and do little to no work. I couldn't concentrate and wasn't worried about the consequences of my decisions until I graduated. The food in my house would run short, and my mom always told me if I ate it all before she went back to the grocery store, she wouldn't buy any more. I started skipping meals and eating less per meal to stretch the food we had, and at times I couldn't move without being doubled over in pain.
I was confined to my room almost constantly. I wasn't allowed to go anywhere but school, a couple of nearby restaurants, and back home. I couldn't leave my house if I wanted to hang out with friends (if only I had any) because I had to be in her presence at all times. I hypothesized about going to hang out with a female friend and was told I wouldn't be allowed to without her following behind us (I was 17 when I asked). If I wanted to hang out with a male friend, they had to go through a background check of sorts (it was easier to get a gun card than to get some friends I could hang with). I had to get their parents' phone numbers so she could talk to them, and then she would decide whether or not I could go, which wasn't even a guarantee. Imagine you're in school, and a kid who wants to be friends with you tells you they need your parents to talk to each other and give their permission. That's embarrassing. I would imagine I'd be laughed at and made fun of, or they wouldn't go through all the trouble for someone who was already known as an incredibly strange individual, so most of the time I never tried out of fear of this.
I had no way to cope surrounded by people, and knowing what some of them might think of me, I would put my head down for weeks in every class because at this point I was genuinely terrified of people. I had developed selective mutism and would not talk to 98 percent of students and about 80 to 90 percent of staff; when I did, it was in short, vague sentences and almost only when spoken to. Up until I was 15, the abuse continued the same as before, but as I got older, it became more Physical I had mostly stopped getting hit with belts, and when I did get hit, it was in the arm and chest, with the occasional hit in the mouth. I'd be backed into a corner while my mother yelled the most vile and hurtful things at me. I was told I ruined her life and that I kept her from having a life. If I ever lost my keys, I would immediately be in trouble, but if I lied about it, that was even worse. My mom worked from home before it was cool to work from home, so she was almost constantly home. If I had lied about having my keys, I would have been locked out of the house for hours until she finished working, rain or shine; snowing and cold; hot and humid; it didn't matter. But that mostly stopped when the damage it did to me became apparent, and I had a psychotic episode.
My mother was upset with me for some reason and was yelling loudly about how worthless I was, that she wished I was never born, and so on. (At this point, I was the most miserable I'd been in a long time. My mental state was comparable to the fragility of a ceramic plate: solid, sturdy, and functional. Just pray to God you don't drop it if you'd like it to remain intact.) I became late because I had misplaced my hat, but when I told her I had it in my pocket, she said, "Let me see it then; why is it not on your head? Put it on!" So I began looking for my hat in my bookbag, and when I found it, she snatched it from my grasp and smacked me on the head with it. I felt something click inside me, like a light switch being turned on. Without warning, I began having a psychotic breakdown. I put my hands on my head and started screaming as loud as I could uncontrollably, "I can't take it! I can't take it anymore," repeatedly while frantically shuffling like a chicken with its head cut off in front of my mom. I had no control over my actions, and my mother stopped me and pulled my hands off my head, but I wouldn't stop screaming, and she had to calm me down in order for me to stop. It was terrifying for the both of us because I think it was the first time she had ever seen anything like that, and it was the first time I ever did anything like that. The feeling was terrifying almost indescribable the closest comparison I could make is to the tea cup scene from get out. I felt like I got yanked out my body while simultaneously remaining in there like my soul was trapped behind my eyes and all I could do is watch.
After that experience, my mother began to soften her stance toward me, and the big 19 began, so I had virtual classes for about two years that I never finished, but I persevered and eventually graduated (while failing a significant number of classes), and when I did, I was enrolled in an alternative school. When I was eighteen, me and my mom got into an argument because I didn't want to go back to school. It was boring and sad because there were only two or three kids in my class, and we did elementary school work all day. There were no phones, we had to wear uniforms, and free time was scarce. The only slightly good part was that we worked a couple hours a day and they paid us. But it was only four dollars an hour, and we worked two hours each day unless you were in the special work program, which meant you worked two extra hours after school. With the long cab ride there, I'd get home around 5:30 to 6:00 every day, only to wake up at 8 a.m. and do it all over again. But we agreed that if I found a job before school resumed, I wouldn't have to go. I had a week and a half to do it.
I applied everywhere and even made it all the way through orientation at one place, but I was in a factory doing 12 hour shifts and about 4 miles from my house, so I turned it down because I was scared and had to be realistic because walking multiple miles through areas I'd never been to daily was just too much for me. I was told I had to leave if I wasn't working or going to school, and I couldn't stay the night. I was kicked out after calling my grandparents, who said I could stay with them. I packed two weeks worth of clothes and walked over there. The first few weeks were weird, but I finally saw the light at the end of the world's darkest and longest tunnel. For the first time in years, I knew what it was like to not be abused and verbally assaulted on a daily basis. But, unfortunately, I was beyond repair, at least on my own. I searched for a job and tried to enroll in college, but I was never taught or allowed to do that growing up. I was raised indoors and was never taught the skills needed to survive outside. I still didn't know how to talk to people, and I was terrified of them. I would have panic attacks a couple times a month and rely on others to feed and clothe me. I was wearing the same two weeks worth of clothes for several months until my great-grandmother sent me more.
Around this time I started smoking weed, and it was amazing how those first times getting high were the best and made me forget all about my problems and truly relax. But I didn't know what I was getting into and developed an exponentially growing habit. I started taking fake Xanax and getting slumped while I went about my day high as a kite. Just to forget about the majority of what I did the following day. The only reason my Xan problem didn't get out of hand was that I kept losing all of the pills after a few times, so I stopped buying them. But it was too late when I exhausted the small amount I had and began withdrawing. Let me tell you, like anyone else who has dealt with Xan withdrawals will tell you, they are not to be played with; hell isn't even a good enough comparison. It's something I truly wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. (My mom excluded.) I had severe paranoia, extreme agitation, a splitting headache that wouldn't quit, and panic attacks frequently (plus a strong urge to KMS as well, which is normal at this point). But I was lucky: Xanax is the only drug that can kill you by going cold turkey, and if your body became physically dependent, you were more than likely to have multiple seizures coming your way.
My replacement for Xanax was fake Mallinckrodt pills, aka dirty 30s, blues, perc 30s, or whatever name you used or knew they were synonymous with fentanyl or worse. (Believe me when I say they most definitely make things worse than fent) I'm confident I got worse because they didn't test positive for fent, which means its something the test couldn't detect. I turned full junkie and was smoking them off foil before I was 19. I overdosed twice going to sleep, and I was never confident if I was going to wake up. The opioid withdrawals are 100x easier than the Xans, and I was smoking drugs stronger than fentanyl. I quit those, and not too long after, I was taking fake ecstasy pills and Molly capsules, which, aside from the slight stimulant psychosis and vomiting, were probably my favorites. They let me experience happiness for the first time and gave me the ability to communicate and interact with other people. It felt like I'd been missing something my entire life.
Now I'm 19 on the cusp of being a broke "adult" with no real skills, aspirations, or anything positive going for him. This year I discovered while in high school I was diagnosed with autism, ADHD, ODD, social anxiety disorder, and antisocial personality disorder, all while attending school, and nobody ever told me or hinted at it to me in the slightest at all. I guess they just wanted me to cruise through life ignorant and struggling. I'm constantly reminded of how much of a burden I am because I can't do much more than take care of myself. I hide it somewhat well due to my lifelong fear of being mistaken for insane, but it takes an enormous amount of effort to even get out of bed and make something to eat. In order to keep the invasive thoughts and feelings away, I have to keep myself entertained and amused all day or else the feelings come rushing back. I honestly hate my life. I have little to look forward to and regret my almost entire life due to me ruining any chance at fun I had growing up because of how I behaved. I can barely leave my house, and if I go anywhere beyond a couple of blocks, I have panic attacks and get extreme anxiety that effects me physically. I feel my ability to comprehend and understand things slowing down. It's harder to focus and pay attention, and I feel almost like an alien when I'm around other people.
Recently, I had a phone call with my mom and had a panic attack (we haven't spoken in 2 years since I was put out). It was just like old times, when she was mad at me about a misunderstanding and was yelling and screaming about how I don't care that I'm wasting her money. (she bought my phone as a gift on a payment plan when I turned 18) As an adult I felt extremely disrespected by the things she said so before my mental health suffered anymore I hung up mid sentence and blocked her. The next day my phone was bricked and completely unusable, as it was technically not paid for, so somebody had to get me a new phone. Today I feel extremely hopeless towards any chance of repairing my life. I don't know what to do and I wish I did. I wish I could shake this dead man walking feeling I've got. Throughout the day, life doesn't even feel real at times. I feel as though if I keep hanging in there, eventually someone's going to find me hanging from somewhere. I don't know how my relatives do it. I could never imagine being their age. This isn't everything that's ever happened to me (I know it's hard to believe), but I feel I've described my story as concisely as possible in a semi-chronological order. Anything else would just be extra or I'd be repeating myself. With all that being said, my think noodle is hurting, and I think (clearly I do too much of this) I need to find it some dopamine. I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this fully because, as God knows, I can't tell a living soul who knows me this. Night. -NT
2023.03.25 05:41 ReadsSmallTextWrong Ship of Theseus
Me - Ship of Theseus and such. Maybe lets end this conversation with a quote where we discuss sleep and reinventing ourselves.
GPT - Certainly! Here's a quote by the author and poet Rumi that touches on the themes of sleep and self-reinvention:
"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep."
This quote encourages us to embrace wakefulness and to be open to the possibility of change and self-reinvention. It speaks to the idea that we are not static beings but are constantly evolving and growing, and that staying awake to the mysteries of the world can help us to discover new truths about ourselves and the universe.
submitted by ReadsSmallTextWrong to AI_Poems [link] [comments]
GPT - Certainly! Here's a quote by the author and poet Rumi that touches on the themes of sleep and self-reinvention:
"The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep."
This quote encourages us to embrace wakefulness and to be open to the possibility of change and self-reinvention. It speaks to the idea that we are not static beings but are constantly evolving and growing, and that staying awake to the mysteries of the world can help us to discover new truths about ourselves and the universe.
2023.03.25 05:32 Sea_Animator_2514 Help Shutdown Online Pill-Mills?
Federal Register :: Telemedicine Prescribing of Controlled Substances When the Practitioner and the Patient Have Not Had a Prior In-Person Medical Evaluation
This is a bill/ruling proposed by the DEA to limit online-clinics prescribing of controlled substances without an in-person medical exam.
As we've all seen, during recent times, no doubt boosted by lax Covid-era laws, there has been a proliferation of online clinics that anyone with internet can access. They usually have a fancy designer webpage and promises of streamlining your care, and bypassing the need for traditional money-costing, time-wasting brick-and-mortar doctor visits. Many of them have popped up recently, started by internet entrepreneurs, hiring, no doubt, many midlevel's, with a distant 'medical director' that you will never hear from, probably addressed in Florida.
Many of them are testosterone or Adderall-selling clinics. They seek the opportunity to diagnose anyone who comes to them with the aforementioned conditions, in order to facilitate a subscribing customer. The goal is to get the customers started on a prescription plan (bypassing insurance), like "$250 a month all meds covered". Their intake questions are obviously designed to elicit positive review of systems, such as "Do you wish you had the energy and libido of an 18-year-old?" or "Fat and can't gain muscle?" "If so! then you can benefit from getting on testosterone injections and an Adderall prescription!"
I'm primary care and have had many new patients coming in for 'refills', and they say they're diagnosed with ADHD and low-T, but when asked for medical records or who their previous doctors are, they shut down and become defensive. I check PDMP, and bam, some random Florida compounding pharmacy has mailed them testosterone powder from a random APP, always in Florida or Texas.
I've fought long and hard for my medical training and license, and I sure as hell don't want to squander it by sitting behind a screen, direct messaging 'customers' and Rxing massive quantities of testosterone, benzos and Adderall because that's what my boss is expecting. If I dare to practice medical judgment and restraint, I'd be replaced with the next expendable APP who knows that 'you do what the customer asks!'
Not that these diagnoses don't exist, or people do not suffer from them, but essentially, this turns medicine into more of a shopping-experience by internet savvy patients. Just go online, fill a form, answer some leading questions, pay good $$$, and bam your controlled substances are mailed to your door!
These online clinics have turned these medical conditions into a bargain-sale, no wonder we're having an Adderall shortage, eh? They can't truly monitor the patients' condition. They usually start medicines to help cover side effects caused by the initial prescription. For example, you'll see a perfectly healthy young man who's on testosterone, an estrogen-blocker, a fertility medicine, a hair-loss pill, a prostate pill, two blood pressure medicines. His ferritin is so low because due to erythrocytosis from the roids, he's donated blood 24 times in the last 12 months!
Seems like the DEA thinks the same thing and is looking to mitigate the runaway, frivolous, for-profit prescribing of controlled substances, that have taken off due to these clinics. Essentially, they're requiring so that the initial prescription must be to a patient that is in-person, that the provider can talk to and touch. (for controlled substances)
I think this is reasonable, there are a lot you can miss by talking to patients via instant-messaging, such as vital signs, exam findings, and the subtilties and nuances.
They're looking for comments from anyone, providers, patients, laypersons, anyone who's interested. If you have an opinion about this, why not go over to DEA and make a comment?
Federal Register :: Telemedicine Prescribing of Controlled Substances When the Practitioner and the Patient Have Not Had a Prior In-Person Medical Evaluation
submitted by Sea_Animator_2514 to Noctor [link] [comments]
This is a bill/ruling proposed by the DEA to limit online-clinics prescribing of controlled substances without an in-person medical exam.
As we've all seen, during recent times, no doubt boosted by lax Covid-era laws, there has been a proliferation of online clinics that anyone with internet can access. They usually have a fancy designer webpage and promises of streamlining your care, and bypassing the need for traditional money-costing, time-wasting brick-and-mortar doctor visits. Many of them have popped up recently, started by internet entrepreneurs, hiring, no doubt, many midlevel's, with a distant 'medical director' that you will never hear from, probably addressed in Florida.
Many of them are testosterone or Adderall-selling clinics. They seek the opportunity to diagnose anyone who comes to them with the aforementioned conditions, in order to facilitate a subscribing customer. The goal is to get the customers started on a prescription plan (bypassing insurance), like "$250 a month all meds covered". Their intake questions are obviously designed to elicit positive review of systems, such as "Do you wish you had the energy and libido of an 18-year-old?" or "Fat and can't gain muscle?" "If so! then you can benefit from getting on testosterone injections and an Adderall prescription!"
I'm primary care and have had many new patients coming in for 'refills', and they say they're diagnosed with ADHD and low-T, but when asked for medical records or who their previous doctors are, they shut down and become defensive. I check PDMP, and bam, some random Florida compounding pharmacy has mailed them testosterone powder from a random APP, always in Florida or Texas.
I've fought long and hard for my medical training and license, and I sure as hell don't want to squander it by sitting behind a screen, direct messaging 'customers' and Rxing massive quantities of testosterone, benzos and Adderall because that's what my boss is expecting. If I dare to practice medical judgment and restraint, I'd be replaced with the next expendable APP who knows that 'you do what the customer asks!'
Not that these diagnoses don't exist, or people do not suffer from them, but essentially, this turns medicine into more of a shopping-experience by internet savvy patients. Just go online, fill a form, answer some leading questions, pay good $$$, and bam your controlled substances are mailed to your door!
These online clinics have turned these medical conditions into a bargain-sale, no wonder we're having an Adderall shortage, eh? They can't truly monitor the patients' condition. They usually start medicines to help cover side effects caused by the initial prescription. For example, you'll see a perfectly healthy young man who's on testosterone, an estrogen-blocker, a fertility medicine, a hair-loss pill, a prostate pill, two blood pressure medicines. His ferritin is so low because due to erythrocytosis from the roids, he's donated blood 24 times in the last 12 months!
Seems like the DEA thinks the same thing and is looking to mitigate the runaway, frivolous, for-profit prescribing of controlled substances, that have taken off due to these clinics. Essentially, they're requiring so that the initial prescription must be to a patient that is in-person, that the provider can talk to and touch. (for controlled substances)
I think this is reasonable, there are a lot you can miss by talking to patients via instant-messaging, such as vital signs, exam findings, and the subtilties and nuances.
They're looking for comments from anyone, providers, patients, laypersons, anyone who's interested. If you have an opinion about this, why not go over to DEA and make a comment?
Federal Register :: Telemedicine Prescribing of Controlled Substances When the Practitioner and the Patient Have Not Had a Prior In-Person Medical Evaluation
2023.03.25 05:32 AkinataSakariOfLoki Why can't I use TavernAI?
It turns out that everything is in order, but I try to start a chat, write my answer, send it and wait...and i wait and i wait, but no response loads, i refresh the page and what i wrote was never sent, why? Help me, I was roleplaying very nice.
submitted by AkinataSakariOfLoki to PygmalionAI [link] [comments]
2023.03.25 05:22 Manhattan02 31 [M4F] USA/PA/Online - looking for my dork
Hey everyone! Iām 31 and living in PA. Iām relatively content, but Iām looking for a long-term relationship with someone, preferably in the US, to find that extra little something in life. A good friend told me the bar is low for men, so letās do this.
Spark notes (about me):
Iām a nerd at heart, who loves entrenching himself in new random topics. Iām the type of trivia partner who may miss something seemingly easy but have you think āwho are you, and why do you know that?ā for the next answer lol. The reasoning: I got bored and looked up a random thing one night and kinda went crazy researching it. Iām a curious person.
Iām also very much into PC gaming and love spending time with my friends in Discord just having a good time. Even if weāre not actually playing something, hanging out and being social is important to me. Some of my favorite memories involve messing around on Jackbox games or other similar party games. For the first time, Iāve gotten into D&D, and, while Iām fairly extroverted in certain circles, its been such a fun chance to role play for a few hours every week. Otherwise, I play the usual FPS games like Overwatch 2, Valorant, and others. Hunt: Showdown has been my favorite lately, but I just like playing games with people I like, so letās play something! Iām into any game that can be played with friends, especially survival games. Stardew is perfect. Iād love to hear about your interests! Mine arenāt limited to gaming. I love entrenching myself in a good show or movie (Everything Everywhere All at Once was a masterpiece!), reading, writing, and spending time in nature. Oh, and I love football!
As far as romance goes, I canāt say enough about how important it is for me to be with an open communicator. I find it hard to click with someone who is shut off or avoidant. Please donāt reach out if youāre not over an ex. It takes time to heal, so do yourself a solid and take the time you need. Iām not a rebound, physically or emotionally; Iāve had a bad experience there, if it wasnāt painfully obvious lol. Iām not interested in sharing my love either. Monogamous only. Iām looking for someone to share all the silly stupid thoughts with. I want someone to feel comfortable enough to lean on me when things are hard. Iām a caregiver at heart, and I love showing my love through affirming words and touch. Iām a passionate romantic, and Iām hoping to find someone who is comfortable in giving those sorts of things too. Iām looking for a teammate in every sense. I crave a deep love and connection but wonāt force it with the wrong person.
Speaking of touch, one potential dealbreaker could be a lack of it to start. Iām actually not even a real humaā¦sorry, Iām stupid. But, for real, distance is something Iām fine with to start, so Iām hoping to find someone who is also ok with that. Iām not tied to any location, aside from being in the US, however, this is a challenging time for me as Iām going through a career change. I have plenty of room for a relationship, but Iām taking time to take some classes and transition into a masters program in a completely different field from what Iām used to. Iām down to move anywhere down the road, so no issue there. Iāll also be in a field where remote work is becoming the norm. Iāve been in a long distance relationship before, and Iām a great communicator. I do my best to be close to my partner despite the gap. I hope you enjoy good morning and goodnight texts or calls :)
Physically, Iām 5ā9ā and about 265 lbs, though that second stinky number is going down as I get back to my old weight. A more muscular dad-bod type is what Iām after again. If super skinny is the only option for you, that wonāt be me lol. Iām white, and I rock the bald with a beard look pretty well, Iād say. Iām down to exchange photos early. I really donāt have a set type, but I definitely prefer being the taller one. Oh, a big one! I love voice chats. Voices are a big source of my attraction.
Itās so hard for me to capture my humor while Iām trying to describe myself, but itās a huge part of who I am. I like being a dork, and I really enjoy bonding over laughter. Even at my worst moments, Iām looking for ways to make my friends laugh. If Iām struggling to smile, I make sure theyāre having an easy time doing so. Witty humor and silly behavior steals my heart. Also, Iām not politically correct by any means, but I think offensive shock-value jokes are boring when they rely on blatant bigotry.
My dealbreakers:
Conservatives: We just see the world differently. My views most closely aligned with Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders during the previous election cycle.
Smokers, drug users, heavy drinkers: I donāt have an issue with weed as long as itās not your personality. No issue at all with medicinal use. Life is stressful and anxiety-inducing; do your thing. Letās have an edible and watch bad movies. Anything past that is a little much, though microdosing does sound interesting to me.
Bigots: You can do anything. You can order sushi and pizza at the same time, and youāre busy hating someone because of their skin? Their gender? Because they donāt want titties anymore? Buddy..
In case you needed more reason to not like me, hereās a few more to tie up any loose ends!
Potential dealbreakers for you:
Iād like to be a father one day, but Iām not interested in anyone who already has kids. Iām simply not ready for that at the moment.
I have ADHD with can lead to issues with anxiety. For a while I didnāt know why I felt the way I did ā like a waste of potential despite doing very well in academics. Now I manage well with medication, but Iām still learning how to accept this fairly recent diagnosis and am embracing the process. I think it makes me quite fun, but maybe my enthusiasm about wanting to dive into new topics and people can be a bit much.
This post got pretty long, but I like being thorough. Maybe you enjoyed learning about me. Tell me about yourself, if youāre interested. Iāll read every word. I canāt wait to hear from you :)
submitted by Manhattan02 to r4r [link] [comments]
Spark notes (about me):
- Good communicator
- Gamer. Letās be nerds together.
- Liberal but not annoying about it
- Wants children
- Changing careers, so interesting times
- Is silly man
- White, has beard
- 5ā9
- Solidly losing weight, but Iām happy with a dad bod. Donāt expect skinny.
Iām a nerd at heart, who loves entrenching himself in new random topics. Iām the type of trivia partner who may miss something seemingly easy but have you think āwho are you, and why do you know that?ā for the next answer lol. The reasoning: I got bored and looked up a random thing one night and kinda went crazy researching it. Iām a curious person.
Iām also very much into PC gaming and love spending time with my friends in Discord just having a good time. Even if weāre not actually playing something, hanging out and being social is important to me. Some of my favorite memories involve messing around on Jackbox games or other similar party games. For the first time, Iāve gotten into D&D, and, while Iām fairly extroverted in certain circles, its been such a fun chance to role play for a few hours every week. Otherwise, I play the usual FPS games like Overwatch 2, Valorant, and others. Hunt: Showdown has been my favorite lately, but I just like playing games with people I like, so letās play something! Iām into any game that can be played with friends, especially survival games. Stardew is perfect. Iād love to hear about your interests! Mine arenāt limited to gaming. I love entrenching myself in a good show or movie (Everything Everywhere All at Once was a masterpiece!), reading, writing, and spending time in nature. Oh, and I love football!
As far as romance goes, I canāt say enough about how important it is for me to be with an open communicator. I find it hard to click with someone who is shut off or avoidant. Please donāt reach out if youāre not over an ex. It takes time to heal, so do yourself a solid and take the time you need. Iām not a rebound, physically or emotionally; Iāve had a bad experience there, if it wasnāt painfully obvious lol. Iām not interested in sharing my love either. Monogamous only. Iām looking for someone to share all the silly stupid thoughts with. I want someone to feel comfortable enough to lean on me when things are hard. Iām a caregiver at heart, and I love showing my love through affirming words and touch. Iām a passionate romantic, and Iām hoping to find someone who is comfortable in giving those sorts of things too. Iām looking for a teammate in every sense. I crave a deep love and connection but wonāt force it with the wrong person.
Speaking of touch, one potential dealbreaker could be a lack of it to start. Iām actually not even a real humaā¦sorry, Iām stupid. But, for real, distance is something Iām fine with to start, so Iām hoping to find someone who is also ok with that. Iām not tied to any location, aside from being in the US, however, this is a challenging time for me as Iām going through a career change. I have plenty of room for a relationship, but Iām taking time to take some classes and transition into a masters program in a completely different field from what Iām used to. Iām down to move anywhere down the road, so no issue there. Iāll also be in a field where remote work is becoming the norm. Iāve been in a long distance relationship before, and Iām a great communicator. I do my best to be close to my partner despite the gap. I hope you enjoy good morning and goodnight texts or calls :)
Physically, Iām 5ā9ā and about 265 lbs, though that second stinky number is going down as I get back to my old weight. A more muscular dad-bod type is what Iām after again. If super skinny is the only option for you, that wonāt be me lol. Iām white, and I rock the bald with a beard look pretty well, Iād say. Iām down to exchange photos early. I really donāt have a set type, but I definitely prefer being the taller one. Oh, a big one! I love voice chats. Voices are a big source of my attraction.
Itās so hard for me to capture my humor while Iām trying to describe myself, but itās a huge part of who I am. I like being a dork, and I really enjoy bonding over laughter. Even at my worst moments, Iām looking for ways to make my friends laugh. If Iām struggling to smile, I make sure theyāre having an easy time doing so. Witty humor and silly behavior steals my heart. Also, Iām not politically correct by any means, but I think offensive shock-value jokes are boring when they rely on blatant bigotry.
My dealbreakers:
Conservatives: We just see the world differently. My views most closely aligned with Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders during the previous election cycle.
Smokers, drug users, heavy drinkers: I donāt have an issue with weed as long as itās not your personality. No issue at all with medicinal use. Life is stressful and anxiety-inducing; do your thing. Letās have an edible and watch bad movies. Anything past that is a little much, though microdosing does sound interesting to me.
Bigots: You can do anything. You can order sushi and pizza at the same time, and youāre busy hating someone because of their skin? Their gender? Because they donāt want titties anymore? Buddy..
In case you needed more reason to not like me, hereās a few more to tie up any loose ends!
Potential dealbreakers for you:
Iād like to be a father one day, but Iām not interested in anyone who already has kids. Iām simply not ready for that at the moment.
I have ADHD with can lead to issues with anxiety. For a while I didnāt know why I felt the way I did ā like a waste of potential despite doing very well in academics. Now I manage well with medication, but Iām still learning how to accept this fairly recent diagnosis and am embracing the process. I think it makes me quite fun, but maybe my enthusiasm about wanting to dive into new topics and people can be a bit much.
This post got pretty long, but I like being thorough. Maybe you enjoyed learning about me. Tell me about yourself, if youāre interested. Iāll read every word. I canāt wait to hear from you :)
2023.03.25 05:21 nitnittheawesome In Defense of Heather Duke
When I first watched Heathers: The Musical, believe it or not, I fucking hated Heather Duke. My favourite character back then was Heather Chandler, because sheās a mythic bitch. Then, I realised I hated Heather Duke because she was too much like me.
But thatās not the point. My point is, Heather Duke is considered by many to be an extremely hatable character. The purpose of this essay is not to convince you to like Heather Duke more; it is just to defend some of her actions, as stated in the title. Though many of Heather Dukeās actions were inexcusable, she is ultimately one of Heather Chandlerās victims; an example of the victim becoming the bully. Most of this essay is written with the Off-Broadway production in mind, as well as the movie.
Veronica describes Duke as having āno discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implantsā. It is proven further on in the musical that yes, Duke does have a personality; a personality is defined by the Oxford dictionary as the combination of characteristics or qualities that form an individual's distinctive character. Duke is far from having no discernible personality; hell, you could even argue that Duke is the most in-depth character in Heathers.
The most prominent example of this is Dukeās interaction with JD before āKindergarten Boyfriendā, Duke immediately knowing that āI now know thee, thou clear spiritā is from Moby Dick, and thatās not even the whole quote. Duke is shown to be an avid reader in the movie as well; reading Moby Dick even while playing croquet and in early drafts of the script, referencing The Catcher in the Rye (āYeah, you know Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye wouldnāt put up with their bogus nonsense.ā).
I read The Catcher in the Rye recently, and itās a coming-of-age novel from an unreliable narrator perspective. The main character, Holden Caulfield, has a very warped worldview, classifying people as āphoniesā, smoking and drinking while underage, his most notable trait being his red hunting cap; a physical manifestation of his different thinking and uniqueness from others. I interpret Duke liking this novel as her relating heavily with its themes of angst and alienation, often picturing herself as being alienated from the Heathers; with Chandler shown to treat McNamara better than her, and even treats Veronica better than her (to an extent). And as another Reddit user mentioned, curiosity is a sign of intelligence; her willingness to seek new information such as books makes her an extremely intelligent character (even managing to find a quote from a book with 135 chapters immediately).
I almost forgot to add how Duke runs the yearbook; and running a yearbook committee requires qualities such as good leadership abilities, good teamwork skills as well as a high level of creativity. High schools do not just let random people run their yearbook committees; unless Duke bribed the faculty to give her the position or intimidated the student body into electing her as yearbook committee head. In the movie, thereās a scene that Dennis, Peter and a random girl are discussing the yearbook regarding Chandlerās suicide, and the fact that Duke is allowing it to be included in the yearbook (as the head, despite not being in the scene itself) shows that not only is she a somewhat competent head, she also knows whatās best for the yearbook and what isnāt.
Duke comes up with many snarky remarks throughout the musical, some taken directly from the movie version of Chandler (āWhat? Itāll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks!ā) which implies how she models her behaviour after her though she does come up with her fair share of snarky remarks herself (āWe all didnāt kiss on the kickball field!ā, āHere comes the cootie squad! We should-ā, et cetera).
Duke is insecure, described in the Off-Broadway script as being āthe whipped beta dog of the three Heathers. Deeply insecure.ā A good example to show her insecurity is in the OOBC bootleg of āBeautifulā on YouTube (Alice Lee is an amazing Heather Duke), when she tells Veronica āOf course, you could stand to lose a few pounds.ā she grips her stomach area, heaving deeply as if sheās disgusted by herself, reflecting her insecurities on Veronica, but regains her composure quickly. Another Reddit user pointed out how Duke seems to adjust the bottom of her blazer after being placed in a situation out of her control; and control is a very important aspect of her character, which I will also be going into when talking about her eating disorder. After Duke gets SAād by Ram in āBig Funā and suspended by Mrs. Fleming after āLifeboatā, she readjusts the bottom of her blazer, and I do think this is symbolic; reminding her that after everything, the one thing she has control over is her body and her weight, which is why she specifically readjusts the area of her blazer covering her stomach.
Lastly, Duke is the only character in canon confirmed to have a disorder; bulimia nervosa. While some of you may argue that āJD has antisocial personality disordePTSD!ā or āVeronica is depressed!ā they are not confirmed. The diagnostic criterion for bulimia nervosa in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th Edition (DSM-V) are:
Why am I telling you all this? Because Dukeās bulimia is a product of her insecurity. Heather Duke hates the way she looks; if she didnāt, her mom wouldnāt have paid for implants. Also, the minimum age to get breast implants in the USA is 18; implying that Dukeās mother and Duke got it through illegal means.Heather Duke mafia arc?! Bulimia is also seen by bulimics to be a way to maintain control over their own body. They believe that even if they canāt control anything else around them, they still have complete control over their own body; which is what leads to the development of an eating disorder. Duke wants control; shown by her jealousy of Chandler as well as her taking initiative to obtain the red scrunchie in the musical after Chandlerās death. When Duke doesnāt have control, she uses unhealthy coping mechanisms like her bulimia and phrases to reassure herself (like when JD blackmails her, she says āNobody cares about the past. Nobody cares about Martha Dumptruck.ā and it has a vengeful, angsty intonation to it; as if sheās saying it to reassure herself, perhaps?).
In conclusion, Heather Duke has a personality. She is highly intelligent, snarky, insecure, aching for control over her own life and the lives of othersā. Which leads me to my next point.
And if I could list every single instance that Chandler mentally/verbally abuses Duke, Iād be here all day. Which I already am. Some examples include:
She doesnāt try to stop Duke or protect Veronica when Duke spreads the rumor that Veronica had a threesome with Kurt and Ram; instead, she actively encourages it! In Blue (Reprise), she sings āI hope she rinsed it!ā and actively joins in the singing in the West End productionās āNever Shut Up Againā.
Heather McNamara is a follower. Sheās a lot like someone I know; she follows what the most influential person wants, and goes with it. After Chandler died, it was Duke. And before Chandler diedā¦ you guessed it!
You may argue that McNamara told Duke āMaybe you should see a doctor, Heather.ā but that is kind of a givenā¦? Someone with bulimia, as stated earlier, would not be open about their eating disorder at all. That is extremely shitty advice to give someone. She couldāve agreed with Duke, couldāve stood up for her or at least tried to interact with her or help her up when she was pushed down; but she didnāt (I think in the West End production she did? Iām not sure either; it looked more as if she was pushing Duke into place which is an even more asshole move to do). Naturally, Duke would associate McNamara as one of the people who wronged her, as well as Chandler. And when McNamara poured her heart out to TV cameras during āLifeboatāā¦ wellā¦
After āLifeboatā, where McNamara is stuck in a trance-like state, Duke rushes towards her, confronting her. And hereās where everyone forgets that the TV cameras are still recording; why would Duke yell at someone who is suicidal on TV cameras? She wants control. She craves positive attention. The last thing that Duke would do would be to make herself seem like an asshole on national television. The whole sequence seemed as if it was out of rage and pent-up anger more than anything; it was almost immediate after āLifeboatā ended. Her tone was not dissimilar to Chandlerās before āDead Girl Walkingā; both extremely indignant. And hereās where some people also forget that āShine a Light (Reprise)ā happened in McNamaraās head and Duke didnāt actually tell her to go kill herself. I interpret āShine a Light (Reprise)ā not just as McNamara imagining Duke telling her to kill herself, but subconsciously encouraging herself to kill herself. Why would Duke use Mrs. Flemingās song? In essence; Duke lashed out at McNamara in rage. It seemed more of an outburst rather than a premeditated action.
Sure, I canāt justify Duke spreading the rumor about Veronica having a threesome. I admit that Duke is an asshole for doing that. Which is why I like her. What I can somewhat justify is Duke usurping Chandlerās position as head bitch.
Duke had always been in Chandlerās shadow; and in this case, always been beaten up by Chandler. Naturally, what sheād want to do is issue a final āfuck youā to Chandler by firstly, usurping her position, her red scrunchie, raiding her locker, and blowing her boyfriend (I believe thatās in a deleted part of the movie script where she blows David. But people with EDs typically donāt participate in sexual activities because of their body image issues). Duke wanted to take what Chandler didnāt give her, and she wanted to make others feel how Chandler made her feel. Her actions were out of vengeance and rage.
After āKindergarten Boyfriendā, Duke attempts to get Veronica and McNamara to sign the petition, and when Veronica tells her that āWe were avoiding you.ā, Duke lets out a gasp of bewildered betrayal. This implies that Duke didnāt understand the consequences of her actions (which again, I can imply that Chandler did it to her so many times that she thinks itās okay) which is so fucking sad. Which also further leads me to believe that Duke lashed out at McNamara out of rage.
Heather Dukeās actions canāt be fully excused, but she isnāt inherently bad; I believe that her actions were mostly out of vengeance. And that is so relatable. What the fuck.
I like to think that after the events of Heathers, Heather Duke and Heather McNamara went to therapy together, explaining their actions and pushing past their past grievances and turning their trauma bond into a true friendship. But again, it never happened. Unless I write a fanfic about it.
If youāre reading this, thank you for coming to my TedTalk. And Iām so happy you managed to read through my Heather Duke essay. She just like me fr
submitted by nitnittheawesome to heathersmusical [link] [comments]
But thatās not the point. My point is, Heather Duke is considered by many to be an extremely hatable character. The purpose of this essay is not to convince you to like Heather Duke more; it is just to defend some of her actions, as stated in the title. Though many of Heather Dukeās actions were inexcusable, she is ultimately one of Heather Chandlerās victims; an example of the victim becoming the bully. Most of this essay is written with the Off-Broadway production in mind, as well as the movie.
Heather Duke has a personality
Letās start from the very beginning. While it is true that we have about 2 hours of musical content and 1 hour and 44 minutes of movie content to go off of, as well as deleted scripts, much can be gathered regarding Heather Dukeās personality.Veronica describes Duke as having āno discernible personality, but her mom did pay for implantsā. It is proven further on in the musical that yes, Duke does have a personality; a personality is defined by the Oxford dictionary as the combination of characteristics or qualities that form an individual's distinctive character. Duke is far from having no discernible personality; hell, you could even argue that Duke is the most in-depth character in Heathers.
The most prominent example of this is Dukeās interaction with JD before āKindergarten Boyfriendā, Duke immediately knowing that āI now know thee, thou clear spiritā is from Moby Dick, and thatās not even the whole quote. Duke is shown to be an avid reader in the movie as well; reading Moby Dick even while playing croquet and in early drafts of the script, referencing The Catcher in the Rye (āYeah, you know Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye wouldnāt put up with their bogus nonsense.ā).
I read The Catcher in the Rye recently, and itās a coming-of-age novel from an unreliable narrator perspective. The main character, Holden Caulfield, has a very warped worldview, classifying people as āphoniesā, smoking and drinking while underage, his most notable trait being his red hunting cap; a physical manifestation of his different thinking and uniqueness from others. I interpret Duke liking this novel as her relating heavily with its themes of angst and alienation, often picturing herself as being alienated from the Heathers; with Chandler shown to treat McNamara better than her, and even treats Veronica better than her (to an extent). And as another Reddit user mentioned, curiosity is a sign of intelligence; her willingness to seek new information such as books makes her an extremely intelligent character (even managing to find a quote from a book with 135 chapters immediately).
I almost forgot to add how Duke runs the yearbook; and running a yearbook committee requires qualities such as good leadership abilities, good teamwork skills as well as a high level of creativity. High schools do not just let random people run their yearbook committees; unless Duke bribed the faculty to give her the position or intimidated the student body into electing her as yearbook committee head. In the movie, thereās a scene that Dennis, Peter and a random girl are discussing the yearbook regarding Chandlerās suicide, and the fact that Duke is allowing it to be included in the yearbook (as the head, despite not being in the scene itself) shows that not only is she a somewhat competent head, she also knows whatās best for the yearbook and what isnāt.
Duke comes up with many snarky remarks throughout the musical, some taken directly from the movie version of Chandler (āWhat? Itāll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks!ā) which implies how she models her behaviour after her though she does come up with her fair share of snarky remarks herself (āWe all didnāt kiss on the kickball field!ā, āHere comes the cootie squad! We should-ā, et cetera).
Duke is insecure, described in the Off-Broadway script as being āthe whipped beta dog of the three Heathers. Deeply insecure.ā A good example to show her insecurity is in the OOBC bootleg of āBeautifulā on YouTube (Alice Lee is an amazing Heather Duke), when she tells Veronica āOf course, you could stand to lose a few pounds.ā she grips her stomach area, heaving deeply as if sheās disgusted by herself, reflecting her insecurities on Veronica, but regains her composure quickly. Another Reddit user pointed out how Duke seems to adjust the bottom of her blazer after being placed in a situation out of her control; and control is a very important aspect of her character, which I will also be going into when talking about her eating disorder. After Duke gets SAād by Ram in āBig Funā and suspended by Mrs. Fleming after āLifeboatā, she readjusts the bottom of her blazer, and I do think this is symbolic; reminding her that after everything, the one thing she has control over is her body and her weight, which is why she specifically readjusts the area of her blazer covering her stomach.
Lastly, Duke is the only character in canon confirmed to have a disorder; bulimia nervosa. While some of you may argue that āJD has antisocial personality disordePTSD!ā or āVeronica is depressed!ā they are not confirmed. The diagnostic criterion for bulimia nervosa in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 5th Edition (DSM-V) are:
- Recurrent episodes of binge eating
- Recurrent inappropriate compensatory behaviors in order to prevent weight gain (like purging)
- The binge eating and inappropriate compensatory behaviour both occur on average at least once a week for 3 months
- Self-evaluation is unduly influenced by body shape and weight
- Disturbances do not occur during episodes of anorexia nervosa
Why am I telling you all this? Because Dukeās bulimia is a product of her insecurity. Heather Duke hates the way she looks; if she didnāt, her mom wouldnāt have paid for implants. Also, the minimum age to get breast implants in the USA is 18; implying that Dukeās mother and Duke got it through illegal means.
In conclusion, Heather Duke has a personality. She is highly intelligent, snarky, insecure, aching for control over her own life and the lives of othersā. Which leads me to my next point.
Heather Chandlerās abuse
Many people speculate that Chandler is an asshole to Duke because she knows that Duke will go batshit crazy on McNamara if Duke gets the power (like she did after āLifeboatā) and hence keeps Duke on a tight leash. In actuality, she does not just keep Duke on a tight leash. She abuses Duke, both physically and mentally. Chandlerās physical assault is shown in āCandy Storeā, before her riff where Duke wails vocal ad-lib and Chandler fucking pushes her. It has come to the point where people donāt compare how good each individual Chandlerās riff is, rather, people compare how far each individual Duke gets pushed. Under no circumstances should you ever push someone to the ground, let alone your friend or someone who is part of your clique. Thatās called bullying.And if I could list every single instance that Chandler mentally/verbally abuses Duke, Iād be here all day. Which I already am. Some examples include:
- āGrow up, Heather. Bulimia is so ā87.ā Not only does Chandler not show a conscious effort to help Duke recover from her eating disorder, she mocks it, ridiculing Duke for being immature (as implied by Chandlerās words) in front of McNamara. Also, fun fact, excessive purging can lead to death. Either Chandler is extremely indifferent and couldnāt give 2 shits if Duke died or is ignorant of what bulimia is. In which case she is still an extremely shitty friend for not trying to help Duke.
- Chandler tells Duke to shut up a total of 4 times in the musical (first time in āBeautifulā, āHow about prescriptions?ā āShut up, Heather!ā second time before āCandy Storeā, āWhat? Itāll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks!ā āShut up, Heather!ā third time during āCandy Storeā before the riff, āWoah! Honey, what you waiting for-ā āShut up, Heather!ā and last time during āBig Funā, āHere comes the cootie squad! We should-ā āShut up, Heather!ā). And Chandler is alive for a grand total of 42 minutes. Notice that every time Chandler tells her to shut up, Duke always replies with a meek āSorry, Heatherā¦ā (except for during āCandy Storeā because Dukeās on the floor but thereās a recording of Jessica Keenan Wynn, Elle McLemore and Kristolyn Lloyd performing the song at a Barnes and Noble where after Jessica as Chandler tells Kristolyn as Duke to shut up, she replies with a hasty āSorry, Heather!ā) which shows how Chandler has basically beaten this poor girl down into submission, silencing her and giving her no right to speak or even have an opinion. Which brings me on to my next instance.
- āYouāll need something to write on. Heather, bend over.ā Chandler literally makes Veronica use Duke as a table. In the movie, there is literally a table right behind them; and in a deleted script, both McNamara and Duke bend over, and Chandler makes Duke go back down. The fact that in both the movie and the musical, Duke does it with zero protesting shows that she was acclimatised to her position as Chandlerās metaphorical (and literal) punching bag.
- āI am talking to my friend.ā This is in the West End production, where Chandler directly addresses Duke after she says āYou were totally throwing your panties at him!ā to Veronica. Even within the Heathers, thereās a hierarchy at play; Chandlerās tone of voice is extremely condescending, addressing her as if sheās a dog or an insolent, disobedient kid. Which Duke immediately āsteps back in lineā and responds with a āSorry, Heatherā¦ā
- During āBig Funā, after Veronica saves Dukeās ass (both metaphorically and literally) from Ram, Duke approaches Chandler who throws her hands up and gives her a patronising look. Even after being sexually harassed by Ram, and even after calling out (āQuit it jackass, get off of me!ā), Chandler refuses to offer Duke help; leading to her responding to Veronicaās offers of help with spite and anger from being thrown aside by Chandler (āI didnāt need your help.ā).
- āHeather Duke was such a sad little poser. Veronica, tell her to stop touching my stuff.ā While this is arguable because this is Chandlerās ghost and itās implied that Chandlerās ghost is a manifestation of Veronicaās guilt, it shows that even Veronica would subconsciously know that Chandler would say this about Duke. Chandlerās treatment of Duke is so bad to the point of Veronica knowing exactly what Chandler would say about Duke in that situation.
Heather McNamaraās ignorance
Heather McNamara is not an innocent cinnamon roll. She is equally as bad as every other Heather; just that she is redeemable. As Janis Ian/Sarkisian once said, āThere are two kinds of evil people in this world. Those who do evil stuff and those who see evil stuff being done and don't try to stop it.ā And it is safe to say that McNamara falls under both categories.She doesnāt try to stop Duke or protect Veronica when Duke spreads the rumor that Veronica had a threesome with Kurt and Ram; instead, she actively encourages it! In Blue (Reprise), she sings āI hope she rinsed it!ā and actively joins in the singing in the West End productionās āNever Shut Up Againā.
Heather McNamara is a follower. Sheās a lot like someone I know; she follows what the most influential person wants, and goes with it. After Chandler died, it was Duke. And before Chandler diedā¦ you guessed it!
You may argue that McNamara told Duke āMaybe you should see a doctor, Heather.ā but that is kind of a givenā¦? Someone with bulimia, as stated earlier, would not be open about their eating disorder at all. That is extremely shitty advice to give someone. She couldāve agreed with Duke, couldāve stood up for her or at least tried to interact with her or help her up when she was pushed down; but she didnāt (I think in the West End production she did? Iām not sure either; it looked more as if she was pushing Duke into place which is an even more asshole move to do). Naturally, Duke would associate McNamara as one of the people who wronged her, as well as Chandler. And when McNamara poured her heart out to TV cameras during āLifeboatāā¦ wellā¦
Justifying Heather Dukeās actions
ā¦Heather Duke was not having it. Many people take notice of the āAnd every morning on the bus I feel my heart beating louder and faster and Iām like āJesus, Iām on the freaking bus again because all my rides to school are deadā¦āā and then they look at Dukeās line in āCandy Storeā (āAnd get in my Jeep!ā) which could be interpreted many different ways. And I like to think that Duke walks to school because bulimics tend to overexercise in order to lose weight (especially considering Heathers occured in a relatively short time frame), but as I said, it could be interpreted many different ways. Bulimics typically have to go through cognitive behavioural therapy (or they can justā¦ recover from their own, but it takes time) but thatās not the point. My point is, Duke didnāt necessarily refuse to pick McNamara up. Itās just a theory. A musical theory.After āLifeboatā, where McNamara is stuck in a trance-like state, Duke rushes towards her, confronting her. And hereās where everyone forgets that the TV cameras are still recording; why would Duke yell at someone who is suicidal on TV cameras? She wants control. She craves positive attention. The last thing that Duke would do would be to make herself seem like an asshole on national television. The whole sequence seemed as if it was out of rage and pent-up anger more than anything; it was almost immediate after āLifeboatā ended. Her tone was not dissimilar to Chandlerās before āDead Girl Walkingā; both extremely indignant. And hereās where some people also forget that āShine a Light (Reprise)ā happened in McNamaraās head and Duke didnāt actually tell her to go kill herself. I interpret āShine a Light (Reprise)ā not just as McNamara imagining Duke telling her to kill herself, but subconsciously encouraging herself to kill herself. Why would Duke use Mrs. Flemingās song? In essence; Duke lashed out at McNamara in rage. It seemed more of an outburst rather than a premeditated action.
Sure, I canāt justify Duke spreading the rumor about Veronica having a threesome. I admit that Duke is an asshole for doing that. Which is why I like her. What I can somewhat justify is Duke usurping Chandlerās position as head bitch.
Duke had always been in Chandlerās shadow; and in this case, always been beaten up by Chandler. Naturally, what sheād want to do is issue a final āfuck youā to Chandler by firstly, usurping her position, her red scrunchie, raiding her locker, and blowing her boyfriend (I believe thatās in a deleted part of the movie script where she blows David. But people with EDs typically donāt participate in sexual activities because of their body image issues). Duke wanted to take what Chandler didnāt give her, and she wanted to make others feel how Chandler made her feel. Her actions were out of vengeance and rage.
After āKindergarten Boyfriendā, Duke attempts to get Veronica and McNamara to sign the petition, and when Veronica tells her that āWe were avoiding you.ā, Duke lets out a gasp of bewildered betrayal. This implies that Duke didnāt understand the consequences of her actions (which again, I can imply that Chandler did it to her so many times that she thinks itās okay) which is so fucking sad. Which also further leads me to believe that Duke lashed out at McNamara out of rage.
Conclusion
The saddest thing about Heather Duke is that in the Off-Broadway production, she does not achieve a happy ending. She is the only living character in the musical to not have a happy ending (JD reunited with his mom in heaven, Veronica, Martha and McNamara reconcile, the school as a whole reconciled) and instead goes back to being a nobody. She joins a random group and sings with them, showing how itās so tragic that she didnāt even get to keep what she wanted for so long. Though, in the West End production, she reunites with McNamara and Veronica. But I donāt really like that ending because after what Duke did, I wouldnāt see McNamara and Veronica forgiving her, especially since Duke said that Martha was āJust another geek trying to imitate the popular kids and failing miserably.āHeather Dukeās actions canāt be fully excused, but she isnāt inherently bad; I believe that her actions were mostly out of vengeance. And that is so relatable. What the fuck.
I like to think that after the events of Heathers, Heather Duke and Heather McNamara went to therapy together, explaining their actions and pushing past their past grievances and turning their trauma bond into a true friendship. But again, it never happened. Unless I write a fanfic about it.
If youāre reading this, thank you for coming to my TedTalk. And Iām so happy you managed to read through my Heather Duke essay. She just like me fr
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2023.03.25 05:05 Chm_Albert_Wesker Question Regarding Metagaming
Hello! So my group of players consists of myself and 5 players. We've played the game twice now, where I usually end up sort of just 'running' the game in that I resolve the steps, answer questions, etc. and I can be impartial because I am outside of the game itself. We've played D&D before, so we consider it sort of a DM role.
We are planning to switch it up and implement the Carnomorphs on our next playthrough. I am reading the instructions for the new race and here lies my question: the Carnomorphs can eat corpses and the small aliens if left in the room with them, which causes them to grow and get tougher to kill. Should the players know this ahead of time? With the base game, I was able to keep the Intruders a mystery until one actually popped out so it made the RP more fun. But not telling this info about the Carnomorphs seriously warps the beginning of the game: if the players know this, it is indeed metagaming as they will take actions their character shouldn't know to clear a room before leaving. But if we say that the characters WOULDN'T know, they could leave a small problem room of tiny aliens to then grow into the big monsters and suddenly the game gets very hard very quick.
What do you guys think is the best course of action?
submitted by Chm_Albert_Wesker to NemesisCrew [link] [comments]
We are planning to switch it up and implement the Carnomorphs on our next playthrough. I am reading the instructions for the new race and here lies my question: the Carnomorphs can eat corpses and the small aliens if left in the room with them, which causes them to grow and get tougher to kill. Should the players know this ahead of time? With the base game, I was able to keep the Intruders a mystery until one actually popped out so it made the RP more fun. But not telling this info about the Carnomorphs seriously warps the beginning of the game: if the players know this, it is indeed metagaming as they will take actions their character shouldn't know to clear a room before leaving. But if we say that the characters WOULDN'T know, they could leave a small problem room of tiny aliens to then grow into the big monsters and suddenly the game gets very hard very quick.
What do you guys think is the best course of action?
2023.03.25 05:01 Harbinger_51 I do a job for the government none of you know about. You should.
It was a beautiful day in the fall, and though being in the middle of nowhere in Ohio isnāt exactly my ideal setting for an assignment, it could have been worse. Opening my windows, listening to music, and getting a good whiff of country air is a nice contrast to being cooped up in cities like Iām used to. The sight of brown stalks of corn populating the miles of fields along the road was welcome, as was the cool and clean smell of the air. Itās a good thing these jobs donāt involve much interaction with people. Unfortunately, some level of interaction is inevitable.
On my way to this one, I got a speeding ticket from a cop at some little local department. Though I was, in fact, speeding, I got the feeling that he also didnāt so much like seeing a fed in his neck of the woods. The local police arenāt a fan of us, so Iāve come to learn. They tend to get suspicious of us, thinking weāre up to some top-secret mission behind their backs. I guess they would be right.
I kept driving down the gravel road until the navigation let me know my destination was coming up on the right. Turning down the radio as I approached, I glanced toward the empty fields and the woods that met them beyond. I then turned into the long dirt driveway leading to our civiliansā house and garage.
I rolled up and parked with my trunk facing the porch. Stepping out, I got another whiff of the fresh country air and looked at the area of operations that lay before me. I was surprised at the amount of land and space that I had at my disposal. Space is good for these jobs. Additionally, I was informed that there werenāt any neighbors close enough to worry about. I couldnāt have asked for a better setting.
After stretching and letting out a light sigh, I decided it was time to get to work. I pulled the keychain out of my pocket and unlocked the front door. It seemed like a nice enough place. It was certainly nothing worth complaining about given the conditions of houses Iāve faced in my previous assignments. I went back outside to my massive, government-issued vehicle and opened the trunk.
I pulled the first couple of duffel bags worth of equipment out and brought them inside. The kitchen was as good a place as any to set up. After making five or six trips of dragging heavy bags and boxes of my junk into the house, I went back outside to open the garage. Thank God we were able to catch this case early and the civilians were able to make it out in time. It also meant I got room in the garage to park this thing. All that remained in the truck was the large metallic box, but I wasnāt going to need that until later.
I shut the trunk and pulled my vehicle into the garage, closing it on my way out. I stepped back into the house where I changed from my suit to my gear. Wearing the suit all day annoys me but I suppose the higher-ups want us to look like good, āfriendlyā feds to the public. The public has no idea the kind of monsters we are.
I unpacked box after box of equipment and weapons. I loaded up my Glock 17 with its extended 30-round magazine just as I did with my standard .556 rifle. I checked the laser sights on both. All good. Next was my favorite, the.338 with the best scope you could ever ask for. It sure is nice having a virtually infinite budget. Perks of working for the US federal government I suppose. The final firearm I brought was my personal .357 magnum revolver that I kept holstered on my chest. I figure itās never a bad idea to have one more gun, just in case. Maybe I should have brought more on this one. If things got too close, I always had my hunting knife. I sharpened it that morning before heading out.
The next few hours consisted of me going out into the woods near the house in various places and setting up dozens of my little cameras equipped with motion sensors. They were there to give me an idea of the location of anything that got brave enough to get close to the fields that surrounded the house, I would be able to know about anything that was coming to me. I didnāt take too much caution in setting them up. Things never get interesting until nightfall.
I returned to the house where I turned on my laptop and assured that all the cameras were connected and working. I could see every single one of them from there and would know if anything so much as moved. I then got situated on a chair by the kitchen table, where I opened the window and set up my .338 rifle to watch the fields with.
I suppose it would be worth mentioning why Iām out here, setting up fancy equipment in the woods and loading up an arsenal of guns while Iām alone in a farmhouse that isnāt mine. Letās back it up.
March 1st, 2017, 3:33 am, Iowa
Dispatch gets a call from a local farmer. He claims to be looking at a figure standing still at the edge of a treeline on his property. The description given by the farmer was that of a man of average stature and build, clothed in a loose black or grey shirt and trousers and a large-brimmed hat.
The farmer tells dispatch that he had awoken abruptly roughly an hour earlier, unspecified as to why. He spotted the figure outside his kitchen window soon after. The figure had been standing near the edge of a row of trees. It was facing the house and hadnāt moved a muscle since the farmer noticed him. The farmer quickly retrieved his rifle and walked out onto his lawn, proceeding to brandish his firearm and tell the trespasser that this property was his and to leave immediately. The farmer, seeing that the man remained unthreatened by his warning and display of a firearm, retreaded back into his home to retrieve his phone and call 9-1-1 as he continued to watch the figure from his porch.
During this call, the farmerās voice was noticeably nervous and frightened. The desperate tone and quivering speech continued to worsen as he went on explaining the situation to dispatch. Dispatch instructed the farmer to remain where he stood and not to approach the trespasser. Dispatch reassured the farmer that the police were on their way. A few quiet and uneventful minutes passed. Then, without warning, the farmer let out a horrified scream through the phone. The call was disconnected seconds later.
The police began their over 40-minute drive to the residence. Halfway to their arrival, multiple new calls were coming to dispatch from the farmerās neighbors. They reported seeing a large stack of smoke coming from the farmerās home, and the closest reported seeing the house on fire.
By the time police arrived, the house had burned to the ground. The fire department arrived shortly after but oddly enough, the fire had completely subsided. What remained was the charred crumbs of what was once a house. The firefighters that arrived on site were bewildered by how quickly the fire must have burned the house. There was no explanation they could fathom.
The police searched the nearby fields and woods for the farmer and alleged trespasser to no avail, however, their search was quickly called back upon the findings of the firefighters in the house. The manās charred bones were found beneath the rubble but not as they should have been. It became clear after further investigation that the manās limbs were ripped from his body before it was incinerated at an impossible speed. 4 .308 bullet casings were found where the porch of the house used to be. The rifle was found just outside of the house, unscathed despite its proximity to such a violent fire. Forensics confirmed that the rifle had fired these casings but the bullets themselves were never found.
This was the first, but far from the last.
October 28th, 2017, 11:07 pm, Montana
Dispatch gets a call from a rancher who spotted a woman in an old-fashioned black and white dress and wearing a linen cap. The rancher claimed the woman was standing amongst his cattle and not moving. The rancher expressed no panic or concern for his safety over the phone, but rather a concern for the woman in the field. The rancher also noted that his cattle kept their distance around the woman.
An ambulance arrived at 11:29. Paramedics found no trace of the alleged woman. They walked to the entrance of the rancherās house and discovered his door to be unlocked and open. After calling for the rancher and getting no response, they stepped inside to be greeted by the corpse of the rancher, hanging from a noose in his stairwell. The man had no history of mental illness and none of his relatives or acquaintances had any reason to believe he was suicidal. Additionally, an autopsy report concluded that both arms were broken in multiple places as well as every finger as if they had been crumpled together by a great force. He could not have tied the noose himself.
November 29th, 2018, 2:06 am, Wisconsin
Dispatch gets a call from another farmer. He had spotted a woman in an old black and white dress and linen cap. The woman had been standing in the long driveway from the road to his house, lit by the lamp that covered it. She stood motionless in the cold, windy, and heavily snowing weather. The farmer and his wife were later found under a collapsed wall of their crumpled house with stones placed on top. They had been placed in a seemingly orderly fashion until there was enough weight to crush their bones.
This happens to be the first incident we have on record with photo evidence. A trail cam owned by the farmer and his wife a few acres away from the house caught a picture the night of the incident. It caught a picture of the woman exactly as the farmer had described. Black and white dress, white linen camp. It looked as though she had stepped through time from hundreds of years before and placed like a mannequin in front of the camera.
May 30th, 2019, Minnesota
September 3rd, 2019, Nebraska
January 4th, 2020, South Dakota
I could go on but the point is that these incidents have been happening more and more frequently and they arenāt stopping. We do know what they are, or at least what theyāre supposed to represent to us.
Every single one of these āpeopleā lived in North America during the witch trials. We donāt believe they were the ones who were executed. We believe they were the ones who made the accusations, the ones who got their neighbors killed, the ones who carried out the executions and now theyāre back to kill again.
Luckily, my department picked up on these patterns early on and designated a team to deal with them. There are a few hundred of us. I am in the dark about what everyone does exactly. I havenāt met many but I do know that some find potential incidents, some investigate, some deal with the cover-up and handling the publicity, and then, of course, there are the ones you send in to eradicate the problem. Thatās where I come in.
I am here to hunt them down, to put them back in their graves so it would seem. Sometimes I get here before theyāve claimed a victim, sometimes after. But their reign of terror comes to an end with me. Theyāve never gotten away from me, and I have never failed an assignment. I didnāt plan on this night being any different.
A beep sounded from my laptop screen as an outline from one of the cameras lit up, indicating that the motion sensor detected movement. It had been quiet since I set it up, there was not even the slightest sign of wildlife. No deer, no squirrels, nothing. I leaned forward and intently examined the camera that had been triggered. There was nothing to see. Another sensor triggered. Again, the camera showed nothing. My eyes darted from camera to camera, looking for motion. Another camera triggered, though all that I caught sight of was a shaking tree branch. There was no wind today. Another. This time I saw it. A dog-looking figure darted across the camera in only a few frames, but I knew it was no dog.
I turned my attention from the cameras to the field in front of me, where the movement had come from. I got behind my rifle and looked down the scope to the treeline in the distance. My heart began to pound in my chest at an intense tempo.
I could feel the adrenaline kicking in while I scanned the edge of the field for movement. All that greeted me was the orange glint of the setting sun on the treeline and the tiny shadows of the little stumps of corn stalks in the otherwise empty field. It was silent. Not even a wind accompanied me this evening, though I canāt complain. Itās better for shooting.
For a few minutes, I continued to run my scope along the treeline, occasionally getting a peek with my own eyes. It was during one of these peeks when I noticed a color out of place, in between a couple of trees on the other side of the fieldāsome sort of black-and-white spec that was there not a second before. I lowered my head down, back behind the scope, and centered it. As I steadied the scope, a man-like figure standing at the edge of the field came into focus.
It wore black, tattered rags of clothing that hung loosely on its rigid frame. It stood still, stiff as a board. Its eyes were fixed on something ahead of it. It took me a moment to realize it was focused on me. It didnāt move a muscle, not even blinking as it stared.
I came to my senses and prepared to do my job. I flipped the safety off of my rifle and centered my crosshairs on its chest. I began to breathe deeply, my finger on the trigger, ready to pull but I didnāt take the shot, not yet. I saw it start to move.
Even with the distance between us, my scope made the picture of this figure clear as day. The movement came from only one part of its body; its mouth. First, its crusty lips detached from one another and the mouth began to open. Steadily, it opened more, and more all the while the rest of its body and head remained fixed. Its jaw sank to what should have been all the more it could, but it didnāt stop. It fell further, dipping down below its chest, its skin like a stretched rubber band waiting to snap, though it didnāt, it kept stretching.
Still stiff as a board, the man-like thing remained with its eyes locked on me while its mouth sat open, impossibly wide. It stood still with its hanging jaw for a moment, a moment I shouldnāt have given it. Now I knew I had my target. I began to apply pressure to the trigger before I was stopped, shaken by a force.
A scream, like a choir of souls in despair being dragged off to hell, with the power of a thousand horns sounding the start of a medieval battle rung through the fields. Its volume caused flocks of birds in the nearby trees to fly away in a panic, its bass shuddered through my chest and left me too hypnotized to pull the trigger. Iāll never get used to hearing one of them scream.
āHere we goā
I muttered to myself, the only thought I could conjure from my brain at the moment.
Closing its mouth, it leaped forward and reached for the ground in front of it with its hands fixed like claws. As soon as they met the ground, the feet followed and planted themselves quickly so that it could boost itself forward once again. It had begun its terrible charge. All the while, its face remained fixed on me, rotting teeth exposed and clenched in rage. The speed at which it rushed across the empty field would make a deer running for its life look lazy in comparison, but I was the prey here.
Though my heart began to race at the sight of this abomination barreling toward me, this anomaly of hatred and hunger bound to flesh, I remained calm. I began to steady my breathing, taking control of each breath, in and out.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
Squeeze.
The crack of the shot rang out through the dimming sky and the field before me, my response to its enraged scream. I remained fixed on the target, observing the spatter of blood as it shot from its back. It began to scream again, this time rapidly and desperate in tone. I quickly moved the bolt and chambered the next round, accompanied by the soft ring of the brass bouncing on the floorboards under my chair.
Although I managed to land a clean shot to the chest, it didnāt do much. It kept running, keeping on at its same speed. Though now it changed its direction and was running adjacent to my position in the house. It was trying to flank me. It wanted to find a way around my line of sight. I couldnāt let it.
Again, I took control of my breathing. Slowly, I drifted my rifle on the bipod until the creature came back into view. Its limbs pounded at the ground with speed and power as it propelled itself across the field. Iāll never get used to seeing one run either.
Starting behind it, I continued to move the scope, just fast enough to begin gaining on him, just fast enough to let the crosshairs catch up. Inhale. Exhale. The crosshairs slowly began to overtake it. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.
I chambered the next round quickly. This shot brought him to the ground, but it didnāt keep him there. After a short tumble, it rose and began to run again, this time back towards the woods it came from. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.
The third shot grazed its back. Frustrated, I chambered another round and took aim, but it was far too late. Before I could even begin to line up my fourth shot, it had taken one final leap from the field back into the treeline it came from.
I let out a sigh and hung my head in disappointment. I knew what I had to do next but I sure as hell didnāt want to. The last flickers of sunlight shone through the open window and lit my .338 rifle as I reloaded the magazine. I sat and stared blankly at the screen in front of me, hoping a camera would pick up some sort of movement that could clue me into wherever it ran off to. Knowing my luck, I shouldnāt have expected it to.
After coming to terms with reality, I stood up and grabbed my .556, slinging it around my body and letting it hang in front of me. I aimed it down, looking through its sight and testing its laser again before checking the chamber. Good to go. Next, I adjusted the night vision set to my head before picking up my .338 and heading for the door. As I stepped outside, I let out another sigh, this one of stress. Hunting these things at night, on their own turf is never as fun, nor as easy as finishing them quickly from a distance but what choice did I have? I just wanted to get it over with.
I flipped down my goggles and switched them on, illuminating the dark field in green and white. I began my long walk across. It took me longer than expected. The speed of that monstrosity caused me to underestimate the size of the field. Each step I took was slow and quiet. I didnāt want the crunch of my feet meeting the dirt and remnants of corn stalks to disturb my hearing. If that thing made a noise, I needed to hear it. If only I could have quieted my incessant heavy, nervous breathing too.
I was not even halfway to the treeline when I reached the first pool of blood, where I had shot it for the second time, and it decided to retreat. Bits of flesh were scattered about the ground, but I didnāt care to stop and look. Instead, I focussed on the blood I could see that led back into the woods.
Any experienced hunter has had to track a deer or two. It can be very frustrating. The trail isnāt always so clear, and you never know how far it has gotten. In my case, I knew this thing was still alive, and it was angry.
I continued my walk, splitting my attention between the blood trail on the ground and the treeline in front of me, scanning for movement and listening. If I was lucky enough, it would have gotten bold and tried to take me down in the field. Unfortunately, Iām not so lucky. Silently, I followed the trail until it met the woods. I stopped walking and calmed myself.
I didnāt want to go past those damn trees, but there was no avoiding it. I had a job to do. I extended the bipod of my .338 and lowered it to the ground before raising the stock of my other rifle to my shoulder. I took a deep breath and resumed my walk, now even slower and more cautious. At least now my heavy breathing would be drowned out by the sound of snapping twigs beneath my feet.
Immediately upon entering the woods, I spotted the next sight of blood. It came from a tree branch, its leaves covered in the dripping crimson liquid. I walked up to observe, only to notice more blood on the branch above that one. And the next. I noticed the pattern and followed each branch up, one by one, each with its leaves covered in blood. Suddenly a mass moved on top of the tree next to the one I was looking up at.
I swung my rifle up, pointing above me at the top of the trees. The mass turned and into view came two glowing eyes, like white lights in my night vision. It opened its mouth again to let out another deafening scream but I raised my rifle and took aim. Its scream was cut short by a bang from my barrel and the thud of the rounds meeting flesh. I was only able to squeeze half a dozen rounds off before it leaped away, to the tops of the neighboring trees.
I kept shooting as it jumped from one tree to another, though within seconds it was out of my line of sight. I charged through the woods after it and watched it leap impossible distances, shaking trees so hard I thought some might snap. All the while I kept trying and failing, to line up a clean shot. The ones I did manage to squeeze off were either misses or ineffective.
Even at the full-on sprint that I managed to sustain for a good few minutes, I was barely able to keep up. I almost abandoned the chase entirely before I saw an opportunity. There was a clearing ahead. A trail. The distance across was far too wide for it to jump. It took a sharp right once it realized this and began jumping from tree to tree along the trail. I rushed into the opening before kneeling to line up a shot. I followed it with my sights, tracking the timing of each leap, and letting t it land and leap once more before it settled on a new tree. I shot off two more rounds as it braced to leap again.
They were perfectly placed and its body tumbled in the air and crashed violently to the ground. Having lined up my sight, I squeezed the trigger again to hear the absence of a gunshot, replaced by the click of the firing pin in the empty chamber. I screamed curses at myself as I quickly exchanged magazines. By the time I looked up, the body was already gone.
I got to my feet and continued down the trail at a jog-like pace with my rifle at the ready. I was beginning to get frustrated more than anything. Iāve put dozens of these things in the ground before, I didnāt understand why was I having such a hard time with this one. As I approached a curve in the trail, I slowed my pace and brought the stock of my rifle back to my shoulder. I approached the curve from the outside of the trail, trying to get a clear view of what was beyond when my head violently snapped to the left.
My vision went suddenly dark and it took me a few moments to realize that I wasn't dead, nor was I unconscious. Something hit my night vision goggles and knocked them clear off of my head, breaking the mount they sat on. My eyes were only beginning to adapt to the dark when another object came flying towards my head, narrowly missing as it whistled forcefully past my ear. It was a rock, around the size of a football. I couldnāt help but glance behind me in astonishment at the object that had nearly decapitated me before turning my attention back to what threw it.
Sure enough, there it was. Standing behind the trees at the corner of the path. I let my anger take control and began to fire rapidly at its torso. My disregard for accuracy hardly mattered at this range. Regrettably, it meant I was now closer than I would have liked and it began to charge. I landed shot after shot. Blood spurted from its back and painted the tree branches and leaves that it passed as it barreled toward me.
Again, my magazine went empty. Instead of bothering to reload a new one, I quickly drew my Glock and continued my rapid fire on the beast. It broke into the clearing and fell to all fours before it leaped forward and ran as it had done in the field. It closed the distance between us in seconds.
A hand clenched around my throat and I was lifted off of the ground like a feather. It kept running, past the edge of the clearing and carrying me into the woods. I continued to pepper it at point-blank range with my pistol. Between shots, I could hear its hysterical laughter directed at my futile efforts. Its face smiled with a look of sadistic insanity.
I continued shooting until my magazine went dry and I was stuck with an empty gun. With nothing else I could do, I began to beat its face with the empty pistol. This seemed to piss it off. It violently threw me through the air. I felt my body snap dozens of branches before I met the ground and rolled uncontrollably.
Recovering quickly, I grasped the rifle still slung around me and replaced the empty magazine with a new one. It was mere feet away from me when I started to fire. I got a few shots off before it grabbed my arm. This time I whipped the barrel of my rifle up, clubbing it hard across the face. It let out a short, irritated scream. I thrust my barrel at the top of its head, knocking it back as it emitted another angry grunt. It reached up with its left arm and tried to grab the barrel before half of its fingers were blown off by my next shot. It recoiled its arm in pain before swinging it back at me.
Upon contact, my rifle flew out of my hands and the sling came undone from my body as it was thrown far into the woods behind me. I attempted to retreat before he grabbed me with his right hand, and what remained of his left around my neck. Again, I was picked up and it carried me, this time only a short distance to a tree. My back cracked as I was slammed into the bark.
It looked up at me and smiled again.
āWe killed our sinners, we brought justice to our land. We brought justice for Godā
I ignored its foul speech, lifting an arm and hooking it across the face with a firm punch. It had no effect.
āYou are all sinners, and you will die for your sins as they didā
Again, I struggled and pummeled its face with everything I could muster but it still did nothing.
āNow go and burn in the lake of fireā
It shouted, before laughing with a dozen sadistic voices all coming from its mouth.
It opened its mouth and its jaw was once again stretched to what should be an impossible level. It lowered me until I was level with it. It moved its open mouth toward my head, shaking with rage. Its teeth now inches from my face. Its breath, foul. With my left arm, I drew my knife, slashing it across the chest before plunging it into its neck. I hooked a punch with my right arm that finally caused it to stumble. It wound up its own punch and let it loose. I narrowly escaped, ducking out of the way before its fist met the tree and went right through, splitting it in half before the wood tumbled to the ground.
I took this opportunity to draw my .357. He recovered from its punch and faced me, pulling the knife from its neck and letting blood spurt and gush. It stared me down as it slowly approached, ready to deliver its finishing blow.
Its head was shaking now, harder than ever in anger, its mouth hung open to half its capacity where it showed its rows of rotting human teeth. I raised my revolver and attempted to steady my sights but I was too shaky. I quickly collected myself. Inhale. Exhale. The front sight became level with the rear. Squeeze.
The recoil caused the gun to rise enough for me to get a look at the damage. I clipped its mouth, in the corner of its jaw. It hung open, with one side detached completely. It wailed in pain as it gargled its blood and crumbled to the ground. I aimed again, cocking the hammer. Squeeze. With the second round, I detached its jaw completely.
āLetās see you bite me now, fuckerā
I painfully muttered with anger. It dropped my knife and was now laying flat on its back, breathing heavily. I approached, cocking the revolver again as I did. It reached out with its mangled hand but I kicked it away before placing my barrel to its skull. Squeeze. And then silence.
After dragging the body back to the field, I spent the next few hours retrieving my lost and damaged equipment, as well as tediously finding every one of my cameras. I then retrieved my vehicle and drove it to the edge of the field. There was just one more thing to do.
I opened my trunk and pulled out the metallic box. I donāt understand why they make these things so goddamn heavy. I opened it and placed the corpse inside before securing the extremely heavy-duty lock. Next was the hole. It wasnāt easy digging after I had been roughed up and tossed around by an undead religious maniac with superhuman strength, but at least this was the last thing I had to do.
I finished digging the hole, placed the metal casket inside, and covered it up. From there, I collected my equipment, packed it up, and took off. Supposedly thereās a cleanup crew that comes in after weāre done with these missions and destroys any bizarre evidence.
I suspect they take the body as well. Where do they take it? What do they do with it? I have no clue but Iāve been strictly reminded to not ask questions on the matter and to just stick to doing my job. Still, I always find myself wondering.
What I have even more questions about is why these things exist in the first place. What the hell is going on? Why them? Why now? Has this been going on for longer than I know? Am I being lied to? What happens next, in the future, if this keeps going on? Itās only been getting worse. Theyāve only been popping up more and more frequently. When does it end? Does it end?
I have more questions than I do answers but what I can tell you is that this problem isnāt going away anytime soon. Itās only going to get worse. There are only going to be more of them, not less. The death toll will only continue to rise. People are going to find out sooner or later. It might as well be now. Maybe we will stop them. Maybe this will all come to an end one day, or maybe we are the ones who are all going to meet our end. Either way, Iāll be there to see it.
submitted by Harbinger_51 to nosleep [link] [comments]
On my way to this one, I got a speeding ticket from a cop at some little local department. Though I was, in fact, speeding, I got the feeling that he also didnāt so much like seeing a fed in his neck of the woods. The local police arenāt a fan of us, so Iāve come to learn. They tend to get suspicious of us, thinking weāre up to some top-secret mission behind their backs. I guess they would be right.
I kept driving down the gravel road until the navigation let me know my destination was coming up on the right. Turning down the radio as I approached, I glanced toward the empty fields and the woods that met them beyond. I then turned into the long dirt driveway leading to our civiliansā house and garage.
I rolled up and parked with my trunk facing the porch. Stepping out, I got another whiff of the fresh country air and looked at the area of operations that lay before me. I was surprised at the amount of land and space that I had at my disposal. Space is good for these jobs. Additionally, I was informed that there werenāt any neighbors close enough to worry about. I couldnāt have asked for a better setting.
After stretching and letting out a light sigh, I decided it was time to get to work. I pulled the keychain out of my pocket and unlocked the front door. It seemed like a nice enough place. It was certainly nothing worth complaining about given the conditions of houses Iāve faced in my previous assignments. I went back outside to my massive, government-issued vehicle and opened the trunk.
I pulled the first couple of duffel bags worth of equipment out and brought them inside. The kitchen was as good a place as any to set up. After making five or six trips of dragging heavy bags and boxes of my junk into the house, I went back outside to open the garage. Thank God we were able to catch this case early and the civilians were able to make it out in time. It also meant I got room in the garage to park this thing. All that remained in the truck was the large metallic box, but I wasnāt going to need that until later.
I shut the trunk and pulled my vehicle into the garage, closing it on my way out. I stepped back into the house where I changed from my suit to my gear. Wearing the suit all day annoys me but I suppose the higher-ups want us to look like good, āfriendlyā feds to the public. The public has no idea the kind of monsters we are.
I unpacked box after box of equipment and weapons. I loaded up my Glock 17 with its extended 30-round magazine just as I did with my standard .556 rifle. I checked the laser sights on both. All good. Next was my favorite, the.338 with the best scope you could ever ask for. It sure is nice having a virtually infinite budget. Perks of working for the US federal government I suppose. The final firearm I brought was my personal .357 magnum revolver that I kept holstered on my chest. I figure itās never a bad idea to have one more gun, just in case. Maybe I should have brought more on this one. If things got too close, I always had my hunting knife. I sharpened it that morning before heading out.
The next few hours consisted of me going out into the woods near the house in various places and setting up dozens of my little cameras equipped with motion sensors. They were there to give me an idea of the location of anything that got brave enough to get close to the fields that surrounded the house, I would be able to know about anything that was coming to me. I didnāt take too much caution in setting them up. Things never get interesting until nightfall.
I returned to the house where I turned on my laptop and assured that all the cameras were connected and working. I could see every single one of them from there and would know if anything so much as moved. I then got situated on a chair by the kitchen table, where I opened the window and set up my .338 rifle to watch the fields with.
I suppose it would be worth mentioning why Iām out here, setting up fancy equipment in the woods and loading up an arsenal of guns while Iām alone in a farmhouse that isnāt mine. Letās back it up.
March 1st, 2017, 3:33 am, Iowa
Dispatch gets a call from a local farmer. He claims to be looking at a figure standing still at the edge of a treeline on his property. The description given by the farmer was that of a man of average stature and build, clothed in a loose black or grey shirt and trousers and a large-brimmed hat.
The farmer tells dispatch that he had awoken abruptly roughly an hour earlier, unspecified as to why. He spotted the figure outside his kitchen window soon after. The figure had been standing near the edge of a row of trees. It was facing the house and hadnāt moved a muscle since the farmer noticed him. The farmer quickly retrieved his rifle and walked out onto his lawn, proceeding to brandish his firearm and tell the trespasser that this property was his and to leave immediately. The farmer, seeing that the man remained unthreatened by his warning and display of a firearm, retreaded back into his home to retrieve his phone and call 9-1-1 as he continued to watch the figure from his porch.
During this call, the farmerās voice was noticeably nervous and frightened. The desperate tone and quivering speech continued to worsen as he went on explaining the situation to dispatch. Dispatch instructed the farmer to remain where he stood and not to approach the trespasser. Dispatch reassured the farmer that the police were on their way. A few quiet and uneventful minutes passed. Then, without warning, the farmer let out a horrified scream through the phone. The call was disconnected seconds later.
The police began their over 40-minute drive to the residence. Halfway to their arrival, multiple new calls were coming to dispatch from the farmerās neighbors. They reported seeing a large stack of smoke coming from the farmerās home, and the closest reported seeing the house on fire.
By the time police arrived, the house had burned to the ground. The fire department arrived shortly after but oddly enough, the fire had completely subsided. What remained was the charred crumbs of what was once a house. The firefighters that arrived on site were bewildered by how quickly the fire must have burned the house. There was no explanation they could fathom.
The police searched the nearby fields and woods for the farmer and alleged trespasser to no avail, however, their search was quickly called back upon the findings of the firefighters in the house. The manās charred bones were found beneath the rubble but not as they should have been. It became clear after further investigation that the manās limbs were ripped from his body before it was incinerated at an impossible speed. 4 .308 bullet casings were found where the porch of the house used to be. The rifle was found just outside of the house, unscathed despite its proximity to such a violent fire. Forensics confirmed that the rifle had fired these casings but the bullets themselves were never found.
This was the first, but far from the last.
October 28th, 2017, 11:07 pm, Montana
Dispatch gets a call from a rancher who spotted a woman in an old-fashioned black and white dress and wearing a linen cap. The rancher claimed the woman was standing amongst his cattle and not moving. The rancher expressed no panic or concern for his safety over the phone, but rather a concern for the woman in the field. The rancher also noted that his cattle kept their distance around the woman.
An ambulance arrived at 11:29. Paramedics found no trace of the alleged woman. They walked to the entrance of the rancherās house and discovered his door to be unlocked and open. After calling for the rancher and getting no response, they stepped inside to be greeted by the corpse of the rancher, hanging from a noose in his stairwell. The man had no history of mental illness and none of his relatives or acquaintances had any reason to believe he was suicidal. Additionally, an autopsy report concluded that both arms were broken in multiple places as well as every finger as if they had been crumpled together by a great force. He could not have tied the noose himself.
November 29th, 2018, 2:06 am, Wisconsin
Dispatch gets a call from another farmer. He had spotted a woman in an old black and white dress and linen cap. The woman had been standing in the long driveway from the road to his house, lit by the lamp that covered it. She stood motionless in the cold, windy, and heavily snowing weather. The farmer and his wife were later found under a collapsed wall of their crumpled house with stones placed on top. They had been placed in a seemingly orderly fashion until there was enough weight to crush their bones.
This happens to be the first incident we have on record with photo evidence. A trail cam owned by the farmer and his wife a few acres away from the house caught a picture the night of the incident. It caught a picture of the woman exactly as the farmer had described. Black and white dress, white linen camp. It looked as though she had stepped through time from hundreds of years before and placed like a mannequin in front of the camera.
May 30th, 2019, Minnesota
September 3rd, 2019, Nebraska
January 4th, 2020, South Dakota
I could go on but the point is that these incidents have been happening more and more frequently and they arenāt stopping. We do know what they are, or at least what theyāre supposed to represent to us.
Every single one of these āpeopleā lived in North America during the witch trials. We donāt believe they were the ones who were executed. We believe they were the ones who made the accusations, the ones who got their neighbors killed, the ones who carried out the executions and now theyāre back to kill again.
Luckily, my department picked up on these patterns early on and designated a team to deal with them. There are a few hundred of us. I am in the dark about what everyone does exactly. I havenāt met many but I do know that some find potential incidents, some investigate, some deal with the cover-up and handling the publicity, and then, of course, there are the ones you send in to eradicate the problem. Thatās where I come in.
I am here to hunt them down, to put them back in their graves so it would seem. Sometimes I get here before theyāve claimed a victim, sometimes after. But their reign of terror comes to an end with me. Theyāve never gotten away from me, and I have never failed an assignment. I didnāt plan on this night being any different.
A beep sounded from my laptop screen as an outline from one of the cameras lit up, indicating that the motion sensor detected movement. It had been quiet since I set it up, there was not even the slightest sign of wildlife. No deer, no squirrels, nothing. I leaned forward and intently examined the camera that had been triggered. There was nothing to see. Another sensor triggered. Again, the camera showed nothing. My eyes darted from camera to camera, looking for motion. Another camera triggered, though all that I caught sight of was a shaking tree branch. There was no wind today. Another. This time I saw it. A dog-looking figure darted across the camera in only a few frames, but I knew it was no dog.
I turned my attention from the cameras to the field in front of me, where the movement had come from. I got behind my rifle and looked down the scope to the treeline in the distance. My heart began to pound in my chest at an intense tempo.
I could feel the adrenaline kicking in while I scanned the edge of the field for movement. All that greeted me was the orange glint of the setting sun on the treeline and the tiny shadows of the little stumps of corn stalks in the otherwise empty field. It was silent. Not even a wind accompanied me this evening, though I canāt complain. Itās better for shooting.
For a few minutes, I continued to run my scope along the treeline, occasionally getting a peek with my own eyes. It was during one of these peeks when I noticed a color out of place, in between a couple of trees on the other side of the fieldāsome sort of black-and-white spec that was there not a second before. I lowered my head down, back behind the scope, and centered it. As I steadied the scope, a man-like figure standing at the edge of the field came into focus.
It wore black, tattered rags of clothing that hung loosely on its rigid frame. It stood still, stiff as a board. Its eyes were fixed on something ahead of it. It took me a moment to realize it was focused on me. It didnāt move a muscle, not even blinking as it stared.
I came to my senses and prepared to do my job. I flipped the safety off of my rifle and centered my crosshairs on its chest. I began to breathe deeply, my finger on the trigger, ready to pull but I didnāt take the shot, not yet. I saw it start to move.
Even with the distance between us, my scope made the picture of this figure clear as day. The movement came from only one part of its body; its mouth. First, its crusty lips detached from one another and the mouth began to open. Steadily, it opened more, and more all the while the rest of its body and head remained fixed. Its jaw sank to what should have been all the more it could, but it didnāt stop. It fell further, dipping down below its chest, its skin like a stretched rubber band waiting to snap, though it didnāt, it kept stretching.
Still stiff as a board, the man-like thing remained with its eyes locked on me while its mouth sat open, impossibly wide. It stood still with its hanging jaw for a moment, a moment I shouldnāt have given it. Now I knew I had my target. I began to apply pressure to the trigger before I was stopped, shaken by a force.
A scream, like a choir of souls in despair being dragged off to hell, with the power of a thousand horns sounding the start of a medieval battle rung through the fields. Its volume caused flocks of birds in the nearby trees to fly away in a panic, its bass shuddered through my chest and left me too hypnotized to pull the trigger. Iāll never get used to hearing one of them scream.
āHere we goā
I muttered to myself, the only thought I could conjure from my brain at the moment.
Closing its mouth, it leaped forward and reached for the ground in front of it with its hands fixed like claws. As soon as they met the ground, the feet followed and planted themselves quickly so that it could boost itself forward once again. It had begun its terrible charge. All the while, its face remained fixed on me, rotting teeth exposed and clenched in rage. The speed at which it rushed across the empty field would make a deer running for its life look lazy in comparison, but I was the prey here.
Though my heart began to race at the sight of this abomination barreling toward me, this anomaly of hatred and hunger bound to flesh, I remained calm. I began to steady my breathing, taking control of each breath, in and out.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
Inhale. Exhale.
Squeeze.
The crack of the shot rang out through the dimming sky and the field before me, my response to its enraged scream. I remained fixed on the target, observing the spatter of blood as it shot from its back. It began to scream again, this time rapidly and desperate in tone. I quickly moved the bolt and chambered the next round, accompanied by the soft ring of the brass bouncing on the floorboards under my chair.
Although I managed to land a clean shot to the chest, it didnāt do much. It kept running, keeping on at its same speed. Though now it changed its direction and was running adjacent to my position in the house. It was trying to flank me. It wanted to find a way around my line of sight. I couldnāt let it.
Again, I took control of my breathing. Slowly, I drifted my rifle on the bipod until the creature came back into view. Its limbs pounded at the ground with speed and power as it propelled itself across the field. Iāll never get used to seeing one run either.
Starting behind it, I continued to move the scope, just fast enough to begin gaining on him, just fast enough to let the crosshairs catch up. Inhale. Exhale. The crosshairs slowly began to overtake it. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.
I chambered the next round quickly. This shot brought him to the ground, but it didnāt keep him there. After a short tumble, it rose and began to run again, this time back towards the woods it came from. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.
The third shot grazed its back. Frustrated, I chambered another round and took aim, but it was far too late. Before I could even begin to line up my fourth shot, it had taken one final leap from the field back into the treeline it came from.
I let out a sigh and hung my head in disappointment. I knew what I had to do next but I sure as hell didnāt want to. The last flickers of sunlight shone through the open window and lit my .338 rifle as I reloaded the magazine. I sat and stared blankly at the screen in front of me, hoping a camera would pick up some sort of movement that could clue me into wherever it ran off to. Knowing my luck, I shouldnāt have expected it to.
After coming to terms with reality, I stood up and grabbed my .556, slinging it around my body and letting it hang in front of me. I aimed it down, looking through its sight and testing its laser again before checking the chamber. Good to go. Next, I adjusted the night vision set to my head before picking up my .338 and heading for the door. As I stepped outside, I let out another sigh, this one of stress. Hunting these things at night, on their own turf is never as fun, nor as easy as finishing them quickly from a distance but what choice did I have? I just wanted to get it over with.
I flipped down my goggles and switched them on, illuminating the dark field in green and white. I began my long walk across. It took me longer than expected. The speed of that monstrosity caused me to underestimate the size of the field. Each step I took was slow and quiet. I didnāt want the crunch of my feet meeting the dirt and remnants of corn stalks to disturb my hearing. If that thing made a noise, I needed to hear it. If only I could have quieted my incessant heavy, nervous breathing too.
I was not even halfway to the treeline when I reached the first pool of blood, where I had shot it for the second time, and it decided to retreat. Bits of flesh were scattered about the ground, but I didnāt care to stop and look. Instead, I focussed on the blood I could see that led back into the woods.
Any experienced hunter has had to track a deer or two. It can be very frustrating. The trail isnāt always so clear, and you never know how far it has gotten. In my case, I knew this thing was still alive, and it was angry.
I continued my walk, splitting my attention between the blood trail on the ground and the treeline in front of me, scanning for movement and listening. If I was lucky enough, it would have gotten bold and tried to take me down in the field. Unfortunately, Iām not so lucky. Silently, I followed the trail until it met the woods. I stopped walking and calmed myself.
I didnāt want to go past those damn trees, but there was no avoiding it. I had a job to do. I extended the bipod of my .338 and lowered it to the ground before raising the stock of my other rifle to my shoulder. I took a deep breath and resumed my walk, now even slower and more cautious. At least now my heavy breathing would be drowned out by the sound of snapping twigs beneath my feet.
Immediately upon entering the woods, I spotted the next sight of blood. It came from a tree branch, its leaves covered in the dripping crimson liquid. I walked up to observe, only to notice more blood on the branch above that one. And the next. I noticed the pattern and followed each branch up, one by one, each with its leaves covered in blood. Suddenly a mass moved on top of the tree next to the one I was looking up at.
I swung my rifle up, pointing above me at the top of the trees. The mass turned and into view came two glowing eyes, like white lights in my night vision. It opened its mouth again to let out another deafening scream but I raised my rifle and took aim. Its scream was cut short by a bang from my barrel and the thud of the rounds meeting flesh. I was only able to squeeze half a dozen rounds off before it leaped away, to the tops of the neighboring trees.
I kept shooting as it jumped from one tree to another, though within seconds it was out of my line of sight. I charged through the woods after it and watched it leap impossible distances, shaking trees so hard I thought some might snap. All the while I kept trying and failing, to line up a clean shot. The ones I did manage to squeeze off were either misses or ineffective.
Even at the full-on sprint that I managed to sustain for a good few minutes, I was barely able to keep up. I almost abandoned the chase entirely before I saw an opportunity. There was a clearing ahead. A trail. The distance across was far too wide for it to jump. It took a sharp right once it realized this and began jumping from tree to tree along the trail. I rushed into the opening before kneeling to line up a shot. I followed it with my sights, tracking the timing of each leap, and letting t it land and leap once more before it settled on a new tree. I shot off two more rounds as it braced to leap again.
They were perfectly placed and its body tumbled in the air and crashed violently to the ground. Having lined up my sight, I squeezed the trigger again to hear the absence of a gunshot, replaced by the click of the firing pin in the empty chamber. I screamed curses at myself as I quickly exchanged magazines. By the time I looked up, the body was already gone.
I got to my feet and continued down the trail at a jog-like pace with my rifle at the ready. I was beginning to get frustrated more than anything. Iāve put dozens of these things in the ground before, I didnāt understand why was I having such a hard time with this one. As I approached a curve in the trail, I slowed my pace and brought the stock of my rifle back to my shoulder. I approached the curve from the outside of the trail, trying to get a clear view of what was beyond when my head violently snapped to the left.
My vision went suddenly dark and it took me a few moments to realize that I wasn't dead, nor was I unconscious. Something hit my night vision goggles and knocked them clear off of my head, breaking the mount they sat on. My eyes were only beginning to adapt to the dark when another object came flying towards my head, narrowly missing as it whistled forcefully past my ear. It was a rock, around the size of a football. I couldnāt help but glance behind me in astonishment at the object that had nearly decapitated me before turning my attention back to what threw it.
Sure enough, there it was. Standing behind the trees at the corner of the path. I let my anger take control and began to fire rapidly at its torso. My disregard for accuracy hardly mattered at this range. Regrettably, it meant I was now closer than I would have liked and it began to charge. I landed shot after shot. Blood spurted from its back and painted the tree branches and leaves that it passed as it barreled toward me.
Again, my magazine went empty. Instead of bothering to reload a new one, I quickly drew my Glock and continued my rapid fire on the beast. It broke into the clearing and fell to all fours before it leaped forward and ran as it had done in the field. It closed the distance between us in seconds.
A hand clenched around my throat and I was lifted off of the ground like a feather. It kept running, past the edge of the clearing and carrying me into the woods. I continued to pepper it at point-blank range with my pistol. Between shots, I could hear its hysterical laughter directed at my futile efforts. Its face smiled with a look of sadistic insanity.
I continued shooting until my magazine went dry and I was stuck with an empty gun. With nothing else I could do, I began to beat its face with the empty pistol. This seemed to piss it off. It violently threw me through the air. I felt my body snap dozens of branches before I met the ground and rolled uncontrollably.
Recovering quickly, I grasped the rifle still slung around me and replaced the empty magazine with a new one. It was mere feet away from me when I started to fire. I got a few shots off before it grabbed my arm. This time I whipped the barrel of my rifle up, clubbing it hard across the face. It let out a short, irritated scream. I thrust my barrel at the top of its head, knocking it back as it emitted another angry grunt. It reached up with its left arm and tried to grab the barrel before half of its fingers were blown off by my next shot. It recoiled its arm in pain before swinging it back at me.
Upon contact, my rifle flew out of my hands and the sling came undone from my body as it was thrown far into the woods behind me. I attempted to retreat before he grabbed me with his right hand, and what remained of his left around my neck. Again, I was picked up and it carried me, this time only a short distance to a tree. My back cracked as I was slammed into the bark.
It looked up at me and smiled again.
āWe killed our sinners, we brought justice to our land. We brought justice for Godā
I ignored its foul speech, lifting an arm and hooking it across the face with a firm punch. It had no effect.
āYou are all sinners, and you will die for your sins as they didā
Again, I struggled and pummeled its face with everything I could muster but it still did nothing.
āNow go and burn in the lake of fireā
It shouted, before laughing with a dozen sadistic voices all coming from its mouth.
It opened its mouth and its jaw was once again stretched to what should be an impossible level. It lowered me until I was level with it. It moved its open mouth toward my head, shaking with rage. Its teeth now inches from my face. Its breath, foul. With my left arm, I drew my knife, slashing it across the chest before plunging it into its neck. I hooked a punch with my right arm that finally caused it to stumble. It wound up its own punch and let it loose. I narrowly escaped, ducking out of the way before its fist met the tree and went right through, splitting it in half before the wood tumbled to the ground.
I took this opportunity to draw my .357. He recovered from its punch and faced me, pulling the knife from its neck and letting blood spurt and gush. It stared me down as it slowly approached, ready to deliver its finishing blow.
Its head was shaking now, harder than ever in anger, its mouth hung open to half its capacity where it showed its rows of rotting human teeth. I raised my revolver and attempted to steady my sights but I was too shaky. I quickly collected myself. Inhale. Exhale. The front sight became level with the rear. Squeeze.
The recoil caused the gun to rise enough for me to get a look at the damage. I clipped its mouth, in the corner of its jaw. It hung open, with one side detached completely. It wailed in pain as it gargled its blood and crumbled to the ground. I aimed again, cocking the hammer. Squeeze. With the second round, I detached its jaw completely.
āLetās see you bite me now, fuckerā
I painfully muttered with anger. It dropped my knife and was now laying flat on its back, breathing heavily. I approached, cocking the revolver again as I did. It reached out with its mangled hand but I kicked it away before placing my barrel to its skull. Squeeze. And then silence.
After dragging the body back to the field, I spent the next few hours retrieving my lost and damaged equipment, as well as tediously finding every one of my cameras. I then retrieved my vehicle and drove it to the edge of the field. There was just one more thing to do.
I opened my trunk and pulled out the metallic box. I donāt understand why they make these things so goddamn heavy. I opened it and placed the corpse inside before securing the extremely heavy-duty lock. Next was the hole. It wasnāt easy digging after I had been roughed up and tossed around by an undead religious maniac with superhuman strength, but at least this was the last thing I had to do.
I finished digging the hole, placed the metal casket inside, and covered it up. From there, I collected my equipment, packed it up, and took off. Supposedly thereās a cleanup crew that comes in after weāre done with these missions and destroys any bizarre evidence.
I suspect they take the body as well. Where do they take it? What do they do with it? I have no clue but Iāve been strictly reminded to not ask questions on the matter and to just stick to doing my job. Still, I always find myself wondering.
What I have even more questions about is why these things exist in the first place. What the hell is going on? Why them? Why now? Has this been going on for longer than I know? Am I being lied to? What happens next, in the future, if this keeps going on? Itās only been getting worse. Theyāve only been popping up more and more frequently. When does it end? Does it end?
I have more questions than I do answers but what I can tell you is that this problem isnāt going away anytime soon. Itās only going to get worse. There are only going to be more of them, not less. The death toll will only continue to rise. People are going to find out sooner or later. It might as well be now. Maybe we will stop them. Maybe this will all come to an end one day, or maybe we are the ones who are all going to meet our end. Either way, Iāll be there to see it.
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Once a year, we have a big thank you post for everyone who has helped out in the DHT where we give out nifty flairs & gold to exceptionally informative and kind users. Check out our list of ScA Helpers and our most recent thank you post!
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Previous Threads
2023.03.25 05:00 Anglicanpolitics123 Today was the feast day of Archbishop Oscar Romero. The assassinated bishop and saint of El Salvador. These are quotations from his prophetic speeches and letters condemning the Latin American death squads of his country and also criticising President Jimmy Carter for inconsistency on human rights.
I've posted about Archbishop Romero several times and I'll do it again because if there was ever a man in our modern times who deserved the title and canonisation of the term "saint" it was him. Archbishop from 1977 to 1980 he was the head of the El Salvadorean Catholic Church at a time when there was a military dictatorship propped up by CIA trained death squads that caused the deaths of 75,000 people. This included innocent men, women and children including infants who were hacked to death in extermination campaigns launched by the dictatorship. He also lived at a time of vast economic inequality in his nation. Inspired by the example of his best friend, Fr Rutilio Grande who stood up for the poor and died, he would stand up for the poor and human rights too. This would lead to clashes with the military dictatorship of his country as well as the expansion of his voice through radio broadcast which was listened to by the poor, the peasant and indigenous populations of both El Salvador and Central America. Because of this the regime sought to bomb his radio stations, which he built back up again. Then they imprisoned him and placed him in solitary confinement. And he kept preached after he was released. Then they took over his Church and turned it into a military barracks to silence him. And through civil disobedience backed by the poor, peasant, mestizo and indigenous peoples he seized back control of the Cathedral even with the army's bullets pointed to him. Then finally when he preached his last sermon while doing mass, he was assassinated in 1980.
Jimmy Carter was the president of the United States at the same time Oscar Romero was Archbishop(1977-1981). He came in promising as one of his election campaigns to change the United States government's policy on human rights. Previous government's of Richard Nixon, Ford and Kissinger as their advisor backed a wave of repressive regimes that repressed human rights in Latin America and the developing world for Cold War purposes. Carter came in promising to prioritise human rights. Just like Oscar Romero he spoke about human rights as being something important. Unlike Romero however he was not consistent. On some issues, such as Chile, Argentina and Guatemala he cut military support for repressive regimes that engaged in murder and torture. However in other instances he continued the Cold War policy of strategic interests such as continuing the Ford-Kissinger policy of backing the Indonesian military's genocidal occupation of East Timor that resulted in the extermination of 200,000 people through an increase of military assistance. When human rights groups, including prominent clergy in the Catholic Church as well as Catholic relief services sought to give reports of what was going on on the ground to Congress, the Carter Administration produced reports either minimising the extent of the crimes and in many cases openly covering for the Indonesian government and stonewalling human rights activists. Carter would do the same thing in El Salvador. His administration continued arms sales to the regime for Cold War purposes and because of the election of 1980 to prove he was being "tough communism" against domestic criticisms. Romero would be assassinated that year and the arms sales continued. It would take the murder of 4 American nuns who's bodies where thrown in a mass grave for Carter to finally suspend arms sales. But that suspension would only last for a month. Because the last thing his administration does in the final weeks of January 1981 is resume those arm sales, which where then increased by President Reagan. These quotes below firstly show Romero's prophetic defense of human rights against the repressive leaders. It secondly shows a contrast between someone who lives and dies for human rights consistently and someone who inconsistently supports human rights depending on the politics. To use a Biblical reference we kind of see a David and Nathan moment here. Here are some of the quotes:
"I'd like to make a special appeal to the men in the army. Brothers, each one of you is one of us. We are the same people. The farmers and peasants that you kill are your own brothers and sisters. When you hear the words of a man telling you to kill, think instead of the words of God. Thou shalt not kill. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. In his name, and in the name of our tormented people, who have suffered so much and who's laments cry out to heaven. I implore you. I beg you. I order you. Stop....the repression!"(1980 speech before assassination)
"The omnipotence of these national security regimes, the total disrespect they display towards individuals and their rights, the total lack of ethical consideration shown in the means that are used to achieve their ends, turn national security into an idol, which, like the god Molech, demands the daily sacrifice of many victims in its name. The legitimate security that the state ought to seek for its members is cruelly perverted, for in the name of national security the insecurity of the individual becomes institutionalized"(Fourth Pastoral Letter)
"Because you are a Christian and because you have shown that you want to defend human rights, I venture to set forth for you my pastoral point of view concerning this news and to make a request. I am very worried by the news that the government of the United States is studying a form of abetting the arming of EI Salvador by sending military teams and advisors to "train three Salvadoran batallions in logistics, communications and intelligence." If this information from the newspapers is correct, the contribution of your government, instead of promoting greater justice and peace in EI Salvador, will without doubt sharpen the injustice and repression against the organizations of the people who repeatedly have been struggling to gain respect for their most fundamental human rights."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"If it is true that last November "a group of six Americans were in El Salvador...providing$200,000 in gasmasks and flak jackets and instructing about their use against demonstrators," you yourself should be informed that it is evident since then that the security forces, with better personal protection and efficiency, have repressed the people even more violently using lethal weapons. For this reason, given that as a Salvadoran and as archbishop of the Archdiocese of San Salvador I have an obligation to see that faith and justice reign in my country, I ask you, if you truly want to defend human rights, to prohibit the giving of this military aid to the Salvadoran government Guarantee that your government will not intervene directly or indirectly with military, economic, diplomatic or other pressures to determine the destiny of the Salvadoran people."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"It would be unjust and deplorable if the intrusion of foreign powers were to frustrate the Salvadoran people, were to repress them and block their autonomous decisions about the economic and political path that our country ought to follow. It would violate a right which we Latin American bishops meeting in Puebla publicly recognized when we said: "The legitimate self-determination of our people that permits them to organize according to their own genius and the march of their history and to cooperate in a new international order." I hope that your religious sentiments and your feelings for the defense of human rights will move you to accept my petition, avoiding by this action worse bloodshed in this suffering country."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
submitted by Anglicanpolitics123 to religion [link] [comments]
Jimmy Carter was the president of the United States at the same time Oscar Romero was Archbishop(1977-1981). He came in promising as one of his election campaigns to change the United States government's policy on human rights. Previous government's of Richard Nixon, Ford and Kissinger as their advisor backed a wave of repressive regimes that repressed human rights in Latin America and the developing world for Cold War purposes. Carter came in promising to prioritise human rights. Just like Oscar Romero he spoke about human rights as being something important. Unlike Romero however he was not consistent. On some issues, such as Chile, Argentina and Guatemala he cut military support for repressive regimes that engaged in murder and torture. However in other instances he continued the Cold War policy of strategic interests such as continuing the Ford-Kissinger policy of backing the Indonesian military's genocidal occupation of East Timor that resulted in the extermination of 200,000 people through an increase of military assistance. When human rights groups, including prominent clergy in the Catholic Church as well as Catholic relief services sought to give reports of what was going on on the ground to Congress, the Carter Administration produced reports either minimising the extent of the crimes and in many cases openly covering for the Indonesian government and stonewalling human rights activists. Carter would do the same thing in El Salvador. His administration continued arms sales to the regime for Cold War purposes and because of the election of 1980 to prove he was being "tough communism" against domestic criticisms. Romero would be assassinated that year and the arms sales continued. It would take the murder of 4 American nuns who's bodies where thrown in a mass grave for Carter to finally suspend arms sales. But that suspension would only last for a month. Because the last thing his administration does in the final weeks of January 1981 is resume those arm sales, which where then increased by President Reagan. These quotes below firstly show Romero's prophetic defense of human rights against the repressive leaders. It secondly shows a contrast between someone who lives and dies for human rights consistently and someone who inconsistently supports human rights depending on the politics. To use a Biblical reference we kind of see a David and Nathan moment here. Here are some of the quotes:
"I'd like to make a special appeal to the men in the army. Brothers, each one of you is one of us. We are the same people. The farmers and peasants that you kill are your own brothers and sisters. When you hear the words of a man telling you to kill, think instead of the words of God. Thou shalt not kill. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. In his name, and in the name of our tormented people, who have suffered so much and who's laments cry out to heaven. I implore you. I beg you. I order you. Stop....the repression!"(1980 speech before assassination)
"The omnipotence of these national security regimes, the total disrespect they display towards individuals and their rights, the total lack of ethical consideration shown in the means that are used to achieve their ends, turn national security into an idol, which, like the god Molech, demands the daily sacrifice of many victims in its name. The legitimate security that the state ought to seek for its members is cruelly perverted, for in the name of national security the insecurity of the individual becomes institutionalized"(Fourth Pastoral Letter)
"Because you are a Christian and because you have shown that you want to defend human rights, I venture to set forth for you my pastoral point of view concerning this news and to make a request. I am very worried by the news that the government of the United States is studying a form of abetting the arming of EI Salvador by sending military teams and advisors to "train three Salvadoran batallions in logistics, communications and intelligence." If this information from the newspapers is correct, the contribution of your government, instead of promoting greater justice and peace in EI Salvador, will without doubt sharpen the injustice and repression against the organizations of the people who repeatedly have been struggling to gain respect for their most fundamental human rights."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"If it is true that last November "a group of six Americans were in El Salvador...providing$200,000 in gasmasks and flak jackets and instructing about their use against demonstrators," you yourself should be informed that it is evident since then that the security forces, with better personal protection and efficiency, have repressed the people even more violently using lethal weapons. For this reason, given that as a Salvadoran and as archbishop of the Archdiocese of San Salvador I have an obligation to see that faith and justice reign in my country, I ask you, if you truly want to defend human rights, to prohibit the giving of this military aid to the Salvadoran government Guarantee that your government will not intervene directly or indirectly with military, economic, diplomatic or other pressures to determine the destiny of the Salvadoran people."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"It would be unjust and deplorable if the intrusion of foreign powers were to frustrate the Salvadoran people, were to repress them and block their autonomous decisions about the economic and political path that our country ought to follow. It would violate a right which we Latin American bishops meeting in Puebla publicly recognized when we said: "The legitimate self-determination of our people that permits them to organize according to their own genius and the march of their history and to cooperate in a new international order." I hope that your religious sentiments and your feelings for the defense of human rights will move you to accept my petition, avoiding by this action worse bloodshed in this suffering country."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
2023.03.25 04:57 Anglicanpolitics123 Today was the feast day of Archbishop Oscar Romero. The assassinated bishop and saint of El Salvador. These are quotations from his prophetic speeches and letters condemning the Latin American death squads of his country and also criticising President Jimmy Carter for inconsistency on human rights.
I've posted about Archbishop Romero several times and I'll do it again because if there was ever a man in our modern times who deserved the title and canonisation of the term "saint" it was him. Archbishop from 1977 to 1980 he was the head of the El Salvadorean Catholic Church at a time when there was a military dictatorship propped up by CIA trained death squads that caused the deaths of 75,000 people. This included innocent men, women and children including infants who were hacked to death in extermination campaigns launched by the dictatorship. He also lived at a time of vast economic inequality in his nation. Inspired by the example of his best friend, Fr Rutilio Grande who stood up for the poor and died, he would stand up for the poor and human rights too. This would lead to clashes with the military dictatorship of his country as well as the expansion of his voice through radio broadcast which was listened to by the poor, the peasant and indigenous populations of both El Salvador and Central America. Because of this the regime sought to bomb his radio stations, which he built back up again. Then they imprisoned him and placed him in solitary confinement. And he kept preached after he was released. Then they took over his Church and turned it into a military barracks to silence him. And through civil disobedience backed by the poor, peasant, mestizo and indigenous peoples he seized back control of the Cathedral even with the army's bullets pointed to him. Then finally when he preached his last sermon while doing mass, he was assassinated in 1980.
Jimmy Carter was the president of the United States at the same time Oscar Romero was Archbishop(1977-1981). He came in promising as one of his election campaigns to change the United States government's policy on human rights. Previous government's of Richard Nixon, Ford and Kissinger as their advisor backed a wave of repressive regimes that repressed human rights in Latin America and the developing world for Cold War purposes. Carter came in promising to prioritise human rights. Just like Oscar Romero he spoke about human rights as being something important. Unlike Romero however he was not consistent. On some issues, such as Chile, Argentina and Guatemala he cut military support for repressive regimes that engaged in murder and torture. However in other instances he continued the Cold War policy of strategic interests such as continuing the Ford-Kissinger policy of backing the Indonesian military's genocidal occupation of East Timor that resulted in the extermination of 200,000 people through an increase of military assistance. When human rights groups, including prominent clergy in the Catholic Church as well as Catholic relief services sought to give reports of what was going on on the ground to Congress, the Carter Administration produced reports either minimising the extent of the crimes and in many cases openly covering for the Indonesian government and stonewalling human rights activists. Carter would do the same thing in El Salvador. His administration continued arms sales to the regime for Cold War purposes and because of the election of 1980 to prove he was being "tough communism" against domestic criticisms. Romero would be assassinated that year and the arms sales continued. It would take the murder of 4 American nuns who's bodies where thrown in a mass grave for Carter to finally suspend arms sales. But that suspension would only last for a month. Because the last thing his administration does in the final weeks of January 1981 is resume those arm sales, which where then increased by President Reagan. These quotes below firstly show Romero's prophetic defense of human rights against the repressive leaders. It secondly shows a contrast between someone who lives and dies for human rights consistently and someone who inconsistently supports human rights depending on the politics. To use a Biblical reference we kind of see a David and Nathan moment here. Here are some of the quotes:
"I'd like to make a special appeal to the men in the army. Brothers, each one of you is one of us. We are the same people. The farmers and peasants that you kill are your own brothers and sisters. When you hear the words of a man telling you to kill, think instead of the words of God. Thou shalt not kill. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. In his name, and in the name of our tormented people, who have suffered so much and who's laments cry out to heaven. I implore you. I beg you. I order you. Stop....the repression!"(1980 speech before assassination)
"The omnipotence of these national security regimes, the total disrespect they display towards individuals and their rights, the total lack of ethical consideration shown in the means that are used to achieve their ends, turn national security into an idol, which, like the god Molech, demands the daily sacrifice of many victims in its name. The legitimate security that the state ought to seek for its members is cruelly perverted, for in the name of national security the insecurity of the individual becomes institutionalized"(Fourth Pastoral Letter)
"Because you are a Christian and because you have shown that you want to defend human rights, I venture to set forth for you my pastoral point of view concerning this news and to make a request. I am very worried by the news that the government of the United States is studying a form of abetting the arming of EI Salvador by sending military teams and advisors to "train three Salvadoran batallions in logistics, communications and intelligence." If this information from the newspapers is correct, the contribution of your government, instead of promoting greater justice and peace in EI Salvador, will without doubt sharpen the injustice and repression against the organizations of the people who repeatedly have been struggling to gain respect for their most fundamental human rights."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"If it is true that last November "a group of six Americans were in El Salvador...providing$200,000 in gasmasks and flak jackets and instructing about their use against demonstrators," you yourself should be informed that it is evident since then that the security forces, with better personal protection and efficiency, have repressed the people even more violently using lethal weapons. For this reason, given that as a Salvadoran and as archbishop of the Archdiocese of San Salvador I have an obligation to see that faith and justice reign in my country, I ask you, if you truly want to defend human rights, to prohibit the giving of this military aid to the Salvadoran government Guarantee that your government will not intervene directly or indirectly with military, economic, diplomatic or other pressures to determine the destiny of the Salvadoran people."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"It would be unjust and deplorable if the intrusion of foreign powers were to frustrate the Salvadoran people, were to repress them and block their autonomous decisions about the economic and political path that our country ought to follow. It would violate a right which we Latin American bishops meeting in Puebla publicly recognized when we said: "The legitimate self-determination of our people that permits them to organize according to their own genius and the march of their history and to cooperate in a new international order." I hope that your religious sentiments and your feelings for the defense of human rights will move you to accept my petition, avoiding by this action worse bloodshed in this suffering country."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
submitted by Anglicanpolitics123 to RadicalChristianity [link] [comments]
Jimmy Carter was the president of the United States at the same time Oscar Romero was Archbishop(1977-1981). He came in promising as one of his election campaigns to change the United States government's policy on human rights. Previous government's of Richard Nixon, Ford and Kissinger as their advisor backed a wave of repressive regimes that repressed human rights in Latin America and the developing world for Cold War purposes. Carter came in promising to prioritise human rights. Just like Oscar Romero he spoke about human rights as being something important. Unlike Romero however he was not consistent. On some issues, such as Chile, Argentina and Guatemala he cut military support for repressive regimes that engaged in murder and torture. However in other instances he continued the Cold War policy of strategic interests such as continuing the Ford-Kissinger policy of backing the Indonesian military's genocidal occupation of East Timor that resulted in the extermination of 200,000 people through an increase of military assistance. When human rights groups, including prominent clergy in the Catholic Church as well as Catholic relief services sought to give reports of what was going on on the ground to Congress, the Carter Administration produced reports either minimising the extent of the crimes and in many cases openly covering for the Indonesian government and stonewalling human rights activists. Carter would do the same thing in El Salvador. His administration continued arms sales to the regime for Cold War purposes and because of the election of 1980 to prove he was being "tough communism" against domestic criticisms. Romero would be assassinated that year and the arms sales continued. It would take the murder of 4 American nuns who's bodies where thrown in a mass grave for Carter to finally suspend arms sales. But that suspension would only last for a month. Because the last thing his administration does in the final weeks of January 1981 is resume those arm sales, which where then increased by President Reagan. These quotes below firstly show Romero's prophetic defense of human rights against the repressive leaders. It secondly shows a contrast between someone who lives and dies for human rights consistently and someone who inconsistently supports human rights depending on the politics. To use a Biblical reference we kind of see a David and Nathan moment here. Here are some of the quotes:
"I'd like to make a special appeal to the men in the army. Brothers, each one of you is one of us. We are the same people. The farmers and peasants that you kill are your own brothers and sisters. When you hear the words of a man telling you to kill, think instead of the words of God. Thou shalt not kill. No soldier is obliged to obey an order contrary to the law of God. In his name, and in the name of our tormented people, who have suffered so much and who's laments cry out to heaven. I implore you. I beg you. I order you. Stop....the repression!"(1980 speech before assassination)
"The omnipotence of these national security regimes, the total disrespect they display towards individuals and their rights, the total lack of ethical consideration shown in the means that are used to achieve their ends, turn national security into an idol, which, like the god Molech, demands the daily sacrifice of many victims in its name. The legitimate security that the state ought to seek for its members is cruelly perverted, for in the name of national security the insecurity of the individual becomes institutionalized"(Fourth Pastoral Letter)
"Because you are a Christian and because you have shown that you want to defend human rights, I venture to set forth for you my pastoral point of view concerning this news and to make a request. I am very worried by the news that the government of the United States is studying a form of abetting the arming of EI Salvador by sending military teams and advisors to "train three Salvadoran batallions in logistics, communications and intelligence." If this information from the newspapers is correct, the contribution of your government, instead of promoting greater justice and peace in EI Salvador, will without doubt sharpen the injustice and repression against the organizations of the people who repeatedly have been struggling to gain respect for their most fundamental human rights."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"If it is true that last November "a group of six Americans were in El Salvador...providing$200,000 in gasmasks and flak jackets and instructing about their use against demonstrators," you yourself should be informed that it is evident since then that the security forces, with better personal protection and efficiency, have repressed the people even more violently using lethal weapons. For this reason, given that as a Salvadoran and as archbishop of the Archdiocese of San Salvador I have an obligation to see that faith and justice reign in my country, I ask you, if you truly want to defend human rights, to prohibit the giving of this military aid to the Salvadoran government Guarantee that your government will not intervene directly or indirectly with military, economic, diplomatic or other pressures to determine the destiny of the Salvadoran people."(1980 Letter to President Carter)
"It would be unjust and deplorable if the intrusion of foreign powers were to frustrate the Salvadoran people, were to repress them and block their autonomous decisions about the economic and political path that our country ought to follow. It would violate a right which we Latin American bishops meeting in Puebla publicly recognized when we said: "The legitimate self-determination of our people that permits them to organize according to their own genius and the march of their history and to cooperate in a new international order." I hope that your religious sentiments and your feelings for the defense of human rights will move you to accept my petition, avoiding by this action worse bloodshed in this suffering country."(1980 Letter to President Carter)