The City of London has its own private funding and will 'buy-off' any attempt to erode its powers; any scrutiny of its financial affairs are put beyond external inspection or audit." Graham Vanbergen "The Independent newspaper (London) reported in July 2015 that The City of London is the money-laundering centre of the world's drug trade ... The current Internet-fueled maelstrom ignited by the article “Who Is the Bad Art Friend?”—about two writers and the putative ownership of a “kidney story:” for one writer it was a lived experience; for the other it was something to render in fiction— in all its dizzying permutations, the details of which were further recast in a court case, made me wonder if the corollary, the Good ... Password requirements: 6 to 30 characters long; ASCII characters only (characters found on a standard US keyboard); must contain at least 4 different symbols; It’s a sexy shade of white, it’s years old and yet somehow doesn’t look it, it was a super duper model back in the day, it is beginning to go on its way out and I will cry when it does. When it does die I will consider investing in an Apple Mac but I am a sucker for good old basic Microsoft (sorry not sorry) so it will take a lot of ... Cobra Kai is a Fighting Series/Dramedy that premiered on May 2nd 2018 on YouTube Red, later renamed YouTube Originals. It later moved to Netflix, which distributed the third season and took over production for the fourth season and beyond.It is a distant successor to the Karate Kid trilogy.. Since Johnny Lawrence (William Zabka) was beaten by Daniel LaRusso (Ralph Macchio) in the final round ... 49 Likes, 1 Comments - University of Central Arkansas (@ucabears) on Instagram: “Your gift provides UCA students with scholarships, programs, invaluable learning opportunities and…” Right and Left Identity Politics Reflect, the “fragmentation of the dominated groups.” The Communist historian, former member of the leading body of the Parti Communiste Français, Roger Martelli wrote a few days ago, (La gauche en quête de sens, Regards. also here, Avant la présidentielle (France) : la gauche en quête de sens) a gloomy article on next year’s Presidential elections. TIME magazine decided to create a list of the 100 most influential pictures ever taken. They teamed up with curators, historians, photo editors, and famous photographers around the world for this task. "No formula makes for iconic photos," the editors said. "Some images are on our list because they were… Over 2 million text articles (no photos) from The Philadelphia Inquirer and Philadelphia Daily News; Text archives dates range from 1981 to today for The Philadelphia Inquirer and 1978 to today for the Philadelphia Daily News OK it ain't safe for white people to go in the shithole black countries In Africa..or the shithole ghettos in america..oh I forgot its only wrong if ts against black people..lmao get over it its ...
2021.12.06 11:08 belltype Remember everyone trying to defend Marvel's Iron Fist about its' asian appropriation?
That stuff aged like fucking milk. A pandemic, a terrible live action Mulan, a million kpop stans, and exactly one Shang Chi later, and American Asians get a hash tag. lmao
I mean, let's just look at this poorly aged concept. A white kid coming from money goes overseas and learns kung fu because reasons. Comes back to get back his old money--this is a rich conservative white kid's dream. Come back and get what's rightfully your's?!
I can see now why people get upset over its asian dressings, and why people saying to get over it is just ignoring the problem.
Like, you could just combine Shang-chi with Iron Fist, and introduce them in Dr. Strange, and you would have a much better hero.
If you wanted something street level, you should just do a reskin of the Jackie Chan animation where a SEA person tracks down artifacts. Maybe picks up the Ronin mantle to steal back cultural artifacts that belong to their people. They just happen to be a thief in a previous life, and their monkey like behavior allows them to fight back on a self defense level.
My biggest gripe is with people in general. Maybe it was astroturfing where people paid by disney went around reddit saying "idc Iron Fist is great" or some alt righters using it as a vehicle to get back at the libs, or just redditors toking too much copium, but the hero is bad. It always felt bad. Being Asian, I didn't care about Major Matoko Kusanagi, because scifi dystopias are often post inclusion anyway. The problem is when a show set in contemporary times has a character living a grandiose delusion, it's way out of touch and trivializes anything caught up in its themes.
Asians are not vocal. So people scream over them that either they are wrong, that they are the problem, or that they are amusing and nothing more. I hate Iron Fist so much on a personal level, and even though it's way in the past, I really hope no one allows people to get away with that type of shit again. Especially with asian productions. (God knows we need yet another stupid wushu film)
submitted by belltype to Vent [link] [comments]
2021.12.06 11:08 pathwinsoftware Add Video Folders to CnX Media Library | Best 4K HDR Media Player on Windows 10 #cnxplayer
|submitted by pathwinsoftware to cnx_player [link] [comments]|
2021.12.06 11:08 CHIMMY0909 Trading ride skele-rex for ride ice golem!
2021.12.06 11:08 CtG526 Co-Op Mutation #294: Instant Karma
Amon's forces are determined to claim Bel'Shir's terrazine for themselves. They will stop at nothing to prevent you from reaching Stetmann's harvesters in time to save them. Move fast as you can to catch up to your enemies and end their assault.
Map: Mist Opportunities Concussive Attacks Player units are slowed by all enemy attacks. Speed Freaks Enemy units have double their normal movement speed. Time Warp Enemy Time Warps are periodically deployed throughout the map.
Rating: Brutal +1 Video Replays on Brutal:
|Player 1||Player 2|
|[CtG(Folly of Man Kerrigan)]||Aommaster (Solarite Celestial Karax)|
|[CtG(Chaotic Power Couple Han and Horner)]||Baumanmarketing (Heavy Weapons Specialist Swann)|
|[CtG(Arkship Commandant Artanis)]||[Piky (Tunneling Horror Abathur)]|
|[CtG(Shadow of Death Alarak)]||대머리아저씨 (Primal Contender Dehaka)|
2021.12.06 11:08 straightwhiteguy01 Would Nikolaj Coster-Waldau make a better Geralt of Rivia?
2021.12.06 11:08 jmmkf My cruel world [Chapter 1]
TW: child abuse, domestic violence, rape.
My name is Sylvia Stan. I was born on October 31, 1964, in Arizona. My father was French with Romanian roots. My mother was American. I had an older brother named Nick. My father was a very strict and conservative man. He was punishing me when I was a kid. I grew up in a very unhealthy home atmosphere, so I had behavioral and social problems from an early age. I had no friends, no boyfriend. My first love was the school bully George, but he didn't pay attention to me at all because I had a completely ordinary unremarkable appearance.
I was plain girl with a thin, almost boyish figure and 5'4" tall. I had dark brown thick hair of medium length (I think this is due to my Romanian-Gypsy roots), brown eyes and a little pale skin because I did not like walking in the fresh air. As a child, I had no interest in studying, drawing, or music. The only thing I loved was collecting little shiny stones that I was founding on the street when I was coming home from school. And I couldn't explain my strange craving for shiny objects in any way. There was something inexplicable and at the same time beautiful about it. However, even that harmless hobby had a very sad end. When my father found out about it, he got very angry that I was bringing home all kinds of trash, and threw my entire collection in the trash can. It's one of the saddest memories of my childhood.
I wasn't liked by the school teachers, so I had to change three schools during my whole education period. My grades at school were average, I wasn't stupid, I was more of a lazy pupil, which made my father angry. I graduated from high school in 1983, but I had no idea about choosing my future profession. My only favorite subject at school was physical education. I loved sports madly in high school. By nature, I was given the skills of agility, flexibility and fast running. So, in the summer of 1983 I plucked up the courage and went to my father. My goal was to inform him that I wanted to try myself in the profession of an aerobics coach or a physical education teacher. I had a huge hope that he would not mind and therefore would agree to it.
"Hey, Dad, I've decided who I want to be," I said timidly.
"I don't care about your decision. I decided it for you," Dad interrupted me rudely.
"But... Dad," I said indignantly.
"You will be a chemistry teacher. It's a wonderful profession!"
"You know I hate chemistry."
"So what? That's what I decided! My wish should be the law for you, Sylvia."
I knew my father's insufferable nature too well, so I had to agree. It was a huge defeat for me. It's impossible to try your hand at a field that you hate with all your heart. But I had no way out of this situation. My mother fully supported my father. I just had nowhere to look for support. He decided everything for me. It was an incredibly disgusting feeling of worthlessness, uselessness and impersonality. But the real hell was still waiting for me ahead. Do you know what hell is? I know! Hell is learning hateful chemical formulas under the strict gaze of your supervisor. Almost like in prison. In my case, the supervisor was my father.
I was praying to God for deliverance, and probably my prayers were answered. One evening, the phone rang in the living room. My father picked up the phone, listened to something with a serious expression on his face, said something like, "I'll definitely come up with something," hung up, then turned around and looked at me.
"Sylvia, your grandmother is seriously ill. She needs care. You should move in with her in Los Angeles," He said.
I cannot describe the full scope of my emotions when I heard these words. It meant only one thing: I would get out from under the watchful and all-seeing eye of my father.
"Oh... yeah. But what about my college admission?" I diligently pretended to be interested in my education.
"It's not a problem. You're going to California College."
My move to California was an unforgettable event. If you lived in Los Angeles, San Francisco or Sacramento in the 1980s, you should know what an amazing sight California was at that time. It was a magnificent combination of a riot of colors, palm trees, salty sea spray and fresh wind. On a sunny July morning, my father drove me to Los Angeles. The first thing I did in my new territory was to take a full breath of air. It was a completely different air; it was as if it was woven from freedom, recklessness and fun. I immediately wanted to go shopping, or even go to the beach. But besides the new freedom, I also had a new responsibility in the person of my grandmother. My grandmother was 65 years old, and she was quite a cheerful old lady, but the injury to her left leg, which she received in 1980, had a very bad effect on her health. She began to have problems with her legs, and by the middle of the summer of 1983 she had become a complete invalid. She had no other relatives besides us, and her husband (my grandfather) died long before I was born.
My father explained and told me about various medications, medical care and other similar things, and then took my things to the second floor of the house and left back to Arizona. And I was left alone with my grandmother. I really wanted to wander alone through the streets of California, so on the first day I left my grandmother unattended and went for a walk. I had so many plans, I wanted to find myself a huge number of friends, and then fall in love with some guy and run away with him to the end of the world. I didn't have a single thought about studying in my head. I got home early in the morning. I was very tired, but happy, and I was also damn sleepy.
"Where have you been all night, honey? I was so worried about you. Los Angeles is such a big city with so many dangers," Grandma asked excitedly.
It made me angry. I didn't want to answer to her for my actions.
"I was just taking a walk. Or am I a prisoner here?"
"Oh no, honey, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you."
"I already figured that out. There's no need to repeat it a thousand times."
"Оh... okay. What are we having for breakfast?" Suddenly Grandma asked.
I wasn't prepared for such a question. I was too lazy to cook anything after such a long exhausting walk, so I looked around the room and saw an apple in a vase. I took that apple and trew it on the bed.
"But... You know I have trouble with my teeth. Can you peel this apple for me?"
"That's your problem! If you don't want it, then don't eat it!"
Then I left the room, slammed the door, went to my room, collapsed on the bed and fell asleep. My grandmother remained hungry. The next morning I did make her applesauce. Even though it was a very meager breakfast, she was still very grateful.
In the days that followed, my grandmother didn't interest me too much. I was busy preparing for college. Yes, I still managed to do it. Despite the fact that my name was last on the list, and the result was one of the worst, I was still happy about it. It meant only one thing: I could stay in California longer.
However, studying turned out to be much more difficult than I thought. I didn't have a conscientious attitude to my education. I literally hated every day of college. I hated my very smart and capable classmates, all the professors, technical staff, and even just passers-by on the street. Grandma was getting worse and worse. So she started to annoy me. I wasn't a nurse or a babysitter, so my level of care for her was at a very poor level. I was madly angry because I had to take care of my grandmother while my peers were relaxing and having fun.
One day I ran away from class. I didn't want to go home, so I just walked down the street. Suddenly my attention was attracted by a man who was selling alcohol. I was dying to try alcohol to distract myself from bad thoughts, but I had no money. So I figured out where to get the money. I remembered that my grandmother had a jewelry box, so I decided, "Why does she need these jewelry? She's an old woman already." And I decided to steal them to exchange for alcohol later. I found the box on the table in the living room, opened it and was petrified with delight. The appearance of the jewelry made a great impression on me, although inside there were ordinary silver earrings, pearl beads and several bracelets made of ordinary beads. But there was a ring at the bottom of the box. I took out the ring and examined it. It was gold with a small blue stone. It had a wedding engraving on it. Yes, it was my grandmother's wedding ring, and I stole it.
"Ha, well, you're either the most zealous drunk in the world, or you're just kidding. This ring is very expensive. You stole this ring, didn't you?" Тhe salesman asked me.
"It's none of your business! Can you just sell me a bottle of whiskey?" I replied with anger in my voice.
The salesman looked at me strangely, put the ring in his pocket, took the largest bottle of whiskey out of the refrigerator and silently handed it to me. This was my first taste of such a drink. I really liked it. That night I came home very late, turned on the lights all over the house, which really scared my poor grandmother. Then I burst into her room.
"Sylvia, my dear girl, are you drunk? Tomorrow morning you will be sick of alcohol," Grandma said carefully.
"But now I'm having a lot of fun! Hey, old lady, do you want to have a drink with me?" I laughed and handed her the bottle.
"No, no... Alcohol is contraindicated to me," She replied.
"This is even better. This alcohol is delicious. Your ring was worth it."
"What ring?" Grandma asked cautiously.
"Your blue stone ring. Why are you looking at me so surprised? This is California! I will not live here on the meager pennies that my stingy father gave me. Why do you need your ring? You're old anyway."
"But that was my last memory of Nicholas, your grandfather..." My grandmother whispered in a broken voice.
"He's dead! And I'm alive, and I'm here! I needed money!" I was really angry.
Grandma didn't say anything. She just turned her face to the wall and started crying, and I turned off the light and left her room. Conscience was a rather distant concept for my sick mind. This disgusting mindset was not something bad for me. I didn't feel sorry for my poor grandmother at all. But there was one strange thing that I still couldn't explain. Why did I react this way to the jewelry in the box? My brain desperately wanted an answer to this unusual question, but could not get it. I was dreaming of jewels, precious stones, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, rubies. My drunken hallucinations were in the guise of creepy monsters, evil dwarves from fairy tales and ghosts. They were reaching out to me with their nasty hands from all corners of my bedroom in the hope of taking my jewelry. In the morning I realized only two things: I have a craving for theft, and drinking alcohol in large quantities is a bad idea. I got out of bed with a heavy hangover and went to my grandmother's room, but as soon as I opened the door, I saw her lifeless body. My theft finally undermined her health, and she died. That's how I first encountered human death.
My mother arranged the funeral. My father didn't come to California because he was very busy at work. With my mom came Mrs. Leslie (her friend) who helped her organize the funeral. She was a huge, burly, middle-aged blonde, and compared to her, my skinny, short mother was an insignificant bug. Leslie, apparently, was my father's mistress, and this was not a surprise to my mother. But what could my mother do with such a fact? My domineering father was the head of our family, so he was allowing himself such abominations.
The evening after the funeral, my mom, Leslie and I were washing dishes in the kitchen.
"Your late mother had a huge house. Sylvia will be living here alone now, right? It will be difficult for her to manage the entire household. Come on, I'll live here with her. I'm on vacation anyway, and Arizona is boring this time of year, you know," Leslie said, looking around the kitchen.
"Oh, that's so thoughtful of you. But I think Sylvia can handle it on her own," Mom replied.
"Rebecca, listen to me, the girl needs to recover after the death of her grandmother. I will be by her side as a moral support."
In the end, Mom agreed to it, and after a couple of days left back to Arizona. I started living with Leslie. She was really helping me and supporting me. But only in the first days. Then one day she brought a man into the house and locked herself in the bedroom with him. The next day she brought another man, and the day after that she threw the first party. I didn't mind the fun, but the overly loud music was annoying me. Soon there were even more men. They were coming in the afternoon and leaving in the morning of another day. Leslie was embarrassing about it for a while, but then she stopped doing even that... And I decided to give her an ultimatum.
"This is not a brothel, this is my late grandmother's house. If you do something like that again or throw another party, I'll call my dad, tell him about it, and you'll end up on the street."
"Really? Do you want to call your dad? Baby, it was your father who sent me here to live. Do you really think he can kick me out of here? I don't think so! Or not, maybe your weak-willed mother can do it?" Leslie replied with a mocking laugh.
After these insulting words, my eyes clouded. It was like a small tornado of uncontrollable anger exploded inside me, so I grabbed the vase from the table and threw it against the wall with all my might. The vase shattered into small pieces, and Leslie jumped up from the sofa in fright and hit me on the cheek.
"You need psychiatric help! Get out of my sight!" She screamed.
On the way to college, I looked at my hands. What happened to me? I couldn't explain my outburst. The day at college was terrible. I had a bad feeling. I didn't even want to go home to avoid seeing nasty Leslie and all her lovers. However, I still had to return in the evening.
I was stunned. My God, what has the living room become?! It was like the picture after the atomic bombing. When I came in, I saw a drunk Leslie sleeping on the couch with some half-naked man. There was another man lying on the floor next to her. I walked past them and went up the stairs to the second floor. When I was already near my room, I heard a noise behind me, turned around and looked down. It was a man I probably hadn't noticed initially. He was about 50 years old, he was a little fat. Yes, he noticed me too, and then, for some reason, he smiled rapaciously. I was scared of him and quickly went to my room.
I changed into my dressing gown in my room and listened. There was music playing on the ground floor, Leslie forgot to turn it off before falling asleep. I wanted to wash up in the bathroom. But as soon as I opened the door, this creepy man was already behind her. Was he spying on me? I tried to close the door, but he was faster, so he quickly entered my room. I could tell by the smell that he was drunk. At first he just sat on my bed and looked at me in silence. I was only wearing a short robe, so I felt terrible.
"Get out of here! I'll call for help!" I shouted.
"Baby, I just want to be your friend. Leslie told me how you broke a heavy vase. You're such a fragile girl... just my type..." He replied in a stammering voice.
He jumped out of bed and approached me. There was a wooden closet behind me, and I pressed my back against the closet door. I had nowhere to run. He grabbed me and threw me on the bed, which was in the other corner. I flew across the room and hit my back hard against the headboard of the bed and this bastard came closer, leaned on top of me and punched me in the face. I felt blood, he broke my lip or nose. I tried to call for help, but he put his hand over my mouth. No one would have heard my screams anyway, because the music was still playing on the ground floor. Everything else was a blur. I could feel his disgusting hands all over my body, I could feel his drunken breath. He even tried to kiss me on the lips. Then I felt him lift my robe. I was fighting like crazy, but my strength was very little to defeat him. But my emotions turned off, so I didn't even realize when he finished what he did to me. Then he got up and dressed.
"So you really was a little virgin? Wow, Leslie didn't pay me for nothing..." I heard as if through a veil.
Maybe he said something else to me, but I just didn't hear it, just like I didn't hear the slam of the door closing and his footsteps coming down the stairs. I just wanted to close my eyes and never open them again, so as not to see what this man did to my body. It was a feeling of wild shame mixed with great pain. I wanted to die. I was terrified that he might come back and do it again. Thank all the Gods that he didn't, he must have preferred the awakened Leslie for the second time. I do not know how I survived that night, but I survived.
In the morning I didn't know what to do. No one was home, not Leslie, not my rapist, not any other men. They must have gone to the store for snacks and alcohol. I quickly ran into the living room, grabbed the phone and called my father.
"Leslie, honey, what's wrong? Why are you calling me so early? My father's gentle voice rang out.
"I'm not Leslie... Dad, it's me... I have to tell you something..." I said with tears in my voice.
"Oh, it's you. Why aren't you in college?" Dad said irritably.
"Dad... I was raped last night. One of Leslie's lovers did it!"
"What the hell are you talking about? Who was it? What did he look like?"
"He... he was dark-haired, of medium height and a little overweight."
"Mr. Jones? Are you out of your mind, Sylvia? He's my best friend! He couldn't have done it."
"But, Dad, why would I lie? It's true!" I started sobbing at the top of my voice.
"In that case, I congratulate you! You've become a woman. Jones is a man with a lot of experience. He's better than some stupid boy. And also, don't you dare call the police! I don't want my dear Leslie to get in trouble for such a small thing," Dad said calmly.
I didn't say anything in response, as if something inside me had broken.
"Why are you silent? I'll be in California in a week. And you will have huge problems..."
I hung up the phone in silence. My father didn't believe me. The safety of his mistress was more important to him. No, I couldn't stay in this house anymore, alone with Leslie, with my rapist, and even more so I couldn't wait for the promised arrival of my father. I ran as fast as I could to my room, grabbed my travel bag and put my things in it. The most necessary. They were mostly simple dresses, skirts and a couple of T-shirts. Then I threw my wallet with the last 10 dollars in the bottom of the bag, went down the stairs to the first floor and went outside. It was September 1983. I had nowhere to go, I had no friends, and in college all my classmates hated me for my short temper, so I went out the gate and just walked down the street. I didn't know at all what to do and where to go now, but one thing I knew for sure I would not return to my grandmother's house anymore. I won't stay there a day. It's possible that even the stray dog itself had more places to hide than I did at that moment.
I walked for a very long time. I didn't care where I was going. But after a while I got tired, so I sat down on a random bench. A tramp came up to me.
"Hey, girl, this bench is mine. Find yourself another place," He said.
"What? Oh... I'm sorry," I replied distantly. This tramp was clearly out of place here.
"Why are you so sad?" He asked and sat down next to me.
"What's it to you?" I snapped and turned my head to him. It was a middle-aged man in very dirty rags, and he smelled bad.
"Tell me and you'll feel better. After all, I'm just a tramp like you."
Sharing my innermost thoughts with the first person I met was not part of my plans, but my emotions took over. It was the first time in my life when my feelings were asked.
"Yes, you're right. From this day forward, I am homeless. I won't tell you anything else," I was as brief as possible.
"Well, then I'll just have to invite you to heaven," He was strangely pleased.
"What do you mean by 'heaven'? No, I want to and I will live," I panicked.
"Ha, it's not what you think. Heaven is the place where you will be accepted. You can get help there," There was hope in his voice, and I thought he was referring to a homeless shelter or some kind of charity organization. I really needed help in this situation. Yes, it is difficult to agree to go somewhere with the first person you meet after such a terrible incident, but I was in the strongest emotional shock because of the experience, so I didn't care where he would take me and what he would do to me. I just desperately clung to a small flame of hope that he would lead me to some shelter, and not stab me around the corner. Anyway, the street was deserted and if he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it already.
"Well, I agree. How do I get there?"
"You're lucky. A certain car will go there in half an hour. We'll hide in the trailer and go there too."
It sounded strange, and I was wary, but in any case, a strange trip in a trailer was better than starving to death on the street, and I agreed in the hope that I would soon end up in some mental health center.
"Great! You'll like it there. By the way, I'm Rob. What's your name?" He asked.
"It's a beautiful name. You have a slight accent. Are you American?"
"Not really. In my family, only my mom's late parents were Americans. And my father is French, although most of his ancestors were from Romania," I replied.
"And I don't remember my parents at all. I've been wandering all my life." He said with sadness in his voice.
We waited a little longer, and then Rob led me to the square in the middle of which there was a garbage truck.
"Uh, really? I was a little taken a back."
"Yes. Why are you so surprised? The road to paradise is sometimes covered with garbage and waste."
I had no choice in this situation. We sneaked past the cleaners and the driver, opened the back door and climbed into the trailer. Inside were bags of waste that smelled unbearably bad. We had to hide behind one of them so that no one would find us. The car stood for a couple of minutes, and then moved off. During the trip, I was imagining the place where I would get to. For sure, they will feed me there immediately and provide first aid. Since there were no windows in the trailer, I didn't have the opportunity to look out and see where we were going. I don't remember how much time passed, maybe I even fell asleep a little, but Rob woke me up.
"Hey, we're here. This is your new home now." He told me.
I cautiously climbed out and looked around. A gloomy picture of dilapidated houses, dirty streets, stench, lack of money and mass decline appeared before me. It was some kind of slum in the form of a lot of leaning, half-rotted one-story or two-story wooden houses with paved dirty and narrow streets between them. There was an indescribable smell of garbage, waste and dampness in the air. In some places, screams, swearing and children's crying were heard. At that moment, it even seemed to me that the sky over this area was darker and grayer than over the rest of Los Angeles. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"No! No way! I'm going back!" I got mad, tried to climb back into the truck, creating a noise.
"Get out of here, you scumbags! I'm not a free taxi for you!" It was the driver's scream.
He noticed us, grabbed a stick, got out of the cab of the car and chased us. Rob grabbed my arm and we had to run towards the slums. The furious driver soon left us behind and got back behind the wheel.
"Wow, we're finally home!" Rob shouted happily.
"Stop! I'm not a tramp... No, I mean, I'm a tramp, but not to the same extent. This is a social bottom. I will be killed here at the first opportunity."
"Silly, I've been living here for 35 years and I'm still alive. The main thing is that you should be careful and not quarrel with anyone here." Rob became suddenly serious.
This decision was very difficult for me. I know a lot about such places and about the huge number of homeless people, drug addicts and prostitutes in such areas. I thought this place was really worthy of trash like me. And it wasn't a coincidence that Rob met me. However, the prospect of staying on the street did not please me with a strong thunderstorm, so I decided, "I'll stay here for a couple of days, figure out how to make money, and then leave this terrible place. In any case, there are sufferers like me living here. Maybe one of them will want to help me."
Rob and I walked down a narrow street, crossed the road and came to a huge iron gate. Rob knocked on them three times. The door was opened by a short elderly woman with dirty, matted gray hair, a wrinkled face, she was dressed in a greasy dressing gown, which, apparently, had once been blue. When she saw Rob, she smiled, then looked at me, smiled even wider and showed her toothless mouth.
"Rob, we haven't seen each other for a long time. I am very glad that you have brought us new meat."
"Shut up, you fool!" Rob whispered to her. And then turned to me. "Don't listen to her, Sylvia. This is a joke."
I didn't like these words about "new meat", but I believed Rob and went with him to the yard.
It turned out to be a tiny courtyard in the shape of a square. Three sides of this square consisted of abandoned buildings, and the fourth was a gate. A bonfire was burning in the middle of the yard, and tramps were sitting around it. I saw them and realized that Rob was a prince charming compared to them...
I grew up in a pretty decent middle-class family. My father, although he was very stingy, but was boughting me and my brother pretty good clothes. But the motive for this was not a desire to please children, but a desire to show off fashionable clothes in front of neighbors. I inherited such greed and selfishnes. Yes, we weren't millionaires, but we had quite a decent house and car, so I couldn't even imagine that something like this existed in the world. In their outlines they were the same people as you and me, but outwardly they did not look very much like representatives of the human race. I would really insult the word "rags" if I compared their clothes and appearance to rags. Among them were men, women, teenagers and even children. Perhaps it was one big family or several families. I don't know. Suddenly, almost synchronously, they turned their heads in my direction and looked at me. Their eyes were fixed on me, neither on Rob, nor on the old woman. I felt creepy. Everyone had the same look in everyone, even small children. I felt like I had hundreds of needles stuck into my body. I backed up to the gate, but it was locked. Besides, it was already dark. I tried to reassure myself that these were just unhappy people who, by the will of a cruel fate, became homeless. And this fact calmed me down a little.
"Hi guys, we have a new addition to the team. This is Sylvia. She's staying with us for a while. Do you mind?" Rob introduced me.
"No. We don't mind," Voices were heard.
"Can I go to bed? Where can I lie down? I'm very tired today," I asked Rob.
"Yes, of course. Mary, find her a place to sleep," He turned to the old woman.
An elderly woman, whose name was apparently Mary, pointed me to a mattress in the farthest corner of the yard. Yes, it was clearly not what I expected. The only thing that pleased me was that the mattress was lying on a raised platform, something like a table. I lay down on this pathetic semblance of a bed, put my bag instead of a pillow, covered myself with my denim jacket and fell into a sound sleep. My life has changed too dramatically in just one day. Yesterday I was an ordinary student, and today I am a tramp who was raped by father's best friend.
My mother, who dreamed of being a psychologist in her youth, but dropped out of college in her final year because my father insisted on it, once told me that a person has many ways of psychological protection, such as rationalization, denial, isolation, projection, etc. This means that when terrible things happen to us, our brain independently begins to protect our psyche from all adverse consequences. For example, in the case of projection, we unconsciously attribute our failures and experiences to other people, while rationalizing, we try to explain or find a logical explanation for all the bad things that have happened to us.
Lying on the mattress in such a strange place, I involuntarily remembered my mother. She could have achieved tremendous success in the field of psychology, if not for my father's stupid principles that a woman can't achieve anything in science. I loved my mom, even with all my detachment. Moments of my childhood immediately surfaced in my head, when my mother shared little psychological secrets with me. And when watching movies together, she liked to comment and note the behavior of the characters. For example, three years ago, when the whole family were watching the recently released film "The Taming of the Shrew", she noticed a different method of psychological protection called sublimation in the main character, when the character played by Adriano Celentano started chopping firewood in difficult moments to distract himself.
In my case, my mind chose the method of denial. I desperately didn't want to believe what had happened to me last night. No, it definitely wasn't me, it all happened to some other Sylvia. So let this "other Sylvia" remain forever in the past, and "future Sylvia" will come instead. Well, let's see what the next day will bring me. My eyes closed and I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up in the middle of the night. There was no one near the fire, only in the distance I saw two silhouettes sitting. It was Rob and Mary. Fragments of their dialogue reached me.
"She's very thin, Rob."
"Nonsense. We'll fatten her up..."
"Yes. And what are you going to fatten her up with? We don't have enough food ourselves." The old woman protested.
I didn't like it. Why do they care so much about my weight? This is not a modeling agency. But I wasn't paying attention to it. Perhaps they were against my thinness because they thought it was due to some kind of illness. And I fell asleep again until the morning. The next morning I woke up and saw that the gate was open, and Rob and some other tramp were dragging a bag.
"Good morning. What are you guys doing?" I asked.
"Nothing!" snapped Rob.
I was surprised by such a sudden change in his mood. He was very friendly yesterday. I was a little offended by this and fell silent. And they finally pulled out the bag and closed the gate. I got up from the mattress and looked around. It was unusually quiet, with dogs barking in the distance. I remembered that I hadn't eaten for more than a day. I was curious what the tramps would offer me. Old Mary came up to me and handed me a bowl of meat soup. I was very surprised by this. The soup looked very appetizing, with floating boiled pieces of carrots, onions and the smell of spices. And there were pieces of meat floating in the bowl. Some of the pieces were cooked too hard, so I noticed red streaks inside them. I thanked the old lady and took the plate from her hands. I was very hungry, so I greedily ate all the soup, everything except the pieces of meat. Even in such difficult conditions, I decided to stick to my vegetarian principles.
"Why don't you eat meat?" Mary asked me.
"I'm a vegetarian. I don't want to," I replied.
"How dare you bicker? From now on, you live at our expense. You have to eat everything we give you. Or are you squeamish?"
Why did my refusal to eat meat make her angry?
"Well, well, forgive me if I'm bothering you so much. I'm not going to stay here for long. I need to find a job," I replied.
"You will not go beyond this gate," The old woman suddenly replied.
"In what way? I'm not going to stay with you forever!" I protested.
"It's not up to you to decide. To begin with, today you will be left without lunch," She said, then took a plate and went to the shed, which was on the right side.
I looked around the yard incredulously. By a happy coincidence, it never rained. The fire in the middle had burned down and now only a light trickling haze was rushing into the sky, which was still gloomy. The tramps were either sleeping or sitting around the burnt-out fire in small groups. I was alerted by the fact that the old woman did not want to let me out of the yard, so I thought that if these tramps were my supposed enemies, then I should watch them for a while. There were about 15 of them, most of them were middle-aged men who were just sitting on the ground and quietly discussing something. Women and children were lying or sitting on benches on the right side. And I drew attention to the fact that despite the presence of sheds, all the inhabitants of this yard preferred to sleep outdoors rather than in sheds. Perhaps, if they are vagrants, then according to their laws, sleeping indoors was something really indecent. The shed on the right was dilapidated with a sagging roof and creaking doors on broken hinges. On the roof I noticed a chimney from which smoke was coming, I remembered that the old woman took the plates there and realized that this shed serves as a kind of kitchen for tramps. The shed on the right looked a little better, but it completely lacked a roof and was something like an empty box without a roof. It was the association with gift wrapping that came to my mind when I saw this building. But unlike the smell of Christmas gifts, or birthday gifts, this shed smelled of unbearable stench and dirt, and from there the sounds of grunting were occasionally heard. It must have been a barn for pigs, or for pets. But animals need care. Where do they get money for animal feed if they have nothing to eat themselves? The building opposite the gate, which I called the main building because of its location and because it was too big, was a barn with a small window. It looked as dilapidated as the other two sheds, but unlike them it had excellent iron doors with two images of angels carved on them. I saw such angels in one of the pictures in the textbook when we were studying the history and culture of the Renaissance. These angels depicted on the door, which was the entrance to the barn, standing among the yard of tramps and beggars, among the slums seemed to me the limit of absurdity and madness. There was not a single suspicion in my head that anything else in this world could be so unsuitable for each other. What the hell do tramps keep behind such beautiful doors? I didn't think they had their personal belongings and personal hygiene items stored there, as their appearance was hinting at the complete absence of this.
However, my thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of the doors opening. It was old Mary. She swaggered out of the barn on the right, walked to the barn on the left, opened the door and let out a huge black pig. This damn pig scared me, firstly it was huge, one and a half times bigger than the usual pig that I once saw as a child at one of the fairs, secondly it was very shaggy, like a bear, or like a poodle, thick long ruffled wool was covering its entire body. And she was also very fat, and could barely hold her huge carcass on four short legs and therefore was constantly staggering when moving. It was definitely one of the ugliest pigs in the world. But for the old woman, she was probably more loved than her own life. I realized this by the way she knelt down on the very huge layer of dirt, which in this closed square was enough to take at least a hundred mud baths, and began to carefully stroke the pig's snout. Then she got up, took the pig to the right shed, then brought out some rusty saucepan and began to feed it. She was scooping up a disgusting greyish-brown liquid with her withered old hands and affectionately stuffing it into the pig's mouth.
Yes, I was ready to put up with this spectacle, because excessive love for animals is not something bad, but I was not ready for the fact that the old woman herself would start eating this disgusting slime. Seeing this, I slowly backed away, got to my "bed" and sat down in a daze. And, apparently, these disgusting actions shocked only me. Other inhabitants of the creepy yard took it absolutely adequately, as if there was not a smelly slime in the pot, but an ordinary broth, as if it was not a huge 800-pound pig capable of killing a person with one movement, but an ordinary pet rabbit or hamster. The men were still sitting by the burnt-out fire, arguing quietly in their hoarse and rude voices, the women were still sitting on the benches that were used as their sleeping places. And as for the children, even they were too strange and quiet to match their mothers. There was no sound of their laughter, hooting, or crying. I wasn't even sure if they were real, but what if they were all mannequins? Yes, it is defined, they are just huge dolls in which there is no human soul, but no, they were ordinary with human children, even with their creepy eyes.
I turned my gaze to the old lady, who had already finished the slop together with her beloved huge pig. The pig grunted with satisfaction and lazily trudged to the left shed. I didn't like it. And I tried to summarize the results. So, I was in the yard with creepy tramps, a big pig and a crazy old lady who likes to eat slop. And I am also forbidden to go outside the gate. I tried to calm down, assuring myself that if they didn't do anything to me at night when I was sleeping and defenseless, they wouldn't do anything during the day. However, such words for inner peace did not give me the desired and lasting result. I realized that I needed to get out of this place as quickly as possible. Even if I had no money and I was alone in California. Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the gate. The old woman came out of the shed, took a small key from the right pocket of her robe, went over, opened the gate and put the key back in her pocket. I noticed and remembered this detail.
Rob and the tramp who had helped him carry the sack in the morning came into the yard.
"Hey, Sylvia, come with us. You said yesterday that you needed a job. So you have to help us and we will reward you," Rob turned to me.
But this was already quite good news. If they're not lying and there's a reward waiting for me, then that's great, I'll be able to leave this place. And if not, then I will try to steal the key to the gate from the old woman at night and escape. But in any case, the opportunity to just walk out the gate and explore the area was a damn good opportunity for me. I got up, put on my denim jacket, went out with the tramps through the gate and quickly, barely keeping up with them, walked down the path.
Life can be really unpredictable sometimes.
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2021.12.06 11:08 CD_Turtle Who do you vote to win at each Survivor FTC?
Above is the link to a Google Poll I made. Fill out as many as you please, none are required since not everyone has seen every season. Be warned, however, that the finalists for every season are spoiled if you don't look away at the right times.
I'll leave this up for 24-48 hours and post the results soon!
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2021.12.06 11:08 Foreign_Fan00 Lanet bir haçlı seferi zamanı
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2021.12.06 11:08 joetipis [H] $240 Amazon gcs [W] 82% crypto
2021.12.06 11:08 ilknurr 7% off >> $379.99 >> DERE V14S Laptop 14.1 Inch Notebook Banggood Coupon Promo Code [N5095 12+128GB SSD]
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2021.12.06 11:08 Ppalladdinn1 I'm only gonna say this once
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2021.12.06 11:08 LowMuch6657 Costa Rica, August 2006
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2021.12.06 11:08 addictaedtokookie Is this channel safe? Anyone gotten results from them? 💗
2021.12.06 11:08 Strongbow1107 Can ya give a dude a hand?
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2021.12.06 11:08 flashluther I'm curious how many inhales for a breakthrough using .5g DMT and .5ml pg cart. How far does this take you?
2021.12.06 11:08 Environment_Inside FCPX and Motion beginner issues with downloaded effects and transitions
Merry late Thanksgiving, and Happy early Christmas!
Does anyone have any experience with Final Cut Pro X and Apple Motion? I am an idiot, and that's not even the biggest problem.
My downloaded effects and transitions don't seem to be happy in FCPX, but in Motion everything works fine. I've localized all the media files, and restarted my Macbook for the umpteenth time. All insight is appreciated!
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2021.12.06 11:08 LittlePrettyThings 22 month old twins' first flight, looking for tips to keep us all sane
On Sunday we've got a 6 hour international flight with our twins, and I'm getting so anxious trying to prepare for it.
I'm planning on getting them a few cheap little toys to keep them occupied as much as possible, and I'll make some snacks to keep them happy, but I'm looking for any advice from people who've done this before.
How do we deal with hurting ears? Restless / screaming toddlers? Other passengers?
The other thing is, because they're under 2 years old they're technically considered "infants" and will be sitting on our laps, but these kids are TAAALL, and I'm starting worry about how difficult the flight could be, especially when they need to sleep.
Help! I'll take any advice I can get.
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2021.12.06 11:08 hate_mail Thornton Co Opening?
Seems like this might be the month, but does anyone know an exact date? BTW, I think the palm trees at this location are real!(some of the fronds are brown) Not sure how they will survive an extended freeze, but they are an awesome sight in Co!
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2021.12.06 11:08 MissingAlligator a MFP in Japan??? a God-Like abyssal Copepod
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2021.12.06 11:08 notaname555590 Any Cuban soldiers here?
2021.12.06 11:08 vicduck This happened last weekend, holly cow!
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2021.12.06 11:08 CompetitiveTop5065 Please help!
Please help :(
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euro : RO49INGB0000999912004070
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2021.12.06 11:08 MattBO2001 20[M4F] UK/Online Searching for something real and genuine [Relationship]
Hey, Im Matt. Im a singer songwriter and guitarist. I also sometimes rap, but not as much as I'd like. Im looking to find something serious, long term and real with proper goals set out. Im also into mechanics, gaming, tattoos, going for walks, the paranormal and exploring old abandoned buildings and houses.
My favourite bands are Linkin Park, Blue October, Green Day, Nirvana, Soundgarden, Audioslave, Fort Minor, Jay Z, Grey Daze, The Longshot, Meat Puppets, and loads more besides. My favourite car, and one I want to restore is a 1971 Ford Mustang Mach 1. My favourite PC game is Dont Be Afraid and a place Id love to visit is Chernobyl.
Im 6'1, short blonde hair, blue eyes and I have 2 tattoos. Ill send a photo once you do. I dont really care how you look, but I do have a soft spot for goths, scene/emo girls, girly girls and alt girls. Theyre just for bonus points I guess, I much prefer to find someone with a good personality that I can connect with. I want someone who knows what she wants, has a good plan, isnt gonna cheat or mess around. As I said before, I want to build something long term.
I want to one day have a house, something we can both be proud of. Music is always gonna be something big for me, Im currently working towards a record deal. I want to have a lil studio room, you could have a room for whatever it is you have passion or interest with. A nice homely setting. Im not fussed about having kids, but I do want a lifelong partner.
So, tell me about you. I wanna know all about what makes you happy, what makes you smile, what makes you excited. I want to have such a free flowing relationship where we can talk about any interest and not feel like were being annoying. I want to know all about what you love too so I can buy thoughtful gifts for birthdays, Christmas and anniversaries.
But please make an effort with your message. Im not looking for some quick fling or some feel good chat, I want to build something real and genuine with someone, and if you want that too youll put effort in. Thank you, talk soon.
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2021.12.06 11:08 Ticem4n A must watch. Ron Killings/R-Truth timelining his story from jail, 2pac, who got him started. Music Video is pretty good too for his album
2021.12.06 11:08 mastah-yoda The more you need to pee, the more uncomfortable your clothes are.