Are they any $20 dollar BJ tables in the main casinos? I will be playing on a weekend night Friday or Saturday, but I don’t want to be playing in the “Hooters’s” Also if you have a recommendation on which casino has the best service one where they are not stingy with the comp. drinks.
Which Casino has the Best High-Quality Free Drinks in Las Vegas?
My wife and I run a small content-based Las Vegas Travel site (LVTWs). We've been polling on Facebook, etc to find out where to get different high quality spirits, specialty cocktails, imported beers. Here's some of the best drinks we've found. Please let us know if you've found cool things, and we'll add them to our list! @LVTWs *Wynn - Sinatra Smash Cocktail, Guinness *New York, New York - apparently they make a quality Old-Fashioned *The Cosmopolitan - World Famous Cosmos, Lemon Drops, and Toasted Almond Coffee (Alcoholic!), 12 yr Glenlivet, and Glenfiddich *Aria, TI, and Cromwell - 12 year Macallan - (18 yr for Diamond Members at Cromwell) *Ballys - 12 year single malt Glenfiddich, Single Barrel Jack Daniels *Palazzo - Johnny walker black label Please let us know what else you've found!
Since The Weeknd is performing at the Super Bowl Halftime show, I thought it’d be nice to post a little guide to his discography for anyone interested in looking to do a deep dive into his work. I would’ve posted this the day of the event, but I assume that some people would probably like to go through it over the weekend. This shares a direct overview of his released material, talking about his career and the background of the music, the videos, the meanings and all. I’ve written this from a pop perspective, keeping in mind that his history might be fairly new for general pop fans. I also go into the storyline of the red suit character, if your interested in catching up on that narrative before the Halftime show (which will continue the story), I’ve listed the chronological order below followed by an explanation of that narrative. I wanna be clear that the interpretations/theories are not conclusive. Abel rarely shares the metaphors or meanings behind his music. This is based on widely based on fan discussion/mutual interpretation. Fans can feel free to expand on anything in the comments. It is important to know about Abel's backstory to get a certain perspective of where he’s coming from, especially when discussing the songs that deal with substance abuse. These recent articles cover his early years really well and share an up-to-date point of view of his success. Variety 2020 Billboard 2021 - Also a good source for getting to know his team. So, an essential TL;DR is this: Abel Tesfaye came from a broken home, he was born to Ethiopian immigrant parents who split up when Tesfaye was less than seven. He then lived with his mother and grandmother, only rarely seeing his father but having a nice impression of him. His drug addiction started as soon as he was a high schooler, he turned to shoplifting to pay for this need of various substances. Soon he dropped out of high school, leaving his home the same weekend, which would later inspire his stage name, The Weeknd. The name is reference/homage to the weekend his life changed. Quick side note, I didn’t think this post would nearly reach the character limit. So I’ve cut out excess detail and lists of producers (with the exception of After Hours since we’re in that era). Table of contents
XO.
House of Balloons.
Thursday.
Echoes of Silence.
Trilogy.
Kiss Land.
King of the Fall.
Beauty Behind The Madness.
Starboy.
My Dear Melancholy.
After Hours.
XO.
XO is the record label that The Weeknd and co. created in order to publish the first mixtape (House of Balloons) and the ones that would follow afterwards. XO has a lot of meanings that have to do with what went into the music and what still goes into it. XO is what the fans call themselves, popularly with the phrase XO Till We OD (shortened to XOTWOD); another way of saying “we’re ride or die for The Weeknd and his team.” While some argue that it could mean anything since there isn’t clear meaning to it, fans continue to associate the abbreviation with ecstasy (X) and oxycontin (O). That definition stems from XOTWOD, fans assume it’s true because of the team’s history of drug usage. While others take it as it’s classical definition “hugs and kisses” because of the consistent lyrical nature of The Weeknd’s songs. Overtime the definition of XO is simply known as: the fans, the crew, and the label. The Weeknd is more than just one person, he comes with XO. For the sake of clarity in this writeup, I’m going to refer to his crew as XO and the fans as “the fans.” XO still serves as a record label, the current roster is The Weeknd, Belly, Nav, and Black Atlass. It remains The Weeknd’s record label and was his first label before becoming a subsidiary of Republic Records. Throughout his career, The Weeknd has worked with Illangelo, a Canadian producer who’s work the fans adore. Carlo “Illangelo” Montagnese was one of main the producers on The Weeknd’s Trilogy, he’s credited on each track. The fan base claims his work to be some of the most notable artistry in The Weeknd’s discography. Their work together continued with Beauty Behind The Madness, Illangelo worked on seven tracks for that album. He then returned for After Hours working on another seven tracks. DaHeala, another Canadian producer, is another significant factor in The Weeknd’s music. Jason “DaHeala” Quenneville worked as lead producer on Kiss Land. He returned to work on six tracks for The Weeknd’s Beauty Behind The Madness, including the hit Earned It. DaHeala returned as a writer for six of the songs on Starboy. Then DaHeala worked on nine After Hours tracks, and worked as the only producewriter alongside The Weeknd for bonus tracks Missed You and Final Lullaby.
This is a happy house. We’re happy here. (House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls)
One of the most iconic title tracks of all time. House of Balloons is about a lifestyle of drugs, sex, and partying; all in effort to drown out self-doubt. It comes from a place of wanting to make it big while doing what you can to survive, all while pretending everything’s alright. The mixtape describes various sorts of women, how they’ve had impacted the life of someone who’s already down on his luck. Fans often refer to House of Balloons as The Weeknd’s best work. The mixtape was the first introduction the world got of XO, and it was one hell of a way to make an impression. It’s personal for the fans and Abel because it’s the only piece of work known to be based on his life. At the end of the day he’s a songwriter, with many of his albums he creates scenarios and world that he likes to explore through the music. But House of Balloons is known to be based entirely on his life. It remains The Weeknd’s most critically acclaimed work. House of Balloons was crafted through the influences of Hip-Hip/Indie-Rock with the main focus on R&B. Through the genius of Ilangelo, the record was—and is—mesmerizing capturing the essence of a lifestyle that The Weeknd described as “anti-everything.” House of Balloons assisted The Weeknd in gaining the attention of Republic Records, which would then host The Weeknd’s own label XO. Though hesitant at first, XO decided to partner with Republic after the co-founding brothers Monte and Avery Lipman kept coming back to Toronto solely for The Weeknd. House of Balloons received three videos, The Knowing, Wicked Games and Twenty Eight. The Knowing was the very first video The Weeknd made, so of course it’d be something other-worldly; it essentially reflects the song itself but in a sci-fi setting. Twenty Eight represents Abel’s life after fame but also his remorse of letting captivating women into his life. Fun fact— House of Balloons is an actual place in Toronto, it was where him and his crew lived after he dropped out of high school. They’d host parties, call girls, do drugs, and to make it less depressing they’d fill it with balloons.
Thursday consists of the same themes as HoB; sex and drugs. But there’s a twist, he’s in a semi-relationship with this girl Valerie. She’s the only one on his mind, even though they meet only one day of the week, any guesses on what day that could be? Through The Weeknd’s phenomenal voice and the insane production, we’re also presented with this story of a toxic relationship where Valerie used to have the upper hand but she no longer does when she falls for The Weeknd. While Thursday isn’t entirely about the relationship of The Weeknd and Valerie, it consists of reflections to Abel’s life after the release of House of Balloons. The song Rolling Stone notably has a double meaning, in which Abel asks his fans if they’ll stick with him when he gets mainstream appeal and decides to change his sound. The track Valerie wasn’t on the original release of Thursday, it added when Trilogy was released. Ending the mixtape with Heaven or Las Vegas meant that The Weeknd’s actions with and without Valerie were a result of his fatherless childhood, making him push anyone away. That meaning behind Thursday doesn’t change when Valerie is added to the track list, it just means that both want the toxic relationship back. The Zone (feat. Drake) was the first feature The Weeknd had on any of his work, the video for it was released in November of 2012. Rolling Stone had also received a video in October of 2012. Both were directed by The Weeknd and reflect the two different aspects of Thursday. The Zone has Valerie living it up in the House of Balloons. And Rolling Stone has The Weeknd doing a photoshoot for Trilogy, reflective of the song itself. Fun Fact— the female voice heard in Lonely Star is The Weeknd’s, he pitched his voice to make it sound like a woman’s.
Laisse tomber les filles. Un jour c'est toi qu'on laissera. [Leave the girls alone. One day it’ll be you they will leave.] (Montreal)
Out of a dark introductory into the early life of The Weeknd, Echoes of Silence is the darkest work of his Trilogy. Let’s be honest the story here isn’t entirely ethical at times but makes for one hell of a mixtape. Similar to Thursday, Echoes of Silence follows a storyline. After accumulating success, The Weeknd gains the attention of various women. There was this one woman (D.D.) who he liked but she initially rejected him (Montreal). The woman came back to him for his fame status and evidently fell in love with him (Outside), but now that he’s got the upper hand he treats him like a groupie (XO/The Host) and lets... bad things happen to her; she’s gotta pass a test before she can get with him. This test is either drugs or his crew (Initiation). He ultimately tells this woman that he’s not exactly longterm-relationship material, perhaps because her love is temporary (Same Old Song), because he’s Next. With the end of Echoes of Silence (originally ending on the title track) the listener is left to wonder why The Weeknd left her if he’d simply want her to stay. As a side note— Initiation should not be condoned. It remains true that The Weeknd is a songwriter and the progression of time has changed perspectives. But a song that makes such suggestions as Initiation should not be ethically/morally claimed or celebrated. The mixtape follows The Weeknd’s lifestyle after he’s gained all this success, he’s still the same person but now he’s gotten everything he wanted. Some tracks such as The Fall continue to emphasize his journey into stardom and his acceptance of fame being temporary. With the added Till Dawn (Here Comes The Sun), The Weeknd acknowledges the changes in his life, realizing that the old lifestyle is no longer there for him or his past lovers. Echoes of Silence is known as an underrated gem of The Weeknd’s discography, it’s well received by fans and critically acclaimed but often brushed under the rug in discussion of his work. A lot of fans and casual listeners play the mixtapes through Trilogy rather than their respective albums. This often leads to people not playing EoS either at all or only the first few tracks, this is predominantly due to the nature of the compilation being nearly three hours long. Fun fact— D.D. is a cover of Michael Jackson’s iconic Dirty Diana. Fans have named the woman in Echoes of Silence Diana because of this track. Various theories argue that the mixtape itself is based on the Dirty Diana itself with exaggerations of the truth, or whether or not it’s a story The Weeknd crafted based on the song.
Trilogy is a compilation of The Weeknd’s mixtapes, House of Balloons, Thursday, and Echoes of Silence. These three mixtapes were released 3-4 months apart from one another for free digital download in 2011, they gained quite a lot of attention from various industry executives. Prior to the release of Trilogy, The Weeknd featured on Drake’s Take Care with Crew Love. The song was Abel’s first exposure to a Rap crowd/Rap fans, more people began listening to his music after the release of Take Care. The Weeknd then featured on Wiz Khalifa’s Remember You, which served as the second single off Wiz Khalifa’s O.N.I.F.C. Following those two releases, The Weeknd released Wicked Games as the first single off Trilogy. Trilogy was formed after The Weeknd came under Republic Records’ management. The compilation album reached a debut/peak position of 4 on the Billboard 200 while reaching number one on the US Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart. It’s a well received album with the highlight said to be House of Balloons, which arguably went on to influence various sorts of R&B music of the 2010s. Videos for Trilogy
I went from starin' at the same four walls for 21 years. To seein' the whole world in just 12 months. (Kiss Land)
Kiss Land is based on The Weeknd’s tour life. Visiting unfamiliar places gave Abel horror movie vibes. A guy who used to own the city (Toronto) he lived in is now a small fish in the ocean of the entire world. The Weeknd’s first studio album was a great introduction into the sound he would soon get well acquainted with. While continuing the R&B sound with the essence of Dark Wave, the album explores emptiness and regret throughout the lyrics—or what pop fans could categorize as dark pop—. The Japanese aesthetic used for various videos and the single covers/booklet reflects the themes of feeling overwhelmed by such a loud world that there’s no point in being if you don’t belong. The album explores the real-world and the women in it as well as regrets regarding past actions, namely letting go of women who could’ve been the one in Adaptation. The Weeknd attempts to find that satisfaction in other women and past lovers, but accidentally falls for a sex worker in Belong To The World. With Wanderlust he accepts and expresses that love in the modern world isn’t entirely possible. While continuing to tour the world he enjoys these new experiences with XO (Live For feat. Drake), as well as the new women in his life (Kiss Land). And when he’s back home, he accepts the loss of the relationship he cherished. Kiss Land debuted and peaked at number two on the Billboard 200. It was fairly acclaimed but gained a massive cult following. There were four videos for made for the album, the title track, Belong To the World, Live For (feat. Drake), and Pretty. Those four songs received interesting visuals that kept up with their respective themes while Belong To the World/Kiss Land got visuals that matched the aesthetic of the album. To this day fans ask Abel for a part two to the horror-movie-inspired album after he said it’s the only album he would have a sequel for. Videos for Kiss Land Fun Fact— The video for Kiss Land on YouTube is an extremely edited version of the actual video shot for the song. The directors cut further explores the erotic-horror themes if the album.
Driving by the streets we used to walk through like a triumph. (King of the Fall)
These next few song were released between the Kiss Land and Beauty Behind the Madness era. Some fans would classify them as part of the Beauty Behind the Madness era—I’d say the same tbh—but they stand apart on the basis of success and acclaim. It’s a transition between The Weeknd being an underrated R&B musician to being a mainstream artist with massive recognition and appreciation. The first of these four songs is King of the Fall. A fan favourite and a standout in The Weeknd’s discography. This is one of The Weeknd’s few Rap tracks, it gained a lot of attention within the Rap sphere. It was the way in which XO would announce that they’ve made it, little did they know that this was just the start. Prior to the release of Beauty Behind the Madness (BBTM), The Weeknd gained mainstream attention. The Weeknd’s exposure to mainstream music was uphill, it wasn’t overnight. The first taste of BBTM came from Often, a song that reflected the themes of sex that Abel was known for. The track was released more than a year before BBTM’s release and had made it onto the trackless unlike King of the Fall. Slowly but surely The Weeknd gained exposure, his main sources of exposure were through a collaboration and a soundtrack. Most pop fans heard about The Weeknd through his hit collaboration with Ariana Grande, Love Me Harder. The collab was made through Republic when The Weeknd said he wanted more than what he had gotten through Kiss Land. Ariana and Abel had formed a real bond cough The Hills cough, their bond assisted the song in becoming a memorable hit for both artists. Love Me Harder was a top ten hit on the Billboard Hot 100. Later that year, The Weeknd was featured on the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack with Earned It, as well as Where You Belong. Earned It became a massive hit peaking at 3 on the Billboard Hot 100 and receiving an Oscar nomination for The Weeknd; a massive milestone for XO. Earned It kept up with Abel’s signature lyrics but the production differed heavily from the sort of R&B he was known for. Videos from that era
I'm that ***** with the hair singin' 'bout poppin' pills, fuckin' bitches, livin' life so trill. (Tell Your Friends)
Following the success of Love Me Harder and Earned It, the Beauty Behind the Madness era began with The Hills. This was The Weeknd’s first number one on the Billboard Hot 100. Along with the video, The Hills became an addictive classic. The production and lyrics mirror a mature version of the sound that was originally found on Trilogy. It was truly in keeping with The Weeknd’s character, the only difference was his haircut. Next came Can’t Feel My Face, a Max Martin production that differed greatly from anything The Weeknd put out in the past. In past songs, Abel had expressed his fear of losing his following if he went mainstream simultaneously asking his fans if they’d stay. He repeats that sentiment in the Can’t Feel My Face video. The sound has changed, the lyrics stay the same but now he’s a pop-star. The song became a hit as it reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100. With this massive bop previous fans still stayed, The Weeknd becoming a pop singer didn’t at all alter his image or sound; he mastered it. In The Night and Acquainted were released as singles on the same day, the were the only singles to come after the release of Beauty Behind The Madness. The former received a music video treatment that followed the theme of the song itself while also starring Abel’s girlfriend at the time, Bella Hadid. Acquainted was robbed of a video even though Abel had shown off the fact that a video was in development; the song kept in the tone of The Weeknd’s work prior to BBTM. Beauty Behind the Madness captures a Hollywood-based reality that The Weeknd came to understand: the dark aspects of your life will continue to follow you wherever you are. Real Life, Losers (feat. Labrinth), Tell Your Friends, Dark Times (feat. Ed Sheeran), and Prisoner (feat. Lana Del Rey) all capture a nihilistic view of a dream achieved. Most of the videos of Beauty Behind The Madness have a mysterious white man. He’s featured in The Hills, Can’t Feel My Face, and Tell Your Friends. That man represents the devil. Throughout his journey in those videos, (The Hills) Abel runs into the devil after his car crash, (Can’t Feel My Face) he’s at the club then lights him on fire. The significance behind the fire could be selling his soul to the devil, BBTM is about Hollywood and a popular Hollywood myth is that celebrities sell their souls to the devil in exchange for fame. So in the Can’t Feel My Face video, Abel changes his sound to Pop (from R&B) thus leaving his signature sound in order to become famous, everyone starts enjoying his music once he’s sold his soul. Then we see The Weeknd burying himself in Tell Your Friends, perhaps leaving the old Abel behind after the deal with the devil. However, instead of thanking the devil, Abel takes his revenge and shoots him. But wait, there’s more! The album trailer for BBTM features the devil burning a billboard with The Weeknd’s face on it, revealing Beauty Behind The Madness. HOWEVER, the final cut for the video features the devil being arrested while The Weeknd watches. This is a more realistic form of karma that the devil gets. Videos for BBTM
If I could, I'd trade it all, trade it for a halo. And she said that she'll pray for me, I said, "It's too late for me.” (Ordinary Life)
After the massive success of Beauty Behind the Madness, there was a lot of hype around what The Weeknd would do next; evidently he decided to explore Pop. The fandom he had gained wasn’t entirely based in the Pop sphere, his fans consisted of general Rap fans, but Starboy attracted the Pop audience. Initially, most of his older fans couldn’t get behind Starboy, it differed greatly from the previous sound. It was crazy to think that the guy who made Trilogy managed to make such a Pop-centric album. But this was Abel expressing his versatility. Since this is where most pop fans found out about Abel’s work and became fans I won’t talk too much about the singles, rather more about the album itself. His work with Daft Punk cemented this album in an efficient mix between Pop and R&B, where Beauty Behind the Madness was more R&B with Pop, Starboy was considered Pop with R&B. Beyond the genres, Starboy explores two evident themes. One being his life with fame and recognition. The next being his love life in Hollywood, this aspect of the album came from his relationship with Bella Hadid which ended after the release of the album. The cross became the symbol for that era and appeared in the album’s photoshoot as well as the videos. There was never any conclusive word on the use of the cross but there are various theories about it, something to note is that Abel was raised Christian, it could perhaps be a reflection of his past. The cross he uses to destroy his accolades (Starboy video) is assisting him rather than something that’s holding him back. Abel’s upbringing was rough but now he’s celebrating it rather than feeling bad for himself. The cross continues to come up in the Party Monster video, this time it’s in the party house he’s making his way through. Then it shows up in the video for Reminder, this time in the form of his merch, the people wearing it are perhaps representative of his fans. Then we see it in the False Alarm video, both Abel and the girl are wearing it; the notable thing being that Abel holds his cross up before dying. Then in the brilliant video for Secrets, after giving up on the girl he’s with he leaves the building to find a giant cross. And finally in the I Feel It Coming video, The Weeknd sports a shiny cross necklace, and Daft Punk find it years and years after Abel froze. The videos tell us that the cross is an evident piece of his story. This could mean that his past will always be with him, no matter what sort of fame he’s experiencing he’ll always be who he once was. Also, I’m gonna take this moment to once again the genius that is the Secrets (both the song and the video). Yes it’s my favourite song/video off of Starboy but it’s so underrated. Videos for Starboy, Secrets video bottom right Fun Fact— Most demos of the tracks on Starboy weren’t as pop as they became, they started off R&B but became pop after production.
They said our love is just a game, I don't care what they say. But I'ma drink the pain away, I'll be back to my old ways. (Privilege)
Oof (but in a good way, this whole thing is a bop). For this one I’m gonna talk extensively about The Weeknd’s relationships, which personally feels really invasive but it’s but it’s essential when talking about these sad boy anthems. Beyond that I’d just like to state that though they are part of the narrative both Bella Hadid and Selena Gomez deserve respect/privacy. So when it comes to Pop music fans I think it’s safe to say that we all know a lot about this one. My Dear Melancholy (MDM) came after the very public relationship of The Weeknd and Selena Gomez. However it’s not just about Selena, some songs reflect his relationship with Bella Hadid (whom he got back with a month after MDM’s release). My Dear Melancholy consists with The Weeknd’s exploration/mastery of merging Pop and R&B together. The EP was praised by fans for its lyrics and production, many went on to theorize that it was his most personal project since House of Balloons. The EP was the shortest album to reach number one on the Billboard 200. My Dear Melancholy and fan conspiracies; name a better duo. The first theory being that the EP is entirely about Selena Gomez which wasn’t too much of a mystery since the lyric “I almost cut a piece of myself for your life” exists. Not only did MDM come after Abel’s relationship with Selena Gomez but also after his relationship with Bella Hadid. As far as fans were aware those two relationships were the most important relationships Abel had ever been in. In theory, the songs about Bella and Selena can be categorized. Call Out My Name, Try Me, and Privilege are likely about Selena. Wasted Times, and Hurt You are likely about Bella. Leaving I Was Never There to act as an introspective look into The Weeknd’s life, basically making him hop back on his vices for comfort. Another popular theory was that My Dear Melancholy was the first of another trilogy. This rumour was widely believed due to the comma at the end of the title on the album cover. But the fans soon gained a real reason to believe this theory, since the CEO of XO (the record label), Sal had liked an Instagram post that featured the cover and alleged date. Since Trilogy is a fan favourite this conspiracy spread like wild fire, so much so that fake titles and covers were made. The name of this trilogy would be: (1)My Dear Melancholy, (2)We’re Alone Together, (3)Abel. Only one song served as a single for the EP. Call Out My Name was released nearly two months prior to the actual release of the album, it debuted/peaked at number four on the Billboard Hot 100. The mysterious video captures The Weeknd in various atmospheric places that reflect the tone of the EP, a haunting yet unexplained reality that the listener is to reflect on. From the cover, to the music, to the video, to lyrics, My Dear Melancholy is an introspective reflection of heartbreak. Call out my name video
After Hours comes after success but references two lows in The Weeknd’s life. The album welcomes darkness and leads the listener towards a dead-end. The Weeknd’s past two albums (Beauty Behind The Madness and Starboy) ended on hopeful notes, they left the listener with a sense of hope but all hope his lost with After Hours. Fans compare After Hours to House of Balloons—a rare occurrence considering House of Balloons’ acclaim—arguing that both albums are on the same level. Debate continues on whether or not both albums are on the same caliber. The belief that After Hours stems from reality does a lot to help its side of the argument. The era began with Mercedes-Benz commercial that featured Blinding Lights, that was our first taste of the everlasting bop. Heartless was premiered on an episode of Memento Mori hours before its release on the 27 of November (2019), Blinding Lights was released two days later. Both videos were as brain melting as promised and the served as the tip of the iceberg. After Hours was released nine days after COVID-19 was declared a pandemic, there was a massive risk in releasing an album that would not have a lot of promotion after it’s release (other than magazine coverage). There was no telling whether or not people would pay attention to the album during the height of the fear surrounding the pandemic, but it was a massive success. After Hours debuted at number one on the Billboard 200, with singles Heartless and Blinding Lights topping the Billboard Hot 100. The album is layered with haunting productions that remains predominantly R&B but dives deep into Pop with some of the tracks. Max Martin produced the massive hit Blinding Lights as well as In Your Eyes, Save Your Tears, Hardest to Love, and Scared to Live which samples Elton John’s Your Song. Other notable producers include Metro Boomin who worked on the hit Heartless as well as Escape from LA, Faith, and Until I Bleed Out. With Kevin Parker on the interlude Repeat After Me. Beyond the production are the narrative driven lyrics. In theory the album references two significant events in Abel’s life, his second breakup with Bella Hadid and his arrest in Las Vegas. The latter was due to his misbehaviour; in January 2015 he punched a cop in Vegas, lmao. Which means that After Hours is a recollection of The Weeknd’s first few years in LA. He merges the concept of his breakup with the idea of being an upcoming star, feeling free in the city of lights all while diving deep into the meaninglessness of those lights. While After Hours starts with loneliness and a second chance it leads up to Abel returning to his vices of lust. In Alone Again his loneliness caught up to him and he’s asking for a second chance. He acknowledges his mistakes and situation in Too Late/Hardest to Love, in Scared to Live his ex then returns to him for a second time. He remembers his past ways in Snowchild and the way in which it lead to better days, but where do you go after such highs? In Escape From LA he faces the superficial reality of Hollywood, glad that he got that he got back with his ex, while continuing to question if it’s worth it. But he fucks up the second chance when she pulls up to the studio. Who is she? Much like the other mysteries surrounding The Weeknd’s music, we may never know. Is it all more of The Weeknd’s songwriting ability or is it driven by reality? Fans found a merge between the two to be more accurate, After Hours is about heartbreak and a return to the vices that held The Weeknd back. Heartless is when The Weeknd is once again back to his ways, he may have been in a serious relationship but after throwing that away he spirals back to the way he once was. It’s sad but it’s one hell of a song. Speaking of brilliant songs, Faith is when Abel admits that he’s back on his vices, he states that he needs his ex back with him till the end; he’s back to self-loathing. So when he says he’s blinded by the lights, there’s two meanings to it. The Faith outro tells us that he’s in a car with flashing lights, a cop car (as confirmed by Abel) to be exact. Then Blinding Lights tells us that while he’s watching the bright lights of Vegas pass him by he calls out for the girl that he regrets losing. That is the peak of the After Hours narrative. He’s behaving badly over the loss of the girl he loved and is now at the worst position trying to find her and gain her trust for a third time. Following Blinding Lights is In Your Eyes, this is where The Weeknd vows not to judge her; he can see right through her but will never do anything to make her upset. Does this mean their back together? Not exactly. Save Your Tears details a sort of moving-on that The Weeknd isn’t ready for but tries to help her move on, blind to his own inability to move on. Does it work? Not really. Repeat After Me (Interlude) shows that he’s still trying to convince himself that he’s unfazed by the loss of a meaningful relationship. Then you hear a true masterpiece. The title track is a spiral into true regret and an apology for his actions, he admits that his ex girlfriend is the only reason he lives. In a dark lonely city she’s the only one keeping him sane. But his pleas fail, Until I Bleed Out is when The Weeknd no longer wants her in his life so much so that he wants to erase his memory of anything related to her. The bonus tracks then echo the final sentiment. It’s one sad ass album, ain’t it. But here’s where the Red Suit Character comes in. Shoutout to the makeup department The album isn’t the only narrative to follow with After Hours. The videos for the album follow their own sort of narrative. The story follows an unnamed guy that goes by “red suit character” according to The Weeknd. There’s a lot of confusion and endless theories surrounding this character’s story, after The Weeknd confirmed that it’s about a decent into Hollywood culture it makes more sense… kind of. I’m gonna discuss the storyline without talking about the movies that have influenced it, this way the focus remains on the character. The order of these videos is Heartless / Blinding Lights / Blinding Lights (Live on Kimmel)* / After Hours short film / In Your Eyes / Until I Bleed Out / Snowchild / Too Late / Live at AMAs* / Save Your Tears *Though all live performances could count as part of the narrative, these one relate directly with the videos that follow. He’s is first seen in Vegas with Metro Boomin (Heartless), intoxicated on various substances. He dives deeper into his high until he licks a frog, after that he faces the true effects of this high. He’s frightened by the result and runs far away from Vegas. (Blinding Lights) He’s then found in LA, where he’s dancing in the street, hypnotized by the singer, beat up by guards, and races past all those bright lights in his Benz. Ultimately realizing the shallowness of the Los Angeles fantasy. (Blinding Lights Live on Kimmel) We then find him performing Blinding Lights live, while he attempts to find more reason in within the madness city; he couldn’t find it on the streets so he goes to the stage. (After Hours short film) Even then there’s no meaning to anything in the city, he mindlessly wanders into the depth of the subway where he’s dragged by the reality of it all and ends up possessed. (In Your Eyes) After being possessed he chases the woman whose boyfriend he just murdered, she runs into a club falls deeper into the After Hours fantasy, in a successful attempt to defend herself she beheads the red suit character and dances all over LA with his head, iconic behaviour. (Until I Bleed Out) Then in an ethereal dreamscape, red suit character finds himself in a House of Balloons. He’s trying to escape, but the people there keep pulling him in; he’s getting higher while observing Glass Table Girls. He spirals into the antarctic, the other side of the world. From Heatless to this point in his story, his vices lead him back to the lowest point in Abel’s life. Is it Hell, Heaven or Las Vegas? (Snowchild) He relives his career up until the point where his story began. Considering he’s dead, his life basically flashed before his eyes. (Too Late) LA girls find the red suit character’s head and live their best life. They wanna have sex with him so they find the best boy parts by calling up a stripper who could be the body. The stitch the head up with the body and do what they want. But now he’s brought back to life. (Live at AMAs) He’s had work done… He went in to get his nose fixed and the doctor said “you sure that’s all you want?” The red suit character’s face is healing while he tries to celebrate his life on top of a bridge. (Save Your Tears) Surrounded by a masked cult he debut’s his new face. Do they like it? Are they impressed? Not instantly, their masks translate no expression so how’s he to know? Is any of this worth it? Nope red suit character continues to die inside. He finds a maskless girl in the crowd, she’s lively unlike the rest; but even then, nothing on the inside nothing on the outside. He wants death again, somehow a second chance with this city is still pointless. He tries to kill himself via the girl and himself but it’s all a facade; theatrics. His story continues but that’s all we know so far. The videos make a lot of film references. This post by explain these references very well, as well as past album references here (part one) and here (part two). After Hours is inspired by a lot of movies, since Abel is in fact a cinephile. The main movies that inspired the aesthetic and storytelling are believed to be Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998), Casino (1995), Joker (2019), Uncut Gems (2020), and After Hours (1985). The album tells two sad narratives but remains one of The Weeknd’s best works yet. He’s expanded his videography and enhanced the interest of people who casually enjoy his music and of course his fans. But the era isn’t over, by the time this is posted his Super Bowl Halftime show is yet to happen. And it’ll continue the red suit character’s story. Videos for After Hours (so far) Fun Fact—The Heartless video features a reference to Thursday. When he’s trying to run from Vegas, a sign behind him flashes “Heartless / Heaven or Las Vegas.” This could be a reference to Abel running from his past, after all Heartless is about him returning to his vices.
END.
Thank you for reading this, again, I didn’t realize it would end up being this long. But I hope this this served as a nice refresher for any fans who wanted to revisit Abel’s work before the Super Bowl. And I really hope that anyone interested in getting into his music finds this helpful. Once again, the theories/interpretations mentioned aren’t conclusive, they’re widely based on fan discussion/mutual interpretation. Due to the character limit I couldn’t add too links to the albums, so here are some artist links. Apple Music | Spotify | YouTube | The Weeknd’s Shop | Tidal | Genius
I am going to vegas for the first time with a buddy in mid December and we will obviously hit the popular joints for the experience but where would you recommend going if we wanted to sit down at a blackjack table, hang out for multiple hours and not worry about losing too much, while having an above decent beeliquor selection to pick from. I'm psyched! Please give opinions on V card too
Not anti-lockdown, but I'm just so tired of the way this has been handled. I feel robbed and angry.
I have missed out on so many of what are supposed to be the most important moments of my life. My graduation, my first year of university, my 18th birthday, hell I never even got to say goodbye to my old classmates because I was sick on the last day of school. I was a good person and followed all the health orders, naively believing that if we could all just show some goddamn solidarity and have some of that good old human resolve we could get through this. Of course Alberta had to do what they do best and LARP as Texas. Feed right into all the crazy conspiracy theorists and drag their feet when proposing ways to manage this virus. Sucks, but one of the joys of living under a conservative government, freedom amirite! (except for those indigenous people on reserves and struggling workers, they don't count) Something about these last few weeks just fucking broke me. They say they were hesitant about restrictions for mental health, cause nothing's better for the old noggin than a trip to the casino to play some slots and drink your feelings away. Because that is obviously so much safer than having a single, also socially distanced friend over to watch a movie together. The UCP had the gaul to say that restaurants and stores aren't causing spread and that indoor gatherings are the real issue, when we don't know where 80% of cases come from and tons of studies worldwide have shown this claim to be bullshit. I get banning indoor gatherings, but then restraunts and non-essential businesses should be off the table too. And of course today Kenney gets up on his little stepstool podium to announce new restrictions. Thank God. Oh wait? What's that first one? No outdoor gatherings at all? You mean the THING THAT NEARLY ALL HEALTH EXPERTS HAVE UNILATERALLY AGREED UPON BEING ONE OF THE SAFEST ACTIVITIES RIGHT NOW? But thanks Kenney, thanks for keeping my mental health in check. My mental state totally wasn't hinging on that date I planned to go for a walk and look at the lights downtown with a girl I've had a crush on for ages. At least I can go to West Edmonton Mall and spend all my money on useless garbage surrounded by antimaskers and inbred trailer trash, I'm sure that'll keep me off the ledge for awhile longer! But now stores are limited to 15% of fire capacity, that'll definitely help right? Anyone ever looked at fire capacity numbers? They are fucking absurd. The tiny little Dollar Tree near my house can have 30 people inside and still be under 15%, Best Buy can have over 100. A Best Buy with 100 people inside is still busy, I don't care what the fire code says. 15% sounds low, but it's not, and I can only assume it's a misinformation tactic to calm people down. If you've read this far I think you might be just as insane as me, but what else do you have to do but stay inside and doomscroll through social networks while the world falls apart. But hey. Mental health is important right? After all that's why we avoided this lockdown until the one time of year where lonely people are known to kill themselves. I wish I could tell Jason Kenney to go fuck himself, but he already jerked himself off for 2 hours straight today on live TV.
[Voiced scene here] [The watery depths of darkness greets us.]Guda: ...Huh... [The scene shifts to what appears to be the Moon Cell.]Guda: ...This place is... [Accompanied by static, Kiara in her third ascension's mermaid cosplay appears before us for a brief second before she disappears and we find ourselves in the middle of a city.]Guda: ??? [Once again, Kiara appears, this time in her first ascension swimsuit.]Sessyoin Kiara: Fufu. The meal at the restaurant just now was very delicious. As expected of Master; you have a discerning eye, or perhaps I should say you have heavenly luck. At this point, I'm almost fully sated. Guda: [1] Sessyoin Kiara-san...! Kiara: ...Aah. You're calling my name with such a smile on your face again... I am happy about your feelings, but please have patience. We are still in the middle of town...right? Guda: [2] You're Sessyoin Lily's...! Kiara: Fufufu. Keep your feigning of ignorance in moderation. I can't guarantee what'll happen otherwise in all sorts of meaning, you see? Kiara: Now then, since we have filled our stomach, shall we visit our favorite beach? I finally changed into a swimsuit, but I could only try it out at a lake... The one who invited me to the sea while I was lamenting that...was none other than you. I was so happy, I couldn't sleep last night. I might be unable to fall asleep ever again♡ Ju~st kidding☆ Fufufufufu! Since it's a vacation on Valentine's, I'm in high spirits. It might be out of season, but this is a garden of pleasure without any discomfort. That rumored Altar of Perpetual and Everlasting Summer that I've heard of... Umm, if I remember correctly, Luluhawa was its name? I absolutely won't lose to such a wicked thing. I've snuck in there and done my research, after all. Guda: I see. So today was Valentine's. / I see, you are the night time's Sesshouin... Kiara: Yes, of course. Please, spend this holiday so you'll have no regrets afterwards, Master. [We spend the day on the seashore with Kiara, and then, at night...]Kiara: Swimming at the beach where no one else is around, enjoying the sunlight, and engaging in conversations as we listen to the sound of the waves... It was a very pleasant holiday, Master. I've returned my childlike innocence as I frolicked about. Aah, but, being unable to order a few drinks...would be my only regret. Downing your glasses all night will be a thing for when you're a little older♡ ...Oh. Putting that aside... I might be giving it to you at the very end, but would you accept this...? It's chocolate for Valentine's. [Kiara's choco acquired!]Guda: I'll gladly accept it! / I see, it slipped my mind! Kiara: You being pleased with it is all that matters to me. To commemorate this Summer, I tried to imitate a flower ornament. It might be some plain chocolate compared to what you received from the other Servants... ────Aah, however. If you still find it insufficient...if it still does not satisfy you...if you still want more... There might be more after this...perhaps? Guda: [1] No such thing, this is more than enough! Kiara: ────I see. Then this is where it ends. I have been turned down. Yes, Valentine's only lasts one day. It's not something to repeat over and over again for several days. Then, let us return to Chaldea, Master. You have no need for the tranquility of the depths. Please, join hands with everyone and take back our great planet, okay? [GOOD END] Guda: [2] ...You are right, it might be a little lacking... Kiara: ────You wished for it, right? Then close your eyes for a bit. Let my following version guide you even deeper. How cruel to say that pleasant affairs end in an instant. If they can continue, let them do so for eternity. That is what everyone honestly wishes for. [Suddenly, everything goes white. Then, accompanied by static, images of the Moon Cell and the previous city flashes before our eyes and we find ourselves in an Oriental capital.]Guda: ────Huh? [We hear the sound of an approaching bike and Kiara skids to a halt before us in her second ascension's getup.] Kiara: Oh my. My preferred unsightly pig Master has been foun~d♡ ────Ahem. That's not it. Stop there, you bitch (if female)/swine (if male). Get on your knees and raise your hands. You aren't allowed to resist. If you move even a little, I'll smack you in the ass (if female)/between your legs (if male) with this baton. Guda: This is also Kiara-san...? / So next is Kiara Police! [Kiara smiles before she reverts to her previous stern expression.]Kiara: Shut up. There is no chance for you to explain or a right for you to vindicate yourself. You should have learned in compulsory education that in this town being a Master itself is a sin, right? Moreover, to think you'd be leisurely walking on the main street...are you not aware that you're a piece of trash? You────know what's going to happen next, right? Guda: Perhaps...going along voluntarily to be questioned by the police? / Could it be...I'll be forcibly detained? Kiara: Yes, a tiny piece of trash belongs in the trashcan. A miserable pig belongs in the pigpen. And so, you're under arrest~♡ Game over for you, best regards? [More choco acquired!]Kiara: Fufufu. I wonder if you'll like this handcuff-shaped chocolate. Now then, the continuation will be happening in solitary confinement, plenty of it. This Saint Graph does not adhere to the master-servant relationship. It is the form a ruthless ruler. I will thoroughly train that lax attitude of yours without any mercy. Yes, even if it will take a year or a decade. As you wished, forever, right? Guda: Eh...? / A decade...? [Our vision goes white once again.]Kiara: Don't you find it strange? Why are the bubbles the Shen spews forth called mirages on the surface? If the bubbles reflect the insides of the shell, what appears on the surface should be simply the clam's muscles. So then, the reason why oases and capitals emerge────is that what's inside the Shen is literally a castle (read as town). [1] An ideal world envisioned by the people of the secular world. An earthly paradise without any discomfort. A perfectly convenient and infinitely vast city. This is the insides of the mirage. A different world contained within the palace of the clam. Even so──── For me, it is nothing but a cramped bed, you see? [Accompanied by the sound of static, we find ourselves at a pool.]Kiara: How about something of this aspect this time? Though you might already be sick of eating chocolate. [Even more choco acquired!]Kiara: Ufufu. Beaches are great, but pools like this are fine too. Well, since the current is too strong, it is not to my liking... Fortunately, the current me is a mermaid as you can see. No matter how many times you drown or how far you are swept away, I can easily scoop you up, you know, Master? Guda: ............ Kiara: What might be the problem? You seem to be under the weather based on your expression. Could it be...the clam chocolate from before wasn't to your liking? ...As expected, mixing clam with chocolate was dangerous... No, this only happened by a chance, it's just an accident! It's not like I'm better at cooking when I'm in Lily form! ...Oh, that's not what I should be saying. Master? If your stomach hurts, how about we return to the hotel? This is a high-class resort that even has casinos. There is no shortage of entertainment even at the hotel. Guda: It's about time... Kiara: Yes? Guda: If I don't return to Chaldea soon... Kiara: ─────── ─────── ────Then let us do that. Go ahead and return, Master. I won't stop you. That is. If you can escape? [We leave behind Kiara and run through the city, the Moon Cell, the beach, and reach the Oriental capital where we encountered Kiara Police.]Guda: ────pant pant──── ────No good, this city, is way too vast──── [The ground rumbles and *the faint image of Kiara we could see in the sky all this time comes into view and Kiara's voice echoes out.]* Kiara: ────Pfft. Fufu, ufufu, aah, how funny! Just what are you talking about when you are so out of breath? This is an immensely vast world. After all, this is next to my pillow. It is a castle that would be sent flying if I were to blow on it. Guda: ────Just what, is that──── Kiara: After you take refuge in illusions, you won't be able to leave. ...Indeed, I also find it regrettable. To think you'd fall so deep after being bewitched by the sweetness of sugar. I can't view you as Master anymore. You're like an ant that ran around restlessly and separated from its colony. I wonder if I should cover you in chocolate and eat you. [The ground rumbles once again.]Kiara: Fufu, of course, that was just a joke. This is an earthly paradise, inside the dream released by the Shen. If you are fine with empty illusions, here you will be granted tranquility lasting until your death, no, lasting forevermore without you being able to die. Will you disappear along with the illusions in a single breath from me or will you cling to my fingers seeking salvation──── Regardless of what you choose, there is no way for you to return to reality. Resign yourself to your fate, Master. [A pink mist fills our vision.]Kiara: Your fall will lead to the Heaven of Pleasure. The Hell of the woman who captivates her prey. ...Fufu, you wish you hadn't gone to something like the Palace of the Dragon King, right? [BAD END] (Moral of the story: Don't be greedy. Or Kiara will trap you in illusions and toy with you for eternity.)
Bond CE
A Single Summer's Mirage Set Valentine's chocolate from Sessyoin Kiara (MoonCancer). Chocolates matching each stage of ascension are stored inside the Tamateba[2] ......correction, a multi-layered lunch box. You can eat any of the "flowers floating at the waterside", "handcuffs" and "shellfish" that you prefer. However, moderation is important for everything. If you eat just one or two kinds, the boddhisatva will watch over you with a charming smile, but if you display an unsatiable desire where you eat everything at once──── 「Fufufu, what's stored inside the box might not be only chocolate, you know?」 Translator notes: [1] "Mirage" is written with the kanji for "Shen" "emission/spirit/mind" and "building/tower", so mirages are "buildings created of what the Shen emits", I guess? [2] The narration was gonna say Tamatebako before it cut off.
It was a shitty, gray afternoon in Manhattan. The smell of rain and hot dog vendors perforated my nose as I adjusted my tie and walked up to the restaurant. I was a little surprised to hear that Gabe had wanted to meet, I was one of the early investors in GUHStop after all, and I had made a killing selling it near its peak. I thought he’d hate me, and I was sure he was going to ream my ass so hard it would make 🌈 🐻 say “u r fuk” but as I entered the lavish establishment, something felt off. I grabbed a Macallan neat to steel my nerves for the expected fuckening, but as the bartender set the drink in front of me I heard him behind me. “Paper hands! It is so good to see you my friend.” The voice sent a shiver down my spine, but I picked my drink up and turned to meet him, and found Gabe Plotkin, founder of Melvin Capital with his arms outstretched, ready to embrace me. “Melvi- Er Gabe. I gotta say I’m surprised about this whole thing.” “I think I can clear things up. Why don’t we have a seat at our table and start our meal.” And with that he ushered me off to a nice table in the corner of the restaurant, a perfect window view of the muggy streets of Manhattan, the rain starting to fall on the pavement outside, hitting the window with a constant stream of tap tap tap tap. It was a nice table and the first course was placed as soon as we sat down, and our water glasses and champagne flutes were already filled. “Look, paper hands, I got to say -“ he started before taking a pause to sip his golden bubbly. Here it is, the anger of a Wall Street man who lost it all. “- You are the most amazing thing to happen!” “I’m sorry, amazing? Didn’t I cost you billions? Didn’t your wife divorce you?” “Yes! But since I had technically gone bankrupt, I immediately filed the papers letting my wife take almost nothing because of my financial position. Then I rode that meme stonk wave with you guys! By the time it hit 420.69 a share I had already made back billions.” “Okay, I guess that’s something to celebrate. Cheers.” “But that’s not even the best part. You see, when you started that ‘short ladder attack’ nonsense, you gave the apes something to latch onto. You helped drive their minds to believe anything was manipulation. So as long as they’re fighting, I’m making money hand over fist playing these suckers.” “I see...” “Your golden ticket turned into my golden goose. And I’m the one gathering the eggs.” The conversation was nothing like I expected. Gabe and I had a long dinner, discussing investment strategies, mocking dumb apes, and just enjoying our food and time together. But I had to ask. “Gabe... why did you short more than 100% of it anyways? Surely you knew the risks involved there.” He set his fork down and had a somber look on his face, and his appeared far off, like he was choosing his words very carefully. “Gabe?” The mention of his name caused him to look at me and smile. “You see, I had no idea. At first. We didn’t realize it until they pointed it out on reddit in 2020. But we didn’t care once we did find out. But we shorted it because... well because it was easy. And it still is.” “So you’re continuing to short it?” He smiled, nodded and returned to his dessert and happily ate his chocolate cake. Turns out you can have your cake and eat it too. In the cab ride back home, I had a little time to reflect on our conversation. It wasn’t what I expected, but I felt... justified. Knowing that he had made out like a bandit, and is contuing to profit off of the situation, it just remimded me that there’s only one goal for those entering the Wall Street Casino: To make money. And one things for certain, I would never forget My Dinner With Melvin..... Capital’s founder, Gabe Plotkin.
This happened on my 18th birthday, I'm 30 now so time has passed and the wounds have festered for over a decade somewhat healed. My best friend and I were, and still are, avid poker players. We decided we would take our developing online skills (see: math nerds) to the casino when I turned 18 because I am the younger of the two of us by a couple months. We do the obligatory show of my ID to the bouncer, who in return does his obligatory Wonka-esq extend-one-arm welcome to a world of oxygen induced wallet abusal and wishes me a happy birthday. We have no intention of fucking around. We're already fairly successful online players (although this is pre- Poker Black Friday). We don't ever play when we're mentally unsound, that means tired, angry, hungry, sad, and especially drunk. We are about to enter a place where we can seek out folks that are not only not-grinders, but folks who are drunk, and we are prepared. We spend the night at adjacent tables, targeting the people ordering the most drinks and cruising through an easy and super fun night of poker. We play for 5 or 6 hours and then wrap it up, we each make a few hundred dollars on our buy ins and we're happy that we got to play with the grown ups. I decide to buy exactly 5 dollars of slot play just so that I can see what they are like on the way out. I figure if I make some money, a trip back to the cage is fine with me, and if I don't then it's 5 bucks on my way out of Casino Niagara. I play some cheap slots and lose until I'm down to exactly 1.00 on my ticket. Fuck it. Let's roll the Jackpot slots in the center of the casino floor. The degenerates among you know what I mean, the one with the big scoreboard above it keeping track of the amount of money it has scammed out of people who know damn well they have no shot at winning a Jackpot. I win the Jackpot. This son of a bitch is all bells, whistles, and flashing lights while I watch the credit reader roll. This one reads in whole numbers instead of decimals, and as this god forsaken speedometer from hell spins from 1 to 10 I look to my friend and he says "Holy shit. You just won the jackpot." This robot prick goes from 10 to 100 as more people gather around. "Holy shit. This kid just won the jackpot." 100 to 150 and rising. This.metal.piece.of.shit. More people gather around. Staff now too, we are talking double digit millions here. 150 turns to 199 and then clink. 200. I look up at the screen, congratulating me on being the only motherfucker in the universe dumb enough to spin a jackpot machine with the minimum bet. Had I saved my 5 dollars for that pull, I'd never have had to work again. Tldr: tifu by winning the jackpot but only betting the minimum, resulting in winning 200 dollars instead of 20 million.
RoyalRoad First Next Jen and Sarah spent the next week doing research. The Internet was filled with contradictory information about monetary theory and economics, and neither of them really had the background to evaluate the arguments that everyone was having. However, Sarah reminded them both, they didn't need to look at a perfect system, just one that worked. So, they started digging through Wikipedia articles and online textbooks on the history of money and how they came to be. "Hey, did you know they used to use salt as currency?" Sarah asked as she skimmed through a particularly fascinating documentary about Middle Age East African economies. "Is this some kind of joke about mining salt?" "No, it's real, look. And apparently the word salary is from the Latin word salarium for money used to buy salt," Sarah continued fascinated. Of course, they couldn't use something as simple as salt to represent money. In fact, they couldn't use any commodity either. Over the last week, one of the alien traders caught wind that gold was extremely valuable on Earth, so they'd brought them in by the ton load. Gold was still useful for electronics and some dentistry, but the price of gold, mostly propped up by its value in rarity, crashed hard. The problem with currency in galactic trading, as Sarah discovered, was that there wasn't a single commodity that was equally rare in every system. No, whatever alternative they come up to the laughably outdated barter system had to be built on something far more rare and valuable than gold. Something that even the most powerful human empires in history have struggled to collect. It had to be built on trust. "That's the system most modern currencies are based on," Sarah claimed, "you only accept dollars for work because you trust that you're going to be able to wake up tomorrow and spend it on… everything you need." "Hmm well, we can't just ask them to take US dollars," Jen giggled. This would be so much easier if that weren't true. "Why not?" Sarah asked, playing the devil's advocate. "Well… well, like you said, they won't trust it! I certainly wouldn't if I were a trader! Furthermore, who knows? Maybe they have a printer in their ship that can duplicate money! Maybe we should ask them for that next time we bring Zarko some pears," Jen said, thinking out loud. "I doubt it. The government keeps a lot of secrets about how they make Dollars , and I don't want the Secret Service knocking on my door," Sarah said. Until this week, she hadn't known that this was one of the lesser known duties of the USSS. Now that she knew it, it made the thought of attracting their attention even less palatable, "you're right. What about digital casino tokens? We can produce something that translates to Dollars and have our own system that tracks it all." "Sure, that's not too hard to make. We would have a centralized money supply, where we don't trust each end point…" Jen continued on the brainstorm, thinking in terms of the technical system, "ok, so say we make SarahBucks, and peg its value to the US Dollar. One pound of pears would be worth 1.5 SarahBucks, one pound of sirloin steak is 6.99 SarahBucks at Safeway. That still doesn't explain how we'll get people to use it." "I'm not sure. I need to think about this more," Sarah yawned, tired. "And I hate that name." They agreed that they were stuck, and that SarahBucks was absolutely a terrible name. Livermore Spaceport, Earth A month after the spaceport opening, Sarah noticed that it had become less of a tourist attraction. There were far fewer people standing around gawking at the aliens, and a lot more companies trucking their best-selling products into the spaceport for trade. After their abuse of Jen's cousin's employee pass got discovered by the spaceport authorities, Sarah and Jen had started placing their own bids on getting into the spaceport through the official channels. Thanks to their existing connections with the managers at the spaceport and a growing bank account of value, they could still get in to continue their lucrative trade for magical alien goods. A bit of a rich-get-richer type of situation. The flavor of the month were these Bohor magical air filter machines that aggressively scrubbed the air of… anything you want them to. The Bohor planet is basically the planetary equivalent of a toxic dump. Sure, it had biomes; it wasn't a Star Wars sci-fi planet where the entire planet is either a desert or an ice-cold tundra or a forest. But the entire planet had been polluted so heavily by its occupants that it lowered the life expectancy by half before the Bohors found a solution: They simply filtered their entire atmosphere through air filter machines and then buried the toxins and garbage they got out of it in a very deep landfill, somewhere where very few people lived. Pretty much the kind of solution you'd expect out of a species that created the original problem in the first place. Zikzik, the alien that was the same species as Zarko, overheard a human asking about their rocket fuel and climate change, and brought in a cargo hold of them. It was a massive hit. Earth's climate change problem wasn't nearly as bad as Bohor, but it was relatively simple to program these machines to suck carbon out of its atmosphere and… bury them in a landfill. At first, few of the human traders bought them, thinking that it was going to be at least a while before the problem became big enough that big governments were going to come to them to try to address the issue, but they had it all wrong. Soon as word got out this was an option, big companies and philanthropists started lining up at their doors. As it turned out, literally sucking the carbon dioxide out of the air was easier and cheaper than modifying many of their industrial practices to actually be environmentally green. They didn't need to run more efficient factories to claim to be carbon-neutral; just pump as much carbon into the air in exchange for undoing that by sucking it out of the atmosphere after! Some bean counters at a think tank in DC predicted that a few more shipments of these air filters will fix Earth's climate problems by themselves in about a decade, so every trader had a waiting list of corporations with PR problems willing to buy them. Sarah and Jen had a couple vehicle manufacturing companies on their list who were trying to get Bohor air filters to use in lobbying for looser emission standards for their dirty gasoline cars. Today, there were traders on all the landing pads, and they were all carrying air filters. Zarko's ship was there, and he was loading fruits into his spaceship with an alien looking forklift. Sarah and Jen approached his ship and noticed the truck driver standing there. "Hey Benny, tempting the poor aliens with cherries this time?" Sarah waved good, grinning and looking at his cargo. Technically, Benny is a competitor, or at least he drives for a competitor. The massive fruit conglomeration he worked for, Chuckita, had not neglected to notice the massive business opportunity sitting right here as many others have, and are now delivering straight to the aliens in exchange for massive profit margins. But Benny was a good guy. One time Jen and Sarah were having some trouble finding a buyer for a bunch of legally dubious alien psychedelics. Benny was in his late 50s, not that great with the Internet either, so he'd introduced them to whom he referred to as "my money launderer". Aka, his 22-year-old son, Benny Jr, who had a habit of buying weed and other less than legal items off the deep web. Benny Jr had found a buyer for them within minutes and even generously offered to handle the deal for them to spare them the risk of meeting some psycho hopped up on an alien high in a dark alley somewhere. "Heh! One of the bat aliens loves sweets but has a low tolerance for sour, so they treat cherries as some kind of an odd challenge fad. They eat a random cherry, and it's either so incredibly sweet they start drooling out of the mouths, or it's a sour one, and they freak out," Benny replied, in a low voice as if he were trying to keep it a big secret. "Zarko showed me a video, and it's the most hilarious thing I've ever seen". "I think I've seen that one, have you seen the one where they drink wine?" Sarah chuckled at the memory. Alien videos have been a big hit on YouTube. Some human merchants were trading fruit for aliens to take videos of the galaxy. Which they monetized, of course. "No," Benny's ears perked up. Chuckita doesn't make wine, but if selling wine to aliens was going to be a thing, they were a big supplier of grapes… "Is it gonna be a thing?" "Well guess what we brought today?" Jen also grinning from ear to ear, and holding up a big carton of low-quality box wine. "Awww seems like I'm always one step behind you guys," Benny moaned in exaggeration, "I tried to get my money launderer to tell me what aliens would want but all he does is play video games on the Internet, kids these days." Luckily, Zarko chose this moment to step out to spare them from more good-humored ribbing from the boomer. "Ah Sarah and Jen, you brought the grape wine this time!" "Yup," Sarah beamed, "and I see you've run out of air filters to trade again!" "Sadly yes," Zarko tilted his head in shame, "my ship is overdue for a cargo space upgrade, but I haven't found a port that would do it for fruit yet. Next time?" "Alright! Alright! We'll leave our special wine with you, but you better get us some extra good filters next time!" Jen scolded mockingly. Zarko has gotten a lot more comfortable doling out IOUs since the first time. "Of course. Only the best for you two," Zarko said with a greasy human smile imitation that almost made Sarah laugh out loud. It reminded her of a ridiculous cartoon sloth. "By the way," Sarah asked casually, "how much is a spaceship worth on your planet?" Zarko sobered up his expression and looked at her curiously. It was a question that other humans had asked before. To him, it was a good sign. This meant that they all dreamt of the stars. But he didn't expect such a question from someone as seemingly practical as Sarah. She had a lot of fruit, sure, but fruit doesn't build spaceships. After thinking for a while, he replied honestly, "ships aren't traded for one single item. My family traded for the parts to build mine for generations." He pointed at his spaceship. Zarko proudly explained, "this is the work of eighteen generations of trading. My family was one of the richest on Zeep-zep. For thirteen generations, they traded for each of the parts on this beauty. Then, for the last five, my ancestors traded excess food from the tenant farmers on their land to expert craftsbeings that could put it together." "Wait, eighteen generations?" Jen gasped. Eighteen generations ago, her family were probably peasants on a farm in Korea or something… "Yes," Zarko said, looking at them with a little of pity. "After getting the spaceship, my family has traded in it for twelve generations, through civil wars and disasters." He did some math on his hands, and said, "that's about four hundred of your years. That's why it's very unlikely that you will never go to space." Looking at the stunned expression on their faces, he tried to lighten the mood. Zarko said mischievously, "unless you're willing to part with some more of your fruit, in which case I'll let you sit in the back seat for a whole route!" "Hold on, back up, I'm still stuck on the multiple generations part," Sarah said seriously. "You're saying you're flying on a spaceship that started to be built thirty generations ago? That's… about a millennia for us." "Yes," Zarko answered, "and that's why only thirteen families on my planet have had the privilege of owning one in our long history. No offense, but that's why I think no human will ever own their own spacecraft for at least fifteen more generations." Something is wrong here, Sarah thought. The budget for NASA's FTL spacecraft was in the hundreds of millions. Yes, for a fruit farmer, that would be many generations of work if all their descendants worked in the same industry. But there were over three thousand billionaires on Earth, not including the tens of thousands of corporations that had assets or market value over a billion. And the prices for the spacecraft would surely go down as time went on… For a planet like Zarko's to only have thirteen spaceships over generations of their development… As they were walking away, Benny asked, "have you guys noticed something weird about the way these aliens do business?" "Yes." "God yes." They said in unison. "We've been thinking about it for a while, but these guys not having money is a major problemo," Sarah said, looking around surreptitiously, "Zarko and Zikzik keep talking about not being able to find someone who can upgrade their hulls for fruit. And sometimes they come with nothing good, and we're supposed to just drive our fruits all the way back!" "And if you think about it, if they were human ships, think about truckers who don't own their trucks. We'd have loans or something to deal with the cargo space problems, and they'd be paid for by profits in a few trips," Jen added. "The numbers he gave us for spacecraft ownership seem insane," Sarah agreed. "Your company could probably afford to order one right now, not to mention hundreds of others. They must all be dirt poor!" Benny seemed relieved that he wasn't the only one who was thinking this, "exactly! I'm thinking we just introduce them to the concept of Benjamins and solve all their problems and ours. Would certainly make the return trip a lot easier for me if I didn't have to drive all the way to Berkeley for junior to launder all this crap!" "We thought of that too," Sarah said as Benny pretended to groan again, "but we couldn't figure out how to get them to take money with no intrinsic value." "Oh that shouldn't be too hard," Benny said, who's clearly already thought through this problem in his head, "we play a little game called good cop, bad cop." "Good cop bad cop?" "Sure, it's a mind game the cops play, where they put you in a room-" "Yeah we know what it is, but how does that help us?" Sarah said impatiently, an idea tugging on her subconscious. "Well you see," Benny clearly smugly enjoying this moment where he's thought of something that the duo did not, "you two come with an empty truck next time, and you tell Zarko that you'll give him a wad of clean crisp cash, fresh from the bank, for some of his air filters. And when he asks you why he'd take the cash, you just tell him that he can give it to me in exchange for some of my fruits." "What does that have anything to do with good cop bad cop?!" Jen asked. "That has nothing to do with good cop bad cop," Sarah chimed in, but the idea was beginning to form in her head, "but it's a good start. We don't want to deal in cash. It's too risky. It could get the feds onto us and there's a bunch of laws around it that I'm not sure about." "But what we can do is have an internal money system for traders pegged to the US Dollar!" Jen completed. "Yup, so when Zarko comes back next time, we tell him he has an account with the Bank of Benny, we give him a fancy looking card that has his bank account number and give him a pin code, and we deposit a certain amount of BennyBucks into his account for giving us air filters. Then when you come around, Zarko gives you his card and pin, and gives you BennyBucks for your fruit," Sarah finished. "Aha. And then I come to you two, say, I would like to convert BennyBucks in my Bank of Benny account to good old American dollars," Benny extrapolated, completing that final step. "Yeah! We'll just wire you the money and everyone gets theirs," Sarah exclaimed, happy they've finally thought through the loop and gotten someone on board. "BennyBucks is a terrible name though," Jen said, calming everyone down a little, "and why are we getting so excited over the basic concept of currency? And why haven't aliens figured this out? Maybe it's against some kind of space trading code." "Who knows? Maybe we just try it on Zarko and see if it works out," Benny said, a glint in his eyes, "and then we expand, galaxy-tically." "Galactic credits!" Sarah exclaimed, "that's what we'll call it." They agreed that it was the least worst name that they'd come up with so far. It was boring, but when it came to finances, maybe boring and cliché was a good choice after all. "Explain again. I am trying to understand," Zarko said two days later as he offloads the air filters he'd promised. "C'mon dude, for the fifth time," Sarah exasperated, "it's not that hard. We give you a bank account card and have you set up a secret number…" Jen had spent the last two days coding up a storm. Technically, a simple debit system wasn't that hard, but she had to make a website interface that Benny could go up to and enter his account, Zarko's card information and amount, then let Zarko type in his code…etc. She'd mused that it would have been easier to just do this all in a cloud-based spreadsheet, but that wouldn't scale up if they had more customers. Sarah had the account cards laminated and designed a logo: the letters GC, for Galactic Credit, and a stylized version of a Milky Way in the background. Part of the value in a trustworthy system is to look official, and you can't get much more official than laminated cards. "Yes, I understand that part," Zarko said, clearly displaying his frustration on his facial expression as well, "but I don't understand why Benny would give me his fruit for just entering a number." "Because we have an agreement with him that he'll take it in exchange for fruit!" Sarah was sure this was the umpteenth time she had to explain this, but clearly Zarko was not getting it. "Is it similar to a debt?" Zarko said suspiciously, as if debt was this dark magic that the humans were performing on him, "I have never heard of this kind of debt before." "Yes, it's a debt, of sorts," Jen cut in. The last time he had asked this exact question, they'd said no, and that led to fifty other questions and explanations that went nowhere, so nothing could go worse if they said yes- "Ok. I don't understand," Zarko did his sloth version of a sigh, it was cute, but at the same time frustrating for Sarah and Jen, "But I can try it. I know you two are not trying to trick me. Do I get my fruits before I take off?" "Yes! You go to Benny-" Sarah started. "Yes! And that's it. Benny gives you his fruit," Jen cut her off, knowing that this was about to launch into yet another long, long line of questions they just can't deal with right now. Sarah set up a new account for Zarko, asked him for a 6 digit base ten pin code (thank god Zarko was a ten digit species) which he promptly memorized, and hoping that Jen's prototype website wouldn't fail, showed him how they were "giving" Zarko 40,000 Galactic Credits for 8 Bohor air filter machines into his account ("No, you can't have my iPad. It's on your account card now. Show this to Benny later.") "Well that worked out great," Benny said as he watched them wire him the $25,000 for his truck shipment of fruit. Though his costs were in the low thousands, he could have easily fleeced Zarko for his full 40k. But they all agreed that wasn't the point, which was to get Zarko to see the benefits of using a currency system abstracted from goods and services. "Dude, you weren't there," Sarah complained, "I don't understand why he had such a hard time understanding money. Money equals goods. Bing bang boom. It's like these guys don't have the capability for abstract thinking." "No they definitely do. You can't build spaceships without abstract math and science," Jen said, "but he clearly had a deathly aversion to using money. I think it's tied to some taboo to debt somehow. All the other species must have it because none of the aliens we've met have even mentioned anything close to a real economy." "Whatever it is," Benny sighed happily, "I'm just happy I didn't have to go home with my truck full of weird alien toys." "Yup. The next step is to get all the human traders to take credits. At least they'll have no problems understanding the benefits." Sarah made some calls to the trader licensing office at the spaceport. There she found a manager willing to part with phone numbers and contact information for the other human traders, for an "information fee" of course, and started making calls to the other human traders. It wasn't easy. Some traders were representatives of bigger food companies, and didn't have all the flexibility to make these kinds of decisions. And others no doubt were thinking of copying their system for their own profit. But they all saw the benefits of a unified network of currency debiting because they've been suffering the same problems that Sarah, Jen, and Benny had been. Over the next few days, all the human traders agreed to take galactic credit from the aliens, which they knew they could exchange for cash with Sarah and Jen. "We are officially in business." In economics, there's a distinction made between different kinds of money. There's commodity money, usually gold or silver. There's representative money, which is currency backed by commodities like gold or silver. And then there's fiat money, which is not backed by any intrinsic value, but rather by government decree, hence fiat. Galactic Credits fall into some kind of weird hybrid category between representative and fiat money. They're backed by the Dollar, which is fiat money, but also which makes them representative money. This means that the people issuing them, in this case Jen and Sarah, are not supposed to create them without also having a corresponding US Dollar in their bank account. Of course, Sarah and Jen hadn't signed an ironclad contract with the other human traders that they're always guaranteed to take their galactic credits and exchange for money, so technically that meant that one day Sarah could simply "deposit" a large number of credits in her account and buy all the goods she wanted from Zarko, or potentially the other traders. That would, however, be slaughtering the golden goose for the meat. After all, they didn't want to sell fruit or Bohor air filters. They wanted to sell the concept of money. "Why would I take this over fruit?" Zikzik sniffed. He was known as a sharp one by all the human traders. If there's any new alien fad coming down the pipeline, chances are Zikzik is the first one to touchdown with a cargo hold full of it. Unlike many of the other traders, he was fairly consistent in his dealings. This much fruit is for this much air filters. He knows his price, and he lets you know it too. Everyone suspected he kept careful records of all his selling and buying somewhere in his ship, but he's never brought them out. Maybe he just had a sharp memory. "It's very consistent," Sarah insisted, trying to appeal to his affinity for a stable and predictable exchange, "one pound of fruit today is the same as one pound of fruit tomorrow, and you can deal in fractions." Completely ignoring that most fruits are seasonal, and price changes, and inflation, she thought, let's start here. "Fractions, you say?" Zikzik seemed thoughtful, or maybe he's just scratching an itch on his snout, Sarah could never tell with these aliens. "Yes, fractions," said Jen detecting the slightest bit of opening, "you can trade your air filters for credit. Then you can trade maybe three quarters of your credits to fill your cargo with fruit. The next time you come down here to Earth, you would only need to bring half the amount of air filters as the first trip, combined with the credits you have left, you can leave with a full cargo load anyway!" Is that how that math goes, Sarah thought, but didn't cut in, as Zikzik seems to be nodding, an oddly universal gesture for affirmation. "Five eighths of the credits," Zikzik argued, "The air filters are harder to get now because the Bohor are running low, and they need time to make more." Bargaining! There we go! That's what we're talking about! Sarah almost pumped her fists in the air and gave him a high five, not a great idea given how sharp his claws are as she found out when trying to shake his hands a couple of weeks ago. "Ok, you would still have to negotiate that amount with each human trader," Sarah replied adding, "but they all deal in Galactic Credits." They signed him up for an account, gave him a card, and set up his pin code. It had only taken half an hour to get Zikzik on board, which was significantly faster than the hours they'd taken to explain this to Zarko, despite them being the same species. Was it xenocist that she'd assume it was going to take just as long, Sarah wondered. Looking at the line of traders, she sighed. This was going to be a long day. Luckily, Zikzik accepting the credits made for great advertising. He was known for being a sharp trader, so if he doesn't think it's a scam, it must not be, right? Sarah and Jen managed to get two other traders that day onto credits, and one more who was dipping his proverbial toes into the water. It was a good day. Jen had been working hard. The Galactic Credits website was now on its 16th major iteration. She'd beefed up the security on it, to make sure none of the other human traders got any funny ideas. Backups became more automatic and frequent, and there was now a rollback and dispute mechanism, not that it was being used yet. Sarah had also been working hard. She'd been sitting in meetings all day with legal, finances, and now they had a small army of people who were ready to help out if they got into trouble there. Galactic Credits is now officially a tax paying LLC incorporated in the great state of Delaware. Benny Jr, who had just finished college, had come in as well. He was no good at talking to clients, but he's what the duo would refer to as "street smart". Occasionally, the alien traders would bring in some exotic or ahem, dubiously sourced items, and he would know exactly where to convert that into cold hard cash. On the spreadsheets, his dealings were adding up to a nice fat padding on the margins for Galactic Credits, which to this point, hasn't been making any money other than in the fruit and air filters exchange business. They were now working out of a rented office in downtown Livermore, with a very nice view of a brick-lined pub that offers numerous craft beers and the old railroad that runs through the heart of town. Ironically, there's a Bank of America branch across the street, not far from the office itself, the company that had invented the BankAmericard and started the credit card revolution, seemingly oblivious to this new competitor moving into town, literally and figuratively. They had many brilliant finance experts who were working on something, surely, but established financial institutions are not always great at moving fast and adapting to changing technology. There were many regulations to worry about, and the stakes were a lot higher. There's something very quaint about the town itself. Some people didn't consider it part of the Bay Area metro area itself, but with the latest BART expansion station they recently built, that's been less and less true. Now, it was literally the town where the train tracks ended. And where the final frontier began. For the people in the office, it's also where they dreamt about a new financial revolution in the galaxy. Some people have critiqued this chapter on the grounds that established financial institutions would have thought of this idea on day one. I appreciate the feedback, but that is a rosy view of the velocity at corporations in my opinion. I've personally worked in some of these companies, and if someone brought up this idea, it would probably have taken at least a month to get the idea through various risk audits and legal reviews. In terms of technology, much of banking still operates on software that predates the modern Internet. This is one of the reasons why fin-tech startups have been able to beat them on time-to-market, despite massive institutional or financial disadvantages. It's why companies like PayPal, Square, Stripe, Venmo… etc could compete with the incumbents with the development of the Internet. Sure, an intern in engineering or tools would have a semi-working prototype by week three, but the first line of code would be pushed to production by… month three. A much more likely scenario: some startup beats them to the punch, exactly as it happens here, and the large company offers their founders or investors an obscene amount of money to buy them out. RoyalRoad First Next
Hey guys, it’s Cooolin !! How’s everyones Tuesday comin along? Let me knoww, doownn belooww!!! Today is the LAST TUESDAY OF JANUARY! WOW! Can you believe it guys? Wild! Here’s the new cards for today, Thanks EA!!! :)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY WAYNE GRETZKY!
Wayne Gretzky - 91 OVR - NYR / C - BAR1 , LTL2
Silver Master Icons
Yvan Cournoyer - 90 OVR - BAL2 , GLA2 ... 96 SPEEED Mike Gartner - 90 OVR - WAS /RW - SWA2 , SH2 ... 96 SPEED Brian Trottier - 91 OVR - NYI / C - BAL2 , LTL2
Sets
Corn and Gartner - 8 Icons to upgrade Trottier - 9 Icons to upgrade
Primetimes
NHL
Brent Burns - 91 OVR - SJS / RD - HOW1 , GLA1 Marc Andre Fleury - 90 OVR - LVK / G - 6’2” / 180 lbs - DIS1 , SWA1 Jake Muzzin - 87 OVR - TOR / LD - SH1 , GLA1 Pius Suter - 86 OVR - CHI / C - SPE1 , T1 Roope Hintz - 84 OVR - DAL / C - WM1 , T1 Brandon Sutter - 83 OVR - VAN / C - SPE1 , LTL1 .... we are not talking about the sens game ... Colin Miller - 82 OVR - BUF / RD - MAG1 , WM1 ... I like his name Connor Murphy - 82 OVR - CHI / RD - WM1 , SH1 Ryan Donato - 82 OVR - SJS / C - HOW1 , PP1 Tanner Pearson - 81 OVR - VAN / LW - SPE1 , LTL1 Lias Andersson - 80 OVR - LAK / C - H and S1 , T1 Scott Wedgewood - 78 OVR - NJD / G - 6’2” / 207 lbs - SPA1 , H and S1 • • • • • • • • • • - - - - - - - - - • • • • • • • • • • • •
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Summary of the day
Quick Read Best Forward of the Day - PT - is PIIUUSS SUTTTTTERRRR OVR 86 with the syn SPEEEDSTERRR AND THIIEFFFF Best Defence of the Day - PT - is BRENNTT BUURNSS OVR 91 with the syn HOOWWITZERRR AND GLAADIATORR • NEW SEASON OF RIVALS! ———— —— ———
Interested in Stocks?
EA’s Stock Price, after hours - Jan 26 $ 146.29 (usd) —- Currency Converter we looked at the stock at $137.54 usd —— That is a difference of ( $8.75 / 6.36% ) — Disclaimer - I am not a financial advisor. It is your money, please do your own due diligence. I am not responsible for your money. This is *not** advice. I added this section for an added educational purposes only. Thanks* —— —— —— —-
NEED A SOUNDTRACK TO LISTEN TO?
I made this for everyone. I’ll update it whenever I feel like it, but its been often!
HALFWAY TO 1.4K SONGS!!! How are you not listening to this playlist already!? Comment songs to add, and please give feedback! It’s much appreciated!! I currently have “Driver’s License” by “Jxdn” stuck in my head.... which you can play, recently added to the playlist! Sidenote - How do you guys like the playlist!? I have a friend who makes music...and I really want to surprise him with some new people listening to his music... if you wanna help me, please click Here!! it would mean a lot to me!! ———-
Sites To Bookmark!
If you click here you will be redirected to bilasport. Bilasport is the best Online Streaming site for your entertainment needs for all sports! (Not affiliated) A great streaming source recommended by NHLStreams is SurgeSport. Click on Hockey and you’ll be good to go! Want to make your dream team, and show others what you’ve been working on, and much more? I will redirect you HERE!. Here’s a helpful pack guide for you! Click! Want to know how the market is holding up? With a simple TAP! you will be on the newly fresh made website for the HUT market, made by one of the guys on the sub! .... what do the stats on a card mean? Is my card I want / pulled good? Click here to find out!! When is my favourite team playing? When do they play!? Here you can click on this link, and tap on your favourite team. From there, tap “Schedule” . You can add this to your homescreen on iPhone by clicking the square with the upwards arrow, scrolling down, and tapping “Add to Home Screen” ——- —— —— —— —— —— —— —— —- —— —-
Fighting a Gambling Addiction?
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Story Time!!
A frog decided to reach the top of a tree. All frogs shouted IT’S IMPOSSIBLE! ITS IMPOSSIBLE .... Still the frog reached the top... How? HE WAS DEAF!!! and he thought,,, Everyone was encouraging him to reach the top.... BE DEAF TO NEGATIVE THOUGHTS.... IF YOUR AIM IS TO REACH YOUR GOAL! ——- 26 / 365 —— —— —— —- —- ——- —- —— —— Thanks for reading. I’m always welcome to feedback, please let me know what I can improve on. If there’s anything missing, please let me know! Take care, happy gaming! TODAY IS NATIONAL GREEN JUICE DAY!!who is gonna drink green juice today? • Coolin Killin It (Life is like a puzzle, you just have to find the right piece.)
OBLIGATORY FILLER MATERIAL – Giving thanks edition: Kickin’ around Caracas, Pt. 5
Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.) So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX. “Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked. “This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry. “No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.” “Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains. “Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?” “Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.” I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though. “Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.” “Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.” “Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.” “Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.” “You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.” We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl. “Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.” After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business. “So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?” “No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment. I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code. “Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued. “Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?” “You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated. “And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired. “Yes?” I cautiously venture. “Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled. “Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured. “That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.” Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?” “Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks. “And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed. “Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “ I agreed. “OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...” “Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.” “Ahem. Those threeultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.” “Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.” “Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.” “I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked. “But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked. “Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head. “I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.” “Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.” So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked. “Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack. “Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied. “Fuckbuckets.” I groused. “There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled. “Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled. “I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed. After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge. “So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.” “Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction. “Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.” After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130. Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite. Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded. Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull. Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era… I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza. She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing. I can hardly wait. I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness. After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks. I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern. Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse? There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak. “Blue,” I said. “Brue?” was the reply. “Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued. Look of total bewilderment. I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant. “珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?] “Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be. They toddle off to find the chef. “How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks. “Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed. All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile. “Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words… “お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください” [O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.] “Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.” “OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen. Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill. “Crack tubes!” Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it. Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace. Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig. Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends. We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’. “I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor. I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down. “Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.” “Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically. “I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could. She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth. I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest. “Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.” “Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley. She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor. “Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles. Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun. “Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.” “You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass. “Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky… “Beam Suntory, right?” “You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation. “And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked. Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip. “Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind. “Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently. We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company. I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters. She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health. We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed. The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show. Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat. Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower. “This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.” “Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered. “Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports. “That’s good”, I note. “But…” “There’s always the but…” I groan. “…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.” There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.” Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit. “Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear. The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain. I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service. “Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…” “Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.” So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself. “Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?” He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates. “Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles “No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink. “But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again. “So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked. “Yeah?”, he stammered back. I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails. “OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.” I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink. “Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed. “Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked. “But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued. “I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled. That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while. “Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked. “But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered. Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied, “All the way to the crash site.” He went white. “...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.” He went limp. Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload. Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii. We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was. They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal. I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did. “Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked. “Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied. “Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.” “Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.” “Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.” “Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.” “I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway. At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport. While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!” “Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.” “I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped. “Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied. He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted. “Yeah? Like what?” he asks. “Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.” “Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.” Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.” He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge. I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane. He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts. “No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins. “Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”. “And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies. “Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.” He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH. I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge. The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium. I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different. It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella. “Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular. One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically. I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar. I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically. Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes. “Excuse me!” I hear. Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit. “What?” “That cigar…” “Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward. “Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes. Instantly my demeanor switches 1800. “Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks. “Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances. “Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?” “Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said. “Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens. “Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle. She chuckles back. “And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake. “Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask. “On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies. “But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask. “She was from Truk, an island…” “In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked. “Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked. “Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said. “That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked. “Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle. Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me. “Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?” My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open. “Hella?” I asked. “Yes?” “May I ask you a favor?” “You can ask…” “Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask. “Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies. “I thought so. Many thanks.” I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet. “Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed. “Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud. “No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked. “Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed. “But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand. “What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand. “Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said. “Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party. “Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella. Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well. “Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted. Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone. “Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge. “Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over. “You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo. He cuts and fires up his heater. “What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks. “Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply. “No. I mean right now.” He clarifies. “Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply. “Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks. “My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply. Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end. Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies. Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer. We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off. Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it. I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”. “Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion. “One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another. “No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo. “But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain. I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.” She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion. Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see. “So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask. “Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues. “You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft. I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense. “Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection. “Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins. “So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo. “Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing. I pound on Toivo’s back. “Heimlich time?” I ask. Toivo signals ‘no’. “Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks. “Just my usual”, I innocently replied. “Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much. “Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily. “Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out. “The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool. “It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean. “Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled. “You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink. “No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest. Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore. “You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings. “Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly. I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable. Great fieldcraft, indeed. I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium. He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing. Then I delivered the strategic missile strike. “Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…” He swivels to look at me. “And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly. Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move. I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane. Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire. Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business. I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious. “Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked. “Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile. “Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said. “Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.” “Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway. I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH. Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up. Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane. We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun. Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal. We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip. She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink. Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks. Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs. “Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!” “No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear. “Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!” “’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly. Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole. “Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly. “What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it. He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose. “Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.” To be continued…⇝
[The watery depths of darkness greets us.]Guda: ...Huh... [The scene shifts to what appears to be the Moon Cell.]Guda: ...This place is... [Accompanied by static, Kiara in her third ascension's mermaid cosplay appears before us for a brief second before she disappears and we find ourselves in the middle of a city.]Guda: ??? [Once again, Kiara appears, this time in her first ascension swimsuit.]Sessyoin Kiara: Fufu. The meal at the restaurant just now was very delicious. As expected of Master; you have a discerning eye, or perhaps I should say you have heavenly luck. At this point, I'm almost fully sated. Guda: [1] Sessyoin Kiara-san...! Kiara: ...Aah. You're calling my name with such a smile on your face again... I am happy about your feelings, but please have patience. We are still in the middle of town...right? Guda: [2] You're Sessyoin Lily's...! Kiara: Fufufu. Keep your feigning of ignorance in moderation. I can't guarantee what'll happen otherwise in all sorts of meaning, you see? Kiara: Now then, since we have filled our stomach, shall we visit our favorite beach? I finally changed into a swimsuit, but I could only try it out at a lake... The one who invited me to the sea while I was lamenting that...was none other than you. I was so happy, I couldn't sleep last night. I might be unable to fall asleep ever again♡ Ju~st kidding☆ Fufufufufu! Since it's a vacation on Valentine's, I'm in high spirits. It might be out of season, but this is a garden of pleasure without any discomfort. That rumored Altar of Perpetual and Everlasting Summer that I've heard of... Umm, if I remember correctly, Luluhawa was its name? I absolutely won't lose to such a wicked thing. I've snuck in there and done my research, after all. Guda: I see. So today was Valentine's. / I see, you are the night time's Sesshouin... Kiara: Yes, of course. Please, spend this holiday so you'll have no regrets afterwards, Master. [We spend the day on the seashore with Kiara, and then, at night...]Kiara: Swimming at the beach where no one else is around, enjoying the sunlight, and engaging in conversations as we listen to the sound of the waves... It was a very pleasant holiday, Master. I've returned my childlike innocence as I frolicked about. Aah, but, being unable to order a few drinks...would be my only regret. Downing your glasses all night will be a thing for when you're a little older♡ ...Oh. Putting that aside... I might be giving it to you at the very end, but would you accept this...? It's chocolate for Valentine's. [Kiara's choco acquired!]Guda: I'll gladly accept it! / I see, it slipped my mind! Kiara: You being pleased with it is all that matters to me. To commemorate this Summer, I tried to imitate a flower ornament. It might be some plain chocolate compared to what you received from the other Servants... ────Aah, however. If you still find it insufficient...if it still does not satisfy you...if you still want more... There might be more after this...perhaps? Guda: [1] No such thing, this is more than enough! Kiara: ────I see. Then this is where it ends. I have been turned down. Yes, Valentine's only lasts one day. It's not something to repeat over and over again for several days. Then, let us return to Chaldea, Master. You have no need for the tranquility of the depths. Please, join hands with everyone and take back our great planet, okay? [GOOD END] Guda: [2] ...You are right, it might be a little lacking... Kiara: ────You wished for it, right? Then close your eyes for a bit. Let my following version guide you even deeper. How cruel to say that pleasant affairs end in an instant. If they can continue, let them do so for eternity. That is what everyone honestly wishes for. [Suddenly, everything goes white. Then, accompanied by static, images of the Moon Cell and the previous city flashes before our eyes and we find ourselves in an Oriental capital.]Guda: ────Huh? [We hear the sound of an approaching bike and Kiara skids to a halt before us in her second ascension's getup.] Kiara: Oh my. My preferred unsightly pig Master has been foun~d♡ ────Ahem. That's not it. Stop there, you bitch (if female)/swine (if male). Get on your knees and raise your hands. You aren't allowed to resist. If you move even a little, I'll smack you in the ass (if female)/between your legs (if male) with this baton. Guda: This is also Kiara-san...? / So next is Kiara Police! [Kiara smiles before she reverts to her previous stern expression.]Kiara: Shut up. There is no chance for you to explain or a right for you to vindicate yourself. You should have learned in compulsory education that in this town being a Master itself is a sin, right? Moreover, to think you'd be leisurely walking on the main street...are you not aware that you're a piece of trash? You────know what's going to happen next, right? Guda: Perhaps...going along voluntarily to be questioned by the police? / Could it be...I'll be forcibly detained? Kiara: Yes, a tiny piece of trash belongs in the trashcan. A miserable pig belongs in the pigpen. And so, you're under arrest~♡ Game over for you, best regards? [More choco acquired!]Kiara: Fufufu. I wonder if you'll like this handcuff-shaped chocolate. Now then, the continuation will be happening in solitary confinement, plenty of it. This Saint Graph does not adhere to the master-servant relationship. It is the form a ruthless ruler. I will thoroughly train that lax attitude of yours without any mercy. Yes, even if it will take a year or a decade. As you wished, forever, right? Guda: Eh...? / A decade...? [Our vision goes white once again.]Kiara: Don't you find it strange? Why are the bubbles the Shen spews forth called mirages on the surface? If the bubbles reflect the insides of the shell, what appears on the surface should be simply the clam's muscles. So then, the reason why oases and capitals emerge────is that what's inside the Shen is literally a castle. [1] An ideal world envisioned by the people of the secular world. An earthly paradise without any discomfort. A perfectly convenient and infinitely vast city. This is the insides of the mirage. A different world contained within the palace of the clam. Even so──── For me, it is nothing but a cramped bed, you see? [Accompanied by the sound of static, we find ourselves at a pool.]Kiara: How about something of this aspect this time? Though you might already be sick of eating chocolate. [Even more choco acquired!]Kiara: Ufufu. Beaches are great, but pools like this are fine too. Well, since the current is too strong, it is not to my liking... Fortunately, the current me is a mermaid as you can see. No matter how many times you drown or how far you are swept away, I can easily scoop you up, you know, Master? Guda: ............ Kiara: What might be the problem? You seem to be under the weather based on your expression. Could it be...the clam chocolate from before wasn't to your liking? ...As expected, mixing clam with chocolate was dangerous... No, this only happened by a chance, it's just an accident! It's not like I'm better at cooking when I'm in Lily form! ...Oh, that's not what I should be saying. Master? If your stomach hurts, how about we return to the hotel? This is a high-class resort that even has casinos. There is no shortage of entertainment even at the hotel. Guda: It's about time... Kiara: Yes? Guda: If I don't return to Chaldea soon... Kiara: ─────── ─────── ────Then let us do that. Go ahead and return, Master. I won't stop you. That is. If you can escape? [We leave behind Kiara and run through the city, the Moon Cell, the beach, and reach the Oriental capital where we encountered Kiara Police.]Guda: ────pant pant──── ────No good, this city, is way too vast──── [The ground rumbles and *the faint image of Kiara we could see in the sky all this time comes into view and Kiara's voice echoes out.]* Kiara: ────Pfft. Fufu, ufufu, aah, how funny! Just what are you talking about when you are so out of breath? This is an immensely vast world. After all, this is next to my pillow. It is a castle that would be sent flying if I were to blow on it. Guda: ────Just what, is that──── Kiara: After you take refuge in illusions, you won't be able to leave. ...Indeed, I also find it regrettable. To think you'd fall so deep after being bewitched by the sweetness of sugar. I can't view you as Master anymore. You're like an ant that ran around restlessly and separated from its colony. I wonder if I should cover you in chocolate and eat you. [The ground rumbles once again.]Kiara: Fufu, of course, that was just a joke. This is an earthly paradise, inside the dream released by the Shen. If you are fine with empty illusions, here you will be granted tranquility lasting until your death, no, lasting forevermore without you being able to die. Will you disappear along with the illusions in a single breath from me or will you cling to my fingers seeking salvation──── Regardless of what you choose, there is no way for you to return to reality. Resign yourself to your fate, Master. [A pink mist fills our vision.]Kiara: Your fall will lead to the Heaven of Pleasure. The Hell of the woman who captivates her prey. ...Fufu, you wish you hadn't gone to something like the Palace of the Dragon King, right? [BAD END] (Moral of the story: Don't be greedy. Or Kiara will trap you in illusions and toy with you for eternity.)
Bond CE
A Single Summer's Mirage Set Valentine's chocolate from Sessyoin Kiara (MoonCancer). Chocolates matching each stage of ascension are stored inside the Tamateba[2] ......correction, a multi-layered lunch box. You can eat any of the "flowers floating at the waterside", "handcuffs" and "shellfish" that you prefer. However, moderation is important for everything. If you eat just one or two kinds, the boddhisatva will watch over you with a charming smile, but if you display an unsatiable desire where you eat everything at once──── 「Fufufu, what's stored inside the box might not be only chocolate, you know?」 Translator notes: [1] "Mirage" is written with the kanji for "Shen" "emission/spirit/mind" and "building/tower", so mirages are "buildings created of what the Shen emits", I guess? [2] The narration was gonna say Tamatebako before it cut off.
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Las Vegas Casino Bars Now Charge a Drink Fee!? - YouTube
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