Southern cop sterling brown

I have never been able to figure out how to keep plants alive, but I’m determined to keep trying and I need some advice. Sorry if this is stupid, but I’m still learning. I’ve heard it’s not good to use those plastic water catcher things under pots because it can water log the base of the plant, but how do I stop them from dripping all over my floor? Also, I recently moved to an apartment with a balcony, so maybe it’s better for me to start there with potted succulents that are more resistant to my brown thumb?? I’m in Southern California - I think in zone 9b, so I have plenty of sun and mild winters.
Any tips are much appreciated!

Below, I am posting the list of everything I've read in the last few years, organized by author. Please, help me find something new. An author I don't know, a fresh take on an established subgenre, an exceptionally well written piece, something I just missed somehow, or a unique story/perspective I haven't seen yet. I've been on a bit of a sci fi kick lately and want to come back to horror. I'm currently reading Carrion Comfort by Dan Simmons and Fairy Tale by Stephen King. Should be done with both pretty soon. Your recommendations will be added to my queue! Thank you in advance!
Author Title
Agustina Bazterrica Tender is the Flesh
Alex White Alien: The Cold Forge
Andrew Shanahan Before and After
Ania Ahlborn Seed
Anne Rice Interview with the Vampire
Ayn Rand Atlas Shrugged
Ayn Rand The Fountainhead
Benjamin Franklin The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
Bram Stoker Dracula
Bret Easton Ellis American Psycho
Brian Hodge The Immaculate Void
Brian Hodge I’ll Bring You the Birds From Out of the Sky
Brian Hodge Skidding Into Oblivion
Brian Hodge The Darker Saints
C. S. Humble All These Subtle Deceits
C. S. Humble The Crusade of the Black Cross
C.S. Lewis The Magician’s Nephew
C.S. Lewis The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
C.S. Lewis The Horse and His Boy
C.S. Lewis Prince Caspian
C.S. Lewis The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
C.S. Lewis The Silver Chair
C.S. Lewis The Last Battle
Carlton Mellick III The Big Meat
Carson McCullers The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
Cassandra Khaw Nothing But Blackened Teeth
Catriona Ward The Last House on Needless Street
Charles Bukowski A .45 to Pay the Rent
Christopher Buehlman Between Two Fires
Christopher Buehlman The Lesser Dead
Christopher Buehlman The Suicide Motor Club
Christopher Buehlman Those Across the River
Christopher Covello HowExpert: Guide to Obstacle Course Racing
Christopher Golden Ararat
Christopher Priest The Prestige
Chuck Palahniuk Fight Club
Chuck Palahniuk Lullaby
Cixin Liu The Three-Body Problem
Cixin Liu The Dark Forest
Cixin Liu Death’s End
Clay McLeod Chapman Whisper Down the Lane
Clive Barker Books of Blood Vol. 1 to 3
Clive Barker Imajica
Clive Barker The Damnation Gam
Clive Barker The Hellhound Heart
Clive Barker The Thief of Always
Clive Barker Weaveworld
Clive Barker Coldheart Canyon
Clive Barker The Scarlet Gospels
Clive Barker Books of Blood Vol. 4: The Inhuman Condition
Clive Barker Books of Blood Vol. 5: In the Flesh
Clive Barker Books of Blood Vol. 6: Lord of Illusion
Clive Barker Mister B. Gone
Cormac McCarthy No Country for Old Men
Cormac McCarthy The Road
Dan Simmons A Winter Haunting
Dan Simmons The Terror
Dan Simmons Summer of Night
Danielle Vega The Merciless
Dave Pelzer A Child Called “It”
David Duchovny The Reservoir
David Foster Wallace Infinite Jest
David Goggins Can’t Hurt Me
David Goggins Never Finished
David J. Lieberman You Can Read Anyone
David Seltzer The Omen
Dean Koontz Darkfall
Douglas Adams The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Edgar Allan Poe The Raven
Edward Lee Teratologist
Elan Gale You’re Not That Great
Emily Brontë Wuthering Heights
Erich Maria Remarque All Quiet on the Western Front
Ernest Cline Armada
Ernest Cline Ready Player One
Ernest Cline Ready Player Two
Ernest Hemingway For Whom the Bell Tolls
F. Scott Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby
Franz Kafka The Metamorphosis
Fyodor Dostoyevsky Crime and Punishment
George Orwell 1984
George Orwell Animal Farm
Gerald Brom Lost Gods
Glenn Beck Common Sense
Grady Hendrix My Best Friend’s Exorcism
Grady Hendrix We Sold Our Souls
Grady Hendrix Horrorstör
Grady Hendrix The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires
Gus Moreno This Thing Between Us
H.G. Wells The War of the Worlds
H.G. Wells The Invisible Man
H.P. Lovecraft The Alchemist
H.P. Lovecraft At the Mountains of Madness
H.P. Lovecraft Azathoth
H.P. Lovecraft The Beast in the Cave
H.P. Lovecraft Beyond the Wall of Sleep
H.P. Lovecraft The Book
H.P. Lovecraft The Call of Cthulhu
H.P. Lovecraft The Case of Charles Dexter Ward
H.P. Lovecraft The Cats of Ulthar
H.P. Lovecraft Celephaïs
H.P. Lovecraft The Colour Out of Space
H.P. Lovecraft Cool Air
H.P. Lovecraft Dagon
H.P. Lovecraft The Dunwich Horror
Herman Raucher Maynard’s House
Hideaki Sena Parasite Eve
Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
J. M. Barlog God of War
J. Sheridan Le Fanu Carmilla: A Vampyre Tale
Jack Ketchum Off Season
Jack London The Call of the Wild
Jason Arnopp The Last Days of Jack Sparks
Jay Anson The Amityville Horror
Joe De Sena The Spartan Way
John Grisham The Firm
John Langan The Fisherman
Jon Robson The Psychopath Test
Jonathan Janz Exorcist Road
Jonathan Janz Exorcist Falls
Jules Verne 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
Jules Verne Journey to the Center of the Earth
Jules Verne From the Earth to the Moon
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 0.5: The Hospital
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 2: Safari
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 3: Hellifax
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 4: Well Fed
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 5: Make Me King
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 6: Mindless
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man: Prequel
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man: 2nd Prequel
Keith C. Blackmore Mountain Man 7: Skull Road
Keith R. A. DeCandido Alien: Isolation
Kristina Streva The Inked
Kurt Vonnegut Slaughterhouse-Five
L.I. Albemont A Haunting: The Horror on Rue Lane
Lauren Beukes Ungirls
Lee Mountford The Demonic
Lee Mountford The Mark
Lee Mountford Forest of the Damned
Leo Tolstoy The Death of Ivan Ilyich
Mary Doria Russell The Sparrow
Mary Doria Russell Children of God
Mary Higgins Clark I’ve Got My Eyes On You
Mary Shelley Frankenstein
Michael McDowell Cold Moon Over Babylon
Michael McDowell The Elementals
Mitch Albom Tuesdays with Morrie
Neil Gaiman American Gods
Neil Gaiman The Ocean at the End of the Lane
Neil Gaiman Coraline
Nick Cutter The Troop
Nick Cutter The Deep
Nick Roberts The Exorcist’s House
Patrick McGrath Asylum
Paul Tremblay A Head Full of Ghosts
Peter Straub Ghost Story
R. L. Stine Red Rain
Ray Bradbury Fahrenheit 451
Rex Stout The Golden Spiders
Richard Laymon The Traveling Vampire Show
Richard Matheson A Stir of Echoes
Rick Poldark Primordial Island
Rick Poldark Return to Primordial Island
Rick Poldark Cryptid Slayer
Robert Browning Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came
Robert Louis Stevenson Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde
Robert Masello The Night Crossing
Ronald Malfi Black Mouth
Ronald Malfi The Night Parade
Ronald Malfi Come With Me
Ryan James Girdusky They’re Not Listening
Ryu Murakami Audition
S. E. England Father of Lies
Sara Gran Come Closer
Scott Kenemore The Grand Hotel
Shirley Jackson The Haunting of Hill House
Silvia Moreno-Garcia Mexican Gothic
Stephen Graham Jones The Only Good Indians
Stephen J. Dubner Freakonomics
Stephen King The Shining
Stephen King Doctor Sleep
Stephen King It
Stephen King Everything’s Eventual
Stephen King The Stand: Complete and Uncut Edition
Stephen King On Writing
Stephen King Hearts in Atlantis
Stephen King Salem’s Lot
Stephen King The Mist
Stephen King The Dark Tower 1: The Gunslinger
Stephen King The Dark Tower 2: The Drawing of the Three
Stephen King The Dark Tower 3: The Waste Lands
Stephen King The Dark Tower 4: Wizard and Glass
Stephen King The Dark Tower 5: Wolves of the Calla
Stephen King The Dark Tower 6: Song of Susannah
Stephen King Insomnia
Stephen King The Talisman
Stephen King Black House
Stephen King The Dark Tower 7: The Dark Tower
Stephen King The Dark Tower: The Wind Through the Keyhole
Stephen King Pet Sematary
Stephen King Quitters, Inc.
Stephen King In the Tall Grass
Stephen King The Dark Half
Stephen King 11/22/63
Stephen King Under the Dome
Stephen King Rage
Steven Pressfield Gates of Fire
Sun Tzu The Art of War
Susan Hill Dolly: A Ghost Story
T. Kingfisher The Hollow Places
T. Kingfisher The Twisted Ones
Tess Gerritsen Vanish
Theodore Sturgeon Some of Your Blood
Thomas F. Moneleone The Resurrectionist
Thomas Hardy The Return of the Native
Thomas Harris The Silence of the Lambs
Thomas Harris Hannibal
Thomas Harris Red Dragon
Thomas Harris Hannibal Rising
Thomas Olde Heuvelt HEX
Tom Wolfe The Bonfire of the Vanities
Truman Capote Breakfast at Tiffany’s
V. Castro Goddess of Filth
Vladimir Nabokov Lolita
Walter Tevis The Queen’s Gambit
Washington Irving The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
William Peter Blatty The Exorcist
William Peter Blatty Legion
William Shakespeare King Lear

[INDEX]
I banked the fire and stared into the golden eyes of Beatale before I crept into my makeshift tent.
I still had my auric vision running and couldn’t help but notice the thin silver cord that ran from me to Horse. Firming up my aura, I reached out with my hand and grabbed it. I could feel the nearly imperceptible vibration between my fingers as I used my mind to probe at the thread. I could feel a bright spark of intellect, a light at the end of a tunnel. Pushing with my mind, I slid down the thread until the spark grew larger and eventually filled my inner vision with a hazy white light. Horsey thoughts nudged at me curiously.
I slid into the haze and immediately lost all sense of direction. If it wasn’t for the silver thread, I’d have no idea how to exit this shifting white fog. Horsey thoughts got stronger as I followed the thread while the haze thinned and cleared to reveal an endless prairie of green grass. I found myself standing before a naked man wearing a horse mask and I stared in shock. It was obviously me wearing a cheap costume horse mask — there was no mistaking my tattoos.
“What did you expect?” Horse neighed at me. “I am you and you are me and we are all together. Goo goo ga joob.”
Horse made a shooing motion with his hands and I accelerated backwards through the white haze and slammed into my own body with a gasp. I stared at the tarp overhead for a long minute, processing this new revelation. Horse was a part of me, a piece of my spirit. Whatever psychic stuff I did with that silver cord lead me into a house of mirrors where I got to look at myself pretending to be a horse. I can’t even deal with that right now.
Rolling into my blankets, I dropped off to sleep.
*Ding*
-=- - Welcome to the Dreamworld - Included in the Psychic Skills pack, the Inner Sanctum is your psychic domain. It is the mental fortress that you must secure and maintain to defend against psychic and spiritual assaults. All of your neurosis and fears are symbolised in this realm and must be defeated or subjugated before you can become master of the domain. Good luck. -=-
I banished the pop-up and looked around. I knew I was asleep, but everything was just as real as when I was awake. I was breathing, I could feel the floor under my feet, and if it weren’t for the pop-up, I would have sworn I had been teleported. The room I was in resembled an oversized luxury prison cell, maybe a thirty foot cube. No windows. Rough stone walls with thick mortar. Large brass wall sconces were set directly into the stone and suffused the room with a warm, golden light provided by glowing rocks. The stone floor had colourful Persian rugs tastefully placed. A high plaster ceiling was painted with a rendition of Michelangelo’s ‘Creation of Adam’, depicting me as both Adam and God.
There was a comfy sofa in front of a large screen television that hung from one wall and an ornate grandfather clock ticked loudly in the corner. It was currently 10:08 PM. Another wall was a floor to ceiling bookshelf, stuffed with books of varying sizes. The third wall was covered with pictures and I could see at a glance that they were images from my life. The fourth wall had a thick riveted steel door on the right side, a full sized mirror on the left, and a computer workstation in the middle.
The picture wall was my first target. A few were quite large, nearly life sized, while others were tiny prints no larger than the palm of my hand. Scenes of my life were displayed in each one. The largest was me riding Horse with a shit-scared expression, shooting at a pack of wolves. Others were smaller, each with different frames. Some ornate gold or silver, others plain wood, a few wrapped in briars or barbed wire. Nanny Ramsey holding me as a young child. My dog Jean with a red ball in his mouth. My parents, screaming at me. I turned my attention to the books. Books are safe. Books don’t judge you.
The sweet, musty scent of a used book store filled my nostrils as I drew close to the honey coloured shelves. Hundreds of volumes filled the wall from floor to ceiling, with a ladder that could be rolled along a rail to access the top. I smiled at the sight. I had always wanted a library like this. I pulled a book at random and read the title, “Confused Fantasies about Joseph Harris, part XXIV of the Middle School Years”.
I slid the book back onto the shelf. Let’s see what’s on TV.
The remote was a slim, futuristic looking affair with a minimum of buttons. I pointed it at the television and moments later the huge screen came to life and presented me with a simple menu for movies, divided into six categories: Happy, Surprised, Afraid, Disgusted, Angry, and Sad. I scrolled through the offerings for a minute, reading the titles and reviews about the movies of my life. It really bothered me that there were so few selections in the Happy section.
The number of Sad movies increased by one.
I walked over to the mirror and noticed there was a small sticky note pasted to it. “Astral Realm. Experienced users only.” I shoved the note in my pocket and stared at my image. Sturdy black boots, black denim jeans and shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, deep brown gun belt slung at my hip, red bandanna and black felt hat. All I needed was a pencil moustache and I would look like the stereotypical villain in any spaghetti western. At that very moment I decided to grow out a goatee. I’d rather be mistaken for a bad guy than a victim.
So how does this astral realm thing work?
The mirror appeared to be nothing more than a mirror. It was cold, smooth glass surrounded by a wrought iron frame, and reflected my image. I didn’t necessarily want to go walking into danger, but I wanted to know how it worked. I pushed and prodded the glass in frustration until I noticed my image grinning at me. I jumped back in surprise and it doubled over in silent laughter.
“Hilarious, dude. You got me,” I huffed. “So how do I get in?”
My mirror-self tipped his hat and stepped to side.
I reached up to the mirror again and my hand passed through, vanishing as if cut off. Okay, just a quick peek and we’ll explore the rest of the room. I stepped through and the world shifted around me. I was standing back at the campsite. My body was insubstantial as a ghost and the tarp was a wisp of substance running straight through me. Non living things don’t seem to have much presence in this realm. Glancing down, I saw my sleeping body rolled up in the blankets, a thin silver thread running from it to me, and another thread running to Horse.
Looking around, I surveyed the campsite. My astral vision seemed to be on and had an unlimited range. I could see the life all around me, the distant forest was a sea of greenish-gold, grasses and brush nearby glowed with spectral light. Tiny ghost insects scurried while ghost mice nibbled at whatever ghost mice nibble on. Ghost seeds and ghost insects, I suppose. I turned my attention overhead and gaped at the sight of a monstrous serpentine spirit flying through the inky void. I dropped back through the tent and rolled inside my body. That was plenty enough for now.
I rolled through the mirror and landed flat on my back, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. Vinnie-God winked at me and Vinnie-Adam grinned. Climbing to my knees, I brushed non-existent dust from my trousers and watched mirror-me doubled over in soundless laughter.
“Hey, laughing-boy!” I yelled at him. “You’re like the guardian or something, right? You got it covered?”
Mirror-me stood and saluted with a smile, then gave me two thumbs up. A moment later, his face took on a serious expression and he wriggled his right hand in the ‘maybe’ motion. Then he pointed at me, tapped his wrist, and then a finger to his head.
It all depends on how fast I learn stuff, I guess.
Two thumbs up and a winning smile reflected back to me.
A large cork board was mounted to the wall over the computer and a small note was pinned to it. “Note to self: Don’t fuck with the Elvish womens.”
The computer screen featured a screensaver of me as Vitruvian Man doing callisthenics over the words ‘HumanOS’. I tapped the spacebar and was rewarded with the sound of powerful fans kicking to life as the computer emerged from sleep mode and prompted me for a password. Should I assume it’s the same as the password on the computer I pawned in my previous life?
Password: *******esi
I was rewarded with a sweet R&M desktop and a couple of icons. System, NeuralNet, My-Tunes, My-Movies, My-Office.
System was just what I expected, lots of .dna files and other confusing scariness that allowed me to tweak my physical body and mental state. My-Tunes was a collection of every song I’d ever heard and My-Movies was a collection of every movie I’d ever seen. Not that I’m complaining, but it would have been nice to have “My-Games” so I could play RDR. My-Office was a clone of the popular software by a similar name. I have no idea what I’ll ever need a spreadsheet for in this world.
NuralNet opened up a search engine called Me-Seeks, featuring a familiar blue guy.
I typed in “beer” and several thousand results were displayed, anything I’d ever read, heard, or watched about beer, including how to make it. This right here made the price of admission totally worth it, access to an exact copy of everything I’d ever read, and I was a voracious reader. Sadly, most of the stuff I read was futurology — solar panels, electronics, biotech advancements, quantum computing. The material for steam engines, blacksmithing, farming and the like, were slim pickings. That’s okay though, I could still reproduce the Gutenberg press, the cotton gin, simple internal combustion engines, and basic batteries along with some sketchy knowledge of metal alloys, acids, bases, and other things I had read over the years. All that wasted time watching “How Things Work” was finally going to pay off. I copied a few likely money makers to My-Office, saved the file, and exported to my Notes, just in case they didn’t exist on Aerth.
A popup covered the screen.
📱 [New Upgrade Available!] 📱
🎉 Enhance Your Experience with the Latest HumanOS Features! 🎉
🌟 Features Include:

• 🧠 Memory Booster: Increase your Memory for smoother multitasking and improved performance.
• 🔋 Energy Optimizer: Extend your battery life with advanced power-saving techniques.
• 🛠️ Utility Upgrades: Access new apps and utilities to enhance your daily life and adventures.
• 🗺️ Advanced Mapping: Never get lost again with enhanced GPS and location tracking.

🔥 Special Offer: Only 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0! 🔥
[Upgrade Now ✅] [Remind Me Later ❌]
Apparently I could upgrade myself, which reduced the cost of using my Utilities while providing other minor benefits. My Utilities would level up as I used them, which would increase their battery cost, so if I didn’t keep pace with an update to the OS they could become prohibitively expensive to operate.
Stupid pay-to-win world.
So, do I pay 2000 credits for version 2.0 or 5000 credits for version 3.0?
I selected version 3.0 and klicked [Install]. After watching it download the update, it popped up another screen that asked if I wanted to update now, or wait until Midnight for the mandatory update.
I selected [No] just as the grandfather clock chimed 10:30 PM. I wondered if time ran slower in here, because it seemed like I had spent a lot more time on the computer than 15 minutes. Walking over to the imposing steel door, I noticed a bronze key with a thin chain in the lock. There was another sticky note on the door. “Subconscious. Please keep the key with you at all times.”
That’s not scary at all, is it?
I unlocked the door with a loud clunk and pulled it open to reveal a bedroom straight out of some royal castle. I could tell immediately that it had seen better days. The tapestries on the wall were frayed and fading. The canopy over the bed had a few holes in it. A thin layer of dust covered the mantle of a small fireplace set into the wall. There was a window letting in bright sunlight and I moved over to look outside.
I was on the third floor of a keep surrounded by the walls and turrets of a modest castle. A castle that had fallen into serious disrepair. Did this represent the state of my inner mind? One tower was shattered and the curtain wall under it damaged. The lower bailey was full of litter. I could see a few soldiers walking around the allure, keeping watch.
I have people in my subconscious?
Someone behind me cleared their throat.
Whirling, I discovered a familiar old man standing in the door of the bedroom. What was left of his hair formed a white halo around his head, his face was unshaven and covered with several days of growth. He was dressed like a poor and tattered manservant, but carried himself with a dignified air.
“Woodhouse?”
“It’s nice to see the master at home,” He said with a proper English accent. “There are many matters that require the master’s attention.”
“Uh, sure,” I said, hanging the key around my neck and tucking it in my shirt. “And who are you again?”
“Your personal manservant, of course” he said with a slight bow. Walking over to the steel door, he pulled it closed and it locked with a solid thunk. “Master should always keep his inner sanctum closed. One never knows if something nasty will creep in.”
“Thank you, uh, Woodhouse. I’ll remember that,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “So what needs tending and how do things work around here?”
He smiled and beckoned me with a white gloved hand. “If master would be so kind as to follow me, I’ll introduce him to the staff and explain the duties and obligations of his domain.”
I’m 99.9% certain that everyone here is just me wearing a mask, so I shrugged and followed Woodhouse out of the bedroom and into the rest of my subconscious.
Five minutes later I was on the ground floor and seated on a shabby throne with the cast of a popular —and probably very copyright protected— animation in front of me. Woodhouse was the head butler and my personal manservant. Pam was the cook and demanded that I start importing sugar and alcohol before she was shushed by Woodhouse. Carol was a maid. Krieger was chancellor and Cyril was the steward. Archer and Lana were in charge of security. Ray was the marshal in charge of everything from the stables to the blacksmith.
I stared in disbelief at the motley crew kneeling in front of me. No wonder my inner mind was in such shambles. I was overcome with an irrational sense of anger at myself.
“Arright, listen up,” I barked, my voice echoing around the room. “I swear to God that I will fire every single one of you and hire circus clowns to replace you if you keep fucking things up. No joke. Circus clowns, got it?”
I ran a hand over my face as Ray pissed himself. “The only reason I’m not putting a boot in your asses right now is because I realise that you’re aspects of me, and the people you represent are pretty damn good at their jobs when they give enough of a shit to actually do them. As a team, you’re dysfunctionally fantastic and always seem to come out ahead no matter the odds.”
Heaving a sigh, I continued. “Things have changed and I need to get my shit together. I’m going to need every one of you to pull your weight and help me help you. Get back to your duties, I’ll meet you one on one later.”
My subconscious caretakers scurried out of the room.
“I’ll have one of the maids tend to the piss,” Woodhouse assured me.
“Never mind that,” I snapped. “I honestly had no idea my mind was such a shit show. I’m very disappointed in myself.” I pictured the Angry, Sad, and Disgusted counters on my personal movies clicking up. “Show me what needs to be done and let’s get started.”
During Woodhouse’s walking tour, everything clicked into place. This was some altered version of Bodiam castle, a location that was on my bucket list of places to visit. The royal council room, located behind the throne room, contained a “living” tapestry on the wall that showed the castle and surrounding land in real time. The castle was located in the middle of a small lake, and a single wood bridge led to the mainland. A small town surrounded the lake and a wall encircled the town. Outside the wall, the land was an irregular patchwork of forest and field, with a stinking swamp to the south. The entire “kingdom” was maybe ten miles across, surrounded by impassable mountains with innumerable creeks that fed the lake which drained into the southern swamp.
“Zombies are the problem, sir.” Woodhouse said, as I surveyed the living tapestry of my mental domain.
“Zombies?” I prompted.
“Yes sir, Zombies” Woodhouse continued. “Nasty bitey things that come in from the mountains and harass the peasants. They’ve gotten especially worse over the last few months. The soldiers do what they can, but they seem to have lost all motivation. Probably because they haven’t been paid.”
“And who pays them?”
“Typically chancellor Krieger is in charge of financial matters, although Steward Figgis has taken over the duty, sir.”
“Then let’s make Figgis our first stop.”
“Very good, sir.”
The office of the steward was run by Cyril Figgis, who managed the kingdom in my absence. It was overflowing with paperwork and charts, books and scrolls piled high on every flat surface. Cyril was desperately attempting to tidy things when Woodhouse and I walked in.
“Yo..you..your majesty,” Cyril stuttered, bowing low. Scrolls fell from his overloaded arms, spilling across the floor. He dropped to his knees and scrambled to gather them up. “I didn’t expect you to visit so soon. Please forgive the mess, housekeeping has been slacking…”
This was the guy who ran things while I was conscious.
“Shut up, Cyril” I said. “You’re responsible for everything in this office. That includes keeping it organised and tidy.”
“Y..yes milord.”
“It’s my understanding that you’re in charge of making sure everyone gets paid. So why aren’t we paying people?” I asked.
“We’re nearly out of Fuks, your majesty. I’ve been saving them for emergencies.”
“Fucks?”
“Fuks,” Cyril explained, pushing a pile of books off a large chest and opening it. Reaching inside he pulled out two small bags and emptied them on top of his cluttered desk. “Gold and Silver Fuks, the currency of the kingdom. I can’t maintain the kingdom when I have no Fuks to give.”
Behold the subconscious kingdom of Vincent J. Carter, it runs on Fuks.
“So how do I get more fuks?” I asked, examining one of the coins. It had an image of me on one side and symbol on the other that could be interpreted as “peace among worlds”.
“You kill the zombies, your majesty.”
Of course I do.
Woodhouse and I left Cyril’s office and headed towards the office of the chancellor where Krieger worked. It seemed that Cyril took over financial matters when Krieger became erratic and proposed luring all the zombies into the city and setting it on fire. Not sure how that corresponds to my own self-destructive behaviour, but I’ve had some dark thoughts over the last couple of months and I’m sure they’re reflected here.
Krieger’s office was much neater in comparison to Cyril’s, but it wasn’t by much. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with an array of questionable items, including a still snapping zombie head in a jar. While the office of the chancellor was supposed to be in charge of financial matters, it looked more like a dodgy rummage sale.
Krieger was launching sword blades at a pig carcass when we walked in.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, standing in the doorway.
“Hm? Oh, your majesty!” he said, turning around and bowing deeply. “I’m testing a new invention. It’s a spring loaded hilt that shoots sword blades. Very useful for our soldiers.”
“Stupidest idea ever,” I snapped. “I hate everything about it.”
“Okay,” Krieger said, tossing the hilt into a nearby pile of junk. “But don’t blame me when you need to shoot a sword at a zombie and don’t have one.”
“So why aren’t you managing the financial affairs? Collecting taxes, paying people, stuff like that?”
“Because the population has declined so much none of that matters?”
“What do you mean?”
“Wellll, the population represents things you care about,” Krieger said, going into lecture mode. “And the zombies and other monsters are real or imagined problems in your way. Since you don’t care about too many things the population has shrunk to just what’s needed to keep everything running on the bare minimum of fuks. And since you don’t seem to have any long or short term goals, there’s no need to kill off the zombies and get more fuks. Everything is fine just the way it is.”
“No, it’s not Krieger” I said, grinding my teeth. “My mind is in a shambles. It’s a joke. I want it fixed. No, I want it better than fixed. I want it improved.”
“Oh! I’ve got just the thing for that!” He said, digging around in his pockets, “It’s a spring-loaded hilt that shoots swords!”
Pam and Cheryl were hanging out a gallery window jeering at Archer and Lana sparring in the inner courtyard.
“What the hell are you doing!” I snapped
They whirled in surprise and then dropped into deep curtseys.
“Your majesty!”
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my centre. “Get to work cleaning this place up. Find a room, clean it, and move on to the next. Start with my bedroom, then the throne room and the council chamber, then everything else.”
Cheryl spoke up. “Can’t do it. We got no fuks to clean with.”
“You need fuks to clean?”
“Gotta buy stuff,” Pam said. “Cleaning supplies, food. You wanna eat, you’re gonna have to spend some fuks.”
“Talk to Cyril,” I ordered. “Tell him I said to get you supplied.”
They ran off in the direction of the stewards office.
I watched Archer and Lana bashing each other enthusiastically through the window.
Several minutes later the sparring couple stopped and bowed when Woodhouse and I stepped into the inner courtyard.
“Your majesty”
“My liege”
“Enough,” I said. “If you have enough energy to smash each other, you have enough energy to smash zombies. Tell me what I need to know so I can start gathering fuks.”
Archer shrugged and spoke first. “You just kill the zombies and other monsters. They drop fuks.”
“Anything special about the zombies?” I asked. “Are they fast? Do people get turned into zombies when bitten?”
“Nope,” Lana said, resting her wooden sword on her shoulder. “Most of them are slow shamblers and just need a good wack to the head to kill them.”
“Some are special,” Archer interjected. “Occasionally you’ll have some fast ones, or those that need holy water to kill. They’re just bad memories, figments of your personality that need to be eliminated. Some are worse than others.”
“The zombies are bad memories?” I asked, imagining all the bad memories that I had.
“Memories, thoughts, insecurities, metaphysical mumbo-jumbo,” Woodhouse supplied. “They are endless, but constant vigilance can keep them under control.”
“So let’s get started,” I said. “Lead the way.”
Lana and Archer lead me up to the parapet over the front gate where I looked over at the dozens of zombies milling about aimlessly in front of the entrance to my mind. Pulling out my gun, I began to pick them off, easy as shooting fish in a barrel. The crack of my spell pistol attracted more zombies and I dispatched them with ease until no more were left around the gate. As I fired each shot I could feel some sort of existential energy flowing from me, draining some hidden reserve.
“Gather up the Fuks,” I commanded. “And Lana?”
“Mi’lord?”
“There’s no excuse for this. From now on, I expect the walls to be clear of all zombies.”
“Yes mi’lord,” she said, giving me a small bow.
Turning to Archer, I shook my head. “You’re obviously my personal narcissism, so just try to stay out of Lana’s way, or better yet - try to kill more zombies than her. If you think you can.”
Archer scoffed. “No contest. I took top marks in sharpshooting.”
“That means I should expect to see results by tomorrow. I look forward to it.”
Archer looked panicked for a moment then smiled. “Sure, I can give you results.”
Turning back to Woodhouse I said “Show me what else need attending.”
Woodhouse led me through the town that represented my mind, pointing out each business that had fallen into disrepair, suggested others that needed improvements, and additions that would benefit me. In the distance, I could hear Lana and Archer shooting at the crowd of zombies and with each echoing shot I felt a tiny bit better about everything.
[INDEX]

The profusion of identical green tents at this spring’s anti-Israel protests struck many as odd. “Why is everybody’s tent the same?,” asked New York mayor Eric Adams. Like others, the mayor suspected “a well-concerted organizing effort” driving the protests. More recent reporting shows a concerted push behind the Gaza protest movement. But it is not as simple as a single organization secretly rallying protesters or buying tents. Instead, the movement’s most determined activists represent a network of loosely linked far-left groups. Some are openly affiliated with well-known progressive nonprofits; others work in the shadows.
The movement also draws on diverse but generous sources of financial backing. Those funding streams may soon be augmented by the federal government. As I chronicled last year in a Manhattan Institute report, “The Big Squeeze: How Biden’s Environmental Justice Agenda Hurts the Economy and the Environment,” the administration’s massive program of environmental justice grants seems designed to prioritize the funding of highly ideological local groups. The Inflation Reduction Act, for example, earmarks $3 billion for “environmental and climate justice block grants” intended for local nonprofits. Today, hundreds of far-left political groups include language about environmental issues and “climate justice” in their mission statements. If just a fraction of planned grants flows to such groups, the effect will be a gusher of new funding for radical causes.
As the Gaza protests spread across U.S. college campuses, many observers noted an eerie uniformity among them. From one campus to the next, protesters operated in disciplined cadres, keeping their faces covered and using identical rote phrases as they refused to talk with reporters. The Atlantic noted the strangeness of seeing elite college students “chanting like automatons.” Students held up keffiyeh scarves or umbrellas to block the view of prying cameras and linked arms to halt the movements of outsiders. At Columbia University and elsewhere, protesters formed “liberated zones,” from which “Zionists” were excluded. Around the edges of the encampments, the more militaristic activists donned helmets and goggles and carried crude weapons, apparently eager to mix it up with police or counter-protesters. We’ve seen these tactics before—notably during the “mostly peaceful” Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, when full-time agitators helped ignite riots, set up a police-free (and violence-plagued) zone in Seattle, and laid nightly siege to Portland, Oregon’s federal courthouse.
In a remarkable work of reporting, Park MacDougald recently traced the tangled roots of organizations backing pro-jihad protests, both on and off campuses. These include Antifa and other networks of anonymous anarchists, along with “various communist and Marxist-Leninist groups, including the Maoist Revolutionary Communist Party, the Party for Socialism and Liberation (PSL), and the International ANSWER coalition,” MacDougald writes. Higher up the food chain, we find groups openly supported by America’s growing class of super-rich tech execs or the anti-capitalist heirs of great fortunes. For example, retired tech mogul Neville Roy Singham, who is married to Code Pink founder Jodie Evans, funds The People’s Forum, a lavish Manhattan resource center for far-left groups. As the Columbia protests intensified, the center urged members to head uptown to “support our students.” Following the money trail of other protest groups, MacDougald finds connections to the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, the Ford Foundation, and—surprising no one—the George Soros-backed Tides Foundation.
Of course, the current wave of anti-Israel protests also involves alliances with pro-Hamas organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine. Last November, Jonathan Schanzer of the Foundation for Defense of Democracies testified to the House Ways and Means Committee that SJP and similar groups have deep ties to global terrorist organizations, including Hamas.
For many keffiyeh-wearing protestors, however, a recently professed concern for Palestinians is just the latest in a long list of causes they believe justify taking over streets and college quads. In Unherd, Mary Harrington dubs this medley of political beliefs the “omnicause,” writing that “all contemporary radical causes seem somehow to have been absorbed into one.” Today’s leftist activists share an interlocking worldview that sees racism, income inequality, trans intolerance, climate change, alleged police violence, and Israeli-Palestinian conflicts all as products of capitalism and “colonialism.” Therefore, the stated rationale for any individual protest is a stand-in for the real battle: attacking Western society and its institutions.
In the U.S., this type of general-purpose uprising goes back at least to the riots at the 1999 meeting of the World Trade Organization in Seattle. In those protests, mainstream liberal factions—including labor unions and environmentalists—were joined by “black bloc” anarchists and other radicals eager to engage in “direct action” against police. That pattern—relatively moderate demonstrators providing a friendly envelope for hard-core disruptors—formed the template for many later protests: the Occupy Wall Street encampments in 2011, demonstrations following the police shooting of Michael Brown in 2014, 2016’s Standing Rock anti-pipeline movement, and of course, the calamitous summer of 2020.
These uprisings were not entirely spontaneous. In some cases, activists spend months planning mass actions—for example, against economic summits or political conventions—and can recruit street fighters from across the country. In others, an event, such as George Floyd’s death, sparks popular protests involving neophyte demonstrators. Those attract far-left activists, who swoop in to organize and expand the struggle, often tilting it toward more radical action.
That has certainly been the case at the college Gaza-paloozas. At Columbia, the New York Times spotted a woman old enough to be a student’s grandmother in the thick of the action as protesters barricaded that school’s Hamilton Hall. The woman was 63-year-old Lisa Fithian, a lifetime activist, who Portland’s alternative weekly Street Roots approvingly calls “a trainer of mass rebellion.” A counter-protester trying to block the pro-Hamas demonstrators told NBC News, “She was right in the middle of it, instructing them how to better set up the barriers.” Fithian told the Times she’d been invited to train students in protest safety and “general logistics.” She claims to have taken part in almost every major U.S. protest movement going back to the 1999 “Battle in Seattle.”
America’s radical network has plenty of Lisa Fithians, with the time and resources to travel the country educating newcomers about the “logistics” of disruptive protests. And these activists appear to have played key roles in the college occupations. The New York City Police Department says nearly half the demonstrators arrested on the Columbia and City University of New York (CUNY) campuses on April 30 were not affiliated with the schools. One hooded Hamilton Hall occupier—photographed scuffling with a Columbia custodian before getting arrested—turned out to be 40-year-old James Carlson, heir to a large advertising fortune. According to the New York Post, Carlson lives in a $2.3 million Park Slope townhouse and has a long rap sheet. For example, in 2005, he was arrested in San Francisco during the violent “West Coast Anti-Capitalist Mobilization and March Against the G8.” (Those charges were dropped.)
For a quarter-century now, Antifa and other anarchist networks have worked to refine tactics and share lessons following each major action. At Columbia, UCLA, and other schools, authorities found printouts of a “Do-It Yourself Occupation Guide” and similar documents. The young campus radicals are eager to learn from their more experienced elders. And, like the high-achieving students they are, they follow directions carefully. MacDougald asked Kyle Shideler, the director for homeland security and counterterrorism at the Center for Security Policy, about the mystery of the identical tents. There was no need for a central group to distribute hundreds of tents, Shideler said. Instead, “the organizers told [students] to buy a tent, and sent around a Google Doc with a link to that specific tent on Amazon. So they all went out and bought the same tent.”
In other words, America’s radical class has gotten very skilled at recruiting and instructing new activists—even from among the ranks of elite college students with a good deal to lose. How much more could this movement accomplish with hundreds of millions in federal dollars flooding activist groups around the country?
From its first week in office, the Biden administration has trumpeted its goal to funnel more environmental spending toward “disadvantaged communities that have been historically marginalized,” partly by issuing grants to grassroots organizations. Previous environmental justice (EJ) grant programs were small in scope. But, with the passage of the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) in August 2022, a huge pool of grant money became available. EPA administrator Michael Regan told reporters, “We’re going from tens of thousands of dollars to developing and designing a program that will distribute billions.”
More than a year and a half later, it remains hard to nail down just where the Biden administration’s billions in EJ grants will wind up. Money is being distributed through a confusing variety of programs, and the process of identifying recipients is ongoing. To help outsource the job of sifting through proposals, the EPA last year designated 11 institutions as “Environmental Justice Thriving Communities Grantmakers.” These groups are empowered to make subgrants directly to community organizations, under streamlined EPA oversight. In all, the Biden administration has entrusted these outfits with distributing a staggering $600 million in funding. The money is expected to start flowing this summer.
The EPA’s grantmakers include a number of educational institutions and left-leaning nonprofits. For example, the EPA chose Fordham University as its lead grantmaker in the New York region. Fordham, in turn, lists as partners two nonprofits that oppose immigration enforcement. (One, the New Jersey Alliance for Immigrant Justice, states on its website: “NJAIJ believes in the human right to migrate, regardless of citizenship or political status.”) Neither group claims expertise in environmental issues. Given that the IRA’s eligibility requirements for EJ grants are extremely vague, however, perhaps that’s not a problem. Almost any activity that could help “spur economic opportunity for disadvantaged communities” (in the words of Biden’s EJ executive order) might qualify.
Perhaps the most prominent—and problematic—EPA grantmaker is the Berkeley, California-based Climate Justice Alliance. The CJA is a consortium of mostly far-left activist groups. It describes its mission as working for “regenerative economic solutions and ecological justice—under a framework that challenges capitalism and both white supremacy and hetero-patriarchy.” The group is a vigorous proponent of the omnicause, embracing almost every left-wing concern as a manifestation of climate change. For example, the CJA website proclaims: “The path to climate justice travels through a free Palestine.” MacDougald notes that the Grassroots Global Justice Alliance, one of CJA’s affiliated groups, “organized an illegal anti-Israel protest in the Capitol Rotunda in December at which more than 50 activists were arrested.”
The CJA website also includes a section dedicated to the cause known as Stop Cop City. It refers to an effort to halt the construction of an 85-acre police and firefighter training center outside Atlanta. Rag-tag activists from around the country have gathered around the facility since 2021. They have repeatedly battled with police—sometimes with fireworks and Molotov cocktails—and used bolt cutters to enter the site and torch construction equipment. (CJA’s Stop Cop City page features a cartoon illustration of three childlike activists; one brandishes bolt cutters.) The group also backs a legal defense fund for activists arrested in attacks on the training center or in other protests. For those looking for more inspiration, CJA links to an interview with former Black Panther and self-described revolutionary Angela Davis.
The Alliance is not an ideological outlier in Biden’s EJ coalition. On the contrary, when the White House assembled its White House Environmental Justice Advisory Council (WHEJAC), a panel of outside experts meant to provide “horizon-expanding EJ advice and recommendations,” it chose CJA co-chair Elizabeth Yeampierre to help lead the committee. Like other members of the panel, she sees environmental issues through an ideological, not a scientific, lens. “Climate change is the result of a legacy of extraction, of colonialism, of slavery,” Yeampierre told Yale Environment 360. As a group, radical EJ activists tend not to focus on pragmatic ways to reduce pollution and carbon emissions; for them, the real goal is overturning what they see as an exploitative economic and political system. Since these are the voices the White House chose to help shape its EJ policies, we can assume this worldview will dominate grantmaking decisions.
In February 2023, House Oversight Committee chairman James Comer, along with fellow committee member Pat Fallon, wrote to EPA administrator Regan asking for more information on the EPA’s grant programs. They noted that the EPA’s own studies of EJ grants issued in previous years showed sloppy supervision. According to an EPA report, an earlier version of the program funded projects that did “not logically lead to the desired environmental and/or public health [result].” Without better oversight and more clearly defined goals, the congressmen wrote, the EPA’s EJ grant machine risks becoming simply a “slush fund for far-left organizations.”
Since then, the administration has done little to reassure skeptics. To the contrary, the EPA has put at least one far-left organization—CJA—in charge of distributing $50 million in grant money. No doubt, many of the EPA grants will go to worthwhile projects. But money is fungible. A group that gets a large grant to, say, clean up dirty parks or teach children about recycling will also be able to hire more staff and divert more resources to political action.
With graduation behind them, most of the anti-Israel college protesters have stowed away their keffiyehs and moved on to summer vacations or internships. But the peripatetic activists who helped guide and intensify those uprisings are doubtless already planning their next actions. After all, two political conventions are looming. This fall, the college protests will likely flare up again, though by then perhaps focused on a different facet of the omnicause. And, with hundreds of millions in fresh funding flowing through the activist ecosystem, the groups that quietly nurture extremists—like those who firebombed “Cop City,” or who chant “Intifada Revolution!,” or who block bridges in the name of “climate”—will be more emboldened than ever.
A Slush Fund for Radical Protesters? City Journal (city-journal.org)
​

Hey guys! I was wondering, based on your experiences or what you hear, what would more likely get you pulled over and be a red flag to cops?
Having a 5% sun strip well below the AS-1 line, like how cars typically have them?
OR a 50% windshield tint?
P.S. I live in Southern California.
My theories. 5% sun strip below the AS-1 line is more obvious because it’s just a giant banner essentially on the windshield. But, would cops even care?
And for a 50% windshield tint, it may not be dark enough to be really noticeable. But I don’t know.
Would love your expert opinions!

Finn Tresscoat, a 20-year-old with short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a pale complexion, strolled down the sidewalk of his small town. He wore a light brown leather jacket over a black shirt, paired with black jeans and black-and-white sneakers.
As Finn ambled along, he glanced at the many shops lining the main road of the town's bustling center. He wasn't searching for anything in particular; he simply wanted to enjoy the rare day off from his job, one of the most perilous occupations in the United West (U.W.).
"Finn! Oh, Finn!"
Finn turned his head to the right and spotted Ms. Tori Elortor, or simply Ms. Tori as he called her. She was an older lady in her early fifties, though her youthful appearance often surprised the townsfolk. With long white hair cascading down her back, pale skin, and bright hazel eyes, she was a striking figure. Today, she wore a navy blue sundress over a pair of tight blue jeans and brown cowboy boots.
Ms. Tori, the local bakery owner, was considered quite attractive and often caught the eye of the younger men in town. Her curvaceous figure and active lifestyle, including regular yoga sessions in the park, only added to her allure. However, Finn saw her differently. Having known her since childhood and feeling like part of her family, he saw her as a maternal figure rather than anything else. He was also close to her son, Eric, feeling like an older brother to him.
Despite his demanding job, which kept him busy for nearly twenty-four-seven, Finn always tried to visit Ms. Tori and Eric whenever he could. Today was a rare opportunity for him to relax and reconnect.
"Ah, hi Ms. Tori! How are you today?" Finn greeted her with a warm smile.
Ms. Tori returned his smile. "I'm just fine, Finn. The real question is, how are you? I haven't seen you in months!" Her tone shifted to one of concern. "I was worried, and so was Eric. You do have quite a dangerous job for someone so young," she added.
What kind of dangerous job did Finn have, you might ask?
Well, Finn was a "Gaunt Hunter," a member of a specialized group tasked with safeguarding the small towns outside the major cities in the United West from creatures known as Gaunts.
These slim, humanoid creatures had leathery black skin, no eyes or nose, and wide mouths that drooled a strange dark green liquid. They had emerged after the cataclysmic "Decade of Winter."
The Gaunts varied in form and capability. Some were very muscular, while others had bat-like wings, allowing them to fly. They were also cunning, often creating weapons from scavenged materials and hunting in packs.
Disturbingly, these were just the common variants.
There were tales of Gaunts resembling animals and some that could even speak, though Finn himself had never encountered such anomalies.
Despite the ominous title of Gaunt Hunter, Finn's role wasn't as glamorous as one might imagine.
He wasn't a high-tech, gadget-wielding hero. Gaunt Hunters received training similar to regular police officers, focusing on the use of firearms. However, since firearms were not commonly traded or shipped to the smaller towns outside the major cities, Gaunt Hunters were also taught to wield swords, knives, and other melee weapons, as well as trained in close-range combat.
Finn had been trained to fire a pistol but also learned to fight with a machete, which was more practical for their needs than a traditional sword. On duty, he carried a standard-issue Glock-17 and a machete strapped to his side. He also wore the standard protective gear issued to United West Security Forces (UWSF) officers.
Returning to the conversation with Ms. Tori, Finn let out a lighthearted chuckle. "Dangerous for most of the veterans on the job, but I'm young and fit! Practically invincible!" he said with a grin.
Ms. Tori gave Finn an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow. "Is that right?" she asked. "Then what's this I hear about a Gaunt nearly taking your head off just last week?"
Finn's face flushed with embarrassment as he recalled the incident. A Gaunt had caught him off guard and nearly decapitated him with a makeshift axe. "Okay... yeah, fair enough," he admitted, looking down.
Ms. Tori's expression softened, and she gave him a few light taps on the shoulder. "Oh, I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Finn, I'm just reminding you that your job is dangerous… You need to be careful," she said gently.
Finn looked up at her and nodded. "I know, and thank you for caring," he replied. Inwardly, he thought, 'It's not like anyone else does'
"Of course, I care, Finn," Ms. Tori said firmly. "Do you know how devastated I'd be if you got hurt or, heaven forbid, died? I'd be heartbroken,” she told him. “Eric would be even worse off, after all, who would play with him?"
Finn felt a wave of warmth at her words. Despite not wanting to worry Ms. Tori or Eric, it was comforting to know there were people who cared about him, and who wanted him to stay safe and come back home. "I guess you're right," he said with a soft smile. "I'll try to be more careful out there, I promise,”
Ms. Tori nodded, her smile lingering. "Good,” she said. “Now, how many days do you have off?" she asked.
"Not many," Finn replied with a sigh. "Just today,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in shock. "Only today? Why?" She asked.
Finn's expression turned serious. "Many of the other Gaunt Hunters are either dead, retiring, or switching to become cops... There are only ten of us left in the entire town,"
Ms. Tori's eyes widened in horror. Gaunt Hunters were the primary defense against the Gaunts. The law across the U.W. dictated that local law enforcement dealt with human issues, leaving Gaunt-related threats to the Hunters. The thought of their numbers dwindling was terrifying.
Each town was supposed to have a contingent of Gaunt Hunters, given that small towns were the primary targets for Gaunt attacks.
Major cities, in contrast, rarely had to deal with Gaunts.
The dense populations of these urban centers acted as a deterrent, scaring off most Gaunt packs. Even if a small group of Gaunts did manage to attack, the cities were equipped with heavy weaponry and advanced defenses, making Gaunt Hunters unnecessary there.
This starkly contrasted with the dire need for Gaunt Hunters in the smaller, more vulnerable towns.
Ideally, each small town would have around fifty Gaunt Hunters, a number intended to ensure adequate protection against the Gaunt threat. However, the reality was far grimmer. The inherent dangers and heavy responsibilities associated with the job dissuaded many from becoming Gaunt Hunters. The perilous nature of the work, combined with the constant threat of death, resulted in a severe shortage of recruits.
As a result, the numbers in many towns had dwindled alarmingly.
"Only ten?" she repeated her voice barely above a whisper. "That's... alarming… What happens if more Gaunts come?"
"We do our best," Finn said, trying to sound confident. "But it's tough… Every day, we’re stretched thinner,"
Ms. Tori took a deep breath, trying to process the gravity of the situation.
Finn felt a lump in his throat. "I promise, Ms. Tori. I'll do everything I can to stay safe," he said, trying to remind her if his promise mere moments ago.
Ms. Tori wanted to argue with Finn's comment, but deep down, she knew he was somewhat right. The town was struggling—trade had slowed to a trickle, and many residents had moved away. The constant threat of Gaunt attacks made living there increasingly untenable. Even Ms. Tori had considered leaving to ensure Eric’s safety and to give him a chance to grow up in a more stable environment where he could interact with other children and experience the broader world.
However, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.
Her late husband was buried in this town, and even though years had passed since his death, she felt tied to the place where he rested. She had loved this town deeply, and in a way, staying felt like keeping a part of him alive.
Seeing the conflict in her eyes, Finn decided to change the subject. "Hey, why don't I come over for dinner?" he suggested with a soft smile. "I'm sure Eric would be happy to see me after so long,”
Ms. Tori was pulled out of her thoughts by his offer. She smiled, grateful for his willingness to spend his rare day off with them. "That would be lovely, Finn," she said with a quick nod.
They walked together to Ms. Tori's home, a modest three-bedroom house with a large attic. Inside, they found Eric sitting in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Hearing Finn’s voice, Eric turned, his face lighting up with excitement. He jumped out of his seat and ran to give Finn a hug.
Eric was about 11 years old, with brown hair like his deceased father but hazel eyes like his mother. He was wearing a dark black and blue striped shirt, dark gray pants, and black slip-on shoes.
Finn hugged him back, smiling. "I've got some stories to tell over dinner," he said, which made Eric's eyes sparkle with anticipation.
He loved hearing about the world beyond their town, even if it was mostly filled with woods and the ruins of an old world.
Finn then followed Ms. Tori into the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He found what he could and handed the items to her, glad to be of assistance. Ms. Tori thanked him and asked if he could help chop vegetables, which he was more than happy to do.
As they worked side by side, Ms. Tori glanced at Finn, her expression a mix of gratitude and concern. "You know, Finn, this town means a lot to me,” she told him “It’s where I built my life with my husband, and it’s where I want Eric to grow up, despite everything,"
Finn nodded, understanding the deep attachment she had. "I get it, Ms. Tori. This place has a lot of memories, and as long as I'm here, I'll do my best to keep it safe for you and Eric,"
Ms. Tori smiled warmly. "I know you will, Finn... Thank you,”
Dinner was a warm, lively affair. Eric listened intently to Finn’s stories, hanging on every word. The laughter and conversation filled the small home, creating a moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their world. For a brief time, the threats outside seemed distant, and they enjoyed the simple pleasure of being together.
After a few bites, Eric looked at Finn eagerly. "Can you tell me one of your stories, Finn?" he asked, his eyes bright with anticipation.
Finn nodded, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Well, a couple of days ago, I was out with two or three other Hunters, we had just finished fighting off a few Gaunts, once they were dealt with, we decided to explore the area since it was the site of an old abandoned amusement park,” he began. “Some of the rides were still standing, though most were broken and destroyed, it was interesting to see the tech they used to have back then," Finn recounted.
Eric's eyes widened with excitement. "Wow! That's awesome!" he exclaimed.
Finn grinned. "It was pretty cool, but it’s nothing compared to some of the parks I saw in Salton Lake City! Those places are amazing,"
Eric's eyes gleamed at the mention of the nearby city. "Man, I want to go there someday!" he said enthusiastically. "Maybe when I start my training to be a Gaunt Hunter," he added with a big smile.
Finn chuckled. "So, you want to be a Gaunt Hunter, huh?" he asked. "You think you’ve got what it takes?"
Eric nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh! I know I can be a Gaunt Hunter! I bet I can even be better than you!" he declared, pointing at Finn.
Finn raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh really?" he said. "Who's to say I'm not the best of the best, huh?"
Eric gave him a smug smirk. "Because if you were the best Hunter, you'd have already gotten rid of all the Gaunts!" he said confidently.
Finn chuckled. "Well, you got me there," he admitted. "But hey, if you think you can be the best and get rid of all the Gaunts, then I say go for it, dude."
Eric chuckled and resumed eating, his enthusiasm undimmed. Ms. Tori watched the two with a fond smile, marveling at the brotherly bond between them. It warmed her heart to see how close they had become. She knew that Finn cherished this connection just as much as Eric did, especially since Finn had grown up without a family of his own, raised in the local orphanage.
She recalled those early days when a young Finn would walk into the bakery, clutching a few coins. His eyes would light up with wonder at the sight of the treats and goodies lining the shelves. Something about him had touched her heart, and she began offering him free treats for him and the other orphans whenever he visited. Her late husband had also taken a liking to Finn, treating him like the son they never had. When Finn decided to become a Gaunt Hunter, it was her husband who had helped him prepare for the rigorous training, getting him into shape and offering constant encouragement.
After her husband's death, it was Finn who helped her grieve and find the strength to carry on. She had felt terrible about leaning on him during such a hard time, knowing he had his own sadness to deal with, yet he remained steadfast and strong. He had been there for her and for Eric, helping the young boy understand their loss and navigate the difficult times that followed.
She was truly grateful to have Finn in her life.
Suddenly, Finn's phone vibrated insistently in his pocket. He quickly reached for it and saw a text message from work. He opened it, dreading what it might say.
[~Finn, we need you tonight. Jon and Gary quit out of the blue, so we need someone to fill in.~]
Finn sighed, frustration bubbling up inside him. 'Great, now we're down to eight Hunters,' he thought. 'And Jon and Gary were both my age and in better shape than the veterans at the station.'
Ms. Tori noticed the change in his expression and knew immediately what it meant. "Does duty call, Finn?" she asked gently.
Finn nodded, his expression weary. "Yeah, looks like Jon and Gary quit. They need me to cover tonight."
Ms. Tori sighed, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Finn. I know how much you were looking forward to some time off."
"It's alright," Finn said, forcing a smile. "I knew it was a long shot anyway. The town needs all the help it can get."
Eric looked up, concern etched on his young face. "Do you have to go, Finn?"
Finn ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Yeah, buddy. Duty calls. But I'll be back, and we’ll have more stories to share. I promise."
Ms. Tori gave him a supportive nod. "Just promise us you'll stay safe, Finn."
"I will," Finn assured her. He stood up, preparing to leave. "Thanks for dinner, Ms. Tori. It was great, as always."
As he left the warm, comforting atmosphere of Ms. Tori's home and headed out into the cold night, Finn felt a renewed sense of purpose. Despite the exhaustion and the ever-present danger, he knew he had to keep fighting. For the town, for Eric, and for the memory of the man who had helped him become who he was.
Once at the station, Finn entered and immediately spotted Dick Cortez, a veteran Gaunt Hunter who had been safeguarding the town for as long as Finn could remember. Dick, now in his 50s, had graying hair, deep-set wrinkles, and perpetually tired eyes. He was wearing the standard-issue armor that all Gaunt Hunters received, though each Hunter was allowed to customize their armor with different colors and modifications.
Dick's armor consisted of a high-collar black shirt beneath a modified, pure black chest plate that covered his upper abdomen, along with similarly-colored bracers. Both the chest plate and bracers were trimmed with white and featured matching shoulder pads. He also wore gloves with small metal plating on the fingers, dark navy jeans, black and white metal knee pads, and dark brown boots.
Dick noticed Finn and offered a small smile. "Heya, Finn," he greeted.
"Hey yourself, Dick," Finn replied with a nod.
"Sorry about having to bring you in on your day off," Dick said, his tone genuinely apologetic.
Finn walked over to his locker, where his armor and weapons were stored. He glanced at Dick and shrugged, giving a small smile. "It's alright, Dick. I understand why, and I'm not angry—well, not at you, but at those two," Finn said, referring to Jon and Gary.
Dick nodded in understanding. "Trust me, I'm disappointed in them too, but I can see why they left so suddenly," he said.
Finn nodded back, opening his locker to reveal his armor. His armor was similar to Dick's but differed in color and the clothing underneath. Finn wore his usual attire beneath the armor, which consisted of a dark brown chest plate trimmed with black, matching bracers, shoulder pads, knee pads, and gloves.
He took the armor out and quickly dressed, securing the pieces in place. He then grabbed his Glock and its holster, strapping it around his waist, and added his machete in its sheath. Once fully suited up, he turned to Dick with a raised brow. "Which side of town am I patrolling tonight?"
"Outer wall, west side," Dick stated, his voice firm.
Finn nodded, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead. The west side of the outer wall was notorious for Gaunt activity, a hotspot for their attacks. It was going to be a long night.
As he headed out, Dick called after him, "Stay sharp out there, Finn. We can't afford to lose any more good Hunters."
Finn turned back and gave a resolute nod. "I will, Dick. See you in the morning."
Once outside the city, Finn couldn't help but take in the grim sight of the outer wall. It was marred with deep scratches and chips from relentless Gaunt attacks, stained with the dark green goo that dripped from their slavering mouths, and speckled with bloodstains that would never fully wash away. The stark contrast between this battered exterior and the inner walls of the town was striking. Inside, the walls were adorned with chalk drawings from children and vibrant murals from the town's artists. These cheerful images served as a reminder of what he was protecting, and why he had chosen to become a Gaunt Hunter in the first place.
Reaching the west side of the wall, Finn began his patrol, moving back and forth to ensure no Gaunts were attempting to scale the barrier. For now, the night was quiet, and he hoped it would remain that way.
As he walked his beat, his thoughts drifted back to dinner with Eric and the boy's enthusiastic declaration about becoming a Gaunt Hunter. While part of him felt honored by Eric's admiration, another part was deeply troubled. The life of a Hunter was dangerous and filled with horrors that no one should have to witness, let alone a young boy like Eric.
Finn's mind flashed back to a particularly gruesome memory from a past patrol. He and another Hunter had been called to assist in repelling a large pack of Gaunts. They had rushed to the scene, only to find their comrades dead, slaughtered in horrific ways. One Hunter's skull had been cracked open, with Gaunts eating from it as if it were a bowl of grapes. Another Hunter, still alive, was being disemboweled and devoured. Finn could never forget the man's agonized expression as he watched his own entrails being torn apart and consumed. The sight had been so revolting that Finn had vomited on the spot, paralyzed by shock until his partner snapped him back to reality.
Then there were the stories he had heard from veterans like Dick. Dick once recounted an incident where a Hunter had been speared to death by multiple Gaunts. They hadn't even eaten him; they had just impaled him repeatedly, leaving his body to rot in the woods for days. Such tales highlighted the Gaunts' malevolence and complete lack of empathy.
Finn shuddered at the memories. He didn't want Eric to face such nightmares. The boy was full of life and potential, and Finn couldn't bear the thought of him enduring the same horrors he had.
Since that harrowing incident and the chilling story Dick had shared, Finn had sworn to himself that he wouldn't meet a similar fate. He vowed to go out fighting, to not end up like those other hunters. He couldn't bear the thought of becoming another victim, especially after what happened to his sister.
The sudden howl nearby jolted Finn out of his grim thoughts. The sound was close—too close. Instantly alert, he scanned his surroundings. Just then, something whizzed past his face, slicing his cheek. He turned to see a makeshift arrow embedded in the wall. Spinning back around, his heart sank as he saw ten Gaunts emerging from the tree line.
"Shit!" Finn cursed, his eyes widening in horror. This was a dire situation. He quickly drew his Glock and aimed at the advancing creatures. Before he could fire, a sharp pain seared through his left side. He glanced down to see a small dagger lodged in his torso.
'What the hell?' Finn thought, bewildered. 'Did one of the Gaunts throw this?'
"Sorry, but it's nothing personal," a strange voice echoed through the darkness.
Finn's gaze snapped forward, and he saw a figure emerging from the shadows. They wore a long black cloak that seemed to envelop them completely, giving the eerie impression that they were gliding across the ground rather than walking.
The figure approached him, their face obscured by the cloak's hood. "My, you are a handsome young man," they purred in a sultry tone. "Such a fucking shame that my babies must eat. We've been on the run, and they haven't had a chance to rest and eat until we saw you." They giggled, a chilling sound that sent shivers down Finn's spine.
Fear gripped Finn, but he managed to look up at the cloaked figure with a raised brow. "W-Who are you?" he stammered, his voice wavering.
The figure tilted their head slightly as if amused by his question. "Who am I?" they echoed. "I am their mother, their caretaker. I ensure they survive, even if it means feeding them humans like you." The figure leaned closer, and Finn could just make out a twisted smile beneath the hood.
Finn's mind raced. He needed to think of a way out, and fast. The Gaunts were closing in, and he was injured and at a severe disadvantage. Summoning his remaining strength, he clutched his Glock tighter and tried to steady his breath. He couldn't let this be the end.
The figure's giggle echoed eerily through the night, sending a shiver down Finn's spine. "Oh! Now I'm regretting stabbing you," they remarked with a twisted amusement. "It's not every day a handsome young man asks me my name, you know? Most prefer a no-name policy." Their tone was cryptic, and Finn couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in his gut. "While I would love to give you my name in far better circumstances, I'm afraid I don't have the time," they continued, their words dripping with urgency. "As I said, we're on the run from a rather unpleasant girl."
Finn's confusion only deepened. The figure's response didn't provide any clarity, leaving him even more perplexed. As the figure began to back away, Finn's eyes widened in shock as the Gaunts beside them moved in unison. ‘She can... control them!?’ he realized, disbelief washing over him.
"Go ahead, babies... EAT!" the figure commanded, her voice chillingly calm.
With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Finn watched as the Gaunts surged forward, their hunger palpable in the air. Determination surged within him, driving him to fight against the odds stacked against him. Ignoring the searing pain from his wound, he raised his gun and fired at the approaching Gaunts. Despite his efforts, only one was hit, and even then, it didn't slow down.
Finn gritted his teeth, preparing for the inevitable close-quarter battle with the monsters. "Come on!" he growled defiantly. "I'm right here!"
The Gaunts closed in, their predatory instincts driving them forward. Just as they leaped toward him, ready to strike, something unexpected occurred.
Thorny vines erupted from the ground, snaking around the Gaunts with incredible speed. Finn's eyes widened in astonishment as the vines ensnared the creatures, halting their advance. The vines twisted and contorted, slamming the Gaunts into the ground with brutal force, tearing at their flesh and rendering them helpless.
" Damn! How did that bitch already find us!?" the figure exclaimed, frustration evident in their voice.
Finn's gaze followed the figure's gaze as a new figure emerged from the shadows.
Her appearance was striking, to say the least. With a spiky red Mohawk and piercing red eyes devoid of any white, she exuded an aura of fierce determination. Smudged mascara framed her intense gaze, adding to her wild and untamed appearance. Her lips were painted black, a stark contrast to her fiery red hair and eyes. Clad in a black leather crop top vest that accentuated her slim, athletic frame, she exuded an air of defiance. Arm bands encircled her wrists and biceps, resembling the wraps worn by boxers, hinting at her combat prowess. Around her neck, she wore a large choker, adding to her rebellious demeanor. Her attire was completed by tight leather pants and high-heeled platform boots, giving her an imposing presence.
"Found you, ya freaking cunt!" she spat, her voice laced with venom.
The cloaked figure retreated, increasing the distance between them and the girl. "Ugh, don't you ever give up?" they retorted, their tone tinged with irritation.
The girl leveled a fierce glare at the figure. "After the shit you've done!? I ain't letting you go!" she declared, her voice dripping with disdain.
The figure let out a mocking giggle. "Is that so?" they taunted, gesturing toward Finn who lay wounded on the ground. "Not even to save his life?"
The girl's gaze shifted to Finn, her expression softening momentarily as she registered his injuries. Before she could react, a shrill howl pierced the air, drawing their attention back to the figure.
"What the hell did you do!?" the girl demanded, her voice trembling with rage.
"Oh, just called in a few friends over for dinner," the figure replied casually.
"You bitch!" the girl seethed.
With a swift motion, she thrust her hand forward, summoning a massive vine with thorns protruding from its surface. The vine lunged toward the figure, but they evaded the attack with agile grace, darting away through the forest.
"Have fun~!" they taunted, their laughter echoing through the trees as they disappeared into the darkness.
Driven by determination, the girl pursued the figure, her footsteps echoing through the forest. However, her path was suddenly obstructed as a horde of Gaunts emerged from the shadows, blocking her way with menacing snarls and bared teeth.
"Get out of my way!" the girl cried, her voice ringing with determination.
In an instant, a smaller thorned vine shot out of the ground with startling speed, piercing through the approaching Gaunts like a bullet. Lifted into the air by the force of the vine, the creatures were hurled aside, crashing into trees with bone-crushing force.
As more Gaunts emerged from the shadows behind her, four shots echoed through the air. Finn's aim was true, striking the advancing Gaunts and causing them to writhe in agony as they fell to the ground. The girl glanced back to see Finn's timely intervention, offering a silent nod of acknowledgment before focusing her attention back on the remaining threats. Summoning more vines, she ensnared the creatures, tearing them apart with ruthless efficiency.
Satisfied that the immediate danger had passed, the girl turned back towards Finn, who was now sitting against the wall, applying pressure to his wound.
Bending down beside him, the girl flashed a smile, revealing sharp triangular teeth reminiscent of a shark. "Nice shooting there, dude. Really saved my ass back there," she remarked.
Finn managed a weak chuckle. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't shown up, I'd be Gaunt food," he admitted.
"Let's call it even, then, eh?" she suggested. "What's your name?" she inquired.
Finn met her gaze, taking a moment to catch his breath before responding. "Finn, Finn Tresscoat," he introduced himself. Curiosity burning in his eyes, he posed a question in return. "Who are you? No... What are you?" he asked, unable to shake off the mystery surrounding her.
The girl maintained her enigmatic smile, meeting his gaze with her striking red eyes. "The name's Rachel Rose," she revealed. "As for what I am, well... I can answer that once you're all patched up," she added cryptically.
Summoning another vine, Rachel gently lifted Finn to his feet, supporting him as they began to make their way back towards town. With each step, Finn's mind buzzed with questions, the mysteries surrounding Rachel and her abilities swirling in his thoughts. Who was the cloaked figure? How did they control the Gaunts? And most pressing of all, who—or what—was Rachel, and how was she able to command those vines with such ease?
As they walked back toward town, Finn couldn't help but feel the weight of exhaustion settle upon him, both physically and mentally. His thoughts swirled with questions about the events that had just transpired—about Rachel, the cloaked figure, and the unsettling abilities they both possessed. Yet, amidst the chaos of his mind, one pressing question emerged, demanding attention above all else.
'When the hell am I gonna get another day off? Because I can sure as hell use it right now...!' Finn thought to himself, his weariness palpable.
Rachel, walking beside him, seemed to sense his inner turmoil. Casting him a sidelong glance, she offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Finn. You'll have your chance to rest soon," she assured him, her voice carrying a note of empathy.
Finn managed a weary smile in return, grateful for the reassurance. Despite the gravity of their situation, her words offered a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that loomed over them…

Reddit
I wanted to share my very recent experience (22 May) of using the 144-hour TWOV route into China. I found information provided by others on Reddit extremely helpful and that information made it all work for me. My routing was Barcelona-London Heathrow-Shanghai on British Airways and I was travelling for business on a British passport. My third country on leaving China was Vietnam (HCMC) on China Southern Airlines. I planned to stay in China for 5 days in total but still inside the 144 hours. In preparation for the trip I printed the following on the advice of others here: - All travel details including ticket and seat confirmations for onward travel and hotel names, addresses, phone numbers for Shanghai and HCMC - Print out in English of the latest Chinese gov TWOV policy which lists Shanghai as a destination - Timatic/IATA screenshots inputted by me of my routing including Vietnam as the destination - not China, and BA as the carrier (more on this in a moment as to how BA may deal with this or not) - Contact details of my company colleagues in Shanghai (multinational company with major presence in China)
I suspected in advance that starting in Barcelona would be an issue due to lack of familiarity with TWOV of the check in staff. I would not have had the same concern if starting at LHR. And so this was indeed the case, so a word of warning for anyone using a non-major hub of a major carrier! Perhaps it is because Spanish nationals have been visa exempt for a while so the process is not well know to airline staff - same probably goes for other EU countries. I had tried in advance to call BA Spain but on mention of the words TWOV they (twice) put the phone down on me after saying it was one for the Chinese embassy (great customer service). I doubt that any airline staff will confirm the option is possible before you buy the ticket. Although the BA app let me check in online and made the boarding passes, this came with a “you must present your travel documents at the airport” caveat.
So I arrived about 30 mins earlier than normal in expectation of a fight and yes, the check in staff started off with “you need a visa”. I explained I was TWOV and showed them Timatic, which generated antibodies. (“we have worked here for a long time” sarcasm). I took it (with my bad Spanish) that they had seen this perhaps a handful of times before but they then spent about 10 minutes putting Shanghai as the destination. I explained that Vietnam had to be the destination. Cue another 10 minutes followed by no, we have to put Shanghai as we are flying you to Shanghai. I was starting to become pretty concerned at this point. I showed them again and let us call her the less sarcastic “good cop” check in agent moved to another terminal and phoned a colleague. Another 10 minutes later the colleague arrived and took over. At this point - magic - the routing worked and I was checked in. Major relief. I arrived at LHR and there was no need to repeat the process as both boarding passes given to me at BCN. I’ve been a loyal BA customer over the years so UK customer service will be hearing about the attitude problems.
On arrival into Shanghai you are presented first with a self-finger print scan (not needed for TWOV) and tables with the wrong (visa entry) landing cards. You have to keep going right up to the desks which are clearly marked 144 hour transit (lots of desks and not much of a queue for me) and the TWOV-specific landing cards are there on the side tables. On the landing card you can select tourism / business etc and I had no problems on selecting business (and was not asked for a letter of invite that colleagues travelling on visas needed to provide).
At the border desk they took a long look at my passport and did my fingerprints at the desk. Another border guard then came to the desk and called me to sit in a waiting area while he went off with my passport. I have a lot of passport stamps (very important for TWOV - NONE FROM TURKEY). Perhaps it was the stamps or because I didn’t make clear the onward seat number on my reservation print out…. but that was another 15 mins of anxious waiting, but eventually he came back with the TWOV sticker, stuck it in my passport and into China I went.
In summary: I would do this again but you’ll need to have strong nerves to handle the unaware check in staff. As I noted, I don’t think there is a way around this as no airline will say the TWOV is OK before booking. You just have to force it at the check-in desk and insist. Happy to answer Qs on this experience!

So me and my partner watched the Polish wildcard series and you could say our inner football fan type of personaltiy took a hold of us with a passion as we started to repeatedly scream "nonono its sweeden!!! Look at the bins!!!!!" as zi8zag said it looked like Norway
So this got us thinking is there any official notes or meta about swedish trash bins?
From our knowledge atleast western and Southern sweden (probably more places?) has these specific looking bins, one brown and one green. And then in some parts there is only one green trash bin, and if the bin has a white sticker with a rainbow or bunch of colors you are in the "Kommun" (municipal) of the town Eskilstuna
Let's see if anymore people has noticed anything about the swedish Trash Bin meta, im extremely curious! 🗑🗑🚮🚮

This was almost 10 years ago. A distant neighbor had a Black Lives Matter sign in his yard. Several neighbors and I didn’t approve of it. So I did some digging on legal ways I can get the sign down. My neighborhood didn’t have a HOA but it did have a covenant for all the house. In this contract you had to sign when buying the property it stated there were to be no yard signs other than a temporary garage sale sign, realtor, or political signs. The definition of “political signs” was a sign that supports or opposes a candidate. No political party/canidate were supporting Black Lives Matter. I printed off the signed by homeowner document.
Around 5pm I rang his door bell with a friend/neighbor around the corner to observe the interaction. A white guy opens the door and I tell him who I am and that I don’t support his sign being in the neighborhood. He instantly called me a racist and I told him I think it’s offensive cause he has the sign pointed straight across the street at a local city cops house and I feel that this a form of harassment to him and that it violates the contract that he signed when he bought the house. He took a quick look at the contract that I had highlighted for the sign part. He instantly said it’s political and I said nope read the definitions on the last 2 pages and you’ll learn it’s not. He read them and told me he isn’t taking down the sign. I told him the contract says I can sue him for $10,000 if he does not meet the conditions of this contract as stated in the document. He told me the mayor approved his sign already and my contract doesn’t mean shit and slammed the door.
The next day I go and meet with the cities attorney on what to do about the situation. The lawyer agreed with me that I have legal rights but stated he didn’t want to purse the issue. I told him the contract is also signed by the city that it is approved to be a legal covenant for the area and I’d be contacting a lawyer to sue the city and the homeowner. He changed his mind and said give him a week to get the sign down.
2 days later on the news is the neighbor saying how his rights are being violated and some maniac came to his door while he was eating super with his family(all white) demanding he take down the sign this min. He stated he was a youth pastor in Missouri near where Michael Brown was killed by a cop.
After the full week the sign was finally down and not seen again
I was thanked by many neighbors for getting the sign down by the way. Also later found out his sign was stolen many times by the black neighbors a couple house down haha.
I’ll find the neighbors news story and post it

Just came back home from an amazing two week trip with a friend, and thought I’d share my experiences while the memory is still very fresh. I found a lot of useful information on this subreddit while preparing for this trip, so I hope this will help some of you as well. We tried to make it a budget trip, which may sound kinda weird as it is an expensive country after all. But we cut costs by sleeping at campsites, cooking our own food instead of eating out and preferring to hike over paid excursions as much as possible.
We rented a Dacia Duster which had the back seats removed so we could sleep in the back. It’s a bit cramped and the first few days it’s a bit of a hassle to move your bags to the front seats when you want to sleep, but eventually you get the hang of it and it's no big deal anymore. You can probably also opt for a minivan for a little bit more space, but to be honest I think you still need to deal with your bags in that case either way.
Our usual day planning was as follows: we got up early (around 7:00-7:30) and left the campsite by 8:00 at latest. This way you beat the crowds at your first destination of the day. And most often you will also beat them at the next destinations, as the touring buses also follow a specific set of activities. We would usually arrive at the next campsite around 16:00. At this time it’s usually still quiet, so no queues at the kitchen (if available) and showers, so we got that all done before everyone else arrived. Then spend the evening reading; sleep early and repeat.
For the food: an easy option for breakfast and lunch is to just buy whole grain bread and some spreads which do not need to be refrigerated (jam, peanut butter, hazelnut chocolate spread). Another cheap option is the “Oat Burst” instant porridge cups which only cost like 1€ at Bónus and only require boiling water. For dinner we usually used either rice or pasta with some canned vegetables (beans, peas, corn) and a jar of sauce (curry madras, tikka masala, chopped tomatoes, asian sweet/sour, and the likes).
To give an indication, we spend the following on the trip:

• Plane ticket: 450€
• Rental car: 1400€ (split in two so 700€ per person)
• Other credit card expenses: 1750€ (campsites, groceries, diesel, paid parking, entrance fees, miscellaneous, also split in two so 875€ per person)

For a total of ~2025€ per person. We drove a total of 2846 kilometers during the trip.
We made an itinerary beforehand, which we could follow for like 95%. I will share it here together with my experiences. Of course we also had a lot of random stops during the trip, but I will only talk about the highlights here. Afterwards I will end with some useful tips.
Day 1: we arrived at the airport around 16:00. After getting our rental car we did some groceries at Bónus and drove straight to Þingvellir Campsite. Showers and toilets were modern and very well maintained by the park rangers. No kitchen available. Campsite is also pretty big, so we had a quiet corner without any other campers nearby.
Day 2: we first went to Þingvellir, which was only like a five minute drive. Keep in mind the speed limit within the park is 50, even though it looks like a 70/90 road. We parked at P2, which is free before 9:00 (otherwise 800 ISK or so). We walked to the viewpoint and also to the Öxarárfoss. Then we drove to Kerið, paid 500 ISK entry fee per person and walked around the rim and lake. At first I wasn’t too sure it would be worth the price, but we had beautiful sunny weather which made the water color really stand out. Next up was Strokkur, which surprisingly didn’t have paid parking. We saw it erupt quite a few times, which takes around 5-10 minutes; can recommend trying to get a burst shot in with your camera. Lastly we went to Gullfoss. It was starting to get windy, so we got pretty wet by the spray, but it also allowed us to snap some beautiful rainbows. We then ate the lamb soup at the nearby cafe, which was delicious although a bit salty for my personal taste. Our campsite for the night was Hellishólar. Didn’t like this one so much. It was the most expensive one during our trip and the facilities were rather poor. No kitchen and the showers were so cramped that we didn’t even bother to use them.
Day 3: the next day we went to Seljalandsfoss (and Gljufrabui). Road 250 is unpaved, so another option is to drive back to Hvolsvöllur and take the ring road instead. There was a parking fee of 1000 ISK. It was really nice to walk behind the waterfall although you will get wet. To get to Gljufrabui you literally need to walk through the water (and some step stones), so having decent hiking shoes is highly recommended. Because we were early we were almost alone, so we could snap some really nice pictures. Next up was Skógafoss. We went up the stairs, which takes quite the effort I can tell. At this point a storm started to hit the island (orange alert), so it was getting pretty windy. Afterwards we went to Sólheimajökull, which also had a parking fee of 1000 ISK. We needed to walk about 1km, but we had crazy headwinds due to the storm so it took a while. The glacier was pretty far away from the viewpoint, but still nice to see it considering they unfortunately won’t be around forever. Then we arrived at Dyrhólaey. The road to the top viewpoint was closed due to the extreme winds. We could barely see the arch in the rocks anymore because the sea was going so crazy. We originally also had a plan to go to Reynisfjara, but we had to skip it due to the weather conditions getting too bad. We snapped some pictures at Eldhraun and then went to the campsite Kirkjubær II. It had a nice common room kitchen with some tables. You had to pay an extra 300 ISK for a shower though. It was timed to 3 minutes, you couldn’t change the temperature and you also couldn’t pause the water, so you had to hurry up.
Day 4: the wind was gone, but it was still rainy. First we backtracked a little bit to Fjaðrárgljúfur, which had one of the best views during our entire trip! Also paid parking of 1000 ISK here, and the amount of parking spots is quite limited. We then went to Svartifoss which was another 1000 ISK parking fee. The hike is about 2.5km, which may not seem much, but the path is pretty steep up a hill, so requires quite some effort. Afterwards we went to Jökulsárlón. Another 1000 ISK parking fee here, but if you park at Svartifoss the same day you get a 50% discount. Saw some beautiful blue ice in the water and some seals. We couldn’t see the glacier due to fog. We also walked under the bridge towards the beach to spot some ice crystals. We camped at Höfn. The common room was quite nice and warm. The outdoor facilities were still closed though, which resulted in only one shower being available for like 40 campers. So there was a long queue and we didn’t bother. I believe you also had to pay extra for it here.
Day 5: a day mainly dedicated to driving, and the sun finally returned! Close to the campsite was Stokksnes. They charge you 1000 ISK per person to enter a small area to view the Vesturhorn. I was really doubting whether a couple pictures would be worth about 15€. But luckily nature helped me decide, as the mountain was covered in clouds when we arrived at the gate, so we just left. We drove along the coast and then onto road 939, which is an unpaved mountain pass with snow beside the road! Was a really nice and relaxing drive. We then went to Hengifoss. Another hike onto a steep hill. The waterfall might not be as impressive as others, and the red rock bands aren’t that clearly visible like in most oversaturated pictures online, but I still really liked this hike. The west trail was closed for maintenance, but to be honest the eastern trail looked better anyway. The final part you have to jump over the river a few times, so try to not get wet! The campsite for today was at Egilsstaðir. It had a nice big kitchen with couches. The showers were disgusting though. The floor was sticky and there was some brown mold all over the walls.
Day 6: we drove to Hafnarhólmi at Borgarfjörður eystri to watch puffins. Quite a remote drive over a mountain. We arrived around 10:00 and there were literally hundreds of puffins. Some were less than one meter from the walkway, allowing you to make close ups even with your phone. I still recommend a camera with optical zoom and/or binoculars though. Next up was Stuðlagil canyon. Seeing a picture of this was the reason to book this trip. Don’t go to the viewpoint on the west side. Judging from its location I don’t think you can see much there and you can’t enter the canyon. Drive over the bridge and drive along east to reach a parking lot. From this point it’s like half an hour of hiking, but the path is almost flat so it’s really easy. The walkway into the canyon itself was pretty muddy, so for that I would recommend hiking boots. We camped at Fjalladyrd, a remote farm with some buildings like a church and turf houses. The campsite wasn’t really open yet, so facilities were limited. The kitchen had no running water yet, so to get water we had to walk like 100m over a field exposed to wind. Also the kitchen and toilets were not heated, which made it a bit of a miserable experience at some moments.
Day 7: we went to Dettifoss, westside by road 862. Apparently there is also a spot on the east, but I don’t think the views would be much better there, and that road is unpaved I heard. Was a fun hike through snow. Also don’t forget the small detour to Selfoss. Next we went to Krafla. Unfortunately the lake was still frozen when we arrived, so there wasn’t much to see of the blue color. Close to it was Námafjall, where they charged a ridiculous 1200 ISK to park, but I am still glad we did it though. Boiling mud pools, sulfur smokers, mars-like landscape, the smell… it’s just something you won’t find in a lot of places on earth. So do yourself a favor and don’t miss out even though the admission fee is high. We then went to Mývatn Nature Baths and spent a good 2.5 hours there. Still pricey, but cheaper than Blue Lagoon and less tourists, hence why we had chosen this one. We didn’t book in advance. To enter the baths you have to change and shower nude in public. Personally I don’t care, but I know some people do, hence why I mention it. We planned to camp at Mývatn Bjorg, but the campsite was still closed. So we ended up at the nearby Mývatn Vogar. It had a nice big kitchen with lots of tables. The hot water smells like sulfur though. There were also a lot of insects on the campsite, so if you had the car door open for just a couple of seconds there would be tons of bugs inside…
Day 8: near the campsite we had a short stop at Grjótagjá, which is a cave with nice blue water. The water is really hot, so be careful to not fall in! We then hiked at Dimmuborgir. You can take multiple routes, but by all means do not miss out on the blue track, as it’s the most interesting one. On the signs it was listed as challenging, taking 1.5-2 hours, but we finished it in like 40 minutes while also taking a lot of stops for photos, so I’m not sure what’s up with that. We then hiked to Hverfjall. Tip: do not take the southern slope like we did. It rises 145m over 600m on pebbles, and it was just a miserable experience. We hiked for about 12km; if you don’t want to hike as much you can move your car to the volcano instead. We camped at Mánárbakki campsite and all I can say is that this guy is a hero. When we arrived he noted that one of our front tyres was in very poor condition and probably wouldn’t last another 50km. We were allowed to park the car in his shed and borrow tools (impact wrench, car jack, air compressor) to easily swap the tyre. Beautiful view on the sea and also by far the cleanest and best equipped kitchen during our trip.
Day 9: we had a 3 hour whale watching trip in Húsavík with Gentle Giants. We booked it before leaving for Iceland. We were really lucky with the weather: blue sky and almost 20°C. Spotted three humpback whales, one of which would surface every 20 seconds instead of the usual 5 minutes, so that was really nice. On the way back we also saw some white-beaked dolphins. With your ticket you also get discounts at various stores in the town. We then went to Goðafoss, which was right next to the road (also nice for once). Most tour buses parked to the east of it, but we were at the west and to be honest I think that is a much better view. We camped at Hofsós, a bit of a detour, but at least it was more quiet than the other campsites. Clean facilities. The shower drain was too slow and would flood the room if you showered for too long.
Day 10: next up was the Glaumbær museum. We weren’t sure it was worth the entry fee (2000 ISK per person) at first as it looked rather small, but we still did visit it anyway. I’m glad we did, because the interior was way bigger than I anticipated and I really liked it. Then something we didn’t plan: we stopped to eat lunch and stumbled upon Þrístapar. At this site the last death penalty in Iceland was executed. There was some pathway with storyboards to read and I thought it was rather interesting. Next we went to Hvítserkur, and all I can say is: please, don’t. Road 711/717 is an unpaved mess with potholes and washboard texture which you have to drive for 20km (and back). And when you arrive at the rock viewpoint it is some tiny rock really far away. Not worth the effort in my opinion. We also had a short stop at Kolugljúfur, where you can take some nice pictures of a canyon. We then drove to Reykhólar campsite to prepare for the fjords. It’s a bit remote and there wasn’t any reception. We couldn’t shower, as I think you normally have to do that at the nearby pool, but it was closed that day. Near the campsite were a lot of different birds, so if you like bird watching this is definitely a place you should check out.
Day 11: a lot of driving this day, but no problem due to the beautiful views of the fjords. We drove the southern route over road 60. We went to visit Dynjandi. By far the most beautiful waterfall we saw during our trip. Once road 60 goes northbound there’s road constructions. I think they are trying to make the waterfall more accessible with a new road. But be prepared to drive 30km of unpaved road full of potholes while also dodging construction workers. Next we checked out Garðar BA 64 for some cool pictures. We camped at Melanes campsite. It was just so remote and peaceful. We walked over the Rauðisandur beach in the evening. Beautiful brown/black sand patterns made by the wind. We tried to spot seals during low tide, but unfortunately didn’t see any.
Day 12: we drove back to Brjánslækur and took the ferry at 12:00. We booked the day before, and I’m glad we did because it was pretty much full. We checked out Kirkjufell, but it was covered in clouds so it was not that interesting. We parked at the viewpoint to the east, which is free. The closer parking is paid, but I don’t think that is worth it, unless you also want to see the nearby small waterfall (we didn’t bother). We camped at Ólafsvík, which had a rather small but nicely maintained kitchen and shower. You couldn’t change the temperature and had to keep pressing to keep it going, but it was alright.
Day 13: first we visited Saxhóll, which was a fun short stop, but at this point I already saw so many beautiful things that I thought this was a bit meh. Next up was Djúpalónssandur, which is a nice black pebble beach, which has a beautiful sound when the waves retract. There was also some stone lifting sailor game, which can be rather fun if you are with a group. We then parked our car at the Hellnar viewpoint and walked along the coast to see birds, and also to see the Gatklettur stone arch. If you don’t want to hike you can also park your car closer at Arnarstapi instead. Finally we went to Ytri-Tunga to watch some more seals. You had to pay 750 ISK to park for “road maintenance”, but the road to the parking had the most potholes per m² of our whole trip… The seals were pretty far away, but we still managed to shoot some nice pictures, including a cute baby seal. We camped at Akranes, which didn’t really have a kitchen, but we did read books at the washing machines as that room was heated.
Day 14: the final day was for Reykjavík. In the morning it was raining, so we visited Perlan first. A bit pricey, but the ice cave and northern light show was pretty cool. Spent about 2.5 hours there. We then dropped the car off at the Stjörnuport Parking Garage, which is only like 100 ISK per hour. Went into the city to visit the Hallgrimskirkja and to walk around the main streets. At this point the volcano near Grindavik got active again, so we hit the road and parked near the highway exit at Grindavik (Memorial board B-24). The lava was pretty far away, but you could see it bursting out with the naked eye and also managed to snap some pictures. Definitely an experience of a lifetime and a nice finale. We then stayed at the Vogar campsite, as we had a really early flight the next day, so we just chose it because it was close to the airport. Didn’t use any of the facilities.
And before I finish, I’d like to share some tips for your trip:

• If your rental company offers foldable chairs/tables to take with you: don’t. We only used them once, because often it’s windy and thus too cold. Also most rest stops have tables and most campsites have a kitchen, so you don’t need it and it’s just a hassle to have them in the car all the time.
• You also don’t really need to take a gas stove with you, if you can live with the risk that perhaps 1-2 days you won’t have a hot meal (or plan campsites more carefully). We barely used ours and just cooked in the communal kitchens instead.
• Talking about cooking, most campsites we were at had an induction cooking plate, so make sure you have a suitable pan for it.
• Not necessarily needed to buy toilet paper, available at every wc.
• The N1 gas station promotion booklets contain 6 coupons for free coffee, so if you can get your hands on a few of them (e.g. at your renting company) you have a nice supply all around the island.
• Campsites near the airport have a lot of leftover food from other travelers. Now I wouldn’t take already opened cartons of milk personally (you don’t know how long it has been there), but taking things like pasta, rice, sealed products and the likes works pretty well.
• Don’t bother to bring an umbrella, the wind will just destroy it. Rain ponchos are an option, but to be honest just bring a decent rain proof jacket or rain coat.
• We didn’t have any cash money during the trip, cards all worked just fine.
• Don’t forget to bring sunscreen, even though the UV index is low, the reflecting snow and water still burns you easily when sunny.
• Close your car doors at any time! Random gusts of wind may ruin your hinges and possibly result in huge fines from your rental company.
• Bring a car USB charger for your phone. Like 90% of the time we charged our phones while driving.

Sterling K. Brown will do whatever it takes to fully commit to his roles — even if that means experiencing a high level of pain and discomfort.

This might be a weird post, but I'm a vegetarian that loves eating at southern bbq places for the sides- mac and cheese, baked beans, slaw, cornbread, etc.
Any recs for places with a decent number of vegetarian sides? (Note that Korean food is great but I'm not looking for Korean bbq, just southern. ) I haven't found many in NYC proper. So far Hill Country has great pimento cheese and Pig Beach was mediocre in all ways. I looked up John Brown since I'm in Queens, but even their salads have meat.
Big plus if it has good brisket or Carolina pulled pork for my meat loving friends!

1. GSP
2. Jon jones
3. Mighty Mouse
4. Anderson Silva
5. Stipe miocic
6. Daniel Cormier
7. Alexander volkanovski
8. Jose Aldo
9. Khabib nurmagomedov
10. Kamaru usman
11. Dominic Cruz
12. Israel adesanya
13. Fedor emileninko
14. Henry cejudo
15. Max Holloway
16. Charles Oliveira
17. Randy couture
18. Matt Hughes
19. Chuck Liddell
20. Cain velasquez
21. Bj penn
22. Conor mcgregor
23. Shogun rua
24. Dan hendo
25. Tj dillashaw
26. Big nog
27. Michael bisping
28. Frankie Edgar
29. Robert whittaker
30. Rampage jackson
31. Alex pereira
32. Fabricio werdum
33. Aljamain sterling
34. Benson Henderson
35. Lyoto machida
36. Islam makhachev
37. Royce Gracie
38. Wanderlei silva
39. Mirko cro cop
40. Alexander Gustafson
41. Dustin poirier
42. Tito ortiz
43. Sakuraba
44. Figgy
45. Chris weidman
46. Robbie lawler
47. Junior dos santos
48. Frank shamrock
49. Vitor belfort
50. Rashad Evans
51. Uriah faber
52. Rafael dos anjos
53. Forrest griffin
54. Rich Franklin
55. Justin gathje
56. Tony Ferguson
57. Glover teixera
58. Bas rutten
59. Anthony pettis
60. Eddie alveraz
61. Francis ngannou
62. Tyron woodley
63. Nick Diaz
64. Luke rockhold
65. Renan barao
66. Michael chandler
67. Frank mir
68. Alistar overseem
69. Yoel romero
70. Gomi
71. Gegard mousasi
72. Mark Coleman
73. Joseph Benavidez
74. Carlos condit
75. Chael sonnen
76. Josh Barnett
77. Ken shamrock
78. Andrei arlovski
79. Jan blachowicz
80. Brock lesnar
81. Brian ortega
82. The Korean zombie
83. Petr yan
84. Leon Edward’s
85. Rory Macdonald
86. Colby Covington
87. Jens pulver
88. Ryan bader
89. Damian Maia
90. Brandon Moreno
91. Pat miletich
92. Wonderboy
93. Sean sherk
94. Matt Serra
95. Tim sylvia
96. Gilbert Melendez
97. Miguel Torres
98. Johnny Hendricks
99. Cody garbrandt
100. Donald cerrone
101. Edson Barboza
102. Jim miller
103. Kenny Florian
104. Joe lauzon
105. Nate Diaz
106. Clay guida
107. Dominic Reyes
108. Jiri prochazka
109. Dan hooker
110. Cub Swanson

​
Lemme know what you guys think

1. GSP
2. Jon jones
3. Mighty Mouse
4. Anderson Silva
5. Stipe miocic
6. Daniel Cormier
7. Alexander volkanovski
8. Jose Aldo
9. Khabib nurmagomedov
10. Kamaru usman
11. Dominic Cruz
12. Israel adesanya
13. Fedor emileninko
14. Henry cejudo
15. Max Holloway
16. Charles Oliveira
17. Randy couture
18. Matt Hughes
19. Chuck Liddell
20. Cain velasquez
21. Bj penn
22. Conor mcgregor
23. Shogun rua
24. Dan hendo
25. Tj dillashaw
26. Big nog
27. Michael bisping
28. Frankie Edgar
29. Robert whittaker
30. Rampage jackson
31. Alex pereira
32. Fabricio werdum
33. Aljamain sterling
34. Benson Henderson
35. Lyoto machida
36. Islam makhachev
37. Royce Gracie
38. Wanderlei silva
39. Mirko cro cop
40. Alexander Gustafson
41. Dustin poirier
42. Tito ortiz
43. Sakuraba
44. Figgy
45. Chris weidman
46. Robbie lawler
47. Junior dos santos
48. Frank shamrock
49. Vitor belfort
50. Rashad Evans
51. Uriah faber
52. Rafael dos anjos
53. Forrest griffin
54. Rich Franklin
55. Justin gathje
56. Tony Ferguson
57. Glover teixera
58. Bas rutten
59. Anthony pettis
60. Eddie alveraz
61. Francis ngannou
62. Tyron woodley
63. Nick Diaz
64. Luke rockhold
65. Renan barao
66. Michael chandler
67. Frank mir
68. Alistar overseem
69. Yoel romero
70. Gomi
71. Gegard mousasi
72. Mark Coleman
73. Joseph Benavidez
74. Carlos condit
75. Chael sonnen
76. Josh Barnett
77. Ken shamrock
78. Andrei arlovski
79. Jan blachowicz
80. Brock lesnar
81. Brian ortega
82. The Korean zombie
83. Petr yan
84. Leon Edward’s
85. Rory Macdonald
86. Colby Covington
87. Jens pulver
88. Ryan bader
89. Damian Maia
90. Brandon Moreno
91. Pat miletich
92. Wonderboy
93. Sean sherk
94. Matt Serra
95. Tim sylvia
96. Gilbert Melendez
97. Miguel Torres
98. Johnny Hendricks
99. Cody garbrandt
100. Donald cerrone
101. Edson Barboza
102. Jim miller
103. Kenny Florian
104. Joe lauzon
105. Nate Diaz
106. Clay guida
107. Dominic Reyes
108. Jiri prochazka
109. Dan hooker
110. Cub Swanson