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Imaginary Authors, a Read (House Review, kind of)

I recently sampled a good amount of the fragrances from Imaginary Authors and thought I'd shared my thoughts and opinions! I am not an avid reviewer, so I hope my words make sense and are able to help guide people in the right direction. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this indie house!
Rating Scale: Full Bottle Worthy, Must Try, Worth a Sample, Meh, Hard Pass
Telegrama
Slow Explosions
Memoirs of a Trespasser
Cape Heartache
Saint Julep
Whispered Myths
O, Unknown!
Yesterday Haze
Soft Lawn
Every Storm a Serenade
My overall assessment after experiencing these scents:
I think Imaginary Authors accomplished what they set out to do, and that is to create great stories as the backbone of the house and to use these fragrances to transport the user directly into said story. These fragrances evoke such rich backdrops and images that make you feel like you’re there. I can tell that Josh and his team put so much work into this, and it shows. From the design aspects, names of the fragrances, and the scents themselves, each step had a good amount of thought in it. One word that may come to the minds of many who read this would be ‘novelty’. Do I think they are novelties? No, I don’t. Some of these could be worn as a signature scent, and some during certain seasons of the year. They are very wearable scents in my opinion. I don’t think Josh is a master perfumer, but I don’t think he set out to be. I could be totally wrong. What he was able to do, however, was amazing in its own right, and for that, I would totally recommend this indie house to anyone looking for something new to try.
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Hyperianism

I started seeing his videos on Facebook. They’d just pop up on my timeline. He looked odd. Long, white hair that was straight and extended down past his stomach. His eyebrows were shaved off, or maybe they were never there to begin with, it was impossible to tell.
He wore strange make-up to accent his inhuman features and project an alternative style.
His voice was both confident and articulate, but it was the things he said that drew me in. He spoke about the wonders of the universe, how it all worked and how every little thing we saw was nothing more than a complex system of mathematics put together to form what we perceived as reality.
Intrigued and desperate for something to believe in greater than myself, I couldn’t help but watch hours upon hours of the man. He was known only as Morgue, and he preached a religion in which he seemed to be the founder of or, at the very least, a strong influencer of the belief.
I’ll admit, looking back on Hyperianism, I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known that following something like this would only result in pain, but I was naive and, as I said before, desperate. My faith had been a bit wobbly before I found Morgue. My heart was empty and hopeless.
Then, as if by divine intervention, he was there.
His video, which was nothing more than a square jawed, androgynous man staring into a camera and speaking, drew me in. I think it was the eloquent intensity he spoke with. The way he explained how the world and all the scenarios that play out around us are just complex systems of math equations ebbing and flowing through space and time, something he’d dubbed Hyperianism.
It was genuinely titillating.
And even better - at the end of one of his more recent videos, aptly titled “The reason your life is empty,” he spoke of a meet and greet happening exactly one week from the time I’d watched it. An opportunity to speak with Morgue himself, along with his two closest colleagues, regarding Hyperianism and how to become a member of the “church.”
Sure, at first I had the thought that they would try to sell me something. I figured it was just a way for them to collect money. But then, as if he was answering my questions as they popped into my mind, he said:
“No, we will not try to sell you anything. And no, we are not looking for donations. We are looking for dedicated members of society who want to fulfill their destiny and become Hyperianists. Individuals who want nothing more than to know the truth. To EVOLVE beyond your wildest dreams.”
My mind was made up. I had my plane tickets bought only minutes after the video ended and excitement began to bubble inside of me. I was going to get to meet this man. To become a part of something greater than myself. To find something to believe in, finally!
Getting the time off work proved to be difficult. My boss refused to grant me a leave of absence, and because I didn’t have the vacation time accumulated he wouldn’t approve it that way either. So, I quit.
From what Morgue said in his video:
“You won’t need to be confined to human monotony. You won’t need a job after you’ve accepted Hyperianism. You will see the world for its true self. You will find yourself on a different plane, above all the rest.”
Over the course of the following week I took my money out of savings. I felt that, although after my religious awakening was complete I wouldn’t need these things, I would need to survive in the meantime. Food, water and shelter were still necessary.
Finally, the day arrived. The day I was to travel to Las Vegas in search of a man named Morgue who could show me divinity in its purest form. Looking back, even as I type that, I know it wasn’t my smartest move. Desperation can lead people to do things that don’t always make sense.
I boarded the airplane with only a single bag. I figured I wouldn’t need anything more. I would be awakened and, as Morgue said:
“Human constructs need not be collected post-divination. Your mind will be open to the complex system of mathematical sines and cosines around you. Material possessions will be deemed pointless, in your mind’s eye.”
The flight landed. The sky was dark seeing as my flight arrived shortly after 9pm, but the bright lights from the nearby, infamous Vegas Strip illuminated the atmosphere in surreal intensity.
Seeing the line-up of hotels and casinos, the characters travelling up and down the main drag with odd clothes and exotic animals and the people bustling about this late at night, drunkenly stumbling around the wide sidewalk caused me to smile ear to ear with exhilarated giddiness.
I approached my hotel, nerves causing my legs to wobble beneath me. I could feel my hands vibrating with a tremor, something I hadn’t been victim to before.
This was going to change my life. I could feel it.
The meeting wasn’t going to start until midnight because, as Morgue said in his video:
“Time is merely a construct meant to keep the human population at bay and without freedom. We will not be confined by imaginary constraints. We will remain nocturnal and break the chains of society’s overwatch on us. We will do as we please with whom we please. We will not be bound.”
I checked into my hotel room, having to place a large sum of money down as a deposit since I was paying in cash. The room was nice. Not quite as nice as I expected for how much I paid, but I didn’t think much of it. My mind just replayed Morgue’s words and I felt at ease.
I relaxed in my hotel room for a few hours, taking a few of the overly priced shots from the mini bar. By about 11pm, I’d started to feel a bit of a buzz and an overt amount of boredom. I figured I’d kill the hour downstairs in the casino playing some nickel and dime slots.
As you probably guessed, I didn’t win much. I just blew through about two-hundred dollars worth of change, and downed another two or three drinks in the short span of an hour, without so much as a second thought.
Then, the time came. I received a text from an unknown number giving me simple instructions:
“Go to room 1274.”
Easy enough.
When I got up to the twelfth floor, I saw a baker’s dozen people heading in the same direction as me. They moved slow, zombie-like and had vacant expressions on their faces clouded by a deep seated anxiety deep inside their eyes.
Their lack of physical emotion sent chills down my spine. A feeling that was hard to shake off as I joined the herd and headed toward room 1274. My mind was fuzzy on account of the drinks, but that didn’t stop me from wandering through the depths of my mind and playing scenario after horrifying scenario.
The image of robed figures splaying me out on a pedestal, spilling my innards over some sort of satanic symbols followed thoughts that perhaps I was walking into some sort of trap.
I tried to force the negativity to leave my mind by using some techniques I’d picked up in a few of Morgue’s videos, but they didn’t seem to be working. That should have been the first sign that something about this wasn’t quite what it was hyped up to be.
I went forward, swallowing my fear and fighting my legs to continue moving down the hall and into the door to room 1274.
When I arrived, following the half dozen or so people who hadn’t changed their minds halfway down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the room was impossibly dark. Uninviting scents of sweat and incense wafted into my nose as I sat down on a small folding chair.
Everyone around me was silent, waiting patiently for any sign that we were in the right place. After an excruciatingly long five minutes of anxious waiting, something started to happen.
A sound of deep bass bellowed throughout the room. Black lights lined the ceiling, illuminating a geometric symbol painted on the wall and causing it to glow bright blue.
A man, deathly skinny with long hair that also seemed to glow under the neon purple lighting, stepped up in front of the chairs and began speaking.
“Good evening.” He said in a familiar, articulate tone. “Tonight you have chosen to be awakened. You have seen that there is something more and you wish to be pushed into a state of divination.”
A stage light shined from behind me, causing his pale skin to glow bright white. The familiar man who’s videos I’d obsessively watched over the past few days looked a bit different. He was older. Much older.
“I am here to guide you into a state of consciousness that you have only dreamt about. I am here to give you the push required to open your mind.”
He made a gentle pushing gesture with his hands. It was theatrical, just like his videos. He smiled a terrible, crooked tooth, squinty-eyed smile. It shouted malice, but my mind argued with my instincts. It told me that I was being irrational; that my fear of the unknown was forcing me to see things that weren’t true.
Two people who made themselves known as Morgue’s colleagues began to make their way around to each of the six people that sat scattered throughout the room.
One was a lady, tall and thin like Morgue. She was covered from head to toe in tattoos of oddly configured shapes, all symmetrical from what I could see. She had a thick gauged septum ring that connected at each end of the horseshoe style jewelry to thin chains that strung up to her eyebrows and attached to circular rings there. It gave the faint appearance of a veil draped over her face.
The other was a large man. Round, as if he didn’t get the memo that food was no longer a necessity. He sported a tall, stiff mohawk. He opened his mouth as he approached me, revealing tarnished silver teeth. His eyes were inhuman, cat-like marbles set deep inside his perspiring head.
“Freedom awaits,” he said, handing me a small paper stick.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the small object, but it looked and felt similar to a pixie stick. Long and cylindrical with a sand like material that moved around as I kneaded it.
Morgue continued in the fashion of a true showman:
“We are here to help all who will welcome us. We want each and every one of you to take control of your destiny. To unlock your true potential and transcend this monotonous reality into a true state of nirvana and open-ended bliss. You will be in control of everything around you, changing that which does not please you, and highlighting that which does.”
He presented a cylinder identical to the one we all now held in our hands. The two punk-rock sidekicks joined him on stage, standing just outside of the spotlight.
The trio reminded me more of a circus sideshow, or some sort of freak show, rather than a group of religious leaders. That familiar anxiety began to grow inside me once again, fizzling deep within my stomach and tying my gut into a thick knot.
“Now,” Morgue said, raising his cylinder. “Raise your prophetic dust and ingest it with me. Become one with Hyperianism and leave behind this pathetic and putrid existence.”
He turned the cylinder up, into his mouth, tilting his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, inhumanly large like some sort of clementine stuck halfway down his esophagus.
His words sent my mind on a rampage of negative thoughts and terrifying realities. Was I right? Was this some sort of Jim Jones or Dave Koresh scenario that I’d gotten myself caught up in? How would I escape?
My breathing became rapid and erratic. A thick layer of sweat began to form all across my body and the room started to close in around me. My heart pounded deep inside my chest as I reached up and tugged at my collar, vainly attempting to cool my body.
I looked around and saw only two others doing as he commanded. The rest seemed to make the same connection as I did and simply looked around. Then, all four of our eyes fell on the two followers, as well as Morgue himself.
They’d ingested this substance that was likely poison. Any second now, they should begin to show signs. Foaming at the mouth, writhing on the floor, something…
But there was nothing. No sign that they had just willingly killed themselves.
Morgue also looked fine. If anything, he actually looked ten years younger, as if he’d stepped into the fountain of youth before our eyes. I wasn’t sure what the rest of the crowd was thinking, but this was only partially comforting. It was clear, at least in my mind, that Morgue had simply taken a placebo. The real poison was held by those of us seated in front of him.
But still, the two who were brave enough to try it didn’t fall out or start convulsing uncontrollably, which sparked my curiosity. If it wasn’t poison, then what was it? Still, I wasn’t curious enough to find out for myself, regardless of how compelling Morgue’s videos had been. Sure, he’d made a decent argument for his cause online, but undeniable proof would’ve been more convincing.
Unfortunately for the other devotees, they saw things differently. They looked to one another before upturning the small cylinders, dumping the contents into their mouths. Each of them shuddered in disgust as the fine powder hit their tongues and began to work its way down their throats.
A man two seats to my right looked at me. The pained expression of utter disgust quickly washing away from his face, replaced by a euphoric absence as his eyes glazed over. Now, he looked more like a slave to the substance than a man free of human constraint.
My eyes quickly darted to the front of the room. Morgue and his two sidekicks appeared to be eyeing me. Waiting for me to make the same choice as the others around me. He looked at the woman to his left, then turned his head dramatically to the heavy-set man to his right. I noticed his skin appeared to glow brighter under the spot light, nearly blinding me.
“There’s always one…” he said, trailing off with a sinister laugh.
The woman suddenly appeared to my right. It was impossible and caused me to jump with a start. She had literally just been ten feet in front of me and, in the blink of an eye, appeared by my side. The rotund man was on my left, also as if by some sort of magical teleportation.
They extended arms out toward me, sending me into a panicked hysteria. My mind suddenly switched focus. It was now fight or flight, and flight didn’t seem like much of an option seeing as how I was surrounded.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sending gooseflesh rising across my body. My limbs shook uncontrollably. I managed, after a moment of pure terror, to clench a fist and hurl it at the woman. It was against my natural instincts, having been raised to never hit a woman, but she was a threat and I was left with no other choice.
My knuckles connected with her nose and I heard a loud crunch as my hand struck her face. I pulled back, but something held my hand in place against her face, resisting as I attempted to pull away. Without thinking, I jerked my hand back.
She grabbed her face and let out a yawp, collapsing to the floor and writhing in agony. I looked down at my throbbing hand and noticed thin chains encircling my fist, embedded into the skin in some areas. Small bits of flesh hung on the ends attached to circular rings.
I knew this was my only chance. I had to run. I had to go and never look back.
I jumped up, over the small folding chairs and bolted towards the door. Morgue stood there, blocking the only exit. He was motionless, his arms crossed over his shirtless torso and his large, penetrating eyes staring at me with contempt.
The foreboding sense of pure dread lingered in the air, thick enough to cut. I stared at Morgue as I came to a halt about six feet away from him. I was unsure if I should try to rush him or if I should look for another escape route.
My time was running short and I knew it. I knew if I didn’t try to make my escape now, I wouldn’t have another opportunity. I decided to rush him, remembering my brief stint in elementary school football. I sprinted toward him, ready to make the tackle. I came in low and wrapped my arms around his waist but he didn’t budge. I was stopped in my tracks as if he was made of stone, slamming my shoulder into rock hard flesh.
I stumbled back, gripping my aching shoulder. Why didn’t he move? Was this really how I was meant to die? I refused to accept it. I couldn’t allow myself to fall victim to this… thing.
“You cannot escape us.” He said, slowly stepping toward me.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder and whipped my head around to see the familiar large man covered in tattoos. The henchman who’d handed me the prospective poison. Rage billowed deep within his eyes, his mouth was turned up in a horrid scowl. The neon lighting of the room seemed to accent this rage, giving him a demonic, glowing aura.
I scanned the room in search of something… anything that I might be able to use to aid my escape, but there was nothing. The five others who had entered with me sat in their seats staring forward as if they didn’t realize the commotion happening around them.
“Hey!” I shouted, trying to get their attention as the large man tightened his grip on my shoulder and brought his other hand up to my opposite shoulder.
He had a grip on me like a vice, lifting me clear off my feet and dangling me in the air for a moment. I flailed my legs in a vain attempt to free myself from his grip. It was pointless, though. He was the size of a full grown ox, triple my weight, and he had a strong hold on me.
I stopped resisting for a moment and thought. The pressure bearing down on my chest and arms was shortening my breaths and clouding my mind. I couldn’t figure out how I would escape and had begun to accept my fate. I’d gotten in too far over my head.
Then, it hit me. The woman didn’t seem to be impervious like Morgue. I was able to land a swift punch to her face that she had yet to recover from. I looked over the large man’s shoulder, at the heap of bone and flesh on the floor. She panted, gripping at her face, but she did not stand.
I found myself in another dilemma, though. My arms were pinned to my sides, so landing a punch was out of the question.
Think… think! I told myself in my mind.
The thought came quickly, and I acted just as fast. I reared my leg back, winding up for a powerful kick before whipping it forward, as hard as I could. I felt the top part of my foot land hard in his crotch. Flesh collapsed under the force of my kick, and I saw the man’s expression quickly change. The fury left him, replaced by absolute agony.
He quickly released his grip on me and his hands found their way to his family jewels. He let out a groan and exhaled all the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground. I stumbled down, watching Morgue make a slow and methodical approach.
He walked by the heap of man on the floor, staring down at him with utter disgust.
“Pathetic…” he said through gritted teeth as he reared back and landed a kick. Morgue’s heavy boot connected with the man’s ribs and an inconceivably loud crunch echoed through the room, causing me to wince in repulsion.
It became clear to me then that Morgue had no sympathy for his “colleagues.” They were likely just people that he’d converted to his twisted religion. People who saw no other option than to do as they were told.
I looked back at the people, still seated and staring up at the wall. Their eyes were fixed on that glowing symbol on the wall behind where Morgue had made his dramatic introduction.
Then, something happened. Something I still can’t quite explain.
All at once, the people let out an exhausted breath. A glowing, misty cloud escaped each of their mouths and made its way to the front of the room, falling onto the painted symbol on the wall. It appeared to be pulling the mist into the center, as if it were some sort of vacuum. The glow pulsated, growing brighter then dimming, as it absorbed the cloud.
Then, as the last of it escaped their mouths, the people collapsed from their seats and laid in heaps on the ground. I stared in horror as their bodies quickly decayed before my eyes, turning into ash before collapsing into small mountains of grey dust that glowed under the club style lighting around me.
That… That could’ve been me… I thought, trembling in fear.
I turned my head and looked back at Morgue, who took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and letting a sinister grin stretch across his face from ear to ear. When he let the breath out and looked at me, a warm sensation spread across my front as my bladder emptied its contents from complete and utter fear.
His eyes glowed in their sockets. Not like your typical neon glow under a blacklight. No, they were bright red, like laser beams shooting from his eyes. His emaciated frame had suddenly filled out, his muscle nearly tripling in size, veins bulging from his chest and biceps. His trapezius swelled up, eliminating the appearance of a neck.
I couldn’t move. My legs simply would not take me to safety and instead, remained planted in place as the warm urine continued to spread across my jeans. Morgue continued to transform before my eyes. His hands became increasingly large, and his black fingernails, which I had previously assumed to be painted, grew into long, sharp talons.
Finally, my legs took what my brain told them to do and acted, but not in the way I expected. Rather than bolting for the door, they decided to slowly back away from this monster. Not a terrible move, I must say, but not the smartest.
I continued backing up, kicking metal folding chairs out of my way without taking my eyes off of the snarling beast before me. It appeared his terrifying and amazing transformation was complete and he had now locked eyes with me. My heart felt like it was going to jump up my throat and out of my mouth, beating crazily in my chest as the beast approached.
I felt myself back into something solid, a cool breeze shot up my back from below. The air conditioner, and the cool wall against my back was the window.
Morgue snarled inhumanly deep, squelching gurgles as he continued taking heavy, thumping steps toward me.
He stopped for a moment, just over arms length away from me.
A split second of silence. A brief thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d make it out alive. Maybe he would just let me leave.
That thought exited my mind quickly as he leapt forward, barreling straight at me with his steroid built body. His feet fell one over another, thundering below me and vibrating the carpeted floor beneath my feet.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment.
Then I felt it.
The stinging sensation of his claws digging into my torso. The vibrating pulsation of puncturing talons inserting themselves deep into my skin, making their way below layer after layer of skin until they found muscle and seated themselves into it.
The sound of shattering glass behind me as the window I was propped up against gave way, sending myself and Morgue plummeting twelve stories down.
We flipped through the air as my insides twisted and butterflies fluttered in my torso. Morgue still had his claws deep inside of my stomach, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything as the adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.
I could hear screams gaining volume below me, barely audible over the roar of wind invading my ears. I closed my eyes and came to grips with the reality that this was my demise. I stopped with a thud, air forcing its way out of my lungs before blacking out.
Small bits of consciousness came back to me violently. Flashes of incomprehensible pieces of reality interrupted by darkness.
The feeling of drowning, air being replaced by water inside of my lungs, a pulsating pressure on my sternum followed by oxygen forcing its way down my trachea. Flashing red lights and two men lifting my body off the ground.
When I finally awoke, my surroundings were foreign. Rhythmic beeping played in the background coupled with the intermittent hissing of oxygen purging itself from over-pressurized lines.
I looked around, squinting my eyes as the fluorescent lighting above me shone down. Intravenous fluid lines invaded my right arm. My left was wrapped in a hard cast. Aches in my back and chest caused my breathing to be short and labored. My mouth was impossibly dry, lips sticking together as I opened and tried to speak.
“Hello?” I said, forcing the words out in a gritty screech.
I was alone. An off-white thermal blanket draped over me as I laid, sprawled out on a hospital bed. One of the many monitors attached to me began beeping faster before someone finally entered. A woman in scrubs bearing a familiar comic book character symbol walked in.
“Oh, excellent!” she cheered in a tone that was all too chipper. “You’re awake. Your doctor will be so happy to hear that! How are you feeling?”
I could hear genuine concern in her tone, but didn’t know how to answer.
“Wha-” I started but was cut off.
“What happened?” She asked, assuming what I was thinking. “You fell twelve stories out of your hotel room. Luckily you went right into the pool and one of the brave, albeit drunk, guys downstairs was able to fish you out in time.”
I sat there for a moment, the look on my face that of pure confusion. Then, everything came back to me in a horrific flash. I felt my pulse speeding up as the panic began to flow freely through my veins. The monotonous beeping sped up, giving away my secret to the nurse.
“Woah, woah,” she said. “It’s okay. Just calm down a moment.”
She held her hands in front of her, palms out as if to say “don’t worry.” I could do anything but. Thoughts flowed freely through my mind. Where had Morgue gone? Would he be back?
My chest began to sting and throb as my breathing became heavier. I sighed and gasped in pain. The nurse seemed to read me like a book, making sense of my guttural noises.
“You’ve got a handful of broken ribs and some pretty serious puncture wounds across your chest. You need to take it easy. I’m going to give you a mild sedative. Just something to calm your nerves.”
She held up a needle before inserting it into the IV line sticking out of my arm. As she depressed the plunger, I felt the cold liquid spread through my veins. A few seconds later, the effects of the medicine became noticeable. She placed the syringe into a sharps bin before turning back to me and removing her rubber gloves.
“Your doctor will be in shortly.”
She smiled, turned and left the room. My mouth still felt like a desert, but I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep once again. A restful daze took its hold on me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.
Visions of Morgue making his daring and terrible transformation invaded my mind, sending me reeling in horror as the scene played out in my head once again. A disembodied voice that I hadn’t recognized repeated my name over and over again.
“Jona-ton?” he asked. “Jona-ton, are you awake?
He spoke with a hispanic accent, saying my name with the slightest inflection at the end.
My eyes shot open and relief washed over me as I realized I was still in the safety of the hospital room. A man was seated next to my bed. Dark complexion with black hair slicked back and a thick layer of scruff covering his chin.
“Buenas dias,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his clipboard. “How are you feeling?”
I struggled to speak through my dry mouth and the utter exhaustion I felt.
“Crappy,” I said in a raspy whisper.
“As expected,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle before continuing. “You fell nearly a hundred and twenty feet. You’re quite lucky to be alive. Can you tell me your name?”
“Yeah… ah,” I winced in pain as I attempted to prop myself up a bit. “Jonathon Winslow.” I said, struggling through the words as my squeaky voice grounded away in my throat.
“Good, Jona-ton. Now,” he straightened the glasses perched on his nose. “I am going to leave you here with Officer Black. She has a couple questions for you regarding how you fell from that window.”
He motioned towards the door where a small, petite woman entered the room. She wore a blue uniform adorned with a patch on her left shoulder that read “Las Vegas Police Department.” Her small nose, narrow eyes and darker complexion told me she was likely of Asian descent.
“Hello, mister Winslow.” She said, bringing a lime green clipboard up to her chest and jotting something down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her eyes jumped from the piece of green plastic she held and met my gaze. I knew she wouldn’t believe my story, but what else could I say? The nervousness was definitely showing on my face. If I didn’t choose my words carefully, I could be committed to some sort of psych ward or mental institution under the Baker Act, and I certainly didn’t belong there.
I pondered what could possibly go wrong if I just admitted why I’d gone there in the first place, and simply left out the part where Morgue turned into some sort of demonic monster. It wasn’t so far fetched to think I’d gone there searching for something to believe in and when I showed up, I was met with a group of psychopaths who ultimately tried to kill me before tossing me out the window.
I opted for that excuse which Officer Black seemed to have no trouble believing. I guess the stories about Vegas are true - anything goes in this city.
She took down a description of all three people, but I knew nothing would be done. There was nothing they could do. They didn’t have a real name, and from the clock on the wall I knew it was at least 9am, meaning they’d had 9 hours to make their escape.
She nodded, thanking me for the information, turned and exited.
The doctor entered once again and informed me that I would need a few tests. Being conscious would allow them to find brain damage easier, if there was any.
Aside from a somewhat minor concussion, several broken ribs, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds, I was ultimately given a clean bill of health. But what would I do? I was stuck in Vegas with no money, no car and no job waiting for me back home.
I left the hospital and found that it was surprisingly easy to secure a payday loan. It struck me as odd at first, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that a guy being stranded in Vegas with no car or money might be a pretty common scenario.
After securing a flight and making my way home, I finally felt safe. I could settle back into reality, knowing that the existence Morgue had preached about was non-existent. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of paranoia, though. The thought that everytime I looked over my shoulder or around a dark corner, Morgue would be there. His hulking figure and large talons ready to finish the job they’d started sent chills down my spine and anxiety gripping my chest.
Getting my job back was tough. Not because my boss didn’t want me back, but because I had to put my pride to the wayside and formulate a somewhat embarrassing lie. The look on his face changed in an instant.
At first he’d had a contemptuous look, eyebrows parallel and a frown smeared across his jaw, ready for me to get down on my knees and beg. But as soon as I told him that I’d quit because I was in a bad place mentally, and that I needed to get help, his expression shifted. His eyebrows raised in a state of concern, the frown, although still present, no longer conveyed contempt but worry.
“Oh, Jonathon. I’m sorry, man…” He’d told me, eyes darting around his head like a madman. “You’re welcome back here as soon as you can. Take a few days to yourself and then we’ll see you back here on… say, Monday?”
I smiled, unsure of what to say other than:
“Sounds good, thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
I turned and walked out after a quick handshake, the feeling of accomplishment forming a victorious smirk on my face. Things were back to normal. My weekend was insane, but now I could settle back into the norm.
A few weeks passed. Things were going as good as they could, but that empty feeling had begun to return. I could feel myself falling back into a slump.
Browsing through facebook seemed to be my time waster of choice. Scrolling through and liking photos, laughing internally at memes, watching short videos of people doing dumb stuff that ultimately resulted in them being hurt. Typical internet stuff.
Then, I saw it. That androgynous man, no eye brows. Long, white-blonde hair draped over his face in matted, wet strands. He stared into the camera, speaking familiar teachings. Things about how to control the universe - how to make it work in your favor.
I wouldn’t be tempted this time, though. I knew his secret. I knew what his endgame was.
I tapped my thumb on the profile picture associated with Morgue, taking me to an archive of all his videos. Some familiar, some new. I didn’t watch them, though. I simply clicked the “more options” tab, scrolled to the bottom of the menu and clicked “Block User.”
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What A Day: Curious, Georgia by Sarah Lazarus & Crooked Media (04/23/20)

"Why don’t we just put everybody in a space outfit or something like that?" - Stephen Moore, economic advisor to the president and grown man

Mitch Better Have My Money

More than 4.4 million Americans filed new jobless claims in the last week, bringing the reported unemployment total over the past five weeks to 26 million. Faced with those numbers, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has decided it’s time to pump the brakes on any additional economic relief, and possibly force blue states and cities into bankruptcy, reminding us all why he's the most popular politician in America.
In New York, preliminary results from antibody studies indicate that the state’s 250,000 confirmed cases of coronavirus may be just the tip of the iceberg.
Even with unemployment numbers rising by the millions every week, an overwhelming majority of Americans understand that reopening the economy prematurely isn’t the solution. A Politico/Morning Consult poll from last weekend found that 76 percent of respondents felt social distancing measures should continue for as long as necessary. Kemp and reckless Republican leaders like him are ignoring public opinion in addition to national guidelines, and endangering public health.

Look No Further Than The Crooked Media

So far, 3,660 of you have used the call tool on https://votesaveamerica.com/call to get connected to your representatives in Congress and tell them that they need to include funding to make elections safe and accessible as part of their next coronavirus package. Keep them coming!
Now we want to hear from you: why do YOU need safer voting options this year? Whether you have a preexisting condition that puts you at risk, or don’t feel safe volunteering at the polls, we want to hear your story. Send in a video to us at 323-405-9944 so we can share your story and send a message to Congress and the state governments about how important this is →

Under The Radar

Florida has distinguished itself as a nightmarish place to be unemployed. The state is one of the slowest in the country to process its jobless claims, which means hundreds of thousands of unemployed Florida workers have been waiting weeks to receive their first checks, and many haven’t even been able to file their claims. The state agreed to start accepting paper applications this month, after its unemployment website broke down under the volume of traffic. Florida’s GOP leaders have intentionally weakened its unemployment system over the last decade, leaving its workers particularly vulnerable in this crisis: The state’s unemployment benefits max out at $275 a week.
Nearly all of the major battleground states in the 2020 election are experiencing higher-than-average layoffs. In addition to prying more relief funding out of Mitch McConnell’s cold bloodless hands, it will be on all of us to make sure those voters realize that this level of economic fallout, and the broken systems exacerbating it, were preventable.

What Else?

President Trump’s immigration executive order temporarily restricts some visas, but doesn’t contain the broad freeze on green cards he announced earlier this week.
China pledged an additional $30 million to the World Health Organization after Trump froze U.S. funding. If the U.S. wants to surrender its influence over a key international institution, China is happy to take up that role.
Elizabeth Warren’s eldest brother has died after contracting the coronavirus. Don Reed Herring, an Air Force veteran, died at age 86 on Tuesday.
Las Vegas, NV, workers have pushed back on Mayor Carolyn Goodman’s calls to reopen the city as a “control group,” to see what happens without social distancing. Goodman said she wanted hotels and casinos to reopen quickly, but doesn’t have jurisdiction over the Las Vegas Strip. Goodman also said she wouldn’t go to the reopened casinos herself because “I don’t gamble,” which is (chef’s kiss).
Leaked results from a clinical trial of remdesivir in China showed it carries no benefit for coronavirus patients, though the study ended prematurely because it had too few patients. Other studies are still in progress.
Two cats in New York have become the first U.S. pets to test positive for coronavirus. Health officials emphasized there’s no evidence that pets can transmit the virus to people.
Scientists in the U.K. think dogs might soon be able to sniff out asymptomatic COVID-19 cases. Labradors and spaniels have already been trained to detect malaria, and within weeks, some very good boys may play an important role in identifying coronavirus superspreaders.
The San Clemente, CA, plan to deter skateboarders by filling a skate park with sand has backfired by attracting dirt bikers. The wild BMX bikes have returned to the skate park. Nature is healing.

Be Smarter

In a New York Times op-ed this week, Dr. Richard Levitan described volunteering at New York’s Bellevue Hospital for 10 days. Levitan shared a new insight into what makes COVID pneumonia uniquely dangerous: Unlike most pneumonia patients with very low oxygen saturation (hypoxia), many COVID-19 patients don’t feel short of breath until they’re close to respiratory failure. That seems to be a result of the peculiar way the coronavirus attacks the lungs, and when patients breathe faster and harder to compensate for their “silent hypoxia” without realizing it, their lungs sustain further damage. That may explain why so many patients on ventilators ultimately die: They didn’t get to the hospital until their pneumonia was well advanced. Levitan recommended more widespread use of pulse oximeters to detect hypoxia early.
Since the op-ed was published, pulse oximeters have become impossible to find, which Levitan says is no cause for panic. (Hospitals don't use the same devices, so this isn't an N95 mask situation.) Think of it like a thermometer—something you should probably have in your home eventually.

What A Sponsor

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Is That Hope I Feel?

Publix has launched an initiative to purchase milk and fresh produce from struggling farmers, and donate it directly to Feeding America food banks.
Braskem America workers voluntarily lived at the factory for 28 days, producing tens of millions of pounds of the raw materials needed for PPE.
Ruth's Chris Steak House, Sweetgreen, and King Sushi announced they’ll return the small-business loans they received from the Payroll Protection Program. Yelling at companies on the internet works!
A federal appeals court ruled that Detroit students (and by extension, all children in the U.S.) have a fundamental right to a basic education.
Virginia has become the latest state to end prison gerrymandering, the practice of counting incarcerated people where they’re detained, rather than at their last known residence.

Enjoy

Geoff Lemon 🍋 on Twitter: "The Pope being schooled in theological biology by an account dedicated to bat PR is perhaps the best combination of things to happen on this website."
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I joined the church of Hyperianism... Don’t make the same mistake

I started seeing his videos on Facebook. They’d just pop up on my timeline.
He looked odd. Long, white hair that was straight and extended down past his stomach. His eyebrows were shaved off, or maybe they were never there to begin with, it was impossible to tell. He wore strange make-up to accent his inhuman features and project an alternative style.
His voice was both confident and articulate, but it was the things he said that drew me in. He spoke about the wonders of the universe, how it all worked and how every little thing we saw was nothing more than a complex system of mathematics put together to form what we perceived as reality.
Intrigued and desperate for something to believe in greater than myself, I couldn’t help but watch hours upon hours of the man. He was known only as Morgue, and he preached a religion in which he seemed to be the founder of or, at the very least, a strong influencer of the belief.
I’ll admit, looking back on Hyperianism, I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known that following something like this would only result in pain, but I was naive and, as I said before, desperate. My faith had been a bit wobbly before I found Morgue. My heart was empty and hopeless.
Then, as if by divine intervention, he was there.
His video, which was nothing more than a square jawed, androgynous man staring into a camera and speaking, drew me in. I think it was the eloquent intensity he spoke with. The way he explained how the world and all the scenarios that play out around us are just complex systems of math equations ebbing and flowing through space and time, something he’d dubbed Hyperianism.
It was genuinely titillating.
And even better - at the end of one of his more recent videos, aptly titled “The reason your life is empty,” he spoke of a meet and greet happening exactly one week from the time I’d watched it. An opportunity to speak with Morgue himself, along with his two closest colleagues, regarding Hyperianism and how to become a member of the “church.”
Sure, at first I had the thought that they would try to sell me something. I figured it was just a way for them to collect money. But then, as if he was answering my questions as they popped into my mind, he said:
“No, we will not try to sell you anything. And no, we are not looking for donations. We are looking for dedicated members of society who want to fulfill their destiny and become Hyperianists. Individuals who want nothing more than to know the truth. To EVOLVE beyond your wildest dreams.”
My mind was made up. I had my plane tickets bought only minutes after the video ended and excitement began to bubble inside of me. I was going to get to meet this man. To become a part of something greater than myself. To find something to believe in, finally!
Getting the time off work proved to be difficult. My boss refused to grant me a leave of absence, and because I didn’t have the vacation time accumulated he wouldn’t approve it that way either. So, I quit.
From what Morgue said in his video:
“You won’t need to be confined to human monotony. You won’t need a job after you’ve accepted Hyperianism. You will see the world for its true self. You will find yourself on a different plane, above all the rest.”
Over the course of the following week I took my money out of savings. I felt that, although after my religious awakening was complete I wouldn’t need these things, I would need to survive in the meantime. Food, water and shelter were still necessary.
Finally, the day arrived. The day I was to travel to Las Vegas in search of a man named Morgue who could show me divinity in its purest form. Looking back, even as I type that, I know it wasn’t my smartest move. Desperation can lead people to do things that don’t always make sense.
I boarded the airplane with only a single bag. I figured I wouldn’t need anything more. I would be awakened and, as Morgue said:
“Human constructs need not be collected post-divination. Your mind will be open to the complex system of mathematical sines and cosines around you. Material possessions will be deemed pointless, in your mind’s eye.”
The flight landed. The sky was dark seeing as my flight arrived shortly after 9pm, but the bright lights from the nearby, infamous Vegas Strip illuminated the atmosphere in surreal intensity.
Seeing the line-up of hotels and casinos, the characters travelling up and down the main drag with odd clothes and exotic animals and the people bustling about this late at night, drunkenly stumbling around the wide sidewalk caused me to smile ear to ear with exhilarated giddiness.
I approached my hotel, nerves causing my legs to wobble beneath me. I could feel my hands vibrating with a tremor, something I hadn’t been victim to before.
This was going to change my life. I could feel it.
The meeting wasn’t going to start until midnight because, as Morgue said in his video:
“Time is merely a construct meant to keep the human population at bay and without freedom. We will not be confined by imaginary constraints. We will remain nocturnal and break the chains of society’s overwatch on us. We will do as we please with whom we please. We will not be bound.”
I checked into my hotel room, having to place a large sum of money down as a deposit since I was paying in cash. The room was nice. Not quite as nice as I expected for how much I paid, but I didn’t think much of it. My mind just replayed Morgue’s words and I felt at ease.
I relaxed in my hotel room for a few hours, taking a few of the overly priced shots from the mini bar. By about 11pm, I’d started to feel a bit of a buzz and an overt amount of boredom. I figured I’d kill the hour downstairs in the casino playing some nickel and dime slots.
As you probably guessed, I didn’t win much. I just blew through about two-hundred dollars worth of change, and downed another two or three drinks in the short span of an hour, without so much as a second thought.
Then, the time came. I received a text from an unknown number giving me simple instructions:
“Go to room 1274.”
Easy enough.
When I got up to the twelfth floor, I saw a baker’s dozen people heading in the same direction as me. They moved slow, zombie-like and had vacant expressions on their faces clouded by a deep seated anxiety deep inside their eyes.
Their lack of physical emotion sent chills down my spine. A feeling that was hard to shake off as I joined the herd and headed toward room 1274. My mind was fuzzy on account of the drinks, but that didn’t stop me from wandering through the depths of my mind and playing scenario after horrifying scenario.
The image of robed figures splaying me out on a pedestal, spilling my innards over some sort of satanic symbols followed thoughts that perhaps I was walking into some sort of trap.
I tried to force the negativity to leave my mind by using some techniques I’d picked up in a few of Morgue’s videos, but they didn’t seem to be working. That should have been the first sign that something about this wasn’t quite what it was hyped up to be.
I went forward, swallowing my fear and fighting my legs to continue moving down the hall and into the door to room 1274.
When I arrived, following the half dozen or so people who hadn’t changed their minds halfway down the hall, I couldn’t help but notice the room was impossibly dark. Uninviting scents of sweat and incense wafted into my nose as I sat down on a small folding chair.
Everyone around me was silent, waiting patiently for any sign that we were in the right place. After an excruciatingly long five minutes of anxious waiting, something started to happen.
A sound of deep bass bellowed throughout the room. Black lights lined the ceiling, illuminating a geometric symbol painted on the wall and causing it to glow bright blue.
A man, deathly skinny with long hair that also seemed to glow under the neon purple lighting, stepped up in front of the chairs and began speaking.
“Good evening.” He said in a familiar, articulate tone. “Tonight you have chosen to be awakened. You have seen that there is something more and you wish to be pushed into a state of divination.”
A stage light shined from behind me, causing his pale skin to glow bright white. The familiar man who’s videos I’d obsessively watched over the past few days looked a bit different. He was older. Much older.
“I am here to guide you into a state of consciousness that you have only dreamt about. I am here to give you the push required to open your mind.”
He made a gentle pushing gesture with his hands. It was theatrical, just like his videos. He smiled a terrible, crooked tooth, squinty-eyed smile. It shouted malice, but my mind argued with my instincts. It told me that I was being irrational; that my fear of the unknown was forcing me to see things that weren’t true.
Two people who made themselves known as Morgue’s colleagues began to make their way around to each of the six people that sat scattered throughout the room.
One was a lady, tall and thin like Morgue. She was covered from head to toe in tattoos of oddly configured shapes, all symmetrical from what I could see. She had a thick gauged septum ring that connected at each end of the horseshoe style jewelry to thin chains that strung up to her eyebrows and attached to circular rings there. It gave the faint appearance of a veil draped over her face.
The other was a large man. Round, as if he didn’t get the memo that food was no longer a necessity. He sported a tall, stiff mohawk. He opened his mouth as he approached me, revealing tarnished silver teeth. His eyes were inhuman, cat-like marbles set deep inside his perspiring head.
“Freedom awaits,” he said, handing me a small paper stick.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the small object, but it looked and felt similar to a pixie stick. Long and cylindrical with a sand like material that moved around as I kneaded it.
Morgue continued in the fashion of a true showman:
“We are here to help all who will welcome us. We want each and every one of you to take control of your destiny. To unlock your true potential and transcend this monotonous reality into a true state of nirvana and open-ended bliss. You will be in control of everything around you, changing that which does not please you, and highlighting that which does.”
He presented a cylinder identical to the one we all now held in our hands. The two punk-rock sidekicks joined him on stage, standing just outside of the spotlight.
The trio reminded me more of a circus sideshow, or some sort of freak show, rather than a group of religious leaders. That familiar anxiety began to grow inside me once again, fizzling deep within my stomach and tying my gut into a thick knot.
“Now,” Morgue said, raising his cylinder. “Raise your prophetic dust and ingest it with me. Become one with Hyperianism and leave behind this pathetic and putrid existence.”
He turned the cylinder up, into his mouth, tilting his head back. His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, inhumanly large like some sort of clementine stuck halfway down his esophagus.
His words sent my mind on a rampage of negative thoughts and terrifying realities. Was I right? Was this some sort of Jim Jones or Dave Koresh scenario that I’d gotten myself caught up in? How would I escape?
My breathing became rapid and erratic. A thick layer of sweat began to form all across my body and the room started to close in around me. My heart pounded deep inside my chest as I reached up and tugged at my collar, vainly attempting to cool my body.
I looked around and saw only two others doing as he commanded. The rest seemed to make the same connection as I did and simply looked around. Then, all four of our eyes fell on the two followers, as well as Morgue himself.
They’d ingested this substance that was likely poison. Any second now, they should begin to show signs. Foaming at the mouth, writhing on the floor, something…
But there was nothing. No sign that they had just willingly killed themselves.
Morgue also looked fine. If anything, he actually looked ten years younger, as if he’d stepped into the fountain of youth before our eyes. I wasn’t sure what the rest of the crowd was thinking, but this was only partially comforting. It was clear, at least in my mind, that Morgue had simply taken a placebo. The real poison was held by those of us seated in front of him.
But still, the two who were brave enough to try it didn’t fall out or start convulsing uncontrollably, which sparked my curiosity. If it wasn’t poison, then what was it? Still, I wasn’t curious enough to find out for myself, regardless of how compelling Morgue’s videos had been. Sure, he’d made a decent argument for his cause online, but undeniable proof would’ve been more convincing.
Unfortunately for the other devotees, they saw things differently. They looked to one another before upturning the small cylinders, dumping the contents into their mouths. Each of them shuddered in disgust as the fine powder hit their tongues and began to work its way down their throats.
A man two seats to my right looked at me. The pained expression of utter disgust quickly washing away from his face, replaced by a euphoric absence as his eyes glazed over. Now, he looked more like a slave to the substance than a man free of human constraint.
My eyes quickly darted to the front of the room. Morgue and his two sidekicks appeared to be eyeing me. Waiting for me to make the same choice as the others around me. He looked at the woman to his left, then turned his head dramatically to the heavy-set man to his right. I noticed his skin appeared to glow brighter under the spot light, nearly blinding me.
“There’s always one…” he said, trailing off with a sinister laugh.
The woman suddenly appeared to my right. It was impossible and caused me to jump with a start. She had literally just been ten feet in front of me and, in the blink of an eye, appeared by my side. The rotund man was on my left, also as if by some sort of magical teleportation.
They extended arms out toward me, sending me into a panicked hysteria. My mind suddenly switched focus. It was now fight or flight, and flight didn’t seem like much of an option seeing as how I was surrounded.
Adrenaline surged through my veins, sending gooseflesh rising across my body. My limbs shook uncontrollably. I managed, after a moment of pure terror, to clench a fist and hurl it at the woman. It was against my natural instincts, having been raised to never hit a woman, but she was a threat and I was left with no other choice.
My knuckles connected with her nose and I heard a loud crunch as my hand struck her face. I pulled back, but something held my hand in place against her face, resisting as I attempted to pull away. Without thinking, I jerked my hand back.
She grabbed her face and let out a yawp, collapsing to the floor and writhing in agony. I looked down at my throbbing hand and noticed thin chains encircling my fist, embedded into the skin in some areas. Small bits of flesh hung on the ends attached to circular rings.
I knew this was my only chance. I had to run. I had to go and never look back.
I jumped up, over the small folding chairs and bolted towards the door. Morgue stood there, blocking the only exit. He was motionless, his arms crossed over his shirtless torso and his large, penetrating eyes staring at me with contempt.
The foreboding sense of pure dread lingered in the air, thick enough to cut. I stared at Morgue as I came to a halt about six feet away from him. I was unsure if I should try to rush him or if I should look for another escape route.
My time was running short and I knew it. I knew if I didn’t try to make my escape now, I wouldn’t have another opportunity. I decided to rush him, remembering my brief stint in elementary school football. I sprinted toward him, ready to make the tackle. I came in low and wrapped my arms around his waist but he didn’t budge. I was stopped in my tracks as if he was made of stone, slamming my shoulder into rock hard flesh.
I stumbled back, gripping my aching shoulder. Why didn’t he move? Was this really how I was meant to die? I refused to accept it. I couldn’t allow myself to fall victim to this… thing.
“You cannot escape us.” He said, slowly stepping toward me.
I felt a hand grip my shoulder and whipped my head around to see the familiar large man covered in tattoos. The henchman who’d handed me the prospective poison. Rage billowed deep within his eyes, his mouth was turned up in a horrid scowl. The neon lighting of the room seemed to accent this rage, giving him a demonic, glowing aura.
I scanned the room in search of something… anything that I might be able to use to aid my escape, but there was nothing. The five others who had entered with me sat in their seats staring forward as if they didn’t realize the commotion happening around them.
“Hey!” I shouted, trying to get their attention as the large man tightened his grip on my shoulder and brought his other hand up to my opposite shoulder.
He had a grip on me like a vice, lifting me clear off my feet and dangling me in the air for a moment. I flailed my legs in a vain attempt to free myself from his grip. It was pointless, though. He was the size of a full grown ox, triple my weight, and he had a strong hold on me.
I stopped resisting for a moment and thought. The pressure bearing down on my chest and arms was shortening my breaths and clouding my mind. I couldn’t figure out how I would escape and had begun to accept my fate. I’d gotten in too far over my head.
Then, it hit me. The woman didn’t seem to be impervious like Morgue. I was able to land a swift punch to her face that she had yet to recover from. I looked over the large man’s shoulder, at the heap of bone and flesh on the floor. She panted, gripping at her face, but she did not stand.
I found myself in another dilemma, though. My arms were pinned to my sides, so landing a punch was out of the question.
Think… think! I told myself in my mind.
The thought came quickly, and I acted just as fast. I reared my leg back, winding up for a powerful kick before whipping it forward, as hard as I could. I felt the top part of my foot land hard in his crotch. Flesh collapsed under the force of my kick, and I saw the man’s expression quickly change. The fury left him, replaced by absolute agony.
He quickly released his grip on me and his hands found their way to his family jewels. He let out a groan and exhaled all the air from his lungs as he fell to the ground. I stumbled down, watching Morgue make a slow and methodical approach.
He walked by the heap of man on the floor, staring down at him with utter disgust.
“Pathetic…” he said through gritted teeth as he reared back and landed a kick. Morgue’s heavy boot connected with the man’s ribs and an inconceivably loud crunch echoed through the room, causing me to wince in repulsion.
It became clear to me then that Morgue had no sympathy for his “colleagues.” They were likely just people that he’d converted to his twisted religion. People who saw no other option than to do as they were told.
I looked back at the people, still seated and staring up at the wall. Their eyes were fixed on that glowing symbol on the wall behind where Morgue had made his dramatic introduction.
Then, something happened. Something I still can’t quite explain.
All at once, the people let out an exhausted breath. A glowing, misty cloud escaped each of their mouths and made its way to the front of the room, falling onto the painted symbol on the wall. It appeared to be pulling the mist into the center, as if it were some sort of vacuum. The glow pulsated, growing brighter then dimming, as it absorbed the cloud.
Then, as the last of it escaped their mouths, the people collapsed from their seats and laid in heaps on the ground. I stared in horror as their bodies quickly decayed before my eyes, turning into ash before collapsing into small mountains of grey dust that glowed under the club style lighting around me.
That… That could’ve been me… I thought, trembling in fear.
I turned my head and looked back at Morgue, who took a deep breath in through his nose, closing his eyes and letting a sinister grin stretch across his face from ear to ear. When he let the breath out and looked at me, a warm sensation spread across my front as my bladder emptied its contents from complete and utter fear.
His eyes glowed in their sockets. Not like your typical neon glow under a blacklight. No, they were bright red, like laser beams shooting from his eyes. His emaciated frame had suddenly filled out, his muscle nearly tripling in size, veins bulging from his chest and biceps. His trapezius swelled up, eliminating the appearance of a neck.
I couldn’t move. My legs simply would not take me to safety and instead, remained planted in place as the warm urine continued to spread across my jeans. Morgue continued to transform before my eyes. His hands became increasingly large, and his black fingernails, which I had previously assumed to be painted, grew into long, sharp talons.
Finally, my legs took what my brain told them to do and acted, but not in the way I expected. Rather than bolting for the door, they decided to slowly back away from this monster. Not a terrible move, I must say, but not the smartest.
I continued backing up, kicking metal folding chairs out of my way without taking my eyes off of the snarling beast before me. It appeared his terrifying and amazing transformation was complete and he had now locked eyes with me. My heart felt like it was going to jump up my throat and out of my mouth, beating crazily in my chest as the beast approached.
I felt myself back into something solid, a cool breeze shot up my back from below. The air conditioner, and the cool wall against my back was the window.
Morgue snarled inhumanly deep, squelching gurgles as he continued taking heavy, thumping steps toward me.
He stopped for a moment, just over arms length away from me.
A split second of silence. A brief thought that maybe, just maybe, I’d make it out alive. Maybe he would just let me leave.
That thought exited my mind quickly as he leapt forward, barreling straight at me with his steroid built body. His feet fell one over another, thundering below me and vibrating the carpeted floor beneath my feet.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment.
Then I felt it.
The stinging sensation of his claws digging into my torso. The vibrating pulsation of puncturing talons inserting themselves deep into my skin, making their way below layer after layer of skin until they found muscle and seated themselves into it.
The sound of shattering glass behind me as the window I was propped up against gave way, sending myself and Morgue plummeting twelve stories down.
We flipped through the air as my insides twisted and butterflies fluttered in my torso. Morgue still had his claws deep inside of my stomach, but I couldn’t feel them. I couldn’t feel anything as the adrenaline pumped hard through my veins.
I could hear screams gaining volume below me, barely audible over the roar of wind invading my ears. I closed my eyes and came to grips with the reality that this was my demise. I stopped with a thud, air forcing its way out of my lungs before blacking out.
Small bits of consciousness came back to me violently. Flashes of incomprehensible pieces of reality interrupted by darkness.
The feeling of drowning, air being replaced by water inside of my lungs, a pulsating pressure on my sternum followed by oxygen forcing its way down my trachea. Flashing red lights and two men lifting my body off the ground.
When I finally awoke, my surroundings were foreign. Rhythmic beeping played in the background coupled with the intermittent hissing of oxygen purging itself from over-pressurized lines.
I looked around, squinting my eyes as the fluorescent lighting above me shone down. Intravenous fluid lines invaded my right arm. My left was wrapped in a hard cast. Aches in my back and chest caused my breathing to be short and labored. My mouth was impossibly dry, lips sticking together as I opened and tried to speak.
“Hello?” I said, forcing the words out in a gritty screech.
I was alone. An off-white thermal blanket draped over me as I laid, sprawled out on a hospital bed. One of the many monitors attached to me began beeping faster before someone finally entered. A woman in scrubs bearing a familiar comic book character symbol walked in.
“Oh, excellent!” she cheered in a tone that was all too chipper. “You’re awake. Your doctor will be so happy to hear that! How are you feeling?”
I could hear genuine concern in her tone, but didn’t know how to answer.
“Wha-” I started but was cut off.
“What happened?” She asked, assuming what I was thinking. “You fell twelve stories out of your hotel room. Luckily you went right into the pool and one of the brave, albeit drunk, guys downstairs was able to fish you out in time.”
I sat there for a moment, the look on my face that of pure confusion. Then, everything came back to me in a horrific flash. I felt my pulse speeding up as the panic began to flow freely through my veins. The monotonous beeping sped up, giving away my secret to the nurse.
“Woah, woah,” she said. “It’s okay. Just calm down a moment.”
She held her hands in front of her, palms out as if to say “don’t worry.” I could do anything but. Thoughts flowed freely through my mind. Where had Morgue gone? Would he be back?
My chest began to sting and throb as my breathing became heavier. I sighed and gasped in pain. The nurse seemed to read me like a book, making sense of my guttural noises.
“You’ve got a handful of broken ribs and some pretty serious puncture wounds across your chest. You need to take it easy. I’m going to give you a mild sedative. Just something to calm your nerves.”
She held up a needle before inserting it into the IV line sticking out of my arm. As she depressed the plunger, I felt the cold liquid spread through my veins. A few seconds later, the effects of the medicine became noticeable. She placed the syringe into a sharps bin before turning back to me and removing her rubber gloves.
“Your doctor will be in shortly.”
She smiled, turned and left the room. My mouth still felt like a desert, but I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep once again. A restful daze took its hold on me as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment.
Visions of Morgue making his daring and terrible transformation invaded my mind, sending me reeling in horror as the scene played out in my head once again. A disembodied voice that I hadn’t recognized repeated my name over and over again.
“Jona-ton?” he asked. “Jona-ton, are you awake?
He spoke with a hispanic accent, saying my name with the slightest inflection at the end.
My eyes shot open and relief washed over me as I realized I was still in the safety of the hospital room. A man was seated next to my bed. Dark complexion with black hair slicked back and a thick layer of scruff covering his chin.
“Buenas dias,” he said, smiling as he looked down at his clipboard. “How are you feeling?”
I struggled to speak through my dry mouth and the utter exhaustion I felt.
“Crappy,” I said in a raspy whisper.
“As expected,” he gave a half-hearted chuckle before continuing. “You fell nearly a hundred and twenty feet. You’re quite lucky to be alive. Can you tell me your name?”
“Yeah… ah,” I winced in pain as I attempted to prop myself up a bit. “Jonathon Winslow.” I said, struggling through the words as my squeaky voice grounded away in my throat.
“Good, Jona-ton. Now,” he straightened the glasses perched on his nose. “I am going to leave you here with Officer Black. She has a couple questions for you regarding how you fell from that window.”
He motioned towards the door where a small, petite woman entered the room. She wore a blue uniform adorned with a patch on her left shoulder that read “Las Vegas Police Department.” Her small nose, narrow eyes and darker complexion told me she was likely of Asian descent.
“Hello, mister Winslow.” She said, bringing a lime green clipboard up to her chest and jotting something down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Her eyes jumped from the piece of green plastic she held and met my gaze. I knew she wouldn’t believe my story, but what else could I say? The nervousness was definitely showing on my face. If I didn’t choose my words carefully, I could be committed to some sort of psych ward or mental institution under the Baker Act, and I certainly didn’t belong there.
I pondered what could possibly go wrong if I just admitted why I’d gone there in the first place, and simply left out the part where Morgue turned into some sort of demonic monster. It wasn’t so far fetched to think I’d gone there searching for something to believe in and when I showed up, I was met with a group of psychopaths who ultimately tried to kill me before tossing me out the window.
I opted for that excuse which Officer Black seemed to have no trouble believing. I guess the stories about Vegas are true - anything goes in this city.
She took down a description of all three people, but I knew nothing would be done. There was nothing they could do. They didn’t have a real name, and from the clock on the wall I knew it was at least 9am, meaning they’d had 9 hours to make their escape.
She nodded, thanking me for the information, turned and exited.
The doctor entered once again and informed me that I would need a few tests. Being conscious would allow them to find brain damage easier, if there was any.
Aside from a somewhat minor concussion, several broken ribs, a broken arm, and multiple lacerations and puncture wounds, I was ultimately given a clean bill of health. But what would I do? I was stuck in Vegas with no money, no car and no job waiting for me back home.
I left the hospital and found that it was surprisingly easy to secure a payday loan. It struck me as odd at first, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that a guy being stranded in Vegas with no car or money might be a pretty common scenario.
After securing a flight and making my way home, I finally felt safe. I could settle back into reality, knowing that the existence Morgue had preached about was non-existent. I couldn’t help but feel a bit of paranoia, though. The thought that everytime I looked over my shoulder or around a dark corner, Morgue would be there. His hulking figure and large talons ready to finish the job they’d started sent chills down my spine and anxiety gripping my chest.
Getting my job back was tough. Not because my boss didn’t want me back, but because I had to put my pride to the wayside and formulate a somewhat embarrassing lie. The look on his face changed in an instant.
At first he’d had a contemptuous look, eyebrows parallel and a frown smeared across his jaw, ready for me to get down on my knees and beg. But as soon as I told him that I’d quit because I was in a bad place mentally, and that I needed to get help, his expression shifted. His eyebrows raised in a state of concern, the frown, although still present, no longer conveyed contempt but worry.
“Oh, Jonathon. I’m sorry, man…” He’d told me, eyes darting around his head like a madman. “You’re welcome back here as soon as you can. Take a few days to yourself and then we’ll see you back here on… say, Monday?”
I smiled, unsure of what to say other than:
“Sounds good, thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
I turned and walked out after a quick handshake, the feeling of accomplishment forming a victorious smirk on my face. Things were back to normal. My weekend was insane, but now I could settle back into the norm.
A few weeks passed. Things were going as good as they could, but that empty feeling had begun to return. I could feel myself falling back into a slump.
Browsing through facebook seemed to be my time waster of choice. Scrolling through and liking photos, laughing internally at memes, watching short videos of people doing dumb stuff that ultimately resulted in them being hurt. Typical internet stuff.
Then, I saw it. That androgynous man, no eye brows. Long, white-blonde hair draped over his face in matted, wet strands. He stared into the camera, speaking familiar teachings. Things about how to control the universe - how to make it work in your favor.
I wouldn’t be tempted this time, though. I knew his secret. I knew what his endgame was.
I tapped my thumb on the profile picture associated with Morgue, taking me to an archive of all his videos. Some familiar, some new. I didn’t watch them, though. I simply clicked the “more options” tab, scrolled to the bottom of the menu and clicked “Block User.”
submitted by jonthomas2692 to nosleep [link] [comments]

Part 2: WFRV Courtroom blogs Avery and Dassey trials

Here are the requested courtblogs from WFRV as requested by the one whose username starts with 4 letters and ends with 2 numbers. Reddit character limit forces me to split the blogs in two posts. This is only a partial archive, going back in time 11 years does have it's limitations :). Enjoy.  
Will Steven Avery testify?   That’s a question many people are wondering as the defense continues its case. So far we’ve heard from a bus driver who saw a woman taking photos near the Avery property, but can’t say with any certainty when. Next a propane delivery driver who was on Avery road on Halloween of 2005, who claims to have seen a green SUV driving away from the Avery Salvage yard between 3:30 and 4pm, an hour after the prosecution says Teresa Halbach was murdered. But again, he can’t say if the driver was a man or woman. Plus a man who owns the trailer where Avery lived and the .22 caliber rifle inside the home, thought to be the murder weapon. He says he fired over 3,000 shots over the years on the property, and the defense wants the jury to believe he‘s the possible source of 11 shell casings recovered by investigators.
We would expect to hear from a forensic expert to contradict the bone fragments in the burn pit or the DNA on the bullet pulled from the garage. You would hope for direct evidence of two vengeful law enforcement officers out to get Avery, for the shame they felt about prolonging his time in prison for a wrongful rape conviction. But where’s that one piece of evidence that shows the prosecution has got it all wrong straight from the mouth of the accused? Where’s Steven Avery?
If Avery took the witness stand, he could tell all what happened on Halloween of 2005. He’s really the only one who knows.
If you were facing life behind bars, wouldn’t you want to speak on your own behalf? If I were on the jury, I would want to hear what he has to say. But it obviously would be a huge gamble, and it’s still unclear if the defense is ready to take that chance. Posted by Kris Schuller at Mar 9, 2007 11:09 am     False Imprisonment Charge Thrown Out   The false imprisonment charge Steve Avery faced has been thrown out.
The decision came Monday morning as Judge Patrick Willis ruled on three motions filed by the defense last Friday. The judge ruled there simply wasn’t enough evidence presented during the trial to support the charge. The prosecution had argued that Teresa Halbach had to have been held against her will and forced into the garage, where they say she was murdered by at least two shots to the head from a .22 caliber rifle by Avery. The defense had argued that charge was only added after the other suspect charged in Halbachs murder, but facing a separate trial, Brendan Dassey, confessed back in March of last year of being involved in the murder. He later recanted his confession and faces trial in April.
But the court ruled against dismissing all of the charges as requested by the defense. The court also ruled the DNA evidence found on the bullet inside Avery’s garage would not be suppressed and that the police did nothing wrong during their week long search of the Avery property. So motions to suppress evidence collected from the burn pit and other areas of the Avery Salvage yard can still be considered by the jury.
The judge is now individually talking to jurors to make sure they have been following his order not to watch, read, of listen to media coverage of this case.
This case is quickly winding down. Expect it to go to the jury within the next few days. Posted by Kris Schuller at Mar 12, 2007 9:12 am     Motions To Supress 'Magic Bullet' Denied   False Imprisonment Charge Dropped, Motions to Supress Evidence, “Magic” Bullet: Denied   Steven Avery’s attorneys won one battle today. Judge Willis agreed that the State did not present enough evidence to prove the charge.
Dean Strang and Jerry Buting lost the motions asking to suppress the bullet with Teresa Halbach’s DNA on it, and the motion asking to throw out the evidence in the burn barrel and burn pit, since authorities did not obtain a new search warrant when they searched those areas. Judge Willis said the cops had five days to execute that warrant. Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 12, 2007 1:19 pm     What About Teresa Halbach?   Everyday, I drive to the Calumet County Courthouse by myself. It’s a nice, pretty drive, and it gives me some “alone” time before and after work. And many times, I drive through Teresa Halbach’s neighborhood to get there.
Calumet County is Halbach Country. This is where the Halbach family lives, and you can feel the pain that still lingers here from her Teresa’s death.
Over the last several weeks, we’ve heard a lot of testimony about Teresa’s bones, her DNA, her Daisy Fuentes jeans and even her teeth. Sprinkled in between all of that was testimony from her mom (which broke my heart), her younger sister Katie, and her brother Mike. They bring you the human face to the person some of us never knew. But other than that, at times it seems Teresa Halbach gets lost among the science lessons about chemicals and vials of blood and the difference between tires with steel belts and those without.
I was sitting upstairs yesterday, while Judge Willis conducted individual voir dire of the jurors. I parked myself outside of Judge Willis’s chambers and talked with Mike Halbach for a few minutes. He’s a real sweetie and he’s getting married this summer, without his sister to stand by him. It really got me thinking. I don’t know how this family does it. They sit through these long days in court, and their lives will never be the same. We could all learn something from the Halbachs... and from Teresa.
There’s a photo of Teresa that I first saw the day Ken Kratz announced that Steven Avery would be charged with her murder. My colleague, Olga Halaburda, attended the news conference, and I went to a prayer service at St. John Sacred Hearth Church in Sherwood. I remember sitting in the church as the Halbachs filed in, sitting in the first pew. Mike wasn’t there, but all of the other siblings were in attendance. The hymn “On Eagle’s Wings” played as the service ended. That song will always remind me of Teresa Halbach.
That day, I was live at 5 and 6 outside of the church, near a candle that had been lit several days before as the community prayed for Teresa’s safe return. Next to the candle sat the cutest photo of a little girl that I think I’ve ever seen. It was Teresa Halbach, clad in a blue dress, sitting inside of a tractor tire. Next to it, sat a Reader’s Digest with The Beatles on the cover (that was Teresa’s favorite band). The magazine was sealed in a Ziploc bag with a post it stating, “May angels be with you on your journey.” Every time that I see that photo, it reminds me why we are here. Not that I’ve ever forgotten, but in between the talk of burn barrels and finger prints and DNA, sometimes you have to put her out of your mind, or at least tuck her in the back. Sometimes, you just have to do that to get through the day, so you can do your job and meet your deadline. But we must remember one thing: If the Halbachs can sit through court and listen to this, then we can, too. We must.
I snapped a picture of this photo using my digital camera at Seven Angels Restaurant here in Chilton. The Halbachs are regular customers there, and the Sabani family owns it. They’re some of the nicest people that I’ve ever met. They make me feel at home every time I go there, and it’s nice to sit there and get a feel for what the community is thinking and feeling. People are very interested in the outcome of this trial, and they love the Halbach family and Teresa. This photo is hanging in the front entrance of the restaurant. You can’t miss it; it’s right above the gum ball machine as you walk in.
But, maybe the next time we hear expert testimony about teeth, and bone fragments and “magic bullets”, this picture will come into our minds. Teresa Halbach is a little girl who grew up to be a photographer, but never lived to comb grey hair. In a way, she’s everyone’s little sister, daughter, niece, granddaughter and friend. Her’s was a life taken too soon, and for what?
I don’t think we’ll ever really know. Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 13, 2007 10:20 am     The Chilton Hilton   That’s what some of us reporters have affectionately dubbed our media room down here. It’s a big conference room in the basement of the Calumet County Courthouse. The officials here, led by Sheriff Jerry Pagel and County Administrator Bill Craig (if I’m leaving anyone out, I apologize) allowed us to transform it into a newsroom. They’ve been so nice to let us do that, because let me tell you, it beats sitting out in the truck in the middle of winter!
The time has just flown by down here. Sometimes, it seems like hours fly by like minutes. I liken this room to a casino in Las Vegas. There aren’t any windows, no clocks on the walls. You sit all day long and listen to testimony and crank out stories and before you know it, you’re sitting in front of a camera, doing live shots for the 5, and going to a news conference and slamming it together for a 6 o’clock live shot. It’s almost like they keep us fueled by pumping this place full of oxygen and feeding us a constant stream of coffee. It’s like in Vegas when the cocktail servers keep the drinks coming, free of charge, just so you’ll keep gambling!
The other day, I wrote out a check and I asked the cashier for the date, and she said, “it’s March 10.” I nearly fell over. I couldn’t believe it was March. And, there have been more than a few days when I got home around 8:30 p.m. or later, and I couldn’t remember what day it was.
We have a lot of really nice people down here in the Chilton Hilton, and we all get along. It’s a shame that we’re always so busy, and that we don’t get to talk more. We have fun when we get to chat. Mick from TMJ4 sits in front of Kris and I. Peter from FOX 6 in Milwaukee sits behind me; very nice guys. Dan from TMJ radio sits across the way with Tom from The Journal Sentinel. We go out to lunch sometimes and we’ve gone out after work a couple of times. Carrie from the AP sits at the end of my table, but she was gone for a while, which was a bummer. Colleen Henry from WISN sits across the room, and I wish that she was closer to us. She’s really interesting and I’d like to talk to her more.
Then, there are my print pals, like John Lee from the Post-Crescent! He’s my bud! I do a lot of my live shots over at the Gannett table, otherwise known as Andy Nelesen’s “front porch.” I usually leave stuff on his desk, my glasses and make up, and he always returns them. He doesn’t like it when I leave my stuff at his “house” but he puts up with me.
All of the Green Bay TV stations have people here, too. A few of us have been on this case since day one, and it’s like we’re all in it together. We’ve spent a lot of time together, whether it’s in the courtroom, or at news conferences, or in the parking lot at the Manitowoc County Courthouse, which seemed like the entire summer. We have to see it through to the end.
Everyday after court, we flock to the podium together and for the news conferences, which can be a lot of fun! The attorneys and Mike Halbach are always nice to us, and they all have good senses of humor.
I’ll get some pics of our digs posted. Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 16, 2007 8:33 pm     Jury Is Done For The Night   6:28 p.m. – The jury ordered cold cuts for dinner, and then called it quits for the night.
They’ll start back up again at 8:30 a.m. and we’ll be here! Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 16, 2007 8:34 pm     Juror Question #2   We learned that the jurors had a question. We're in hurry up in wait mode. So, we all arose from whatever we were doing and got into position. I wouldn’t call it organized chaos, more like just getting ready (this is what we do, so it’s pretty routine). Judge Willis was in chambers with the attorneys for a while, and then around 3:15 p.m., Judge Willis read the question.
The jurors wanted a portion of Sherry Culhane’s testimony read back to them. Culhane is the DNA analyst with the State Crime lab. She worked on Avery’s wrongful conviction case in 1985. She testified at that time that the hairs found on the victim in that case, were Steven Avery’s. DNA testing in 2003 (again conducted by Culhane) on those hairs showed they actually belonged to Gregory Allen. Culhane conducted all of the testing in this case.
The jurors wanted the testimony from Jerry Buting’s cross examination of Culhane read back to them, when she answered questions regarding the DNA testing of the .22 caliber rifle found hanging above Steven’s bed. Prosecutors say Avery used that rifle to murder Teresa Halbach. Roland Johnson, who actually owns the trailer where Avery lived, testified that gun actually belonged to him. Johnson said that he must have fired that gun 3,000 times. He liked to shoot gophers at his “weekend getaway” adjacent to the Salvage Yard.
Ok, so in the testimony, Culhane said that she swabbed several parts of the gun, including the barrel and the trigger. Culhane testified that she found neither Teresa Halbach’s nor Steven Avery’s DNA on the rifle, including the trigger guard.
The jurors returned to their deliberations.
From our count down here, Sherry Culhane was the 33rd prosecution witness to testify. If the jurors are taking this chronologically, then that means they’re just over half way through.
What do you think the question means, if anything? What do you think any of this means, if anything?
Email me and I will post your entries.
Angenette Levy: [email protected] Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 17, 2007 5:22 pm     Sunday Morning at the Courthouse, Deliberations Resume   Good Sunday Morning everyone! The jury arrived at 11 a.m. and resumed deliberations. They stopped at 5 p.m. last night. I heard that Sheriff Pagel offered to order some hot meals for them, and they declined. They ate the leftover cold cuts from Friday for lunch yesterday.
Some people are speculating that we’ll have a verdict by 1:00 because the Badgers game starts shortly after that. I don’t see that happening.
Anyway, Everyone is here and accounted for. Colleen Henry from WISN brought donuts for everyone. We’ve all brought food in at one point or another, and it’s always something tasty like donuts or cupcakes or something like that! Many of us are listening to music this morning as we work. It’s nice to listen to some music for the first time in a long time!
I was driving here this morning on my usual route and the Lionel Richie song, “Easy Like Sunday Morning” started playing in my head. It stopped when I drove past Sacred Heart Church in Sherwood. Cars were pulling in for church. It was sad to see all of the blue ribbons by the church, even though I’ve seen them many times before.
I want to thank everyone who has emailed me. I really enjoy reading your emails, and as I’ve said before, keep ‘em comin’.
Here are some of you responses regarding Juror Question #2 and other items dealing with the trial.
More later, I promise. Sounds like to me a mistrial or years and years of appeals is in the offing. I would very much like to see what odds Vegas would put on this trial if they even knew about it.
Tim
It scares me. I think they DO find serious doubt in the truth of Sherry Culhane's testimony. I know if I were on the jury, I would doubt her, no questions asked! She ONLY deviated on THIS case in how many years? I find HIGH doubt in that. Like the 'evidence' shows, the cops left her a message stating they wanted her to place Teresa in his house. But, as for other evidence, it just seems fishy. No, I don't actually think the police planted evidence, but I also am not 100% convinced Steven Avery did it! I have watched about 99% of the trial on the live stream. What an exhausting case. I do enjoy reading your journal and wanted to tell you so! Glad you got a cushion for at least some comfort. Hope this trial is over soon, for the sake of the Halbach's and all involved. As I said, I am on the fence and either way the jury decides, I can see how they would be unsure and glad I'm not one of them!!! I DO think he could have done it and may get away with it because 18 years in prison-he wasn't just sitting there...it probably warped him (more) and possibly gave him ways to get away with it! I also can't wait for his nephew, Brendan's, trial to get under way. I wonder how long that will take. In my opinion, I don't care how mentally unfit, nobody (hardly anyone) says they did that sort of thing if they didn't. That also is why I think more than not the Steven did do it.
OH-I also think Judge Willis is AWESOME! He's SO fair, I was surprised by that, to see such a fair judge-yeah, rare, isn't it. No Judge Ito here! (Thank God)
Mary Howard’s Grove, WI
I think the question is favorable to Steven Avery. They are piecing together the obvious things. If he raped her and did whatever in his trailer, there would have to be DNA of her in there somewhere (be it a single hair on the bed or in the carpet). If he shot her in the head from close range, the would be splatter in the barrel, which there wasn't.
I think based on the fact the jury is out this long and that type of question was asked, there are more people in the jury room trying to sway a not guilty verdict then the other way around.
Mark in Charlotte, NC
Quite a defense Avery put up--huh? Let me see, a gopher shooting, absentee dementiated landlord, some wicken lab auditor who could not definiately contradict the lab analysis but was probably paid very well just to put up some smoke, and some other bozos that could NOT factually impeach any of the prosecutions evidence or exhibits. Now, if you were Avery and truely innocent--would you not want to take the stand and try to convince the jurors? I would demand it. So would any innocent person. But he did not want the opportunity.
I thought both sides did a good job in their closing. The defense had little to work with, but created as much smoke as they could. Contrary to what you think, I want the defense to do a good job, in that way there is little chance of winning a new trial on appeal. Ken did a good job also, considering the magnitutude of all the evidence. I just wish he had a lower and stronger voice--sorta sounds like a cross between a whiney Wayne Newton and Michael Jackson at times. Some well placed theatrics should also have been used. Ken is pretty square.
I heard that if Avery gets off, that he is moving in to an apartment with Robert Blake and OJ Simpson, so they can pool their resources searching for the "real killers". I am moving to Canada where they have Smith and Wesson justice. Just kidding.
The Hallbach family is one class act. Sometimes in the heat of the battle, we lose sight of their grief. I tell this to everyone: if that had been my daughter, there would not be an Avery trial, and I would be behind bars charged and awaiting sentencing--because I would admit to everything. Eye for an eye...well, it even goes beyond that.
Mark from the Valley
I also get chuckles out of Mr. Buting. I have said to more than one person,"If I ever get in trouble I want those two guys defending me". Now, I do not ever anticipate that, but I think the defense has done a superb job of making the reasonable doubt a real possibility with the jurors. It has been fascinating for me to listen to both sides while at work through your network, and I am so glad I am not on that jury. I have my beliefs both ways of Mr. Avery but I will keep my thoughts to myself and see what the jury does.
T
Like him? About as much as a 10 foot cobra! The man is condescending, vastly rude and can take any fact and twist it to his version of the truth.
Why is everyone else stupid except him?
Both Mr. Buting and Mr. Strang have played on the sympathy of "poor" Mr. Avery, sent to prison for all those years for something he didn't do. That has no relevance to what was done to Ms. Halbach and to this crime. Does the fact of being sent to prison unjustly exonerate one from brutally murdering an innocent person? And if you have intelligently followed this trial, you will know that Mr. Avery did, without a doubt, commit this crime.
Both Mr. Buting and Mr. Strang just leave a very sour taste in one's mouth. Their smug superiority is very irritating and I feel detracts from their message.
I think if I were a juror, Mr. Kratz's famous powerpoint presentation would be helpful. Verbal and visual reminder of what was presented. I liked his style, he was easier to listen to than the defense. Although at times, I felt maybe a bit too ingratiating. But overall, I think he did an exemplary job of laying out the facts.
Barb S. Green Bay Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 19, 2007 4:38 pm     When The Verdict Came In   Around 3:00 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, everyone down in the Calumet Casino (a.k.a. The Chilton Hilton) started to wonder, “what in the world are we going to do for a story today?” None of us anticipated a verdict, and we were all brainstorming. We thought, “well, maybe they’ll (the jurors) come up with a question.” I wanted to do a story with all of the attorneys, asking them what was the longest they’d ever waited for a verdict. None of them seemed interested, then I approached Sheriff Pagel and he didn’t think he would be allowed to comment due to the gag order.
So, I started to walk upstairs around my best estimate of 4:44 p.m. to fish around for another story. I was on the phone with my producer Michael as I approached the stairwell leading to the lobby and was met by Sheriff Pagel, a line of reporters trailing after him. Colleen was directly behind him and I can’t remember who else was there, but I joined the line of reporters and followed them inside, and told Michael that I would call him back.
I expected Sheriff Pagel to say, “the jury’s done for the day.” Instead, he said, “ok, we have a verdict.” I flipped open my cell phone, got the phone tree going and started to get ready. Everyone dropped what he or she was doing, and picked up phones. Remember, this is what we do. It’s our “hurry up and wait” mode, and when the waiting’s over, we spring into action. It’s an autopilot type thing, and it’s hard to describe, but your heart kind of pounds and you get this tunnel vision, and forget about everything else. You have one focus, and that’s get the story right, and get it on the air as soon as possible. For example, I had been suffering from shooting pain in my back and legs for two days prior to this, and the second Sheriff Pagel made the announcement, all of the pain disappeared.
I was to be stationed outside but I had time to watch the verdict from the media room off of the courtroom. I’ve been on this case since the beginning, so I had to see it up close. There wasn’t room in the courtroom for me, but the media room was just fine with me. John and Dewey from the Post-Crescent were in there, along with Morry from the AP (nice guy, great still photographer) and so was Fred Berry from WOMT.
We’d been waiting for this for nearly 18 months. It was judgement day. The courtroom was packed with Halbach family members. Steven Avery’s mom Dolores arrived, but her husband, Allan, was not present. Dolores’s brother was there, along with Steve’s aunt Ivonne. They’ve been in this spot with Steve before and the last time he went to prison for 18 years.
I was looking around and the attorneys appeared calm, yet tense. Some Calumet cops kept peeking into the media room, I think they were just making sure everything was okay. Then, I saw a couple of faces that I hadn’t seen in weeks, but they were two faces I’d seen many times before: Manitowoc County Sheriff Rob Hermann and Inspector Gregg Schetter, the Manty County Cops. I greeted Sheriff Hermann, who I’d met at a news conference nearly a year and a half ago. He’s a nice guy and I’ve seen him a lot over the last several months. Rob was standing next to me, it was pretty much standing room only in our media room. Morry climbed up on a chair to get a picture or 10 of Steve as they brought him in.
To quote Simon and Garfunkel, the only thing that you could hear was the “sound of silence” and camera clicking.
Everyone in the courtroom sat down, the jury was brought in. I watched as they walked in because I wanted to see whether they would look at Steve. I’ve often heard that jurors delivering a not guilty verdict will look at the defendant. These jurors did not appear to look at Steve as they walked in, but we had no idea of what the verdict would be.
The papers were handed to Judge Willis and he started to read, “We the jury find the defendant Steven A. Avery guilty of first degree intentional homicide.” I stood there frozen, and I didn’t even hear the second count being read, when Judge Willis said the jurors reached a not guilty verdict on the mutilation of a corpse charge. By all appearances, the courtroom was silent.
Judge Willis thanked the jurors for their service. That was my cue to get outside. I marched down the hallway with another reporter, and we walked outside, and got into position in front of our cameras. Chelly Boutott was there and she was trying to get interviews with people leaving the courthouse.
We then went down to the media room and Mike Halbach was speaking. It was very touching. He said that his family would be keeping the Averys in their prayers, since they too have suffered a great loss. What a class act, with all they’ve been through.
Then Dean Strang and Jerome Buting spoke. They were disappointed. They believe in Steven. I’ve never seen two attorneys advocate so strongly for a client. They worked very hard for Steven Avery.They are to be commended. They’re very nice guys.
Then Special Prosecutor Ken Kratz and the Calumet and Manitowoc County cops came down. It’s been a long road for them, and they’ve worked hard to see that justice would be served for Teresa Halbach and her family. They all look tired. It was weird sitting there , watching this Wall O’ Law Enforcement. I feel like I’ve spent a lot of time with these guys over the last 18 months whether it was at court or at news conferences. Cops sometimes get a bad wrap, but I can tell you, these cops the Manitowoc and Calumet guys were thinking of one thing throughout this case, and that was: Teresa Halbach.
What did you think of the verdict? Did you watch? We may post your response.
Posted by Angenette Levy at Mar 20, 2007 8:47 pm     Cross Examination of Dr. Gordon   Ken Kratz accused Dr. Gordon of “cherry picking” by choosing to put things in his report that would favor Brendan Dassey’s assertion that his confession was false, and the result of suggestion by investigators.
Ken Kratz cited a question Dassey was asked. Dassey said that he believed it was true that anyone would lie to keep out of trouble. Gordon said that the testing he used was not suitable to determine whether Dassey could be diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder, or anti-social tendencies. Anti-social personality disorder is defined as:
“A psychiatric diagnosis in the DSM-IV-TR recognizable by the disordered individual's disregard for social rules and norms, impulsive behavior, and indifference to the rights and feelings of others.”
Kratz also cited the difference between suggestibility and a truly false confession. He pointed out studies about false confessions.
There are three types of confessions:
1) Voluntary 2) Coerced, compliant – the subject perceives a gain 3) Coerced, internalized – the subject convinces herself or himself that they committed the crime
Kratz: Their studies indicate that most false confessions are the result of very long interrogations, sometimes that last into the days, rather than just an hour.
Gordon: True.
Kratz said Dassey started to make admissions about 60 minutes into his 3 to 4 hour interrogation.
Gordon conceded that Dassey’s low IQ which has been estimated between 73 and 81, his shyness and other personality traits, could make him susceptible to giving a true or false confession.
Gordon reiterated that his testing was designed to show how suggestible Dassey might be, not the truthfulness of his statement. Apr 24, 2007 9:38 pm     The Dane County 15   Let me tell you, Brendan Dassey couldn’t ask for a better jury, in my opinion. These people are a smart, smart bunch. They seem attentive and considerate and open-minded.
11 women and four men sit on the jury. A woman was dismissed last Friday due to illness. I have watched them when I’ve been in the courtroom. A few look a little tired, but otherwise they seem to be holding up well. They listened carefully as Brendan Dassey testified yesterday. They also watched the confession; some took notes while I was in the courtroom. The day after the confession played, it seemed many of them couldn’t even look at Brendan, though. Some of the women just stared at him, skeptically. Some of the men did not look at him.
The jury is staying at a local hotel in Manitowoc. I’ve stopped by the bar there after work a couple of times to meet reporters who are also staying there . The jury always has a great spread set out for them. Last night, I walked by and there was some awesome Strawberry Shortcake on the dessert tray.
They arrive every morning looking fairly chipper. Tomorrow, they should have the case by late afternoon or early evening.
Does anyone want to guess how long they’ll deliberate? Apr 25, 2007 10:30 am     Sexual Assault Charge: Amended   This morning, Special Prosecutor Ken Kratz asked the court to amend the criminal complaint and change the first degree sexual assault charge as a party to a crime to second degree sexual assault as a party to a crime.
Judge Fox granted the motion. Then, Mark Fremgen asked to have that charge dismissed, citing a lack of physical evidence. Fremgen said there is no physical evidence to support the charge. In fact, he said the only evidence to support it is the confession, and according to the law, some evidence must be offered aside from the confession.
Special Prosecutor Norm Gahn said there isn’t a lot of physical evidence because Steven and Brendan burned Teresa’s body. However, he said the discovery of handcuffs and leg irons in Steve’s bedroom, along with Teresa’s DNA on the bullet found in Steve’s garage is sufficient evidence to corroborate the confession. Gahn also noted how the furniture in Avery’s bedroom had been rearranged, which Brendan said in his confession, and Jodi Stachowski, Avery’s girlfriend testified too, which supports the claim that the bedroom was cleaned thoroughly to destroy evidence.
Judge Fox said there’s enough evidence to have the jury consider the charge. Motion to dismiss, denied. Apr 25, 2007 5:10 pm     More of Your Emails Thanks for writing in again, everyone! And, as I’ve said, keep ‘em comin’! I want to know what you’re thinking.
Brendan’s Testimony
Dug that hole a mile deep. That's why I find it quite interesting why a defense attorney would let his client go up on the stand, put a noose around his neck and hang himself. My past experiences were a defendant NEVER makes a good witness. The phone call to his mother seems to me to be the deal sealer.
Tim, De Pere
I think every word he confessed to is true. Steven Avery is the one that should pay dearly for this kid, I think he made a wrong choice but Steven is the real problem. Too bad Wisconsin doesn't have the death penalty.
Marie
How long do you think the jury will deliberate?
I say once the jury gets the instructions, they will be out no more than 4 hours before they return their verdict. I can't help but feel that when Brendan took the stand Monday that he lost all possible hope for any "sympathy" from the jury to possibly convict on a lesser charge.
Tammi, Green Bay
1 hour
Dan
I think the jury will be out about 10 minutes...
Mark
I think the Jury will deliberate and reach a verdict in less than 2 hours. The evidence is clear. The decision should be easy.
MN DePere, WI
Tom Fallon’s Closing Argument
I caught most of it....compelling to say the least ? Is it just me or has Brendan "perked" up a little bit since his testimony Monday ? I sure hope this kid doesn't think that he is going home after all this....breaks my heart for both families.
Tammi
Angenette, Apr 25, 2007 7:28 pm     We’re on Verdict Watch   I’ve received some emails asking about what’s going on out here in Manitowoc County.
We’re all sitting in the parking lot of the courthouse or hanging out in the parking lot. It’s really, really cold out here!
The jury got the case around 4:30 p.m. after some pretty impressive closing arguments from the State and the defense.
The Dane County jury now consists of 13 people – 12 jurors and 1 alternate composed of four men and two women. Two women were relieved of their duties today.
They just got dinner. It’s Italian consisting of pizza and other stuff. It smelled delicious!
It could be a long night, or a short one. We’re in hurry up and wait mode. When we were in Madison for jury selection, the deputies at the Dane County Courthouse said that a jury their deliberated until 6:00 a.m. several weeks ago, and returned a verdict then.
We could be in a for a short wait, or a long night.
I’ll do my best to keep you updated. Apr 25, 2007 7:35 pm     Two Mothers – Polar Opposites   Karen Halbach -- Teresa’s Mom
Everyday for the last 18 months or so, I can imagine that Karen Halbach has awakened to milk her cows and see her two teenage daughters off to school. As she walks toward her barn, does she look across that farm field and see the home that used to be occupied by Teresa? I wonder what it must be like for her, to open her eyes every morning. Is Teresa the first thing that comes to mind? Is she the last thing she thinks about before going to sleep?
I know that my mom always says there’s probably nothing worse that a parent can go through, than to lose his or her child. Losing a child is a totally unnatural experience. Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children; they’re supposed to watch them grow up, have their own children -- or not -- and grow to middle age, and in some instances, old age. But, Karen Halbach was robbed of that by Steven Avery -- and now, Brendan Dassey.
I’ve heard over and over again that the Halbachs have a deep faith that has guided them through the last 18 months. Mike Halbach has often said that he gets his strength from his mother. I don’t know whether it’s faith or life experience or a combination of both, but I know that I don’t understand how this family has kept it together.
Imagine for months, turning on the news and listening to the man you believe to be the murderer of your daughter, granting interviews and suggesting that your daughter might still be alive. Imagine Karen Halbach, listening to Steven Avery talk about how cops might have planted his blood to frame them for her daughter’s murder. To listen to him say, “she was here for 5 minutes, and left” even after his nephew gives a three-hour recorded confession.
I feel for Karen Halbach and the rest of the Halbach family. My younger sister is Teresa’s age, and let me tell you, if that had been my sister, I would have lost it a long time ago. The first time Steven Avery walked into the courtroom smirking my way, I might have lost it. But then in a way he wins. I might be in a straight jacket by now, if something like that happened to my sister. But, then again, you never know how you’ll handle a situation, until you’re in it.
I don’t know whether the phrase “grace under pressure” adequately describes Karen Halbach -- it seems like it’s not good enough. We could all learn a thing or two from Karen Halbach and her family. They’ve got more class in their little finger than some people could ever hope to have.
Barbara Tadych
I met Barb Tadych on the evening of March 1, 2006. It was the night that her son, Brendan Dassey, confessed to helping rape and murder Teresa Halbach and then burn her body.
I stumbled upon Barb and she agreed to talk with me. Standing outside, she looked absolutely stunned. She told me about her baby, Brendan and how her brother threatened him to go through with it. I stood outside in the cold, it was misting a bit, and listened to her as she poured out her heart to me. She told me about how badly she felt for the Halbach family. She didn’t understand how someone could “take an innocent life.”
Barb told me that Brendan had a learning disability and that “he does as he’s told.” I had no idea at this point that Brendan had confessed to the things he did -- I thought that he had confessed to helping burn Teresa’s body, nothing more.
I’ll never forget what it was like to look into her eyes as she realized what her brother had dragged her son into that Halloween day. She said that she was “numb.” She looked into the camera and spoke to her brother and said, “Steven, I know you’re going to be watching this and I hate you for what you did to my son, so you can rot in hell, alright. And I’m gonna get you for it.”
That night, I would learn that Brendan Dassey had confessed to murder and implicated Steven Avery in the crime. I was stunned. I remember thinking, “a 16-year-old kid did this?” Of course it’s possible, but how could a kid do this?
As I’ve said before, only Brendan Dassey can answer the “why” question. And, if he did do it, and if it was simply because he “wanted to see what if felt like”as far as sex goes, then why did Steven Avery bring his young, impressionable nephew into this?
How could he do this not only to Teresa Halbach, but to his sister and his nephew? Only Avery can answer that question and right now he’s saying that he didn’t do it.
I’ve watched Barb over the last 13 months. This has worn on her terribly. She wants her son to come home and the truth of the matter is, he may never see the light of day again once that jury returns with a verdict.
It’s very, very sad. If Brendan Dassey did this then he must be punished, he must be held accountable. But, Barb didn’t do anything and it’s hard to watch a mother who may lose her child -- albeit in a much different way than the Halbachs.
In talking to Barb I can tell that she’s tried to be a good mother and that she loves her children. We all have to play with the hand we’re dealt, and sometimes it just seems like Barb got a really bad hand.
It’s also terribly sad that most of the time Barb comes to court by herself. Brendan’s dad Peter has been here in the mornings, but he has to work in the afternoon. When Steve was on trial, many of the Avery family members showed up for court everyday. It’s sad to see that Brendan’s grandparents, Dolores and Allan, and his uncles choose to stay home for his court appearances. Why all the support for Steve and none for Brendan?
It must be awful to feel like no one’s behind you, or your son. She also trusted her brother with her son, and now look what’s happened, if what Brendan said is true.
P.S. -- Karen Halbach and Barb Tadych share the same birthday.
Angenette Apr 30, 2007 3:34 pm
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I Have Horrible Luck and Nobody to Blame but Sam from Atlantic City

I like to gamble. That was never a problem until recently. Now those black and red chips are the only thing I think about.
Maybe we should start somewhere before that.
My fiance and I were both born and raised in coastal New Jersey, and that fact made us corny little locals at heart. We met at a bar by the water, near where we both grew up. Our first few dates were spent in the clubs of Hoboken or Jersey City, where I lived for a few years. The first real vacation we took together was to Atlantic City. For those who don't know, that is the East Coast's less spectacular Las Vegas.
But it was a commuter's relationship because we lived far away. Most weekends, one of us wound up driving an hour on the parkway just so we could spend time together. The stress of that distance was a lot to take. I loved the girl way too much to be without her more than a week. Simply put and without too many gory details... after three years of dating, I asked her to marry me at that same bar by the water. She said yes.
Money was tight. I knew that from the get-go. In case you were wondering, one neat fact about New Jersey is that we have some of the most expensive ceremonies in the country. The average cost for our state is $47,868 as of this post.
At 25, I did not have that kind of cash.
We had some, sure. Each of us earned around $40,000 a year at full time positions. But with the high cost of living... most of our income went into the apartment, groceries, student loans, and car payments. We would be cutting it close, to say the least.
I tried to protect Marie from the details. I always said it was handled. That started out as a tiny lie.
As the arrangements started to pile up, I cut corners. We hired a DJ over a band. We bought the flowers from a grocery store, and my dad's friend promised to be the videographer. But with the limo, venue, church, pictures, and all the other unforeseen ventures... we were in the hole another $20,000 a month before the reception date. The stress was eating me alive, but the lies were so stacked I was scared to tell the truth.
Around that time, Marie got a surprise in the mail. One of her family friends was unable to attend the wedding, so they sent their gift ahead as a surprise. It was a two night reservation in Atlantic City's best hotel.
It seemed like the perfect timing. The next Friday after work we each packed a bag and took the two hour drive South. I wish we hadn't.
The most amazing thing about any casino, throughout the world, is that you can sit there at two in the morning and it will feel no different than a carnival at two in the afternoon. Maybe that's the oxygen pumped in, or the loud laughter and ticking wheels... but something about it makes you feel alive.
After endless hours of gambling and drinking, that was where we found ourselves. Twelve watered-down White Russians in and an already approaching hangover. Laugh all you want. Marie was behind me with words of encouragement and smiles. She had given up on the slots hours ago. My game of choice was poker, and that was because I told myself it had better odds.
I don't know if that is true or not. But what I do know is that at two A.M that morning, I was hot.
Every card came my way. It was crazy. Experienced, grizzled poker vets threw their hands up in disgust as I beat them again and again. Maybe the liquor helped my confidence, or just good luck, but whatever it was.. I was on fire. Fifteen stacks of black chips around me and we were nearly ready to pay off the whole wedding.
I should have pulled out then and made the right decision. But there was one more bill to pay. That was what I kept telling myself... with this win, we can give the photographer his down-payment. With this win, we can get real flowers and centerpieces. It was intoxicating. The feeling was an absolute rush like heroin coursing through my veins.
And then I met my bad luck charm.
He was a normal guy. That was the saddest part of it all. You might be expecting some hulking figure, with a black trench coach and black hat. But he was a soccer dad in his mid-forties. A little short and a little stocky, but not overweight. His khakis went up to his waist and his neat, button-down collared shirt was tucked in and kept up by a white tee underneath. He was always smiling this dorky grin that made the wrinkles on his forehead stick out.
He stood behind me and never played a hand. That creeped me out from the start. He just watched the game, with his tiny fucking fanny pack brushing against my back the whole time.
"Hi, I'm Sam! How are the cards?" he asked the group in a sniveling, nasal voice. Everyone ignored him.
Something about this Sam's presence shook my confidence immediately. The first hand after he showed up, I lost on a questionable bet that took about three stacks of black chips. On the second, I overcompensated for the first and lost after risking five stacks on a pair of nines. I folded the fourth and fifth. By the sixth, I was sweating, and bet even more.
You get the idea. Within a half hour of Soccer Dad's arrival, I lost the whole thing.
It was hard to be a good loser after dropping that much money. When I got up, I pushed my chair back and nailed Sam square in the fanny pack. He offered a loud "Oof," before my drunken announcement to the table -
"I'm done."
Marie was quiet when we walked away. I knew I had acted like a jerk, and tried to pass the awkwardness with a few jokes about creepy Mr. Rodgers. She smiled, but her eyes got very wide when she noticed something. I turned, and saw him standing right in front of me.
"Excuse me sir. That seemed very rude."
I said sorry and we left, without lingering. That might sound weird, but there are a lot of sketchy people in casinos, and Marie was never a fan of confrontation.
But then he started to follow us. It was subtle, and from a distance at first. As we walked towards the casino and took the elevator up, we saw him watch us from a distance and walk in the same direction. Then he was jogging. There were hundreds of people in the hallways, even for the middle of the night, so none of it really looked that suspicious.
But the elevator doors closed before Sam ever caught up.
It had been a long and weird night. As soon as we got in bed, Marie was out like a light. I was still sweating.
I kept it quiet, but my immaturity had cost us an incredible amount of money. There was only $2,000 left in my savings, and we had deposits due for five times that the same week. The first payment was enough to secure the date, but without the rest, the vendors would all cancel and we would be left with nothing. Marie knew none of this. She just sat there sleeping, with the expectation that her dream wedding was still coming in a couple weeks.
I had to go back downstairs.
It was four in the morning, but she had always been a heavy sleeper. I slipped out of bed and out into the hallway. When I got to the elevator, I punched the button and waited in the shallow hallway with a whole new perspective. I could still get back the cash.
When the door opened, Sam was waiting with the same goofy, toothy smile.
"Hi! How are the cards?"
I pressed the button and closed it on his face. After thirty seconds, it opened again, and Sam was still standing there.
"Excuse me sir, that seemed very rude," he said with a frown.
"Stay away from me!" I shouted.
There was a staircase next to the elevator, and I opened the door and ran down it. Whomever this asshole was, he was not stopping me from winning my wife her wedding.
The casino floor was still bustling. Poker left some harsh memories, so I headed over to a Blackjack table. After a certain hour, they raise the minimum bet to five hundred. That was not a problem, I knew I could not stay long.
The first two hands were wins, and I doubled my money instantly. My plan felt like a success. If I bet the whole house, there would be enough money to make my outstanding deposits for the week. The rest could be figured out.
But as the dealer began, I felt the brush of a fanny pack behind me.
"Hi! How are the cards?"
It was too late to withdraw. My hand was on the table. Eight and seven, and the dealer showed a ten. One of the worst hands possible. I hit, and the dealer gave me a ten. Bust. Every penny in my name was gone.
I turned around to see Sam's big, dumb blue eyes inches from my face. He was smiling. There was something about that smile that shook me to this day. Like he knew what he was doing. Like there were no coincidences, or luck. He just grinned like a sick little fucking freak when he said -
"Have a nice night!"
I punched him in the face.
The aftermath was horrible. Casino staff woke up Marie and we were escorted from the building a day early. In the middle of a blizzard. She found out about everything, and our argument lasted the whole way home. To this day... that is thing I regret the most. That one last stupid argument.
The roads were slick that morning, and it was still dark. My car was not prepared for that kind of bad weather. The accident itself was not my fault.
When we went off the road into the river, I tried to pull her out. The water was so cold. But her seat-belt became a harness that was impossible to cut free. When I surfaced, it was only to search for help. I would have happily died by her side.
But there was a policeman on the bridge. I saw him. I know I saw him.
His car was ten feet above us, and the lights were on. The officer himself was standing next to it... and he just watched. I screamed for his attention, but he ignored me. Crucial minutes slipped by as I dipped below the ice-cold water for a few seconds, only to surface again and beg for his help. Finally, when all hope was lost, the man cupped his hands to shout, and offered one line before he got in the car and drove away.
"Sorry Sir, that seemed very rude."
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[Table] IAmA- Casino Manager, I've seen everything, AMA

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Date: 2012-05-15
Link to submission (Has self-text)
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Questions Answers
Are you hiring? I'd love to move to Canada. Absolutely, We are looking for several positions and if you are sincerely looking for a job, message me :)
Does being a Casino Manager makes you keep your distance from gambling? AMAZING question, It actually makes it worse. I had never gambled a day in my life until I took that position. It is the same across the board. Never met another manager that doesnt gamble.
Will you quit this job if you had given the choice? I could not ask for a better job. Excitement every single day. Learing to control personal demons such as gambling and alcohol is always a fighting battle given the situation.
You are 100% right. U of Waterloo in Ontario conducted a study and they concluded that "casino employees exhibited rates of problem gambling that were over three times greater than rates that past studies have found in Ontario’s general population." -Link to uwspace.uwaterloo.ca. I know my stuff ;). It's a weird feeling.
What do you play, and wht stakes do you play ? Also.. Does your entire salary go straight back to the casino after payday? I like to play 1$ slots and blackjack for the most part. On blackjack my average bet is probably 60-75$. My salary does go back, but a portion of it does. I am pretty good at controlling myself, gets better by the year.
How is your daily routine in the casino?Do you get any perks? They pay my cell phone bill. I get paid any expenses you could imagine. I get free tickets and merchandise all the time. Golf passes dinners etc.
Have you ever caught someone counting in blackjack? Several times. With the security features we use, shuffle machines and cutting off 2-3 decks from the back, it's nearly impossible. Hell we will even teach you how to do it if you'll stay a while ;)
How did you get into the Casino business? I applied to become a dealer, years ago. I just worked my way up. Its an amazing business.
Ever had somebody die on your floor? Or at least horribly injured? Yes 2 people have died, one from a massive stroke, and another from a heart attack. We have had at least 25 heart attacks since I have worked there.
Do heart attacks happen more often when people win big or lose big? There has never been a direct correlation between winning/losing big and our patrons having heart attacks.
Interesting. Thanks for the response. Anytime :) I cant believe the responses already!
Statistically, you have the best chance of surviving a heart attack in a casino. The average response time drops from like 15 minutes in your home to something absurd like 30 seconds. We are very quick to react. This and we have first aid training as well as AED on site.
What the highest single bet you have witnessed? Here in Alberta, the maximum per spot on blackjack is 1000. I did witness a total table wager( by one player) Of 15,000. This was after he split 6 times and doubled once. He won evry wager on that hand.
Whats the luckiest person/win streak you have seen? (Not just 1 win but someone winning for a while or doing something crazy and it working) I watched someone win 24,000 on a slot machine. I reset his machine and he won 24,000 the next spin. I had the machine investigated by AGLC and all was well. He was 80 so I don't think he could cheat. Lol.
Do Casino's pump high levels of oxygen into the gambling areas, if so is that allowed? Have you ever caught anyone having sex or masturbating in the Casino? Do the Slot Machines ever get tampered with by cheaters? What is the penalty for tampering with slot machines? No we do not pump oxygen into the casino, It is not allowed. I had to fire an employee for masturbating in the customer bathrooms. Slots are rarely successfully tampered with, but it does happen quite often. The penalty is a fine and up to jail time. You can get in a LOT of trouble for trying something that is nearly impossible, like cheating a slot machine No problem :)
How...did you catch the guy spanking it? I fear to know yet I must ask for I can't think of a logical, sane way you caught the dude. I walked in to the washroom to check on the status of the last cleaning, and I caught him beating it with the stall door open... he forgot to lock it. was very obvious and he didnt even try to deny it.
Nobody forgets to lock the door when they are wanging it. He was off shift in 45 mins too... just couldnt wait.
It isn't illegal, what can the casinos do? We reserve the right to remove any patron at any time for any reason.
Do you still have to cash their chips if you kick them out? If they did not steal them, then Absolutely.
What is the best and worst part of your job? The best is seeing a person win big. The worst is seeing someone leaving in tears and me knowing they are broke and have kids.
Have you ever cut someone a break? Several times.
You've seen everything, have you seen Casino with Robert DeNiro in it and how accurate is that film? I have seen it, and I have yet to see a movie that ACTUALLY portrays a real casino whatsoever.
Most movies don't portray anything realistically. Good point. Casinos seem to be reallly far off though.
What about Croupier with Clive Owen.. good film.. Cant say ive seen it. Will watch.
What's the most desperate attempt to cheat in a casino you have ever seen? A guy in the middle of a hand, did not agree with the way a dealer "flipped" their hole card so he took his bets off the table (approx 1400$) and tried to pocket them before we could count what he had bet. He then tried to replace his bets after we asked with about 800$. It was very very easy to catch the amount that was originally on there. Cameras/pit boss/dealer all agreed to the exact amount. He was later found trying to cash out $600 in chips (after losing) lol.
That actually sounds pretty clever. He should have just gone for a smaller amount though. It wasnt bad. But he was on a high limit table with a lot of people watching
Any pranks you or your employees pulled? Yup, I am known as the prankster. I like to send new employees looking for left handed roulette balls or polish for the blackjack shoes. After they waste an hour or so I tell them. And they are laughed at by patrons and employees. Its all in good fun. Never had a complaint.
What happens to a cheater once you found them out? Is it just a case of the cops getting called straight away? I review the situation, and If I deem it cheating, a review is sent to AGLC and the patrons information gathered along with a police investigation. They will be prosecuted.
Do you catch cheaters? What were some cleveinvolved cheating schemes? I have caught cheaters, almost always at blackjack and threecard poker. The most common way they cheat is called "pressing". Having a partner distract the dealer for a second while they use slight of hand to add chips. Some people are very good at this, so good its tough to see on camera even.
To be clear.. what they do is when they have a good hand, someone distracts the dealer and the guy with the good hand attempts to increase his bet? What do you do when you catch something like that? We ban them Immediately. And other casinos recieve the memo an do the same.
Have you ever caught prostitution going on in the casino? What is the process of banning someone? Do they get put into a system? Do you have a banned wall? Yes we catch dirty prostitutes all the time. The ban process is easy. We take what info we have on them, take a recent photo from a surveillance screenshot and then post it to the banned wall :)
How is the security in the casino? Edit: no i'm not planning a robbery... The guards are pretty well trained. Also we have over 200 cameras. You are on camera within 1 KM of the casino. Also, all doors locked with special proxy cards that only have access to certain rooms, depending on position.
ONE KILOMETER? Are you kidding me? This is very secure, oh my. Cant tell if sarcasm. Detector is broken.
No sarcasm. This blows my mind. I always thought you guys have over the top security, but such a radius around your casino is mind blowing :). Great AMA btw, thanks for your time! I love the response im getting! This is awesome!
What is the process in working your way up from dealer to casino manager? How long did it take, what kind of background did you have prior to becoming a dealer? Also did you have to take any classes or anything like that either at an outside school or a company school to teach you all the ins and outs of the job? Did you ever think you'd be doing this or just sort of fall into it? What kind of responsibilities do you hold? I saw in your other posts that you mention throwing out people masturbating on the clock, helping people with gambling addictions and catching cheaters, but what is an everyday entail for you? I imagine you have to be a man with many hats (VIP guest liaison, worker ally, eyes for the bosses etc) Also last question I swear, what do you think of organized cheaters and the exposure they are getting such as Bringing Down the House/21 or the History Channel show on Breaking Vegas? It took me 4 years to get where I am. Went from dealer to pit boss to pit supervisor to games manager. I haven't taken any special courses really. Some training sessions but that's about it. You need to have the gift they say. As for responsibilities. I am in charge of running every department when I am on shift. And I am in charge of all the money. The movies have not done anything except make us money. People come in all the time thinking they will count cards and win, and we smash them.
In my expeirence, the 'Summon Technician' button rarely works. Thoughts? In my casino, it is attended to immediately. We are the only casino that I am aware of that does this.
Are employees allowed to gamble in the casino where they work? Or is just the manager that is allowed - I noticed you say you gamble off the clock. I live in England and am sure this is against nearly all casino policy. Only waitresses and guest services may gamble in our casino. No gaming worker is allowed to gamble in their own casino in alberta.
Any moral qualms sometimes? Never, Its a persons choice on what the wish to gamble.
Give it a few more years. I've got over that a long time ago. During my dealing days.
a follow up, sorry for that.. How do your co-workers react to yout gambling, does this make it awkward in any way? Actually, I tend to go to different casinos with my co-workers, awkwardness is never an issue.
Since you know a lot about security and cheating, do you know any loopholes in your or any other casino? Our casino is very secure. Some of the other casinos on the other hand..
For example? That I can't really disclose. Although. It's quite funny which one is the worst. I will leave it at that. I'm sure that comment alone will help some people.
Many years ago my mom had a gambling addiction. We werent sure how severe it was, we just thought she would go to the casino and have some fun and risk $200 or so. The casino hooked her in with the whole VIP treatment and rewards as an incentive to come back. One weekend she lost all her life savings ($300,000) It impacted our family a lot, as we were pretty much broke after she lost all our money. Even to this day we havent recovered, i missed out on college to work instead and been on my own since. My mom whos supposed to be close to retirement age is still working to support herself. I know casinos are for entertainment, but more often than not stories like this happen. How do you feel when a family is affected deeply because of gambling problems? Honestly that is the only hard part of the job. But after the years, I've become mostly desensitized to it.
Have you ever seen Ocean's Eleven? Did you just laugh and laugh and laugh? Not a fan of those movies :(
Have you ever been to Montecarlo? Do you think there are many differences between the european casino scene and the US/Canadian scene? Never been to Montecarlo, but from everything I have learned about it, It is very similar to our casinos in Canada (barring a few different table games). They have a lot of the same slot machines and their security is VERY high.
So, do you get hookers? Not once in my life.
Is there a certain amount of time that people are allowed to gamble before some sort of intervention takes place? (e.g. can't gamble for more than 24 hours straight, etc.) Our casino is only open for 17 hours at a time maximum. That is the law in this province. But under certain circumstances, we do offer help to people we notice becoming chronic gamblers.
What Kind of help do you offer out of interest? I get that the human factor is probably the reason its offered as the business side must actually like chronic gamblers. We offer councelling (not directly, but sources) and different programs such as VSE. VSE= Voluntary Self Exclusion. You will be excluded from gaming in ALL of Alberta. If caught in gaming facilities you can be arrested.
Favorite Ice cream flavor? Vanilla for the most part. Although I do like neopalitan.
Have you ever caught your employees stealing chips? Edit: i cant spell. I try to hire employees that I trust with the chips so that I dont have to worry about them. It has never happened to my knowledge.
You mentioned that you try to hire employees that are trustworthy with the chips etc. Do you have to run any criminal history checks, bankruptcy checks etc before you hire people? Do you use continuous shuffle machines to deal blackjack or do you deal from a shoe? If from a shoe, how many decks? How do you combat card counters? What is the food chain like? Here we have Dealers < Floor managers < Pit Bosses < Duty managers < Casino manager. Where do you fit in? How do the high rollers rooms work? Can someone walk in and flash cash to get in or do you need to gamble a certain amount first? What perks do high rollers get? Yes background checks and credit checks are run on ALL employees. We offer both continuous shuffles and shoes We use 8 decks and cut 3 off the back, as well as use a shoe cover. Very hard to count cards like that. In our casino I would be considered 2nd in line. High rollers are treated very well. Comped tabs etc. free trips to shows and all that jazz.
Have you ever seen a man eat his own head? Nope!
Ever seen a card cheat get his hand smashed by a ballpeen hammer ? Never had to use violence for a cheating patron. Drunk patrons on the other hand....
Great AMA! You answer almost everything! Thanks! I try to answer everything, I know i miss stuff but you guys comments lots! hard to keep up!
Here's my question: How do your responsibilities differ from a Pit Boss? Are you in charge of the food and alcohol people, too? How much time per shift do you spend on the floor and how much time do you spend interacting with individual guests? I am in charge of all departments when I am on shift. Pit boss is strictly in charge of the pit. I am always on the gaming floor interacting with guests. Its the best part of my job :)
Any suicides? I live near Niagara Falls and we hear stories all the time of people who blow it all in the casinos and take a dive over the falls. Yes unfortunately. :(
Are you from Edmonton by chance? If so care to comment why CH is still allowed to play in the poker rooms after being caught ripping off casinos with his bad beat scam? Not from edmonton, but I do know who you are talking about. It is the discretion of the casinos. He should be banned but they have failed to file charges.
They are still aware of what he did and as a pretty frequent player it sort of sucks having to sit at a table with someone you know was using dealers to set up bad beats.... You play at yellowhead?
How does the casino decide what background music to play? do you hate those songs now? I ususally pick it. I pick it depending on the majority of the crowd. (old people = classic rock, young people = new music.) We have lots of playlists it doesnt really get too bad.
I notice a lot of times my favorite slot machines are removed from the floor and never to be seen again. Do you guys store them in a basement or sell them to other casinos? Recycle them for parts? Machines are regulated by AGLC, they send us new ones and take old every week.
How long does training for croupier last? Are there opportunities for college students? Training is usually a month long. Its easier to get a job as a dealer if you are young. Young people seem to learn a lot easier.
What is the longest you've seen a customer play a machine? Any 24-hour slot machine marathons? Open to close 4 days in a row. (17 hours a day)
What is your coin-in on an average Saturday night? Biggest New Year's Eve coin-in you can remember? What's the average toke rate? Over 1.5 million. Best tip rate for a week was 30 ish.
How much do you make? What's your educational background? Edit: saw that you can't answer how much you make. So how'd you get into the job? I walked in an applied for dealer. They loved my attitude and hired me on the spot.
So you were hired as a dealer and then moved up in the ranks? Sounds like a sweet job and a managerial position involving actual job duties. Absolutely.
Just curious (and maybe you don't know)-- how exactly is the software sold for the newer digital games? Order "Three of Game A, three of game B" and remain stuck with it? Order them configured one way, but the software can be replaced for a token sum? If so, is it an in-house operation, or a "vendor service has to be called? They can load any firmware specced as compatible with the box? I notice there's always one or two machines in a bank of (physically) equivalent units which have an unpopular game (like the one which starts belting out Dean Martin songs at 600 decibels in attract mode) so they sit relatively unused, but they never change them. Is it laziness, cost, or technical limits? I dont deal with the digital games sorry!
The Ontario Lottery Corporation is in the process of rolling out an online casino. From an industry persepective, what are your views on online casinos? Is the software designed to give you gains but take back once you win-loss ratio is too high? Online casinos (legit ones) Run by pretty much the same stats as a real casino. Same odds of winning almost exactly.
Can you see why kids love Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Its magically delicious, or wait.. damn lucky charms
What's a good starting job to get at a casino that will eventually get you into a managing position? Dealer is the absolute best.
Thanks for the swift response. No problem.
Just in case you are still answering at all...what's te stupidest/seemingly impossible thing you've seen/heard of a dealer doing? Most awesome/badass? I had a dealer deal a full table of blackjack entirely fucking backwards. I almost pissed myself no joke.
If some patron is winning a lot of money, would you kick them out? Say for instance a guy is playing Blackjack and went from 1000 dollars to 100000 dollars and wants to continue playing. He is literally just owning the table winning 9/10 hands. Would you kick this guy out or let him keep playing? Nope, its good in house advertising to have big winners :)
Not sure if this was asked already, but is there really oxygen pumped into the casinos like people say there is? Or is it just the shiny lights and excitement that will keep you going all night? No oxygen pumped in. Its the lights and atmosphere.
What was the most someone won in one night? 1.1 million dollars.
If I were looking to move to Vegas, how difficult do you think it'd be to get a decent paying job working in the casinos? I have a friend who moved there and is looking for a roommate, but I'm nervous about taking the step without a job lined up. As long as you have a good head on your shoulders and the motivation, its pretty easy to get into the business.
What''s your salary roughly? Thats actually the only thing im not willing to disclose. Sorry pal.
Who is your favorite porn star? Hootie McBoob.
Do casinos usually offer part-time jobs as croupiers? Always have part time positions open. Especially for weekends.
I saw that you didn't like Ocean's Eleven, but how did the guys get all those hooker flyers into the vault? Lol your guess is as good as mine ;)
1) How's the pay? 2) You already mentioned that you worked your way up from a dealer. Is there much higher that you can go? 3) How has the economic downturn affected business? The pay is great You can go to managing a whole casino, given time Business has actually gone up. Alberta isnt very effected by it.
How often do you feel like De Niro? Every day.
Are there or have there been times when you know someone is cheating or doing something "unethical" but you just can't get the evidence? If so, do they still frequent the casino? do you feel like they do it on purpose to piss you (the casino) off because they know that you know? I dont need evidence, if someone is suspected of cheating they are gone. AGLC backs us 100%
I live in vegas and recently a guy robbed a casino and stole like 100k of chips, whats the process of making sure he isnt able to cash those chips in. (He was wearing a mask) So does the casinos like remake all new chips or what? We track our 100$ chips very carefully. when people cashout 100 or more, we know about it. If we dont see them playing, we watch that person closely.
What is the best way to get a room comped for a weekend (I always seem to get Sun-Thur offers)? What is the average bet / hours required of play (assuming black jack)? Is it true you should expect 30% of your losses returned in the form of comps? I wouldnt count on getting 30%, maybe 5-10%. Average bet should be about 50-60$
Lots of questions have come up about players cheating, but what about the house? I know people who have seen casinos get busted for rigging games. I have certainly played at blackjack tables where the dealers seemed to have an uncanny ability to predict hands, I even once had a dealer reveal a blackjack without using the little peek thing. Dealt, asked for insurance (with great intensity), told us we should have taken the hint and flipper her card. Have you seen any cheating by the house or have any reason to think it happens? Never have I seen cheating by the house. I guarantee it doesnt happen in any legit casino in Canada. There are inspectors at all times. I truly believe that it doesnt happen. As a dealer myself I could "predict" my handsquite often. Because you do it so many times in one day you are bound to get it right.
How many bones have you witnessed being broken? or families ruined because of gambling everything away? a lot or a ton? Maybe 5 broken bones, probably 50 families :(
Have you ever felt the need to tell some poor old folks: "Take your welfare checks home." ? Nope, they usually play small just to pass the time. They are very nice.
How prevalent is patron on patron theft? For example, leaning over and grabbing a few of someone else's chips while they're not looking, or tapping their stack with a drink (which happens to have tape on the bottom) or things like that? Doesn't happen very often chip wise. But it does happen if people leave credits in a machine, drop money on the ground, or leave money in an ATM. We will hunt the patron down and force them to pay back the money.
Why do Asians gamble so much and where the hell do they get all of that money? I dont want to speculate where they get it..
What would be the best way to go about robbing a casino? Not trying ;). No one gets away.
What do you do with underage kids or kids with fake IDs? do they ever show up? Kick them out and file a report. If they have fake ID, file it with the police.
I went to the casino for my first time last week. Slots are boring as shit. Do you recommend a black jack guide to get the hang of things? Thanks. Always good to go in knowing basic strategy. check out wizardofodds.com.
How much do you earn on average yearly? Cant disclose that :(
What's your take on Scorsese's 1995 "Casino"? :D:D. Would watch again.
Did you read the novels by Mario Puzo about the inner workings of a casino? Would you say that they are accurate? Not yet, in process.
What's your favorite Canadian province besides Alberta? Ontario.
My question is why did you use a combination of Photoshop and real-life obfuscation for your badge? Carefully torn and placed pieces of pink and black tape, then some kind of 1990s-era Photoshop airbrushing around the perimeter... I was looking for something quick. And I never really used a site like this. I know, I suck.
What are your thoughts on the Martingale method of gambling on Red/Black in Roulette? I have had moderate success waiting for a run of 4 of one colour, then betting $25 on the opposite colour, then doubling each time until I win. Its a very bad system for the most part. you risk a lot to win a little.
How often do customers claim the dealer misheard/misinterpreted what they said to do? E.g.. the customer was playing blackjack, didn't want to hit, but the dealer misheard them and dealed them a card, which caused them to bust. 5 times a day at least. I usually give them the benefit of the doubt.
Are there any games that people can beat long run other than bj? You can't beat BJ in the long run. There is no way to make money.
Since Counting cards isn't illegal, if you catch someone do you still black ball them and tell all the other casinos? No. Unless they actually cheat, they aren't black balled.
What is the craziest thing you've seen? I answered this a little further down bud.
Have you ever seen a guy eat his own head? Hasn't happened to date..
Have you seen a live unicorn? Nope, it was dead.
What's the largest sum of money you've seen someone lose in one day? 100K on blackjack.
So you admit that you are a liar? EDIT: I do believe this means you have to forfeit your casino to me. Rules are rules I guess :(
Have you ever seen a queen in her damned undies, as the feller says? Once back in 06.
Last updated: 2012-05-19 15:36 UTC
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do they pump oxygen into vegas casinos video

Do Las Vegas Casinos pump oxygen into the air conditioning systems? Why? No, as stated for many reasons by other writers, no casino adds oxygen to the ambient air. I worked with a girl years ago who was from Las Vegas, and swore the pumped O2 into the casinos. She also said that thats why the fires were so bad at the Hilton, and the old MGM . There was talk when it happened of " an elaberate ventilation system. " It doesn't matter to me anyway. (Do Las Vegas Casinos Pump Oxygen?) And 11 Other Ways They Trick Visitors Into Spending More Money. It turns out that there are a lot of reasons why people can not seem to turn away from the bright lights and dinging sounds of slot machines. This is a an urban myth. Casinos DO NOT pump in oxygen to the casino. For one reason (and probably the most important) it is illegal! A felony, actually (IANAL). Secondly, it is a fire hazard. An ... MYTH #1: Casinos pump in pure oxygen so that you stay awake and play longer. While they may blast state-of-the-art HVACs to clear the smoky air and keep the air smelling fresh, casinos do not pump enriched oxygen onto the casino floor for a number of reasons. First, medical-grade oxygen and a special system to pump it would cost millions. I’m sure you’ve heard the myth that oxygen is pumped into casinos to give people more energy and keep them awake. This is, in fact, the enduring Vegas myth of all time. There’s no doubt that the casinos keep the air chilly to give that same effect, but there’s no mechanism actually pumping extra oxygen into the system. According to the Oxygen Plus site, airplanes’ emergency oxygen is created by a chemical reaction.They cannot carry enough oxygen on a commercial jet to keep everyone breathing for long. If it’s too expensive for the airlines and home oxygen users to store, or generate massive amounts of oxygen, then it’s unlikely to be cost effective for casinos to do this. According to one bit of gambling folklore, casinos pump pure oxygen through the air conditioning in order to make gamers light-headed and relaxed about the prospect of losing. In another version, the casinos do it during the night hours so customers will carry on playing and not go to sleep. Casinos are well aware of this flaw in human nature, and exploit it so that they can keep funneling your money into their pockets. From slot machine cherries that repeatedly fail to line up by just one symbol, to those one-armed bandits that are programmed to pay out a paltry sum of money every so often in order to entice you back, the casinos exploit the pull of near wins to persuade you to ...

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