Overall Rating: 3.8/5
My wife and I spent 5/24 - 5/31 at Sandals Grand Antigua is a Pool View Room.
Pros

• Airport shuttle to and from the airport was very prompt. No waiting around.
• Beach was beautiful and well kept - no seaweed (we have experience this in Punta Cana, Cancun, etc.).
• The AC in the room was great. Kept us cool when we were in the room.
• Watersports was very fun - sailing, snorkeling, kayaks, etc. The workers were very helpful.
• We went to all restaurants and enjoyed them all.
  • Soy (sushi) was by far our favorite. We went there 3 times. We would go and get a couple rolls (they are only 4 pieces per roll) as an appetizer before wherever we went for dinner.
  • We never had any waits at any restaurants.
• The main "Mediterranean" pool was great. Swim up bar, sloped/beach-like entry.
• "okay" gym. 4 treadmills, some weights and machines. It wasn't too busy when I would go at 630am.
• All of the drinks were very good, but didn't seem very strong. My wife and I aren't heavy drinkers at all, but even we often said "hmm is there alcohol in here"?
  • The Twin Oaks wine brand they offer was very good.
• So many other nice couples there. All other guests were very nice and we made some great friends while we were there.

Cons

• The night "entertainment" was lacking. There was usually a "band", but it was really just a man karaokeing the same songs every night in the main courtyard area.
• We had to purchase a float from the store to use at the beach. All other resorts we have gone to have had these provided. We were surprised Sandals did not have them available
• You MUST get out and save a seat (I would do this at 7am each day) at the pool or beach or you will not have a seat
• Vendors on the beach.
  • Whew. 30 minutes would not go by without someone coming by and asking us if we wanted a bracelet, shirt, tour, ride JetSkis, etc. etc. We have experienced this in other locations, but this was by far the biggest "con" of the trip.
  • Often, these vendors would walk down the beach, in-between chairs yelling out what they were offering. Tough to rest, relax, read, hold a conversation, etc.

​
Feel free to reach out and ask any more direct questions about Sandals Grand Antigua that you may have!

Jackie Jensen, "The Golden Boy", was a superstar athlete in the 1940s who seemed destined for greatness as the heir to Joe DiMaggio... only to be supplanted by a different golden boy, the great Mickey Mantle.
Jensen would eventually live up to the hype, but with the Red Sox -- but his career prematurely because, as baseball expanded to the west coast, his fear of flying made road games unbearable!
The Yankees between 1947 and 1964 were utterly dominant, winning 15 pennants and 10 World Series. And it wasn't just the major league team that was successful. The Yankees of this era were loaded up and down the system, from Rookie ball to their two Triple-A teams!
With such a loaded major league roster, the Yankees had many talented players stuck either on the end of the bench or in the minors who would eventually find an opportunity with other teams, including Bob Cerv, Vic Power, Gus Triandos, Lew Burdette, Jerry Lumpe, Bob Porterfield, and Bob Keegan, who would all be All-Stars with other teams. Clint Courtney would be the 1952 A.L. Rookie of the Year runner-up after the Yankees traded him to the Browns, and Bill Virdon was the 1955 N.L. Rookie of the Year with the Cardinals (and then Yankee manager from 1974 to 1975!).
But the most talented player who just couldn't find the playing time in New York was Jack Eugene Jensen, born March 9, 1927, in San Francisco. His parents divorced when he was 5, and he grew up poor, his mother working six days a week, 12 hours a day. Jensen said the family moved 16 times between kindergarten and eighth grade -- "every time the rent came due."
After serving in the U.S. Navy during World War II, Jensen went to the University of California in 1946 on the G.I. Bill. There he became one of the most famous college players in the country, leading Cal to the Rose Bowl. In 1947, he was the starting fullback as well as the team's top defensive back, and in 1948, he rushed for 1,000 yards and was an All-American.
He also was a tremendous two-way baseball player, pitching and hitting for the Golden Bears in 1947 as the won the very first College World Series, beating a Yale team that had George H.W. Bush playing first base. In 1949, he was an All-American in baseball, too.
His blond hair, good looks, and athletic accomplishments earned him the nickname "The Golden Boy."
Halfway through his junior year, Jensen left Berkeley to turn pro. Jensen would later say he couldn't risk playing a career-ending injury playing for free while teams -- baseball and football -- were trying to sign him to big-money contracts.

"There was a money tree growing in my backyard. Why shouldn't I pluck off the dollars when I wanted to?"

Jensen considered a number of offers, including from the Yankees, before signing a three-year, $75,000 contract with the Oakland Oaks of the Pacific Coast League. Jensen said he thought he'd face better competition in the Pacific Coast League, the top minor league of the era, than he would at the bottom of the Yankee farm system. He was right about it being more of a challenge -- he hit an unimpressive .261/.317/.394 in 510 plate appearances with the Oaks.
At the end of the year, the Oaks sold his contract (and that of Billy Martin, another Northern California kid) to the Yankees.
That same year, Jensen married his high school sweetheart, Zoe Ann Olsen, an Olympic diver. (By age 18, she had won 14 national diving championships and a silver medal in the 1948 Olympics.) "Together they looked like a Nordic god and goddess," Sports Illustrated reported. Nicknamed "the sweethearts of sports," they were the Dansby Swanson and Mallory Pugh of their era. More than 1,000 people attended their wedding.
Jensen would start the 1950 season not in the minors but in the Bronx. He joined the Yankees in a time of flux. They though they'd won the 1949 World Series, the Yankees knew they had to make some changes, with 35-year-old Joe DiMaggio nearing the end of his career. And their heir apparent was not Mickey Mantle -- at the time an 18-year-old shortstop playing in the Class C league, the equivalent of A-ball today -- but the 23-year-old Jensen.
But Jensen disappointed, hitting just .171/.247/.300 in 70 at-bats, and only starting in 13 games. Watching from the bench most of the season, Jensen would later lament the lost year of development, saying he'd have been better off playing every day in the Pacific Coast League.
The Yankees won the pennant for a second straight year, and in the World Series he once again was left on the bench. His only action was as a pinch runner in Game 3 as the Yankees swept the Phillies. That "Moonlight Graham" appearance would be his only taste of the post-season in an 11-year career.
The following year would be DiMaggio's last, and Mantle's first. Jensen began the year as the Yankees' starting left fielder and proved he belonged, hitting .296/.371/.509 through the end of July... and then, shockingly, was demoted to Triple-A and replaced with previously forgotten Yankee Bob Cerv.
I can see why they called up Cerv -- the University of Nebraska stand-out was tearing up Triple-A, leading the American Association in batting average (.349), home runs (26), triples (21), RBIs (101), and total bases (261) -- but why demote Jensen, who had a 140 OPS+ in the majors? Maybe the Yankees felt the brash 23-year-old needed to be taken down a peg. In any event, Cerv hit just .214/.333/.250 in August and was sent back to Triple-A, but Jensen also was left down there. He hit .263/.344/.469 and was recalled after the Triple-A season ended, only getting into three games (he went 3-for-9).
Mantle, too, had started the season with the Yankees, and after hitting .260/.341/.423 through the middle of July, was sent down to Triple-A. But he hit .361/.445/.651 in 166 at-bats, and unlike Jensen was back in the bigs by August 24. He would play pretty much every game the rest of the season, hitting .284/.370/.495 in 95 at-bats.
The torch had clearly been passed -- Jensen was no longer the heir apparent to DiMaggio. In the World Series that year, Mantle was the starting right fielder, and Jensen wasn't even on the post-season roster.
Jensen was so disappointed with how the Yankees had treated him in 1951 that he talked to the San Francisco 49ers about switching to pro football, but ultimately decided to stick with baseball.
Never shy about what he said to reporters, Jensen told The Sporting News on October 24, 1951:

"I felt so badly about the treatment that I received from the Yankees that, although I was in New York at the end of the season, I didn't feel like sticking around to even watch the club play in any of the World's Series games."
"I do not feel the Yankees were justified in sending me to the minor leagues. When I was shipped to Kansas City, I was doing as good a job as any Yankee outfielder and better than some of them. I was hitting .296, which was ten points better than Hank Bauer and 30 points better than Joe DiMaggio, Gene Woodling and Mickey Mantle. Yet Casey Stengel didn't give me the chance I felt I deserved."

Despite blasting his manager in the press, Jensen was still the property of the Yankees. That off-season, teams were circling, hoping to pry away the talented but disgruntled outfielder. There were newspaper reports of offers from the St. Louis Browns, the Detroit Tigers, the Philadelphia Athletics, the Washington Senators, the Cleveland Indians, and the Boston Red Sox -- with one rumor being Ted Williams to the Bronx in exchange for Jensen and several other players. (A Red Sox scout called the rumored deal "a lot of hogwash.")
Sportswriters spent the off-season speculating whether DiMaggio would retire, and if he did, whether Jensen or Mantle would take over as the center fielder, as there were still concerns that Mantle, who had hurt his knee in the 1951 World Series, wouldn't be fully recovered by the start of the season.
On Opening Day, April 16, 1952, it was Jackie Jensen in center and Mickey Mantle in right. Jensen went 0-for-5 with a GIDP; Mantle, 3-for-4 with a double, a walk, and a stolen base! Seven games into the season, Jensen was 2-for-17 (.118) and found himself on the bench. He'd never play for the Yankees again. On May 3, the Golden Boy was traded to the Washington Senators along with Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson in exchange for Irv Noren and Tom Upton.
In two years with the Senators, Jensen hit an impressive .276/.359/.407 (112 OPS+), but the team was terrible, and Jensen wasn't happy. Still just 26 years old, he later said he had almost quit after the 1953 season... particularly after a harrowing flight to Japan for a series of exhibition games with a squad of All-Stars that included Yankees Yogi Berra, Eddie Lopat, and Billy Martin. That experience gave Jensen a lifelong fear of flying, a phobia that became so intense eventually he could only fly with the help of sleeping pills... and a hypnotist!
He might have quit if not for the trade on December 9, 1953, that sent him to the Boston Red Sox for pitcher Mickey McDermott and outfielder Tom Umphlett. He was homesick, he hated flying, and he now had two little kids at home. Red Sox general manager Joe Cronin convinced Jensen to come to the Red Sox, telling him that Fenway Park was tailor made for his swing. Cronin was right: Jensen was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but .298/.400/.514 at Fenway.
It was in Boston that Jensen finally lived up to the hype, becoming a two-time All-Star and winning the A.L. MVP Award in 1958 and a Gold Glove in 1959. During his seven seasons in Boston, he hit .282/.374/.478 in 4,519 plate appearances. In his MVP season, Jensen hit .286/.396/.535 (148 OPS+) with 31 doubles, 35 home runs, and a league-leading 122 RBIs. During his peak with the Red Sox, 1954 to 1959, Jensen's average season was .285/.378/.490 (127 OPS+) with 28 doubles, 26 home runs, 111 RBIs, 14 stolen bases, and 3.6 bWAR. During those six seasons, no one in the American League -- not Mickey Mantle, not Ted Williams, not Al Kaline -- had more runs batted in than Jackie Jensen.
Of course, Mantle was the far better player -- even in Jensen's MVP season, Mantle had more runs, hits, home runs, walks, and a 188 OPS+ -- but Jensen's 127 OPS+ between 1954 and 1959 would have been an upgrade over the aging Hank Bauer's 110 OPS+ in right or the left field merry-go-round of Norm Siebern (113 OPS+), Irv Noren (107 OPS+), Enos Slaughter (103 OPS+), and previously forgotten Yankee Hector Lopez (101 OPS+). Casey Stengel would later say the Jensen trade was the worst one the Yankees had made while he was manager.
Despite his success, Jensen was sometimes booed by the Boston fans, just as they sometimes booed Ted Williams. There even was an article in Sport magazine, "What Do They Want From Jackie Jensen?", taking Red Sox fans to task for their unreasonably high demands from the Golden Boy. In 1956, in a game at Fenway Park against the Yankees, the hometown fans were razzing Jensen so much that teammates had to restrain him from going into the stands after a fan. Later that same game, Williams misplayed a wind-blown fly ball from Mantle, and the fans booed lustily. The very next play, Williams made a leaping catch at the scoreboard to rob Yogi Berra of a double. But Williams, still furious, spit into the crowd. He was later fined $5,000.
And Jackie was unhappy to be away from home. He and Zoe Ann had bought a house near Lake Tahoe, where they could both ski and golf year-round, as well as hit the casinos. They also had a home in Oakland, and a restaurant there, and each year Jensen hosted a pro-am golf tournament. But the marriage was struggling. Zoe Ann, once nationally known for her Olympic exploits, was frustrated to be a stay-at-home mom in the shadow of her famous husband, and Jackie became angry if she engaged in her favorite outdoor hobbies, suspecting there were men around.
Jensen's fear of flying also had become even more intense. Sometimes he was so drugged up that he had to be carried on and off the plane, fueling rumors that he was a drunk. Other times he took trains or even drove while his teammates flew.
Once again Jensen was talking about retirement, and in Spring Training 1957, the Red Sox allowed him to train with the San Francisco Seals, Boston's Triple-A team, rather than having to go to Florida. But he was still miserable. That year, he told Sports Illustrated:

“In baseball you get to the point where you don’t think you have a family. It just looks like I’m not built for this life like some ballplayers. You are always away from home and you’re lonesome, and as soon as I can, I intend to get out.”

The 32-year-old Jensen announced his retirement after the 1959 season, and he spent 1960 home with Zoe Ann and their children and running his restaurant. But he returned in 1961. After hitting just .130 in April, Jensen took a train from Detroit home to Reno, determined to quit once again. After a week away, he rejoined the team and had six hits in his next 10 at-bats. By the end of the season he was at .263/.350/.392, and this time he quit for good.
After leaving baseball, Jensen invested in real estate and a golf course, but lost most of his money. He then got a job working for a Lake Tahoe casino, was a national spokesman for Camel cigarettes, Wonder Bread, and Gillette, and even tried selling cars. Ironically, Jackie found himself on the road almost as much as he had been as a ballplayer. In 1963, he and Zoe Ann divorced, remarried, and then divorced again.
In 1967, Jensen became a TV sportscaster, married his producer Katharine Cortesi, and eventually teamed up with Keith Jackson calling college football games for ABC and a college baseball coach, first at the University of Nevada-Reno and then at the University of California, and he managed the Red Sox team in the New York Penn League in 1970. In 1977, Jackie and Katharine moved to Virginia and started a Christmas tree farm while he coached baseball at a military academy. About five years later, on July 14, 1982, he died of a heart attack at age 55.
You Don't Know Jack(ie):

• How good would Jackie Jensen have been as a Yankee? Maybe not great. He was a career .279/.369/.460 hitter, but just .238/.326/.398 at Yankee Stadium, which -- especially in that era -- was famously death on right-handed batters. Fenway Park was much more to his liking!
  
• Born in San Francisco in 1927, it's no surprise Jensen's favorite player as a kid was Joe DiMaggio, who made his debut with the San Francisco Seals when Jensen was a 5 years old. When Jensen made his major league debut, on April 18, 1950, DiMaggio went 3-for-6 with a triple in a 15-10 win over the Red Sox. Two weeks later, on May 3, Jensen made his first start, playing left field and batting second, and DiMaggio was in center and batting fourth.
  
• Jensen wore #36 at Cal. When he came up with the Yankees, he was first issued #40, then switched to #27, and finally to #25. (With the Senators, he wore #8, then #4; in Boston, he first wore #30 but primarily wore #4.) Currently, #40 is worn by Luis Severino. Other famous 40's include Chien-Ming Wang (2005-2009), Andy Hawkins (1989-1991), and Lindy McDaniel (1968-1973). #27 has been worn by Giancarlo Stanton since 2018; prior to him, it was worn by Austin Romine (2016-2017). It also was the number worn by Bob Wickman (1993-1996), Butch Wynegar (1982-1986), and Woodie Held (1954-1957). Gleyber Torres has worn #25 since 2018; it also was worn by Mark Teixeira (2009-2016), Jason Giambi (2002-2008), Joe Girardi (1996-1999), Jim Abbott (1993-1994), Tommy John (1979-1989), and Joe Pepitone (1962-1969).
  
• Jensen is one of six major leaguers to graduate from Oakland High School, but the only Yankee. Cal has sent 83 players to the majors, including twenty Yankees -- most notably, early 1990s pitcher Chuck Cary, 1930s infielder Lyn Lary, and 1990 A.L. ROY runner-up Kevin Maas.
  
• The Yankees during spring training in 1951 tinkered with the idea of using Jensen into a pitcher. Jensen had been a star pitcher at Cal, including pitching in the 1947 College World Series, and had pitched in a winter league that off-season. But he was bombed in a handful of spring training innings -- while crushing as a hitter -- and the Yankees decided to leave him in the outfield.
  
• College teammates said Jensen wasn't afraid of flying at Cal. His second wife Katharine said the phobia came from a near-miss experience on a flight early in his baseball career -- he looked out the window and saw another plane coming straight at him! The two planes managed to avoid each other, but he was never comfortable on a plane again.
  
• Billy Martin, who also had grown up in Northern California and was Jensen's teammate on both the Oakland Oaks and the Yankees, was merciless when it came to teasing Jensen about his fear of flying. In 1953, on a flight from Okinawa to Honshu to play a series of exhibition games in Japan, the plane ran into a bad storm and was bouncing pretty hard. Jensen, who wouldn't get on a plane without the help of tranquilizers, was blissfully sleeping through the turbulence. Martin found a lifejacket and put it on, then stood over Jensen and shouted "We're going down!"
  
• Arthur Ellen, a hypnotist that Jensen had used to try to cure his fear of flying, believed Jackie wasn't aerophobic at all. It was really a fear of losing his family. "Subconsciously, it developed as a good reason to leave the Red Sox and go home," the hypnotist said.
  
• Jensen is featured prominently in Norman Rockwell's famous 1957 painting, The Rookie. Jensen is the one seated on the bench tying his shoe in the middle of the painting. Standing behind him is Ted Williams, and sitting on the bench next to him is pitcher Frank Sullivan (#18). Wearing the catcher's mitt in the foreground is Sammy White, and the player with his hand over his mouth to the far right is Billy Goodman. Jensen, Sullivan, and White had gone to Rockwell's studio in Massachusetts to pose for the painting; the images of Williams and Goodman were based on photos. The shirtless player was one of Rockwell's assistants, and "the rookie" holding the suitcase was a local high school student!
  
• Boston sportswriters named Jensen the team's MVP in 1954, when he hit .276/.359/.472 with 25 home runs and 117 RBIs. I guess they were tired of giving the award to Ted Williams, who hit .345/.513/.635 that year, albeit in just 117 games as he had broken his collarbone in spring training. Williams didn't qualify for the batting title that year because he had only 386 at-bats... mostly due to his league-leading 136 walks. The rule was subsequently changed from at-bats to plate appearances.
  
• After Jensen was acquired by the Washington Senators, manager Bucky Harris -- who managed the Yankees when they won the 1947 World Series -- pulled him aside and told him he was the right fielder and he'd hit third. "No pep talk, no nothing, but he made it sound like I was the right fielder and third place hitter for a long time to come," Jensen later recalled. "It made me feel good." The 1950s Senators had a number of ex-Yankees and several of them told reporters that Harris was a much more low-key, hands-off manager than Casey Stengel, and Jensen agreed. "With Stengel it was always 'watch for that curve ball' or 'watch for that change up'," Jensen said. "Bucky leaves you on your own up there." But Jensen would later say Stengel was the smartest manager he'd ever had.
  
• Stengel obliquely mentioned Jensen in his famously long, rambling testimony before the Senate Anti-Trust and Monopoly Subcommittee on July 8, 1958. Asked about legislation that would exempt baseball from federal anti-trust laws, Stengel said about 7,000 words without really saying anything. The hearing was held the day after the All-Star Game -- the Stengel-managed A.L. All-Stars won, 4-3 -- and in the American League starting lineup were Jensen and two other ex-Yankees, Bob Cerv and Gus Triandos. Stengel was asked if the Yankees were going to continue to "monopolize" the World Series, and his confusing answer: "Well, I will tell you. I got a little concerned yesterday in the first three innings when I saw the three players I had gotten rid of [Jensen, Cerv, and Triandos] and I said when I lost nine what am I going to do? And when I had a couple of my players I thought so great of that did not do so good up to the sixth inning I was more confused but I finally had to go and call on a young man in Baltimore that we don't own and the Yankees don't own him and he is doing pretty well and I would actually have to to tell you that we are more the Greta Garbo-type now from success. We are being hated. I mean from the ownership and all we are being hated. Every sport that gets too great or one individual -- but if we made twenty-seven cents and it pays to have a winner at home why would you have a good winner in your park if you were an owner? That is the result of baseball. An owner gets most of the money at home, and it is up to him and his staff to do better or they ought to be discharged." After befuddling the committee with answers like that for 45 minutes, Stengel was excused and Mickey Mantle called upon. His opening statement: "My views are just about the same as Casey's."
  
• Casey Stengel later said Jensen plus Spec Shea, Jerry Snyder, and Archie Wilson to the Senators for Irv Noren and Tom Upton was the worst trade the Yankees made during his tenure. But in reality it was pretty much a wash for the Yankees. Jensen, in two seasons, would be worth 4.9 bWAR for the Senators before being traded. Shea, a right-handed pitcher who had been an All-Star with the Yankees as a rookie, pitched four years in Washington and was worth 2.9 bWAR. Snyder was a good-glove, no-hit infielder worth -0.1 bWAR in seven seasons with the Senators. (You must have a really good glove to last seven seasons with a 55 OPS+!) Wilson, at one point seen as a good prospect but now a 28-year-old minor league journeyman, only played 26 games in Washington before being traded. In exchange, the Yankees received the 27-year-old Irv Noren, an outfieldefirst baseman who played five years in New York and was an All-Star in 1954; he was worth 7.9 bWAR, making the trade essentially even by bWAR. (The other player the Yankees received, minor league infielder Tom Upton, never made it back to the bigs.) Prior to the 1957 season, Noren was traded to the Kansas City Athletics as part of a monster 13-player trade that included Clete Boyer, third baseman of the early 1960s dynasty!
  
• The two players Washington got from Boston for Jensen, Mickey McDermott and Tom Upton, were both future Yankees. McDermott was a left-handed pitcher whose father, Maurice McDermott, had played in the minors with Lou Gehrig. Mickey was just 25 years old at the time of the trade but had been in the majors for six seasons, going 48-34 with a 3.80 ERA (114 ERA+). In two years with the Senators, McDermott went 17-25 (but with a 3.58 ERA), then prior to the 1957 season was traded to the Yankees as part of a seven-player deal; he went 2-6 with a 4.24 ERA as a swingman, and closed out the Game 2 win in the 1956 World Series. After that one season in New York, he was part of the trade with the A's that brought back Clete Boyer.
  
• Umphlett, a 22-year-old infielder, was traded back to the Red Sox in 1955, and then the Red Sox traded him to the Yankees in 1962 for infielder Billy Gardner. He would spend 1962 and 1963 in Triple-A for the Yankees, then ended his career in the minors with the Minnesota Twins -- the team that had been the Senators until 1961.
  
• In 1956, the anthology television show Cavalcade of America had an episode called The Jackie Jensen Story. Jackie had a cameo as the adult version of himself, but the 30-minute episode was focused on Jackie's teenage years and the influence of his middle high school coach, a man named Ralph Kerchum who became a father figure. The coach was played by Ross Elliott, a Bronx native whose most memorable role might have been as the director in the Vitameatavegamin episode of I Love Lucy.
  
• Jensen's MVP in 1958 broke a string of four straight MVP awards for Yankees -- Yogi Berra in 1954 and 1955 followed by Mickey Mantle in 1956 and 1957. Nellie Fox of the White Sox won it in 1959, and then the Yankees won it four years in a row again -- Roger Maris in 1960 and 1961, Mantle in 1962, and Elston Howard in 1963. Then a long drought -- the next Yankee to win it would be Thurman Munson in 1976.
  
• Going by bWAR, Mantle should have won it a third straight year in 1958 -- his 8.7 bWAR led the league, followed by Frank Lary at 6.7 and Al Kaline at 6.5. Jensen's 4.9 was 10th that year. Of course, they didn't have bWAR back then!
  
• Jackie won a Gold Glove in 1959; it was just the third year of the award's existence, or he might have won more. "Right field in Boston is a bitch, the sun field, and few play it well," Ted Williams said. "Jackie Jensen was the best I saw at it." Jensen was renowned for his throwing arm -- he twice led the league in assists, and twice led the league in double plays as an outfielder. One Yankee scout said he had the best arm he'd seen since previously forgotten Yankee Bob Meusel, usually said to have the best cannon in baseball history until Roberto Clemente came along.
  
• Jensen was well known for his brashness, especially compared to Mantle's aw shucks attitude. Mantle, asked if he thought he could beat out Jensen to replace DiMaggio in center field, humbly replied that there were three positions in the outfield and he hoped to win any one of them. Jensen, on the other hand, vowed he'd "out-run, out-hit, and out-throw" Mantle, an arrogant answer that didn't go over well with teammates. Joe DiMaggio, asked what he thought of the duel for his old job, quipped that Mantle was "out-quoting" Jensen.
  
• When Mantle was asked what he thought about Jensen's quote, he replied: "I don't know what to make of that guy." Jensen would later say he was misquoted, but reports of his cockiness would follow him throughout his Yankee years. Later in life, Jensen said people mistook his shyness and anxiety for arrogance and rudeness.
  
• According to Sports Illustrated, Jensen is the only player to have played in the East-West football game, the Rose Bowl, the World Series, and the Major League All-Star Game. I'll take their word for it!
  
• As a freshman at Cal, the first time Jensen touched the ball -- on a punt return -- he ran it back for a 56-yard touchdown. Cal quarterback Charles Erb said they'd never seen anything like it. "He was all over the field, dodging and leaping over guys. The rest of us just stood there on the sidelines with our mouths open. Finally somebody said, 'Who in the hell is that guy?' "
  
• Jensen is one of two "forgotten" Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame -- the other is 1960s catcher Jake Gibbs. (Other Yankees in the College Football Hall of Fame include John Elway, who was in the Yankee minor league system before joining the Denver Broncos, and Deion Sanders, who was on the Yankees in 1989 and 1990.) Jensen also is a member of the Cal Hall of Fame, the Bay Area Sports Hall of Fame, and... ugh... the Boston Red Sox Hall of Fame.
  
• Despite his speed -- Jensen led the league in triples in 1956 and in stolen bases in 1954, and was in the top five in stolen bases in six seasons -- Jackie also was prone to grounding into double plays, leading the league in 1954, 1956, and 1957. His 32 GIDPs in 1954 was the major league record until Boston's Jim Rice hit into 36 in 1984, which is still the single-season record. Rice also had 35 in 1985. Jensen's 32 is tied for third with four others. The most by a Yankee? Dave Winfield with 30 in 1983, which is tied for 14th.
  
• Jensen lost most of his baseball earnings through a series of bad investments. His ex-wife, former Olympian Zoe Ann, later became a blackjack dealer in Reno to pay the bills.
  
• Jensen had four appearances on the popular show Home Run Derby, and set a record for most home runs in one match when he defeated Ernie Banks, 14-11, in Episode 24. The 25 combined home runs also was a record. He took on Mickey Mantle in Episode 3, with Mantle winning, 9-2, then defeated Rocky Colavito, 3-2, in Episode 25. He rematched against Mantle in Episode 26, with Mantle winning again, 13-10. Jensen set another record in that contest when he became the only player to hit four home runs in a row, and then a fifth home run in a row. That episode was supposed to be the season one finale, but it turned out to be the last episode of the series: The show's host and producer, Mark Scott, died of a heart attack at age 45, shortly after the last episode aired, and two months later the show's 64-year-old director Benjamin Stoloff also died. Rather than replacing them, the show was cancelled.
  
• Jensen's last game came against the Yankees, on October 1st, 1961, at Yankee Stadium. He appeared as a pinch hitter and popped out to shortstop Tony Kubek. In the 4th inning of that game, Roger Maris hit his 61st home run, breaking Babe Ruth's single-season record!
  
• Jackie and Zoe Ann had two sons, Jon and Jay, and a daughter, Jan. Jay's son, Tucker Jensen, was a pitcher in the Blue Jays farm system in 2011 and 2012.
  

In 1958, Jensen told Sports Illustrated that the biggest thrill of his career wasn't being an All-American or an All-Star, it wasn't winning an MVP or a World Series. "The biggest is having played in the same outfield with both DiMaggio and Williams."

Hello everyone! Please, recommend me some glow up/desired face subs. BUT: subs shouldn’t include specific affirmations like “I have ski sloped nose” or “I have feline eyes”. Only subs which “adjust” to your desired facial features.
If subs also include luck, intelligence and so on, I’d be very grateful!

Laurie loitered as Euan checked them into the lodge and made small talk with the concierge. He always came skiing at Les Autres. They knew him here. It was like nothing else, he'd promised.
Closing one eye and crouching slightly, Laurie aligned the buck's head mounted on the wall behind the check-in desk so that its antlers became the concierge's.
***
Out on the slopes, Laurie felt as though she was flying, her world reduced to only the soft curves of the snow, the blur of trees, and the endless, cradling bowl of the sky.
But no matter how swift her descent, the huddle of lodges and chalets below seemed to grow no closer. Time moved in all directions. How long had she been there, half-gliding, half-falling, unmoving?
***
Les Autres had never quite seen snow like it, the concierge said, his concern reaching neither his eyes nor his voice. The whole resort was snowed in and would be for days yet.
And he was sure there was no sign of Laurie at all?
The concierge was afraid not, sir. And there was no chance of sending mountain rescue out. Not in this weather.
Euan only nodded, no concern in his eyes either. Same as always.
They knew him here.
***
When she finally reached the resort, dusk had settled, and the first wisps of snow starting to fall. The lights were on in the lodges, basking everything in a warm, welcoming glow. But there was no sign of movement behind any of them. No guests in the streets and restaurants. No sound but the wind.
Something moved through the veil of dancing snow and gathering dark. Footsteps cushioned in the snowdrifts, its great crown of antlers golden in the hazy light.
Laurie called out, but her voice only came dull and muffled.
---
Original here.

Hello! I am planning on visiting the NE USA over Christmas and New Years and I’d love to go skiing. My husband and I live in Switzerland and it would be our first time skiing in the US. I’m American and I really want to show him a nice time. What are some spots in the north east that have some of that European charm (and a higher chance of snow)? Thanks so much (ps going out west isn’t an option)

Auli Travel Package

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Feel the rush of air on your face as you go skiing on the well-kept snow slopes, blazing a bold trail. On a blanket of snow, pummelled each other with snowballs. Let your eyes feast if you’re a lover of natural beauty.

Hello! I am relatively new to collecting and buying critters. I've decided I would like to make a small village but I'm not sure how to go about it. I've seen lots of official and unofficial furniture sets and what not for fairly cheap but the actual buildings are fairly expensive. Have you guys found any used that are usually pretty cheap used or any good off brand/DIY alternatives to official houses and buildings? Thank you!

There are instincts that you develop when you’re a parent. If you don’t have any children it might be a little hard to understand. If you have a toddler, for example, and they’re in the other room and silent for more than a few seconds, there’s a good chance they’re up to no good. I take that back, most of the time they’re doing nothing, but you still have to check. You feel a compulsion to check. I don’t think it’s a learned skill, I think it’s an actual instinct.
Paleolithic parents who didn’t check on their toddlers every few minutes, just to double check that they weren’t being stalked by smilodons were unlikely to have grandchildren and pass on their genes. You just feel you need to check, like getting goosebumps, a compulsion. I suppose it’s the same reason little kids are always demanding you look at them and what they’re doing.
I think that instinct starts to atrophy as your kids grow. They start learning to do things for themselves, and before you know it, they’re after their own privacy, not your attention. I don’t think it ever goes away though. I expect, decades from now, my own grown kids will visit and bring my grandkids with them. And the second I hear a baby crying in the earliest morning hours, I’ll be alert and ready for anything, sure as any old soldier who hears his name whispered in the dark of night.
I felt that alarm just the other day. First time in years. My boy came home from riding bikes with a couple of his friends. I’m pretty sure they worked out a scam where they asked each of their parents for a different new console for Christmas, and now they spend their weekends traveling between the three houses so they can play on all of them.
We all live in a nice neighborhood. A newer development than the one I grew up in, same town though. It’s the kind of place where kids are always playing in the streets, and the cars all routinely do under 20. My wife and I make sure the kids have helmets and pads, and we’re fine with the boy going out biking with his friends, as long as they stay in the neighborhood.
You know, a lot of people in my generation take some weird sort of pride in how irresponsible we used to be when we were young. I never wore a helmet. Rode to places, without telling any adults, that we never should have ridden to. Me and my friends would make impromptu jumps off of makeshift ramps and try to do stupid tricks, based loosely on stunts we’d seen on TV. Other people my age seem to wax nostalgic for that stuff and pretend it makes them somehow better people. I don’t get it. Sometimes I look back and shudder. We were lucky we escaped with only occasional bruises and road burns. It could have gone so much worse.
My son and his buddies came bustling in the front door at about 2 PM on a Saturday. They did the usual thing of raiding the kitchen for juice and his mother’s brownies, and I took that as my cue to abandon the television in the living room for my office. I was hardly noticing the chaos, by this point, it was becoming a regular weekend occurrence. But as I was just leaving, I caught something in the chatter. My boy said something about, “... that guy who was following us.”
He hadn’t said it any louder or more clearly than anything else they’d been talking about, all that stuff I’d been filtering out. Yet some deeper core process in my brain stem heard it, interpreted it, then hit the red alert button. My blood ran cold and every hair on my skin stood at attention.
I turned around and asked “Somebody followed you? What are you talking about?” I wasn’t consciously aware of how strict and stern my voice came out, yet when the jovial smiles dropped off of their faces it was apparent that it had been so.
“Huh?” my son said, his voice high-pitched and talking fast, like when he thinks he’s in trouble and needs to explain. “We thought we saw somebody following us. There wasn’t though. We didn’t really see anybody and we’d just spooked ourselves.”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“Nothing? We really didn’t see anybody! Honest! I just saw something out of the corner of my eye! But there wasn’t really nobody there!”
“Yeah!,” said one of his buds. “Peripheral! Peripheral vision! I thought maybe I saw something too, but when I looked I didn’t see anything. I don’t have my glasses with me, but when I really looked I got a good look and there was nothing.”
The three boys had that semi-smiling but still concerned look that this was only a bizarre misunderstanding, but they were still being very sincere. “Were they in a car?”
“No, Dad, you don’t get it,” my boy continued, “They were small. We thought it was a kid.”
“Yeah,” said the third boy. “We thought maybe it was Tony Taylor’s stupid kid sister shadowing us. Getting close to throwing water balloons. Just cause she did that before.”
“If you didn’t get a good look how did you know it was a kid?”
“Because it was small!” my kid explained, though that wasn’t helping much. “What I mean is, at first I thought it was behind a little bush. It was way too small a bush to hide a grown-up. That’s why we thought it was probably Tony’s sister.”
“But you didn’t actually see Tony’s sister?” I asked.
“Nah,” said one of his buds. “And now that I think about it, that bush was probably too small for his sister too. It would have been silly. Like when a cartoon character hides behind a tiny object.”
“That’s why we think it was just in our heads,” explained the other boy, “That and the pole.”
“Yeah,” my son said. “The park on 14th and Taylor?” That was just a little community park, a single city block. Had a playground, lawn, a few trees, and some benches. “Anyway, we were riding past that, took a right on Taylor. And we were talking about how weird it would be if somebody really were following us. That’s when Brian thought he saw something. Behind a telephone pole.”
“I didn’t get a good look at it either,” the friend, Brian, “explained. Just thought I did. Know how you get up late at night to use the bathroom or whatever and you look down the hallway and you see a jacket or an office chair or something and because your eyes haven’t adjusted you think you see a ghost or burglar or something? Anyway, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned there wasn’t anything there.”
“Yeah, it was just like sometimes that happens, except this time it happened twice on the same bike ride, is all,” the other friend explained.
“And you’re sure there was nothing there?”
“Sure we’re sure,” my boy said. “We know because that time we checked. We each rode our bikes around the pole and there was nothing. Honest!”
“Hmmm,” I said. The whole thing seemed reasonable and nothing to be concerned about, you’d think.. The boys seemed to relax at my supposed acceptance. “Alright, sounds good. Hey, just let me know before you leave the house again, alright?” They all rushed to seem agreeable as I left the room, then quickly resumed their snacking and preceded to play their games.
I kept my ear out, just in case. My boy, at least this time, dutifully told me his friends were about to leave. He wasn’t very happy with me when I said they wouldn’t be riding home on their bikes, I was going to drive them home. The other boys didn’t complain, but I suppose it wasn’t their place, so my boy did the advocating for them, which I promptly ignored. I hate doing that, ignoring my kid’s talkback. My dad was the same way. It didn’t help that I struggled to get both of their bikes in the trunk, and it was a pain to get them back out again. My boy sulked in the front seat on the short ride back home. Arms folded on chest, eyes staring straight ahead, that lip thing they do. He seemed embarrassed for having what he thought was an over-protective parent. I suppose he was angry at me as well for acting, as far as he knew, irrationally. Maybe he thought he was being punished for some infraction he didn’t understand.
Well, it only got worse when we got home. I told him he wasn’t allowed to go out alone on his bike anymore. I’d only had to do that once before, when he was grounded, and back then he’d known exactly what he’d done wrong and he had it coming. Now? Well, he was confused, furious, maybe betrayed, probably a little brokenhearted? I can’t blame him. He tramped upstairs to his room to await the return of his mother, who was certain to give a sympathetic ear. I can’t imagine how upset he’ll be if he checks the garage tomorrow and finds I’ve removed his tires, just in case.
I wish I could explain it to him. I don’t even know how.
Where should I even begin? The town?
When I was about my son’s age I had just seen that movie, The Goonies. It had just come out in theaters. I really liked that movie, felt a strong connection. A lot of people do, can’t blame them, sort of a timeless classic. Except I wasn’t really into pirate’s treasure or the Fratellis, what really made me connect was a simple single shot, still in the first act. It’s right after they cross the threshold, and leave the house on their adventure. It was a shot of the boys, from above, maybe a crane shot or a helicopter shot, as they’re riding their bikes down a narrow forested lane, great big evergreen trees densely growing on the side of the road, they’re all wearing raincoats and the road is still wet from recent rain.
That was my childhood. I’ve spent my whole life in the Pacific Northwest. People talk to outsiders about the rain, and they might picture a lot of rainfall, but it’s not the volume, it’s the duration. We don’t get so much rain, it just drizzles slowly, on and on, for maybe eight or nine months out of the year. It doesn’t matter where I am, inside a house, traveling far abroad, anywhere I am I can close my eyes and still smell the air on a chilly afternoon, playing outdoors with my friends.
It’s not petrichor, that sudden intense smell you get when it first starts to rain after a long dry spell. No, this was almost the opposite, a clean smell, almost the opposite of a scent, since the rain seemed to scrub the air clean. The strongest scent and I mean that in the loosest sense possible, must have been the evergreen needles. Not pine needles, those were too strong, and there weren’t that many pines anyway. Douglas fir and red cedar predominated, again the root ‘domination’ seems hyperbole. Yet those scents were there, ephemeral as it is. Also, there was a sort of pleasant dirtiness to the smell, at least when you rode bikes. It wasn’t dirt, or mud, or dust. Dust couldn’t have existed except perhaps for a few fleeting weeks in August. I think, looking back, it was the mud puddles. All the potholes in all the asphalt suburban roads would fill up after rain with water the color of chocolate milk. We’d swerve our BMX bikes, or the knock-off brands, all the way across the street just to splash through those puddles and test our “suspensions.,” meaning our ankles and knees. The smell was always stronger after that. It had an earthiness to it. Perhaps it was petrichor’s lesser-known watery cousin.
There were other sensations too, permanently seared into my brain like grill marks. A constant chilliness that was easy to ignore, until you started working up a good heart rate on your bike, then you noticed your lungs were so cold it felt like burning. The sound of your tires on the wet pavement, particularly when careening downhill at high speed. For some reason, people in the mid-80s used to like to decorate their front porches with cheap, polyester windsocks. They were often vividly colored, usually rainbow, like prototype pride flags. When an occasional wind stirred up enough to gust, the windsocks would flap, and owning to the water-soaked polyester, make a wet slapping sound. It was loud, it was distinct, but you learned to ignore it as part of the background, along with the cawing of crows and distant passing cars.
That was my perception of Farmingham as a kid. The town itself? Just a typical Pacific Northwest town. That might not mean much for younger people or modern visitors, but there was a time when such towns were all the same. They were logging towns. It was the greatest resource of the area from the late 19th century, right up until about the 80s, when the whole thing collapsed. Portland, Seattle, they had a few things going on beyond just the timber industry, but all the hundreds of little towns and small cities revolved around logging, and my town was no exception.
I remember going to the museum. It had free admission, and it was a popular field trip destination for the local school system. It used to be the City Hall, a weird Queen Anne-style construction. Imagine a big Victorian house, but blown up to absurd proportions, and with all sorts of superfluous decorations. Made out of local timber, of course. They had a hall for art, I can’t even remember why, now. Maybe they were local artists. I only remember paintings of sailboats and topless women, which was a rare sight for a kid at the time. There was a hall filled with 19th-century household artifacts. Chamber pots and weird children's toys.
Then there was the logging section, which was the bulk of the museum. It’s strange how different things seemed to be in the early days of the logging industry, despite being only about a hundred years old, from my perspective in the 1980s. If you look back a hundred years from today, in the 1920s, you had automobiles, airplanes, electrical appliances, jazz music, radio programs, flappers, it doesn’t feel that far removed, does it? No TV, no internet, but it wouldn’t be that strange. 1880s? Different world.
Imagine red cedars, so big you could have a full logging crew, arms stretched out, just barely manage to encircle one for a photographer. Felling a single tree was the work of days. Men could rest and eat their lunches in the shelter of a cut made into a trunk, and not worry for safety or room. They had to cut their own little platforms into the trees many feet off the ground, just so the trunk was a little bit thinner, and thus hours of labor saved. They used those long, flexible two-man saws. And double-bit axes. They worked in the gloom of the shade with old gas lanterns. Once cut down from massive logs thirty feet in diameter, they’d float the logs downhill in sluices, like primitive wooden make-shift water slides. Or they’d haul them down to the nearest river, the logs pulled by donkeys on corduroy roads. They’d lay large amounts of grease on the roads, so the logs would slide easily. You could still smell the grease on the old tools on display in the museum. The bigger towns had streets where the loggers would slide the logs down greased skids all the way down to the sea, where they’d float in big logjams until the mills were ready for processing. They’d call such roads “skid-rows.” Because of all the activity, they’d end up being the worst parts of town. Local citizens wouldn’t want to live there, due to all the stink and noise. They’d be on the other side of the brothels and the opium dens. It would be the sort of place where the destitute and the insane would find themselves when they’d finally lost anything. To this day, “skidrow” remains a euphemism for the part of a city where the homeless encamp.
That was the lore I’d learned as a child. That was my “ancestry” I was supposed to respect and admire, which I did, wholeheartedly. There were things they left out, though. Things that you might have suspected, from a naive perspective, would be perfect for kids, all the folklore that came with the logging industry. The ghost stories, and the tall tales. I would have eaten that up. They do talk about that kind of thing in places far removed from the Pacific Northwest. But I had never heard about any of it. Things like the Hidebehind. No, that I’d have to discover for myself.
There were four of us on those bike adventures. Myself. Ralph, my best friend. A tough guy, the bad boy, the most worldly of us, which is a strange thing to say about an eight-year-old kid. India, an archetypal ‘80s tomboy. She was the coolest person I knew at the time. Looking back, I wonder what her home life was like. I think I remember problematic warning signs that I couldn’t have recognized when I was so young, but now raise flags. Then there was Ben. A goofy kid, a wild mop of hair, coke bottle glasses, type 1 diabetic which seemed to make him both a bit pampered by his mother, who was in charge of all his insulin, diet, and schedule, and conversely a real risk taker when she wasn’t around.
When we first saw it…
No, wait. This was the problem with starting the story. Where does it all begin? I’ll need to talk about my Grandfather as well. I’ve had two different perspectives on my Grandfather, on the man that he was. The first was the healthy able-bodied grandparent I’d known as a young child. Then there was the man, as I learned about him after he had passed.
There was a middle period, from when I was 6 to when I was 16, when I hardly understood him at all, as he was hit with a double whammy of both Parkinson’s and Alzheimer's. His decline into an invalid was both steep and long drawn out. That part didn’t reflect who he was as a person.
What did I know of him when I was little? Well I knew he and my grandmother had a nice big house and some farmland, out in the broad flat valley north of Farmingham. Dairy country. It had been settled by Dutch immigrants back in the homesteading days. His family had been among the first pioneers in the county too. It didn’t register to me then that his surname was Norwegian, not Dutch. I knew he had served in the Navy in World War II, which I was immensely proud of for reasons I didn’t know why. I knew he had a job as a butcher in a nearby rural supermarket. He was a bit of a farmer too, more as a hobby and a side gig. He had a few cattle, but mostly grew and harvested hay to sell to the local dairies. I knew he had turned his garage into a machine shop, and could fix damn near anything. From the flat tires on my bicycle to the old flat-bed truck he’d haul hay with, to an old 1950s riding lawnmower he somehow managed to keep in working order. I knew he could draw a really cool cartoon cowboy, I knew he loved to watch football, and I knew the whiskers on his chin were very pokey, and they’d tickle you when he kissed you on the cheek, and that when you tried to rub the sensation away he’d laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then there were the parts of his life that I’d learn much later. Mostly from odd passing comments from relatives, or things I’d find in the public records. Like how he’d been a better grandfather than a father. Or how his life as I knew it had been a second, better life. He’d been born among the Norwegian settler community, way up in the deep, dark, forest-shrouded hills that rimmed the valley. He’d been a logger in his youth. Technologically he was only a generation or two from the ones I’d learned about in the museum. They’d replaced donkeys with diesel engines and corduroy roads with narrow gauge rail. It was still the same job, though. Dirty, dangerous, dark. Way back into those woods, living in little logging camps, civilization was always a several-day hike out. It became a vulgar sort of profession, filled with violent men, reprobates, and thieves. When my grandfather’s father was murdered on his front porch by a lunatic claiming he’d been wronged somehow, my grandfather hiked out of there, got into town, and joined the Navy. He vowed never to go back. The things he’d seen out in those woods were no good. He’d kept that existence away from me. Anyways…
Tommy Barker was the first of us to go missing. I say ‘us’ as if I knew him personally. I didn’t. He went to Farmingham Middle School, other side of town, and several grades above us. From our perspective, he may as well have been an adult living overseas.
Yet it felt like we got to know him. His face was everywhere, on TV, all over telephone poles. Everybody was talking about him. After he didn’t return from a friend’s house, everybody just sort of assumed, or maybe hoped, that he’d just gotten lost, or was trapped somewhere. They searched all the parks. Backyards, junkyards, refrigerators, trunks. Old-fashioned refrigerators, back before suction seals, had a simple handle with a latch that opened when you pulled on it. It wasn’t a problem when the fridges were in use and filled with food. But by the 80s old broke-down refrigerators started filling up backyards and junkyards, and they became deathtraps for kids playing hide-and-seek. The only opened from the outside. I remember thinking Tommy Barker was a little old to have likely been playing hide-and-seek, but people checked everywhere anyway. They never found him.
That was about the first time we saw the Hidebehind. Ben said he thought he saw somebody following us, looked like, maybe, a kid. We’d just slowly huffed our way up a moderately steep hill, Farmingham is full of them, and when we paused for a breather at the top, Ben said he saw it down the hill, closer to the base. Yet when we turned to look there was nothing there. Ben said he’d just seen it duck behind a car. That wasn’t the sort of behavior of a random kid minding his own business. Yet the slope afforded us a view under the car’s carriage, and except for the four tires, there were no signs of any feet hiding behind the body. At first, we thought he was pulling our leg. When he insisted he wasn’t, we started to tease him a little. He must have been seeing things, on account of his poor vision and thick glasses. The fact that those glasses afforded him vision as good as or better than any of us wasn’t something we considered.
The next person to disappear was Amy Brooks. Fifth-grader. Next elementary school over. I remember it feeling like when you’re traveling down the freeway, and there’s a big thunderstorm way down the road, but it keeps getting closer, and closer. I don’t remember what she looked like. Her face wasn’t plastered everywhere like Tommy’s had been. She was mentioned on the regional news, out of Seattle, her and Tommy together. Two missing kids from the same town in a short amount of time. The implication was as obvious as it was depraved. They didn’t think the kids were getting lost anymore. They didn’t do very much searching of backyards. The narratives changed too. Teachers started talking a lot about stranger danger. Local TV channels started recycling old After School Specials and public service announcements about the subject.
I’m not sure who saw it next. I think it was Ben again. We took him seriously this time though. I think. The one I’m sure I remember was soon after, and that time it was India who first saw it. It’s still crystal clear in my memory, almost forty years later, because that was the time I first saw it too. We were riding through a four-way stop, an Idaho Stop before they called it that, when India slammed to a stop, locking up her coaster brakes and leaving a long black streak of rubber on a dry patch of pavement. We stopped quickly after and asked what the problem was. We could tell by her face she’d seen it. She was still looking at it.
“I see it,” she whispered, unnecessarily. We all followed her gaze. We were looking, I don’t know, ten seconds? Twenty? We believed everything she said, we just couldn’t see it.
“Where?” Ralph asked.
“Four blocks down,” she whispered. “On the left. See the red car? Kinda rusty?” There was indeed a big old Lincoln Continental, looking pretty ratty and worn. I focused on that, still seeing nothing. “Past that, just to its right. See the street light pole? It’s just behind that.”
We also saw the pole she was talking about. Metal. Aluminum, I’d have guessed. It had different color patches, like metallic flakeboard. Like it’d had been melted together out of scrap.
I could see that clearly even from that distance. I saw nothing behind it. I could see plenty of other things in the background, cars, houses, bushes, front lawns, beauty bark landscape.. There was no indication of anything behind that pole.
And then it moved. It had been right there where she said it had been, yet it had somehow perfectly blended into the landscape, a trick of perspective. We didn’t see it at all until it moved, and almost as fast it had disappeared behind that light pole. We only got a hint. Brown in color, about our height in size.
We screamed. Short little startled screams, the involuntary sort that just burst out of you. Then we turned and started to pedal like mad, thoroughly spooked. We made it to the intersection of the next block when it was Ralph who screeched to a halt and shouted, “Wait!”
We slowed down and stopped, perhaps not as eagerly as we’d done when India yelled. Ralph was looking back over his shoulder, looking at that metal pole. “Did anybody see it move again?’ he asked. We all shook our heads in the negative. Ralph didn’t notice, but of course, he didn’t really need an answer, of course we hadn’t been watching.
“If it didn’t move, then it’s still there!” Ralph explained the obvious. It took a second to sink in, despite the obvious. “C’mon!” he shouted, and to our surprise, before we could react, he turned and took off, straight down the road, straight to where that thing had been lurking.
We were incredulous, but something about his order made us all follow hot on his heels. He was a sort of natural leader. I thought it was total foolishness, but I wasn’t going to let him go alone. I think I got out, “Are you crazy?!”
The wind was blowing hard past our faces as we raced as fast as we could, it made it hard to hear. Ralph shouted his response. “If it’s hiding that means its afraid!” That seemed reasonable, if not totally accurate. Lions hide from their prey before they attack. Then again, they don’t wait around when the whole herd charges. Really, the pole was coming up so fast there wasn’t a whole lot of time to argue. “Just blast past and look!” Ralph added. “We’re too fast! It won’t catch us.”
Sure, I thought to myself. Except maybe Ben, who always lagged behind the rest of us in a race. The lion would get Ben if any of us.
We rushed past that pole and all turned our heads to look. “See!” Ralph shouted in triumph. There was simply nothing there. A metal streetlight pole and nothing more. We stopped pedaling yet still sped on. “Hang on,” Ralph said, and at the next intersection he took a fast looping curve that threatened to crash us all, but we managed and curved behind him. We all came to the pole again where we stopped to see up close that there was nothing there, despite what we had seen moments before.
“Maybe it bilocated,” Ben offered. We groaned. We were all thinking it, but I think we were dismissive because it wasn’t as cool a word as ‘teleport.”
“Maybe it just moved when we weren’t looking,” I offered. That hadn’t been long, but that didn’t mean anything if it moved fast. The four of us slowly looked up from the base of the pole to our immediate surroundings. There were bushes. A car in a carport covered by a tarpaulin. The carport itself. Garbage cans. Stumps. Of course the ever-present trees. Whatever it was it could have been hiding behind anything. Maybe it was. We looked. Maybe it would make itself seen. None of us wanted that. “OK, let’s get going,” Ralph said, and we did so.
I got home feeling pretty shaken that afternoon. I felt safe at home. Except for the front room, which had a big bay window looking out onto the street, and the people who lived across it. There were plenty of garbage cans and telephone poles and stumps that a small, fast thing might hide behind. No, I felt more comfortable in my bedroom. There was a window, but a great thick conical cypress tree grew right in front of it, reaching way up over the roof of the house. If anything, it offered ME a place to hide, and peer out onto the street to either side of the tree. It was protective, as good as any heavy blanket.

I saw all of these boards in person on my last trip.
Magic Kingdom •Main Street Emporium -saw at 5pm •Middle of store on Main Street on the right •Ye Olde Christmas Shoppe •Fantasy Faire gift shop •Mickey’s PhilharMagic Merchandise Shop •Sir Mickey’s •Be Our Guest entrance booth (only there rarely) •Memento Mori (near the Haunted Mansion) •Pirates Bazaar (Pirates Of the Caribbean gift shop) •Star Traders •Frontierland Trading Post •Big Top Gift Shop •Bonjour! Village Gifts
Epcot •Pin Trading Central underneath Spaceship Earth •The gift shop exit of Mission: Space •The gift shop exit of Test Track •Disney Traders (crossover between Canada and Mexico) •Port of Entry (next to Disney Traders) •Mexico kidcot •Norway kidcot •Germany kidcot •Italy kidcot •Japan kidcot •USA kidcot •France kidcot (in Les Halles) •Pin Cart near International Gateway (not out in rain) •Canada kidcot •DVC stand next to Canada •UK Kidcot •The Crown & Crest (UK pavilion) •Journey into Imagination exit at the cash register
Hollywood Studios •Antique Curios (left of entrance) •Movieland •Crossroad •5 & 10 Store on Hollywood Boulevard (not there if busy) •Mickey’s of Hollywood •Once Upon A Time/Sunset Club Couture •Tower of Terror gift shop •Sunset Ranch Pins and Souvenirs •Tatooine Traders (Star Tours gift shop) •Backlot Express Restaurant had one behind the counter •Frozen Fractal Gifts (next to Vacation Fun animated short theatre) •Jessie’s Trading Post (Toy Story Mania exit gift shop) •Mickey and Minnie’s Runaway Railway exit gift shop
Animal Kingdom •Garden Gate Gifts •Disney Vacation Club stand on Discovery Island •Island Mercantile •Discovery Trading Post •Animal Kingdom Trading Company •Pop up stand near Na’vi River Journey (closes at 6pm) •Restaurant osaurus mobile order stand •World’s Largest Pin Truck in Dinoland
Disney Springs • Pin traders • Disney Centerpiece in Co-Op Marketplace/Tren-D • Art of Disney • Star Wars Galactic Outpost • Once Upon a Toy • Star Wars Trading Post
Contemporary •Fantasia •Fantasia Market (behind Fantasia) •Contempo Cafe (there was someone standing at the entrance with a board) •DVC Booth next to Contempo Cafe
Polynesian •Moana Mercantile •Boutiki •DVC booth next to Boutiki •Recreation board by the main building doors (only out when raining)
Grand Floridian •M. Mouse Mercantile •White Basin •DVC next to Grand Californian Cafe
•I didn’t go to every resort but the ones I did all had pin boards in their major gift shops, you might have to ask to see it.
•Skyliner Transfer Station DVC kiosk occasionally has a board
•Occasionally in various places there will be a pin trash can with boards on three sides. I saw one at the Pop Century resort and in Hollywood Studios. Just keep an eye out!
Happy trading!

Hiya, this is going to be a really long post I'm sorry but TLDR landlord refuses to spend any money or do any maintenance, multiple horrible issues and now the house smells like a dead mans feet :-( Going insane and don't know what to do. Suspect broken pipe but given the runaround and now am just told 'there's nothing more I can do'. Glasgow southside
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So I moved into the flat in 2021, it's visibly not been repaired in a long time but wasn't a huge problem. Covid was absolute hell for me and just pleased to be starting my life again. Classic damp, cracks in walls and ceilings, bizarre and eye-melting amount of different artex textures in each room that were clearly in fashion in the 70s. etc, but couldn't see any major issues and rent is cheap (I was wrong lol). Everything was sort of 'covered' or painted over, so we couldn't see any problems at the time. He was always slow to respond, but didn't think much of it as I've had bad landlords before.
First major red flag was a baby slug infestation in winter 2021 after we asked him to remove a rotten bathroom mirror contraption he'd built, and his 'fix' was to cover the entire floor with slug pellets. We had a cat at the time, so I just snapped and spent 4 days sealing every part of the bathroom just because I couldn't deal with the hassle, and alas no more slugs. He is aware of this and doesn't care. I'm comfortable with basic DIY and did this as properly as I could, and it looks great, clean and sealed and no slugs, cost about £200. (He's told me he intends to gut the flat when we leave and re-do it and whack the rent up, more on this later). Any time we ask for anything, he turns up with a young cousin and a screwdriver and says 'not much I can do' and just leaves, and essentially said do what you need to do to get by as long as you don't break anything. He sent me the inventory pictures and said as long as you don't do structural damage I don't mind. No major major problems I can see so I think whatever, easy life. He bumped the rent up in early 2022 from 600 to 700, not as bad as I've seen others and was doable for us and (probably stupidly) just accepted this.
Just before christmas 22, my housemate moved out and took her cat with her. We had a mouse, so I called the council who put poison down and I left to go and visit family for christmas. I came back to a smell so bad it SLAPPED me in the face as soon as I opened the door, and I was horrified. The classic sweet sickly rancid smell of death I think, so I called the pest control people back who suggested it was a mouse that had died in the wall. Makes sense, so on their advice I used a dehumidifer and waited a month. I washed the walls and floors I could touch with vinegar and bicarb etc. Tried everything and did make it liveable. I cleaned the entire kitchen and scraped back all the dirty sealant, and discovered that he'd painted over not only damp but so many mouse droppings, which had formed a kind of sludge around all the sealed parts of the kitchen. Absolutely rancid, made me sick to my stomach. Resealed everything in the kitchen I could, fine.
A month goes by, stench continues, I do what I can to get by and I saw a rat. Called the pest control people again, who came and did the same. He advised me that the smell should have long gone by now, and he suspected a burst pipe as the smell was also worse when it was warmer. He puts poison down, and I took it upon myself to try and seal up wherever it came from. I followed the trail behind the counters by the windowsill, and found that the open vent to the outside had been sealed up by a breadboard leaned up against it, and covered in foil... The whole bit behind the counters and underneath the windowsill was just haphazard bits of wood leaned up against eachother, and I found an old letter under there from 2019 recommending resealing the house to prevent pests which obviously was never done.
It's the cold snap at this point, so the smell isn't so bad. I hadn't been as on it as I'd like to be as my mum is terminally ill and I'm spending 2 weeks here, 2 weeks down south with her, and obviously massively stressed. I'm also disabled and going through intensive psych and physical treatments for preexisting issues, so haven't much capacity to deal with all this at the moment. My new housemate gets settled around march and refurnishing the flat after the old housemate left took a lot of time, and the smell is STILL there, and getting worse as it warms up. I've spent maybe 300£ on air fresheners, ozone sprays, dehumidifiers, all sorts just trying anything.
A few weeks ago, we had a sudden infestation of HUGE black flies, hundreds, literally hundreds, crawling out from under the skirting board. I came back and cleaned every single inch I could touch with bleach, just to feel comfortable, but I refused to eat in the house as I felt sick. During the clean, I discovered that the raised foundation in the kitchen is basically rotten along with most of the walls and internal structures adjoining the external walls. There is also a layer of bicarbonate of soda underneath the lino flooring suggesting he was well aware of issues. The smell was getting worse and worse, and by this point it had been months so clearly not a body decaying. I called the landlord round, who said he 'couldn't smell anything' whilst looking back and forth at his cousin, and I told him I'm sorry but you can't be serious. He said we can take up the floor maybe, see what's happening, I'll give you a can of air freshener and we'll see. He said the 'flies will take their course and get rid of the smell' (????) and tried to set me and the housemate against eachother, telling each of us the other had agreed to let it go when this was absolute bollocks.. as if we wouldn't talk to eachother? He got really angry when I suggested pipes, and emphatically denied any presence of any kind of plumbing under the property.
I called the pest control man for advice this time, and he came to chat. He has been to this property many times over the years, and confirmed presence of a cast iron pipe underneath the property and again suggested a burst sewage pipe. He advised environmental health, who would provide FOI evidence etc. and escalate. By this point, I'm at my absolute wits end, my mum's getting worse and I've applied for a housing association place but this is going to take months and months. My housemate messaged him today (his last contact was saying that she agreed to let it go (untrue) and someone will be in contact with me soon to 'chat about energy efficiency upgrades to reduce the bills' which I was suspicious of..) and he responded saying 'There's nothing more I can do about this.'. He has promised to deal with this, but the pest control man made me aware that the inspection needed for this costs a lot of money, money he refuses to spend.
He has multiple properties across the city, and I know he just refuses to invest any money in the property until we leave, so he can totally renovate and charge double. Due to the damp, woodworm, rotten foundations, crumbling ceilings etc. it's going to be a major job, and he just doesn't want to do anything. I've contacted Scottish Water to check outside drains, which should be happening soon. But fuck knows what to do now... I haven't the emotional capacity or the funds to move into a random room somewhere short notice as my mental health is in crisis and I need a base to travel back and forth to care for my mum (please no comments on this set up as it's complicated). I'm holding out on a housing association place, but honestly it's really upsetting being here and I have nowhere in the world I feel comfortable and safe right now, especially as I need somewhere safe to work through my recovery that doesnt smell like the inside of an arsehole.
What can I do? I'm scared to report him to environmental health or authorities as I don't think I'll make it through if he kicks us out for this. When I'm set up somewhere new, I'd feel comfortable reporting him and have kept everything as evidence, but I can't risk my stability right now. I can't live like this anymore, the smell makes me gag and is making me so depressed. Thanks so much for reading, any advice?

Hi! Comment for a dodo code. Will open for about 2 hours, ‘til they finish crafting. Their house is the first you’ll see upon exiting from airport!

Warning: this is a very long post. I was bored so I decided to look at every Gwent card and eventually came to realize there are a LOT of cards in the game that I haven't seen in years or ever. I thought might as well do a writeup and see what we could do with them. Thanks if you do read it and appreciate any feedback.

Section 1: Need reworks because they are weak or fit in nowhere

The devs have done a great job bringing forgotten cards/archetypes into viability over the past few patches. I did some digging and found a bunch more cards that deserve to be saved as well, and also came up with some rough concepts/suggestions of where they could fit in with a rework :)
Note: I focused mostly on cards that aren't just weak numbers wise, but also serve no purpose in any archetype or don't fit the lore with their ability. Cards that are just powercrept were only briefly touched on. I tried to suggest new ability and archtype ideas based on adding diversity of playstyles and lore friendly mechanics, however, I did not rigorously think about balance. These are just meant to be rough ideas (I didn't include poweprovs intentionally for most suggestions) so take them with a grain of salt.
Anyway, let's begin.

Neutrals:

• Ale of the Ancestors: might be the worst card in the game, maxes out at 15 boost for 12 provs in a 10 card round. Suggestion: honestly, no idea, something with Resilience? Hand or deck buff (your units are drinking the ale before battle)? Something that interacts with the number of units in discard (since "Ancestors")?
• Uma's Curse: overcosted RNG-based card. Have seen it played once or twice but mostly as a meme. Suggestion: crazy RNG should never be viable- maybe an effect that transforms an enemy into a useless unit temporarily (to fit with the lore). Such as, "Transform a unit into Uma (1 power no abilities). After 3 turns or when you Pass, transform it back to its original form and power."
• Dragon's Dream: a slightly better but overcosted Crushing Trap, which also telegraphs the effect to the enemy, making it pretty useless. Suggestion: it's a bomb that gets ignited by fire or other bombs, and we recently got bomb reworks- possibly using the Infuse status on enemies or acting as a support artifact to augment your other bombs or damaging effects? This could be a slippery slope towards strong unitless strategies, but I think it's a shame for this card to be so worthless when it has nice art and even a unique row effect.
• Ornate Censer: a rework that missed the mark (though the original effect was abhorrent so I don't mind as much). Rarely plays for numbers close to its provisions and requires crazy setup to do so. Suggestion: honestly increasing the floor by adding some guaranteed damage/boost might be enough to make it worth picking in decks that do a lot with orders in one turn, like Siege or SY bounty.
• Avallac'h (normal, not Sage): honestly forgot this card even existed. Very lame and useless especially considering the character's lore powers. Suggestion: maybe a spell tutor or support, to work with Alzur in a new spell package or archetype?
• Enraged Ifrit and Colossal Ifrit: 10 for 10, even with 5 being damage, is awful in this day and age, and Colossal Ifrit is a bit better but far too slow and vulnerable to be usable. Suggestion: not too sure about this one, but Ifrits are constructed by mages, so maybe these cards could somehow synergize with Summoning Circle or Spells. Unlike the Insanity archetype I theorycrafted later on, I don't have much of an idea how this could look, so I'm leaving this in as a rough idea.
• Primordial D'ao and Frenzied D'ao: two very powercrept cards that could theoretically work as techs but are far too weak to be viable. Suggestion: yeah I'm at a loss for this, idek what a D'ao is lore wise- would they work with mages? Monsters?
• Eskel: Pathfinder: I don't think I need to explain why a 9 provision 6 power 1pt/turn engine that's also rowlocked is not good. Suggestion: he could fit in nicely with the new witcher reworks as a tutor or protector of other witchers via boost/armor for example.
• Gregoire de Gorgon: considering this guy is the final boss of the Toussaint tourney in TW3, this card is so disappointing and weak, a 5 for 9 that can become a 10 for 9 with setup of a 1power enemy? Sadge. Suggestion: move him to NG and give him a new home with the other NG Knights, with an ability themed around being the big boy Champion. Maybe something like "Deploy: set self to the power of the highest power Knight on the battlefield, plus one" (obviously with a high provision cost).
• Merigold's Hailstorm, Manticore Venom, Wolfsbane, and Bekker's Rockslide: all of these are just disappointing understats (though Wolfsbane has some meme potential) that don't really fit in anywhere. Suggestion: I wouldn't buff Hailstorm and Rockslide to be as good as faction cards, but they could become usable with a Spells archetype becoming a thing (with Alzur and some of the other cards I've mentioned above). Wolfsbane could be moved to SK and reworked to become Alchemy support. Manticore Venom could be moved to MO and reworked to become Organics support.
• Olgierd Von Everec (normal, not Immortal): the worse, never-used, and frankly unnecessary Olgierd, ironically despite being the OG version. Suggestion: something to synergize with Iris or Vlod or Gaunter even? Maybe a unit with very high armor but low power (you know since he has a Heart of Stone haha).
• Marlene de Trastamara, and Iris Von Everec (normal, not Shade): these cards are related to Gaunter (and Iris to Olgierd obviously) from a lore standpoint but have nothing to do with the others ability-wise. Suggestion: I'm not smart enough to come up with cool effects, but something to do with Tranformations/ArmoDoomed would be awesome.
• Cyprian Wiley and Carlo Varese: I know these cards are ancient powercrept remnants of when SY didn't exist, but at this point there's no reason for them to exist. Suggestion: move them to SY and rework them to help their respective gangs, maybe breathing some life into the dying Devo SY archetypes, or rework them into more general use cards with modern power that could find a home elsewhere (like Francis Bedlam).
• Nivellen: a cool character from the books that is pretty pointless and un-thematic in Gwent. Suggestion: I would really like some kind of transformation themed ability related to his curse and it being lifted, but I'm not sure of the specifics.
• Note on other powercrept Neutral bronzes: I don't think every card needs to be viable or strong, I think it's fine for many of the Neutral bronzes to remain slightly weaker than faction cards and only be useful in very niche situations. However, there are a few that I think could be changed to fit in very nicely in existing archetypes without becoming oppressive.
  • Inspirational Ballad is a basically pointless card currently, but considering Dandelion's card and ability, I think this card could be reworked to boost units in your deck- thus working with Djikstra/Erland/etc. And of course the legendary Wolf Pack which has become a meme with how bad it is, should in my opinion find a home in MO Beasts (more of that down the line).

Nilfgaard:

• Peter Saar Gwynleve: neat W3 reference which is sadly just a worse Spores. Suggestion: Soldier support, perhaps something to do with extorting and punishing the enemy via damage/status (to fit with the lore).
• Fringilla Vigo: the only NG card in the entire game with Mage/Construct synergy and a weak effect to boot. Suggestion: unless new cards or sweeping reworks were to happen for the Mages/Constructs archetype, I can't really think of anything other than a generic stat buff
• Ceallach Dyffryn: a card that doesn't really serve a purpose outside of obscure memes. Suggestion: given the little we know about the character (he tries to bargain with Emhyr for his son's life), maybe he could have an effect that protects an allied unit? Like a more specialized Defender?
• Standard Bearer: a card that makes no sense in Knights because boosting multiple enemies is not optimal, and no sense in any other deck because it is very weak in 99% of scenarios. Suggestion: might work better in Soldiers, supporting the swarming aspects with an AOE boost to allies.
• Alchemist, Vicovaro Novice, Deithwen Arbalest, Menagerie Keeper, Angry Mob: a series of powercrept Bronzes that don't provide anything useful to any archetype. Suggestion: Alchemist and Vicovaro Novice fit thematically with the new bottom-of-deck-clog archetype, Deithwen Arbalest with Soldiers. The last two, not really sure.

Monsters:

• Morvudd: an overcosted and boring finisher for an archetype that doesn't swarm. In fact, an overcosted finisher for an archetype that doesn't really exist (unless you count Rat based memes). Suggestion: this guy could be the centerpiece of a new beast archetype, and I think using the new Predator mechanic in some way could be the play considering these are the most obvious Predators in the game. The archetype could be based around harming enemies and even your own units in order to get units big. Morvudd himself could be a payoff engine, something like "Whenever an allied Beast uses a Predator ability, do X."
• Tatterwing: a rather strange card (why doesn't it just say Consume?) that is utterly useless. Suggestion: could fit nicely into the hypothetical beasts package, perhaps with a high base power and Predator order to damage both itself and enemies?
• Alpha Werewolf and Werewolf: I have seen these cards played in unitless MO memes, but undeniably their design is boring. Suggestion: they could keep the immunity theme and still tie in to Beasts with something like a feacurse effect, debuffing enemy units to allow Predators to get them.
• Wyvern, Cockatrice, Forktail, Fiend: a collection of powercrept cards that vaguely fit into Thrive, Deathwish etc but are too weak to be played + thematically disappointing. Suggestion: make these creatures fierce with some number buffs and utilizing the Predator mechanic.
• Jotunn and Ice Troll: these guys are the only cards to utilize the controlling less units than opponent mechanic and far too weak to see play. Suggestion: Ogroids as a whole don't really exist and like 3-4 cards isn't enough to come up with a new archetype. Maybe with some new cards something could be done here, but for now I'm at a bit of a loss other than generic numbers buffs.

Northern Realms:

• Falibor: literally worse than Brokvar Warrior, a 4 provision Bronze. Lmfao. Suggestion: given the lore connection with Tridam infantry, he could serve as a finisheheavy hitter for the currently basically nonexistent Inspire/Boost archetype. Something like "whenever an allied unit is boosted, damage a random enemy unit by 1"
• Keira Metz and Sile de Tansarvillle: very boring and weak effects which mean these cards never see play. Suggestion: Mages support? Maybe giving the students some protection or providing damage payoff? Could also have something to do with card manipulation given the Lodge's plotting.
• Nenneke: the current effect is very weak and pointless. Suggestion: given that Nenneke is a gifted healer and tied to the Temple of Melitele, it would make sense for her to have an effect that supports the deck bost/shuffle archetype.
• Detmold: yet another remnant of the old and boring "boost all X by 1" designs, yet again in an archetype that doesn't really swarm and thus has no need for it. Suggestion: given his plotting and sadistic nature, he could have some damage/control based ability that would help mages. In fact, it probably makes lore sense for him to have Margarita's lock ability and her to get something else.
• Ban Ard Tutor, Cintrian Enchantress: two powercrept and pointless mages. Suggestion: both could fit in nicely into the existing mages archetype, a basic but potentially useful idea would be changing their Deploy abilities to Orders, allowing you to protect a mage you're setting up next turn.
• Vincent Meis: a cool character from W1 that has a pointless and weak ability. Suggestion: something to do with his werewolf form butchering criminals- maybe using an Order to switch between a Boosting and Damaging effect (like Botchling)?
• Smoke Them Out, Aedirnian Mauler, Kaedweni Knight, Kaedweni Sergeant, Radovid's Royal Guards, Kerack Cutthroat, Redanian Elite, Field Medic: all extremely weak, could either use small number tweaks or reworks that slot them into existing archetypes such as the hypothetical Inspire/Boost one.

Scoia'tael:

• Filavandrel Aen Fidhail: overcosted and not worth it in neither handbuff nor special based decks. Suggestion: considering Filavandrel's role in the books, it would make more sense for him to be an alternative heavy hitter for Elves than handbuff/spell support.
• Milaen: a very powercrept card that doesn't really fit in anywhere. Suggestion: she was a poachetracker, so maybe a tutodeck manipulation aid for elves, maybe with Devotion payoff, to lure them away from the same old netdeck.
• Ele'yas: another powercrept card that is pointless to include compared to others. Suggestion: stick to the theme of destroying an ally, but give him a better payoff
• Braenn: very disappointing card considering her lore and too weak to justify using. Suggestion: I would love an ability that ties to her inner struggle and transition from human to dryad- like a powerful effect once you play a certain amount of Dryads or trigger Symbiosis a certain number of times.
• All trap/artifact based cards: adding this as a note. While many of these cards are powercrept, I don't think a no-unit archetype should be made strong/viable, nor do I think they should be completely reworked to something else as some really like the playstyle. Hence I think maybe it would be fine to just leave them weak.

Skellige:

• Wild Boar of the Sea: a very overcosted card that only plays for decent value against wide decks, and even then unreliably so. Suggestion: I think this card could help support non-GN pirates by synergizing with the scenario and other pirates, while also working with the lore of Crach's ship being feared. For example, something like "Order: Infuse an enemy unit with "This unit cannot be boosted," then damage it by 1. Gain a charge whenever you play a Gold pirate.
• Madman Lugos: a funny character with a pretty disappointing card that only gets value in very niche situations. Suggestion: I think he should have an ability representing his fiery temper and conflict with Geralt, while also synergizing with high base power warriors. Perhaps something like "Deploy: choose an allied unit and an enemy unit to Clash. Order: Clash with an enemy."
• Ulfhedinn: this card has sick art and lore but is unfortunately very unreliable. Suggestion: I recall seeing some rework concepts in the past, my personal take would be to support the Beasts/Bloodthirst archetype and give alternatives to the lame and boring Renfri package with something like "Damage an enemy Unit by 1 for each allied Beast. Deathblow: boost self by 1 for each damaged enemy."
• Donar An Hindar: another powercrept and disappointing card. Suggestion: nothing I can think of is better and more flavorful than what u/Soulless32 came up with here. Good shit man.
• Arnvald: a neat character in the lore but has kind of a boring and weak ability. Suggestion: self-damage/alchemy support? Maybe something like "Order: damage an allied unit by 4, then spawn and play Maerdrome" which also reflects his traitorous nature
• Yoana: why would a blacksmith heal? Makes no sense + is useless. Suggestion: buff her and change the Order to "Boost an allied unit by 1 and give it 1 armor" or something and you have pirates/warriors support to keep engines alive.
• Udalryk An Brokvar: extremely disappointing card considering it's a neat character and great art. Suggestion: support self-damage and Hym, and make him lore friendly, with high base power and an ability like "end of turn: damage self by 1. Berserk 1: heal self." (representing the ordeal he suffers to eventually escape the Hym's influence).
• Drummond Villager, An Craite Marauder, Svalblod Ravager, Svalblod Butcher, Dimun Pirate Captain: all these cards are just powercrept and need minor buffs or reworks to be viable. Suggestion: some numbers buffs would be fine for the warriors and pirates that already fit with their archetype (but are just too weak), but I think Svalblod Ravager and Butcher could become self-damage payoff via something like damaging enemies based on the damaged state and cult shenanigans of your side of the board.

Syndicate:

• The Sausage Maker: technically can gain double resilience, but this card is an overcosted removal magnet. Suggestion: why not lean on his profession as body disposal and give him a crimes supporting ability like "Whenever an enemy unit is destroyed by a Crime, gain 3 coins"
• Hvitr and Aelydia: never seen this card used, it's a remnant of when each faction had a Pavko Gale clone with a different condition (Pavko is my favorite), but this one is particularly bad as it forces you to hang onto coins or constantly gain them (the fact that this is very inefficient is more an issue with Hoard as an archetype but whatever). Suggestion: this card could help make Hoard viable with a new ability that either gives them some consistency or removal reach, but I'm not sure of the exact mechanics
• Dire Mutated Hound, Greater Brothers: two interesting cards that are powercrept and belong to a nonexistent SY Armor archetype. Suggestion: rework them to help the rest of the Salamandra who are mostly Poison/pointslam based. PLEASE no more cards to cram into Nekker decks though!
• Arena Endrega, Bloody Good Friends: at this point the keys spelling "powercrept" on my keyboard are starting to look a bit worn out lmao. Suggestion: okay here's a crazy idea- Insanity archetype (more below)
  • Buff these boys a bit, and bring in Cyprian Wiley who I've previously mentioned from neutrals, Nathaniel Pastodi (most insane guy I can think of), and some powercrept bronze crimes/units like Arena Ghoul, Assault, Dip in the Pontar, etc.
  • The key pieces would be Cyprian Wiley who could do something like "Insanity. Fee 5: Banish an enemy unit with 4 power or less, then boost self by 1" representing his depraved tendencies, Nathaniel could indoctrinate your units into depravity with an ability like "Deploy: Infuse all your units in hand, deck, and on the battlefield that have a Fee with Insanity. If any already had Insanity, boost them by 1 instead."
  • We might need a new card or two to act as simple support, such as "Cutups Fanatic" with high base power and an ability like "End of turn: damage self by 1. Whenever you trigger a fee ability with Insanity, boost self by its cost."
  • A great way to integrate Oxenfurt Naturalist, another useless card, would be to tweak it slightly into something like "Coerced Physician" with a fee to Heal units, which would work well with Insanity

And that's all I've got, shit that was long. Okay, next up...

Section 2: Need reworks because they are problematic

This might be contentious, but I believe there are also a few cards that are either binary, poorly designed, or just straight up frustrating. Most of these are extremely hated by the community, and cannot be fixed with mere provision/power adjustments, hence I believe they should be reworked. There are a lot less here so I didn't split them by faction.

• Golden Nekker: probably the most polarizing card ever added. The devs keep nerfing around it instead of the card itself for some reason, when it's obvious the ability to play THREE CARDS IN ONE TURN is the issue. Suggestion: Really, I think just changing it to 10-12p and rewording the card to still work would help, as then Gwentfinity can make further changes without making it always brick. Currently, GN can just cram a ton of strong cards in their decks. Alternatively, make it only play BRONZES- three bronzes in a turn is still really good and would prevent the ludicrous level of pointswings that are currently possible.
• Imperial PractitioneVilgefortz: Renegade: a meme combo that occasionally pops up, ruining games and baffling less experienced players. Unhealthy and frankly ridiculous. Suggestion: either card is fine on its own, the interaction between them allows for the idiotic duplication play. I would propose changing Vilgefortz to support NG mages/spying/something archetype. A character of his importance deserves better than being relegated to an obnoxious meme.
• Arachas Queen: I think this card's usage is 1% Insectoids as intended, 99% some degeneracy that aims to flood the board with Madocs/Cats/Kelly/whatever. Suggestion: make her support insectoids better somehow, PLEASE no Gold duplication.
• Eternal Eclipse/Affan Hillergrand: what do you get when you cross a powerful scenario that should be heatwaved on sight to prevent Chapter 1, with a presumably unforseen interaction allowing for immediate triggering of Chapter 1? Something unfun and binary. Suggestion: change Affan back to Summon or rework him as different Soldier support, or maybe change EE Chapter 1 from "if you have a couple cultists in a long round gain 80000000 points lul" to something more manageable to play against.
  • Alternatively, a shoutout to u/Heigengraw who devised a rework idea here for the entire cultists archetype, which seems cool and much less binary than the current iteration
• Reaver Hunters: I hate reavers and judging by the amount of people who instantly forfeit upon seeing Mobilization, so does everyone else. Please just end our misery and rework this card, I'm begging you devs.

And that's everything! Once again thanks if you read this far and again shoutout to the devs and everyone helping to keep this game alive. Make sure to add any cards you can think of in the comments. May Gwent continue to Gwentfinity and beyond.

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Auli Travel Package

As uttarakhand’s local travel agent, we will offer you best auli travel package. Before that you should know some facts about the place. Auli is located in Uttarakhand’s Chamoli district, near the world-famous holy temple of Badrinath, and is surrounded by snow-capped peaks of the Garhwal Himalayas. Auli’s well-dressed slopes are surrounded by coniferous and oak forests, which offer a panoramic view of mountains, at an altitude of 2,500 to 3,050 m above sea level. Find yourself at Auli, among the high peaks Nanda Devi and Mana Parbat, if you’re looking for adventure, excitement, and frolic this winter.
Feel the rush of air on your face as you go skiing on the well-kept snow slopes, blazing a bold trail. On a blanket of snow, pummelled each other with snowballs. Let your eyes feast if you’re a lover of natural beauty.
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WAYS TO REACH AULI

Airplane – Jolly Grant Airport in Dehradun, roughly 300 kilometres from Auli, is the closest airport. Dehradun’s Jolly Grant Airport is a domestic airport located around 20 kilometres from the city centre.
By train, there are railway stations in Rishikesh, Haridwar, and Dehradun. Rishikesh is the closest railhead to Auli (250 km approx). Auli may be reached via bus or taxi from Rishikesh.
By Road – Joshimath is 16 kilometres apart by road from Auli. Between Joshimath and Rishikesh, state transport buses run often (253 km). Between Joshimath and Rishikesh (253 km), Haridwar (277 km), Dehradun (298 km), and Delhi (298 km), Local Transport Union buses and State Transport buses run (500 km). Auli may be reached via ropeway, bus, or cab from Joshimath.

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Hey there nerds and weirdos, here's my Beth May is a superhero, dungeons and daddies is the best, and hooooo boy did i realize i have a lot of baggage i need to deal with, appreciation post. Two weeks prior to thanksgiving 2022, an old high school friend of mine jumped into a rented ford MachE mustang, pointed it south and began the long trip to a cabin on Mount Hood, Oregon for a DnD weekend. We were both excited to continue our campaign we started earlier in the year. I’d get to reprise the roll of Snu Snu, half orc Barbarian, who is a dumb but smashy chap. I like my Dnd Characters to have a delusion, like the orc barbarian that was convinced he was a “blood wizard”, or the halfling rogue who was trying to convince everyone he was a brave warrior when in fact he was a coward. It’s fun playing flawed characters in Dnd, i think it sorta breaks the mold of playing heroes on an important quest. I like flawed characters in film, tv, literature, probably because I am a flawed character. Person. I’m a flawed person. I’m real, despite sometimes not wanting to be so some of the time. We started our journey in Seattle Washington, our GPS said it would be a four hour trip at two hundred and fifteen miles, the mache e was advertised to have a range of 110 miles…. I immediately realized I had made a critically failed my intelligence roll. 215 miles was greater than 110 miles. After two hours of bumper to bumper traffic, I needed to charge the car to get to our destination and despite my undeserved confidence, charging an electric car is more difficult and slower than I had expected. You have to find a fast charger, the right fast charger, and download the app associated with it, fill out a bunch of personal info, then start the charging process, which I remind you was referred to as “fast” but in fact takes over an hour. I’d fucked up. Our friends were already at the cabin we had rented, they had their character sheets in one hand, beers in the other and they were just waiting for us. I thought i’d already ruined the trip and we hadn’t made it out of the state. I asked my friend what he’d want to listen to while we sat and waited for the car to gain enough range to make it to our cabin on the edge of the forgotten realms. Ok, i didn’t say that, that was me trying to sound impressive and like i’m a good writer. You get it, or at least i hope you get it. My friend knew that i love podcasts, so he suggested we listen to a DND themed podcast to get in the mood, i asked which one, and he suggested Dungeons and Daddies. He said it was really funny, and he thought i’d like it. So, i found it in my podcatcher, went to season one episode one and started listening. We listened for the entire ride to the cabin, and then back again. I immediately loved the show. There’s something about podcasts, I'm not sure exactly what it is, but to me it feels like I really get to know the hosts/characters on the show. I think podcasts create a false sense of intimacy between the listener and the hosts. I think it’s because I mainly listen to podcasts alone and and it feels like the hosts/characters are talking to me. Or that I'm a fly on the wall of a really fun place, and I get to quietly observe these hilarious people. Is it because I listen in headphones or in my car? Maybe. Anyway, I know I get a false sense of intimacy, but sometimes I like to pretend it isn’t, or maybe I forget that it isn’t. I’m not sure, but these people don’t know me, and I don't know them, not really. So, after our weekend of DND, we drove back to Seattle, and by the time I was back at my house, I was ten episodes into Dungeons and Daddies. Over the last three weeks It had become my new audio obsession. I was hooked and I listened to it in the gym, on dog walks, while I cooked for my family, while I drove, every moment of silence I had was filled with the dads in the forgotten realm. I LOVE this show like I imagine many of you do because it’s funny, smart and dumb at the same time, it has great improvisation, an interesting story, fun characters who are out of place, and is honestly very touching and more emotionally impactful than I'd ever have imagined. As I got further down the season one rabbit hole, I began finding myself gravitating to Ron Stampler as my favorite daddy storyline. Beth’s performance is just fantastic, and even before episode 61,, where Ron has to give his dog away, Ron’s story and Beth’s performance was bringing me to tears.
I’m a dad, I have a son who is eight. In my life, there are only two Dads in my immediate family, see my wife’s father passed away when she was eight, there’s me and my dad. Well.. oh boy. My dad is kinda a nightmare. Not like Willy is a nightmare, my Dad is more like a crumpled and faded poster of a black and white monster movie, it’s sometimes more sad than scary. My dad was gone a lot when I was a kid. He was on business trips for pretty much eighty percent of my childhood. At one point he was American airlines third most flown person in the world, no joke. He’d fly to Germany on Monday, Japan on Wednesday, and then back to Oregon on friday. The good thing was we were able to fly back to my parents home country in the summer and at christmas, and the whole family usually flew for free because of his frequent flier miles. Those trips were GREAT times, I’d see my cool cousins, we’d eat awesome candy, visit castles, see the sleeping giants and all other manner of family fun. But, in normal life, I'd see him Friday night where he’d crash out, then when he woke up on Saturday he’d be grumpy, groggy and easy to anger. Those were the really good times I remember with my Dad when I was growing up, but I also remember him being angry, depressed, mean and sometimes he’d hurt me. I’m not saying that he hit me or my brother or mom on a regular occasion, that he was a drunk or anything, but there were times where he’d take things too far and I'd get hurt. For example, i must have been ten or eleven when my Dad, Brother and I went to a christian rock festival.We had to kill some time in the parking lot before the doors opened to rock n roll jesus. So my dad had the idea to teach us the spoons game. It’s like the game where you put your hands out palm up, and the other player places their hands on your hands palm down. You try to slap the other player’s hands while they try to evade your slaps. Got it? There’s gotta be a name for that game, slappies or something…
Well, for some reason we had some cutlery in the back of the car, maybe we had a picnic before the show, i don’t remember why, but we had shiny metal spoons for some reason. He taught us “the spoon game” by instructing me to make fists, and put them out in front of myself. He held spoons, one in each hand, and placed the bottom of the spoon on the top of my knuckles. My goal was to move my hands out of the way of the spoons as he tried to hit my knuckles with them. We played for what seemed like 15 minutes and he hit me every-time and with each successful hit he grew happier, and laughed harder. At first it stung, then it ached, then it was like this bubbling cauldron of pain and frustration was exploding inside me. When I could hardly hold my hands still because I was so angry, hurt and embarrassed, I burst into tears when my hands were red and beginning to bruise. I ran away from him, I just took off up the improvised road in the parking lot. He came after me, apologized to me and gave me a hug. We never played that game again. That’s just the kind of guy he was, and as I got older I realized some of the myriad of reasons he was that way. Firstly, he was an orphan, he and his brother were dropped off at an orphanage when he was three and his brother was five. I can only assume catholic orphanages in the 1950’s were not a great place to have some of your first memories. Although he’s never talked about it to me, I’m sure they’ve affected him. About a year later he and his brother were adopted by my grandparents, who in their 40’s decided to adopt two brothers aged four and six. I adored my grandparents, they were amazing people. They were blue-collar folks, my grandfather was a coal miner, with amazing stories and two sheds full of treasures which my grandmother called junk my brother and I got to paw through. Sure, he picked it up off the side of the road, but they were treasures, not junk in my or my brothers eyes. My grandfather walked from Wales to Scotland with his brother when he was nine years old to get work in the coal mines of Scotland. His sister, she was a boat captain and smuggler during the Spanish civil war who ran guns, food and medical supplies to the anti fascists. My Grandmother learned sign language so she could communicate and help THE deaf family in the village when the mother of that family fell gravely ill. But, it was the 1950’s and 1960’s so no matter how great their lives stories were, hitting kids was super normal, or at least that’s what my father and mother experienced. I’m sure he had a lot of trauma he never dealt with when he became a father in his late twenties. When we were kids, he was the sole breadwinner, his job was probably really taxing and took a lot out of him, he was away from his family a lot, and you know, traveling for work and living in hotels sucks. That’s not to excuse his behavior, I just try to, you know, put him in context of the stress he was under that I was too young to know about. It’s easier for me to believe that he’s not inherently bad, but shaped by his environment, it’s just easier for me that way. Judge away. It’s complicated. When I was twelve he lost his job, his brother committed suicide, and his funeral he found out he had 4 half sisters in Scotland who his brother had known about, and not told him about for almost a decade. It was a bad year with a silver lining. I watched him retreat into depression, longing, and joy of finding his new sisters. When i got out of college, he had his fourth back surgery. He had ruptured another disc in his lower back, and required another Discectomy . However, during the healing process he got an infection, one that raised his fever to a dangerous level that resulted in brain damage. From that point on, he wasn’t mean. He wasn’t cruel. He was confused, stubborn, repetitive, annoying and a shadow of his former intellectual self. So, I pity my father. Over this thanksgiving he decided to drive us back to my house from our extended families thanksgiving celebration. He drove into oncoming traffic because we had told him to take the next left, which he interpreted as take a left right now. No one was hurt. My son was in the car and was very scared.
And all I could think about was Ron Stampler. Listening to the end of season one gave me a lot of feelings. Listening to how Willy treated Ron wasn’t like my life with my father, not beat for beat, but a lot of the emotional beats seemed similar. Suddenly my father being absent for most of my early childhood was similar to the emotional abandonment Willy treated Ron. I saw how Willy was dismissive and cruel to Ron, and it brought back a bunch of memories I hadn’t contextualized. The spoons game for example, I had just blocked that off, not thought about it for decades, and when Willy was being so cruel to Ron, it just reminded me of that afternoon in a parking lot outside of a Jesus festival. So, my dad never made me give my dog away, but he did lose my dog once. Like, his story is that he took him to the groomer and the dog just bolted and we never saw Mocha again. Holy shit. I… I just remembered that. I want to break the cycle. I don’t want to pass on the bullshit my Dad did to me, I don’t want my the way I feel less than, incomplete, wrong and not god damn good enough onto my sweet boy. He doesn’t deserve any of that, I mean no kid does, but I’m NOT going to do that to him. I struggle with being a father a lot. I’m always second guessing myself, always worried that i’ll slip into a casual cruelty that will forever leave deep emotional scars in my sweet son the way my dad did to me. My son is an emotional kid, like I was. My son has the biggest heart you’ll ever see in a child his age. He loves everyone he meets, treats them as dear friends, and is always the first to lend a hand, a shoulder to cry on, a hug, or the shirt off his back. For christ's sake, this halloween he gave a bunch of his candy to his friends brother on the night of halloween. The younger brother was too tired to do the second round of trick or treating, it was past his bedtime. We were having a little party for halloween because we go crazy for halloween. Decorations, lights, family costume themes, full sized cady bars for trick or treaters, the whole nine yards. My son’s friends parents were attending the party, So I took my son and his friend on 2nd round of trick or treating. It was awesome, we were the last group of trick or treaters to be seen and our neighborhood was just dumping candy into the kids bags. DUMPING. When we got home, with our heavy haul the brother was upset that he didn’t go back out and get candy, so my kid just gave him all he wanted. If you’re not a parent of a young kid, let me be clear- candy is the hard drugs of childhood. Kids can be junkies for that sweet sweet candy.
That’s the kind of selfless eight year old I have, just handing over his own kiddy crack to someone he cares about without a second thought. Just today I realized he put a board game on his list to Santa, because it’s my wife’s favorite board game. He wants HER to have it, so he’s asking the all mighty and powerful Santa to bring something for him, so he can make his mom happy. What a kid. Listening to the Dungeons and Daddies made me think a lot about my dad, my baggage, what Dad I wanted to be. I have committed myself to not passing on generational trauma to my sweet, sweet boy. Listening to Beth May craft such a beautiful arch for Ron opened up a pandora's box of emotion including hope, anger, sadness and love. Ron was able to take the first steps of breaking the cycle of abuse that Willy passed on to him, and I’m ready to do the same. I hope to be as smart, brave, insightful and cool as Ron frickin’ Stampler. Thank you Daddies, thank you Anthony, Thank you Beth. I did not expect that this horny and violent podcast would be so therapeutic and eye opening to me.

So I’m long overdue for new skis. I’ve been skiing pretty much since I can remember (28m), mainly east coast since I’m from New England. Since high school up until a few years back I’ve skied pretty much Jay Peak exclusively. Recently I’ve started putting in 1-2 trips / year out west and other east coast mountains. Now for the kicker, I’ve been in hammy down K2 Public Enemy ‘07s since high school. They are short at 172cm and have served me well but I think it’s time I bite the bullet and chalk up some dough for a new set. I’ve demoed skis up to 188cm length and 120cm width and at 6’ 145-150lbs they’ve all been fine. I’m not looking to break the bank and am trying to find a used pair if I can but after some research these 4 catch my eye:
-Bent 100s @ 180; -Sick day 104s @ 179; -Faction prodigy 2/3, 98s @177; -Dynastar M-free 99s @179.
Basically, I try to get off piste whenever I can and spend most my time in the trees. On the slopes I’m usually messing around hitting knuckles and jibs, catching air, and maybe throwing in a couple 360s. I’m rarely in the park, but when I am, I’m just catching air off jumps. Being on the east coast, I want something that can hold it’s own through ice and crud, isn’t too fat but can handle the occasional powder trip, and is playful/nimble enough to have some fun in the trees. Any and all thoughts on the above skis mentioned or other recs. Also how worried should I be about line and factions low quality rep? Thanks!

Hey there! I'm a 15-year-old who's totally obsessed with dogs and true crime. Seriously, those are my jam! And guess what? I'm a hardcore insomniac, so I'm lightning-fast when it comes to responding (most of the time, at least). Oh, and just so you know, I'm pan-romantic and asexual. Figured it's important for you to get the whole picture.
When I'm not burning the midnight oil, you can find me out in nature, hiking my heart out or shredding the slopes on my skis. And yeah, I'm also a bookworm. Can't resist a good read! But hey, here's the deal: I won't be tolerating any creepy stuff, pedos, or weirdos asking for my foot pics. Seriously, if that's you, go grab some holy water, dude. Ain't nobody got time for that.
Oh, and about the pictures... Sorry, but I'm not about compromising my anonymity, you know? Gotta keep things on the down-low. Hope you get where I'm coming from. If we build up some trust though, who knows? Maybe one day I'll be cool sharing some pics.
PLEASE HELP ME CONQUER MY BOREDOM AND HIT ME UP :)

I LOVE WHITE PICKET FENCES BARBED WIRE AND TRENCHES TRICK OR TREAT. MERRY CHRISTMAS HOWDY NEIGHBOR. THANK YOU JESUS WHAT IS HE BUILDING IN THAT PAINTED LADY A PARTICIPATION TROPHY WIFE OR BLONDE, BLUE-EYED BABY WIDE-EYED AND WIRED THE SNAP-CRACKLE-POP OF THE GEIGER CAMOUFLAGE BILLBOARDS FOR LEAD-LINED BROOKS BROTHERS YOU ELBOW THE JUKEBOX AND SING "DUCK AND COVER" AND BREED OUT OUR INCISORS, FEED ON WHITE WINE AND PFIZER IT DON'T LOOK LIKE SURVIVAL, BUT BUY NOW OR DIE SUBURBIA YOU'RE NOT ALONE THE LIGHTS ARE ON BUT NO ONE'S HOME SO, WELCOME HOME MEYERS-BRIGGS, OK-ULTRA TAKES A VILLAGE TO FAKE A WHOLE CULTURE YOUR EAR TO THE PLAYGROUND, YOUR EYE ON THE BALL YOUR HEAD IN THE GUTTER, YOUR BRAINS ON THE WALL HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS YOU AIN'T HOMELESS, BUT YOU'RE HEARTLESS IT'S THE SAFEST ON THE MARKET BUT YOU STILL GOTTA WATCH WHERE YOU PARK IT SO GIVE ME YOUR HALF-LIFE CRISIS I CAN TELL THAT YOU KNOW WHERE PARADISE IS WHERE PARASITES DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR BLOOD TYPE IS ONLY PHEROMONES AND SEROTONIN DECIDE IF IT'S TRUE THAT A SNOWFLAKE ONLY MATTERS IN A BLIZZARD EVERYONE KNOWS THAT NOBODY KNOWS THAT EVERYBODY'S ALL UP IN MY, EVERYBODY'S ALL UP IN MY EVERYBODY'S ALL UP IN MY BUSINESS SUBURBIA WHERE YOU BELONG THE LIGHTS ARE ON BUT NO ONE'S HOME SO, WELCOME HOME CHAMELEON PEACOCKS ARE TALK OF THE TOWN WELL WORD GETS AROUND ON HIT NUMBER STATIONS HE COMES RADIATION THE DOG BITES THE POSTMAN WHILE BASEMENT EYES DREAM OF A NIGHT AT THE DRIVE-IN WITH AN AR-15 I DROPPED MY EYEBALLS IN THE BONFIRE, WE FUCKED ON A BED OF NAILS I CAUGHT KURU FROM YOUR SISTER AND DIED LAUGHING IN JAIL SMELL THOSE SCREAMING TEENAGE SWEETBREADS ON THE 4TH OF JULY GRILL SMILE AND WAVE, BOYS. KISS THE COOK LIVE LAUGH AND LOVE. PLEASE PASS THE PILLS IT'S ONLY CULTURE. IT'S ONLY CULTURE IT'S ONLY CULTURE – SULFUR, SMOKE, AND SOOT YOU LEARNED TO TORTURE HOUSE CATS. LIKE VULTURES YOU COCKED AND SUCKED YOUR LACK OF EMPATHY PULLED THE TRIGGER WITH YOUR FOOT TO PROVE YOU'VE GOT BLOOD. DIDN'T THEY WANT YOUR BLOOD SO WHY APOLOGIZE FOR BEING BLUE AND COLD BLOOD. DIDN'T THEY WANT YOUR BLOOD SO DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR BEING BLUE AND COLD IT'S ONLY CULTURE. IT'S ONLY CULTURE. IT'S ONLY CULTURE'S NOT YOUR FRIEND HEY, FUCK YOUR CULTURE. I AIN'T GOT NO CULTURE IT'S ONLY CULTURE, AND IT'S MORE AFRAID OF YOU THAN YOU ARE OF IT GO ON, DRINK THAT BLOOD. DIDN'T THEY WANT YOUR BLOOD SO WHY APOLOGIZE WHEN YOU TURN BLUE AND COLD BLOOD. DIDN'T THEY WANT YOUR BLOOD SO DON'T APOLOGIZE FOR BEING BLUE AND COLD WERE YOU NABOKOV TO A SALINGER WERE YOU JUNG TO FREUD OR DASS TO A LEARY WERE YOU MOTHER, DAUGHTER, SUBJECT, AND AUTHOR YOU DON'T MAKE THE RULES, YOU JUST WRITE THEM DOWN AND DO IT BY THE BOOK YOU THROW AROUND DO YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BLAZING TRAILS AND SLASH-AND-BURN GOING AGAINST THE GRAIN AND CATCHING SPLINTERS YOU PULL OUT YOUR RORSCHACH LIKE A PAINT-BY-NUMBERS TREASURE MAP THE INK UPON ON YOUR JIGSAW PIECE TRACES YOU BACK TO YOUR FINGERPRINTS WELL LOT HE HAD HIS LOT IN LIFE, JOB HIS JOB AND I GUESS YOU'LL TOO, AND DIE THE LORD LOOKED DOWN, SAID, "HEY, YOU'RE ONLY MORTAL" GIVETH AND TAKETH AWAY 'TILL THINGS COME OUT A CERTAIN WAY LEAVE YOU WONDERING WHEN THEY MIGHT GO BACK TO NORMAL LEAVE YOU WONDERING WHY THEY CAN'T HAVE JUST BEEN NORMAL

Hi
I've recently thought about timetravelled and then memory of mine came up to me.
I was about 6 or 8, and I was in the Krynica Mountains in Poland. It was very snowy that day. I was pretty new to skiing, and from time to time I would fall down on the snow. One time when I was doing zigzag exercises with little flags (it looked like a flag with a pole on both sides), And then, as I recall, I went into this flag between the poles (I was alone; there were only strangers there; my family was on other ski slopes), and I fell on my face. When I turned around, everything looked the same. There was snow, trees, and even this flag thingy. And then I saw a cameraman with an old-school camera (a wooden camera for black and white photos). That's how it looked. I think he was making a movie. He was standing before me, but his back was to me. Then I saw who he was shooting. There was a woman with very white glamour skin and very velvety black hair (and with black uv glasses or something that looked similar); what was most eye-catching was that she was wearing luxurious fur and very old-style clothes. The cameraman also had very old clothes. She also was skiing with two ski poles in her hands. So after I saw them, I saw her sliding sideways in front of me, and the cameraman was shooting her. It lasted like 60 seconds, and she slid near me, and the cameraman went after her. They didn't notice me. After those holidays, I told my family, but they didn't believe me, and I've moved on. I'm not sure if I have time traveled or reality shifted. But something unusual happened that day. Tell me what you think about this. I'm not sure, but I think the footage from that cameraman might exist somewhere. Maybe they were photos or a movie; I'm not sure.

Hi I've recently thought about timetravelled and then memory of mine came up to me. I was about 6 or 8, and I was in the Krynica Mountains in Poland. It was very snowy that day. I was pretty new to skiing, and from time to time I would fall down on the snow. One time when I was doing zigzag exercises with little flags (it looked like a flag with a pole on both sides), And then, as I recall, I went into this flag between the poles (I was alone; there were only strangers there; my family was on other ski slopes), and I fell on my face. When I turned around, everything looked the same. There was snow, trees, and even this flag thingy. And then I saw a cameraman with an old-school camera (a wooden camera for black and white photos). That's how it looked. I think he was making a movie. He was standing before me, but his back was to me. Then I saw who he was shooting. There was a woman with very white glamour skin and very velvety black hair (and with black uv glasses or something that looked similar); what was most eye-catching was that she was wearing luxurious fur and very old-style clothes. The cameraman also had very old clothes. She also was skiing with two ski poles in her hands. So after I saw them, I saw her sliding sideways in front of me, and the cameraman was shooting her. It lasted like 60 seconds, and she slid near me, and the cameraman went after her. They didn't notice me. After those holidays, I told my family, but they didn't believe me, and I've moved on. I'm not sure if I have time traveled or reality shifted. But something unusual happened that day. Tell me what you think about this. I'm not sure, but I think the footage from that cameraman might exist somewhere. Maybe they were photos or a movie; I'm not sure.

Edit: okay guys thanks for playing! I gotta sign off now though. I collect at least 2 DIYs every day so I’ll be doing these giveaways every time I fill my beach up.
I have a ton of DIYs just sitting on my beach. If anyone wants to come check them out please feel free! I have crops and fruit as well if you’d like to pick some. I have a few pieces of genuine artwork, too.
The only things I’m looking for are a Mysterious Painting and Great Statue, so if you have an extra one of either I’d appreciate it. But otherwise feel free to look around, shop, pick produce, talk to villagers. Whatever! C.J. is here somewhere, too. DM me and I’ll set up the Dodo!
Edit: I got both pieces of artwork that I needed!