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Confessions Of A Former Cocaine Dealer

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cocaine dealer

I began messing with coke back in high school. Never anything major, just whenever it became available at a party or when someone would offer a line or two, “Sure let’s get tooted.”

Fast forward a few years after getting fired from a job and getting my last paycheck and I’m selling it. Now this wasn’t a spur of the moment type decision. My circle of friends since leaving high school had become mostly older cats that always had a lot of money, did what they wanted and never seemed to worry about shit. I knew what they were into but never really asked a lot of questions or asked for any myself. I was just there to hang out with my friend who basically had a house in the country that was open 24/7 for parties and weed.

This one friend in particular was a senior when I was a freshman in high school. We only met after I was out of high school and when we did finally meet it was like I knew the dude my whole life. My long lost brother that I always wanted. He was one of the most charismatic people that I’ve ever met and haven’t met anyone else like that to this day. He was hilarious, never met someone that he didn’t know and on top of it all I could hang out with him whenever, wherever and he was down for whatever. And since he was one of the popular guys in high school he introduced me to a plethora of new friends. It was fucking awesome.

In this new batch of friends there were always 2 or 3 more serious people. They didn’t come around quite so often but when they did everyone seemed to get serious. They were always nice but there are some people you meet and you just know, “Hey, don’t fuck around with these people. Be on your P’s and Q’s.”

So after literally hanging around for a few years and then losing the job I mentioned, I asked my best friend, let’s call him John Smith, if maybe he could hook me up with one of the heavies to buy some coke. I figured I knew a person or two that might want some and being young dumb and full of cum I could at least stave off looking for another job for a week or two.

“Sure.” says John. “How much you want to get?” I figured a half ounce ought to be the perfect amount. Cost me 400 bucks and I’d still have a hundred left to eat on. He calls his serious buddy up and boom, he’s on his way. We can call serious man, Mr. C. Well I had met Mr. C awhile back at John’s house and knew he was into the harder aspects of the drug life. I knew he had been to prison but we had never personally talked about any of it. Whenever he came over to John’s house there was absolutely no deals going on in the open. Even if it was just John and I there. They kept everything discreet and if that’s how they wanted to do it what did I care?

So now it’s my turn. Mr. C comes over and I asked him, “Did John tell you what I wanted?” “Yeah man, I got you. If you need any more John knows how to get ahold of me.”

I’ve got the hookup, Holla if you hear me.

So now I’ve got 14 grams of powder cocaine and no idea what to do with it.

“Wonder if Carlos still fucks with it?” I asked myself. Carlos was a old friend from high school and we had done powder together on occasions and both of our first wives were good friends and we are still friends to this day.

So I give Carlos a call and ask him if he’s interested. “Yeah man, come on over so I can get a look at it.” I went over and took some beers and he asked for a sample like any good person that fucks with coke would. “Yeah, it’s good. I’ll take a gram and I’ve got a guy a city over that’s always looking for it. Can you get more?” I told him that wouldn’t be a problem and to let me know.

Next day like clockwork.

“What’s up Tony? You still got some of that left?” Carlos asks. “I’ve got it all left, how much do you need?” He gives me the answer that I will hear from him every single day for weeks after that. “I need a quarter.” This one answer was actually a relief. I could get rid of half this fucking bag of coke and I could be done with it and go find a job somewhere. Because believe it or not having a half ounce of coke can tend to make you a bit nervous if you aren’t accustomed to having illegal narcotics on you at all times. So, I took the 7 grams on over to Carlos and he says dude from the other town will be here shortly to get it. “Fuck that! I’m not meeting any new people. You sell it to him and call me when you’re done. All I need is 300 bucks and if you can make some money so be it.” I said halfway running for the door. “He’s cool man! I don’t fuck with Narcs!” he said. I was out of there almost instantly.

Sure enough, around 20 minutes later Carlos called me and said he had my money. Went over there and Carlos was fucking hyped, said he made 20 bucks off of dude. At this time Carlos was living in a beat up trailer and money wasn’t easy to come by for him so I was glad that this ordeal was half way over, Carlos made a few bucks and I almost had my original 400 dollars back.

Next day like clockwork.

“What’s up Tony? You still got some of that left?” “Yeah, Carlos. I’ve got 6 grams left. I’m ready to get rid of it.” “What would you take for them.”he asks. “My guy wants whatever you got.” “Okay how about 225 for the 6 g’s?” Hoping I could just get rid of this shit and go back to normal life. “Done!” Carlos almost screamed, betraying his coolness. “Okay I’ll be there in a few. I don’t want to meet this guy, same deal as yesterday. Cool?” And so it went down just like the day before.

Next day like clockwork.

What’s up Tony? You got any of that left? This is where it happened. This is where I made the decision. The decision that would alter my life forever. I could have said, “No, I don’t have anymore . I can’t find any. I was abducted by fucking Australians.” something other than what I said. Not wanting to not be cool of course I said, “Yeah man, I got whatever you need.”

A quick call to John and a quick call to Mr. C and within an hour I’ve got another half ounce of powder cocaine and feeling like a fucking idiot. I go and make another 100 bucks off of Carlos’ dude and am told he will call back tomorrow.

AND SO IT BEGINS.

After a few weeks of doing this deal with Carlos I began to relax. I was making nearly a hundred bucks a day and the need for a job quickly faded out of the picture. I was a bona-fide cocaine dealer. I began to embrace getting up at 3 in the afternoon being able to go out and eat wherever I wanted. To buy a new shirt or jeans if I wanted. Who cares? This money is free. I can always make some more tomorrow.

Eventually all the people that hung out at John’s house that I was friends with started asking me if I knew where to get cocaine. And let me tell you something. If you sell cocaine to a person once, as far as they are concerned you’ll always have it again and you might as well be Muthafuckin Pablo Escobar to them. Cocaine just does that to people for some reason. So I wasn’t about to shy away from this new respect people had for me. I just let it happen. It all became more than just me. Now people were beginning to depend on me for product. In Carlos’ case he was looking for a little extra money and the others, well, they depended on me for a little fun on the weekends. People needed me and I took my responsibilities seriously. You need some now? I’m on my way, even though I learned that cocaine need not be delivered. Muthafuckers will walk to get to it. They will ride a shit stained dildo glued to a bicycle seat to get there. But I still delivered it because I was providing a full time, full service operation.

It just got better and better. After a few months I was established. Great money, more friends than I could count. Strip clubs, parties and vacations from my vacation life every single weekend. No responsibilities just fast money, nice cars and faster women. Almost paradise on earth. I didn’t use my supply hardly ever. Occasionally with some hot chick or special occasion would I dip into my own bags. I once made $9000.00 in one week. $9000 IN ONE FUCKING WEEK BY MAKING A FEW PHONE CALLS. I would generally make at least 1500 to 2000 a week depending how how many people I felt like fucking with. But if I wanted it the sky was the limit. But in a rural town in Tennessee you can’t serve everybody without running the risk of getting blazing fucking hot to the authorities. And I did this all very well. I was smart, shrewd and ruthless when it came to the game. If I fronted someone a gram or two I couldn’t see that as an investment to get rid of them, most people that owe you money will dissappear like a modern day episode of The Twilight Zone, I saw it as a personal affront to me and a challenge to my personal status as a fucking player. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do to get my money back or make sure that you were in a world of hurt after you fucking tried to rob me of my money or my status. All over 50 lousy bucks.

I wouldn’t fuck with hard or even entertain crack heads. Way too much trouble. I stuck with powder and the occasional batch of X pills and weed. In my experience weed was too bulky and if someone spent a hundred bucks with you they wouldn’t be back for a good week or so. The money wasn’t fast enough. Same with the extacy. Too long a turnaround time. But cocaine? Fuck. I’ve had people spend a hundred bucks and be back in less than 2 hours with another hundred. You don’t have to sell cocaine with a sales pitch like weed or extacy. “Oh, this shit is Purple Fury or these are the Pink Lady Omegas.” Fuck that, just show them the corner end of a brick and people will eat that shit up. The cocaine business is bar none the easiest fucking thing I’ve ever been apart of and business was booming and I was killing it.

Until around a year later…

My good ole best friend John set me up at a hotel. He called me and told me that he heard that our county was serving warrants the next morning for sealed indictments and that he was going to go the next city over to get a hotel room just in case.

For some reason whenever you sell illegal narcotics there are always a few people that want to give you tips about what they heard about such and such cops and judges and whatnot. Most time it’s pure fantasy but when you are getting deeper into the game you start taking these “tips” seriously.

John told me what motel he was at and urged me to come on up. He said we could party a bit and lay low. Sure, why not. It’s probably nothing and it will be nice to get out of town for a day or two. Let everyone see how it is when good ole Tony isn’t in town to serve you. What an ego I had.

I got caught with 14.9 grams, in 2 different bags (Possession of Sch Il for Resale), with digital scales, baggies(Paraphernalia) and a 9mm(Possession of a firearm while in the commission of a felony). Got caught pulling into the Best Western that John told me to meet him at. Low and behold a narcotics officer just happened to be around the office waiting for me to ask me if I had anything illegal in my car.

“Of course not officer. Why would you ask?” I said calmly. I had taken a Valium an hour earlier and I was able to betray the shear panic that rose from the pit of my stomach.

“Do you mind if I search your car?”

“Yes actually I do officer. I wasn’t driving when you pulled up. I was parked and walking into the office and would like to know what it is that I’ve done wrong.”

“Why are you getting a room so late when you live one county over?” he asks.”

“The air went out in my house and I work in this city. Have I committed a crime by being out late?” I asked.

“Like I said sir, we’ve had reports of utter bullshit at this hotel and I am going to run my dog around your car and if he hits I will have my consent to search.” This fucking guy has a fucking dog in the backseat of his fucking Godamned fucking car.

He runs the dog around my car pointing and coaching this mutt. I am actually a dog lover but this night I was hoping that some maniac would suddenly appear with a flame thrower and torch this fucking bitch. But as far as I could see the dog didn’t do a fucking thing. He didn’t bark, he didn’t point, he didn’t do shit but run around my car with an intensity of a bear looking for a bee hive.

“My dog has indicated that there may be illegal narcotics in your vehicle Tony. I will now begin my search of your vehicle. Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“Yes, actually there is. I didn’t see your dog do shit.” I said.

“Are you trained in police dogs sir?” he asked.

“No, but I don’t need training to see that he’s didn’t ‘indicate’ as you said he did.” I quipped.

By this time what seems like half of the undercover force of the police department has shown up. They make me sit on the sidewalk and watch as my life is up in the air like the Hindenburg about to explode taking me with it.

After was seemed like an hour, literally was only about 3 minutes now that I look back on it, he pulls out one of the bags of cocaine.

“Well, what do we have here Tony?” No point in lieing about it now, “It’s fucking cocaine.”I said with an attitude that could barely mask the rolling ball of doom that was once labeled my guts. A few seconds later the same question is lobbed at me with a knowing, hateful glee which would be the only way I could describe this cop’s attitude now. “MORE COCAINE.” I said with disgust for the whole human race, the planet Earth and the entire universe which had suddenly turned it’s back on me in the last 20 minutes. The search continues revealing that I was indeed about to set up shop in the fucking hotel. I had a nice Tanita digital scales and hundreds of those little postage stamp baggies and a 9 mm pistol for just in case something stupid happens. The fury at what was happening to me began to wash over me like a summer rain on hot asphalt.

Oh, how I hated that Best Western and everything in existence that had ever been in that moment. I hated myself but that’s not something we as humans are to eager to jump right into at a moments notice. So projection of those feelings are a necessity for anyone seeing their life ripped up in front of their eyes.

GAME OVER

I had all the dope in the center console of my car. I kept it there in case I was pulled over I could always make a left turn and maybe be shielded a bit if I had to throw it out the right window.

I wasn’t scared at first. I was more angry than anything. I figured I could scheme my way out of this or at least pay my way out of it. They took me to the precinct first. Since we weren’t going straight to jail I knew it was coming. I knew what they were going to do.

LET’S MAKE A DEAL.

So after letting me sit in a nice Interrogation room that was 20 degrees colder than the rest of the building for around 2 hours with some really big wall size mirrors so that I could look at myself and realize how fucked I was, they come in and offer me coffee and cigarettes. So professional, so nice these nice officers were. Nothing like you see on television.

“So Tony, you know why your here correct?” “Didn’t you just catch me with cocaine or am I free to go?” I said. Even the cops chuckled at that one. Great, my hard ass attitude is even funny to these fuck meats.

“No, do you know why we are at the precinct and not at the jail? Do you want to help yourself or not? You are facing quite a bit of time with this much coke and a firearm.”

“What am I looking at? How much time?” I asked. I don’t know what I was expecting asking this question seeing as I just got busted with 15 grams of powder cocaine in a state where anything over a half gram is a felony.

There were 2 cops in the room questioning me and they looked at each other as if they were trying to figure out who would be the lucky one to tell me this great fucking answer to the question I had just asked them.

“12-30.” The cop that busted me said with a twinkle in his eye like small town mall Santa Claus telling a kid that he was sure of his name being on the “Nice” list when in fact his little ass was so bad he should have been on a terrorist watch list.

“12-30 what? Months?” I asked really not wanting to hear his answer because I already knew the most hateful word in existence that had just been another every old day word to me an hour ago.

“YEARS.”

FUCKING A MAN.

So here I am sitting in one of the interrogation rooms of a local police department. I’ve just been asked if I was going to “help” myself by two police officers after they tell me I’m facing 12-30 years in the state penitentiary. What the fuck? How did this bulllshit happen? Three hours ago I was king of the fucking universe with money, a decent whip a few trashy girls and an unlimited charge it to the game card. I don’t think I can just charge this one up for a loss. I was a middle class white boy that didn’t have to be here. I didn’t have to be in this town. I didn’t have to have these friends. I didn’t have to FUCKING BE HERE.

During my years in high school there was a huge influx of Southern Rap in the United States. I banged this shit into my head starting around 1994 all the way up until 2002, which is where this story is currently at. Classics like UGK, “Riding Dirty” and Outkast, “ATLiens” were in my CD player at all times. The message was clear. “Ball hard, ride rough and don’t snitch.” I listened to these songs as gospel to the dope game. I shaped my attitude to reflect these influences and tried to live like these guys rapped about. Yeah, a white kid from the suburbs of Nashville that grew up in a middle class family chose to live like a thug.

The town I grew up in didn’t have shit to do and everyone that chose to have a “real life” generally moved away by going to college or finding a job somewhere, anywhere else other than here. But the people that stayed, well, they were the ones trying to hustle and play the dope game, always trying to get away with shit. I was content to work shitty jobs, get high, get drunk as Cooty Brown and fuck some trashy bitches.

But when I met John and saw the life that he lived, the ease in which money came his way, the general rejection of life’s little problems like money, employment or anything related to an honest day’s work, I was enamored with the whole idea of it. Money, weed, friends and bitches. In that order. I saw this fucking guy sell 20 pounds of commercial weed in a week. He didn’t sell it by the pound either. He sold it by the quarter and half ounces. He had that many people coming over to his house. I used to call it “Grand Central Station.” I mean it was the fucking perfect setup. He lived way out in the country with a long ass driveway with an unhindered view of the road for about a half a mile. You could see someone coming from almost a literal mile away. And the people came. You never knew who was going to show up. Old friends from high school, some hot women that John met last week that he knew from wherever he met all these people. And they were all cool. Black, white, Mexican, whatever. The thing about John was that he loved smoking people out. If you showed up to hang out for a while, as soon as you got there, John is rolling up a blunt or packing a bong or rolling a 4 paper joint. He was just like that. And if the blunt just went out and somebody else pulled up right then, time to smoke some more. I think he got a kick out of getting people high. Even if you went to buy a sack off of him you were getting high before you left. And everyone loved him for it. It may not have been a genuine love but it was love nonetheless.

Being around this environment for several years straight really made me think twice about working these fucking awful jobs and barely scraping by. It was just a matter of time before I moved into it. I mean sitting out at Grand Central Station every afternoon and every weekend I got to meet all the regulars and all the people that came by all the time to the point where I began to be friends with them and eventually begin selling to them as well. It wasn’t just customers that came out there. It was other dealers and heavies that would come out and hang out. Like I said, it was a sweet setup and a fucking chill place to hang out. John was always cooking something on the grill or mixing some kind of new cocktail, always something going on. John was definitely the weed guy for a lot of people. And after hanging out with the guy for 5 years straight, there wasn’t anything I didn’t trust this guy with. His wife was a cool chick and his kids called me uncle Tony. We were closer than friends. I thought of him as my brother.

Interrogation Room

Well, what is it going to be Tony? Are you going to help yourself or not? My mind is racing, like a rat in a burning sinking ship. “WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO?” “Let me ask you guys one thing.” I asked these two pricks. “Who set me up?” “It was a routine patrol Tony . No one set you up.” “Bullshit” I said. Somebody fucking ratted me out.” And I honestly couldn’t think of who had done it. I had lied to everyone that called me that night looking for something. I told everyone I was in another city than the one that I actually was. If there was an actual bust in the morning I sure wasn’t going to volunteer my location to anyone. My mind just couldn’t comprehend who could have done it. And I didn’t suspect my fucking brother that was waiting for me at the hotel I just got busted at. That thought literally never went through my mind. That just wasn’t something that was even possible.

“What exactly is it you want from me? I don’t even live in this town. I’m from the next town over. How could I even help you there?”

We have a TBI agent in your town we can hook you up with and if you work with him and he tells us that you’ve done your part it will go a long way with the DA’s office whenever you go to court. The TBI is the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation and aren’t the guys you want to fuck around with.

So I’ve got 2 choices. Tell them to fuck off and take me to jail or tell them what they want to hear and maybe I can get out of jail on bond.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” I mumbled in disgust. “But you’ve got to give me a low enough bond amount that I can actually get out to help you. If I’m in jail I can’t do shit.”

“Sure Tony , tell you what we will do. We will actually drop the felony gun charge to a misdemeanor and we can get the bond down to $7,500. You will still have the felony drug charge but like I said if you cooperate it will go a long way in the DA’s eyes when you go to court. Can you make that bond amount?” he said like he was doing me the greatest fucking favor in the world.

“Yeah, I can make that.” I said knowing that I would only need a bit over 750 bucks to get out. Being out in the free world in my mind with a felony drug charge was better than sitting in jail where you can’t do a fucking thing to help yourself.

We will call you in the next 48 hours to set you up with the TBI agent. Will that be enough time for you to get out?

“Sure.” I said already plotting my next move. But when you’re in a checkmate situation and it’s your life that’s being toppled over on a chess board all you can think about it getting out of the situation immediately. And that’s what I did.

Booking-Adult Detention Center 8 am.

“Best Western of This Town how can I help you?”

“Can you please ring room 110?”

“Just a moment please. “

“Hello?”

“John, it’s me. I got fucking busted last night.”

“Where the fuck are you dude? You said you were going to be here in like 10 minutes 9 hours ago.”

“I’M IN FUCKING JAIL DUDE. I need you to get me a bondsman NOW. I need 750 bucks. The cops seized my car and all my cash.”

“Are you fucking serious man?”

“They popped me with 14 grams and a pistol. I’m fucked up over here, are you still in town?”

“Yeah dude we’ve been here at the hotel all night. Where did they pop you at?”

“In the parking lot of the Best Western.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“DUDE, HAVE I EVER FUCKING CALLED YOU AT 8:00 IN THE MORNING BULLSHITTING ABOUT FUCKING JAIL?”

“I’ve got you man. I’m on my way to find a bondsman.”

“Fucking hurry up dude. This shit sucks.”

9:00 am, Adult Detention Center

Tony!

“Yeah?”

“You made bond.”

I walked out of jail around 10 minutes later with the most conflicted feelings I’ve ever had. Sheer joy at being able to walk free again and pure terror at what had just happened and how fucked I was, mixed perfectly together like a dry martini with two green olives.

John and his wife were outside waiting for me. I saw them sitting there in the car looking at me like I was some poor Jew that just got released from Auschwitz. I stumbled to the car and got in the back. They didn’t even say anything. John just sat there and waited for me to say something.

Lets get the fuck out of here. Take me to a liquor store.

So away we went leaving the feelings of being totally fucked to a whole brand new feeling of now being totally fucked on down the road. I at least had been in enough misdemeanor scrapes with the law that I knew I had months maybe a year to get all this shit handled. HOPE is the most powerful drug that is the arsenal of human abilities. You can lean on hope whenever, why ever and for however long you need it. I honestly hoped if I talked to an attorney that we could work out some kind of deal. Money for freedom, a little time for a reduced charge for a plea or maybe get some legal loophole for the way everything went down which was bullshit. Any fucking thing other than doing 12-30 years in a state penitentiary. John couldn’t speak and neither could I on the way home. We went straight to the liquor store, John lent me some money, I had money at home but the cops seized around $900.00 and my fucking car. We rode home that early morning in stunned silence.

Johns house 9:00 am. After several huge gulps of Jim Beam.

Dude, what the fuck am I going to fucking do? Dude I’m fucked.

Bro, I’ve got an attorney you need to call, I’ve got his number.

What’s Mr. C going to say? Nobody is going to fuck with me, NOBODY. Shit, dude I just ruined my fucking life!

Chill out Bro. I’m still here, I ain’t going anywhere.

So in middle school around 6th Grade, I was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder. I got in a little trouble and such, nothing major, I think I was just your typical high strung adolescent boy. But this was the 90’s and the rage was if your child isn’t absolutely the perfect little fucking angel, we can fix his little ass with these high powered amphetamines . Muthafuckin RITALIN. That shit hit the schoolyard like crack hit the Bronx in the early 80’s. Every rambunctious middle schooler was fucking tweaked. And no one knew it. That wasn’t the shit you wanted your friends knowing. And I was silent along with a multitude of other little asswipes.

So to me, as a kid, to hear that something was wrong with my brain and these new little pills would “Fix” me was actually pretty damaging to my self-esteem and my psyche in a major way. “There’s something wrong with me, hide it away, don’t be who you want to be, that person is fucked up.” I mean how the fuck do you deal with that shit before you’ve barely got hair one on your love-grapes?

But for three years I took the Ritalin religiously because I thought that whatever was wrong with me might be cured. The person that I’m not supposed to be might go away. My parents wouldn’t give me stuff to hurt me. DRUGS ARE GOOD! Well, guess what? The person I wasn’t supposed to be never went away and now after 3 year of taking amphetamines I’ve trained my brain to accept stimulants like Jesus accepts a sinner. WITH OPEN FUCKING ARMS.

So now by the time I’m in high school I’ve built a wall around myself to keep others from finding the bad me by being the clown and the jokester. I’m not motivated to do my work or even be there. I had lots of friends, I still have a friend that I went to kindergarten with and we talk daily. He’s seen me go through it all and he never wavered in his friendship. I love the dude. He’s like the brother I never had.

But I began to shift my focus from school to getting fucked up with the “cool” crowd. The first time I ever got drunk I met the acceptance I was looking for in my own mind about the “bad” me. I didn’t feel like a pariah anymore when I drank. I actually didn’t care anymore what might be wrong with me; I just acted like a jackass and was cool with it.

CUE RICK JAMES “I’m in love with Mary Jane.

Then I met HER. Bless her heart. It was love at first sight. To get high after school and roll around blasting the newest Outkast or No Limit record on the backroads of Tennessee was absolutely beautiful. “School? Who gives a flying fuck about that shit?” Let’s roll some blunts and get as high as it humanly fucking possible. Weed at least gave me enough introspective to calm the fuck down a bit. But I was always doing my best to get the Ménage a trois of me alcohol and Mary Jane. There’s just something about those 2 substances that really caress my balls and turned me into a fucking dumbass. But within a year or two of meeting her we were married. Best relationship I’ve had so far. She lets me cheat on her and fuck her friends, hell, she even lets me light her on fire and suck her down a pipe. She’s always there when I return from nasty herpes sex with her pals and she always gives me the bootie. Pretty good gal if you ask me. She’s definitely a keeper.

Hi! I’m Cocaine and this is my twin sister Crack. We want to fuck your brains out and Bukkake your fucking life with shit!

Two of the craziest but most beautiful women on Earth want to fuck the shit out of you and then leave you for dead. What do? I fucking go lose my virginity is what! “I can handle these whores. They’ve met their match this fucking time.” Many a better men than me have said these words and never returned.

So a few years out of high school I met my new best “friend.” “John Smith.” But his nickname was “Big John.” We hit it off the first time we ever hung out. It was almost as if I had always known the guy. We literally hung out everyday for around the next 6 years after the day we met. I shit you not except for a few holidays are when some family duties called we were together. I made lots of friends with John. It was fucking cool having friends like these.

I guess I should expound on “Mr. C” Let’s call him Chris. Chris was where it all came from. All the powder, all the Exctacy, most of the weed, It all originated from Chris. He was THE hookup to have. The thing about Chris was that most people had no idea that it was a good idea to vie for his attention if you wanted illicit drugs. He didn’t flaunt his position with a bunch of bullshit bravado. He just did what he did and tried to stay under the radar. I guess the thing about Chris was that he didn’t sell to users, he only sold to dealers and there were probably around 10 others that got all their dope from him. I knew a few of them. They would meet him at John’s house and there were some that I never met. I would hear Chris say he had to go meet so and so and no one ever questioned him about it. Who would? Who gave a fuck who he was fucking with as long as he kept answering your phone calls?

I had moved past having John calling Chris for me. It was a natural progression. I mean John wasn’t making money off of me; he was just making the phone calls for me. And after around a month of John calling for me daily Chris slipped me his number and told me to just call him myself. I literally felt like I just got made into La Cosa Nostra. All was right in the world. I had a good userbase and I trusted them and all I had to do now was call Chris myself if I ever needed anything. And when I say anything I mean anything. This dude was the fucking Wal-Mart of dope. You need powder? How much? You need X-pills? How many? You want some weed? How many pounds? When do you need it? He was a full service type muthafucker. Just as long as you got everything done before 7pm. I don’t really know why that was the cutoff for fucking with him but who could blame him? Who wants to riding around with massive amounts of dope after dark?

Chris once invited me to go on a ride with him one day. “Sure man, where we going?” “Atlanta.”he said with his confident coolness. Atlanta? Oh fuck. “How long we going to be down there for?” because with Chris you never knew. You get in the car with this muthafucker to go to Nashville to pick up some golf clubs and you might end up in the Opryland hotel for a day or two after watching him drop 5 grand at the strip club. You just never knew with him. Like I said, he didn’t show off his wealth to everyone, but when he did decide to blow off some steam, it was like being in a fucking Scorsese flick. The amount of money I had seen this dude drop on strip clubs alone would’ve bought you a brand new nice Honda. “A couple of hours at the most, we will be back before the night is over. I promise.” He said seeing the trepidation on my face. “Okay man, let’s roll out.” I said wondering if this might be the last bad decision I ever made. Off we went doing 90mph all the way through Chattanooga and on down Interstate 75. Now I am a bit of a paranoid type person when it comes to new places and people. I have a hard time letting people into my circle and I don’t really like going to places that I don’t know or am familiar with. Not the greatest quality to have but it is just how I am. I am a control freak. There I said it. So when we hit Marietta Chris asked if I wanted to stop and get a bite to eat. “Sure, I could eat .”I said even though my guts were in knots wondering if we were going to Atlanta’s fucking hood and how they were going to respond to some white kid invading it like Napoleon Dynamite. “Applebee’s alright with you?” “Sure man.” I said knowing I could at least get a glass of whiskey to calm my nerves. A GLASS OF WHISKEY. So in we go. We saunter up to the bar and have a seat. Kind of rough place it looks like to me but who could tell, It’s a fucking Applebees. I order a literal triple Crown and Coke and look at my menu like it’s in Japanese. The drinks come and godamned is this a strong drink. I manage to get through half of it before some Mexican dude sits down next to Chris and starts talking to him while giving me the eye. “Who the fuck is this dude?” I’m thinking, wishing that I would have brought my pistol with me. I had a .380 that I usually carried because it was small enough to fit in my pocket but I also had a Smith and Wesson 10mm that I carried for bigger deals and when meeting new people associated with the game but it was mainly to show off that I had a 10mm to other gun aficionados. I was naked today and regretting it. “This is Tony .”Chris said introducing us. No name was given to me and I was just fine with that. The Mexican ordered a drink as well and Chris and he began chatting it up. I just sat there drinking my drink texting people that I would be back in town soon and staring at the piped in ESPN or whatever the hell that Applebee’s had decided for its patrons to watch that day. I tried to listen to what they were saying but Chris had turned to talk to the guy and I could see that they were trying to be bit private so what of it. I ordered another drink hoping that we could get this fucking trip over with as soon as possible and wondered how in the fuck Chris knew a random Mexican in Marietta Georgia. And just like that the Mexican was gone. Now Chris is telling me to order something to eat and telling me to get whatever I wanted, it was on him. “Ah, I had a big breakfast, I think I’ll just get a little tanked.” Go ahead”, he said ordering a fucking plate of ribs. I’m going to be here longer than I wanted to I knew. So after the food is out and ANOTHER round of drinks the fucking Mexican is back. WHAT THE FUCK? A few more hushed minutes of talking and Chris is ready to go. Finally, lets meet our doom. Chris headed back toward the Interstate and gets on 75 North. “Hey man where are we goin? Atlanta is the other way.” “We are done dude. Its already in the car.” Chris said grinning with a knowing smile. What had happened was the Mexican came and got Chis’ car and had taken it God knows where and packed it down with the product while we were sitting in Applebee’s. I had no clue. “How much dope is in the car?” I asked hoping it wasn’t much. “Just 2 keys and 10 pounds of weed. Oh, and 4 jars of X-pills.”

HOLY FUCK THIS IS THE LAST MISTAKE I’VE EVER MADE.

90mph towards Chattanooga and I’m asking Chris if maybe he should slow down a bit. “Brother we ain’t pulling over for the fucking Army.” By some miracle we never saw a cop or anything all the way back to our town. I’m pretty sure my balls were stuck to my leg for a week after that I was sweating so much. We went straight to John’s house and he pulls out a huge fucking ziplock bag of coke and tells me to smell it. It smelled like fucking nail polish and looked a rainbow trout when you held a chunk up to the light. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Chris weighs out an ounce and gives it to me just for riding with him. Holy Shit. He then throws out about an eight ball on the table and says,”Lets try it.” I had never seen Chris do any powder and after the day I just had I was ready to get blitzed. We cracked out the whole eight ball into 8 lines. Chris, John and I did one of these massive lines and I almost fucking threw up my testicles. I had never done any powder that made me feel like this. This shit was fucking pure as pure gets when it comes to cocaine done in the states. The other 5 lines sat there for the rest of the night. We literally were fucking geeked for an hour and when we finally decided our hearts weren’t going to explode we decided not to test fate any more than we already had. That was a hell of a day and we were fucking lucky. That’s half of the dope game, PURE FUCKING LUCK.

Chris was a convicted felon from a drug bust a few years ago. He had gone to prison and done his time. I didn’t know much about it and I didn’t ask. But a few months before I got busted Chris’ house was raided after some punk bitch dropped a dime on him. And I’m not talking about a traffic ticket type brush with the law. I’m talking about full on half the sheriff’s department in riot gear type shit. They busted in his house and found 9 ounces of powder a pound or two of weed a pistol and $11,000 in cash. Chris was fucked like a Fleshlight at an all-boys boarding school. And before you think to yourself, “Why did he have all this shit in his own house?” He didn’t. It was in a stash house out in the country that was in his girlfriend’s name. I said I didn’t know everyone Chris fucked with and I guess he fucked with the wrong one. That’s all it takes is one weak muthafucker to topple the whole house of cards. Now I was going to have to make the decision whether or not I was going to topple someone else’s house.

After the bust. 24 hours.

I am a fucking wreck. I’m wondering if Chris will answer my phone calls or if he will even fuck with me now that I am suspect. I’m wondering if the TBI agent that these fucking cops were going to set me up with already knew about me, my address, what I was doing. Was he watching me already? And on top of it I’ve got my regular customers calling me wanting fucking powder. I’VE GOT TO MAKE A DECISION. The police said they were going to call me within 48 hours. It’s just too much to think about. I get drunk for a day straight and stall my customers. I can’t stall them for too long before they get to looking elsewhere for a hookup. Got to think fast and make up my mind. I asked John to call Chris for me. I just couldn’t think about him not fucking with me or telling me to not call him anymore. I didn’t want to think about not having the hookup anymore.

“Hello?”

“John, its me.”

“What’s up man? How you holding?”

“I’m a wreck man. Have you talked to Chris? Did you tell him what happened?”

“Yeah man. He said to call him.”

“Is he going to even fuck with me?”

“He wants to know if you need a front to get you back on your feet.”

GAME MUTHAFUCKIN ON.

I call Chris and get an order for an ounce. He’s completely sympathetic and we talk about how everything went down and even after all that neither one of us even considered John. I call my customers one by one and tell them what has transpired over the last 2 days and of course I get the usual dick sucking from them. Feigned heartbreak and the declarations of absolute support from them, but the question always follows after cock leaves their mouth. “You good?” “Yeah man. Come get it.” All the support in the world as long as I have what they need. COCAINE.

THE PHONE CALL

“Hey there Tony. This is officer dickface. How you doing today?”

“Fine. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve contacted our agent and he is ready to meet you today.”

And here we are. The decision. Am I a rat? Am I going to prison? Can I do the time? Can I rat out someone I know? Say, something you fool.

“No one will answer my calls Officer Dick Face.”

“You better get somebody on the line, we can still up the misdemeanor gun charge to a felony if you don’t.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do sir. Everyone knows I got busted and that I’m hot, they won’t touch me with a 10 foot pole.”

“You need to call us back within a week and update us on your status.”

“Sure, I’ll talk to you later.”

Attorneys Office, a few days later.

I tell this guy everything, I mean everything. I enjoy the attorney client privalege. It’s almost therapeutic. He asks me the question that will reverberate through my mind until this day.

“Did John set you up? “

HOLY SHIT. WHAT IF HE DID?

No way, I said with a hesitancy.

“Well, Tony , I think we’ve got a great chance at getting this thrown out based on the circumstances that you’ve explained to me about the case. My fee is $5,000 due today. Can you pay that?”

“Do you take cash?”

“Absolutely!”

“I bet you do you low life fuck.” I thought to myself as I went to my car to get the money. This was going to hurt paying this much but the guy was a talker and had all kinds of strategies, so I thought. And he told me this would NEVER get out of General Sessions Court where misdemeanor violations are handled. He said it had absolutely NO chance of being bound over to Circuit Court where the felony violations are tried

20 Months Later, CIRCUIT COURT.

The last 2 setting were upstairs in circuit court. The offer from the DA had been 8 years. Both times. This was essentially my last court setting before I either took a plea or went to trial. Going to trial was not an option. When you are caught, you are caught. You take that shit in front of a jury of your peers, yeah right, and they are going to fucking burn you for wasting their fucking time.

So, my attorney finally comes back with the last offer. 8 years and 1 day. I was incredulous. He had been telling me that the first 2 offers were just formalities. That they would eventually come down on it.

THEY ARE GOING UP WITH THE TIME JOE!

“I know, I know” he said. “I think I may be able to get you in boot camp.”

“What the fuck is boot camp?”

“It’s a 120 day program. You could be out in 5 months. If you don’t want to do that I’m going to need another 5 grand today and we will take it to trial”

“What choice do I have then? Fuck it, bring on the boot camp.”

Ill be out in 5 month? Hell yeah!

Turned myself in 48 hours later after pleading guilty to Poss. of Sch. II for resale.

I didn’t get out for 15 months. I sat languishing in the county jail for 10 months. At this time to help alleviate overcrowding in the state prisons the state was paying County Jails to hold state sentenced prisoners a per diem. So, the county I was in really didn’t like sending it’s inmates to prison because that was a loss of money to them. I actually had to hire another attorney and go back in front of the same judge that sentenced me and have him order the jail to send me to prison.

When I first saw West Tennessee State Penitentiary the lyrics from that UGK song came rushing back through my head, “… ain’t nothing promised to a player but the Penitentiary.” What bullshit. Why did I fall for this? I sold my soul to the devil and the price was cheap. A little bit of money and drugs was all it took for me to end up here.

I was there at WTSP for a month and then sent to boot camp. It was literally the hardest thing, physically, psychologically and emotionally that I’ve ever been through. But I made it.

I WAS FREE!

For 14 months before I violated with a DUI. I had married a crazy fucking whore 20 years older than me the day I was sentenced 15 months ago. She had a little money, a big house and a BMW. She said she loved me and would take care of me while I was inside. Can you put money on my books every week? Yes, and I will come visit you every week. And she did. And she fucked my friends and then came up and confessed all this to me behind plexiglass. I wanted to bash her head in. Those 20 months on the street waiting to go to jail was rough. By the end of it I was doing 7 grams a day. I could hardly function the last few weeks. But now that I was locked up with no drugs, she became my drug and I hated her for it. I decided that when I got out she would pay.

The night I got the DUI we were driving in the country her and I and one of my friends. She got so fucking drunk she started screaming for me to pull over and let her out. I pulled over and let her out thinking she just needed to take a few steps and catch her breath and then she would get in. She didn’t. She kept walking back and forth across the road and eventually slapping me so hard my ears rang. My friend caught me from decking her, I was raising my arm to give it back to her. I’m not advocating violence against women but this chick was from Chicago she was tall and she could hurt you. I will defend myself no matter the sex of the person that is attacking me. My buddy caught me and said, “Bro, leave that crazy bitch out here. Let’s go dude.” So that’s what we did. We went back to the house and sat in the driveway for a few minutes before I decided we had to go back and get her. 20 minutes away was how far she was. We want back and there were Sheriff’s deputies everywhere. They stopped me and asked me for my drivers license by name. They were waiting for me. They asked me what I was doing out there and I told them that I left my wife out here after we had an argument and she wouldn’t get back in the vehicle. “Well, Tony she is in a helicopter on the way to Vanderbilt. She might not live.”

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?

“You’re coming with us.” Aggravated Domestic Assault. 30 thousand dollar bond.

Got out 3 days later and went home to find this bitch laid up on bed with a neckbrace on. I asked her what the fuck happened to her and she says, “You threw me out of the vehicle.” YOU FUCKING TOLD THE COPS THAT YOU STUPID MUFFIN HEADED WHORE? “I don’t remember what happened she pleaded.” I brought the friend that was with us that night over to the house and he explained everything that happens since she couldn’t or wouldn’t believe me.

About a month later I was locked back up in the county on a violation. No bond. When I went in front of the judge the first time he asked me if I had an attorney. “No your honor I don’t. But do I need one to plead guilt? I’m ready to get this show on the road.”

“You need to speak with the DA.”

The DA was cool. He knew I didn’t want to prolong it and he knew I was just ready to start serving time in prison rather than the county. He told me to wait a few minutes and he would bring me the paper work for me to sign. He came back and told me to look over it and to make sure he had gotten the jail credits right before I signed it. I got to looking at it and he had given me jail credit for the entire 20 months that I was out going to court when I first got busted. He essentially knocked it from an 8 to a 6 year sentence. The judge accepted my plea and gave me the jail credits. I never said a word, I never acted like I was happy. This was a clerical error that was in my favor, that or the DA was being generous. Either way I wasn’t saying shit about it.

So back to prison for 4 years this time. I flattened my sentence. No parole, no probation. I went home to my parents house the day I got out. I had divorced the whore from prison for 11 dollars in honeybuns. Best 11 dollars I ever spent.

Now I received an 8 year sentence. Chris received 141 months in the federal system. The feds picked up his case because of the amount of money that he got caught with and maybe the pistol charge. Either way he’s been locked up for 13 years now. He should be getting out this year or next. Phill who I didn’t mention, but he was one of the four of us. He got two 10 year sentences. He out now but still got a bit of parole to do. And of course John. John never got a weekend in jail. Nothing. John never wrote me, never answered my calls while I was in. I’m not mad. I am who I am today thanks probably to him. As far as I know my attorney never filed a motion of discovery on the case. If he did John’s name was never brought up. But if he was a C.I. the police made sure it stayed that way. I’ll never know 100% if John set me up. I’ll guess 99% will have to do.

The post Confessions Of A Former Cocaine Dealer appeared first on Caveman Circus.


The Dumping Grounds

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funny pictures

funny pictures

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Ex CIA chief of disguise explains how the CIA uses disguises

 

Why Beautiful Things Make us Happy – Beauty Explained 

 

WWE Superstar Roman Reigns reveals his ongoing battle with leukemia, relinquishes title

 

The Porsche 911 GT2RS Is the Craziest 911 Ever

 

Touring A Massive $188 Million California Mega Mansion

 

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Linkage

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Losing Your Virginity to a Sex Worker Can Be Therapeutic – VICE

Philosophers Name the Best Philosophy Books: From Stoicism and Existentialism, to Metaphysics & Ethics for Artificial Intelligence – Open Culture

This $38 Security Camera Is Better Than Cameras 5x More Expensive – Amazon

Putin: US global domination is coming to an end – AOL

How to be happy and lead a meaningful life – Get Rich Slowly

The best countries to move for work and make more money – Quartz

I Know the Salaries of Thousands of Tech Employees – Medium

Why ‘The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time’ Will Always Be the “Best Game Ever – The Ringer

How A 28-Year-Old Got Fired Then Built A $500K-A-Month Business While Traveling The World – Forbes

Costco Builds Nebraska Supply Chain For Its $5 Rotisserie Chickens – NPR

UN declares France’s niqab ban ‘violates human rights’ – Daily Mail

How Russian Trolls Inflamed the NFL’s Anthem Controversy – WSJ

Sarah Silverman Says Louis C.K. Masturbated in Front of Her With Her Consent – Variety

6-Year-Old Invites 32 Of His Classmates To His Birthday Party And No One Shows Up – Barstool

Lindsay Pelas is Basically Naked of the Day – Drunken Stepfather

You can not automatically feed your dog with wifi – Amazon

13 Changes You Need to Go Through by the Time You’re 30 to Live Without Regret at 50 – Bright Side

How to Lengthen Your Life – The Book Of Life

Would You Pass the Green Card Marriage Interview? – NY Times

14 Ways To Save At Costco, Straight From The Employees – Eat This

No Such Thing as Too Much Exercise, Study Finds – Gizmodo

17 ‘Girly Man’ Traits That Would Make Your Father Ashamed – Average2Alpha

10 Things You Might Not Know About Pappy Van Winkle Whiskey – First We Feast

The rise of Patreon – the website that makes Jordan Peterson $80k a month – The Guardian

Man Hacks His Own Penis Off After Watching Hardcore Porn On His Phone – Sick Chirpse

5 Essential Investments Every Human Being Should Make In Themselves – The Mission

The post Linkage appeared first on Caveman Circus.

Shirogane-sama

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Welcome To Caveman’s Fight Club!

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Conor McGregor breaks down Khabib fight

View this post on Instagram

Thoughts on my last fight. Round 1. I believe from a sport standpoint, round 1 was his. Top position against the fence. Zero position advancement or damage inflicted. But top position. From a fight standpoint the first round is mine. Actual shots landed and a willingness to engage. Straight left early. Knee to the head on the low shot. Elbows in any and all tie up scenarios. Opponent just holding the legs against the fence for almost the entire round. Round 2 he is running away around the cage before being blessed with a right hand that changed the course of the round, and the fight. It was a nice shot. After the shot I bounced back up to engage instantly, but again he dipped under to disengage. That is the sport and it was a smart move that led to a dominant round, so no issue. Well played. If I stay switched on and give his stand up even a little more respect, that right hand never gets close and we are talking completely different now. I gave his upright fighting no respect in preparation. No specific stand up spars whatsoever. Attacking grapplers/wrestlers only. That won’t happen again. I also gave my attacking grappling no respect. To defense minded. Lessons. Listen to nobody but yourself on your skill set. You are the master of your own universe. I am the master of this. I must take my own advice. Round 3. After the worst round of my fighting career, I come back and win this round. Again walking forward, walking him down, and willing to engage. Round 4. My recovery was not where it could have been here. That is my fault. Although winning the early exchanges in 4, he dips under again and I end up in a bad position with over 3 on the clock. I work to regain position and end up upright, with my back to the fence. A stable position. Here however, I made a critical error of abandoning my over hook at this crucial time, exposing the back, and I end up beaten fair and square. What can I say? It was a great fight and it was my pleasure. I will be back with my confidence high. Fully prepared. If it is not the rematch right away, no problem. I will face the next in line. It’s all me always, anyway. See you soon my fighting fans I love you all ❤

A post shared by Conor McGregor Official (@thenotoriousmma) on

 

Nasty kick to the face!

 

Dominick Cruz puts on a wrestling clinic

 

This is how all fights should end…respect

 

Randy from Trailer Park Boys!

 

Lingerie Fighting Championship!

 

The Great Muangthai demonstrating the untapped potential of elbows

 

How Headbutts Change Fighting – Burmese Boxing|Lethwei

 

Guy tries to sucker punch 7-11 employee

 

Hold my beer…

 

Classic: Bully gets knocked the fuck out!

 

The post Welcome To Caveman’s Fight Club! appeared first on Caveman Circus.

The Daily Man-Up: #1 Mistake People Make When Building A Habit

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(photo: @echaparro)

So as the title implies, No.1 mistake people do when they start building a habit is relying too much on willpower. They believe that building a healthy habit like daily exercising, is only possible if you go hard and you push yourself everyday to show up and be disciplined.

While this plan might work for people who have trained and grown their willpower muscle to above average size (think: really fit and healthy people, who just keep on getting healthier), it won’t work for majority of us, because of a single reason that willpower is finite resource and if we ask more than it can handle – we’ll quit.

So here are my 6 thoughts on Willpower. Most of it is research based, and if you wish, I could find the sources of the studies made.

  1. Willpower is a muscle that has limited capacity and fluctuates during the day
    Think of it as a cup of liquid willpower drink. When you wake up, if you had a good night sleep, you feel rested – this is when your willpower cup is full. That’s why we feel like we can do so much in the first part of the day and the afternoon seems like a less productive one. It also fluctuates during the day. We start high, then drain it until lunch, when we take a break, replenish the willpower cup as much as possible and we get on with the rest of the to-dos until the evening where we get ‘brain-dead’ and just want to veg out.

  2. You drain your willpower with every decision you make
    Every decision we have to make, every task we got to do, drains our willpower cup, drop by drop. And each task we have to do has an estimated amount of willpower it will require to complete. So even if it’s a morning and you don’t feel like doing the task in front of you, it’s probably because your brain thinks that to complete the task, you will need a lot more willpower than is left in your cup and you just move on with doing other less important, but more pleasant things.

  3. You charge your willpower by doing things you WANT to do
    Luckily, we can refill the willpower cup and we do that by taking breaks, escaping to Social Media, having lunch, power nap etc. Basically doing something we really enjoy and we don’t have force ourselves to do. So while we do what we want, our willpower cup is slowly getting refilled. That’s why we *usually* feel energized to start working again after the holidays.

  4. Our brain, preserves the willpower when it’s low
    When we’re low on willpower, our brain naturally reserves it for some emergency action and tries to deny any task that requires more effort than you have willpower left. It just feeds your brain with all the tiredness, all the reasons why you shouldn’t do something and why it’s a good idea to escape and do something fun. Right now.

  5. If you want to do stuff even when your willpower is drained, key is to make decisions so small, it requires almost no willpower at all
    There is a way how to trick your brain, when your willpower is low, to do something that would otherwise look like it’s too much effort. It’s splitting the big goal into micro goals. E.g. if you need to write 1000 words essay, you say – I’m gonna start by writing 25 words. I’ll make a 5min break and will write another 25 words. Something that is so ridiculously small that your brain is like ‘okay okay, as long as I don’t to put too much effort, I’m okay with that’. Trick is not to come with the ‘trick’ mentality. Actually say to yourself that I don’t wanna do this, but I will do 1% of it, because it’s so little and even if I don’t do any more, I will be 1% closer. It will feel good, believe me. And maybe you’ll even get enough dopamine to keep going 😉

  6. Willpower goes hand in hand with your body health
    Willpower is not only mental game. As mentioned in the beginning – there is no way you’ll be able to tackle big important tasks if you have slept 4 hours. If you just had full pizza + coke. If you haven’t exercised in 3 months. If your body is unhealthy, your mind will be busy in activating all the cells in your body to deal with all the sh*t that comes when you’re unhealthy. It just has a focus of survival rather than growth and improvement. So the best way to increase the size of you willpower cup is to take care of your body health (fitness + nutrition + sleep) and you’ll see how you will be naturally more likely to be more productive, more focused and feel like you can move a mountain every single day.

Thus when thinking about building a healthy habit, the best strategy you can take is to forget about using willpower for that all together and set actions so ridiculously small, that it requires no willpower at all. How to know what’s the limit? Set yourself a goal. E.g. I’m going for 5 pushups every morning. You do it for 5 days, but don’t feel like doing it on 6th? Go even lower – 4 pushups. Or 3. At least 1. If you feel like doing 1 pushup is too much, you’re probably want to do pushups for the wrong reasons in the first place and you should just think of other action, that you will not be discouraged by. This strategy is super powerful because it ensures your habit building doesn’t fail because of fluctuations in willpower.

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A Few Answers To Questions You Always Wondered About

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What is it like to train on steroids?

This answer is based on testosterone. Other steroids can vary… although broadly similar.

Once they start to kick in, you’ll notice:

  1. Improved strength – nothing crazy, but you will consistently increase your current max weights every week of your cycle. In every exercise. If you have hit a plateau anywhere you’ll smash through it. You need to be careful you don’t damage joints and tendons (although with testosterone the added water helps with this).
  2. Improved endurance. You’ll be able to do more reps and more sets before you run out of power. There’s just more gas in the tank.
  3. Improved focus. It’s much easier to make the mind-muscle connection. Rather then dragging your tired ass through a difficult workout – you’ll be fully focused on every movement and what muscle you are hitting. You’ll be able to channel the added focus/aggression to your goals.
  4. Improved recovery. You’ll be able to hit it hard in the gym every time – because you won’t be sore from the previous punishing you gave yourself. You can train every day of the week without significant soreness. Sometimes you feel like you can train twice a day. I always give the example of my leg day. On cycle I can do an insane squatting session, then wake up the next day like nothing happened. Normally that would be me effectively disabled for a couple of days. I get bad DOMS in the legs… but not on cycle.
  5. Improved libido. Be careful which hot gym girls you look at and what you let wander into your thoughts, because you’ll have yourself a giant unwanted erection. It’s happened to me on a treadmill before to the point where I had to stop!
  6. Overall feeling of well being and that “everything is gonna be ok”.

What they won’t do:

  1. Change your personality. If you are getting “roid rage” then chances are you are a jackass already.
  2. Improve your shit form. Learn the correct moves before you start.
  3. Turn you into the Hulk on your first cycle.

Don’t forget that this is all temporary – when you stop taking them you’ll face a steady journey downhill to weakness. Sure you can keep SOME gains, but not anywhere near as much as you’ll want to. Your body strives to return to it’s natural baseline. This is not pleasant and it will make you want to stay on the gear 24–7 for life.

Of course there are some other major “safety” considerations, but the question was specifically about what it feels like so I’ll leave it there.

– Dave

 

 

What was the ‘Deliverance’ Machine?

The “Deliverance Machine”, invented by Philip Nitschke was a euthanasia device which consisted of a notebook computer and software titled “Deliverance”, which asks the patient a series of questions, and automatically administers a lethal injection of barbiturates if the correct answers are made.

The following three questions were displayed on the laptop screen and required the patient to click the “Yes” button in order to proceed:

1. Are you aware that if you go ahead to the last screen and press the “Yes” button, you will be given a lethal dose of medications and die?

2. Are you certain you understand that if you proceed and press the “Yes” button on the next screen that you will die?

3. In 15 seconds you will be given a lethal injection… press “Yes” to proceed.

 

 

How does a doctor go about revealing to his patient that he has a terminal illness?

They teach us to get down to the patient’s level, so it doesn’t feel like you’re talking down to them (literally and figuratively). But, ideally you wouldn’t tell them bad news in the waiting room. You would want to do it in an exam room or your office, where both of you can sit comfortably facing each other.

I was surprised to learn there is actually a really structured way on how to tell a patient bad news. Literally a 6 step process that all physicians are taught to follow.

For this example lest say the patient has lung cancer.

Generally the first step involves saying something like What is your current understanding of your condition or what have you been told so far this is to determine how much the patient knows. Because if the patient has been told the news by the radiology staff or another physician, you are just going to look stupid when you deliver the actual news (that the patient has cancer).

The second step is to say something like I’m sorry, but I have some bad news or I’m sorry, I truly wish I had better news for you this is what we call a warning shot. Basically it primes the patient’s brain to accept the following sentence. These phrases help lessen the anticipation. Because, in a way, you have already told the patient the bad news without actually saying they have cancer.

The third step would be to actually say the news. Something like I’m sorry, but I have some bad news. The biopsy indicates you have invasive lung cancer some interesting things about this phrase is that it’s short, simple, and pretty much universally understandable by anyone who isn’t familiar with medicine. Things we aren’t supposed to say would be like you have stage 4 small cell carcinoma instead of just you have cancer. Because a patient might misunderstand what you are saying.

The fourth step is to just be quiet. After you break the news to them the patient’s brain will be flooded with emotion, adrenaline, and all kinds of thoughts. The rule of thumb is to be quiet for at least 10 seconds. It’s important to let the patient process the news.

Interestingly, the hard part isn’t even telling them they have cancer. It’s answering any questions they might have and being supportive without being too emotional. The fifth step is to find out if they have questions and provide them with answers. Some hard questions a patient might have would be, Is this because of the smoking, is this my fault, did I do this to myself, am I the reason my children will grow up without a mother? or the patient might just break down. I imagine it would be incredibly difficult to keep composure if the patient says something like I just found out my wife is pregnant and there is no chance I will get to witness the birth of my first child.

The last step is to develop a plan for follow up care. Find out what the patient’s goals are. Do they want chemo or just hospice care? Chemo would offer a slightly increased life span (the life expectancy might increase from 3 months to 5 months) but your life could be miserable during those two extra months. Some patients know the prognosis is terminal no matter what is done, and they choose not to have any chemo so their last few months on earth can be a happy and comfortable experience. So, depending on the patient’s goals (extending their life vs maintaining their quality of life) you would help them accordingly.

 

 

How do you die from a crucifixion?

Quite interestingly, most often suffocation then drowning. The weight of your body as it pulls you down with your arms splayed out pushes up your ribcage against your lungs. Making it nearly impossible to pull in a breath. The lack of oxygen causes damage to tissues and blood vessels, allowing fluid to diffuse out of the blood into the lungs and around the heart.

Fun fact, the holy lance or spear of destiny (used to check if Jesus was dead) was to see if clear fluid would run from the wound when his lung was pierced, confirming death. Most people believe the spear was to coup de grace but prisoners were usually unresponsive for a while before being lanced.

 

 

What does it feels like to miss out on relationships until later in life 

Honestly, yes, I do feel like I “missed out.” As I’ve grown older, I believe more and more that a sense of relational exploration is vital in one’s adolescent years. I went to a high school where I didn’t have the opportunity to explore that side of myself and college … well, suffice to say that college sucked, too. It leaves you feeling stunted and underdeveloped, and like you’re waiting on some train you’re not sure even exists. Not to mention the lack of self-trust you experience because you don’t know if you can trust yourself with any possible relationship. Always wondering, “will I stay because I don’t know better?” or “will I leave because I’m always wondering what else is out there and I’m afraid to ‘settle’?” It gets old walking around feeling like an impending mid-life crisis.

And then you have to hear from a bunch of people telling you how “it’ll happen at the right time” and yaddayadda, all while they’re fucking each other and not you. Or listening to other people tell you how “it’s not really that big a deal,” all the while failing to realize that they have those experiences to draw wisdom from and you … don’t. You don’t have anything. Feeling like you can’t be honest in telling a girl, “Yeah, this is my first real relationship,” because of perceived social stigmas against emotionally underdeveloped and inexperienced males. So you put on this mask, pretending like you know what you’re doing, knowing the whole time you have fucking clue what you doing or talking about.

 

 

How effective are knuckle dusters in a real street fight?

I was having a few drinks with some Scottish men outside of a nightclub called ‘Spicy’ in the late evening hours. There were probably about 20 – 30 other people milling around on the street outside of Spicy, some drinking, some trying their best moves on the women they were with. These Scottish men seemed pretty cool, other than their conservative dress, they had a wicked sense of humor. They mentioned that they were just passing through and worked in the oil industry. They introduced me to a local Thai man that they said was their ‘man about town’ showing them what to do and where to go. It was the night before Songkran, the biggest holiday in Thailand, where the country basically shuts down for several days, at least so in Chiang Mai, Thailand where we were. It is one of the biggest and funnest parties on the planet.

Just as I was talking with one of the men, I got ‘cold cocked’ with a wicked punch from behind at 45 degrees from the Thai man wearing a metal knuckle duster. Just as that wicked punch landed on my right jaw, just beside my nose, several of the Scottish men took pot shots at me as well.

I never fell down, there was blood gushing from my nose and was all over my white tee shirt. I screamed like a drill sergeant (I am an infantry combat veteran) and said “where in the fuck is that little shit that punched me” Now women were screaming, people were running about, I could see several of the Scottish men running, and just then one of the bouncers of Spicy handed me a broom handle (I had a very good relationship with the staff of that bar as I had spent a lot of time and money and was a big tipper).

I ran to where I could see one of the Scottish men and wicked him with the broom handle as he was trying to start his motor bike. He turned to me and said “Mate, Im sorry, but I didn’t do anything, Im really sorry” He looked to be only around 22 or 23, and I didn’t see him punch me, I think it was only a couple of the 5 men that took the pot shots at me. I said “Where in the fuck is that Thai guy, and where are your buddies?” 
Mate, I really dont know. I told him to go.

By now the street had pretty much cleared up of people, and I took my shirt off and put pressure on my nose to stop the bleeding, and then rode my motor bike to the hospital. By now the adrenaline had wore off and I was feeling the pain. They took and X-Ray, and said that my jaw had been fractured in 3 places, and that they were going to have to put several stitches on the right side of my lower nose out towards my jaw.

I was not knocked out, and I was not even knocked to the ground. I dont say this to brag. I am 6′3″ and 245 lbs. and was training in Muay Thai for the last year. In addition to that I have been in several street fights and have took some heavy shots to my face and body and have never been knocked down. I think the reason I was not knocked down or knocked out was that the man who took the shot with the knuckle duster was a short man probably about 5′5″ and only about 140 lbs, and he hit me at an angle. In addition to that, I have been hit many times, and in the last year of Muay Thai training have taken a fair amount of hard shots, so Im sort of used to it. So his small size and light weight, angle of punch from behind to a man that is almost a foot taller and 100 lbs heavier. All of this taken into effect is why I most likely did not get knocked down or out.

However, the damage was done, he fractured my jaw in 3 places and I had to get 9 stitches on my face that was swollen for the better part of a week.

I’ll tell you what, I would not want any man to be on the end of me punching him with a metallic knuckle duster. Not only would he have a severe concussion, that damned thing destroys the flesh it hits, and would probably have to get cosmetic surgery. Knuckle dusters are evil, and any man that uses them is a fucking pussy. The Karma he will endure shall make him suffer more than he could ever imagine.

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A Few Videos Showing You Why You Should NEVER Stick Your Dick In Crazy!

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Baby Mama Sets Mans Car On Fire!

 

So lucky he filmed this shit!

 

Husband Films His Wife Throwing A Tantrum When He Says No To Her!

 

Broken up the day before. Ex comes back to grab stuff – commits assault, is locked out

 

“I’m not taking you camping, you just tried to murder me”

 

Ex-girlfriend destroys dude’s car

 

She’s not afraid to go to jail!

 

Camera Records Wife Allegedly Hiring Hit Man to Kill Husband

 

Dat Smile!

 

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How Drug Dealers Get Caught, As Told By A Police Officer

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By Anyonymous

Disclaimer: We do not endore the selling or buying of drugs. This is strictly for entrainment purposes only

I am a LEO (Law Enforcement Officer) for a medium sized city (I will not provide proof, sorry everyone), we have about 80K in population. The city is a college city so half of the population is young, experimental, and stupid. Then we have the 3-4 percenters who make a comfortable wage, have a college degree, and enjoy their life. Then we have the rest of the population who are criminals, minimum wage adults supporting families, and homeless people.

The cities average income is 19K a year and we have the most meth labs per square mile than any other place in the USA.

I’m one of the believers in legalization of all drugs. Not only could we make a mountain of cash taxing all drugs, we could stop throwing in billions trying to stop them. We’d be saving and gaining, the best kind of financial decision.

I see a lot of info on the internet about dealing and I want to help you not get caught which also helps us save money.

  • If you sell Marijuana, you’re risk far outweighs your reward. It’s a very bulky drug making it hard to transport large amounts. If police bring a dog, you’re screwed because we will rip that car to pieces finding your stash. If you don’t seal it correctly, it will smell, instant probable cause. If one of your customers gets caught, he will rat, someone only smoking weed is not a thug or in the “snitches get stitches” category. They probably have a life and future.

  • If you’re a low level dealer, your chances of getting caught go down a lot. Unless we catch you in the act of selling or with product, it takes way too much money to throw an investigation together to catch you.

  • If you’re getting your product off the DNM (Dark Net Market) and get a CD, deny everything and get a lawyer. Your charges will be dropped.

  • Do not carry a gun. Your charges triple if you are caught with a firearm while selling any illegal substance and you will be in prison.

  • Hiding your drugs in some crazy place in your car is dumb. If we are pulling you over for drugs, we are finding those drugs, otherwise it’s probably just a normal traffic stop.

  • If the police come knocking, do not answer. Again, if we have a warrant, we are entering, no questions asked. Otherwise, you have no obligation to answer the door and doing so can open a can of worms that you want closed.

  • Have a life outside of dealing. If caught, your chances of going to jail go down a lot. If you deal for a living and have nothing else in your life like college, a job, or kids, you’re more than likely going to spend some time in jail.

  • Don’t advertise on social media. Seriously, you’d be surprised at the number of times this happens. “Anyone need any tree?”, you’re getting arrested in a week, tops.

  • Use a burner phone that isn’t attached to your name. If found as evidence, say you found it on the side of the road and then plead the 5th.

  • Lawyer the fuck up. Having a lawyer is like having lube during anal sex, sure it will still hurt, but it will go a lot easier than not having it.

  • Know your rights. My God people. If you are in handcuffs, shut the fuck up. Don’t cry. Don’t beg. Just sit in the seat, and calm the fuck down. Any word you say past “I plead the 5th and I am requesting a lawyer” will pretty much erase any deniability you have.

  • If you’re ordering from the DN, do not brag about it.

  • Keep your stash off your property. Seriously. If we have a warrant and come up empty, you’re pushed to the bottom of the investigation list and will not be in jail at the end of that raid.

  • Don’t tell anyone you’re close to that you deal. Your girlfriend is going to get you in prison. Your friends will be interrogated, as will your family. If they don’t know anything, you make a much better case for yourself.

  • Don’t live with your girlfriend. Dealing is a life/career choice and it has requirements to keep yourself out of prison. This is one.

  • Break one law at a time.

  • Don’t corner deal. Somehow this is still a thing in our city. You will only last 3 weeks, tops.

  • If you sell the best stuff in town, you’re name is going to get thrown around a lot.

The biggest thing to remember is that, if we want you, you’re getting caught. It’s impossible to hide yourself completely. Everybody talks, you may only sell to friends but those friends have friends that you don’t know, and those friends have friends that you also don’t know. You could literally sell to one person, and your chances of getting caught are still very high.

Stay safe out there guys, I don’t want to have to ruin your life over something petty.

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The Dumping Grounds

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funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

funny pictures

This is what assisted suicide actually looks like

 

The Ultimate Car Wash

 

The true face of suicide. An interview with a man severely disfigured after shooting himself

 

What’s inside a police car

 

Chicken Nugget Rampage

 

Trying To Cope With A Severely Autistic Child

 

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Linkage

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How to Get a Friend Out of an MLM – VICE

Meet Ken Block’s 914-HP Hoonitruck – Jalopnik

Breaking: UFC, ONE Championship close to trade involving Demetrious Johnson and Ben Askren – ESPN

The $80 Smartwatch That’s Better Than Apple’s – Amazon

The truth about organic food and cancer – AOL

What Does It Take to Run a Whole Animal Butcher Shop? – Eater

Tennessee doctor borrowed $300K from a patient, then diagnosed her with dementia – Tennessean

Staring Contest with Emily Ratajkowski – GFY

Everything I Knew About Reading Was Wrong – Hackernoon

A damn fine collection of bewbs and awesomeness – Leenks

Can A Pro Photographer Distinguish Between Photos Taken With A $500 Camera And A $4,000 Camera? – YouTube

He Won Powerball’s $314 Million Jackpot. It Ruined His Life – Washington Post

Assistant Coach For Michigan’s Women’s Gymnastics Team Resigned After He Was Arrested For Having Sex With Gymnast In Public – Sports Gossip

Rob Gronkowski’s Girlfriend Camille Kostek Is the First Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Rookie for 2019 – The Blemish

Quality vs Crap: This Chef’s Knife Will Last You A Lifetime – Amazon

Elon Musk Appears to Be Building Some Sort of Batcave Underneath Los Angeles – Gizmodo

8x Mr. Olympia Ronnie Coleman May Never Walk Again – Spot Me Bro

I Started Vaping to Quit Smoking, and It Was a Huge Mistake – Men’s Health

Sophie Mudd Massive Teets of the Day – Drunken Stepfather

Kaley Cuoco, Taylor Swift and Other Random Women – G-Celeb

5 Self Care Rituals Backed by Science – Tata

The Disturbing Reason Incels Are Obsessed With Teenage Love – Mel Magazine

The 10 highest-paid TV actors in the world are from just 4 shows, and some are making over $20 million a year – Business Insider

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Hotness Galore

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Reaction GIFs Beeeyotch!

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Life after everyone checked their Mega Millions lottery ticket

 

Me landing on just visiting in Monopoly

 

When my girlfriend suggests that nows a good time to have kids

 

When I get a sneeze tease

via Gfycat

 

When I learn that the declared goal of the war on drugs was to eliminate the illegal drug market by 2019

 

When I walk into my friends house and his parents are screaming at each other

 

The Coca Cola company responding to complaints during 1891

 

When I tell my autistic child to get off YouTube and go to bed

 

When I check my bank account on Sunday

 

When I win the Lottery

 

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There Are Some Things You Just Can’t Argue With

A Few Photos To Help You Scratch That Nostalgic Itch


The Daily Man-Up

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I know some guys that are virtually fearless. I’m talking about really tough guys, the type who don’t back down from nearly any situation, regardless of how dangerous it may be. But for some reason, the only thing that makes them hesitate is the thought of approaching a beautiful woman.

Without getting too philosophical, there’s a growing trend of young men who don’t have the romantic life they want. The big joke on internet communities and online gaming is being “forever alone” and not having a girlfriend. And it’s because we’re afraid. Afraid of looking stupid, afraid of being laughed at or ridiculed, but mostly, afraid of being rejected.

And I ask why, why are we so protective of ourselves? We would rather play it safe and feel unfulfilled than to take a risk and go after what we desire. The problem is, we’re the only ones that end up losing in these situations. As Wayne Gretzky said, we miss 100% of the shots we don’t take.

A few years ago, I decided to develop the lifestyle I dreamed of, become more social, and meet more women. It was one of the most difficult and simultaneously rewarding choices I have ever made. But I grew more than ever as a person and I became the man I am today. It’s the reason I’m even writing this post right now.

So I propose to you, drop your defenses and embrace whatever challenges you may face. You’ll often find me saying that dating is a numbers game and that’s because it’s the truth. If you meet one new girl a month, you have a single opportunity to make a connection. If you meet ten new girls a month, you’ve increased your odds dramatically.

Push yourself to talk to everyone. Start simple by making small talk with the working people you encounter daily – cashiers, baristas, and even a stranger holding the door. Being socially confident is just like building a muscle in the body. The more you exercise it, the more defined, versatile, and natural it is to use.

Soon enough you’ll see how easy and seemingly ordinary it is to strike up conversation. You will be excited to talk and encounter new personalities instead of avoiding them. And then at an unexpected moment, you’ll notice her.

Maybe quietly drinking her coffee. Maybe picking out fresh vegetables at the market. Maybe standing in line behind you ready to buy an iPhone. What kind of guy are you going to be?

The guy who wishes he had done something? Or the one who took a chance and put himself on the line?

(Hint: Only the second route leads to the girl of your dreams.)

Check out more awesome articles at Nick Notas

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Poll Of The Day

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A-Rod wants to reduce his child support from 115k a month to day 20k a month. He says he’s not making as much as he used to when he was playing baseball with the Yankees.

Do you think $115k a month too much or too little for what he's worth?
  • Add your answer

 

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Fascinating Photos Collected From History

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Albert Einstein giving a lecture on the Theory of Relativity, 1922

 

Swiss explorer, mountaineer and skier, Xavier Mertz, and his team of huskies in Adelie Land in 1912

 

The Girl with the Chin Tattoo, 1863

Olive Ann Oatman was the first white American woman to have a tattoo. Born in 1837 in Illinois, Oatman was kidnapped and enslaved by a Native American tribe when she was 14 years old, along with her sister in present-day Arizona in 1851.

A year later, they were sold to the Mohave people and in keeping with the tribal customs, both Oatman girls were tattooed on their chins and arms. Such tattoos were only given to their own people to ensure that they would both enter the land of the dead and be recognized as Mohaves by their ancestors.

Oatman spoke fondly of her time with the Mohaves and declared, “to the honor of these savages let it be said, they never offered the least unchaste abuse to me.” In 1854, she chose not to reveal herself to white railroad workers who spent time in the Mohave Valley trading and interacting with the tribe. Her younger sister died of starvation a year or two later when there was a severe drought in the region.

Soon rumors of a white girl living with the Mohaves spread and the authorities at Fort Yuma demanded her release. Initially resisting the request, the Mohaves relented under the threat of violence. Oatman was escorted on a 20-day journey to Fort Yuma where she discovered that her brother Lorenzo was still alive and had been looking for them.

 

Fannie Mills (1860 – 1899) aka “The Ohio Big Foot Girl” suffered from Milroy Disease which causes disruption of the normal drainage of lymph which leads to fluid accumulation in the legs and feet.

 

Winners of the Miss Correct Posture Contest, 1956

 

Early halloween costumes from the late 19th/early 20th century 

 

Micky Mouse Club, 1930s 

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Micky Mouse Club, 1930s #disney

A post shared by History Cool Kids (@historycoolkids) on

 

Shrek was rumored to have been based off of a real person named Maurice Tillet, a Russian-born French professional wrestler, aka The French Angel, 1940s

 

Beauty pageant winners, 1922

 

Mildred and Richard Loving, an interracial couple who fought Virginia’s law against interracial marriages. They would go on to end all race-based legal restrictions on marriage in the US in 1967.During the trial, Richard Loving told his attorney to just prove one thing to the court, “Show them that I love my wife.”

 

These two boys were exposed to the same smallpox source. One was vaccinated, the other wasn’t. Photo taken by Dr. Allan Warner in the early 1900s.

In 1796, English physician and scientist, Edward Jenner, developed the smallpox vaccine, the world’s first vaccine.

184 years later, the World Health Organization certified the global eradication of the smallpox disease in 1980.

 

Inuit woman, Nome, Alaska, 1903

 

A young Ho Chi Minh speaking to the French Communist Party in Paris in 1920

 

Bill Gates beams into the 1997 Macworld conference, pledging a $150 million investment in his struggling competitor while the crowd jeers and boos

 

Omaha beach head, 3 days after D-Day. June 9, 1944

 

An African American man being stoned to death by whites during the Chicago Race Riot of 1919 

 

Suge Knight Disses Puff Daddy At The Source Awards, Igniting The East Coast/West Coast Rap War, August 3, 1995

 

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The Dumping Grounds

Linkage

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This Is What Living on Minimum Wage Looks Like – VICE

Meet The Softies: The Men Who Celebrate Flaccidity And Send ‘Soft Dick Pics’ –

This $25 Box Turns Any Desk Into A Standing Desk- Amazon

Man gets year in prison for hanging black doll – AOL

Designer babies aren’t futuristic. They’re already here – MIT

What is the internet? 13 key questions answered – The Guardian

Warren Buffett’s “2 List” Strategy: How to Maximize Your Focus and Master Your Priorities – James Clear

Grilled Pizza with Hojiblanca Olives from Spain and Spanish Chorizo Sausage – 5 Minutes

Parents: let your kids fail. You’ll be doing them a favor – Quartz

An Absurdly Complete Guide to Understanding Whiskey – Eater

Do These 4 Things to Stay Safe Online – Van Schneider

A Complete Guide to New York City Hamburger Styles – NY Eater

How to retire in your 30s: save most of your money and rethink your core values – VOX

The States Where You Pay The Most And Least Taxes, Mapped – Digg

This Gadget Will Chill Your Beer Almost Instantly – Amazon

Meet The Bros Behind /r/WallStreetBets, Who Lose Hundreds Of Thousands Of Dollars In A Day — And Brag About It –

Psilocybin mushrooms granted Breakthrough Therapy Designation by FDA – New Atlas

How Engineers Designed A Hurricane-Proof Beach House – Popular Science

Breaking down Tesla’s balance sheet: heavy debt, supplier IOUs and dwindling cash – Reuters

The Mindset That Makes You Better With Money – Medium

This “Vegan Social Influencer” Is Being Called “The Reason Why People Hate Millennials” – Barstool Sports

What I Learned About Life at My 30th College Reunion – The Atlantic

Instagram sensations the Gonazlez Twins want in on the WNBA – Sports Gossip

Maginficent Side Bewbs – Leenks

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