2021.10.20 22:16 Fearless-Cause-6284 If only i could trade these for credits...
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2021.10.20 22:16 spicydeli27 Some of my mom's decorative cookie orders!
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2021.10.20 22:16 theserpentsmiles The Jester Is...
>!Jester is Roger Daltrey.
Opera OS/SE logo in the package: He has done several Rock Operas. Most influential people: The Who is one of the 100 Most Influential Band One of the Who's biggest songs "Won't get FOOLED again." British, around the right age.!<
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2021.10.20 22:16 1iljeep I can't be the only one who works everywhere EXCEPT the artboard😂
2021.10.20 22:16 TalkativeRat_665 She-Ra Season 1 Tournament. Preliminaries Round 4
With a close victory, the episode that moves on to the semifinals this round is:
Episode 2 “The Sword: Part 2”
Now begins the final round of the preliminaries, where the last batch of episodes from season 1 will compete to see which one will advance in the tournament.
As always, this poll will be up for 2 days and after that the semifinals will begin, which will consist of two rounds that will last 2 days each. Have fun and may the best episode win!
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2021.10.20 22:16 thepositivepandemic Guys, if you're gonna Marseille 2 XP farm, do it in a private lobby like normal fucking people.
Was trying to play Marseille 2 on Extreme & joined this guy that was lvl 200 Dronemaster, everything was fine then when we got to the elevator & he killed me & then himself, I understand you want to farm & rank up your classes, go ahead I don't care but do it in a private session. If you do it in public lobbies most people that join you will want to be playing legitimately, not join in on your farm. We started it up again & I took him & the bots out then just afk'd until he left to teach him a lesson.
He called me an idiot & told me what he was doing (lol I'm level 700 buddy, I know what you're doing). Do it in a private session (with your friends if you want to help them too), nobody's gonna think you're a great guy & helping them out, they're gonna get annoyed & be mad that you wasted their time. It's not a hard farm to do, 99% of people that do it will do it by themselves.
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2021.10.20 22:16 MyMomDoesntKnowMe Massage recommendation
2021.10.20 22:16 thomascgalvin Lindon, Eithan, and the Abidan
Here's some wild-ass speculation to celebrate the upcoming release:
Both of them will become Judges of the Abidan. That, I think, is pretty uncontroversial.
Here's the speculative part: I think Lindon will become the next Ozriel, and Eithan will replace Suriel.
Despite the Judges who gave indon and Eithan their orbs, I think their personalities are more line line with their opposite. Lindon's revelation was that he is "the end," and Ozriel is the Judge that wields terrible destructive power. Eithan, on the other hand, is a watcher, a mentor, and then a fighter, just like Suriel.
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2021.10.20 22:16 JacksSquish Is anyone’s ISOS Emily non flip version?
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2021.10.20 22:16 reddit_feed_bot The Hill: Trump announces new social media network called 'TRUTH Social'
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2021.10.20 22:16 cine_bite Burnout...
Hey everyone - really dig this community which has helped steer some pivotal moments in my screenwriting journey.
I wanted to hear thoughts on how others managed a sense of burnout, as I'm in between projects and currently find myself feeling so guilty not being 110% productive.
Does anyone else get this feeling sometimes? And if so, how do you manage it?
Over the past 24 months I've been going full throttle with writing 5 feature screenplays (2 of them getting an 8+ Blcklst score, Austin IFF, Academy Nicholl top 10% etc, scoring an option deal with a major prod company, and another just now in development talks).
This year, I also directed my first feature film (looking at festival submissions in early-mid 2022), which was incredibly intense.
I suppose my hunger to be repped and move overseas to work is fueling this, but I'm also aware I need a little breather... How do I give myself permission to take a break without feeling like a piece of s**t?
Would love to hear from y'all ✌️
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2021.10.20 22:16 Ok-Organization2296 On The Line
It was just another, ordinary day at the office for Jim Salmons. Which, of course, meant he was bored out of his mind. Growing up, Jim always imagined himself doing something great with his life. He wanted to save the world or, at least, change it. But, like with most of us, adulthood planted its oppressive hooks in him. Now he spent his days in a cubical, staring at the white walls and counting the tiles on the ceiling. He hated quiet days. It gave him more time to think about what might have been.
The silent monotony was broken with the familiar sound of a phone ringing. Jim considered ignoring the call for a moment. If he didn't answer he wouldn't have to deal with whatever client was on the other end of the call. No orders. No complaints. No stress. He laid his fantasy of ignorance to rest as he picked up the receiver.
“Jim Salmons," he answered. "How can I help you?”
The line was silent. At first, Jim thought the call must have been dropped. It wasn't uncommon for a client to call while driving, and end up in a dead zone. Then he thought he heard someone breathing. He waited a few seconds before he tried again.
“Jim Salmons," he introduced himself again. "How can I help you?” He was met with the same response. Or lack thereof. Just as Jim gave up on the call and began to hang up, a male voice came through the static. It was the voice of a man in a great state of desperation.
“Jim?” The man said. “Jim, don't hang up.”
“Hello,” said Jim. “I'm still here. What can I do for you?”
“Jim,” The man on the line said in a serious tone, “I need you to listen carefully. I know you have a gun in your jacket pocket. Get rid of it.”
“What- what are you talking about?” Jim was startled by the man's accusation. “How do you know that? Who is this?”
“We don't have time for that right now, Jim,” the man spoke with a sense of urgency. “I know it was just an accident. I'm not accusing you of anything, but you have to ditch that thing right now. Take it to the dumpster outside of the building.”
The phone went silent.
“Hello?” Jim pleaded. But the caller was gone.
After a moment's consideration, Jim decided to take the man's advice. If the mysterious caller knew about the gun, it felt like he might know more. Jim stood up from his desk and grabbed the black blazer that had been draped over the back of his chair. He felt the weight of the handgun as he slid the jacket over his shoulders. Jim had gone to a shooting range the night before and, somehow, managed to forget to put the gun away. It was a very careless move. Under the guise of a smoke break, he stepped outside. He found the dumpster outside of the building and tossed the gun inside. He felt bad throwing away something so expensive. But, if the call ended up being a prank, he could always come back for it.
Back at his desk for about five minutes, Jim saw the front door to the office slam open, releasing a flood of police officers. Several of which appeared to be donning SWAT uniforms. The officers identified themselves loudly, and in authoritative voices. The whole ordeal was loud and disorienting. The office workers were ordered to stand up and keep their hands in sight. Jim was frightened, of course. Large men with guns will do that to a person. But he, and all his coworkers, cooperated.
Once the raid had finally concluded, Jim watched the officers arrested two of his coworkers. They found an entire arsenal of assault rifles, gas canisters, and other deadly weapons hidden in the copy room ceiling. The police had searched everyone's desk, and found the evidence they needed to bring the two men into custody. They found several detailed copies of a plan to use these weapons to enact some twisted revenge upon the office.
Jim never knew these men to be disturbed. They always seemed nice enough. Just another couple of corporate slaves, trying to get through their day. The entire office was shaken by the brush with death they would never have seen coming.
After the police left, with the would-be murderers in custody, everyone was understandably reluctant to go back to work. Most employees were excused for the day. Jim was among the few that volunteered to stay and keep working. If he ever hoped to get out of that cubical he'd have to pretend to show some strong work ethic. Besides, he was still thinking about the call he'd gotten earlier. If the mysterious voice on the phone hadn't warned him, Jim would be sitting behind bars with the others. All because he forgot to put away his things.
Jim was completely lost in reflection when he heard the phone ring again. He stared at it, intently, listening to the familiar sound, echoing in an unfamiliar way. This went on for a full minute before he even considered picking it up. Something about it just didn't feel right. He swallowed hard and gathered the courage he needed to answer.
“Hello?” He said, much more timidly than he intended.
“Yes, hello,” a woman's voice responded. “I have a question about your companies services. Customer support directed me to you.”
“Oh. Of course. This is Jim.” Somehow, it didn't even occur to Jim that the company phone could still work for it's intended purpose. He would still be getting calls from clients. of course he would. He was relieved to discover that helping the woman on the phone proved to be an easy task.
The day seemed to go back to normal for a while after that. Or, at least, as close to it as possible. Jim would act like he was busy whenever someone walked by, and promptly returned to wasting time when he was alone. He was trying to fold a Post-it note more than seven times when the phone rang again.
“Jim Salmons. How can I help you?” As soon as the final syllable escaped his lips , Jim felt a cold shiver down his spine. He listened to the vast emptiness that was on the line. Jim recognized this silence.
“Jim,” came the same enigmatic voice. “I'm glad you listened to me before. But I-”
“Who is this?” Jim interrupted in a whispered shout. “How do you know who I am? Are you watching me? You'd better start explaining, right now, or I'm calling the police.”
“Okay,” the voice said calmly. “We have a few minutes. I can give you some clarity before you have to get started again. But you won't believe me.”
“Try me,” Jim said. He considered hanging up and calling the police, anyway.
“Okay,” the man on the phone let out a long sigh. “My name is Nathan Trinalli. I'm just another working class Joe, like you. But," the man paused, "I work in a different time.”
“And that's all I needed to hear,” Jim began to pull the phone away from his ear before an objection stopped him.
“No!” Trinalli said. “Don't hang up! You're the only one that can fix things. That's why I warned you about the gun. How else would I know about that”
“You' could have been watching me at the gun range,” Jim said as he started to fidget with his Post-it note. He paused for a second before his curiosity got the better of him “Why did you warn me?”
“Alright, let me try to explain.” Trinalli sounded like he was struggling to find the right words. "Where I'm from...In my time, the events that took place in your office today are history. We have documents about the men that were arrested and what they were planning to do. As of yesterday, the newspapers said you were arrested too. But I warned you, and we changed that. Do you understand?”
“So, you're telling me you're from the future?” Jim said with skepticism, “Is that it?”
“Yes, Jim. That's exactly what I'm telling you. But I don't have time to prove it right now. I need your help again.”
“What do you need this-”
“-Your coworkers that got arrested. They had a backup plan,” Trinalli cut him off. “They poisoned the coffee in the break room. Everyone drank it. It's going to be too late, soon. You have to act fast. I need you to go into the storage closet and look behind the toilet paper. They kept an antidote there in case one of them drank it too. If you add that to the coffee now, everyone should be okay and you won't have to explain to the police how you knew about the poison in the first place. Trust me, you don't want them looking into you as an accomplice. But you have to do it right now.”
“Wait, why would I-” Jim stopped talking when he heard the line go dead with a click.
Confused ,and a little angry, he rose from his desk and made his way to the storage closet with as much haste as the felt he could get away with, without raising suspicion. The smell of cleaning products filled his nostrils as he entered. He had to look closely to find the shelf with the extra toilet paper. Jim was never the one to replace the paper, even if he was the one to notice it was empty. He pushed the tissue paper aside to reveal a small box. In it, there was a glass jar filled with some sort of powder. If he didn't know better he would have assumed it was a cleaning solvent as well. Something about the sense of urgency in Nathan Trinalli's voice made Jim act quickly and without much thought. He grabbed the jar of powder and headed to the break room and emptied the antidote into the coffee pot. He was sure someone would notice him, but no one seemed to care what Jim was up to.
An hour later Jim remembered a trick he used, as a kid, to use to find prank callers. He picked up the handset and dialed *69. He wasn't, at all, surprised when the call didn't go through. Why would it? It would only give Jim some control of these events. Maybe get him some answers that made sense. But, of course, that was too much to ask. He decided to try one more time when the phone rang loudly in his ear.
“Congratulations,” Trinalli spoke before Jim could say anything. “You saved a lot of lives today, Jim. I'm sorry to hear it couldn't be all of them.
“What do you mean?” Jim asked. “Everyone's fine. The day is almost over.”
“It's your boss,” Trinalli began to explain. “Even with the antidote, your boss, Kenneth Scramford, doesn't make it through the night. He had a preexisting heart condition and it made things worse for him.”
“Can't I still help him?” Jim asked frantically. “Can't I tell him? Maybe he can get to a doctor in time.”
“No, Jim. He does go to a doctor. They can't help him. If you tell him, it would just get you in trouble." Trinalli paused for a few moments. "I'm sorry. But you did save all the others. That's a victory. You're a goddamn hero, Jim." There was a long silence between the two of them. “Go on home, Jim. There's nothing more for you to do here today. I will call you at exactly 10:30 tomorrow. Be by the phone.”
Jim had grown used to being hung up on by now. He didn't even bother trying to get Trinalli to respond again. Instead, he simply hung up the phone, gathered his belongings, said his daily goodbyes, and walked out the front door.
Back at his apartment, Jim felt even more isolated than he did in his cubicle. There was no sound of typing or quiet chatter of coworkers. It was just him, alone, in an under-furnished single bedroom unit. He had nothing to do except relive the events of the day again and again. After he finished his microwave meal he decided to turn off his cell, and get some rest. It was going to be hard enough to sleep as it was, he didn't want to worry about more mysterious calls in the middle of the night.
That night Jim dreamt of the office. In the dream, he was sitting at his desk staring at a blank computer screen. He couldn't seem to get it to turn on. He was adamantly trying to coax the computer into doing its job when the first gunshot was heard. It was followed by a defining commotion of screaming and more shots being fired. Jim stood slowly to see two men in masks unloading their rifles in any direction they happened to turn. Somehow Jim felt no fear. It was as though he wasn't even there. As if he was only a witness. An impartial observer. Suddenly, he felt the sharp pain of a bullet as it pushed its way through his chest. As he fell to the floor, the noises of the room were replaced by the sound of phones. Hundreds of phones. All ringing at the same time.
When he awoke, Jim found himself drenched in sweat. He worried that he might be losing his grip. He tried to catch his breath as the dream replayed in his head again and again. He convinced himself the nightmare was nothing more. After what he'd been through that day, it was only natural to have a bad dream. After several hours of lying awake he finally drifted off to sleep again. This time, without any more night terrors.
The next morning, Jim treated the day like any other. He had his usual breakfast of cold cereal, he took his usual fifteen-minute shower, and he selected one of his usual work outfits. He tried to pretend that nothing had really happened the day before. Maybe it was all just a dream. He had one nightmare. Why not two? This theory was disproven as soon as he made it work.
A representative from human resources directed Jim to the conference room as soon as he entered the office space. Most of the other employees were already inside. Once everyone arrived, the HR rep made an announcement to share the bad news of Kenneth Scramford's death with them all. Just as Trinalli predicted, Jim's employer had passed away the previous night of heart complications. With condolences, the corporate office sent someone over to take over Kenneth's job for the time being.
What a great company to work for, Jim thought. A terrorist threat and a dead boss in the same day and they want us to just keep on working. Jim was disgusted by the response from corporate. But he went to his cubical anyway. It seemed better than going home. Besides, he had a phone call today.
The first couple of hours seemed to drag on as Jim waited for 10:30. The office was practically silent in a somber sort of way. Jim only had two calls from clients that morning. Each took less than ten minutes. When Jim noticed that the clock on his computer read 10:28, he had an idea. He leaned out of cubical and motioned to the woman who worked in the one next to his.
“Hey Betsy,” he said. “Can you come over here for a minute. I'd like you to help me with a call.”
“Sure, Jim,” she said, quietly, as she walked toward him. “What do you need?” Betsy was an older woman with three adult children. Even though she only ever talked about two of them. She's always seemed uncomfortable talking about her oldest daughter, Cindy. Jim never knew what kind of secrets were kept in the Cartwell family.
“A client will be calling very soon,” he explained to her. “I'm going to put him on speaker phone and I just want you to listen in and tell me if you notice anything strange.”
“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “I can do that.”
The two waited for the call. Jim's finger hovered over the speaker button in anticipation. They waited together in silence for several minutes before Jim realized that the time had passed. The call did not come at 10:30 as promised. He managed to keep Betsy waiting with him for two more minutes before she couldn't take it anymore.
“I don't think they're calling, Jim,” she said like a mother would. “You can call me over again if they do. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Jim said as Betsy returned to her work space. “Thank you.” He had no intention of wasting any more of her time. He was in this alone.
As soon as she sat down, as if on cue, Jim's phone began to ring. He put the handset to his ear.
“You shouldn't do that kind of thing, Jim,” Trinalli said. “If you try to explain something like this you'll end up committed. To an asylum, Jim. Trust me. When I saw where you ended up I had to change my call time.”
“Fine,” Jim said. “You win. I am at your command.”
“Come on, Jim. That's not nice. You don't have to do anything I suggest. Ultimately, it's always your decision. But I know you're the only one who can fix things. The poison in the coffee would have started a chain of events that led to rioting and a lot more deaths. You stopped that. Like I said before, a goddamn hero.”
“Okay,” Jim decided to play along. “Then why are we still talking? If nothing happened, wouldn't you have no reason to call me in the first place?”
“Don't try to understand a time paradox,” Trinalli sounded exhausted during this statement. “I still don't get it. All I know is that I called you, and you fixed a problem. I don't know why I remember the old timeline. It really doesn't make sense. But here we are. What I do know is that there's still more you need to do.”
“Fine,. Screw it,” Jim surrendered. “I've gone this far. I might as well keep it up and live in the crazy a little bit longer. What do I need to do?”
“Just one more thing,” Trinalli paused to remember the plan. “Down the street from your work building there is a bank. Right now, there is a man, inside, who is transferring all his money to his children's trust funds. This man will then leave the bank and head to the airport. There he will proceed to hijack a plane. Thousands of people will die.”
“Woah,” Jim was shocked. “What can I do?”
“I just need you to get this man arrested. I wish it was as easy as just calling the police. But I don't want you caught up in all that. You don't deserve to go to jail for someone else. Instead, I need you to drive to the airport and park in lot A. If the photos in the papers are correct, you should see a green jeep there. In the back seat, there will be a blue suitcase. I just need you to take that suitcase into terminal B and leave it by the hot dog place in the food court at precisely 1:45. That's when he'll be there. Someone will report a suspicious bag and the hijacker will get brought in for questioning.”
“This seems well thought out,” Jim observed. “How do you know all this?”
“This all happened a very long time ago Jim,” Trinalli told him. “I've seen the reports and heard the conspiracy theories for years. I've had a lot of time to study the information and come up the most likely course of events and the best course of action. I think you should go ahead and go now, Jim.”
This time Jim beat the caller to the punch and hung up the phone first. With a small sense of victory, he gathered his things and left the office without a word to anyone. He headed down the stairs, going over the plan in his head. When he started his car, the radio informed him about a shooting that took place a few hours earlier. Apparently a homeless man killed a lawyer over some dispute about a few loose coins. This caused a roadblock on Jim's route. He found another route and made it to the airport with some time to spare.
He parked in lot A, as instructed. He found the jeep only two rows away from his parking space. As he approached the forest green vehicle he could see the blue suitcase, exactly where it was supposed to be. The rear hatch was unlocked. Jim looked around nervously before he hoisted the bag out of the vehicle. No one seemed to notice this act of thievery. Terminal B was a decent distance away from there. After a quick glance at his watch, Jim took off into a brisk jog toward his next objective. It wasn't uncommon to see a person rushing with a suitcase in the airport, so it didn't raise any suspicion.
Once inside, Jim located the food court by following the posted signs. His watch revealed that he had absolutely no time left. With his heart pounding, Jim slid the suitcase into position as he passed by without slowing. He was terrified that security would notice him doing this. But he made it out of the terminal without being stopped. He had successfully pulled off his mission.
Once he made it back to his car he felt a sense of pride for a brief second before he heard the distant crack of a single gunshot.
The shot was immediately followed by the sound of panicked screaming. Jim had no idea what was going on. Before he could take the time to investigate, the screaming was drowned out by a noise that Jim was finding all too familiar. He retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and put it to his ear.
“Good job, Mr. Salmons.” Trinalli spoke as soon as the phone made its way to Jim's ear. He sounded different. More collected. Oddly... professional. “You did everything I needed you to do.”
“What the hell is going on in there Trinalli?” Jim was frightened by the hysteria around him. “I heard gunshots.”
“Security shot the man in the airport. He reached for his ID and the guard thought he was going after a weapon. A cliché, I know. But why mess with something that works. And please, Jim,” Trinalli chuckled. “call me Mr. President.”
“What?” Jim exclaimed out of confusion and anger. “Why the hell would I call you that? Who are you!?”
“That's an easy one, Mr. Salmons. I'm the future president of the United States of America, and I have you to thank for it."
"I.." Jim shuddered as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea. "I still don't understand."
"Let me break it down for you," Trinalli said, sounding bored of the conversation. "Your boss, Scramford. The guy may have seemed like a hard ass, but he was mentoring an underprivileged kid who, with Scramford's direction, would have went on to win the election. Your boss had a hear of gold. Lucky for me, it was a week one that couldn't stand up to the poison you put in the coffee pot."
Jim was speechless.
"Then there was the lawyer," Trinalli continued. That nosey bastard that wouldn't stay out of my business. Always digging up new things to keep me tied up in legal battles. Good thing you left that gun in the garbage for that homeless man to find. Who would have thought that one little argument over loose change could end the life of one of my enemies before we even met."
"And now that a future ambassador was just killed in an unfortunate accident in an airport, I don't have to worry about any negative press his country would write about me. I'm running unopposed Jim. Thank you.”
“Wait,” Jim was more confused than ever. “You made me do these things because-”
“Because I needed someone to help with my campaign,” Trinalli's smirk could be heard in his voice, "and it's never to early to start. After I convinced those idiots from your office to plan an attack on the same day you were supposed to be arrested for bringing your gun to work, it was easy to gain your trust. I had to get a little creative with the rest. But you were so diligent in your duties. You aided your country like a true patriot.”
“I can't believe this,” Jim felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. “I can't believe you managed to play me like this.”
“You should be hearing the sirens by now, Jim?” Trinalli ignored Jim's objections and kept talking. "They're coming for you. The gun was traced back to you. You were there for the planned attack at your job. The security footage will show you dropping off the bag of explosives in the airport. Like I said, you're meant to be in jail right now. I just granted you a few hours of parole first. You and I will never meet. The records say you die in prison. Sad. I would have granted you a pardon. So I guess this is goodbye. You are a hero to the cause Jim Salmons. No matter what anyone says.”
The line went dead for the last time
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2021.10.20 22:16 NewsElfForEnterprise Solange launches a library for rare books by Black authors
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2021.10.20 22:16 froze_gold I am completely convinced that I am dying from diabetes and I need guidance.
Symptoms: Frequent urination. Urinary incontinence , I literally cannot hold my piss for more than a few minutes. Piss gets literally forced from me sometimes. I have dropped pants in almost complete public to piss and Im fortunate to not been caught.
My mouth is also f*ckin dry 24/7 and im chugging water more often
I just noticed a moment ago that my eyes were crossed and out of focus which took some push on my part to re-focus.
My stomach has been acting up lately. Growls, slight pains especially at night. On top of that I am genuinely concerned about my cardiovascular system.
I posted the other day and was basically blown off. I have a doctor's visit set for December and I know I need to get them to see me much sooner
I am currently panicking from all this. All the end-of-life signs I read are what Im dealing with
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2021.10.20 22:16 Other-Education5840 Get Down From There, Bill
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2021.10.20 22:16 butuhkehidupan Running WSA on unsupported CPU with Android Studio Connected
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2021.10.20 22:16 Boitomato p a i n
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2021.10.20 22:16 therealza If you're a computer/electrical engineering or comp sci major, I have an opportunity for you to make some really good money.
2021.10.20 22:16 Traveshamokery You may NOT fold your laundry.
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2021.10.20 22:16 picfeeder123 Cats (iktr)
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2021.10.20 22:16 Shatalroundja Most Rapey animal in the wild.
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2021.10.20 22:16 Ahyesclearly ‘F*** Joe Biden’ Chant Drowns Out MLB Playoff Postgame Show
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2021.10.20 22:16 ladivarogue Another positive piece from ‘Artfully Autistic and Neurodiverse Writers’ blog (Not OC). Hopefully this helps if anyone needs a boost.
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2021.10.20 22:16 Boo_Randy China’s Evergrande crisis: clock ticking as crucial debt default deadline looms
China is running out of road to kick the can. Will this be the first country where the central planners and central bankers lose control as their housing bubbles implode and the cascading defaults vaporize trillions in fake wealth created by fake money?
The rescue of embattled Chinese property company Evergrande appears to have stalled, leaving the developer on the brink of default and threatening to unleash contagion through the country’s giant real estate sector, home prices and the economy.
The problems enveloping Evergrande, which has eyewatering total debts of $305bn, have hung over global financial markets in recent weeks and helped curb China’s post-pandemic recovery.
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2021.10.20 22:16 alle15minuten Gerade ist es October 21, 2021 at 03:16AM