“Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?” -Epicurus
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Leadership consists of nothing but taking responsibility for everything that goes wrong and giving your subordinates credit for everything that goes well. Dwight D. Eisenhower, 34th US president
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"When your laboratory explodes, lacing your body with a supercharged elixir, what do you do? You don't just lie there. You crawl out of the rubble, hideously scarred, and swear vengeance on the world. You keep going. You keep trying to take over the world.” Soon I Will Be Invincible
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"It is only the constant exertion and working of our sensitive, intellectual, moral, and physical machinery that keep us from rusting." Charles Simmons
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They buried me alive
..with an option.
They place a matchbook in my pocket. "Here it gets dark down there," they laugh sadistically among themselves, tossing me into the wooden box.They drop my coffin into the ground.I hear them shoveling dirt into it, giggling and such. It's pitch black inside, no semblance of light. I reach for the matches in my pocket. Ready to strike one, When I remember, they soaked my clothes in gasoline.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by RiskyTrier
..with an option.
They place a matchbook in my pocket. "Here it gets dark down there," they laugh sadistically among themselves, tossing me into the wooden box.They drop my coffin into the ground.I hear them shoveling dirt into it, giggling and such. It's pitch black inside, no semblance of light. I reach for the matches in my pocket. Ready to strike one, When I remember, they soaked my clothes in gasoline.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by RiskyTrier
The Tuck in
It was 8pm and she was tidying her son's room as he brushed his teeth and washed up for the night. She put the toys back in their chest while he raced in and jumped under the covers.
"All done?" She asked smiling.
"Yeah!"
He said it in a tiring voice, crawling into the bed. She walked over and tucked the covers into every corner.
"It's too tight Mom" he said. "It'll help you quickly fall asleep, trust me. I'm going to do exactly the same for your sisters."
she smiled and kissed his forehead.
"Goodnight mom - wait...the closet!?, will you check please?"
"Of course honey", she opened the closet and made a show of peering in and looking around.
"Nope, nothing here" she assured him. He smiled, trusting his mother and closed his eyes. Before she closed the closet door she whispered into it with the shaking tremor.
"He can't move. Take him and leave the other two. Like we agreed. Please."
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by MoGhulisMoProblems
It was 8pm and she was tidying her son's room as he brushed his teeth and washed up for the night. She put the toys back in their chest while he raced in and jumped under the covers.
"All done?" She asked smiling.
"Yeah!"
He said it in a tiring voice, crawling into the bed. She walked over and tucked the covers into every corner.
"It's too tight Mom" he said. "It'll help you quickly fall asleep, trust me. I'm going to do exactly the same for your sisters."
she smiled and kissed his forehead.
"Goodnight mom - wait...the closet!?, will you check please?"
"Of course honey", she opened the closet and made a show of peering in and looking around.
"Nope, nothing here" she assured him. He smiled, trusting his mother and closed his eyes. Before she closed the closet door she whispered into it with the shaking tremor.
"He can't move. Take him and leave the other two. Like we agreed. Please."
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by MoGhulisMoProblems
My Daughter Is a Sensitive Child
She's such a socially awkward child, my daughter. And sensitive too. I can never come right out and tell her to do or not to do something. It makes her too upset, as if I've scolded her. I've recently tried to go the old-fashioned story telling route. Before bed every night, I tell her a story with a moral. Maybe it's a story about a lonely teddy bear who wouldn't share or a story about a pony who wouldn't speak up in class. This seems to be the gentlest way of getting the point across to her.Last night I made a mistake. All day long as I talked to her, I watched in growing frustration as her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me. That night I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to bed. I tucked her in tight and sat down next to her on the bed.
"Daddy, what's my story tonight?"
"Well, once upon a time there was a little girl.”
"Like me?" She asked excitedly.
“Yes, just like you honey.”
Now, this little girl was a very smart girl. But, she had a problem.
"What was it?"
"Well, I'll tell you. Whenever people spoke to this little girl, she wouldn't look at them. She'd look at the ceiling, or at the floor, or at a spot on the wall. One day, she was walking along in the woods when she came upon a witch. The witch said, oh what a good and smart girl! The girl said thank you, but she was looking up at the tops of the trees. This made the witch very angry. She grabbed the girl and too into a hut.”
“Why won't you look me in the eye, asked the witch?”
The girl said that she didn't know. She was very scared. Finally, the witch got so angry that she went around the forest, scooping out the eyes of the woodland creatures. She made a crown of eyes and placed it on the girl's head, so that no matter where the witch stood, the girl could always be looking at her.
I looked down at my daughter, who was looking back at me with wide opened eyes. I knew it then--I'd screwed up.
"But, of course, in real life, witches don't exist," I said, feeling ashamed of myself.
She only nodded. I went to bed, fully expecting my daughter to come running into my room in the middle of the night, scared by nightmares that I'd fueled with my story. To my surprise, she didn't. I found out the reason in the morning when I woke up. There, on the kitchen table was a crown. The eyes were different colors and sizes, all woven together by a pink band of optic nerves. My daughter stood next to them, looking proud and fearful at the same time. She lifted her blood-stained hands toward me.
"I made it so that I can always look at you, Daddy."
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by Middlenameredundant
She's such a socially awkward child, my daughter. And sensitive too. I can never come right out and tell her to do or not to do something. It makes her too upset, as if I've scolded her. I've recently tried to go the old-fashioned story telling route. Before bed every night, I tell her a story with a moral. Maybe it's a story about a lonely teddy bear who wouldn't share or a story about a pony who wouldn't speak up in class. This seems to be the gentlest way of getting the point across to her.Last night I made a mistake. All day long as I talked to her, I watched in growing frustration as her eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but at me. That night I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to bed. I tucked her in tight and sat down next to her on the bed.
"Daddy, what's my story tonight?"
"Well, once upon a time there was a little girl.”
"Like me?" She asked excitedly.
“Yes, just like you honey.”
Now, this little girl was a very smart girl. But, she had a problem.
"What was it?"
"Well, I'll tell you. Whenever people spoke to this little girl, she wouldn't look at them. She'd look at the ceiling, or at the floor, or at a spot on the wall. One day, she was walking along in the woods when she came upon a witch. The witch said, oh what a good and smart girl! The girl said thank you, but she was looking up at the tops of the trees. This made the witch very angry. She grabbed the girl and too into a hut.”
“Why won't you look me in the eye, asked the witch?”
The girl said that she didn't know. She was very scared. Finally, the witch got so angry that she went around the forest, scooping out the eyes of the woodland creatures. She made a crown of eyes and placed it on the girl's head, so that no matter where the witch stood, the girl could always be looking at her.
I looked down at my daughter, who was looking back at me with wide opened eyes. I knew it then--I'd screwed up.
"But, of course, in real life, witches don't exist," I said, feeling ashamed of myself.
She only nodded. I went to bed, fully expecting my daughter to come running into my room in the middle of the night, scared by nightmares that I'd fueled with my story. To my surprise, she didn't. I found out the reason in the morning when I woke up. There, on the kitchen table was a crown. The eyes were different colors and sizes, all woven together by a pink band of optic nerves. My daughter stood next to them, looking proud and fearful at the same time. She lifted her blood-stained hands toward me.
"I made it so that I can always look at you, Daddy."
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by Middlenameredundant
To be a leaf
It was always nice, days like those. The park was beautiful that time of year. It was so freeing to just relax and drift away a little. To get away from the constant struggles of every day life. The wind melted the leaves, sky, and grass into one. The occasional yelling from the playground was the only thing drawing me away from feeling like I was just one of the leaves on the trees, dancing with the wind. It must be nice, I thought. To be a leaf. Not a care in the world. Not knowing that having a care was even something I could do. Just existing. Being alive. All there is to experience, is the light and warmth from the sun, and the beautiful wind that makes me dance. I would never call it a dance myself... more just, flopping around without any ability to control it. It's great though. Just being here. A leaf.I wonder if I could hear if I were a leaf. I imagine it would sound muffled. Or perhaps more clear than anything I could comprehend. Either way.. I wouldn't care what the sounds were. Even if I were a leaf that could hear. Or a leaf that knew I what dancing is. I still wouldn't care. I don't think anything could bother me if I were a leaf. The screams from the playground wouldn't bother me. The birds wouldn't bother me. I think, even if something happened and it caused me to fall from my tree, I still wouldn't care. The fall would be magnificent. I would be even more free, even if it were for a collection of moments. Imagine that. Being a leaf, without a care for your entire life. A life that by itself, is already that of a dream. But then you fall. And it should be horrible, but instead it eclipses every beautiful day you've spent in this park. You're not tied to anything. Life was beautiful before.. but this is an entire new life. You were a leaf who could dance, and could hear.. but now you can laugh. And you laugh so loudly that you don't hear any of the screams, or the wind, or the sirens. Just you, a free leaf, laughing and dancing.When I woke up, I was in this hospital. I wasn't sure why I was here at first, but I knew how insanely happy I was. I knew that I was a leaf. This hospital is my tree now. I just exist. I'm alive. All there is to experience, is the light and warmth from these lights, and the beautiful wind from the fan, that makes me dance. Some people wouldn't call it a dance, but I do. I tell them it's my beautiful leaf dance, and I laugh at them. And it's really great. Just being here. A leaf. Someday I'll fall again, and it will be even more beautiful than before.
@PensivePost #story by -0-O-
It was always nice, days like those. The park was beautiful that time of year. It was so freeing to just relax and drift away a little. To get away from the constant struggles of every day life. The wind melted the leaves, sky, and grass into one. The occasional yelling from the playground was the only thing drawing me away from feeling like I was just one of the leaves on the trees, dancing with the wind. It must be nice, I thought. To be a leaf. Not a care in the world. Not knowing that having a care was even something I could do. Just existing. Being alive. All there is to experience, is the light and warmth from the sun, and the beautiful wind that makes me dance. I would never call it a dance myself... more just, flopping around without any ability to control it. It's great though. Just being here. A leaf.I wonder if I could hear if I were a leaf. I imagine it would sound muffled. Or perhaps more clear than anything I could comprehend. Either way.. I wouldn't care what the sounds were. Even if I were a leaf that could hear. Or a leaf that knew I what dancing is. I still wouldn't care. I don't think anything could bother me if I were a leaf. The screams from the playground wouldn't bother me. The birds wouldn't bother me. I think, even if something happened and it caused me to fall from my tree, I still wouldn't care. The fall would be magnificent. I would be even more free, even if it were for a collection of moments. Imagine that. Being a leaf, without a care for your entire life. A life that by itself, is already that of a dream. But then you fall. And it should be horrible, but instead it eclipses every beautiful day you've spent in this park. You're not tied to anything. Life was beautiful before.. but this is an entire new life. You were a leaf who could dance, and could hear.. but now you can laugh. And you laugh so loudly that you don't hear any of the screams, or the wind, or the sirens. Just you, a free leaf, laughing and dancing.When I woke up, I was in this hospital. I wasn't sure why I was here at first, but I knew how insanely happy I was. I knew that I was a leaf. This hospital is my tree now. I just exist. I'm alive. All there is to experience, is the light and warmth from these lights, and the beautiful wind from the fan, that makes me dance. Some people wouldn't call it a dance, but I do. I tell them it's my beautiful leaf dance, and I laugh at them. And it's really great. Just being here. A leaf. Someday I'll fall again, and it will be even more beautiful than before.
@PensivePost #story by -0-O-
"A small man who does mighty deeds is far greater than a mighty man who does small deeds." - Jacob Heinrichs
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"Happiness is like a butterfly, the more you chase it, the more it will evade you, but if you notice the other things around you, it will gently come and sit on your shoulder." Henry David Thoreau
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I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.. -Nicholas Sparks
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"Success is usually the culmination of controlling failure" - Sylvester Stalone -
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XY135
"XY135" had hit the streets about 2 weeks ago. Rumours of a "cognition enhancing drug" had reached my friend-group, so when a friend of a friend told us he had a contact, we gave him a call.One pill each was what we agreed. Nothing more, nothing less. So on a Friday evening in late October we took XY135, all four of us. The effects of the pill itself had been enjoyable, albeit without the enhanced cognitive abilities that had been advertised.It was now Tuesday. Each of us reported headaches and slight dizziness, but nothing serious. We should have seen the warning signs when one of us was hospitalised, but we didn't. We visited, but the doctors said "we need to keep her away from external stimuli".Wednesday came around and my headaches were getting more severe, and were now accompanied by sporadically appearing black spots, flitting across my vision. The brief contact I'd had with the others who took XY135 revealed that they were experiencing similar effects.It was Thursday. I needed some space. Away from all these people, this life, this cramped city. The headaches were getting to me, the pressure building. I drove to the woods on the outskirts of town, struggling to concentrate through the ever increasing plague of ocular distractions. I shouldn't have been driving. I pulled over. The black spots were growing in size. I stumbled into the woods, lurching from tree to tree. Unaware of direction. The mounting pressure in my head making it hard to think. Hard to breathe. I dropped to a knee, pressed my hands to my head, closing my eyes to suppress the now fluid shapes, morphing into rorschach-like images dancing across my vision.This was getting too much. Fumbling with my phone, I managed to get Siri to ring the contact who sold us the drugs. I needed answers. A deep pounding was building in my head. A deep, repetitive thump which gnawed its way into my consciousness. I barely heard the phone ring as I collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.The suited man stepped carefully around the tree and stared intently at the body lying on the floor 20 paces from him. He silenced the ringing phone in his hand and approached. The chest of the body still rose and fell rhythmically. After the press of a few buttons, he lifted the phone to his head:"Another failed batch. Tell the chemists 4/4 participants failed. XY135 needs recalling" ........ ... "Yes sir, brain damage again" ..... ....... "I understand. I'll have another test group lined up for Monday. Should I dispose of the evidence?" .... .... "Yes sir"With minimal expenditure, he lent forwards reaching his hands around the neck of the body beneath him, casually snapping the neck, then removing a GPS tracker from a pocket. He stood up, straightened his tie and mentally updated his tally: 135 tests, 0 success. It was time to try XY136, time to start the whole cycle over again.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by TringposhDogwater
"XY135" had hit the streets about 2 weeks ago. Rumours of a "cognition enhancing drug" had reached my friend-group, so when a friend of a friend told us he had a contact, we gave him a call.One pill each was what we agreed. Nothing more, nothing less. So on a Friday evening in late October we took XY135, all four of us. The effects of the pill itself had been enjoyable, albeit without the enhanced cognitive abilities that had been advertised.It was now Tuesday. Each of us reported headaches and slight dizziness, but nothing serious. We should have seen the warning signs when one of us was hospitalised, but we didn't. We visited, but the doctors said "we need to keep her away from external stimuli".Wednesday came around and my headaches were getting more severe, and were now accompanied by sporadically appearing black spots, flitting across my vision. The brief contact I'd had with the others who took XY135 revealed that they were experiencing similar effects.It was Thursday. I needed some space. Away from all these people, this life, this cramped city. The headaches were getting to me, the pressure building. I drove to the woods on the outskirts of town, struggling to concentrate through the ever increasing plague of ocular distractions. I shouldn't have been driving. I pulled over. The black spots were growing in size. I stumbled into the woods, lurching from tree to tree. Unaware of direction. The mounting pressure in my head making it hard to think. Hard to breathe. I dropped to a knee, pressed my hands to my head, closing my eyes to suppress the now fluid shapes, morphing into rorschach-like images dancing across my vision.This was getting too much. Fumbling with my phone, I managed to get Siri to ring the contact who sold us the drugs. I needed answers. A deep pounding was building in my head. A deep, repetitive thump which gnawed its way into my consciousness. I barely heard the phone ring as I collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness.The suited man stepped carefully around the tree and stared intently at the body lying on the floor 20 paces from him. He silenced the ringing phone in his hand and approached. The chest of the body still rose and fell rhythmically. After the press of a few buttons, he lifted the phone to his head:"Another failed batch. Tell the chemists 4/4 participants failed. XY135 needs recalling" ........ ... "Yes sir, brain damage again" ..... ....... "I understand. I'll have another test group lined up for Monday. Should I dispose of the evidence?" .... .... "Yes sir"With minimal expenditure, he lent forwards reaching his hands around the neck of the body beneath him, casually snapping the neck, then removing a GPS tracker from a pocket. He stood up, straightened his tie and mentally updated his tally: 135 tests, 0 success. It was time to try XY136, time to start the whole cycle over again.
@PensivePost #ss Submitted by TringposhDogwater