csyphrett

The Republican speaker of the house here in NC is accused of using his position to trade favors for sex. Tim Moore is also one of the people behind HB2, and other things. CES

I'm willing to go forward whenever CES

Hunter Biden pleaded guilty to nonpayment of taxes, and entered a program to defer a charge of buying a gun while intoxicated and lying about it. Republicans lose their minds. He's the new Hilary. CES

The Title is the Making of Gallifrey. It looks like I am over. Just cut the last pick. CES

No surprise there. This was the base of the Lee-Ditko feud and why Ditko didn't work for Marvel for years until he created Speedball with Roger Stern's help. I admit that a lot of people outside comics wouldn't know that the three first Marvel creators didn't get along and Lee was responsible for DC and independents getting Kirby and Ditko work. CES

Cape Fear 2 1975- Wes decided he could hold out at the Capriano Hotel for the next few hours. He just needed a place where he could wash up and think about getting new clothes without having the police called on him. Some of the police worked for Delveccio. So he was on the east side of the city. The Capriano was on the west, near the beach. How did he get there without a car? Could he become the monster again and fly there? Was that part real? He decided it had to be since he had to pull his clothes on after reaching the streets. He didn’t relish flying around naked. He wondered if there was something he could use for clothing when he transformed. Maybe there was something out there he could cover himself with when he transformed but he had never heard of such a miracle substance. He decided to think about that when he got to the hotel and found an empty room he could hide in until he could figure out what he was going to write with the material he had stolen. Maybe he could call around and find something he could use. There had to be other heroes with clothing problems out there. How did they handle things? He touched the four diamonds on his hand and changed into his two dimensional other self. He pulled himself out of his clothes and wrapped part of flat body around them and his files. He took to the air and headed toward the beach. Wes swam through the air. He was glad it was nightfall hiding him, but he really needed clothes he could wear in his flat form. He reached the hotel roof in plenty of time. He also didn’t want his power running out while he was doing something extremely dangerous. Maybe some kind of rubber suit that stretched when he stretched and returned to normal when returned to normal would be the way to go. How did he get something like that? He pulled on his clothes on the roof and went to the fire escape. He climbed down until he reached a window at the end of a hall. He jimmied the lock with his pocket knife and climbed through the window. He needed to find an empty room without letting the clerk know he was hanging out on the premises. He might be able to use his power to sneak around and search the register. He could just sign himself into a room and then sign himself out when he was ready to go. Being flat would make him hard to see, and he could stretch a lot so he could hide most of himself while he was getting a room. He nodded to himself. He could do that instead of his original plan of just taking a room and hoping he wouldn’t be discovered by housekeeping. And staying under a fake name would help him against Delveccio when the man got around to looking for him. If they checked the car after the explosion, they knew he was still out there with the material he had taken. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could admit he had the material. He paused as he entered the stairwell. He sat down on the steps. Did he actually have any proof of wrongdoing since he had taken the evidence from someone’s home? Had he poisoned the well with his actions? Was he going to end up like Marsden? He still had to get a room, and get some rest. Then he could puzzle out the rest when he was fresh and ready to go. At least every time he transformed back, he felt better. Maybe turning into a flying ribbon was healing up the damage from the car crash faster. He liked that. At one point, he couldn’t walk, and now he could. He still had some pain, but it was nothing like what he had felt right before he had been struck by that meteor. He worked his way down to the lobby of the hotel and cracked the door open to look out. He saw the desk clerk sitting behind the desk, book in hand. He needed to sign in while the guy was distracted. How did he do that? The clerk was bound to see him even if he was flat against the floor. Why were things always tougher than they had to be. Wes looked at the clerk. The man refused to move under the intense gaze. His nose was in his book. He touched the diamonds on his hand and slipped out of the stairwell. He reached out and took a better look at the clerk. The man was sleeping. That made things easier. He grabbed the registration book and slipped back into the stairwell. He looked for an empty room to match the keys on the pegboard behind the clerk. He filled in a fake name and an address for one of those rooms with a tentacle formed from a corner of his body. He snuck the book back and grabbed the room key. He waited for the transformation to wear off before putting himself back together and heading up to his new room. So he had two goals. The first was to get out from under Delveccio’s sights and publish his story with the checked over information as a basis. Either that was enough to spur the police into taking a better look at the mob boss, or it wasn’t. In any case, he would have to look for reprisals for the rest of his life. No gangster sat there and took it while a reporter pried into their affairs and wrote stories about them. Examples needed to be made like Marsden. The second thing was to get some flexible clothing for the weird other form he had. Once he had that, he could try to use the flying flatworm to keep digging into any mobster that happened to set up in town. A mask to cover his face would be helpful if his power ran out and someone saw him doing the type of extracurricular digging that got reporters news prizes, and papers sued for slander. He doubted he would step out in public like the old Scouts, or the Mark. It was rough enough to be a reporter. Being a reporter and a masked man seemed a little too much. He wanted to write his stories and blend in as much as possible. Throwing down with someone like Doctor Sybil was not something he was ready to try. It was good thing the Doctor was dead and buried on Mars. Everyone knew he was there. No one knew which mountain he was buried under. Wes had no desire to look for the body either. Sybil had fought against the Mark during the war, trying to carve out his own empire in the middle of what Hitler was trying to do. The fact that he almost killed the Mark, and had killed some of the other heroes of those years earned him no pity from the reporter. And he had succeeded in forcing the Mark out of the public spotlight as a force for good even if he couldn’t enjoy that victory. Wes took off his clothes and thought about washing them. He decided he could wait on that until he knew what he was going to do. He did look in the mirror and found he was covered in bruises and cuts but they looked days old, not what he had earned in his trip down the mountain. Could the transformations be putting him back together, fixing the injuries he had taken? It could be. No one knew what powers did to a person. He might have lucked out and got something that would heal him up if he didn’t die immediately. Maybe he could take a bullet, but decided it was foolish to try to find out how much of a shot he could take. If he got shot, and healed that up after becoming the flatworm, that was one thing. Jumping in front of the bullet was just asking for trouble in his opinion. He wondered how heroes found out what they could do. That was something he could write a story around as long as he didn’t reveal his new power. He decided to shower and get cleaned up. He would have to get clothes from somewhere else before he could back out in public. He had to plan on how to get around anyone watching the paper so he could turn in his work. He could write his story anywhere, but he had to show the evidence and turn it in person. He couldn’t expect the paper to open itself to a lawsuit just on his word. He had to back up anything he said because the truth was an ultimate defense against such a lawsuit. Wes settled on the bed and decided to get some rest. He didn’t have a long time before someone tried to find him. Eventually, Delveccio was going to learn he was still alive. They would then try to fill out him full of holes. How much could his other form take if someone did shoot at him? Could he heal that up using the tattoo to change? Wes scratched his eyebrow and thought about what he could do. Maybe he should go on the offensive and do something to Delveccio to persuade him to stop looking for him. What could he do where he didn’t end up like Marsden? He thought about his new ability to break in some places because he could fly, and was like a blanket. He could elongate some of the corners to grab things, but he didn’t seem to have a lot of fine control. He didn’t seem to need to breathe, so what could he do with that? He already had records that he could publish if he could get to the newspaper bullpen. He could write everything up and then use his stolen files as a check. He could give copies to the police, but everyone knew they supported Delveccio and would try to stop him for their mob boss. He didn’t know what he could do next. He had to keep moving if he didn’t want to be taken in. Even though he had a room under a fake name, eventually someone would turn him in and goons would be on his neck. He thought he could get to the paper if he could get across the city to the newspaper without changing back in the middle of the flight. He could use the roof access to get down to the bullpen and his desk. The only problem was would there be someone waiting to take him away once he tried to type everything up and finish his story. He would have to be ready to call up his flat body to do things before he could be exposed in the public. He didn’t like the nudity aspect of things either. Turning back in the middle of doing things could be embarrassing or problematic depending on what he was doing at the time. He didn’t want to be naked in the middle of breaking into Delveccio’s house. Wes could get a typewriter and write his story in his stolen room. Then all he had to do was submit the story with copies of his evidence. Then he could just watch out for the goons because they would be looking for him to retaliate. They couldn’t let him live to testify on the authenticity of the records he stole. He wasn’t a member of the police. It didn’t matter how the record fell into his hands as far as proving things against Delveccio. He would face jail for burglary while the mobster faced jail for money crimes. And if they went to the same prison after their trials, Wes would be dead in a matter of days unless he used his ability to escape. He gazed up at the ceiling and wondered how long could he stay in the hotel before he was reported to Delveccio, and someone showed up to kill him. How long would it take for him to write his story? How long did his transformation last? What was going on with that? Would it kill him? The meteor strike Clancy told him about had to be the explanation for his new ability. It didn’t tell him how long he had to live if the ability went rogue on him. He needed to push for someone other than the city police to investigate his claims. He needed to find a better place to hide. He needed a place only he could get in and out of with his new flattening power. He needed not to wind up like Marsden. Wes decided that if he wanted to keep using the flat body, he needed to talk to an expert who could point him to something he could use. He couldn’t call Mr. Robot since the murder of the Hazard Scouts. Who else could he call? Flanagan Solutions might be the people to call about a sizechanging suit. There were rumors that they had come up with clothes to handle powers since the war. They might be able to give him something he could use. At the worst, they could direct him to another company he could use to get the thing he needed if he wanted to keep using his power. He made a note to check into them. If he could get them to help him out, that would make things that much easier for him. He wondered if there was a story behind the company. There were rumors that the first Rocket was connected to them, and some guy in armor in New York. How many other heroes did they help out over the years? He could do a set of stories based on that if he could turn anything up. He could follow links to everyone to whom they had provided equipment. If they helped him, he could write it from an insider’s perspective. He doubted they would want this business in a spotlight. He had heard rumors but Flanagan kept their problems to themselves. There had to be a connection to the Rocket. Why didn’t they use that to get more business for their company? He decided that was some of the questions he could try to answer while he was writing their story. A noise came from the hall. Wes glanced at the door. Maybe laying on a bed in sight of the door was a bad idea. He slid off the top of the bed and slipped into the shadow of the mattress. He waited for someone to break in his door. The sound of someone retreating from his door caused him to breathe again. What would he have done if it was someone looking for him? He would have had to use his flat body to attack. How effective would that be against someone with a gun? Wes frowned. Maybe he should try to leave town. Maybe that would throw Delveccio off enough that he could start his career over in some other city. He couldn’t count on that. They had run him off a road and then shot at him when he tried to get away from the crash. A small forest fire starting hadn’t stopped them from trying to kill him. If the explosion from the meteor and his body change hadn’t happened, he would be dead because his legs had stopped working. Now he was hunkered down, but eventually he would have to move. He wasn’t looking forward to that. Either way, he couldn’t call Clancy from the room. The lines could be checked, and that would lead anyone with the knowhow back to the hotel, and then the false registration. He could expect gunmen to show him the bottom of the ocean after that. He could call from a phone booth across town. He could return to his new room with a typewriter. He could write the story and get everything done before Delveccio could stop him. The rest would have to play out in the court. He might be just as much as a fugitive as Delveccio, but he would be alive and on the run with some worry of killers trying to track him down to settle the score. He should have went into some other line of work. You didn’t worry about people trying to kill you when you worked in a factory. Wes closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. The next day would be busy.

I am going to option Quib-Quib from the Circuits of the Lion CES

I need three options. I think I will pick the Master to get on the time shennigans, the daleks who want to use the genesis device against the klingons, and Space Ghost who is trying to figure out what is going on CES

I think i will be at three picks by the time I get home. I'll try to catch up when i get home CES

Thanks Cygnia. I have seen him in old television shows like the Twilight Zone and didn't know his name. CES

I am going to option Klingons. CES

Who's the guy behind Cosell? I feel like I know him but I can't place the face. CES

About the Tesla thing, two things from recent memory stick out in regards to accidents and such. Musk ordered the radar taken out to make a cheaper car. That contributes to the car not being able to tell if you are driving into a lake, or a wall, another car, whatever might be on the road. Autodriving Teslas have been shown to slow down traffic because they can't read signals from other drivers. I know I want a car like the ones in Minority Report, Star Trek, and so forth, but I don't think Musk is the right guy to spearhead such an action when the computerized map (which is one of the things used for the car) at the job will take a delivery two streets away and show that it is five counties away, or tell the driver to cut through someone's house. CES

You seem way too smart to have ever been an MP. CES

I think I am down three picks, so I need my lower deck guy, and two options. I am optioning Conrad the planet maker, and the High Evolutionary. My lower deck guy is the T-800 CES

Cape Fear 1975- 1 Wes Wesolowski knew he was going to die. He was in his car, driving for his life, hoping that he was wrong about the car that was behind him. He needed to get somewhere that he could hide until he could write his story and present his evidence to save his life. As a reporter, he had covered a lot of stories. This was the first one that could get him killed. He should have given the story to McKay so he could get killed. The car sped up and hit him from behind. He steered away from the impact. If they knocked him off the road, he was as good as dead. He had to find a place where he could lose them and then get back to the paper. Once the story was out with evidence to back it up, he would be in the clear. There might be some reprisals. Big time criminals didn’t like reporters poking into their business. It was the nature of the beast. He had dealt with some of them over the years. They didn’t even want to be treated badly as they waited for their sentencing. He checked his mirror again. The other car was coming up for another ram. He weaved side to side so they couldn’t get a clear shot. He had to stay on the road. If he was knocked off here, he would drop into a valley and have to be carried out with a basket from above. He couldn’t let them have the records he had stolen. If they got them back, all of his proof would be gone. His story would be dead. He rocked in his seat as his car took another hit. How many more could he take before the tires gave out. That would be just as bad as anything else that might happen. Another hit and he lost control. He saw the guard rail coming up and tried to turn to catch it with the side of his car. He took another hit and his Pontiac was airborne. He tried to steer on the way down but he hit something and the car flipped and rolled towards the bottom of the valley. He had worn his seat belt and it cut into his hips and legs as the car carried him to his crash. He felt blood on his face and his suit was ripped up. He had to get out of the car and get away from there before the guys who pushed him off the road came down and finished him off. All they had to do was shoot into the car and that would be the end of it for him. If they only wanted to stop him, shooting the car until it caught fire with him inside of it was the best thing for them to do. He had to get out and find cover. Then he could think of patching his wounds and getting things to his desk to write up for his editor. He realized he was upside-down. That was bad for him because it made it easier to shoot at the gas tank. And it made it harder for him to undo the seatbelt so he could flee. He worked at the buckle until the belt snapped loose and he could drop down to the roof of his car. He cut himself squeezing through the window. He lay on the ground for a minute to catch his breath. He had to get away from the car. If they started shooting at it, he could be caught in the blast. If they started shooting at him and hit him, he could be wounded bad enough that he couldn’t escape. Then he would be one more missing reporter that was lost somewhere while doing a story. He should have asked McKay to cover this. He didn’t care if McKay got shot and set on fire. Wes dragged himself away from the car. His legs didn’t work right for the moment. He pulled himself along with his hands. He reached another downslope to a mass of trees. He pulled himself to a roll that carried him to the trees. He reached the trees and hit painfully against the wooden sentinels. He took a moment to catch his breath again. He had to get into the trees to get cover from the other car on the mountain. He could see the lights up there. Everything hurt. Blood was everywhere. He felt the world sliding to the side. He had to keep going until he got help to get him to the paper. He had never hurt this much before. He could see being in the hospital after he got this story cleared. Maybe he could write a story about the hospital while he was stuck in it. He should have taken another road to get away. He dragged himself deeper in the woods. He had to get away from the road. He had to protect what he had taken. He had to try to keep going. Wes knew he had no chance of reaching a rescuer. He was going to die on the mountain. They were going to find the files. Maybe they would set his body on fire to hide the evidence. He hated losing like that. Wes struggled along. He couldn’t wait on them to find him. He was going to die, but he was going to make them work for it. He tried to smile at that, but the pain turned it into grimace. He heard a sound like a whistling above him. He wondered where it was coming from. He put it out of his mind. If it wasn’t help, then it was useless. The ground exploded to his right. Trees jumped into the air. His hand caught fire. He rolled as more pain flooded his system. He glanced over and saw a fire burning in the trees. Had they shot a rocket at him? Is that what had caused the explosion? He rubbed his hand. The pain there eclipsed everything else he was suffering. He looked down at it. He saw that he had acquired some kind of burn mark that looked like four diamonds. He rubbed it to clear some of the ash and blood off of it. He blinked as the diamonds lit up. He thought that he was about to pass out because he was hallucinating. His body stretched out into a ribbon. He floated above the fiery crater. He tried to look at himself but he couldn’t see his hands. What was going on? He found his clothes and stolen files laying on the ground. He frowned that he was running around naked and apparently floating above the ground. The pain was gone. He tried to frown but he couldn’t feel his face. He tried to feel around with his hands, but he couldn’t tell where his hands were. What was going on? Wes decided that he had to get out of there and figure things out later. He had to get to the paper to write up his story if he could use the typewriter. He floated to his belongings and gathered them up. He flew down the mountain side to the city below. He wondered how fast he was going. He had so many questions but he had no way to work on that yet. If he could get to a doctor, maybe then he could worry about not feeling normal. He was glad that the pain had faded away with the change of shape. Maybe there was someone he could ask about this. Maybe there was someone like the Mark who knew what happened to him. If the Hazard Scouts were still around, Mr. Robot had been the expert on strange stuff like this. And they were based in California. He could have called and arranged for an appointment. He looked behind him. The fire in the trees still burned from what he could see. He didn’t see anyone checking out the explosion. A secondary blast answered the first. He frowned at the realization that his car had finally gone up in a fireball. He was going to get the blame for the fire. He couldn’t believe it. He paused to consider going back up to the top of the mountain in his new body and doing something. He wasn’t quite sure what that something was. He found a payphone. He could call the paper if he could still talk. He could report the fire and his attempted murder, even if he didn’t know who had actually did the deed. He returned to normal as he searched his clothes for change to make his call. He looked around. No one was around to see him bent over his clothes in the buff. He quickly pulled on his clothes before someone came along. He frowned at the blood and dirt on everything. He felt better. Maybe turning into a blob had healed up the injuries to him. He winced as he moved. He hadn’t healed up as much as he thought. Maybe he was going to die from internal injuries, but he was able to keep moving at the moment. He put change in the payphone and called the night editor for the paper. He had to give a verbal breakdown for the fire story so it could be written up before the deadline. Then he had to work on his bigger story. “Clancy,” said the night editor. He didn’t have much to do, but when he did, his slow talk turned to a fast clip. “What’s your story?” “Clancy, this is Wes,” said the reporter. He looked around for a location. “A fire has started up in the mountains. An explosion on the ground started it. I don’t know what that was. Also my car was pushed off Old Pine Road through the guard rail before the fire. My car exploded when the fire reached it from the looks of things. I need to call the fire department and see what they can do.” "Where are you, Wes?,” said Clancy. The scribbling of a pen, or pencil, came over the line. “I am at a pay phone at the corner of Burnes and Winchester,” said Wes. He had to look around for street signs. “The fire is on the mountain where Old Pine Road is. It’s in the trees below the road. You can see it from where I am.” “What happened?,” said Clancy. “I’ll chop anything too outlandish.” “I was pushed off the road down the side of the mountain,” said Wes. “Guys started shooting at me. I got into some trees. There was a boom, and then there was a fire. And then my car went up.” “That is a lot of outlandish,” said Clancy. “I know,” said Wes. “They were chasing me over some files I have. I was going to bring them in so I could work on the Delveccio story. I didn’t think they would try to kill me over it.” “Delveccio is connected, Wes,” said Clancy. “Everyone knows it. I’m surprised he hasn’t had you killed before this. He’s definitely going to want to kill you if you have some kind of evidence against him.” “I have been chasing this story for a long time,” said Wes. “I’m sure I can prove something with what I have. I’m coming in to write everything up.” “Don’t come here,” said Clancy. “This is the first place they will look for you if they think you’re alive and got away. Don’t go home either. Pick a random place and go there until some of this blows over. Thanks, Bel. All right. Some of your reporting is not so outlandish after all.” “What do you mean?,” asked Wes. “The Observatory reported a meteor impact out your way,” said Clancy. “There’s your explosion.” “I almost got killed by a meteor?,” asked Wes. He couldn’t believe that. “There was nothing left as far as I could see.” “You lucked out,” said Clancy. “I am going to call the police and tell them about your car, and tell them that you called in. Are you hurt?” “A little,” said Wes. “I have had worse from my old man.” “Don’t come here, don’t go home,” said Clancy. “Find some place you can hunker down until things quiet. Delveccio might have some of the cops on the payroll. Don’t tell them anything until you have your story written. I’ll talk to Fleming and see if the paper can do something for you.” “So I’m in the cold until I can get things done,” said Wes. “If they are waiting for you here, you’ll be picked up before you can get to your desk,” said Clancy. “Remember Marsden.” “I remember,” said Wes. “Fire trucks are visible, Clancy. It looks like they’ll be finding my car in a minute.” “I’ll have Rewrite go over things before the press starts up,” said Clancy. “I will not put anything in about you, your car crash, or your presence. You’re going to have to explain things to Fleming in the morning. Until then, hide out. If you really have the goods, be ready to protect your source from the police.” “I can do that,” said Wes. He was the source, and he had committed burglary to get what he had. “Thanks, Clancy.” “Don’t thank me yet,” said the editor. “Fleming will want to know what you got, and how to use it. Make sure you have the real thing to justify driving you off the road and down a cliff.” “I’ll have to hire an expert, won’t I?,” said Wes. “If you want your story to go, yes,” said Clancy. “You’ll need a third party to back up your conclusion. And that’s if Delveccio doesn’t kill you first.” “I don’t know any finance guys,” said Wes. “All right. I’ll work on that to get the backup for the story.” “Fleming and Golding will want to talk to you,” said Clancy. “I’ll let them know what is going on.” “Thanks, Clancy,” said Wes. “I’ll call back when I have something for you.” “All right,” said Clancy. “Stay out of trouble until we can get things sorted.” He hung up the phone. Wes put the receiver on its hook. He hated to be reminded of Marsden. He had been the first to go after Delveccio. They had found his body anchored to a buoy off the coast. Parts of it were missing because someone had taken a knife to him. He had been on his way to the paper after finding something. He had never made it. Wes didn’t want that for himself.

Former city and state rep Derwin Montgomery was sentenced yesterday to five years of probation and restitution after taking 25k from the charity he was running to hit Vegas and Cancun as part of a plea deal. Charges of wire fraud were dismissed as part of the deal. CES

Victor Stone, The Cyborg as my Rookie CES

I'm picking the Genesis Device as my cargo CES

in 2011, a man was arrested for three counts of animal cruelty and thirty three counts of negligence. The county took these ponies from him. The property was sold. The reason this is relevant is in the last few days, the city/county is digging up this property with permission from the current owners. The word is they are looking for human remains. CES

I'm picking Johann Kraus as my misfit. CES

i was like please dont be Jim Butcher. CES

My coworker still thinks that Trudeau is trying to control the population of Canada by offering euthanasia for broken noses. He had an article published by Forbes and I was like what you said is going on is not what the article says. They kicked it up since the article came out. CES

The Grizzled Veteran is Snake Plisskin for the times you need to escape from some locked down city CES

I'm picking Han Solo as my number one and helmsman. CES