#false profit

[shenanimation]

[siberat]

False Prophet

Chapter 8

Engines revved and his belly grumbled in happy anticipation upon seeing plates of decadent cakes, pies, and custards all lined up. The spread was colorful, looking more like works of art to be admired, not consumed. Despite his tanks feeling heavy from fullness, there was enough room to be topped off.

Happy hums and needy tummy rumbles sang as the mechs approached. One by one, the recruit was spoon-fed sweet slices of heaven until dishes were scraped clean. Each bite was treasured as if it were his last meal. Each mouthful burst with vivid hues of yellows as the sugary delights danced across his tongue.

Each bite —from warm, crystal apple pies topped with vanilla ice cream to moist cakes —filled him up ever so nicely. But as much as the luscious flavor threatened to whisk him away to nirvana, bright, conflicting colors snapped him back to reality. There was an aftertaste of deceit on the tip of his tongue, yet his chassis buzzed with warm, encouraging love from the Spiritualist. But the emotions were fleeting, and the food was too tasty; Sunder couldn’t refrain from eating.

Everything encouraged the continuation of gluttony- servo’s caressed as the rumbling of engines vibrated against his back. Sunder had to lean back, his heavy abdomen swelled, looking as if he swallowed a boulder. His gray thighs felt like overinflated rubber, no longer able to carry out their function. Even if they could carry his weight, why would all this scrumptious food be walked away from? But with that paunch stretched to capacity, his tanks panged with the promise of a belly ache.

“You’re eating so well for me,” Wing cooed, his frame warming as he gave the round, taunt mass a squeeze. “You’re almost done, just a few more bites.”

“Not sure it’ll all fit,” Sunder panted, sweat beading from his brow as cooling fans clicked on. “I’m so full...”

“Surely one more dish can fit.” Servos worked overtime to soothe that angry beast, to quiet those angry churns and deep-rooted growls. “It’s one I made especially for you.”

“Wing....” Sunder gasped, eyeing the dish as if it threatened his existence. “You are gonna be the death of me.”

“Then you shall perish a happy mech, hmmm?” Fingers teasingly pinch at soft side rolls, causing stifled laughs. “Just one more dish. You can do it for me, can’t you?”

A spoon travelled to his lips loaded with a simple dish. Chocolate pudding. As soon as his mouth encircled the spoon and the utensil pulled out, the decadent velvety treat provided jolts of bright reds and colorful yellows. While the flashes vanished quickly, the lingering zing of cocoa lived on. The chilled, thick cream coated his throat in goodness, thoroughly enjoyed, and soon disappeared.

Those servos never stopped caressing. It was as if his large, bloated midsection was a divine vessel, and Wing devoutly worshipped it. Happiness, pride, and excitement pulsed through the connections, making Sunder feel at ease with his surroundings. And his enlarged frame. There were no dirty looks of disgust from anyone present over his gluttonous feeding.

It was part of the initiation, right?

The clinking of metal against the bowl reminded him of how all good things must come to an end. Sunder’s taste receptors became disappointed, but his tight belly was elated. Stretched to capacity, the taunt mesh itched, no doubt from the accumulation of stress marks. The Autobot slouched, taxed frame melting against Wing’s with his aching belly exposed in silent demands of comfort.

“How are you feeling?” Wing snuggled forward.

“Full.” Sunder gasped, resting his helm in the crook of Wing’s neck. The post-stuffing sleepiness took hold, weighing down his optics. “But good.”

“That’s a pleasure to hear.” The servos gently massaged that beast of a belly, chasing down angry gurgles. “Ready to call it a night?”

“I can barely keep my optics open,” Sunder mumbled, feeling the frame beneath him shift.

“May blissful dreams of Primus fill your soul.” Wing sung. “Your berth awaits, my King.”

“I... I don’t think I can move, Wing,” The mnemosurgeon chuckled. Feeling his heavy frame was grounding. Feeling Wing snuggling against him was relaxing. But his frame felt sluggish; the mere thought of returning to his quarters was arduous. His joints ached in anticipation.

“Hmmmmm.... I suppose we could roll you. Our home is downhill.” The Spiritualist laughed. Sunder groaned. “I hear it's going to be a lovely evening. Clear skies and warm. Would...would you care to spend it with me, sleeping under the stars?”

Sunder’s engines stalled.

“Platonically, of course.” Wing smiled, cheeks tinged with blush as his optics lowered.

Main

[beatsforbrothels]

Visit Original Link

Gabe 'Nandez & Thomas Maggart - Dove

[tannerballengee]

FALSE PROFIT -- watercolor on junk mail, 2016

[science-criticaltheory]

Inside the religious MAGA sect that believes Trump was anointed by God | Times Radio.

“They would do a civil war if they could.” Times Radio's Jo Crawford travelled to Nebraska to investigate a fringe evangelical sect that believes the US is in the midst of a spiritual war and Donald Trump was anointed by God. Times Radio has contacted FlashPoint and Lord of Hosts church for comment and is awaiting their response.

Times Radio

10 Disturbing Parallels Between 1930s Germany and 2020s USA.

History doesn't repeat, but it often rhymes... Join us as we examine unsettling similarities between two turbulent eras that have citizens concerned. From failed coups and political comebacks to economic exploitation and media manipulation, these comparisons raise important questions about our democratic institutions and where we might be heading. Our analysis includes parallels between political returns after exile, the Beer Hall Putsch and January 6th, elder statesmen giving way to populists, persecutory rhetoric, rejection of international agreements, economic instability as political fuel, propaganda tactics, troubling alliances, territorial ambitions, and the dangerous expansion of executive power.

WatchMojo.com

A couple of videos for future historians to ponder: A perversion of Christian beliefs.

The relationship that MAGA has with Trump is much like Charles Manson had with his followers. Manson's minions did what he told them to do, specifically commit a 2 sets of horrible murders. They were by objective analysis a satanic cult. There have been many others. What they have in common is the worship of a leader that is frequently quite insane. They followers have forsaken all societal norms and values.

MAGA Christians (sic) do not come near to following the teachings of Christ as outlined in the New Testament. They are cult followers whose allegiance is to the cult leader. In this care their "leader" is a false profit. If Trump's MAGA followers think they will all meet in Heaven, they are headed for a massive surprise.

[ryanranney]

Fear of the World

The world that we see Is not what is there It’s the illusion of dreams By those fearful of losing The world as it stands Is not all that we know It’s the crime of the charge By those fearful of losing The world as a power Is not at all a true force It’s the lie of the line By those fearful of losing The world as a life Is not all that we read It’s the tale of the false witness By those fearful of…

Fear of the World

[dustedmagazine]

Gabe 'Nandez, Thomas Maggart — False Profit (POW)

Fundamentally, there’s no great mystery to what Gabriel Fernandez does. Right from the start of H.T. almost exactly a decade ago, ‘Nandez proved himself a student of both the Wu-Tang and Five Elements schools on the mic (if not in his choice of productions), a guy loading up bars like an empty gat and letting loose in the booth. You could take a bit of his tracing-wheeled pattern paper and overlay it with, say, Raekwon only to find there wasn’t much in it — you were getting the same suit. False Profit, his latest album with producer Thomas Maggart, isn’t any kind of radical departure taken on a macro level. But don’t let that confuse you for the micro of how he does it, which is the real magic.

Themes present include your usual fare of urban nightmares, friends gone away or simply gone, aspirations of wealth and success, and the unending conflict just to get from breakfast to dinner and back to bed at the end of a long one. Drawing on a polyglot background — his mom was Malian, his dad an Argentine UN employee who worked across the planet, and his first language is French — ‘Nandez is adept at his utilization of language. That he’s lately followed in the vein of guys like Boldy James and Roc Marciano and stuck to one producer for his full-lengths (as he did on Object Permanence with Wino Willy earlier this year) plays to both sides’ strengths, too. It’s no different here with Thomas Maggart, who’s worked with the likes of Anklejohn, Estee Nack, Raz Fresco and Siddiq. Maggart errs on the side of dusty grooves and soul samples for False Profit, and it complements Gabe’s smoky, low-slung, ever so slightly stuffed-up delivery.

And what a delivery it is. The thing that keeps me coming back to ‘Nandez is his air intake and how he juxtaposes carefully deployed, tactically ornate rhymes with a sense of absolute control over what he’s saying; sidewinding verses bend in submission to fit tidily into his flows, and it’s easy to replay songs and still be left wondering how the hell he can slide all these words so effortlessly into the beats. You’re not getting any kind of bouncy Chance the Rapper-esque “Gipetto” or Neptunes-like “Transactions” here, but the sweet, soaring samples of “Crane Stance” or “Joker Card” only serve to bring out the grittier qualities of Gabe’s voice. In the battle of inches it takes to claim your spot in the hip-hop landscape, ‘Nandez has it figured out.

At 10 tracks and 27 minutes, False Profit hits a slightly sweeter spot than Pangaea between the brevity of Object Permanence and the bloat of H.T. III’s deluxe variant … but I say “bloat” when I really mean “blunt,” and one listen to any of the songs presented here ought to sway you definitively one way or the other. When it comes to masters of a craft, there’s scant middle ground to be had.

Patrick Masterson

[joebustillos]

Trump & The Bible Salesmen Memes - JoeBustillos.com

Not to give anyone any ideas, but they might buy conspiracy theory encyclopedias… Who has said repeatedly while campaigning at Christian con