Decided to make another post as the "leaker" allegedly had another AMA on 4chan (taken down again) where he clarified a few things that were misinterpreted and also decided to reveal more things about the game. I decided to clarify a few things about my last post as well as some people seem confused about a few details that I mentioned. Credits to u/Elena_xoxo for bringing the second AMA to light in a post in the GTA6 subreddit and also u/roughpreference991 for the screenshots of the AMA. The archived version of the first AMA can be found here. Again, take it with a huge grain of salt because of it being a 4chan leak and no way to know if both the AMAs are done by the same person. This time around the leaker comes with a bolder claim about the credibility that they have been working at R* since 2004 and is primarily a developer. The leaker claims that they know the staff in every area of the dev team. The leaker mentions multiple times to capture the thread and 99% of it will be confirmed "sooner than you think"(Of course, this does not prove shit but could be interesting in retrospect). Now to jump into the details of the second AMA:
Same engine as RDR2 and GTAV but definitely improved upon. Ray tracing is in use but limited to reflections and shadows. Leaker mentions not to expect ray-traced light until the PC release.
They also mention that what they said about the map size of the game in the previous AMA was misunderstood. What they meant was that the fastest transportation in RDR2 takes roughly 15-20 minutes to travel the longest possible route whereas GTA VI is around 13-15 minutes. They mention that the map is bigger than RDR2's in landmass. (The inconsistency of their details of the map from the previous thread is a big red flag imo)
Complete freedom regarding exploration, you aren't forced to play through the main story and can go exploring anytime you want.
They also mention that one of the confirmed songs is "Always on my Mind" by the Pet Shop Boys. (Mentioned in the previous AMA as well but they mention the song name this time.)
Large number of building enterable and they all have textures unique to them but not every building is enterable as it is just too hard to implement.
Better physics than GTAV as RDR2 was taken as the base for it and then built upon for the modern world. Driving feels less arcadey than GTAV but not as weighted as GTA IV's.
The gap between consoles and PC release estimated to be 12 months by the leaker.
The leaker again refuses to leak the MC's name but does mention that he has a mother and a sister. The MC calls the sister Frankie and also the father is dead. (Maybe you play as the father in the 1970s part of the game as I mentioned in the last post who dies when the MC is a kid and then maybe you play as the MC in the modern-day counterpart).
The game has "deceptive" amount of content already according to the leaker.
There's a famous 80s singer hosting one of the radio stations.
Monetization at the launch of Online will be a lot lighter than GTA Vs due to the company being concerned about bad press.
More hair and facial types that can be mixed and matched and also supposed to be period-specific for the online counterpart. Also, there will be a choice of body type but nothing specific like Fat, average, fit, muscular, etc,
There will be a morality meter for the first time similar but not identical to RDR2's system. This will affect certain missions and outcomes.
2 limited maps within the game. Liberty City (pretty much on rails) and a "Cuban" island.
Supposed to be a satirical representation of America in the 1980s.
There's one side mission that's pretty much just one giant easter egg for the Goonies. It is not given to the player by an NPC but started by finding a map (Like one eyed willies).
There is one interesting detail, the leaker first states that the protagonist is older than Tommy Vercetti but then, later on, admits that he made a mistake and that the protagonist is actually 2 years younger than Tommy. (This is the most interesting detail as it can actually be an honest mistake on their part or it could be a clever and subtle way to fake their credibility by acting as if it was an honest mistake.)
The North Point Mall looks really good now and it's way bigger.
There's a scarface style montage that holds a lot of meme potential. (This was an answer to someone asking the leaker if there are any memeable moments)
Main forms of transport stated to be cars, motorcycles, boats, helicopters, and seabirds.
Controls are just a refined version of what you've seen in previous titles. Gunplay is essentially a modified version of RDR2 mechanics. No parkour-style traversal mechanics in the game.
Full body nudity in strip clubs and even during some cutscenes. Also, if you build up a good enough affinity with certain women, you can "make love".
Fidelity and Performance mode similar to something like Miles Morales.
You can work out but transformation won't be as dramatic as GTA SA. You have to also make sure that you're eating or you won't grow. Some more side activities mentioned by the leaker are gambling, dancing, and roller derby which they also previously mentioned in the last AMA.
NPCs are like RDR2 but in a GTA setting. The police don't just shoot you to death for small crimes anymore. If you get the option to bribe the officers for petty crimes.
Using fists have better development than the previous GTA. You can grab people and punch them in a clinch. There are unique animations for stealthy kills.
One example of better car detailing that the leaker gives is of Ferrari Enzo (not called that) and it looks as if it could be in a GT7.
The leaker states that there are a lot of 80s references in GTA Online recently. Also, the song choice for casino update was 80s related.
When someone asked if there is a protagonist replacement point like in RDR2, the leaker declined to say as it might spoil some of the story. The prologue and 1st chapter are set in the 1970s all the way till 1987.
Again I can't stress enough to take all of this with a huge grain of salt as a lot of details could easily be educated guesses, there is no way to even know if both the AMAs were done by the same person and the credibility itself but had to compile it for my Reddit peeps. I also wanted to clarify a few things from my last post as well:
I did mention that the first 2 chapters are set in the late 1970s, to be more specific the prologue and 1st chapter are set in that time period, and it goes from the late 1970s till 1987.
The Ricardo codename mentioned for the protagonist in the last game was indeed based on the Ricardo Milos meme. (The leaker stated that the protagonist has "sun-kissed" tan so maybe that's why the codename.)
RDR1 is technically being "remastered" as the map was already made in the newer engine so it's not a remake. The leaker also did state in the last AMA that it looks like a next-gen game.
A lot of people mentioned that Ken Rosenberg and Tommy Vercetti cannot exist in the HD universe as R* has stated that the HD universe is different than the previous games. While I don't deny that but at the end of the day, it's R*'s intellectual property so it wouldn't be surprising if they did it. The other possibility could be an alternate version of the same characters that exist in the HD universe.
Dear Reddit. I have started writing a book of short stories about my life as a hobo. True to my nature of blowing money faster than it came, or blowing the opportunity of even making it, I love you assholes and will let you read the book for free as I write it from the beginning. Enjoy
Chapter One: Bozeman or Bust (lots of bust) I had done it once again, like so many other years before, by traveling north to one of the harshest and coldest states that a hobo could possibly go to during the dead of winter, late-January 2021: Mon-fucking-tana. Or as the locals jokingly say, "Montucky". (edit: Shout-out to Montucky Cold Snacks, the cheap horse-piss watered down beer that is Montana's equivalent of Washington's "Rainier Ale" or Oregon's "Session Lager"). I digress. If I was a goose, I'd surely be the Jonathan Livingston Seagull of the flock…the black sheep shitshow of a goose flying in the completely wrong direction at the worst time of the year. As forementioned, this was not the first time, nor second time, that I've done this. In fact, it's become a habit, if not straight-up routine. Laramie, Wyoming circa November 2016. Glendive, Montana circa January 2015 Minot, North Dakota circa January 2014. Yukon, Canada circa November 2013. Bellingham, Washington circa January 2006. The list goes on, and on, and on… And here I am. Bozeman Fucking Montana, circa January-February 2021. The locals say it's an unusually warm winter, which by Montana's standards might include 5 inches of snow in the afternoon and temperatures dropping below 10F degrees at night. However, according to the high standards of a low-class hobo born and raised on the Gulf Coast of Alabama, this weather is colder than a witches tit. Now, that's not to say that I ain't prepared though. I assure you that I am. Sixteen years of living on the road and rails has made this black goose a well-seasoned bird, with all the trimmings. I have a military sleeping bag that can keep me alive down to negative 30 temperatures. My military backpack is waterproof, and so are the snowboarding pants that I wear under my insulated Carharrt overalls. I have alpaca wool thermal pants, merino wool socks, thermolite waterproof boots, thinsulated gloves, and several wool and polyster beanie hats. My dual-layer mountaineering tent can withstand hurricane-force winds and all the snow that a blizzard can muster. Winter? Montana? Bring it bitch. Hit me with your best shot. You know I like it. wink Sigh. However, DESPITE the freezing temperatures and shit tons of snow, there's a lil secret that I've learned during my many years of traveling, and that secret is certainly DUE to these wintery conditions: Jobs! Lots and lots and lots and lots of jobs! Jobs here, jobs there, jobs every-fucking-where. Hotel jobs, restaurant jobs, retail jobs, construction jobs, maintenance jobs, driving jobs, even jobs just to help other people get more damn jobs! You want a job during winter? Well they got jobs out northern Californie way, Oregonie way, Montanie way, Washingtonie way, North and South Dakotie way, and every which way can go above above the Mason-Dixon line! If you can't find a damn job in the Northwestern United States of America during winter, you ain't fucking looking, and that's a fact. If you got one arm and you can swing a hammer, or punch a number on a cash register, then consider yourself hired on the spot and you can start today. Before this chapter turns into an entire damn book of its own (A Hobo's Guide to Finding Jobs) let's get back to the story here: Bozeman or Bust. As I begin this chapter, I have a red-wine hangover that is enough to drive me to a bullet in the head. I made a pot of coffee only to puke it back up on my hands and knees in front the porcelain thrown. I think it was good ole Earnest Hemingway that once said "Write Drunk, Edit Sober". Experienced words of wisdom from a fine man that knew everything a man could possibly know about drinking shit tons of wine and writing shit tons of stories. I wouldn't be lying if I was to confess that Mr. Hemingway, along with Mr. Steinbeck and Mr. Twain, are drunken heroes of mine that I could only hope someday to sit alongside in the bookstores of Hell and Hades with a gallon of cheap Merlot. Salut, gentleman. After puking, rolling cigarettes, drinking coffee, and puking several times more, I was finally able to sit down to try and remember what-the-fuck happened yesterday; a solemn meditation technique that involves tons of coffee and contemplation; a time to worship the asinine achievements that are accompanied in both rejoice and regret. Yesterday started off sober as a saint. I had a job interview at this place I had found on craigslist, some place looking for fresh warm bodies to fill up their production-assembly line. I took a bus to the address they had given me, which ended up being the adress to the Bozeman City Bank. "A bank?", I thought, as I wondered around the parking lot dumbfounded and confused for a solid 5 minutes, checking the address several times on my phone, wondering why on earth I've been sent to a state bank. After circling the parking lot, I noticed a door on the side of the bank that said "Job Choices Employment Services: Second Floor". Godammit. I had been fucking conned. Fucking craigslist. I know what's going on here…this a goddamn employment agency that wants to take 10-15 percent of my paycheck, take away my rights to healthcare and benefits, in the so-called promise of finding me a "great career path of opportunity". Employment agencies. Just like rats. The only "opportunity" here was them: Creatures of opportunity, parasites hellbent on scavaging peoples money and benefits. "A not-even-close-to-great career path of 9-5 slave-labor bullshit involving years of suckling away your mind, body, and spirit", the sign on the door should have read. This was definitely a mistake. And anyone that has ever had the unfortunate pleasure of being with me can you tell one thing about me: I fucking love mistakes. I love making them, and I love learning from them. I am a walking-talking connoisseur of mistakes. In fact, I just made a mistake trying to spell connoisseur, so I asked Google "Hey Google, spell connoisseur", and due to lack of interpreting my Alabama accent, Google made the mistake of showing me the word Coitus. I have now learned that the word "coitus" is another word for sex. As a writer and the son of an English teacher, I love learning new words. As a human male, I love sex. So learning a new word for "sex" is a fantastic trade-off for that fortunate mistake! I digress. I decided to walk into the bank, up the stairs to the second floor, and down the hall to the employment agency. A well-dressed and very sexy debutant by the name of Tracy stood up and greeted me with a smile that was formal, professional, and admittedly very sexy. While my dirty mind started playing cheap porn music, along with vivid images of me and Tracy wrecking that office like wild alleycats, I was suddenly snapped back into reality with Tracy's sexy voice, saying: "Hey, you must be Mr. Huck! Are you here for the 3:00 o'clock interview? Could you please start by filling out this application? You can have a seat over at the desk here"… Godammit. This employment agency was GOOD. I was Tracy's submissive little slut. I walked right where Tracy told me to walk, sat right in the chair Tracy pulled out for me to sit in, and I started filling out the application with the ballpoint pen that Tracy had somehow put in my hand without me even realizing it. Tracy could have stolen my wallet and the 11 dollars inside of it as well, had she wanted to, and I wouldn't have even noticed. And even if I had noticed, I would have let her do it anyway. Godammit! As I started to fill out the application, I got to the section I dreaded most: job references. Oh boy…allow me to tell you a little about Huck's references, or lacktherof: At my last job, I was fired because of a fight that broke-out between my ex-girlfriend and myself, which began with lots of shouting and shoving, and ended with me getting a black-eye from being punched in the face twice. Fun fact: Italian women are fiery as they are fierce, and bold as they are beautiful. And just like their male Italian counterparts, such as Sylvester Stalone or Al Capone, they know how to land a solid right jab. This fight erupted in the worker's dormitory for all employees to hear and see. And although I was the one with the swollen black eye, I was the one they decided to fire. C'est la vie, such is life. Que sera sera, it be what it fucking be. We can scratch that job off as a reference, without a doubt. The job before that, I was at a marijuana farm called "Great American Cannabis", in which my managers and co-workers tried to recruit me into a far-right group of sexist and racist baboons called "The Proud Boys". There was a pre-determining factor in why that farm had hired me, and assumed I would be interested in their idealogical gang. That pre-determing factor was the very same factor that led Google to teaching me the wrong word and definition: my Alabama accent. Great American Cannabis had hired me based on a phone interview, in which they assumed my southern accent indicated two things, in which case one of their assumptions was right, and one was wrong: Assumption Numero Uno: Huck has an Alabama accent, which therefore indicates that he has years of experience working on farms, growing plants, and being an honest and hard-worker. Assumption Numero Dos: Huck has an Alabama accent, therefore he must be idealogically aligned with far-right beliefs including sexism and racism. Welp, I am proud to say that even that although a 50% winning percentage may be fine and dandy with gambling in Vegas, and can be seen as half full or half empty based on however optimisitic or pessimistic you might be, in the case of Great American Cannabis and The Proud Boys, those odds ended pretty badly. As it turns out, despite being raised by a racist father and surrounded by bigotry in the not-so-sweet home of Alabama, those very dispositions made this black sheep child rebel from such ass-backward beliefs, and I am staunchly pro-civil rights, which means I am pro-immigration, and a proud supporter of the sufferage movement for womens right. Obviously, that did not go very well with my co-workers at the farm, and I was fired within the first month. But wait, theres more tragic humor to the story of this farm, which I'll organize in two keypoints: Keypoint Numero Uno: The farm was owned by Iranian immigrants. I…shit…you…not. That's right. YOU DID READ THAT CORRECTLY. Not only was the farm owned and managed by a minority group of immigrants, those very immigrants came directly from the very country is at the VERY TOP of White-America's shitlist: Iran. Keypoint Numeros Dos: After I was fired based almost entirely according to my leftist and progressive views on race and gender equality, within just a couple of weeks nearly everybody on the farm was fired and replaced by cheaper immigrant labor in the form of Laotian women. That's right…a white-blooded American-born legal-working male, was replaced by brown-blooded, foreign-born, mostly-illegal-working females, on a farm owned and managed by right-wing racists and sexists that were anti-immigration. Once again, I…shit…you…fucking…not...let THAT shit sink in. I literally cannot make this shit up, and let it be forever proof that reality, however tragic or ironic it may be, is far greater than fiction. You can write that last sentence in a letter, shove that puppy in an envelope, slap that bitch with a stamp, and mail it to the fucking MOON. Or you can mail it to Iran, or Laos, whichever you prefer. However, I digress. So, being that I was fired from Great American Cannabis by a bunch of Iranian Proud Boys, you can scratch that job off of the "reference" list as well. Sigh. So, how about the job before that? Well, that's a hell of a story too, but I'll make it quick and cut shorter to the chase: I worked on a fishing boat for a Mormon captain. Although I loved him like a Dad, and he often treated me like a son, my job ended in these words: "Huck, I really like you. You're one of the hardest working deckhands I've ever had, despite it being a very terrible year for fishing. However, as a man that is a Latter Day Saint of God, as a Mormon, I'm going to have to ask you to leave because of three reasons: 1) You smoke cigarettes, marijuana, and drink alcohol and coffee. 2) You curse worse than a sailor. 3) You are an atheist/agnostic." And in case you, the reader did not know: Mormons HATE cigarettes, marijuana, alcohol, AND coffee. They are forbidden to curse, and they are not even allowed to tolerate the company of anyone that isn't a believer in God. Well Godammit. How in the hell am I so goddamn misfortunate and unlucky, to be the must FIRST FUCKING PERSON in the entire HISTORY OF FISHING, that has gotten fired for using curse words and drinking whiskey. I couldn't even absorb the fact that my boss was firing me because I couldn't get over the fact that I was possibly the first sailor or fisherman in all of ocean-faring humanity that had gotten fired for doing what sailors and fisherman are guaranteed and known to do best: drinkin' and cursin' We can also scratch THAT job off the possible reference list as well. It was at this point in the office of Job Choices Bozeman that the porn music had long since stopped playing in my head, and that I suddenly and swiftly fell deeply into a full blown existential crisis right there in Tracy's office while simply trying to think of a single reference from my last 3 jobs. The unbelievable amount of misfortune, tragedy, irony, and utter insanity of my last 3 job experiences had truly started to sink in, and I was beginning to legitimately lose my temporary grasp on sanity along with my faith in humanity altogether in one great, big, sloppy sandwich of existential fucking crisis. Allow me to self-diagnose this existential crisis sandwich by peeling off some of the layers of this enormous stinking onion that is in the middle of it all: Either that curse that was put on me a few years ago by a Mexican trainhopping gypsy from New Orleans is proof that curses are indeed fucking real, or either I am the unluckiest son of a bitch on this entire planet that is so very unlucky that I am slowly (or quickly) coming to the conclusion that this entire life is a simulation that is programmed by some sick comedic asshole that specializes in the tragedies of both irony AND misfortune. And though some people in this world call that programmer God or Allah or Jehovah, I call him Jeff. I call him "Jeff in Programming", with same amount of disdain and hatred that Michael Scott refers to "Toby in Human Resources" in the American version of the show "The Office". (Sidenote: If you do not understand my last reference because you have not watched The Office, then you need to stop reading this book right now, go sign up for one month of Netflix, and spend that entire month binge-watching one of the greatest sitcoms ever made in the history of television: The Office (US Version). Go. Now!) I digress. As I collapsed into a full-blown existential crisis while thinking of job references on the second floor employment services office above Montana State Bank, my fantasy-based relationship with Tracy was also about to crumble into an existential crisis as well, based on two very important qualities: Quality Numero Uno: Tracy and I had no relationship that actually existed outside of my head and a stupid job application form. We had never knocked over all of the filing cabinets, water-cooler, or broken the copying machine with tantric sex. That scenario never existed period. Quality Numeros Dos: I was about to not only lie, but also commit non-existent adultery to Tracy, thus putting a very real end to a not-very-real relationship. I stood up from the desk that me and Tracy had never fucked on, and I told Tracy that I had to use the bathroom. And though I did really have to use the bathroom, it wasn't for the purpose of pissing or taking a shit, it was for the purpose of throwing the application in the toilet and sneaking my way down the hallway and out of the employment agency. In which case, that is precisely what I did. Upon stepping out of the door and back into the parking lot of Bozeman City Bank, I noticed another hot little woman across the street: A dazzling red-headed freckle-faced damsel by the name of Wendy, who promised in her fertile bosom the birth of two-dollar cheeseburgers and loaded baked potatoes. I went inside Wendy's house, and began to have an oral relationship by penetrating my mouth with nearly everything that was offered on Wendy's dollar-value menu. Stop here, acquire coffee, booze, and cigarettes until I feel like writing again, which may be later tonight, tomorrow morning, or possibly fucking never
How the Hunt Brothers Cornered the Silver Market and Then Lost it All
TL:DR: yes its long. Grab a beer.
Until his dying day in 2014, Nelson Bunker Hunt, who had once been the world’s wealthiest man, denied that he and his brother plotted to corner the global silver market. Sure, back in 1980, Bunker, his younger brother Herbert, and other members of the Hunt clan owned roughly two-thirds of all the privately held silver on earth. But the historic stockpiling of bullion hadn’t been a ploy to manipulate the market, they and their sizable legal team would insist in the following years. Instead, it was a strategy to hedge against the voracious inflation of the 1970s—a monumental bet against the U.S. dollar. Whatever the motive, it was a bet that went historically sour. The debt-fueled boom and bust of the global silver market not only decimated the Hunt fortune, but threatened to take down the U.S. financial system. The panic of “Silver Thursday” took place over 35 years ago, but it still raises questions about the nature of financial manipulation. While many view the Hunt brothers as members of a long succession of white collar crooks, from Charles Ponzi to Bernie Madoff, others see the endearingly eccentric Texans as the victims of overstepping regulators and vindictive insiders who couldn’t stand the thought of being played by a couple of southern yokels. In either case, the story of the Hunt brothers just goes to show how difficult it can be to distinguish illegal market manipulation from the old fashioned wheeling and dealing that make our markets work. The Real-Life Ewings Whatever their foibles, the Hunts make for an interesting cast of characters. Evidently CBS thought so; the family is rumored to be the basis for the Ewings, the fictional Texas oil dynasty of Dallas fame. Sitting at the top of the family tree was H.L. Hunt, a man who allegedly purchased his first oil field with poker winnings and made a fortune drilling in east Texas. H.L. was a well-known oddball to boot, and his sons inherited many of their father’s quirks. For one, there was the stinginess. Despite being the richest man on earth in the 1960s, Bunker Hunt (who went by his middle name), along with his younger brothers Herbert (first name William) and Lamar, cultivated an image as unpretentious good old boys. They drove old Cadillacs, flew coach, and when they eventually went to trial in New York City in 1988, they took the subway. As one Texas editor was quoted in the New York Times, Bunker Hunt was “the kind of guy who orders chicken-fried steak and Jello-O, spills some on his tie, and then goes out and buys all the silver in the world.” Cheap suits aside, the Hunts were not without their ostentation. At the end of the 1970s, Bunker boasted a stable of over 500 horses and his little brother Lamar owned the Kansas City Chiefs. All six children of H.L.’s first marriage (the patriarch of the Hunt family had fifteen children by three women before he died in 1974) lived on estates befitting the scions of a Texas billionaire. These lifestyles were financed by trusts, but also risky investments in oil, real estate, and a host of commodities including sugar beets, soybeans, and, before long, silver. The Hunt brothers also inherited their father’s political inclinations. A zealous anti-Communist, Bunker Hunt bankrolled conservative causes and was a prominent member of the John Birch Society, a group whose founder once speculated that Dwight Eisenhower was a “dedicated, conscious agent” of Soviet conspiracy. In November of 1963, Hunt sponsored a particularly ill-timed political campaign, which distributed pamphlets around Dallas condemning President Kennedy for alleged slights against the Constitution on the day that he was assassinated. JFK conspiracy theorists have been obsessed with Hunt ever since. In fact, it was the Hunt brand of politics that partially explains what led Bunker and Herbert to start buying silver in 1973. Hard Money The 1970s were not kind to the U.S. dollar. Years of wartime spending and unresponsive monetary policy pushed inflation upward throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s. Then, in October of 1973, war broke out in the Middle East and an oil embargo was declared against the United States. Inflation jumped above 10%. It would stay high throughout the decade, peaking in the aftermath of the Iranian Revolution at an annual average of 13.5% in 1980. Over the same period of time, the global monetary system underwent a historic transformation. Since the first Roosevelt administration, the U.S. dollar had been pegged to the value of gold at a predictable rate of $35 per ounce. But in 1971, President Nixon, responding to inflationary pressures, suspended that relationship. For the first time in modern history, the paper dollar did not represent some fixed amount of tangible, precious metal sitting in a vault somewhere. For conservative commodity traders like the Hunts, who blamed government spending for inflation and held grave reservations about the viability of fiat currency, the perceived stability of precious metal offered a financial safe harbor. It was illegal to trade gold in the early 1970s, so the Hunts turned to the next best thing. 📷
As an investment, there was a lot to like about silver. The Hunts were not alone in fleeing to bullion amid all the inflation and geopolitical turbulence, so the price was ticking up. Plus, light-sensitive silver halide is a key component of photographic film. With the growth of the consumer photography market, new production from mines struggled to keep up with demand. And so, in 1973, Bunker and Herbert bought over 35 million ounces of silver, most of which they flew to Switzerland in specifically designed airplanes guarded by armed Texas ranch hands. According to one source, the Hunt’s purchases were big enough to move the global market. But silver was not the Hunts' only speculative venture in the 1970s. Nor was it the only one that got them into trouble with regulators. Soy Before Silver In 1977, the price of soybeans was rising fast. Trade restrictions on Brazil and growing demand from China made the legume a hot commodity, and both Bunker and Herbert decided to enter the futures market in April of that year. A future is an agreement to buy or sell some quantity of a commodity at an agreed upon price at a later date. If someone contracts to buy soybeans in the future (they are said to take the “long” position), they will benefit if the price of soybeans rise, since they have locked in the lower price ahead of time. Likewise, if someone contracts to sell (that’s called the “short” position), they benefit if the price falls, since they have locked in the old, higher price. While futures contracts can be used by soybean farmers and soy milk producers to guard against price swings, most futures are traded by people who wouldn’t necessarily know tofu from cream cheese. As a de facto insurance contract against market volatility, futures can be used to hedge other investments or simply to gamble on prices going up (by going long) or down (by going short). When the Hunts decided to go long in the soybean futures market, they went very, very long. Between Bunker, Herbert, and the accounts of five of their children, the Hunts collectively purchased the right to buy one-third of the entire autumn soybean harvest of the United States. To some, it appeared as if the Hunts were attempting to corner the soybean market. In its simplest version, a corner occurs when someone buys up all (or at least, most) of the available quantity of a commodity. This creates an artificial shortage, which drives up the price, and allows the market manipulator to sell some of his stockpile at a higher profit. Futures markets introduce some additional complexity to the cornerer’s scheme. Recall that when a trader takes a short position on a contract, he or she is pledging to sell a certain amount of product to the holder of the long position. But if the holder of the long position just so happens to be sitting on all the readily available supply of the commodity under contract, the short seller faces an unenviable choice: go scrounge up some of the very scarce product in order to “make delivery” or just pay the cornerer a hefty premium and nullify the deal entirely. In this case, the cornerer is actually counting on the shorts to do the latter, says Craig Pirrong, professor of finance at the University of Houston. If too many short sellers find that it actually costs less to deliver the product, the market manipulator will be stuck with warehouses full of inventory. Finance experts refer to selling the all the excess supply after building a corner as “burying the corpse.” “That is when the price collapses,” explains Pirrong. “But if the number of deliveries isn’t too high, the loss from selling at the low price after the corner is smaller than the profit from selling contracts at the high price.” 📷
The Chicago Board of Trade trading floor. Photo credit:Jeremy Kemp
Even so, when the Commodity Futures Trading Commission found that a single family from Texas had contracted to buy a sizable portion of the 1977 soybean crop, they did not accuse the Hunts of outright market manipulation. Instead, noting that the Hunts had exceeded the 3 million bushel aggregate limit on soybean holdings by about 20 million, the CFTC noted that the Hunt’s “excessive holdings threaten disruption of the market and could cause serious injury to the American public.” The CFTC ordered the Hunts to sell and to pay a penalty of $500,000. Though the Hunts made tens of millions of dollars on paper while soybean prices skyrocketed, it’s unclear whether they were able to cash out before the regulatory intervention. In any case, the Hunts were none too pleased with the decision. “Apparently the CFTC is trying to repeal the law of supply and demand,” Bunker complained to the press. Silver Thursday Despite the run in with regulators, the Hunts were not dissuaded. Bunker and Herbert had eased up on silver after their initial big buy in 1973, but in the fall of 1979, they were back with a vengeance. By the end of the year, Bunker and Herbert owned 21 million ounces of physical silver each. They had even larger positions in the silver futures market: Bunker was long on 45 million ounces, while Herbert held contracts for 20 million. Their little brother Lamar also had a more “modest” position. By the new year, with every dollar increase in the price of silver, the Hunts were making $100 million on paper. But unlike most investors, when their profitable futures contracts expired, they took delivery. As in 1973, they arranged to have the metal flown to Switzerland. Intentional or not, this helped create a shortage of the metal for industrial supply. Naturally, the industrialists were unhappy. From a spot price of around $6 per ounce in early 1979, the price of silver shot up to $50.42 in January of 1980. In the same week, silver futures contracts were trading at $46.80. Film companies like Kodak saw costs go through the roof, while the British film producer, Ilford, was forced to lay off workers. Traditional bullion dealers, caught in a squeeze, cried foul to the commodity exchanges, and the New York jewelry house Tiffany & Co. took out a full page ad in the New York Times slamming the “unconscionable” Hunt brothers. They were right to single out the Hunts; in mid-January, they controlled 69% of all the silver futures contracts on the Commodity Exchange (COMEX) in New York. 📷
But as the high prices persisted, new silver began to come out of the woodwork. “In the U.S., people rifled their dresser drawers and sofa cushions to find dimes and quarters with silver content and had them melted down,” says Pirrong, from the University of Houston. “Silver is a classic part of a bride’s trousseau in India, and when prices got high, women sold silver out of their trousseaus.” According to a Washington Post article published that March, the D.C. police warned residents of a rash of home burglaries targeting silver. Unfortunately for the Hunts, all this new supply had a predictable effect. Rather than close out their contracts, short sellers suddenly found it was easier to get their hands on new supplies of silver and deliver. “The main factor that has caused corners to fail [throughout history] is that the manipulator has underestimated how much will be delivered to him if he succeeds [at] raising the price to artificial levels,” says Pirrong. “Eventually, the Hunts ran out of money to pay for all the silver that was thrown at them.” In financial terms, the brothers had a large corpse on their hands—and no way to bury it. This proved to be an especially big problem, because it wasn’t just the Hunt fortune that was on the line. Of the $6.6 billion worth of silver the Hunts held at the top of the market, the brothers had “only” spent a little over $1 billion of their own money. The rest was borrowed from over 20 banks and brokerage houses. At the same time, COMEX decided to crack down. On January 7, 1980, the exchange’s board of governors announced that it would cap the size of silver futures exposure to 3 million ounces. Those in excess of the cap (say, by the tens of millions) were given until the following month to bring themselves into compliance. But that was too long for the Chicago Board of Trade exchange, which suspended the issue of any new silver futures on January 21. Silver futures traders would only be allowed to square up old contracts. Predictably, silver prices began to slide. As the various banks and other firms that had backed the Hunt bullion binge began to recognize the tenuousness of their financial position, they issued margin calls, asking the brothers to put up more money as collateral for their debts. The Hunts, unable to sell silver lest they trigger a panic, borrowed even more. By early March, futures contracts had fallen to the mid-$30 range. Matters finally came to a head on March 25, when one of the Hunts’ largest backers, the Bache Group, asked for $100 million more in collateral. The brothers were out of cash, and Bache was unwilling to accept silver in its place, as it had been doing throughout the month. With the Hunts in default, Bache did the only thing it could to start recouping its losses: it start to unload silver. On March 27, “Silver Thursday,” the silver futures market dropped by a third to $10.80. Just two months earlier, these contracts had been trading at four times that amount. The Aftermath After the oil bust of the early 1980s and a series of lawsuits polished off the remainder of the Hunt brothers’ once historic fortune, the two declared bankruptcy in 1988. Bunker, who had been worth an estimated $16 billion in the 1960s, emerged with under $10 million to his name. That’s not exactly chump change, but it wasn’t enough to maintain his 500-plus stable of horses,. The Hunts almost dragged their lenders into bankruptcy too—and with them, a sizable chunk of the U.S. financial system. Over twenty financial institutions had extended over a billion dollars in credit to the Hunt brothers. The default and resulting collapse of silver prices blew holes in balance sheets across Wall Street. A privately orchestrated bailout loan from a number of banks allowed the brothers to start paying off their debts and keep their creditors afloat, but the markets and regulators were rattled. Silver Spot Prices Per Ounce (January, 1979 - June, 1980) 📷
In the words of then CFTC chief James Stone, the Hunts’ antics had threatened to punch a hole in the “financial fabric of the United States” like nothing had in decades. Writing about the entire episode a year later, Harper’s Magazine described Silver Thursday as “the first great panic since October 1929.” The trouble was not over for the Hunts. In the following years, the brothers were dragged before Congressional hearings, got into a legal spat with their lenders, and were sued by a Peruvian mineral marketing company, which had suffered big losses in the crash. In 1988, a New York City jury found for the South American firm, levying a penalty of over $130 million against the Hunts and finding that they had deliberately conspired to corner the silver market. Surprisingly, there is still some disagreement on that point. Bunker Hunt attributed the whole affair to the political motives of COMEX insiders and regulators. Referring to himself later as “a favorite whipping boy” of an eastern financial establishment riddled with liberals and socialists, Bunker and his brother, Herbert, are still perceived as martyrs by some on the far-right. “Political and financial insiders repeatedly changed the rules of the game,” wrote the New American. “There is little evidence to support the ‘corner the market’ narrative.” Though the Hunt brothers clearly amassed a staggering amount of silver and silver derivatives at the end of the 1970s, it is impossible to prove definitively that market manipulation was in their hearts. Maybe, as the Hunts always claimed, they just really believed in the enduring value of silver. Or maybe, as others have noted, the Hunt brothers had no idea what they were doing. Call it the stupidity defense. “They’re terribly unsophisticated,” an anonymous associated was quoted as saying of the Hunts in a Chicago Tribune article from 1989. “They make all the mistakes most other people make,” said another. p.s. credit to Ben Christopher
It had been centuries since the Luddite Wars but the scars across the badlands had still not fully healed. Twisted spires of half melted rock loomed over glass smooth craters pockmarking a desert of orange sand. Sand that had formed from the rust and decay of thousands of tons of burning steel from long abandoned cities. Though rarer now, sometimes the winds would uncover a new pocket of irradiated debris and scour the barren lands with a new wave of radiation. But, other than a few isolated pockets, the battered and scabbed land - bitter and sterile though it was - no longer could be said to be lethal within hours of entering it. Still, with its nightmarish hellscape and it's metal laced grit battering anyone foolish enough to enter, the area more than earned its moniker of Damnation among the survivors. It was said that only a great fool or a madman would ever ride out into Damnation. The sight of just such a rider emerging from a cloud of rust colored sand caused a stir of dread to pass through those that manned the Wall that day. Still too distant to make out details even with use of the periscope. In wilder days when the winds were still fierce and still hot with radioactive winds a brave soul might have volunteered or been coerced into exposing themselves from the protection offered by the wall to Damnation and venture on top to use a spyglass. But, as the centuries passed and the desert cooled both the Keepers and the Wall itself succumbed to the ravages of time. The sixteen meter tall line of concrete and steel that stretched from horizon to horizon was now just a stained and crumbling shadow of its former glory. Gaps showing exposing the rebar underneath were evident on both sides but, for now at least, the Wall still held. As for the Keepers themselves? That profession which was once viewed as a vital part of the defense of the remnants of humanity had gradually suffered its own form of social erosion. From a respected job to one that was used as a prison sentence to a refugee camp for society's outcasts. The current Keepers were little more than scavengers attempting to carve out their own niche from the scant protection offered by the Wall. So, they contented themselves to observing the stranger through the narrow eyepieces of the periscopes. Watching and waiting. The stranger was garbed in a fashion appropriate for desert travel. That is to say with no exposed skin and a full face breathing apparatus. The stranger's long coat and wide brimmed hat both appeared to have once been black but had long since been stained orange by the clouds of dust. Gloved hands gripped the reins of the horse tightly while glassy lensed eyes stared straight ahead while a tube extended from the mask to a chest mounted purification unit. He sat stiffly with no wasted movements and seemingly to sit impossibly still atop the saddle. If not for his upright stance and subtle adjustments to the horse's pace as it navigated the uneven terrain, he might have been mistaken for a dead man. The man was obviously still alive. The horse, however, was not. As the rider and his mount grew closer it became more and more evident that the horse was, in fact, quite dead. The eyes were gone and were now just hollow pits. Bone could be seen jutting out from the rotting flesh along the nose and exposing a bone in one foreleg and part of the ribs along the chest. Blackened rips along the horse's flank were evident where the flesh had ruptured during putrefaction and fluids now weeped from these open sores. Still, the horse walked. Stiffly and mechanically as if it's decaying flesh had somehow been stretched over an automaton. In a sense, that is exactly what had happened. "Necromancer," Bri of the Evening Watch swore. "Are you certain?" Vict asked without bothering to rise from his seat. VIct wore the copper badge used to identify a sheriff. The Wall had long since abandoned the position of sheriff, but not the badge. It was now used to identify the First among the Keepers. A position that Vict had held well into his gray haired years. Positively ancient in Wall terms. One day he knew his reflexes would slow and the hand or knife of some upstart would claim his badge. But, for now, Vict's rule had been a successful one. The few crops that would grow near the wall were plentiful and the people in the Wall were thriving as well as could be expected. They had successfully defended themselves from rival Wall tribes that had seized control of their own gates and, as much as was feasible considering the environs of living within the Wall, his people were content. Vict was considered a strong leader. A wise leader. His gray hairs were a testament to that and as long as he did not make mistakes he would be allowed to grow new ones. For now. "His mount is dead," Bri clarified, "It has been ravaged by the desert already. I do not think anything more than proximal arcana could be keeping it going now." Vict nodded and, finally, arose from the crudely constructed chair to don his own duster. He disliked walking out on the Damnation side of the wall. But confronting this stranger was his duty as First. But, no need to do so alone. "Can you tell if he's armed?" "Not yet," Bri admitted, "The light is bad and he is wearing dark clothing. I think there is an electro-rifle on his saddle but he may have a sidearm as well." "Good enough," Vict said, "We'll assume he is. Summon the others. I want at least six men joining me at the gate. And bring the coil guns with you." "Those haven't worked in decades, Vict." "No need to let him know that," Vict remarked as he donned his hat, "We'll just keep that as a surprise for him." "On it," Bri said with a grin as he scurried off down the corridor towards the living quarters beyond. Some members of the Watch may need to be woken up, Vict knew. The Watch was rarely called upon these days and some had probably long since forgotten what their shift may actually involve. Only a handful, like Bri, were still diligent enough to show up to perform the most minimum of duties. It was a distressing trend but one that Vict himself knew no way of stopping. People guarded the wall from threats along the corridors and from the goodlands. No one cared to stare into the interior. Vict sauntered towards the door that opened out into the tunnel of the Gate. He soon found himself standing before the massive doors that served as the final barrier between him and Damnation. Fifty meters behind him were doors that opened up into the Goodlands. Those doors they kept ajar most of the day to allow for ventilation. The doors before him had not been opened in years. He wondered if the mechanisms still worked. He heard the Watch assemble behind him and, without looking to count their numbers or verify they were even dressed and presentable, he signaled the doorman to activate the giant motors that would ease open the doors. It took several minutes for a crack large enough to admit a man on horseback to open. As the doors swung out and away from him, Vict marched forward. He heard the others following him. The metallic tang of the desert of Damnation stung his nostrils as he edged closer to the boundary of the badlands. As the gap widened the man and the dead horse came into view. "That's far enough!" Vict shouted. To his surprise, not to mention considerable relief, the horse stopped short and the motionless rider did not reach for a weapon. Madness was unpredictable after all. He should not expect a reasoned response from a man performing an unreasonable action. The rider sat there upon his dead horse and, presumably, studied Vict and the Watch. If he was intimidated by their presence he gave no outward sign of it. Slowly, the man lifted one hand away from the reins and reached towards himself. Vict tensed for a moment but relaxed when he saw the hand was not reaching for a holster but rather angling for the respiration unit on the chest. The stranger flipped a switch to activate the speaker. So, he just wanted to talk. That was encouraging. "I am looking for someone," the stranger's distorted voice crackled from the speaker, "Did another rider come through here some time ago?" "No," Vict answered. "Are you certain?" the rider asked, "It would have been many months ago. I can provide a description." "These gates have not been opened over ten years," Vict clarified, "He didn't come this way." The rider cocked his head to one side and then seemed to take in the expanse of the wall slowly. "Perhaps another gate, then?" he asked, "Do you communicate with the other gates?" Vict shook his head. "The tribe that took the next gate isn't exactly friendly to our cause," he explained, "The gates further down the line? They may be more neighborly but it's a long walk to find out." "I see," the rider said, "Then may I request passage through your gate?" "Are you here to start trouble?" "Yes," the man replied. Vict blinked in surprise. He had expected madness, certainly, but being honest about it was new. "Don't see as to how it benefits me to allow that then," Vict declared. He then motioned back towards the desert, "Turn around the way you came." "I can pay the toll if there is one," the stranger offered. An intriguing offer, actually. Vict almost considered it. Good coin could be valuable in trade with the cityfolk. Still, if they found out he let trouble in then the cities may also attack in retaliation. Good coin spent no better than no coin when you were dead. "Tempting, but I'll pass," Vict said, "I told you to turn around. I won't ask again." The speaker crackled as the man sighed. "Very well," the rider said, "I had hoped to do this another way. But if you insist." Quicker than he thought would have been possible, the stranger's hand flashed into the interior of his coat. It was out again in an instant and an object was hurled at him. Vict retreated half a step and reached for the knife on his own belt. To his surprise, the object landed gently on the sand near his feet. It was not an attack after all. Curious, he stepped closer and looked closer. He felt the blood drain from his face. It was not a weapon, no, but it was definitely still a threat. "You're a marshal!" Vict hissed angrily. "And you are interfering in my lawfully sworn duty," the Stranger replied, "Will you grant me passage?" This was bad. The badge that laid upon the desert floor before him was not like Vict's own. It was not a piece of metal. This was an actual biolocked minicomp. This badge could only be carried by those who had the full weight of the Restored Pan-Continental Alliance behind them as well as the Oligarch itself. Each badge was said to be a miniature mainframe that could be used to open any digital lock, access any account, and take control over any computer system if needed. If it still used a computer, it would yield to the badge if the wielder wished it. If that wasn't bad enough, if it was handled by anyone other than the biolocked owner it would administer a lethal discharge. Still, Vict hesitated. "We don't really have a lot of use for the PCA this far out in wastes," he remarked, "Figured they forgot all about us." "Just focused on other more pressing matters at the moment," the marshal clarified, "Cooperation now would be in your best interest." Vict recognized a threat when he heard one. What's more, now that the badge had been thrown out, he was certain the Oligarch itself was listening in on them. The last thing the Wall needed was a cybernetic army marching down upon them. "Yeah, well," Vict said as he stepped slightly to one side. Not quite yielding passage but not completely blocking it either. "I still have to consider the people beyond," he explained. "You have my oath my quarrel is not with you nor the people of the wall or the points beyond," the man said formally, "My bond is the apprehension of a singular individual." "Do you swear," Vict asked, "That you will cause no harm to anyone other than your current assignment?" "I make no such guarantees," the stranger countered, "I am entrusted to enforce the Oligarch's law. However, if you insist, I swear I will not exercise more force than is deemed necessary to achieve this goal and I will not interfere with any matters that I may observe that are outside the scope of my immediate objective regardless of their legal stature within the PCA save for Class II felonies or above. Such acts would supersede any oath I am authorized to provide." Legal speak for "if I see someone being murdered, raped, or dismembered I'm legally required to interfere. But I won't stop people from lying, cheating, gambling, or partaking of illegal substances." Considering the authority the badge was offering, it was actually a very generous concession. A little too generous and one that immediately raised suspicions. "And what do you expect in return for such an oath?" he asked. "You have armed men behind you," the stranger noted, "Are they available if I require the assistance of a posse?" "They're armed," Vict confirmed, "And trained for what it's worth. But I need them here." "I did not ask that they be removed from service indefinitely," the stranger said, "I am asking if I have need of additional gunmen if you will provide them." "And if I saw no?" "Your gate is mechanized," the marshal pointed out, "Presumably computerized as well. As would be many of your wall's defenses." "So I either take your oath and cooperate willingly or you take it by force?" Vict replied before grunting, "And if I tell my men to fire?" "Then you simply have to hope they kill me first before I shoot any of them," the stranger said, "Otherwise I will have their corpses start shooting at you." Vict sighed. "You also offered payment before?" he reminded the stranger. "An offer that was conditional on me not having to reveal my badge," the stranger said, "What is your response?" "Your oath then," he said, "I need something to show we enacted our duty to protect the interior." "Then you have it," the stranger said, "I swear to harm no one beyond this gate save in purview of my lawfully sworn duty and the scope of my current quarry." There was a chirp from the badge. Vict assumed this meant the Oligarch had acknowledged the oath. If memory served, the oath of a marshal was considered a law in of itself. The badge would make certain its wielder stayed true to this pledge. With lethal force if necessary. The rider came closer and now Vict could smell the rotting flesh as well as see it. The horse did not breathe, he noted. It moved silently and robotically with no external cues from its rider. "Could you hand that back to me, please?" the rider asked while pointing at the fallen badge. Vict hesitated. "It won't sting you as long as I am present and have given you authorization to touch it," the marshal assured him. Vict could not afford to lose more face in front of his men. This encounter had been humbling enough as is. He picked up the silver bar. Nothing happened. The surface was cool to the touch but did not otherwise harm him. If not for the dancing lights just below the metallic surface he might suspect it was a forgery. He handed it back to the rider and hoped he did not appear to be in a hurry to be rid of the thing. "Thank you," the rider said and looked through the tunnel ahead. "What town is beyond that gate?" he asked. "The closest one is the town of Clean Air," Vict told him and shrugged, "It's an older settlement. Mostly just a few farmers and a saloon. Not much happening there. But you can get a bed for the night if you need it at the saloon." The rider nodded and started to ride forward. Without knowing quite why he did, Vict decided to add, "If you continue west and follow the ridge line you can find the Healing Valley.." The horse froze mid step. "What did you say?" the rider's speaker crackled. "If you ride a few days west along the ridge line you will find the Healing Valley," Vict said, "At least, that's what I've heard. Everyone is heading there these days. Maybe your man is well." "These Healing Valley," the rider asked, "What is it?" "I don't know, really," Vict admitted, "Some new commune or settlement. I don't know. They say there is some sort of spring there or something that has a healing arcana. All I know is that the lands are very fertile and they say even mutants can drink from these waters and be renewed." "You said it is to the west along the ridge line?" "Yes," Vict said and, before he could add more detail, the dead horse surged forward into a gallop. The horse and rider went through the gate into the good lands at a pace no normal steed could hope to maintain. The horse kept this breakneck pace up without tiring as it flew past the settlement of clean air and angled towards the ridgeline beyond. As the sun sank the horse galloped on without showing other signs of fatigue. The rider, meanwhile, reached up with one hand to unbuckle the straps of his mask. Moving with the horse and anticipating each movement as if they were somehow joined together, he managed to free himself from the confines of the mask and breathed unhindered for the first time since leaving the Citadel across the wastes. By the time the sun rose again the horse was beyond even his ability to sustain. The leg bones had cracked until the wear of racing along the rocky path at full speed and ruptures had appeared all across its flanks. He eventually led it to the side of the road and into a small gully between some stones. There he released his grip upon its body and allowed the flesh to resume its normal decaying processes. It was of no concern anyway. He could tell he was in the right place. "Kincaid's here," he subvocalized. The implant just below his right ear heard him all the same and the Oligarch's response was immediate. "Have you made visual contact?" "No," he admitted, "But I can see evidence of his work. There is a valley below me. Lush fields of green with crops too large to grow by natural means." "You are certain this is his work?" "There's no death," he said, "I can't sense any at all around me. Even the soil. There is no decomposition taking place. The ground itself is essentially sterile. The only thing keeping these crops alive is his will." The Oligarch was silent for a moment. That in itself was troubling. It's processes worked many times faster than a human's. What could cause it to hesitate? "Repositioning a satellite," the Oligarch explained for him, "And initial telemetry indicates you may have a bigger problem than we thought. That valley extends for several kilometers to the north and south of you. I estimate its total area to be in excess of 400 square kilometers." "His power is still growing," the marshal concluded grimly. "Even our worst case projections did not account for this," the Oligarch confirmed, "The area of influence is enormous and for him to sustain that much power without arcanic blowback is unheard of. This should not be possible with the resources available to a human mind." "He's not exactly human anymore," the rider reminded the Oligarch. "No," it confirmed, "He is not. Still, the organic strain should be crippling. He must be using his own power to sustain himself. That should be creating a feedback loop." The rider nodded. "Maybe the valley is a way of bleeding off the excess?" he suggested. "Plausible," the Oligarch said, "But that creates a scaling issue. At some point he will be exerting more just to keep the blowback from consuming him than even his own enhanced vitality can maintain." "When will that happen?" "Uncertain," the Oligarch admitted, "I already stated this does not fit within current models. There is more." "Don't tell me," the rider said, "The zone of no death means that my own arcana will be diminished." "Or absent entirely," the Oligarch admitted, "Given that he cannot sustain this level of involvement indefinitely I believe this most likely indicates he is aware of you and that you are walking into a trap." "So what do you suggest?" the rider asked, "Wait it out? See if he collapses and then go in?" "The sphere of influence has already corrupted the local ecosystem and is likely impacting residents as well," the Oligarch said, "If this is allowed to progress unabated the damage is likely irreversible and may have a cascading effect on neighboring ecosystems." "So if I don't walk into the trap," the rider translated, "We may have a full on ecological meltdown that will cost millions of lives. If I do go in and try to do damage control, I'm going in without my arcana?" "You could return to the Wall and recruit more allies," the Oligarch suggested. "No good," the rider said, "Once we go in then Kincaid can twist them too. They are all living people. Can you send a drop ship in?" "If I could spare one do you think I would have sent you?" "No," the rider agreed and sighed, "All right, into the trap I go." The stranger returned his attention to the dead horse beside the road. In the short time he had been distracted a swarm of insects and all manner of flying and burrowing creatures had descended upon the animal. It's hide now was a virtual living carpet of creatures feasting upon the first real meal they had had in who knows how long. Before this he was certain it was only the power of Kincaid's aracana that had been keeping them alive. Alive but starving. Well, if Kincaid didn't know he was here before this had just sent up a big flare. Grimacing, he reached into the swarm of insects to retrieve his rifle from the saddle. Walking into the valley below was surprisingly uneventful. No one rose to challenge him nor did any feral creatures attempt to accost him. If he didn't know better, he would think this was just another agricultural sector in the PCA. In fact, now that he was closer, the crops closest to him appeared to be the standard genetically engineered high yield wheat hybrid grown in the AgSec. Only a full meter taller. As he drew closer he caught the sounds of someone in one of the fields ahead of him. Curious, he slung the rifle's strap over his shoulder and checked both pistols were firmly in their holsters. Cautiously, he approached the source of the noise. He found himself stepping into a small clearing among the dense grains occupied by an elderly man wearing what appeared to be tattered clothing that had a homespun look to it. The trousers were frayed at the ends and had been patched so many times and with such a variety of fabrics it was difficult to determine the original coloring. A brown vest covered his chest and left his arms exposed. The man was facing away and appeared to be attempting to cut down a swath of the grain using a sickle held awkwardly in the man's left arm. This was despite the fact that the man's right arm appeared to be more than twice the size of his left and had an uneven lumpy appearance as well as several gnarled scars across the surface. Holding his right arm stiffly, the man swung the tool. The stalks tumbled to the ground around him and the man cursed again. "It's growing back too damned fast!" the man shouted at last. "What is?" the stranger asked, "The wheat?" The farmer wheeled around with his blade held high as if preparing to strike. The stranger, though armed, held his hands out to the sides in a gesture of peace. The farmer looked him up and down as if evaluating him before deciding to lower his blade. "Who are you?" the farmer asked. "Just a friend passing through," the stranger replied, "I heard you back here and thought you might need some help." "Friend, eh?" the farmer asked with a snort, "You don't look like any friend I know." The stranger nodded his head towards the crops. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked. The farmer rolled his eyes back towards the recently felled grains and snorted. "Look for yourself," he instructed, "See those stalks I just cut? Watch em." The stranger did. It did not take long to notice what the farmer wished him to see. "They are regenerating," the stranger declared. "That's one way of looking at it," the farmer snarled, "Being a damned nuisance is another. There is supposed to be a path here to get back to my house. I can't clear it faster than it tries to grow back. I can't even leave those grains on the ground too long or they start sprouting as well." "Can you burn a path?" The farmer shook his head. "Doesn't work," he explained, "Fires just go out and the plants heal themselves. You're new, aren't you?" The stranger nodded. "I just came from the Wall," he explained, "I heard of a place called the Healing Valley and thought I would see it for myself." "Healing Valley?" the old man spat, "Guess now that the Minister's here calling it plain old Coppertown ain't good enough for the likes of them." "The Minister?" "Look, son," the old man said patiently, "I ain't got all day to spend here talking to the likes of you. Now, you want to talk then you can help. You reap and I'll bag 'em." The stranger seemed to consider arguing but finally nodded. He unclipped the respirator and mask from his chest before unslinging his rifle. He then doffed his coat and hat before bundling the gun and smaller items inside the confines of the coat. The stranger could be seen clearly now and the old man found himself staring at a younger man with sharp features and a hawkish beak of a nose. The stranger's hair was black and full unlike the old man's stringy gray locks. The hair was kept brushed straight back in what appeared to be a choice of convenience rather than aesthetics. The stranger's face was neither cruel nor kind nor even particularly handsome. It was just an everyman face. So why did the old man feel so certain this stranger who called himself a friend was hiding something behind those dark eyes? "Name's Yacob," the farmer introduced himself, "What do they call you?" The stranger didn't reply. He simply picked up the sickle and started hacking at the grains with quick and efficient motions. He did not have the skill nor the technique of an actual farmer, but he made up for it in speed. Yacob found himself hobbling along after the man while shoveling fallen grains into a sack. "So, not big on names, eh?" Yacob remarked, "That's fine. I'll just call you Cat for the moment." "Cat?" "Because you should mind what curiosity did to one of those," Yacob snapped, "You just keep cutting and I'll answer your questions. But only until we get to the porch. Once we reach the house the deal's done." "How far is the house?" "Not far else I wouldn't have made the offer. So stop wasting time and ask what you came for. I know you ain't here to admire wheat." "Fine," the stranger said, "Tell me about the Minister." Yacob shrugged. "Not much to tell you," he said, "He showed up here about a year ago. Big talking man like you. Wouldn't tell us his name either. Just started talking like he was a preacher man. Going on about the rightful place of man and unshackling ourselves from the burden of slavery. Real 'make the world a better place' nonsense. Folks didn't really listen to him at first. But then the miracles started happening." "Miracles?" the stranger grunted as he cut, "Like what sort of miracles?" "I was getting to that!" Yacob snapped, "Don't rush me! Now when I say 'miracles' I don't mean loaves of fishes falling from Heaven. I mean like Bailey Moskva being able to walk again. Or Happy Tam regaining his vision. People in the town just started getting better. Healthier. But it didn't stop there. The crops were dying. Only they just stopped. Vegetables that were dying on the vine the day before got better. That kind of miracle." The stranger, who was just now starting to breathe heavy from the exertion, only nodded his understanding and continued to hack away at the grains. He used to tool more like a machete than as a harvesting tool but, again, it was still better progress than Yacob could make on his own. "In the early days we all thought that, well, maybe this Minister was onto something," Yacob went on, "He kept talking prosperity and we were feeling it, ya kin? Even the most piss poor farmer was having a bumper crop. All these lame folks who worked in the mines were getting healed up. Even the sick and the dying were up and walking around. It seemed like the good days would never end and people were praising the Minister and all his bollocks." "But not you?" the stranger asked between gasps of exertion. "Oh I fell for it to," Yacob said, "Me a hardcore believer, that I was. I even stood there smiling proudly as he took my Abby into his inner circle." "Abby?" the stranger asked. "My daughter," Yacob admitted with a sigh as he bent over to pick up more of the fallen wheat, "My little girl. She was such a delight to me and looked after me after the passing of my Elsie. All of twenty two years old and when the Minister said he chose her I was proud as a peacock." The stranger slowed his frantic hacking. "Something happened?" he asked, "With Abby?" "Bah!" Yacob said, "Never you mind. That's none of your concern. I told you what you wanted to know. Now ask something else!" "Why didn't you ask him to heal your arm?" the stranger asked. Yacob froze in place and blanched. "What?" he stammered. The stranger paused and turned to point at the engorged and irregularly shaped right arm held limply at Yacob's side. "Why didn't you-?" "I heard what you said!" Yacob shouted, "Stand aside! I don't want any more of your help! Be off!" The stranger didn't move. "I meant no offense," he said, "It just appears that you have had a-" The stranger moved his hand to indicate the swollen right arm. Yacob, seeing the movement, misinterpreted and jumped backwards while yelping. To the stranger's surprise, the right arm moved. Not only did it move on its own, he heard a faint whirring sound as it did. Yacob howled in pain and dropped to the ground. Blood trickled from an open wound in the arm that wasn't there before. "Now you see what you made me do?" Yacob asked between clenched teeth, "That metal cuts right through!" The sickle fell from the marshal's limp fingers. Those bumps. He recognized them now. They were in the approximate position and size for servo motors. Which could only mean one thing. "That's a cybernetic arm," he said out loud. "'Course it it!" Yacob snapped, "I lost the real one sixteen years ago in the mines! The mechasurgeon fitted me with a new one. Never really gave me any problems until this skin started growing over top of it." Of course, the marshal realized. He should have realized. With the field of the arcana flooding the area even old wounds, healed wounds, would be affected. Growing a new arm would be impossible with the prosthetic in place. But escasing it with a new layer of skin was still possible. He felt sickened at the thought of living flesh growing over the metal arm and getting trapped inside the motors and actuators. The skin stretching and tearing only to heal over and do it again and again. He suddenly understood the bitterness of the farmer. He picked up the sickle, turned, and hacked at the vegetation with renewed vigor. Kincaid would pay for this. He would pay. "Wait," Yacob said, "I told you-" "I'm getting to your house," the marshal growled, "That was the agreement. You answered your questions and now I am doing my part." He paused for a moment to lower the blade but only for as long as it took to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and to roll them up. He then resumed his relentless hacking and slashing. After a few minutes of labor he found himself staggering free from the dense vegetation and standing upon a wooden platform. Blinking in confusion, he lowered the tool and realized he was standing on the porch that had been his original objective. He dropped the sickle and turned to go. He found his way blocked by a cursing Yacob limping after him while dragging the marshal's coat and rifle in his wake with his one functional arm. "Slow down!" Yacob gasped as he joined the marshal on the porch, "I can't keep up with your-" Yacob'e eyes grew wide as he froze in mid step. The marshal looked in the direction of the man's gaze to see if he could find what had alarmed the man. It took him a moment to realize it was the fine parallel lines of the scars running along the marshal's own forearms. The lines, usually too faint to see, were an angry red from his recent exertion. "It's just an implant," the marshal said between gasping breaths, "I'm a cyborg like yourself." "Like me nothing," the farmer counted, "Them's battle implants. Are you a deserter?" That was an interesting question. "Do you get many deserters here?" the stranger asked as he retrieved his property from the limp grip of the older man. "A few," Yacob admitted with a shrug, "Mostly PCA. Sometimes Oceania. Which are you?" "I'm . . . not a deserter." The old man snorted. "I'm not," the marshal said, "It's complicated." "Well," the old man said with another shrug, "At least now I know how you were able to push yourself like that. I hear those implants really juice you boys up." The marshal didn't answer. Instead he turned to take his leave. "Wait," Yacob said as he placed a restraining hand on the marshal's chest, "I didn't mean to yell at you earlier. It's just . . . it's not a good idea to talk about the Minister like that. Not out in the open. Not everyone sees him the way I do." "I understand," the marshal said and then stepped to one side, "I have inconvenienced you enough for one day." "You know him, don't you?" the old man asked as the marshal stepped up beside him, "That's why you were so keen to ask me those questions. Is that why you're here? You're after him?" "Thank you for your hospitality, Yacob," the marshal replied, "I should go." "Wait," the old man pleaded, "You should know about something if you plan on facing him." "What is that?" the marshal asked while turning to face the smaller man. With a pained expression on his face, Yacob lifted his mangled prosthetic. The marshal heard the whir of servos fighting against the flesh coating. The farmer held up his arm and showed the unlined palm of his hand to the marshal. There was a peculiar bulge there. "This," Yacob said just before a lightning bolt erupted from the palm of his hand and tore through the marshal's chest only to explode out the backside. The marshal crumbled to the porch with a look of confusion still painting his features. Tune in for our next exciting episode!
The cannabis market right now is so similar to the start of the green energy market.. its nowhere near done being bullish. Save for some small dips, there will very likely be a huge bullish trend for 2021. EVEN NASDAQ AGREES. I’ve posted my positions a few times, and I’ll continue to do so. But this is my reasoning for investing in cannabis stocks in general for 2021.
I've been a bull on cannabis since the democrats had a strong pro-cannabis platform. But what made me go balls deep into the market was that the UN changed its classification of cannabis. Countries follow the UN closely for guidance on their own classification of controlled substances. Congress has repeatedly cited the UN’s classification as one of the reasons for not changing it. Several countries immediately changed their stance on cannabis in response to this, including Israel, which In November 2020, announced that it was moving forward with a plan to legalize recreational cannabis nationally. “The country is aiming to implement recreational legalization within nine months, and even if there are delays, that means mid-to-late 2021.” (This is my reason for investing in Canadian cannabis companies, because they are already poised to expand internationally since its legal there nationwide)
THE SENATE IS NOW BLUE! The Georgia runoffs were won by Democrats, and they can now swing the vote left with VP Harris. She promised it as part of her platform, so we know it will be prioritized. CHUCK SHUMER SPONSORED THE MORE ACT. HE WILL BE SENATE MAJORITY LEADER. IT WILL 100% BE PRIORITIZED BETWEEN HIM AND VP HARRIS.
EVERYONE predicted beforehand that the republicans would win Georgia... everyone talked down decriminalization passing the house because of they believed it would NEVER pass the republican majority senate. But the left spent more than any senate race in history to encourage voters to go out and vote. Only once the race started did it become clear that the left had a chance. Then some gains from the surprise that they won. However the gains from 1/5 onwards definitely hasn’t been priced in for all the future legislation, because some of it will be completely new legislation that wasn’t possible to consider before without a blue senate. THIS HASN'T BEEN PRICED INTO THE MARKET YET.
The government is broke post-COVID. There is a terrible image of the police. They don’t want to waste more resources on cannabis related crimes that would be fixed under decriminalization. And the tax revenue from decriminalization would be significant. Decriminalization (THE MORE ACT) opens up the borders to interstate-commerce and international import/export. This would all trickle down into Uncle Sam’s empty pockets.
New York Governor Cuomo announced on Jan 6 his plan to legalize marijuana for adult use (right after New Jersey vote, as I anticipated in my last post) as part of his State of the State agenda. The next step is a ripple out on the North East. NY didn’t want to miss out on tax revenue, neither will any of the other states in the northeast within driving distance of NJ and NY. This is Cuomo’s third attempt in three years to legalize adult-use cannabis in the state; last year, Cuomo included a legalization proposal in his state budget, but the plan was ultimately cut in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Other ongoing state legislature:
Rhode Island: Regulators have received 45 applications for six new medical cannabis dispensary licenses in the state. If all applicants meet the requirements for a license, six will randomly be selected in a lottery to operate retail locations in different regions across the state. Read more
Missouri: Rep. Shamed Dogan has filed legislation that would place an adult-use cannabis legalization measure on the state’s 2022 ballot. Meanwhile, Missourians for a New Approach has announced plans for a separate 2022 ballot initiative after an unsuccessful signature campaign to get the issue before voters in 2020. Read more
Alabama: Sen. Tim Melson plans to reintroduce a medical cannabis legalization bill this year. Medical cannabis legislation passed the Alabama Senate during the 2020 session, but failed to clear the House. Read more
Illinois: Illinois lawmakers have proposed the creation of 75 new cannabis retail licenses to give disadvantaged and minority applicants a second chance at licensing following the controversial licensing lottery to issue an initial 75 dispensary licenses. A work group made up of lawmakers and members of Gov. J.B. Pritzker’s administration met this week to finalize details of the bill, which will be introduced in a lame-duck session that starts Jan. 8, before new lawmakers are sworn in Jan. 13. Read more
Minnesota: House Majority Leader Ryan Winkler is again renewing his push to legalize adult-use cannabis in the state, announcing plans to reintroduce a legalization bill this year. Winkler told WCCO that he sees “Senate leadership as being the number one obstacle,” but said that if lawmakers agreed to place an adult-use legalization initiative on Minnesota’s 2022 ballot, “it would pass overwhelmingly.” Read more
Virginia: Del. Steve Heretick has reintroduced a bill to legalize adult-use cannabis. Heretick has proposed legislation related to decriminalization and legalization in the past, and this year’s bill would legalize the cultivation, sale and consumption of cannabis in the state. Read more
Connecticut: Gov. Ned Lamont renewed his push for adult-use legalization during his State of the State address Jan. 6, announcing that it is a priority for the new legislative session. Connecticut’s 2021 legislative session opened Jan. 6, and Lamont, a Democrat, kicks off the session with increased majorities in the House and Senate, which could increase his chances of passing an adult-use legalization bill. Read more
Now that you understand why I’m going green, here’s my reasoning for my positions. TLRY (Tilray)
largest cannabis company in the world by revenue post merger. Will run out of Seattle and New York City. New York Legalization on top of senate turning blue is a big catalyst for TLRY.
Merger hasn’t completed yet, and the merger happened before the senate went blue.. that was the gamble APHA was making, and they won. The sky is the limit now. When they merge, they will reduce expenses and be much more likely to post profitable quarters. (This is why mergers have so much hype; the sum is > than their parts because they can reduce operating expenses while maintaining revenue from the two companies)
Tilray CEO Brendan Kennedy: “I think medical cannabis will be legal at the federal level, which means medical cannabis can cross state lines and be imported into the U.S., like we export cannabis from Canada and Portugal to about 15 countries now,” Kennedy said. “Anyone who thinks there’s a state-specific medical market is wrong.” As for the recreational market, Kennedy says the state-specific markets, with interstate trade banned, “are not going to last long.” Kennedy believes that cannabis will be distributed like alcohol and tobacco within two years’ time. That would require significant overhaul of US federal drug laws—and would significantly disrupt all US cannabis companies’ existing business models. Brendan Kennedy, the cannabis billionaire will step down as Tilray's chairman and CEO. Irwin D. Simon, Aphria's current chairman and CEO will take Kennedy's place.
[On December 18, 2020, just three days after the U.S. Senate adopted the Cannabidiol and Marihuana Research Expansion Act (CMREA or the Act) (more on this below), the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA or the Administration) published in the Federal Register a final rule, “Controls To Enhance the Cultivation of Marihuana for Research in the United States” (Rule), which finally paves the way for DEA to issue additional licenses to grow “marihuana” (i.e., cannabis) for research purposes.](https://www.jdsupra.com/legalnews/on-heels-of-senate-s-adoption-of-36129/)
GNLN (Greenlane Holdings)
One of the largest global sellers of premium cannabis accessories. Pax/JUUL/Volcano products. I’ve had Pax products, and although I prefer Arizer because of the affordability, I can’t deny Pax has quality products and is like the “iPhone” of vaporizers. I like their products, I like their branding. There’s lots of hype and loyalty, especially with their Volcano desktop vaporizer.
Strong US brands.
The main reason they did poorly was bad timing. They IPO’d during the year that JUULs started being banned. They’re actually at all those levels again. Theres a ton of upside potential.
Market cap is ridiculously low for some really renown brands all because of the JUUL flavor pod ban. Everyone knows Pax, Volcano, and JUUL. But no one knows Greenlane because of the bad timing of their IPO and the subsequent JUUL flavor ban. It’s crazy. They’ve already broke all time high for the year. But I’m holding until they break 1B market cap.
Overall i think too many people count it out just because of their IPO and subsequent decline in JUUL sales from the JUUL flavored pods ban. They definitely have the potential because of their strong branding and quality products. I’m betting on them having more high quality products in the future with equally loyal customers.
SNDL (Sundial Growers)
SNDL must close above $1 per share for 10 consecutive sessions by June 26, 2021 or it will bedelisted from NASDAQ. People see this as a fear factor, I see this as “they will do anything necessary to reach $1 for a week so they won’t be delisted”.. IMHO reverse splitter probably isn’t on the table since they could have done that in 2020, but instead applied for a 6 month extension after announcing “alternative strategic investments”. We can already see this by their predatory loan SPAC spinoff.
Rumors of a merger with CGC; SNDL also purchased a SPAC recently and entered an agreement with Zenabis, immediately claiming they defaulted. Turning that SPAC into predatory loan/debt repurchasing company. Imo if they want to complete a merger, it would be easy to sell ownership through that SPAC to the buyer.
THEY RECENTLY WENTDEBT FREE by selling off unprofitable assets in the business. This means we are much more likely to see earnings in future quarters, and they are much more attractive for mergers.
Because they are indoor growers, they are more likely to be bought up by a company in the consolidating Canadian cannabis market than fail all together. The amount of space licensed to grow cannabis in Canada is now heavily skewed toward outdoor cultivation instead of indoor for the first time, according to new data from Health Canada. A growing population of licenses for outdoor growers means that there aren’t as many indoor licenses being given out... If a company ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD wants to quickly expand into indoor growing OR into the west, they would have to purchase an existing company that has the license to quickly do so. This is WAY faster, and a guaranteed way to obtain a license rather than applying for one and waiting x amount of months and be rejected for some requirement that wasn’t met.
From my own experience, outdoor cannabis is subpar quality to indoor grown cannabis. So a growing market for outdoor cannabis doesn’t necessarily mean its better... it is likely just cheaper. I would imagine a high quality “craft cannabis” company would want to purchase SNDL, or an existing outdoor growing company that wants to quickly expand to indoor grown cannabis. With this being a Canadian company, there’s a chance a company in another country like Israel would be interested in purchasing it in the near future.
PLNHF (Planet 13 Holdings)
Biggest tourist trap in Las Vegas if you’re a stoner, casual smoker, or just wanting to try it. From my own experience, I think they will continue to be successful. If I went around the US trying other brands I’d probably be more confident in putting 5-10% of my portfolio into those picks or choosing to not include them lol. Like for example, I used to have Curaleaf. But there's tons of bad feedback on Curaleaf, a friend has tried it said the nug is really subpar quality and if I tried their nug I’d probably confirm that I wouldn’t want to invest in them. With PLNHF, i’ve seen the ambience and tried the product myself. It’s definitely a lot of hype price wise, but still quality. This is my own bias showing, but I still think they’ve got solid fundamentals and excellent location/strong US branding.
I’m well aware of other good stocks like GTBIF, CRLBF, SSPK, TCNNF, GRWG.. but these stocks haven’t been swinging as hard in response to pro-cannabis news. E.g. TLRY, SNDL, GNLN swung more than 20% some days from pro-cannabis news...I will likely reduce my current positions shortly after inauguration, after some news about the timeline for cannabis legislation, and diversify my positions more between these other good picks. 2021 is the year of cannabis boys
My Pitch for an Assassin's Creed Game set during the Unification of Germany (1864 - 1871)
Assassin's Creed Setting Idea - The German Unification
A Hypothetical Insignia of the German Assassins in the 19th Century Historical Background The 19th century was an age of European expansionism, conquest, advancement, and constant war. The idea for a united Germany had only truly begun following the disastrous downfall of the German Revolution in 1848, when nationalism was on the rise and a sense of national identity was beginning to blossom. The Kingdom of Prussia was seen as the best candidate for German Unification by many revolutionaries, who even offered to crown King Wilhelm I as Emperor of Germany. However, Wilhelm declined, fearing that the Austrian and Russian Empires could retaliate against a united German state. German Revolutionaries - 1848 In 1862, Otto von Bismarck became the Prime Minister of Prussia, and his main goal was to unify the German states into an empire supervised by the Hohenzollern kings of Prussia, famously giving a speech before the Prussian parliament that ended with the words, "Iron and Blood!" The first step into German unification was to incorporate the region of Schleswig-Holstein, which was under the rule of the Danish Kingdom. Schleswig-Holstein had a large German population, so Bismarck saw it necessary to take the region for Prussia. When the Danish king introduced a new constitution in 1864 that practically incorporated the region into the Danish realm, Austria and Prussia (both of whom were members of the German Confederation) sent an ultimatum for Denmark to revoke the new constitution. The Danish government refused, and the Second Schleswig War had begun. Austria joined Prussia in the conflict, and the two would invade the Jutland peninsula at the start of the conflict. One of the most infamous Danish defeats during the war was the Siege of Dybbøl in 1864. After an 11-day siege against the fort town, the Danish troops were defeated by Prussian men and howitzer artillery. With the capital at Copenhagen threatened, Denmark sued for peace, losing Schleswig to Prussia and Holstein to Austria. Bismarck understood that Austria would never accept a Prussian-dominated German Empire right on its doorstep, so preparations were made to wage war against the Hapsburgs. In 1866, Prussia invaded Austria's allies in Hanover, Saxony, and Hesse, while the Italian kingdom of Sardinia-Piedmont invaded Austrian lands in Lombardy-Venetia. During this time, Sardinia-Piedmont also had aspirations to unite Italy under their rule. Austria was forced to split its forces as Prussia started another invasion into Bohemia. During the famous battle at Königgrätz , the combined Austro-Saxon armies were defeated. Austria was forced to sue for peace, and the following treaties kicked the empire out of the German Confederation, which was replaced with the North German Confederation. Austria's sphere of influence in Bavaria, Baden, and Württemberg was shattered, and Prussia now was the dominant player of German politics. The last step in German unification was to provoke a war against France and bring the southern German states into the Prussian fold. That opportunity would come when Spain was undergoing a succession crisis, and the Spanish offered the crown to a Hohenzollern prince named Leopold. King Wilhelm I did not want to provoke France into open conflict, but his hand was forced when Bismarck deceptively altered communications between Spain, Prussia, and France. Napoleon III was angered by these apparent messages meant to take a jab at France, so he and the French parliament openly declared war on Prussia. With France now viewed as an aggressor in German politics, the southern German states joined Prussia in the conflict known as the Franco-Prussian War. Even though France had an advantage in numbers, Prussian military minds began prioritizing the use of more advanced equipment and trains, which would sent supplies, orders, and reinforcements to the front lines. At the Battle of Sedan in 1870, an outnumbered Prussian army managed to defeat an enemy force of 130,000 French troops. Napoleon III himself was taken prisoner after the battle, and a new defense government was formed in Paris. By 1871, Paris was suffering from a 130 day siege. With thousands on the verge of starvation, the French Republican government sued for negotiations. Around this time, Versailles was under Prussian occupation, where Wilhelm I was posthumously crowned Kaiser of the German Empire. At last, the war ended with a German victory, with France losing control over Alsace-Lorraine and forced to accept a temporary occupation of Paris by German troops. Gameplay and Game World A game set during the German Unification would primarily take place in Berlin, Paris, and Vienna between 1864 and 1871. As for parkour, stealth, and combat, it could be a combination of mechanics from AC Unity and AC Syndicate. Berlin - 1860 Vienna - 1860 Paris - 1860 Traversal - During the 19th century, cities like Paris, Vienna, and Berlin continued to evolve into more modern cities, with wide roads, taller buildings, and an integration of technology. Even though the use of the grappling hook by Assassins wouldn't be mainstream until 1868 and the Frye Twin's fight against the London Templars, there is no reason to not alter lore to confirm the invention of the traversal device within Germany, as nations like Prussia, Hanover, and Saxony were heavily industrialized nations. Melee combat - Because the combat in AC Syndicate would have been more associated with gang warfare, the combat from AC Unity would be more fit for a game set within Germany, with such weapons like military sabres, daggers, and even a return to hidden blade combat. Ranged combat - As 19th century Europe was an age of modern advancements, ranged weapons would be highly advanced and far more deadly. There would be a larger use of pistols, rifles, hand grenades, throwing knives, and even a formal return to the phantom blade from AC Unity. Activities and World Events With AC Valhalla taking an approach toward world events and side activities, perhaps the same can apply with a game set in the German Unification. Gambling was fairly notorious during the 19th century, so such games like cards, poker, and others would be perfect as side activities. There could even be underground brawls, carriage races, and military practices. Perhaps the best side activity that would be unique to this kind of game is the Prussian war game known as Kriegspiel (just think of the Total War games, but with a chess-like approach). As for world events, they could be bringing criminals to justice, helping civilians with their daily routines, or helping with military deliveries or practice. The Prussian War Game of Kriegspiel Plot The game begins in the outskirts of Dybbøl in 1864. Franz, a young soldier in the Prussian army chose to take a nap the night before, but is awoken by the thundering Howitzers, which were constantly striking the Danish entrenchments. It is the 18th of April, and the Prussians prepare for a charge against the Danish troops. After another round of artillery fire, the Prussians push forward, charging downhill at the enemy defenses. After nearly an hour of fighting, the Danish troops are pushed back into the fortress town of Dybbøl. With their defenses considerably more secure, Franz offers to the Prussian commanders that he could sneak in and undermine the morale of the enemy troops. Despite the refusal of this commanders, Franz sneaks off to break into the town on his own. Using stealth, Franz eventually breaks into the estate that some of the Danish officers and commanders were using as a place to conduct orders and plans. Not only does Franz steal some documents and military plans, but he even kills one of the commanders, looting a golden cross encrusted with red jewels from the body. With the town now alerted to the assassination of the commander, Franz jumps out of a window and into a hay bale down below. After dealing with a few of the Danish soldiers, Franz escapes Dybbøl and brings the Danish plans to his superiors. At first they were disappointed that Franz entered the city anyway, but they eventually came around after looking into the military plans. On the same day, the Danish garrison at Dybbøl surrendered the town to the Prussians, and the war would continue until October. Denmark would lose the conflict, with Prussian and Austria collectively occupying Schleswig-Holstein. Franz returns to Berlin in late October, together with the rest of the Prussian army coming home from the war. Franz is then greeted by his betrothed, Emilia, who was standing among the crowd cheering on the marching troops. In the following night, Franz and Emilia would be walking out on the streets of Berlin, and he would be alerted to a commotion in a nearby alleyway. Franz tells Emilia to return back to their apartment. At first, Emilia was reluctant to leave him behind, but Franz told to her again for her safety. She agrees and rushes back to the apartment as Franz delves into the alleyway, where a fellow soldier had been murdered. He rushes to check on the body, only to discover that it was his friend. Suddenly, Franz is attacked by Templar thugs, who attempt to cover up their tracks by murdering him as well. He fights back, and after a while, he manages to either kill the thugs or force the others into fleeing into the dark night. Around the same time, Berlin officers heard the commotion and saw Franz wielding a bloodied dagger, standing over a fallen soldier. They immediately attempt to arrest him for murder, but he manages to flee from the alleyway and make his way for the rooftops. After reaching the roof of an apartment far away from the crime scene, Franz decides to take a break, wondering how he would explain himself if he was caught again. All of a sudden, he is knocked out by an unknown assailant. Upon waking up, he finds himself in a room surrounded by hooded figures wielding weapons, guns, and hidden blades; these were members of the German Brotherhood of Assassins. After much revelations and newfound knowledge on his origins, Franz eventually chooses to join the Assassin Brotherhood, who have aligned themselves with the German government in hopes of uniting Germany while handling the Templars in the Austrian and French Empires, with figures like Napoleon III serving as grand masters of the Templar Orders. Around this time, London was still under the heel of Crawford Starrick, Russia continued to degrade under a Romanov monarchy influenced by the Templars, and the French and Austrian Templars were already attempting to exert their influence in the Americas by invading Mexico as the United States was reeling from Civil War. The last thing the Templars want was a United Germany, as it would both create new problems for European politics, and perhaps even threaten their influence if the Assassins had their way. Franz, together with the German Assassins, meet up with King Wilhelm I, Crown Prince Frederick III (the Mentor of the German Brotherhood), and Otto von Bismarck, a grand master in the Templar Order. Bismarck explains that, while the Assassins were his greatest foe, he prioritizes German unification above all. After much discussion, Prussian generals discuss their plans for a future war against Austria, who already had allies in Saxony, Hanover, and Hesse that proved problematic for Prussian ambitions toward a united Germany. The Assassins join in on the planning, explaining that after the war is won, they would help their fellow Austrian Assassins in undermining Templar control in Vienna. In 1866, tensions over Schleswig-Holstein, secretly bolstered by the Assassins, would culminate into the Austro-Prussian War. Franz joins the armies under Helmuth von Moltke and Crown Prince Frederick as they march into Bohemia following the invasion of Saxony. An Austro-Saxon army attempts to disperse the Prussian forces, but are pushed back toward the fields of Königgrätz. After a grueling period of fighting, the Austrians retreat from the field, confirming a Prussian victory. During the battle, Franz managed to kill several Templar officers present at the fighting. By late July, Austria sued for peace, and Prussia managed to secure victory; Hanover, Saxony, and Hesse would be incorporated into the North German Confederation, Austria was excluded from Germany, and their hold over Bavria, Baden, and Württemberg was completely broken. In 1867, Franz arrives at Vienna to join up with the Austrian Assassins. Prior to his visit to Vienna, Franz would be given a task to assassinate Friedrich Wilhelm Eduard Gerhard, a professor at the Berlin University who was discovered to have begun the excavation of an Isu Temple beneath the Prussian capital, specifically underneath the future site of the Reichstag. After battling his way through Templar thugs and soldiers, Franz managed to assassinate the archaeologist, and upon discovering the terrifying power of the Apple of Eden buried within, he brings it back to the Assassin Council, who later decided to bury it in Königsberg. Upon arriving in Vienna, Franz meets the members of the Austrian Brotherhood, and begin the process of finding and assassinating targets throughout the Austrian capital. After dealing with the majority of the Austrian order, the final Templar target in Vienna was the leader of the Austrian Teutonic Order, Philipp von Stadion und thannhausen. During a banquet at a Viennese palace in January of 1868, the Assassins infiltrated the party, and Franz himself would assassinate the grand master of the Templar Order in the Austrian Empire. By 1870, Prussia would provoke the Second French Empire into declaring war, with Franz present at the Siege of Metz and the Battle of Sedan. During the chaos, Napoleon III would be captured along with his remaining 100,000 troops. Franz and a few German Assassins were quick in reaching Paris to join the French Assassins. As the Prussians neared the French capital, several Templar members like French Prime Minister Victor de Broglie would be assassinated. At last, France was forced to surrender as Franz was present in Versailles for the proclamation of the German Empire. Napoleon III would be released, but be forced into exile in Britain. The German Kaiserreich - 1871-1918 Borders By 1873, Franz was now a master assassin within the German Brotherhood, but was given one final task; the assassination of Napoleon III. With the aid of the Frye Twins in London, Franz was able to pinpoint Napoleon III's location in the British Isles, a small village in Kent. After a scuffle with Templar guards, Franz would assassinate the former French Emperor on the 9th of January, 1873. At last, the Templars and their power were diminished , not just in Germany and France, but also in Austria and even Britain, as the Frye Twins had already liberated London from the rule of the Templars back in 1868. Epilogue and Possible Lore after German Unification Following the proclamation of the German Empire, the balance of power in Europe changed, especially as the Templars lost great influence in Austria, France, Britain, and the former German states. However, this peace created by the Assassins would not last, as both Wilhelm I and Frederick III would die in 1888, leaving the throne in the hands of Wilhelm II, who had been influenced by the Templar doctrines of Bismarck throughout his youth. By 1890, Wilhelm would elevate Templars into the echelons of the German military and aristocracy, as several purges would be instigated against the Assassins within and outside of Berlin. By the outbreak of the First World War, it was now the Templars who ruled over Germany, while the Assassins consolidated their influence in Britain and France. Russia would eventually fall under the Bolshevik banner, Austria-Hungary would fragment, and the shame from the Treaty of Versailles would give rise to an extremist Templar faction within Germany; one that would threaten both Assassins and moderate Templars, and one that would go down in history as the world's worst and most vile regime. What are your thoughts on a game set during the Unification of Germany?
[Scottish Football] How one of Scotland's biggest clubs was liquidated and had to start all over again
Obviously this isn't set in England, but spiritually this piece is within my English Football series. The first six episodes covered Nottingham Forest's 21st century woes, the dickpic that consigned Notts County to the non-league, a reignited rivalry between Derby County and Leeds United, Stoke City's legendary shithouse era, the English Golden Generation of the 00s descending into farce, and Wimbledon FC's controversial relocation to Milton Keynes This spin-off piece follows on from the main question raised by the Wimbledon FC/MK Dons saga. When does a club stop being a club? Is it the legal entity or something rather more intangible? These were questions posed with regards to one of the titans of Scottish football earlier this decade. Background - The Establishment Club Rangers FC has long cultivated an image as Scotland's 'establishment club', it isn't just a sports team, but an institution that embodies a particular way of living and worldview. Alongside other institutions like the Church of Scotland, the club is perceived as embodying traditional and small-C conservative Scottish values. Alongside Celtic (more on them in a bit) Rangers have dominated Scottish football since the league started. No club other than the two Glaswegian sides has won the league since 1985. Rangers have 54 league titles, Celtic have 51. The joint 3rd best sides (Aberdeen and the Edinburgh pair Hearts and Hibernian) have just four a piece. And yet as a legal entity the club ceased to exist in 2012. What happened? Does Rangers FC still exist? It would be impossible to tell this tale without telling the tale of the Old Firm and the profound political, cultural, and religious divides involved. Glasgow's two largest clubs have a rivalry that defies comparison to anything in the rest of Scotland or in England. Essentially Rangers FC and its supporters represent Protestantism and British Unionism, while Celtic FC are considered to be aligned with Catholicism and Irish Nationalism. When the two sides meet, the Scottish saltire is rarely flown by supporters. Rangers supporters prefer the Union Jack or Ulster Banner, Celtic fans are likely to fly Irish tricolours. It is as if somebody took the socio-cultural conflict of Northern Ireland and transplanted it into a football ground. Which is sort of what happened. Ultimately a big factor was migration to Glasgow in the early 20th century - Irish Catholics in Glasgow set up Celtic FC as their club, while Protestants from Northern Ireland (who are historically of largely Scottish extraction) who worked in the shipyards of the Clyde came to adopt Rangers which was located near the shipbuilding areas. Local Scots, being generally Protestant, inclined to support Rangers and many would have shared the religious and political feelings of the newcomers from Northern Ireland. This has meant that at matches both clubs have sections of support who chant about the Northern Irish conflict - some Rangers fans have a 'songbook' including the Loyalist anthem The Sash (which commemorates King William III, the Dutchman invited to become King of England and Scotland who defeated a Catholic army at the Boyne in 1690), while Celtic fans might sing in support of the Irish Republican Army. This involves by no means the majority of supporters, but it is important in setting the atmosphere at games. Rangers FC had until the late 1980s an alleged policy of not signing any player known to be a Catholic. This led legendary Celtic manager Jock Stein to joke that if offered a Catholic or a Protestant to sign for Celtic, he would sign the Protestant in the knowledge that Rangers would never sign the Catholic. I cannot find evidence of any player ever transferring directly between Celtic and Rangers in the postwar era, with the low number of players who have turned out for both having had a 3rd club in between. Another example of the intensity is the way in which the clubs traditionally share shirt sponsors. This sounds innocuous, but the only way to sponsor one of the clubs without triggering a mass boycott by the other supporters was to simply sponsor both. No other football rivalry in Britain has a dynamic like this (Liverpool and Everton did to a far lesser extent before about the 1960s, but sectarianism largely died out there decades ago), even in the days when hooliganism was a serious blight on English football it never quite reached the sort of scenes on display at the 1980 Scottish Cup Final. Which club is the 'biggest'? It is impossible to say. Rangers have had more League titles, but Celtic being the first British club to win a European Cup in 1967 is a fairly potent trump card. What is without a doubt is that they are the two best supported Scottish clubs and their rivalry is possibly like no other. Chasing the Rainbow Avid readers of this series will notice a theme. The 1990s were a boom time for football and everyone involved in the sport. TV revenue started to really take off, as did the prizes for winning European competitions. Many clubs sought to capitalise on the windfall and Rangers were no exception. Their chairman, Sir David Murray, had become one of Scotland's weathiest businessmen by leveraging debts against future revenue. He spent big on Rangers in the hope that they would win a major European trophy and repay his investment. Top players like Paul Gascoigne came to Rangers where before it was fairly rare for big name players from other leagues to move to Scotland. Domestically his investments paid off, from 1989-97 Rangers won nine League titles in a row, equalling the record set by Jock Stein's great Celtic side between 1966-74. Unfortunately this did not translate to the windfall a Champion's League win would have given. While Murray was bankrolling Rangers, other clubs around Europe were likewise chasing the new massive financial prizes. Rangers came close to getting past the group stage of the new Champion's League format in 1992-93, but no Scottish club would enter a Champion's League knockout round until Rangers do so in 2005-06. The debts mounted and Murray sought ways to manage the debts and hedge them against future revenue anticipated from TV fees and European prize money. He allowed the Bank of Scotland to buy a stake in the club with a mortgage allowing them to recover their losses in the event of the club defaulting on its repayments. Nothing to worry about, surely? David Murray had become a wildly successful businessman by effectively managing credit lines and debt against future income to fund expansion. But a far bigger problem was just three small letters. EBT Put simply, Employee Benefit Trusts are a way of not paying tax, it was legal in some cases at the time but is generally illegal now. Murray sought, from 2000, to pay his players through EBTs. This meant that they would be able to offer high net wages to players while cutting tax costs. In Britain most employees have all their tax payments deducted by the employer, so schemes like this and ones where employees are paid in dividends are a way of essentially not paying tax. By 2010 HMRC had begun to investigate the case, concluding that Rangers may have evaded £49m in taxes, a vast amount for a club already overleveraged in debt in a league not known for being particularly wealthy. By about 2008 Murray had had enough of Rangers and was looking to sell up. He had gambled and lost huge amounts of money on the club, which was now saddled with huge amounts of debt. The prospect of paying £49m to HMRC if the courts ruled against Rangers deterred any serious buyer and it took some years for a buyer to emerge. Another serious issue was the sheer amount of debt Rangers had to Lloyds (who had taken over the Bank of Scotland), with fans in 2009 threatening a boycott of the banking chain if the bank called in its debts. Would a buyer emerge and save Rangers from this predicament? Well, a buyer would emerge in 2011. Not the other bit, sadly. Enter Craig Whyte Craig Whyte had once been Scotland's youngest millionaire as a venture capitalist. He bought the club for £1 from Murray but desperately needed to leverage some funds to settle the Lloyds debt, so he borrowed a cool £26.7m against future season ticket sales. This on the face of it should have set alarm bells, even the biggest clubs don't make huge amounts of money on matchday tickets in relation to their massive costs. Whyte also indulged in a bit of tax fiddling. But rather than setting up an avoidance mechanism and letting the lawyers fight it out, he just stopped sending Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs the income tax payments for the club players and staff. Definitely not the sophistication of Murray. Matters only got worse. In early 2012 BBC Scotland aired a BAFTA-winning documentary about Whyte and Rangers, which revealed that Whyte had been once banned from working as a company director for seven years. The Scottish Football Association agreed, Whyte was not a 'Fit and Proper' person to own a football club. At about this time Rangers entered administration. When this happens in Britain, the company's creditors can agree to a 'Company Voluntary Arrangement' (CVA) which essentially means agreeing a plan for the company to continue operating while in administration so the creditors can recover their debts. HMRC, with the outstanding £49m tax case from Murray's era plus the money owed by Whyte's outright failure to pay tax, voted against allowing this to happen. In the absence of a CVA and agreement with creditors, this meant that Rangers FC as a company ceased to exist in June 2012, with all assets transferred to 'Sevco Scotland Ltd'. Could this have been avoided? In the end, the £49m owed to HMRC which proved such a millstone has been substantially reduced and the cases around it are still ongoing. But ultimately, Rangers had vast amounts of debt not just to HMRC. For his part Whyte would be bankrupted by his loan to buy the club and would be faced with a far longer ban on acting as a company director. Sevco FC? Sevco inherited everything Rangers had. The players had an opportunity to transfer their employment to Sevco, which also gained Ibrox Stadium and Ranger's membership of the Scottish Premier League. For the club owned by Sevco to be able to play in the SPL next season, 2/3rds of members had to vote in favour. Clubs such as Aberdeen, Dundee United, and Hearts bowed to fan feeling that Rangers could not continue where they left off. In the end, no club voted in favour of Rangers remaning in the SPL with only Kilmarnock abstaining. This event would generate a huge amount of bad feeling and bitterness from Rangers fans who felt that supporters of other clubs were content to throw them under a bus for reasons not of their making. There was definitely a sense of schadenfreude from supporters of other clubs, watching Scotland's 'Establishment Club' go to the wall. Could Rangers join the Scottish First Division and gain promotion to the Premier League? First Division clubs didn't want to face the consequences of a Premier League problem, so they also rejected it. In the end, the Scottish Football League allowed Rangers FC to rejoin the league in the Third Division, a largely semi-professional league three divisions below the Premier League. Their first competitive game was a Challenge Cup (competition for the two lower leagues in the Scottish Football League) tie against Brechin City, who represent a sleepy town of just 7,000. Clawing their way back up Most of Ranger's players had refused their statutory right to transfer employment to the new company. Nonetheless, the 2012-13 season started well with their first home league game setting a world record for the best attended fourth division match in history as over 49,000 attended Rangers vs East Stirlingshire. A strong league performance saw Rangers confirm promotion into the 3rd tier by the end of March. 2013-14 saw another promotion as Rangers had an unbeaten season in League One (the leagues were renamed at about this time) to secure promotion to the Championship, the first league which would be wholly filled with professional clubs after the mix of professional and semi-professional that plies their trade in Scotland's lower leagues. Rangers didn't make it three back-to-back promotions as they lost a promotion play-off final 6-1 to Motherwell, one of Scotland's more successful non-Old Firm clubs who had suffered a stint in the 2nd tier. During this season they met Celtic in the cup. Some Celtic fans placed an advert in a newspaper claiming that the 'Old Firm' was over and while they had enjoyed a rivalry with Rangers FC they did not recognise the new club as the same entity. This caused some controversy, not just with Rangers fans, but with Celtic fans who were indeed looking forward to the first Old Firm in some time. The accusation that Rangers were 'Zombies' or 'Sevco FC' would become a common one from Celtic supporters at games and remains as such. Rangers won the 2016-15 Scottish Championship to secure promotion, while also beating Celtic in a Scottish Cup semi-final. But, the 'Gruesome Twosome' of Scottish football would once again grace the top flight together. Same as before? Celtic had done very well out of the previous few years. They had won a succession of League titles at a canter with the accompanying European qualification giving them financial muscle the other clubs couldn't compete with. Rangers finished a respectable 3rd, but Celtic once again dominated the league. After an embarrassing elimination out of the Europa League at the hands of a semi-professional side from Luxembourg, Rangers didn't improve on their 3rd place and Celtic won again. It wasn't until 2018-19 that Rangers finished 2nd. With Celtic winning again. Could Celtic's domination be broken before they won 10 titles in a row and broke the record jointly held by 1960s-70s Celtic and 1990s Rangers? Perhaps not yet. 2019-20 started well, Rangers had a fantastic run in the Europa League under Steven Gerrard and beat Celtic at their ground for the first time since 2010. COVID put paid to an increasingly close title race with Celtic awarded the title based on Points Per Game with the season abandoned. This season has very much been Ranger's season though. At the time of writing they seem, barring a miracle/disaster, overwhemingly likely to win the League this year and deny Celtic the coveted ten in a year. Postscript Is the Rangers FC of today the same club as that pre-2012? Displays from Celtic fans would say not, and as a legal entity it certainly isn't the same. But UEFA allows for 'sporting continuity' for a club in terms of identity and honours even if the holding company or corporate structure changes. This suggests something that many football supporters would agree with - a club is as much as community asset as it is a company or business and the stories we have looked at explore the issues when the business and the community collide. Next time, we'll take a look at how Arsenal Fan TV revolutionised football social media while turning their club into a laughing stock
This is the first relevant megathread for the joyous, drunken festival of Purim. This is NOT in any way meant to limit the number of Purim-related posts standing alone in the sub, but rather is meant to provide a central location for questions, comments, and advice as we approach what for many Jews around the world will be their second Purim in relative isolation. Those of us lacking vaccination and/or live-in community (that is, family) will likely have to get creative again this year to fully celebrate this celebration. However, that doesn't mean that you'll be alone this year for this most wine-soaked time of our year. Ask questions and share ideas here to help your fellow Jews the world over celebrate with as much merry community merriment as possible. Some resources to introduce the holiday:
These links were from a quick consultation with Rav Google (and just knowing some good resources). There are many, many resources about Purim out there. If you have any to add to this list, please share below. In most of the world, this Persian-Jewish festival starts on the evening of Thursday, February 25 and runs through Friday, February 26. For those of us who prefer to use our own calendar, it all happens on Adar 14. And since Jerusalemites like being more special than the rest of us, they have Purim on the 15th. Because walls. See u/Elementarrrry's comment from last year here for more context on that. Special Edit: This year (5781/2021) is also special for those special Jerusalemites because it's Purim Meshulash, a three-fold Purim. More info here. Story Time: Purim celebrates the story of Queen Esther, mamash a shayna punim from the Achaemenid Persian Empire about three MBP (5th century BCE). She and her cousin/uncle/fathehusband (choose one) Mordechai decide to put her up as a candidate for queen after the king, Ahasuerus (possibly Xerxes I or Artaxerxes I) 'removed' his wife, Vashti, for refusing to do a strip-tease for his cronies during a six-month shindig he threw in the city of Shushan. Esther, being as beautiful and poised as she was, was the clear choice, and she became the next queen. The king doesn't know she's Jewish, which at first isn't an issue but becomes evidently relevant shortly. Note: if anyone has issues with my description of her beauty, you may go kvetch withu/MendyZibulnik. I prefer to think of Esther as a hottie. A little while later Mordechai, being the mensch he is, stops an assassination attempt against the king by two royal guards. He gets promoted to someone that the king officially likes. However, not everyone likes him. Enter: Haman (aka shmuck supreme), the king's royal advisor who also wore stupid hats. Or maybe just had stupid ears. The jury is out on this point (all three of them). As most old men are wont to do, Mordechai likes to chill by the palace gates. Coincidentally, Haman goes through those gates a lot. He also expects everyone to bow to him, since he's all special and stuck-up. But Mordechai isn't just a mensch in public: he's also mamash a yiddisher kop, and won't bow to Haman. Naturally, Haman then wants to kill all the Jews. Because, y'know, why not? So Haman, being the shmendrik he is, drew lots (viz. gambling lots) to decide on the day he's going to kill all of us. Linguistic note: This is where the name for the holiday comes in: in Hebrew, פור / pür, is a gambling lot, related to the term for fate: גורל. Purim means "lots." (There are also some great divrei Torah relating Purim to Yom Kippur, which have more in common than just linguistic roots.) Mordechai discovers this plot and tells Esther about it. There's some back and forth, and eventually they both are publicly mourning: fasting, rending their clothes, etc. Since no one likes to be left out, all the other Jews of Shushan join in, and as any mob of wailing people would, it gets the king's attention. At first he's not so concerned, because, y'know, Jews, but then he finds out that his own wife is Jewish and then 👏 shit 👏 gets 👏 real. Queen Esther convinces her husband the king to do something, so instead of awarding some special honors to Haman as the king was planning, he tells Haman to award those honors to Mordechai. Super embarrassing for Haman. The story ends with Haman and his entire family being hung hanged from the gallows built for . . . us! An additional 75,000 of Haman's henchmen/supporters are also killed in the streets throughout the empire as a pre-emptive defense by the Jews, with the blessing of the king. The end. -- The four main ways people celebrate this day are:
Megillah: listening (not just hearing, but actually listening) to the reading of the Megillat Esther(Book/Scroll of Esther) twice, once in the evening (erev Purim) and once during the day (Purim)
Mishteh: having a big meal (seudah) and eating foods that refer to the story: hamantaschen, ojos de Haman, blintzes, kreplach, seeds and nuts
Mishloach manot: exchanging/giving 'goody bags' that usually include two different foods (I've seen disagreement on whether the two foods need to have different brachot, or just be two different foods)
Matanot l'evyonim: giving tzedakah/charity
Two other common ways to celebrate are:
Carnivals: dressing up in costume and having parties with games, music, etc.
Shpiels: general insanity, fun and games, making up stupid stories and laughing at people who don't understand what the hell is going on
There are many other traditions, and I encourage any of our Persian/Iranian brothers and sisters to contribute their traditions, as I am not comfortable explaining them. All I really know is that in some communities this is seen as a major feminist holiday, and some Iranian Jews visit Esther's grave. I encourage everyone to spend some time online today reading about the holiday. It’s a great historical holiday and with research a great way to break from the doldrums of modern Jewish life.
A relatively new city-state in the gambling business, mostly to increase the number of tourists, Singapore legalized gambling in 2005. Since then, hundreds of millions of tourists started visiting the country, and Singapore is now the world’s 2nd largest casino market and one of the 10 best gambling cities on earth. Atlantic City is the premier gambling destination in the northeastern United States and attracts tourists from all over the country. It was hit particularly hard by the recession – which decimated the disposable income of the area’s middle class – but is still a must visit for gambling fans. Number One Gambling City In The World Registered office: Villa Seminia, 8, Sir Temi Zammit Avenue, Ta' Xbiex Number One Gambling City In The World XBX 1011 Malta. Company Registration Number C50978. 2.3 Dazzletag Entertainment Limited is licensed to provide Number One Gambling City In The World This one is a no-brainer: Vegas is the world’s most famous gambling hotspot with over 70 casinos. The main focal point is the 4-mile stretch simply called ‘The Strip’. No matter what kind of wagers you want to make, if you can’t find it in Vegas, you can’t find it anywhere. Number One Gambling City In The World, b7star casino, blackjack ranch winery solvang, h top roulette 4* c. brava 4* / costa brava PlayNow has Number One Gambling City In The World many Online Slots Number One Gambling City In The World games that feature a progressive jackpot. Several of these Online Slots Number One Gambling City In The World games feature progressive jackpots that are linked across multiple games and Canadian jurisdictions, such as MegaJackpots. One of the most confusing and misunderstood concepts in gambling is Number One Gambling City In The World the odds. It's important to remember that Online Slots games operate randomly, no matter how many wins or losses have occurred in the past. Number One Gambling City In The World people can claim our exclusive special offers. You can use our bonuses to enjoy playing slots. Of course Number One Gambling City In The World we do share lots of free slots bonuses and pokies deals here, but other sites we can recommend do the same. The biggest gambling market in the world is Asia as the biggest gambling city. Most people think that Las Vegas is the world’s biggest gambling city, but they are wrong. We look at the latest Global Gambling Statistics: Comparing revenue, popular games & personal data to discover the world's best Gambling nations in 2021.
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