If you’re a manga fan, you likely know about Weekly Shonen Jump - one of the most popular magazines in Japan, this weekly anthology of comics provided us such classics as Dragon Ball, Naruto, and One Piece. Indeed, because of the prestige of WSJ, many aspiring mangaka submit their creations to Jump, hoping they can hit it big.
However, while WSJ is popular, it is also one of the most cutthroat publications out there. Because of its size, it can usually only carry around 20 different series, excluding oneshots and the like. If your manga gets published in WSJ and doesn’t immediately become a hit, editors will cancel it as soon as possible to search for another hit instead.
Anyway, on places like manga, 4chan’s /a/ board, and Twitter, a sort of speculation started. You see, every issue of Jump has a table of contents page, which simply shows the location of each series in the issue as well as the weekly author comments. However, while the order changes from week to week, the general trend is that the most popular series are located near the front, where they’re more accessible to readers, while the less popular ones are in the back.
Of course, many editors and writers for Jump have noted that the head editor is the one who has the final say in the table of contents order, so they stress that it isn’t a barometer. However, one aspect of WSJ is that the print versions (probably digital versions too, though I haven’t checked) include a survey card in each issue - readers can submit which three chapters they enjoyed the most this week, alongside any sweepstakes offers or popularity polls. And there have been plenty of cases where a series ranks fairly high on the ToC and then suddenly drops to the bottom on chapter 8, which has led people to realize that it usually takes seven weeks to accurately tally survey results. So while it may not be 100% accurate, it allows people to speculate over which series are thriving and which are likely to be cancelled.
Case 1: The start of the U19 club
Of course, as mentioned above, the cutthroat nature of Jump means that low-performing books will be cancelled in about three to four volumes. However, at the time there was no real way to describe this phenomenon. That all changed in 2017.
See, at the time, WSJ was going through a massive series exodus. Popular series such as Bleach, Toriko, and Kochikame had all ended in 2016 (note: the latter had been running for 40 years), and Jump really needed something to prop up sales. To that end, they announced an unprecedented event where, for six weeks straight, they would add a new series in each issue. Usually, whenever series get serialized in Jump, they’re done in groups of two or three, so it was clear that WSJ was looking for at least some hits.
Enter U19, a series that made readers wonder how the hell it got approved in the first place. The premise is that adults have converted Japan into a 1984-like dystopia involving abusive discipline and selective breeding in order to strengthen the country and bring it back to its World War II-era glory. The main character finds out that his love interest has been deemed an elite student while he’s an F-rank, and when she is separated from him he develops a power called Libido, which manifests as a sewing needle that grows more powerful when he sees her. Then he is joined into the ranks of the U19 club, an underground resistance full of people under the age of 19 with similar Libidos.
The description I gave it in the previous paragraph does not do this series justice. The art was fairly amateur, the concept of Libidos were just quirks from My Hero Academia with a different name, the villains were written to be cartoonishly evil, and in general it didn’t seem like the author knew what they were doing. It quickly was cancelled after 17 chapters, but a edit of one of the spreads by a 2chan user, where the members of U19 were replaced by characters from other short-running series, eventually blossomed into a meme. From then on, the U19 club became the unofficial way to refer to any series doomed to end in less than 19 chapters. People who saw the TOC rankings would soon gravitate to the bottom of the list, speculating over which series were likely to join the club.
Case 2: The battle of the gag manga
Okay, when I mentioned the idea of the table of contents, there was one part I glossed over. While the lower-ranked series were almost doomed to fail, for a couple of years the last series to be featured in the ToC would usually be a small comedy series. The idea being that no matter how unsettling or uncomfortable the rest of the books are, at the very least the magazine will always end on a happy note. For the longest time, this position was filled by Isobe Isobee Monogatari, but then it ended in 2017.
So in a September 2018 issue, to the surprise of everyone, two gag series premiered in the same issue at the same time. The first, I’m From Japan, was about a young boy who is obsessed with the various prefectures of Japan and uses them in fighting styles. The second, Teenage Renaissance David, reimagined the Michelangelo sculpture as a hot-blooded high school student. It was clear that Jump was hedging its bets on a new gag series to be their mainstay, but the question was: which one?
There was obviously a regional gap for this issue. Japanese fans were more likely to enjoy I’m From Japan, simply because the various puns and in-jokes made more sense to them. Western fans found Teenage Renaissance David better, because the classical art references were more familiar. What compounded the issue even more is that every issue, the two series would switch places - one would be in the middle of the magazine, while the other would be near the bottom. Compounding this issue was the unbelievable fact that in December of the same year, I’m From Japan was confirmed to have an anime in development (for reference, most Shonen Jump manga only get an anime greenlighted after at least a year of serialization, while IFJ had only been around for a few months at best - meaning an anime was planned before the series even started).
While western fans were in disbelief, people soon came to the realization of why IFJ was promoted over David - tourism. The fact was that IFJ basically had every chapter talk about the top exports, notable attractions, and famous people of each Japanese prefecture - which made it perfect in terms of advertising people to go to those prefectures in question. Ultimately, Teenage Renaissance David ended after 35 chapters, while I’m From Japan was transferred to sister magazine Saikyo Jump... only to end after 45 chapters. In the end, nobody won, although the author of Isobe recently started a new serialization that may become the new gag series.
Case 3: Chew Harder - The Tale of Samurai 8
While most of the titles I’ve been talking about so far have been obscure, you most likely know about Naruto. The ninja manga was published in Jump in 1999, and author Masashi Kishimoto made it into a massive work spanning over 70 volumes and 15 years. It’s arguably one of the most popular series to have ever ran in Jump.
So it was surprising to hear that after Naruto ended, Kishimoto noted that he actually had plans for a new series. In late 2018, more information came out - his new publication would be called Samurai 8: The Tale of Hachimaru, and it would be a science fiction title centered around cybernetic samurai. Notably, due to wanting a break from drawing, he would only write the series while one of his former assistants, Akira Obuko, would be doing the art.
Considering that such a famous author would be writing another series, Jump immediately went to advertising S8 however it could. Animated YouTube ads done months before the series actually started, expansive murals in subways, even putting pamphlets of the first chapter in other Jump manga. While it had done some promotional acts for other manga before, it was on a completely different level with Samurai 8. In essence, they were setting it up to be one of the core pillars of Jump before it even started.
And then the series actually started. While some people were optimistic, others noted that it wasn’t exactly a good start for the series. From the first chapter alone, the reader is bombarded with samurai lore that would honestly be better suited for explanation across chapters rather than in a massive exposition dump. The plot also became more complex - while the first chapter of Naruto framed the conflict as a plucky young ninja possessed by a demonic nine-tailed fox wanting to become the head of his village, the first chapter of Sam8 framed the conflict as a sickly young boy who wants to become a samurai, only to suddenly get a cybernetic body after committing seppuku and then he is told by a blind samurai master in a cat’s body that he must find the seven keys to Pandora’s Box, an artifact that could endanger the whole galaxy. The artstyle used to portray cybernetics made pages look cluttered, which made fight scenes difficult to understand.
In essence, while Samurai 8 had the prestige of being written by the author of Naruto, everything else seemed to be changed - not necessarily for the better. Compounding this were two separate facts. The first is that when the first and second volumes of the series were released simultaneously (another marketing stunt to encourage binge reading), Kishimoto wrote in the first volume that he would compare reading Samurai 8 to chewing dried squid - if the flavor doesn’t come out, just chew some more (i.e. buy the second volume, I swear things will get better I promise). The second was an interview with one of the former editors of Naruto, which revealed that many of the most popular parts of Naruto were editor suggestions rather than Kishimoto’s own work. Compounding this was an interview with the Samurai 8 editor, who seemed to revere Kishimoto; this made fans believe that he wasn’t policing Kishimoto’s work as much, similar to how George Lucas made the original Star Wars trilogy with the help of various editor suggestions and then the prequel trilogy with virtually no supervision.
The effects were noticeable. In 4chan, it became a meme to refer to Kishimoto’s chewing comment whenever Samurai 8 was discussed. TOC-wise, it dropped in the rankings until it was almost always near the bottom. Sales were night and day compared to Naruto, and ultimately, after the constant promotions over other WSJ series, Samurai 8 ended after five volumes and 45 chapters. Which seems okay enough until you realize that I’m From Japan, of all series, was compiled into six volumes.
Case 4: Time Plagiarism Ghostwriter
In May 2020, the same issue when one of Jump’s more popular series Demon Slayer ended, a new series called Time Paradox Ghostwriter started.
The premise of it went like this: An amateur author whose manga has been rejected by publishers constantly gets his microwave struck by a bolt of lightning, which turns it into a time machine. When he opens it up, he sees that it contains a copy of Weekly Shonen Jump from ten years in the future. Upon seeing that its premiere series, White Knight, is the perfect manga, but believing it to be a dream, he copies the first chapter the following day and sends it to his editor, who immediately greenlights it as a series. Suddenly the amateur author must contend with the high expectations pushed onto him - as well as the original author of White Knight, who is surprised that someone else has used her idea.
Maybe it was because of the premise alone. Maybe it was because it was one of the few Jump manga out there which didn’t fall into the typical conventions of being a battle, sports, or gag manga. Either way, TPGW immediately became popular in the west, with many people talking about how they love it. Many were immediately convinced that TPGW could immediately become a top seller for Japan. So, seven weeks after the first chapter, people were eager to see the first ratings for the series - only for it to debut in the bottom half of the magazine and drop lower every issue afterward.
People were surprised, to say the least. Why was a series with such an amazing premise flopping? Pretty soon, people came to a conclusion as to why this was happening: plagiarism. More specifically, in a magazine primarily aimed at young boys, the first few chapters tried to justify the main character plagiarizing White Knight and still paint him as a good guy, by having people constantly tell him that so many people are in love with WK and it would be a disservice to stop now. Even the original author, after meeting the main character, writes off the similar plot between his White Knight and hers as a fluke. And given how the Kyoto Animation Fire, one of the worst mass murders in Japan’s modern history, was caused because someone thought KyoAni had stolen their idea, it makes sense that people would be hesitant to like a series which pushes all of its consequences to the side.
So anyway, the first volume of TPGW was released, compiling all the magazine chapters while removing any reference to plagiarism in the text itself. Even then, it sold terribly. The author quickly tried to pick up the pace of their manga, glazing over plot points and moving the story at a breakneck pace, but it was too little too late. The series ended in only 15 chapters - unusual for Jump, as even more recent U19 series have gotten more time before getting axed. People were upset, claiming that Japan just didn’t have as good of a taste as the west and being upset that the previously-mentioned gag manga by Isobe’s author was immediately started the week after. So yeah, people were upset.
Anyway, that’s the long and short of some notable instances of Jump drama. I could add in some more stuff, like the quick cancelling of Act-Age or the drama surrounding mangaka like Kentaro Yabuki and Haruto Ikezawa, but I’ve written enough as is.

Last Update: Edit #16 - October 2, 2020
Ok, already seeing misinformation going out here (at least Reno pulled down his video).
It seems a majority of people here putting up posts, videos, and others are up-voting misinformed comments whoi are not actually READING.
It is not hard to get this information guys... You can see the ruling on the document HERE where it says under conclusion: "We AFFIRM the district court’s grant of summary judgment for plaintiffs-appellees."
What does this mean?
It means that the 9th circuit has AFFIRMED Judge Benitez's summary judgement. Now if there was no stay on this summary judgement this means that the judgement stays in effect. HOWEVER because Benitez put a STAY on HIS OWN JUDGEMENT that summary judgement is NOT in effect. This means it is NOT legal to purchase new magazines YET.
What would need to be done to get Freedom Week 2.0 started?
Judge Benitez's stay would have to LIFT his own stay would have to be lifted. This would allow the summary judgement to be in effect once again. The stay on his judgement will be lifted upon "final resolution" of the appeal.
I am updating this so as to avoid confusion, refer to the lower edits for information on this.
Will Benitez lift his stay stay be lifted soon so as to allow for Freedom Week 2.0 to begin?
My crystal ball says no because if he does then the stay gets lifted before the appeal process is finalized then the DOJ will ask for an "emergency" stay with their en-banc appeal and they will get a stay written by the 9th (based on the 3 judges handling these stays, they change every month - don't forget what happened to Rhode v. Becerra (the ammo case)) and you can bet it will not be as lenient as Benitez's current stay is.
tl;dr The ruling is still stayed because Benitez has NOT lifted his stay nor has the requirements been met to lift that stay (i.e. appeals process being completed). All that happened was the 9th agreeing with Benitez's SUMMARY JUDGEMENT (which is currently stayed by Benitez himself).
Once again, stop spreading misinformation. You guys are going to get people who may not know any better in serious hot water and THEY will be paying the legal consequences... It could happen to you or someone you know. Please do not be careless and stop writing without thinking... We got really good news here, let's wait a little bit and see how Benitez AND the CA DOJ respond to this.
Edit: EVEN Chuck Michel is publicly saying this is not "Freedom Week II" yet. For those who only sit on this sub and have no idea who he is, he is the President of the CRPA.
Edit 2: If you want to hear my theory on what will happen now it is that Benitez will not touch his stay unless the 9th denies an en-banc hearing or they approve the en-banc hearing and then affirm Benitez's judgement.
Edit 3: The Original Stay issued last year can be found here clearly states:

THEREFORE, IT IS HEREBY ORDERED that the Judgment is stayed in part pending final resolution of the appeal from the Judgment

What does "final resolution of the appeal from the Judgement" mean? It means that either the state does not try to appeal the 9th's affirmation (or they run out of time to appeal the decision (very unlikely)) OR the 9th circuit denies en-banc AND SCOTUS denies cert. Currently the appeals process is still open, it is not final.
Edit 4: Here is a post from FPC (Firearms Policy Coalition) basically reiterating what this post already says
Edit 5: "Ok so you said a lot of stuff, what's going to happen now and when will it happen?" -> My prediction is that the state is going to file for an en-banc hearing and that Judge Benitez won't be touching his injunction. I can imagine this will be filed within a week or two and the 9th will sit on it "pending the decision of Young v Hawaii".
Edit 6: "Why are there some companies saying they'll ship? How is that legal?" -> Technically it is not illegal to sell a magazine of any size to a California resident so long as that sale is not conducted within California and that resident does not import the magazine into California. Realistically speaking the only one who's really taking the legal risk of purchasing these magazines online and having them shipped to California right now is YOU. You are going to be facing more liability than the companies will (especially considering most of those companies aren't even in California). Remember those companies have very likely retained big law firms and you (likely) don't have that kind of money to retain that level of legal support.
Edit 7: Here is some useful information regarding how soon these appeals must be filed.

• Becerra has 14 days from August 14, 2020 to file an appeal for an en banc hearing. If he doesn't do this it is possible for a Judge to call a vote for an en banc hearing 7 days after that without the appeal, it is also possible an extension can be granted. There are other factors to take into account here but the main point is that if the process to hear an en banc has not been started by August 28, 2020 then either an extension has to be granted or one of the judges has to start the process. This means that September 4, 2020 is the last day we can hear anything regarding an en banc hearing so if nothing has started (i.e. they have not begun the process for voting on whether to hear it or not) then that would be mean the state loses out on its chance to appeal to the 9th (this is good for us).
• In order for the 9th to approve an en-banc hearing at least 51% of the court has to approve the appeal to hear the case. This means that 14 judges have to vote yes. There are currently 16 judges who were nominated by a Democrat President (this includes Thomas). The 9th typically has a maximum 35 days from the day the appeal is filed to vote on it (14 days to vote after distribution which has a max of 21 days).
• But wait there's more! The state still has the option of appealing to the Supreme Court (we'll see if they bother to hear this one given it's coming from an anti-gun state). A petition is due either 90 days after the decision (so from today that would be November 12, 2020) or 90 days after the 9th denies to hear the case en-banc (and this could be up to 35 days after the appeal is filed).
• So when is the absolute last chance for the state to file an appeal for anything? By my current calculations and accounting for the maximum amount of days listed without accounting for any extensions (because there is no way to know) the day that Becerra will have his last chance to file an appeal is January 7, 2021 (this could happen sooner if the 9th acts quick and denies the en banc hearing sooner) but this will only be the case if the 9th denies en-banc, otherwise if the 9th en-banc appeal is never filed then the last day to file would be November 12, 2020. SCOTUS is not required to respond to cert. on or before this day it is merely the final day that Becerra can file a petition for cert. After this day the appeals process becomes finalized for this case with the 9th's 2 - 1 opinion becoming final. As a result it would result in a "permanent" Freedom Week 2.0 for magazines as Benitez's stay would be lifted.
• "This is too much to read and I'm confused, if we don't take into account any unpredictable factors (i.e 9th granting extensions) when is the last day that this appeals process can be continued in any way?" January 7, 2021 is going to be the last day Becerra has to file any sort of petition for an appeal in regards to this case given that the 9th takes their time to deny an en banc appeal. If for whatever reason Becerra does NOT file an en banc appeal AND/OR the 9th does not call for an en banc vote on their own (they can call for a vote even if Becerra does not file an appeal) then November 12, 2020 is going to be the last day Becerra can file an appeal to SCOTUS. The last day for an en-banc appeal to be considered/filed is September 4, 2020 (not counting any extensions).

I will try to keep updated as much as possible and post here with the relevant information. It is very difficult to give the time frame for anything right now because nobody knows what the state is going to do. My best guess is they are preparing an en-banc appeal and that they will not risk going to SCOTUS at this time. If Trump wins re-election it is highly unlikely that they will seek out a SCOTUS appeal and the en-banc appeal will be the final appeal by the state.
Edit 8: Largely the same as above but this time I found a flowchart made by Michelle & Assosciates regarding how the en-banc process works. You can view this En-Banc Flowchart here.
Edit 9: CRPA now has released a FAQ regarding the current situation (it is essentially the same as I've written here - and before someone asks, no I do not work for CRPA), you can view this here. They have a different view than I do on "final resolution" meaning they think Freedom Week 2.0 could come sooner, about 90 days sooner than the farthest date I noted above (I have written previously that it could come a lot sooner; nobody knows for certain however, I just personally gave a very liberal prediction).
Edit 10: I forgot to consider something that might result in Freedom Week 2.0 coming sooner (I didn't consider this because it's a bit unpredictable)! If the en-banc appeal is denied then that could be considered "final resolution" of the appeal. As a result Judge Benitez's stay might be lifted as the 9th would hand the case back to the district court (i.e. Judge Benitez).
Now, does this mean all is good and Benitez can right away lift the stay? Well yes (probably) but... the state could ask him to keep his stay in place while they file cert. to SCOTUS. However after considering how the state has been treating him (i.e. the "threats" to tell him to put a stay on his judgement or they would go to the 9th) I seriously doubt he is going to grant such a request. There is also the possibility that the state ask the 9th to stay its mandate while a cert. petition is filed but if they would deny en-banc then I find it unlikely they would stay that mandate.
So what does this mean? It means that if en-banc gets denied then it could be just a matter of days before Freedom Week 2.0 is active. Now of course there is still the possibility that SCOTUS could get involved following a cert. petition as they have a tendency to do as they please (I don't think anyone here needs any examples of this (cough NYSRPA v NYC cough)). I doubt I (or anyone in my network) am going to be able to accurately predict how SCOTUS would act in such a situation but my prediction as of today (August 16th, 2020) would be they would either deny cert. or GVR it (GVR would not be good for us).
Edit 11: This Friday (August 28, 2020) will be 14 days from the 9th's opinion. By that day (or on that day) ether an en-banc appeal will be filed, an extension request will be filed, or nothing will be filed.
Edit 12: It is currently August 28th, 2020, 10:30 AM. We have not seen an en banc appeal or an extension come through. Does this mean we're in the clear? Not yet. Remember that any judge from the 9th can call a vote to re-hear this case and it is likely that this will happen. I have spoken to a few people in my network and an interesting theory was drawn. Some believe that Becerra will not file an en banc appeal because it is an election year and the gun community has grown to include those who previously were all for restrictive gun laws. Instead Sydney Thomas (the 9th's Chief Judge) will make the call to vote on whether to re-hear this case or not (i.e. sua sponte).
As for what I personally think? I think that we can expect to see something from the CA DOJ by the end of the day. They will probably file for an appeal and drag this out. Whether they use that 14 day extended window to file an appeal request or not, I have no clue. They will want to drag this out as much as they can in hopes that Trump will not win re-election, but then again that is just my opinion.
I'll make an update tonight at 11:59 PM or when CA DOJ makes a move on this case, whichever happens to come first.
Edit 13: The request for an en-banc hearing has just been filed. This can be seen here. What now? Within the next 21 days either a 14 day extension will be granted, the 3 judge panel will choose to re-hear the case after being requested by another 9th judge (likely Sydney Thomas), the 3 judge panel will choose to not re-hear the case after being requested by another 9th judge, or the 9th does nothing and ignores the request (unlikely). It is also possible (however unlikely) that a vote for an en-banc hearing is called without a request to the 3 judge panel.
If the 3 judge panel chooses not to re-hear the case then any judge who was not on the panel (likely to be Sydney Thomas) will call for an en-banc vote within 14 days after the request to the 3 judge panel went out, 21 days after the petition (this appeal so 21 days from today, August 28th), or 14 days after circulation of the party response (if filed), whichever is later. The 3 panel can stall for 90 days after this request is made.
The "simple" explanation: "So what do we do now? When will we find out something at the soonest?" -- Expect to see something around September 18, 2020 at the earliest. A 14 day extension can be granted before any request is made to the original 3 judge panel. There is also the chance that the 3 judge panel could stall for 90 days (in the hopes that Trump wins re-election). It is also possible that Sydney Thomas calls for an en-banc vote without talking to the 3 judge panel from the get go.
"What's likely to happen?" -- My crystal ball says that it is likely the judges will stall when that request is made up until the election. As such it is very possible that the Chief Judge Sydney Thomas is going to call an en-banc vote for this case some time in September. Extensions and stalling can go either way here, it is all dependent on who is going to win the election in November.
Edit 14: Not much to say except a bunch of Amicus Briefs were filed in support of CA DOJ. These can be seen here: First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth -- On a side note I want to pull your attention to the fifth one linked. Some of the states that are in that Amicus Brief do NOT have magazine restrictions in their state so it is really, REALLY interesting to see them arguing in support of such a restriction. I would let those in your network who live in those states know about this, it might be important for how they vote in their future state and local elections.
Aside that, as I wrote above we can expect to see some movement on September 18th, 2020. This will probably be the response from Michel & Associates. We can also expect to see some more amicus briefs in support of Michel soon after.
As for when they'll vote on whether to to do en-banc or not? Probably late September or early October if there are no extensions but nobody can really tell for sure.
I'll also put a note at the top of the post in regards to when this gets updated.
Edit 15: The opposition to the en-banc hearing has been filed. You can view this here.
"What does this mean?"

• Not much at this point. We all knew that Michel & Associates were going to oppose it.

"What happens now?"

• We wait. We did see something by September 18, 2020 after all.

"What will we see in the coming weeks?"

• Probably some amicus briefs from states and organizations that support our cause within the next 10 days (that's the limit). Then we'll see if the original panel will re-hear the case or decline to do so. It's a possibility that Thomas could just call for an en-banc vote without letting the 3 judge panel decide. I don't want to fill this edit up with conjecture on how they could act and why they would do so. Instead I'll just say to check back in a week for those amicus briefs and keep routinely checking back.

"When is the latest we can expect to see the next thing (besides amicus briefs?)"

• This is dependent on how the 9th is going to handle it from here. There are a few options. Crystal ball says we should see the newest development on this case before the end of October (i.e. we should see the next action by the 9th in the coming weeks). In a nutshell, expect something significant from the 9th between today and the end of October.

Edit 16: Small post was made explaining why nothing has happened as of today, October 2

All content here was discovered by the power autists of onaforums.net I don't take credit for anything. Feed Nana.
Proof of content:https://ibb.co/V9x7dkp
Joe Rogan used to have his own website and forum located at http://blog.joerogan.net and http://forums.joerogan.net/ but Rogan took it all down because of "problematic content" with him getting more famous, and because a few people, one in particular that Joe personally went after, had discovered he was frequenting gay leather bars.
This led to a build up before the site was finally shut down, with Joe himself having weirdo gay sperg outs, because fans call him gay. I now present to you, saved for your reading pleasure: The Joe Rogan Gay Freakout of January 11th, 2005.

Are you gay?

For the record, I’m not. If I was, I’m not sure that I would admit it, but I like to think I would.
Who knows?
The point is, I’m not, but I get accused of being gay all the time.
Most of it is either just jealousy from weak-minded guys, or wishful thinking from gay dudes, but it does come up.
The funniest example so far is this email I got the other day.
What’s really funny to me is when guys say that they KNOW I’m gay.
Now, I’ve met some gay dudes that were in the closet, and I actually know at least one right now. I guess if you live in a real conservative place, or if your parents were uptight it could really suck to be gay.
I mean really, it could happen to anyone. It’s just a genetic roll of the dice. I’m short and my hair is falling out.
Some people are gay. I personally couldn’t care less, and if you’re happy, I’m happy.
Don’t try to fuck me, and we can be friends.
But I guess since there’s so many people in the closet there’s always going to be a certain amount of people that don’t believe you if you say you’re straight.
That’s understandable.
I’ve been guilty of it myself. There’s been several times in my life where I’ve met a guy and was convinced that he was gay no matter what he said.
It’s sort of a game to play with your friends, really.
Let’s play the “what do you think?” game.
Often times your friends know EXACTLY what you’re talking about, and you don’t even have to say the word. You just look at them and say “You think?” and he’ll just nod his head and say “All day.”
You don’t even have to mention it again.
Sometimes it’s really fun, like if the guy is married or has kids.
Or even more fun if he’s some tightly wound conservative Christian who’s married and has kids. (Those are my personal favorite)
Sometimes you’ll find out a guy is gay and it’s a total shocker.
There’s this one guy we found out about that was a cage fighter. This guy was fucking huge. Big, giant, scary guy with a really hot girlfriend, too. The way it came out was really pretty funny. There was a cage fighting show that was featuring this particular gentleman, and they were trying to get some information on him for the press release, so the publicist went online and did a google search. Well, apparently this guy was not just gay, but was a gay pornstar and didn’t even bother to change his name when he started fighting.
Imagine the surprise when the first article she found on this guy wasn’t about his ability to inflict punishment, or his skill at choking men unconscious, but rather the fact that he was the winner of the “Hungriest Butt” contest.
Hungriest… butt.
Holy shit.
Surely this was a mistake. There’s no way this dominant alpha male would be playing for the other team.
Why, if we were living in ancient Rome this man would be leading an army into battle. He would be on horseback storming headfirst into the opposition, his broadsword felling bodies left and right, shouting out a fierce war cry.
He was a specimen, a warrior.
It must be confusion; perhaps another man has the same name…
Yet, there he was on Al Gore’s internet with a big fat cock in his mouth.
Not just that, but one in the pooper, too.
250 lbs of alpha male muscle, and there he was with two guys using his body to play a game of Chinese finger handcuffs.
It looked like he was enjoying it, too.
Who knows, maybe he was just acting.
Now, I read an article in Esquire once about a dude that claimed he was straight, but was a gay porn star. He said he was doing it because there’s a lot of money in it, which is a little shaky.
I mean… how much money are we talking about?
This guy had done dozens of films.
How much money is a lot of money for gay sex if you’re not gay?
I don’t know about you, but I would have to get so much fucking money that I didn’t ever have to do a second film.
They say that everyone has their price, but there are some people that claim there’s not enough money in the world to get them to do certain things, like gay sex.
For the most part I think they say that because no one is really offering them a ton of money for gay sex. It’s not really going to happen, so why think realistically about the proposition and risk ridicule?
But what if someone really was offering?
Now, if you’re straight, what if someone came around and offered a TON of money for one gay sexual experience.
I’m talking about a fucking TON of money.
Like 10 billion dollars.
Would you take it?
You would have to be a fucking idiot if you didn’t take it.
One hour of misery and you and all your friends could live like the Sultan of Brunei for the rest of your lives.
Shit, you could write a book about the experience and make another 10 million on top of that.
“I’ve got my price” would shoot to the top of the bestseller lists.
It would be the subject of debate for hundreds of talk shows across the country.
The people would be divided on the subject, but again I believe it’s all bullshit. If the offer were real, almost everyone would take it.
It wouldn’t mean you were gay. It would just mean that you let a gay guy fuck you.
Would you do it?
Just think of what you could do if you had Bill Gates type money. Are you fucking kidding me?
You wouldn’t suffer for an hour for that?
I sure as fuck would do it. Everyone has a price, and that’s mine.
For 10 Billions Dollars you can fuck my ass.
You can do whatever the fuck you want with me for one hour.
I have a high tolerance to pain, and my will is strong. I’ll get through it. I have vision, and that’s a ton of fucking money.
I mean think about it, how long is an hour?
It’s all relative, really.
Hours go by all the time and you don’t even notice.
It’s not really that long, but it can sure seem that long when you’re suffering
How long would an hour of gay sex feel like?
I would imagine it would probably be the longest measurement of an hour ever.
You remember when you were a kid and it was almost the end of the school day, and that last hour would just fucking crawl by?
I bet it would be quite a bit slower than that.
But you know what?
It would eventually end. It would be just like any other hour for most people, but your life would be different forever.
For your neighbor next door watching Fear Factor, his hour went by like it always does. He doesn’t even remember most of it.
He’s sitting in front of the TV screen watching me encourage some high school dropout to suck down a plate of rotten pig embryos, and at the same time you’re one house away crying in shame, lube dripping off your elbow, with your finger knuckle deep up some guys ass while he’s blasting a load on your face.
The difference is, at the end of the hour that guy’s life still sucks, and you’re living like you’re in a Jay Z video for the rest of your life.
It’s not like it’s really going to hurt you. I mean fuck, there’s a ton of dudes doing it everyday and they’re fine. They actually like it.
I’m not saying you’ll come out of it completely unscathed. I’m sure there’s going to be some painful memories to deal with, But you know what? I’m guessing 10 billion dollars can smooth that over right quick.
It might even help your relationships because now you’ll have a better understanding of why your girlfriend complains when you want to fuck her in the ass.
Maybe you’re not a materialist.
Maybe money doesn’t motivate you, so how about if it was that you had to do it for a more altruistic reason, like to save the world or something?
Let’s say a big gay alien is going to kill all of the people on Earth unless you suck his dick.
Would you do it?
And before any of you say that this is a ridiculous scenario, I would submit to you that it’s probably MORE likely that a gay alien would come here from another planet and ask you to suck his dick than it is that a guy would willing to pay 10 billion to bone me.
Think about it.
There are 100,000,000,000 stars in this galaxy alone, but how many dudes are there on earth that have $10,000,000,000.00 to blow on a piece of ass?
And let’s be honest, any guy with 10 billion can do WAY better than me.
As long as Billy Zane is out there, I can safely say the offer is never going to reach my desk.
So if the offer were real, would you take it?
Suck the gay alien dick and save the world.
If you blow him, he’ll not only spare all the people a horrible death, but also offer them the keys to enlightenment and elevate the entire race.
Would you make the ultimate sacrifice and offer your mouth to save every man woman and child on the planet?
Or would you say “Fuck that shit, I ain’t no space homo!” and let everyone die for your vanity?
Is the feeling of shame too powerful for you?
For some people gay shame is just too much to deal with.
There was a story just a week or so ago where this marine that was on leave picked up a hooker, and then found out that he had been duped, and had actually been pleasured by a man in a dress. He freaked out, killed the he-she, and dumped the body on Melrose. The cops chase him, and he leads them in a high-speed pursuit that ends up in a shoot out where the cops had to kill him.
All because the guy couldn’t deal with the fact that a dude blew him. Now, if the guy just had a sense of humor he would have had a great fucking story that he could tell people for the rest of his life, but instead the he wound up dead.
All because he couldn’t deal with the shame.
That’s pretty silly if you ask me.
Getting blown by a guy in a dress doesn’t mean you’re gay, it just means you got tricked.
He tricked you, so you kill him?
That doesn’t seem fair.
And what kind of a way is that to treat a guy that just gave you a blowjob?
Talk about ungrateful.
OK… maybe I’m getting a little off track here.
My point is… actually, I don’t really have a point. Oh yeah, the email.
So I get this email the other day, and it really made me laugh, because although I’ve been accused of being gay, no one has ever gone into such great depth about it.
He actually makes some pretty good points.
I thought it was worth a chuckle or two, so here it is in all it’s unedited glory:
You’re gay , aren’t you?
​
I’ve been watching you for a while now and I’m fairly convinced that you’re homosexual. I’m gay too, so I know what I’m talking about. You have a LOT of the “right” characteristics that make my Gaydar go off the scale and I just wanted to make sure you knew they weren’t going past unnoticed. I can tell a fellow cocksucker when I see one.
I first suspected you were queer when I saw you a few years back on Mad TV or something like that. Even tho I had no idea who you were at the time, you were a guest on the show appearing in a sketch involving a pool boy. After I watched you for a couple of minutes I said to myself, “Who the fuck’s this nelly queen?” From what I recall, you were a total sissy.
I guess it wasn’t until several months later that I saw you again on TV for something else. I realized I was watching they guy from MadTV that I thought was gay , so I tried to pay attention to find out who you were. I still didn’t know why you were a celebrity but I still thought you were gay . More so in fact because I took care to watch your mannerisms carefully. Remember, I’m gay so I know what to look for.
Now, after a couple of years, I know you host Fear Factor and also used to be on the Man Show after it stopped being hilariously funny. I thought you were gay then and I still do. It basically comes down to overcompensation but here’s a more detailed explanation of why:
1. Excessive Vanity. Dude, you’re waaaaaay too into yourself. You’re like a girl that way. Guys who are comfortable with their masculinity don’t need to always wear too-tight shirts or take their shirts off altogether, especially on TV. On the other hand, gay men love to see the male body exposed, including their own and those of other men. So by trying to draw attention to your own body, you’re really just worshipping mens’ bodies in general; you just happen to be attached to the one you’re trying to show off.
2. Open Homoeroticism. I mean, what’s up with that magazine picture with your body shaved and legs spread eagled? Tell me that’s not just asking for a dick up your asshole. Clearly, you’re a bottom. Ouch!
3. Flirting with the Boys. You may not notice it, but you leer at the hot men on your show. You shake their hands just a little too hard and for just a little too long, and try to be all buddy/buddy with them in a fake male-bonding sort of way. But I think you’re hoping that one of them will pull you in close shove his tongue down your throat. Anyway, its obvious that you like the men even though you toss those stupid, predictable lines at the chicks for cover.
4. You Just Look Gay . First, you have the gay CaesaNapoleon/George Clooney haircut for men with thin hair who comb it over their forehead because they don’t want to show their receding hairline. That’s related to Vanity, tho. Next, you have (very) ” gay eyes” which are basically eyes that look like a woman’s with unusually long lashes for a man, like you have. A lot of gay men have them actually; they’re a pretty reliable indicator of homosexuality. Personally, I think it has something to do with having more than your fair share of feminine genes and therefore some more obvious female characteristics.
But you also sound gay , too. The way you speak is also slightly effeminate although you overcompensate for it and try to effect a fake tough guy accent, like you’re from the ‘hood or something. Not working.
And as if that weren’t enough, you’re really too old to be dressing the way you do. I guess you’re probably in your late 30s by now but you look like you’re trying to pledge a frat. That’s not working for you either.
5. Your own Words. I did a Google search on the terms “Joe Rogan” and ” gay “. I was surprised to see how many links popped up and also how many times you were quoted as saying something that had to do with homosexuality. Usually you were defending it or trying to deminish any stigma still attached to it – and that’s good. But it also raises the question of Why is this guy so interested in gay stuff, and especially speaking about it so positively. That’s not usually something a straight guy would talk about out of the blue if nobody asked. But if somebody did ask you about it, why do you think they did? Hmmmmm.
So there you go. That’s why I’m almost 100% sure…no, wait, I AM 100% that you’re gay . But more importantly, I think I think its time you announced it publicly and just got it over with. Look, let’s be honest…your career can’t possibly advance any farther than where it is now so you shouldn’t hold back because you think being gay might hurt you or something. Thinking even a little bit ahead, you’ve really got nothing to lose..
Plus, once you come out, you can make the transition to gay porn movies more easily; it wouldn’t be so controversial if everybody already knew you sucked dick. But you’d better hurry Joe cause you’re starting to look a little worn out and you know the gay community places a premium on young, hunky, studs with tight bods. I say loosen up those leg muscles and get that hole ready for a close up before its too late.
P.S.: I’m totally serious. I think you’re gay . No kidding.
January 11th, 2005 | Category: The Rogan Blog

All content here was discovered by the power autists of onaforums.net I don't take credit for anything. Feed Nana.
Proof of content:https://ibb.co/V9x7dkp
Joe Rogan used to have his own website and forum located at http://blog.joerogan.net and http://forums.joerogan.net/ but Rogan took it all down because of "problematic content" with him getting more famous, and because a few people, one in particular that Joe personally went after, had discovered he was frequenting gay leather bars.
This led to a build up before the site was finally shut down, with Joe himself having weirdo gay sperg outs, because fans call him gay. I now present to you, saved for your reading pleasure: The Joe Rogan Gay Freakout of January 11th, 2005.
​

Are you gay?

For the record, I’m not. If I was, I’m not sure that I would admit it, but I like to think I would.
Who knows?
The point is, I’m not, but I get accused of being gay all the time.
Most of it is either just jealousy from weak-minded guys, or wishful thinking from gay dudes, but it does come up.
The funniest example so far is this email I got the other day.
What’s really funny to me is when guys say that they KNOW I’m gay.
Now, I’ve met some gay dudes that were in the closet, and I actually know at least one right now. I guess if you live in a real conservative place, or if your parents were uptight it could really suck to be gay.
I mean really, it could happen to anyone. It’s just a genetic roll of the dice. I’m short and my hair is falling out.
Some people are gay. I personally couldn’t care less, and if you’re happy, I’m happy.
Don’t try to fuck me, and we can be friends.
But I guess since there’s so many people in the closet there’s always going to be a certain amount of people that don’t believe you if you say you’re straight.
That’s understandable.
I’ve been guilty of it myself. There’s been several times in my life where I’ve met a guy and was convinced that he was gay no matter what he said.
It’s sort of a game to play with your friends, really.
Let’s play the “what do you think?” game.
Often times your friends know EXACTLY what you’re talking about, and you don’t even have to say the word. You just look at them and say “You think?” and he’ll just nod his head and say “All day.”
You don’t even have to mention it again.
Sometimes it’s really fun, like if the guy is married or has kids.
Or even more fun if he’s some tightly wound conservative Christian who’s married and has kids. (Those are my personal favorite)
Sometimes you’ll find out a guy is gay and it’s a total shocker.
There’s this one guy we found out about that was a cage fighter. This guy was fucking huge. Big, giant, scary guy with a really hot girlfriend, too. The way it came out was really pretty funny. There was a cage fighting show that was featuring this particular gentleman, and they were trying to get some information on him for the press release, so the publicist went online and did a google search. Well, apparently this guy was not just gay, but was a gay pornstar and didn’t even bother to change his name when he started fighting.
Imagine the surprise when the first article she found on this guy wasn’t about his ability to inflict punishment, or his skill at choking men unconscious, but rather the fact that he was the winner of the “Hungriest Butt” contest.
Hungriest… butt.
Holy shit.
Surely this was a mistake. There’s no way this dominant alpha male would be playing for the other team.
Why, if we were living in ancient Rome this man would be leading an army into battle. He would be on horseback storming headfirst into the opposition, his broadsword felling bodies left and right, shouting out a fierce war cry.
He was a specimen, a warrior.
It must be confusion; perhaps another man has the same name…
Yet, there he was on Al Gore’s internet with a big fat cock in his mouth.
Not just that, but one in the pooper, too.
250 lbs of alpha male muscle, and there he was with two guys using his body to play a game of Chinese finger handcuffs.
It looked like he was enjoying it, too.
Who knows, maybe he was just acting.
Now, I read an article in Esquire once about a dude that claimed he was straight, but was a gay porn star. He said he was doing it because there’s a lot of money in it, which is a little shaky.
I mean… how much money are we talking about?
This guy had done dozens of films.
How much money is a lot of money for gay sex if you’re not gay?
I don’t know about you, but I would have to get so much fucking money that I didn’t ever have to do a second film.
They say that everyone has their price, but there are some people that claim there’s not enough money in the world to get them to do certain things, like gay sex.
For the most part I think they say that because no one is really offering them a ton of money for gay sex. It’s not really going to happen, so why think realistically about the proposition and risk ridicule?
But what if someone really was offering?
Now, if you’re straight, what if someone came around and offered a TON of money for one gay sexual experience.
I’m talking about a fucking TON of money.
Like 10 billion dollars.
Would you take it?
You would have to be a fucking idiot if you didn’t take it.
One hour of misery and you and all your friends could live like the Sultan of Brunei for the rest of your lives.
Shit, you could write a book about the experience and make another 10 million on top of that.
“I’ve got my price” would shoot to the top of the bestseller lists.
It would be the subject of debate for hundreds of talk shows across the country.
The people would be divided on the subject, but again I believe it’s all bullshit. If the offer were real, almost everyone would take it.
It wouldn’t mean you were gay. It would just mean that you let a gay guy fuck you.
Would you do it?
Just think of what you could do if you had Bill Gates type money. Are you fucking kidding me?
You wouldn’t suffer for an hour for that?
I sure as fuck would do it. Everyone has a price, and that’s mine.
For 10 Billions Dollars you can fuck my ass.
You can do whatever the fuck you want with me for one hour.
I have a high tolerance to pain, and my will is strong. I’ll get through it. I have vision, and that’s a ton of fucking money.
I mean think about it, how long is an hour?
It’s all relative, really.
Hours go by all the time and you don’t even notice.
It’s not really that long, but it can sure seem that long when you’re suffering
How long would an hour of gay sex feel like?
I would imagine it would probably be the longest measurement of an hour ever.
You remember when you were a kid and it was almost the end of the school day, and that last hour would just fucking crawl by?
I bet it would be quite a bit slower than that.
But you know what?
It would eventually end. It would be just like any other hour for most people, but your life would be different forever.
For your neighbor next door watching Fear Factor, his hour went by like it always does. He doesn’t even remember most of it.
He’s sitting in front of the TV screen watching me encourage some high school dropout to suck down a plate of rotten pig embryos, and at the same time you’re one house away crying in shame, lube dripping off your elbow, with your finger knuckle deep up some guys ass while he’s blasting a load on your face.
The difference is, at the end of the hour that guy’s life still sucks, and you’re living like you’re in a Jay Z video for the rest of your life.
It’s not like it’s really going to hurt you. I mean fuck, there’s a ton of dudes doing it everyday and they’re fine. They actually like it.
I’m not saying you’ll come out of it completely unscathed. I’m sure there’s going to be some painful memories to deal with, But you know what? I’m guessing 10 billion dollars can smooth that over right quick.
It might even help your relationships because now you’ll have a better understanding of why your girlfriend complains when you want to fuck her in the ass.
Maybe you’re not a materialist.
Maybe money doesn’t motivate you, so how about if it was that you had to do it for a more altruistic reason, like to save the world or something?
Let’s say a big gay alien is going to kill all of the people on Earth unless you suck his dick.
Would you do it?
And before any of you say that this is a ridiculous scenario, I would submit to you that it’s probably MORE likely that a gay alien would come here from another planet and ask you to suck his dick than it is that a guy would willing to pay 10 billion to bone me.
Think about it.
There are 100,000,000,000 stars in this galaxy alone, but how many dudes are there on earth that have $10,000,000,000.00 to blow on a piece of ass?
And let’s be honest, any guy with 10 billion can do WAY better than me.
As long as Billy Zane is out there, I can safely say the offer is never going to reach my desk.
So if the offer were real, would you take it?
Suck the gay alien dick and save the world.
If you blow him, he’ll not only spare all the people a horrible death, but also offer them the keys to enlightenment and elevate the entire race.
Would you make the ultimate sacrifice and offer your mouth to save every man woman and child on the planet?
Or would you say “Fuck that shit, I ain’t no space homo!” and let everyone die for your vanity?
Is the feeling of shame too powerful for you?
For some people gay shame is just too much to deal with.
There was a story just a week or so ago where this marine that was on leave picked up a hooker, and then found out that he had been duped, and had actually been pleasured by a man in a dress. He freaked out, killed the he-she, and dumped the body on Melrose. The cops chase him, and he leads them in a high-speed pursuit that ends up in a shoot out where the cops had to kill him.
All because the guy couldn’t deal with the fact that a dude blew him. Now, if the guy just had a sense of humor he would have had a great fucking story that he could tell people for the rest of his life, but instead the he wound up dead.
All because he couldn’t deal with the shame.
That’s pretty silly if you ask me.
Getting blown by a guy in a dress doesn’t mean you’re gay, it just means you got tricked.
He tricked you, so you kill him?
That doesn’t seem fair.
And what kind of a way is that to treat a guy that just gave you a blowjob?
Talk about ungrateful.
OK… maybe I’m getting a little off track here.
My point is… actually, I don’t really have a point. Oh yeah, the email.
So I get this email the other day, and it really made me laugh, because although I’ve been accused of being gay, no one has ever gone into such great depth about it.
He actually makes some pretty good points.
I thought it was worth a chuckle or two, so here it is in all it’s unedited glory:
You’re gay , aren’t you?
​
I’ve been watching you for a while now and I’m fairly convinced that you’re homosexual. I’m gay too, so I know what I’m talking about. You have a LOT of the “right” characteristics that make my Gaydar go off the scale and I just wanted to make sure you knew they weren’t going past unnoticed. I can tell a fellow cocksucker when I see one.
I first suspected you were queer when I saw you a few years back on Mad TV or something like that. Even tho I had no idea who you were at the time, you were a guest on the show appearing in a sketch involving a pool boy. After I watched you for a couple of minutes I said to myself, “Who the fuck’s this nelly queen?” From what I recall, you were a total sissy.
I guess it wasn’t until several months later that I saw you again on TV for something else. I realized I was watching they guy from MadTV that I thought was gay , so I tried to pay attention to find out who you were. I still didn’t know why you were a celebrity but I still thought you were gay . More so in fact because I took care to watch your mannerisms carefully. Remember, I’m gay so I know what to look for.
Now, after a couple of years, I know you host Fear Factor and also used to be on the Man Show after it stopped being hilariously funny. I thought you were gay then and I still do. It basically comes down to overcompensation but here’s a more detailed explanation of why:
1. Excessive Vanity. Dude, you’re waaaaaay too into yourself. You’re like a girl that way. Guys who are comfortable with their masculinity don’t need to always wear too-tight shirts or take their shirts off altogether, especially on TV. On the other hand, gay men love to see the male body exposed, including their own and those of other men. So by trying to draw attention to your own body, you’re really just worshipping mens’ bodies in general; you just happen to be attached to the one you’re trying to show off.
2. Open Homoeroticism. I mean, what’s up with that magazine picture with your body shaved and legs spread eagled? Tell me that’s not just asking for a dick up your asshole. Clearly, you’re a bottom. Ouch!
3. Flirting with the Boys. You may not notice it, but you leer at the hot men on your show. You shake their hands just a little too hard and for just a little too long, and try to be all buddy/buddy with them in a fake male-bonding sort of way. But I think you’re hoping that one of them will pull you in close shove his tongue down your throat. Anyway, its obvious that you like the men even though you toss those stupid, predictable lines at the chicks for cover.
4. You Just Look Gay . First, you have the gay CaesaNapoleon/George Clooney haircut for men with thin hair who comb it over their forehead because they don’t want to show their receding hairline. That’s related to Vanity, tho. Next, you have (very) ” gay eyes” which are basically eyes that look like a woman’s with unusually long lashes for a man, like you have. A lot of gay men have them actually; they’re a pretty reliable indicator of homosexuality. Personally, I think it has something to do with having more than your fair share of feminine genes and therefore some more obvious female characteristics.
But you also sound gay , too. The way you speak is also slightly effeminate although you overcompensate for it and try to effect a fake tough guy accent, like you’re from the ‘hood or something. Not working.
And as if that weren’t enough, you’re really too old to be dressing the way you do. I guess you’re probably in your late 30s by now but you look like you’re trying to pledge a frat. That’s not working for you either.
5. Your own Words. I did a Google search on the terms “Joe Rogan” and ” gay “. I was surprised to see how many links popped up and also how many times you were quoted as saying something that had to do with homosexuality. Usually you were defending it or trying to deminish any stigma still attached to it – and that’s good. But it also raises the question of Why is this guy so interested in gay stuff, and especially speaking about it so positively. That’s not usually something a straight guy would talk about out of the blue if nobody asked. But if somebody did ask you about it, why do you think they did? Hmmmmm.
So there you go. That’s why I’m almost 100% sure…no, wait, I AM 100% that you’re gay . But more importantly, I think I think its time you announced it publicly and just got it over with. Look, let’s be honest…your career can’t possibly advance any farther than where it is now so you shouldn’t hold back because you think being gay might hurt you or something. Thinking even a little bit ahead, you’ve really got nothing to lose..
Plus, once you come out, you can make the transition to gay porn movies more easily; it wouldn’t be so controversial if everybody already knew you sucked dick. But you’d better hurry Joe cause you’re starting to look a little worn out and you know the gay community places a premium on young, hunky, studs with tight bods. I say loosen up those leg muscles and get that hole ready for a close up before its too late.
P.S.: I’m totally serious. I think you’re gay . No kidding.
January 11th, 2005 | Category: The Rogan Blog
Comments are closed.

He is the only eight division world champion in the history of boxing. Having won 13 major world titles, first boxer to win lineal championship in 5 different weight classes. First boxer in history to win major world titles in four of the eight glamour divisions of boxing.
Named “Fighter of the decade” for the 2000. Fighter of the year for 2006, 2008 and 2009.
He is the only 5 Division Lineal World Champion (Sugar Ray was only 3 division lineal world champion)
He had 45 Title Fights and counting, Muhammad Ali had 35, Floyd had 27, and SRR had 22.
Pacquiao has also beaten 22 World Champions, floyd only had 13 yet he’s more hyped up.
I bet if he’s American, no doubt they’ll be proud to say that he’s the Greatest of All Time. BUT HE IS THE FCK!NG GREATEST OF ALL TIME!!
I’m just wondering why he isnt invited much in other events or in magazine spreads? Unlike other famous athletes around the world. Cause this guy’s track record is really something.
Or is he too humble and family oriented to join all that shazz and glitz?

This is for The Reaper category, I mean how could I not? You don't need to have read Seven Days of fire to enjoy this, I had several people who hadn't read the story confirm that for me just in case, so enjoy!
​
The Union’s Reaper: Seven Days of Fire
Kurt ran through the irradiated hell, his eyes searching for the large enemy force holding down the area. His squad mates all stood nearby, hearts pounding in their chests, sweat building up inside their gasmasks. They’d been ordered to search out the Unionists and kill any they found. The orders of the church were absolute, god was with them and none could stand before their wrath. ‘Or so I once thought.’ Kurt looked around at the bodies that littered the city streets. Soldiers who had been his comrades hours before, now reduced to cooling corpses. Black puddles of tacky blood surrounding their fallen frames. A plane roared overhead and Kurt screamed in fear, they’d all learned what any disturbance meant.
“I’m hit!” The scream sent a shiver down Kurt’s spine and he turned to see the squad’s designated marksman bleeding from a hole in his stomach. Next to him the sargent’s head was half blown off, the shot having nailed both of them.
“The sniper’s-” A second shot killed their machine gunner and sent everyone without a death wish running for cover. A third shot slammed into the ammo carrier’s kit, detonating his supplies and wounding everyone with a five meter radius. Screams of agony came from all around Kurt but he had to focus, he knew where the sniper was. Taking cover behind a shattered wall that once belonged to a large townhouse he caught his breath, unfortunately for him the sniper knew exactly where she’d cornered her pray and silently glided away from her haunt. It took several tense minutes for the patrol to realize their fate and Kurt broke down into tears when he threw up in his mask and was forced to take it off or drown in his own sick. Within the hour silence had returned to the battlefield, radiation from the church’s own nuclear strikes claiming another score of the faithful.
Grim returned to friendly lines having finally run low on rifle rounds. Sure she could scrounge more but hand loaded was always better than what the enemy had to offer. She moved like a ghost through the ranks of her allies, the other humans unconsciously avoiding the presence of death’s embodiment, all except one.
“Hey Grim, what’s the haul this time?” Lily Winters wore a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her pale skin, blond hair and icy blue eyes made her look colder than Grim despite her disposition being far more amicable.
“50 kills by rifle, 17 by trap and 81 with environment.” Grim didn’t bother looking at the other sniper, instead continuing on her way to the ammo depot.
“And you’ve passed me once again.” Several nervous eyes stole glances at the two women, several curses mumbled under breaths as bets were won or lost. “Seems we’ve made some days and ruined others.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Grim watched several heavily armored tanks rumble by with mild interest. “Since when did we have those?”
“Since the Fontaine’s surrendered. The Royal Dragon has had enough of war it seems.” Lily had been fourteen when the bullets started flying. It seemed like an eternity since her family had become trapped behind enemy lines and was forced to take up the trade of sniping. Ten years had passed and now she was the second most accomplished sniper in human history, second only to Grim, death herself. “We’re getting ready for the final battle, the Theocracy’s surrounded.”
“I see.” Death nodded and pushed aside the flap of a tent, sitting down at one of the loading benches within. The guard hadn’t noticed the Grim Reaper enter and only stopped Lily to check her credentials, nearly jumping in surprise when he realized someone was already inside.
“Before you ask for her credentials, that’s Grim as in the Union’s Grim Reaper. Last person who asked her to identify herself died of a heart attack so I’d be careful.” Lily clapped the guard on the shoulder and watched death work.
Both women had learned through trial and error but there was something unnatural about how well Grim adapted to war. Bringing death was as natural to her as breathing and Lily always learned more about their shared trade while looking over her shoulder. For her part, Grim never noticed the eyes of her self declared rival. If someone wanted to be her witness then that was their choice, so long as they wouldn’t give away her position.
Lily watched Grim carefully work, each bullet examined, weighed and placed into one of several neat piles. Smokeless powder was carefully measured out, each grain gently planted within the confines of a brass case so it may one day bloom into uniform flame. The bullet was then carefully pressed into the brass, burying the seeds of the next harvest. Over the next few hours the two women stood uninterrupted, the unnatural silence and eerie calm that surrounded them causing their fellow soldiers to avoid snipers entirely.
***
Jian Li felt his hands trembling in fear, overhead jets screamed into battle, machine guns roaring. Artillery thundered and the earth danced to the drums of war. Columns of irradiate smoke rose overhead, a mushroom cloud visible in the distance. ‘We’re going into hell.’ Jian gripped his rifle and looked up just in time to see a friendly jet get torn to shreds. ‘I wonder if that’s the archangel?’ Jian could see anti-aircraft fire streaming into the sky, white puffs of smoke filling the air but the enemy jet easily evaded the barrage before retreating back to the relative safety of the Theocracy’s ever shrinking defensive perimeter.
‘I just need to make it through this. This is it, the last battle. The Royals have surrendered, the Theocracy only has this one city left and then the war is over.’ Jian wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Most of the military was already taking part in reconstruction or peacekeeping and Jian had the bad luck to end up on the front line of what was looking to be the bloodiest battle of the war. Already the ground was coated in nerve agent and even a small rip in his protective clothes would spell death. ‘And they’re still detonating nukes, fucking lunatics don’t care about the future at all.’
“All soldiers prepare to charge!” The order went down the line and Jian could hear the rumble of tanks rolling towards his trench line. “Wait for the tanks to pull the enemy’s attention!” Jian watched armored goliaths sprint through prepared gaps in the minefields that separated the two sides, their guns blazing. Piercing whistles signaled the beginning of the assault and Jian ran forward with his rifle, rushing towards a crater several meters in front of his position. Overhead a storm of rockets pounded the city, courtesy of the Union’s truck mounted rocket artillery.
Bullets zipped past Jian but he continued his advance, ducking in and out of cover and occasionally returning fire. Less than ten meters from the enemy line he felt his stomach churn but forcibly removed his eyes from what was a mass grave filled with children forced to fight. The sight was common on all sides but he loathed it nonetheless, especially now that the war was decided. Jian fought through the rubble filled streets for hours before realizing he was just outside the walls of the old city. Around him, other members of his squad all gasped for air, the heat inside their masks nearly suffocating but unless they wanted to meet the Grim Reaper herself, they’d have to live with it. Unfortunately, that also meant no solid food either, their gas masks only having ports for liquid.
Pulling out a foil bag, Jian clipped it into his gas-mask and began drinking, feeling his dry throat slowly hydrate made him sigh in relief. ‘Seems I’m still alive.’ Jian looked over at the squad’s radio operator who was also carrying their radiation equipment. Mercifully he’d not reported any serious exposure so far but as they pressed further into the city they were getting close to the base of the massive mushroom cloud still towering over the battlefield. ‘Normally they dissipate faster, must have been a really big one.’ Jian wasn’t sure exactly what type of bomb had been set off, other than it was clearly atomic. ‘Not going to worry about that now though.’ He finished his meal and swapped his rifle’s magazine for a fresh one.
“Everyone ready?” Blake, the squad’s sergeant shouted and Jian pushed off his knees back to his feet.
“Yeah, let’s end this.” Jian nodded, glad for the brief respite.
Jian looked around the corner of the shattered wall he’d been resting behind and saw the walls of the inner city were covered with bodies and white phosphorous. Fortunately, his mask kept out the smell and poisonous fumes but it still sent his skin crawling. ‘Whoever hit that position really didn’t hold back.’ Jian thought, wondering what it was like for a bomber pilot who unleashed such horrid weapons. ‘Well, I suppose not seeing what you’ve done makes it easier.’ Jian spotted a silhouette of a soldier staggering through the smoke and put a round through their chest, ending their suffering with one swift, merciful shot.
“Jian, Eli you two push up!” Blake ordered, Jian flicked his weapon to full auto, breathed in deep and charged out of cover, sprinting towards a ramp formed from the rubble of the shattered sandstone walls. A machine gun opened fire amid the white smoke, the gunner ignoring the inferno swirling around him. Jian felt a burning pain in his side and fell to the pavement, right as a wave of shells detonated overhead, washing away the buildings in a storm of high explosives. Thunder and flames filled Jian’s vision and his head swam. He could feel his breathing become difficult, mucus filling his noses and his eyes watering as the nerve agent covering everything went to work ending his life. Cursing and holding back sobs, Jian rolled over and faced the gray uncaring sky that dominated his world. ‘Dammit, I was so close.’ Jian’s hand moved towards his pack where he had his antidote kit and clumsily dug through it, pulling out an auto injector. Before he could administer it, Jian found himself convulsing violently, the complex poisons of the theocracy rampaging through his body.
A shadow filled Jian’s vision, a humanoid wearing a cloak of shadows stood over him. A strange calm filled his body and he knew that death was at his side but he didn’t fear her. He couldn’t see the Grim Reaper’s face through the mucus and tears coating his eyes but could feel her eyes upon him, weighting whether to carry his soul into oblivion. At her side she held her tool of harvest, a weapon of wood and steel, old and well cared for. Jian wondered if she’d end his suffering the same way he’d ended so many others or if she’d wait for the nerve agent to take him. The reaper leaned over him, reaching down, preparing to cast her judgment.
“Not today it seems.” The reaper’s emotionless voice reached his ears and Jian felt a sharp burning pain spread out from his chest. Jian felt the world begin to spin but his breathing was growing easier with each passing second and his convulsions stopped. “The rest is on you.” Death stepped back and shouldered her rifle, a scythe no longer sufficient for the amount of death the war had wrought. Jian felt the world falling away and blacked out, unable to stay awake now that death had moved on.
Grim left the wounded soldier to his fate, she couldn’t delay any longer. ‘He’ll live.’ She knew he’d survive and would make sure to check up on him later. ‘Jian Li was on his dog tag, I wont forget it.’ Death moved through the now silent wall, the cracking of phosphorous in flesh the only reminder of the horrors hidden within the white smoke swirling around her. The machine gunner who’d been firing wildly before his sides own barrage killed him was now splattered across dozens of meters, not that Grim could actually see the carnage. ‘Is it odd that I just know these things? Lily’s the same though so maybe it’s just intuition.’ Death threw her rifle over her back and drew her pistol, small eddies in the smoke alerting to the presence of several hostiles.
‘Four adults, peaking out of cover just behind the wall, they’re taking cover behind an old marble wall that was once a cafe.’ Grim let her instincts guide her hand and fired four times in quick session. The gunshots were drowned out by the roar of jets and thunder of artillery but to the four she’d just killed it was the loudest thing they’d never heard. ‘Clean head shots, at least it was painless.’ Grim moved out of the smoke, disappearing into the destroyed alleyways of what was once the most beautiful city in the world.
Half an hour of waking later, Grim stood outside a massive cathedral, the lead roof perforated by strafing attacks, rose windows shattered by high explosive blasts but the ancient stone walls held firm. ‘Seems my target is still alive.’ Grim moved through the open wooden doors of the temple, finding it full of bodies. Dozens, hundreds of men, women and children littered the floor, hands clasped together in prayer. ‘They committed suicide, didn’t even have the courage to die fighting so they murdered their children then died.’ Grim moved past the dead, her business with the living responsible for the horror. Behind the altar was a hidden passage leading down into the city’s catacombs, her quarry intent on fleeing their crimes.
Heavy breathing and loud footfalls lead Grim with unerring accuracy towards a man partly responsible for many of the horrors that had transformed her from a normal young girl into death incarnate. Grim looked at the highest ranking priest of the theocracy, his robes replaced by an infantryman’s uniform. He hadn’t noticed her presence yet and she quickly matched his pace, coming up behind him without a sound and grabbing his wrist while simultaneously tripping him. The man flew through the air before slamming back first into the stone floor.
“I’ll give you the choice, stand trial or die here.” Grim looked down at the surprised monster, not even a bulky gas mask enough to hide the surprise on his face.
“What are you?” The priest felt icy cold spreading from where the reaper had touched him and knew the answer to his own question. The cold glow of dead souls lingered around her, visible only to him now that he was so near death herself. “Why god? Why do you send your servant to take me? I’ve followed your teachings, please!”
“Chose or I will and it is easier to carry the souls of the dead than escort the living.” Grim looked at the priest, growing tired of his begging. She’d heard it before, countless times from men and women who’d died at his behest.
“I’ll do anything! You’re a servant of the lord, you must-”
“I serve the Union.” Grim growled, furious at being mistaken for a member of the deranged cult that had ravaged her homeland. “I am the Union’s reaper and your time has come. You have refused to choose and so I will decide.” Grim leveled her rifle at the man’s chest and fired, intentionally missing his heart. The shot echoed off the stone walls and the priest’s hand desperately scrabbled at his chest in panic. The man tried to beg but she’d pierced one of his lungs and he began to hack and cough instead. Grim could feel a small glimmer of satisfaction from the air surrounding her, an echo of those she’d killed taking comfort in the small modicum of vengeance before the priest joined them.
***
The pain of thousands of needles stabbing into flesh was the first thing Jian felt when his awareness slowly returned to him. His groan quickly pulled the attention of a nearby nurse who ran over to check his condition.
“Easy, you were shot and got quite a bit of nerve toxin in you. You’ll live but you need to stay calm, your body is really weak right now.” The nurse was surprised when Jian just smiled and nodded, after all death had already passed him by.
“Can I have some water?” Jian looked over the nurse who nodded before holding a small cup with a straw near his face so he could drink. His throat was sore and he struggled to swallow the tasteless fluid but soldiered on, finishing the glass and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Thank you.”
“No problem, let me know if you need anything else.” The nurse moved on, disposing of the cup before continuing his rounds. The pain was numbing and Jian closed his eyes and let himself drift back to sleep.
A week passed in the blink of and eye and Jian finally managed to get out of bed, though his whole body felt incredibly weak. The road to recovery wouldn’t be easy but now that he could walk on his feet he knew he’d make it. ‘I wonder what happened after I passed out.’ Jian thought, sitting in one of the lounges of the hospital he’d woken up in. Outside the very air was poisonous but inside he could enjoy the beauty of the ocean waves in safety. The world was ruined but humanity would survive, building habitats for themselves and repairing the damage they’d wrought. In the distance he watched tall masted sailing ships, looking like something out of a history book making a rendezvous at sea with several armored battleships of the Union fleet.
“You can walk.” Jian heard a woman’s voice but hadn’t noticed any footsteps. Turning he saw a pale woman with warm green eyes and warm brown hair. Stress lines marred her young face giving her an oddly ancient appearance. Jian’s heart skipped a beat and he felt his cheeks begin to heat up. He knew something was different about her, something special and he couldn’t explain it.
“Y-yeah, it wasn’t easy but if I try.” Jian mumbled, unable to calm down. Bullets were fine, artillery, a walk in the park. But a woman that captivating was downright terrifying. “I’ll be fully recovered in no time Sir.”
“No need for honorifics, I just came to check up on you since I was the one who found you.” Jian briefly remembered his hallucination and his cheeks burned even hotter. ‘How could I mistake a woman like this for the Grim Reaper?’ Jian wanted to writhe in agony but instead chuckled.
“Thanks, I wasn’t sure I’d make it but then death passed me by. If you didn’t find me, she might have just taken me.” Jian babbled, trying to find something to catch the woman’s attention, keep the conversation from ending. Something about her captivated him, called to him and he couldn’t just let her walk out of his life. Grim turned to leave, having completed her duty, the man had survived as expected and now she could return to her harvest. “Your eyes.” Grim froze, she’d heard this before, countless times. Even Lily Winters shuddered under her gaze, terrified by the death swirling within the emerald orbs. “I hope this isn’t odd but they’re beautiful, they remind me of grass and trees and life. It’s been so long since I’ve seen any but well, I’m just embarrassing myself now aren’t I?”
“No, it’s quite alright.” Unseen by Jian, Grim brushed a tear from the corner of her eye and turned to face him. “Why don’t we get lunch? I’ve got nowhere to be right now.”
“Really? I mean yes, of course.” Jian rushed to his feet, his weakness momentarily forgotten and Grim caught him before he could fall over. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, we look out for each other, that’s what the Union’s all about.” Jian sighed internally at how distant her words were but he couldn’t expect her to be instantly familiar with him.
“By the way I’m Jian but I think you already know that, so can I have your name?” Grim paused, it’d been so long since she’d been seen as anything other than death that she froze. “You alright? Should I not have asked?”
“Aubrey, my name is Aubrey.” Jian nodded, he knew the look the other soldier wore, someone who’d fought for so long they’d forgotten themselves. But despite that he could see kindness lingering within her emerald eyes, too terrified to show itself. For now, he’d enjoy her company, learn more about her and one day, maybe, he hoped she’d become something more than just a friend.
​
I seriously need to update my Wiki, I've written quite a few things since I last touched it. I swear I'll do it soon... Maybe when I'm not writing my current book and before I start the next one, whenever that will be.
I've already finished another story for old traditions but it needs a few touch ups before I post it, keep an eye out for it! Also have an awesome day!

Book 1 of The HEL Jumper
Book 2 of The HEL Jumper
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A/N: Here's a little treat for you all, my July commission from Akella featuring Asha!
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“You are interested in our symbols, oui?” Yvonne asked softly as she stood in front of the civilian shipboard hospital along with three Cauthan, Zolta, Veera, and Asha. The seamstress had been looking every which way almost non-stop since leaving the hydroponics bay, paying special attention to the directional markings on the floor and walls intended to guide the occupants on the Event Horizon to their various destinations. The red cross had featured prominently as they drew closer, the last one glowing brightly above a wide hospital doorway, large enough for two medical gurneys to pass through easily. When Asha replied in the affirmative, the French doctor provided them with a short history lesson.
“That one actually has a bloody history, ironically enough. A little less than two hundred years ago, an international convention was called to discuss the rules of warfare between nations. You could say that many tribes of humans sent representatives to arrange for more orderly conduct on the battlefield.”
“I’m sorry, you did what?” Zolta interjected as he listened to the translation. “You devised rules of battle and people actually followed them?”
“There are always those who cheat, but to an extent, yes,” Yvonne allowed. “Those who violated them were punished heavily if they survived and were caught. That cross there was meant to represent medical personnel, people who would travel the battlefields and aid the wounded and dying, sometimes even as shells and bullets were still flying. Those are like arrows, but much more deadly. It afforded those kind-hearted individuals some amount of protection from the enemy. Many still died, but more were likely saved on its account. Today it serves as a worldwide symbol of medicine, healing, and emergency services, a sign that help is on the way. Today we will ensure that no emergencies arise, today or in the future, as best we can. Asha, would you follow me please?” Yvonne beckoned, escorting them into the facility where a single nurse sat behind the counter.
“Oh, Dr. Dupuis! Welcome. Room number two has been converted for your appointment per your instructions. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Merci, Claire. These are Veera, Zolta, and Asha. They are friends of ours from the surface. Should anyone come looking for us please page me,” the doctor requested, leading the awestruck Cauthan through the sterile, white atrium.
“Of course, ma’am. Welcome!” the nurse called to the aliens, having been made aware by Yvonne well prior of her unusual guests. Number two was one of several standard multipurpose rooms in the facility, able to be retooled depending on the needs of a general practitioner or non-emergency specialist. At that moment it was set up for a standard obstetrical or gynecological examination. When the automated door closed behind the group Io ‘revealed’ herself, utilizing the rather expansive system of speakers within the Event Horizon and briefly waving hello from a monitor on the left wall that would otherwise be used for the review of patient charts or other information.
‘Since Veera and Zolta are here I oriented the examination chair towards that corner on the far wall for the sake of modesty. Do you need anything else at this time, Ms. Dupuis?’
“No thank you, little Prussian. And I certainly prefer being referred to that way instead of ma’am! Just because I am old doesn’t mean I need to feel like it, right my dears? Actually, would you mind turning the chair back for now, Io? I believe we should demonstrate first for our guests,” Yvonne suggested, heading to a sink and washing her hands before any of the Cauthan could inquire about her actual age. They certainly didn’t have much frame of reference for human senescence.
After a brief moment at the unremarkable metal basin, lathering up and making sure to effectively cleanse her hands, Yvonne turned around to find all three of them standing just where she’d left them, glancing around the room with curiosity and apprehension. Nothing was moving, thankfully, which took the edge off despite the sheer amount of metal and unfamiliar plastic compounds. “Please, be seated dears,” Yvonne offered, shepherding Zolta and Veera to a couple of chairs against an unused wall. She then took Asha’s hand and guided her to another that she pulled close to the examination chair. For the time being, the human was the one sitting comfortably between the padded stirrups. “Those will be for your legs when the time comes, as you might guess,” she explained.
“I see,” Asha replied quietly, suddenly rather bashful as she considered the full act of childbirth.
“I know it is probably rather intimidating, but here is what we will be using today,” Yvonne said, picking up the ultrasound wand and handing it over to Asha. “Fret not, Asha. It is quite inert while not turned on.”
The young mother’s feathers waved as she turned the piece of plastic and electronics over and over in her paws. “So what does this do, exactly?”
“Can you hum, my dears?” Yvonne wondered, demonstrating for them with a standard octave of notes. Though none in the room were musically minded, providing Io with a wholesome chuckle, the Cauthan proved capable. “Yes exactly, now feel your throat as you do so. You feel the vibrations? The ultrasound vibrates just like that, but far faster than we or the little one in your belly can perceive. All sound bounces off of objects, an echo, and so we are able to use the reflected sound to see what’s inside your belly. Io?”
‘You rang, madame?’
“Yes, madame is quite nice too I believe,” Yvonne tittered. “You have lived around these Cauthan for a time, yes? Do you believe the frequency of a standard ultrasound would be harmful to them? I would not want anyone’s ears to be ringing.”
‘Their hearing is superior to that of a human,’ Io replied, eliciting a proud fluff of Veera’s plumage. ‘However there has been no attempt to quantify this difference. Perhaps a simple test is in order?’
Yvonne nodded and offered her hand to Asha, who returned the ultrasound wand. “Would you all cover your ears, please?” she requested, turning on the machine once they’d all done so. All looked at one another, curious as to what had happened. Lights on the machine next to the examination chair had sprung to life, but nothing else could be seen or heard. Slowly, Zolta removed his finger from his right ear.
“Are we supposed to be hearing something?” he asked.
“Non, you are not. Fabulous! We may proceed,” Yvonne informed them, turning her attention to Asha again. “If it does not annoy you, your child will be just fine. But here, let me show you what to expect first.”
Zolta averted his eyes immediately as Yvonne unbuttoned the middle section of her white doctor’s cloak, but his fears proved mostly unfounded. Veera stood and walked closer to watch as the human took an oddly shaped container and squeezed something that looked like water onto her stomach just below her navel. “Wha… how is it doing that?” Veera gasped, getting Zolta’s attention as his own curiosity and duty to his wife won out.
“It is not water, but a gel. I am not sure how to explain it well,” Yvonne admitted. “But I will tell you its purpose, namely to more effectively transmit the sound from the device into my body. Here, you see?” the doctor handed off the gel to Veera, who promptly squirted a small amount onto her finger while the ultrasound was turned on. Suddenly there was far too much for her to pay attention to all at once. Each finger she touched to the substance quickly became slick and slippery as it spread, seemingly harmlessly, over her pads and fur. At the same time, a grainy black and white image could be seen on the screen that sat next to the examination chair. After a couple of adjustments, Yvonne turned it slightly so that Asha could get a good look. Veera’s gelled fur remained forgotten for a moment.
“What is that? It looks like… well it doesn’t look like much,” Asha admitted.
“Perhaps not, Asha, but give me just a moment. Veera, the gel if you would? Io, please show her how to wash her hands.”
‘Of course, Doctor Dupuis. Veera, please head to the corner of the room where my voice is loudest and don’t touch anything with your right hand. Now press that blue button there with one of your fingers. Excellent.’
Veera took a moment to poke the blue and red temperature buttons on and off several times before actually placing her hand underneath the flow to rinse away the water-based gel. In the meantime, Yvonne had spread a thin line of gel up her midriff and was drawing a thin line parallel to her diaphragm with a washable marker. “The sound leaves the wand and travels in this direction,” she tried to explain, moving Asha’s attention from her belly to the screen. “So let’s see here, I believe that formation at the back here is my spine. Let’s examine something else, shall we?”
Yvonne drew another line as Veera rejoined them. Io hummed from the ceiling as she observed the trace, a vertical line on Yvonne’s trunk. “Oh, I see something! What’s that?!” Asha exclaimed.
“What in the name of the gods… is that normal?” Zolta demanded.
“It is quite normal, I assure you,” Yvonne giggled, momentarily disrupting the image. “That is one of my kidneys. All humans have two of them when we’re born, though we can survive with only one. They filter toxins and waste products from our blood so that we can discharge them from the body in the form of urine.”
“That didn’t really translate well. As what?” Asha requested. Yvonne paused momentarily, wondering how the Cauthan wouldn’t have a word for urine.
“Io?”
‘Mmm? Did you figure it out yet madame?’ the AI teased.
“How did you figure it out, little Prussian?” Yvonne shot right back. Io laughed loudly, as though recalling a fond memory.
‘That is a confidential medical moment between myself and Veera, Doctor Dupuis. I used some of the sensors and tools in my partner’s armor as a crude ultrasound, as it were. I am so curious though, do tell me your guess!’
“Uric acid, or an analog.”
‘We have a winner!’ Io exclaimed as Zolta, Asha, and Veera looked around at one another with confusion on their faces. ‘For our fluffy companions, please do not be alarmed. I was simply confirming for the good doctor here that your bodies behave in a different manner from a human’s, at least when it comes to disposing of nitrogenous waste.’
“You are not helping, Io. And we do not have the time to explain the nitrogen cycle,” Yvonne scolded lightly. “Ah well, my dears please do not fret. We are not here today to ask any probing questions about your bodies, only to ensure that Asha’s little one is healthy. Let me show you one more thing.” With a smile, Yvonne moved the ultrasound wand to her diaphragm, sucked her belly in as best she could, and angled it up into her ribcage. All the assembled aliens gasped.
“That’s her heart!” Zolta whispered, taking Asha by the hand. Even across species the function of the organ was apparent.
“Mmm, and the father is smart as well,” Yvonne complimented him. “Yes, that is my heart. As you can see I’m still quite alive and there are no negative effects of this process.” To further demonstrate, Yvonne turned the machine off, wiped her body down with a paper towel to get rid of the majority of the gel, and allowed the aliens to observe the places the wand had been. Her skin was, of course, unblemished by the examination.
“I want you to test that on me first,” Zolta insisted once Yvonne had buttoned up her outer garment, washed her hands, and sterilized the wand. “Obviously I don’t have a cub in me, but I have a heart.”
‘Oh I’m so tempted to co-opt one of the manufactories to make a Mara’s Best Dad mug,’ Io gushed at Zolta’s bravery.
“Not the worst idea, little light. But for now I require your assistance here,” Yvonne insisted in a no-nonsense tone. “Zolta, I would be happy to examine you first. With your permission, I would like to make a record of what I see.”
“For what reason?” he wondered.
“Several, scientific curiosity and proper documentation foremost among them. But most importantly would be knowing what one of your hearts looks like in case something happens to one of you.”
“What… what would happen?” Veera asked hesitantly, tapping her talons on the floor. Yvonne smiled sadly.
“Have you known anyone in your village who one day simply… expired? Someone young or otherwise healthy?”
“I suppose it might happen every so often?” Zolta acknowledged. “What does that have to do with our hearts? When they stop, they stop. It’s the way of things.”
“Not anymore, at least not among humanity,” Yvonne explained proudly. “My own father suffered what we call a heart attack when he was in his late fifties. We were able to restart his heartbeat. With basic medical treatment, a good diet, and exercise, he was able to live another fifteen years or so. I make no promises, but with enough time and information I am sure we could do such a thing for you as well, assuming your species suffers from the sorts of diseases that might make a heart stop beating before its time. You may not.”
Silence pervaded the examination room as the Cauthan digested Yvonne’s story and the implications of possibly forestalling the hand of Kel. “Disrupting the balance sounds rather dangerous,” Veera eventually stated.
‘And if it gave you another decade with Russell?’ Io asked pointedly. Veera opened her mouth but conflicting emotions and faith stopped her.
“I… don’t know, Io.” Veera hung her head, but Yvonne encouraged her with a friendly hand on her shoulder.
“These questions and struggles are inevitable, young ones. We discussed them endlessly throughout our own history as well. It is a natural part of moving forward as a species. For today, let us take a small first step and leave it at that, hmm?”
“Agreed. What do you need from me?” Zolta wondered.
“Very little, Zolta! Simply seat yourself here,” Yvonne helped him into the examination chair. “Excellent. Now remove your tunic if you please and then lean back and take a deep breath. Oh la la, Asha you married well!”
Veera snickered as Asha flared her feathers proudly. “Isn’t he handsome?” the seamstress agreed, relaxing in her chair and rubbing her belly.
“Well I prefer my men with a bit less fur, but he does have excellent facial symmetry. You said he worked the forge in your village?” Yvonne made small talk as she pulled on some disposable gloves and rested a hand below Zolta’s ribcage. “I am sorry, my dear. I appreciate the male form wherever I find it. You must have a demanding job.”
“You could say that,” Zolta said awkwardly as Yvonne experimented with parting his fur to rest the wand of the ultrasound against the light gray skin underneath that rarely, if ever, saw the light of day.
“We will try a small amount here, yes?” she offered, holding the bottle of gel above his fur. He shivered involuntarily when it came into contact with his skin.
“That’s rather uncomfortable,” he commented as she ensured the wand was coated and resting well enough on skin instead of fur.
“I apologize. May I?” the doctor requested. He nodded as Asha scooched closer and took his hand. All assembled looked at the screen that was currently black with occasional bursts of white static and odd shapes. “No discomfort from the wand itself?”
“No.”
“Very good. Now I would ask you to suck in your stomach as best you can. Yes, just like that. This may hurt a bit but I will not be pressing so hard on your wife. You are simply well built and I need to get under the ribs to… there we are! Voila, my friends,” Yvonne proudly presented Zolta’s heart, gushing over the anatomy. “And four chambers as well. Look at you! Very good, Zolta. Very good indeed.”
The moment ended as Zolta exhaled the deep breath he’d been holding, allowing his abdomen to decompress into a more natural shape. He shook his head as Yvonne handed him another paper towel. “That was really what’s inside me? This is crazy,” the smith commented, wiping against the grain of his fur and getting most of the gel off.
“It comes off with water if you feel the need, Zolta. Asha, we will have to use more on your belly but I am certain that we can provide you with a private shower or bath of some sort afterwards if necessary.”
‘That will not be a problem, Doctor Dupuis. Asha, are you comfortable with moving on?’ Io asked, feeling the need to assure her in Russell’s absence.
“I have already listened to my cub. I should very much like to see them now,” Asha agreed almost reverentially as her mate vacated the examination chair.
“Veera, if I could ask you to make a bit more room for us?” Yvonne requested. The tall, striped Cauthan nodded and stood back immediately, making way for both Zolta and Yvonne to help Asha onto the examination chair. The pregnant female relaxed as the back of the chair was lowered, allowing her to recline.
“What are those things for?” Veera asked, pointing to the stirrups that Yvonne was lowering to the sides of the chair so as not to obstruct the procedure.
‘They are for a patient’s legs, Veera. This would be in the event that an examination of your… hmm, that’s odd.’ Io cut herself off, her tone changing from clinical to confused in the blink of an eye.
“Is something wrong, Io?” Veera asked worriedly, wishing she could see Io. Communicating with a voice that had no apparent source did not sit well.
‘No no, there’s no reason to be alarmed. Doctor Dupuis please proceed with Asha here. I just… how very strange. What could this be?’
“Perhaps if you stopped musing over it yourself and explained what’s going on to us we could help you, little Prussian. Otherwise, let us table this until we have finished with Asha.”
‘Vagina.’
“I beg your pardon?!” Yvonne snapped her gaze to the ceiling as Zolta and Veera spluttered with laughter. Asha seemed confused, taking her turn to tentatively poke at the ultrasound gel that Yvonne had placed on the swell of her belly.
‘Oh verdammt!’ Io cursed. ‘That’s awful! Is this why humans wake up in the middle of the night regretting things from years before?’
“Io, if you continue to insist on interrupting my examination of an alien fetus you had better take a few paces back and explain yourself before I locate a stale baguette,” Yvonne ordered, the overbearingly French nature of her threat eliciting not a single chuckle on account of her serious tone. Io took a deep breath.
‘My apologies, Doctor. I was simply trying to explain the nature of stirrups to Veera in the context of a gynecological examination. However, when it came time to say the word, to make reference to the maidenhood of my good friend, something in my code seized up. Oh dear, I may have to replace a capacitor.’
“Mmm, welcome to being alive Io,” Yvonne chuckled, rubbing slow circles over Asha’s belly with a caring smile on her face. “We may talk about your discovery of embarrassment at another time.”
“You’re my good friend too, Io,” Veera assured the ceiling. Those words compelled Io to finally comandeer another of the screens in the room so as to wave at the Cauthan who had been with her for most of her maturation. The AI’s face was flushed a healthy pink, and she was dressed similarly to Yvonne, opting for light green nurse’s scrubs.
‘Thank you Veera. For now though, might I suggest you direct your attention elsewhere?’
“Oh my goodness. There you are, little one,” Yvonne cooed. Having finally gotten the orientation correct, the image on the ultrasound screen changed swiftly from difficult to discern cross sections of Asha’s womb, internal organs, and cub, to the typical profile shot that had defined the process of human motherhood since the implementation of the device for the examination of pregnant women almost a century prior. The doctor’s smile shone bright like the star of the system, with Asha clasping both hands over her mouth, quite unable to speak. “Oh look at her…”
“By the Mother,” Zolta whispered, drawing as close as he could to the screen without planting his nose on it. “What do you mean her?!”
“Is your penis outside your abdomen, Zolta?” Yvonne inquired.
‘How the hell does she do that with a straight face?!’ Io demanded. ‘Oh nevermind! Asha, I am rather uninitiated on the developmental process of Cauthan infants, but at least to the untrained eye that looks like a healthy baby girl.’
Yvonne nodded as Zolta confirmed, hesitantly, that male Cauthan genitalia were external. She directed their attention to the area between the cub’s stubby little legs, moving the wand around to provide different cross sections of the image “See there, my parents to be? I will never claim to be certain as this is a momentous first occasion between our species, but I have seen hundreds of baby boys and girls in utero over the course of my life. I believe you will be having a daughter.”
Veera crossed one arm over her chest and cradled her chin in her other hand, silently presiding over the proceedings along with Io. Asha was weeping openly by that point, and even Zolta could be seen with a existential look in his eyes as Yvonne slowly moved the ultrasound wand across Asha’s belly horizontally and then vertically, compiling a rough three-dimensional image of their child that Io was more than happy to process with all possible haste. When the little one kicked, visible to her parents via the ultrasound, the magic of the moment seemed complete. Silently, Veera made a note to speak with Antoth about the experience at another time. For the last year, humanity in her life had been the form of Russell Winters. Even as just one individual, surrounded by her world and culture, he’d been a dominant and influential force. But it was still her world that he’d been consumed by.
Now Veera found herself in his position, surrounded by the wonders of modern medicine, engineering, science, and perhaps most interestingly, human kindness. It had been in Veera’s best interest to study and learn as well as she could the nuances of human facial expression. Her relationship with Russell demanded it. With no feathers to speak of and ears that didn’t seem to move at all, she was impressed by the amount of meaning conveyed by the slightest tug of the lips or widening of the eyes. With the appearance of Alice and other humans for her husband to interact with, those trends had become only more apparent. She could not be absolutely sure, but Veera would have bet a substantial fraction of her possessions back on Mara that Yvonne Dupuis was just as enraptured and enamored with Asha’s cub as the mother and father were themselves.
So much remained to be learned and understood, so many magics explained and teased apart. Her evening conversations with her husband and Io had convinced her well enough that humans were not gods or even related to them; that everything they did, all the power they wielded, they innately understood. That was something she needed to constantly remind herself within the wonderland that was the Event Horizon, and she considered the future of her people in the event that that bastion of humanity were to depart their home and never return. Her pledge to leave the planet along with her husband, a promise borne from love alone, suddenly seemed almost selfish. Why shouldn’t this be a future for all of us? she questioned.
-----
When Pilot Cromwell entered the civilian hangar that had been housing Brick for the last couple of weeks, having taken a short tube trip from her bunk, she found her services in high demand. Four humans, including the Indian woman in charge of maintaining the tech in the hydroponics bays, were milling around along with just as many Cauthan.
“Seems I might have to be brushing off my Hydra operator’s license soon,” she commented, gliding gracefully from the door to land just short of the gathering of passengers. In the low gravity it took but a single decent kick off the floor. “The window’s open everyone and the weather looks clear. Bit muggy on the surface but it’s summer. What can you do?”
“Missing the endless rain and the bleating of sheep, my dear?” Yvonne asked sweetly.
“If you insist on lumping me in with the Welsh I’ll have you know that Bordeaux is massively overrated. The sheep can sod themselves but do I so miss having a cold pint served to me on a wooden bar that’s older than I am,” Cromwell indulged in a moment of nostalgia with a side of jabs against the French, a pastime older than her surname.
“Yes, I suppose subsisting on liquid bread is preferable to that island’s attempts at cuisine,” Yvonne mused, as though taking the subject into consideration quite seriously. Cromwell cocked a smile at her.
“You’re sure it’s wise to be going after your pilot’s fish and chips? Please everyone, feel free to hop aboard. We should be on our way.”
“It’s all in good fun, pilot. Thank you,” the Frenchwoman replied. “Do consider keeping me around in the event you and that attractive young Scotsman down on the planet decide to become more than friends, hmm?”
Alice coughed in surprise behind them as Veera looked briefly at Russell before explaining to Asha what she’d just heard in rapid Cauthan. Zolta and Xan could have cared less, of course, and followed the Jumper into the shuttle. “Well, I guess that’s our topic of conversation for the afternoon,” he sighed in English before switching to Cauthan. “Zolta, can you give Xan a hand with the restraints? I need to check something.”
With the young Cauthan men more than capable of handling themselves, Russell took a few steps to the back of the shuttle where the cargo was kept. He found two large boxes which, upon opening, proved to be full of all weather lanterns for Antoth’s force as well as a pair of solar charging stations. To his utter disbelief, Natori had left a handwritten note on top of one asking him to explain their use to the guard force. All he could say for sure was that he’d never had a commanding officer quite like the Admiral. Tucked away between them was a weapons case, which he checked quickly and methodically. He found his firearms just as he’d left them with Darius, minus a particularly fine sheen and polish. Three fully loaded magazines for each had been shipped as well. “All set here,” he concluded. “Everyone else ready?”
“Just waiting on you, Rusty,” Alice informed him, patting a seat next to her. He strapped in and they were off shortly after. As they ‘taxied’ slowly out of the hangar and past the forcefield that separated the hangar from the void, Io spoke to him via his earpiece.
‘Have a good trip, sir. I will meet you back on the ground,’ she reported with little further explanation. He frowned curiously.
“Forget something, Io?”
‘No sir, just need to deal with a particularly nosy mouse.’
-----
As Natori descended onto the manufacturing floor of bay number one, all of the lights suddenly went out, forcing him to take the final three steps by feel alone. Looking out into the black, glowing red eyes stared at him, followed him as he approached a human-sized scaffolding that had been constructed in the midst of the various mechanical arms and devices that hung from the ceiling and generally had free reign about the space depending on the needs of their master. “I was never a fan of the Terminator franchise, Io.”
‘I don’t appreciate trespassers,’ a garbled, mechanical voice issued from the skeletal construct suspended from the scaffold. ‘What if you’d seen me naked?’
Natori stood by quietly as the lights slowly powered up again and the darkness dissipated. Before him, the mechanical eyes set into the metallic skull looked down at him with sapient precision, now a pleasant green color and quite lifelike in their movement. “I’d be happy to knock next time,” he offered before gesturing to the distant edges of the room. “There are plenty of dividing walls and containers as you can see. This may be one of the smallest projects ever carried out in this particular manufactory.”
‘Precision and access to blended materials was a priority, Admiral. I apologize for monopolizing the facility,’ the skeleton spoke. Only the mouth and eyes seemed operational, otherwise missing one arm and both of its legs. ‘How is the diction on this frame?
“Fascinating,” Natori whispered, watching as mechanical lungs contracted and forced air through a trachea made of cartilaginous plastics. For the time being the entire setup seemed powered, linked by sturdy, insulated cables to the nearest industrial outlet. “But without your nose it is a tad lacking.”
‘I was afraid of that, though I don’t know what I should have expected,’ Io admitted, her voice now all around him. ‘I will keep the speaker inside the upper throat for now. In time I may get good enough at this to remove it fully.’
“Only God has ever created life perfectly on his first try, assuming you believe the stories,” the Admiral attempted to reassure her, reaching out tentatively to explore Io’s left hip joint with his finger. It slid right off. “How durable is this material?”
‘We can conduct stress testing at another time, Admiral. For now I am operating under the assumption that this platform will be in and out of maintenance several times over the course of its lifespan before I construct a second. I have prioritized biological similarity over durability given this plan.’
“And your stores of materials?” he asked.
‘More than sufficient, sir. I have added a small request to the ship’s shopping list, so to speak, but I can assure you it will not be traceable in the midst of all the other mining needs,’ Io explained, raising her hand-less arm and considering it with her eyes. ‘Bone proved surprisingly flexible. It was an enjoyable challenge. It’s curious, don’t you think, Admiral?’ Io proposed, twisting her radius and ulna to peer at him through the gap. ‘The advent of this technological leap has led the human field of prosthetics down one path full of metal and silicon, sleek and powerful shapes and lines. It is almost as though something in the human mind yearns to ascend from its fleshy prison to the relative durability that wired metal, ceramic, and plastic compounds can offer. Yet here I am, trying to achieve the opposite. We want what we cannot have,’ the AI concluded.
“Yes, and when we finally make it reality we are left wondering what's next,” Natori mused, walking casually around the partial skeleton to get a look at her pelvis from the rear. The electronics embedded in her spine glowed softly. “Any reason for the aesthetics, Io?”
‘Stop staring at my bony ass, Natori,’ she chuckled. ‘But yes actually, there is a reason.’
“Oh? Care to share?” he requested, continuing his trip around the room. He could see what appeared to be a femur being constructed on a nearby chassis, as well as a couple of the most precise printers in the facility hard at work on more tissue samples, hair, skin, nails and the like.
‘It’s not particularly special,’ Io demurred. ‘But I considered your feedback when last we spoke and found myself agreeing. So long as I appear as Io on the outside, it makes no sense not to take some liberties with the inside. Who knows, I may decide I hate having to breathe on my own and simply revert to a set of very precise speakers somewhere in the back of my throat. Regardless, being able to point to my spine and direct Russell or someone else delivering aid to my body with light seemed prudent. Certainly easier than instructing him about the gap between the second and third lumbar vertebrae, for instance.’
“I think even non-Jumpers would be thankful for the aid if they were to render you assistance,” Natori agreed. “You seem a bit more comfortable with the idea of your compatriots knowing you are not quite human.”
‘Even with my stated goal it’s difficult to deny the potential benefit of designing a body from scratch. After all, it’s not like I gave myself a digital menstrual cycle. I can’t see any reason to do so in the material world.’
“On behalf of all of humanity I thank you for that,” Natori laughed loudly, a hand on his belly. “Oh my. Could you imagine, entire ships, cities, or even nations destroyed because the all-powerful, unshackled AI had a particularly bad period? That’s actually quite terrifying now that I consider it," he murmured.
‘If only Asimov’s little failsafes were so simply executed,’ Io concurred, noting silently the difference in her own reaction to the discussion of Veera’s anatomy at the hospital versus her casual conversation with Kaczynski about hypothetical menses. ‘I do wonder at this point how capable I would be of overwriting my only failsafe. Given how little I stand to gain from any attempt, you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t go down that route.’
“I suppose I can’t fault you for considering the same questions I do when sleep seems elusive,” Natori offered. “On that count there is nothing to forgive, I assure you. Do you require anything else from me, Io? This operation seems to be coming along quite smoothly on its own.”
‘I will not be shy about asking for what I need,’ she assured him, following him with her eyes now that he was back in front of her body. ‘Just please don’t tell Russell about my body yet. I would not want him or Veera to see me like this.’
Natori’s face softened as he placed a hand casually over his heart. “I gave you my word, Io. A trust exercise, you called it? I intend to keep it.”
‘You have my thanks then. Your overall impressions?’ she inquired as Natori seemed satisfied with his survey of her workshop, heading back to the control room.
“I cannot wait to see you take your first steps, even if it’s just that skeleton and a few internals,” he stated with a passion bordering on the unhealthy.
‘How about Robocop?’ she wondered suddenly. Natori smiled broadly, thumbing his chin before looking back at her body, which now lay dull and inert.
“Better than Terminator as it avoids all of that time travel stickiness, I will admit. But Io, I think someone like you might have your own spot waiting for you in human popular culture. Should you wish it, of course. I hear privacy and solitude are uniquely satisfying as well.”
‘Oh stop acting as though you have no idea,’ she insisted playfully.
“It’s simply been a long while since my greatest concern was my own life. It’s rather agreeable, nevertheless. Do make sure your operator instructs the Cauthan in proper use of those solar panels, would you? Technology can only be made so safe,” the Admiral posited.
‘Responsible for a whole vessel and you’re still flying by the seat of your pants,’ Io critiqued him. ‘If that is your wish, Admiral, then I am needed on the surface. Thank you for stopping by. See you again soon,’ she offered. Though they both knew a simple call would be enough to connect them at any time, Natori nodded knowingly and placed his hand in his pocket, pausing at the doors to the manufactory.
“I shall visit again. Farewell, Io.”
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Own The HEL Jumper: Survive in the format of your choice: Hardcover, Softcover, and epub from Lulu | Amazon Kindle

NOTE: Although I was originally planning on posting this whole review at once, I was about a third of the way through the book when I realized that I was already quickly approaching the full length of my previous posts. So, in the interest of making this a pleasant experience for us all, I'm sharing the first half now, and will follow up with the second half in a few days. And honestly, KKB's writing reminds me of Inception in that it's almost certainly hazardous to spend too much time immersed in any single sitting. So fasten your seatbelts, and enjoy the ride!
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So, a lot of you guys have been asking about Kelly Killoren Bensimon's I Can Make You Hot! (wow, is this what it feels like to be an influencer?), and I am thrilled to report that my adventure through this book's 264 pages was even more confounding than I could have possibly anticipated. I have a feeling that I'll need every ounce of my strength if I want to have any shot at conveying to you all exactly how bonkers this purported self-help book is, so -- without further ado -- let's begin.
I Can Make You Hot!, subtitled The Supermodel Diet, has a fairly straightforward premise. Kelly, who "has done it all when it comes to nutrition and her body," will share her hard-earned wisdom with us, her humble readers. Or, as she says in her own words on the back cover:

In I Can Make You Hot! I'm going to clue you in to all the tricks I've learned from a variety of experts and that I now use to live my own life. I want you to be the best you -- happy, attractive, shapely, interested, interesting, and most of all, smokin' HOT!

The blurb promises that the experience of reading this book will be "like rooming with a supermodel and going on a diet together." Truly, only someone with Kelly Bensimon's tenuous grasp on reality would say this as if it were something exciting, rather than a scenario taken directly out of the third circle of hell.
But before we can truly learn what it means to be HOT!, we're treated to a foreword by none other than Russell Simmons. As he shares with us:

Kelly is a great mother and is constantly instilling strong principals [sic] in her daughters. In my opinion, that's the essence of being HOT. Kelly is smokin'.

And just like that, I Can Make You Hot! is knocked out of the running for First-Book-I've-Read-By-A-Bravolebrity-That-Is-Also-Free-From-Glaring-Typographical-Errors. Better luck next time, champ!
In case you were at all hesitant about Kelly's suitability for the job of helping the less fortunate among us reach their maximum potential, Russell clarifies:

Her beauty truly comes from within, and her clear internal compass and well-balanced lifestyle is what makes her an arbiter for what's hot. She has always had her own individual road map and is one of those people who beats to their own drum. Many are amazed by her leaps of faith and courage, which are products of her sustainable soul. And back to that energy! I used to think: If we could only package it. And now Kelly has!

I would kill to be a fly on the wall during a conversation between Russell Simmons and Kelly Bensimon. But all of these endorsements are making me impatient to dig into Kelly's advice, so I skim over the next few pages and arrive at the introduction: "What's HOT and What's Not." Almost immediately, Kelly reassures us that she was not always the gorgeous, talented socialite she is today -- "No. Let's just say that I was never one of those tiny, cute blonde girls who guys named their hamsters after." Excuse you what? I literally just walked away from my laptop to go talk to my boyfriend and make sure I'm not just ignorant of some otherwise well-known traditional male courtship ritual in which young men adopt rodents and christen them after the women they love. That doesn't seem to be the case, although please reach out if you can shed any additional light on this situation.
Reasonably enough, before we can learn how to be hot, we have to know what hot is. Fortunately, Kelly wastes no time in getting us up to speed:

When I was trying to come up with a title for this book, I kept asking myself how I would define what I love. "HOT" is the word that best describes what I love, and it's not a word I throw around lightly. "HOT" is attractive, unique, and first-rate -- never mediocre. Avril Lavigne made a video called "HOT." There are "HOT" issues of all my favorite magazines. Hotmail.com was given that name to indicate that it was the best e-mail service, and www.urbandictionary.com, whose definitions are created by their readers, defines "hot" as (among other things) attractive, the best, and someone who makes you wish you had a pause button when they walk by because you don't want that moment to end. (I want you to feel like that "someone.") Health, wellness, and fitness are always hot topics. "HOT" may be a buzzword but it's also how I describe the best there is and the best you can be. I've used the words "smokin' hot" for everything from a killer chicken wing red sauce to a coveted couture gown.

There is…a lot to unpack here. My leading hypothesis is that Kelly must have accidentally exposed her internal circuitry to water and started shorting out while writing this passage, causing her to string together a rambling parade of incoherent sentences with no relationship to one another, save a tangential association with the amorphous concept of hotness. Also, it's factually inaccurate. A cursory Google search reveals that Hotmail.com was not "given that name to indicate that it was the best e-mail service." Rather, the service's name was selected as a reference to the use of HTML to create webpages, as is more apparent from the original stylization, HoTMaiL. I know from her savvy allusion to "www.urbandictionary.com" that Kelly is capable of navigating the Internet, so I'm disappointed that she's made such a careless oversight within the first three pages of the book proper.
Kelly next takes us through a few scenes from her past to illustrate how she has come to understand the true meaning of "HOT." Here are just a few of the assorted pearls of wisdom that Kelly is gracious enough to share with us:

Is skinny hot? Naturally skinny is hot. Starving yourself in order to change your natural body type in order to get skinny is not hot.

​

For me, the ultimate HOT girl is the nineteenth-century Gibson girl.

​

…Bethany Hamilton, the young surfer who lost an arm in a shark attack and didn’t let it stop her from pursuing a sport she loves. She's smokin' HOT.

​

pregnancy is smokin' HOT

I'm distracted from my diligent note-taking by a line that truly makes me laugh out loud.

I don't want to pretend that I'm "just like you." To do that would be disingenuous, and you wouldn't believe me anyway. But I may be more like you than you think. My hair may be ready for Victoria's Secret, but my values are still Midwestern.

I appreciate the honesty! As I continue reading, I am pleased to learn that I am, in fact, already consuming this piece of literature in the appropriate way. As Kelly says:

I urge you to make notes as you go along, either in the book itself or, if writing in a book is anathema to you, in a little notebook to use as your own personal guide. Jotting down ideas as they pop into your head is the best way to process them and be sure that they don't leave again before you've had a chance to commit them to long-term memory. Then, if you've made a mistake, when you go back and see it there on paper, you'll remind yourself not to do it again. Or, as I like to say, you'll avoid getting bitten by the same food dog twice!

Bitten…by the same….food...dog? Never change, KKB. (As an aside, what's the oveunder on Kelly having even the slightest idea what the word 'anathema' means?) If I'm being totally honest, this book is making me feel a little superfluous. What more can I add when the source material is so impenetrable to begin with? How does one parse the unparseable? Newly humbled, I suppose I'll have to be content with just gaping in confusion alongside the rest of you. And now that I think about it, what better book to build me up from these insecurities and encourage me to be my best? In the words of Kelly herself:

After all, why wouldn't you want to be HOT? What's the alternative? Being "not so hot"?

The book is organized into seven chapters, one for each day of the week, focusing on seven distinct facets of hotness. We start our journey on "Monday: Make a List -- Plan and Prepare!" and are immediately blessed with another one of Kelly's philosophical ramblings:

To me, living well is the only option. What, after all, is the only alternative? Living badly? Who aspires to live badly? I want you to live well, and that's going to take some planning.

Eager to improve myself, I read on:

What are your goals for yourself? If you're going to make changes in your life, you need to have a plan, you need to prepare, and you need to take the time to get it right -- so that you don't wind up wasting your time. This is my plan, and from now on it's going to be yours. Monday is going to be the day you make a HOT plan and prepare for the rest of your week. Let's get started together!

I can't help but feel like this is one of those answers that beauty pageant contestants give when they don't actually know how to respond to a question. Or like a motivational speech written by a rudimentary AI. I can't quite articulate exactly what it is that makes Kelly's writing seem so utterly devoid of logical coherence, but it truly falls into the literary equivalent of the Uncanny Valley.
Reminding us that "this isn't just about budgeting your food; it's about budgeting your life," Kelly peppers us with even more helpful tips -- "You don't want to be that person who is snacking while you're shopping. That's not hot -- period." and shares a stream-of-consciousness-style list of "Staples I keep in my house." Which may possibly be some kind of freeform postmodern poetry. Judge for yourself.
Kelly advises the reader to "get out your calendar or PDA" to get a sense of your schedule. "Then use your PDA to find the closest well-stocked market and go there. Making life easy for yourself is what it's all about." Now is as good a time as any to clarify that this book was published in 2012. I'd be lying if I said reading so many consecutive Housewives memoirs hasn't made my grasp on sanity a bit shaky, but I am fairly positive that 2012 was not a banner year for the Personal Digital Assistant.
Kelly has taken the time to pluck out a few particularly incisive pearls of wisdom throughout the book to highlight as "Kelly's Cardinal Rules." I would love to help clarify exactly what this one means, but I'm afraid I'm utterly clueless. One thing I do know for certain, however, as the chapter comes to a close, is that "human contact is HOT; texting is not!"
The week continues with "Tuesday: A Little Ohm and a Little Oh Yeah! -- It's All About Balance." It is imperative that you work out, says Kelly, adding, "I've never met a smokin' hot couch potato and I bet you haven't either." Her personal exercise routine, as she shares, combines aerobics and yoga "because life is all about balance." As she quips, "I'm sure even Gandhi cracked a smile from time to time." A panel titled "HOT Tip" admonishes the reader: "Don't call it working out because exercise shouldn't be work!"
If you'd like to spend a morning in the style of Kelly Bensimon, it's as easy as eating "a couple of oranges" and drinking coffee -- "I love coffee; I would probably marry coffee if it proposed." She also lets us in on some of her secret, highly advanced workout routines designed to maximize your time in the gym and propel you towards your full potential. Such as the "Happy Twenty," in which you run for 18 minutes and then do 2 minutes of squats.
We get further instruction on the hottest ways to run on the following page, where a two-page spread advertises "a few of my HOT tips for having a fun run." To ensure that you're able to start your journey to HOT as quickly as possible, I've taken the liberty of transcribing one of her most valuable nuggets below:

Run in the street instead of on the sidewalk. I took a lot of flack for this when they filmed me on Season 2 of the Real Housewives of New York City. The thing is, I think that people walking down the street while texting are a lot more dangerous than a car. Drivers will go out of their way to avoid you (accidents are too much paperwork, and they really mess up a day), but strolling texters will walk right into you without even seeing you. You could also get smacked by a shopping bag, a stroller, or even an oversized purse. Sidewalks are really obstacle courses. Beware!

Kelly shares some standout tracks from her workout playlist ("It's much more fun exercising to music!"), including the perennial pump-up-the-jam classic, "Skinny Love" by Bon Iver. With no regard for thematic continuity or overarching structure, the next page is dominated by the header "Get Leggier Legs."

An April 10, 2009, article about me in Harper's Bazaar captioned one of the photos "She's got legs." I was born blessed with long lean legs, but I work very hard to keep them looking the way they do. I'm tall, but I could just as easily have long, large legs. And long and large is not hot. Unfortunately I can't give you my legs. But I can help you to be the best you can be.

Truly inspirational. I think.
We continue on with Kelly's advice for "how to avoid the 'freshman fifteen," accompanied by a list of what she refers to as "Kelly rules." These run the gamut from near-sinister

Get rid of any negative thoughts. Negative-town isn't Fun-town.

to nonsensical

For every cheeseburger and fries, you owe me 12 cartwheels on the quad with your friends.

to bizarrely specific and also racially insensitive.

If you starve yourself for a day because you want to lose weight for Homecoming, you owe me 5 minutes of sitting Indian style in a corner and meditating on why you thought that was a good option.

Upon further reflection, I think I would actually be extremely motivated to stick to a diet if the alternative was being reprimanded by Kelly and forced to think about my poor life choices.
As a scientist myself, I was ecstatic to see that Kelly has drawn from a diverse array of scientific disciplines to develop her HOT tips and tricks. Physics, for example:

From Isaac Newton's First Law of Motion
A body in motion stays in motion. The velocity of a body remains constant unless the body is acted upon by an external force. So if you want to step up your exercise routine, try running in sand instead of on the pavement, or bike through gravel. That way your body will have to work harder in order to stay in motion.

Even biology has something to teach us about how to be HOT:

You are a living organism; life is an organic process. You need to be up and active, ready to enjoy the process. Be open and available and ready to do fun stuff. Participating in what you love is HOT.

I'm truly impressed by Kelly Bensimon's unparalleled ability to reframe the most basic common sense as divinely inspired wisdom. We see this in lines like

If you're feeling a bit frazzled and you need to calm down, you might want to take a yoga class.

or, as we read in another "HOT Tip" panel

Don't be afraid to drink water while working out.

I refuse to believe that this is a problem any person has ever faced. Even Aviva Drescher is not afraid of drinking water while working out (although, for the record, she is afraid of aluminum foil). Kelly closes out this chapter by encouraging the reader to "do one thing every day that takes you out of your comfort zone." If you find yourself lacking inspiration, she provides helpful suggestions, such as "try a fruit you've never eaten" and "try tap dancing." As she asserts, "there's nothing more foolish than sitting on your butt when you could be moving your body and having fun."
I turn the page, and the clock rolls over to Wednesday -- "Diet = 'DIE with a T.'" Cute. I bet Kelly would find that Tumblr post that's like "she believed" to be unbearably clever. She wastes no time in letting us know:

I don't believe in diets; diets are for people who want to get skinny. I want you to be happy. If you feel good about yourself, you'll make good choices. If you starve yourself to be skinny, you'll be undermining your sense of self-worth and you'll be unhappy every day. Eating well -- a variety of high-quality, fresh, unprocessed foods -- is for people who want to be happy -- and if you're not happy you won't be hot! Happy is always better than skinny.

This is starting to feel like some sort of word problem from Algebra II. If happy is better than skinny, but hot is equal to happy, diet = die + t??? Kelly tells us that all women fall into two categories: overachievers and underachievers. Being an overachiever is good, and being an underachiever is bad. Here are some things you can do to become an overachiever:

Make good choices.

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When in doubt, have fun.

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Keep smiling.

Kelly's motivational-phrasebook app apparently starts to glitch out right about here, but she continues on:

Stay positive and move forward. This is your last try at today. Yesterday may not have been great, but, today is better -- you just need to see it that way. The choice is up to you.

The idea of someone being in such a dark psychological place that they are able to find inspiration in those words is so deeply sad to me that I can hardly bear to consider it. Thankfully, Kelly has already taken a hard left turn into what I think is some sort of extended metaphor:

I've already said that you need to treat your body like a Ferrari, but maybe you prefer a Maserati, an Aston Martin, a Corvette, or even a Bentley. Whatever your luxury car of choice, if you treat it well, it will increase in value; if you treat it like a bargain rental car, it's just going to wear out -- and being worn out is not hot!

Ah, yes, I'd momentarily forgotten that cars almost always increase in value after they're purchased, and don't have a culturally ubiquitous reputation for losing most of their resale value immediately. Solid analogy. Apropos of nothing, we get a "HOT Tip" list of "model diet secrets that DON'T work." I'm extremely glad that Kelly encouraged us to take notes while reading -- I'd be devastated if any of these pointers had escaped my attention.

Eating Kleenex to make yourself feel full does not work.

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The Graham cracker diet does not work.

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Drugs do not work.

Well, I suppose this clears up some Scary Island confusion. Had Kelly indeed been doing meth (as the reported cat-pee smell might suggest), she would be fully aware that many drugs are, in fact, extremely effective ways to lose weight. But lest you start to lose faith in the expertise of our fearless leader, read on: "when it comes to food choices, I've probably made every mistake in the book." By which she means that she ate Chinese chicken soup before giving birth to her first daughter and it made her sick, so she ate a turkey sandwich before giving birth to her second daughter and she didn’t get sick. To be perfectly honest, I'm struggling to find a way to apply this wisdom to my own life, but I'm sure it will become clear in no time!
Kelly is relatable for the first time so far in the following passage:

When I was accused of being a "bitch" on national television, I was really upset. My response was to find comfort in Mexican food and margaritas for lunch and dinner three days straight.

But we promptly return to form on the next page as she recounts her daily diet of "2 green juices," "a KKBfit lunch," and "a KKBfit dinner." I'd like to take a moment to appreciate how generous it is of Kelly to share her wisdom -- earned through a lifetime of catastrophic missteps -- so freely. It certainly didn’t come without a cost, as the following anecdote illustrates:

On the last day of my juice fast, I took my older daughter to a Yankees game where we gorged on sushi. (Yes, they have sushi at Yankee Stadium) As a result, I was stuffed and blinded by carbs when A-Rod came up to bat and hit a home run. Was I able to savor that A-Rod moment with my daughter? Absolutely not. I was in a food coma. Will I ever let myself be thrown into a food frenzy again? No! Lesson learned: I made another stupid food choice, and because of that choice I missed that home run moment with my daughter. From now on, when I go to a Yankees game I'll have a small hot dog instead….I want you to do the same.

Verily! Heed her words of wisdom, lest ye not also lose the precious chance for thine own A-Rod moment.
But don’t think this caution means that you have to get caught up in the minutia of your day-to-day. On the contrary, appropriate planning means "you can stop obsessing about your carrot intake and concentrate on what it is that's going to make you a great person in life." To help illustrate this point, Kelly introduces us to the "Kelly pie." Otherwise known as a pie chart. This is a helpful way to really visualize how much time you'll have now that you can cut that pesky carrot-pondering out of your day! Kelly even offers some thoughtful "hints" to divide your pie:

1. Celebrate your own health. We take health for granted.
   
2. Get up in the morning and say, "I'm so grateful to be where I am and look the way I do," no matter what your size is.
   
3. Tell yourself you look HOT, because you do.
   
4. Believe in your ability to make good choices today and every day.
   
5. Be mindful of what you eat. If I have to be mindful of what I eat, so do you. We're in this together.
   

Ooh, sorry Brad, I won't be able to make it to this afternoon's meeting -- it actually conflicts with my daily session of believing in my ability to make good choices today and every day. No, I understand how that could seem like an abstract sentiment rather than something that actually takes up time within your daily schedule, but if Kelly has to do it, so do I! And to be honest, my day is packed enough as it is -- it takes at least a second or two for me to tell myself I look HOT (because I do!), and I'm just worried that if I try to squeeze anything else in, it will cut into my mid-morning health celebration. Wish I could help!
In a strangely threatening aside, Kelly commands: "Write down what you ate for the last two days. Don't lie. We can start fresh tomorrow, one bite at a time."
In a section titled, "What I Eat Every Day," Kelly enumerates her "three go-to breakfasts": "two oranges or a plate of mixed berries if I'm not going to be very active, all-bran cereal or some other high-fiber cereal with almond milk or unsweetened coconut milk if I'm going on a long run, riding, or doing something else that requires extra energy, and on weekends, I love making pancakes to eat with my girls." As should be apparent, this is far more than three breakfasts. I am irrationally angry, in the same way I was when a Bachelor contestant said their favorite food was a charcuterie platter. That's cheating. (And yes, I do strongly identify with my Virgo moon, thanks for asking.)
Kelly inexplicably (apologies if I've used that word for the zillionth time already) tells us that "a plastic cup that says 'Forced Family Fun' from www.themonogramshops.com makes the smoothie go down with a giggle." Also, "sitting alone in front of the TV eating ice cream is not hot!" We are then introduced to one of Kelly's more advanced strategies, which she calls "Energy Economics." This means that you might need to eat more on days when you are busy and/or exercising, and less on days when you're relaxing. So many innovative ideas, this book has really packed a punch for its < $5 price tag!
Another ingenious idea? "Stuff cabbage, sweet peppers, tomatoes, or even onions with ground meat, chicken or turkey seasoned with salt and pepper. Bake until the meat is cooked through and the vegetable is softened." Granted, I have been a pescatarian for almost a decade at this point. But disemboweling an onion, jamming it full of hamburger meat, and cooking it for some indeterminate amount of time at an unspecified temperature seems…wrong.
Circling back to her theory of Energy Economics, Kelly explains,

If I don't eat [well], I'm violating my own laws of energy economics and my body goes either into inflation mode (too much energy when I don't need it) or recession mode (not enough energy in the bank for me to draw from). The key is to create economic equilibrium: eating well so that I feel good, which allows me to be happy.

I am begging someone to start a GoFundMe where we raise money to pay Kelly to explain how the economy works. The next page introduces us to "The KKB 3-Day Supermodel Diet," which is less of a diet and more a random assortment of miscellaneous health-related sentiments that reek of the 2009 pro-ana tumblrsphere:

Chew your food 8 times instead of 3 or 4.

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Brush your teeth and chew mint gum as soon as you finished eating. When your mouth is fresh and minty, you'll be less tempted to eat again.

The final tip ("nurture yourself") includes a reminder to "blush your checks [sic]." Which may be a typo, but could also very well just be some strange Kelly saying that no one else has ever used in the history of the English language. On the next page, we're introduced to "Kelly's Food Plate." Which other, less sophisticated people typically refer to as the food pyramid. Kelly also takes a brief aside (in a feature box labeled "hot button issue") to expound upon her favorite delicacy, the humble jelly bean:

If you're a fan of the Real Housewives of New York City you probably remember that on Season 3 I took a lot of flack for eating jelly beans and talking about processed and unprocessed foods. I was actually making light of that food snob moment. Who stops at a gas station and asks for carrots? Did you bring your organic food cooler with you on this road trip? The important part is not to be a food snob; but when in doubt choose the best option. Sometimes it's better to be happy than it is to be right. Was I able to make my point? Clearly it wasn’t in the cards at that moment.

This is a truly stunning synthesis of her experience. Underestimate Kelly at your own peril -- this girl has been playing 4D chess for longer than we know.
The chapter continues with some tips from Kelly on how to make the most of your meal planning and shopping experience. And no -- you have no excuses:

There's absolutely no reason why you, wherever you live, can't eat "colorful" foods. All over the country there are "gi-normous" supermarkets where fruit and vegetable aisles are bursting with every color of the rainbow.

I am starting to get a "gi-normous" headache trying to make sense of this chaos. Kelly's advice that we can "mix and match what's there to make a FrenAsian or an ItaloGreek meal" is not helping. We also get some tips for how to grocery shop responsibly:

1. Always go with a list and never buy more than two items you planned on taking home.

This is incoherent, right? I know I need to wrap up Part 1 of this write-up pretty soon, because I've read this sentence at least two dozen times trying to make some sense of it, and am still at an utter loss. I assume she's left out a negative somewhere, but at this point, I realize I've already thought about this tip for approximately ten times longer than Kelly ever has, so I'll move on.
For the third or fourth time so far this book, Kelly segues into a literal grocery list. To be fair, this is a very effective strategy to take up several pages with minimal text. And what could be more compelling than

Shitake/oyster mushroom combination packs

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Dog treats

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Lavender pepper

Truly the voice of a generation! Decades from now, English teachers will be teaching their students about a fabled wordsmith who once uttered those eternal words, "shitake/oyster mushroom combination packs." Because this book has absolutely no respect for logical cohesion, we are hurled immediately into a diatribe about how expensive it can be to buy organic -- "I recently walked out of an organic market having paid $400 for just three bags of groceries." As I read on, however, it becomes quickly apparent that Kelly has no idea what the concept of 'organic' even means:

"Organic," in any case, seems like something of a misnomer to me. I know the Food and Drug Administration has regulations for certifying foods organic, but to me, for foods to be truly and totally organic, they would have to be grown in a test tube or a greenhouse with no exposure to the natural elements.

Well, sure Kelly. If that's what you would like to use the word "organic" to mean, be my guest. She tosses us another crumb of helpful guidance, but it only serves to make me feel exceptionally sorry for Kelly's daughters and everything they have to endure:

Plate your food as if it were being served to you in a fine restaurant. Use a fancy foreign accent as you invite everyone to come to the table. Or try saying it in French. My girls love it when I announce, "Le dîner est servi!"

We learn in yet another "HOT tip" that "fast food doesn't have to be fat food," and Kelly tells us for the eighth time that she eats two oranges every morning. In what has already become a recurring theme for me in this book, the following passage makes me desperately curious to know how Kelly thinks science works:

One question people frequently ask me is whether I believe in taking vitamins or supplements, and the answer is "yes, I do," because, even though I know my diet is healthy, I can't be sure that I'm getting all the nutrients I need. All the vitamins and minerals we need can be found naturally in foods, but how do we know, even if we're eating a healthy diet, that we're getting everything we need?

I flip back two pages to confirm that Kelly told us quite recently how important it is to read nutrition labels to know what is in the food we eat (to make sure we avoid foods "whose labels are full of words you can't pronounce"). Exactly how she is reading these nutrition labels yet still manages to have no inkling how anyone could possibly begin to assess their vitamin and mineral intake eludes me. She continues:

I don't want to take that chance. I think of the food I eat as fuel and vitamins as my oil -- my body's engine needs both. Vitamins and supplements are not food replacements, but we're exposed to so many environmental toxins on a daily basis that I believe we need to supplement our diets to counteract all the harm those substances can cause.

I can certainly think of something that is causing harm to my psychological stability at this particular moment, which I should probably take as a sign to wrap things up for today and go read some incredibly dense Victorian prose or something to remind myself what a properly constructed sentence looks like. Promise I won't leave you waiting for long!!