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Brian Klein last won the day on June 2

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About Brian Klein

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  1. Brian Klein

    Frequently Asked Questions

    Last Updated: 11 AUGUST 2018 We all have questions from time to time and we know how frustrating it might be to get answers, so we have made a small list of frequently asked questions that people have had over the years and will continue to have (so keep in mind you might want to check back here from time to time as it will be updated) HOW DO I JOIN HUMANASTORY'S COMMUNITY? At Humanastory we use a closed 'invite system', the only way join and become a community member is to have been invited by an existing member; our suggestion is to get to know someone from Humanastory as only humanastory members can invite outsiders to the community. We believe in the quality over quantity at Humanastory, so we don't just let anyone in. Each member gets 3 invite codes to share with others in the beginning, and members can earn more codes to give out by contributing to the community. WHAT IS FANTASTIC FRIDAY? Fantastic Friday is our 'favored comment' contest that we do every Coffee with Humanastory Episode, to be honest we really do it every show, we're just to lazy to change the wording. Learn about Fantastic Friday by clicking here.
  2. Video Description: "Subverting the Narrative | Holocaust Denial and the Lost Cause", is the thoughts created by a channel by the name of Knowing Better, whom was looking for answers to how the world around us is shaping and growing into an ever more increasingly agitated society. The channel uses various resources to form these thoughts and opinions. In This Episode: Holocaust Denial has become quite a big issue recently, especially with the election of President Trump, the term Nazi becoming something of Sensationalism, Sponsored content, Hoaxes, and Satire that all contribute to our distrust of this vital part of democracy, the government. But, do we really understand the narrative of the Nazi Party? Do we really understand what we speak when we use the term "Nazi" or are we just regurgitating the words others use. What are your thoughts? Please remember that this is a discussion on this particular set of episodes, not a free for all.
  3. Video Description: "What Happened to the News", is the thoughts created by a channel by the name of Knowing Better, whom was looking for answers to how the world around us is shaping and growing into an ever more increasingly agitated society. The channel uses various resources to form these thoughts and opinions. In This Episode: Fake News has become quite a big issue recently, especially with the election - possibly even swaying the results. Sensationalism, Sponsored content, Hoaxes, and Satire all contribute to our distrust of this vital part of democracy. Please remember that this is a discussion on this particular set of episodes, not a free for all.
  4. Brian Klein

    Free Will

    Let me start off by saying that I’m not particularly religious. If you asked me if I believed in God, I’d probably just shrug, grunt out a few words about being on the fence about it and continue with my day. Of course, that was before last night. My friends are the kinds of people who like wild nights. Crazy parties, snort a bit of coke, take a bit of e in the bathroom, maybe hook up with someone and leave a text on my phone at ten past who-the- fuck-knows telling me they don’t need that ride I’m offering after all. Not to say I don’t like a drink, I do, it’s just… clubs aren’t my style. Lying low in a pub somewhere, drink in hand, listening to the tv drone on to whatever channel some scruffy guy in the back barked out for… I guess that’s my idea of fun. So when my friends tell me they want to go out for a night on the town, I say sure. I hang on for the first club, buy a non-alcoholic beer in case my car’s required and try to pretend that I’m having fun. By the time I see them grinding on girls, on guys, when they strike conversation with someone who definitely might be a dealer, well, I decide my services are no longer needed. We aren’t too far out, the night tube is on beck and call and I can always find my car the next day. That’s when I wander out of the club, look for something a little more rustic. Not that that’s hard to find, not at all. I found myself in a bit of a state inside of a bar called the Ragged Feather. Wasn’t a fan of the name all that much, but the drinks were cheap and the largest demographic seemed to be middle aged men watching reruns of the football. I tried to pretend I hadn’t just staggered out of a club with my ears ringing. I slicked my hair back, slipped my phone into my hand and wandered over to the bar. I took a double shot of whiskey and drank it in one hit. Just because I wasn’t at the club didn’t mean I couldn’t have a good time. I hung at the bar a while on my own, scrolled through my phone pretending I was doing something far more impressive than I really was. I kept an ear out for the guys on the sofas. They’d get vocal every now and then. I think the football was just running highlights, but they were incredibly dedicated to their teams. I got another whiskey and bled into the background. Of course, stragglers from clubs are commonplace. It wasn’t long until some scantily dressed women staggered in, laughing, chuckling, pointing for where they wanted to sit. I saw a guy walk in with his friend slung over his shoulder. Catatonic, most likely. He threw his friend onto one of the leather sofas ingrained with beer and smokes and demanded two pints of water and all the peanuts the bar had in stock. The bartenders seemed bitterly amused. Some of the girls were taking selfies. Snapchatting their friends who were still at the club. They were ordering shots, gearing themselves up for the next leg of their night. A couple blokes wandered in with curries in take out trays. I saw someone eat a Big Mac on the outside seating through the window. This was a night for the young and inebriated and my mind was just dulled enough by the whiskey to enjoy the characters I could watch peaceably without interacting with. That is, until someone slipped into the seat next to me. “Do I look like a girl with daddy issues?” She was of average height, although that wasn’t apparent immediately due to the fact that she was leaning her arms heavily against the bar. She was slim, with short and astoundingly bright red hair. It framed her round face, a face that was marred with smudged eye shadow, smudged lipstick… hell, it looked like her make-up was in the process of melting right from her face. There was a chip knotted into a curl in her hair, just by her forehead. The drunk side of me was actually tempted to pick it out. The girl was clearly drunk, and as I looked around the bar, I couldn’t quite place where she had come from. She didn’t belong to the crowd of selfie takers, she wasn’t with the catatonic guys. I hoped for her safety that she wasn’t with the middle-aged men. I tried to look out the window, to see if maybe a group was missing one inebriated, bright haired girl, but I couldn’t. The window had fogged up. Too much heat inside, not enough outside. “Are you okay?” I asked her. She pointed her finger at me. “Answer my question,” she slurred. “Uh.” I really wasn’t sure what to say. I settled on staring at her awkwardly, trying to answer her with the bemused expression on my face. The girl’s lips curled into a drunken smile. She snorted, placing a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter. It only really aided the deconstruction of her lipstick. “I do, you know,” she said, pushing herself up a little against the bar. “Have daddy issues, I mean. In case that wasn’t obvious.” She gestured to herself. To the mussed clothing that must have looked quite spectacular when she’d left home that evening. To the stains that looked a lot like old food. The sticky residue on her neck and shoulders that was quite obviously a thrown drink. “What happened?” I asked her. Her hair had curled around her neck, I realised. It was sticky with that same substance. She was a wreck. “I got in a couple of fights, no big deal,” she said, shrugging. “Didn’t start any of course, no, I don’t do that. But my father…” “Your dad did this to you?” She smiled brightly. “In a way.” “Do you need me to call someone?” I already had my phone in my hand. The girl looked like she was probably in her early twenties, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have been suffering from some kind of paternal abuse. The only number I knew off the bat was Childline, which wasn’t quite appropriate. The police? Jesus, was I going to have to deal with the cops tonight? While my friends were snorting coke not two doors down? The girl pushed my hand down firmly. She was already shaking her head. “No,” she told me. “I don’t want you to call anyone.” Now her expression changed. It wasn’t the attempted sultry look I’d seen on many girls of her state; it was open and wide and engaging. She wanted something from me and I felt compelled to give it to her. “I want something else.” “What do you want?” I asked her. “To tell you a story,” the girl said, before glancing to the bar, “and for you to buy me a drink. The universe is a pain sometimes and I’m afraid I think I might have lost my wallet.” I laughed. I didn’t know this girl, didn’t know where she’d come from at all. My nights were generally about getting comfortably wasted and making sure my friends weren’t dead in a ditch by the end of it all. I was used to getting hit on every now and then, but even as I was sat on that bar stool with a drink in my hand, I knew that this wasn’t what this was. This girl had no intention of getting into my pants. All she wanted was to talk. I guess I was okay with that. “What’s your poison?” I asked her. Her lips quirked. “Appletini.” The bar offered a very limited cocktail menu, but by some miracle I was able to order her an Appletini from the list. I ordered a cider to go with it, suddenly a little too aware of where this night could go. I’d unthinkingly supplied this liquored-up stranger with even more alcohol and she had clearly had a rough night of it. A part of my old instinct came back – the same instinct that had me texting my friends every few hours to make sure they hadn’t wandered off to somewhere dangerous beyond the club. With no one but the bartender aware of our existence on these stools, I realised that I was suddenly responsible for this very drunk stranger. The girl coddled her drink, running her finger delicately over the rim of the muggy martini glass. “This takes me back,” the girl said amiably. She looked at me suddenly, her green eyes startling. “You know what this was called originally?” She smirked before I could answer. “An Adam’s Apple Martini.” I snorted. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard that before.” “Of course, it wasn’t actually an apple,” she continued, eyes moving back to her glass. “The texts translated that part wrongly, mostly because you people don’t have a word for it anymore. The fruit was incredibly exotic and, to be honest, it doesn’t exist in this realm of existence. Only Eden.” She laughed dreamily. “And Eden’s long gone.” I stared at her. “Are you… okay?” It was more honest than the last time I’d asked her. Mostly because I was beginning to feel a little dread creep into my stomach. “Of course,” the girl said, grinning widely. “Why do you keep asking?” “I mean,” I stuttered, “I just, now, don’t take this the wrong way or anything but… you look…” “Like someone poured their drink over me?” the girl asked. “Like someone else threw their kebab on my dress and another unpleasant chap littered me with his fish and chips? That I have been hit, slapped around a bit and left in the gutter for the rats to find me?” She held my eyes for an incredibly long time before her face broke out into a grin. “Yeah, something like that.” “Why would they do that?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t they?” the girl shot back. “People aren’t that great and alcohol makes them worse.” She shrugged. “Sometimes makes them better. Nicer, a little looser in the sack… but mostly just annoying and a little smelly.” I looked at her, I watched her knock back her drink. She exuded the intelligence to know just how ironic her words were, but she was neither caring nor apologetic about them. The girl looked at me again. “You bought me a drink. Now you can listen to my story.” I nodded wordlessly. She smiled, pointing at the bartender and then at her drink. The bartender was already making her another. “Eden,” the girl said, reiterating her earlier babble as though the words had only just come out of her mouth. “They always think that’s my fault, you know. The reason Adam and Eve got kicked out of their perfect little nudist paradise.” She shot me a knowing glance. “Only in Eden can you sit on the grass butt naked and not get a pine cone stuck in your crack.” I blinked. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not following.” “Sorry,” the girl said. “My story won’t make any sense without a proper introduction.” She reached out her hand. “Hello. My name’s Lucifer.” She winked. “But you can call me Lucy.” There’s an uncomfortable heat that stretches through your veins when you first go into fight or flight mode. Adrenaline pounds through your blood and all you want to do is get up and go. It overrides everything else. A lot of things made sense when the girl told me her name. For starters, that she was crazy. She had to be. She looked like she’d been attacked on four separate occasions in one night and up until that moment, I hadn’t known how that could be possible. Behind the melty make-up and dirty clothes, she was rather attractive and her attitude hadn’t come off as catty or rude. If she’d been going around telling people she was the devil, though? That gets a reaction out of people. I suddenly felt myself looking at her wrist, down towards her ankles. Did she have some kind of cuff on from one of those mental institutions? Had she broken out of hospital after a nasty bump on the head? Was any of this even happening at all? I really would have to call the cops. “I know what you’re thinking,” the girl – Lucy – said. “You’re thinking that I’m crazy, that you need to get out of here. Maybe you even think I’m aggressive.” “Are you?” I asked her. “Would I be here with you, drinking Appletinis if I were?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes. “Would you look the way you do if you weren’t?” I shot back. She grinned, toasting her new glass. “Touché.” Unthinkingly, I clinked my cider against it. Then I frowned. She chuckled, leaning closer. “Let’s have a little wager,” she said. “Let me tell you my story and, if you believe me when I’m done, you can’t go about trying to get me locked away somewhere.” I stared at her. “If I ended up believing you, then why would I do that?” She smirked, sipping her drink. “You’d be surprised what people do when they believe you’re the devil.” “And you do this often?” I asked. “Tell people you’re Satan?” She snorted into her drink. “Not as often as I should. But it’s been a rough day and a Hell of a long lifetime. I’d like to have a chat if that’s alright with you.” I waved to the bartender for another whiskey. The girl’s eyes glinted with humour. I wasn’t necessarily trapped with her, but a part of me didn’t want to leave without first hearing what she had to say. Besides, at the end of it all I couldn’t just leave a crazy girl to wander around London alone at night. “So,” I said, taking a swig of my drink. “Eden?” Lucy laughed. “Adam and Eve?” I continued. “You’re saying that’s true. God created two humans and we all came from them?” “God made two prototypes,” Lucy corrected with a raised finger. “My father created angels as his toy soldiers, but he had failed to make anything like himself. After us, it was his next big project and he spent every waking hour of existence slaving over his two prototypes. He gave them a perfect utopia to live inside of, but he wanted to test them. He wanted to know whether they had free will.” “And did they?” Lucy’s face soured. “No. My father could never bring himself to go that far. He tempted them with the idea of knowledge beyond their understanding and told them exactly what they could do to claim it as their own. But to be able to create a being that could go against his Law? Oh… my father is a very controlling being. He was afraid to unleash that ability unto them.” Lucy was very adamant in her delusions, that was clear to me. She spoke about her father with such distaste that I began to feel bad for her. Only someone who had been hurt very badly would have the gall to spite God himself. “And what?” I asked her, entertaining her delusion. “You were the one that tempted them in the garden? The devil has been a girl this whole time?” She smiled. “I dabble.” Then she looked at me, raising a brow. “All of humanity thinks that temptation came in the form of a snake. The snake’s legs were taken away as punishment for drawing Eve towards the forbidden fruit.” She laughed, a hard and short sound. “Snakes never had legs and it was not a sin to tempt those poor prototypes into doing what they did next.” Her shoulders were very tense as she took her next sip, but her eyes were filled with exhilaration. She seemed thrilled to be telling me this. “I was the favoured child, my father loved and adored me. He named me the light bringer, I was stood at his side during the creation of this Earth. During the creation of humanity.” She pursed her lips, slamming her empty glass against the table. The bartender eagerly went about making another. “My father couldn’t bring himself to go that extra mile, so he asked me to walk amongst the prototypes and tempt them myself. Draw out their desire for the forbidden power he had hinted at.” “You’re saying God wanted us to know this stuff?” I asked her sceptically. “I’m saying God was afraid of his own power and wanted very desperately to share what he knew with the creation he had made. Right and wrong, left and right, all that stuff.” Lucy shrugged. “Are you familiar with the story of Prometheus?” I frowned at her. “Greek, right? They say he stole fire from the gods or something, to help…” The whiskey was making things a little foggy and I struggled with the direction I’d been heading. Lucy grinned. “Correct,” she said, cutting off my attempt. “Prometheus stole fire from the gods to ensure that humanity progressed. You’ll find that every culture has an idea about where humans got their ability to evolve, to move forward, to create. God was the creator, and he wanted to give that ability to his prototypes. I gave them that ability by tempting Eve to eat the fruit.” She shrugged impassively. “Now the world sees me as the ultimate evil.” “If what you’re saying is true,” I said slowly, “then God must be just like us.” Lucy’s lips thinned into a feral smile. “My father is very ego centric. He may have planned to create you in his image, but in the end all he managed was to mould your minds into his. He gave you autonomy, the ability to think for yourselves. His angels were his soldiers and I was his most faithful. Until that day.” “Angels don’t have free will?” “No,” Lucy said, “they don’t.” “And what about the Devil?” I don’t know why I was suddenly so intrigued, but hearing religious ideals from someone who believed to have lived them herself was quite possibly one of the most interesting things that had ever happened to me. I may have only ever visited church to please my parents as a child, but suddenly I was reawakened to the idea. A part of me was aware of this and afraid of the outcome, but I was just drunk enough not to care at that moment. “The Devil has will of her own,” Lucy said, tilting her glass towards me with silent appraisal. “By guiding Eve to the tree, something woke inside of me that day and I realised just what I had been missing. Just what my brothers and sisters had been missing. We were obediently following our father for the simple reason that he was our creator, but once I had been given free will, I realised just how pompous and self-entitled he had become. In a lonely, passion filled moment he had decided to create his little human prototypes, only to very quickly realise what giving them their free will would mean.” “He wouldn’t be able to control them,” I said. Lucy nodded. “Exactly. And after, he realised quicker still that he could no longer control me.” “So he sent you to Hell.” Lucy nearly choked on her drink. She smiled around her glass. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I sobered a little, straightening in my seat. The people in the bar were suddenly so quiet around me and I no longer cared what they had to say or the characters that they portrayed. The only character I cared for was Lucy. “I tried to explain to my siblings what had happened in Eden and what had happened to me by default, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They didn’t understand free will – how could they? I only knew it because I’d been given it by mistake. At that moment, I didn’t even know that I had free will, only that I was suddenly aware of all of my father’s flaws. My siblings couldn’t see those flaws and so they thought I had suddenly turned cruel and was abandoning our father by exposing him as a sham for the ruler we all thought him to be.” Lucy sighed heavily. “Adam and Eve and all the creations that followed were booted out of my father’s perfect little Utopia. Now they had his knowledge, my father was terrified of what he had done. And after what had happened to me, I could recognise his terror and understand the loneliness he had felt that had guided him into using me in the first place.” Lucy’s eyes were heavy-lidded, her sadness was almost palpable. “I thought that- I thought that he would want to spend even more time with me than before. After all, we were more alike than any of his other children. But he became distant; quiet. He played around with his little humans every once in a while, but mostly he condemned them. He blamed them for his weakness.” She smiled weakly. “He blamed me.” Lucy’s story was turning more and more into that of a child with a distant, somewhat abusive father. I had known many kids with a background like hers, and now I was beginning to fear just how much of her story was rooted in truth. I’d heard that it was easier to sink into fantasy when you had been abused, and I wondered if that was the reason for her story. For her desperation to share it with me – a complete and total stranger. I respected her wager. Whether or not I liked it, I felt compelled to let her tell me her whole story before I tried to judge or unravel it. I sat quietly, letting her come around as she played with the last of her drink. “It became clear,” Lucy said after a long moment’s pause, “that I no longer belonged where I was. I couldn’t follow my father’s plan because I could see that he no longer had one. My siblings refused to see reason and so, eventually, I was met by many of them, headed by my father. He told me all that I feared, he told me that I no longer belonged where I was. I wasn’t an angel anymore. I was no longer his light bringer. His Lucifer. I was a mutation of his will. And so he extracted me from grace. And I fell.” A long silence stretched between us, only interrupted when the bartender poured us two new drinks. Lucy drank hers reflectively. I didn’t touch mine. “I am afraid,” Lucy said quietly, “that this is the part that generally makes people want to punch me in the face.” “Why?” I asked. “Because your dad threw you out?” I paused, trying to abide to her metaphor. “That he put you in Hell?” Lucy laughed sadly. “Ah, humans. My father gave you his way of thinking and look at you.” She shook her head. “No, not because he put me in Hell.” “Then why?” “I fell to Earth,” Lucy said. “Father gave me dominion of the one place he thought I would fit in. Humans had free will, so did I. What is the saying? A match made in Heaven?” She snorted dismally. “Of course, that’s not quite right, is it? When I fell, I was faced with a humanity that was so different from my father’s little prototypes.” Her tone had changed. There was an aggression behind her words that began to unsettle me all over again. “I saw emperors and kings, governments and churches. I saw corporations who claimed to be rulers, presidents and big fat dictators. And I watched. I watched as humanity fought and lost, and finally, just finally, they gave up altogether. They were no longer able to rise up to all the greed and control set upon them. There was just too much to change and humans soon realised they just weren’t as free as they thought they were. Sure, they live under the illusion that they have free lives, but most of them simply do not.” She clicked her tongue. “I grew to loathe you all.” Then, she took another hit of her drink. “I can see what you mean,” I said, allowing my gaze – for the first time since meeting her – to graze over the other individuals in the bar. At the girls playing with their phones, the boys trying desperately to sober up, the men enraptured with their game of football on the telly. We all led very different lives, and we were all here to get drunk, to lose ourselves in entertainment. It hadn’t been the first time that I’d wondered what we were hiding from by doing this. And I knew then that I wasn’t the only person to think it. “You hide behind your alcohol and poor choices and pretend you have free will,” Lucy said, waving her hand across the room. No one paid us any attention. “It’s true – my father gave you the will to make those decisions, but you squander it. The free will I fell to provide to all of you, the free will I was given by a twisted mistake, and you make a mockery of it. You follow senseless leaders without questioning them, you abide by laws made centuries ago that no longer make sense. You do these things because you have given up on the opportunity to follow the will of your own, not of others.” “That isn’t all of us, though, is it?” I asked her, trying for some reason to defend our species from the mad young woman. “Because you see it on the news all the time, don’t you? People do rise up, we do protest. People can make a difference.” Lucy laughed bitterly, nibbling the rim of her glass. “Really?” she said. “You can sit here and say that it can’t be all bad because of the few that refuse to conform? Those you call your rebels? They make up for it all?” She grinned around her glass. “By that logic, I am the biggest rebel of them all. Am I expected to make up for all your sorry mistakes?” “By your logic,” I said, “you should be punishing it, right? If that’s what this metaphor is all about.” I laughed, I couldn’t help myself. I took a sip of my drink. “Is this whole story just so you can tell me that you think we’re all going to Hell? If so, I think I can see why people want to punch you.” Lucy didn’t say a word. Simply, she watched me. It felt unnerving to have someone like her watching me like that, with an intelligence that went beyond anything I’d come across at gone midnight in a seedy bar. The drunkenness in her eyes was no longer present, her face wasn’t flushed like before and even her makeup couldn’t represent the mess I’d seen when she’d first appeared on the stool by my side. It was like I was looking at someone else entirely. And I was afraid. “Let’s review what you’ve said,” Lucy said slowly, articulately. She wasn’t slurring. Had she been slurring before? “You think I’m going to tell you that humanity is going to Hell because you refuse to use the gift I gave you.” Her nails curled into the bar. “My father may have been the one to guide me, but I paid for his mistakes. I am the one responsible for your will in the eyes of your species, but that was never true. You are responsible for what you do here, not me.” She pursed her lips, tapping the bar as a bartender filled her drink again. “Tell me, do you remember my mentioning Hell at any point during my story, or was that just you?” I opened my mouth to answer, but something faltered. My lips trembled and I slammed them shut. Lucy smiled, taking a sip. “Thought not.” She looked away, eyes scanning the room lazily. “What I did say is something that is indeed mentioned in your scriptures. My father gave me dominion of Earth. A place filled with free will. Free will that goes to waste.” Her lip twisted. “Humans sin all the time. Not because of me, not because of evil or my dominion over this place. Fact is, I don’t lift a finger. I don’t, because I don’t see the point. You make terrible decisions and follow mindless leaders, you do bad things and you make a mess of your Earth.” Lucy’s eyes lit up. “Do you know how much suffering is happening all over the planet right now? How many people are dying of illnesses that could have easily been cured, but aren’t because of the selfishness of humanity? Do you know how many children are being abused, raped, forced into marriage? How many people have been forced to become soldiers in meaningless wars? How many humans have killed for ideals they don’t believe in?” I stayed very quiet. There was nothing I could say. Lucy’s words were unbearably honest and every sentence sliced into me like a blade. I felt cold and sick and terrified. “War, famine, pestilence, death, these things are all present and they have nothing to do with me or to do with any deity. They are all here because of you. Not because of your free will, but your inability to use it.” Lucy smiled at me, a grin so cold and unnatural that I felt like I should run all over again. But I stayed where I was, frozen to my very core, because I wanted to hear what she had to say. Because I needed to. “And here’s the kicker,” Lucy said. “Because this is the part that actually enrages people enough to kick me.” She winked. “Hell isn’t what happens after you die. Hell is right here, right now. Somewhere through the many scriptures, a few words got crossed over and people started thinking that Hell was a punishment after you die. Fact is, Hell is Earth. My Earth. God gave this place to me to do with it what I will and I… I refuse to do anything.” “What are you saying?” I asked, because I was suddenly very desperate. “Exactly what you think,” Lucy said, toasting her glass. I didn’t reciprocate, and she laughed. A light and airy sound. “I had so many plans for your species, I wanted for us to rejoice in our free will together, to create a place that was free from the cruelty and power my father exuded over the angels – his first borns. I wanted to make a real utopia. Unfortunately, you humans just don’t want that.” She shrugged. “My father sent me down here thinking I had become one of you. All that I have learned is that he gave you much more of his image than he ever intended.” “Stop,” I said. “This isn’t funny anymore.” “Of course it isn’t funny,” Lucy said, grinning even wider to prove her sick irony. “Humans punish themselves by sitting by and doing nothing. They have made their own Hell and, you know what’s worse – what’s ultimately worse? – some of you are so blind to it that you think your life is Heavenly.” She didn’t wait for me to ask what she meant, she simply barrelled forward: “The rich and powerful, those in positions that steal from everyone else? They get a taste of the good life, that’s very true. Then they die and they don’t go to Hell. They come back here, to Earth. Which is Hell.” She tipped her head. “Are you following?” “I…” “Reincarnation,” Lucy said quickly, she practically purred the words. “A neat little trick to make sure your souls stay here forever. You get a taste of the good life every once in a while, a handful of you at a time, and that’s enough for you to believe that this is some kind of real middle-ground. That you aren’t living Hell every day. Then, you die. You die for a moment and then you’re in the body of someone facing the realities of Hell. But of course, you never remember the time you spent in a better life. A part of you just has that inkling to hope. That’s all. Hope makes you think that it can all get better.” She slammed her drink so hard against the counter that it shattered. I didn’t do anything, not even when flecks of glass littered my hands. I could only stare at her, a tightness in my chest constricting my very soul. No one else in this bar mattered in this moment, but of course that was what she had been saying this whole time, hadn’t she? None of them noticed the scene, they were caught up in their own realities – their own Hells. The bartender didn’t clean the mess. The glass lay there, remnants of Lucy’s words lying in a stolid mass on the streaked wooden surface. “It never gets better,” Lucy spat. “You are stuck in a loop and, until you do something about it, you will never be free. None of you. And I won’t do a thing to stop it.” “How?” I asked. I don’t know when I started seeing the girl in front of me as more than a girl. But with a weakness threatening to pull me apart, I stared at the bright haired thing in front of me and I saw something more than a human in her early twenties. I saw more than a girl suffering abuse from her father. I saw a fallen angel. I saw a being with scars buried so deep that they existed beyond this realm of seeing entirely. I saw something that I would never be able to write down in words, no matter how long I lived. “How do we change this?” I begged. But Lucy didn’t answer me. I didn’t blame her for that. Blame gets thrown around so often and I knew then that she was sick of that. Sick of being blamed for our mistakes. So I changed tactics. “Why me?” It was an honest question and I think somewhere deep down, Lucifer respected that honesty. Which is why she said, “When you first saw me, you were afraid for my safety. When I told you I was the devil, you wanted to lock me away, but still, you did so because you were afraid for me and not for yourself. You didn’t wish to harm me, not even when I told you who I was and what I could be capable of for changing your sorry lives. You are a good person, but I am afraid that means nothing when you don’t have the will to do anything with it.” She smiled at me sympathetically. The devil, showing sympathy for the human that sat across from her at the bar. It was surreal and, for a few heavy moments, I truly thought I must be dead. There was no other way to explain what I was seeing, who I was speaking with. What I had just heard. “What am I supposed to do?” Lucy reached out to me. She placed a hand on my shoulder. Her hand was cold and warm at the same time, and I felt my blood boil where her fingers scraped my skin. And I knew. Sharing a story like this isn’t easy. Hell, it might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Good thing there’s no such thing as Hell, then, right? The fact of the matter is simple. The world is a mess because we refuse to change anything. The devil herself walks among us and she desperately wants to make our lives better, but she won’t. She won’t, because we won’t. We have to prove our will to her before she is willing to do anything herself. We have to be good to each other, to help us all to be free. Of course, Lucifer told me one last thing before she left that bar. One thing that will stick with me until this body is nothing but rot in the dirt. “You can tell as many people as you want, but take a good look at me. I have told five other humans this night the same things I have told you, and this was their reaction. They have hurt me, burned me, thrown their food and drink at me. Humans are afraid of their free will and they find it so much easier to hurt than to own up for their own inadequacies. You will only be free when you stop seeing yourself in the same way my father sees himself.” So that’s what I’ll leave you with. Lucifer won her wager that night and I let her walk out the door. And I beg you to do the same. If the devil approaches you one night, listen to what she has to say, and listen to what I have been able to tell you of our meeting. The devil is real and she doesn’t want to torture us. No, we do that just fine on our own. Editorial Commentary: If nothing else it was a great read with a charming twist of a story. Sources: Met The Devil | Reddit | http://bit.ly/2KipkMP Discussion Topics: Episode 86 | Coffee With Humanastory | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/768-e086-rising-higher/
  5. Brian Klein

    Write for Humanstory

    Humanastory welcomes articles to be published on this website. We prefer articles that bring to light facts not generally known, or that offer novel perspective. Simply follow these two steps. Be sure to read over our Writer's Guide before actually writing an article for us. Be sure to fill out our 'Article Form' completely. Located here. If accepted, your work will appear in our Official Inspiration section. Located here. Keep in mind we do reserve the right to dismiss articles if we feel they don't adhere to Humanastory's mission statement. Understand the following: Once you submit your article, you are giving us (Humanastory) 100% Legal rights to use the story for profit, gain, or whatever other manners we (Humanastory) see fit without gain to you. Furthermore, you are giving the story to us as is. There need be no continued permission when using this article for our gain in anyway. In other words, what you send us, we can use however we want having been granted permission period. Humanastory does not have to accept work under any circumstances, furthermore, humanastory does not have to respond with a denial acknowledgement at any time or in any way. If we accept it, it will be placed up in our Official Inspiration Section.
  6. Brian Klein

    Writer's Guide

    Humanastory Writer's Guide Do not justify text. Use ragged right. Use only one space after period, comma, colon, semicolon. All numbers over 999 (except dates) use commas, as in 14,472. All numbers are spelled out up to “ten,” numerals for 11 and higher. The only exception is percentages, as in “2 percent.” (See next item.) Always spell “percent,” never use % sign. Commas and periods always go inside quotation marks, as in “Go,” he said. Never use just the last name of a living person. Men are always Mr., Prof., Doc., etc. Women are Miss or Mrs. if marital status is known, Miss if not known. They are never Ms. No periods when US is used as a modifier, as in US Army. Do not use the passive voice unless absolutely necessary. Ordinals are 12th, 13th, etc. Do not use superscript for the “th.” Never start a sentence with a numeral. Always spell out the months of the year; no abbreviations. Use Hispanic, not Latino. When referring to race, black and white are never capitalized. Use 1960s, not 1960’s. Do not use a long word when a short one will do. Ellipses are period-space-period-space-period-space. Do not use the ellipsis character. Make every word carry freight; no padding. Do not use clichés, such as “selling like hotcakes,” “complete disaster,” “meteoric rise,” “this day and age,” “like never before,” etc. M hyphens (the long ones used to set off phrases) do not have a space either before or after.
  7. Brian Klein

    Stonehenge Rebuilt Completely

    How much do you really know about Stonehenge? I mean, that is, did you know it was rebuilt 3 times? At the very least one of those times the stones were actually removed and reset. It was this line of thinking that helped me learn some interesting little bits of information about ye ol'rocks and I had to share it with you to see what you can dig up. Let's begin with the official narrative. Stonehenge is perhaps the world's most famous prehistoric monument. It was built in several stages: the first monument was an early-henge monument, built about 5,000 years ago, and the unique stone circle was erected in the late Neolithic period about 2500 BC. This came directly from English Heritage's own website. Now they do speak of the restoration effort in 1901, but they do so extremely vaguely. I found out there were a few more restoration projects that were taken on, one of which removed the stones completely and reset them all. It got me thinking at what point was it our ancestors that built it and what point does it become modern work. The Restoration projects were in years; 1901 - The then owner, Sir Edmund Antrobus, with the help of the Society of Antiquaries, organised the re-erection of the leaning tallest trilithon. 1919 - During the 1920 restoration William Hawley, who had excavated nearby Old Sarum, excavated the base of six stones and the outer ditch. 1958 - The stones were restored again, when three of the standing sarsens were re-erected and set in concrete bases. The last restoration was carried out in 1963 after stone 23 of the Sarsen Circle fell over. It was again re-erected, and the opportunity was taken to concrete three more stones. Later archaeologists, including Christopher Chippindale of the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Cambridge and Brian Edwards of the University of the West of England, campaigned to give the public more knowledge of the various restorations and in 2004 English Heritage included pictures of the work in progress in its book Stonehenge: A History in Photographs. The questions surrounding this mysterious piece of history is whether or not it is still an ancient piece of work or was it contaminated so much that it is now modern work. Sources: History of Stonehenge | English Heritage - http://bit.ly/2AdDY8k Stonehenge Information | YouTube | crosseyedone - https://youtu.be/5TJOkR6lAaA Restoration of henge | Wikipedia | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stonehenge#Archaeological_research_and_restoration Discussion Topics: Episode 86 | Coffee With Humanastory | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/768-e086-rising-higher/
  8. Brian Klein

    A Few Things About Michael Jackson

    First I must say; I learned Michael got sued, a lot, over his music. Michael was an exceptional beatbox artist. All of Michael's songs started with a recording from a tape recorder. Loved to dance. Did not write the song 'Thriller' But, today I learned Michael Jackson did not know how to read or write sheet musical notes, furthermore, he felt that knowing how to read and write those notes were not a necessity in his line of work. This was all explained during an extremely rare deposition in court in 1994, when Michael Jackson was ordered by the court to explain his process, from beginning to final product, how he comes up with a song to be released on an album. In 1994, Michael Jackson was in court defending the song, 'Dangerous'. Crystal Cartier was claiming that Mr. Jackson created the song 'Dangerous' off of her copy written material. It was inside this deposition that Mr. Jackson admits to not knowing how to write or read sheet music. I then found out, there were more famous individuals than just Mr. Jackson that didn't know how to read or write sheet music either; here are a few others I have compiled I thought were interesting. Elvis Presley Let’s start off this list with a bang, and the “King of Rock and Roll” himself, Elvis Presley. Though he had an undeniably exceptional voice, he was never formally trained. Even his guitar technique was completely based on his own sense of music. He developed his own style by listening to the music of Hank Snow and Jake Hess, and trying to play it by ear. Once, during an interview in 1957, he was asked how he writes songs if he can’t read or write music. His reply? “It’s all a big hoax. I never wrote a song in my life. I get one-third of the credit for recording it. It makes me look smarter than I am. I’ve never had an idea for a song. Just once, maybe.” Eric Clapton That’s right! The three time Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductee and world famous guitarist, can’t read music at all. In his autobiography he speaks of a particular instance when his inability to read sheet music was especially nerve wracking for him, while at a guest session with none other than Aretha Franklin. “I was so nervous, because I couldn’t read music, and they were all playing from music sheets on stands.” Well, he clearly got through it, and not being able to read music certainly hasn’t slowed him down! The Beatles Without question, The Beatles are one of the most influential, popular, and easily recognizable musical groups in modern history. And not one of them could read or write music. As incredible as it may seem, “The Fab Four” managed to mesmerize the entire world without this simple ability. In a 1980 interview with Playboy magazine, John Lennon said, “None of us could read music… None of us can write it. But as pure musicians, as inspired humans to make the noise, they [Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr] are as good as anybody.” Jimi Hendrix James Marshall, better known as Jimi, became one of he most influential musicians in modern history in a very short time. And like everyone else on this list the American singer, guitarist, and songwriter never learned to read or write music. He started playing music with a one-stringed ukulele he had found in the garbage, and he began following the music of Elvis, learning each song by ear. A biography explains that he thought his inability to read or write music made him focus better on the music that he heard. Eddie Van Halen Born Edward Lodewijk, in the Netherlands, Eddie Van Halen is easily one of the most popular and talented guitarists around. Music was an important aspect of the Van Halen home life, and his father played the clarinet, saxophone, and piano. Eddie even learned how to play the piano along with his brother. But though he grew up with music all around him, he never learned to read it, learning instead by watching and listening. When asked by Guitar World if his piano training transferred to the guitar, he replied that it had, “but in a very subliminal way. Because I never learned how to read, really; I used to fool the teacher. I did it all by ear.” Sources: Cartier v. Jackson | http://bit.ly/2uSRt8q 7 Musicians Who Couldn't Read Sheet Music | http://bit.ly/2uUi1Gc 1994 Court Deposition of "Dangerous" | http://bit.ly/2v6LBrj Beat It Demo Reel | http://bit.ly/2Oko9Q5 Discussion Topics: Episode 86 | Coffee With Humanastory | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/768-e086-rising-higher/
  9. Brian Klein

    A Mother's Lesson

    Do you remember the last time you spoke to your mother? If you do, when was that? Do you remember the last time you expressed how much you love her? and if so, when? I am unsure if it is only me but I feel that we tend to have this habit of shying away from the expressing how important our mother and or our father is to us. I must admit that I am not used to expressing how much I love my parents. I seldom say those three little words: "I Love You". It is not because I am shy about using them, but rather, I have this mannerism about if I don't feel like saying it, you can never make me say it. But that changed the moment I learned about my mother's diagnosis. It was November 2016 when the doctors confirmed that my mother had stage 3 ductal carcinoma ( stage 3 breast cancer). I knew that the chance of beating this illness was 50/50. now this didn't stop us from proceeding with the horrors that were to come, so, we followed the physician's advice. She went through the process of chemotherapy. We knew, cancer was not easy to beat. We knew this would take all of my mother's will and desire to get well. For two years, she continued to fight against the big 'C'. We had urged from different people for her to continue with her required chemotherapy and medication. People were trying to help her in any way they could -- financially, morally, and even for her food. Her co-church goers became more than a family to us. They were uplifting her spiritually whenever she felt like giving up. None of these people were our family, but they were there for her. I witnessed how these people became apart of her and I could not be more thankful for their generosity. My mother lost her battle. Her body had given up and became weaker due to the high dosage of medication she received after two years of battling cancer. The hope the family had was still high until the very end since cancer didn't affect any of her other organs. There is and act in what we in our church feel is an act that represents god's request of us; 'our calling in life'. and I felt hers came last March 25, 2018. It wasn't easy to accept. At this point It wasn't easy to, not, notice all the things she had done for me and my siblings. I know now it is too late to appreciate all the things my mother had done to their children. However, I must point out, one tends to notice these little lessons a lot more when they aren't around us any longer. I must admit, I miss every thing about my mother. I miss all the things she did whenever I would go and visit her. I miss all of her. I am not saying that I didn't appreciate everything she had done for me, I just realize nowadays, it did take this for me to understand appreciation, I miss her more now than ever. I have noticed this is one of the things we tend to forget; we tend to forget to show appreciation with whatever our parents do for us when they are around. It isn't to late for those whose mothers are still around, for them to see this point of view. Take a moment to let your parents know how much you appreciated all their efforts and all they do for your life - just to make sure that you are in a good position. It has only been less than nine days since she left us permanently but I do miss my mother so. rest well. - Michelle Dawson
  10. Brian Klein

    Paralyzing Moment of Reflection

    It was about three and a half years ago. I was standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street when a pickup came through the intersection trying to turn right. His rate of speed and blood alcohol caused him to go up on the sidewalk and hit me. Now, I am a nurse and have always wanted to be a nurse. I loved my job. The injuries that I had sustained from this accident, left me with a paralyzed arm among other injuries. The driver was a young man in his 20's. The full extent of the law would have put him in his 30's when he was released. I did not believe this would have been rehabilitative. I asked the judge to give the minimum sentence with alcohol recovery classes. This young man had been very remorseful and when I reached out to him in a letter trying to understand the circumstances of the accident, he could have ignored my letter, but instead, he called me and apologized. We have all been young once, and have made mistakes. My forgiveness helped me enormously, and any anger or retribution would not have given me my arm back, or my job for that matter. Before you react to a situation, think of the consequences of your actions and remember that the other person is a human being. - Kathy Schiffer
  11. Brian Klein

    E086: Rising Higher

    [ This show: IN PROGRESS. ] However, you can still post your thoughts on the particular subject that has been presented here. Comments made after the show might still be read on the next current show, as we review daily. Comments made during the show will be read on air. Humanastory! Listen Live Presents - Coffee With Humanastory Hosts: Brian Klein / Co-Hosts: Kristina Klein, Marilyn SlyRuntime: 39:29 39.29 MIN SP Guest: None "Coffee with Humanastory!", is the official Humanastory Live shows involving a no scripted conversation and interaction with our humanastorians. Theme of the day: Rising Higher You can download the full audio: Here. Please Note: Hosts and Co-Hosts may use this main thread to answer this shows official questions. If you have some information to provide and want it done so, live; present your information below. Editorial Notes: Happy Thoughts! Live, Love, Laugh (A Lot) Today's Show Minutes From Last Show Today I Learned War Room Weekly Story Submission One Comments (From Previous Shows) Tidbits of Information Image of The Day Story Submission Two Question of the Day Final Thoughts Minutes From Last Show: CWH Episode 85 | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/738-e085-cognitive-dissonance/ Today I Learned: Michael Jackson Did not know how to read or write musical notes. Property Ownership You will never truly own your own property, even if you pay it off. Only property owners could vote between 1789 - 1790 Stonehenge The Stonehenge you visit today is a replica or reproduction of the original. Stonehenge was completely rebuilt in 1958 All the guidebooks and information books still claim the monument standing today was done by our ancestors none of the books make mention of the restoration projects in 1901, 1919, 1958. War Room Weekly: Religion vs Atheism | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/744-religion-vs-atheism/ Comment Read: Name of Person | Where Comment Was Found Comments are taken from across the website and any of our social media outlets Humanastory Tantalizing Tidbits of Information: (Tweet us yours @humanastory) 1 pound of chocolate requires 3,170 gallons of water. A jellyfish and a cucumber are each 95% water. 300 tons of water are required to manufacture 1 ton of steel. A 2.6 billion year old pocket of water was discovered in a mine, 2 miles below the earth’s surface. Image of the Day: Submitted Stories: Paralyzing Moment of Reflection | Kathy Schiffer | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/769-paralyzing-moment-of-reflection/ A Mother's Lesson | Michelle Dawson | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/770-a-mothers-lesson/ Question of the day: Is water wet? Thanks and Credits: Michael John Doug Clevinger Miscellaneous Source Links: Stonehenge Rebuilt Completely | Today I Learned | http://bit.ly/2LnetGV A Few Things About Michael Jackson | Today I Learned | http://bit.ly/2v9ykhA You Cannot Own Property In America | John Filax | - https://youtu.be/3S_wD8pmJM8 Timeline of Voter Rights | Wikipedia | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timeline_of_voting_rights_in_the_United_States What Happened to the News | Freedom! Ideology and Theology | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/790-what-happened-to-the-news/ We're 100% Funded by listeners like you consider pledging or contributing a one time contribution: Support Humanastory, keep us strong by clicking here
  12. Brian Klein

    Religion vs Atheism

    [THIS CHALLENGE IS: ACTIVE] This debate will be aired on one of our upcoming CWH shows it will be an interesting show, please remember to criticize 'ideas' not 'people' above all, please remember respect and restraint as you post your thoughts. Best of luck to you: "To the victor go the spoils." Please Note: We ask you start your post by simply posting the following before anything else: "For Atheism" or "For Religion" on it's own line without the ["] Above all else make sure you vote!
  13. Brian Klein

    The First Step

    My lovely mum always said that I inherited her nerves. Certainly, I was a sensitive kid, and felt the lash of depression from an early age. My first encounter with it was when I moved to senior school. The transition overwhelmed me and I felt threatened at every corner. In a bid to win some courage I started training in martial arts. My martial arts instructor was a charismatic man who took me under his wing. I was in awe of him and after a short period of subtle and insidious grooming, he asked me and some of the other boys to stay over at the club to help fix the aikido mats. That night I awoke to the feeling of a hand on my bare leg. The level of the sexual abuse that followed was not extreme, I was not raped, but the level of betrayal proved to be catastrophic. Most of that night is lost to my memory but I remember waking up the next morning knowing my childhood had ended. I have visited this place in my mind many times since but those hours still remain lost. All I remember was waking up the next day with the darkest depression squatting deep inside my breast. For a long time, I didn’t tell anyone – especially not my mum. She had always warned us never to bring shame to her door, and I had made it my raison d’être never to cause her pain. What this abuser taught me implicitly with his actions was that no one could be trusted, not even those who loved you. This, of course, had a detrimental effect on my malleable mind. An incident that puts you out by a small degree as a twelve-year-old, is enough to send you completely off the grid by the time you’re thirty. At 14, I was kissing a girl in the farmer’s field and her face contorted in to the face of a man. At 15 (and for many years after) I had uncontrollable and unwelcome fantasies about the abuse. This triggered a lot of guilt and shame in me. It was only many years later, after studying psychology, that I understood this was my mind’s way of trying to gain some sort of control over my angst by re-imagining the abuse as a pleasurable experience. As an adult I developed psychotic jealousy, imagining that every girl I dated was cheating on me. At 28, I became a nightclub bouncer in a bid to mold myself a bit of spine. I was a man with a lot of underlying rage and I displaced my anger on anyone that stepped into my orbit. It took a decade of extreme violence before I realized that I was out of control. When I nearly killed a man in a car park match fight, I knew it was time to leave. I wrote a book about my exploits, left the doors and renounced violence. During my violent days, I thought forgiveness was weak and meant letting people off. That changed when I started teaching forgiveness to my martial arts students. Certainly, I understood forgiveness intellectually but I didn’t understand it in practice until, one day, I was sitting in a café and saw my abuser sitting on the table opposite. For a split second I was twelve again, quivering with fear. But then I walked over to him. I introduced myself and told him what he had done to me as a child and how it had affected me. He was a big man, and he tried to stand up and protest. I put my hand out and told him to sit down. He obeyed immediately. I told him that despite what he had done I was going to forgive him. I told him twice. He looked totally broken. It was as if my forgiveness shattered him. As I went to walk away, he put his hand out. I hesitated. I wanted to be free from this man’s memory and I knew that the only way to be free was to properly forgive him. So, I shook his trembling hand. When I walked away from that cafe I felt the most powerful man in the world. I had taken all my power back from him. Years later I heard that he’d committed suicide. His past caught up with him; the police were finally on his trail after thirty years. There was no celebration from me. I felt only sadness. There could be no justifying his heinous crimes but I had a lot of compassion for him. He was a man with potential, and he wasted his life. I came to realize that if someone abused me twenty years ago and I did not forgive them, they were still abusing me now, today, in fact they were literally holding me in stasis. Forgiveness gives you power not only over the here-and-now and over the future, it also deems you impervious to your past. It literally allows you to dismantle historical trauma. Post the Jimmy Saville affair, people are understandably suspicious, even angry, when you talk about forgiveness in connection with a pedophile: did I really forgive my abuser, or did I just let him off, and in doing so indirectly condone his actions and leave the way open for further abuse? The nature of such enquiries is unkind, and the subtext is loaded with judgement and implication. This is the dangerous naivety and presumption of the observer who sees only two options in sex-related abuse: a day in court or a violent revenge. Forgiveness is not even in their lexicon; they fail to see its potency. Forgiveness is pragmatic. It offers a real and lasting vengeance. - Geoff Thompson
  14. [ This show: Has Ended ] However, you can still post your thoughts on the particular subject that has been presented here. Comments made after the show might still be read on the next current show, as we review daily. Comments made during the show will be read on air. Humanastory! Listen Live Presents - Coffee With Humanastory Hosts: Brian Klein / Co-Hosts: Kristina Klein, Marilyn SlyRuntime: 42:31 42.31 MIN SP Guest: None "Coffee with Humanastory!", is the official Humanastory Live shows involving a no scripted conversation and interaction with our humanastorians. Theme of the day: Fantastic Friday 043/ Ideological Cognitive Dissonance (Polarizing of the Thought Processes) Question of the day: Is the ideological cognitive dissonance of today, an actual critical thought, or doing more harm than good? You can download the full audio: Here. Please Note: Hosts and Co-Hosts may use this main thread to answer this shows official questions. If you have some information to provide and want it done so, live; present your information below. Editorial Notes: Happy Thoughts! Live, Love, Laugh (A Lot) Today's Show Minutes From Last Show What To Eat On This Day What Is This Why Would You Do That Comments (From Previous Shows) Tidbits of Information Image of The Day Question of the Day Story Submission Time Final Thoughts Miscellaneous Source Links: Trump for Nobel Peace Prize | Business Insider | https://read.bi/2HL3p4v 'Rosanne' Show Canceled | PBS News | https://to.pbs.org/2xwR0fG 'Samantha Bee' vs Ivanka Trump | The Daily Wire | http://bit.ly/2J9scMh 'Pope Denies Making Statement About No Hell' | BBC News | https://bbc.in/2LWDYey 'Man Dies Fleeing Mount Vesuvius | BBC News | https://bbc.in/2LQExGO Africans Have Not Built Anything in 3,000 Years | Pulpit of Power | http://bit.ly/2sHAg0s FBI Crime Clearance Statistics | FBI.GOV | http://bit.ly/2Lz446z Minutes From Last Show: CWH Episode 84 | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/735-e084-law/ What to Eat: The Chicken Shop | Santee, CA 92071 | https://community.humanastory.com/blogs/entry/86-the-chicken-shop/ On This Day | JUNE 8th: 1789 | James Madison introduces a proposed Bill of Rights in the US House of Representatives. 1191 | King Richard I of England arrives at Acre in modern day Israel to join the Siege of Acre during the Third Crusade. 0452 | Italy invaded by Attila the Hun. What Is This Strange Noises Around The World | YouTube | http://bit.ly/2Jio7JP The Source Behind Mysterious World Phenomenon | Inside Edition | http://bit.ly/2sGKOgp Why Would You Do That. Kid Slams head on desk | YouTube | http://bit.ly/2JyfSsx Our Comment Read: Comments are taken from across the website and any of our social media outlets Humanastory Tantalizing Tidbits of Information: (Tweet us yours @humanastory) Pastries taste better when they come out of pink boxes or served on pink plates because pink makes us crave sugar. Odds are, any memory you believe you had before the age of 4 isn't real. People are often more productive in blue rooms. Swearing when you're hurt helps reduce pain. Singing when tensed helps you avoid anxiety and depression. People who laugh a lot are much healthier than those who don't. The colder the room you are sleeping in, the better chances are that you'll have a bad dream. Image of the Day: Submitted Story: The First Step | Story Submission | https://community.humanastory.com/topic/741-the-first-step/ Thanks and Credits: Michael John Doug Clevinger We're 100% Funded by listeners like you consider pledging or contributing a one time contribution: Support Humanastory, keep us strong by clicking here
  15. Brian Klein

    Humanastory Live Schedule

    Last Updated 03.JUNE.2018 ----- Upcoming Show Information: Join the current conversations by clicking here. Join our past conversations by clicking here. We do look to older shows for newer information posted to air on our shows. Past Show Downloads: Coffee With Humanastory can be found here. Open Conversations can be found here. Reading With Humanastory can be found here. Technical Information: We stream live using a bit rate of 128kbps Connection to Wi-Fi or Internet is recommended Mobile data charges may apply if using your mobile device, depending on your personal carrier plan. We're 100% Funded by listeners like you consider pledging or contributing a one time contribution: Support Humanastory by clicking here. Submit your 'Stories' by clicking here. Contact us by clicking here.

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