How To Bet On Horses - And Win! | Horse Tipsters Review

While some of these lessons might seem obvious, applying them to our lives on a consistent basis requires constant reminders and a lifetime of practice. Even Elon Musk probably breaks many of these rules himself. If we all adhered to the following 20 best practices on a regular basis, we'd possibly all be 10x more successful than wherever it is we are...

1. Listen carefully to the critics to hear what they have to say, but don’t always think that they happen to be right! Musk: “When Henry Ford made cheap, reliable cars, people said, ‘Nah, what’s wrong with a horse?’ That was a huge bet he made, and it worked.”
2. Don’t continue doubling down on a solution that isn’t working. The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. Musk: “Don’t delude yourself into thinking something’s working when it’s not, or you’re gonna get fixated on a bad solution.”
3. Make sure you’re surrounded by people you enjoy being with…of course, if it is within your control. If the workplace becomes toxic, leave it. Or try to work with others on the team to develop a more pleasant work environment Musk: “It’s very important to like the people you work with, otherwise life [and] your job is gonna be quite miserable.”
4. Learn from the successes and failures of others. Musk: “You have to say, ‘Well, why did it succeed where others did not?”
5. Think about solutions that are 10x better than anything else out there. A slight improvement is not good enough to achieve rapid adoption and behavior change. Musk: “You shouldn’t do things differently just because they’re different. They need to be… better.”
6. Think about all the pieces of the puzzle and focus on each of the individual puzzle pieces without neglecting the others. This is an ongoing effort of personal tug of war between various priorities and your time. Never forget that time is your most valuable asset. Musk: “If you’re trying to create a company, it’s like baking a cake. You have to have all the ingredients in the right proportion.”
7. Build the right team or join the right team; it’s often much more important to achieving success than the product itself. Musk: “Starting and growing a business is as much about the innovation, drive, and determination of the people behind it as the product they sell.”
8. Ignore the resume. Think about a teammate’s character as much, if not more, than their specific technical skills. Musk: “My biggest mistake is probably weighing too much on someone’s talent and not [enough on] someone’s personality. I think it matters [a lot] whether someone has a good heart.”
9. Be a good person; whether you think you’re an example or not, you are, particularly in a work environment. Many people watch and observe your behavior, even if you’re not Elon Musk. Be a shining example to your teammates and colleagues by following the simple Golden Rule of doing to others what you would want done to you. Integrity matters. Musk: “We have a strict ‘no-assholes policy’ at SpaceX.”
10. Learn how to tolerate pain. A lot of pain. The short and medium-term horizons are often loaded with obstacles and landmines. Beware of them, and attempt to step around or disarm the landmines wherever possible. If your leg is blown off, figuratively speaking, of course, realize that you’re still alive and continue moving forward. Learn, iterate, and do better the next time in avoiding those landmines or disarming them altogether. Musk: “Being an entrepreneur is like eating glass and staring into the abyss of death.”
11. Pursue what makes you happy, not only in work, but outside work. Try new hobbies. Join new meetup groups. Try learning a new skill. Start a side-hustle project that you’re passionate about that could someday become a great company. Musk: “People should pursue what they’re passionate about. That will make them happier than pretty much anything else.”
12. After carefully planning a course of action and deciding that you’re going to do something, go all-in. Pour 110% of your energy into achieving the carefully thought-out objective. Musk: “What makes innovative thinking happen?… I think it’s really a mindset. You have to decide.”
13. If you believe strongly enough in something, pursue it. If things don’t work out initially (as they seldom do), don’t abandon too quickly. See point # 19 below. Musk: “When something is important enough, you do it even if the odds are not in your favor.”
14. Try to think positive, even when things are down and remind yourself of the old proverb: “this too shall pass.” It’s often in pits of darkness that we can see light at the end of the tunnel. Musk: “If you get up in the morning and think the future is going to be better, it is a bright day. Otherwise, it’s not.”
15. Listen to criticism. Ask for feedback, including negative feedback. Absorb it. Learn from it. Apply criticism that is relevant and discard the balance. Musk: “Really pay attention to negative feedback and solicit it, particularly from friends. … Hardly anyone does that, and it’s incredibly helpful.”
16. Get stuff done that will have a lasting impact on your community, environment and the world (ie no chasing quick $). Do it specifically to make a difference in the lives of those around you and the reward will be significant and generous in overall well-being, and might even bring financial success (which is only one small component of overall success in life). Musk: “I don’t create companies for the sake of creating companies, but to get things done.”
17. Do not spend your entire life thinking about ways things can fail. Get out there and do it. If it doesn’t work, iterate, and then try again. Iterate again. And again. Most people spend their days optimizing for every possible downside scenario. This obsessive down-size planning ties up mental resources to think creatively and outside of the box to get it done. You should of course analyze the problem or deal at hand and solicit input from others on downside scenarios. Don’t let perfection stand in the way of bringing something good to market. You can always make it better over time. A corollary to this rule for entrepreneurs is to make the product or idea real and tangible as fast as possible. This will help in the feedback loop process discussed in rule #15 earlier and #18 below. Musk: “There’s a tremendous bias against taking risks. Everyone is [always/frequently] trying to optimize their ass-covering.”
18. Develop a core group of advisors who will serve as a key part of your constant feedback loop (along with critics – Rule #15 – and initial customers – Rule #17). This core group of trusted advisors could be close friends, family members or even members of your community who know you well enough to offer meaningful advice. Reach out to these advisors often and consistently. Musk: “I think it’s very important to have a feedback loop, where you’re constantly thinking about what you’ve done and how you could be doing it better.”
19. Have grit. Do not give up. Most importantly, have patience. It’s one of the hardest lessons of an entrepreneur since entrepreneurs often want results quickly. Musk: “Persistence is very important. You should not give up unless you are forced to give up.”
20. Embrace change. Getting cozy and comfortable is easy. Sometimes it’s the right thing to do. But oftentimes, refusing to accept the inevitable change will stunt your own growth and path in life, whether in the personal or professional domain, and prevent you from achieving lasting success. Musk: “Some people don’t like change, but you need to embrace change [especially] if the alternative is [a] disaster.”

I've been losing an average of 30 minutes of sleep every night for the past 10 days.
Now I’m down to a paltry 4 hours and 30 minutes, my walls are beginning to shift and my vision is blurring.
I have to focus. I NEED to focus.
Someone out there has to know.
Does anyone know why the garbage collectors have switched to the night shift?
Even asking it sends shivers down my spine. It’s late and soon I will hear them turn up to collect. I can’t sleep upstairs anymore, not where they can see me.
Now I sleep in the living room with my gun propped up against my shoulder, the weight a stern reminder that I am present.
I am awake.
I am a threat to them.
They won’t try anything if I’m a threat to them, right?
Fuck, I’m sorry. Let me explain.
My name is Tyson. I’m a farmer with a thriving family, a loving wife and two bright young boys. We live in a very remote area that requires a significant amount of divergence for basic services. I won’t say where, I won’t risk my family or my business, especially knowing what kind of armchair detectives there are out there. I respect what you all do and fear you in equal measure. So I’d rather throw you a bone you can thoroughly chew on as opposed to delving into mine and my famili’s personal info.
What I can tell you is this patch of land has been in my family for six generations, was not acquired illegally, built on sacred land, and to the best of my knowledge has NEVER had a violent occurrence or bloodshed.
We’re normal, hardworking folks who have always tried to do right.
Which makes what is going on here all the more difficult to understand, to quantify and reason with when the basic logic gives way.
I hear you, you’re undoubtedly scratching your heads and asking “why are garbage collectors such an issue?” and I don’t blame you. I’ll get to that.
Something shifted by the gates. No sound, can’t be the garbagemen, you hear them a mile off.
They’re not subtle about making their presence known.
The first night they turned up was so startling that I honest to god thought we were being robbed by the most unprofessional thieves this part of the world had ever birthed. Rambunctious, loud and borderline jovial in their candour.
It was always the same. Each and every time.
The sounds of the huge mechanical vehicle roaring as it drove up my dirt road, crushing twigs and kicking up dirt as it ground to a stop by the gates some 50ft from my front door.
Two thuds, boots hitting the ground, stumbling over to the main gate where our trash was left for the garbagemen on a Tuesday. Usually a couple of surly men got out, grunted, and hauled ass out of the area as soon as possible.
These two? Couldn’t have been happier to be there from the sounds of things. Young men, the smiles almost visible in their tone;
“This the one, Bill? Looks ready to me!”
“I reckon it is, Jeff! Let’s get ‘er done!”
A laugh, a high five, the sounds of something being dragged and thrown into the truck before they’d back out of the driveway and go off into the night.
Unusual, right? My wife & kids certainly thought so, especially when the trash was still there the next morning.
“Maybe they were some weird kids pulling a prank?” My wife Lucy remarked, taking a sip from her coffee and glancing nervously at the window. I think she was saying it more for our boys benefit than our own. I nodded and ushered them away from the windows, told them to go play.
The next night, it happened again. No specific time so much as that dead of night period between 1am and 3am when the world falls totally silent around you. None of our animals made a peep during that time frame, nor did we dare to.
Because when we heard them roll up again, we were paralysed with fear.
It took a few minutes to realise it, but when I looked to my wife and she returned my fearful glance with a wide-eyed stare and a nod, we scooped up the boys and huddled in our bed.
The exact same sounds. The exact same timed footsteps. The exact same conversation.
We heard them drag something wet into the truck before leaving after maybe 15 minutes. My younger boy Jace was always anxious and hearing this uncanny valley shit at his age sent him into a panic attack. We spent the remaining time soothing him while my older son Travis took to peering through the window with me.
Our pig pen that lay some 40ft to the right of the house had the door ripped off the hinges and a blood trail leading from the entrance all the way to the farm gates where the garbagemen had been.
When we mustered up the courage to inspect further, the pigs were silent, unmoving and staring at the long dirt road that lead away from the home, the tall trees that littered our farm looming overhead as if to silence them from telling what they’d seen.
We tried calling the city council to complain, but they were as perplexed as we were, said trash pickup day was still Tuesday and that since it was only Sunday, we weren’t due. They advised we filed a complain with the police for trespassers, but that yielded absolutely nothing.
In the meantime, things escalated.
Night 3 brought us the same routine, same sounds. Even after we’d taken to putting a lock on the pig pen, they still took one. This time making sure to leave a small pile of viscera behind, perhaps as a warning.
We elected to putting the animals in the barn and dead bolting it, hoping the pranksters would get the message and perhaps get bored. I’d ordered a cctv camera but with my location being so out of the way, it was going to take time to arrive and I wasn’t about to stand in my window with a camera pointed out at some weirdos.
We didn’t consider the consequences of this defiance.
It was Night 5. The boys were sleeping in our room and like clockwork; they showed up and pulled me from what little sleep I was getting, my wife soon after. Silently, goosebumps raised on our skin and a chill in our bones, we strained our ears against the open window, hoping to hear their frustration and subsequent decision to leave.
The routine continued until “Jeff” spoke to “Bill”.
The moment they opened their mouths, I knew something was horribly wrong.
“This the one, Bill? Looks locked to me!”
“I reckon it is, Jeff… Let’s pay ’em a visit.”
They rattled our front door knob and politely knocked at the door. Five rhythmic knocks, five seconds of silence, five more aggressive knocks.
I bolted downstairs and grabbed my rifle, keeping the lights off but my aim focused on them. Adrenaline pushing fear aside, if only to defend my family.
“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’ve been coming onto my property unannounced and I ain’t standing for it no more.” I pulled back on the bolt and the sound filled the room.
“You got three seconds to turn on your heel, or I’m firing!”
My eyes adjusted to the front door and in the darkness, two shapes stood behind my door, shrouded by the shadow of the night. They were tall, thin legs and bizarre movements… like they were swaying in place.
Those three seconds felt like an eternity.
“ONE!”
The shadow to the front leaned forward, trying to press its face against the glass. Something was wrong.
“TWO!”
It moved away and tapped the letterbox, testing if it opened up. When it did, it held it open and spoke as the second shadow stepped closer.
Three never came. Instead I backed away out of terror and barricaded our room, unable to speak.
It repeated my last words back at me. Exact same pitch. Exact same tone. But something was… off about it. Like hearing your own voice played back through old speakers, you sense an eeriness to it.
As i’d instinctively taken steps back, however, the other one spoke. This was the first Time either said anything that didn’t repeat and I swear to god it makes my heart pound in my throat just typing it.
“We have come to collect. Come outside.”
My legs carried my body before I could register what was going on. Rushing to the bedroom and locking it, I pulled my family in close and held my head down to theirs, desperate to block out whatever ungodly sounds erupted from our front door.
It took a half hour before they gave up, assumed their usual routine and left, the sound of the tires speeding off up the road bringing some degree of relief.
Until the following morning when our nearest neighbours, The Gundersons, reported a break in at their farm some 5 miles up the road. The perpetrators had smashed through the gate, entered the barn and done such violent acts to their cattle that of the ten that had been attacked and mutilated, only two survived and were immediately put out of their misery by the patriarch, Ted.
“You’ve been havin’ problems with these sons of bitches too, Ty?” He bellowed down the phone once I began retelling our sleepless events. “Shit, you sound like hell and probably look worse than the cows at this point. I ain’t havin’ it. You got a young family to support and when they hurt one of us, they hurt all of us. Tonight we put an end to it, ya hear?”
I nodded, agreeing to stake out our property that night and do whatever needed to be done. Hands still shaking, I grabbed a stiff drink from the cabinet. Never been much of a drinker, most of this was my dads for the tougher times. But if times weren’t tough now, I don’t know when the fuck they would be.
Ted rolls up around 11pm, wife and kids are asleep and we shoot the shit in the living room for a while, mainly discussing how the harvest had gone and what we could do to protect our livelihoods in this day and age. The conversation petered off as they often do when a night draws on, but it was as we fell silent that the realisation swept over us;
We were going to confront these people tonight.
I gripped my gun a little tighter as Ted gave me an assuring nod, peeking out the window for any signs of the garbagemen.
“Son of a… my farm!” He bellowed, springing to his feet and bursting out the door before I could get a word in edgeways.
He was halfway down the road before I could ask him what the fuck he was doing. He turned, his eyes wild with fear and rage, pointing a shaking finger to the small shape that was his house far across the hill.
It was on fire. Large pillars of smoke billowing forth as the fire danced in the light, illuminating the surrounding fields.
“I can’t sit here while my farm… my livelihood burns away, Ty. If those bastards are behind this… well, you can’t bet your ass they won’t last the night when I’m through with ‘em! I’ll teach ‘em a fuckin’ lesson about the value of things… the things people throw away.” He turned on his heel and ran to his truck, speeding off before anything more could be said.
This would be the only night the garbagemen don’t pay us a visit. I get a bit of extra sleep, but my wife doesn’t. She just stares out the window at the Gunderson farm in the distance and shakes her head.
She knows how there will be no help on the horizon.
She knows how close we are to that fate.
And seeing that scares me to death.
-
The 8th night. They arrive with no vehicle sounds, no grand build up to the crescendo of their routine. They whistle softly as if calling an animal, patient in their call as they scrape something around in the dirt.
I’m crippled by fear and cannot dream facing them, I look around in the dark and see Lucy is still asleep, Travis is snoring in the corner… but Jace… Jace is wide awake and transfixed.
And staring at the window overlooking our driveway, reaching out to open it.
I leap out of bed and just about tackle him away, the shock of waking up to such a violent affair sending him into a panic attack as the entire family snaps awake in a frenzy, shouting over one another as he cries uncontrollably.
“This has got to stop, Tyson. We can’t do this anymore… We can’t live like this…” Lucy was exhausted, her eyes barely open and her teeth chattering. In the moment of silence between us, the whistling started again, almost mocking in its tone if it weren’t for the sinister giggling behind it.
“SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LEAVE US ALONE!” She screamed, walking towards that same window. It took everything I had to hold her back as she fell to pieces in my arms, the entire family crippled by nerves and a lack of sleep.
It was only when one voice cut the air that the final nights events were set in motion.
“The things people throw away…”
Oh, fuck… Ted…
One look into my wife’s eyes and I knew what she was thinking. There was no stopping her.
She darted around, packing the kids’ clothes and any essentials she could find, ignoring the whistling outside and instructing our boys to focus on getting whatever they needed.
“You do what you need to do, I don’t care if the nearest town is a three-hour drive or I undergo the seven-hour drive to my moms. I will not stay another night in this fucking house. Not until they’re gone.” She was almost delirious, fuelled by fear and anger as she darted around like a hurricane, turning over tables to get what she needed as if prepping for a weather event. Within the half hour she’d been rushing around, the noises had faded and the outside once again fell silent.
I couldn’t leave the house. It’d been in our family's lineage for generations. We’d been born here, lived here and died here no matter what. As the head of the family, it was my job to stay here and protect it. Even if I couldn’t protect those that I loved most under its roof.
She waited another hour before getting in the car and leaving, kissing me with all the passion she’d had when we first met. I told Jace he had to be strong and that he’d one day conquer his fears because I believed in him. I told Travis that as the eldest; he needed to protect them like his life depended on it.
Then, just like that, I waved them goodbye and promised I’d join them at their mother in laws when this was over.
Now all that was left was to sharpen my resolve and find out what this was. I took the chance to try and get some sleep during the day, but no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t come to me. So, liquid courage it was.
One way or another, this was going to end.
-
Night 9. The penultimate night.
Not a sound. I mean that in the most literal sense. The wind didn’t move; the trees didn’t speak, not a single blade of grass danced and no dirt was kicked up.
Everything was silent. So silent. My own thoughts were amplified in this void of sound, every inane thought of what could happen flitted through my mind and forced me to double check every window and door. Triple check the locks, ensure no oversight was left.
Couldn’t let them get an opportunity. Even if it’s just me. I know they’re watching even now. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said a shadow moved just behind the porch window. Can’t be sure, not without checking.
I think they were biding their time, keeping me on edge and making sure I *knew* they could step in whenever they wanted and do as they pleased.
But I kept my nerve, I resisted the urge to bolt to the truck. I’ve got my whiskey and I’ve got my gun.
I’ll see this through, even if it kills me.
-
Night 10. Now we’re all caught up.
I checked on the animals this morning. What was left was a pile of bones, flesh and waste. They’d been taken the night before and I don’t know how I didn’t hear during the silence. There was but one horse's body left, teeth marks riddled the torso, and the legs had been torn off.
Our crops had grown fetid, decayed and worn, nothing in our farm would yield a damn thing anymore.
My livelihood was decimated in front of my eyes.
Gone.
It’s late now, I’m sat in my armchair with the rifle loaded and ready. My hands are shaking and my knee won’t stop bouncing. I feel the dread start in my gut and worm its way through my chest before lodging in my throat and forcing every breath to be a labour of pain.
They came early tonight, truck roaring and routine sounds in full swing.
Only there weren’t two sets of thuds this time.
There were six.
They walked up to the porch, a shadow covering every facet of the window and the door panes. Not a spec of light coming through.
The voices don’t change their pattern, they never do.
“This the one, Bill? Looks ready to me!” They pound their fists against the window, a dull moan emanating from the background. Pained, muffled and growing in strength.
“I reckon it is, Jeff! Let’s get ‘er done!” Nails drag down the glass. A horrific groaning accompanying the repeated intonations of their godforsaken phrases.
“The things people throw away...” Ted… poor Ted smashing his head against the wall, repeating it with every sick swing.
It was only when I heard the fourth voice that I finally looked out the window, perhaps on instinct.
“Not until they’re gone.”
My Lucy. My sweet Lucy calling to me.
I can’t begin to tell you what I saw when I pulled back the curtains for just a split second, but every forbidden aspect of it is burned into my brain and it will not leave me even as I shut my eyes from the surrounding chorus of madness.
My kids… my fucking kids are now saying they’ve come to collect. That I must come outside. That whistle has come back, it’s… it’s almost soothing.
I can’t bear to do this on my own, I can’t live with that image in my fucking skull anymore. I miss my wife. I miss my kids. I miss sleeping soundly at night.
What if it is them out there? What if they’re really just wanting me to get help and my own sick mind has put me in such a state that I’m here, asking you for help on something that is, at its core, truly simple?
I’m going to put down the laptop and open the door. I have to know.
I have to.
Why did the garbagemen start coming in the dead of night?
Does anyone know?

How the Hunt Brothers Cornered the Silver Market and Then Lost it All

TL:DR: yes its long. Grab a beer.

​
Until his dying day in 2014, Nelson Bunker Hunt, who had once been the world’s wealthiest man, denied that he and his brother plotted to corner the global silver market.
Sure, back in 1980, Bunker, his younger brother Herbert, and other members of the Hunt clan owned roughly two-thirds of all the privately held silver on earth. But the historic stockpiling of bullion hadn’t been a ploy to manipulate the market, they and their sizable legal team would insist in the following years. Instead, it was a strategy to hedge against the voracious inflation of the 1970s—a monumental bet against the U.S. dollar.
Whatever the motive, it was a bet that went historically sour. The debt-fueled boom and bust of the global silver market not only decimated the Hunt fortune, but threatened to take down the U.S. financial system.
The panic of “Silver Thursday” took place over 35 years ago, but it still raises questions about the nature of financial manipulation. While many view the Hunt brothers as members of a long succession of white collar crooks, from Charles Ponzi to Bernie Madoff, others see the endearingly eccentric Texans as the victims of overstepping regulators and vindictive insiders who couldn’t stand the thought of being played by a couple of southern yokels.
In either case, the story of the Hunt brothers just goes to show how difficult it can be to distinguish illegal market manipulation from the old fashioned wheeling and dealing that make our markets work.
The Real-Life Ewings
Whatever their foibles, the Hunts make for an interesting cast of characters. Evidently CBS thought so; the family is rumored to be the basis for the Ewings, the fictional Texas oil dynasty of Dallas fame.
Sitting at the top of the family tree was H.L. Hunt, a man who allegedly purchased his first oil field with poker winnings and made a fortune drilling in east Texas. H.L. was a well-known oddball to boot, and his sons inherited many of their father’s quirks.
For one, there was the stinginess. Despite being the richest man on earth in the 1960s, Bunker Hunt (who went by his middle name), along with his younger brothers Herbert (first name William) and Lamar, cultivated an image as unpretentious good old boys. They drove old Cadillacs, flew coach, and when they eventually went to trial in New York City in 1988, they took the subway. As one Texas editor was quoted in the New York Times, Bunker Hunt was “the kind of guy who orders chicken-fried steak and Jello-O, spills some on his tie, and then goes out and buys all the silver in the world.”
Cheap suits aside, the Hunts were not without their ostentation. At the end of the 1970s, Bunker boasted a stable of over 500 horses and his little brother Lamar owned the Kansas City Chiefs. All six children of H.L.’s first marriage (the patriarch of the Hunt family had fifteen children by three women before he died in 1974) lived on estates befitting the scions of a Texas billionaire. These lifestyles were financed by trusts, but also risky investments in oil, real estate, and a host of commodities including sugar beets, soybeans, and, before long, silver.
The Hunt brothers also inherited their father’s political inclinations. A zealous anti-Communist, Bunker Hunt bankrolled conservative causes and was a prominent member of the John Birch Society, a group whose founder once speculated that Dwight Eisenhower was a “dedicated, conscious agent” of Soviet conspiracy. In November of 1963, Hunt sponsored a particularly ill-timed political campaign, which distributed pamphlets around Dallas condemning President Kennedy for alleged slights against the Constitution on the day that he was assassinated. JFK conspiracy theorists have been obsessed with Hunt ever since.
In fact, it was the Hunt brand of politics that partially explains what led Bunker and Herbert to start buying silver in 1973.
Hard Money
The 1970s were not kind to the U.S. dollar.
Years of wartime spending and unresponsive monetary policy pushed inflation upward throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s. Then, in October of 1973, war broke out in the Middle East and an oil embargo was declared against the United States. Inflation jumped above 10%. It would stay high throughout the decade, peaking in the aftermath of the Iranian Revolution at an annual average of 13.5% in 1980.
Over the same period of time, the global monetary system underwent a historic transformation. Since the first Roosevelt administration, the U.S. dollar had been pegged to the value of gold at a predictable rate of $35 per ounce. But in 1971, President Nixon, responding to inflationary pressures, suspended that relationship. For the first time in modern history, the paper dollar did not represent some fixed amount of tangible, precious metal sitting in a vault somewhere.
For conservative commodity traders like the Hunts, who blamed government spending for inflation and held grave reservations about the viability of fiat currency, the perceived stability of precious metal offered a financial safe harbor. It was illegal to trade gold in the early 1970s, so the Hunts turned to the next best thing.
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Data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics; chart by Priceonomics

As an investment, there was a lot to like about silver. The Hunts were not alone in fleeing to bullion amid all the inflation and geopolitical turbulence, so the price was ticking up. Plus, light-sensitive silver halide is a key component of photographic film. With the growth of the consumer photography market, new production from mines struggled to keep up with demand.
And so, in 1973, Bunker and Herbert bought over 35 million ounces of silver, most of which they flew to Switzerland in specifically designed airplanes guarded by armed Texas ranch hands. According to one source, the Hunt’s purchases were big enough to move the global market.
But silver was not the Hunts' only speculative venture in the 1970s. Nor was it the only one that got them into trouble with regulators.
Soy Before Silver
In 1977, the price of soybeans was rising fast. Trade restrictions on Brazil and growing demand from China made the legume a hot commodity, and both Bunker and Herbert decided to enter the futures market in April of that year.
A future is an agreement to buy or sell some quantity of a commodity at an agreed upon price at a later date. If someone contracts to buy soybeans in the future (they are said to take the “long” position), they will benefit if the price of soybeans rise, since they have locked in the lower price ahead of time. Likewise, if someone contracts to sell (that’s called the “short” position), they benefit if the price falls, since they have locked in the old, higher price.
While futures contracts can be used by soybean farmers and soy milk producers to guard against price swings, most futures are traded by people who wouldn’t necessarily know tofu from cream cheese. As a de facto insurance contract against market volatility, futures can be used to hedge other investments or simply to gamble on prices going up (by going long) or down (by going short).
When the Hunts decided to go long in the soybean futures market, they went very, very long. Between Bunker, Herbert, and the accounts of five of their children, the Hunts collectively purchased the right to buy one-third of the entire autumn soybean harvest of the United States.
To some, it appeared as if the Hunts were attempting to corner the soybean market.
In its simplest version, a corner occurs when someone buys up all (or at least, most) of the available quantity of a commodity. This creates an artificial shortage, which drives up the price, and allows the market manipulator to sell some of his stockpile at a higher profit.
Futures markets introduce some additional complexity to the cornerer’s scheme. Recall that when a trader takes a short position on a contract, he or she is pledging to sell a certain amount of product to the holder of the long position. But if the holder of the long position just so happens to be sitting on all the readily available supply of the commodity under contract, the short seller faces an unenviable choice: go scrounge up some of the very scarce product in order to “make delivery” or just pay the cornerer a hefty premium and nullify the deal entirely.
In this case, the cornerer is actually counting on the shorts to do the latter, says Craig Pirrong, professor of finance at the University of Houston. If too many short sellers find that it actually costs less to deliver the product, the market manipulator will be stuck with warehouses full of inventory. Finance experts refer to selling the all the excess supply after building a corner as “burying the corpse.”
“That is when the price collapses,” explains Pirrong. “But if the number of deliveries isn’t too high, the loss from selling at the low price after the corner is smaller than the profit from selling contracts at the high price.”
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The Chicago Board of Trade trading floor. Photo credit: Jeremy Kemp

Even so, when the Commodity Futures Trading Commission found that a single family from Texas had contracted to buy a sizable portion of the 1977 soybean crop, they did not accuse the Hunts of outright market manipulation. Instead, noting that the Hunts had exceeded the 3 million bushel aggregate limit on soybean holdings by about 20 million, the CFTC noted that the Hunt’s “excessive holdings threaten disruption of the market and could cause serious injury to the American public.” The CFTC ordered the Hunts to sell and to pay a penalty of $500,000.
Though the Hunts made tens of millions of dollars on paper while soybean prices skyrocketed, it’s unclear whether they were able to cash out before the regulatory intervention. In any case, the Hunts were none too pleased with the decision.
“Apparently the CFTC is trying to repeal the law of supply and demand,” Bunker complained to the press.
Silver Thursday
Despite the run in with regulators, the Hunts were not dissuaded. Bunker and Herbert had eased up on silver after their initial big buy in 1973, but in the fall of 1979, they were back with a vengeance. By the end of the year, Bunker and Herbert owned 21 million ounces of physical silver each. They had even larger positions in the silver futures market: Bunker was long on 45 million ounces, while Herbert held contracts for 20 million. Their little brother Lamar also had a more “modest” position.
By the new year, with every dollar increase in the price of silver, the Hunts were making $100 million on paper. But unlike most investors, when their profitable futures contracts expired, they took delivery. As in 1973, they arranged to have the metal flown to Switzerland. Intentional or not, this helped create a shortage of the metal for industrial supply.
Naturally, the industrialists were unhappy. From a spot price of around $6 per ounce in early 1979, the price of silver shot up to $50.42 in January of 1980. In the same week, silver futures contracts were trading at $46.80. Film companies like Kodak saw costs go through the roof, while the British film producer, Ilford, was forced to lay off workers. Traditional bullion dealers, caught in a squeeze, cried foul to the commodity exchanges, and the New York jewelry house Tiffany & Co. took out a full page ad in the New York Times slamming the “unconscionable” Hunt brothers. They were right to single out the Hunts; in mid-January, they controlled 69% of all the silver futures contracts on the Commodity Exchange (COMEX) in New York.
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Source: New York Times

But as the high prices persisted, new silver began to come out of the woodwork.
“In the U.S., people rifled their dresser drawers and sofa cushions to find dimes and quarters with silver content and had them melted down,” says Pirrong, from the University of Houston. “Silver is a classic part of a bride’s trousseau in India, and when prices got high, women sold silver out of their trousseaus.”
According to a Washington Post article published that March, the D.C. police warned residents of a rash of home burglaries targeting silver.
Unfortunately for the Hunts, all this new supply had a predictable effect. Rather than close out their contracts, short sellers suddenly found it was easier to get their hands on new supplies of silver and deliver.
“The main factor that has caused corners to fail [throughout history] is that the manipulator has underestimated how much will be delivered to him if he succeeds [at] raising the price to artificial levels,” says Pirrong. “Eventually, the Hunts ran out of money to pay for all the silver that was thrown at them.”
In financial terms, the brothers had a large corpse on their hands—and no way to bury it.
This proved to be an especially big problem, because it wasn’t just the Hunt fortune that was on the line. Of the $6.6 billion worth of silver the Hunts held at the top of the market, the brothers had “only” spent a little over $1 billion of their own money. The rest was borrowed from over 20 banks and brokerage houses.
At the same time, COMEX decided to crack down. On January 7, 1980, the exchange’s board of governors announced that it would cap the size of silver futures exposure to 3 million ounces. Those in excess of the cap (say, by the tens of millions) were given until the following month to bring themselves into compliance. But that was too long for the Chicago Board of Trade exchange, which suspended the issue of any new silver futures on January 21. Silver futures traders would only be allowed to square up old contracts.
Predictably, silver prices began to slide. As the various banks and other firms that had backed the Hunt bullion binge began to recognize the tenuousness of their financial position, they issued margin calls, asking the brothers to put up more money as collateral for their debts. The Hunts, unable to sell silver lest they trigger a panic, borrowed even more. By early March, futures contracts had fallen to the mid-$30 range.
Matters finally came to a head on March 25, when one of the Hunts’ largest backers, the Bache Group, asked for $100 million more in collateral. The brothers were out of cash, and Bache was unwilling to accept silver in its place, as it had been doing throughout the month. With the Hunts in default, Bache did the only thing it could to start recouping its losses: it start to unload silver.
On March 27, “Silver Thursday,” the silver futures market dropped by a third to $10.80. Just two months earlier, these contracts had been trading at four times that amount.
The Aftermath
After the oil bust of the early 1980s and a series of lawsuits polished off the remainder of the Hunt brothers’ once historic fortune, the two declared bankruptcy in 1988. Bunker, who had been worth an estimated $16 billion in the 1960s, emerged with under $10 million to his name. That’s not exactly chump change, but it wasn’t enough to maintain his 500-plus stable of horses,.
The Hunts almost dragged their lenders into bankruptcy too—and with them, a sizable chunk of the U.S. financial system. Over twenty financial institutions had extended over a billion dollars in credit to the Hunt brothers. The default and resulting collapse of silver prices blew holes in balance sheets across Wall Street. A privately orchestrated bailout loan from a number of banks allowed the brothers to start paying off their debts and keep their creditors afloat, but the markets and regulators were rattled.
Silver Spot Prices Per Ounce (January, 1979 - June, 1980)
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Source: Trading Economics

In the words of then CFTC chief James Stone, the Hunts’ antics had threatened to punch a hole in the “financial fabric of the United States” like nothing had in decades. Writing about the entire episode a year later, Harper’s Magazine described Silver Thursday as “the first great panic since October 1929.”
The trouble was not over for the Hunts. In the following years, the brothers were dragged before Congressional hearings, got into a legal spat with their lenders, and were sued by a Peruvian mineral marketing company, which had suffered big losses in the crash. In 1988, a New York City jury found for the South American firm, levying a penalty of over $130 million against the Hunts and finding that they had deliberately conspired to corner the silver market.
Surprisingly, there is still some disagreement on that point.
Bunker Hunt attributed the whole affair to the political motives of COMEX insiders and regulators. Referring to himself later as “a favorite whipping boy” of an eastern financial establishment riddled with liberals and socialists, Bunker and his brother, Herbert, are still perceived as martyrs by some on the far-right.
“Political and financial insiders repeatedly changed the rules of the game,” wrote the New American. “There is little evidence to support the ‘corner the market’ narrative.”
Though the Hunt brothers clearly amassed a staggering amount of silver and silver derivatives at the end of the 1970s, it is impossible to prove definitively that market manipulation was in their hearts. Maybe, as the Hunts always claimed, they just really believed in the enduring value of silver.
Or maybe, as others have noted, the Hunt brothers had no idea what they were doing. Call it the stupidity defense.
“They’re terribly unsophisticated,” an anonymous associated was quoted as saying of the Hunts in a Chicago Tribune article from 1989. “They make all the mistakes most other people make,” said another.
p.s. credit to Ben Christopher
​

Build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.
Sun Tzu, Art of War
Everything was for tomorrow, but tomorrow never came. The present was only a bridge and on this bridge they are still groaning, as the world groans, and not one idiot ever thinks of blowing up the bridge.
Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn
I was wrong! Blow the bridge! Blow the fucking bridge!
Tugg Speedman, Tropic Thunder
Hello again GME Gang! It’s been a while since I last ranted at you, but I know we’ve been in some very good hands here at WSB with all the great DD folks have posted over the past few weeks. So no need for CPT Hubbard to go for 11 again on the Thumbscroll Dial (until today, that is). I’ve enjoyed a lot of these posts very much, so thank you on behalf of myself and the attention-deficient Rocket Children for continuing to deliver that 100% Chaff-Free GME-grade Wheat at such a feverish clip.
Now, I am going to get to Hong Kong’s Lamest Outlaw and his disconcertingly vacant eyes here shortly. But first I want to take you on a journey back to Christmas Eve, in the year of our lord 2020—a heady time in all our lives. We were all so young and innocent then, weren’t we? Fresh off the run up to 22. Blissfully oblivious that we were living in the last moments where the question What is The War of 1812? was the only acceptable Jeopardy question for the answer: The Last Time the Goddamn U.S. Capitol Was Stormed. This was also before we all became irresponsibly overleveraged in Cathie Wood’s Ornamental Gourds ETF. It was a wondrous, confusing time.
But before we get too off topic, let’s all hop in my 1985 DeLorean (purchased with proceeds from my Jan 15 calls – thanks RC!), fire up the ol’ Flux Capacitor, and get that shit to 88 because something happened that evening that is Worth Pondering—particularly in light of recent events. And just as a friendly reminder: even though you’re going back in time in a DeLorean, no one here has to deviate funds away from GME shares to Save the Clock Tower and you are under no obligation to fulfill a scenario where you wind up making out with your Mom (unless your Mom is Cathie Wood like mine—in which case maybe just some quick over-the-clothes stuff).
On the Subject of How It Once ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas
So what in the holy fuck happened on the night before Christmas, Captain? Well, while all you Gentiles were sleeping soundly after lying to your children about benign home intruders and before gorging yourself on the teat of late-stage capitalism, me and the rest of the Chosen People were up late eating Chinese food and thinking about tendies (self-hating Jew Joke! Ba-zing!). But then: when out on the electric twitter machine there arose such a clatter, I sprang to my phone to see what was the matter. And what to my wondering eyes did appear, a mysterious tweet from a Rich-Ass Viking who had a lot of fucking interesting things to say about this whole GME situation that’s what.
This tweet, buried as a reply to a tweet sent by Mr. Rod Alzmann (@RodAlzmann or u/Uberkikz11), simply said: “Merry Christmas. Shhh.” But it included this screen shot:
[**Image Deleted Due to the Mods - check the link below where someone transcribed it - I'll try to add later**]
Now, this tweet to Rod, sent late at night and likely after a strong Mead or three, was very promptly deleted. But your intrepid cub reporter saw this here tweet that night with his own two eyes—seeing as I am a degenerate GME addict and devoted follower of Mr. Rod Alzmann (Hi Rod!). And I took screenshots, of course, like any responsible records custodian might. And so did the dude who wrote a somewhat-overlooked WSB post on this, which included the most pertinent text of the message if you are having trouble reading it here:
https://www.reddit.com/wallstreetbets/comments/kk0omp/christmas_miracle_gamergate_2020_gme_shorts/
Now, what are we to make of this? At the time, I thought it was very interesting. But I did not give it too much attention seeing as how the internet is overcrowded with anonymous weirdos claiming to know more than they do about all sorts of subjects (and now I feel your judging eyes…). Also, there was some very good commentary in that WSB post from some sharp folks about the screenshot author’s questionable use of the shorthand PE/IB—given that private equity and investment banks wouldn’t apparently be involved in a behind-the-scenes transaction with the short funds like what was being discussed there (don’t ask me, I just string together silly words here). But maybe you poke around his Twitter a bit and see for yourself.
Still, plausibility assessments based on preferred nomenclature aside, it seemed to me that some version of that conversation had to be taking place behind the scenes in a situation like this—given the batshit insane short interest, the funds supposedly involved, and the rapid rise in SP coinciding with RC’s share accumulation, December 21st amended 13D filing, and new status as a GME Insider and Board member (just love saying all that in a row, don’t you?).
So the Viking’s screenshot tweet, and the very likely possibility that shorts are in so deep that they’re attempting to negotiate peace with large shareholders behind the scenes, stuck in my tiny little baby brain as a pretty plausible set of scenarios. And from the look of it, it seems like some funds were at least willing to discuss offering these shorts a Golden Bridge away from Certain Fucking Destruction on the open market. And if the words on the screenshot are at all aligned with reality, these short funds have no good options.
Yet it seems like they are still playing hardball to negotiate the carat on this generous bridge offer they’re getting. Why? Maybe they’ve been getting high on their own supply for so long and they don’t know how to see this situation for what it is. Who knows? Maybe there is no Ryan Cohen and we’re all living in a simulation. But if the recent low-rent anti-GME articles and market manipulation efforts we’re seeing are any indication, these overleveraged short fuckers seem to think they’re going to be able to spin out of this hold and drive the SP back down to even smaller peanuts than it’s at now by sheer force of will (and some deployment of well-honed tricks of the trade amirite?) to emerge unscathed. Or even victorious? I dunno—it’s their delusional fantasy sequence.
But do you know what this scenario reminds me of? And this is just coming to me so please bear with me as I’m not showing this to my editor before we print (I haven’t seen this movie in ages – don’t know what made me think of this!). Fuck it, I’m just gonna start riffing here. The shorts trying to thread this needle, against all odds and logic and common sense, reminds me of that hilarious scene in Dumb and Dumber where haplessly delusional Jim Carrey thinks he has a chance with Mary Samsonite Swanson. But the scene is funny because he really doesn’t. Have any chance. At all.
Now, I know this is a 1990s movie originally released on VHS that we haven’t seen it or even seen it referenced in ages. But now that you’re thinking of it again after all this time, doesn’t it remind you of this too? I know, I get it: You’d have to have fucking peanuts for brains for it not to.
(https://twitter.com/ryancohen/status/1350877969816956934?s=20)
On the Subject of the Continued Internet Bumbling of Mr. Justin Dopierala
Now that screenshot came to mind this past week when something kind of weird happened while we were all enjoying our quick rocket ship ride. And yes, we are briefly going to talk again about Seeking Alpha’s second finest pro-GME author (always been more of a Dmitriy man myself) and recurring CPT Hubbard character, Justin Dopierala (and no, Angela, I do not want to have like 10,000 of his babies).
Last Thursday, after we were all virtually high-fiving one another and counting our future Lambos, Mr. Justin Dopierala, head of Domo Capital and longstanding uber-bull GME shareholder and author at Seeking Alpha (last seen arguing pithily with our own Rod Alzmann about the conservative nature of Rod’s holiday earnings projections. Hi again Rod!), made it known that he sold all of Domo Capital’s 500,000 shares for around $42.50—at the very top of the run up last Thursday morning.
Now, Domo Capital’s business decisions are none of my goddamn business. And there are plenty of market opportunities right now. Shit, I hear there is even a new Cathie Wood Gourd ETF coming online soon that people are really excited about and that I’m sure Justin’s clients would find intriguing. But Domo’s decision to sell seemed curious given a few things: (1) on Wednesday, when the rocket is mid-flight, he got a twitter follow from Gabe Plotkin, head of Melvin Capital, which he promptly tweeted about with a “get a load of this fuckin’ guy” vibe (oh the sweet, intoxicating arrogance of tendie victory, I too love it so); (2) he had also tweeted that day comparing GME’s rise to Apron’s short squeeze that lasted 4 days—where he also stressed to his followers that Apron had a much lower SI than GME; and (3) he then promptly deleted all of these tweets and almost everything else GME-related on Thursday after apparently introducing 500,000 shares of liquidity into the height of a stressed market up and through the Thursday reversal and down into his own personal tendie town.
Now, after seeing all this, I mouthed off a bit to Justin on the electric twitter machine because that’s kind of my thing. And if you are familiar with my prior ramblings, you know that he and I go way back. In response, Justin talked a bit of shit about your intrepid cub reporter here in a comment on Dimitry Kozin’s October 21, 2020 article about a possible sony revenue share deal or something, the comment section of which has become the preferred SA water cooler over there. (And I can’t link that because Thems The Rulez). And Justin hurt my little feelings a bit with his very sharp denial. And by all means have at it over there to check out his comment about why he sold if you give a shit. That is if Justin hasn’t deleted it yet. Free country and all.
But to summarize, on the subject of treacherous coordination with Melvin Capital, Justin said he would not could not in a boat and he would not could not with a goat. And I for one believe him. And do you know why? Because even though Justin seems like a very smart guy in some ways, he’s also a well-known internet bumbler who blurts out things to his internet friends that a person with better self-control would keep to themselves. And so I do not think he is capable of pulling that off or keeping a secret like that. Also: he said he didn’t so I am more than willing to give someone the benefit of any doubt in that area and you should too. I think we keep Hanlon’s razor firmly in mind here about never attributing to malice that which is explained by stupidity. That is unless, of course, you’re Andrew Left and you’re actually trying to convince people that you didn’t realize there was a US presidential inauguration planned for the same time you announced your Super Important TeeVee Yammerfest ‘21 about GME not being a good candidate for an imminent short squeeze no way no how not if my name isn’t Andrew Left short seller expert extraordinaire and Hong Kong’s Most Misunderstood Ethically-Minded Businessman. You can ascribe the fuck out of malice to that one.
No, even though I really have no idea, I think the most likely thing that happened there was that Gabe Plotkin, Master of the Universe, Head of Melvin Capital, and Acolyte of Perennial Most Ethical Business Man MVP candidate, Steven Cohen—got into Justin’s head when Plotkin followed him on twitter during the 57% (at one point 94%) day last Wednesday and then Justin got a bit chippy about it.
And this is the real reason I’m bringing this up.
Because I honestly care very little about the Nervous Investing Habits of the Wisconsin hedge fund voted most likely to prompt a Mr. Roboto reference. No: I think that Gabe Plotkin sent a message with that follow. Without even ever having to say it directly. And I think that after GME’s huge run and getting a little overexcited while working the twitter machine, Justin maybe had a chance to relax with a warm glass of milk that night and reflect on that message. Which I believe was: I’m watching you, motherfucker. And the only reason I’m paying any attention to some shitstain Wisconsin pseudo-fund on a day like today when I am getting my ass fucking torched is because I want you to know that if this GME shit blows up on me, I’m going to fuck your ass up. I will remember the name Domo Capital forevermore. And when you least expect me, I’ll be there. Now: your move, motherfucker.
And once I realized what might have happened there, that made me feel kinda bad for Justin if he felt that way. Definitely a puss move because fuck you Plotkin I drink your fucking milkshake, right? But bad because that’s a mean message for a business colleague to send, Gabriel. Shame on you if that's how you roll like a big New York bully and scaring our poor Justin like that. And if you just wanted to follow him to shoot the shit or swap listicles and Star Wars Prequel memes with a respected contemporary—even in the very midst of getting fucking annihilated while short GME—well Justin has a totally different account for that and he’s not allowed to access it during work hours.
On The Likelihood That The Most Heavily Shorted Stock in History Is Not Being Subject to Continued Market Manipulation When A Steve Cohen Acolyte Is Losing His Fucking Shirt
Have you heard about Steve Fucking Cohen? The guy who looks like he’s tip top of the list of the premier Hollywood casting agency’s rolodex for Saddest Dipshit Still At the Strip Club After Everyone Else Has Already Gone Home? I’m sorry, that’s mean and my mother told me to always be kind to the truly hideous looking because they’re probably still beautiful on the inside (spoiler alert: he’s not!).
Get a load of this guy:
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2014-01-02/why-sac-capitals-steven-cohen-isnt-in-jail
https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/business/story/2020-09-02/controversial-hedge-fund-billionaire-steven-cohen-takes-on-hollywood
https://www.marketwatch.com/story/steven-a-cohen-among-the-million-dollar-donors-to-trump-inauguration-2017-04-19
https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2016/11/steve-cohen-trump
https://nypost.com/2015/06/17/billionaire-steve-cohen-bros-out-with-guy-fieri/
Are you back? I’ve missed you. That was scary, wasn’t it? But allow me to TL/DR all that for you who decided to avoid all that unpleasantness: the dude just has all this bad luck and keeps finding himself into these really awkward situations where someone could potentially question his commitment to ethical business and life practices as well as adherence to the laws of the United States and it’s just not fair and nothing’s fair and Nice Guy Steve Cohen Is The Victim Here So Just Stop Right There Mister I See What You’re Doing. He's also bros with Guy Fieri. Cool.
But why am I talking about a guy who would so clearly pass Billy Madison’s Final Question about Business Ethics without even breaking a sweat?
Because Steve Cohen once had a young Ace Protegee that he loved very much. With the name of an Archangel, so tender and pure. And one day this young man decided he wanted to Prove Himself and Leave Steve’s Nest. And thus was born Melvin Capital, seeded financially by Steve Cohen but named after famed Crooner Melvin H. Tormé, which Gabe’s esteemed mentor Steve would play in his office, over and over, all those years ago.
Now let’s fast forward a bit because I’m boring myself with all that fucking Cohen reading (the bad Cohen—don’t you dare get anyone confused here). As I was saying: Gabe Plotkin, head of Melvin Capital, has by all accounts gotten himself into a bit of a pickle here being so deeply short GME. Lots of people have analyzed and overanalyzed it, and I’m not going to do it again here; that dead horse is well and truly beaten. But to bottom line it: we’re all just staring down what is essentially an unprecedented math problem that will, at some point, resolve itself. And if it revolves itself in favor of the Good Guys, then the Bad Guys will lose a Fuck-ton of Money. That’s your money block quote, WSJ, so fuck off and stop calling me.
Now: picture yourself as a Steve Cohen acolyte that just bought a $44M Miami Compound and who cannot stop talking about how co-owning the Charlotte Hornets is worth it just for the courtsides alone bro once basketball is a thing again and so what if Michael Jordan keeps calling him Gary it’s close enough. Are you feeling the most financially secure that you have ever felt in your young rich life right about now? Or might you be a wee bit worried that you’ve pursued an investment thesis so reckless, so irrationally and intentionally destructive of equity, that even Melvin H. Tormé himself must be rolling in his fucking grave that you would ever dare put at risk your ability to continue being Michael Jordan’s Gary?
And so here is when I again link my good buddy Jim Cramer’s Great Unveiling of the Tactics Deployed by Short Sellers hoping to change the narrative and construct a “new truth” to suppress the SP in the face of, oh, let’s just say: a very promising turnaround story in a high-growth industry by an e-Commerce Canadian Genius who does not fuck around and who knows what he’s fucking doing and aims to sell more and better video games experiences to crackhead video gamers and there’s a million things he wants to do but just you wait, just you wait.
Is this plot that hard to follow?
And I’ll also say this: I know fuck-all about monitoring order flows or how funds continue to create synthetic shares to short shit into oblivion. But I’m just stepping back and thinking of the broader narrative and tactics on this. Spit-balling here again—bear with me. Now, if you were massively short a security while paying out your ass in borrowing fees for the privilege of entering the most crowded short trade in the market and you’re now opposite a massive business turnaround story, Ryan Cohen, numerous institutions, funds, retail whales, Norwegian HNW Freemason Consortiums, and the energy behind the Finest Rocket Children Ever to Grace Planet Fucking Earth—and you’re taking it in the ass week after week here—Do you then play this straight? Do you set aside all of these illegal and deceptive short tactics Jim Cramer candidly outlines in that video even though they’re impossible to enforce and are in fact not enforced? That Jim basically says you’d be professionally negligent if you were short and didn’t do this shit because fuck it whosgonnastopyou? And now you fucked up and that steamroller is barreling down upon you and there are all these things you could theoretically do try to get yourself out of this jam if you were That Kind of Person? Do you set this all aside and, at least in Jim’s view, tie one hand behind your precious ethical back? On the most heavily shorted stock off all time where you are bleeding Real Life Big-Boy Money? Just buying and selling you know, just a job, honest living, nothing much to it, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, can't get too carried away with it.
Or is it something a little bit fucking different than that?
I don’t know. I’m not in the industry myself. And I would never accuse anyone of doing anything so clearly contrary to the values upon which their professional career as Master of the Universe was built. So Gabe: chill. Don’t follow me or something on twitter man, since for all I know that’s Plotkinese for I Hope You Don’t Mind Sleeping With This Severed Horse Head in Your Bed Motherfucker. It’s just money, dude. You seem pretty well taken care of. But man would I be sweating if I were short right now staring down the barrel of your new neighbor Ryan Cohen’s whims and patience and polite Canadian manners and ambiguous emojis that we all lose our shit for. I mean, fuck man: are you ok? Don’t forget to exercise and eat well during all this. Maybe switch to green tea or something. And remember: you’ll always—always—be Michael Jordan’s Gary.
But here is where we return to our good friend Andrew Left from Citron Research.
Do you remember the excitement you felt this past weekend? I’ve never seen WSB so jacked. People were coming out hot on Tuesday—an uptick day! The new phone book’s here! The new phone book's here! What luck to be free of Gary’s tomfoolery for one fine day. And then GME spiked right away—reaching a high of over $45 that morning.
But then something happened. We all know what it was. But here is where any SEC lookie-loos need to close those Pornhub links and pay closer attention. Because in the moments before the Citron tweet that morning about Andy’s upcoming BuzzFeed Listicle call on Why GME is Scary Investment GRRRR, total short shares available dropped from 1.2M to 0. And a $300K put bet was placed on a weekly with a strike price well over 10% out of the money at the very moment that GME’s price was accelerating rapidly. (H/t u/FatAspirations). That’s some WSB-level shit right there.
And yet they pull it off! GME immediately shoots down nearly 30% intraday, and eventually climbing abck up above 10%, making us all feel a little weird and like ungrateful millennial brats for feeling so shitty about a 10% day. But we all know what fucking happened, now don’t we?
So what can we say about ol’ Andy? Now, many of you know Andy as the dumbshit who shorted TSLA until he was ground into little bits of dumb dumb dust and made to look ever so foolish over and over again until he finally cried drunk uncle and flipped to being long TSLA and now he’s cool to you or whatever. Or you might know him as the guy who puts out really shoddy research that often, by pure happenstance, drives a new narrative to control the orderflow and SP on a WSB-beloved security like PLTR? You know the guy I’m talking about. Once in hot pursuit by Hong Kong fuzz, an International Man of Obviousness with a face that says: why yes, I will have another vodka tonic thankyouverymuch. That’s him.
Well, just like future call-back candidate for the role of Frightened Inmate #2, Mr. Steve Cohen, Andy is also but a Caveman—frightened and confused by your modern concepts of “ethics” and “rules.” No! No!—He’s a straight shooter! Devoted to rooting out obvious frauds, like Lukin Coffee and TSLA (Do not fuck with Elon or my Hot Mom’s ETF, Andy). And like the aspirations of Antoine Bugle Boy when he entered the blue jeans market, Andy saw an overcrowded short trade here based on an overly simplistic and obsolete short thesis about GME and said: “Me Too!” And as this thing is ripping to the stratosphere, Andy starts ringing his dumb dumb twitter bell and saying hear ye, hear ye—Inauguration Day and time it shall be for all my Big Brain thoughts about GME!
Nothing weird about that. No sir.
So Andy Citron or whatever the fuck his name is will be putting out some dumbshit video or something today in what seems to be a pretty clear attempt to scare my poor Rocket Children and get those pesky computers to high frequency this shit to drive the SP down to more acceptable loss levels (cause let’s be honest: they’re still taking a fucking bath here) for Mel Tormé’s namesake hedgefund and all the other cretins that are dug into short position here. And they’re gonna try to scare ya’ with the color red! And they know that no one here likes the color red.
But do see what’s going on here and who we’re dealing with. This really ain’t rocket science, Rocket Children. The dude actually tried to claim he forgot about the Inauguration. In 2021. He has not been in a coma, to the best of my knowledge. But you do look a little bleary eyed, Andy. Must have been all that staying up super late working on those last few bullet points to fill out the powerpoint on that GME listicle of yours, eh sport?
Conclusion: On the Subject of Patience and The Arc of The Universe Bending Toward Ryan Fucking Cohen
In my youth there was a period of time where I went out on boats that would drop crates into the waters of the Arctic. Bundled inside them were raw pieces of meat. In the coming days the boats would head back out to the frigid seas, hook the floats bobbing upon the waters, and pull the crates up. Packed inside would be many crabs. They were so delicious & made a good price at market. The difference between the crate that was empty and the create full of bounty was a mystery even the great physicist Erwin Schrödinger pondered at much length.
But the hearty fishermen of my youth already knew the answer long ago. Why did the trap fill up? Time. In time, all traps fill. In time, all things pondered shall be revealed.
--The Fucking Viking, That’s Who
Now look, you all know I have a soft spot for Ryan Cohen. Hell, we all do. He’s a good dude. And the man has played this flawlessly so far. He really has. The fact that we are all sitting here with Ryan Cohen having successfully negotiated three seats on the Board—a bloodless coup as my man Rod Alzmann says—here in January? It’s amazing. His vision for GME is dialed-the-fuck in and extremely exciting. This misunderstood business is on the threshold of an exciting turnaround with Ryan Cohen at the helm. And though I was very much looking forward to the potential repercussions of a vote being called at the annual meeting and what that might mean for the short-term share price, this result is infinitely better. Whatever their motivations, that Board and George Sherman saw the writing on the wall here and accepted the Golden Bridge that Ryan offered them. And Ryan Cohen has done everything he’s set out to do here. And he’s clearly been having fun while doing it. Read up on the guy at some point if you haven’t–there’s lots of good DD out there on him, obviously. And while you’re reading and thinking about Ryan Cohen, think also about guys like Steve Cohen (no fucking relation) and Gabe Plotkin and Andy Left and how lucky we are that we get to roll with RC against that motley crew of fuckwads.
And do you know what? I’m guessing that RC, and maybe even the funds being discussed in that screenshot, have been very patient with Mr. Plotkin et al in recent weeks. You don’t go around bankrupting hedge funds willy nilly, you know--bad form and all that old chap. People tend to remember that. And guys like Steve Cohen and Gabe Plotkin seem like they play for keeps. So now you try to build them a Golden Bridge to cross—maybe not their preferred route of travel, but could be worse and all that, right guys? But for whatever reason it seems like the natural instinct here on the short side is fight over flight. And these short FUD tactics are getting increasingly ridiculous to help slow down the inevitable march toward the detonator right next to that bridge. So relax everyone! And let’s not fool ourselves: All those Masters of the Universes are well aware of the math problem they’re all facing here and they must have a vague grasp of the odds that this goes off in one direction over the other. And what that could mean for the size of their money pits and how many sports teams they can buy this year. Shit, I assume Steve Cohen is counseling his young acolyte about how many sads he himself felt deep down in his man heart on that fateful day in 2008 when he lost $250M on a short when Volkswagon squeezed to infinity—a sadness that he will continue to draw on when his agent finally finds him a role that calls for it.
But my point is: the longs here can afford to be patient and let this play out. When this thing moves, the Viking’s Schrödinger crabs will only be in one pot. And I’m guessing that pot is the one being held by the guy who is actually in total control here: Ryan Goddamn Cohen.
So enjoy the show today. If you’re anything like me, you’re feeling relaxed after gorging yourself on lucky space peanuts all week.(https://solarsystem.nasa.gov/news/10022/lucky-peanuts/)
And though these silly wabbits with their cumbersome FUD efforts can get a bit tiresome, I’m still very much enjoying this GME show at this point and almost do not want it to end—what with all these Sorkin-esque twists and turns and my Cohen Tweet Decorder Ring getting all this sweet action.
But just remember who Ryan Cohen is, what he cares about, and what, so far, he has told us he intends to do here. And then you might realize, as I have, that Ryan Cohen has had the Gray’s Sports Almanac here all along. This story has already been written. He’s already won. And Melvin Capital’s Schrödinger-ass crabs are dead as fuck. The only question now is: what causes that Golden Bridge to blow? I, for one, am content to wait on RC while counting my good fortune that I can continue to accumulate until whatever happens here happens. So pass the rocket peanuts.
It’s just money after all. Right Gabe?
TL/DR: Psst: a Mysterious Viking once told me about behind-the-scenes Golden Bridge negotiations that are likely taking place that give shorts no chance but the shorts seem to think they’re saying there’s a chance but there really is no chance; Gabe Plotkin, Steve Cohen and Andy Left are misunderstood Straight Shooters who probably answer typical interview questions about their own perceived weaknesses by saying “Sometimes I just care too much about doing the right thing”; and Ryan Cohen is the Goddamn Man so we can all relax and not worry so much about all this dumb short FUD bullshit, ok? OK. 🚀🚀🚀
**If you construe any of the above as investment advice without doing your own DD or at least Googling Ryan Cohen then you are a fucking idiot and may God have mercy on your soul. You too, Andy.

While some of these lessons might seem obvious, applying them to our lives on a consistent basis requires constant reminders and a lifetime of practice. Even Elon Musk probably breaks many of these rules himself. If we all adhered to the following 20 best practices on a regular basis, we'd possibly all be 10x more successful than wherever it is we are...

1. Listen carefully to the critics to hear what they have to say, but don’t always think that they happen to be right! Musk: “When Henry Ford made cheap, reliable cars, people said, ‘Nah, what’s wrong with a horse?’ That was a huge bet he made, and it worked.”
2. Don’t continue doubling down on a solution that isn’t working. The definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. Musk: “Don’t delude yourself into thinking something’s working when it’s not, or you’re gonna get fixated on a bad solution.”
3. Make sure you’re surrounded by people you enjoy being with…of course, if it is within your control. If the workplace becomes toxic, leave it. Or try to work with others on the team to develop a more pleasant work environment Musk: “It’s very important to like the people you work with, otherwise life [and] your job is gonna be quite miserable.”
4. Learn from the successes and failures of others. Musk: “You have to say, ‘Well, why did it succeed where others did not?”
5. Think about solutions that are 10x better than anything else out there. A slight improvement is not good enough to achieve rapid adoption and behavior change. Musk: “You shouldn’t do things differently just because they’re different. They need to be… better.”
6. Think about all the pieces of the puzzle and focus on each of the individual puzzle pieces without neglecting the others. This is an ongoing effort of personal tug of war between various priorities and your time. Never forget that time is your most valuable asset. Musk: “If you’re trying to create a company, it’s like baking a cake. You have to have all the ingredients in the right proportion.”
7. Build the right team or join the right team; it’s often much more important to achieving success than the product itself. Musk: “Starting and growing a business is as much about the innovation, drive, and determination of the people behind it as the product they sell.”
8. Ignore the resume. Think about a teammate’s character as much, if not more, than their specific technical skills. Musk: “My biggest mistake is probably weighing too much on someone’s talent and not [enough on] someone’s personality. I think it matters [a lot] whether someone has a good heart.”
9. Be a good person; whether you think you’re an example or not, you are, particularly in a work environment. Many people watch and observe your behavior, even if you’re not Elon Musk. Be a shining example to your teammates and colleagues by following the simple Golden Rule of doing to others what you would want done to you. Integrity matters. Musk: “We have a strict ‘no-assholes policy’ at SpaceX.”
10. Learn how to tolerate pain. A lot of pain. The short and medium-term horizons are often loaded with obstacles and landmines. Beware of them, and attempt to step around or disarm the landmines wherever possible. If your leg is blown off, figuratively speaking, of course, realize that you’re still alive and continue moving forward. Learn, iterate, and do better the next time in avoiding those landmines or disarming them altogether. Musk: “Being an entrepreneur is like eating glass and staring into the abyss of death.”
11. Pursue what makes you happy, not only in work, but outside work. Try new hobbies. Join new meetup groups. Try learning a new skill. Start a side-hustle project that you’re passionate about that could someday become a great company. Musk: “People should pursue what they’re passionate about. That will make them happier than pretty much anything else.”
12. After carefully planning a course of action and deciding that you’re going to do something, go all-in. Pour 110% of your energy into achieving the carefully thought-out objective. Musk: “What makes innovative thinking happen?… I think it’s really a mindset. You have to decide.”
13. If you believe strongly enough in something, pursue it. If things don’t work out initially (as they seldom do), don’t abandon too quickly. See point # 19 below. Musk: “When something is important enough, you do it even if the odds are not in your favor.”
14. Try to think positive, even when things are down and remind yourself of the old proverb: “this too shall pass.” It’s often in pits of darkness that we can see light at the end of the tunnel. Musk: “If you get up in the morning and think the future is going to be better, it is a bright day. Otherwise, it’s not.”
15. Listen to criticism. Ask for feedback, including negative feedback. Absorb it. Learn from it. Apply criticism that is relevant and discard the balance. Musk: “Really pay attention to negative feedback and solicit it, particularly from friends. … Hardly anyone does that, and it’s incredibly helpful.”
16. Get stuff done that will have a lasting impact on your community, environment and the world (ie no chasing quick $). Do it specifically to make a difference in the lives of those around you and the reward will be significant and generous in overall well-being, and might even bring financial success (which is only one small component of overall success in life). Musk: “I don’t create companies for the sake of creating companies, but to get things done.”
17. Do not spend your entire life thinking about ways things can fail. Get out there and do it. If it doesn’t work, iterate, and then try again. Iterate again. And again. Most people spend their days optimizing for every possible downside scenario. This obsessive down-size planning ties up mental resources to think creatively and outside of the box to get it done. You should of course analyze the problem or deal at hand and solicit input from others on downside scenarios. Don’t let perfection stand in the way of bringing something good to market. You can always make it better over time. A corollary to this rule for entrepreneurs is to make the product or idea real and tangible as fast as possible. This will help in the feedback loop process discussed in rule #15 earlier and #18 below. Musk: “There’s a tremendous bias against taking risks. Everyone is [always/frequently] trying to optimize their ass-covering.”
18. Develop a core group of advisors who will serve as a key part of your constant feedback loop (along with critics – Rule #15 – and initial customers – Rule #17). This core group of trusted advisors could be close friends, family members or even members of your community who know you well enough to offer meaningful advice. Reach out to these advisors often and consistently. Musk: “I think it’s very important to have a feedback loop, where you’re constantly thinking about what you’ve done and how you could be doing it better.”
19. Have grit. Do not give up. Most importantly, have patience. It’s one of the hardest lessons of an entrepreneur since entrepreneurs often want results quickly. Musk: “Persistence is very important. You should not give up unless you are forced to give up.”
20. Embrace change. Getting cozy and comfortable is easy. Sometimes it’s the right thing to do. But oftentimes, refusing to accept the inevitable change will stunt your own growth and path in life, whether in the personal or professional domain, and prevent you from achieving lasting success. Musk: “Some people don’t like change, but you need to embrace change [especially] if the alternative is [a] disaster.”

Hi there again! You might remember my previous posts, including my tournaments, lists of songs and albums, etc. I’m really enjoying my exploration of tons of new music in a huge variety of genres, and I thought I’d make a list of recommendations specifically curated for the open-minded prog fan (hopefully, those exist!).
I picked some of my favorite albums I’ve discovered within the past couple years in many different genres that would especially appeal to you guys. I’ve definitely hinted at this in previous threads, but this time, I know the material a lot better – not just recommending based on one listen and only knowing a single album in a genre.
So here’s my list of non-prog (or borderline) albums that I think any prog fan would love. Pick any genre, and I bet you’ll find something amazing there. Italicized albums are especially recommended! (Yes, many of these are VERY popular, but there’s a good chance most people haven’t heard every one of them.)
Soul
Marvin Gaye—What’s Going On: Rolling Stone actually gets it right with this at #1 overall. Prog fans will love the perfect flow between songs and the super grand arrangements. Definitely a musical essential.
Stevie Wonder—Songs in the Key of Life: I mean, these songs are all perfect. You’ll love the dense grooves, and honestly, this is the one album that I cannot fathom a single person disliking.
Tyler, the Creator—Igor: moving to 2019, here’s an album with extremely detailed and complex production that’s popular, ambitious, and fantastic.
Janelle Monae—The ArchAndroid: ok, a neo-soul concept album about a messianic android in five suites WITH OVERTURES literally called Metropolis. Should be way more popular among prog fans imo. Brilliant pop songs.
Jazz
Fela Kuti—Expensive Shit: Fela pioneered the style of Afrobeat, which mixes Nigerian music with jazz-funk. Brilliant short album with two 10ish minute songs that’ll get you grooving. Definitely read the backstory of the title track.
Pharoah Sanders—Karma: unbelievable spiritual jazz album. At this point I’m just recommending my favorite jazz albums, because you definitely should check out the genre if you like prog, especially King Crimson.
Charles Mingus—The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady: the jazz masterpiece with the most complex and “proggy” composition, although it would be more accurate to say “Red” is the prog album with the most Mingus-y style.
John Coltrane—A Love Supreme: probably my favorite jazz album and certainly perfection.
The Comet Is Coming—Trust in the Lifeforce of the Deep Mystery: electronic space jazz fusion from 2019, courtesy of Shabaka Hutchings. One track sounds exactly like jazz “Starship Trooper,” and other has a brilliant spoken word passage on top of a speedy sax solo.
Indie
Joanna Newsom—Ys: masterpiece of modern progressive folk, once you get used to the vocals. The string arrangements are incredibly intricate.
Stereolab—Emperor Tomato Ketchup*,* Dots and Loops: chill yet harmonically complex band that blends noise rock, bossa nova, artsy indie pop, jazzy chord progressions, and French vocals into hypnotic bliss. Both of these albums are absolutely brilliant and should be mentioned here a lot more.
Sufjan Stevens—Illinois*,* The Age of Adz, Carrie and Lowell: in my opinion the best indie artist, Sufjan takes a different approach on each album. His masterpiece, Illinois, showcases a mixture of flashy progressive pop and melancholic indie folk – go listen to it now! The Age of Adz tackles pop songwriting with electronic overload and a 25 prog pop epic at the end, Impossible Soul. Carrie and Lowell features stripped down indie folk pieces and cuts at my heartstrings. Strongly, strongly recommend his work.
Sweet Trip—Velocity: Design: Comfort: shoegaze + glitchy electronic + indie pop, a great combination. They have a new album coming out this spring.
Pop
Shiina Ringo—Kalk Samen Kuri No Hana: combines the catchiest pop hooks with the craziest instrumentation and chord progressions. I cannot get enough of this album. It’s unbelievable.
Tears for Fears—The Seeds of Love: you know this album if you’ve ever watched a Steven Wilson interview. He’s totally right about it, brilliant.
Björk—Homogenic, Vespertine: I am absolutely obsessed with Björk’s music more than anything else in the world. Both of these are desert island discs for me. Her voice is just indescribable. Please listen!
Kate Bush—Hounds of Love: you’ve probably heard this mentioned as the greatest progressive pop album, and whoever said that has a point. The first half is loaded with pop bangers, and the second contains a prog-like medley that works just as well as the one on Abbey Road.
Talk Talk—Spirit of Eden, Laughing Stock: you might have seen Steven Wilson mention this 80’s experimental pop group. Super lush and ambient, yet profound. Called “post-rock” too, but I don’t like that genre title.
Sigur Ros—Agaetis Byrjun: ethereal Icelandic dream pop with gorgeous and emotive vocals from Jonsi. Absolutely one of my go-to comfort/emotional albums. Called “post-rock” too, but I don’t like that genre title (2).
“Experimental”/Metal/Post-Rock
John Zorn—Naked City: avant-garde jazz + grindcore punk makes for quite the entertaining experience. I’ve been meaning to check out “At the Mountains of Madness” too, which is apparently quite a gargantuan album.
Kayo Dot—Choirs of the Eye: I jokingly describe this album as “Avant-Garde Classical Ambient Doom Death Black Poetry Metal,” and yeah, that about sums it up. Not as heavy as the “Death Doom Black” section of that would suggest, but “The Manifold Curiosity” contains one of the most cathartic and powerful sections of music I have ever heard.
Agalloch—The Mantle: post-rock + (light) black metal + dark folk, for fans of Opeth. Despite the black metal tag, it’s not that heavy. I can actually sit through it and enjoy it, and the “worst” vocals feel almost like whispers.
Anna von Hausswolff—Dead Magic: she’s a talented organ player, but the real highlights here are her acrobatic vocals and astonishingly cathartic buildups. The 16 minute “Ugly and Vengeful” is beyond words.
Godspeed You! Black Emperor—Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven: The pinnacle of post-rock. While listening to Storm, I cannot believe humanity has created something so beautiful. And if you like 20 minute tracks, you’ve got four perfect ones here.
Alternative Rock
Radiohead—OK Computer, Kid A: Radiohead has a fair claim to the “best band of all time” label. These two diametrically opposed masterpieces both fall within my top 10 LPs ever. No music fan should miss them!
Muse—Origin of Symmetry: the more theatrical version of Radiohead can sometimes be too much for me, but several songs such as the gripping opener “New Born” always blow me away.
Mr. Bungle—California: Absolutely no idea why this isn’t considered progressive rock. The peak of crazy genre-switching intermixed with great ballads like “Retrovertigo.” Particularly, any early Haken fan that wants less Dream Theater influence needs this record (I know, specific, but it applies to me, soooooo…).
Kairon; IRSE!—Polysomn: psychedelic rock + post-rock + shoegaze with a little hint of prog. It’s euphoric, and they’re possibly my artist of the decade!
Jeff Buckley—Grace: classic singer-songwriter album with some complex chord progressions. The title track is one of my all-time favorite songs, and Buckley gives a vocal performance to die for.
Classic Rock
The Zombies—Odessey and Oracle: beautiful harmonies, would be surprised if Yes did not love this record.
The Beatles—Abbey Road: I mean, you know this already, right?
Led Zeppelin—Houses of the Holy: same here, any Zeppelin is great, but here’s the best for a prog fan.
David Bowie—Blackstar, Low: my two favorite Bowie albums might convince you if Ziggy Stardust was too in-your-face. (I love TRAFOZSATSFM, what an acronym.) Both are absolutely brilliant.
Electronic
Flying Lotus—Cosmogramma: vibrant, colorful, maximalist electronic from FlyLo. Absolutely no idea why Tangerine Dream is considered progressive electronic and this masterpiece isn’t. I guess this has more to do with jazz?
Ulver—Perdition City: a former black metal band dives into sizzling trip-hop that could score a Batman movie.
Aphex Twin—Drukqs: you want complex? You got it! How could a human program that shit?
Boards of Canada—Geogaddi: haunting, nostalgic IDM (“intelligent dance music,” possibly the snobbiest genre name this side of “progressive rock”). Perhaps the greatest study album.
Tim Hecker—Virgins: my favorite ambient record. The grandness of “Dark Side of the Moon,” but instrumental.
Hip-Hop
Kendrick Lamar—To Pimp a Butterfly: probably the greatest hip-hop album ever, I know that’s a basic opinion. The jazzy instrumentals combined with great lyrics form a very profound record. Add Thundercat on bass, Kamasi Washington on sax, and Flying Lotus handling arrangements, you’ve got a masterpiece. Best intro to hip-hop.
Digable Planets—Blowout Comb: great jazz rap album.
Madvillain—Madvillainy: MF DOOM and Madlib create brilliant music through short snippets and sample-filled verses. Spot the Gentle Giant sample – it’s actually super cool in a rap context. “Supervillain Theme” is my favorite sub 1-minute song ever, possibly.
Death Grips—The Powers That B: especially Disc 1, with its ‘chopped-and-screwed’ Björk samples. This is absolutely the closest hip-hop has gotten to being “progressive” in the prog rock sense, even as it’s obviously progressive in many other ways. Surreal, glitchy, complex, somehow catchy, and addictive. Check this out even if you tried “The Money Store” and didn’t like it – that’s how I got into them.
DJ Shadow—Endtroducing…: this record is made ENTIRELY out of samples, literally piecing together passages from thousands of other records over years to create a jazzy, psychedelic masterpiece of instrumental hip-hop. A completely new way to make music… that’s the most progressive thing.
Massive Attack—Mezzanine: instead of the “Rage Against the Machine” style of rapping over rock instrumentation, Mezzanine features lush hip-hop beats but mostly melodic pop or rock songs over the top. But where this masterpiece of trip-hop really gets going is the heavy guitar driven climaxes of “Angel,” “Dissolved Girl,” and “Group Four.” A very good entry point to hip-hop, because it’s really only halfway there.
Punk/Post-Punk/Math Rock (“Pronk”)
Talking Heads—Remain in Light: I’m not a massive fan of post-punk, but the thick, detailed grooves of the Heads always hit the spot. The first half of this album is perfect. Featuring a couple Adrian Belew solos!
Hella—Hold Your Horse Is: best math rock album, I think. Insane drumming and stellar tappy twinkly guitar playing.
Don Caballero—What Burns Never Returns: another great math rock album. You’ll get the idea of the genre from these two albums. Most math rock releases sound the same as each other, but they’re all quite good!
black midi—Schlagenheim: the next big prog (adjacent) band to watch. If you want a fresh take on 80s King Crimson, look no further. 953 is electrifying, and the frontman (Geordie Greep) is totally bonkers.
Slint—Spiderland: insanely influential 1991 album that spawned a million different genres like post-rock and math rock. The spoken word vocals and sudden time changes create an atmosphere of paranoia. Great lyrics, too.
Glenn Branca—The Ascension: very unique album, composed like a symphony but using an atonal punk aesthetic to get the point across. I’ve seen the album described as the musical equivalent of anxiety, and yeah, that’s pretty accurate. The buildups foreshadow post-rock, too.
TL;DR 10 Albums to Get You Into Non-Prog (chronological order):

1. Charles Mingus—The Black Saint and the Sinner Lady (Avant-Garde Jazz)
2. Marvin Gaye—What’s Going On (Soul)
3. Talking Heads—Remain in Light (Post-Punk/New Wave)
4. DJ Shadow—Endtroducing… (Instrumental Hip-Hop/Plunderphonics)
5. Björk—Homogenic (Art Pop)
6. Godspeed You! Black Emperor—Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas to Heaven (Experimental/Post-Rock)
7. Shiina Ringo—Kalk Samen Kuri No Hana (Experimental Art Pop)
8. Sufjan Stevens—Illinois (Symphonic Indie Pop/Indie Folk)
9. Flying Lotus—Cosmogramma (Electronic/Jazz Fusion)
10. Kendrick Lamar—To Pimp A Butterfly (Jazz Rap)

I didn’t include OK Computer, Kid A, Abbey Road, and Blackstar because I think most people would have heard those before. If you haven’t, they absolutely qualify here!
I hope you love whichever albums you try!
Edit: u/CommunistOrc had such a great comment that I'd like to copy/paste it here for you all!
Wow. Incredible list, tons of amazing albums from a diverse range of genres. For anyone who likes some of these albums, but wants more from the same artists, I'll compile a list of other, maybe less popular albums from some of the same artists that I think are just as worth checking out:
Pharoah Sanders - Black Unity: This is the spiritual free jazz from Karma taken to a groovier, more experimental dimension, with two dueling bassists playing one of the best basslines of all time. It slowly escalates to the point of chaos, but is always stunningly fascinating.
John Coltrane - The Olatunji Concert: While this isn't my favorite Trane album, it's damn close, and what it lacks compared to Live in Japan's scale, it makes up for it raw aggression, and emotion. This was three months before he died, and he was suffering from liver cancer. The pain in his playing is evident, a man breathing his pain out through his saxophone, creating some of the most emotionally and spiritually intense music ever recorded. The recording quality gives it an even more raw edge, that makes this my second favorite jazz album of all time.
Sweet Trip - You Will Never Know Why: This album dials it back from VDC's glitchy shoegazey IDM, to a more electronic indie pop sort of zone. This album has some of the best songwriting of all time I feel, with so many bangers it should be illegal. Highly recommended for Sweet Trip fans, or for those who thought VDC was a bit much, either in length, or sound.
Mark Hollis - s/t: Mark Hollis (singer, songwriter, and frontman of Talk Talk) released one solo album, that carries on in the same vein as Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock, but even more sparse, and bleak. I find this to be a wonderful listen, essential for Talk Talk fans.
Electric Masada - At The Mountains of Madness: This double CD live album from Electric Masada, led by John Zorn, is avant-garde jazz fusion, strongly influenced also by both metal and klezmer. Yeah, very wild combination of styles, and it's an equally wild listen. Comparisons to Bitches Brew are common here, and while they are certainly different sounding albums, they are similar in terms of revolutionary genre fusion, and massive scope. Recommended for fusion fans, especially those who like Bitches Brew.
GY!BE - F#A#∞: GY!BE's first album (All Lights Fucked doesn't count) is their quietest, and most interesting to me. The heavy use of samples and spoken word create an atmosphere of dreading, and the instrumentals are simply breathtaking. Like watching the immediate aftermath of an apocalyptic cataclysmic event.
Kairon; IRSE! - Ujubasajuba: Not a ton to say here, just really good shoegaze. Gnarly guitar tones, a definite must listen for any shoegaze fan, though not a good entry point to the genre (Loveless and Souvlaki are better)
Freddie Gibbs and Madlib - Pinata: Madlib provides some of the best beats of his career here, rivaling his work on Madvillainy, but I tend to prefer Gibbs as a rapper to MF DOOM. Heresy, I know. DOOM is amazing at what he does, I just don't enjoy what he does a ton. Anyway, this album is one of the best hip-hop albums of the 2010s, and is required listening for any Madvillainy fan.
Glenn Branca - The Third Ascension: This takes the totalist nightmare of The Ascension and turns it up to 11. This is the soundtrack of hell being unleashed into our mortal realm. One of my friends once described this album as "Glenn Branca detonating a nuclear bomb on your head, instantly killing you," and I find that apt. The first 30 seconds of Cold Thing are some of the most intimidating, downright terrifying music I've ever heard. The kind of music that activates your fight or flight response.
Finally, this isn't related to any album on OP's list, but The Microphones - The Glow Pt. 2 is my favorite album of all time, and something I think any music lover should give a go at least once. Ideally more than once, since it is a grower I think. The songwriting is stunningly beautiful, or mysteriously hypnotic, or catchy, or noisy and furious, and more. The variety on display in this indie folk / rock album is immense. The amount of ground it covers in its 20 song, hour long runtime is massive, but it never feels like too much. Furthermore, the production is immaculate, with so many layers and details that I think I've noticed something new on literally every listen. The emotional attachment I have to this album is massive, but even putting that aside, I still think it's a basically perfect album. If you only listen to one album from this comment, make it this one.
Edit 2: u/boredop made another great comment that I'd like to add in!
A few things from the jazz/funk/soul side of the universe:

• War - The World Is A Ghetto - deep funk and soul, long jams, great arrangements, classic songs. An incredible album.
• Pat Metheny and John Zorn - Tap (compositions by Zorn, all instruments except drums by Metheny). Check out the first song.
• Parliament - Mothership Connection - the ultimate funk concept album; see also Clones of Dr. Funkenstein, Funkentelechy vs. The Placebo Syndrome, and Motor Booty Affair.
• Don Ellis - At Fillmore; Live At Monterey, Electric Bath, Shock Treatment - the ultimate prog/jazz big band. Tons of odd meters, weird instrumentation, and all around experimentalism from the '60s and '70s. Surely the only band in the world that could swing in 19/4 time.
• Herbie Hancock - Thrust - the greatest jazz/funk album of all time IMO. Herbie builds layers of synth textureson top of incredible shifting funk polyrhythms.
• Buddy Rich - The Roar of '74 - another big band extravaganza. Very dense arrangments with powerhouse drumming. Highlight for prog fans: Waltz of the Mushroom Hunters.
• Curtis Mayfield - Superfly - the ultimate Blaxploitation soundtrack. Three monster hits and some great film scoring.
• Nathan Parker Smith - Not Dark Yet - a big band album from a few years ago. Quite obscure but absolutely incredible work with a huge influence from prog and metal.
• Thelonious Monk - Brilliant Corners - all-time classic jazz, and the title track is some of the most progressive jazz of its time or any time.
• Zion80 - Adrelmach - from the same series as the Metheny/Zorn album above. Zion80 is a band from NYC that plays "Jewish Afrobeat" music. This album is all Zorn compositions and it's a total knockout and funky as shit.
• Laura Nyro - Eli and the 13th Confession - late '60s singesongwriter masterpiece, lots of jazz and soul influences, lush orchestration and rhythms that turn on a dime.

I gotta say, I am always surprised when I meet someone who is into prog but not jazz. They seem like such obvious bedfellows to me. Jazz at its best has everything prog fans love - virtuosity, rhythmic complexity, intricate compositions, usually with the added bonus of swinging like crazy.
Thanks for reading!

So then folks ready to get that cliffhanger from last time, resolved? Well, luckily for you chapter 78 is here and ready to read. hopefully with an accurate title this time.
The editing duo have collectively shaken their heads at the results of my labor and then made it into something fit for showing off to you guys. So I say we got on with it.
​
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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Chapter 79: How Does That Even Work?
Tom’s head shot up. “Kalestine! We need to get them to Kalestine!” He shouted out at the others. Heads turning to face him.
“Tom, we can’t hurt a unicorn,” Zarko replied despairingly.
“I don’t care. I asked her, she said maybe. Maybes will do right now. Jarix, we’re moving. Jackalope, on your feet we ain’t done yet.” That last part was superfluous as she had already yanked the girl away from Unkai and started sprinting towards Jarix. Zarko and Unkai also snapped to it, Tom guessed the excuse of Kalestine having said so would do for them.
“Can you walk?” Tom questioned the boy who had come clambering out. He was clearly struggling to get to his feet, even if he had stopped crying. “Come now grab on, I'll carry you,” Tom went, kneeling down in front of the kid who latched on. He grabbed his helmet, slapping it on, then picked up the basket holding it tight, and made his way to where Jarix was getting clear of the buildings.
Unkai had grabbed the boy who had been clutching the basket, even if he was breathing he was clearly not in good shape either, Zarko carrying the twins. It was a mad scramble to get everyone on board and secure.
“Jacky, rifle,” Tom went, pointing to the hole where he had left it. Jackalope quickly half-ran half-flew over to grab it as Jarix set off at a gallop to get airborne. “Everyone hang on,” Zarko instructed as she held onto the dead girl. Tom made sure the basket wasn’t going anywhere as Jarix jumped into the air, wings driving down hard.
Jackalope made it back in no time as jarix was getting up to speed, setting down with the precious rifle. Tom quickly slung it over his shoulder. It was clear she had not fared much better than him, eyes red and wet. She was smiling though and there was hope in her eyes. Tom really hoped Kalestine wasn’t gonna rob her of that.
“Zarko, you know where she is?"
“That I do,” she replied. There was a hint of reluctance in her voice. As she looked at the kids currently strewn about Jarix's back, her face seemed to go from stern to pained and she started relaying instructions.
‘Kalestine better not be a bitch today, or I’m gonna end up a heretic,’ Tom thought to himself, looking at the kids. There were six in total; four boys and two girls, those being the two youngest. The oldest of them being the one who had come crawling out. Tom guessed he was around eleven, which would make him a young man by dragonette standards.
He was sitting next to Tom, shifting between looking at his little sister in the basket and at the others around him. Clearly overwhelmed by what was happening. The twins still hadn’t let go of each other and looked terrified as all hell.
“What’s your name?” Tom asked the young man, trying to divert his attention from the girl Jackalope was clutching tight. Poor Jacky, Tom thought to himself. Based on the story of her home, this was likely all too familiar for her, after all. She knew better than anyone what these kids were going through.
“Lothal,” the answer finally came, meekly as could be. Tom turned back to him, doing his best to smile.
“I’m Tom, don’t worry I’m less scary than I look,” Tom tried in the softest voice he could manage right now. “Who are your friends?” The kid sniffed a few times before turning to the others pointing.
“That’s Hulu and Hana,” he went, pointing at the twins. “That’s Revel,” he continued pointing to the boy Unkai was tending to. “That's Vibexa.” His voice started to quiver as he pointed to Jackalope, then looking down into the basket. “Jinaro,” he finished, holding back more crying.
“Now now, come here,” Tom went, holding him tight with his right arm.
“No one else made it, did they?”
“I don’t think so no.”
“I guess mother was right then… I’ll have to do,” Lothal continued, bringing out a golden huntress crown from under his clothes and clutching it tightly in his hands. ‘Oh buddy,’ Tom thought.
“Thank you… sir?”
“I’m no sir… well I'm a man if that is what you mean. And don’t worry about it, you've had it rough enough, you don't need to thank anyone.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
“That crazy bastard really managed to get us in today?” Sapphire couldn’t quite believe that. Perhaps the engineering guild was a lot less busy than she thought, or Tink held more sway than she had guessed.
“Yup, come on now, better hurry up,” Tink Junior replied. They had barely finished breakfast yet, but Sapphire guessed that would have to wait.
“What about the prototypes?” Dakota questioned, not yet moving from her seat.
“The rudder was easy enough, membrane leather did the trick just fine. And he managed to light himself on fire only two hours ago so the lighter is coming along well I think.”
“He lit himself on fire… and that's a good thing?” Sapphire had to ask, thinking back to Tom's warning about not getting a crazy guy.
“Well it worked. Not that it was too hard.”
“Wait, two hours ago. He hasn’t slept yet, has he?” Dakota questioned. ‘Going to a meeting with a sleeping crazy inventor, marvelous,’ Sapphire thought to herself.
“Noo, I tried to get him to go to bed. I woke up, when he burned himself on the drawing thing."
“He made those too?”
“Only the inside bit, didn’t have time for the wood. It's proof of concept after all. The lighter is a little big too.”
“How big?” Dakota questioned intently.
“About uhmmm... I mean you could hang it on your belt.”
Dakota sighed a little. “When is this meeting?”
“Oh it’s not until late in the afternoon. We were hoping you would lend us a hand.”
“That sounds fun. We got anything more important to do?” Balethon questioned, all the while stuffing his face full of fried eggs.
“We still have more things to find. That won’t matter though if we can’t afford them.” Dakota put down her utensils. “Let’s go lend a hand then.”
Having a local guide did help quite a bit with navigating. Especially since Junior seemed to know just about where everything was, even pointing out a few of the things they needed as they glided over the city. It had been a while since Sapphire last had to deal with this much traffic, she wasn’t a silvered huntress and tonselra champion for nothing though.
Balethon, on the other hand, earned some rather rude remarks from passersby when he nearly hit a family with children. Not that Dakota was much easier on him after that. “Seriously, watch where you are going. You’ll make people think we don’t teach the kids properly”
“Geez I said I was sorry, okay?”
“Down here, try not to hit anything,” Junior went in a sarcastic tone as he descended. Sapphire had been expecting to land on the street but apparently Junior thought they deserved special treatment as he set down on the roof.
Going down the stairs they found a, very much so, sleeping Tink at a workbench.
“Wake up dad, I told you to go to bed,” Junior went, kicking the chair. Tink woke with a start, looking around a tad confused.
“Oh I see, it's morning. Right, I have things to show you. Come now,” he went, leaving the room and dragging Dakota by the arm into the drawing-room. “Look, it can draw just like he said it could. Just some clay powder and that ghastly grey dye.” He sounded very excited as he presented a small grey stick to Dakota. It wasn’t even the length of her thumb and it was rather fat. Not at all like the ones Tom had brought.
“Try it out,” he continued, gesturing to a piece of paper on the table. Dakota did as instructed, drawing a line on the parchment. It did leave a nice trail on the page even if it was more of a fat smudge than the elegant lines Tom’s pencils could draw. “Not bad for a day's work, hey?”
“Definitely not. Very impressive,” Dakota had to admit, putting the thing down again. She gasped when she saw what it had done to her hand. “What in the... I need to wash my hands. Do you have water?
“Oh, sure, follow me,” Junior went as the two left to solve the problem.
“Right… whoops. I can see why you would want to put some wood around it. Still haven't worked out how to do that though.”
“You also need to sharpen it,” Sapphire interjected. She had tried Tom’s pencils before, which was clearly important for good results.
“Oh, of course. I’ll get the grindstones.”
“Just use a knife, it’s easier.”
“Oh… well okay then.”
“What about making it go away again. The rudder?”
“Oh, I just used some strips of membrane leather glued together into a little block, nice and cheap. Here,” he tossed Sapphire the little thing. It looked a lot more like what she had been expecting.
“Is that the lighter?” Balethon asked, looking at what Sapphire would best describe as a nice lantern that had been ripped apart poorly.
“Oh yes, I didn't have time to make that tiny thing so I just made the little spark thing and put it on a lantern. Look.” True to his word, he flicked the wheel on the side and the thing lit up with a burst of sparks, burning with a nice clean flame. “Alternatively, we could just sell these as self-lighting lanterns.”
“Dakota is gonna like this,” Sapphire concluded. “You did all this since yesterday?”
“Sure, the Dencil was the most difficult. I need to make a proper mold for that. It didn’t get hot enough either. It likes to crumble so I made a few to show off.”
“Okay then. What was it you wanted us for then?”
“Oh, I need some help with this thing,” he went, this time grabbing Sapphire by the arm to drag her along. She entertained him for the time being; he had done one hell of a job for one night after all. He went to the big room where they had found him sleeping. “I just needed to know about those naggnet things, so I started putting this together.”
“Uh uh, not happening,” Sapphire protested as she looked at his very rushed-looking sketches, which to her dismay had a jar of blitz gel on them. With what she assumed were wires sticking out of it.
“Why not?! I mean I still haven't figured out how to make the thin copper strands it talked about in the instructions, but it was very clear that you needed lightning. What better way to get it than blitz gel?”
“That stuff explodes… regularly,” Sapphire tried in the voice usually reserved for when Jackalope had a bad idea. It was as effective as always.
“I ain’t gonna hit it with a hammer or anything!” Tink protested, much to Sapphire's dismay.
“Have you ever worked with electricity?” She asked very pointedly.
“No…”
“Then let me teach you a few lessons I have learned. One, that stuff can and will blow up even when you think you know what you are doing. Two, it’s fucking loud when it does so and it breaks things. Three, the man who designed this stuff originally also has this stuff blow up on him… regularly. So you stand no chance.”
Tink looked somewhere between offended and a kid who had his toy taken away. “Well then what?” he replied with an exasperated shrug.
“We do as the instructions say of course?”
“But this is what the instructions said...”
‘Fuck!’ Sapphire really should have read those before betting Tom hadn't been this reckless.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Tom and Jackalope had sat down next to each other with their backs to the other kids so they didn’t have to look at their two dead sisters. Lothal was doing his best along with Zarko and Unkai to keep them distracted, but it was clear they still wanted to know what was going on.
“How many do you think they killed?”
“None, they're recruiting,” Jackalope replied darkly, staring back towards the keep as it got smaller in the distance. Tom leaned in to whisper into her ear, not wanting the kids to hear.
“Where do you think they're going next?”
“Knowing our luck they made it past us on the way here without us spotting them.”
“You don’t think that…
“I don't know, okay!” She replied angrily, head snapping to look at him. Of course she didn’t, how could she. She seemed to regret it though, turning to look down at the girl she was still clutching. “I was five… I guess she wins then.”
“Wins what?” Tom tried as delicately as he could.
“Most unlucky little girl.” Tom just put his head on her shoulder.
“If she will be half the badass as you are it can’t be all bad.”
“She will be even more badass. She will have unicorn’s blood.”
‘God I hope so,’ Tom thought to himself.
It was not much of a trip, Jarix was trying to go as fast as possible while being restrained by Zarko. They couldn’t have anyone falling off, and chances were good Jarix's job was far from done today. They had made the clearing in a matter of minutes, circling down to land by the edge of the waterhole.
‘Can you hear me?’ Tom tried to think as they were descending.
“Yes,” came the weary response. “Why have you brought the kids?” Jackalope seemed to react to that as well, so he guessed this was on the broad channel. He would rather spare the kids for now though. They didn’t need to have their faces rubbed in the fact they were likely all orphans now.
‘They’re all that's left.’ There was a fair bit of silence following that, coinciding with Jarix touching down and trotting over to the small shelter they had made for Kalestine.
“I take it you came here for blood, then?”
‘Please. We tried, we can’t help them.’ Tom and Jacky carried down the two girls, while the others handled the rest of the kids, trying to keep them away. Lothal was doing a remarkably good job of keeping calm, even if the same could not be said for the rest of them. The shock factor was clearly still in effect for them though.
Tom and Jackalope had sat down with Kalestine placing the two dead kids before her.
“You know the punishment for hurting a unicorn, you will be barred from heaven for doing that.” Jackalope didn’t seem to flinch at that, so Tom guessed that was common knowledge.
“Right away or at some point?” He had to ask. He reasoned that chances were pretty good he was going to hell anyway if he died. He could hardly be more of a heretic anyway around these parts.
“When you die, I think.”
“Good enough for me,” Tom replied, drawing his knife. Jackalope grabbed him by the hand, yanking him into an embrace. Nuzzling him closely and even giving him a boop, which he guessed was her way of trying a kiss. He returned the gesture as best he could. Then she released him, looking a bit coy.
“Just in case,” She went, looking down.
“Hey, I don’t think this will kill me. Besides, I don't even follow your gods,” Tom replied, turning back to Kalestine. “How much and where from?”
“I didn’t say I would let you,” Kalestine responded; Tom’s grip on the knife tightened. “I will let you try, for a price.”
“Name it,” Tom responded. ‘Bartering with the lives of a fucking baby.’ He tried not to think about how much that made him hate her right now.
“Find and kill the one who broke my horn,” Kalestine replied, switching into a vicious tone. “And make them suffer for it.”
“With pleasure,” Jackalope responded coldly. Tom had to admit he didn’t have a problem with that either. He was guessing that would fall under hunting down child murderers.
“Deal. Now, where and how much?”
“Do try and put it where it can’t be seen. I’m looking like a whipped draft horse already.” Tom had to admit, the glamour of when he had first seen her had sort of vanished. Magic life horse though, so he was sure that would return eventually. “You won’t need much, a few drops will do.”
That wasn’t too hard to manage, as he moved to her side. “Thank you,” he went as he nicked her by her cloven hoof. He had expected a horse’s hoof, but what the hell, it was hardly the strangest thing about her.
The small nick didn't bleed much but it did the trick as he scooped up some of the strange silvery liquid in the fuller of his knife. Jackalope brought the basket over, setting it down next to Tom and held the little girl's mouth open.
“When you run out of science, use magic I guess,” Tom went, tilting the knife to let the blood run into the little girl's mouth.
The effect was immediate as the liquid seemed to burn its way through the tongue and sides of the little girl's mouth, bright white light beaming out from where Tom was expecting a wound to be. There was just a quick flash then it was gone, with no evidence remaining.
He flinched back at the sight, it was a violent reaction. Jackalope was clearly not expecting that either, turning away from the flash of light for a split second. Kalestine let out a pained sound as the blood hit. Tom guessed she was paying for this somehow then. In fact, she appeared to be paying quite a lot.
Then the little girl convulsed, almost like she had been hit with an electric shock, eyes, and mouth shooting open, with the same blinding white light pouring from them. It looked more like something out of a horror film as the scream came, an agonizing desperate scream of a baby in great pain. She thrashed around, the light beaming from her. Tom felt he needed to do something, but Jackalope hit him in the chest with enough force to drive out his breath when he leaned forward.
“Don't touch her.”
The light slowly began to fade from blinding to bright to none as eventually the clear green of the kid’s eyes could be seen. The scream turning to the sweetest sound Tom could hope for. Crying.
__________________________________________________________________________________
The baby lives! Now be honest how many of you thought I was gonna kill the little baby? Ahh don't worry there is still a kid left and who knows baby might be a Hodor now. And Tink has been very productive it would seem, hopefully, his rushing nature doesn't lead to any horrible situations, we have enough of those at the moment.
As always let me know what you thought good and bad down below and may you all have an awesome day.
​
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Sapphire
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So then time to see if Jackalope accidentally joins the dragonette space program or if it will be some other unlucky bastard. They might find some targets of opportunity on their little trip after all.
The editing duo has once again had a crack at it. I don't know about you but I think they are doing one hell of a job.
On account of not having any more clever things to say I think we should dive right into chapter 76 of this not so little story.
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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__________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 76: Recon
“Ohh I remember that mountain. We slept in a cave there during a storm,” Jackalope went, pointing to the center peak of what looked like a miniature mountain chain. “That was a shitty day.”
“I bet it was. Does it have a name?” Tom questioned, looking the mountain over.
“Can’t remember,” Jackalope replied. “Something beginning with ‘hyrta’ I think.”
“That should mark around halfway,” Zarko went, looking at her map book.
“Excellent, I can't wait,” Jarix replied, clearly excited.
“You do know there is a very high chance we find absolutely nothing right?” Zarko went, in an indifferent tone.
“Oh they’ll be there, I know it.”
“If they are, people likely have died. I would prefer if we aren't hoping for that,” Tom stated. ‘Honestly Jarix,’ Tom thought to himself. It would seem there was still a ways to go with the young dragon’s compassion. He had another lesson to conduct though. “Right, Jacky I want to see you go through this thing again.”
“Sure, “ Jackalope replied, drawing the revolver from the borrowed thigh holster. Tom had been wondering if it would fit. It had only just done so, but it was on there nice and tight. “Safety is on, weapon is loaded. Reloading; open cylinder and extract,” she went through the motions just like he had taught her, extracting the bullets and placing them into the little pouch she had found for storing them until a proper belt could be arranged. Then she proceeded to reload the cylinder before clicking it shut nice and gently.
“Very good. Bring it up to fire.”
She responded, bringing the pistol up with both hands and peering down the sights. Tom was not much of an instructor, but he knew the basics. Jackalope's form was on point, though, following their first attempts. He had been worried she would be afraid of the gun following what it had done to her hand the last time. If she was, he certainly couldn’t tell. “Looks good.”
“I always look good,” Jackalope responded in a cocky tone, holstering the revolver again.
“Just a little banged up at times,” Zarko responded, mockingly.
“Scars are badass,” Jarix added in. “You're just jealous you don’t have any good ones.”
“Look who’s talking, pretty boy,” Zarko fired back. She was right of course, Jarix was damn near pristine, even if a bit of the sheen had worn off. Likely the result of not getting the polish he had been talking about.
“Ohh, are we showing scars?!” Jackalope exclaimed. “Well, you gave me one on my nose,” she went, stamping her foot a bit. “Got this one when I hit a tree when I was 8... ohh, and Fengi shot me in the ass once by accident. I ain’t showing that one though.” Tom had to suppress a giggle at that. “That one was a varghulf stinger” She continued pointing to a neat scar across her belly. “What’s you got Zarko?”
“Mine are mostly sparring and training,” Zarko admitted. “Some idiot tried to beat me up with a glass bottle in a bar once, got me across the shoulder.” There was indeed a sizable scar running down her left shoulder, Tom observed. He had thought it was a sword-cut or something. He could see a broken bottle do that though.
“What about you?” Jackalope questioned, looking at Tom. “Ohh quite a few... I was shot a few times, you know when. Got this one cliff diving on vacation once.” He went lifting up his trouser leg.
“What's a vacation?” Zarko questioned. “And why did you jump off a cliff?”
“I gotta say even I think that sounds stupid when you can't fly,” Jackalope added very thoughtfully.
“Oh right, a holiday is like, some time off from work. Where you can just go and enjoy things. I went traveling for that one. Went someplace warm to relax and have fun.”
“You jumped off a cliff... for fun?” Unkai questioned, clearly not buying it.
“Into water of course. There just wasn't quite enough water. A bit like when Fengi dropped me in the lake.”
“Ouch,” Jackalope went with a grimace.
“Okaaay, Zarko do you get vacations?” Unkai asked, looking away from Tom the mad man.
“We get time off, sure. You know, if we’re just sitting around anyway. How long is a vacation?”
“A few weeks usually, we're paid too.”
“Then no, we do not,” She responded sounding slightly miffed, ears dropping.
“I would like to travel sometime. You know, go see the world,” Jackalope responded with a hint of dreaminess to her voice.
“Should have joined the guard then,” Jarix added. “If they'd have you.”
“Not everyone can just get in because they are a damn dragon.” Zarko scolded him.
“Just because Sapphire wasn't good enough doesn’t mean I’m not,” Jackalope stated confidently.
“Sorry, they care about money mostly. Unless there is a war on. Who knows, depending on what we find today your chances might be improving.”
“Hah, when we're done with them, they are gonna ask me” Jackalope replied patting the revolver. Tom really wanted to repeat his earlier statement about not hoping for people being in trouble, but elected to shut up.
There had been a few sights to see, the odd cliff, a forest lake here and there, and a few clearings of course. Mostly though it was the sheer scale of the forest that blew Tom away. It just kept going as far as the eye could see for hours.
“Why aren't there more dragonettes here?” Tom questioned gesturing to the horizon. “There’s plenty of food down there, surely.”
“Well there isn't much reason to come out here. It's too far from the big cities to be profitable. Not to mention dangerous,” Zarko replied, matter of factly.
“We’ve mostly been left alone,” Jackalope countered, scanning the horizon.
“Mostly yeah, when something like this happens you’re on your own though. People just prefer to live either in the cities or close to them where we frequently patrol.”
“I see... Doesn’t it get, you know... overpopulated?” Tom questioned.
“Sure then we start sending more people further out. Some make it, some don’t. Most of the success stories come from ones who go and take an abandoned keep. Surviving winter without one is no easy feat, not to mention the things that would rather have you stop breathing.”
“Or turn us black as coal,” Jackalope added, clearly causing Zarko and Unkai significant discomfort.
“Sounds like a really shitty way to die,” Tom replied. Honestly, they just send people out here and cross their fingers? Humans had done the same of course, so he could hardly blame them. It would appear this place fought back a little more than the wild west had though. “Why not just make more keeps then if that works so well?”
“We do build new keeps every now and again, but that is expensive. Most people who can afford it don’t really want to spend the money on something as unprofitable as a frontier keep,” Zarko replied.
“Or you could just beat the shit out of the previous owners like Nunuk’s grandma,” Jackalope added. scoring a curious look from both Tom and Zarko, Unkai looking down a bit. “Relax, they were evil… I think. Or just really annoying, I’m not sure.”
“Apuma said she was awarded the keep for her service?” Tom went, he was fairly sure that's how it had been presented at least.
“Oh yeah, it was. That didn’t mean it was empty though.” ‘Oof’ Tom thought to himself. Then again, might have been a Flaxen bitch or something like that. He wouldn’t mind just taking where she lived.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Sapphire was feeling a fair amount of deja vu as she stood looking at the finely dressed individual outside their door. She was in quite a bit better shape today though. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for being a bit more restrained last night.
“I’m here on behalf of the Flaxen estate to formally request that you retract your baseless accusations against Lady Flaxen.” Sapphire damn near stabbed the woman in front of her and asked her how baseless she felt a knife to the gut was.
“I think you want Dakota Bizmati for that question. You know, the noble daughter whose childhood friend your Lady stabbed with a poisoned blade.” Sapphire replied, with as much malice in her voice as she could muster.
“While I admit circumstances are most regrettable, I must insist that you retract these accusations, as well as refrain from making mention of them.” She was at least sounding calm and cordial rather than screaming all the time which was a definite improvement. ‘Here we go again,' Sapphire sighed to herself, stepping back.
“All yours, Dakota.”
“Your incestuous bitch of a Lady is neither esteemed nor innocent. I will not retract my accusation, and even if I did, I think you have more to worry about.”
“Such as?” the person asked.
“The fact that she has managed to insult the royal guard as a whole, Colonel Hashaw and Baron in particular. Oh, and what more was it… Lying to a royal court, attempting to falsify evidence, and making false accusations of treason in spite of knowing the truth.” Dakota stepped forward right into the face of the woman, looking like she was ready to snap at her throat.
“This is just in addition to attempting a murder. In my fucking keep! Of my friend! She is still sick in bed after a week! Had she managed to get away with all that, she might damn well have had us all executed as traitors too! So I reiterate for the slow-minded amongst us, I will not let that bitch go!” Dakota had damn near run out of breath near the end there, but Sapphire couldn’t help but crack a smile at the finely dressed woman, who was clearly rather terrified by now.
“Uhh, I am terribly sorry. I truly am, may I come inside so we…”
“No, you may not!”
“Right, of course, see uhm. See I’m here to… negotiate the terms for having the charges dropped.”
“We will not negotiate.” Dakota responded coldly.
“I must beg you to reconsider, the family has agreed that these charges must not be brought against us.”
“Then kick the bitch out,” Sapphire added, standing behind Dakota, arms crossed doing her best to look scary.
“But, she is the Lady of the household we could not…”
“Not my fucking problem. Now piss off,” Dakota went, pointing down the stairs.
“Would you not at least hear our offer?”
“What's going on?” A still sleepy-looking Balethon questioned, stepping out of his room.
“Just someone who thinks they can buy our honor,” Dakota replied in a seething tone.
“No, I merely meant we might come to a… mutual understanding.”
“Oh please. We’re not that stupid,” Sapphire added.
“Well, what's the offer?” Balethon asked. ‘Really,’ Sapphire thought to herself disapprovingly.
“Why, no less than 500 gold to be paid in various goods.” She sounded very impressed with herself at that.
“Pfft that's it?” Sapphire let out. Sure, that was a shit ton of money. About as much as the keep made a year after all. Still, Tom likely had several times that amount just lying around. Not to mention the countless things that were likely priceless in their own right.
“That is a very large sum of money, Huntress,” The woman stated, sounding slightly offended.
“Leave!” Dakota sneered at her, still pointing at the stairs and placing her other hand on her sword hilt. ‘Maybe I should have brought a sword too,’ Sapphire wondered to herself. That was certainly an effective threat after all.
The woman did as instructed, turning away in a huff, trying to seem insulted despite clearly being scared shitless.
“Come on, let’s get some breakfast,” Dakota went, taking a deep breath easing up a bit.
After eating they elected to spend the day going around the city. Dakota had some errands to run, and they needed to get that appointment at the academy. Once things kick off with the trial they might not have the time after all.
“It’s gonna be crazy in there, don’t you think?” Sapphire questioned as they were getting ready to head out. “At the Academy I mean.”
“Hopefully Tom knows what he’s doing. I don’t think we will be the ones answering most of the questions after all,” Dakota replied, studying herself in the mirror.
“What about those Flaxen people, think they will try something?”
“Oh, I’m sure of it. Just not sure what... What would you do if Nunuk was about to bring shame to us all, by being sentenced to something like this?”
“I… I have no idea... Break her out of jail perhaps?”
“No. It’s their reputation they’re worried about, that makes it worse.”
“They aren't gonna try and kill us, right?” Sapphire questioned, suddenly slightly worried.
“Unless they wanna try to assassinate Hashaw as well it wouldn’t do them much good. She’s the one pressing the charges, technically. So I think we’re quite safe on that front. I’m more worried about Tom.”
“Wait, you think they wanna kill Tom?!”
“No. I think someone might wanna know more about him. So please, do try to restrain yourself when bragging and we don’t travel alone here. We can’t lie to the council, but down here there is no telling who you’re talking to.” Sapphire's mind flashed back to telling about Tom’s little swim with Dakota last night.
“No, I agree we should be careful.”
__________________________________________________________________________________
“We should be coming up on Hylsdal soon,” Zarko went, peering out ahead.
“I think that’s smoke,” Jarix stated. Tom sure as fuck couldn’t see it though.
“Yup, that’s smoke alright,” Zarko confirmed.
‘Oh come on.’ Tom thought to himself.
“Well someone’s home then,” Jackalope added in, not sounding worried.
“Yeah Looks like chimney smoke. Let’s go low. Skim the trees, Jarix.”
“Skimming the trees,” Jarix responded, descending down to as low as he dared. They would maintain this altitude for a while until they were close, then drop down under the canopy for the last leg. There had been no sign of fliers around as they made their approach, finally diving down into the trees at a small clearing.
“Time for an obstacle course then,” Jarix went as he began to weave between the huge trees, not slowing overly much in the process. There was a lot of space between them so it wasn't too bad. Still, it was clearly more work than cruising. Tom almost started to feel a little sick from the constant banking. First one way, then the other, over and over again.
“Please… help me,” Tom shot up at that.
“What the hell!?” he went. Looking around, the others had clearly heard it too. Shit, that was that mental speech again.
“Da fuck?! Uhm... Hello?” Jackalope tried, also looking around frantically along with the others. There was nothing to be seen though.
“On your left... please.”
“Left turn,” Jarix warned, banking into the turn.
“By the water,” The voice spoke again.
It didn’t take long before they broke a treeline, entering a clearing with a small water hole in the middle. Tom's mind was screaming ambush at him as they entered the clearing at speed. He crouched down, unlatching his revolver just in case.
“Down there,” Jarix cried out, sounding troubled. As he went into a dive Tom scrambled to hold on.
“Oh shit!” Zarko let out in alarm.
“Where?” Tom demanded, drawing the revolver. Jarix came down hard, trotting over towards something; Tom managed to get to his feet, gun raised, to see for himself. By the side of the water, a familiar-looking white horse was lying down. Head near the water, horn missing and covered in what looked more like mercury than blood. “Oh that can't be good.”
“No no no no...” Unkai trailed off as he jumped down, sprinting over to the stricken unicorn.
“No, it’s not,” Zarko confirmed, sliding down herself.
“Jarix, keep an eye out, would you? This might be a trap,” Tom went as he himself jumped down. Jarix responded with a nod craning his neck to look around.
“Is it dead?” Jackalope questioned, as Unkai was frantically looking the unicorn over. Tom took a lap of the creature. He didn’t know shit about unicorns, but this one sure looked familiar, even beaten to shit as it was.
“Not… quite yet.” It sounded calm if strained until it laid eyes on Tom, who was currently wearing his helmet, goggles, and faceplate. “What the! No not like this!” it pleaded, trying to get up. Tom instinctively raised his hands, taking a step back. It sounded female and it certainly looked like Kalestine to Tom.
“It’s cool. I’m the one who made a lot of noise. Noo, problems I won't hurt you.” It did calm down again, looking at him with those emotionless eyes.
“You look like a demon,” she let out in a weak voice. That sounded like Kalestine alright, here to rescue her and she's got the insults ready.
“Right, ohhh my gods. Bleeding, bleeding first” Unkai went talking to himself clearly awestruck by the situation. He got to work frantically sealing up cuts. There were a fair few arrow-shafts embedded in her as well.
“What should I do?” Jackalope and Tom asked in unison, looking at each other for a second then turning back to the situation in front of them.
“Water. Please water,” Kalestine pleaded, Tom obliged, unscrewing his bottle, kneeling down, and letting her drink.
“Jackalope, help wash the wounds,” Zarko ordered, sitting down to help Unkai. She applied pressure to the wounds while Unkai worked.
“So uhm… can you die? I mean, aren't you capable of saving people,” Tom tried, slightly awkwardly.
It took a bit before she answered. “Yes” she replied, looking at him while she drank. ‘I’m not gonna say this can you hear me?’ Kalestine nodded slowly in response. ‘people might be very hurt where we are going, is it true your blood can save lives’
“Only fresh” She responded. He looked at the others, how didn’t seem to react so he guessed this was private. ‘If we find any will you help them’
She finished drinking. ‘Don’t know’ it was clear she was struggling to do whatever she had to do to speak. Tom really hoped she meant she didn’t know if she could, rather than whether she would.
“How did this happen?” Zarko questioned, not being blessed with a reply. Which clearly annoyed her.
“Do you know if the keep is okay?” Jackalope tried.
“No,” Came the strained answer.
“I think she needs to rest,” Unkai went, giving a strained sigh as he moved on. “This will hurt. I am truly sorry. Zarko cut it out.”
“Taking a knife to a unicorn, there’s something you don't do every day. I am truly sorry for this,” Zarko went, sounding like she didn’t quite believe what was going on. She started to delicately cut out an arrow, going slowly and carefully. Kalestine didn't take it very well, thrashing about on the ground.
“Stop! It hurts!” she went in a demanding tone. Tom had been expecting a headache, though nothing came. In fact, even in his head, she sounded weak and tame.
“We need to get them out,” Zarko protested. Unkai nearly froze, looking at the unicorn in horror. “Jackalope, help hold her down, would you? And do your job, guardsman!” Unkai snapped back into reality and the two of them continued to work on the arrows, Jackalope holding down the unicorn’s head.
“This feels heretical,” Jackalope protested as Kalestine fought against her. It was clear the unicorn was a spent force though, failing to put up much resistance.
“Now, now. It will be over soon,” Tom tried in his best nanny voice, hoping he wasn’t just insulting her.
“The more you struggle, the more it hurts and the more you bleed,” Zarko observed as she and Unkai continued to work.
Kalestine was clearly in great pain, letting out some very distressed neighing that almost sounded more like screaming.
“That's one out. You’re doing great,” Unkai tried, in an encouraging tone. It was clear he was struggling himself though. Tom guessed that working on what was sort of like a demigod, at least to him, was a rather stressful situation. Kalestine continued to thrash around for the more painful parts, but she did stop protesting the procedure.
It took a while to get the arrows out, but they managed it. After that, it was mostly cuts and bruises and a rather nasty stab wound. She did eventually ease up a bit, breathing growing more steady as the most painful parts of the procedure were over.
“Thank you,” She finally went in a meek voice. Jackalope got off her and stood back up.
“See, there you go, good as new”
“Why didn’t you just come get us?” Tom questioned. Kalestine responded with a distressed whinney. Zarko lent over to him, and speaking in a hushed tone said,
“Her horn, Tom.”
‘Well shit,’ Tom thought to himself, looking at the broken stump. ‘How does something like that even happen?’
__________________________________________________________________________________
So then we have a fucked up Unicorn, a timetable in tatters, and yet another Flaxen... hey at least everyone is still breathing.
As always let me know what you think down below, both the good and the bad. not to mention, questions and general Tom foolery ;)
Until next time have an awesome day.
ko-fi For having a pretty picture commissioned.
Sapphire
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