Jus Joshin

The official podcast for the ILSA, get ready for this upcoming season!

The Podcast for the ILSA ya knowwww. Today we do a first round Mock Draft for our upcoming draft.

In De Ira (On Anger), Book I, Chapter XVIII, Seneca tells of Gnaeus Calpurnius Piso, a Roman governor and lawmaker, when he was angry, ordering the execution of a soldier who had returned from a leave of absence without his comrade, on the grounds that if the man did not produce his companion, he had presumably killed the latter. As the condemned man was presenting his neck to the executioner's sword, there suddenly appeared the very comrade who was supposedly murdered. The centurion overseeing the execution halted the proceedings and led the condemned man back to Piso, expecting a reprieve. But Piso mounted the tribunal in a rage, and ordered the three soldiers to be executed. He ordered the death of the man who was to have been executed, because the sentence had already been passed; he also ordered the death of the centurion who was in charge of the original execution, for failing to perform his duty; and finally, he ordered the death of the man who had been supposed to have been murdered, because he had been the cause of the death of two innocent men.

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

It wouldn't bark.

In fact, it was unlikely that it would make any sound at all.

Its movements were always muffled. It would not move the way we would expect a dog, or any creature for that matter, to move. Something so... unnatural about it. Something otherworldly. But it was a dog. At least in the supposed pictures, it looked like one. Pitch-black, four-legged, hairy... About the size of an adult wolf. It certainly had no teeth. No amount of scanning could reveal a white gleam in any of the pictures. It was all black. Pure black.

No one knew how it could move so fast. Or if it could truly cross the oceans. Or maybe it was not just one. Maybe there were several. Maybe there were many. More than we could calculate, we thought. Maybe... it was not real. Maybe it was just a dream. Who knows. So many maybes, because no one knows anything for sure.

First appeared in Japan, Osaka Prefecture. Then Busan, before Beijing. Then Moscow, Warsaw, Berlin, Paris, London...

It was only a matter of time. Sightings of large, pure black, canine-like entities mauling night-time walkers and anyone outside after dark was already being reported and talked about amongst the common people around the East Coast. Victims had their throats ripped, men would often have their testicles ripped as well while breasts were a common target in female victims. No fliers were posted. Tv Channels, for some reason, never made any news broadcasts questioning the mysterious, gruesome deaths surrounding the black entity. No effort was made to warn anyone. Official and private investigations alike either led to no conclusions or were silenced. One common pattern seemed to be obvious though. The entity would only target those who are alone. It never seemed to attack groups. Not even two people at the same time.

No one knew how it could so quickly rip apart a human body and then disappear into the night, leaving no trace. It never even seemed to have any teeth. It was an abomination. An error. A glitch in the matrix if there is ever one.

Remember, it does not bark, it does not warn, it only appears after dark, and targets solo walkers. Once it sets its eyes on you, you cannot escape.

Worse is, people being mauled within the comfort of their own bedrooms is being reported day by day. No one knows what to do to prevent an attack except to not be alone.

Good luck...

"Lady," The Misfit said, looking beyond her far into the woods, "there never was a body that give the undertaker a tip."

There were two more pistol reports and the grandmother raised her head like a parched old turkey hen crying for water and called, "Bailey Boy, Bailey Boy!" as if her heart would break.

"Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead," The Misfit continued, "and He shouldn't have done it. He shown everything off balance. If He did what He said, then it's nothing for you to do but thow away everything and follow Him, and if He didn't, then it's nothing for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you can-by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness," he said and his voice had become almost a snarl.

"Maybe He didn't raise the dead," the old lady mumbled, not knowing what she was saying and feeling so dizzy that she sank down in the ditch with her legs twisted under her.

"I wasn't there so I can't say He didn't," The Misfit said. "I wisht I had of been there," he said, hitting the ground with his fist. "It ain't right I wasn't there because if I had of been there I would of known. Listen lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there I would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now." His voice seemed about to crack and the grandmother's head cleared for an instant. She saw the man's face twisted close to her own as if he were going to cry and she murmured, "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. The Misfit sprang back as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest. Then he put his gun down on the ground and took off his glasses and began to clean them.

Hiram and Bobby Lee returned from the woods and stood over the ditch, looking down at the grandmother who half sat and half lay in a puddle of blood with her legs crossed under her like a child's and her face smiling up at the cloudless sky.

A GOOD MAN IS HARD TO FIND 153

Without his glasses, The Misfit's eyes were red-rimmed and pale and defenseless-looking. "Take her off and thow her where you shown the others," he said, picking up the cat that was rubbing itself against his leg.

"She was a talker, wasn't she?" Bobby Lee said, sliding down the ditch with a yodel.

"She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."

"Some fun!" Bobby Lee said.

"Shut up, Bobby Lee" The Misfit said. "It's no real pleasure in life."

I don't wanna talk

I've played all my cards

The winner takes it all

I was in your arms

Building me a home

The gods may throw a dice

The winner takes it all (takes it all)

But tell me, does she kiss

Somewhere deep inside

The judges will decide (will decide)

The game is on again (on again)

I don't wanna talk

I apologize

The winner takes it all

So the winner takes it all

Me rn: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=901bVqiTiNM

The Podcast for the ILSA. TRADES TRADES TRADES. 

Week 6 Recap for the ILSA-- 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgmVOuLgFB0&t=59s