How to [or who to]…? pick a post-pandemic (Delta variant timescale) - persona, for success.

 Let’s face it.

How rude a statement would that be, for someone? 

People are scrambling to avoid being caught in the crosshairs of propagandist ideation sublingual suggestive peripheries from taking hold of our young socialite upstart aspirations and takeovers, however distant and fartlorn we are, away from the nation’s capital, all the way at the other end of the country. Thankfully, in Los Angeles, the heatwaves haven’t been all too severe, and if it feels like it,

A fallen Japanese beetle, at the foot of an ominous, shadowy figure.

 

it probably is an infrared beam of “spotted you, eh?”

 

sorts of “dun, dun, dun…” 

how could a person possibly shake that sort of fate, and come out unscathed? I get scared, all the time. It’s always gangland wars, voices in my head, and sometimes, things, of all things, seem to become unseemly familiar, as far as that I feel I can identify people doing these things to me and my loved ones, and I can’t (usually) find a typology alter ego and spiritual boost timely and well enough to propel me in to quite, understanding and empathizing with what they claim is going on, in my life, and amongst people I’ve known, or my family, for example. 

I feel that some people take the concept of familiarity as appropriate grounds for dysfunctional catharsis to break ground and egotism platforming au contraire, for the sake of the fact that I… I just don’t do stuff like that. They’re the ones that are mad at me. 

Who could I possibly be, or have been, in order to not have become placed amongst these bingers on drugs type of judgmental and persecutory figurative individuals whom I’d known, or know, or some sort of vagueness that develops beyond scarcity of identity exchange, this being the remote sensing medium of communications and self | identity transmissions. It’s big, in Los Angeles. We do big things, out here, and some of us are without apologies or excuses for how, who, why, and what, and where? It happens to be, out here, that people are as slight as the breezes out here, in the hot summer nights. 

Just don’t… just - just… nah, you just really ought not to… I’d say. There’s something that sounded like screaming outside. I should go and check on it. Goodbye. 

Never mind. I don’t know… and then, South L.A. has been making lots of news stories happen, recently. 

Hmm. Sorry, I’m still adapting to this concept of that I am (just slightly) having my content served on Google News.

I was thinking that the hobbyist parfumerie enthusiast thing was the thing, for me, but I’ve got to be agile and swift, and I can’t do all things, or all people, and I can’t much solve my own problems, lately, because I don’t really know just who is doing what, and how I could better gain people’s good side. 

The JoyBuy miniature misting fan thing is blowing up, now that it’s summer. I bought four of them, and I think that some of them were broken by someone else, playing with the crumbs and knickknacks of my room.

Then there was idiot deluxe, the most everything guy (or lady), butt shittle, definitely, it would be ladies and gentlemen’s only - prowess, to become: the one who says the most iconically irreverent fwopp.

Being a 'Normie' Guy Amongst the Age of Hormonally-Enhanced Male Subsets.

 Of on Dick Big Now, 

I, personally, could maintain that I'm not quite up to, or for it, given that my underlying psychological sexual affinities draw much closer to extended foreplay and orgasm denial.

Not that I'd been having much opportunities in heterosexual dating arise, any time recently, but I'm banking on that people live longer, in general, over time; I'll improve in my life's circumstances, over time, and I'm [unbeknownst, previously] just a particular someone who's time has come to a generational halt: the ones who enforce these types of upstart cells are jackin' juice, trying to keep up with law enforcement surveillance detail, and sometimes, or for correcting physical abnormalities inherited from birth, or from youth, in their nurturing environment's circumstances. 

I'd casually experimented with Testosterone supplementation, on one occasion, in life, as a dumpster digger treasure-hunting bum, digging through a dumpster. I found a 1/3rd (or so) syringe labeled as testosterone in a dumpster, and I happened to be in the Fairfax district of Mid-City Los Angeles; nice neighborhood, so I figured, "why not?" I took it as that the testosterone was for external and topical use. When I got home, I rubbed some of the creamy substance on to my shoulders and chest, since that was the area in which I would have liked a bit of growth and improvement on. Over the next day, or so, I had developed a somewhat buzzing, electric feel, around the area, and the muscles that I'd applied the cream to had a dull ache about them, as if I'd worked out, which I hadn't, much, besides that I was out collecting recyclables. 

These days, I'm a bit bulky hefty, in my upper body, and I'm significantly muscular in my legs. I go on long walks around town, several times a week. 

Cheap trick shit, of a hooker, or « something like that », a Dick Big Now would commonly have of it. As for myself, I feel that I would be troubled significantly more so, if my penis was getting in the way of my life, in common scenarios, come to pass, as they do, all the time. For that matter, I'm circumcised. I don't have to worry about things in regards to my privates that my parents hadn't taken care of, already, and also based on what's known about health. 

"The human race is in peril because of people who use drugs religiously."

 - unknown male observer, 4:55 p.m., May 20, 2021.

At some point in time, I feel like many of my life's circumstances and problems do, in fact, arise from out of other people in life who take issue with me. The latest was just yesterday, where, the day prior to yesterday, I had serviced a client I'd met through craigslist, and he bore some resemblance to some other guy I'd known, previously. I don't really gossip about people; I try to keep it Christian, but the circumstance was that there was a debate over who was the most handsome tweaker Nazi of downtown L.A., or "something like that," whereas I'd garnered some support for myself, in the run for achievement of that end, in life, "supposedly," based on that women's remote personas were being portrayed as such. 

So, I get pwned sometimes. It's most typically portrayed to me, in my mind, as *some guy." At times, the man is shielded of his identity towards me, yet only for an ephemeral extent of time. Inevitably, the man is ousted of his veil of secrecy, and intimations of that a law enforcement officer, or some sort of surveillance agent, had been figuratively embodying the interlocutor, imitating his affect and formant through means of technology, whereas the person whom I am familiarized with had been, in turn, himself pwned by surveillance, and a drama in which he is presented with me, imminently myself, somewhere else in the world, by most means of imaging (typically). For as much as the portrayal of me is worth, of for « thoughts | imagination | beliefs » sake, the man finds the novelty of me timely, and an adjunct to ascending the ladder of sociable capital and narcissistic supply. 

Inevitably, when the ruses of transpired suggestibility become played back at me, I'm so commonly simply prepared for the relentless siege upon my freedom and autonomy, being that I am (and "we" are, for all intents and purposes) the same age as these people (I'm currently 39 years old), and I'd obviously grown up, as a child, expecting that I'd be living a family life, dating, settled down, working, more or less: standard stuff in life; I feign existential circumstance as though I'm now babysitting my school days' peers, as an adjunct mental health professional (although I'm unpaid for that task, and I hadn't gone through formal education for it; only personal pursuits in study of psychology and abnormal and antisocial personality disorders, of which subject had been of considerable aspirations, for me, in learning, given that I suffer from bipolar disorder, myself. The difference is, is that I'd had private medical insurance afforded me, through my parents, during my upbringing, and I'd been more situably appropriate for standing in on abnormal psychological stubs of egotistical and grandiose psychology traumas of my former peers, whereas I'd had a streak of wild financial and romantic successes, quite commonly, in my former early adult years. People became sick of it (guys, for the most part). These were guys that knew me as a different person. Don't people leave high school and establish their furtherance in successes in life, for moving forth in education or employment, via some route of expected progression throughout adulthood? 

It's trite, by all means, yet I sometimes emerge as the « graces-bestowed » charismatic self-aggrandizing and condescending narcissist.

Shit as it is, compared to intimacy and affections, we're only as much as handicapped could suppose of the situation, of that the belief of « sight unseen, winner take all », although, upon offering things a second thought, or a few seconds of stepping back, and establishing composure, it's apparent that remote-sensing-initiated encounters levy us handicaps, at best; we're not afforded our imminent concurrency of our physical environment, for one; forgetfulness, listlessness, and glitches in thought processes and memory are common shortfalls in such a developmental environment, where drugs are undoubtedly most commonly involved, and humility is a character trait and virtue that had perhaps not been imbued upon the unfortunate children inside of them, abused of that many of us had been, of some sort, and that it had gone without acknowledgment, or corrections, throughout and up to this point in our early middle professional semi-adult lives. 

Other people are treated differently, by these guys. The entire premise of American values, at their most fundamental, is fraught with abuses and dissidence, through these young men, as if virtue itself was disposable, and extending in to quantum mechanics and communications intelligence industry and productivity means we're somehow on our minds, whatsoever, as children that we had been, as we knew each other, whereas people still find my childhood self relevant, somehow, and I'm left with only supposing that misfortunes had befallen them, as hapless abuse victims of their early developmental and nurturing environment's had been all that they realize and care for; our fathers being faulty, for as much as they could have been afforded in life, whereas now, excuses of merit and attainment are null concomitants in life, and expectations, in intellectual actualisations and capable selves, that we could, and ought be, are falling short of ourselves, whereas the tape roll may or may not have some active attention and oversight | followup, if you will, by some distanced third party objectivity mind about the matter. 

In a more effective, impactful, and well-developed economy and society, intelligence would be expended liberally, as though we could play with the notion, while gaining in merits, for that developments, upon efforts, were the pleasurable pursuit and receipts of our blockchain ledger of harmonic tariffs expenditure that come to pass. At some point, artificial intelligence and machine learning superiority takes precedence over human-naked capable self, where quickness in perceptions to success ratios are commonly measures of intellectual merit, of just one form of merit, in intelligence quotient (IQ), and where cloud compute ephemeralities of remote sensing persona and presence, peering in, upon us, is the inevitable consequence of which we are afforded the liberal freedom of will, as it were, and given of that we are allowed our freedom of will, by our nation's constitutional foundry and formative statements. Surely, as some sort of anti-nationalist coup were to establish itself, we blurry the lines of distinction of identity, place and time, which had been regarded as self-indulgence partitioning of needs-based fulfillments pursuit, and "privacy leisure," such that I commonly end up finding myself commonly still pleasuring myself, watching pornography, whereas I'd had "good enough" relationships and attainments in life, to accept furtherance in needs fulfillment, such that I don't find, as a remote sensing abuse novelty, for men whom I'd used to know, in teenage and childhood years. 

Surveillance causes entropy.

It takes energy (heat, in essence, of some various sorts and forms). Sure, we take drugs; we "need" drugs, for that energy (our neurotransmitters and parasympathetic nervous system) are being actively monitored and interventions are brought forth, of our concurrent selves, given life. The monitoring, in and of itself, requires that energy is lost, in the process of observing and analyzing these slight and subtle broadcast and radar energetic signs, of ourselves. Many of us have personality shortcomings, of our upbringing, such that we find ourselves lacking in attaining the suitable and acceptable selves that we'd like, and remote sensing monitoring is supposed to be for the sake of improvement, not for abuses of others.

People appreciate their own sickness 

in the same manner that a smoker has affections for their own smoke-flavored phlegm, during a bout with pneumonia.

Sure, a guy might have a bigger dick than me, and I simply don't care for it. Who could blame me? I'm fine with my own submissive fantasies; I work these things out, over time, and I learn what truly pleases a woman: being self-sufficient, self-reliant, and non-problematic, whether it be in bed or not, and how much of bedtime relations ought be a focus within the scope of a long-term relationship, anyways? 

I'd shrugged guys off, recently, of a mounting psychic attack regime of on dick big, going on months, now, that it's been relentless like that. Is the threat of my conservative Christian nature aspirations in life seriously that much of a threat to men, of such a large swath of them? There are other men who are employed, for example, looking in on my topic issue remote sensing contextually, and I must say that the standard|-ly| employed demographic fares much better in resilience and self-esteem. 

Let's face it, stalker guys. We're not quite allowed the full freedom and agency support of the authorities, themselves. I don't know what's going on, of on dick big, but I'd suppose that it's something as simple as Freud's plighted child and infant stage dilemmas, whereas I don't know a whole lot about masturbation and sexuality of a time before I became cognizant and linearly-minded, of the world. That happened around age 5. One of my first memorable characteristic knowledge contexts was that I knew how to pleasure myself. I became a classical pianist, and my hands were imbued with extra focus, for example, given the extents of my knowledge base and repertoire of activities I might have, and did - engage in. Musical knowledge is one of the 8 or 9 intelligences, after all, and people otherwise appreciate musicians, and their lives and livelihoods.

It's like, they can't stand the fact that I'm me, and I receive pleasure from up and out of myself, sometimes. It's a sad thing, to be sure; if I wasn't me, and I had to be myself, as well, of some notion, but people are supposed to have something fair enough and decent about themselves, in any case. I worked hard in learning, growing up. As hard as I was capable of; yet people had been doing this "talking at me" thing since my childhood, I'm sure. All of this sort of knowledge base will inevitably become formalized in the future, and acting out in one's "private" time would surely reap additional consequences, once the statistics in communications intelligence become analyzed for cost and casualties incurred, compared to benefits of « other cells » of people who were allowed to operate differently. Keep in mind - affecting me, as a personalized favorite target has very scrum little effect on society in general, whereas common society moved forth, regardless, and despite that abused like this are playing out. Sure, it's a "easy" target to exploit - imagining that "talking at someone" is as good as "actually" speaking with someone, but you guys are mentally and emotionally unwell and immature. I say that there's some dick big and Freud's Penis Envy, or some other genitalia-sordid context underlying the thing. My penis is just standard normal, by any measure of evaluation. It's just standard, but was sexuality simply this much the issue at all times, every day, though? Women are going to learn standard and appropriately proper "stuff," sooner or later, and weirdos will be sorted out and fall short in effecting well and nurturing relationships, for courting abuses and psychosis, inevitably of that these guys smoke or shoot their drugs, whereas I offset the potential for risk and danger by limiting myself to snorting, and I honestly just don't, and can't - [quite] get that high. I don't get as high as these guys, anymore, and I feel that they are getting that high, smoking and shooting their drugs, or whatever, and sexually abusing me, as a false idol, whereas I become the representative of the sexually-abused person, in judgment over them, for the fact that sexuality had been repressed and reprimanded of me, whereas I grew up comfortably, in pleasuring myself, and these guys are trying to boycott and abuse even that, of myself. 

An updating collection of noted civic etiquette failures and proper solutions.

 I commonly encounter victim profiling encounters from the lower classes, as I'm out and about town, while I tend to my daily needs and responsibilities. 

For example, the topic at hand that I feel compelled to address is an encounter that may have otherwise turned in to what would considerably be a targeting of me, as a victim for a crime - simple or more elaborate than the superficiality of that someone from the lower classes exists on the streets, same as I do, and we happen to have ended up at a common spot in public, of where I'd choose to settle down for a moment, for needs to rest, for example, yet how common ought this sort of encounter exist, considering that I'm well-traveled, on foot, through areas in which I'm familiarized with, and of that I come to expect that common enough thresholds of tolerable existence amongst us, in physical proximity considerations, becomes at issue when social slights at establishing criminality and threats to public safety and decency are observed.

How much ought a person tolerate of an obvious criminal intent observed in trying to establish an encounter, which is largely questionable, of any sort, except for begging; homeless people, here, in consideration. My most vast experience is that people out on the streets rarely strike up casual conversations and organically diverse social encounters with strangers. What do people imagine ought be wrought up and out of exhibiting a desire and a need out of a person at rest, for example? Some guy walked by me, with a sort of face that supposed he is commonly commonly mischievous, playful, lighthearted, and petty at criminal behaviors, and perhaps below the surface, simply for the fact and commonality of how, where, when, and why of people showing up in a common area come to be considered, it becomes apparent that a much heightened degree of societal subversion and malicious intent in gathering has become established, for that others begin to show up in a like such public area, whereas on other days, similar days, otherwise, in foot traffic and stopping cars, for example, would not be observed. 

He simply had the face of a sort of guy who would come up to me, to ask me to supply him with resources, yet I find that, on considering other possibilities in how vulnerable and needful of tests for example, a person walking up towards me would suggest in that he (or she) simply would like to demean or defile my place in life, out in society, and it degrerates the broader general public's capability in appreciating and patronizing locales and communities, for fear of being similarly harassed. 

As much and as little as disturbing somebody for a needful acquisition, while false pretenses of that people's simple facet of commonality in presence suggests that stalking is what's become established, and an any sorts appropriate person would not choose to abuse socially appropriate boundaries, any more than that those sorts of occurrences would be observed, for as much as walking on the streets. It's uncommon, in experiences that are seen as sustainable, which implicates unfortunate needs to discriminate against others for the visually apparent traits, for what couldn't be other than criminal intent. 

AakHh! The forex markets close on the weekends! Now what?

 I slipped in to the concurrency of such a notion, after having spent a day in Maguire Gardens at the Los Angeles Public Library Central Branch, which is a hoisty auger-wracked semi-seismic bwoffle of a hang out spot, for the layperson. Just next to the sidewalk, there is a construction site, of which there are, I believe, two other posts of major subterranean engineering going on - one by the L.A. Times Building, and another by the Little Tokyo Station, all set in place to embody what will be the Metro Regional Connection Project (… something along those lines, of a name). I set my obsessive madness of hawk-watching over my tenuous trades, as 2 p.m.(-ish) hit the mark of the day, which, as a ground-dweller, amongst the plazas of | and [the] high rise office and financial center buildings of Flower Street, there is a sundial-esque feel to the place, as the sun sits off, on the southern-more part of the sky, during this season, and the shadows cast by the buildings, along with the Santa Ana winds of the week, here, had (on my previous outing, and fixture, thereby, that I became, in to the afternoon); made up my mind that I could get about and on with my day, as a pedestrian - standard that the role would aught be, for myself, as a bird’s-flock feeder, around the civic center, of a couple or a few spots, of where the birds gather, I would normally attend to, and sometimes, I would pick up recyclables, and search for food, as well, as part of my daily outings. 

The day trading thing was supposed to be an adjunct and ancillary development of intellectual and interest-based | (novelty) pursuit, since I’m largely assuaged and comforted by simple and nominal trifles, such as finding recyclables, food, drinks, and cigarettes, partially-smoked, as I traverse the paths and locales that I frequent, on my given day outings, of the days in which I make it out. One thing that’s been notable, about spending time in Maguire Gardens, is that the other guys who are regulars there, I’ve notice observed, is that they’d also been feeding the birds, which is a great relief, for me. I don’t have to worry so much about trekking out, quite so often, collecting recyclables, with my medication regimen, and the COVID-19 slight era, in life: somewhat crippling the recyclables collector’s economy of resources and materials to collect. Thankfully, unemployment insurance and Pandemic Unemployment Award money, from the CARES Act, and from other legislative acts and Executive Orders that have been quite timely and compassionate upon the small-guy earner, such that the welfare demographic, gig-jobbers, self-employed, and micro-small business startups, such as my Blogger enterprises and website domain establishments - we’d be unknown, to each other, largely, of my part, of knowing them, as individuals; (I typically deal with the Personality Disorder subtypes, most commonly, of this larger context of [-since] October 2016 until now; with me as a stalking victim, of the remote sensing and surveillance apparatus, whereas my humor and comfort level, about life, had become casually psychopathically a tristé, as it were, much more so, on my Twitter feed, where I cover all things that come in to the foray, in life, and banal that it might be, it made “coverage” thresholds of consideration, in the (-un)slight publication format that is Twitter. I say unslight, because much of my cookies, data science persona, and user feedback (to developers) metrics, intents, and returns, on concurrency-based matters, and institutional responsibility matters, and ethics, that it were, are all accounted for, on my latest version offering of my online Public Relations module, this being Twitter, with my account handle being my only outlet. It’s a scary notion, to the uninitiated, yet I’d become comfortable and adept at making sordid confessions, and the Deus ex Machina Artificial Intelligence adjunct computes-stimulations and suggestive themes and nomenclature derivatives, of situational and contextual awareness imbued me, many a time, with casually deranged and eloquently charismatic one-liners and supporting documentation and testimony, for pleading my case with “whoever” is out there, supervising and overseeing the matters that had transpired, from day-to-day - which had been going on, of an extent of continuity, since October 2016, as I’d mentioned. 

In this day and age, of high technology, as standard, we outdo, by doubling, in speed, and performance; capacity, etc., every two years. Things along those lines, in terms of cutting edge technology offerings of the latest to come off of the production lines, in big tech offerings. For me to be stuck within a [same] framework of being, of some farcical notion of “remote-sensing” dramatics and “pwn’ing” {me}, of just “some” notion - I’d begun to start saying things like, “well, how much is anyone really actually themselves, with this sort of thing going on, in their minds?” The abandonment and use case factors scenario would come to mind, as the topic of dispute - the obsolescence factor, in matters at hand, in rating and scaling importance, in contexts in life, to come, and resume, from then, until now. For whatever that means, for others, as well as myself; yet here: I, and my family, largely, had seemed to become commonly abused, tormented, and slighted people, under the guise of that we weren’t “of on homie” enough, for these various, networked, or fancifully-designed cells of people, who had casual, acquaintanceship, needs-based, industriousness and productivity centered, - these sorts of ties, that could extend into my own understanding, yet the deeper tiers of companionship seemed to be embedded within these oppositional and “mysterious” [ooo… wooo…👐🏻] sorts of cells of individuals (who had become all but use “too trite,” to be blunt; yet I digress. 

That was the backdrop to my life. I’m constantly seeking to embark upon a fresh slate, with accruements of what’s been salvaged, out of an identity that could be wrought, out of what I’d legitimately embodied and intended, of my young and early-mid (slight) adult life, whereas much of this sort of subversion in intelligence, and autonomy, of the socialist (or “whatever,” I don’t really know anything, off-hand) apparatus and activist movement, in life, had been going on since before I’d become superficially aware of these matters, that they are - as Personality Disorder subtypes, which I’d mentioned, previously, which, in turn, have been diligently wrought out, in analysis, and in the literature, such that meaningful and contrite counter-measures could aught be enacted, and embodied, of my own self, and fortitude, with my casual compatriots being the witting - or less - sufferers, of similar rebuke, standard psychology selves and individuals, as reinforcers, thereof. These ones were different, in my understanding of them. These ones had a thirst for economy, in the spoken word, whereas I’d simply been adept, in musical intelligence, of classical learning, early on, in my youth (age 5 is when I started taking piano lessons). 

Then, there’s the world of currency trading, which, as an informal sorts institution, that I fashion of my ipigeon.institute brand and heraldry, (and perhaps I’m misgivings, on those notions, but I learn as I go, and typically only if I look things up (background check) the circumstance and topic at hand, if it’s a philosophical debate, or a meeting of differences, of the mind, that it were, at hand (sometimes I just accept the formative and fitting {enough} intelligence that suits my mind, and to suit, or to boot, at that. I’m fortunate, in that sense; to have a serendipitous outlay prospectus upon life, of that I’d come to have words to say; and let them not be that slight things would come to pass, upon the foray of things that I’d be known, of - as myself, or for myself. On Twitter, it’s a different trawl. It’s a non-edited sort-form, just like much of my writings, over the past several years - which I believe is suitable: the “thing” that had existed, undoubtedly exists. In the currency exchange markets, getting back to the point of things, of this article, what happened is invariably what happened, given the charts, and timelines of the fluctuating values of these currency pairs. Try as we might, as intelligence-validation seeking and needful people, that we might be, in the novelty-seeking subtype, we would like to, much more so, see our aspirations and intentions fulfilled; with currency exchanges, pairs, and valuations, there’s much novelty abound, in all instances of opportunity; at least, on a day like today, on Coinbase.

Trailing back, a bit, in the calendar, like we might, in currency trading, to get some further background perspective upon the present moment, and (perhaps) near future, in forecasting duties that we assign, of ourselves, if we take the technical analysis approach, to entering in to a position, in valuation. 

I let the theme of the topic slip, out of the bag, as it were, by mentioning Coinbase. If you’d been following along, and keeping in, with my forex blog articles that I’d been publishing, and you’d come to the same such realization that I had, yesterday afternoon, in Maguire Gardens, that the markets close on the weekend, then you’d similarly be left in need of some sort of sociable effort, or gesture, as it might be, of your own will and becoming, of yourself, of something - something less locked in to the staring at the screen, and the charts, for the money to roll in, even better than it’d not, or it’s not, or that it might be doing, at some point, hopefully soon, in the future. 

You can do the same sorts of things on Coinbase, to start with, in the weekend, off-hours. As well, there are various organizational and institutional underpinnings that have gone through the checkered flags, and made it on to the common cryptocurrency exchange markets that are Coinbase, and Coinbase Pro. (That’s what I’d gotten to, so far, aside from CryptoTab browser ({Pro} - which is required, for iOS Crypto [BitCoin] mining - I think; it’s $3.99, currently; I’m not quite sure that, or if, it definitely does do mining, on iOS | iPadOS). On the Google Pixel 4a 5G, it tells me that the hashes per second rate goes at about 1500/s, more or less, and you can outfit the mining to run in 2 hour increments - a sustainability concept; as hot devices perform less well, and they become ruined, over time. Affections for attentions-paid to the devices. That’s somewhat the rule of hand. If you’re not there to tend, ruefully, to the machine, with your affections, in CryptoTab Browser, then what is the worth of your device simply sitting there? - trying to mine BitCoin? 

At this rate, and, as it seems, as a standard, somewhat, that CryptoTab Browser assigns to high-end mobile devices, such as the Google Pixel 4a 5G, of 1500 hashes completed, per second, the gains are nominal, on standard settings; yet there is an option for cloud mining multiples of hash completions, given user engagement at the device endpoint, in assigning the device to crypto-mining, for two hours at a time, in CryptoTab Browser, as it were - for a cost - I won’t say that certain multiples aren’t worth the money, if the user is a hard core dedicated one, to and for the purpose. On the standard 1x mining ratio, given the current valuation of Bitcoin, I’ve been pulling in $0.01 per 2 hours, and my device gets hot, while it’s assigned to mining. 

Starting from an Android device, that’s appreciable enough, given that I have an off-hours trading platform, in cryptocurrency, which can be stimulating, and rewarding enough, with even as much as a $2 buy-in, to the establishment (users can purchase incremental amounts of cryptocurrency, of a few or several dozen sorts of cryptocurrency offering, and Coinbase also offers some rewarded user engagement opportunities, in the user interface, for newcomers to the platform. There’s an astute trading mechanism endowed to the platform. Price-correlated cryptocurrencies are noted in the bottom on any price detail page, of the Coinbase app.

Like any sort of validated commodity; in Coinbase, as with stocks and forex trading, for example, the timing view pane of the currency being examined offers different expanses of time, for the user to observe.

As I’d said; start simple and slight, in cryptocurrency trading. The Coinbase platform is one based upon garnering intelligence and knowledge base awareness of the utility and underlying functions of what these cryptocurrency items portend, within the ecology and scopes therein, simulating other sorts of fiat currencies that ostend the various global and international currency products of any given nation, or the public offering of a company, as it were, in stock trading and investments. 

All this being said, it seems that the lead-up to Valentine’s Day supposed quite little of our men, of this nation, whereas BitCoin valuation peaked and spiked, at $47,000, and $55,000, within recent weeks. Even so, we, as $2.00 “starting off” investors, can, in fact, still invest in BitCoin, incrementally, as it were, just to dip our feet in the markets. It’s a bit more of a forgiving grounds for tinkering about, as a $2.00 investor, which I hadn’t quite considered, in starting out in forex trading, with a $100 buy-in basis, yet it’s completely viable, as one explores and learns the world of cryptocurrencies, for one’s own self, within the user experience that Coinbase offers. Coinbase Pro offers extended features and cryptocurrency | fiat currency pairs trading; I haven’t gotten in to that app, and it’s features, just yet, for the morning. Perhaps some other day. 

Is KISS playing tonight in DTLA?

Someone supposed of as Gene Silmons asked who the "social worker of the year was,"

It seemed to have developed in to an unsober lashing out at the law; I suppose with untold amounts of lives disparaged - here; it would be mine (perhapd others are offended as well).

The man did notably sing about pidgy bwipp this and that... For a long refrain. 

He spoke about the fires in Downtown Los Angeles yedterday morning. About many depraved things on account of me not doung even more than I podsibly could have done about anything; whereas I tried to be q bit sociable, regardless og my solitude.