Well shit, this escalated quickly! In 72 hours it seems every major metropolitan area has rioting in the streets, news and clothes outlets are being burned down, and the National Guard is being brought in (as predicted right here, though not quite the way expected) to enforce an actual lockdown, with the emergency phone alert coming through as I was recording live. Think I can make this shit up? Tune in below to find out!
“Most of humanity today have such a false sense of security, have been so removed from reality and natural selection, they don’t recognize just what kind of danger they’ve gotten themselves into until it’s almost too late.”
Wednesday, 3 minutes after 11 PST in the morning as I begin to write this, comfortably in my soon to be past bedroom. All is quiet, with not even the trains going by right now. It’s been well over a week since all hell broke loose here, and last I heard I had to be moved out ASAP for the “safety” of the other tenants, lest I flay them alive and handcuff their children apparently. So what has transpired since then? What villainous dastardly deeds have I committed since I was declared public enemy number one? Just what kind of danger has been there really for everyone else since I’m still on the premesis?
Obviously I cannot speak for the other households here, but I can speak for my own. I’ve continued to go to work, with traffic picking up a wee bit in the last few days. A new and final carb is being tested out for the diet and nutrition research I’ve been doing the last couple of years, with delicious results. Finally bottled the tequila being infused with pickled jalapeños, and enjoyed them along with steaks and premium wine and cigars at a buddy’s place. Speaking of which, there’s a pineapple sitting in the window to ripen up before I infuse it with a bottle of bourbon. I’ve installed a new (to the car at least) radio head, so now I can listen to my podcasts through the speakers in my car via a hard connection rather than bluetooth, solving both the problem of every bluetooth speaker ever’s charging port breaking, and possibly being contact traced via bluetooth. I’ve gone on a couple of livestreams, and told my side of the story on the events that happened here to various degrees of comedic effect. Allie, one of the kids frequently on the premesis, discovered helium and wanted to show me her new singing voice as I was on my way to work. Speaking of the kids, while gone for a little while which isn’t out of the ordinary(pretty sure the rain was also a factor) , they were back in full force this weekend, along with others I didn’t recognise. In all, despite the emergency get out of dodge call because I’m more of a danger than coronavirus infected murder hornets, life has pretty much gone back to normal here.
So about that “imminent threat” I pose meaning I have to upend my life for the “safety” of others. In fact, let’s talk about that word, because it’s fast becoming the new N bomb as far as I’m concerned, especially when it comes to women. Yes, I said it: women. Show me a male that does things outside of his line of work for “safety” and I’ll show you a man that was broken before he even had a chance to grow up. Only when it comes to women, female and otherwise, is “safety” a priority. Who went full retard on my balcony at 1:30 in the morning? A woman. Who called the cops out of fear of confrontation? It wasn’t the man that came outside to find out what was going on and ended up defusing the situation. Who were the subjects of all this being started in the first place? A pair of girls that apparently are allowed up well past midnight on a Friday evening outside of their place of residence. All of these women who fear for their “safety” are the ones making all of the racket and calling guess the gender to come rescue them. Call me crazy, but back when I was growing up, damsels in distress were at least sexy and in real danger, for some odd reason often being tied up on train tracks. These days, no real danger, and certainly not sexy at least up here: all the reasons to panic fear, all the accusations being levied, have been in language only, having no tangible presence in reality. I could be wrong about this and a process server is on his way right now to serve me, but as of this writing I’m the only one to have taken any legal action since all of this went down. Quite the opposite should be happening if I did what they said I did and still posed a threat to what should be the most precious thing to them. But it’s not. Because it’s in their head, not in the real world. Furthermore, to take action takes work: in this example having to file police reports, request subpoenas, go to court at 7am, etc. Legal work, but work nonetheless. Much easier to call the landlord and make up a bunch of bullshit to get me outta here. There’s another reason I think all of this was a setup from the get go, but I’ll save that crazy theory for another time.
This isn’t just about The Incident though: I’ve been waiting to write this for a long time, because I see this just about everywhere. If you’ve heard of clown world or my theory of Retardism, then you’ll know where this is going. The reality is that most of humanity today, at least in the 1st world, cannot recognise what is a real threat to their lives today and what isn’t, at least in the real world. Consequently if not because of, threats in language (not afraid of coronavirus anymore? No problem: murder hornets!) freaks them the fuck out. Again, best example is what I’m going through right now. The threat I “pose” with my mere presence, in their mind at least, isn’t real, but she wasn’t worried about disturbing the murder hornet’s nest (see what I did there?) unarmed until there was a machete pointed at her throat, a true testament to not recognising true danger until its almost too late. Every mask wearing Corona Retard up here keeping 6 feet apart is worried about the pandemic, and shaming others giving this virus the real level of worry it actually warrants, yet they’re perfectly OK walking in the middle of the street staring straight ahead or at their telephone-equipped brain replacement, assuming my 1 ton and change chunk of steel and fire on wheels will go from 40-0mph in time, all because they’re in between painted lines on the asphalt. Speaking of cars, that’s one of 2 places everyone, men and especially women, feel seemingly invincible, if their behaviour is any indication: they’re willing to cut you off, speed up just to get in front of you, and all kinds of behaviour that would be unacceptable otherwise. Not all by a long shot to be fair, but more than enough to be of notice. The other place, of course, is the internet: arguments, insults, threats of bodily harm, you name it. I don’t even need to go into it: keyboard warrior has been a thing since before I ever had an online presence. Funny to see how people act behind the veils of their perceived safety, even in fairly tight knit groups.
Take the 3rd Man Militia for example. Great group of guys and girls by far, don’t get me wrong, and I could have this whole thing misunderstood, and hopefully so. But apparently there’s been talk of some wrong doing of mine to another 3rd Man, to the point that Charlie (JakobCharles.fm) reached out to say I should apologise to her (notice a theme here!?), for whatever unspecified reason, leading me to think even he doesn’t know what the problem is. I still have yet to hear back from her, but why is he the only one saying anything to me about this, while apparently everyone else is talking behind my back? Am I really about to be excommunicated from a group I’ve had nothing but good things to say about over fucking rumors? Again, that’s an open question, and this all could be just over inflated nothingness, but that’s my point: I’m not the most imposing figure and certainly not the most prone to initiating violence, but could you imagine any of them saying whatever this shit is to me to my face if they can’t even do it online? By the way, if there’s any teeth to this, the next 3rd Man Drinking Zoom Chat is gonna be very interesting, because as I told Charlie, I’m done trying to appease people I’m accused of doing wrong to without concrete evidence. Speaking of my stature, again, not the most imposing figure, and for the most part most people get the sense to not fuck with me. But the sheer amount of people, sober or otherwise, that have seen fit to say all kinds of things to me personally is shocking. Granted most people don’t know my background of combat training and experience, or the true degree of physical ability I have, and in fairness I worked in the past to downplay whatever power or martial skill I have to lure unsuspecting dopes into underestimating me. But you would think at a minimum someone walking around as easily as you are with an extra 50lbs of metal attached to him would give at least a bit of a pause. Perhaps the fact that there’s always law enforcement to back them up is enough to ignore any impending retaliation I might have, but the 2nd amendment exists for a reason: they might not get there in time. It’s not until I actually start moving do they suddenly realise pissing me off or attacking me wasn’t the greatest decision in their lives.
Which brings me to solutions. With much if not most of humanity today freaking out over perceived if not made up threats while ignoring if they’re able to even recognise real ones, what’s a Man to do? Simple, if action even needs to be taken: make it real. Bring reality to the situation. My current situation may be too far gone, but who took action and filed a report as soon as possible and, more importantly, who didn’t? “Actions speak louder than words” is a saying for a reason, and after this is all said and done I will be vindicated. Someone (vegans for example) want you to make some sort of argument or some other version of wasting your time providing evidence they’re not gonna listen to anyway? Charge em for it, and even better, provide links they can easily and verifiably transfer funds to (By the way, if you’d have some extra trump change laying around and want to donate to a good cause, PayPal.me/PayBacon or Venmo @Bacon-Maldito, just saiyan!) Speaking of which Rajon sent me a tweet from some guy saying grappling is superior to striking, of which I had my own reply on that, of which he went to tough guy mode. What did I do? Same thing I do to any internet tough guy: told him to sign up for a local martial arts or mma tournament (now that I think of it, probably not that many going in right now, whoops!) and send me proof, and I would drive to it to confront him in person. Care to guess what the success rate of shutting people up is? If you guessed 102% with a 2% chance of error, you win a prize! Some Karen or Kevin tries to tell you to put on a mask or stand on a square painted on the ground? Tell them to come physically make you. Perhaps not all of you can do this, but if they actually try, they’ll quickly realize the error of their ways once they can’t call the cops because you’re crushing their trachea or smashed their kidneys, ask me how I know! Point being is that everyone can and often will run their mouths and say whatever it is they think is safe to say and try to get you to appease and pay or whatever they can get away with. Until it costs them something. So make it cost em. As for the idiots that can’t (or won’t) realise an actual threat to them or theirs, first make sure your ass is covered: see the previous 15 Minute Philosophy post Alone for more. After that, as Rob Says: “let ’em burn”, even hand them the fuel to do so if it profits you. And don’t bother feeling sorry for them or theirs: for one, it ain’t gonna do anything, and they’re not gonna learn their lesson without suffering in the first place. And after all, this same idiot would likely drag you into their own misery if they could if they haven’t already tried. Why in fucks name would you feel sorry for that instead of lighting a cigar on their burning body, roasting smores on it, kicking back and enjoying the show?
The days keep going by, life continues to go on, and guess who gets blamed for something yet again! Go on, take your time figuring this one out, I’ll wait.
Everyone gather their thoughts? If you guess yours truly, congratulations: you win a prize! Case in point, Charlie of the 3rd Man Militia reached out to me over an issue with the group I’m apparently the root cause of. So what’s the latest accusation this time, and are there some people up here that actually have the stones to tell Karen to fuck off even though “people are dying by the hundreds” of the covidcrisis? Grab a well chilled can of cider and tune the fuck in, down below!
(Show Note: for whatever fucking reason the original file would not upload, so I had to split it into 2 segments. My apologies for the inconvenience hey, I CAN apologise for things I actually fucking did!)
In celebration of this very special Memorial Day, I delve back into a story of the Wiccan Dog Walker, why Jenns with 2 N’s are crazy, whether cat ladies or god rescue girls are insane, and how I timed things right and got the best version of her before she got a “boyfriend”. Check it out, down below!
In this inside the studio edition of the End Times Report, two guys that are fans of MMA, BJJ, wrestling and boxing talk to a real life combat martial artist about the validity of any of these sport adapted styles of fighting usually seen on TV, all while drunk on margaritas and smoking a 3£ cigar from the Dominican Republic. How did that go? Make sure your rim is salty and listen in down below!
Welp, it’s official: after nearly 5 years of being a rather decent tenant at my current place of employment, I’m back on the rental market. 5 years. Outside where I grew up, that’s the longest I’ve ever spent at any one place of residence. This also happens to be the first place that didn’t come furnished (a real benefit of living in a transient tourist town where few lived long term is no one moves furniture, including bedding), so this is the one real place I really got to customise to my liking, both when and especially after Hot Russian Ex departed. I put in a lot of work here both to save money long term, but all kinds of creature comforts and decorations and mementos gathered over the years: All LED lighting (cuts my lighting bill by 90%), insulating every crack in the floors and windows, upgraded shower head and kitchen sink nozzle, insulated out line for the water heater, not to mention all the crazy wiring I had to do to get most of the electronics here working. Even have the cheapest (for better AND worse) Internet subscription possible, more than half of which is paid for by the downstairs neighbours. All in all, one of the best rental settings a man could ask for: close to everything including transportation and freeways, a kick ass courtyard, and a decent landlord, all for a decent price given the current market.
All of that is going away. All over a fucking Karen. Actually, calling her a Karen is an insult to Karen: this is a Shrieking Shiela.
“Prompting the local LEO’s to visit at 3 on the morning.”
If you’ve listened to the last few shows, you’ll know what Incident I’m referring to. To save time, let’s just say I’ve been recently accused of the worst crimes to humanity possible outside of murder and rape. Overnight I went from a homebody that mostly kept to himself, only really conversing with those I live amongst in passing, usually while ferrying groceries or repairing my vehicle, to literally Hitler himself. Speaking of that which I am accused, another thing I hoped to never have to do is exactly what I did a couple of days ago: I filed a police report against thy neighbours, documenting precisely what happened the night of The Incident. Yes: it is serious enough to warrant that kind of action. Which brings up a very interesting question: now I don’t have children so I can’t empirically answer this, but if I did and someone that lives in close proximity verifiably did something physically horrible to them, I’d at the very least physically have this person removed and prosecuted as soon as possible if not taken personal action. At the time of this writing, no legal action is being taken on me, which leads me to two trains of thought: 1. They have some sort of legal or criminal background or issue therefore they can’t go to the authorities, or 2. They know damn well they’re lying and would at the least end up with a charge of filing a false police report, or hell, 3. Probably both. The lady (and I use that term looser than her chastity belt) responsible for all of this was smoking that night, and since I’m no qualified toxicologist I can speak to what was in that vape pen of hers. I’m just saying that, even given the stakes on my end, I shouldn’t be the one taking action more seriously than the “mother” that apparently isn’t.
“Bet Gina of ChildOfTruth.com wouldn’t have this issue with her future kids.”
Either way, doesn’t matter: I’m the man in this equation, and a lone one at that: every factor has it’s double edge. Meaning no matter what, I’m the only one capable of being responsible for whatever happens. So despite anything I say or any evidence I bring up, the blame is squarely on me, something I learned a long time ago but apparently I haven’t learned that lesson hard enough; hopefully this will be the event that truly bakes that one into the ol’ Bacontainer in my head once and for all, along with quite a few other lessons. Another of which: don’t have neighbours if you can help it, let alone hang out and drink with them. A caveat: if you’re a man, only hang out when there are other guys there if not only guys: every issue I’ve ever had here was started and inflamed by a woman, that is not a joke or hyperbole. I’m not kidding when I say the place I choose to lay down even shallow roots will have a border defended by at least the range of a 5.56: the most volatile thing in the world is other human beings, and frankly I’m tired of dealing with them on my front door, whether it’s crazy women (but I repeat myself) or the men they inevitably end up calling to handle whatever problem they started.
“Yes, I’m saying women are different than men.”
Which brings me to the landlord, who given his name we’ll call The Man. The Man and I have known and interacted for over 5 years now, longer than I’ve even laired here. Over the years, we’ve both gone through quite a bit: sometimes together and sometimes separate. Tenants disputing at gunpoint and having SWAT called in at 3 in the morning. Trash bins being set on fire next to gas lines. My car being broken into for the first time since I ever held a drivers licence. Not all negative: we’ve helped each other move heavy appliances around, fix several things on the property, I even did some landscaping free of charge. What I’m saying is that he knows me, even picked me out of several people, all of which had more formal paperwork and rental history than I did at the time. He’s seen how I interact with the people on the premises, and in particular the many children they have here. He has the rather clean record I have here for nearly 5 years, save for a few sex noise complaints. We’ve been on good terms for almost this entire time. Hell, the one and only time I ever missed a payment was back when we wrote checks and Hot Russian Ex wrote one under the wrong account, and that was only by a day. You would think that The Man would take this into consideration when and if an Incident like this should occur. You would think that perhaps after all of that The Man would at least ask for my side of the story before laying any kind of judgment, let alone consider anything I had to say. Hey, that’s what I thought: oh, ye of too much faith! Granted he was not in the premesis and there weren’t any cameras to bear here (which would’ve torpedoed this entire fucking catastrophe), even The Man isn’t immune to Clown World. According to him via my accusor, I have a spotty memory augmented by whatever drug and alcohol I was consuming (are cigars a drug now? Asking for a friend). I was the aggressor and the predator, and God forbid could it have been the other way around because I have testosterone and they don’t. Doesn’t matter: guilty as charged, without the possibility of proving any kind of innocence, all in the name of “safety”.
“This is getting more true by the day.”
That tells me a few more things I should’ve known before now. Yes, I have appealed to continue living in the unit I have made rather worthy of calling home: why leave if I don’t have to, why not fight for it if I have at least a shot? Given I’m writing this, you can guess how that went over. Granted I’m not being thrown out with my stuff by the local sheriff: I’m being given a decent amount of time to find another place to live. But that gavel came down rather quick, before I even had time to share my side of the story, which leads me to ask: if you’ve already made your decision, why in fucks name would you bother asking me what happened? What that means is that, when it comes down to it, nothing of our previous history matters: he sided with Shrieking Shiela & The Vaginas, and now all of that investment I’ve made here is going down the toilet. Understandably he has his liabilities to cover being the land owner here: that’s my point. When it comes down to covering your ass, the only person that’s going to do it at all costs is you; relying on anyone else is flimsy shielding at best. Another thing I think plays a factor here is that, for pretty much the entire time I’ve been here, I’ve been paying close to if not below market value for my unit, though I did my part to help make up for that by keeping his expenses keeping me here low, whether that was more efficient use of utilities or repairing things without his assistance. What better opportunity to get this abject freeloader out and some higher paying tenant in? Helping that theory was him saying that Shiela was his “best” tenant, who lives in a recently renovated unit: draw your own conclusions. While I’m not saying this is the driving factor, I can see this being one reason why he would get rid of one of his most reliable tenants to date.
“Let’s just say I’ve been through worse than this.”
Not all is lost however. I’m still gainfully employed for the time being, with business picking up. My vehicle is running the best it ever has having recently performed maintenance on it (along with a new radiohead: suck it contact tracers!). So despite the rental market being a bit bare at the moment, I can still get by, and again I’m not exactly being dragged out here; I never said The Man was a bad guy, he merely is protecting his own interests. Where this goes is anyone guess at this point (hey, I’ve been homeless before, in ski country during winter to boot!), but with a bit of luck and planning, maybe I’ll wind up in an even better place. But even if I were to somehow manage to keep this place, why? Why would I want to stay at a place where the resident tenants hate my guts, although they now know not to fuck with me (I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: humans today feel so secure they don’t realize what danger they’re getting themselves into until it’s almost too late. It took this for them to figure out how dangerous I can be when pushed, and that was a light showing.) why would I want to live among them? The Man has been very fair up until this point, and has other rental properties I could ask about and likely will: why not keep my options open? But why keep myself under the same guy that sided against me without so much as an appeal? Hell, for all the faults it has, at least the legal system gives you an arraignment process and your day in court before you’re judged by your peers or the judge himself. Hell, aside from my own nefarious purposes, why live anywhere near these people at all: why not completely uproot and move to a different city or even state? Not sure myself. All I know at this point is that no one will ever have your back more than you will, even with the best of histories and previous backings: not your landlord, not your neighbours, not even your own family sometimes, let alone your significant other.
“Ask me how I know!”
Guess I needed World War 3 to break out here for me to learn that lesson permanently. Are you gonna wait for your experience until it happens to you?
“Had the idea of carding women like this when I turned 18. Might have to make that a policy now.”
Took to the local park to get out of the house since it was nice out (back to raining again as I type this), and talked about different experiences I’ve had on going on different chicks’ live streams. Cigar of the night: another Alec Bradley that was phenomenal!
So I usually end up chatting with the employees at the vendors I service, often because I arrive before my order is packaged and ready to go, these days through some sort of face covering they’re wearing. I don’t exactly recall just how this came up, but one of my vendors asked me how I managed to keep cool during the last heat wave without air conditioning, admitting she came to work that weekend just because they had it. I told her about the various window fans I use and she was intrigued, so I told her I’d make a video or some sort of post about it. And after forgetting to do it the last couple of days, I realised, since quite a few of you Fornicators may be cooped up working and cooking and Hades knows what else at home, you also might find this info useful as well, so why not tell you about it too? Don’t ever say I didn’t do a good thing for free!
“You’re welcome assholes!”
A quick backstory: I grew up in L.A., a notoriously year round hot place, and depending on where you are, can be quite muggy at times (although these days apparently they’ve swapped weather patterns with Cascadia). During the last year of living there, I learned to use the natural Santa Ana winds (those who know, know) to keep cool, given the front of the house faced east and had windows on both sides that could funnel air through them. However, I learned during moving to different parts of the Eastern Sierras that this doesn’t apply everywhere, and I tried the same trick with various results, forcing me to use all kinds of fans to try to get the air where I wanted. These days here in one of the warmer cities of Cascadia during the summer, where there is almost no natural wind going through without a storm, it is vital to get airflow through here to stay comfortable let alone not miserable, as both I and Hot Russian Ex learned our first year here which I called the mosquito summer of hell; that was the closest I ever came to paying for central air conditioning, as the only options at the time were keeping the buggers out and boiling (while cooking at home with natural gas no less), or keeping the windows and doors open and playing whack a mole on our bodies all night (ever try to have sex while being attacked by flying dirty hypodermic needles? A different kind of fun let me assure you).
“this would’ve been a real fucking help back then, no pun intended.”
After doing some research (I never gave it too much thought beforehand), I found out that mosquitoes are attracted to both more blue shifted light (we were running CFL bulbs at the time, which I later changed to LED’s that, alongside running a lot cooler and much lower energy for the same amount of light, also only emits visible radiation in specific spectrums unlike other types of bulbs, making it harder for insects to see them), and carbon dioxide which, in case you didn’t know, builds up quite a bit in enclosed spaces. Meaning, just like these fucking retards wearing surgical masks, bandanas and other face coverings while standing 6 Feet away and whatever else someone told them to do to not die of the adjunct beer pneumonia, if you’re indoors for an extended amount of time especially with a lot of other oxygen breathing organisms, you will end up with a surplus of extra aerial carbon in your atmosphere, which you hopefully realise isn’t exactly good for your health; last I heard the air in enclosed spaces, including cubicles in skyscrapers (remember when those were a thing?) can be up to 70 times dirtier than the air outside, and that was in L.A. itself! So, outside of an HVAC system that moves the air for you, it’s kind of important to get some fresh air through your lair, particularly if you’re gonna be there for a while, and especially if the sun is raining radiation on you with extreme prejudice.
All that being said, how do I keep The Basement that’s also upstairs (another lesson learned: heat rises, meaning the higher up your lair is, the hotter it gets, though this has it’s benefits when it’s colder out) aerated and comfy? Simple, though I’ll keep this part brief as it was quite a bit of trial and error. First, the bedroom: important given you want to keep yourself and whoever you just filled with a load of semen cool under the covers as the sun rises and starts to bake the walls (the bedroom, bath and kitchen walls here face eastward with no surrounding cover, meaning the sun has a direct line of sight). The window fan selected for this task is a Bionaire multi setting twin fan, which can be set to Intake, Exhaust, and Exchange where the right fan acts as the exhaust and mixes the air. For the most part I have it set to exchange, reason being that helps keep out any airborne particulates, especially with the bath window being close to it (the exhaust side covers that side luckily). I also have it set as far to the other side as possible, which given the window is at the corner of the bedroom helps positioning the intake more central.
“Pictured: the one room you definitely want as the exhaust room.”
Bathroom: the first place I put a window fan in, and also the way we found out just how many cracks in the lair there were (“I can feel the air coming over my feet under the couch.” – Hot Russian Ex), meaning we burned a lot more gas than we needed to and helped me patch all of the holes. This one is a triple fan that can have 1-3 operate at any one time, 1st the center, 2nd the two side one, 3rd setting is all three. Unless I’m just keeping the bathroom aerated with just the 2nd setting it’s almost always set to exhaust, usually with the sides open a bit toallow any bleed air in if the other fans aren’t in operation for whatever reason or the bathroom door is closed to help cycle out any water vapor after showering (the main way I keep condensation out of the lair, which is kind of important in Cascadia). Also of note: the windows are old sliders, which allows air to flow through the 2 panes when open; I use the blinds to direct that air and further circulate it through the bathroom.
“Also of pretty good help in clearing out airborne water.”
Kitchen: the other place I used the bathroom fan while I was setting things on fire and after bedtime to draw air through the open bedroom window (I can’t imagine why it burned out so fast). This is the same model used in the bedroom, but with it positioned as far to the right as possible to pull in as much smoke from the oven as possible. As this is also a mostly dedicated exhaust as well, this one is insulated as such and can be completely sealed from any bleed air, though it’s usually operated with a bit of bleed air on the entrance side to help keep smoke out of the other rooms.
Finally: the neighbours won’t think I’m trying to burn this motherfucker down. ”
Finally, the living room window. This one does not utilise fans and likely will not for the foreseeable future, though I have a few ideas for that. This is only opened when there are wildfire around putting a bunch of smoke in the atmosphere, which is important given I’m particularly sensitive to airborne particulates (which is why I know more about masks and air purification than you mouth breathing muppets that just heard of the N95 rating this decade). Back in 2018 was a particularly heavy year for forest fires (thanks Canadia!), and aside from buying the last P100 respirator from the local hardware shop (not too effective against nerve agents, but works well with plutonium) to go outside, I installed the highest rated furnace filters in it with a piece of rear to support them and set every fan to exhaust, sealing every source of bleed air and the fans to high (it didn’t help it was hot as an ovulating woman on the back seat of a biker’s Harley). This is also how I learned that furnace filters aren’t exactly designed to handle airflow at approximately 3000 CFM (Cubic Feet per Minute, or about 6 times the amount of square feet of my lair): they’re rated to last up to 3 months, I could see smoke coming through on day 4. Made it through that night by spending it in the air conditioned bedroom of the Big Boobed Blonde nurse that regularly invited me over at the time, and bought a second pair the following morning. Luckily the smoke cleared out the next few days after THOSE filters also wore out.
“Not sure which one of us “Thank You For Your Service” applies to. Guess it’s mutual, much like our orgasms.”
Internal fans: but wait, there’s more! Helping direct air wherever I need it to go are a few other fans. Aside from the ceiling fan that came with the place, one I picked up pretty cheaply is a high velocity stand up fan rated at 1,532 CMF, replacing the old Comfort Zone one I’ve had since living in the first apartment in June Lake that’s on it’s last legs: I’ll be getting a new one now that Amazon is back open for business. Supporting that is a ground level high velocity metal fan, which aside from serving as a supporting heater fan (replacing the plastic box fan I’ve had since the age of 5 that spent it’s last days directing wall furnace air around the living room, with predictable results to everyone except me back then), also serves as an air circulator alongside the stand up fan in the bathroom after showering; usually completely dries it up in about a half hour, or about 13 times as fast as just leaving the window open like the Hot Russian Ex preferred to do and then wondered why there was mold forming on the ceiling.
Clearing out smoke and condensation 50 watt hours at a time. ”
Finally: why didn’t I just get an air conditioner, which also acts as a filter and dehumidifier, even though I used Consumer Reports to find the best one available; wouldn’t that be far simpler and more turn key than running a million different fans? Well for one, even after paying for all of the replacement fans, monetary wise I still come out with change to spare. Second, air conditioners wouldn’t be as effective in clearing out water vapor after showering. Third, same for smoke if I’m setting my dinner on fire in the Eat Box (official name for the kitchen), and keeping it out of the Shake Shack (official name for the bedroom). Fourth, the setup I have now is unparalleled in terms of air circulation, and directing the air where I want it to go: should I need to clear out some air in the Shake Shack, for some odd reason for example, I can easily set the kitchen fan to intake and the bedroom one to exhaust. Finally, I’ve checked the amp ratings of both the best air conditioner available and every fan I own: A/C: 8 amps. My setup: 7.5 max. Although we have the cheapest electricity in the country if not the planet alongside natural gas (utility bill, funny enough, just came in the email: less than 9¢/kilowatt), every bit helps keep the bottles of tequila and bourbon topped off.
Pictured: somehow a better idea than freon powered comfort.
So that’s my set up. A bit complicated to say the least, and rather personalised, but it’s the most effective home styled HVAC system I could argue ever made, and even inspired the neighbours next door to install similar systems in their lair. Obviously this would need adjustment according to different abodes, but this should serve as a decent example for you to build off of, tailor to suit your place and purposes. Hope this helps!
“Maybe next time I’ll just go to a lake with Dare and give her the in water version of 15ccs of female happiness.”
