Crypto Legend Who Minted 3 Millionaires Says: "Do THIS Now...👉”

time is running low… January 20 [View Online]( [stockshiftstrategies logo]( Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; and in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter. For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; in which case it is somewhat more than probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, extant in the literature of any age or country.   [stockshiftstrategies logo](   +1 (302) 499-2858 stockshiftstrategies.com 124 Broadkill Rd 4 Milton, DE 19968   “Larissa, I put a new patient in room four for you,” Merry Haines, the Hope County Hospital ER charge nurse, called out. “Okay.” Larissa Brockman finished documenting on her recent discharge and then pushed away from the computer. The hour was well past midnight, but the ER remained incredibly busy on this Memorial Day Friday night. Or rather, Saturday morning. She crossed over to room four but then stopped abruptly in the doorway as she saw the familiar face of her patient. Annie Hinkle, a fifty-year-old woman looking a decade older than she should, was seated on the gurney cradling her right arm against her chest. No. Not again. The tiny hairs lifted on the back of her neck in alarm. This was the second time Annie had been here over the past month. The last time was for a black eye that she swore was not caused by her husband, Kurt’s, fist. What would be her story this time? Larissa took a deep breath and let it out slowly before entering the room. “Hello, Annie.” “Hi.” Annie’s gaze barely met hers before skittering away. In early 2023, after crypto dropped -74% : “What did you do to your arm?” Larissa asked, keeping her voice gentle as she approached. She had the distinct impression the woman was on the edge and wouldn’t hesitate to flee if cornered. “I fell off the front porch—you know how klutzy I am.” Annie refused to meet her gaze but kept staring down at her arm as if the injury might heal itself if she concentrated hard enough. “I don’t think you’re klutzy at all,” Larissa murmured. “Show me where it hurts.” “Right here,” Annie said, removing her left hand to reveal a darkly mottled bruise encircling her wrist. Larissa felt a little sick looking at the injury, knowing there was no possible way this had happened from a fall. She could clearly envision a man’s large hand squeezing hard enough to cause this. She’d be surprised if there weren’t a few broken bones hidden beneath the horribly discolored skin. “Okay, I’m going to get you a cold pack for that, and I’m sure the doctor will want X-rays, too.” She kept her voice calm with an effort. “Do you need something for pain?” Annie lifted her shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Maybe a pain pill would help.” Larissa nodded, thinking the poor woman needed far more than a pain pill. She batted a wave of helplessness aside. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked. “Maybe you hit your head? Or your ribs?” “No, just my wrist.” “All right, I’m going to check in with Dr. Allen, and then I’ll be right back.” “Sure.” Annie’s gaze jerked away, causing Larissa’s stomach to knot painfully. She recognized the signs and symptoms of abuse. Only too well. Dark memories from the past threatened to overwhelm her, and she fought them back with an effort. Struggling to keep her emotions under control, she grabbed an ice pack from the supply rack and then went searching for Dr. Gabe Allen, the physician in charge of the patients on her team. He was on the phone talking to the inpatient hospitalist about a patient he wanted admitted. She hovered nearby, waiting until he finished his call. He hung up the phone and flashed a warm smile. “Hi, Larissa, what’s up?” His smile was far too attractive, an effect she’d been fighting for months now. So far, she thought she was hiding her feelings pretty well. “I need you to examine my patient in room four,” she said in a soft tone in a voice. “I’m convinced she’s being physically abused.” Gabe’s smile faded. “Are you sure?” [Crypt Crash]( She’d only been a nurse here at the Hope County Hospital for six months, but she’d thought she’d proved her competence by now. She scowled. “Trust me, I’m sure.” Gabe gave a terse nod. “All right, let me finish up this inpatient admission, and I’ll be right over.” “Thanks.” She hurried back over to Annie’s bedside, squeezing the disposable ice pack between her hands to activate the chemical reaction inside. “Here, place this around your wrist, okay?” she instructed. “Dr. Allen will be here shortly.” Annie winced but didn’t say anything as she placed the cold pack over her wrist. Larissa struggled to find the right words that might break through the woman’s wall of denial. “Annie, you don’t have to put up with anyone hurting you. We have programs that can help keep you safe.” “No one’s hurting me,” Annie swiftly denied. “I told you I fell off the porch.” Her voice rose with indignation, and instinctively, Larissa knew she needed to back off or the woman might bolt. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the idea of anyone hurting you.” She forced a reassuring smile. “You’re such a nice woman, and you certainly deserve to be treated as such. Oh, look, here comes Dr. Allen now.” “How are you, Mrs. Hinkle?” he asked. “I understand you may have broken your wrist.” “I fell off the porch,” Annie said, repeating her story like a parrot. “Hmmm,” Gabe murmured as he removed the ice pack from her wrist. His eyebrows pulled together in a dark frown when he saw the extent of the injury. He probed the skin gently, his expression serious. “We’re going to need several X-rays of this wrist,” he said. Larissa swiftly logged on to the computer. “AP and lateral views?” she asked as she entered the order. “Yes.” Gabe replaced the ice pack and gave Annie a stern look. “You know this didn’t happen from a fall,” he said bluntly. “Yes, yes, it did.” Annie’s voice was beginning to sound desperate. “I’m klutzy and I fell off the porch.” Gabe’s frustrated gaze locked on Larissa’s, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. She gave him a tiny nod, acknowledging their dilemma, and then turned toward Annie. “Okay, just relax for now. The radiology tech will be here shortly to take you over to get the X-rays. Dr. Allen, do you think she could have a dose of Percocet for the pain?” “Of course.” “Great, I’ll be right back.” Larissa walked over to the automated drug-dispensing machine and punched in her password along with Annie’s name and ID number. The Percocet drawer popped open, and she removed one dose before closing it up again. When she spun around, she nearly bumped into Gabe. “We have to notify the sheriff’s department,” he said in a low voice. Teeka Tiwari went on record saying we are entering, the “best crypto-buying opportunity we’ll see in our lifetime…” Since then, Bitcoin is up 166%. And smaller coins have exploded 820%, 1,593%… even 7,600%. But… This isn’t the first time Teeka Tiwari went public with a bold crypto call… In 2016, when the Washington Post said: “R.I.P. Bitcoin, It’s Time to Move On”. Teeka Tiwari – instead – recommended a small list of crypto coins… [$1,000 into each would’ve turned into a $2.4 million crypto portfolio.]( Helping several of his followers become millionaires. Flash forward to December 2018 when Bloomberg said “Bitcoin, The Biggest Bubble in History, Is Popping”. Teeka made another crypto call… Anyone who followed his advice would’ve turned [$1,000 into each of his picks into a $1.4 million crypto portfolio.]( Now… Tonight… Teeka is making what could turn out to be his biggest crypto call yet. And it’s all centered on a rare event kicking off: April 16th. When hundreds of tiny crypto coins could explode (in just days), helping anyone capture 10 times, 50 times, even 100 times return on their money. Today, you will get the details including Teeka’s [#1 Crypto Pick for 2024, completely FREE.]( [Click here for all the details.]( Sam Volkering Analyst, Palm Beach Letter *All investments carry risk. You may lose some or all of your investment. “I know.” The Wisconsin state statutes were pretty clear regarding cases of suspected abuse. Still, she knew that doing the right thing could also backfire in a big way. “But you heard her. There’s no way she’s going to press charges against her husband. And I’m afraid that he’ll only get angrier once the deputy questions him. What if he takes that anger out on her?” Gabe thrust his fingers through his dark brown hair. “You could be right, but what choice do we have?” “I don’t know,” she admitted, hating the feeling of helplessness. The system was supposed to work for victims, but more often than not, it created a vicious cycle, one that couldn’t be broken unless the victim took a stance. But too many of those victims didn’t. “Let me talk to the social worker first, okay?” “Okay, but giving her pamphlets on domestic violence isn’t going to help,” Gabe said with a dark frown. “We have to call the authorities.” She nodded, knowing with a sinking heart that he was right. She could only hope that the police could get through to Annie better than she and Gabe had been able to. She closed her eyes and prayed that Annie wouldn’t end up back in the ER with injuries that were far worse than a black eye or a broken wrist. Please, Lord, keep Annie safe! You are receiving this editorial email with advertisements at {EMAIL} because you opted in for this service. If you wish to discontinue receiving these emails, please click on the [unsubscribe link](. Polaris Advertising welcomes your feedback and questions. But please note: The law prohibits us from giving personalized advice. To ensure our emails continue reaching your inbox, please add our email address to your address book. To contact Us, call toll free Domestic/International: +1 (302) 499-2858 Mon–Fri, 9am–5pm ET, or email us support@stockshiftstrategies.com. 124 Broadkill Rd 4 Milton, DE 19968. Any reproduction, copying, or redistribution of our content, in whole or in part, is prohibited without written permission from Polaris Advertising. © 2024 Polaris Advertising. All rights reserved. [Logo]( But Buck was neither house-dog nor kennel-dog. The whole realm was his. He plunged into the swimming tank or went hunting with the Judge’s sons; he escorted Mollie and Alice, the Judge’s daughters, on long twilight or early morning rambles; on wintry nights he lay at the Judge’s feet before the roaring library fire; he carried the Judge’s grandsons on his back, or rolled them in the grass, and guarded their footsteps through wild adventures down to the fountain in the stable yard, and even beyond, where the paddocks were, and the berry patches. Among the terriers he stalked imperiously, and Toots and Ysabel he utterly ignored, for he was king,—king over all creeping, crawling, flying things of Judge Miller’s place, humans included. His father, Elmo, a huge St. Bernard, had been the Judge’s inseparable companion, and Buck bid fair to follow in the way of his father. He was not so large,—he weighed only one hundred and forty pounds,—for his mother, Shep, had been a Scotch shepherd dog. Nevertheless, one hundred and forty pounds, to which was added the dignity that comes of good living and universal respect, enabled him to carry himself in right royal fashion. During the four years since his puppyhood he had lived the life of a sated aristocrat; he had a fine pride in himself, was even a trifle egotistical, as country gentlemen sometimes become because of their insular situation. But he had saved himself by not becoming a mere pampered house-dog. Hunting and kindred outdoor delights had kept down the fat and hardened his muscles; and to him, as to the cold-tubbing races, the love of water had been a tonic and a health preserver. And this was the manner of dog Buck was in the fall of 1897, when the Klondike strike dragged men from all the world into the frozen North. But Buck did not read the newspapers, and he did not know that Manuel, one of the gardener’s helpers, was an undesirable acquaintance. Manuel had one besetting sin. He loved to play Chinese lottery. Also, in his gambling, he had one besetting weakness—faith in a system; and this made his damnation certain.