@@Bazigoa I did most of my voice training myself while actually going through puberty which meant it went a lot better, but the most important rule of thumb is this: Human vocal cords extend quite a bit down the throat, and you can massively adjust the pitch of your overall voice by focusing on different parts of it when you speak. Singers do a lot of work with this, they call higher-pitched levels "head voice" and lower-pitched levels "chest voice". You can switch between them by placing focus on those areas with your breath, it takes a bit of practice and dedication (and can sound a bit nasally at first if you're starting further from the voice you intend to have) but it really works.
This was a tragedy when it happened, I remember when I was a kid at school they wheeled in a TV to watch the landing live, needless to say they didn't show us any more J.A.F.F.A. landings after this one.
My name is Walter Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my brother-in-law Hank Schrader. Hank has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as his chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hank came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. He asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which he would then sell using his connections in the drug world. Connections that he made through his career with the DEA. I was... astounded, I... I always thought that Hank was a very moral man and I was... thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something he knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hank took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret. I quickly realized that I was in way over my head, and Hank had a partner, a man named Gustavo Fring, a businessman. Hank essentially sold me into servitude to this man, and when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hank and Fring had a falling out. From what I can gather, Hank was always pushing for a greater share of the business, to which Fring flatly refused to give him, and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange, uh I guess I guess you call it a "hit" on my brother-in-law, and failed, but Hank was seriously injured, and I wound up paying his medical bills which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hank was bent on revenge, working with a man named Hector Salamanca, he plotted to kill Fring, and did so. In fact, the bomb that he used was built by me, and he gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hank had risen in the ranks to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA, and about that time, to keep me in line, he took my children from me. For 3 months he kept them. My wife, who up until that point, had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done, why Hank had taken our children. We were scared. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, to end this nightmare, and in response, he gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hank will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. I... All I could think to do was to make this video in hope that the world will finally see this man, for what he really is.
Good on you mate! I’m just gonna assume you came out as trans because i have no audio for some god forsaken reason, but yeah nice… I don’t- like I don’t know what to say in these sort of situations when it’s not in person this is prolly awkward as fuhhhh
"How do you feel, 10 seconds, after recording that TikTok? when the cameras aren't rolling, when it's just you, alone, surrounded by syrup. And who cleans all that? Is it you? You wipe the countertops, scrub it hard, I presume? And all that on the floor, do you get on your hands and knees on all fours, and wipe? Endlessly? Bow down, like you're worshipping some God? One who, certainly doesn't look kindly on you. And when you try to get up, from those impossibly sticky floors, does your body stay? As it's trapped in hell? I hope so."
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