text:
Doom: Still the Demon-Dusting Daddy
chris-littlechild - March 30, 2012
Legendary shooter Doom first arrived in 1993. It marks gaming's first foray into first person shooter territory, and was ridiculously, work-grinding-to-a-halt-ingly popular. Geeks the world over failed to bathe for days, their bleeding eyes transfixed by the screen. Its legacy lies not only in contributing to a worldwide body odour epidemic, but in popularizing certain gaming elements now taken for granted.
You take the role of Mr. Anonymous Badass Space Marine (We're not on a first name basis, alas. He shunned my advances. After all the flowers, chocolates and Barry White CDs, too). A routine tedious assignment on the Martian moon of Phobos goes pear-shaped, leaving one almighty shitstorm to be dealt with. A portal to Hell opening, it transpires, is rather a big deal. Not to mention completely beyond a few ragtag troopers with pistols. Soon, only Mr. ABSM remains. He's the manliest man in the history of manly men, though (as you can see from his GRRRR portrait on the HUD), and so opts to take on the unholy hordes alone.
Doom seems to exude iconic and retro goodness from start to finish. The whine of the doors. The shrieking of the Imps. The blast of incoming pump-action death to the face from the shotgun. All are completely unmistakable and deliciously nostalgic. Even so, archaic elements persist to remind us of the dangers of rose-tinted glasses. Its age is certainly showing now, as you'd expect from a 90s title (a denture-wearing, shuffling-about-in-slippers octogenarian in video game years). Questionable visuals aside, the aiming mechanic is frankly horrific today. Even the masculine-to-the-max eats lesser men for breakfast (literally, by the look of him) Mr. ABSM can't target opponents on a higher or lower level. Instead, he relies on magical bullets of some kind. Thanks to what I can only assume is actual witchcraft, shots find their way straight to enemy's groins from a gun pointed 100 feet below them.
Further, Doom was born in a simpler time, excuse enough for being as mindless a shooter as can be imagined. The puzzle element of the game amounts to:
1. Wander up to a locked door, blasting everything to buggery and back.
2. Wander a little further, blasting everything to buggery and back.
3. Discover the key to the aforementioned door, guarded by some more things to blast to buggery and back.
4. Open the no longer locked door, revealing a liberal helping of things to blast to buggery and back.
5. Return to step 1. Don't pass go, don't collect $200.
Petty qualms aside, Doom remains the very definition of classic. So many aspects of the game have been pimped out remorselessly over the years. With a title that practically created a genre for itself, parallels will always be drawn. It's amazing how many of today's space marine games/shooter games/space marine shooter games owe everything to this masterpiece.
It may have moved on visually, as you can see here, but the timeless concept remains unchanged. Undoubtedly one of gaming's most popular and influential offerings.
My fellow retroheads will surely appreciate this trip down an alarmingly bloodstained memory lane. Here's a quick jaunt through the final level:
Article by Chris Littlechild
Tagged in: doom , retro games ,
Miley Cyrus and Dua Lipa Hit the Road!
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Chris Cooper, Vice President, Media Liability Product Executive at QBE North America, will join us via Skype to talk about issues surrounding freelance insurance including an overview of the coverage, and the underwriting process.
Open to all freelancers, including print, broadcast, radio and digital. Lunch will be available - Sandwich boxed lunches for $15. There will be lunch, a short talk and a closing Q and A.
Program: Noon to 1 p.m.


text:
Zhang Taiheng (; ur. 1931, zm. 29 stycznia 2005 w Pekinie) – chiński wojskowy, generał.

Pochodził z powiatu Guangrao (prowincja Szantung). Od 1945 żołnierz Chińskiej Armii Ludowo-Wyzwoleńczej, w 1948 wstąpił do Komunistycznej Partii Chin. Zawodowy wojskowy, w 1988 promowany na generała-porucznika, w 1994 generała. Pełnił m.in. funkcję komendanta Okręgu Wojskowego Jinan.

Pełnił także mandat deputowanego do Ogólnochińskiego Zgromadzenia Przedstawicieli Ludowych w latach 1988-1998 (kadencje VI, VII, VIII), następnie w latach 1998-2003 wchodził w skład Stałego Komitetu Krajowego Ludowej Politycznej Konferencji Konsultatywnej Chin (IX kadencja).

Przypisy

Chińscy generałowie
Urodzeni w 1931
Zmarli w 2005

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text:
Philadelphia Gay News
Home News Local Killer of gay man seeks removal from death row
Killer of gay man seeks removal from death row
Tim Cwiek
The May 20, 1988 issue of PGN.
Richard R. Laird, who's been on death row for 32 years for the gruesome killing of gay artist Anthony Milano, last week asked an appeals court to vacate his death sentence.
In December 1987, Laird and his accomplice Frank R. Chester kidnapped Milano, 26, to a wooded area in Tullytown, Pa., and slashed his throat so many times that Milano's head was nearly severed.
The case became a cause celebre in the local LGBT community because both defendants voiced homophobic slurs inside a Bucks County tavern, prior to kidnapping Milano and killing him. Prosecutors described the case as a "hate crime," even though a federal hate-crime statute protecting the LGBT community wasn't enacted until 2009.
In 1988, Laird and Chester were sentenced to death by a Bucks County jury. But both men eventually were granted new trials due to faulty jury instructions.
Richard R. Laird
Rather than retry Chester, Bucks County authorities agreed to remove him from death row to the general prison population. In return, Chester agreed to serve a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Chester, 51, is currently incarcerated at a state prison in LaBelle, Pa.
However, no such deal was offered to Laird, and after a second trial in 2007, he was resentenced to death.
In a 204-page appeal filed Aug. 28 with the Third Circuit Court of Appeals, attorneys for Laird emphasized the sexual abuse he allegedly experienced from his father as a young boy. According to the appeal, Laird was continually raped by his father between the ages of five and 11. Laird's father, Richard Laird Sr., is deceased.
The appeal contends that jurors in 2007 weren't informed about the severity of Laird's sexual abuse. Instead, they apparently thought Laird was "a mean drunk who hated gay people and recognized [Milano] to be one of them." If jurors realized that Laird's homophobia was linked to his father's sexual abuse, they may have spared his life, according to the appeal.
Laird lacked effective assistance of counsel because his trial attorneys failed to adequately investigate his abusive background and convey it to jurors. Thus, Laird's constitutional right to a fair trial was violated and his death sentence should be vacated, according to the appeal.
Laird's appeal was initially filed on Aug. 21. But after Laird's attorneys were questioned by a PGN reporter about their use of the term "homosexual" throughout the appeal, they refiled the appeal on Aug. 28 without the problematic language.
Laird's appellate attorneys, Joseph W. Luby and Christi A. Charpentier, had no comment for this story.
Bucks County District Attorney Matthew D. Weintraub issued the following statement about Laird's appeal: "We remain just as committed to the appeal and prosecution of Richard Laird for his hate-based murder of Anthony Milano now as much as ever. We do so in order to serve justice, and to honor Mr. Milano's memory."
A spokesperson for Weintraub was asked if an agreement with Laird would be possible — similar to the agreement with Chester — allowing Laird to leave death row if he agreed to serve a life sentence without the possibility of parole. Laird, 57, is currently on death row at a state prison in Skippack, Pa.
"The office can't comment on that [agreement possibility] at this time," Weintraub's spokesperson said, in an email. "But we will be addressing it through the appropriate legal process."
Justin F. Robinette, a local civil-rights attorney, has been following Laird's case. "I'm glad the references to 'homosexual' were deleted from Mr. Laird's appeal," Robinette told PGN. "But I'm not comfortable with his apparent gay-panic defense. Mr. Laird was rightfully subject to the death penalty for this crime. With that said, after 32 years of protracted litigation, I'd like to see an end to it. If Mr. Chester was offered life imprisonment without the possibility of parole, why not consider the same deal for Mr. Laird?"
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


The custom terminal design was initially developed in 2014 for a Middle Eastern client who were searching for a manufacturer of kiosk terminals that could design a solution which had several key characteristics.
2. Functional for a individual to be able to stand in front the user interface and be able to with ease use the different multi functionality of the machine provided in one full cycle, example find correct document then proceed to print out a hard copy after receiving payment for the document purchased and then be able to type in the fields required and submitted it for approval and print a copy for users own records.
3. Be able to manage cash withdrawals by security firm easily therefore creating a safe work environment and also an efficient process so that labor interaction was kept to a minimum.
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KT Group with seat in Hong Kong specializes in providing cost effective self service custom design solutions we are a company that works on key characteristics of a machine hardware road map with ingenuity and specialist knowledge no opportunity passes without defined quality control process so that we can deliver a working solution to the clients needs.


text:
C. P. Boyko Books About Anthology
The Walking-Stick
Download as TXT | PDF | EPUB
by Marcel Aymé
translated by Norman Denny
The Sorbiers having decided to take advantage of the fine Sunday afternoon to go for a walk, Mme Sorbier called out of the window to her two sons, Victor and Felicien, who were amusing themselves in the street by throwing dirt in each other's face. They had a fondness for the sort of rowdy games that are the despair of mothers.
'Come and change into clean clothes. We're going for a walk. It's a lovely afternoon.'
They all put on their Sunday best, Victor and Felicien scrambling into their sailor-suits with unconcealed dislike. Both boys longed for grown-up clothes, but for these they would have to wait until their first communion, when they would also get real silver watches.
Their father carefully adjusted the bow tie in his starched collar. As he was putting on his jacket he looked glumly at the left sleeve and said to his wife:
'Would you mind very much, Mathilde, if I took off the crêpe armband? People don't often wear mourning in Paris.'
'Just as you please,' said Mathilde in a wounded voice. 'It's barely two months since Uncle Emile died, but after all he was only my uncle, and it doesn't take you long to forget people.'
'But you know what he used to say—"When I'm dead, my children, I don't want you to—"'
'Of course you're not bound to show respect for my relations, but you've got to admit that I've always worn mourning for yours. I've scarcely ever been out of black in all the eight years we've been married.'
Sorbier wagged his head vexedly, having no answer to this. He put on his jacket without removing the armband and without feeling the glow of conscious rectitude that an act of self-sacrifice is supposed to procure. Gloomily contemplating his reflection in the wardrobe-mirror he muttered:
'It's the way it stands out. If this were a dark jacket it wouldn't be so bad.'
Sorbier was not excessively vain. He was content, during the week, to wear old and even patched clothes at the office; but he considered, and rightly, that Sunday was a day for dressing with elegance. How, after all, is a man to bear with the tyranny of his boss if he is not conscious of having a Sunday suit at home? It is a matter of human dignity. And obviously a crêpe armband detracts from the smartness of a suit. But then on the other hand mourning is mourning, no getting away from it, particularly when one is married and the father of a family.
Victor and Felicien meanwhile were playing touch-you-last under the dining-room table, although they had been warned that this was not a game for indoors. A vase crashed to the floor. Their mother rushed out, slapped the boy who was nearest and locked the other in the lavatory to keep them apart. She could then get on with her dressing in peace, without the risk of further disasters. Returning to the bedroom she found her husband seated in an armchair and stroking his toothbrush moustache while he gazed beatifically at the ceiling.
'What are you staring at? What are you thinking about, and why are you grinning like that?'
'I've just had an idea, Mathilde. It has just suddenly come to me. What I want . . .'
He talked like a man seeing visions, and his wife, at once suspecting some new folly, insisted on hearing what he had to say.
'What I want,' he said, 'is to take Uncle Emile's walking-stick. You know, it never occurred to me before, but don't you think the stick might be put to some use, instead of just being kept in the wardrobe?'
Mathilde pursed her lips and he himself blushed a little, realizing that he was perhaps being somewhat hasty in this matter of the walking-stick, with Uncle Emile scarcely cold in his grave—a fact of which his wife in a furious voice, her eyes damp with indignation, proceeded to remind him.
'Barely two months! A man who worked hard all his life. Why, he never once used that stick!'
'Exactly.'
'What do you mean, exactly? Why do you say that? Where's the sense in saying exactly?'
'All I say is—exactly.' And Sorbier assumed an enigmatic expression, as though the word had some unfathomable meaning.
Mathilde demanded further explanation but he merely whistled between his teeth in a manner which caused her, as she fastened her suspenders, to meditate reprisals. At half-past two they were all assembled on the landing. It looked as though this was going to be just another of those Sunday outings; two hours of tedious walking followed by a rest period during which they would sit in silence round a cafe table. 'Come along, you young devils,' said Sorbier, and this also was routine. But as he was in the act of closing the door of the apartment a thought seemed to strike him, and he said with an air of innocence that deceived his wife:
'I've forgotten my watch. You go on down and I'll catch you up.'
Hurrying to the wardrobe he got out Uncle Emile's walking-stick. The yellow bone knob, carved in the shape of a bulldog's head, was fixed to a stem of varnished wood with a gold band. It had never occurred to Sorbier that the mere fact of carrying a stick in his right hand sufficed to give a man a greater sense of his own importance. His wife's furious protest, when he rejoined his family outside the house, left him unmoved. With the firmness of a free man and paterfamilias resolved to defend the privilege proper to his status he replied:
'Quite so. I've taken your uncle's stick. I see no reason why not. I'm thirty-seven, an age when a man in a responsible position is entitled to carry a walking-stick. If you insist on keeping this one in the wardrobe I'll buy myself one, and I promise you it won't be anything cheap and nasty.'
Mathilde was constrained to silence, fearing that this might be the thin end of the wedge. A man starts by buying a walking-stick and Heaven knows what may follow—extravagant habits, mistresses . . . For the first time in years she glanced at her husband in a manner that was half apprehensive and half admiring. Although she still deplored his lack of respect for the deceased, she could not help observing the fashionable ease with which he flourished the stick. She gave a sigh that was almost tender, but which he mistook for one of indignation.
'If your feet are hurting you,' he said, 'you'd better go home. I'll carry on with the children. They won't mind.'
'There's nothing the matter with my feet. But why do you say that the children . . . ?'
'Do you think I'm incapable of taking my sons for a walk? What you're implying, I suppose, is that I'm a bad father.'
Sorbier laughed sardonically. Victor was walking a few paces ahead of them, but Felicien's hand was clasped in his mother's and she was keeping a tight hold on it. Observing this and feeling the need for a crushing display of authority, Sorbier said:
'I can't think why you don't allow the boys to amuse themselves on their own. Felicien, let go of your mother's hand.'
'You know what it's like when they go off together,' objected Mathilde. 'They get quite out of control. They're certain to tear their clothes, even if they don't get themselves run over, and then when the accident's happened it's too late.'
Sorbier ignored this. Giving Felicien a friendly tap on the calves with the stick he said:
'Go on in front with your brother. That's more fun than clinging to your mother's apron-strings.'
Felicien let go his mother's hand and caught his brother unawares with a kick on the backside to which Victor replied with a clout that knocked his beret onto the pavement. Mathilde watched this outcome of the paternal decree with an affectation of indifference that was not untinged with sarcasm. Sorbier laughed and said good-humouredly:
'They're a terrible pair, but still it's wrong not to let them enjoy themselves in their own way.'
However, he conceded the necessity of keeping their enjoyment within bounds.
'You're to stay close in front of us, within reach of my stick, and behave properly. We've made an early start so I'm going to take you for a particularly nice walk. You'll have a chance to improve your minds.'
The family walked for the better part of a mile along streets and boulevards with the father using his stick to point out objects of interest, and discoursing with an abundance and urbanity that infuriated his wife.
'There are a great many historic monuments round here. The Louvre, for instance—and over there you have the magasins du Louvre, a famous department store . . . That's the Ministry of Finance . . . And here's the statue of Gambetta, the man who saved the nation's honour in 1870 . . . Mind you don't forget that.'
They had reached the Tuileries garden, and a little further on Victor pointed to the statue of a naked woman standing on a pedestal.
'What about her, papa? Who's she? Did she save the nation's honour too?'
His father, rather put out, said sharply:
'She's just a woman. You don't have to stand there gaping.'
He prodded Victor with the stick, feeling shocked that a child of his age should be asking questions about a naked woman; but recovering almost instantly from this moment of vexation he nudged his wife and remarked in a tone in which the hint of mockery was scarcely disguised:
'It must be said, she's remarkably well-shaped. The sculptor was a real artist, don't you think?'
Conscious of the imperfections contained with difficulty within her corset, Mathilde looked at him in pained reproach; and he made things worse by giving a libidinous click of his tongue.
'Remarkably well-shaped, you must admit. Really it is hard to imagine a more beautiful body.'
Mathilde replied with a confused murmur which was less a contradiction than a shamefaced protest, and its effect on Sorbier was to cause him to bridle as though he had been accused of hypocrisy. He felt that the unique dignity conferred upon him by Uncle Emile's walking-stick was compromised by this suggestion of bad faith. Taking Mathilde by the arm he thrust her within a foot of the statue.
'Look at the line of the hip and the curve of the belly, just a very slight curve, exactly the amount a belly ought to have. And look at those breasts, so firm and deliciously rounded! Did you ever see more beautiful breasts?'
Mathilde was nearly in tears. Victor and Felicien were following their father's discourse with the greatest interest and as he stroked the curves with the tip of his stick they clutched each other in an effort not to giggle. Mathilde attempted to change the subject, even going so far as to suggest that this kind of lecture was scarcely suited to young ears. But Sorbier, by now carried away, spared her nothing. Going round to the other side of the statue he uttered a positive bellow of enthusiasm.
'And the back view's just as good! Just exactly enough to sit down on and no more!'
The stick described two circles outlining the objects of his admiration, and this drew from Victor and Felicien, who were already pink with suppressed merriment, a snort of half-stifled laughter. Fearing lest the outburst should cause their parents to suspect them of depraved instincts they turned and ran off, and this induced Sorbier to leave the statue.
Mathilde had heard him out to the end, without even thinking of turning her back on him. She fell into step automatically at his side, her mind filled with the picture of that desolatingly flawless nudity. Considering her own bosom, whose amplitude prevented her from seeing her feet, she found herself blushing and in an access of humility she reflected that she was ridiculous and unworthy of this husband whom she had underestimated. Sorbier had acquired a new stature in her eyes, becoming suddenly a demon of seduction, bathed in a glow of perversity. She discovered in herself an unfamiliar sense of devotion, a hankering after subservience and total submission to the tyrant's lightest whim. But she allowed no sign of this sentimental upheaval to escape her. Bearing herself aloofly and with a pursed expression she maintained a wary silence, leaving it to him to keep the children in order; and with an effort that made her red in the face she drew in her ample stomach, not reflecting that this made her bosom even more prominent. In any case, Sorbier was paying no attention to her. Exalted by his inspired commentary on that stony nakedness he was repeating certain phrases which he thought particularly well-chosen, while in his mind's eye he evoked the figure in detail. Mutterings escaped him concerning legs, neck and shoulders which might have had reference to a cooking recipe, but then with a gasp of excited laughter he exclaimed, 'And the breasts! Upon my word, those breasts!' It had already been apparent that his interest in the statue was not purely aesthetic; and now a gleam had crept into his eye and a tremor into his voice, portents not unknown to his wife. She could no longer remain aloof. Speaking in a low voice, with a trace of bitterness but without anger, she said:
'Perhaps you've been hiding it, but you've certainly never talked to me like this before. Taking Uncle Emile's stick seems to have had a strange effect on you. If my poor uncle were still alive he'd remind you of the duties of a husband and father. He'd tell you that it's not decent or sensible to talk to your wife about another female's breasts, even a stone one. You know what happens to a marriage when the husband goes off the rails—look at the Corvisons, and that's only one example. And anyway what good does it do? What's the use of dreaming about someone else's breasts? Think of our own nights together, darling—there was only one pair of breasts for you. Even last night—you surely can't have forgotten . . .'
Directly she had said it she realized her mistake. In a moment of jealous tenderness she had rashly drawn attention to her own bosom; and Sorbier, not content with the satisfactions of an imaginary debauch, now indulged in those of cruelty and callousness. His eye rested upon her in derisive pity, the stick described an exaggerated outline and he wagged his head in a manner which said all too plainly, 'My poor dear, you simply can't compete. Just look at yourself.'
The message was so unmistakable that Mathilde reddened with fury. She proceeded to counter-attack.
'Not that I care in the least. It's the children I'm thinking of, and you, too, because you don't seem to realize what a fool you're making of yourself, playing at being the gay Lothario. After all, you're not exactly in the first flush of youth. The concierge said as much to me only yesterday, when I came in after buying a bandage for your varicose veins.'
'Did she indeed? That old slut who's twice tried to kiss me on the stairs! As I said to her, "Any time I want to be unfaithful to my wife I know where to go. There's no shortage of pretty girls in Paris. With a little know-how—"' (and here Sorbier smiled a meaningful smile) '"—a man can pick and choose, thank Heaven."'
As it happened a good-looking young woman was passing at that moment, and for an instant her eyes met those of Sorbier. On a sudden impulse he raised his hat and gave her the most cavalier of smiles. Somewhat startled, she nodded and even smiled faintly in return. Mathilde felt that she was losing her wits. She seized her husband by the arm.
'Who was that? Who was that woman? I've never seen her in my life. Where did you meet her?'
Sorbier was silent as though reluctant to answer, but when she persisted he said in a tone of feigned embarrassment:
'I'm really not sure. I knew her at one time. I don't exactly remember.'
Delighted by Mathilde's agitation he hurried away to tell Felicien to come off the grass.
Leaving the Tuileries gardens the family walked back to the boulevards by way of the Rue Royale. As they passed a pastry-shop Felicien announced that he was hungry and Victor at once took up the tale.
'I'm hungry too, Mamma. I'm much hungrier than Felicien.'
Mathilde in her irritation slapped them both and they began to blubber. Mathilde's own eyes were red and swollen. The passers-by glanced pityingly at this unhappy mother, struggling with two tearful children, but Sorbier took no notice. He was striding ahead, cheeks pink and eyes alert, pausing only to glance now and then at a female form. At the terrasse of one of the boulevard cafes he paused and waited for them to come up with him.
'We may as well stop and have something,' he said. 'The walk's made me thirsty. And besides, we can watch the world go by, all the women . . .'
Mathilde glanced apprehensively at the establishment, which was a place of padded armchairs, tall mirrors, spick-and-span waiters and a lordly major-domo. As a rule their Sunday outings ended in some back-street cafe smelling of sawdust and wine by the glass—a cosy little nook, as Sorbier was apt to call it, where the patron himself served the beer. This display of luxury, with its promise of terrifyingly high prices, confirmed her in her suspicion that her husband was embarked on a slippery slope. He was already propelling her towards it in a manner which he attempted to make casual, but she held back.
'We never go to places like this. You know we don't.'
'It's just a cafe like any other. One would think you'd never been anywhere. Good Lord, I've been coming to this place for years!'
'If it were just the two of us . . .' Mathilde said humbly. 'I mean, that would be different. Perhaps some other time . . .' But Sorbier was now growing impatient, feeling that the people seated at the tables were amused by his wife's awkwardness.
'You can do as you please,' he said. 'Take the children home, if you'd rather. Personally, I'm going to have a drink.'
He strode between the rows of tables without waiting for an answer, and the family followed. A couple were in the act of leaving a table at the back of the terrasse and he at once took possession of it. He ordered an aperitif for himself and beer for the children. Mathilde preferred not to take anything, saying that she had a headache. Husband and wife sat in oppressed silence on their padded chairs. Sorbier himself was rendered uncomfortable by the thought of the impression his family might be making on this public of well-to-do idlers. More than once, it seemed to him, the waiter gave him a disapproving glance. He said to Mathilde:
'Do for Heaven's sake take something. You look so silly. One doesn't come to a cafe not to drink anything, it's absurd.'
Mathilde finally gave way and said she would have a small beer, and this so relieved Sorbier that his good humour was restored. Remembering that he was carrying a walking-stick he fell to admiring the carved knob.
'No getting away from it, a stick does do something for a man. I don't know why I've never thought of it before.'
The words were addressed in an amiable tone to Mathilde, and she responded with a burst of grateful affection.
'It's quite true. I never dreamed a stick would suit you so well. I'm glad you brought it.'
At this moment a woman approached the terrasse whose profession was sufficiently obvious from her attire, her make-up and the appraising glance she bestowed on the male customers. She stood hesitating amid the rows of tables, and seeing a free one not far from the Sorbier family sat down at it. Sorbier had been watching her from the moment she appeared, and when she was seated he had no difficulty in catching her eye. Glances and faint smiles were exchanged, the shameless creature responding the more readily since she was evidently under the impression, from Sorbier's ease of manner, that Mathilde was not his wife. Leaning forward over his glass the better to see her, Sorbier's becks and nods became increasingly demonstrative. Mathilde could not fail to notice what was going on, but, choked with indignation and not wishing to make a scene in public, she said nothing until Victor and Felicien, wondering whom their father was smiling at, also turned to stare at the new arrival. She then burst out furiously:
'Really, it's revolting! In front of the children! A woman like that!'
The terrasse of the cafe was now so crowded that the waiters were being run off their feet and the woman was unable to get served. Seeing the offhand manner in which she was being treated by the personnel of the establishment Sorbier at first manifested his displeasure by gestures, and then, despite Mathilde's effort to restrain him, exclaimed in a voice calculated to reach her ears:
'Really the service here is disgraceful! The place has gone to the dogs. When I think what it used to be like!'
The lady flashed him a smile of gratitude which thrilled him to the core. In order to justify his proceedings to his wife, and being himself now carried away on a tide of high living that appalled her, he added:
'I've been trying for a quarter of an hour to get the waiter to bring me a cocktail.'
The word 'cocktail', with its depraved and dissolute associations—naked women and vintage wines—completed Mathilde's disarray. She had a vision of her husband squandering the family savings on taxis, opera-hats and night-clubs while she pawned the last of her jewels to feed her starving young.
'Garçon, you're wanted over here! It's outrageous that one can't get hold of a waiter!'
Sorbier's bellow was lost in the general hubbub, but the lady gave him another look of gratitude and shared indignation. In an access of zeal and chivalry Sorbier grasped his walking-stick by the middle, meaning to bang on the table with it, and raised it vigorously over his shoulder . . .
And the mirror behind him burst into fragments, shattered by Uncle Emile's bulldog head. Sorbier sprang to his feet, scarlet with embarrassment, while laughter exploded around him, derisive comment and the indignant protests of a gentleman at the next table who said that pieces of glass had fallen into his aperitif. In his consternation he stood clutching the stick with both hands like a soldier presenting arms.
Seeing her husband thus crestfallen Mathilde, from being plunged in despair, was suddenly brought back to life. Her maligned bosom recovered its authority. Half rising from her chair and with a venomous smile, careless of the hilarity her words provoked among the witnesses of the drama, she said shrilly:
'Five hundred francs! That's what your idiocy is going to cost—and all for a slut of a woman who's only after your money!'
The manager came running to the scene of the disaster and a waiter fetched a policeman. Sorbier gave his name and address and produced his identity-card. Aged and shrunken he stammered out excuses:
'I assure you it was entirely accidental . . . It was Uncle Emile's stick . . . I only wanted to signal to the waiter . . .'
Mathilde was delightedly following the proceedings, interjecting sarcasms of her own. Bowing beneath the storm he could only say beseechingly:
'Please, Mathilde—not now.'
The policeman, touched by his suffering, cut the formalities short. Even the manager was sufficiently moved by compassion to say that the damage was not serious and no doubt he would be able to arrange matters with the insurance company. But Sorbier was still in great distress as he resumed his seat beside Mathilde, who promptly asked:
'Don't you think you'd better have a cocktail to help you pull yourself together? I'm sure you need something.'
So afflicted was his countenance, so humble his posture, that she felt free to visit every torment upon him.
'And now you're feeling so rich,' she went on, 'you really ought to have a cocktail. You can give me a sip.'
Sorbier sighed deeply and stared in the direction of the young woman who had been the cause of all the trouble, hoping for at least a glance of sympathy. But the wanton creature, finding the spell broken, now had her back to him and was returning the ardent gaze of an old gentleman at another table.
'There you are,' said Mathilde. 'There's your trollop. She's found someone who needs two walking-sticks!'
Victor and Felicien, with a cruelty that was not altogether unintentional, were blithely re-enacting the episode, and their mother went so far as to encourage their charade, reminding them of details they had overlooked. In a voice of misery Sorbier called to the waiter and paid the bill. But when finally he started to leave, Mathilde, still lounging in her chair, called him back and said with intolerable sweetness:
'Darling, you're forgetting your stick.'
He returned and, awkwardly retrieving it, followed her out as she herded the boys between the rows of drinkers. The stick was now an encumbrance to him, and passing a table he knocked over an empty glass which a waiter skilfully caught before it hit the ground. Mathilde said derisively over her shoulder:
'There's no holding you today, is there? Are you sure there's nothing else you'd like to break?'
At that moment he dearly longed to break the stick over his wife's head, but it was a passing thought to which he dared not give expression. As they left the terrasse he had the added bitterness of seeing the young woman rise and join the old gentleman at his table. Mathilde, whom nothing escaped, did not fail to point out the irony of this development, but she was now so filled with the need for revenge that mere humour was not enough. Looking squarely at her husband she said in the commanding voice with which he was all too familiar:
'And now I'd like you to tell me the real reason why you took that stick, when it doesn't even belong to you.'
Sorbier made a vague gesture. He no longer knew. Mathilde could have hit him.
'One doesn't do a thing like that for no reason at all. I insist on knowing why you took Uncle Emile's stick.'
She had stopped and was holding him by the lapel of his jacket. Sorbier realized that she would give him no peace until he had furnished an explanation. After peering honourably into the recesses of his soul, and finding nothing, he decided to fall back on poetry in the hope that this would appease her wrath.
'Well, really, it's not easy to put into words. It was—well, it was the sunshine, you see, such a lovely day—the feeling of spring—you know how it is, one gets these ideas in the spring . . .'
At this she affected to be convulsed with laughter, and he repeated pathetically:
'Yes, that's what it was—the feeling of spring. If only you could understand . . .'
She gave him a push to start him moving again, as though he were now no more than an automaton, and said with tight lips:
'You wait till I get you home, my lad. I'll teach you about the spring. You needn't think you're forgiven.'
The boys had taken advantage of this interlude to run on ahead, and they had to hurry amid the crowd of strollers to overtake them. Mathilde said to Victor:
'You're to take your father's hand, and mind he doesn't let go of you.'
Sorbier submissively took his son by the hand and was walking on when she stopped him.
'Your right hand, silly, you know he's got a sore thumb. It's no use fussing about the stick, you'll just have to carry it in your left hand. You won't look any more ridiculous than you do already.'
Accordingly he transferred the stick to his left hand and the child to his right. The stick was worrying him more and more; he tucked it under his arm, and his air of discomfort drew further derisive remarks from Mathilde. As he was about to turn the corner to the right she said in a calm voice that filled him with apprehension:
'No, keep straight on. I don't want to go that way.'
'But it's getting late. Do you realize it's nearly five?'
'Why are you suddenly in such a hurry? I'm feeling like a bit more exercise. We'll go back along the Rue Royale and through the Tuileries. It's the nicest of all walks at this time of year.'
She had been planning this revenge ever since they left the cafe—to take her crushed and abject husband home by way of the paths he had so arrogantly trodden a couple of hours before.
Sorbier was now dragging his feet, head bowed and shoulders drooping, no longer interested in looking at the women; and Mathilde, following close on his heels, neglected no opportunity of emphasizing the contrast between the then and the now.
'Now that's a pretty girl! Do you mean to say you didn't notice? I thought you'd have been bound to give her a look.'
Back in the Tuileries garden Victor and Felicien were allowed to run off by themselves, but Sorbier did not take advantage of the fact to transfer the stick to his right hand. He was doing his best to forget it. Mathilde, exactly recalling the places which had been the scene of his declaration of independence and his libertine humours, reminded him of the things he had said, adding ferocious comments of her own. When they came to the nude statue she brandished her bosom and said, glaring at him:
'Well, here's your bit of homework! You were keen enough two hours ago. Haven't you anything more to say?'
Sorbier gazed at the figure with a look of melancholy in which she seemed to catch a hint of defiant regret. Snatching the stick from him she ran its ferrule over the stone curves, acidly remarking upon them as she did so.
'Talk about skin and bone! The poor creature looks half starved—as flat in front as she is behind. You'd be black and blue if you went to bed with her.'
Sorbier was staring abstractedly in front of him, seeming lost in his dream of melancholy. Mathilde frowned, laid the stick down on the pedestal, folded her arms and said harshly:
He gazed at her like a hunted animal. For a moment he hesitated, then a cowardly giggle rose in his throat and he murmured:
'You're quite right. She's too young—boyish, in fact . . . A real woman needs to be more—filled-out, as you might say.'
The flattery thus extorted brought a flush of triumph to Mathilde's cheeks. She slipped her arm through that of her husband with a slow purposeful movement, as though it were a final act of possession, and directed the family footsteps homewards. Victor and Felicien picked up the walking-stick from the pedestal and went running ahead with it, each holding one end. Their father watched them with relief, thankful to be rid of a burden which now seemed to him intolerable; but Mme Sorbier, having some inkling of this, called after them:
'Give the stick back to your father at once. It's not a toy for children.' And to her husband she said: 'Now that you've got it out of the wardrobe, darling, you must carry it every Sunday.'


Hi Elli! hope you are fine. Really glad to hear that you are going to be a mother. Infertility is a curse. But science is so advanced now that everything has a solution. There are many other options available for this. IVF, surrogacy, and medication are treatments to become a mother. Every woman wants to become a mother but there are only lucky ones who don't have to face all this. I had my IVF treatment from Europe clinic. They are really the best in their treatments. Staff and doctors are so encouraging. Hope your baby will bring lots of happiness in your life. May you have the great future ahead. Take well care of yourself.
Hi, Elli! It is so amazing to hear. Congratulations on your big news. Not many are that lucky. IVF doesn't work for everyone. I made multiple attempts at it. But didn't work. In the end, I took the services of BiotexCom for my surrogacy. Needless to say, they were amazing. Although they're based in Ukraine, They're coming to London this August. Dates are 18-19. People can get their first-hand consultation there. Without costing a dime. It's an amazing opportunity. I hope this helps out someone!
I can relate to you, dear. Thank you for sharing this link. I would suggest everyone who reads this that infertility is not the end of the world. I know I had so much family pressure that led me to think that I was the reason. It is high time that you start taking action about it. You need not be desperate. From my experience, I can tell if I would have given up then I would never have found these wonderful people in my life. My surrogate is also a married woman. She did this for a social cause. With the consent of her husband. As they were financially needy. We chose her because she had been registered with the Biotex Center for Human Reproduction. They had all her specifics, test and background check. We met her through our clinic. Shortlisted her from a number of people. I am very happy she delivered our baby through gestational surrogacy. I need to elaborate here. Regarding the video my sister here shared. Anyone who needs more elaborate information visits their website. Biotex Team of experts is also establishing clinics in London due to increasing popularity. They will be having an open day seminar on 18-19 August. Where they will promote and educate regarding surrogacy and other procedures to overcome infertility.
I am really happy to read your post. It is really an encouraging post. I really like your post. I know how it feels when a woman hears about her infertility. It is the most tragic moment. It is a good news that you have got rid out of your infertility. It made me really pleased. It is the result of your hard work. I also have an infertility story. Let me share my story. I got married two years ago. I faced three miscarriages after my marriage. The doctors asked me that I can never have a baby. I did not lose hope. I decided to go for surrogacy. I went to the clinic in Europe. I took my surrogacy there. I have my child now. Surrogacy proved to be beneficial for me. I am a happy mother now. I have also a good news. The team of this clinic is coming to London on 14-15 August. They will provide an initial consultation there. They will brief about all the procedure of the treatment that you wants to take. Go and grab this chance.
Hi, Elli! It is so nice to hear. Congratulations. Not many are that lucky like you. Its true that IVF doesn't work for everyone. I made multiple attempts at it but didn't work. In the end, I took the services of BiotexCom for my surrogacy. Needless to say, they were amazing. Its was really a great journey with them. Although they're based in Ukraine, I heard that they are coming to London this August on 18-19. People can get their first-hand consultation there. Without costing a dime. It's an amazing opportunity. I hope this helps out someone!
Hey there . I hope that you are doing fine. Life can be very difficult. I am so sorry to hear about your miscarriage. My sister had a miscarriage too. And then she went through all the IVF procedures. But nothing worked for her during the first few times. . She was devastated. But on her fourth try of IVF, she found out that she was pregnant. We were all beyond excited. Ivf is an amazing procedure to overcome infertility. She has a healthy baby boy now. But now she is happy and satisfied. I am so happy for you. It is one of the best options for infertile women.
Yay. That's so amazing. So happy for you. You must be super excited too. IVF is a very complex journey. I am glad that you dealt with it. You are a very strong person. I must appreciate you for that fact. I know you would have dealt with so many hardships. But it's amazing that you never lose hope. You kept faith in yourself. And that's the thing I love about you. Keep going on your journey. Don't take any kind of stress. Take proper care of yourself. I hope this journey goes well until the end. My prayers are with you. Wish you all the best with it.
Congratulations on your pregnancy. That's an amazing news. I am really happy for you. I hope this journey goes fine. Just take rest now. And don't stress yourself over anything. Stay safe and happy. I'll keep praying for you. I know you have dealt with so much. Going through IVF is not an easy thing. But you went through it. You are really strong. And that's an amazing thing about you. Just stay like this always. Wishing you all the best with your future. Much love for you.
I am so happy that you have found the right place. It is a great place. Ukraine clinic is serving humanity. They are bringing home the home. They are making life fun. It is great that your life has completely changed after visitinng this place. Good luck for more happy moments dear one.
Hello there, how are you doing? I am hapy for you. Finally you find happiness. We are in the same boat. I am also an infertile. I got opted surrogacy from a reputed clinic of Ukraine. The staff was trained and packages are also afforadable. We are thankful to them for making our dream come true.
Infertility is the worst disease. But science is so advanced now that everything has a solution. IVF and surrogacy are the best treatments for infertility. But I prefer surrogacy because of my experience. My IVF failed for 2 times. Then the surrogacy was the last option left for me. I got successful surrogacy treatment from a clinic in Europe. It was the best experience.
Hey! Infertility is definitely the worst. I wish you didn't have to go through it. It's a tough time I'm sure. I think it's great you looked into your alternatives. Surrogacy is a great procedure. It really has helped so many. What clinic did you end up going to? Choice of clinic really matters for your experience. There are some great ones in Europe. I think you must have gone there for it. Hearing some bad stuff about Adonis though, I don't think it must be that one. Anyway, I'm glad you got your happiness. Best wishes to you!
Hello! Fruitlessness is certainly exceedingly awful. I wish you didn't need to experience it. It's an extreme time I'm certain. I believe it's incredible you investigated your options. Surrogacy is an extraordinary methodology. It truly has helped such huge numbers of. What center did you wind up going to? The decision of the facility truly matters for your experience. There are some awesome ones in Europe. I figure you more likely than not gone there for it. Hearing some terrible stuff about Adonis, however, I don't figure it must be that one. Anyway, I'm happy you got your satisfaction. All the best to you!


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The fungo is used by a coach to hit balls for defense practice. It is lighter weight, so less fatiguing to hit ball after ball. The fungo sheds its weight above the hands. The severely tapered barrel to drops weight and maintains a high moment of inertia. While the bat would be at greater risk of breaking if used in a live batting exercise, it is safe to use in practice because there are much fewer mis-hits.
Chris Coste, a former catcher for the Philadelphia Phillies who coaches at Division III Concordia, in Moorhead, Minn., agreed. "When baseball is every single day, you've got to do things differently," he said. "In the big leagues, they get so many ground balls during batting practice that infield is more for the fans and more for the scouts and things like that. At this level, we need it, and we love doing it."
While many people view the fungo bat more as an antique piece of baseball's history, there's no doubt that it still has a special place in the modern game. Actually, the bat is starting to enjoy some revival all-round the game. Regardless of minimal production of fungo bats, you can rest assured that they're here to stay. The bats are too beneficial to both coaches and players on a daily basis.
Though entertaining enough, this play appears in its entirety as a small part of Sorrentino's magnum opus MULLIGAN STEW. You can read it as easily there as in this form. Plus you'll have the rest of Mulligan Stew as well. So I recommend you only buy this volume if you're the sort of collector who owns books because of what they are, not what they say.
Even in those formative years, authorities on the game warned the practice of hitting fungoes should be limited to coaches. Henry Chadwick, one of baseball's earliest proponents, claimed "The weakest batting is shown when the batsmen indulges in fungo hitting," according to the Art of Batting. Others agreed that the practice was bad for training a batter's reflexes: "While watching some of our freshmen practicing 'fungo' batting the other afternoon it occurred to me that it was about the worst kind of practice a batsman could imagine in training his eye in batting," a writer claimed in the March 3, 1886 edition of The Sporting Life. "It trains the eye to meet the ball in batting it in a manner which never occurs in actual play. It ought to be prohibited on every well regulated ball field."
If you care about getting the best baseball gear at the best price then you have come to the right place. Better Baseball stocks the full line of baseball bats, baseball gloves, batting gloves, baseball helmets, baseballs, field equipment, batting cages, protective screens, catcher's gear and more, at great prices, and we ship them directly to you faster than anyone else.
Are you on the hunt for a fungo bat? Did we answer all of your questions about fungo bats? If not, please leave your question below in the comments section so that we can answer any that you may have. Our Customer Coaches are available 24/7 via phone (816-321-2287), email (support@justbats.com), and we even have a live chat feature to answer all of your baseball bats and softball bats questions. Remember, we're here for you from click to hit!
The origin of the word "fungo" is unknown and argued upon as there are many possible options as to the origins of this unique word. It is assumed by many to be derived from the Scottish word fung meaning to pitch, toss, or fling. This would make sense, as fungo bats are designed to do just that. Or, the alternative to this origin is that fungo comes from 1937 where David Shulman, writer for the American Speech, said, "My guess is that the word, which is baseball slang, may be explained through the elements of a compound word, fun and go." Lastly, a third belief is that the word fungo comes from an old game, similar to that of baseball, where the players used to chant, "One go, two goes, fun goes."
Next, third base fungo hits to left, who throw to second, SS cuts (make a few of these the "cut off a double on a ball hit into the corner" variety - timing becomes important here, as the other fungo needs to hit many fewer balls than the fungo hitting to left). First base fungo hits to right, who come home, first baseman is cutoff, 60' from home (about pitchers mound - this postitioning puts him out of harms way should the SS overthrow second). On the throws home from right, make sure that they are the "normal" kind - hit the cutoff man, and don't hit too many. The right fielders will get to go again, as they're last throws will be the "do-or die" variety.
Many players "bone" their bats, meaning that before games, they rub their bats repeatedly with a hard object, believing this closes the pores on the wood and hardens the bat. Animal bones are a popular boning material, but rolling pins, soda bottles and the edge of a porcelain sink have also been used. Pete Rose had his own way of hardening his bats: he soaked them in a tub of motor oil in his basement then hung them up to dry.[25]
Next, the third base fungo hits to left, who come home, third baseman cuts (again, 60' from home, about the pitchers mound). First base fungo hits to right, who throw again to second (this is where we practised cutting off doubles on balls hit into the right field corner - it's really practiseing hitting your cutoff man quickly than anything else - also the reason it's safe to do while left field goes home).
Baseball bats are made of either wood, or a metal alloy (typically aluminum). Most wooden bats are made from ash. Other woods include maple, hickory, and bamboo. Hickory has fallen into disfavor over its greater weight, which slows down bat speed, while maple bats gained popularity[5] following the introduction of the first major league sanctioned model in 1997. The first player to use one was Joe Carter of the Toronto Blue Jays.[6] Barry Bonds used maple bats the seasons he broke baseball's single-season home run record in 2001, and the career home run record in 2007.[6] In 2010, the increased tendency of maple bats to shatter has caused Major League Baseball to examine their use, banning some models in minor league play.[7][8]
Four historically significant baseball bats showcased in the National Baseball Hall of Fame's traveling exhibit "Baseball As America". From left to right: bat used by Babe Ruth to hit his 60th home run during the 1927 season, bat used by Roger Maris to hit his 61st home run during the 1961 season, bat used by Mark McGwire to hit his 70th home run during the 1998 season, and the bat used by Sammy Sosa for his 66th home run during the same season.
Fungo golf is a game involving two or more players in which they use fungo bats and baseballs and their object is to hit certain objects at a field. Fungo golf is played very similar to golf, where the player with the fewest strokes after a certain number of holes (typically nine or eighteen) wins the game. While there is no concrete history of how fungo golf was created, it has spread throughout America as a popular game especially with baseball players and coaches.
Contact us at webmaster@playfungo.com | Sitemap xml | Sitemap txt | Sitemap


As Gartner defined, Secure Web Gateways utilize URL filtering, advanced threat defense, legacy malware protection and application control technologies to defend users from Internet-borne threats, and to help enterprises enforce Internet policy compliance. SWGs are delivered as on-premises appliances (hardware and virtual) or cloud-based services. Vendors differ greatly in the maturity and features of their cloud-based services, and in their ability to protect enterprises from advanced threats.
Let's assume that I have a Firewall, IPS on my network and Web Application Firewall in front of my Web Applications, Server.
What would be the protection that Secure Web Gateway only provides, other appliances don't?
In your scenario, the answer is none.
Secure Web gateway solutions protect Web-surfing PCs from infection and enforce company policies. A secure Web gateway is a solution that filters unwanted software/malware from user-initiated Web/Internet traffic and enforces corporate and regulatory policy compliance. These gateways must, at a minimum, include URL filtering, malicious-code detection and filtering, and application controls for popular Web-based applications, such as instant messaging (IM) and Skype. Native or integrated data leak prevention is also increasingly included.
In other words, an SWG is aimed at protecting the clients on your network while browsing the internet, not protecting your network from clients accessing your published web services.
An appliance like FireEye and/or Websense comes to mind.
I checked Gartner's definition and it appears to be a neologism for a proxy server that does content filtering. This definitely overlaps with the feature set provided by modern firewalls.
Looking at the website for CheckPoint, a large vendor offering products under both titles, Secure Web Gateways and Next Generation Firewalls, it appears they consider SWG to be a subset of NGF.
Conceptually, it is possible that separating these roles may provide some extra security by the defence in depth principle.
So that answer is, while in theory all the protection of a SWG could be provided by a NGF, in practice for any given NGF there may well be exist a SWG (perhaps one from a different vendor) that provides extra security.
Most of the Next-Gen FW use their own Web reputation/AV. I'm sorry but there is still a huge gap between their Global Intelligence Network and a gartner market leader proxy like Blue Coat. Proxies also act has a second layer of defense and they can also be used in reverse proxy mode to protect servers. The level of granularity for policies in a real Proxy is 100000x times more than on a Next-Gen FW.
Proxies also do caching which improves performance. One other major advantage of Proxies is they terminate TCP. Next-Gen FW don't. In security this is a major difference, since Next-Gen FW can allow a flow without inspecting all of the content.
Each solution completes the other and provides another layer of protection.
Not the answer you're looking for? Browse other questions tagged firewalls waf or ask your own question.
What is the difference between a Gateway and a Firewall?
Azure AD Application Proxy Security Concerns + Azure Application Gateway (WAF) Better?


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Willy Mason
Fri 23. September 2022 20:00
Meetfactory Ke sklárně 3213/15, Prague, cz
GoOut.net
To buy the tickets, you will be redirected to the official ticket seller's webpage
Information about the concert
MeetFactory will present Will Mason's first Prague show on Wednesday, November 24, 2021.
American singer-songwriter Willy Mason is no newcomer – his first record Where the Humans Eat that successfully combined folk, blues and country was released in 2004. Tours with Death Cab for Cutie, Sondre Lerche or Ben Howard followed, as well as another two full-lengths, last being Carry On in 2012. Nine years later, he's back with Already Dead, an intimate album recorded in his home, will be released in summer 2021 and adds new sound to Willy's palette, such as early rock'n'roll or r'n'b, the lyrics explore honesty and deception or anonymity in the digital age.
Lineup / Performing artists
Willy Mason United States
Meetfactory Ke sklárně 3213/15, Prague
Plan a route
Concert, Hip-hop, Rap
Tommy Cash
Wed 6/4/2022 Roxy Prague, Prague, cz
Donny Benét
Sat 7/5/2022 Futurum Music Bar, Prague, cz
Concert, Pop, Rock
Mon 24/10/2022 O2 Arena, Prague, cz
Green Day + Weezer + Fall Out Boy
Sun 19/6/2022 Ernst Happel Stadion, Vienna, at
Sting - Slavkov Open 2022
Sun 31/7/2022 Zámecký park, Slavkov u Brna, cz
Thu 28/4/2022 Forum Karlín, Prague, cz
Thu 28/7/2022 O2 Arena, Prague, cz
Two Steps From Hell - Live
Wed 29/6/2022 O2 Universum, Prague, cz
Fri 18/3/2022 Majestic Music Club, Bratislava, sk
Homepage ⟩ Concerts ⟩ Meetfactory ⟩ Willy Mason


A one-day symposium (2 April 2014), taking place as part of the AISB 50th Anniversary conference (Goldsmiths, University of London, 1-4 April 2014).
There has been much criticism over the years of the idea that conscious experience depends on inner representational models of the environment. Enactive accounts and the sensorimotor account more particularly (O'Regan & Noë 2001; O'Regan 2011) have criticized the reliance on inner models and they have offered an alternative way of thinking about experience. The idea of sensorimotor approaches is that experience involves the perceiver's attunement to the way in which sensory stimulation depends on action. But how then should we conceive of what happens in the agent's head to allow for this attunement? The main aim of this symposium is to address this question, focussing on the following two questions. First, how does an enactive sensorimotor theory offer guidance for the interpretation of neurophysiological findings? Second, how are its predictions about neural processes different from the predictions of representationalist accounts?
The first question, concerning the philosophical interpretation of neurophysiological findings, may be addressed by focusing on key processes such as corollary discharge or 'efference copy' and notions like 'expectation error' and 'forward models' in relation to the sensorimotor account or enactive accounts more generally. Here the main question is how to get the brain into view from an enactive/sensorimotor perspective. Where classical approaches speak of neural computation of properties of the environment, or the build-up of representations in the brain, what specific analysis can a sensorimotor account offer in its place? Addressing this question is urgently needed, for there seem to be no accepted alternatives to representational interpretations of the inner processes. Also robotic models of perceptual processes are often interpreted as mimicking the allegedly representational nature of neural processes. A sensorimotor account could help to avoid this bias towards interpretations based on the notion of inner models.
The second question, concerning the predictions following from an enactive/sensorimotor account, requires contrasting the neural processes that are postulated in representational theories, with the processes required by the enactive/sensorimotor account. Which processes postulated by representational accounts are rejected by the sensorimotor account or enactive accounts more generally? For example, why and when can neural 'binding' or 'filling in' be rejected? And are there processes that are specifically required by sensorimotor theory, which are not required by representational theories? In the symposium we aim to clarify which constraints on inner processes are proposed by the sensorimotor account. If the sensorimotor account is right, these constraints will of course apply to neural processes as well as to robotic models of perception.
In addition to spelling out nonrepresentational interpretations, the symposium will discuss the possibility for representational accounts of sensorimotor engagement, as in the invited contribution of Anil Seth on a predictive processing interpretation. An evolutionary perspective on sensorimotor organization is represented by the invited contribution of Fred Keijzer. Together, we think the extended abstracts give a good impression of the cutting-edge work that's being done on the neuroscience of sensorimotor interaction.
Sequel to the previous Sensorimotor Theory Workshop: The symposium can be considered a sequel to the AISB 'Sensorimotor Theory Workshop,' held September 26, 2012, at Goldsmiths, University of London. The present workshop is focused particularly on inner processes from the perspective of sensorimotor theory.


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The Valley of the Shadow of Text
April 9, 2019 by Essay Writer
The introduction of the novel – or long form narrative prose in general – granted the writer a unique, widened canvas on which to blend rhetoric and art. Here, the writer is invited to both persuade and entertain, sometimes veiling one with the other. On this canvas, a writer has the ability to create an image of a world with a depth and breadth so like that of our own the two may appear indistinguishable. After establishing this image of verisimilitude, the writer – aided by a multitude of masks in the form of characters, voices, and various narration perspectives – is free to repaint the world according to their own vision, illustrating it as it truly is, should, or regrettably may come to be. That is not to say, however, that a writer's re-imagined portrait of the world contains the entirety of their message. On a canvas as broad as that granted narrative prose, it is not uncommon for a writer to make extensive use of negative space. That is, what an author says may be defined implicitly by what is not said.
Two elements commonly manipulated in order to achieve this balance – or lack thereof – between positive and negative space are the perspective and identity of the narrator, as well as the chronology of the narrative. Although the very definition of the narrative structure essentially mandates the presence of these two elements in at least their most basic forms, the way in which a writer chooses to manipulate them can have as much significance to the work as the plot of the story itself. Two narrative works, Kazuo Ishiguro's The Remains of the Day and Alison Bechdel's Fun Home actively rely on their chosen methods of employing these elements in order to create a distinction between positive and negative space throughout the story line. Although technically of different genres – one a traditional novel, one a graphic memoir – both The Remains of the Day and Fun Home make use of a first person narrator as well as retrospective chronology. In both works, these elements establish an uncertain foundation dominated by negative space, which the writers use to both structurally illustrate and thematically explore ideas of repression and lack of identity.
If the third person omniscient narrator wears the godly, all-knowing halo their title implies, then the first person narrator, by contrast, must then bear the flaws of man. Essentially, while the presence of a first person narrator is by no means a suggestion of evil, it does imply that the narrator carries some sort of dubious quality or other failure of note. Often, this "failure" is nothing more significant than the typical flaws intrinsic to the state of being human – that is, an inability to completely understand the circumstances surrounding a given event, or merely the natural propensity for human error. However, the presence of a first person narrator can also signal the possibility of a more significantly marred raconteur: the unreliable narrator.
In The Remains of the Day, Ishiguro employs an unreliable narrator in the form of Stevens, the central character of the novel. While any first person narrator is incapable of being completely reliable due to the general restrictions of human nature, their occasional inability to fully relate the truth is often only noted when it serves to mobilize some specific aspect of the plot. Stevens's unreliability, however, implicitly drives the entirety of the novel's plot. His inability to relate the truth – however unconscious – separates the novel from a peculiarly dull story of a devoted English butler, leaving instead a comment on the dangers of repression and the struggle to find identity.
Ishiguro does not waste time in identifying Stevens as an unreliable narrator. In fact, the opening sentence of the novel marks the narrator's first wavering attempt at a declaration, with Stevens making the heavily diluted statement, "It seems increasingly likely that I really will undertake the expedition that has been preoccupying my imagination now for some days" (Ishiguro, 3). Here, Stevens's apparent need to temper a seemingly inconsequential statement with dubious adverbs strongly cautions that he is unreliable, not only in a general sense, but particularly in expressing his own feelings and opinions.
Albeit rarely, Stevens does occasionally call his own record of events into question, in keeping with his characteristic obsession with detail. In one instance, after relating a past conversation between himself and Miss Kenton, Stevens begins to correct himself, saying, "Now that I think further about it, I am not sure Miss Kenton spoke quite so boldly that day… In fact, now that I come to think of it, I have a feeling it may have been Lord Darlington himself who made this particular remark" (Ishiguro, 60). Stevens's obsession with detail – both as a narrator and a butler – in contrast with his obvious reluctance to express any kind of clear emotion or opinion highlight the depth of his repression. Ultimately, as a narrator, Stevens is considerably more valuable for what he does not say than for what he does. Ishiguro conveys far more in the gaps between Stevens's unnecessary qualifying adverbs than Stevens himself ever does in his longwinded discussions on the merits of "Giffen's, undoubtedly the finest silver polish available" (Ishiguro, 133).
As the novel continues, Stevens's unnecessarily formal speech patterns and circuitous syntax remain unfaltering, and his reluctance to own his opinions and ideas becomes increasingly obvious as he recalls what should be progressively more intense memories. Stevens is perhaps most notably devoid of emotion when relating the death of his father. Although throughout the incident Stevens behaves in a characteristically cold and distant manner, his true susceptibility to emotion – and the depth of his desire to repress it – is betrayed by the eventual revelation of his crying at one point in the evening. The mere fact of Stevens's crying however, is less significant than the manner in which Ishiguro conveys this information. At no point does Stevens himself explicitly relate this state of affairs. Rather, this revelation only comes to light through dialogue in which a guest at Darlington Hall remarks to Stevens, "You look as though you're crying" (Ishiguro, 105). Even after this remark, however, Stevens as a narrator never confirms nor denies the claim, merely choosing to ignore it entirely. Here, once again, Ishiguro uses his unreliable narrator as a pawn, crafting the novel's true narrative in the space left by what Stevens does not say.
As the novel continues, so does the correlation between the intensity of Stevens's emotions and his attempts to distance himself from them. In one notable passage in which Stevens looks with regret on his actions, or lack thereof, in regards to Miss Kenton, he even goes as far as to substitute the appropriate first person pronouns expected of the narration style for the ambiguous, third-person pronoun "one," saying:
"Naturally when one looks back to such instances today, they may indeed take the appearance of being crucial, precious moments in one's life; but of course, at the time, this was not the impression one had. Rather, it was as though one had available a never-ending number of days, months, years in which to sort out the vagaries of one's relationship with Miss Kenton…" (Ishiguro, 179).
Here, this shift in pronoun use is not only unorthodox, but also somewhat incongruous, and Stevens's attempt at ambiguity is unconvincing and perhaps even logically inconsistent. There is no question as to the identity of the subject whose "relationship with Miss Kenton" Stevens is discussing, leaving his lapse into third person ambiguities merely another rhetorical maneuver to distance himself from his feelings. Here, Stevens is so reluctant to accept his own feelings and establish himself as an individual that he essentially resorts to momentarily abandoning his post as first-person narrator. In this way, Stevens's unreliability not only signals his deeply ingrained tendency toward repression, but also its consequences. Here, Ishiguro illustrates Stevens's repression leading him to essentially forsake his identity as the narrator, suggesting larger overall consequences of repression on identity.
Ultimately, as a narrator, Stevens is a kind of parody of himself, essentially serving the opposite function of a conventional narrator. While traditionally a narrator functions as a kind of tool or messenger through which an author projects their own ideas or opinions, Ishiguro deliberately talks around Stevens, rather than through him. As the reader gradually learns to see through Stevens's watery claims and incomplete versions of events, Ishiguro's own voice echoes within the negative space surrounding Stevens's narrow scope of the world.
In composing a memoir, Alison Bechdel had significantly less opportunity for variation in selecting a messenger through which to convey her narrative. While Ishiguro was at liberty to manipulate his narration technique, ultimately creating a sharp contrast between himself and his narrator, the narrator of a personal memoir must almost necessarily be the author themselves. In this way, the narration styles of these two works – while both first person – initially seem quite different, with Ishiguro talking around his narrator, and Bechdel having no choice but to speak directly through hers.
However, while Bechdel cannot match Stevens's all-encompassing unreliability, she is by no means unaware of her own lack of omniscience. In Fun Home, Bechdel explores a more casual kind of unreliability in the human incapacity to fully understand the circumstances surrounding a given event. Where Ishiguro builds his narrative in the negative space created by Stevens's unreliability, Bechdel crafts hers within that created by the inevitable lapses in human knowledge.
For Bechdel, this idea of negative space or "reading between the lines" can be taken somewhat more literally, as – in producing a graphic memoir – she actually fills the space between her words with illustrations. In Fun Home, Bechdel primarily analyzes the lapses in her understanding concerning not only the circumstances of her father's death, but also those of his life. One of the ways in which she seeks to fill these lapses is through her illustrations. Throughout the memoir, Bechdel includes a number of images depicting the death of her father – an event which she did not actually witness. In creating these illustrations, Bechdel is free to recreate and in some ways possess an important aspect of her life of which she has incomplete knowledge. Furthermore, although in words the threat of becoming unreliable forces Bechdel to temper her statements about the event, using qualifiers like "Maybe he didn't notice the truck was coming" (Bechdel, 28), in her illustrations, Bechdel is free to recreate the event with no restrictions or other indications of uncertainty. In this way, illustrations allow Bechdel the opportunity to fill the lapses of knowledge that pervade her own narrative.
In other instances, however, Bechdel's illustrations serve a different function. Often, Bechdel uses these images to subtly suggest ideas to a reader before explicitly conveying them in words. Before Bechdel actually comments on her father's sexuality, for example, she includes an illustration in which she depicts him in church casting a questionable sideways glance at a procession of altar boys. Although Bechdel does accompany the image with the enclosed caption, separated from the rest of the page's text, "But would an ideal husband and father have sex with teenage boys?" (Bechdel, 17), the illustration itself attempts to convey the idea with a kind of real life subtlety. Essentially, as a narrator, Bechdel attempts to accurately recreate the repression that dominated much of her family life, using illustrations to suggest ideas that, likewise, could only have been suggested to her at the time.
As first person narrators, both Bechdel and Stephens inevitably suffer imperfections that would not plague an omniscient narrator. Meanwhile, a sense of repression also dominates the lives of both narrators. In The Remains of the Day, Stevens's repressive tendencies create a kind of negative space in which Ishiguro reflects the hidden truth in the voids left by the narrator's repression. Bechdel, meanwhile, takes a different approach. Aware of the vacancies left in her life largely due to a familial tendency toward repression, Bechdel attempts to fill them, endeavoring to reclaim pieces of her life by re-rendering them in multiple art forms. In both cases, the authors manipulate the negative space left by the imperfections of their narrators in order to create a multi-dimensional narrative.
Along with similarities in narration style, The Remains of the Day and Fun Home also share parallels in the retrospective structure of their chronology. While Fun Home is told entirely in sporadic, nonlinear flashbacks, Ishiguro employs a somewhat more linear structure, featuring a running retrospective chronology interspersed throughout the present day timeline of the frame narrative. Both authors use these chronological structures not only to illustrate their narrators' fixation on the past, but also the ways in which they use the past in an attempt to reconstruct their identities.
The frame narrative of The Remains of the Day follows Stevens on a six-day road trip to Cornwall in 1956. Although in this, as in all things, Stevens is "happy to have distractions kept to a minimum," (Ishiguro, 52), he frequently lapses into reminiscences on his life at Darlington Hall in the 1920s and 30s. Stevens expresses annoyance at his own tendency to reminisce, at one point breaking off the narrative with the self-directed rebuke, "But I see I am becoming preoccupied with these memories and this is perhaps a little foolish" (Ishiguro, 67). However, as Stevens's constant reminiscing continues largely unchecked, it becomes clear that Ishiguro plans to house the majority of the novel's significance in this bulk of the narrative that Stevens does not strictly intend to relate.
Stevens's flashbacks often end with a kind of brief summary or reflection, suggesting an attempt to reconstruct a favorable identity based on these recollections. In concluding the episode relating the death of his father, Stevens remarks, "For all its sad associations, whenever I recall that evening today, I find I do so with a large sense of triumph" (Ishiguro, 110). Similarly, after relating two separate instances in which he lied about his past association with Lord Darlington, Stevens concludes the incident with the somewhat incongruous assertion that, "In looking back over my career thus far, my chief satisfaction derives from what I achieved during those years, and I am today nothing but proud and grateful to have been given such a privilege" (Ishiguro, 126). Not only do these assertions about his past signal that Stevens feels a need to establish his identity, but his reputation as an unreliable narrator also suggests that he is failing to accurately do so.
Stevens's fixation on the past gradually illustrates the fact that he has linked his identity inextricably to Lord Darlington and a life of subservience, essentially amounting to no true identity at all. Following Miss Kenton's reminder that "There's no turning back the clock now" (Ishiguro, 239), Stevens is forced to acknowledge his own lack of individual identity, lamenting, "'I can't even say I made my own mistakes. Really – one has to ask oneself – what dignity is there in that?'" (Ishiguro, 243).
Throughout the similarly retrospective chronology in Fun Home, Bechdel takes a more active approach in piecing together the shards of her past into a unified identity. While Ishiguro highlights the negative space created by Stevens's lack of identity and reluctant obsession with the past, Bechdel again takes to substituting other art forms to fill the lapses in her identity. This time, Bechdel's substitutions take the form of intertextuality, with the author illustrating parallels between events in her own life and various works of literature.
Perhaps the most comprehensive literary allusion Bechdel employs throughout Fun Home is one to the story of Icarus and Daedalus, which she relates to her relationship with her father. In the opening pages of the memoir, Bechdel, illustrated as a child, foreshadows her father's impending demise in relation to the Greek myth, saying, "In our particular reenactment of this mythic relationship, it was not me but my father who was to plummet from the sky" (Bechdel, 4). As Bechdel continues through the carefully interwoven flashbacks and foreshadowing, she unifies the fractured chronology in which she presents her troubled life with constant literary allusions.
Later, Bechdel devotes a portion of the memoir to a comparison between her father's life and the works of F. Scott Fitzgerald, claiming that "the parallels are unavoidable" (Bechdel, 63). In reflecting on her father's fascination with Fitzgerald, Bechdel takes the intertextuality another step further, suggesting that "what was so alluring to my father about Fitzgerald's stories was their inextricability from Fitzgerald's life" (Bechdel, 65). In a sort of multi-step illustration of life imitating art, Bechdel seeks to draw parallels between the life and works of Fitzgerald and the life of her father, using both as crucial devices in her own work of art. After noticing her father and Fitzgerald died at the same age, Bechdel even goes as far as to suggest that her father "had timed his death with this in mind, as some sort of deranged tribute" (Bechdel, 86). Here, Bechdel makes very obvious use of intertextuality in an attempt to explain the circumstances surrounding her father's death – a mystery that comprises one of the greatest lapses in her own life and identity.
As the memoir continues, the chronology remains decidedly nonlinear, with the scattered, sporadic timeline mirroring the turbulent nature of Bechdel's life. Throughout the narrative, literary allusions in general remain a constant, with comparisons ranging from Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest to the philosophical works of Albert Camus. However, amidst this proliferation of references, Bechdel both begins and ends her narrative with the Icarus allusion, concluding her memoir with the final comparison, "He did hurtle into the sea, of course. But in the tricky reverse narration that impels our entwined stories, he was there to catch me when I leapt" (Bechdel, 232). As Bechdel searches through the complex, erratic chronology of her narrative, this one running literary parallel remains a constant through which she can explain the otherwise inexplicable aspects of her life, gradually piecing together her identity.
In both works, the retrospective chronology obviously signals the narrators' obsession with the past. Perhaps more significantly, this fixation on the past in turn suggests a dissatisfaction with the present. Both Ishiguro and Bechdel employ retrospective chronologies, once again crafting their narratives around negative space as they illustrate their narrators sifting through the past in an attempt to fill the voids left in their present day lives.
Long form narrative prose has the potential to mirror our own world so effectively that the two are at times almost indistinguishable. However, in composing a narrative, a writer has the additional opportunity to illustrate the unseen parts of the world as well. No narrative merely recreates an exact copy of the world as it is. Rather, narrative balances the known and the unknown, filling the canvas with equally important positive and negative space to create a multi-dimensional art form in which text is only as meaningful as the shadow it casts. Although given the space to recreate the world in great detail, the full sphere of a narrative ultimately depends on a writer's ability to manipulate emptiness.
Bechdel, Alison. Fun Home. New York: Mariner, 2006. Print.
Ishiguro, Kazuo. The Remains of the Day. New York: Vintage, 1988. Print.
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Foreign Minister Walid al-Moallem says Syrian opposition must drop 'delusion' of forcing elections on Syria, calling it a 'red-line' for the regime.
AP - The Syrian government will send a delegation to Geneva to take part in UN-sponsored indirect peace talks with the opposition but has rejected the UN envoy's call for presidential elections to be held in the next 18 months.
Syrian Foreign Minister Walid al-Moallem told reporters that the government team will head to Geneva on Sunday but will not stay more than 24 hours if the opposition does not show up. The talks are scheduled to begin Monday.
The last round of indirect talks collapsed on Feb. 3 over a Russian-backed government offensive in Aleppo. The new round of negotiations comes amid a two-week partial cease-fire that has mostly held.
The High Negotiations Committee, a Saudi-backed umbrella opposition group, said it will attend the talks and press for a transitional governing body with full executive powers in which President Bashar Assad and his associates would have no role. It also wants the restructuring of Syrian security forces.
The dispute over the fate of Assad has been the main obstacle in previous rounds of talks. UN envoy Staffan de Mistura has called for presidential elections in the next 18 months, but al-Moallem dismissed the idea.
"Neither he nor anyone else has the right to talk about presidential elections. This is an exclusive right of the Syrian people," the foreign minister said.
When asked about the opposition's demands for a transitional body with full executive powers, al-Moallem said "if this is what they think, I advise them not to come to the negotiations so that they don't make us tired and we don't make them tired."
Al-Moallem then turned to the head of the delegation, Syria's UN Ambassador Bashar Ja'afari, and said: "Bashar. This is a red line."
Assad, whose family has ruled Syria for more than four decades, was elected to a new seven-year term in 2014 in an election boycotted by the armed opposition, which controls large parts of the country. Syria is set to hold parliamentary elections next month.
Syria's conflict began five years ago with mostly peaceful protests calling for political reform. A brutal government crackdown led to the rise of an insurgency and a full-blown civil war that has killed more than 250,000 people and displaced half the country's population.
"We are optimistic that we have begun to come out of the crisis," al-Moallem said, referring to recent battlefield advances by government forces with the support of Russia, Iran and Lebanon's Hezbollah militant group. He also cited local amnesty deals reached with some rebels.
U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry meanwhile said the UN-sponsored peace talks should go ahead Monday as planned, but that Russian and U.S. monitors are meeting first to discuss alleged cease-fire violations.
Kerry, speaking in Saudi Arabia, said he hoped for a telephone conversation Saturday with Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov about accusations that Assad's government is violating the cease-fire. He said Russian and U.S. officials are also meeting Saturday in Geneva and Amman.
Asked whether the peace conference could go ahead Monday, Kerry said, "Yes it can."
Kerry is due in Paris for talks on Sunday with European diplomats about Libya, Syria, Yemen and Ukraine.


It can be so hard to find time during the day for our children, but it's good to know the importance of spending time with children individually.
Do you have a friend who really stands out and commands attention in a group?
What about a friend who fades into the background and is almost forgotten in a group?
Have you ever thought that within your family there is also a group dynamic that is very different from a one-on-one dynamic? This is the reason that individual time is so important. Some children only come alive when you get them alone and give them time.
Spending time with your children individually is so very important, and when done regularly will reap many benefits for them, you, and your relationship together.
Spending time with each child may be difficult when you have quite a few children and you are a busy and tired mom. Let's be clear: you don't need to spend every day all day staring into your children's eyes telling them they are perfect. It's not possible nor do they need that. But since it's important, it's good to find easy ways to make it happen so it doesn't fall through the cracks.
Use this individual child time tracker to make sure you're getting time in with each child.
Have you ever had a great friend you never spent time alone with?
Because you get to be best friends with someone by spending a lot of time together, and much of that time will be alone. It will be the same with your children. Group dynamics are different from one-on-one dynamics, and when you are alone with one child they will have your undivided attention. They'll also share things with you they wouldn't share in a group.
Children often act out in an attempt to get attention. Even my 3-year-old will try to get a compliment if I give one to his baby brother. "Wow, what a good clapper you are, little man!" Then he'll start to clap or dance and say "mommy, clapping, good job?" It is built in our children to desire admiration and love from their parents. Spending time alone with each child will help to fill up their love tanks and there will be less of a need to fight for your attention.
If you are a more shy and quiet person – particularly in a crowd – you will relate to this. If people only knew you as "one of the crowd" would they know the real you? Absolutely not. Quiet or shy children may just blend in and be content to go unnoticed beside their more outgoing and flamboyant siblings. By singling out your quiet child (and each child in the family in their own turn) you'll show them that you are willing to take the time to draw them out of their shell.
Use this individual child time tracker to plan time with your kids.
If you spend a Saturday with one child every month (or at whatever frequency works for your family) this is a great time to go and do whatever is on their heart. Does your son love all things space? Why not take him to a museum, exhibit or park specifically oriented to his current phase? This will particularly be special for him because you two being alone means no one else (another sibling trying to complain about something) is there to say his idea is stupid, no fun, or uncool.
Each child is different and this can be a time to embrace their individual differences and really help them to feel at home with you when they are in their element.
At the dinner table you may have one or two who steer the conversation. They always have a funny story, joke or topic of conversation ready. That is not bad in itself, of course, but it may often leave some younger or quieter siblings in silence or unable to compete with the interesting talk. One child may never volunteer their story, sad moment, triumph or rejection with the whole family.
They may not think it something that everyone should hear. If you've consistently carved out time with them and communicated that you are always there for them (and are willing to take some time away from everyone else) then they'll be more apt to come to you with what is important to their heart. If they are hurt or really agonizing over something (as all kids do from time to time) you want there to be a clear open place for talk. And, you want them to know that their siblings don't need to know about it.
Have one child per night help you cook dinner.
When possible, run errands with one child at a time.
Take walks around your neighborhood (it's free and exercise, win win).
Join them alone for one of their interests (sports, dance, library, etc.).
Do your individual chores together.
Do home projects together. They must be done, so why not together?
Remember, trying to treat everyone equally will never work. In fact, it will communicate a wrong message. Everyone is – in fact – not equal.
Some are taller, some are shorter, some are funnier, some are smarter, some are more ambitious, and some are more artistic. You love them individually and for who they are as a person. Spending time alone with them on a consistent basis will help solidify their place in the family (in their minds) and will bring you both memories that will last a lifetime.
Want to be sure you get quality time in?
If you want to make sure each of your children get special time with you, but struggle to make it happen in the day to day it probably comes down to one thing: planning. Time flying past us really is a mother's arch nemesis. This pack will help you take control of your time and priorities and make what's most important happen. Click here to get instant access.
That individual time is so valuable!
I always can tell the difference in my daughter's attitude once we've had a bit of alone time together. Love the idea of having one child each night help with dinner!
Yes, a reader or friend suggested that, not sure which, but I think that's gold. And too many cooks in the kitchen isn't helpful anyway so it's win win!
Nina, I'm with you on that one! I often find the only (or best for us) way to do that is when the other kids are in their rooms playing (independent play) or in a nap. Or otherwise occupied by another adult. It's SUPER hard to find time during the day if you're the only one home and they are just sort of doing their own thing. If what you attempt to do is too interesting, you got it, others come.
I do like it when you pointed out by reserving time to spend with the child one-on-one, then their appreciation tank will be filled and will reduce their desperate attention-grabbing behavior. If that is the case, then I really need to consider planning an alone time with my little girl and do activities together. I will start researching what I can do to make this happen. After all, I am noticing that she has become clingy. Thank you.
I love my daughter, but sometimes I don't know what to do as a mother to help her. Thank you for letting me know the benefits of spending one-on-one time with my child. I also found the list very helpful of things I can do with my daughter. The idea of reading books together really made me happy. It made me think about the time I spend with my mom as a child. I'll need to find more books for children.
Hi, I am Margaret Rodgers. Thanks for your great article. I am very much cautious about my raising child. Actually, My kids are zeal of playing with the bounce house. It's good for kids health and helps to grow up very well. And When I see their joy knew no bounds then, I feel very happy. I think they are much more secure than the toys you might give your kids. Toy parts can be harmful if swallowed and this is not the case with any bouncy products. My doctors have also said that kids who want to grow taller should be consistent in jumping and reaching for higher objects this stretches out the bones improving their height.


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