It's been a month since my last post. I rarely have much to write about because it often feels like my life is mostly just treading water, maintaining the status quo, or full of things I either can't, or am unsure whether I can, talk about. The joys of working on highly confidential stuff in the games industry, or highly technical stuff we don't want to leak details about to competitors. This somewhat limits my ability to talk about the cool technical stuff I work on except in only the most abstract of terms, but it is what it is.
Not talking about things is hard. Keeping secrets is easy enough, but it's the burden of having all that pressure on you that is the real killer. When they are also secrets that have an effect on your life, then it's extra hard, because you feel trapped, unable to talk about your own worries because in doing so you'd reveal someone elses secret. The stress that creates is pretty intense, and I've been feeling it a fair bit lately.
Pair that with the stress of responsibility, when you know ultimately everything falls to you to get it done, that if anything goes wrong it is your fault and you that has to fix it, that if you don't do it, it wont get done and debt of leaving it will just keep mounting up is exhausting. It's been a hard month and while the cracks are beginning to show, there is light at the end of the tunnel, so I'm holding on to that hope.
For some of the stuff I'm working on, I need to apply some maths I haven't really had to use in anger for a long time. Mostly it's sorting and limiting of n-dimensional sets of data. Mentally, I'm kind of visualising it as a bin-packing problem of n-dimensional geometry, which I'm not sure is a harder or easier than just thinking of it as a series of properties being compared. Given bin-packing is NP-hard, I'm not expecting to find any fast, optimal solutions with my high-school level of maths, but it's been fun to ponder about and research. Adjunct to this, been looking at redis modules for the possibility of making n-dimensional ZSETs, for sorting n-dimensional data. It may be achieveable though with lua scripts and multiple ZSETs (one per dimension), but I'm not sure that is fast enough for the kind of things I want to do.
Been playing more Caverna and I've been exceedingly pleased to have been beated by Kerry multiple times. She's really getting quite good, though both times she was ready to give up before the end and only realised she'd won after scoring. This most recent time she destroyed my score with a lead of 25 points! Super impressed!
Life in Unity has been good so far. For the most part, it's been little things that have changed that just make life easier and remove little sources of stress. Nothing major has really changed yet, which is good really, as disruption is probably the most harmful thing to productivity right now.
I've been trying to learn Unity (the software) since it feels like I should probably have some base level understanding of the central product, and so far I've experienced a mixture of awe and frustration. The tools seems really nice, but as a guy who basically never uses IDEs, sometimes it is very frustrating when I just want to make the damn thing work, but instead have to fiddle about with a bunch of menus and objects and dragging and dropping of things to do something I'd have just written in code much more elegantly, and reproducable exactly to boot. I imagine a lot of that is just down to the fact I'm a complete amateur with no idea what I'm doing when it comes to the IDE, but I've got access to a lot of tutorials and things, so it's just finding the time to go through them all and start applying their knowledge. As for making games with Unity, I have a few ideas but mostly I'm interested in it as a machinima/cinematic tool for making films or short experiences. Not seen a lot of indepth 'Unity for Cinematography' type tutorials out there yet, but maybe when I feel a bit more confident with it, I'll go a-hunting.


These swim workouts are led by our experienced coaches who utilize the most current teaching and training techniques specific to triathlon swimming. Workouts typically range from 2,000-3,400 metres depending on the speed of the swimmer and the focus of the workout - i.e. technical drills, sprints, pace work/endurance etc. Our coaches provide a program that builds from a more technical focus in the fall, to a more swim-fitness period in the winter and spring and then open-water specific sessions as we approach the race season. The coaches also perform ongoing swim assessments to help monitor the progression and development of each athlete and use the results to determine training paces for the workouts.


Let's ride. We're opening our first-ever Michigan location in the First National Building (660 Woodward Avenue) at the base of Downtown Detroit's central gathering place, Campus Martius Park.
The Downtown Detroit Shack serves up all the beloved Shake Shack classics, along with the Pie Oh My concrete, made with vanilla custard, peanut butter sauce, Bon Bon Bon dark chocolate with Rocky's honey roasted peanuts and chocolate toffee.
We're all about our hood! We're committed to extending hospitality beyond the four walls of this Shack and into the Detroit community.
We donate 5% of sales from our Pie Oh My concrete to Gleaners Community Food Bank, a non-profit that provides local households in need with access to sufficient, nutritious food.


What is a cluster of galaxies?
A cluster of galaxies is a large collection of galaxies in a single gravitational field. Rich clusters of galaxies usually contain at least a dozen large galaxies as massive as the Milky Way, along with hundreds of smaller galaxies. At the center of large clusters of galaxies there is usually a group of elliptical galaxies called "cD" galaxies. Clusters of galaxies are usually about ten million light-years across. The Milky Way galaxy is near—but not in—the Virgo cluster, which itself is near the center of the Virgo supercluster.


text:
Ryles to farewell Storm for English rugby role
Mon 20 Jan 2020, 04:12 PM
Melbourne Storm NRL assistant coach Jason Ryles will finish with the club at the end of the 2020 season to take up a position as skills coach with the England rugby union team.
Ryles first joined Storm as a player in 2012 and played 47 games across two seasons before retiring at the end of the 2013 season.
He then returned to Melbourne as a member of our coaching staff in 2016 and helped Storm to a premiership success in 2017, two other grand final appearances as well as last season's minor premiership.
Storm General Manager – Football Frank Ponissi said Ryles had made a significant contribution to the club's on-field success.
"While it will be with some sadness that we will farewell Jason and his family at the end of the season, we respect his decision to accept such a unique opportunity to further his coaching abroad with an international team," Ponissi said.
"Over the last four seasons under Craig Bellamy's mentorship, he has developed into an impressive coach.
"He has been a key, respected and popular member of our coaching team and has impressed everyone here with his tactical knowledge and work ethic, as well as his passion to continually get better.
"He has especially done an outstanding job with our forwards over the last 4 seasons.
"Most importantly, Jason is strongly committed and determined to making his final year at Storm another successful season and we look forward to his important contribution once again."
Jason Ryles said: "I'd like to thank Storm for the great opportunities the club have given me both as a player and a coach.
"I've loved my time at this club, working alongside a great group of coaches and players, and our family has certainly enjoyed life here in Melbourne.
"I have to especially acknowledge Craig and Frank for the guidance and help they've given me over the years I've spent here.
"They've provided me with strong foundation for my coaching going forward and for that I'm truly thankful.
"Linking with the England rugby team is going to be new challenge but first we have a new NRL season to look forward to.
"Everyone at Storm, including myself, is strongly focused on making it a successful one."
Paps ready to take on more leadership in 2021
Melbourne Storm: 2021 round 1 predicted team

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
MILE SWIM
This story is dedicated to all the great guys in Troop 65…
…and the a-holes, too.
No one had the slightest clue what was going on until A.J. spotted a bloody shred of little Kyle Kawecki's ugly-ass orange swim trunks floating on top of the water. Then pretty soon we all knew we were good and screwed.
Holdout Bay was where everyone went to swim in our little town. Moms and dads would haul their brats down the narrow dirt path during the day, and the older guys would bring their girlfriends down at night to get some action on the beach- the actual logistics of which most of my friends and I understood in only the most abstract of ways at our age. Apparently in winter the spot where of the sun would set over the water made the place particularly popular with photographers and seascape painters, as well.
But summer was the real busy time for the little horseshoe-shaped harbor. There was clear green water and a long rocky reef that extended out into the open sea, sheltering it from the heavy surf and strong currents. It was just those conditions which had made it popular for the Rum Runners- guys who, back during Prohibition, would make trips in the dead of night in tiny boats out past the five mile line, loading up with all kinds of illegal liquor and running the gauntlet of rocks and FBI guys to bring it back to shore. Our Senior Patrol Leader A.J. would tell us dramatic stories about them by campfire on our weekend trips- stories that in retrospect I'm sure contained much more fantasy and imagination than actual historical fact.
While most would call the water chilly even for this area, the soft sand beach made it irresistible for those looking for a relaxing afternoon. Or, in this case, for Scout Troop 66 to do their annual Mile Swim challenge.
The Mile Swim was a right of passage within the Scouting world. It was a long way to paddle, a mile. Especially in the brisk bay water. To have completed the task was a way to show you had the stamina, discipline, and courage to call yourself a Scout, and by way of that, a man.
It was a good day for it. As we trekked down the steep path to the beach the sun was climbing in the sky towards noon, and it was about as warm as it was gonna get. Our Scoutmaster Mr. Lias and A.J. had carried a small rowboat down the path to paddle along with us in case anyone got a cramp or couldn't make it. Dan's dad Mr. Beeman and his dad's friend (who's name I can't remember) came along to monitor from the dock.
After the usual safety speech out on the dock from Mr. Lias, we were in the water at 12:30. The water was chilly at first but as I started scooping with my hands and kicking with my feet I warmed up pretty quickly. I'd been a complete non-swimmer when I started Scouts at age 9, but in the last three years my parents had sent me to lessons and now I was pretty comfortable in the water. Not as good as my friend Eric, but better than some of the guys, for sure. I'd even thought of trying out for swim team the next year, but after that afternoon I could never bring myself to go in the water again- even in a pool.
Tim Bean was the oldest scout in the water that day. He was almost eighteen and had gotten his Eagle Scout rank earlier that year. He was a real gung-ho achiever type and frankly a bit of a tool, and there was a popular rumor in the troop that he wore his merit badge sash to bed at night. A couple of the older kids- Michael Williamson who was a really cool guy, Dave Buchanan and Dave Tomlin (generally referred to collectively as Dave Squared), and big Brian Holster were out in front, their longer and more powerful arms giving them an immediate advantage.
There was a kind of middle pack, comprised of several of us middle-year scouts: Frank Feleiz, Jimmy Finn who was a bit on the large size, my friend Eric Stephens and me (Tom). Bringing up the rear were the young-uns, little Dan Beeman, Kyle Kawecki and of course Jason Rabinsky, who was a kind of miniature little creature, and who we were all sure would probably need to be rowed in.
The course had three landmarks. The floating dock was about twenty feet out into the water from the sandy shore- a rickety fiberglass and aluminum structure sunk with long poles into the sandy bottom- and was our starting point. The second mark was a jagged clump of rocks, which jutted out of the water a little bit away from the rocky cliffs that framed the North side of the cove. The rumrunners of old had dubbed them the Widowers. Finally there was a buoy out towards the mouth of the Bay that made a triangle. Three trips around these three landmarks was a mile. I don't know who figured that out and how, but that was the understanding and we didn't question it. They told us a strong swimmer could do it in twenty minutes to a half hour. Most of us they said would take around forty-five minutes to a full hour.
The first lap was largely uneventful. We'd been told to be careful not to get too close to the Widower rocks at the first mark. There wasn't much of a current in the bay, of course, but they'd cut your legs up if you got swept into them all the same so caution prevailed and we all gave them a wide berth as we came around, which had the benefit of cutting a few feet off the lap. The second mark, the buoy, was about a hundred yards out and we were straight-on paddling against the tide now, so it felt quite a bit harder. This was where the older kids- Tim, Michael, Dave Squared and Big Brian- started to really pull away from the pack. I glanced back: Jason was already lagging behind, and Mr. Lias and A.J. were rowing next to him, offering encouragement. No one really expected him to finish; he had plenty of years to work up to it. I felt for the kid a bit, remembering what a lousy swimmer I'd been at his age.
We rounded the buoy and Eric and I noticed we were pulling a bit ahead of Frank and Jimmy, but to our surprise Kyle Kawecki was catching up to us quick. He was a speedy little bastard. This third section, from the buoy back to the dock- was by far the longest, but now the tide was with us, so in a way it was also the easiest.
By this time everyone had definitely begun to feel it in their arms- that growing heaviness and stiffness that's your body beginning to seriously question what it is you're making it do. This was when a guy's competitive nature kicks in. Looking ahead at the guys who are faster, stronger, taller… you say to yourself I want to be more like those guys, not the slow ones behind me. And you dig in and find more energy and keep swimming, harder if anything. At least this was what was going through my mind as we came around the dock and started the second lap. One down, two to go, and then they were taking us all to go eat pizza at the Pizza Hut on Laughlin Road and play arcade games. I could already taste the peperoni as we swam past Mr. Beeman and his buddy and started the second lap.
The only thing I remember from my second stretch between the platform and the rocks is glancing back and seeing Jimmy Finn getting hauled into the boat by Mr. Lias. Apparently Jimmy had eaten a little too much breakfast that morning and had cramped up something fierce. Meanwhile I could hear A.J. yelling encouragement to little Jason Rabinsky, who was doing okay after all. As we swung around the rocks Eric was getting a little ahead of me and in my competitive frame of mind I cut the corner just a little sharper than normal. As I did I felt something brush against my leg. Something rough. The contact startled me and I thought I'd come a little too close to some submerged ridge of the rock no one had noticed before. I paddled out from it a bit- which caused Eric to gain even a little more distance on me- and then I pushed forward and forgot it and tried to make up time.
It was around that moment I think I realized I didn't know where Kyle was. I could see Tim, Michael, Dave Squared, Brian and Eric ahead of me, so I knew he hadn't passed me up. Weird, because I was sure we'd been almost neck and neck. I figured the endurance had caught up with him and he'd fallen back, but I didn't want to expend any more energy or time looking back, so I kept going. This was, after all, the hardest leg.
I was in my own world, pumping against the water. So I think there were a few seconds before I really became aware of the noise coming from behind me. Children and adults were shouting, but I couldn't make out what anyone was saying. It was enough of a commotion, though, that I could see up ahead some of the older kids pause in mid-stroke and turn. Right in front of me, Eric stopped swimming and craned his neck to see what all the commotion was about. The expression on his face was something I'd never seen before. I finally stopped and turned, treading water.
It took a bit for what I was seeing to sink in. There was definitely blood. A whole lot of blood. It seemed like there was blood everywhere. On the boat. On the people. Floating on the surface of the water. A.J. was standing almost upright in the little rowboat, and his long arms were lifting Jason Rabinsky out of the water. But that wasn't right, because what A.J. had in his hands wasn't all of Jason. The rest of the little kid was just… gone.
Mr. Lias was leaning way over the side and screaming at Frank Feleiz to Swim! Swim hard, Frank! But Frank wasn't making any headway. In fact he was going backwards. Something was pulling him backwards. Something in the water. And then suddenly another something came OUT of the water and grabbed Mr. Lias' arm. Something blacker than the muddy bottom of the Bay. Something which glistened. Something with a head like a hammer. Something with a big damn mouth.
There were more screams and more splashing. Everything was happening simultaneously. Mr. Lias was howling and trying to stay in the boat but I could see the shape was tugging at him. There was hollering from the big kids out by the buoy. Way back on the dock I could see Mr. Beeman yelling and waving his hands but couldn't make out what he was saying. I looked at my buddy Eric and he looked at me. We looked around and the closest thing to us was the Widower. Without a word we both started for it. As we did I felt another something brush against my leg. This time I was pretty goddamn sure it wasn't a rock.
We've been taught about this, I remember thinking. Don't panic- don't paddle frantically- that's what makes them attack. I remember the thought going through my head as I paddled frantically. Then Eric let out a loud curse as something slammed into him from the side. His body spun round so he was facing me. His eyes were big as spoons. My arms were on fire now, but I was to him in a few strokes and grabbed him under an arm and pulled him. The Widowers were only a few feet away and the current was with us. I could still hear the yelling and the screaming but all I was focused on was the rocks. I was acutely aware of shapes moving around us in the now-churning water. And then a last small swell washed both Eric and I up against the rocks with a jarring impact that made me bite my tongue. I tasted bitter copper and thought Great, more blood in the water flittered through my brain for a millisecond and then was gone.
There wasn't a helluva lot to grab onto to pull ourselves out and up onto the rocks, but Eric managed to get hold of a jagged outcrop and I tried to help push him up. That's when I saw the tear in his leg. Two perfectly arched rows of little jagged punctures that went deep into the meat of his thigh. Pale diluted blood ran from the cuts down his calf in an interlaced web of pink. Then I felt a thump against my own back, which sent me scraping up against the stone. A huge tail fin whipped up against the rock right next to me and sent stinging salt water into my eyes and the world went blurry. It probably only took me another second or two to get my bearings back but that bit of time stretched for what felt like forever.
Then I was back and could hear yelling again and looked up and Eric's hand was reaching down for me and I grabbed it. In another moment I was out of the water and Eric and I were perched, shivering, up on the Widower's jagged ledge a good four feet above the waterline. My chest stung and I could see a myriad of abrasions from the rock, but otherwise I was okay. Eric was holding his leg and wincing. The cuts were small but deep, and I could tell they hurt a whole lot.
The sun was high overhead and everywhere I could see it seemed the water was roiling and splashing with bloody foam. Dark shapes with T cross-shaped heads prowled everywhere just under the water, searching for prey. Most of the older kids I could see hanging onto the buoy, trying to keep their feet out of the water. I could make out Michael Williamson and Dave Buchanan and there was someone who looked like Brian Holster, but he was covered in red and holding his side, which was missing a good chunk. I didn't see Dave Tomlin or Tim Bean at all, but the sharks were fighting over something a few yards away from the buoy and I didn't want to look too long.
Over by the boat there was more chaos. The little craft rocked crazily as A.J. tried to wrap a bandana tightly around Mr. Lias' upper arm as a tourniquet, while Mr. Lias held his right hand in his left. Even from a distance I could clearly see several inches of bare bone connecting the two. It looked like Dan Beeman had climbed or been pulled aboard by Jimmy Finn. They were both staring down at the top half of poor Jason Rabinsky.
Eric pointed at the floating dock, and I saw Mr. Beeman and his friend having some kind of tussle. Mr. Beeman was tugging on the guy's arm and the guy was trying to push him away. He finally succeeded and Mr. Beeman stumbled back and ended up half stepping into the water. He regained his balance and got his leg back up on the dock, but by then his friend had jumped into the water on the far side and was splashing his way the twenty or thirty feet to shore. Even from this distance, Eric and I could see he wasn't a very good swimmer at all.
They're gonna get him, I remember Eric saying, and even as the words came out we could see shapes cutting like blades through the murk of the shallow waters. Still I thought he was wrong. I could see the guy's feet could touch bottom now, and he was wading quickly towards the sand, using his burly arms. Now way he wouldn't make it. Five feet of water. Ten feet to shore. And then without warning the guy's head disappeared underwater in an instant. There was splashing and blood, and for a moment a hand raised up out of the water, grasping at thin air- and then there was nothing. It all only took a few seconds, and then the shapes turned and started moving back out into the deeper water, leaving behind crimson-tinged waves that left the sand tinted when they ran back out.
After that there came an odd stillness. All the yelling had now silenced and I was suddenly aware of the sound of the water slapping against the rocks, and of the gulls cawing above our heads. Four little islands of people clung to their perches, just out of reach of the creatures patrolling below the surface of the surrounding green waters. We were almost all bloodied and shaking with shock, but we were the ones left. The nightmare reality of what had just happened was still sinking in, and we all stared at each other- adults and children alike- in stunned silence. The attacks had only lasted two or maybe three minutes.
We all looked to shore. It was deserted. No sunbathers, no fishermen, no painters. No one to go get help or call the police. No one. It was just us. The ones who were left. And glancing at Eric's leg, I realized that some of us didn't have a whole lot of time.
I called out to A.J., but he was busy holding onto Mr. Lias' tourniquet with all his strength. Mr. Lias' face was pale as a vampire's. A.J. took a look around and told Jimmy and Dan to start rowing to shore. The two guys each grabbed an oar with clumsy hands, and started rowing. It was like watching two monkeys trying to screw a football, as our old scoutmaster Mr. Crouch would have said. The boat turned in circles. It started moving the wrong way. It turned in more circles and almost capsized as Jimmy managed to turn its starboard side full flat against the incoming swell. There were yells and curses as several gallons of water rushed over the rail, making poor Jason Rabinsky's corpse bob around and bump against everyone's legs. Now the boat was sitting low in the water, which made it harder to maneuver. A.J. was getting angry as he still held Mr. Lias' arm in a death grip.
Then we all heard yelling and looked to see Dave and Brian shouting at something in the water, headed towards the beach. We realized it was Michael Williamson. They were shouting at him to come back, to get out of the water, and I realized I was shouting too. Michael was moving very slowly, making the least amount of effort he could, really just letting the tide carry him towards shore. I remembered it was him that had told me how sharks have a sixth sense that picks up vibrations in the water, like when a fish is swimming or hurt… and that people make those same vibrations. Even the best swimmers were awkward in the water, he'd said, compared to fish. We made a lot of racket. So he was taking it easy, steadily working his way in while trying to not make himself a target for the dozens of beasts that circled around him. He was already a third of the way to shore.
For a while, we thought he was gonna make it.
No one's sure what happened. We were all too far away. But he must have made a sudden movement or scraped himself on a rock or something, because suddenly I could all see the shapes turn and zero in on him.
I screamed at him to STOP! Stay still! But it was over in a moment. Michael turned suddenly as though he'd been surprised, and then I saw a huge gray tail whip around between us and he was just gone.
That shook us. Even more than the rest. Everyone looked up to Michael. He wasn't any kind of Joe Scout like Tim Bean, and he didn't pretend to be. But he was a font of knowledge when it came to camping, canoeing, building fires… anything woodcrafty, the guy knew more about than anyone, even the adults- and he'd always been friendly to the younger and less experienced guys like me. Watching him disappear under the water did more than make me sad, or scared. It made me angry. I grabbed a loose rock and hurtled it into the water at one of the shapes prowling nearby. There was a splash and the thing flipped over at the impact, but otherwise seemed completely unhurt. A dozen other shapes came slithering through the water towards where the rock had hit, and circled around in agitation, looking for a nonexistent meal.
The sun had started lowering ever so slightly.
A little time had gone by. We'd found some slimy strings of kelp to wrap around Eric's leg. Of course it was soaked in salt water and must have stung his bites like crazy, but he didn't say anything. I could feel the skin of my shoulders and legs beginning to burn from the sun. I was incredibly thirsty and my throat felt swollen. Right below our feet we could see the hammerhead shapes circling the rocks all around us.
Dan and Jimmy were now slowly and carefully rowing the boat towards the floating dock. They were only a dozen yards away or so now, but the rails of the little rowboat's sides were only a few inches above the water. Mr. Lias looked like he might be unconscious, except every once in a while his body gave a little shudder. A.J. was doing everything he could to keep him up out of the water. He was the only one strong enough to.
Out on the buoy it looked like Dave was doing his best to keep Big Brian holding on, but even from the Widowers I could see that Brian's head was sagging on his shoulders and his body was swaying a little too much with the bobbing of the buoy. If he was still losing blood he wouldn't be able to hold on by himself for too long.
The boat had finally reached the dock and Dan and Jimmy had already clambered on. Mr. Beeman helped A.J. lift Mr. Lias' heavy bulk up onto the platform, causing the boat to rock dangerously. With great care, A.J. bent back down and lifted up Jason's remains and placed them on the dock as well. But as he finally reached out for the pole to step over himself, a shark rammed the boat, knocking it sideways into the dock and making the whole thing shudder. It was eerie- like the shark had been waiting for the perfect moment and seized it. A.J.'s hand came loose from the wet metal pole just as his legs went out from under him. His head hit the steel gunwale of the boat and we all heard his neck snap. If the sharks had been hoping for a struggle they were disappointed, because A.J. was dead before his body hit the water. That didn't stop them tearing him to pieces, though. We all stared in horror as they fought over him, over his parts. In the midst of the chaos, one of the sharks' tails came down on the boat's rail and drove it further underwater, and the boat quickly filled the rest of the way up and disappeared under the surface. So that was that.
The sun was still sinking. We had a few hours of daylight left, but everyone was in bad shape. There must have been a hundred sharks between Dave and Brian out on the buoy and the shore: and in the shape he was in, Brian couldn't have made the swim in to land even if going in the water hadn't meant certain death. On the dock, Dan and his dad were doing everything they could to keep Mr. Lias warm and breathing. Seeing what happened to A.J. up close, well… it looked like Jimmy Finn had cracked a bit. He sat huddled up hugging his knees on the far end of the dock, as far away from the body of Jason Rabinsky as he could get. I couldn't see his face to see if he was crying but I could see his shoulders shaking.
The only others left were Eric and myself up here on the Widowers, and Eric's leg had started to stiffen. The edges where the skin had broken had turned white. I'd never heard of that before but I was sure it wasn't good. Who knew what kind of bacteria a shark had in its mouth, with all the garbage it would regularly eat? As we all sat there I suddenly felt an eerie moment of calmness come over me, bringing with it clarity and a kind of fatal resolution. Going over it all piece by piece, in short order I'd arrived at a single conclusion: if we were going to get help in time to save Brian and Mr. Lias and my buddy Eric, I was going to have to figure out a way to get to land. I was the only one uninjured and without the responsibility of keeping someone alive, like Dave B. and Mr. Beeman.
I stood up and climbed up onto the crest of the Widowers' tallest point to get the best view of the situation I could. I turned slowly around in a complete circle, so as to get the whole picture. There had to be some way. Something so obvious we'd all want to kill ourselves for not thinking of it. And turning towards the north side cliffs it all became evident. I was only a dozen or so feet away from where the waves lapped up on the cliff side. Scanning the water line I could clearly see a little outcropping opposite the Widowers that I figured I could climb up onto and out of the water. My eyes followed along the side of the rocks, which ran maybe thirty or thirty-five feet before they met the sand of the beach. They were wet, of course, and would be slippery. I squinted against the sun's glare. It looked like there were decent handholds in places, ledges to step on in others- although almost never both in the same area- but there was at least one spot I could see, a few feet across, where I didn't see anything promising.
But it was something. If I could get to the cliff side, then I could maybe work my way across it to shore without having to go into the water. But to get to it, I had to get across twelve feet of shark-infested water.
It was Eric who figured it out, from when I'd thrown the rock after Michael had got eaten. As soon as I'd told him my idea, and its obvious setback, his eyes had lit up.
Now I was perched on the lowest ledge of the Widower facing the cliffs, only a few inches above the water. It was cloudy over here, but I was sure I could see shapes moving in it. My legs were shaking and I was worried they wouldn't do what I told them to when the moment came. My back ached and itched from sunburn and I felt a pounding in my ears. I suddenly had to piss like crazy. I turned around and looked up at Eric. He smiled back down at me and turned, disappearing onto the far side of the Widowers. Then I heard several splashes as he chucked rocks into the water. Within seconds I heard a loud rhythmic thrum sound. That would be the folks on the dock kicking the poles that went down into the seabed. I even thought I could hear yelling and banging from way out by the buoy.
But I was focused on the water in front of me now. I watched the movement of the surface, the rhythms of the waves as they grew and swelled and then struck the rocks just a few feet away. I couldn't see anything moving in the shallow water now. I was sure of it. Pretty sure. If Eric's idea was sound, then all the noise and vibrations should be drawing all the hammerheads' attention. They would also, I knew, be throwing any spare bits of bloodied clothing they could in as well, to further distract the creatures. It all came down, I quickly decided, to whether or not I trusted my friend. I'd always thought Eric was a brilliant kid, so the answer was easy. I kneeled down and slipped into the water as gently as I could, careful not to make too big a splash.
The water felt cold after so long on the rocks in the sun- the chill shot through me and I suddenly felt like I'd returned to the state I was in before this had all happened. The ache in my chest lessened and my back felt relieved at the gentle caress of the cool liquid. I was halfway there before I even realized it. It was really a very short distance. Only a couple feet to go. Two maybe three more strokes. That's when I heard Eric scream my name. He'd seen one turn, I knew. I gave up and kicked hard, scooping wide arcs with my slender arms, and in a moment the water shoved me up against the ledge. It was a little higher than it had seemed from the rocks, and I hit it on a down swell, which almost carried me underneath it to where it had been undercarved by the water. That was the moment I almost panicked. I'd misjudged. I'd screwed up and I was going to die because of my own idiocy. But as I grabbed desperately at the rocks my hands found a hold, and in the next second the waves swept up so that I could haul myself up and get a knee planted. And then I was standing safely out of the water. I heard whooping and looked up to see Eric waving his arms happily. The gang on the peer was waving as well, giving me the thumbs up. I couldn't see past the Widowers to the buoy from where I was.
I looked down and sure enough there was a medium-sized hammerhead circling on the surface, just two feet from the rocks. He must have just missed me. Without pause I yanked down the front of my swimsuit and urinated directly on him, the stream hitting him straight in the face. I yelled triumphant profanities and flipped the shark obscene gestures as my piss hit it in the eye.
The goddamn thing didn't even flinch.
Of course I was only halfway to safety.
I took a breath and started inching my way along the edge of the slimy rocky face of the cliffs. The shark I'd whizzed on seemed to be following me, and a couple of his pals had shown up as well, their fins cutting the surface as they circled lazily. I clutched at small outcroppings as I made my way the first few feet. After that bit there was a tricky moment where I had to step pretty far over a void to get to the next foothold, but I managed it. On the other side there was a decent little ledge for maybe a yard, which then turned into more of a slippery ramp tilting down right into the water. That was no good. A little higher up there was a crack that ran perpendicular to the water for a ways, and I dug my fingers into that and inched along for the next couple minutes, very aware of what was waiting for me if I slipped. My toes gripped anything they could as I made very slow progress. I could feel everyone watching me, probably holding their breaths, and that wasn't exactly making it any easier, either.
I reached a small flat area just wide enough for me to stand, where the rock leaned in and I could catch my breath a second. I looked down and could actually see my bony chest pulsing with the pressure of my rapidly pounding heart. I took several deep breaths to slow it, and looked at the terrain ahead. My razor-toothed stalkers had slunk out of sight for the moment, but I was sure they hadn't gone far.
I had to take this next bit very slowly. There was a little ledge that I could use, but it rose up several feet over a place where the rock was undercut again. If I fell I'd not only be in the water, but I'd be pushed under the rocks where I'd be trapped and drowned, and then most probably eaten. We'd done a climbing weekend the summer before and I'd been okay at it, but heights made my stomach do queasy things. I started up, finding what felt like manmade handholds most of the way. People probably did this little climb all the time, I told myself. Sure, when there wasn't death swimming in the water below.
I was halfway across when the handholds disappeared altogether. There was nothing to hold onto. Just a six-inch uneven ledge running along a vertical wall for five feet- and nothing below. I only looked down once, and saw at least three shapes cruising in little arcs directly beneath me.
This was ridiculous, I remember thinking. How do they even know I'm here? I'm six feet up, they can't possibly see me. Can they smell my fear? I looked back, trying to see if there might be another, safer route that I'd missed, but there wasn't a thing. This was it. I made up my mind to push forward, but my legs rebelled for a moment. They knew I would fall if I went further, no matter what my brain was telling them. They had experience at this sort of thing. And indeed I could almost feel myself already falling. It was impossible. I was stuck. It wasn't my fault; I'd done my best. We were all stuck. I looked out over the water and the others were standing or sitting perfectly still, watching me. Even Jimmy Finn had turned around and was watching me. I thought about Tim Bean and Michael Williamson and Dave Tomlin, and Tim Bean and Eric Stephens who I hadn't seen what had happened to. I thought about Mr. Lias and A.J. and little Jason Rabinski, who's mangled body I could see on the dock. And then weirdly enough I thought about Pizza Hut and Pac Man and how now there was no way we were going there now and that really pissed me off.
Screw it. I turned around so my back was to the rock, so I could lean against it as much as possible. I pressed back on the ledge until I could feel the rock against the back of my heels. And then I started moving. I moved incredibly slow, but at least I felt like this way I had some balance, some control. I didn't look down at the sharks below, or the ledge, I didn't look at the guys in my troop. I didn't look up and I didn't even look ahead to see where I was going. I just looked out at the distant ocean cliffs surrounding the next inlet. Wayfarer's Cove, they called it.
And the whole time I just kept thinking about pizza.
I slipped once. There was an icky moment when the world seemed to turn up on its side and I frantically waved my arms in little circles, like I was trying to swim through the air backwards- but I managed not to fall. The close call had given me a rush of adrenaline, though, and I could feel my face suddenly flush, my palms suddenly sweating, and my legs shakier than ever. Another close call and I wasn't sure how I would react. And then my foot slid onto something wider. I was past the undercut, and on a larger shelf, covered in small and medium rocks- some smooth, some jagged. It curved down seven or eight feet to disappear into the water, but there was plenty to hold onto. And just past where it ended was the beach. I was incredibly close. A weight came off me, and I moved forward. I'd gone a couple feet when I put my weight on a loose stone and it rolled out from under me.
It happened faster than my exhausted brain could follow. The only thing I remember is my chin hitting one of the rocks as I fell forward, making my tongue bite my tongue again. Then I was sliding and rocks were bouncing all around me and painfully off of me. And then I was underwater.
It was so fast I never took a breath until I was in the ocean- then I took in a lungful of seawater. The shock of it all shot through me and before I'd even gotten back to the surface I was charging for the shore. Maybe I had a second or two. Maybe the falling rocks had startled them. My head broke out of the water and I coughed even as I found sand under my feet and pushed forward- only to realize a second later when the water was out of my eyes that I was wading the wrong way. In horror I catapulted myself backwards just as a wave came in, and my head went underwater again. It was maybe only waist high this close to land, and there was a ton of silt mixed with the water, but even then I saw two dark shapes slicing through the murk towards me at incredible speed, coming in for the kill.
I was crab-walking backwards as fast as my limbs would motivate. The waves were crashing over me. I couldn't breathe. There was a moment when I was out, and then the surf came in over me and I was in again, fins coming closer. I swear to this day I saw a single unblinking black eye right next to mine for a moment.
And then I was truly out. Up on dry sand that the tide didn't reach. It must have taken me a full minute to realize I was actually safe. By the time I managed to cough up the rest of the water that had gone down my throat and look up, the rest of the troop were on their feet cheering. All I wanted to do was rest, to catch my breath, to maybe take a small nap. But I had to find help. Big Brian and Mr. Lias and Eric and the rest were all counting on me. So I dragged myself to my feet and started up the hill. I was so disoriented that I forgot to put on my shoes or shirt- both of which were lying right there with the rest of the guys' stuff. I started running back up the steep path that led to the road. It seemed much steeper now. I had to stop twice to catch my breath- feeling guilty because I know everyone could see me resting, but it felt like I was going to pass out and if I did that wasn't going to help anyone.
After an unmeasured time I was up where the road ended and people parked. Mr. Lias' familiar white van was there, along with A.J.'s wood-paneled Bronco and Mr. Beeman's tiny Toyota, badly in need of a wash. I made my way to the road, slicing my calves on the switch grass that lined the path and cutting my feet on the rough stones. When I hit the smooth pavement of the Shore Road there were no cars. I had two choices: to the right I knew there was a gas station a half mile down the road, because we'd stop there and get sodas and snacks sometimes. But it was Sunday and I couldn't remember if they were open on Sundays or not, and if they weren't then it was miles until the next house. To the left the little town of Jetty Point was probably an hour's hike away. I looked at the sun.
An hour to find someone. Then the call to the police. How long to get a boat out to the harbor? Another hour? Two? Would it be dark by then? Would Mr. Lias still be alive? I must have been turning around and around in undecided panic, and I know I was full on crying, because when a pickup came by it slammed on its brakes and a man who I later found out was a volunteer firefighter jumped out and hurried over to me. He had a radio in his truck he used to call for help, and just like that, my part in the drama was over. The shore patrol had had a boat just a mile out giving a tow to a fisherman who'd run out of gas, and I watched from the top of the cliff with the volunteer fireman's wife and a growing number of people as one by one everyone left in Troop 66 was rescued. By the time the sun was setting in a crimson explosion over the water, I was riding in the backseat of my family's station wagon, my mom beside me. They took me to the hospital and I stayed overnight and watched TV and ate ice cream (but no pizza), and then I went home the next day. I wanted to visit Eric but they wouldn't let me. They'd airlifted Brian and Mr. Lias to a hospital in the City.
I had nightmares that night and every night for a week. Water engulfed me and I couldn't breathe. Sinuous gray black shapes surrounded me, prowling closer and closer- rows of shining stiletto teeth and black marble eyes. I woke up screaming. I wet the bed. Then the dreams came only every other night for a month. They averaged once a week for a year or two, until finally now it's only once in a great while that I see hammerhead shapes swimming through my dreams and wake up in the dead of night clutching my chest.
They never found anything of A.J., Michael, Dave Tomlin, Kyle, Frankie or Mr. Beeman's friend. Jason Rabinsky had a closed casket funeral that we all wore our class A uniforms to. Eric made a full recovery and actually ended up swimming on the team in high school. Poor Jimmy Finn was never quite right afterward, and had a lot of trouble in school and later on in life, I heard. We discovered that Tim Bean, our big time Eagle Scout, had somehow made it to shore amidst all the commotion when Jason first got bit, and had run up the hill and driven home without calling anyone. He wasn't welcomed back in the Troop after that and the next year he graduated high school and moved on.
Brian Holster had to have two feet of intestine and part of his liver removed, and got one hundred and seventy-seven staples in his side, but he made a full recovery and manages a steak restaurant out where Route 252 meets the Interstate. The doctors ended up having to amputate Mr. Lias' arm below the elbow. Otherwise he made a full recovery, but he never came back to lead our troop. Mr. Beeman took over for him, and many other parents became much more involved after the mile swim incident. There was an official Court of Honor ceremony later that fall, with all sorts of high-ranking people from the BSA and governors and politicians and what not. Everyone living or dead got some kind of award, except Mr. Beeman's friend (who wasn't actually a scoutmaster), and jerkoff Tim Bean of course.
Most of the kids got Medals of Merit for bravery. Brian, Eric, Dave Buchanan, Jimmy Finn, Dan and Mr. Beeman all got Silver Honor Medals. A.J., Michael Williamson and Mr. Lias received Gold Honor Medals. And they gave me the Gold Honor Medal with Crossed Palms, the highest medal for bravery that the Scouts award. All these years later, I couldn't find it if I had to. My kid probably has it in his drawer.
The day after the attack there wasn't a sign of any type of shark for miles around. They were just gone. Ichthyologists and other scientists descended on Holdout Bay in gaggles over the next two years, but could never figure out what factors had come together to cause the carnage which had wiped out half of Troop 66. We all learned that while Hammerhead Sharks have been known to bite humans, they have never been considered to be maneaters, and still aren't. The Attack was considered a freak occurrence, and there were hypotheses about late-summer currents, migrating plankton, industrial pollution in the fishes' diet, geomagnetic anomalies, and a thesis-paper's worth more. Plenty of people in town had their own crazy theories as well, which weren't peer reviewed. The Attack, as it came to be known, came to define an entire generation of our town. You were either around at the time of the Attack, or you came along after.
It took a couple years, but people eventually started swimming in Holdout Bay again. These days it's as popular with swimmers, sunbathers, painters and horny teens as it ever was. So far, the sharks have never returned.
The Pizza Hut on Laughlin Road closed last year. It's a Pilates studio now.
I stayed in the Troop for a few more years after the Attack, but in high school the twin mix of girls and part-time jobs combined to monopolize the majority of my after-school time. I never actually quit the Scouts, I just gradually drifted away. Eric and I remained friends through graduation, and I'd hang out with him the first couple summer breaks during college. He went into his dad's real estate business and did very well for himself, taking over the company after his pop retired. My wife and I bought our first home from him and he gave us an incredible deal on it.
I've never tried to milk what happened for any kind of special treatment. I've heard of a few of the others doing that and that kind of thing is just repellent to me. But it's a small town and no one's forgotten what happened, so every once in a while I'll get a free drink at the bar or my entrée comped when my wife and I go out. And one time when I rear ended a guy in traffic and he wanted to get in my face about it, I just looked at him and calmly told him I've pissed right in a shark's eye, so nothing he could do or say was really gonna frighten me. The guy never even filed a claim with his insurance.
Like I said, I don't swim. I don't even take baths. The feeling of being submerged in water brings about a paralyzing feeling of helplessness that instantly takes me right back. If work or errands demand I take the Shore Road past Holdout Bay I won't purposely detour, but if there's another route to get where I'm going I'll usually find myself taking it, even if it's a little longer.
My kid is almost nine now. He's talking about joining the Scouts. I ran into Dan Beeman the other day at the bank and turns out he's Scoutmaster now. His son is a year older than mine. Mr. Beeman Sr. passed a few years back, I don't know how I didn't hear. Dan and I got to talking and reminiscing and naturally the talk turned to that afternoon. Dan said even though he made it through the incident without a scratch, he still feels like he lost a part of himself to the sharks that day, same as Mr. Lias lost his arm. Dan still has dreams, too.
I didn't say much. I never know what to say about it. It happened. It was awful, but it's a long way off now. And I guess by now I'm tired of being one of those guys who got attacked by those sharks. I guess I just want to be the best regular guy I can on my own terms, and if that means becoming an Assistant Scoutmaster for my kid, then so be it.
But if I do, you can bet your ass the Mile Swim's taking place in a pool.
— Jim Towns is an award-winning filmmaker, artist and writer. His short fiction has been published in print and online by Burial Day, Switchblade Magazine, FunDead Publications, Castle of Horror, Hellhound Magazine, and many more. His first book American Cryptic was released in 2020 by Anubis Press, and November 2021 will see the publication of his Depression-era vampire novella Bloodsucker City. He lives in San Pedro CA with his wife and several mysterious cats.
Posted on August 19, 2022 by APOCALYPSE CONFIDENTIALPosted in Fiction, SUMMER OF THE SHARK
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We're best known for pioneering kombucha commercially in South Africa. Our bottled kombucha range is now available nationally in 10+ flavours and three sizes. We were also the first in South Africa to offer kombucha home brew kits, kombucha on tap, and and zerowaste/BYOBottle bulk filling options.
For all of our products, the combination of high quality ingredients and expert fermentation and/or brewing methods translates into an approach we're proud of and a difference you can truly taste.
Beyond 'booch, we also make a variety of other delicious, truly natural beverages such as our organic rooibos chai and our all-natural rooibos ginger beer.
Check out the Products page for more details.
For more info on what we're up to, connect with us on Instagram or Facebook .
OUR BREWMISTRESS/FOUNDER
Theonista began as a craving, not as a business plan.
This particular craving came from my gut. Really—my actual gut thrived on kombucha; I got hooked on the stuff in my mid-20s back in Seattle when, despite my plant-based, public health professional, yoga-fueled lifestyle, I was seriously struggling with digestive distress, poor stress management, and chronic immune system issues. I initially moved to Cape Town based on the other kind of gut feeling–-the one that serves as the best compass of all time if you can figure out where it's pointing you.
That was back in 2011. Back then, not only was there hardly any kombucha to be found, it proved completely impossible to find someone brewing it at home. I asked employees and customers in every health shop I found for months. Seriously, I did. Like a crazy person. (I'd soon find out that once I had some to offer, it would be equally difficult to convince health shops to stock kombucha due to historically low success and low popularity of the versions that came before. But that's getting ahead of myself.)
After running into countless dead ends, I eventually purchased a SCOBY from Seattle and had it mailed to a friend in New York who was traveling to Cape Town. Once it landed, I immediately started brewing and experimenting. In my enthusiasm during that period, I'd mentioned my homebrewing ambitions to a friend here. Her name was Maggie, and by coincidence she'd also lived in Seattle once and loved all things fermented. Maggie worked for Lyndall, the mastermind behind then-newcomer, now beloved institution Clarke's, and Lyndall decided to give this kombucha thing a go (a couple years later Clarke's was also the first in South Africa to offer kombucha on tap, and their sister establishment Hail Pizza is the first to offer customers a bulk filling option on tap).
Suddenly I had a customer, which technically meant I had a business. To be honest, it took me a couple years, a few more products, and dozens more customers to realize Theonista was more than a side project and definitely more than a response to a craving.
And you think cravings are powerful? Try intention. Once I committed to really owning, driving, shaping, and creating Theonista, everything shifted. The natural momentum I'd built up from developing products from a sheer passion for them, without cutting any corners when it came to ingredients or process, gained force when I started bringing on staff and slowly building up from a home kitchen to the funky Woodstock microbrewery we operate from today.
Kombucha is still the heart of our business, but we also make a bunch of other products that, for whatever reason, all light me up and in some way are directly inspired by nature and by my life in and around Cape Town. My business has grown a lot but in many ways it is still very much the same as it was at the start. We make everything in small batches, overwhelmingly use people over machines, rely on whole ingredients rather than artificial anything, cherish organic and indigenous botanicals, are just as committed as ever to our social and ecological ethics, and are totally obsessed with creating the very best things we can.
In the early days I did all the brewing and bottling myself—as well as the deliveries (by bicycle!) and the accounting (which admittedly simply meant storing cash in a glass jar for over a year—I still have that jar actually). We're definitely not a one-woman show anymore, and I'm extremely grateful for and proud of our amazing team. As much as the ingredients, the quality of people that make Theonista are reflected in the quality of our products.
We're also proud to be an active part of a shifting food culture. Luckily for many artisan producers such as ourselves, consumer preferences continue to trend towards healthy choices that are more sustainable both for human, animal, and environmental health—even though this is rarely the easiest or most affordable choice to make. I often joke that I must specialize in "the path of most resistance," such as in trying to convince an understandably skeptical South African consumer base that kombucha was worth trying but, jokes aside, all the effort has been completely worth it.
These days I trust my gut more than ever, and it's my sincere hope that our products nourish you and support your lifestyle so that you can do the same.
Follow your gut,
Many producers rely on a lot of added fruit juices and flavoured ("naturally" or otherwise) teas to create their kombuchas or their craft sodas. At Theonista, our emphasis is on allowing our flavour profiles be guided first and foremost by whole ingredients that come from actual plant parts and not laboratories.
For example, only one of our kombuchas (our antioxidant powerhouse Pomegranate & Rooibos) contains fruit juice (less than 2%, with no added sugars, preservatives, flavourants, or colourants). Fresh pressed ginger, which itself has countless health properties, is added to four of our flavours, and if you taste the different gingery options we have you'll find it's the tea base rather than the ginger that defines the overall taste.
We are also deeply dedicated to small batch methods and unique craftsmanship. This includes carefully controlled fermentation and brewing methods that allow us to create balance organically and therefore we don't have to dilute our products nor rely on excessive amounts of unfermented sugar or other sweeteners.
All of our other products follow suit: Clean, simple, delicious. Our chai is made from whole spices and organic rooibos tea, totally free of dairy derivatives, syrups, or flavourings. Our ginger beer is made from real ginger, real lemons, brown sugar, our unique blend of fermented cultures, and rooibos tea.
We've got lots more on the way, too, so stay tuned!
BUY FROM THE BREWERY
We don't have a formal retail shop but do have a small section on the side of our brewery where you can buy our all products, including brew kits and kombucha on tap. We're open Monday-Friday from 9am-3:30pm and take Snapscan or cash. Check out our Instagram stories to see what's on tap that day or call/whatsapp 066 411 2080 during our business hours.
RECYCLING & BOTTLE REBATES
Ginger beer and glass kombucha bottles can be returned to us and participating stockists for a rebate. Our plastic bottles are BPA free and 100% recyclable. We're an active member and avid supporter of PETCO, South Africa's PET recycling corporation. Find our more about their inspiring progress here. If you really don't know where to recycle your plastic bottles you can also bring them to us and we'll do it for you.
Our products are almost entirely handmade and hand processed. While that's an important component of being an artisan or "craft" business, it only tells part of the story. Wherever possible we have consistently chosen to invest in people over machines because this directly translates to job creation and skill development.
100% of our food waste (e.g. tea leaves and ginger pulp) is composted at Oranjezicht City Farm, as it has been since we (and they) started out.
Sorry! We aren't currently able to regularly offer tours or tastings at our facility. In the meantime, please check out the Not a Blog page for updates on new flavours and events.
THEONISTA PRODUCTS


Rich in omega 3 from the finest salmon oil to calm sensitive skin.
Extra GLA from starflower to reduce itching and scratching.
Rich in essential Omega 6 to nourish soft and supple skin.
High levels of essential Omega 3 oils from golden fax seed to improve coat condition.
Added natural Vitamin E from plant sources to support the skin's natural defences.


Batticaloa magistrate Friday remanded Mr. Subramaniam Yoganathan, believed to be a paramilitary cadre operating with the Sri Lanka army intelligence, for loitering in a suburb of the eastern town with a hand grenade. A Police patrol arrested Mr. Yoganathan Thursday evening in Puthur, a high security zone suburb of Batticaloa. He is the brother of 'Nithi', an LTTE defector who became a senior military intelligence operative in the east, according to Police. 'Nithi' was killed in a suicide bomb attack in Batticaloa town three years ago.
Paramilitary sources in Batticaloa said that Yoganathan was involved with his brother in paramilitary operations in the east.
Investigations are continuing under Batticaloa Crime Branch Inspector Mr. Somasiri, Police said.


With just one pivot point for X and Y deflection, Aerotech's AGV-SPO Galvo Scanner significantly increases the field of view, reducing laser spot distortion in critical laser micromachining applications.
It is flexible enough to accommodate a wide range of laser wavelengths thanks to a large variety of mirror surfaces. As a result, the laser scanner is suitable for a wide range of applications, from additive manufacturing to medical devices. Due to the special optical design, the entrance pupil of the laser beam coincides with the X and Y deflecting mirrors, increasing the effective numerical aperture of the scanner system. The design immediately increases the field of view for a given focal length and reduces laser spot distortion throughout the working area, enabling larger parts to be processed faster and with improved uniformity. Customer-specific optics and optical mounting options can be adapted as a special solution. Optional air-cooled mirrors and/or water-cooled motors ensure constant temperature conditions and continuously good work results even with high laser power or highly dynamic motion profiles.


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Five Minutes With… Scott from We Are Brighton
"The football is pleasing, but how many football fans would tolerate one home win in a calendar year?" Scott from We Are Brighton believes that after three seasons, Graham Potter needs to start delivering improved results.
10th September 2021 | Five Minutes With, Premier League, Football Charlie Gregory
After promotion to the Premier League in 2017, finishes of 15th, 17th, 15th and 16th have followed for Brighton with last season's points haul of 41 their highest tally since their return to the top-flight.
As well as retaining the services of Yves Bissouma, The Seagulls added a much-needed left-sided player in Marc Cucurella, who arrived from Getafe for a shade over £15m, as their two marquee pieces of business in a productive summer transfer window.
With the funds from Ben White's £50m exit to Arsenal reinvested, Enock Mwepu joined from Red Bull Salzburg for £20m, while Senegal international Abdallah Sima and Japanese youngster Kaoru Mitoma arrived from Slavia Prague and Kawasaki Frontale respectively.
So with boss Graham Potter about to enter the third year of a six-year contract, are Albion fans happy with what they are seeing down on the South Coast?
Charlie Gregory caught up with Scott from We are Brighton…
You're currently 8th in the Premier League with two wins from three – how would you assess your start to the campaign?
"It's early days but it is already a world away from last season.
"Brighton struggled to break down and take points from many of the sides around them at the bottom of the table, so to beat Burnley and Watford is a big improvement and something which would probably not have happened in 2020-21.
"If that continues and the Albion can pick up the sort of surprise results they managed against the bigger clubs last season, then a very good campaign could be on the cards."
The window shut last week with Cucurella and Sima arriving late – upon reflection, are you pleased with your transfer activity?
"The Albion have added width which was needed in Cucurella, Enock Mwepu can bring goals from midfield and £10 million was cleared off the wage bill in players like Alireza Jahanbakhsh, Bernardo, Matty Ryan and Davy Propper who Graham Potter did not rate.
"What let it down though was not signing a senior striker. The world and his wife knows that what the Albion are missing is a striker who can put away the countless opportunities we create.
"To not bring one in – or in the case of Abdallah Sima, bring one in and then loan him straight to Stoke – has undone a lot of that good work."
Cucurella seems an impressive coup – a young and versatile player and highly touted across Europe – what does this addition say about the club's ambition?
"It says that nobody else was willing to meet the £15 million release clause in his Getafe contract!
"As a winger who can also do a job as a full back, he looks tailor-made for Potter's wing-back system.
"The prospect of Cucurella down the left, Tariq Lamptey when fit again down the right and Solly March's versatility meaning he can compete to play down either side offers a lot of quality in wide areas, something Brighton lacked last season.
"Especially when March and Lamptey were out and Joel Veltman and Dan Burn were providing square pegs in round hole solutions."
I noticed that there was a frustration however that another forward wasn't added – particularly with Sima's immediate loan exit – are you worried about your lack of options up front? Could another forward have been make or break for your season?
"The club seems to have gone into the campaign taking a huge risk in the striker department.
"Danny Welbeck is quality but his legs are made from cheese, so there will always be time spent injured. Aaron Connolly had more stories written about him in the gossip pages of newspapers than he scored goals last season.
"To put so much goal-scoring responsibility on the shoulders of Neal Maupay is asking a lot. If the injury or suspensions gods fancy being unkind, there is every chance that at some point between now and January, Brighton will have to cope without a recognised centre-forward.
"That could easily have been avoided by not loaning out Sima. Or not loaning out Florin Andone. Or not loaning out Andi Zeqiri. Or not selling Percy Tau.
"Four strikers have gone and that's the biggest issue."
Your net spend since last summer has only been £2m – is that a concern at all?
"Not really. £50 million has come in for Ben White which is more than Brighton have made from every other player sale in their 120 year history combined, which partly explains the net figure."
"The club also made a £67 million loss in the 2019-20 season. That figure will likely be even higher for 2020-21. Tony Bloom has pumped over £300 million of his own money into the club in 10 years."
"He might be very rich, but he is not an oligarch or a sheikh.
"Brighton have to spend according to what Bloom can afford and given our journey from homelessness and second bottom of the Football League to Premier League in 20 years, every sane Albion fan will appreciate that what Bloom says goes."
You said last time that Potter could find himself under pressure if results go against him this season – why is that the case for Brighton fans?
"The football is pleasing, but how many football fans would tolerate one home win in a calendar year?
"Or a club record run of 14 home games without a win? Or two wins in 18 matches?
"Potter has actually delivered that barren sequence twice in his two completed seasons in charge. At a lot of clubs, a manager who does that would have come under pressure.
"Bar the odd murmur, Potter has not [come under pressure], as most Brighton fans could see that he was embarking on a major project to overhaul the style of play, the culture and the age profile of the squad he inherited from Chris Hughton.
"Three seasons in though and he needs to start delivering improved results. Another relegation battle would be disappointing, especially after we slipped from 15th in 2019/20 to 16th in 2020/21.
"Thankfully – and yes it is early days – that doesn't look like it will be the case this season. Fingers crossed."
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10 Shocking Examples Of Bad Sportsmanship
These 17 Bald Animals Will Blow Your Mind
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20 Thoughts All Single People Have Had
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10 Amazing Animals Awarded The Medal Of Bravery
During World War II, Maria Dickin, the sole founder for the People's Dispensary for Sick Animals (PDSA), a veterinary charity, was touched by animals used during wartime and how it affected them. She then instituted the PDSA Dickin Medal. This is the animal equivalent to the Medal of Bravery or Victoria Cross to display the extraordinary bravery and valor displayed by certain animals during periods of extreme warfare. Police dogs, horses, guide dogs, and carrior pigeons have all been awarded the medal. Here are ten impressive animals awarded the Medal of Bravery.
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Pauline Lee Hanson, née Seccombe le  à Brisbane, est une femme politique australienne.

Biographie

Pauline Hanson entre en politique en étant élue au conseil municipal de la ville d'Ipswich en 1994. Elle rejoint le Parti libéral en 1995 et veut représenter la formation pour la circonscription d'Oxley lors des élections fédérales australiennes de 1996, mais le Parti libéral ne l'investit pas. Elle décide quand même de se présenter sans étiquette et est élue à la Chambre des représentants. En 1997, elle fonde Pauline Hanson's One Nation, un parti politique de droite, populiste, conservateur et opposé au multiculturalisme. Elle perd son siège à la Chambres de représentants lors des élections de 1998.

Après avoir quitté le parlement fédéral, Pauline Hanson s'est présentée à plusieurs élections locales et nationales sous la bannière de son propre parti Pauline Hanson's One Nation. Elle est exclue du parti en 2002. Le tribunal de district de Brisbane la reconnaît coupable de fraude électorale en 2003 mais la Cour d'appel du Queensland l'innocente finalement. Elle passe  en prison en attendant la décision de la cour d'appel.

Pauline Hanson réintègre le parti qu'elle avait contribué à créer, Pauline Hanson's One Nation en 2013, redevenant la cheffe de file du parti l'année d'après. Lors des élections fédérales de 2016, elle est élue au Sénat, dans la circonscription du Queensland.

En  elle exprime son admiration pour Vladimir Poutine et explique que les . Ses commentaires sont désavoués par le chef du Parti travailliste, Bill Shorten, et par le Premier ministre Malcolm Turnbull. S'élevant contre la politique du gouvernement australien qui consiste à réduire les aides gouvernementales des parents qui refusent de faire vacciner leurs enfants, elle qualifie cette pratique de chantage digne d'une dictature. Le Premier ministre rétorque qu'. L'ancien chef de l'association médicale australienne déclare que Pauline Hanson est .

Elle est réélue au Sénat lors des élections fédérales de 2022.

Notes et références

Liens externes

Naissance en mai 1954
Membre de la Chambre des représentants australienne
Sénateur australien
Femme politique australienne

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


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What a trip this was! Ya'll if you haven't been to Vermont, I highly reccommend penciling in a stay at Stowe Mountain Lodge. If you follow along on social media, you've probably noticed that I love all things fall. It's my favorite season, however, it's an inexcusably short season in North Carolina. With that being said, Bailey Schwartz from Here's The Skinny and I set out to find the perfect fall getaway destination. After a little bit of research, it became apparent that Stowe Mountain Lodge was the perfect place for this. Below you will find a complete review of our stay at the lodge.
The Rooms: We stayed in a classic guest room with a view of Mount Mansfield. Our room was a little over 450 sq. ft and had a beautiful marble tiled bathroom with a separate tub. The room was plenty spacious for two people (we had two doubles but rooms with just one King are also available), however Stowe Mountain Lodge also offers studios, junior suites, one, two, and three bedroom suites, residences that you can rent out, and cabins! So if you're planning to come with a larger party, there is an option for everyone. Bailey and I actually got to tour some of these rooms and the amenities were fantastic! My personal favorite, the fireplace. I also want to take a second to talk about the decor. When I think of Vermont, I think of the mountains, skiing, fall, and being cozy. Each room embodied these feelings perfectly! Everything looks and feels brand new, but has that cozy lodge feel to it - right up my alley!
Solstice Restaurant: We had both breakfast and dinner here and both were delicious! Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day, so I was exceptionally excited to try it! I ordered the superfoods egg white omelet which came with spinach, turkey, tomato, avocados and potatoes and it was excellent! Typically I would've gone for the stack of pancakes, but our wedding is only two short months away so you know how that goes. I also decided to splurge a little and order the banana bread which was warm and amazing! You need to order it if you go! I kept craving steak while we were visiting, so for dinner at Solstice I ordered the 10 oz Bistro Steak which was also really delicious! Overall, the quality of the food at this restaurant is excellent - you really can't go wrong with anything on the menu!
Hourglass Lounge: Before dinner, Bailey and I were both ready for a drink after a long day of exploring so we grabbed a seat in a cozy little nook at the Hourglass Lounge and tried out their Vermont flight of beer! I'm not a big beer drinker so I had a specialty cocktail (strawberry margarita) that was to die for! However, Bailey said the flight was excellent as well. We grabbed the crab dip as our appetizer, which again, you can't go wrong with!
The Cottage: The Cottage is up at the golf course in the clubhouse! It's a beautifully built building with a cozy fireplace in the center of it surrounded by tables and chairs. We just had a light lunch here before checking out, but the food didn't disappoint. If you're looking for something a little more simple like a burger, dog, or wrap - I would reccommend hopping over here.
In room dining: Our flight getting into Burlington was delayed by an hour, so we arrived at the hotel rather late and hungry! We decided to try out the in-room dining and had a Kale Ceasar Salad with chicken, charcuterie board, and the pulled pork nachos! We reccommend them all.
The Pantry & Beanery: Coffee is my thing. Okay, I have a lot of things I know - but this is the one thing I couldn't live without in the world. So when we found out that Stowe Mountain Lodge has it's own little coffee shop, I was thrilled! I couldn't wait to try a Maple Latte as I had heard they were super satisfying, and I heard right. I reccommend giving one a go if you're visiting! We didn't get a chance to check out The Pantry, but it looked like they offered lunch items like deli sandwhiches, wraps, and salads!
Something else worth noting about the food at SML is that they grow their own herb garden. So all of the herbs used in the food around the lodge are snipped directly from their property. Additionally, they mentioned many times that some of the offerings on the menu were from locally owned farms, which I appreciate as I'm a big supporter of local businesses.
The lodge offers a complimentary Mercedes during your stay for up to two hours in case you would like to leave the grounds.
A lady by the name of Diana checked us in upon arrival and was absolutely delightful and welcoming! It's always nice to be greeted by an employee whose as happy as you are to be there. Ask for her if you're planning a stay!
Valet was exceptional in helping us get situated, coming and going from the lodge, and making sure we never had to wait for anything.
We enjoyed a spa experience that was above and beyond - I will talk more about this below.
Grounds: We chose Vermont as our destination in leui of it's natural beauty. Mount Mansfield serves as the backdrop for one side of the lodge, and in the fall, the mountain looks like a sea of color! Its spectacular. The grounds were perfectly manicured, very clean, and walkable. Something I found interesting about the lodge itself was that it is made out of the trees that were cut down to build the property. For instance, the hostess podium at Solstice is made out of a tree trunk taken from the property during building. I found this to be a really nice touch! We were also told that most of the art and decorations within the lodge came from local artists.
Spa: We had the opportunity to experience the spa during our stay, and boy it didn't disappoint! As mentioned before, we were in search of a fun filled fall weekend, so we chose the Stowe Cider Uber Scrub and Massage as our treatment. Let me just start by saying that I get massages regularly, but I've never actually done a scrub before. So this was a first for me. This is a 110 minute treatment beginning with 50 minutes of a local cider scrub for exfoliating and smoothing your skin. After the first 50 minutes, you take a shower within the room while the therapist steps out to allow for privacy, and then you begin your 50 minute massage. My skin has never felt softer, ya'll! I got out of that shower, and my skin felt like a babies bottom - completely rejuvenated! Upon completion, we were escorted to a relaxation room (the sanctuary) where our therapist gave us a cold can of Stowe Cider to enjoy. This was all around such a "must" experience! I can't rave about it enough. Additionally, the facility itself was state of the art. The spa manager gave us a little tour prior to our experience, and mentioned their scented shower heads are so popular they actually sell them in the shop after customers requested them so often! The spa manager was also full of little beauty secrets and tips outside of services the spa offers, which I really appreciated! She had a wealth of knowledge in the health and wealthness field and was delightful to talk too.
Overall, I highly reccommend a stay at Stowe Mountain Lodge. In fact, Bailey and I have already talked about coming back with our hubbies next time! We'd like to re-do this trip during the winter and experience some of the amazing cold weather activties the lodge has to offer. Everything we experienced was top of the line, and superb in terms of customer service. I can't imagine ever having a bad vacation here! Wether you are looking for a family vacation, a romantic couples trip, or a weekend with the girls - this property has something for everyone. Two thumbs up!
Nothing screams fall to me quite like an oversized sweater. When I think of fall, I think of all things cozy and burnt orange, and this sweater is just that. I'm also one of those people that just doesn't love jackets, so the thicker the sweater the better! I wore this outfit with booties earlier in the day for a more causal look at the Cold Hollow Cider Mill. Later on we had a dinner reservation in downtown Stowe, so I added my leopard heels to spice things up a bit and take my daytime look into the evening. You can easily pair sweaters like this with skinny jeans, skirts and OTK boots, or leggings for a variety of outfit combinations. I'm also a firm believer in investing in quality sweaters. You can wear them over and over again every year, and they never go out of style. Because of that, I actually went back and purchased the cream version which you can find here, and it comes in 6 total colors here.
I hope everyone had a great weekend! Shane and I were in his hometown visiting family, and his mom hosted a bridal shower for me! I can't believe we are only two and a half months away from the big day!


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Carriera
Con la Nazionale messicana ha preso parte ai Mondiali 1970.

Collegamenti esterni

Calciatori del Club Deportivo Tiburones Rojos de Veracruz


In the Seminar "Come to Munich - be at home" all students of all universities the Studentenwerk München is responsible for can participate.
To complete the project successfully, every student needs to participate in three of the following events. All events are free of charge!
To register for the Events, the students have to come to the culture team of the Studentenwerk in person, after registrating for the workshops here.
Please note: The participation in these events is at your own risk.
Culture - What is that?
Intercultural Communication - is that possible?
Perception and Values - does it belong together?
Stereotype and prejudice - are they really useful?
Intercultural competence - What does that really mean? Are there missunderstandings based on interculturality and how can I avoid them? How can I interact with people from very different cultures without upsetting them and without acting in an artificial way at the same time?
During the intercultural Workshops we will find answers for all those questions. By teamwork, discussions, examples and simulations, we will have a constant change of perspective and get unexpected solutions. A great possibility to not only to get Softskills at University, but also to get a great base for your personal life.
If you are interested in participating in this project seminar, please apply by filling in the registration form.