Two great ways to reduce your carbon footprint.
From Oct. 27 - Oct. 29, you have the chance to purchase exquisite, original hand-pulled works on paper by senior printmaking students for only $25.
Schulich team off to world finals in Washington, D.C.
A team of Schulich students are the only Canadian group competing in the world finals at the 2nd Annual Smart Radio Challenge.
The annual online auction for United Way begins Monday, Oct. 27.
The U of C is seeking deans for the faculties of education, environmental design and nursing. The advisory search committees are inviting input from faculty and staff by Nov. 14.
Faculty wishing to participate in the academic procession of Fall Convocation on Nov. 10, should register prior to Nov. 3.


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Contains easily identified QLD coastal places of interest Fraser Is and Great Sandy Strait North.
Mary River and Hervey Bay regions are shown in close up detail.
Identifies recommended fishing locations including known GPS positions and No Fishing Zones.
Includes bonus wall chart Complete Fishermans Guide Queensland & GBR 230 species reverse side.


My Mission: "To provide exceptional service on time, every time, and to deliver closing documents to escrow 48 hours in advance and make lending from application to funding as transparent as possible to all parties involved." I have over 18 years (since 1994) experience in the Mortgage Banking and been in sales, client relations for over 25 years. I have earned my respect among the realtors by exceptional service; follow up, delivering method and entrepreneurial business mind set. I understand the importance of timely service, the concept and the power of referral. I provide Conventional, FHA, VA, USDA and Non-Conforming Jumbo loans for the purchase or refinance of a primary home, second/vacation or non-owner investment properties. I work closely with Realtors, Builders, Financial Advisors, CPAs, Attorney and other referral partners to provide expert advice on loan products and loan structuring to help their clients make an educated decision on the best way of financing their home. My team and I maintain excellent communication throughout the loan process to assure a positive experience for the borrower, referral partner and other parties to the transaction. Our mortgage team of experienced professionals is trained to provide you with the current technology and information to make obtaining the right loan for you easy. We know that each customer has specific needs so, here at Caliber Funding we strive to meet those specific needs with quality service and individual attention. We pride ourselves in giving you the mortgage information, loan options and convenient assistance you're looking for. Once you have decided the right loan fit for you then you can apply through our Secure Online Application to begin the process. I look forward doing business with you Licensed in: CA, CO, OR, TX, MN, WA & DC.
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As la Roja takes aim at their European rivals, fuel your commitment to Spanish football with these junior boys' football shorts. Styled after the shorts worn by the team for away matches at UEFA EURO 2016™, these lightweight shorts perform on the pitch and show off your love for Spain.Made with climacool® ventilation to help you beat the heat. A Spanish Football Federation badge at the hem completes the look..


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Welcome to the b side
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Piper's Den
Jefferson Hamer, Kristin Andreassen, and Lauren Balthrop
Bridging the gaps between traditional and contemporary, Scottish and world music. Dan Houghton and Tristan Henderson are a midnight-meeting of two composers and multi-instrumentalists, playing reeds, strings and more. Unleashing beguiling compositions and arrangements, from simple and complex, onto the world's stage.
Dan: Dan Houghton is a Scottish piper, flautist and DADGAD guitarist currently residing in south–western Vermont. Winner of numerous competitions, including the Scottish Lowland and Border Pipers' Society Open Borderpipes and New Composition events and the St. Chartier Mâitre de Cornemuse, he as has toured and taught extensively throughout Britain, Europe, Ireland, America, Asia and the Antipodes. He performs as a soloist as well as in various ensembles, not least amongst which may be counted the Scottish power-trad band, Cantrip; the Salsa fusion band, Salsa Celtica; the more RSCDS based Parcel of Rogues, the "Celtic" Rock band Prydein and more recently Piper's Den.
Jefferson Hamer, Kristin Andreassen, and Lauren BalthropTime: 9:00 pm
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RICH MOLLIN JAZZ TRIO/ June 25th 2014 / 7pm
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Canary seeds — is an herbaceous grass plant. The seeds of this plant are oblong and a bit bigger than those of millet. For normal growth of this type of cereal, warmth and moist soil are needed. Canary seeds is usually used as green forage, silage or hay, and the seeds are added to the feed for the birds. Its nutritional value is several times higher than that of corn. In industrial setting canary seeds is used in the cotton production.
Containers (in this case canary grass seeds are loaded in bulk).
Max foreign admixture — 2%.
If you need additional information, we will be happy to answer your questions.


This highly suggestive image of a truly small portion of the Surface of the Dwarf-Planet known as 1-Ceres, was taken by the NASA - Dawn Spacecraft on June, 25, 2015, and it shows us, once again - and very well -, the many (and, so far, still unexplainable) extremely Bright Spots located on the Floor of Occator Crater (approx. 92 Km - such as about 57,132 miles in diameter and about 4 Km - such as roughly 2,484 miles - deep).
Also this specific frame was obtained from an altitude of approx. 2700 miles (such as about 4345,218 Km). The Resolution here is roughly 1400 feet (such as approx. 426,72 meters) per pixel.
This image (which is a crop taken from an Original NASA - Dawn Spacecraft's b/w and NON Map-Projected frame published on the NASA - Planetary Photojournal with the ID n. PIA 19630 - Dawn Survey Orbit Image 53) has been additionally processed, extra-magnified to aid the visibility of the details, contrast enhanced and sharpened, Gamma corrected and then colorized (according to an educated guess carried out by Dr Paolo C. Fienga-LXTT-IPF) in Absolute Natural Colors (such as the colors that a normal human eye would actually perceive if someone were onboard the NASA - Dawn Spacecraft and then looked ahead, towards the Surface of 1-Ceres), by using an original technique created - and, in time, dramatically improved - by the Lunar Explorer Italia Team.


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Nancy Melcher Diemand (1916-2015) was a fashion designer specializing in lingerie. In 1950, she became the first underwear designer to win a Coty Award.

Biography
Melcher was the daughter of the publisher Frederic G. Melcher and his wife, children's author Marguerite Fellows Melcher. She was born 21 January 1916 in Indianapolis, Indiana, and grew up in Montclair, New Jersey.

She studied at Williams College, Smith College, and the McDowell School for Costume Design in New York.

In 1942, she married John Anthony "Buzz" Diemand Jr., and the couple lived in Buckingham, Pennsylvania. The marriage lasted until his death in 1992. Aviation was one of Melcher's favorite pastimes, although she also studied watercolor painting and pursued many different handicrafts, from pottery to quilting to carpentry. After her husband's death, Melchard volunteered at the Porter Hospital cafeteria and other local charitable establishments. She died at the age of 99 in the Eastview nursing home, Middlebury, Vermont, on 28 March 2015, and was survived by her son and daughter.

Fashion designer
Melcher joined the firm Vanity Fair in 1937 as a designer. Her work, in conjunction with clever advertising, helped make the firm famous and successful. In 1939, she patented a design for a combined corset and brassiere for Vanity Fair, which was approved in 1941. She was particularly known for her use of nylon, a synthetic fiber invented and produced by DuPont, who stated in 1950 that Vanity Fair was the first firm to commercially produce heat-set, permanently-pleated nylon lingerie.

Melcher won a Special Coty Award in 1950, making her the first underwear designer to be so recognized. The award-givers particularly noted her use of nylon tricot as original and having "brought new excitement and beauty to traditional and highly functional lingerie fashions."

References

1916 births
2015 deaths
American fashion designers
American women fashion designers
Smith College alumni
Williams College alumni
People from Indianapolis
People from Middlebury, Vermont
21st-century American women

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
Koclířov (německy Ketzelsdorf) je obec ležící v okrese Svitavy, v oblasti Hřebečsko východně od města Svitavy. Protáhlá zástavba se nachází v údolí potoka Třebovka. Katastr obce zasahuje na obě strany historické česko-moravské zemské hranice, přičemž k Moravě náleží jen les a zemědělské plochy na jihovýchodě a asi polovina osady Hřebče, která k obci také náleží. Tato moravská část obce původně náležela ke katastrálním územím Moravská Kamenná Horka (dnes součást obce Kamenná Horka) a Boršov u Moravské Třebové (dnes součást města Moravské Třebové), a ke Koclířovu byla připojena až k 1. lednu 1953. Nadmořská výška obce je 502 metrů nad mořem. Žije zde  obyvatel. Obec patří do správního obvodu obce s rozšířenou působností Svitavy. Obec je součástí Mikroregionu Svitavsko a Místní akční skupiny MAS Svitava.

Název obce
Prvním pojmenováním vesnice v roce 1347 byl Cunczendorf (Kuncova ves). Od roku 1412 se nazývala jako Kecendorf a patřila pod správu Litomyšlského panství. V roce 1815 se již začal používat český název obce, nejprve však jako Kocléřov a až později Koclířov. Mezi lety 1850 až 1950 Koclířov (Ketzelsdorf) patřil k okresu Litomyšl, od roku 1950 k okresu Svitavy.

Historie
První zmínka o obci pochází z roku 1347, kdy vratislavský biskup Přeclav z Pohořelé (1342-1376) rozdělil majetek premonstrátského kláštera v Litomyšli. V období třicetileté války, a jakož i za švédského tažení na Moravu byla obec několikrát vypálena a vyrabována. Další utrpení čekalo za slezských válek.

Škola
Reformy císařovny Marie Terezie přinesly v roce 1766 Koclířovu založení školy, ke které byla přiškolena také osada Hřebeč.

Poštovní spojení
Pro obec bylo významné zavedení poštovního spojení v roce 1754 z Olomouce přes Koclířov a Svitavy do Polabí.

Válečná příkoří
V roce 1799 se vesnicí prohnala ruská vojska generála Suvorova, v roce 1809 francouzské ležení a roku 1866 rakouský armádní sbor.

Demografie

Složení obyvatel
V polovině 19. století zde žilo obyvatelstvo vesměs německé národnosti.

V letech 1990 až 1997 působil jako starosta obce František Blaha, mezi lety 1997 a 2006 RSDr. Jaroslav Drozdek, mezi lety 2006 a 2008 Bohumil Kysílko, v letech 2008 až 2009 jako zastupující starosta RSDr. Jaroslav Drozdek, mezi lety 2009 a 2013 Jaromír Lenoch a od roku 2013 Jiří Tesař.

Náboženský život
V roce 1848 přišel do obce první člen redemptoristického řádu a v roce 1855 zde vznikl první hospic v českých zemích. V roce 1871 byl hospic povýšen na kolej a v roce 1896 se redemptoristé přestěhovali do nově zřízeného kláštera ve Čtyřiceti Lánech u Svitav. Vystěhovanou budovu získaly školní sestry III. řádu svatého Františka a zřídily zde školu pro dívky. Činnost školy byla za okupace pozastavena a dům byl využíván jako chudobinec, po válce pak jako domov pro řádové sestry a v roce 1995 se stal sídlem Českomoravské Fatimy – Fatimského apoštolátu v ČR.

Hospodářství

Doprava
V letech 1813 až 1815 byla vybudována silnice přes Koclířov spojující Moravskou Třebovou se Svitavami, což pomohlo obyvatelstvu pro lepší spojení do práce a pro rozvoj živností. V době ČSSR se stala silnicí I. třídy I/35 a silný provoz přes obec ukončila až přeložka v souvislosti s vybudováním tunelu v Hřebči. U západního okraje obce je zaústěna silnice I/34 do trasy E442.

Nejbližší železniční stanice je ve Svitavách.

Zemědělství
Díky své nadmořské výšce obec patří do oblastí s důrazem na pastevectví. Půda je zde málo úrodná.

Průmysl
Z průmyslových odvětví zde bylo drtivou většinou zastoupeno kamenictví a zejména tkalcovství.

Pamětihodnosti

 Farní kostel svatého Jakuba Staršího a svaté Filomény postavený v roce 1347, dnešní podoba je z roku 1771. Ve zdi kostela nad vchodem se nachází kamenný kříž s datem 1771 / 18. Pod křížem je kamenná deska s letopočtem 1925. U kostela se do roku 1773 nacházela poustevna, dnes je zde poutní místo, na němž je uctívána Panna Maria Fatimská.
 Řady barokních soch světců v ambitu a na bráně hřbitova
 Křížová cesta s kamennými reliéfy (1856-80) v ohradní zdi u kostela
 Náhrobní deska při zdi kostela s postavou rytíře v brnění a erbem. Nápis (část): A D 1594 WENCZEL FORBRIGER KETZENDORF
 Náhrobky rodiny Bierových a Lamatschových
 Bývalá římskokatolická fara (1834)
 Letohrádek (před 1701 či 1791)
 Klášter redemptoristů, dnes Českomoravská Fatima, s kostelem svatého Alfonse a Panny Marie Fatimské. Byl vybudován na svahu nad obcí roku 1844.
 Kaple sv. Josefa na Hřebči
 Tunel pod Hřebčí
 Česko-moravský hraniční kámen na Hřebči
 Zbořená barokní rychta
 Boží muka z roku 1698
 Množství soch a křížů, například pískovcový křížek na dolním (severozápadním) konci obce (u č.p. 188), s dedikací rodiny Ebertových
 Památný strom (buk) na dolním konci obce
 Pomník obětem válek s úryvkem básně:

Reference

Externí odkazy

 Neoficiální stránky obce
 Bývalá fara v obci
 Kreis Zwittau
 Soupis památek obce a osady

Obce na pomezí Čech a Moravy
Obce v okrese Svitavy
Vesnice v okrese Svitavy
Sídla ve Svitavské pahorkatině
Mikroregion Svitavsko
Litomyšlské panství


text:
April 7, 2006 April 7, 2006 by Edward Champion
Forrester Tells People What They Want to Hear
Podcasting, Technology
The big news going around the podcasting community is this Forrester report, which asserts "that only 1% of online households in North America regularly download and listen to podcasts." Of course, since the actual six-page report is hidden behind a $249.00 walll, we can't exactly corroborate the methodology behind this sweeping assertion. Nor is there any indication on how these "online households" are defined or determined. How many people were tested? Where were they tested? Were they dial-up or broadband?
Without these terms established, I really can't see how anyone who believes in the scientific method can get into a big fuss over this. For one thing, Charlene Li's math seems considerably off to me. If Forrester claims that there are "just 700,000 U.S. households" using podcasting, how did the two million downloads of The Ricky Gervais Show (after the first seven shows) happen? Surely, a substantial bloc of those downloads were American.
Granted, I'm just as skeptical about the Web 2.0 propaganda as anyone else. But if podcasts are a bust, why are so many companies spending so much money putting them out? Is so much VC riding on a long tail effect? A hunch? Or is this because the web stats (a far more verifiable figure than Forrester's "we'll tell you how we did it if you drop three C-notes" ruse) confirm a growing audience of listeners?
Of course, for those who Want to Believe, here are some fundamental reasons why Forrester's "studies" should be called into question.
1. New York Times (February 20, 2005): From CEO George Colony's own mouth: "Forrester, as it turns out, as it comes out of the recession, is really a portfolio company." Colony has also insisted over the years that Google will be eclipsed by Microsoft, Yahoo and AOL.
2. CNet (October 7, 2003): Forrester releases "integrity policy" after Forrester stacked the deck in favor of Microsoft concluding that Windows was cheaper for companies to run than Linux (study paid for by Microsoft, with Forrester using a mere 12 companies as the basis for their results) and another bought and paid for by PeopleSoft. Because of this, software companies are now forbidden from publicizing Forrester results. In other words, Forrester Research commissions deficient studies, asks the companies to pay for them and orders them to keep their mouths shut after telling them what they want to hear! Brilliant!
3. ZDNet (November 17, 2005): George Colony: "I foresee a world in which even enterprise applications like financials, ERP (enterprise resource planning), and supply chain software will be advertising-funded." Sure, because, as the 191 million+ downloads of Ad-Aware have demonstrated, everyone loves spyware and adware that cripples their OSes!
4. And then there's bullshit from Colony in the Contra Costa Times (July 31, 2005): "Yet the president of Forrester Research, George Colony, who met last week with Hurd, is convinced that the company's new chief will impose a sharper focus on HP when he unveils Phase 2 of his plans for the company. The only reason he did not do so earlier this week, Colony said, is that he has not been there long enough to devise a new strategy."
Really, George? You mean, with all of your seer-like powers, you're essentially telling us that a new CEO needs to settle and assess a situation before developing a game plan? Wow, that's like Economics 101!
It's only natural that newspapers are jumping onto this story like crazy. Because like the Microsoft people commissioning the Forrester study back in 2003, they're hearing exactly what they want to hear. Podcasting is dead! Long live podcasting!
Well, if you want to believe this without proof or confirmable data, then you may as well believe that George Colony has five testicles in his nut sack.
[UPDATE: Looks like the sample pull was 5,015 computer users and that many of those surveys didn't have broadband. Where were these people located? How was this representative sample obtained?]
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cinetrix April 10, 2006 at 12:09 pm
In a past life, I worked at Forrester. That is, until I was laid off after this energy company they predicted great things for, Enron, went belly up. So let's just say their survey methodology could be more rigorous.


text:
HomeBooksMystery, Thriller & Crime
When She Was Gone
by Gwendolen Gross
Tom Perotta's Little Children meets Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones in this suspenseful and beautifully wrought story of a seventeen-year-old girl who vanishes on the eve of her departure for college, as told through the alternating perspectives of her neighbors.
What happened to Linsey Hart? When the Cornell-bound teenager disappears into the steamy blue of a late-summer morning, her quiet neighborhood is left to pick apart the threads of their own lives and assumptions.
Linsey's neighbors are just ordinary people—but even ordinary people can keep terrible secrets hidden close. There's Linsey's mother, Abigail, whose door-to-door searching makes her social-outcast status painfully obvious; Mr. Leonard, the quiet, retired piano teacher with insomnia, who saw Linsey leave; Reeva, the queen bee of a clique of mothers, now obsessed with a secret interest; Timmy, Linsey's lovelorn ex-boyfriend; and George, an eleven-year-old loner who is determined to find out what happened to his missing neighbor.
As the days of Linsey's absence tick by, dread and hope threaten to tear a community apart. This luminous new novel by the acclaimed author of The Orphan Sister explores coming of age in the shadows of a suburban life, and what is revealed when the light suddenly shines in. . . .
Publisher: Gallery BooksReleased: Mar 19, 2013ISBN: 9781451684766Format: book
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A.S. Kristy's Great Idea 1986 While you could start mid-series and figure out what's going on pretty easily, Martin's BSC debut lets you see her characters at their purest. We get a first hint of Claudia's fashion sense, Stacey's diabetes is reveal
The Millions Top Ten: November 2019
After six months of smashing success on our list, The Practicing Stoic surely becomes the first philosopher's resource to grace our Hall of Fame. The post The Millions Top Ten: November 2019 appeared first on The Millions.
Eileen Myles, the Books in My Life: From Little Women to Angela Carter
Eileen Myles' Afterglow is available now from Grove Atlantic. What was the first book you fell in love with? Little Women: because there was both a female writer, Jo, in it and there was a rich boy, Laurie, I longed to be. Name a classic you feel gui
Alexander McCall Smith: In Praise of W.H. Auden
Alexander McCall Smith, best known for the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series, sees his latest book, My Italian Bulldozer, hit American shelves today. What was the first book you fell in love with? When I was a very young boy I had a book called G
When She Was Gone - Gwendolen Gross
24 SYCAMORE STREET
Mr. Leonard was the last person to see seventeen-year-old Linsey Hart before she vanished into the steamy blue of a late-summer morning. He was sitting on the black-lacquered piano bench in the bay window, practicing and singing, wordlessly, along with the Schumann Kinderscenen. The window was open only a crack, but Mr. Leonard could still detect the wormy smell of the sidewalk as the sun struck the puddles from last night's downpour. He held his fingers over the keys to listen to the silence between songs, the breath at the end of the poem lines. Mr. Leonard loved quiet as much as he loved sound.
The night before, he'd heard her whispering into the phone, stooped on the wicker rocker on the porch, her long legs awkwardly folded, so she looked like a strange sort of beetle in the sick orange light of the streetlamp.
I can't, she'd said. They'd worry.
Mr. Leonard wasn't a spy; he merely had insomnia. He followed all the rules: no alcohol, walking or bicycling for exercise, warm milk, reading, but not of troublesome materials—bed for sleep only, though the book on sleep said bed for sleep and sex, which wasn't something Mr. Leonard worried about as a possible pollutant these days. He kept his windows open. The cicadas rubbed a brisk rhythm; even in death they were insistent, even calling out their last hope for procreation they played presto marcato.
I have it, said Linsey, sweet sotto voce. I'll bring it.
Then she went inside, her hair a long loose tail behind her, leaving him alone to wander his house, looking for clues that might help him dream.
Then it was morning. Mr. Leonard had fallen asleep in an armchair that smelled of linseed oil and Murphy's. He went to the piano, because it was always the first person he spoke to after sleep. He played the Chopin Barcarolle and the first movement of the Tchaikovsky no. 1 in B-flat Minor, and it was only just past five; Mr. Leonard could tell by the soft wash of the light and the hissing of dew just lit on the lawns. He started the second movement of the Tchaikovsky, then he paused.
Mr. Leonard resumed playing as Linsey stepped out onto her front porch in the hard blue light of the early morning, tucking her long hair—sandy blond, she called it, but it held mica glints, almost silver—behind her ears. She pressed against the piston slide of the screen door to prevent the usual sigh and thunk as it closed. It was five thirty in the morning. Mr. Leonard could see her without looking up. This was something people didn't know about him. There were many things, speculative and real, that people knew about Mr. Leonard. They knew he was single and aged—sixty-two, actually, though the children had simply slipped him into that category of old person, slightly scary, who gave excessive amounts of candy at Halloween and therefore was to be tolerated. They knew he lived in the house his parents had lived and died in; that his aunt had lived and died in; that a series of small dogs, shelties, usually, or West Highland whites, had lived and died in, except for the last, Moonlight. Moonlight was named after a sonata, though most neighbors thought it was just an overly romantic appellation bequeathed by a lonely old man to a runny-eyed dog who was poisoned and died in the Hopsmiths' garden. His death caused great speculation about a number of teens, but the mystery was never solved.
They knew he was a music teacher for some years at the middle school, for a single year at the high school before a combination of budget cuts and the secret of his colon cancer decided his retirement. He had the first surgery, and couldn't play for a week; never mind that eating became even less of a pleasure than it had been. But he was still alive, despite the dire suggestions of Dr. Meade, who called him personally after Mr. Leonard told the receptionist, then the nurse, then the nurse again in consecutive phone calls that he would not take radiation. He'd rather let it grow back, the way death always grew, slow consumption of the cells, whole organs, the eventual, beautiful collapse. It wasn't a fight he could win, and he didn't want the battle wounds. He rarely ever hurt unbearably, except when digesting, and that was a dull pain, a squeezing, a roughhousing of his insides. As long as he could play, as long as he had enough money and jasmine tea in the afternoons and could tote new books from the library—alternating fiction and nonfiction like an assignment—every Wednesday on his old upright bicycle with a basket. Old-lady bicycle—it had been his aunt's, his father's sister's, though she rarely rode it, so the chain had been a seizure of rust when he first wheeled it out of the shed.
Mr. Leonard had taken private piano students for some years, children whose parents evidently were not suspicious of his linty cardigans or the way he looked just sideways at almost everyone. They deposited their sleek-haired charges inside the foyer of the grand Victorian for innocuous training in culture. Then the students stopped. Mr. Leonard played his piano, sometimes early in the morning, sometimes passionately and late at night, sometimes with a languor that swept across the neighborhood like a wind-borne cloud of pollen and perfume. Once or twice, new people with money who had moved in and updated their kitchens with walk-in Sub-Zeros and ten-burner Viking stoves called the police to complain about the noise. Rachmaninoff. Brahms. Liszt was never a problem; Liszt caused children to dance on the sidewalks, or sway pleasantly in their dreams after bedtime. Generally, the police did nothing. Or they rang the doorbell and asked Mr. Leonard to please close his window, to please play pianissimo at least (a joke with Beau, the cop who lived around the corner on Pine. It was Beau's one music word —he'd been one of Mr. L.'s students in middle school), to keep it down. Mr. Leonard offered them French-press coffee. They often stopped by the following afternoon for more coffee, and sat on Mr. Leonard's wide brown front steps as if he needed protection.
Linsey knew something about Mr. Leonard, something she had shared with her boyfriend, Timmy, who was supposedly her former boyfriend since Abigail had convinced her daughter to break up with him before going to college—that since he was going to Berkeley, California, and she to Cornell they shouldn't torture themselves with distance. You're too young to be so serious, he'd overheard from their porch.
He'd also overheard Linsey telling Timmy this: she knew that Mr. Leonard sometimes played the piano wearing inappropriate attire. Linsey, bless her, hadn't laughed. Never mind the McGuires, two doors down, who came out to get their paper in their pj's. Never mind that sometimes Mrs. Copper nursed her baby in the backyard, and if you kneeled on the arm of one of the Adirondack chairs on the back deck, you might see her lifting her blouse for the baby's mouth—Linsey had no interest in this spying, she said, she just saw her half brother Cody in this compromising position. What Linsey knew about Mr. Leonard was that sometimes he played the piano, late at night, mind you, or so late morning might have more claim on the hour than starlight, wearing a ball gown, blue satin, tight bodice, so his pale skin spilled out over the top like added lace, or even odder: a slightly yellowed wedding dress, which Linsey assumed must have belonged to his mother.
Mr. Leonard watched Linsey pull a folded slip of paper from the pocket of her jeans. He stopped humming—he only noticed the humming when everything else had stopped, but took comfort in knowing that Glenn Gould, too, hummed when he played; it was a kind of conversation with the piano—and he could hear Linsey sigh as she read the paper, then refolded it, then taped it to the pretentious iron mailbox her stepfather had installed on the front porch, complete with its own stubby post, and shut the door on the tail of the note.
Linsey wore a jeans jacket that was too large and too warm for August and for her slight frame. Mr. Leonard had always thought of her as a goldfinch, hollow boned, quick and certain in flight but heavy on the branches. She'd moved in next door with her family when she was three, when Mr. Leonard was still a teacher, when he'd imagined he might be her teacher someday, so he'd let his interest rest on her, a quiet thing. She'd always had hairdos to match her mother's then. She'd worn buns pierced with splintery chopsticks from the Golden Lee Chinese Deli restaurant her family ordered from every Saturday night. Mr. Leonard could smell their dinners through the window. They ate on the porch: moo-shu pork, orange-fried chicken, the sesame and chili oil scent floating like a casual cloud of conversation from their table to his. Mr. Leonard didn't like to sit down to eat. He liked to move, to take a bite from the carefully set plate on the kitchen counter and go get the paper. Take a bite, then empty the dishwasher, take a bite, then feed the dog, when he had one. If he didn't sit down, he didn't have to notice that he was eating, not really; he didn't have to notice that he was eating alone.
His next-door neighbors' first few years were peaceful, as the last few had been. In between, after they lost the boy, Linsey's family was loud and angry. Linsey had wept her face into angry blotches, flinging herself onto the window seat on the stairwell, which faced Mr. Leonard's house. Linsey's bedroom wasn't on that side of the house, so for him, it was as if she never slept. Mr. Leonard heard the yowling, almost catlike, territorial, of Mr. and Mrs.; he didn't see the slamming of the front door, but he saw Mr. Hart's back, huge and hunched like a bear's in a quilted winter coat, as he stalked away from the house. The ancient glass in the door, an intricate flower pattern of panes divided by wires and thin strips of wood, waited while Mr. Hart started his Volvo. But before he'd backed out, spinning tires and crushed ice over the unshoveled driveway, the glass began to fall, tuneful shards, on the wide floorboards of the porch. He saw Linsey later, picking at the bits of glass as if they held clues. He'd wanted to push open his window, call out, careful, but of course he didn't. She was eight, the same age Mr. Leonard had been when his family folded like a finished fan. Then her father had moved out, then the new man had moved in.
He watched the family; it was like a field gone fallow, tilled and hand hewn to remove the rocks, ready for replanting. The stepfather put in a new door, hauling the cardboard-patched broken one—thick oak and heavy—to the curb by himself on Big Trash Day. One August the twins were born, Toby and Cody, a dark boy and a light boy, the latter bald at first, then bright blond, the kind of blond that causes casual touching; people passing in the supermarket reached toward his mother's cart, took strands between their fingertips before they knew what they were doing. Then Linsey was a teen, and she had a boyfriend. Mr. Leonard had liked him at first; he'd been one of his own students, Timmy, heavy of chest and quick to smile, chocolate brown eyes, a good laugh. He laughed a lot at lessons. He didn't practice. He had a strong ear and could plunk out melodies, finger by finger, but had no interest in picking at the tight weave of himself in search of loops of talent. That was how it worked for most people: they could find enough talent to wind together, to braid with rote skill, they could find pleasure in the music that way, even if they would never give much in performance. Pleasure in the music was something. It was like a child athlete growing into adulthood, perhaps running a little faster to catch the commuter train. The real talents—bundles and ropes of it, the kind of talent that made playing not a choice, once they found their fingers, but a requirement, even if they played passionately until college and then gave it up, always feeling the music in their fingers, in their arms, music like ghost limbs—they were rare.
He'd seen the breakup through the glass. Linsey leaning in toward Timmy, touching his face, then removing herself, fingers first, then arms, then she got up from the wicker love seat and sat on a chair by herself, wrapped only in its arms. He saw them kissing good-bye, like they always did, mouths fit together like wheel and cog, only their bodies told the rest, space between them, chests breathing independently.
Early that spring, Mr. Leonard had watched Linsey and Timmy holding hands on the porch swing like a fifties couple, courting. He'd seen the way they made their arms and legs fit together, a single body for so many limbs. He'd seen the way the love flared off them, dazzling light. Now he saw Linsey's sadness. Again. The window seat, like a crumpled child.
Mr. Leonard was a half-breed, his father a famous Jewish conductor and an agnostic, his mother a lapsed Catholic who'd died of anaphylactic shock in the picnic-blanketed audience while her husband wound his arms passionately around Mahler's no. 8 with the Tanglewood Festival orchestra. Molly Leonard had never been stung by a bee before that day, at the renowned summer festival of outdoor concerts. Perhaps it was a paper wasp, perhaps an ordinary honeybee, perhaps she had squashed it absently with her thigh or perhaps it was aggressive, rising from the earth with a mindless malice—either way, Mr. Leonard was with a nanny at the pine-beamed rental cottage. He was eight. He would swim in Long Pond, he would drink pink lemonade, hand-squeezed by the nanny, lemons and pink grapefruit, quite a lot of sugar slushing at the bottom of the striped glass; he would change into his pale blue cotton pajamas—my little maestro, his mother called him—and eat nine squares more Lindt milk chocolate than was allowed, reading The Adventures of Tintin, while his babysitter talked with her boyfriend on the phone, winding the cord around and around. He would sleep once more before he knew his mother was dead.
Mr. Leonard would've like to have talked to Linsey's mother—no longer Mrs. Hart; now she was Mrs. Stein, and she had taken a course at the reform synagogue for non-Jews who had married in and didn't want to convert, but wanted to give their homes some Jewishness (Mr. Leonard thought about this: some Jewishness, like a twig from an olive tree: like a spray can of something, eau de prewar Eastern Europe: or better yet: German Jew, crystals hung in the windows, Viennese cakes with fig fillings), so she made Shabbat dinner on Fridays. Linsey loved eating the challah; Mr. Leonard knew this because she often took hunks out to the wicker landings of the porch, fed them to Timmy, before Timmy was banished—Mr. Leonard would've like to have told Mrs. Stein not to push her daughter so hard. To let her stay with Timmy: if they were going to split up, it would happen. Linsey was young, but she wasn't stupid. Abortion was legal—for now, anyway. Children lived together now, they decided whether they fit together like puzzle pieces or whether they ought to share only meals and conversations and maybe sex but not the rest of life. The rest of life—Mr. Leonard thought—should belong to Linsey. Her mother was making the worst mistake, trying to conduct a soloist, trying to instruct her daughter's life in a way it could not be forced to go. He had always been cordial with the Harts/Steins. He brought their papers up to the porch—stacked them neatly under the rocker, bundled the mail just inside the screen door, feeling presumptuous but helpful—when they went away on vacation. They didn't ask him to do this, but he knew they appreciated it. Once, a hundred years ago when she was still a girl and he was still a teacher, Linsey had been sent over with a plate of brownies as a thank-you. She'd been eating one she had slipped out from under the cellophane as he came to the door. He heard her coming, but let her ring the bell anyway.
For you, she'd said. Um, for the mail.
He'd wanted to swipe the crumb from the corner of her mouth. He'd wanted to tie the lace of her pink sneaker, unlooped and dangerous.
Thank you, he said, taking a single brownie, not the whole plate.
No, said Linsey. All of them.
Okay, he said. Except this one's for you. He removed another, just three left. The brownie tasted of cocoa, and vaguely metallic, like mix. Not unpleasing.
Did you make them?
Linsey was eating again. Mmm, she said.
Do you want milk?
I have to go back, she said.
I could give you a lesson, he said, and Linsey looked puzzled, though she'd been eyeing the piano through the curved glass of the turret.
No, she said. I play flute. Bye. She turned and ran, and Mr. Leonard watched with trepidation, but she didn't trip. The brownies had come on a paper plate, so there was nothing to return.
Now Mr. Leonard watched Linsey leave her porch. She'd slung her little black backpack over one shoulder and she looked small under the weight of the morning light. The zipper wasn't closed all the way; he imagined the contents spilling out like food from an interrupted mouthful. She stepped out to the street as if waiting for something. Then she started down Sycamore, sneakers almost silent on the sidewalk. She walked past Mr. Leonard's house, and then she was gone.
The houses were quiet, his and hers. He fingered the keys without pressing for a while, then allowed himself a Lully minuet, softer than it should be, but innocent. It was almost nine by the time the twins slammed open the door, running for the camp bus. Mr. Leonard was playing a requiem now; he felt like something was ending. Cody and Toby kicked the screen door on the porch and let in the quick, hot breeze. A single yellow leaf fell from the dogwood in front of their house. As the boys shoved each other along toward the bus, legs long and brown, one face pinched, the other open, the note in the mailbox stirred. The breeze broke the tape's kiss with the iron, tugged the corner free from the lid. Mr. Leonard didn't see the paper as it floated free, then landed with fateful precision, the edge slipping between the floorboards of the porch. The door opened again, Mrs. Stein calling after her boys, I love you! Have fun! and the note fell into
lrquinnGo to lrquinn's profile
I found some of the characters to be interesting, and I would have liked to know even more about them. At the same time, I had expected more from the novel. I enjoy a book with a strong plot. I did not find it to be at all suspenseful. It read like glimpses into personal lives of some neighbors in a stereotypical upper class suburban community.
laura.w.douglasGo to laura.w.douglas's profile
Interesting book centered around a missing young woman. As the days pass searching for her, the readers learn the secrets of the neighborhood. There's an outcast, a cheater, ex-boyfriend, retired music teacher, and three very different little boys. Gross writes beautifully, but there's not much of a story in this book. Each chapter is told about a different character, but the characters are not truly connected to each other. At the beginning of the novel, it appeared to be a mystery; however, no one is trying to solve the mystery. The book is more like a collection of stories about different people in one neighborhood. The ending is very anti-climactic. There's no miraculous discovery or twist.
candyh_64Go to candyh_64's profile
This is the story of a young girl who disappears before she is to leave for college. The story is difficult to follow as it seems to jump from character to character. There also seems to be several themes involved. I just did not care for this book at all.
Nursyairah MustafaGo to Nursyairah Mustafa's profile
denisa8howeGo to denisa8howe's profile
I really liked this book. This was a wonderful writing, you might think it is about a teenage girl gone missing and yet it is so much more...It introduces you to a town of people connected and yet not really and how one missing good girl connects them in different ways. Some in lust and love and others in new understanding of who they really are. The perfect aren't so perfect any more and the weird are the smarter more compassionate ones. Working together and alone to fit all the pieces together and even a few secrets escape to find her. I expected a death and there was one but in a whole other strange way.
I received this book from first reads at goodreads and I do appreciate the opportunity to read this.
beamis12Go to beamis12's profile
A girl disappears right before leaving for college, but this is not quite the focus of the book. It is a rather good narrative told from the view points of five different neighbors, friends etc. Some very interesting characters there, and from them we learn about the 10 days leading up to this girl's disappearance. I liked this, it was a different take on this type of story and a different style of writing. Will not appeal to everyone because the pacing is rather slow, which is what kept me from giving this book a higher rating. At the end I just wanted to know about Lindsay.
pattylouise_1Go to pattylouise_1's profile
When She Was GoneByGwendolyn GrossMy "in a nutshell" summary...Life in a smallish town when a girl disappears...very interesting!My thoughts after reading this book...The disappearance of a young girl...Linsey...who is about to go off to college...sort of causes her neighborhood to...not fall apart but sort of ignite. It's not a neighborhood where people know each other and are even fond of each other. It's sort of a neighborhood of secrets. The neighborhood houses music lovers and puzzling children and bullies and unfaithful wives. All of these issues mix and mingle with the strange disappearance of Linsey...days before she should be leaving for college. What I loved about this book...This one is simple. I loved the stories of all of the neighbors and I loved this author's way of writing!What I did not love...After a while...and more towards the end...I sort of grew tired of the stories I loved and just wanted more clarity about Linsey. Final thoughts...This book was lovely...it had beautiful writing and a good story. It had a slow pace but I kind of liked that about this book.
anastab_1Go to anastab_1's profile
I honestly didn't know what to expect from this book. In a way I expected this book to be like The Lovely Bones, but let me tell you When She Was Gone was just the opposite of The Lovely Bones. When She Was Gone is a story about a seventeen year old girl Linsey, who one morning just disappeared without saying a world, She Was Gone. I liked how the story was written. The story was told from different points of view and never from Linsey's. The whole book was divided to five days starting the day Linsey disappeared, and the last part of the book jumped from day five to day ten. Each chapter focused on one of neighbors living near Linsey. There was a story about an old pianist Mr, Leonard, who was the last one to see Linsey. His story was a story of a lonely man with only music in his heart. His story really stood up to me. Another story that I liked was George's, who is eleven years old. He is a loner and everybody thinks he's a weird kid, and that something is wrong with him. He has a different hobbies that most kids don't understand. When you read through his point of view, when you observe things the way he does, you'll see that he is not weird, in fact he's just different and very talented kid that doesn't quit know how to communicate to kids his age.I liked reading each story of a neighbor, finding out their secrets and hopes. Then why three stars? Well for me this story was way to slow. I felt like some characters keep repeating things, and It just got boring at times. Also I felt like the book was not really about Linsey, it was more about her neighbors. At some points I didn't quit understand how some of the characters related to the story. I don't know, maybe it was just me who felt this way.
julie10readsGo to julie10reads's profile
Just before she's supposed to start her freshman year at college, Linsey Hart goes missing. Her absence rocks the insular commuter community, whose hypocritical residents publicly wonder how such a thing could happen, while privately disdaining the people and events at the center of Linsey's life. Summary Booklist ReviewsIt was a mistake to go from the taut, two-person drama in Australia's Sandy Desert to the overpopulated tale of a teenager gone missing from her middle class neighbourhood in small town America. WHEN SHE WAS GONE is the big reveal of neighbourhood secrets. I think it's safe to assume that most readers realize that turpitude can be found as easily in suburbia as anywhere else. (Hey Vera Dietz, here's me using turpitude in a sentence!) I don't feel that the author brought anything new, either in style, content or perspective, to the topic. And when I saw the flub on the very first page--it's Kinderszenen not Kinderscenen--well, I thought that was just plain sloppy. Also I find it odd for the retired music teacher to be playing a piano concerto by Tchaikovsky at home. Without an orchestra? What would that even sound like?6.5 out of 10 A light read.


Dr. Loss earned his undergraduate degree from Dartmouth College in 1983, his medical degree from the University of Arkansas in 1988 and his Ph.D. in Immunology from the University of Chicago in 1993. He also completed his surgical residency and fellowships in transplantation research and multi-organ transplantation at the University of Chicago in 1998. Since July of 1998 Dr. Loss has been a staff transplant surgeon at Ochsner Clinic in New Orleans where he performs liver, kidney and pancreas transplants. Dr. Loss is Chief of the Ochsner Multi-Organ Transplant Institute as well Associate Chair of the Department of Surgery.
Prograf or tacrolimus or fk-506 is a 23-membered macrolide lactone discovered in 1984 from the fermentation broth of a japanese soil sample that contained the bacteria streptomyces tsukubaensis.
It was approved by the fda as an immunosuppressant for liver transplanation in 1994 and is now approved for all solid organ transplants.
You can be listed at as many centers as you want.
Liver transplant survival rates vary from transplant center to transplant center, but the average one year liver recipient survival rate in the us is nearly 90% and the 3 yr survival rate is approaching 80%.
10 and 20 year survivors are not uncommon!
Primary liver cancer, hepatocellular carcinoma (hcc), has no symptoms early on.
How does a meld score translate to priority for a patient's potential liver transplant? In brief: Sickest first.
The meld (model for end-stage liver disease) score is calculated by a mathematical formula that takes into account 3 lab values, bilirubin, inr and creatinine.
There is no evidence that a recipient of a solid organ transplant takes on characteristics of the donor. That said, it has been reported that a recipient post transplant develops a new peanut allergy shared by the donor. This is likely due to transfer of cells from donor to recipient that confer the allergy.
Most solid organ transplant centers have a weight limit or maximum body mass index (bmi) for recipients.
If you're a drug addict, can you get a liver transplant? In brief: Yes. Once treated.
Untreated addiction is at least a relative contraindication for liver transplantation.
Contact your local transplant center or the transplant center of your choice.
If you have a specific recipient in mind, that person will have a transplant coordinator contact for you.


Thanks so much Max. I hope you are well. As you know the long term Dow expanding tnalrgie count is similar, if not the same, as long term counts you have posted. Google 500 year CRB . The 500 year CRB chart best counts as a series of 1-2 s from the 1400 s through the 1930 s. *If* that's a surrogate for world growth, prices (growth) could be sideways to higher in the decades to come . a few Dow 10,000 point declines not withstanding.


Do you go to the hospital when you earn less than a dollar a day? How many years can you carry on when your husband left you after giving birth? How many insults can you bear? For some parents it goe too far, and they give up and kill their own child. Some do so by intentionally starving their child, or by not giving essential medicines, while others do so by brutally killing their disabled child.
For lack of a better word in Uganda these murders are called 'mercy killing', the word itself suggests taboo. It happens behind closed doors. The parents grant themselves mercy by doing so. After years of frustrations that come with taking care of their disabled child, they give up. They want their life back. We show stories of parents struggling with the efforts and sacrifices related to caring for their disabled child. We tell the story of a disabled child who survived a murder attempt. And we have two shocking confessions of mothers who just gave up and killed their own child.
The documentary was aired on Belgium's Canvas on 17th of February 2018.
In 2019 it was nominated for De Loeps investigative journalism prize. In the category 'Signalerend'.


This Chinese export porcelain design was the source for the Hermit pattern.
A dessert dish printed in blue with gilded decoration added. This example does not include the inner border found on many Minton pieces in this pattern. Copied from a Chinese original pattern dated c.1790 (see below). Geoffrey Priestman in An Illustrated Guide to Minton Printed Pottery 1796-1836 documents the factory name as Hermit, based on invoices retained in the Minton archives. This example is recorded as Minton and is version II of the Hermit pattern. Unmarked examples are found as well as marked pieces in this pattern by Don Pottery, Geddes, T & J Hollins, Stevenson, and Swansea, dating from c.1805-1820. Frank Davenport and Martha Wolf, in NCS Newsletter No. 121, March 2001, p. 25, provide comparisons of variations in pattern that aid in identifying the maker.


text:
Angola's veteran President Dos Santos to step down in 2018
Africa's second-longest ruling leader, the President of Angola, has said he will step down in 2018.
Jose Eduardo dos Santos, who has been in power since 1979, gave no reason for his decision to leave politics altogether.
"I took the decision to leave active political activity in 2018," Dos Santos said in a speech to members of his ruling MPLA party's key decision-making body.
The former Portuguese colony is due to hold parliamentary elections in 2017; the leader of the winning party will then become president.
It was not immediately clear whether Dos Santos would retain his post as party leader during the election period.
The 73-year-old leader has maintained a tight grip on Angola, which was wracked by a near three-decade civil war until 2002. According to Amnesty International, basic freedoms in the country have been "severely restricted".
Africa's third-largest economy and second-largest oil producer, an OPEC member, has been hard hit by the global slump in prices.
Critics accuse Dos Santos of mismanaging Angola's oil wealth, making his family and allies vastly rich in a country ranked among the world's most corrupt.
Bonga: The portrait of a revolutionary singer
Mateus Webba Da Silva: the Angolan expert breaking ground in DNA research
Review of the Year: What challenges lie ahead in 2021?
Angola Elections 2017


text:
package com.bolyartech.forge.admin.dagger;

import javax.inject.Named;

import dagger.Module;
import dagger.Provides;

/**
 * Created by ogre on 2015-07-15
 */
@Module
public class AcraDaggerModule {
    private final String mAcraUrl;

    public AcraDaggerModule(String acraUrl) {
        mAcraUrl = acraUrl;
    }

    @Provides
    @Named("acra url")
    String provideAcraUrl() {
        return mAcraUrl;
    }
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


Tour to the Mountain of Sierra Helada visiting Natural park, panoramic terrace, old Watch Tower and Pirate Caves. Interesting route on a wide asphalted road with no traffic, discovering unknown Benidorm with it's history and legends. Amazing chilling out tour for all family or groups who wants to discover new sensations and totally different Benidorm from other point of view.


text:
Opinion & AnalysisOpposition
Where Are We [The Opposition], Really?
Two opposition bloggers provide some fascinating insight into the psyche and failures of the movement opposed to the Chavez government. Toro argues that the opposition bought its own propaganda and thus failed to see reality as it actually is, while Katy says the opposition must learn from its mistakes, which when it does, will be all the stronger.
By Francisco Toro, Katy - Caracas Chronicles
Oct 9th 2007 at 5.37pm
caracas_chronicles.jpg
Where are we, really?
Well, from an economist's point of view, it's not hard to characterize the rut we're in: essentially, it's a Coordination Failure. Whether you're an abstentionist or a participationist, I think most of us can agree than either strategy only makes sense if everyone joins in. Tendentially, I'm a participationist, but I fully realize that having everyone abstain is better than having half of us participate and the other half abstain. Similarly, I imagine most abstentionists think it would be better to have everyone participate than to have half of us abstain. But we have no mechanism to settle the debate in favor of one position or the other, and so we seem inexorably headed towards the indescribably boneheaded Nash Equilibrium.
Why is this happening? The textbook answer is that we don't have coordination mechanisms sturdy enough to enforce convergence on one of the two positions. That's both right and not at all helpful. Why don't we have those mechanisms? And why doesn't debate lead us toward convergence? Come to think of it, why is the intra-oppo debate so vicious, so self-defeating? How exactly did we get into this mess? Those are the better questions...and it's here that the analysis gets really, really depressing.
First, we have to own up: there is something very, very wrong with the way the opposition deals with itself, how it talks internally and seeks to work problems out. That situation may have come about in the context of Chávez, but I think it's a cop-out to blame it on Chávez...even in the midsts of battle with the most ruthless of enemies, some wounds are self-inflicted. And the opposition's sheer inability to coordinate - or, to put it differently, to hold a conversation with itself that leads to coordination - is a self-inflicted wound.
I remember, some time in 2002, hearing Roberto Giusti argue explicitly that Chávez was so dangerous that journalists "could not afford" to be impartial towards his government. "I cannot be impartial between democracy and dictatorship," Giusti said. Lots of oppo journos were taking a similar line back then, and we all stood up and cheered for them. It all sounded ever so brave, so gallant, remember? We were so caught up in the drama of the moment, we didn't stop to think through how radical a position that was, and how dangerous its implications. We should have.
Why? Because decisions are only as good as the information that's available to those who make them. To the extent that that information is complete, impartial and accurate, it will give rise to decisions that produce the consequences intended. To the degree that it isn't, it will give rise to decisions that don't.
Now, what was Roberto Giusti really saying back in 2002? He was saying that the information the media publish should no longer be judged by the normal standards of journalistic ethics. Questions of newsworthiness, impartiality, confirmability and public interest would be set aside, and information would be judged by its usefulness in helping achieve an overarching, transcendent political goal: overthrowing the budding dictatorship. Henceforth, when a reporter arrived at a newsroom with a story, the first thing his editor would ask him would be not whether it was true, or whether it was new, or whether it had been confirmed, but rather whether it would help get rid of Chávez.
This new conception of the media's role meant that journalists would abdicate their responsibility to "hold up a mirror to society," to produce a space where society is able to see itself, warts and all, and to recognize its own reality as fully as possible. Henceforth, the media would serve as a trick mirror - reflecting only those parts of reality that it judged would further an ulterior end. That the image such a mirror produces is deeply distorted is tautological: in this context, the distortion is the point. And do notice that this isn't some wild conspiracy theory: this is the understanding of their own role that many of the nation's leading journalists proudly and publicly embraced.
That key figures in the oppo media openly endorsed this way of communicating should've given us pause. That they thought of their ethical obligations as a kind of "luxury", an added extra to be discarded when it proved inconvenient, should've put us on guard. How would we react, for instance, if a doctor took that kind of attitude towards his code of professional ethics?
But we're Venezuelans, so the passion of the political moment overcame us. And it's perfectly understandable. After all, Giusti and Colomina and the rest of them more or less announced, "from now on, we're only going to tell you what you want to hear." Who's going to object to that?
We should've realized all along that decisions made on the basis of a distorted understanding of reality can't be expected to produce the outcomes intended by those making them. We shouldn't be surpsied that the rise of openly partisan journalism set the stage for a series of catastrophic oppo own goals.
Back in 2002, we didn't stop to think through the risks, the potential costs involved in volunteering to be lied to. We didn't stop to realize that with every story puffed up out of all proportion because it made the government look bad, our understanding of our own country would diverge just a little bit from reality. We didn't think through the fact that, with every story buried or ignored because it made the government look good, the distance between the world as it is and the world as we think it is would grow.
Those who warned about this process were dismissed as cryptochavistas or, at the very least, as spoil-sports for busting our vibe at a time when all we wanted to do was sing "y decimos síííííí a la esperanzaaaaaaa..." So, it's true, we were systematically deceived...but it's also true that we practically begged to be systematically deceived.
In the systematically distorted mirror the Giusticialista media put in front of us, everything was the way we wished it to be. We wished to live in a country where everyone hated Chávez's guts, the media showed us a country where everyone hated Chávez's guts. We wished to believe everything the government did would backfire due to incompetence and venality, the media showed us a country where everything the government did backfired due to incompetence or venality.
That our decision-making came to be dominated by wishful thinking shouldn't surprise us. As the Globovisión mindset colonized the opposition consciousness ever more completely, decisions come to be made on the basis of means-ends relationships that found no correspondence in reality (having generals camp out in Plaza Altamira will destabilize the regime! refusing to vote in assembly elections will delegitimize the government!)
All along, the oppo journo-punditocracy believed that the key to getting rid of the regime was to establish, beyond any possible doubt, that the public overwhelmingly rejected Chávez. For a while, from 2001 to early 2004, that wasn't so hard to establish: it was true.
But then reality threw the punditocracy a curve ball it was entirely unprepared for: it changed. In the second quarter of 2004, when the misiones started to make themselves felt and Chávez's popularity started to pick up, the punditocracy found itself up a political creek without an ethical paddle.
Their reaction when faced with these changed circumstances shouldn't surprise us: people like Giusti had been perfectly frank about it for years. This guerra was most definitely avisada. They lied. In the way that journalists and editors lie: not so much by telling outright untruths, but by puffing up those elements of truth that suit their objectives and playing down or ignoring those that don't.
So the polls that showed Chávez gaining in 2004 weren't reported, or were reported in a box on page 29, while any hint that the Si campaign was doing well was an automatic six columns above the fold on page one. The startling impact that the misiones had on barrio life became more familiar to readers of The Guardian or The New York Times than to readers of El Nacional or Notitarde. The ongoing passion that many poor people felt for Chávez was systematically downplayed. And little by little, day in and day out, we as opposition supporters were deprived of the informational tools we needed to understand what the hell was happening in our own society, in our own country.
This whole juggernaut of distortions came to an explosive head in the wee hours of the morning of August 16th, 2004, when the Recall Referendum results were announced. Now, I want to be clear here: what follows is not an argument about whether there was or wasn't fraud in 2004, a question that I remain agnostic on. What follows is a reflection about how and why the vast majority of opposition supporters became totally convinced, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, that there had been massive fraud and the election had been stolen long before any evidence to back this up was available.
Because, in the end, that was what was striking, wasn't it? We may look back now and retroactively bolster our conviction that there was fraud on the basis of analyses that were published much later, but the reality is that we were just as certain at 5:10 a.m. on August 16th! When it came to fraud allegations, the certainty came first: the evidence we could wait for. So what interests me, more than the underlying question, is the conditions for the production of that certainty, the mechanisms that managed to convince us that something we had no proof of had to be true, that our conception of the world didn't make any sense otherwise.
Looking back, it's hardly surprising that oppo leaders rushed out to cry fraud on the spot: nothing in their conceptual arsenal prepared them for the possibility that they could lose fairly. Hundreds and hundreds of hours of political propaganda - much of it mascarading as journalism, the rest of it self-avowed - had been invested to convince anyone who opposed Chávez that what was happening couldn't happen, not fairly, anyway. So the claim of fraud was a necessity to preserve our whole understanding of our social reality, and that understanding that had been carefully crafted over years by people who had told us explicitly that they considered impartial information a luxury we could not afford.
We've been living with the consequences of these choices ever since. Obviously, we didn't manage to overthrow the bastard: all we did was fatally undermine our own ability to understand the society we live in, to "think straight" about the political moment, and to agree on strategies of resistance that make sense. Five years on, Roberto Giusti's pledge doesn't look so gallant: turns out that what we couldn't afford was systematically distorted communications.
What's sad, though, what's really dismaying is that we don't even recognize the situation we're in, because the people who brought it about - and here I'm thinking much more of Miguel Henrique Otero and Alberto Federico Ravell than of R. Giusti - are still in charge of our communications. They have yet to issue anything like a mea culpa, possibly because, having bought their own propaganda, they're the most dissociated of the lot and genuinely can't grasp the scale of the cognitive havoc their editorial lines have wreaked.
Five years after Giusti's declaration of (the abandonment of his) principles, we've pretty much lost our ability even to talk to each other without biting one another's heads off. After half a decade of systematically distorted communications, we can't even agree on a single version of our contemporary history. We can't produce a shared understanding of the reality around us that can serve as a platform for our political action toward the future. And that, I think, is the real reason we can't coordinate: if we can't agree on what is to be done, it's because we can't agree where we are, or how we got here.
After years of systematically distorted communications, of decisions we were sure would have one effect and had another, of misplaced allegiances and squandered reserves of trust, it's not surprising that a kind of all encompassing nihilism has taken over opposition discourse, a kind of quiescent, polymorphously disgusted but imprecisely directed wrath based on a kind of existential disorientation that expresses itself in an ironclad refusal to believe in anyone or anything again. That is the legacy of Giusti's gallantry.
If it was just that we didn't understand what's been happening in Venezuela, well, that would be bad, but we could work it out. It's actually much worse than that. It's not just that we don't understand what's been happening in Venezuela, it's that we don't understand that we don't understand what's been happening in Venezuela, and when you don't understand that you don't understand something you're well and truly fucked, because you have no clear path towards gaining an understanding of it. You don't see the need for it!
To tell you the truth, Katy, that's the reason why I haven't been writing much about politics, - or, at all, since that Oppo Harikiri post. Together with Escualidus Arrechus's [a blog commentator] shrewd observation on how screwed our political culture is, that poll knocked me into a state of near catatonic depression about the state of our public sphere. The mountain ahead of us just seems larger and more daunting every day: more and more, chavista insanity seems more than fully mirrored by the craziness on our side. It's kind of too much for me. posted by Francisco @ 10/04/2007 03:19:00 AM
Dear Quico [Francisco],
Sorry it's taken me so long to reply to your previous post, but I wanted to take my time before answering what, in essence, is a debate in which both parties agree. Fundamentally, we both agree on how frustrating it is to see our side caught up in a useless debate on whether or not to participate. As for the opposition media, we both agree that it does more harm than good. So what is there to debate?
Lots. Because where you see reason for despair, I see an opportunity to make us stronger, to make our positions more coherent, to test our tolerance.
I've been on the record before as saying that I don't think the elimination of Chavez's term limits is necessarily a bad thing. My approach to the current state of rigor mortis on our base electorate sort of points to that direction - namely, that until the Chávez phenomenon has run its course, we're better off not winning.
Don't get me wrong - obviously any legitimate opportunity to unseat Chavez should be taken and exploited to the max. However, all losses point to something, and in our case losses point to the flaws in our side. Until we learn the lessons from the bitter medicine that chavismo has supplied us with, we're better off in the opposition. The country isn't, but we are.
Take, for instance, April 13th, 2002. On that day, the opposition movement should have learned a few things. One of them is that Chavez has the honest, yet a bit fanatical, support of a large minority of the population. Another is that we should never rely on the military to solve our problems. And finally, we should have learned that unseating governments by unconstitutional means is the kiss of death which takes away legitimacy from all attempts to make our country a better, freer place to live. Can we honestly say we have learned these lessons? Some of us have, others of us have not.
In August of 2004 we learned another lesson. That day we should have learned that unity in the opposition is not a panacea, that the way the media paints a picture is not always the way the country is. We should have learned that the international community is not going to come and save us, and that we should never, ever trust Chavez's electoral authorities. Finally, we should have learned that there is a non-significant mass of people who chavismo has enfranchised, people who had never come out to vote but decided to do so for the first time because they honestly believe in the process.
I think we were certainly the victims of electoral shenanigans that day. I also think that it didn't make a difference in the final outcome, and that international observers knew about this and basically ok'ed a flawed referendum by assuming that this was a case of a broken clock actually getting the time right. Can we honestly say we have learned these lessons?
In December of 2005 we declined to participate in Congressional elections. That day we should have learned that you can't prove fraud if you don't force the other side to cheat. We should have also learned that massive abstention may backfire on us, and that perhaps the only side we end up punishing with our actions is our own. Have we learned all this?
I think that abstaining that day may have been a mistake, but it was the only politically viable option at the time given how the CNE was caught lying about the secrecy of the vote. I also think that people have a hard time believing this was the only reason parties decided to not participate.
In 2006, the lesson should have been that no matter how enthusiastic the crowds or how feverishly you campaign, you can't defeat an electoral behemoth like Chavez with a disorganized, improvised campaign. We don't need to think back much to remember that, during last year's World Cup, with the elections five months away, the opposition still didn't know who their candidate was going to be. We should have also learned that opinion polls, more often than not, get things right. Did we learn all this?
My point in writing this laundry list of mistakes made and things unrealized is not only to convey the idea that, until we learn these lessons, we won't get rid of Chavez. What I'm believing more and more these days is that until these lessons are learned, we don't deserve to get rid of Chavez.
I'm convinced that Chavez and chavismo have changed Venezuelan politics, yet Chavez seems to be the only politician who has understood this. The poor in Venezuela have long been neglected, a fact few people dispute these days. And Chavez has brought about a sense of empowerment in people previously disenfranchised. Whether this empowerment is real or not is beside the point - what matters is that they feel empowered.
I'm convinced that this thing that has been engendered will make people realize, sooner rather than later, that chavismo goes against the very surge of citizen power that it thinks it has brought about. I'm also convinced that, until chavismo runs out of financial weapons to feed its populist project, we're better off getting ready for the true battle.
It would have been unthinkable for a project like Chavez's to gain power in the middle of the 1970s. But during that time, the seeds of what we have now began to grow. Chavez and his minions were in hibernation, waiting for their time, and it came in the 1989-1992 period. Perhaps now is our time to hibernate as well, metaphorically speaking.
One of the lessons we still have not learned - and here I include you, Quico, first and foremost - is to appreciate our diversity. Yes, it is frustrating that we still have abstentionists in our camp. But until we learn to embrace that debate, until we learn to see that it's not, in your words, "fucking hopeless", we will never be electable. After all, how can we convince the country that we are the only way to reconciliation if we can't even tolerate the people in our side who think differently? Only when we learn to deal with the Marta Colomina's and Roberto Giusti's of our side, to the point of them being able to tolerate us, will we be ready to take the lead.
Quite frankly, as much as abstentionists may annoy me from time to time, I understand their point and I see where they are coming from. Abstention is a phenomenon, it is an integral part of the psyche of our electoral base in the same way that the Tupamaros are an integral part of the psyche of chavismo's base. But Chávez doesn't attack the Tupamaros, he sort of tolerates them, tries to rein them in. That is how you deal with the radicals on your side whose support you need.
(And for all my abstentionist friends out there - don't take it personally, but you *are* radical; we love you, but let's call a spade a spade)
I have said this before and I really believe it - I will outlive this. If chavismo defeats us ten, twenty or thirty more times, fine, it had to happen. Had Germany gotten rid of Hitler in 1938, the world would be a very different place, but perhaps Germany wouldn't be the civilized, modern country it is now, built on the rubble of its own people's madness. History has its pace, and we should learn to read it and not force it. In the meantime, the only productive thing we can do is participate as much as we can and develop our grassroots network. We've been given the wonderful gift of defeat - let's use it to wisen up. posted by Katy @ 10/09/2007 02:03:00 PM
Source: Caracas Chronicles


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Linton Lock Hydro is a hydroelectric plant on the River Ouse in North Yorkshire, England, between the villages of Linton-on-Ouse and Nun Monkton. The first hydroelectric scheme was built here in 1923, but that was abandoned in the early 1960s. The second scheme to be sited at Linton Lock was installed in 2011 and a new generating unit came on stream in 2017. The combined output from the second and third generation plants is 380 kW, which is enough to power 450 homes.

History
Linton Lock was built in 1767 on the north bank of the River Ouse in North Yorkshire near to the village of Linton-on-Ouse. The river at Linton-on-Ouse was canalised  by John Smeaton as part of a number of acts that were intended to make the Ouse (and further upstream, the Swale) navigable as far as Bedale. As part of the lock construction, a weir was built on the south bank of the Ouse to help control the flow of water into the lock. Both the lock and the weir are listed structures.

The first hydroelectric scheme at the lock was instituted by the York Corporation in response to the high price of coal after the First World War. The hydroelectric plant was opened in 1923 and visited in that same year by Princess Mary. This scheme was abandoned in 1962 as the National Grid came into effect with power being sourced from larger generating stations fed mostly by coal.

A second plant was Commissioned in 2012 after a protracted planning process that saw rival schemes being promoted on the north and south banks of the river, which meant that the plans were submitted to two different local authorities (Harrogate Borough Council for the south bank scheme and Hambleton Council for the other). As well as local opposition to the schemes (which was down to visual impact as opposed to the actual scheme itself), the British Canoe Union (BCU) objected to the proposals. They, like the local communities next to the river, were not in objection of green power, but the building of the scheme would seriously hamper what the BCU described as "the second best place in the country to practise our sport."

The 2012 scheme saw an Archimedes Screw installed with a length of  and a diameter of . The screw was installed in 2011 with a capacity to generate 101 kW.

A second scheme was proposed soon afterwards and gained approval in 2016 with construction starting in that same year. This scheme involves the world's largest Archimedes Screw used in hydroelectric generation and is situated immediately to the south of the 2012 screw. The second screw generates 1,250 MWh per year and in addition to the siting of the turbine, the company behind the venture, Linton Hydro, also reconditioned the fish ladder, built a new adjacent fish ladder and installed a new slalom canoe course via a new cut in the south bank. Canoe England invested £200,000 to match the same amount of money by the company to build the new canoe course. When complete the course will be open to all canoeists including a local club which competes at national level.

The operators of the 2017 scheme acquired 100% of the rights to the 2012 scheme, which means the combined output from the plant is 380 kW or enough to power 450 homes.

References

Hydroelectric power stations in England
Power stations in Yorkshire and the Humber
Buildings and structures in West Yorkshire
River Ouse, Yorkshire
Hydroelectric power stations in Yorkshire and the Humber


A star is a massive, luminous ball of plasma. Stars group together to form galaxies, and they dominate the visible universe. The nearest star to Earth is the Sun, which is the source of most of the energy on Earth, including daylight. Other stars are visible in the night sky, when they are not outshone by the Sun. A star shines because nuclear fusion in its core releases energy which traverses the star's interior and then radiates into outer space. Almost all elements heavier than hydrogen and helium were created inside the cores of stars.
Astronomers can determine the mass, age, chemical composition and many other properties of a star by observing its spectrum, luminosity and motion through space. The total mass of a star is the principal determinant in its evolution and eventual fate. Other characteristics of a star that are determined by its evolutionary history include the diameter, rotation, movement and temperature. A plot of the temperature of many stars against their luminosities, known as a Hertzsprung-Russell diagram (H-R diagram), allows the current age and evolutionary state of a particular star to be determined.
A star begins as a collapsing cloud of material that is composed primarily of hydrogen along with some helium and heavier trace elements. Once the stellar core is sufficiently dense, some of the hydrogen is steadily converted into helium through the process of nuclear fusion. The remainder of the star's interior carries energy away from the core through a combination of radiative and convective processes. These processes keep the star from collapsing upon itself and the energy generates a stellar wind at the surface and radiation into outer space.
Once the hydrogen fuel at the core is exhausted, a star of at least 0.4 times the mass of the Sun expands to become a red giant, fusing heavier elements at the core, or in shells around the core. It then evolves into a degenerate form, recycling a portion of the matter into the interstellar environment where it will form a new generation of stars with a higher proportion of heavy elements.
Binary and multi-star systems consist of two or more stars that are gravitationally bound, and generally move around each other in stable orbits. When two such stars have a relatively close orbit, their gravitational interaction can have a significant impact on their evolution.


John Mayer and the Prancercise lady?
How unusual, to see this. Communication of the times. Here, bridging generations out loud and for others to see. People accustomed to artfully lit sets and certain, formulaic images of women in music videos are being taken aback by this little video already.
John Mayer Pairs 'Paper Doll' With Prancercise Clip – Video | Rolling Stone.
I had to listen again and see it fully. Maybe there is humor, or fun-making in this juxtaposed video presentation. Maybe not.
No matter, the lady is actually "dancing like no one is watching," standing out in the crowd. And holding her own.
UPDATE JUNE 23, 2013. the paintings of our time. I came to view it again.
How to Make Pine Needle Tea.


This weekend Nova hosted an educational panel organized by the Sparkasse Bank in celebration of their 10th anniversary operating in Macedonia. The topic of the panel was "The role of financial institutions in entrepreneurship development and access to finances" Renowned experts were participating in the panel as well as NOVA HS students. Our school manager, Mr. Ivan Novakovski was one of the presenters, and a moderator for the panel.


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How Psychology Defines and Explains Deviant Behavior
Science, Tech, Math › Social Sciences
Psychoanalytic Theory; Cognitive Development Theory; Learning Theory
Steve Grayson/Getty Images
by Ashley Crossman
Deviant behavior is any behavior that is contrary to the dominant norms of society. There are many different theories on what causes a person to perform deviant behavior, including biological explanations, sociological explanations, as well as psychological explanations. While sociological explanations for deviant behavior focus on how social structures, forces, and relationships foster deviance, and biological explanations focus on physical and biological differences and how these might connect to deviance, psychological explanations take a different approach.
Psychological approaches to deviance all have some key things in common. First, the individual is the primary unit of analysis. This means that psychologists believe that individual human beings are solely responsible for their criminal or deviant acts. Second, an individual's personality is the major motivational element that drives behavior within individuals. Third, criminals and deviants are seen as suffering from personality deficiencies, which means that crimes result from abnormal, dysfunctional, or inappropriate mental processes within the personality of the individual. Finally, these defective or abnormal mental processes could be caused by a variety of things, including a diseased mind, inappropriate learning, improper conditioning, and the absence of appropriate role models or the strong presence and influence of inappropriate role models.
Starting from these basic assumptions, psychological explanations of deviant behavior come mainly from three theories: psychoanalytic theory, cognitive development theory, and learning theory.
How Psychoanalytic Theory Explains Deviance
Psychoanalytic theory, which was developed by Sigmund Freud, states that all humans have natural drives and urges that are repressed in the unconscious. Additionally, all humans have criminal tendencies. These tendencies are curbed, however, through the process of socialization. A child that is improperly socialized, then, could develop a personality disturbance that causes him or her to direct antisocial impulses either inward or outward. Those who direct them inward become neurotic while those that direct them outward become criminal.
How Cognitive Development Theory Explains Deviance
According to the cognitive development theory, criminal and deviant behavior results from the way in which individuals organize their thoughts around morality and the law. Lawrence Kohlberg, a developmental psychologist, theorized that there are three levels of moral reasoning. During the first stage, called the pre-conventional stage, which is reached during middle childhood, moral reasoning is based on obedience and avoiding punishment. The second level is called the conventional level and is reached at the end of middle childhood. During this stage, moral reasoning is based on the expectations that the child's family and significant others have for him or her. The third level of moral reasoning, the post-conventional level, is reached during early adulthood at which point individuals are able to go beyond social conventions. That is, they value the laws of the social system. People who do not progress through these stages may become stuck in their moral development and, as a result, become deviants or criminals.
How Learning Theory Explains Deviance
Learning theory is based on the principles of behavioral psychology, which hypothesizes that a person's behavior is learned and maintained by its consequences or rewards. Individuals thus learn deviant and criminal behavior by observing other people and witnessing the rewards or consequences that their behavior receives. For example, an individual who observes a friend shoplift an item and not get caught sees that the friend is not punished for their actions and they are rewarded by getting to keep the stolen item. That individual might be more likely to shoplift, then, if he believes that he will be rewarded with the same outcome. According to this theory, if this is how deviant behavior is developed, then taking away the reward value of the behavior can eliminate deviant behavior.
How Sociology Explains Deviant Behavior
Sutherland's Differential Association Theory Explained
Why Some Biological Explanations for Deviancy Have Been Discredited
Kohlberg's Stages of Moral Development
Gilligan's Ethics of Care
How Social Learning Theory Explains Society's Effect on Identity
15 Sociology Theories You Should Know
How Labeling Theory Can Help Us Understand Bias and Criminal Behavior
How Does "Strain Theory" Explain "Deviant" Behavior?
Visualizing Social Norms
Psychodynamic Theory: Approaches and Proponents
Going Through the Motions in Sociological Ritualism
The Life and Work of Howard S. Becker
How Sociologists Study Deviance and Crime
What Is Deviance Amplification and How Does the Media Perpetuate It?
How We Evaluate Other People's Motives (And Why We're Often Wrong)