Westchester, Ill. --A study in the Nov.1 issue of the journal Sleep shows that sleep deprivation causes some people to shift from a more automatic, implicit process of information categorization (information-integration) to a more controlled, explicit process (rule-based). This use of rule-based strategies in a task in which information-integration strategies are optimal can lead to potentially devastating errors when quick and accurate categorization is fundamental to survival.
Results show that sleep deprivation led to an overall performance deficit on an information-integration category learning task that was held over the course of two days. Performance improved in the control group by 4.3 percent from the end of day one to the beginning of day two (accuracy increased from 74 percent to 78.3 percent); performance in the sleep-deprived group declined by 2.4 percent (accuracy decreased from 73.1 percent to 70.7 percent) from the end of day one to the beginning of day two.
According to co-principal investigators W. Todd Maddox, PhD, professor of psychology, and David M. Schnyer, PhD, associate professor of psychology at the Institute for Neuroscience at the University of Texas in Austin, fast and accurate categorization is critical in situations that could become a matter of life or death. However, categorization may become compromised in people who often experience sleep deprivation in fast-paced, high pressure roles such as doctors, firefighters, soldiers and even parents. Many tasks performed on a daily basis require information-integration processing rather than rule-based categorization. Examples include driving, making a medical diagnosis and performing air-traffic control.
Maddox and Schnyer were surprised to find that the source of the information-integration deficit was a subgroup of sleep-deprived individuals who shifted from information-integration strategies when rested to rule-based strategies when sleep deprived. Sleep-deprived participants who used information-integration strategies in both sessions showed no drop in performance in the second session, mirroring the behavior of control participants.
"Some categorization problems involve conscious, explicit processing that relies heavily on frontal brain systems. Processing in these systems is known to be adversely affected by sleep deprivation. Other categorization problems involve non-conscious, implicit processing that relies heavily on procedural learning and the striatum," Maddox and Schnyer stated in an e-mail message. "The current study suggests that processing in these systems is minimally affected by sleep deprivation, but that performance can suffer because sleep deprivation leads many individuals to rely on explicit processes when implicit processes are necessary."
The study involved 49 West Point Cadets who performed an information-integration categorization task twice, separated by a 24-hour period, with or without sleep between sessions. Twenty-one cadets were placed in a sleep deprivation group (16 men, 5 women; mean age 20.3 years) while 28 were designated as controls (23 men, 5 women; mean age 19.5 years). The sleep-deprived group was monitored to ensure that they did not sleep, while the control group was permitted to obtain a normal night's sleep.
Control and sleepless participants were divided into two subgroups depending upon whether each individual's day-one data was best fit by an information-integration model or a rule-based model. For the control group, 14 participants' data were best fit by an information-integration model and nine participants' data were best fit by a rule-based model. For the sleepless group, 13 participants' data were best fit by an information-integration model and seven participants' data were best fit by a rule-based model.
The study cites previous research suggesting that differences in cortical white matter predict cognitive vulnerability to the effects of sleep deprivation. Based on previous studies performed at their lab, the authors hypothesize that people may be able to prevent falling back on rule-based categorization when sleep deprived by performing a secondary task that activates the rule-based process.
Sleep is the official journal of the Associated Professional Sleep Societies, LLC (APSS), a joint venture of the American Academy of Sleep Medicine and the SleepResearch Society. The APSS publishes original findings in areas pertaining to sleep and circadian rhythms. Sleep, a peer-reviewed scientific and medical journal, publishes 12 regular issues and 1 issue comprised of the abstracts presented at the SLEEP Meeting of the APSS.
For a copy of the study, "The Effects of Sleep Deprivation on Information-Integration Categorization Performance," or to arrange an interview with the study's author, please contact Kelly Wagner, AASM public relations coordinator, at (708) 492-0930, ext. 9331, or kwagner@aasmnet.org.


On NE Going and 7th Ave.
Could this be the moment where activists finally build a lasting, high-visibility opposition to the Columbia River Crossing mega-project? For years now there's been a deafening silence when it comes to organized opposition to the estimated $3.5 billion project that seeks to expand five miles of I-5, build new on-ramps, and replace the bridge.
Sure there have been a rally, a few rides and other actions against the CRC; but they've been small, short-lived, and done by grassroots activists with little or no budgets. And as of yet, none of the major local transportation and/or environmental advocacy groups have stepped up to lead a charge. For a project of this magnitude, it's confounding that the region that opposed the Mt. Hood Freeway has failed to produce a major movement to counter the slick and well-funded CRC Project PR and marketing machine.
But now, as Governor Kitzhaber and state legislators put the pieces in place to vote on spending nearly a half-billion on the project, there are signs that an opposition movement is finally beginning to coalesce. Further fueling the fire of active transportation activists are fears that cost-cutting measures might result in cutbacks and/or a phasing strategy that could impact the bridge's promised bicycling and walking paths.
And there are even signs that veteran activist who led the charge against the Mt. Hood Freeway back in the 1970s are getting back into the fray. Sources say Ron Buel and several others are actively tracking developments in Salem and lobbying legislators about their concerns.
Today, Portland Transport reported that a rally is planned for next week on the steps of the Oregon State Capitol. According to Third Bridge Now, the group organizing the event, the rally is meant to raise awareness among state lawmakers that, "The Columbia River Crossing transportation project is a NO GO ON STATE FUNDING. We can do so much better, and we must." After the rally, volunteers will meet face-to-face in the offices of their state representatives.
The major push at this point is education. Activist must educate legislators (and their constituents) that the CRC project isn't as much of a slam dunk as project backers and staffers are making it seem. A "Fact Sheet For Legislators" is being shared around Salem that hits on all the holes in the project including: "Reducing Congestion with the CRC is a fantasy", "Debt service is 29% of ODOT's budget, and the CRC will grow it rapidly," "No Coast Guard Permit on height and river clearance," "No ability yet to apply for federal light rail money," and more.
On the political side, it's still hard to find Oregon elected officials who will take a strong (and clear) stance against the project. One exception is freshman Metro Councilor Bob Stacey who wasted no time in publicly questioning the project and floating alternative approaches.
People that oppose this project are right to see this as a crucial moment. While Kitzhaber has made his strong support of the project crystal clear, support on the Washington side of the border is anything but. Anti-light rail advocates and elected officials have stirred up roadblocks and controversy around the project. Oregon activists know that the project still has major flaws (from a lack of funding to design issues) and if a high-profile opposition can be coupled with more public awareness about the project's negative impacts, it's viability might be jeopardy.
There are CRC funding bills being discussed in Salem as I type this. Our elected officials are trying to settle their own positions on the project. Will this fledgling opposition blossom into a powerful and persuasive force? Or will it die down like it has so many times in the past? The future of the CRC project — and regional transportation plans and budgets — hang in the balance.
— Stay tuned for more CRC coverage.
It seems that the only people in favor of the massive CRC boondoggle are suffering from confirmation bias because it's easy to see why it shouldn't be built.
If we are determined to stimulate the economy through profligate government spending why don't we spend that proposed CRC budget on free mental health care?
Actually, it is not so easy. The present bridge is terrible and leaving things as-is is not a viable option.
Except that on the list of dangerous old-and-rickety-and-might-collapse bridges the I-5 bridge I am told is not particularly close to being the worst.
Except that the most important bridge in the state can't even be close to rickety-and-might-collapse. The I-5 corridor is the economic lifeline of the entire west coast. To think that the CRC project will not be completed is like thinking we'll tear down the dams on the Columbia River. You don't tear down 1 gigawatt power plants that irrigate the deserts east of the Cascades. And you don't allow an old bridge to continue to choke the major freeway connecting Seattle to Los Angeles.
In politics you follow the money. Nine times out of ten you'll know the future.
I think we live in the same world. I just have a different view of how we could spend our public dollars, and I don't measure our resilience much less my happiness in ton-miles that cross the Columbia every year.
While I agree with you 100 % we live in the Tyranny of the Majority otherwise known as Democracy.
Unfortunately, as a majority, we are stuck in a short term planning "profits are all that matters" mindset.
When a society worships money as completely as we do, from government GDP numbers to corporate earnings reports all the way down to individual people defining their self worth by their bank balance and conspicuous consumption, it is little wonder that all group decisions come back to making a quick buck.
The real world? Sounds good: The existing, real, bridge.
Nah, the 205 bridge is a better route for Washington to California traffic. I'm sure the long-haul truckers know to avoid I-5 thru central Portland.
Let's just switch the signs: I-5 will now go thru East Portland, and the current centra I-5 route can be called 105 or 305 instead.
And most of the CRC project is not about the bridge. We could just retrofit or replace the current bridge for a fraction of the CRC cost.
Some truckers from CA to WA use Highway 97 to avoid all the expensive and time-sucking hills on I-5 in Southern Oregon.
Why did ODOT's own website cite that the current I-5 bridge has another 5–60 years left in its natural life with a cheap seismic refit up until only a few months ago?
The problem with activism for the CRC is the fact that doesn't seem possible for the project to be funded as planned. The states have not been able or willing to pony up the money, and with the cuts at the federal level, the chances are even less likely. If this seemed to be a done deal, financially, I would imagine there might be stronger opposition.
Third Bridge Now (a phrase that is new to me) as a preferred alternative for this project is semantically at odds with the movement in Salem to Stop the Third Bridge down there which is a very similar if not quite as big a boondoggle.
Thanks for staying on top of this, Jonathan.
An important article was just published about Salem's planned third bridge (CRC to the South)in the Salem Weekly. It is striking how similar the bad politics, bad faith, bad assumptions, & bad financial prospects are in the two cases. I urge you to read it.
Third Bridge is a joke to create a new freeway through North Portland, its the Common Sense Alternative that is the best choice of any.
Had we pursued that, we would still have the $130Million or thereabouts already sunk into studying the options. We could have put that to work for all kinds of projects that actually have a future. Come to think of it, they might even have (had) a present. Doesn't take as long to build decent bike infrastructure as it takes to study this foolish nonsense.
CRC = more carbon in the air, more sprawling WA suburbs to our North, more congestion in Portland, more fractured Portland neighborhoods, and more fiscally irresponsible govt spending. Lets STOP this thing!
We might have a difference of opinion on a lot of things, but I agree that this bridge proposal should be stopped. There are other ways to solve the problem at hand without spending near that much money.
If you have time, go to Salem and make yourself heard down there, not parading around Portland.
Jonathan: I am just like you. Every time I take a vacation, I come back with a clearer mind, and a little more energy. For those that have a clear mind, a huge investment in building more lanes is absurd. Those who have energy want to do something about this absurdity. Please go on more vacations.
Has our government heard of climate change? The amount of concrete, steel and oil fueled machinery is a HUGE carbon footprint just to build the bridge. Then you add all the cars to the formula and were taking the environment in the wrong direction.
Borrowing for a better economy? There's a $16 trillion debt that tells me it hasn't really worked out that way.
If the bridge every gets built, that's a big IF, were soon going to be told we need to drive less to reduce CO2, so I feel the bridge is going to be an expensive monument to yesterdays economy.
Shipping goods and food miles and miles is the economy of today & yesterday but it is not the economy of the future. We must take our limits funds and invest in the future not the past.
If we were to start tolling the existing bridge now, in order to bank money for future improvements, we would probably never need those improvements. Why? Because SOV traffic on the bridge would go down and all of a sudden delays for all users would also decrease. Maintenance costs would also be somewhat reduced because less traffic = less wear and tear on the roads. Of course we all know that most of the wear is caused by freight and not cars, so in reality maintenance costs may not be reduced. But at least traffic would be reduced.
TOLL THE EXISTING BRIDGE NOW, and then see how bad users want to pay for it. I suspect support will go down very quickly.
The links above have even more links to all the news over the last 6 years I've been following this. Please get involved with the many groups working on active transportation.


text:
Credit: Ivor Prickett for The New York Times
To End the Killings in Libya, the Cost Balance Needs to Change
by Hanan Salah December 15, 2020 March 18, 2021
Leave a Comment on To End the Killings in Libya, the Cost Balance Needs to Change
On October 20, 2011, a Libyan revolutionary commander from Misrata called me jubilantly to break the news personally that Muammar Gaddafi, Libya's long-time dictator, had finally been caught by rebel fighters near the coastal city of Sirte, his hometown. With a feeling of trepidation, I recall saying to him, "I hope they don't kill him." I believed it was important to see justice done for the crimes Gaddafi had committed. There was silence on the other end.
Some hours later, the first footage of Muammar Gaddafi's [lifeless and] half-naked corpse appeared on television. He had been brutalized and lynched by a mob. With him, in the makeshift morgue, was the body of his son, al-Mutassim, who had been captured alive and executed that same day in Sirte by a separate armed group.
In the years afterward, I often remembered that day as the day the barrier of fear that separated the ruling elite from everyone else was broken. It was also a sign that killing with impunity would become normalized in Libya; this was no longer reserved for the brutal dictator's death squads. Now, anyone with a gun can kill with impunity.
In one of the latest incidents, Hanan Al-Barassi, an outspoken critic of violations by armed groups in eastern Libya that included allegations of widespread corruption and sexual assault, was shot dead on 10 November 2020 in Benghazi by unidentified masked gunmen.[1] She was in a shop on a busy street, in broad daylight. There was a brief period of calm after Gaddafi's death, but since law and order started to break down in 2012, countless killings have gone unpunished.
Tentative Peace
Governance remains split between two entities in Libya. The United Nations-recognized Tripoli-based Government of National Accord (GNA) is supported by armed groups in western Libya, a region that is nominally under its control. Turkey and Qatar support the GNA with arms, ammunition, training, and foreign fighters. The GNA's rival is the Interim Government, which is affiliated with the armed group, the Libyan Arab Armed Forces (LAAF), under the command of General Khalifa Hiftar. The LAAF, backed by Russia, the United Arab Emirates (UAE), and Egypt, also relies on foreign fighters for support. Military support to conflict parties is in violation of the 2011 UN arms embargo on Libya.[2]
After a 14-month war that lasted from April 2019 to June 2020, a country-wide ceasefire agreement was signed on 23 October.[3] The United Nations Mission in Libya is currently leading a reconciliation process with a Libya Political Dialogue Forum (LPDF) to negotiate a new governance structure and future national elections. The forum has 75 participants hand-picked by the UN mission in Libya to represent different constituencies, although not all ethnic or social groups are represented. The political dialogue builds on a previous framework from December 2015 during UN-led peace talks on Libya in Skhirat, Morocco.
The fragility of the situation cannot be overstated. Local actors are dependent on foreign governments and private military companies, which are playing out their own proxy conflicts in Libya.
For now, the gunfire has abated, and some form of negotiation is underway. However, the fragility of the situation cannot be overstated. Local actors are dependent on foreign governments and private military companies, which are playing out their own proxy conflicts in Libya. There are thousands of foreign fighters on both sides of the conflict from Syria, Sudan, and Chad.
Analysts say that the military build-up[4] on both sides continues and the parties could return to active fighting with the smallest perceived provocation. Despite a ceasefire agreement and an arms embargo, training and exercises,[5] including training by foreign forces, continue on both sides.
A Brutal Decade
There were intermittent armed conflicts in different parts of the country since the end of the 2011 revolution. The fighting that began in April 2019 was accompanied by human rights violations and abuses by all sides – armed groups and government entities alike. The international media focus in recent months has been on violations of the laws of war, given that the armed conflict was in and around Tripoli. These include unlawful air- and drone strikes and indiscriminate shelling that killed civilians, unlawful executions and desecration of bodies, and the destruction of civilian structures. Human Rights Watch also identified extensive use of internationally prohibited anti-personnel landmines and booby traps, and some use of cluster bombs by the LAAF and affiliated forces.
Systematic and widespread human rights violations, including forced displacement[6] of tens of thousands of civilians[7], long-term arbitrary detention, and thousands of politically motivated assassinations[8], have been ongoing since 2011.
The years between 2012 and 2014 were particularly bloody. There were near-daily assassinations in eastern Libya of politicians, former members of the armed forces, activists, judges and prosecutors, which may amount to a crime against humanity.[9] A report prepared by a Libyan parliamentary committee listed 643 individual killings in 2013 alone.[10]
Assailants often remain unidentified and local authorities fail to investigate and prosecute their crimes. In 2014, Human Rights Watch tracked at least 250 politically motivated assassinations[11] in eastern Libya, including the killings of Tawfik Bensaud and Sami Elkawafi[12] – aged 18 and 19, respectively – by unidentified assailants in September 2014 in Benghazi . Also in 2014, Salwa Bugaighis[13], a renowned Libyan human rights lawyer and activist, was shot dead in her Benghazi home in June 2014, by unidentified assailants. Fariha al-Barkawi[14], a former member of Parliament, and Salwa Yunis al-Hinaid, a former Gaddafi official, were both killed in the eastern city of Derna by unidentified assailants in separate incidents.
The lack of leadership to put an end to the gruesome killings permeates all levels of law enforcement.
What all these cases have in common is that the assailants remained unidentified and local authorities failed to investigate and prosecute these crimes. The lack of leadership to put an end to the gruesome killings permeates all levels of law enforcement. Political divisions and a turbulent security situation since 2012 have undermined the ability of authorities to investigate and issue arrest warrants. Moreover, military commanders and officials in positions of power were frequently implicated in abuses, and were therefore less likely to show interest in investigations.
The Crux of the Problem
I find it totally unacceptable that international partners that hold sway in Libya, including key United Nations Security Council members – the United States, France, Italy, the UK, and Russia – have not prioritized sanctioning individuals for human rights violations for many years, and thereby taken accountability off the table. What incentive is there to stop the killings?
The message currently received by those who commit serious abuses, such as unlawful killings, torture, and forced disappearances, is that they are untouchable. This feeling has been shared not only by the many militias in Libya with a hybrid self-assumed mandate of defense and law enforcement, but also by common gangs, armed to the teeth, and the many human smugglers and traffickers responsible for the misery and inhumane situation of migrants, asylum seekers and refugees.[15]
Senior commanders and high-ranking civilian officials in both east and west stood by as gross violations were being committed in their areas of control over many years, seeming not to care that their failure to act to put an end to abuses could result in their criminal prosecution for complicity in war crimes and crimes against humanity.
It is safe to say that those who had supported Gaddafi's overthrow - including France, the US, and the UK - did not treat building respect for the rule of law as a priority
I often wonder if something could have been done early on in the transitional phase – after the end of the revolution and around the time of elections in 2012 – that may have changed the course of a country from the brink of implosion to a country in which the rule of law had a chance to prevail. It is safe to say that those who had supported Gaddafi's overthrow – including France, the US, and the UK – did not treat building respect for the rule of law as a priority, which would have required creating a justice system that would ensure that those responsible for the worst crimes were tried fairly.
I have heard many justifications over the years from Libyan interlocutors that it is unfair to compare the lynching and assassination of Gaddafi to any of the crimes that had taken place during his rule because they were "individual acts" of desperate people. Whenever I brought it up, officials and diplomats told me that of all the issues the National Transitional Council had to deal with in 2011, bringing Gaddafi's killers to justice was simply not a priority.
Those same justifications for abusive behavior and serious crimes kept on coming up year after year as the revolutionary fighters of 2011 turned into abusive militias. No one gets to claim the moral high ground in a situation in which there is zero cost for killings, torture, forced displacement, enforced disappearances, and other atrocities.
Domestic courts[16], plagued by political divisions and armed conflict, are, in many areas, barely functional; their procedures have been hampered by grave due process violations. In some areas in the east and the south, the criminal justice system has collapsed. Since 2011, only a handful of cases involving people accused of serious crimes have been adjudicated, such as the trial against former Gaddafi officials[17] that started in 2015, which sentenced eight to death, and the 2018 trial relating to the ambush and killing of 146 anti-Gaddafi protesters[18] in the Abu Saleem area of Tripoli, which sentenced 45 to death. However, in these and other trials that took place, Human Rights Watch found grave due process violations, including forced confessions, ill treatment, and lack of access to lawyers.
Existing international accountability mechanisms remain limited in scope and effectiveness. The International Criminal Court (ICC) has had a mandate to investigate war crimes, crimes against humanity, and genocide in Libya since 2011. Yet, the court has only issued a handful of arrest warrants; including one against Mahmoud al-Werfalli[19], a special forces commander in eastern Libya who is allied with the LAAF and Hiftar. The other outstanding arrest warrants are against a former Gaddafi official, Al-Tuhami Khalid, for his role in the 2011 revolution, and Saif al-Islam[20], Gaddafi's son, also for crimes committed in the campaign to suppress the revolution. They are both at large.
A UN Fact-Finding Mission[21] on Libya recently established by the UN Human Rights Council has a mandate to investigate serious violations in Libya since 2016. Due to the prevailing situation and global Covid-19 limitations, the mission has not fully set up its secretariat.
The international community has failed to use long-standing UN sanctions, particularly against individuals who have committed serious human rights violations since the 2011 revolution. The UN Security Council-mandated Sanctions Committee for Libya has listed only eight people for individual targeted sanctions – two militia commanders and six individuals accused of trafficking. Given the few listings despite the length of its mandate, it is fair to say the Libya sanctions regime has failed to deter violations.
There is some hope for progress with the Libya Political Dialogue Forum, whose members are currently negotiating a governance framework and future elections.
Although there are allegations[22] of corruption and vote-buying, there is some hope for progress with the Libya Political Dialogue Forum, whose members are currently negotiating a governance framework and future elections. If they succeed in moving beyond this phase, then the members need to ensure that robust accountability measures are a top priority for any incoming interim authority. The recently published roadmap, "For the Preparatory Phase of a Comprehensive Solution", agreed upon by the forum and facilitated by the United Nations in November in Tunis, inadequately addresses the devastating human rights and humanitarian toll after 15 months of reckless fighting.
The plan states support for a "national reconciliation process based on the principles of transitional justice and promoting the culture of amnesty and tolerance in parallel with truth-seeking and reparation." But it does not unequivocally call for justice and accountability for serious crimes and does not exclude amnesties for serious crimes. As it stands, the lack of justice provisions[23] will impede a durable peace.
Ending the status quo requires political will and strong leadership (to counter the often-cited false narrative that justice gets in the way of peace). This will not be a quick process and it will depend on many factors such as decisions by local or foreign parties on whether to restart the fighting. What's needed is more courage from the United Nations Security Council members and Libyan authorities to undo the normalization of crime and to raise the cost for unlawful killing in Libya.
1. https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/11/11/libya-outspoken-benghazi-lawyer-murdered
2. https://www.un.org/securitycouncil/sanctions/1970
3. https://unsmil.unmissions.org/acting-special-representative-secretary-general-libya-stephanie-williams-opening-remarks-press
4. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/aug/02/gaddafis-prophecy-comes-true-as-foreign-powers-battle-for-libyas-oil?CMP=share_btn_tw
5. https://twitter.com/Oded121351/status/1330223150559322112?s=20
6. https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/01/24/libya-displaced-population-cant-go-home
7. https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/02/01/libya-displaced-benghazi-families-prevented-return
8. https://www.hrw.org/news/2014/09/23/libya-assassinations-may-be-crimes-against-humanity
10. https://www.hrw.org/news/2014/06/06/counting-dead-benghazi
11. https://www.hrw.org/news/2014/11/27/libya-extremists-terrorizing-derna-residents
12. https://www.hrw.org/news/2014/09/23/libya-assassinations-may-be-crimes-against-humanity
13. https://www.hrw.org/news/2014/06/26/libya-tribute-salwa-bughaighis
15. https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/01/21/libya-nightmarish-detention-migrants-asylum-seekers
16. https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/09/11/justice-delayed-libya
17. https://www.hrw.org/news/2015/07/28/libya-flawed-trial-gaddafi-officials
18. https://www.hrw.org/news/2018/08/22/libya-45-sentenced-death-2011-killings
19. https://www.hrw.org/news/2017/08/16/libya-videos-capture-summary-executions
20. https://www.hrw.org/news/2017/06/15/libya-surrender-saif-al-islam-gaddafi-icc
21. https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/06/22/libya-un-establishes-fact-finding-body
22. https://twitter.com/LibyanJustice/status/1331177745435516930?s=20
23. https://www.hrw.org/news/2020/10/29/justice-key-durable-peace-libya
Published by Hanan Salah
Hanan Salah is the senior Libya researcher at Human Rights Watch, where she produces detailed reports, news releases, and op-eds based on her findings and conducts local and international advocacy. Before joining Human Rights Watch, Salah worked as protection team leader for western Libya at the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), supervising a team of delegates and visiting scores of detention facilities. View all posts by Hanan Salah
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


In my presentation at tomorrow's COSPUG event I will be going through a demo where I associated a custom list form with a content type. We only have an hour for the presentation, so I wanted to make sure I posted something with that included the steps to create the custom list form.
Create a custom list entry form for a tasks list.
First off, we need to create a tasks list. Once we have done that we can open the site in SharePoint Designer.
In the folder list, expand your task list and right click on one of the view pages and select "New From Existing".
A new page will be created for you and opened in Designer mode. Select the Common Content Tasks Menu and Select "Default to Master's Content".
Open the Common Content Tasks Menu again, and select "Create Custom Content".
With your cursor in the desired cell, from the top menu select Insert > SharePoint Controls > Custom List Form.
From the Custom List Form menu, select the list and form you would like to customize.
At this point, you can customize the list form to meet your needs. For simplicity, I just changed the text size and color.
The last step is to associate the custom list form, with the list. In the folder list, right click on the list and select properties. Enter the information for your new custom list form.
From now on, when you create a new list item in your tasks list, your custom form will be displayed.
Next Article Registration is Open for the COSPUG SharePoint Conference!


Welcome to the Division of Finance which homes faculty specializing in economic economics, company law, and insurance coverage. Our more than 20 faculty members are internationally known researchers and teachers. We give a vibrant study and teaching atmosphere, characterized by comprehensive collaboration with a shared objective of conducting leading-edge study and offering students with the abilities they require to succeed in the field of finance.
Transaction exposure and economic exposure are true exposures in the economic sense. This means they both present potential threats to the worth of a firm's money flows over time. The third exposure translation is a problem that arises from accounting. Beneath the present accounting principles in practice across it when was. For the most portion couple of genuine money resources must be devoted to a purely accounting primarily based event.
You cannot 'defeat' the financial sector by buying into these public terms, trying to counter one particular apparently fixed model of reality with one more fixed model of reality, like a Marxist attempting to win an argument against a neoclassical economist. Rather, you refuse to purchase into the thought that a singular model exists in the initial spot, and embrace the ambiguity. Immersive adventures that wreck your pristine preconceptions are a single of the quickest approaches of constructing such openness and becoming alive to the contradictory messiness of systems that otherwise seem coherent and all-strong.
Theorem one particular of the frictionless theory of finance (the Modigilani-Miller theorem) says that the worth of advertising is zero. The value of a portfolio is the worth of its components. Yet the cash-management sector is essentially a advertising market: They take the most generic and effortlessly available components you can feel of, put them in a package, wrap a good label on it, and marketplace like crazy. Yes, from this point of view, it's puzzling that folks never buy the generic (Vanguard). It's puzzling that they don't purchase the pieces and assemble their personal (etrade). It is puzzling that they pay really so much for the slight variations in components that the active managers or closed-finish funds deliver. As it is puzzling that they spend for Coke, Clorox, Bayer, or bottled water that they shop at Macys not Target, Complete Foods not Costco, and a hundred other brand names.
Experimental finance aims to establish distinct market settings and environments to observe experimentally and give a lens via which science can analyze agents' behavior and the resulting traits of trading flows, details diffusion and aggregation, price tag setting mechanisms, and returns processes. Researchers in experimental finance can study to what extent current financial economics theory makes valid predictions and for that reason prove them, and try to learn new principles on which such theory can be extended and be applied to future financial choices. Investigation may proceed by conducting trading simulations or by establishing and studying the behavior, and the way that these men and women act or react, of individuals in artificial competitive market place-like settings.


There are times we prefer not to know what we're eating, or more specifically what ingredients make a dish delicious. I once commented to a banquet manager about the amazing mashed potatoes being served with dinner. I asked what Chef's secret was. He told me it was the 1:1 ratio of butter to potatoes. That's a perfect example too much information about ingredients ruining an appetite.
Food professionals design meals with the goal of bringing flavors together to showcase them in their best light. It's not uncommon for diners to not know exactly what is being consumed and that's okay. However, it's not acceptable when food is intentionally 'disguised' to mislead consumers into believing it is something that it isn't. Not sure what I mean? Keep reading.
While at an 'all you can eat' resort, my team stopped into a breakfast café and contemplated the muffin case. We weighed the pros and cons (taste versus calories) and ultimately choose healthier options. Unable to withstand temptation, we decided to treat ourselves to an afternoon snack. We headed back to the bakery and gazed longingly at the cupcakes. And then we gazed again, looked at each other, and gazed once more.
The muffins were back, but this time they were being called cupcakes. What didn't sell that morning as a breakfast food was frosted and 'born again' as a dessert. The hope was that under all that frosting, no one would recognize the recycled muffins.
The practice of repurposing foods is more common than consumers may realize. While it is not necessarily a safety or health concern, knowing what the item was originally intended as may change your decision to eat it in its reincarnated state.
Fresh fish becomes fish stew a few days later. Leftover mashed potatoes may appear as potato pancakes the next day. Fresh broccoli becomes cream of broccoli soup. Again, I am not implying this is hazardous or unethical, but it is news to many and it may reframe how you order. That said, it may raise a question as it relates to billing – if the main ingredient from one meal becomes an ingredient in another should you be charged full price for the leftovers?
If you prefer to avoid repurposed food but don't want to waste it put a food donation clause in your contracts. The Emerson Act, which was passed in 1996 encourages donation of food and grocery products to non-profit organizations for distribution to individuals in need. Download and keep this information handy in case you need the backup during negotiations. A little information goes a very long way.


text:
Q: loading icon before SVG image Loading i am created an SVG image for background, but it is loaded after some time, the issue is:
when it is not loaded yet all widgets appears randomly. i just need a loader after the image loaded it page widget appears.
the code is:
Scaffold(
      appBar: const _CustomNotificationAppBar(),
      body: isFinished
          ? SingleChildScrollView(
              child: Stack(
                children: [
                  //notification background
                  Opacity(
                    opacity: 0.42,
                    child: SvgPicture.asset(
                      'assets/images/notification_background.svg',
                    ),
                  ),
                    IconButton(
                      icon: const Icon(
                      Icons.notifications_active_outlined,
                      ),
                    onPressed: () {})),
                ],
              ),
            )
          : const Center(
              child: CircularProgressIndicator(),
            ),
    );

A: well if I understands you well and as long as your SVG is loading from the device "asset",
there should not be delay in first place.
I think the problem is you emulator or physical device is too slow , And you may face this problem in debug only
try to run flutter build APK and install that generated APK in your phone and check if problem remains.
however you can achieve that also like this
SvgPicture.asset(
  'assets/images/notification_background.svg',
  placeholderBuilder: (context) => Text("I am Loading"),
),

A: You can pass a placeholderBuilder to your SvgPicture.asset like this:
SvgPicture.asset(
  'assets/images/notification_background.svg',
  placeholderBuilder: (context) => Icon(Icons.your_desired_icon),
),

You can also wrap the Icon with a SizedBox if you need to comply with a certain size, or replace it by any other widget that you wish.
More info about the widget you're using is available in its API docs.

A: You can wrap it in a Container, and it will work.
For eg:
Container(
        //height :desired height,
        //width  : desired width
        child: Opacity(
      opacity: 0.42,
      child: SvgPicture.asset(
        'assets/images/notification_background.svg',
      ),
    ))

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Q: How to split text data and count number of occurrences in pandas dataframe? I have data in dataframe in the following format:
df=pd.DataFrame([
    [42,{"tags":["illustration","logo","design","ui"]}],
    [81,{"tags":["typography","icon","vector","ux"]}],
    [98,{"tags":["branding","app"]}],
    [52,{"tags":["animation","web","flat"]}],
    [17,{"tags":["type","lettering"]}],
    [37,{"tags":["illustration","typography","branding","typography","branding"]}],
    [63,{"tags":["logo","icon","app","web","lettering"]}],
    [47,{"tags":["ui","ux"]}],
    [6,{"tags":["design","vector","icon","flat","lettering","branding","app"]}],
    [53,{"tags":["ui","ux","lettering","branding","app","animation","web","flat"]}],
    [64,{"tags":["branding","app","typography","branding"]}],
    [89,{"tags":["typography","branding","ux","lettering","branding"]}]
],columns=["_id","tags"])

I want to count the number of 'id' with specific number of tags (distribution of this number), so for the data above it would be:
Number of posts    Number of tags
     3                 2
     1                 3
     3                 4
     3                 5
     1                 7

How should I handle the text tags in the given format for this task?
Thank you

A: Use DataFrame constructor + Counter with list comprehension for count lengths of each tags as lists:
from collections import Counter

c = Counter([len(x['tags']) for x in df['tags']])

df = pd.DataFrame({'Number of posts':list(c.values()), ' Number of tags ': list(c.keys())})
print (df)
   Number of posts   Number of tags
0                3                 4
1                3                 2
2                1                 3
3                3                 5
4                1                 7
5                1                 8

Or use apply with value_counts:
df = (df['tags'].apply(lambda x: len(x['tags']))
                .value_counts()
                .rename_axis('Number of tags')
                .reset_index(name='Number of posts')
                [['Number of posts','Number of tags']])
print (df)
   Number of posts  Number of tags
0                3               5
1                3               4
2                3               2
3                1               8
4                1               7
5                1               3


text:
Defying Odds, For The Love Of Liberty
The following short story was written by Linda Kavuka, African Programs Manager, SFL
Seeing John Mustapha Kutiyote on the Why Liberty activism panel at the 2018 Students For Liberty East African Regional Conference, share his story of advocating for a free society in South Sudan – a country with a history of civil war and conflict and very limited opportunities for youth – it's hard to have thought that he had been on a grueling 3-day road-trip to be at the event. The 'Why Liberty' activism panel consisted of some of SFL's bright student leaders who shared inspiring stories of how SFL has changed their lives and why they're dedicating their energies in fighting #ForAFreerFuture.
John left his birth home, Yambio in Southern Sudan on 18 July and first travelled to Kampala, Uganda, before finally making his way to Nairobi, Kenya for the East African Regional Conference held on July 21 at the Catholic University of Eastern Africa.
I met John in 2014, a year after we launched SFL in Kenya. At that time, he was an undergraduate student at the African International University in Nairobi and had completed the ASFL Local Coordinators Program, the premiere program for actively advancing the ideas of free markets and individual liberty on college & campuses in Africa. He has been active since then.
John Mustapha Kutiyote (in yellow patterned outfit) sharing his story on the "Why Liberty" panel at #EARC2018
During 2015 Eastern African Regional Conference hosted at the Catholic University of Eastern Africa, John was on the team of leaders who assisted with logistics and ensured the 2-day conference was successful.
However, John's stay in Nairobi was cut short after his graduation from college, where he had to return to South Sudan, but his departure did not extinguish the passion he has for the ideas of a free society. He sought for ways he would share his knowledge on these ideas, despite being a war-torn state and currently under political instability.
For John, young people in Sudan are desperate for hope for a better, peaceful and prosperous living. This fuelled John to establish Students' Organization For Liberty and Entrepreneurship, a think-tank aimed at promoting the ideas of freedom, peace, prosperity and opportunities to young people in South Sudan.
Seeing John voice out passionately, before an audience of over 200 attendees, about the difficulties he faces in hosting events amid strict government will bring tears to your eyes, but it is inspiring that he has been able to rise above the challenges to make a positive difference in his home town.
Travelling by road in Africa is synonymous to a trip to hell. It's a journey fraught with immigration troubles, ridiculous charges, harassment, unnecessary checkpoints – which many a time causes hour-long delays. John defied all of these difficulties to be at #EARC2018.
We at African Students For Liberty are very proud of John's strides, and for launching his think tank. His presence at the #EARC2018 was heart-warming to all of us, as we reconnected and made plans for future engagements.
earc2018, john mustapha kutiyote, south sudan, Students' Organization For Liberty and Entrepreneurship


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This word is from French rhésus, formerly rhesus, and from its etymon, the scientific Latin (Simia) Rhesus.
Le nom de Macaque à queue courte, imposé par Buffon à cet animal, n'est pas un nom, mais une phrase, qui semble indiquer une simple variété du Macaque. Il me semble qu'au contraire ce singe doit être considéré comme une espèce très-distincte […] En conséquence, je le nommerai Simia Rhesus ; ce nom, n'ayant aucune signification, peut être appliqué à ce singe, et éloigner toute idée de rapports spécifiques entre lui et les autres espèces.
The name of short-tailed Macaque, imposed by Buffon on this animal, is not a name, but a phrase, which seems to indicate a mere variety of the Macaque. It seems to me that on the contrary this monkey must be considered a very distinct species […] As a consequence, I will name it Simia Rhesus; this name, having no signification, may be applied to this monkey, and dismiss any idea of specific relationships between it and the other species.
The adoption by Audebert of this name for the monkey was therefore arbitrary. In classical Latin, Rhesus, from ancient Greek Ῥῆσος (= Rhesos), was the name of a mythical king of Thrace, who arrived in the tenth year of the Trojan War to aid Troy. Odysseus and Diomedes stole his horses because an oracle had said that if these horses drank from the River Xanthus, Troy would not fall.
The scientific name of the rhesus macaque, or rhesus monkey, is now Macaca mulatta, family Cercopithecidae. It is often kept in captivity and is widely used in medical research.
Since the 1940s, rhesus, abbreviated as Rh, has been applied to a major human blood group system originally identified by means of rabbit antisera to rhesus monkey blood, consisting of three principal antigens (one major, D, which is the most immunogenic, and two minor, C and E).


text:
from Classified
By Fran Gordon
All the houses we lived in were dark, because when mother was a girl someone had told her that light and moving air carried heat and that darkness was cooler. She kept the windows shaded and shuttered. She said she did this to save on the electric bill. For our sake. I remember only one exception of sun. The third floor, the attic of our home in Milton, Massachusetts, was bright. White heat streamed in to the bare low-ceilinged space. The prior owners of the house had left behind a couch, largely flowered and blandly beige. We sat relaxed on this couch, its flowers and unfinished wood, pine probably. A Crate-and-Barrel-type affair. A furnishing ephemeral as flowers. Something that could not be passed down; and, therefore, belonged in the trash.
We sat in the sunlit attic, drank Tang, and watched the two hours of tv allotted us on a black and white set. My father, an instrument of defense intelligence – this I learned decades later, just months before his death – had insisted correctly that technology for color had not been perfected, and so, need not be watched.
While Father awaited HDTV, we watched the psychedelia of Batman in shades of gray. Because that's what my older brother and his friends, then in middle school, wanted to watch. Sister stayed after high school and led some Kappa meeting, little brother, a toddler, napped. I was six. Anyway, there was nothing else on. At least that's what I thought. Or was told. I never knew That Girl was on. Sometimes the boys flipped to The Flying Nun, as if for me, but now, I wonder if it was because they wanted Sally Fields. (Years later, I was surprised to discover her appeal to men friends – one of whom decided to get circumcised at forty and had the unfortunate fate of turning on, or to put it more precisely, being turned on by the Nun, almost directly after incision.) In any case, for me, The Flying Nun was entirely too weird. So we stuck to Batman. And I watched. Even though the not knowing -- of Gotham for Batman and Robin's true identities, how the caped crusaders would be captured, how they would escape – provoked my anxiety. I kept thinking, as I watched them, that they were just a breath away from being unmasked. And with each cliffhanger, I thought, this time, this time they're dead.
I didn't like Batgirl. She was derivative. But boy did I love Catwoman. It was only with her that Batman ceased being a buffoon. He left his logic, became tender. I sensed then that it took black leather to make a man act human.
Father kept his office in the attic, northside of the floor away from the sun. A government issue lamp, black and fluorescent, low to his work, dimly lit the center of a desk that looked like it weighed a ton. Perfectly laquered cherry perhaps, or rosewood, definitely not oak. I don't know what wood it was. But he had comic strips taped to its top and sides. Yellow, frayed, and ancient. Biting snippets of Andy Capp, and Pogo. I thought them cruel. Andy, an unemployed working class bloke in 1950s Northern England, bet on horses, fought with soccer players, and womanized. His long-suffering wife, Flo depressed me – her yells from the next room uncomfortably reminiscent of mother's own calls to father; worse, he seemed to, as their mutual favorite Sinatra sang, to get a kick out of them. Belligerent, unskilled at any socially acceptable occupation, and usually drunk, Capp was father's fantasy notwithstanding the pun on Capp's name. Father hated puns. He bet "name that tune" by radio, not horses at the track, like Andy, and my parents own marriage counseling was brief but with the portent of Andy's and Flo's sessions. A strip taped atop Father's desk was simply a panoramic shot of a counseling office with several file cabinets devoted entirely to the Capps. But the Capps had no kids; there were four in our family. "The shrink told me I'd married a bachelor who was a pretty good family man; the rest was up to me," mother said when I turned thirty, just months before Father deemed me old enough to speak of sex -- and so then alluded to some rabbit-like proclivity on one or both, or one of their parts.
"It was lucky we were older when we married or we would have had more of a brood."
Mother stood at the kitchen counter chopping cucumbers, for the required iceberg lettuce salad, served at five pm, the usual uncivilized military time, even then, when I was thirty and visiting (having lived on my own for almost fifteen years) and said, "I only wanted two children."
Invisible, I went to the freezer and plinked a few cubes in a glass.
Years ago, I'd have wanted to disappear.
Father read comics and called my mother "mountain folk." I hated when he said this. But the impact didn't last; after all, Sophia Loren was mountain folk.
I did not know that "Simple J. Malarkey" a character in Pogo, looked exactly like Senator McCarthy in bobcat drag. Did feel something ominous about the creatures who inhabited his swamp and tried to rid it of unseen subversives, like the "germs" Molester Mole sprayed with pesticides while a stuck-up rat Deacon preached in Gothic-lettered balloons. Birds scarier than Hitchcock's assisted the mole and indicted everyone including Malarkey. "He once befriended us, and everybody knows what scurvey scum WE used to be," the birds said, and alighted on their leader, a pig who looked like Khrushchev. Pogo's creator, Walt Kelly, defended art against government regulation, went before the congressional subcommittee and proceeded to charm members with his drawings and the force of his personality.
The comic strip was safe for satire.
There is a reason the strips were so yellow – with age. Wickedly funny, these strips seemed mean-spirited to a six year old. My age separated me from my father. No one else – or so I thought – even knew what Pogo was, let alone Malarkey.
This would be our problem.
Father coaxed me to read other comics that were not taped to his desk. Dick Tracy made sense then. Father in his gray fedora, striped tie, white shirt, and suits solely brown, black or slate, looked a bit like Tracy, had a no-holds-barred honesty and an intolerance for hypocrisy. If Capp was father's id then perhaps Tracy was his superego. There is no way of telling.
Their devices fused them further than their everyday dark suits and jutting chins. "Would you like Santa to bring you a two-way wrist radio for Christmas?" Father said as I watched an installation of "Dick Tracy and the Man with No Face."
Horrors, I thought, an electronic leash. If it was a radio, surely a one-way would get better reception. He'd already installed light sensors on our property decades before you could buy them; so much for sneaking in or out the house after dark. Later, when I could legally drive, he wired the car so the engine would not even turn over unless everyone had seat belts on. My friends and I levitated to no avail. "Spooky," they'd say. And so we strapped.
Tracy wiretapped long before electronic surveillance existed in the real world, using a "voice – o – graph" to identify criminals by their voiceprints. He also had a space coupe to deposit and trap criminals on the moon. I liked the moon part. But not the ships when Tracy was a navy spy during WWII, ships like those in "Dick Tracy on the High Seas;" I recognize them now from the Norfolk Naval Base, as the monstrosities seemingly made out of lead that Father brought us on, like they were Disneyland. In October 1962, President Kennedy deployed these ships, including the USS Independence (presently scheduled to be sunk), as a blockade, to Cuba, where U2 spy plane photos had shown irrefutable evidence of missile sites placed by Krushchev. "Oh, shit! Shit! Shit! . . ." said RFK. There were weapons. On October 28th, according to his son, Sergei, Khrushchev said of his missile sites, "Remove them as soon as possible, before something terrible happens."
Perhaps warships thrilled my brothers – especially the U.S.S. Nimitz with its nuclear propulsion system and three rolling airframe missile (RAM) launchers. They patted the lead, went below, and battened the hatch above them. I stood on deck, drawn to the sea.
Father was not a sailor. He was however, like Dick Tracy's friend Vitamin Flintheart, a hypochondriac (never missed a day of work), who took fistfuls of . . .guess. I liked that Flintheart quoted Shakespeare; didn't like his opinion that girls with guns were only out to fuck men. In the sole incident when Tracy's colleagues were women, Flintheart, in an act slightly unworthy of Iago, said to Tracy seconds before he had to leave his wife, Trueheart, "Policewomen? Ha! A man is confronted with jeopardy from all sides.
In the end, when I was six, gunplay kept me from digging Tracy's strip. And though I got used to the deformities, it seemed to me everyone but Dick and the girl had them -- his world was as welcome to me as loud explosions were to my Catholic Father's saints.
I much preferred my sister's choice of animation, a single-frame strip with an innocent duo. Posters of Love Is . . . were propped against the wall of the bedroom we shared on the second floor. We weren't allowed to tape anything to our desks or hang anything on the walls. Because ladders, hammers, even thumbtacks, with their capacity for tetanus, could be deathly; and then there would be marks, holes even, when inevitably we, Father's princesses, left. And so Love . . .was not fastened. Love is . . . taking the ups and downs with a smile. In this poster naked skaters had skidded, cold, bruised and beautific. To this day I have trouble keeping my clothes on. Sister wore as little as possible. Father would have liked us in chadoors. "Jeepers, creepers, where'd you get those peepers," he'd say to me. Father's eyes were pale, the color of ashes. Mine were coal. Sometimes when he returned from business trips to Saudi Arabia, he'd put his Imperial handkerchief before my face, just below the eyes. And laugh. Though not so much as he laughed when he talked about the time he walked through, as he told it, a cobblestone alley in England and "just happened to glance" at a veiled woman whose husband – Father bared his teeth in imitation – "looked like he was going to kill" him. Gosh all git up, how'd you get so lit up? The first time he told the anecdote, when I was six, I believed he'd seen the overreaction of a jealous man, and against my instinct -- innocuous eyes. By the time I was thirteen I knew Father had been "guilty;" he was still talking about it. The desire to have sexual relations originates, not with a slap on the ass, but with the look one person gives another. At least for me. The woman must have been very beautiful, and the three had all been a bit out of place. Woe is me, gotta put my cheaters on. I knew by then Father strictly adhered to the customs of any country he worked in. I also knew that if mother was approached by any man at the rare social function we'd attend, say, a wedding, Father appeared seemingly out of nowhere and physically came between his wife and the other. (My parents could have been at opposite ends of the room; he by the fountain where little American kids got drunk on jets of Prosecco, sometimes sticky with white peach juice; mother hardly aware of her departed lover who was who knows where -- unless we, her kids, were by the fountain). She called him by name; he called her wife.
I can still imagine the veiled woman's opulent eyes. How they hypnotize! Father's eyes freaked me out when I was a kid; they seemed, cataracted. Later I was fascinated by their singularity. My myopic eyes are as unnatural in size as his were in color. I have to have contacts specially made here, though I can often get them over-the-counter abroad. There are tons of people with big eyes. But I've not seen anyone yet with eyes the color of Father's. Where'd you get those eyes?
When Father knew how much my sister and I adored the un-appled eden of Love Is . . . , he began to cut them out of one of his newspapers each day, sign and date them in his perfect cursive script, and present us each night with a new naked aphorism. Although Father thought Love Is . . . ridiculous, and saw love as comic foil, or perennial tragedy.
In addition to comics, Father left a veritable archive of newspaper clippings behind when he died; they ranged from historic moon landing, to wars, to the nutritional value of legumes. His cursive notes were like this, too. Grocery lists and sketched blueprints of the Pentagon. Understandably overwhelmed, mother threw them out.
It was by his desecrated desk of indefinite wood, that Father summoned me, out of kindness after the meatball incident, in which I decided to stop eating meat and was made by mother to sit at the table until I did and when I didn't was sent to my room fed up with the cold red-stained relic at eleven pm; soon after grandma, my mother's mother who lived with us after her husband's death, snuck up and helped me eat the bulk of it. To this day I neither eat too much meat (and when I do it's raw) nor trust men who don't eat meat. In any case, the inconsequence of whatever it was I was reprimanded for had made way for the skipping whistling girl in the attic – after all mother's scolding could have sprung from anything; from not eating a dish to eating, in a feral way, from the fridge, to not keeping my red t-straps clean on my walk through the woods, where I'd searched for food of my own to sustain me, though wild blueberries alone would not do – if only I could make bread from what looked to me like wheat stalks (but were in fact grass). Kids are resilient.
"Let me tell you why your mother does not love you as much as your older brother." Father said from behind his behemoth of a desk.
I stopped skipping.
He implied that we shared reasons for her shortcomings in love. And before I knew about sex, in that moment, though I do not remember exactly what he said to make me think this, only the pathos of a parent confiding cryptically, and its effect, that of a half-known villain on Batman, whose laser-powered cold gun shot, stunned, and froze me there; and in my stasis, I deduced that my father, irrefutably our father (I'd later learn he'd not begotten my older siblings) implied some other (in my mind, illicit) love (perhaps incomparable like Catwoman?) had fathered my brother. I did and did not believe it. "It's the way of the world; Freud and biology."
Father always spoke to me as if I were forty. My mother said I was born forty.
"It's not your fault." It was always my fault.
Beyond the brunt I was suddenly bummed. Silent. And very aware that whatever this man was saying, and however good his intentions – it was not something an adult should be saying to a child.
Shortly afterward I decided to have my father arrested for abuse.
It was not at that moment, but days later when he stood sweating under the hood of our car, a winged Plymouth of cerulean blue with white racing stripes, a red toolbox beside him. "Come here and hand me a wrench."
I got up from my big wheel. It was too conspicuous. And began walking toward Quincy to the police station.
It's always the little things.
I walked and walked. I walked miles for civic duty. Then outside the precinct, seeing the cops red nosed as Capp, I backed off and thought of my mother. What would she do with dad in jail? Like any child, I often believed in my own power, perhaps to make up for lack of it. I couldn't be held responsible for the demise of our family, and so I walked back, unafraid, to where I'd begun.
When I was four, after the tumult of 1968, I walked with Father to Coney Island, which amounted to at least five miles from our Brooklyn home, its darkness a requisite for brownstones, ours narrower than most; the first floor kitchen, where I typed each morning on the bright red, plastic Olivetti Valentine, while my older brother and sister humored me and readied themselves for Catholic school, seemed to stretch just three desks wide, and overlooked the not-yet-choleric East River and its Liberty. I knew Father's account of how I refused to walk back from the beach. "Carry me!" I said. He'd taken joy in my command and placed me atop his shoulders. I saw the city's buildings and broken glass, its people of all sorts, some plump with moled stomachs, or thin, miniskirted like sister, their pink bushes of cotton candy aloft; people who kissed on beach blankets, people who watched, rich people out for a spin on the Cyclone, poor people holding, with hope, infants. Seas of people in streets full of brutality and celebration: New Yorkers make up the most expansive soul I know.
I wanted to meet them all.
And so on my red tricycle I rode the streets of Brooklyn, stopping at the stoops whose inhabitants most interested me. I liked the nuns big brother hated (he lit his Think and Do books on fire in back of class); enjoyed the man with big eyebrows, a Homberg hat, and a taste for digestives, made with myrtle leaves, that I liked more than the drops of wine mixed with water we kids were served at dinner. And I adored Homberg's sister, who, like grandma, stared with wonder at the East River, sometimes saying, "Bastardos." No one was swimming, no bodies floated, and so I projected this pejorative onto boats.
Homberg's sister broke from her trance, turned to me, laughed, and then we laughed harder, together, for different reasons. I knew then her curse was for figures so far from me they'd forever remained shrouded. What mattered in that moment was that my mistake became sun that brightened our winter faces. I was careful to entertain these strangers, my angels unaware. They made me smile.
But when they asked what Father did, my ebullience flagged.
"Why do you whisper?"
"I do? I have dark thoughts and so I whisper." I whispered.
"How old are you?" said Homberg.
His sister said "Have a cookie."
I'd refuse, or take two.
"Is it because someone will catch you?" said Homberg.
This made me smile. Let them try. My first memory, when all the world was shoes, when I first started to walk at one or so, was dodging Father beneath the dining room table. In a rare moment he tried to pick me up to show me off to the even rarer assembly of guests in our Brooklyn home. I remember they thought it was funny and I did not; rather, I was distressed at the thought of being caught, at the realization that my newfound mobility was ineffectual. Only it wasn't. I got away.
Eventually someone at home found I was missing. "Have you seen her?" Sister, or sometimes mother asked. "She went that a way," Homberg pointed toward the water.
Sometimes I rode fast enough to lift a wheel and ride on two. By the age of three I had been dubbed, by whom I cannot remember, "danger mouse."
My father loved rides more than anything, crazy rides that would make me throw up. He got shot 250 feet in the air by the parachute jump, a contraption originally made to train men for war. And Roller Coasters were Father's favorite fling; at Coney Island, the Cyclone; in Virginia, where we moved when I was eight, the Rebel Yell and some upside-down-loop-di-loop torture device whose name I can't recall. Perhaps he knew the rides were secure; perhaps they were a way that he, a bachelor father, and a pocket-protector engineer (or so by six I gathered), could exercise a penchant for thrills. He'd have ridden the Skeleton if he could. I had other ideas.
In daylight on Route 95, when I was twenty, and traveling back to New York after seeing my parents, I blew the boy who would become my first husband while he drove eighty, then, surprised, slowed to seventy. Don't stop took on new meaning.
Father wanted us safe.
I was drawn to the forbidden: people, places, and things. Though not all at once. Because I could not entirely fob off father's desire my own was dichotomy. And an anchor in a storm destroys a vessel more thoroughly than if it cuts waves to go out to sea.
My father married late and in love with my mother, who, while pregnant with my brother and holding the hand of my sister, had seen her first husband die in the sea. His skull was crushed by the boom of a boat. Bastardo. Thrown overboard from his craft, the Don Juan, as if lifted by an unspeakable teacup ride. Then he knew whether there was god or not, and for mother it would forever be the latter. Just before he sank, he swam, for moments, closer, still closer to mother and the lone and level sands of pre '60s Sheepshead Bay, so named for its Sheepshead fish, a fossilish fish with human-seeming incisors, that no longer exists. The water she looked across, between Rockaway Inlet and Long Beach Bridge, is lifeless now. Its bottom smothered by effluent waste.
Mother's first husband had been sailing with her brother. My sister, then three, wore a sailor suit, light blue with a white square knot at the neck. She would wear sailor tanks, in navy, with red, until the age of fourteen. Big brother, not yet born, would sail as soon as he could, for the rest of his life. Mother retired the pink '50s pin-up tank she'd worn then. And she never wore a bathing suit again.
Mother thought that if she could swim, she'd have saved her first husband. But this was not the case. A dead man can't drown.
Father lived through the Depression; his readiness for annihilation and deprivation showed in the cans lining shelves in our garage, dated to prevent botulism. And how would I – a child born into a country without scars from any war – how would I have known to fear bombs or botulism – were it not for my father, who would keep me safe from both.
I have since thought more about fear and my father, and I have concluded that the WWII vet who had worked on codes making the world safe for democracy, was, no less than many fathers, a protector. And so it is safe to say he left me vulnerable. Yet with him went my "boogeyman." His word. A word often used at my bedtime. "The Boogeyman's going to get you if you don't watch out." I pondered the meaning of "get." Words were easily researched at the public library; back then they had books. History books. Tomes on etymology. Bogumils (Bulgaris), or Bogomils, literally "fathers" in Bulgarian -- were heretics, whatever that meant. They were the source for father's word. Thus the saying, "If you see a Bulgarian, hit him. He'll know what it's for."
Relevant definitions of the root (sans "man") included:
1. A cause of annoyance or harassment.
2. A golf score of one stroke over par.
3. An unidentified flying aircraft.
1. Eidolon: An image of an ideal.
2. Revenant: One who returns after death.
3. Shade n. 13. A present reminder of a person or situation in the past.
"Get" might mean know; this is what scared me. The Shadow knew. "Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of men? The Shadow knows…" said Father if I woke early enough in the shaded house to eat oatmeal with him. I shook my head, knowing it was fiction, a radio show that fell silent in the 50s, too old for me to have ever heard, except in parody. The Shadow was a man with hypnotic powers to cloud men's and women's minds so they could not see him. The Shadow was sex, violence, a French kiss followed by a quick kick to the groin. The Shadow's kids existed in disbelief of their dad's world. In The Shadow everything you know is wrong. The Shadow's enemy is his American persona; he's a spy from Shamballa who mocks the world he protects. The Shadow was mushroom cloud-obsessed ultravixens. The Shadow was a cripple with telekinetic powers fucking his trophy wife, a game show hostess crazier than cat shit.
The Shadow was not for kids.
Neither was the oatmeal. Quaker Oats, in no way Quaker, used children in radioactivity experiments from 1945 to 1956.
"The Boogeyman." "Who knows what evil lurks. . ." Who knows who knows who knows? Words words. Father's words. For things I would not have known without him. But I wonder how much words came into play. I wonder now if I simply absorbed his reality – if it became my fear. By age thirteen I had correctly deduced my father's frequent trips to Nevada spelled n-u-c-l-e-a-r t-e-s-t-i-n-g. With him, the red end was always near; and so I waited for a cloud to mushroom beyond my brightly colored curtains. Nuclear attack was the reality of those older than myself. And though it was, and still is true, my peers feared no such thing. His last words to me were "be careful."
It was a warm night in 1997, Quaker Oats had settled their radiation suit, Joe's Pizza on Bleecker Street was still Joe's Pizza; cops, bikers, kids from the projects, stoned Armani-clad moguls, and Oliver Stone all stood in the brightly lit space, munching slices and downing Stewart's Root Beers while looking out onto the small triangular park across the street, where in darkness people, some homeless, sat on crowded benches. I was seeing a man whose heart, though I knew it not then, was in constant turbulent riot. Tall, with tanned skin stretched taut over his inscrutable face, and green eyes. (I was a sucker for green eyes.) I remember Father had by this time taken to referring to him as the Sheik of Araby, and when I said, "He's not…" Father said "Yes. He is." And when I asked why, he said, "the beard." He'd only a photo to go on. He'd no way of knowing, or did he? I'd called my love "Bedouin," when in our early days he'd surprise me late at night and camp out. Into your tent I will creep.
The Bedouin and I walked down Sixth Avenue toward Bleecker Street, to Joe's.
"Promise me one thing," he said.
"If I can."
"Promise you'll never be scared of me."
Did he want me to be scared of him, or did he sense in me some innate distaste for "boogeymen." As a child, it seemed to me my father conjured monsters for fun. I'd hated his words and the way that he, a serious man, laughed when he said them. Most likely it was a bid for affection, no more well-received by me than the advances of a pimple-faced boy toward an unwilling girl seated next to him at a horror flick. I remember being highly annoyed by my father. If I gave him the hug he might have wanted, it would be as false as the pretext upon which it was based; if I allowed my father to protect me against made-up monsters I myself would become unreal.
How was I to know that his monsters were real?
Fran Gordon
Fran Gordon, founder of the National Art Club's PAGE reading series, also directs FDU's MFA in Writing reading series. Her novel, Paisley Girl was a finalist for QPB's New Voices Award. She teaches in The New School Writing Program, and for The Pan African Literary Festival. Classified, written for Gordon's father, a liberal agent of defense intelligence examines the intersection of public events with private lives.
Stephen Antonakos: Late Light Gold Works 2010–2013
By Mary Ann Caws
DEC 19-JAN 20 | ArtSeen
This past Friday the 13th of December, in the dismal rain, was a deliciously gilded day for anyone who went to Chelsea to contemplate the undismal sheen of these "late light gold works." Created late in the life of Stephen Antonakos, and luminous, all these radiant outpourings and inpourings of a sun inside a mind shine forth.
What My Mother And I Don't Talk About: Fifteen Writers Break The Silence
By Elizabeth Block
MAY 2019 | Books
Despite the centuries old and universal topic of the mother-child relationship, the dyad of all dyads, Michele Filgate's anthology reminds us the subject never grows stale. Rather it is perfectly-flavored dressing atop the most flavorful edible garden.
No Release: Chantal Akerman's My Mother Laughs
By Daniel Witkin
"It's only normal to love your mother," she tells him, "and there's no reason to be afraid of committing incest."
Jeanne Silverthorne: From Darkness
FEB 2019 | ArtSeen
In the exhibition Jeanne Silverthorne: From Darkness the top floor of the Marc Straus gallery is dominated by a singular object: Untitled (Chandelier) (1994), cast in resin.
PLAYING THE PART
Of Pigeons and Podcasts, Or, My Safari on the 7
By Minna Ninova
From A Fine Old Conflict
By Jessica Mitford
Intro to The War Before
By Laura Whitehorn
The War at the End of the World
By Rehan Ansari
RANA HUSSEINI with Robert S. Eshelman
By Robert S. Eshelman
How Most of the World Lives: The End of Poverty?
A Different Sort of Blowback
A Look on the Bright Side
By Michael Sandlin
The Man in Black and Red
By Margaret Eby
On the Anti-Fascist Front
By Nisa Qazi
A Theory of Everything
By Paul Hiebert
By Christopher Michel
By Katie Rolnick
By Raphael Rubinstein
HELMUT FEDERLE In Conversation with John Yau and Chris Martin
CARROLL DUNHAM In Conversation with Phong Bui
A Tribute to Charles Seliger (1926-2009)
By James Siena and Robert C. Morgan
A Tribute to Suzanne Fiol (1960-2009)
By Gilbert Hsiao
A Tribute to Nancy Spero (1926-2009)
By Robert Storr and Clayton Eshleman
Carl Plansky In Memorial (1951-2009)
By Bill Jensen
BARRY SCHWABSKY In Conversation with Joan Waltemath
Urban Sensitivity: Seven Contemporary Japanese Artists
By Geoffrey Cruickshank-Hagenbuckle
Axell's Paradise: Last works (1971-1972) before she vanished
By Terry R. Myers
Swantje Hielscher: A New World
By Cassandra Neyenesch
Heat Waves in a Swamp: The Paintings of Charles Burchfield
By Natalie Haddad
Next Wave Art
Sharon Horvath: Parts of a World
Riccardo Vecchio: Recent Paintings
By Cora Fisher
Marcel Duchamp: The Art of Chess
Rakuko Naito: Permutation-Variant-Structure
Sally Mann: Proud Flesh
By Lyle Rexer
paperpatterncolorculture
Sandow Birk: American Qur'an
By Tessa DeCarlo
Saul Leiter: Paintings
By Roger Van Voorhees
Tauba Auerbach: Here and Now/And Nowhere
Letter from BERLIN
Chase to the Cut: DAVID FARLEY with Anne Pelletier
POETRY: The Poet of Post-modern Life
FICTION: Bildungsroman and Belonging
By Michelle AuBuchon
NONFICTION: After the Wall
By Matthew Jakubowski
FICTION: Lest We Forget
By Brock Kingsley
FICTION: Coming to America
By Bruce Seymour
NONFICTION: The Highest Branch?
By Anis Shivani
By Polly Rosenwaike, Raina Lipsitz, and Julia Powers
I Dub New York
By Dominic Umile
THROUGH THE PAST STARKLY
By Guy Patrick Cunningham
Grunge Before Grunge
Gentle Beauty Spilled
By Tsaurah Litzky
ALL AROUND BUT NEVER NEAR
Des Roar Unleashes Mad Things
By Megan Martin
NEW WORK, HISTORICAL PAIRING: Deborah Hay and Yvonne Rainier with MJ Thompson
Faint Impressions of Three New Ballets
By Mary Love Hodges
HIGH CONCEPT; DEEP IMPACT: Balletto Teatro Di Torino's Primo Toccare
By Dalia Ratnikas
Space and Cyberspace: URSULA ENDLICHER'S Internet in the Round
DOUGLAS DUNN: Sky Eye and Cleave at Danspace, St. Mark's Church
WILLIAM FORSYTHE'S Decreation at BAM
By Thom Donovan
The Balletomane, Slaked: EIDOLON'S DECOLOGY
Heaviosity vs. Fun
NOISE OF ART
Thinking Contextually in the Existential Whodunit
By Sean Glass
Heavy on Politics, Light on Fun
By Julia Sirmons
No Shadows to Hide In
By Ethan Spigland
The Personal Historical: Roger Guenveur Smith
By Kathryn Walat
Downtown Epic: TAYLOR MAC'S The Lily's Revenge
By Linda Leseman
LEMON ANDERSEN: From Public Enemy to Public Theater
By Kyle Thomas Smith
Scalping History: JULIA JARCHO with Richard Maxwell
STEPHEN ADLY GUIRGIS with Michael Benjamin
TWO FOR THE TIME: Reviving Susan Glaspell in New York
The River by Night
By Ronald De Feo
from The Case for My Father
By Alice Feiring
from Kali's Day
By Bonny Finberg
RERUNS REZOOMED: a serial novel
By Jonathan Baumbach
AS FEDERMAN USED TO SAY
Shitty Mickey
By John Reed and Michele Witchipoo
ANNIE FREUD with Marek Bartelik
FOR JONAS, BY WAY OF MAGRITTE
By Vyt Bakaitis
DELIBERATE PROOF
Unlike the Trees
By Frank Sherlock


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Contrast version
russian paralympic committee
rpc organization
Chairperson of the Governing Board, First Vice-President
Vice-persidents
Honorary Vice – Presidents and members of the Governing Boar
Regional offices of RPC
Committees, Commissions, Councils and working groups of RPC
Russian Federation of Sports for Persons with Physical Impairment
Russian Blind Sport Federation
Russian Federation of Sports for Persons with Intellectual Disabilities
Russian Cerebral Palsy Football Federation
Media about RPC
Russian Paralympic sport magazine
Competitions and nominations
European 10m Championships cancelled
Lasko, Slovenia was set to host the second edition of the competition in November.
The Lasko 2020 European 10m Championships scheduled in November in Slovenia has been cancelled.
The decision was announced on Monday (6 July) by the National Paralympic Committee (NPC) of Slovenia, the Lasko 2020 Local Organising Committee (LOC).
In April, the competition initially scheduled for 11-19 June had been postponed to 20-25 November due to the COVID-19 pandemic.
However, the government of Slovenia has now issued new restrictions for indoor public events and imposed quarantine for travellers from certain European countries in attempt to contain a new coronavirus outbreak in the region.
Due to the uncertainties caused by the pandemic, the LOC has decided to officially cancel the competition.
Lasko was set to host the second edition of the European 10m Championships.
Belgrade, Serbia, hosted the first edition in 2018 with 122 athletes from 27 countries.
paralympru@gmail.com
101000, Moscow, Turgenevskaya sq., 2
© RUSSIAN PARALYMPIC COMMITTEE, 2002-2016


If you cannot find the information you require please call our practice on 07 5548 8800 during surgery hours.
Medicross Jimboomba operates an appointment system. A standard appointment is usually adequate to deal with most health issues. If you are making an appointment for an insurance or employment medical, centrelink forms, procedure or complex/multiple problems, please ask for a longer appointment. Please ensure a separate appointment is made for each family member. Appointments are made for 10 minute intervals (depending on the doctor). Appointment slots are held aside each day for same day urgent consultations or sick children.
Medicross Jimboomba is a bulk billing practice. Patients who present with a current Medicare card or DVA card will be bulk billed for eligible services. Patients without a valid Medicare card will be charged a fee at the time of consultation.
Please ring our surgery on 07 5548 8800 to arrange an appointment or for further information regarding these services.
Medicross Jimboomba uses the Telephone Interpreter Service 1300 131 450 when required. We can organise an "over the phone" service or with 48 hours notice an "on site" service.
Special Interest: General Medicine, Men's Health and CDM Management.
Special Interest: General Medicine, Mental Health Management and CDM Management.
Special Interest: General Medicine, Women's Health and Palliative Care Management.


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Q: Famo.us paginated scrollview current page/view What would be the the best way to get the current view/page in paginated scrollview?
There are only gotonextpage and gotoprevious page methods in scrollview. I know I have some data at hand on scrollview.sync.on('end') event, but that looks like I need to calculate my self the current view/page somehow. (like the Shine demo with scroller)
There must be some easier approach I haven't spotted.

A: in coffeescript:
coverView.on 'pageChange', (e) ->
  p = coverView.getPosition()   # some weird value
  n = coverView._node.index
  console.log('coverView', e, n, p)

however, this only seems to work in one direction :)
https://github.com/Famous/views/issues/67


Kindly book in advance by an enough period of time to ensure the availability of the hall.
Finance charges are imposed on the hall and non-fundable.
The hall is dedicated for the use of formal internal and external events.
Kindly fill out the basic data (*) to ensure accepting your request.
Pay the fees before the reservation date.
The priority is given to the applications that have been received first.
In case of cancellation, please notify us immediately before 48 hours.
Please notify us immediately in the case of exceeding the reservation length for an extra day.
Please keep the cleanliness of the hall.
Please keep restrict with calm and order during the reservation period.
PACA does not provide additional electronic devices.
PACA is not responsible for any loss of personal property.
Kindly use the hardware/ furniture and rationalization of energy consumption during reservation period.
Please inform us for the need of technical service (Internet, projector, lights…) / maintenance.
In case of losing or destroying PACA's properties, the renters are responsible for paying the compensation / Fees reform.
PACA's administration apologizes for the acceptance of booking s in case of disruption of the lows and regulations.


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NORTH AMERICA, U.S.A, WORLD
Petrified opal tree trunk situated in Arizona it's about 225 million years old
January 3, 2020 Archaeology World Team Leave a comment
225 million-year-old fossilized tree trunk from the Triassic Period in The Petrified Forest National Park – Arizona
What happened to the wood that made it like this in the beautiful petrified trees in Arizona's forests? They believe petrified wood is so old that it emerged in the prehistoric period. But do you know how petrified wood was made? This guide will show you how. What is petrified wood and how is it formed?
Fossil wood is considered to have grown when the material of the plant is buried by sediment. When wood is buried deep in the muck it is protected from decay brought about by the exposure to oxygen and organisms.
And because wood is stored in deep water, the minerals in groundwater flow through the sediment, replacing the original plant material like silica, calcite, and pyrite.
There are even very expensive minerals that can infiltrate wood-like opal. The result is a fossil made from the original woody material that often exhibits preserved details of the tree bark, wood, and cellular structures.
This is possibly the most popular petrified parks in the world. The Petrified Forest National Park near Holbrook in northeastern Arizona has formed millions of years ago. About 225 million years ago, this was simply a lowland that has a tropical climate with a dense forest.
Rivers made by tropical rainstorms washed mud and other sediments. This was where you would find giant coniferous trees 9 feet in diameter and towering 200 feet lived and died.
Fallen trees and broken branches from these trees were buried by rich river sediments. Meanwhile, volcanoes nearby erupted numerous times and the ash and silica from these eruptions buried the area.
Eruptions caused large dense clouds of ash that buried the area and this quick cover prevented anything from escaping and of course, nothing can also move in, even oxygen and insects. In time, the soluble ash was dissolved by groundwater through the sediments. The dissolved ash became the source of silica that replaced the plant debris.
This silication process creates petrified wood. Aside from silica, trace amounts of iron, manganese and other minerals also penetrated the wood and this gave petrified wood a variety of colors. This is how the lovely Chinle Formation was made.
So how was this area discovered? Millions of years after the Chinle Formation were created, the entire area was dug and the rocks found on top of Chinle have eroded away.
What was discovered was wood here was much harder and resistant to weathering compared to the mudrocks and ash deposits in Chinle. Wood that was taken from the ground surface as nearby mudrocks and ash layers washed away.
Petrified Forest National Park is another world-class tourist site in the area, straddling Interstate 10 about 70 or 80 miles east of Meteor Crater.
The park covers 146 square miles. It's dry and often windy, but the elevation of 5400 feet means that it's not as hot as desert areas at lower altitudes, and it's mostly covered in the grass rather than cacti and other desert plants.
Of course, the big attraction here is the petrified trees, which grew here about 225 million years ago when this part of Arizona was at a much lower elevation near the shores of a large sea to the west.
As well as the trees, many fossilized animals such as clams, freshwater snails, giant amphibians, crocodile-like reptiles, and early dinosaurs have been found here.
At times volcanic ash was deposited on fallen trees in the forest here, and silica in the ash was dissolved by water and entered the trees, fossilizing them.
The silica in the logs crystallized into quartz, but often iron oxide and other minerals were mixed in, producing extraordinarily beautiful kaleidoscopic patterns and colors.
The petrified trees are often so attractive that a whole industry grew up around hauling them out from where they lay and cutting them up to make decorative furniture, wall displays, bookends, and other items. Theft from the park has always been a problem, and it's estimated that around 12 tons of fossilized wood are stolen each year.
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A crystal mountain in Egypt near an Oasis
A Man Renovating His Home Discovered A Tunnel… To A Massive Underground City
Mummy Found Hiding Inside Ancient Buddha Statue
Possible 16th-Century Spanish Anchors Found Near Mexico
Brainless Tourists Slaughter 5,000-Year-Old Sacred Scottish Tree
Newgrange: The Massive Irish Tomb That's Older Than The Pyramids


text:
Q: Start a thread as soon as a long post request comes in I am trying to upload an image. I need to start a synchronising thread as soon as the http request comes in. Presently my Grails code starts only after the entire post data has been received.

A: The controller is in fact invoked as soon as the request comes in. Only when the image data is fetched from the http request body does the code stall and wait for the upload to finish.