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The Second Chance Billionaire Cowboy – Book 1 – Sneak Peek
The Second Chance Billionaire Cowboy
Money can solve all her problems, but it can't mend a broken heart.
Stryder Flint returns to Two Rides, Montana and he's out to win back more than his reputation. He wants Melody Steel.
Growing up, they'd been inseparable but a last minute choice had stolen his heart and made him rich beyond measure. Too bad he could never buy what he truly wanted…
Flint and Steel made fire and she was done getting burned.
With more debt that she can comprehend after her dad died, Melody doesn't need her poverty rubbed in her face or that Stryder found happiness and money without her. All she'd ever done was make her loved ones miserable.
Well, no more. Stryder was free and Melody was going to keep it that way – no matter how much it tore her apart.
Melody's life would have been darn different, if Stryder Flint had never left.
Everything was or wasn't according to how it should be. Wasn't that her dad's favorite saying? Maybe she'd gotten it wrong. She didn't really care at that point.
Melody Steel wiped her hands on the threadbare kitchen towel hanging from the oven handle. She stood in the center of the once grand kitchen with her hands on her hips and slowly pivoted, surveying her cleaning job.
She'd swept, mopped, dusted anything she could reach, cleaned inside the nearly-empty fridge, reorganized all the chipped dishes in the cabinets, and scrubbed the windows more than once. Sleep had eluded her while she waited for news.
Her nerves were getting to her. If she didn't stop wiping the counters or doing the dishes, she'd wear a hole in something.
Cutting through the tension, the landline phone rang, the peel sharp and demanding in the strong acoustics of the house.
Melody jumped, folding her arms and taking a deep breath. The second ring seemed to jolt her into action and she swooped onto the phone, grabbing up the receiver and cradling the mouth piece in her other hand. "Hello?" Why did she sound all breathy and weird? The phone never rang unless a telemarketer felt lucky. Her hands shook, even as she tried being brave.
"Ms. Steel, it's Doctor Gideon. It's time." His words were nothing out of the ordinary, yet his tone promised she needed to be ready. "Your dad has passed."
Nodding, even though he couldn't see, Melody swallowed and murmured, "I… I understand. I'll be right in." She hung up, staring at the cream phone she'd never been able to talk her dad into getting rid of.
A memory of just a year ago flashed through her mind's eye.
Standing at the phone, Melody waved her hand at the old rotary piece while holding the pink bill in the other. Her voice broke as she tried convincing her father again. "We can't pay the phone bill when we have the electricity bill, Dad. We can't. This is not a priority. Keeping our food from spoiling is. We could save a lot of money, if you'd just get rid of it. Please."
He stood there, his bloodshot eyes wide as she spoke. Stooped shoulders that had once been strong and straight hunched inward. His barrel chest had taken on a concave form and he'd clung to a bottle of Wild Turkey. Shaking his head, he'd pushed close to the phone, gripping the handset but not pulling it from the base. His lips quivered. "No. She might call. This is the only number she knows." Even as drunk as he was, his words didn't slur.
Melody stared at him, sadness curling in her chest. She leaned close, tucking the bill in the pocket of his overalls. "She's not coming back, Dad. Mom left. She's not coming back." Why couldn't he accept it? Melody accepted it, no matter how much it hurt.
Even as the collectors circled like vultures, he'd never gotten so far behind on the phone bill that they would disconnect it. The power, yes, but not the phone.
The pain of the memory seemed fresh as she hung up the call. Closing her eyes, Melody sank to her knees in the middle of the peeling linoleum floor of the kitchen. If it wasn't for the alcohol her daddy drank to curb the pain of his wife leaving him, Melody wouldn't be in danger of losing her home and everything important to her.
She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking as hot tears coursed down her cheeks. The doctor had said it's time. All she needed was a break, but she didn't need her dad to die. Clint Steel tried so hard to be a good dad after his wife had left, Melody didn't blame him for his coping skills.
If she wasn't so against drinking, she could only imagine what she would do faced with the future she had ahead of her. What was she supposed to do there on that old ranch all by herself?
Drown in debt, apparently.
A few days since the call about her dad, Melody didn't worry that she'd missed a call on the landline phone. She disconnected it as soon as she'd gotten home from saying goodbye to her father.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the streaked glass of the front window, warming the hardwood floor. How did windows get dirty when no one was there to put their fingers on the glass?
Melody slid her black heels off, kicking them to the side as she stepped onto the warm rug and closed her eyes. Reaching up, she pinched the soft flesh of her neck. She was tense and didn't know if she'd ever feel rested again.
The funeral had been hard. Not only had her dad died a few days before, but the cost of the funeral had tacked itself to the mounting pile of debt and all she'd done while burying her father was itemize everything at the graveside service. The flowers had cost close to a hundred dollars. The casket a few thousand – and that was the base model! Melody had even had to accept a bill from the pastor who'd spoken over the body.
An obituary would be printed free of charge in a couple days, but Melody had gone with the basic information instead of creating anything worth cutting out and saving. Not many people had come to the funeral, but that wasn't because of anything other than Melody hadn't announced it in the paper. That cost money. Money she didn't have.
Plus, let's be honest, when people showed up, they expected refreshments of some sort. As it was, Melody could only offer dry ramen noodles and cold well water. That was no way to send off her dad.
To make matters worse, Mrs. Singhe had approached – the old biddy made it to every funeral and wedding in Two Rides as if it were her duty to attend. She'd shaken Melody's cold fingers – even though the day was warm with early afternoon summer heat – and she'd smiled with pinched creases framing her lips. "It's too bad about your daddy, Ms. Steel. I heard Stryder Flint has so much money, he could have thrown you a right proper funeral, if that hadn't been messed up." She'd eyed Melody without cracking a smile, her gaze skimming Melody up and down.
Pulling her fingers from Mrs. Singhe's grasp, Melody hadn't spoken or acknowledged that she'd spoken. She didn't have to be polite, not right then. She wasn't at work. Her customer service wasn't required as she stood beside the hole her father would be dropped into and covered with dirt.
How dare Mrs. Singhe mention Stryder Flint. As if the rags-to-riches cowboy had anything to do with Melody any longer. He'd left with her heart and hadn't looked back.
Of course, Stryder could have paid for a better funeral. With all his billions he could buy the town a couple times over. Everyone in Two Rides, Montana waited for the day he came back – not only to berate him for leaving the small town, but also to ask him for money.
The Steels weren't the only ones suffering from the devastated economy.
A knock on the front door startled Melody and brought her back to the present. Gritty dust coated her cheeks where the wind had whirled against her soaked skin. Why would anyone show up at her house so soon after the burial? Maybe the collectors resorted to showing up at her door instead of calling since she'd disconnected the phone. She wouldn't be surprised.
Although, she wouldn't be surprised at a lot of things.
Turning from the warm spot on the floor, Melody opened the door and raised her gaze. Her jaw stiffened and she lifted her chin. She was distinctly out of her element in her black mourning dress. She needed her jeans and t-shirt to feel more in control of the moment. Narrowing her eyes, she took a deep breath and waited for her visitor to speak.
Brock Stidwell. She clenched her teeth and closed the door halfway until she was able to block the bottom of the door with her foot so he couldn't push inside. The man had brutish down to a whole new science.
"Melody." He took his cowboy hat off and inclined his head, a stray lock of shiny strawberry blond hair fell across his forehead. The man wasn't sore on the eyes, but he expected a lot of allowances based on his looks and his personality grated on Melody's nerves.
"What do you want, Brock? Today… Today isn't the day." She didn't want anything to do with him. How many times did she have to say that? No matter how many times her dad had pushed her toward the Stidwell family, Melody hadn't been interested. She'd agreed to go on one date with him a few years back and that had been the most uncomfortable she'd been in her entire life.
She'd promised never to subject herself to that again.
His tall silhouette blocked the sun working its way over the field and across the deck planks. Pulling his hat from the crown of his head, Brock leaned against the doorjamb. "You need to marry me. I'll pay your bills and help you sell this place." Brock pleaded as he studied her hungrily. The man even had the audacity to lick his lips as he scanned her form with his gaze.
He'd had a thing for Melody for years, even longer than she'd known about him. The Stidwells lived on the south side of town, with their granary one of the last big businesses in the area still running. They had modest money but with the economy the way it was, they were rich compared to everyone else. Brock liked to remind Melody of that regularly when he came into the café.
Shaking her head, Melody stared belligerently at Brock. "I said no. Things haven't changed." She wasn't going to marry him and that was final. She'd rather end up a crazy cat lady than a Stidwell.
"Your daddy's dead, Melody. You can't stay here all by yourself. I know the situation with the bank and your other debts. If you don't come with me, you'll be out of your home. Who knows what that will lead to." He arched an eyebrow as if to suggest all kinds of fire and brimstone activity lay before her. The breadth of his shoulders would have been impressive, if she didn't know how rude he was to other waitresses and just how little he worked for the money he got from his dad.
"I don't need any one to help me figure out what to do." A sharp panic started to work its way through her chest. While it was true she didn't want help from him, Melody had to admit that she needed something from someone or she was going to lose the Steel home.
"If you don't take me, no one else is going to want you. I'm your last hope." He smiled, but it didn't come across as consoling with its oily edges and satisfaction.
"I'll take my chances." Melody set her jaw as she closed the door and locked it for good measure. She didn't need Brock or anything he offered. She wasn't that desperate – yet.
She didn't stay in the front room to see how long he hung around. Bending to grab her black heels, she rushed upstairs to her room and crawled into bed. Ignoring the scratchy tulle of her long black dress she'd borrowed from her mama's closet, Melody blinked back more depressed tears at the thought of the closet full of clothes the woman had left behind when she'd abandoned the Steel family.
Melody's mama had left without a solid goodbye. No reasons. Nothing. How long had Melody waited by the front door for her mom to return? Longer than her pride wanted to admit.
If her mother hadn't left, Melody wouldn't be stuck in the situation she was caught in. Her dad had always said if he'd only had enough money he wouldn't have lost his wife. But Melody didn't think that was the case or he would have sold the Corvette his dad had left him. The Steel family had always had enough. No, money couldn't have been the reason she'd left. Melody had always suspected her mom had left because of Melody, but she didn't know what she'd done.
With both parents gone, Melody was all alone. Not a big deal at her age, but she had the responsibilities of the ranch all on her and no way to bolster them. What was she supposed to do?
Melody curled onto her side, gripping a pillow to her chest as she stared at the peeling peach and cream wallpaper.
She couldn't breathe. She was going to lose her home and everything she owned because her alcoholic father couldn't keep a job and her own position at the café was only enough to keep the edge of the bills paid. Just the edge. She had no idea how much was due in total.
Tired of crying and worrying, Melody shoved the panic aside and closed her eyes. Her father was dead. She had no one else.
At least she had work. She could count on her job.
And even though her father's funeral had just ended, Melody had the graveyard shift at the café that night. She had to get some rest. She had bills to pay and taking a day off wasn't an option – no matter who had died.
Mrs. Singhe's mention of Stryder Flint fluttered through the back of her mind. Mrs. Singhe didn't have to bring the topic of the absent man to the conversation. Stryder was never far from Melody's mind. How could he be? He'd been the only thing holding her together for so long.
Dotty's Diner wasn't owned by Dotty but even the locals acted like they all knew Dotty and talked about her like an old friend when they sat at the faded and chipped tables.
Melody yawned as she wiped another empty booth. The all-night shift had sapped a lot of her non-existent energy. Her apron whacked the edge of the laminate table. Pushing the salt and pepper back to the side of the table nearest the wall beside the napkin holder, Melody bent down and wiped out the creases of the seats.
The door dinged as it opened. Not another customer. No, she wanted to go home to sleep – at least while she could sleep at her own house. She was just bone tired enough she might be able to get some rest this time.
Glancing up, she pasted a tolerant smile on in preparation of another customer. Her shoulders relaxed at the sight of Jesse, Melody's oldest friend, bustling through the door.
Jesse's dark hair pinned up in a bun enhanced the heart shape of her face. Her energy seemed more kinetic than anything as her petite shape moved gracefully around the edge of the counter. She grabbed her apron, jerking her chin upward at Melody. "Mornin', girl. You survive last night?" She arched an eyebrow at Melody and tied the apron strings to the pink and black polka-dotted piece. The apron even had ruffles but at least it had pockets. Melody tugged on the bottom hem of her matching apron and stood from the table.
Carrying the wet cloth loosely in her hand, Melody returned to the back-counter area and glanced in the direction of the kitchen. Tom, owner and operator and also surly cook, was nowhere to be seen. The man was a bully and Melody tried to stay out of his way more often than not.
Melody leaned close to Jesse, stacking napkins and silverware as she folded them together. She had to look busy in case the old man came out. He didn't like Melody and the feeling was mutual, but she needed the job. There weren't many in Two Rides. Everyone needed work and the truck stop style diner was one of the only places that stayed busy since they were right on a junction of two highways. Thankfully, the customers adored her which kept her job there safe.
"How you doin'? I wish you would've let me go to your dad's funeral yesterday. Mama said it was bad form on my part not to be there. It took nearly an hour to explain to her you told me I couldn't go. She'll probably ask you all about it when you come over next time. Like she doesn't believe me. That woman." Jesse shook her head, but her words lacked venom. She loved her family and it was more than evident by the things she did for them.
Melody blinked back tears, shaking her head. "Brock showed up." The long night and the events of the last few days wore on Melody. She couldn't feel lonelier or more fatigued than she did in that singular moment. What would everyone do, if she just laid down on the tiled floor and fell to sleep?
Jesse wrapped her arms around her and rested her chin on Melody's shoulder. "I know things seem bleak right now, but you can't marry Brock, Melody. He'll only cause you heart break." Jesse had known Brock because of her brother. Brock was a couple years older than the girls and he'd graduated high school before Jesse and Melody were even freshman. In a small town like Two Rides, the entire high school student body count wasn't more than fifty. Jesse's brother knew things about Brock that would never let Melody date him – no matter how badly her father wanted her to.
Melody nodded, grateful for the embrace, but she pulled back anyway. "I know. He offered to pay my bills, though. You know how enticing that is." If anyone got it, Jesse did. Melody offered a wet smile like she didn't mean it, but she did. Brock had more money than Melody did. She didn't like the guy much at all.
Even if she didn't like the guy, what if he was the only one who could ever love her? Loving her seemed to be too much effort, took too much out of people. Loving Melody had been too much for her mother and look what it had cost her father.
Jesse shot her a sympathetic smile. They'd covered the topic of Brock's money more than once in the past. As appealing as his cash was, Melody wouldn't marry anyone for their money. She refused. Plus, she was still holding out hope…
The television set up over the far side of the dining space was set to the news. The anchorwoman's voice cut through the silence that Melody and Jesse fell into.
"Not only is Flint Industries taking over Lexico Computers, but the CEO and owner, Stryder Flint, promises more jobs to the small town as he brings in his research and development team. On a more disappointing note to the young women out there, rumors have become more solidified around the Candy Cross and Stryder Flint union. Friends of the couple have reported the mention of dates and a guest list."
Melody turned to stare at the screen. "Are you kidding me?" She was waiting for a man who was moving on. When was she going to see that?
The diner phone rang and she reached for the earpiece. She didn't need Tom coming out to yell at her to answer the phone. "Dotty's Diner. This is Melody Steel." Why did she keep answering with her last name? Jesse shot her an amused glance. There'd be teasing when Melody hung up for sure.
"Melody Steel? This is Frank with Thompson and Thompson Mortgage. I've left you multiple messages on your home phone. You're a hundred-and-eighty days past due. You have thirty days to get caught back up on your payments or you'll be in foreclosure. If you happen to have a sell pending, we need to be made aware of that." His voice had the clipped tones of a man who wasn't taking anymore from a customer who obviously didn't have the means to pay.
Melody didn't wait to hear more. She lowered the phone piece back to its base and stared at the phone while the anchorwoman continued speaking. "…Stryder has made his own fortune and he's been heard saying more than once that he just wants to give back. Well, Stryder Flint, you're one amazing man."
Melody blinked back tears. If he'd been so amazing, why had he left? One more person who couldn't survive loving her. He'd left on a cloud of promises and Melody had held out hope all this time.
Regret was cold and so was loneliness. Melody didn't have time for either.
She had a home to save and no life vest to hold onto. She turned back to ring up the tickets in her apron pocket. How much would her thirty dollars in tips help out at the ranch?
Maybe she could sell her secrets about Stryder to the anchorwoman interested in his love life. Melody knew more about the ex-cowboy than anyone. He'd been her first love and she his.
That had to be worth something.
Dang, her life would have been so different, if she'd never met Stryder Flint.
Stryder
California billions beckoned but they had nothing on the sunsets of Montana or the smile of Melody Steel. Stryder Flint rolled his head on his shoulders, stretching after a long day at the office. He leaned back in his leather recliner and used his toe to turn him to face his ocean view window on the coast of California.
The cliffs of the shoreline reminded him of the jagged mountains surrounding his hometown. He missed the feel of the Montana air – it even had a cleaner scent than the ocean air did. Sure, the smell of the salty air was refreshing in its way and something Stryder had grown to love, but when you'd been on the back of a horse with the sun beating down on your back and the scent of wheat fields and fresh streams filling you, it was hard to beat with any other sensation on the earth.
Slightly ajar, the window let in the sounds of waves crashing beneath his home onto the rocks below.
He swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He wasn't sure of the name of his whiskey, only that his butler kept him well-stocked in the smooth alcohol. When he was feeling particularly melancholy, he reached for his secret stash of Wild Turkey – the same as Clint Steel.
Stryder's cell phone rang, sitting beside his laptop and a dossier on his newest business acquisition. He might be home from a long day at work, but that didn't mean work had ended. He loved working and he loved that it distracted him from overthinking the events of the last decade.
Moonlight would soon replace the setting sun over the water and Stryder's favorite time of day would be reflected in the waves. If he stood there long enough with the stars mirrored on the inky surface, he could almost pretend he was standing in a field in Montana with the biggest widest skies spread out around him.
Everyone said the ocean was the grandest thing you'd ever see, make you feel just how small you were. But Stryder knew that was a lie. He'd lived under the Montana skies and his soul ached to feel that complete again, to see the heavens spread out before him with no end in sight.
The call went to voicemail and he blinked. Shoot, he might have gone after the whiskey a little too fast when he'd gotten home. It'd been a hard day and he really just wanted to numb it all away.
His ringer peeled through the silence again and he leaned forward, sobering enough to focus on the call. He swiped the screen. "Stryder." He kept his tone light but professional, more habit than affectation.
"Mr. Flint, it's Marcie from Seek Realty. You're a lucky man. A nice chunk of land bordering your current piece of property in Clearwater County just went on notice. The piece will be up for auction in a month." The realtor's perky tone made it easy to make sense of what she was saying.
Stryder angled his head to the side, blinking hard as if everything was fuzzy but truth be told, nothing had been clearer. "Notice?" The only piece of property bordering his family land in Clearwater was the old Steel place. Last he'd checked, it was still owned by the family. "Notice? But that's not a guarantee the piece will go up. I asked specifically for when they were available or a guarantee." His hard tone suggested the time was a waste.
Marcie's tone dimmed enough to add her own level of professional ice. "Yes, sir, I know that. This particular piece is… shall we say, more of a guarantee than anything else. The homeowner has been given plenty of time. The bank has already given foreclosure notice – this isn't just a standard warning. It's in foreclosure, unless the back owed amount gets into the bank in the next thirty days. If the piece is sold, then the foreclosure can be avoided. The sum owed to the bank isn't a small one and compounded with all the fees, this owner doesn't stand a chance."
"How do you know this?" Stryder had hired Seek Realty because they were discrete and got things done. He paid them handsomely to find the types of properties he could work with, that he could make money from. They worked within his parameters and he usually didn't care how they got their information, just so long as they got it.
This time was different. This time the information was directly about her and anything and everything made a difference.
"Well, between you and me, my cousin works at the bank, Wendel. He lets me know on any pieces in the area that you might be interested in." A smug pride filled her voice.
"Wendel is your cousin? That's good to know." Wendel Singhe was married to Two Rides's busybody wife and between the two of them, there were no small-town secrets. Weasel Wendel had a nickname for a reason.
His information always had panned out, though.
"Let me know if you want it and I'll move in." A couple clicks in the background. "Check your email for MLS number. You can see the property but it's not on the market as of yet. I'm sure we can pull some strings and get things done without that happening. Thanks, Mr. Flint." Marcie hung up. She knew Stryder didn't like small talk and didn't like wasting time. They'd been working together long enough, she knew when the conversation was over.
Stryder dropped his phone to the table and turned his attention to his laptop. He pulled it onto the tops of his thighs and clicked on his email icon. The email was already there. He opened it, grimacing and sipping his whiskey again, welcoming the fire as he swallowed.
Clicking the link Marcie had sent, Stryder refused to believe the Steel place was up for sale. Wendel or Marcie had to be wrong. Nothing else made sense. Maybe the property was on the other side, which again, didn't make sense. That was national forest land and not usually up for sale. The property had been in the Steel family for generations. They would do anything to keep it.
The page loaded and he blinked, his lips falling open in shock.
Marcie had sent him the unlisted MLS, but it was still the property he knew like his own.
He slowly put his drink down. His pain at breaking his promise, so many promises, ate at him and the alcohol was one he could at least push to the side for the moment.
No. Not the old Steel place. Not when Stryder was just starting to get his act together, or, well, thinking about it. How could he go back to his land if Melody wasn't living on hers? He couldn't go back when he was close to labeling himself a drunk. No, he wasn't an alcoholic, not yet. He had to go back to Two Rides, but not until he was ready. And when he went back, he had to find Melody there.
If she wasn't there, then what was the point?
Why would the Steel family sell? Clint had never cashed the checks Stryder had sent so Stryder had always assumed he had money and his pride had kept him from depositing the money. The only thing that would make Clint sell was that they had no money. What had gotten so bad that Clint was losing the property?
Stryder pulled up the search engine on his computer and looked for the Two Rides Chronicle. He read it every once in a while to see if Melody would end up in the paper – like in the wedding announcements section.
He had a case of whiskey waiting for that day. He wasn't stupid. A woman like Melody Steel would be claimed the first chance she let a man stake her as his own. Stryder had tried to be that man, but she was no longer interested.
Stryder clenched his jaw. He didn't want to think about Melody moving on. The pain was still raw, would probably always be raw.
An obituary with Clint Steel's name at the top caught Stryder's eye and he stilled to read it.
Clint Steel passed away this last Monday. He was survived by his daughter, Melody, who continues to live at the family ranch.
That was it. The obituary was sparse with no mention of what had happened. No mention of Melody's mom who never came home. Stryder ready the short lines over and over, searching for some clue or hint of what the words weren't saying which was everything. Had Clint ever stopped drinking? Had Melody found out about anything between Clint and Stryder?
Clint Steel. Dead. Stryder couldn't believe it. Was that relief or just regret? He hadn't heard back from Clint in years, but Stryder had always held out hope Melody's dad was working behind the scenes to convince Melody that Stryder was the man for her. But hope faded and the things Clint had passed along had almost broken Stryder.
Almost. Alcohol had numbed the pain for him but just barely. He had to still function, to work on his empire so he could one day try to get Melody back.
That day had come.
He had to prove to himself he didn't need to drink. Stryder had seen the alcohol in Clint's cupboards. In fact, Stryder had stolen his first drink from the Steel stockpile where he'd developed his taste for whiskey. Then Clint had offered him a glass to seal the deal.
Melody had never known. Now that she had lost her father, she was about to lose her family's place, too. Why? What had happened? The newspaper didn't say much but taking that information and combining it with the information that Marcy had shared and Stryder could put two and two together.
She was in trouble. No matter what else had happened between them, no matter how much he'd let her down, Stryder couldn't ignore Two Rides any longer.
Melody was in trouble and it was time for Stryder to go home.
Melody had been painting her fake smile on her lips for such long periods of time over the last week or so, her cheeks hurt. She'd taken another extra shift and her feet screamed for a break, but she needed the money to make as many payments as she could. As long as she didn't think about the full amount due, she could chip away at it. She had to.
She shivered, unable to get fully warm the last few days. The power had been shut off at her house which meant cold showers and no fridge. Rolling the silverware beside the coffee maker was as close as she could get to a mini heater. Melody sighed, blinking hard to ward off her fatigue as she glanced out over the restaurant and the customers.
Her thoughts were jumbled. She'd shut off the unnecessary phone line. Her mom wasn't coming back. No matter how long her dad had hoped. Melody had to accept that about Stryder as well.
To make ends meet, Melody had to sell things off and she wasn't sure where to list items or even what would sell fastest.
Considering the customers in their seats, Melody pressed her lips together. If anyone was looking for farm equipment, those men would be the ones in the know. Gripping the black handle of the coffee pot, Melody pasted yet another fake smile on her lips and left the protection of the server staging area.
Approaching the packed booth of regulars, Melody licked her lips. The men knew her daddy was dead, but they hadn't really acknowledged anything else about the situation over the last few days. A few of them had dropped extra change for her tip, but that was about it. Rough farmers and ranchers, they probably didn't want to face Clint's mortality in order to avoid their own.
Sidling up to the open corner of the table, Melody cocked an eyebrow and smiled even broader. "How's the hashbrowns, guys? Anyone need a refill?" She held the pot aloft as if they didn't know what she was talking about. Those men would go through three or four decanters all by themselves on any given morning.
The group was ultimately morning people. They were up before the sun to work started on their farms and their ranches every day but Sunday. They stopped by the diner for coffee and a bite and to get a pulse on what was going on. If ever there were a water cooler space for a farmer, it was at his local diner with a cup of joe.
The chime from the door opening announced another arrival. Melody glanced over her shoulder long enough to see Jesse seat a man with his back to Melody in a black suit in a side booth. Melody turned back to the group.
"Melody, we were just talkin' about you." Ole Man Timmery tugged on the collar of his grass-stained coveralls and pointed at Jansen Stidwell. "Why won't you marry Brock already?" Brock was Jansen's son and everyone in town knew Brock planned on Melody being his bride. The Stidwells were the town bullies and most everyone gave them whatever they wanted.
Except Melody. She wouldn't marry Brock.
The muscles around her mouth tightened in irritation. Leaning over, Melody topped off the mugs in reach. A couple of the men covered the mouths of their cups as a sign they didn't want more. "How can I marry Brock when I'm in love with you, Randy?"
Brock wasn't the topic she wanted to pursue when she was so tired she might very well say something she shouldn't. Melody changed the subject. "Gentlemen, my daddy had the best farm equipment around. Would anyone be in the market?" She had more things, but she'd start with that. There was no sentimental value to the tractor or other items shacked up in the barn.
Mr. Stidwell leaned over, tapping the tabletop with the tip of his finger. He was the only one who wouldn't be out working the fields that day and his white button-up shirt testified to his expectations for his daily work. "I'm interested in buying Clint's '66 split window Corvette. I'll pay you top dollar for that piece and to sweeten the deal, I'll get Brock to leave you alone." He winked. If anyone could make Brock leave her alone, it was his father.
The group laughed, waiting for Melody's reply. Stidwell had been bugging Clint for that car since before Melody could remember. Clint had never hinted that it was a possibility. He'd had too much fondness for the Corvette that his dad had bought brand new. Selling it to Stidwell seemed like a cop out.
Melody paused, she couldn't imagine selling the car. That was her daddy's most valued prized possession. He'd loved that car almost as much as he'd loved Melody – maybe more.
The men waited for an answer. Melody brightened her smile. "Tell you what, Mr. Stidwell, I'll think about your offer. The price won't be low, if I go that route. And getting Brock to back off will only be the start." She smirked as if she were teasing, but deep down, she knew, if she were going to sell the Corvette, it wouldn't be for a small pittance. Her daddy's toy. She couldn't sell that old car, but she might have to consider it. Something big was going to have to go – the house was the top of the list.
"Let me know if you need anything, guys." She turned, pulling the pad of paper from her pocket to make sure she'd written down Stidwell's extra bacon that morning to charge him. She was tired and if she didn't double-check things, she forgot easily. She padded carefully down the aisle, retucking her ticket pad into her large apron pocket and sighing.
"Excuse me, I might be on the market for some farm equipment." That voice. She'd know that voice anywhere. It had been years since she'd heard him speak just to her and her reaction was just as palpable. Of their own volition, her toes curled in her white tennis shoes and her shoulders tensed.
Melody broke stride, jerking to a stop. She took a deep breath and turned slowly to face the table Jesse had sat the newcomer at. The newcomer wasn't some random stranger passing through.
Stryder had come home.
His voice matched the man he'd become.
Smooth, velvety, and something bold. His high cheekbones and hooded eyes only enhanced the masculine bend in his jaw and the thick brown hair unadorned with a hat. Every man wore a cowboy hat around Two Rides. The absence didn't make him seem weaker or less than. In fact, Melody could easily imagine reaching out and running her fingers through the soft, shiny strands.
She wanted to touch him, throw herself in his lap and beg him to tell her why he hadn't come back for her. The smoldering heat in his eyes promised something she didn't trust anymore.
His eyes. Why? Why did they have to be so deep and knowing? The brown left her knees weak and if she didn't do something, she was going to throw the pot of coffee into his lap. As her control threatened to abandon her, she couldn't help wondering if dumping the hot liquid over him would be a bad thing.
A chill broke out over Melody's skin followed by a hot flush that left her shaking. She didn't even smile as she turned from him and his angular jaw. Dang his good looks! Long strides carried her to the counter and she nudged Jesse who was pulling on her jacket. "A little bit of a heads up would've been nice." Although, to be fair, it wasn't Jesse's fault Melody had been taken by surprise.
Jesse cast a curious glance at the booth. "What?" She turned back to Melody, swiping lip gloss over her lower lip. "I didn't get a chance to look at him. Is he cute? I'm trying to get home. Mom's not feeling very well again and she needs help with one of her jobs." Money was tight with everyone and Jesse helped her mother at home with her tailoring work while also helping with the bills.
"You sat Stryder. Stryder Flint. In my section." Melody set her jaw, careful to keep her back to the restaurant. She couldn't go back out. Not with Stryder sitting there. What was he doing? Why did he have to come in when she was drowning in debt, desperate for cash and he lived in an ocean of money? He couldn't have come in at a worst time. She was exhausted, hadn't slept much over the last week, just finished a long graveyard shift, and who knew the last time she'd eaten a solid meal was.
Jesse's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?" She leaned over, glancing toward the booth and then, eyes wide, she looked at Melody. "I didn't even recognize him. I'm… Wow, I don't know what to say. What are you going to do? I can't stay to help, Mel. I'm late as it is." She pulled off her apron and tucked it into her cubby under the register.
"Melody, get out there and serve the customer." Tom leaned out of the order window and pointed toward Melody. "You're going to get out of here, Jesse, unless you want Melody's shift." He arched a bushy eyebrow and settled back on his feet, flipping hashbrowns and grunting at his assertiveness.
Heart sinking, Melody half-turned to grab a tray and a glass of ice water. A cell phone rang in the distance and Melody glanced at Jesse.
"He's on the phone. She can't go over yet." Jesse offered a look of sympathy and mouthed, "Call me." With one last glare at Tom, Jesse left the diner. Melody didn't blame her. She had other responsibilities and it wasn't fair to ask Jesse to cover for her.
Melody had to be over Stryder. It wasn't Jesse's problem Melody couldn't go out there. Not when it was only because Melody was still so hurt by being abandoned by Stryder that she didn't want to go serve him. Damaged pride was no reason to run from duty. Plus, he had money. Maybe he'd tip her really well.
The dulcet tones of his deep bass voice sent shivers down to her toes. She'd sworn the next time she heard his voice she would have some witty comment and maybe even slap his face. Neither was an option at the moment and that just increased the bitterness in Melody's heart.
He didn't have to come back better looking – which she hadn't thought possible. The cameras hadn't done him justice. Melody worked her throat at the sudden dryness in her mouth. Everything about Stryder left her bothered. Why did he have to come back?
Who cares that she'd been dreaming and praying for so long that he'd return? There was too much under the bridge between them. How could she ever get him to love her again, when she wasn't sure why he'd stopped?
Why was he there? Why couldn't he just stay away? He'd been the one to leave before. Of course, he would be there at the lowest point of her life. Wasn't that the way of their relationship?
She took a deep breath and ignored Tom's glare. As long as Stryder was on the phone, Melody didn't have to approach him.
Maybe he'd be on his call for a year. Melody could handle that. She could handle the heat he spread through her body. She could even handle the way her pulse shifted when he looked at her.
She could handle anything but going up to take his order. That was just asking too much.


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Joan Bennett Kennedy Biography, Life, Interesting Facts
Manhattan, New York, United States of America
Joan Bennett Kennedy is an American socialite, writer, pianist, and former model who is best known for her marriage to politician Ted Kennedy.
Early Life & Family
Virginia Joan Bennett was born on September 2, 1936, in Manhattan, New York City. Her father, Harry Wiggin Bennett Jr, was an advertising executive. Her mother's name was Virginia Joan Stead. When she was two years old, her younger sister, Candace, was born. She spent most of her childhood in the village of Bronxville, New York. In her teenage years, she worked as a model in TV advertisements.
Joan Bennett attended Manhattanville College in the town of Purchase, New York. There, she befriended Jean Kennedy and Ethel Kennedy, members of the Kennedy family. After earning her bachelor's degree, she got married. She continued her education after ending her marriage. In 1982, she obtained a Master's degree in education from Lesley University.
In 1957, Jean Kennedy introduced Joan Bennett to her brother, Ted Kennedy. The two of them began a relationship and soon got engaged. They had a small wedding ceremony in Bronxville in November 1958. In 1960, they had a daughter named Kara.
She went on to become a philanthropist and producer. In 1961, they had a son named Ted Jr. He went on to become a lawyer and politician. In 1964, they had a stillborn son. Jean also suffered several miscarriages. In 1967, they had a son named Patrick. He went on to become a politician and activist.
Virginia Joan Bennett supported her husband throughout his career. In 1964, he was in a plane crash and suffered a severe back injury. She continued his campaign for the U. S. Senate and made all scheduled appearances instead of him. In 1969, Ted was involved in a car accident in Massachusetts.
His co-passenger was Mary Jo Kopechne, a staff member in his brother's presidential campaign. She died in the accident and he fled the scene. Joan attended Mary's funeral and stood by Ted when he admitted in court that he had fled the scene.
In 1973, Joan's son, Ted Jr, developed bone cancer and had his leg amputated. In 1978, she and her husband separated. They kept their split a secret and appeared in public together until 1981. They finally got an official divorce in 1983.
After her divorce, Virginia Joan Bennett started giving piano lessons to children. She also performed occasionally and took part in several charities. She released the book The Joy of Classical Music: A Guide for You and Your Family in 1992.
Joan started struggling with alcoholism. She was arrested for drunk driving several times and had to attend court-ordered rehabilitation. Her drinking damaged her kidneys and she had to undergo dialysis.
Virginia Joan Bennett once got drunk, passed out in the streets, and broke her shoulder. The court ultimately ordered for her estate to be put in trust with two legal guardians. In 2005, she had surgery for breast cancer. In 2009, Ted died of brain cancer and Joan attended his funeral. In 2011, their daughter Kara died of heart failure.
September 2 Horoscope
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


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True Detective S1E2 Recap: "Mainlining The Secret Truth of the Universe"
January 5, 2019 Poor Man Staff	Leave a comment
With the new Season of True Detective hitting HBO at the end of January, we're taking a look back at the series thus far. Today we continue with Season 1, Episode 2, "Seeing Things."
In the first episode we get to meet Rustin "Rust" Cohle (Matthew McConaughey) and Martin "Marty" Hart (Woody Harrelson). Two detectives for the Louisiana State Police Criminal Investigations Division. In 1995 they begin working on the case revolving around the murder of Dora Lange. She was found naked, posed to kneel at the base of a tree, with a crown of antlers on her head. In 2012 the former detectives are now being interviewed by current detectives Papania (Tory Kittles) and Gilbough (Michael Potts) looking back at the case after another body was found matching similar details to Dora Lange. The question that lingers now, "How could it be him, if we already caught him in '95. How indeed detectives?"
The majority of this episode is spent informing us on who Rust and Marty are. We learn that Rust was married and had a daughter that was hit by a car when she was 2. Her death tore apart his marriage and him and his wife got divorced. After his daughter's death he began working drug busts, would get into dangerous situations with it every single night. He kept going and eventually killed a crystal meth addict who had injected his own baby with the drug. His superiors sent him undercover and he was used as a liaison for any and every department that needed a mole in the drug world. Eventually he ended up killing drug cartel members, and was sent to a psych ward for a few months to help get him out. He was offered a retirement package but decided to transfer to homicide and was placed in Louisiana. Rust still deals with synesthesia and flashbacks from his drug use during his undercover years.
Marty talks a bit about an affair he had on his wife Maggie (Michelle Monaghan) with a young clerk at the courthouse named Lisa (Alexandria Daddario). He explains that for him it was a way of washing off the job. A filter between his work life and his home life with his family. It's clear that he's not proud of what he did, but he understands why it happened.
There's not much involving the investigation in this episode, and most of the scenes in '95 reflect the backstories revealed for Rust and Marty. With the two of them arguing when Rust suspects Marty of cheating, after he had spent a night with Lisa. They notify Dora's mother of her passing, and go to a bunny ranch where Dora worked as a prostitute. There they find a diary where she had made notes about "the yellow king." Marty also yells at the madame of the property for having underage girls there. The diary contains a flier for a church, but when they find it, the chapel has been burnt down with only a few walls remaining. It seems like a dead end at first, until Rust finds a painting on one wall of a woman with Antlers. Similar to what Dora looked like when they found her.
"Yeah, back then, the visions, yeah most of the time I was convinced… Shit… I'd lost it. But there were other times… I thought I was mainlining the secret truth of the universe."
The biggest highlight continues to be the performances of Harrelson and McConaughey. There's a scene in 2012, when McConaughey is explaining the death of his daughter, that is incredibly intense and heartbreaking. He explains that he feels as though his daughter saved him somehow from the guilt of being a parent. That this world is too dark and disturbing to bring children into. It's a very controlled performance by McConaughey and one that shows the depths of his talent. At the same time Harrelson's quiet reflection as Marty thinks back to his past is incredibly underrated. We see that he's just as tortured by the demons of his past as Rust is, but somehow it's even more internal than what Rust's feelings are. While Rust can wax poetic on the intricacies of the world and life, to help express his deeper feelings, Marty simply keeps it all in and tries to rationalize it without breaking.
The first season of True Detective is currently available on HBO Now, HBO Go, and HBO on Demand. Check back with us tomorrow when we dive into the third episode of True Detective Season 1, "The Locked Room."
HBOMatthew McConaugheyMichelle MonaghanTrue DetectiveTrue Detective Season 1TVWoody Allen
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This is the stable version, checked on 17 December 2017. 2 pending changes await review.
Frank Kidson - British Music Publishers, Printers and Engravers (1900, pp. 156-158):
Wright, Daniel, senior & junior. Though generally considered as but one, there were two music sellers of this Christian and surname, father and son, and their publications contain much curious matter. So far as I may surmise Daniel Wright was established at the beginning of the eighteenth century, though the earliest date I can definitely find for him is 1709. His shop was next door to a celebrated tavern--the "Sun"--the one in Holborn, for there were two hostelries of that name, both famous. Wright's shop was at the corner of Brook Street, between Gray's Inn Lane and Furnival's Inn on the northern side of Holborn. He styled himself maker of musical instruments, and no doubt he did a large music selling trade. Like the rest of the music trade he had engraved slips, which he pasted over the imprints of music sold by him but not of his own pubication. One of these over a dance book issued by John Walsh is: Sold by Daniel Wright, musical instrument maker, next door to the Sun Tavern, near Brooke Street, in Holborne, 1709." Wright and the elder Walsh appear to have been, in a great measure, rivals, as Walsh, in his early day, copied more or less closely the titles of Henry Playford, so Wright did the same by Walsh. Wright for instance issued "The Monthly Mask of Vocal Music," which is precisely the same title as Walsh used for a similar work, and Wright for this same work has engraved a rough copy of one of Walsh's pictorial title pages. Wright also published a "Merry Musician," and a "British Musical Miscellany, or Delightful Grove" titles which Walsh used before him. I have also found that he made direct copies of the small oblong dance books, which Walsh issued about 1714, etc. Did more examples of Wright's publications exist further instances might be pointed out. Sor far as I have yet found Daniel Wright, the elder, did not use any sign or emblem for his shop, though his son, when he set up in business for himself, used at least two different ones. It is probable that Daniel Wright, the elder, gave up business or died sometime near the year 1734. Meanwhile his son Daniel had, perhaps about 1725, established himself in St. Paul's Church Yeard, at the sign of the "Golden Bass," which may, or may not, have been the shop J. Clarke and John Hare had held under the sign "The Golden Viol." For some years the Wrights' published works in conjunction and these have the two names and addresses on the imprint. About 1735 Daniel Wright, junior, changed his sign to the "Violin and Flute," but as he was still on the north side of St. Paul's Church Yard it is probable that he did not remove from the premises. I have not found out when he ceased business, but it was likely before 1740.
Whether the whole or part of his stock-in-trade was bought by John Johnson, of Cheapside, I am unable to say, but Johnson certainly re-published two volumes of Country Dances in oblong 8vo, which were entitled "Wright's Compleat Collection of Celebrated Country Dances," vol. 1st and 2nd. The preface to volume one is singed D. Wright, and the two volumes are advertised on one of Wrights' books.
Hawkins sums up the character of the elder Wright as a man 'who never printed anything that he did not steal' (History of Music, Novello ed., p. 884). However, as has been pointed out, Hawkins is not always reliable, and as Kidson notes (above), in a time of few copyright protections it was a fairly common practice for music sellers to 'borrow' from one another.
Pending changes


Look away, look away! Season two of A Series of Unfortunate Events has returned, continuing the grim tale of the Baudelaire children. Overall, season two is exceptional and continues to sustain the unique blend of dark comedy and colorful tragedy that the first season was known for.
The second season of A Series of Unfortunate Events covers five books of the Lemony Snicket series: The Austere Academy, The Ersatz Elevator, The Vile Village, The Hostile Hospital and The Carnivorous Carnival. Just as last season, each book is covered within two episodes a piece – for a season of ten episodes in total.
The season begins with a familiar structure akin to season one. The children find themselves in someone else's custody, be it a school or guardian or even a collective village. Armed with nothing but wit and gumption (and perhaps a brilliant baby with super-biting ability), they then must solve the mysteries of their latest two-episode chapter. All the while, foiling Count Olaf's plans and by happenstance, amassing clues as to what truly happened in their parent's mansion fire.
With this comes the usual hurdles to surmount with assistance. Overcoming the incompetence of their surrounding adults – especially that of their assigned guardians of the moment, by making friends along the way who are, as foretold by our narrator, Lemony Snicket, more-or-less are often doomed to a grisly and unfortunate fate.
Though by mid-season, things change for the better. The characters grow along with the storytelling. The format shifts and becomes more consequential. Less the formula the series was known for, and more of a never-ending race to avoid a miserable fate. Evil closing in just as the answers sought are at the children's grasp.
With previous episodes' actions dictating the escapes routes our heroes frequently must make. Season two very much focuses on growth by using the element of choice. The noble decisions made, but also, the wrong ones. How good people can make bad choices and at what costs.
Which as we know in this series, usually means death.
The season also brings more to light on the mysterious VFD. An organization with strange ties to the Baudelaire family, who 'secretly' tries to help from behind the scenes. We see the organization operate parallel to the children's narrative. Though we're also left just outside of its intentive loop until the end.
Of course, all of this is happening while the Baudelaire's try and evade the dastardly Count Olaf. Who is still trying to pursue the orphans' fortune – albeit as to no discernable reason why, as the series gets muddled with motivation midway.
By the middle of Season Two, I didn't understand why Olaf wanted the kids anymore. If he was out for revenge or if it was just blind stubbornness. Especially with the introduction of the brilliantly placed, Esme Squalor.
The series tends to generate more questions than answers. With some of the longstanding ones, like what the VFD is, what happened during the fire, and what the deal is with this sugar bowl this season – all left semi-unanswered. By the end of season two, I didn't fully know what was going on. But none of it seems to matter for a story bound by absurdity. It's compelling to watch just for sheer entertainment.
Visually, the show remains sharp. Utilizing a palate mixed of steampunk, gothic, Art Deco, and Victorian aesthetics this season. Featuring elaborate costumes designs, especially for count Olaf and troupe, and set-pieces that colorfully encapsulates the strange world it depicts. Especially, its contrarian nature.
Cafe Salmonella. A fancy Salmon…everything.
Likewise, the show remains consistency in its stylish tone. The focus on the importance of vocabulary and literature is still excellent. The series, always taking a step back to thank books, words, and most especially, librarians. Likewise, the deadpan delivery of Lemony Snicket delivers a hilarious interlude between scenes. He always reassures the audience, that despite resolve, gloom will always be the wholehearted nature of the series. Also, the mechanical steampunk era contraptions are still there. Providing absurd context as to when this story takes place, and also, comedy. With hilarious bits involving a state-of-the-art computer and a tumbling exchange between an airship and a harpoon, showcased later.
More than ever, Neil Patrick Harris steals the show. His Count Olaf, equally menacing as he is unpredictable. Just as last season, Olaf forays into playing a melody of ill-conceived characters. None-of-which are culturally consistent nor sensitive. Showing Neil Patrick Harris' range of acting talent – or intentionally lack-there-of, for the comedy in the series.
In fact, there are lot of disguises outside of Count Olaf this season. None of them well-conceived for the audience, yet for some odd reason, are impeccably deceptive in this show's world. Again, following this rule of absurdity: that adults can't see what's blindly in front of them compared to children.
The reason I mention this was several critics have questioned the tastefulness of the series' sensitivity toward culture with some of these disguises. Personally, I found the series consistently knowledgeable of its intended ignorance. With no particular gibe aimed at one group over another. The series emphasizing the lack of wit of its villains. Though it is still important to mention for sake of discourse. Especially after the accusations against the series author, Daniel Handler. Though it should be noted, Handler has nothing to do with the Netflix series, outside of his material being adapted.
On a lighter note, this season's musical numbers really stood out. With excellent performances such as Count Olaf's "Keep Chasing your Schemes" and "Welcome to the House of Freaks" these were some of the best numbers of the series. With Neil Patrick Harris showcasing his best singing and acting talent.
Likewise, the acting has truly stepped up a notch. Lucy Punch, as Esme Squalor was a perfect addition to the cast. Her range is equally compelling to Neil Patrick Harris', and above all else, is upliftingly nefarious in the worst of ways. Her screen time charisma is surpassed only by her elegance, with many comparisons to a Cruella DeVille of the sorts. Above all, Lucy Punch's role provides such a standalone counterpart to the villains of the series – a wonderful addition.
The Baudelaires remain consistent. A wholesome presence amongst the dire nature of the series. They continue to operate with reason and pontificate with precision. Louis Hynes and Malina Weissman, the actors who play Klaus and Violet Baudelaire, remain always on point and in character. They seem better settled into their established roles in season two. Baby Sunny Boudelaire, played by Presley Smith, now a toddler, is likewise, still as refreshingly adorable as ever. She provides comedic relief and occasional hero of the day.
There are also many new faces to the cast. In the beginnings of season two, the family shares screen time with the Quagmire family, played by newcomers Dylan Kingwell and Avi Lake. The Quagmires seem similar to the Baudelaires. Their backstory is tragic but also, each member specializes in a particular skill. Isadora (Avi), with poetry, and Duncan (Dylan), with journalism.
Likewise, season two also focuses on two very special characters. Jacques Snicket, played by Nathan Fillion, is brother to Narrator Lemony Snicket, and the primary rival to Count Olaf. His story is very much that of the hero and his screen time with Neil Patrick Harris, feels very reminiscent of the duo's performance in the cult classic, Dr. Horrible's-Sing-Along Blog.
Olivia Caliban, played by Sara Rue, is a librarian of Prufrock Preparatory School whose good nature, aptitude and curiosity, lead her on a perilous journey parallel to the Baudelaire's misfortunate one. She becomes a much needed ally and a useful perspective of interest into the inner workings of the series mysterious origins.
Overall, season two holding strong characters through and through.
The show is a black comedy based on a children's book series. It's intentionally absurd in the ways all things are to the eyes of a child. That said, it's nefarious but in a light way. Enjoyable and encourages learning – especially, reading.
Watch season two if you enjoyed the first season. Expect more of the same but with a bit extra. With only one season remaining, A Series of Unfortunate Events will bow out in a way that's hopefully faithful to the books. I'd definitely recommend it to a friend. Preferably, one into campy, evil misfortune.


The intent of this paper is to consider the integral role ambiguity plays in our being and perception of the world. The paper explores the ways sensual data— through vision, experience, and scientific experimentation—evidence the limited perspective we have in our universe. I have focused on issues of perception, time, and space: combining phenomenological and existential views of consciousness with philosophies on art, works of art that encourage us to wonder, and scientific research that speaks to the ambiguous nature of the world we exist in.
The following ideas are a culmination of research related to the visual work completed during my studies in the MFA Visual Studies program. It expands on my exploration of line, color, time, and space through drawing, sculpture, and installation.


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Living Out Our Desert Dreams at HIPICO Santa Fe
by Kate Kosnoff / On Location
ll that is old in Santa Fe is new again, and that is exceptionally evident in the fact that horses are still ingrained in the culture of the city. Rather than carrying the Spanish conquistadors into battle as they did during the 17th and 18th centuries, horses now live the life at the HIPICO Santa Fe show venue. And if you thought this was just another horse show, think again.
Rather than fight against the arid desert climate, HIPICO Santa Fe embraces every aspect of Southwestern culture. With the signature turquoise and orange colors, mountain views from the Grand Prix Field, and ringside cabanas, the Santa Fe Summer Series is more than just another rated show. Did I mention the weekly Sunday champagne brunch in the VIP Lounge? What about the effortless blend between luxe Italian show coats and hand-painted cowboy boots?
The VIP Lounge itself is a draw all on its own. The billowing, elegant white tents hold an artfully decorated, eclectic southwestern space that is anything but boring. The decor - the stuff of Pinterest visions - hosts pieces by local artisans, including paintings, decorated longhorn skulls, rugs, furniture, and even ringside cabanas, where guests can soak up the full show-cation vibe while watching the biggest classes of the day. Each cabana is decked out in a unique fashion by a different sponsor, adding to the fresh, modern feel of the VIP experience.
"You think, 'that's the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen' and then 15 minutes later you say 'no, that's the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen'"
If you're not convinced that desert chic dreams are made of HIPICO, maybe I should tell you that Santa Fe is home to natural hot springs and award-winning restaurants. Oh, and HIPICO's florist, the world-renowned Betsie Smith, has designed gardens at the Smithsonian in the past (amongst many other epic achievements). "Double rainbows, dancing rain. You think, 'that's the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen' and then 15 minutes later you say 'no, that's the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen'," says Betsie, when asked why this area is so inspiring for her craft. "Santa Fe is visually fantastic—with the culture, wildlife, elevation, and so much more."
Related: Wish You Were Here - Aachen Needs To Go On Your Bucket List
Finding creative freedom within the forward-thinking, artsy HIPICO team, Betsie has crafted an earth-toned array of local blooms that cover the VIP Lounge like a soft desert blanket, with an ever-so-southwestern twist - traditional vases have been replaced by boots of all shapes and sizes. "Arranging the flowers for [the lounge] has given me an opportunity to put my two passions together, horses and flowers—how much better could it get?" she explains, brimming with excitement and passion. "It gives me pride, because I've participated in VIP Lounges around the country and to walk into ours, it's a notable difference - [partly because of our local artistic talent] as well as our fascination with fabulous southwestern style. [It's also just the feeling of the space] - letting there be a casual atmosphere with the cabanas [feels really different, really special]."
Time to wrangle up that turquoise jewelry your grandmother gave you when you were 13, drape yourself in a fringe-y poncho, and scoot on over to the Santa Fe Summer Series.
Photos by Mary Neiberg. Feature photo by Pamela McGroarty.
Written by Kate Kosnoff
Kate Kosnoff is an equestrian journalist, blogger and photographer. When she isn't working, Kate can usually be found sipping green tea, scrolling through Twitter, or petting her horses—sometimes a combination of the three. She is based in Indiana and can often be spotted in jumper rings across the Midwest and Florida aboard her strawberry roan, Waffle.


If you've been following along on our 15-year-old's medical saga of the past two months, you know things are rather crazy in our home. I'm sad to say that this faint-free spell only lasted a week. We've had code blue calls from her school the past two days in a row again.
Our nerves are so tightly strung that the phone can't ring or a door open without us physically jumping, every muscle tightly wound, ready to respond to the next medical crisis. Rick called to say, "I love you," yesterday, and instead of answering the phone with my typical "Hi Handsome," I saw his number on the screen and grabbed it with a panicked, "Is everything OK?" God is the anchor we are clinging to, but this is HARD!
While our 18-year-old was driving our girl and me to her doctor yesterday, our son nearly had to pull over the car because of sudden, rather intense chest pain and trouble breathing. He got us safely to her doctor, I called my mom to come take over with R., then I rode along with J. who was able to drive himself to urgent care two blocks away. A breathing treatment did wonders and our oldest is now carrying an asthma inhaler. So thankful this medical issue was quickly addressed and had a cut and dry solution!


South Africa's governing African National Congress (ANC) has formally asked President Jacob Zuma to resign for the sake of the country.
But despite the ANC's top leadership deciding to "recall" him "urgently", the scandal-hit Mr Zuma was still in power on Tuesday.
Ace Magashule, the ANC's secretary-general, told reporters the party's National Executive Committee (NEC) decided the removal should be "treated with urgency".
"The NEC has noted South Africa is going through a period of uncertainty and anxiety as a result of unresolved matter of transition," he said.
Mr Magashule said the country needed to build on the "renewed hope" felt after the election of Mr Ramaphosa as ANC leader.
"It is obvious we want Comrade Ramaphosa to come in as the president of South Africa," he added.
He said the president was expected to respond to the NEC's decision on Wednesday, although they had given him no deadline.
"When we recall our deployee, we expect our deployee to do as asked," Mr Magashule said.
ANC NEC member Lindiwe Zulu told the BBC the party will give Mr Zuma an opportunity to respond to its request.
"There is no guillotine here. He is a comrade," she said.
South Africa's opposition parties have already expressed reservations about the ANC's confidence that Mr Zuma will step down.
"The only way to remove Jacob Zuma as president of our country is for parliament to do so through a motion of no confidence," the Democratic Alliance (DA) tweeted.
It called the motion brought by another opposition party, the Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF), to be brought forward from 22 February so parliament can "remove Jacob Zuma".
Although it was hardly an unexpected announcement, there was still a sense of disbelief among the waiting journalists as Mr Magashule announced the NEC has asked Mr Zuma to step down.
After such a long wait, we had half expected the ANC to say they had given him more time, or reached some sort of compromise.
But surprise gave way to bemusement as Mr Magashule side-stepped repeated requests for clarification on what the ANC will do if President Zuma refuses to resign by Wednesday.
As for whether the ANC would support an opposition motion of no confidence, Mr Magashule said he did not know.
But when asked what Mr Zuma said when he was told of the NEC's decision, Mr Magashule choice of words were pointed: the president had said he was "a disciplined member of the ANC".
It was a term repeated several times during the briefing.
In other words, as far as the ANC is concerned – it is done.
Is Mr Zuma legally obliged to quit?
In terms of the constitution, it will require the entire cabinet to resign and for the parliamentary speaker to serve as acting president until MPs elect a new president.
It wants to project a fresh image for next year's general election. Having served two terms in office (South African presidents are elected by parliament), Mr Zuma cannot legally return to power in any case.
"Anyone from the ANC that wants to lead this country, must get their mandate from the people of South Africa," DA leader Mmusi Maimane told reporters.


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Energy Seminar: Nanostructured Functional Materials by Atom Transfer Radical Polymerization
Time: Wed Sep 10, 2014, 4:00PM - 5:00PM
Dr. Krzysztof (Kris) Matyjaszewski
J.C. Warner Professor of Natural Sciences
Many advanced nanostructured functional materials were recently designed and prepared by controlled/living radical polymerization (CRP). More than 100 million tons of polymers are produced annually world-wide by conventional radical polymerization. However, macromolecular engineering is impossible in this process. Copper-based ATRP (atom transfer radical polymerization) catalytic systems with polydentate nitrogen ligands are among most efficient controlled/living radical polymerization systems. Recently, by applying new initiating/catalytic systems, Cu level in ATRP was reduced to a few ppm. ATRP of acrylates, methacrylates, styrenes, acrylamides, acrylonitrile and other vinyl monomers was employed for macromolecular engineering of polymers with precisely controlled molecular weights, low dispersities, designed shape, composition and functionality. Examples of block, graft, star, hyperbranched, gradient and periodic copolymers, molecular brushes and various hybrid materials and bioconjugates prepared with high precision will be presented. These polymers can be used as components of various advanced materials such as health and beauty products, bio-medical and electronic materials, coatings, elastomers, adhesives, surfactants, dispersants, lubricants, additives, or sealants. Special emphasis will be on nanostructured functional materials for application related to environment, energy and catalysis.
Krzysztof (Kris) Matyjaszewski is the J.C. Warner University Professor of Natural Sciences at Carnegie Mellon University. He was born in Konstantynow, Poland, received his doctorate from the Polish Academy of Sciences in 1976, and completed a postdoctoral fellowship at the University of Florida in 1977. From 1978 to 1984, he was a research associate of the Polish Academy of Sciences. From 1984 to 1985, he held appointments at the University of Paris, first as a research associate and then as a visiting professor. In 1985, he joined Carnegie Mellon, where he founded and currently directs the Center for Macromolecular Engineering. Dr. Matyjaszewski developed atom transfer radical polymerization, commercialized in the US, Europe and in Japan (16 signed licenses).
Dr. Matyjaszewski has co-authored 800 publications (cited over 60,000 times, h-index 128), co-edited 17 books, holds 47 US and 132 international patents. He received the 2014 National Institute of Materials Science (Japan) Award, 2013 Inaugural AkzoNobel North American Science Award, 2012 Maria Sklodowska-Curie Medal, 2011 Wolf Prize in Chemistry, 2009 Presidential Green Chemistry Challenge Award, and from the American Chemical Society, the 2011 Hermann Mark Award, 2011 Award in Applied Polymer Science, 2002 Polymer Chemistry Award, and the 1995 Creative Polymer Chemistry Award. He is a member of the USA National Academy of Engineering, Polish Academy of Sciences, and Russian Academy of Sciences and has received 7 honorary degrees.
For more information about Dr. Matyjaszewski, he is profiled on the cover story for the July 2014 issue of Carnegie Mellon Today.
This event is open to all Notre Dame faculty and students and is sponsored by the Department of Chemistry and ND Energy.
The attached Event Flyer may be shared and posted on Notre Dame's campus.


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UN "Human Rights" Body, Run by Dictators, Ridiculed in Congress
Written by Alex Newman
On May 17, 2016, on the 10th anniversary of its scandal-plagued existence, the dictator-dominated United Nations Human Rights Council was ridiculed at a U.S. congressional hearing that was seemingly meant to serve as a boost for the controversial outfit and everything it represents. One of the experts testifying at the event, for instance, compared the UN body to Frankenstein. The main takeaway, though, was that with some "reforms," the dictators club and its "human rights" bureaucracy could do good work.
Even the roster of largely globalist voices selected by lawmakers to testify, however, could not conceal the absurdities inherent in the UN body — though many tried to do precisely that. And while one of the primary purposes of the hearing was to discuss how the U.S. government could "strengthen" the UN "human rights" outfit, the testimony inadvertently ended up outlining numerous excellent reasons for the outfit to be abolished altogether. In the meantime, the facts suggest the UN body should be mercilessly mocked by civilized people everywhere.
The hearing, entitled "Ten Years Later: The Status of the United Nations Human Rights Council," aimed to examine the last decade of the outfit's operations and the U.S. government's involvement. According to the announcement, the hearing was supposed to examine "the successes and shortfalls of U.S. engagement with the U.N. Human Rights Council, its current forms of operation and priorities, and possible options for reform that would help the Council more effectively achieve its original mandate."
A strong clue about its agenda could be gleaned from the name of the panel, the "Tom Lantos Human Rights Commission," formerly known as the "Congressional Human Rights Caucus." It was named after the late Congressman Tom Lantos, a California Democrat and fervent globalist with a cumulative score of 23 percent on The New American's congressional scorecard known as the Freedom Index. The index calculates scores based on adherence to the U.S. Constitution, which all lawmakers swear to uphold. With less than one-fourth of his scored votes being constitutional, Lantos was hardly a defender of the individual rights guaranteed under the U.S. Constitution. Instead, he preferred the UN's vision of pseudo-"human rights" — rights that can be revoked at will by government under virtually any pretext.
Still, the hearing provided a great deal of interesting insight. The first panel of witnesses was made up entirely of senior bureaucrats in the Obama administration involved in various elements of foreign policy and relations with the UN. Also testifying was Mark Lagon, a "senior fellow for human rights" at the global governance-promoting Council on Foreign Relations, who offered some mild criticism of specifics but a strong defense of globalism and globalist institutions generally. Even Republican Co-Chair Joseph Pitts claimed, "There can be no question of the need for stronger international action" to protect what the UN defines as "rights." Like the two lawmakers who chaired the hearings, the people testifying largely emphasized the allegedly positive work of the UN body. Despite some mild criticism and calls for reforms, nobody testifying advocated a U.S. withdrawal from the dictators club.
A big focus of the hearing was whether the new UN "human rights" bureaucracy, launched a decade ago, was better than the old one. The reason the current iteration of the outfit is only 10 years old, though, remains just as relevant today. The UN "Human Rights Commission," which existed for 60 years, had become such a discredited laughingstock that nobody could take it seriously. The theater of the absurd was so bad that the UN "Commission" even elected brutal Libyan dictator Moammar Gadhafi and his regime to lead it. Even then-UN boss Kofi Annan was forced to concede that the outfit had become a joke that "cast a shadow on the reputation of the United Nations system as a whole." So they tried again with the "Council."
Despite the apparent support for the overall UN and its agenda, perhaps the most noteworthy and interesting testimony came from Hillel Neuer, executive director of the Geneva-based watchdog group UN Watch. "Next month, Geneva will celebrate the 200th anniversary since Mary Shelley and her husband joined Lord Byron and others at Villa Diodati, in Geneva, right across from where the Council is today," he said. "In that cold and gloomy June of 1816, amid the darkness, and storms of thunder and lightning, they exchanged ghost stories. Mary Shelley then had a nightmare, which she famously published: the story of an idealistic student who tried to create life, only to be horrified by its results, the story of Frankenstein."
"I often walk past Villa Diodati," Neuer continued in his remarks at the hearing. "When I gaze across Lake Geneva and see the UN Human Rights Council, I cannot help but wonder: If Eleanor Roosevelt and René Cassin [of the original UN Human Rights Commission] were alive, and beheld the sight of a body that grotesquely legitimizes murderers, dictators, and anti-Semites, would they not be revolted by what has become of their creation? Would they not conclude that today's UN Human Rights Council has become Frankenstein's monster, and their dream become a nightmare?"
It would appear to be so. Some of those testifying at the hearing, including Neuer, pointed out that the UN outfit does not even live up to its own mandates. For example, the UN Council was supposed to select only member governments that "uphold the highest standards in the promotion and protection of human rights." Of course, there are very few governments in the world that actually meet that criteria, provided real rights are used as the yardstick rather than bogus UN-defined "human rights" that can be limited "by law" for almost any reason. More on that later. But for now, consider the council's illustrious membership roster of human-rights defenders.
Among the rights-violating regimes serving on the "human rights" body are the communist and socialist autocracies oppressing Cuba, mainland China, Bolivia, Ecuador, El Salvador, Namibia, South Africa, Venezuela, and Vietnam. Plenty of Islamist dictatorships serve on the council, too, including, among others, those ruling Algeria, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, and more. Also on the outfit are the rulers of Russia, Macedonia, Kyrgyzstan, Ivory Coast, Congo, Burundi, and more. Just a handful of governments in what could be properly considered truly "free" countries serve on the Council.
The current situation is worse than it was under the disbanded commission, said Neuer. "Sadly, this year, in 2016, the Council membership has never been worse," he explained. "A large majority of the Council members — 62 percent — fail to meet basic democracy standards as measured by Freedom House. Only 38% do meet those standards." He cited another human-rights activist's comments from a decade ago comparing the UN commission to a jury composed of, among others, "murderers and rapists" determined to "stymie investigation" of their crimes. "Sadly, ten years after the reform, these words apply even more today," opined Neuer.
In his written testimony, the UN Watch chief noted that despite a handful of exceptions, the council had "systematically turned a blind eye to the world's worst human rights violations." No resolutions were passed for victims of the Communist Chinese dictatorship, for example, despite the regime's "gross, systematic and state-wide repression, the unjust imprisonment of Nobel Laureate Liu Xiaobo and democracy leader Wang Binzhang, the massacre of Uighurs, and the killing of Tibetans." No resolutions or outrage on forced abortions, organ harvesting from Falun Gong practitioners, persecution of Christians, or other atrocities, either.
The Stalinist regimes ruling Cuba and Zimbabwe also escaped criticism from the UN Council despite ongoing, widespread, and systematic atrocities perpetrated by those governments. Also avoiding scrutiny and condemnation were the Islamist regimes in Iran and Saudi Arabia, both of which continue to slaughter and torture civilians. In fact, no resolutions have even been proposed to condemn any of those repressive governments or their crimes.
While the world's most brutal totalitarians praise each other for their commitment to UN-defined "human rights," at least one government is constantly under fire. It's not the one in North Korea, or the one in Cuba, or the genocidal maniac ruling Sudan, or the regime brutally oppressing more than a billion victims in mainland China. Instead, the target is a tiny, democratically elected government that is under constant and regular assault by the UN body. That government, of course, is the State of Israel. More than half of the resolutions criticizing governments that have been adopted since the UN "Human Rights Council" was created were condemnations of Israel. Even for vocal critics of the Israeli government and its policies toward Arabs, the numbers are impossible to justify.
And it gets even more bizarre. "What makes the resolutions on Israel different from virtually every other country-specific resolution is that they are suffused with political hyperbole, selective reporting, and the systematic suppression of any countervailing facts that might provide balance in background information or context," added Neuer. "By contrast, even the Council's resolutions on a perpetrator of atrocities such as Sudan — whose president, Omar al-Bashir, is wanted for genocide by the International Criminal Court — regularly included language praising, commending and urging international aid funds for its government." The genocidal Bashir almost got to serve on the Council!
Also coming under fire from critics at the hearing was the UN's "Universal Periodic Review" scheme. While often used to attack Western governments for everything from protecting actual individual rights to not having enough welfare programs, dictators use the process to shower each other with praise. In 2009, for example, the Libyan dictatorship praised Cuba for "promoting freedom of thought and expression," Neuer pointed out. The communist regime in Beijing, meanwhile, used the opportunity to praise the Saudi dictatorship, which executes "apostates" and regularly beheads people, for its stellar record on "women's rights." A few years later, Beijing praised Saudi Arabia's rulers for their "religious tolerance." The Islamist regime returned the favor, praising China's rulers for their programs on ethnic minorities. Seriously.
However, despite pointing out a broad range of problems and scandals that plague the UN outfit, Neuer offered a series of "recommendations" for the U.S. government to "reform" and improve the Council. Those include speaking out publicly against "the most egregious candidates," and working to block their election to the UN council. He also called for Washington, D.C., to introduce resolutions against rights-abusing governments and to convene "special sessions" to deal with "gross abuses." But none of that addresses the root of the problem, and it all assumes the UN was created with good intentions.
Despite all of the recommendations for "reforming" the UN Council offered by the watchdogs, globalists, and bureaucrats testifying at the hearing, the problems with the UN body are in reality systemic. To begin with, consider the UN's "Universal Declaration of Human Rights." While the document offers lip service to various liberties, it is based on several premises that make it fundamentally incompatible with unalienable, God-given rights as understood in the United States — individual rights that the American Declaration of Independence says government is instituted to protect.
Consider Article 29 of the declaration, for starters, which claims that "rights" can be limited "by law" under the guise of everything from "public order" to "the general welfare." Separately, the same article claims that everyone has "duties to the community" and that "rights and freedoms" may "in no case be exercised contrary to the purposes and principles of the United Nations." For perspective, that would be like the First Amendment saying Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech, unless that speech is being used to criticize Congress or otherwise makes Congress unhappy. The declaration also assumes "rights" are bestowed by governments and treaties, whereas American traditions and jurisprudence are based on the idea that rights come from the Creator and governments exist merely to protect them.
The Tom Lantos Human Rights Commission, which held the hearings, has done some good work in the past. For instance, the congressional body helped expose the collaboration of U.S.-based technology giants with Communist China's Orwellian censorship regime. It also shined a light on Beijing's brutality against the people of Tibet in its genocidal effort to eliminate them and their culture from the planet.
However, the council has also served as an organ to advance dangerous establishment interests. Among other disgraceful episodes, the congressional body hosted the infamous "Kuwaiti woman," the daughter of the Kuwaiti ambassador, who was deceptively presented to the American people as "Nurse Nayirah." Her now-debunked lies about babies supposedly being removed from incubators by Iraqi forces and left to die on the floor helped George H.W. Bush justify launching his unconstitutional 1991 invasion of Iraq.
That war, Bush said in a nationally televised speech, was about building, in his words, a "New World Order," in which a "credible United Nations can use its peacekeeping role [war-making forces] to fulfill the promise and vision of the UN's founders." Bush did not mention, of course, that the UN's most important "founders" included, on the American side, Soviet spy Alger Hiss, the first secretary general of the UN who was convicted of perjury for lying about his espionage for Moscow. Bush also did not mention that the UN's "peacekeeping" armies have for generations been raping and abusing the civilians they are ostensibly supposed to protect — especially in Africa, but all over the world too.
The congressional commission also appears to support the same agenda as Bush outlined in his infamous NWO speech. For instance, the caucus defines as its mission: "To promote, defend and advocate internationally recognized human rights norms in a nonpartisan manner, both within and outside of Congress, as enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and other relevant human rights instruments." As discussed previously, the UN's vision of "human rights" is not compatible with American concepts of protected rights, such as those outlined in the U.S. Constitution's Bill of Rights.
Rather than focus on "reforming" the UN outfit and promoting UN-defined "human rights," Congress should focus on severing America's ties with the despot-dominated and totally discredited global organization. A bill currently in Congress would do precisely that. There is no good reason why Americans should be forced to fund and legitimize a group of autocracies as they seek to redefine the concept of rights around the world. Instead, U.S. lawmakers should show a renewed commitment to the unalienable rights guaranteed in the U.S. Constitution, and to protecting those rights from all enemies, foreign and domestic.
Alex Newman, a foreign correspondent for The New American, is normally based in Europe. Follow him on Twitter @ALEXNEWMAN_JOU. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
United Nations Exploits Pseudo-"Human Rights" to Attack U.S.
Ruthless Tyrants Win Seats on UN "Human Rights" Council
UN "Human Rights" Report Attacks U.S. Gun Rights, Constitution
UN: Gov't Must Control Private Schools Because of "Human Rights"
UN Feminists Slam U.S. on "Gender," Push Amending Constitution
UN Boss: U.S. Gay Marriage Ruling a "Great Step for Human Rights"
UN Seeks to Criminalize Free Speech, Citing "Human Rights"
UN Demands Obama "Nullify" Stand Your Ground Laws
UN Ridiculed for Attacking Poverty and Demanding Tax Hikes in Canada
UN Human Rights Attack on U.K. Ridiculed as "Marxist Diatribe"
UN Attacks U.S. Gun Rights and More, Citing Ferguson and Cops
Sudan's Mass-murdering Tyrant May Join UN "Human Rights" Council
The United Nations: On the Brink of Becoming a World Government
Congressman Mike Rogers Introduces Bill to Get U.S. Out of UN
More in this category: « CFR Globalist: End U.S. States, Build China-style Regional Gov't	Canada's Transgender Legislation: An Attack on Religious Liberty »


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Connor Barwin To Visit Rams
March 15th, 2017 at 9:35am CST by Zach Links
Connor Barwin will meet with the Rams on Wednesday, a person with knowledge of the situation tells Gary Klein of the Los Angeles Times (on Twitter). This marks the veteran's second free agent trip since being released by the Eagles earlier this month. Earlier this week, he met with the Bengals, but he left Cincinnati without a deal.
The Rams will be running a 3-4 scheme under new defensive coordinator Wade Phillips, and that could be a good fit for Barwin. Days ago, the Rams jettisoned William Hayes to the Dolphins because he was not an ideal fit for their gameplan. Barwin could come in and start opposite of Aaron Donald with Michael Brockers in the middle.
The 30-year-old was in the midst of a six-year, $36MM contract when the Eagles released him last week. Last season, Barwin racked up 34 tackles, five sacks, and one forced fumble. He also appeared in every single regular season game for the sixth consecutive season. Those numbers all sound good, but the advanced metrics aren't so high on him. Barwin graded out as just the No. 100 edge defender in the NFL last year out of 109 qualified players, per Pro Football Focus. He had respectable overall scores with Philly in 2013 and 2014 (76.2, 78.5), but he has dipped in the last two seasons with scores of 50.8 and 42.1.
Connor Barwin
4 comments on "Connor Barwin To Visit Rams"
bdpecore • 3 years ago
Still hope the Packers bring him in for a workout. He struggled in a 4-3 system and his production showed just that. He would be good depth behind Perry and Matthews and could even allow Clay to get more burn in the middle.
TehGentleman • 3 years ago
I thought he had already had a visit with the Packers? I would love to see him signed to a friendly contract!
IBFarr • 3 years ago
I wish the Eagles would have just restructured his contract or asked him to take a pay cut
Beyond_Max_Power • 3 years ago
he doesn't fit the system. he is a 3-4 guy and last year he struggled in our new 4-3. love the guy, but he will be much better playing in a 3-4. whoever signs him will be very happy with his play.


The Showbox is currently the best alternative to Netflix and other paid video streaming services. That means many people is using and probably more are looking to use Showbox on their devices. But there are also some people that would prefer to download Showbox on PC.
Now, this article is all about that method. We will give you Showbox on PC in the easiest and straightforward guide available online. And yes, this is also a safe method, so there is no need for you to worry about it. You will get to enjoy all your favorite movies right on your Windows PC or laptop for free and even at the 4K resolution quality.
If this sounds good to you, then there is no need to tell you more. Just try to follow the instructions as they are being told step by step. Let's start immediately.
Visit our official site by clicking this link.
Let's clarify something first. The Showbox app has no official Windows version. But that does not mean that we cannot use Showbox in its original and full version form. That feat is now available, thanks to the minds behind the Android emulator.
With emulators such as BlueStacks and Nox App Player, it is now possible to install and run any Android app and games smoothly and seamlessly. Everything is as intact and reliable as if you are using the app on a native Android device. The best part is you get to enjoy Showbox on a bigger screen and an even better environment.
Now that we have that covered and clarified, we can now start. Here's how it goes.
Step 1. Let's start with getting an Android emulator to run on your PC. We recommend two best emulators available to date. The BlueStacks and the Nox App Player. For this tutorial, let's use the BlueStacks App Player.
Step 2. Download the emulator from its official website.
Step 3. The file size is around 400MB so expect the download to take about a couple of minutes depending on the speed of your internet subscription.
Step 4. Also, download the Showbox APK file.
Step 5. As soon as the download finishes, click on the BlueStacks installer to initialize the installation.
Step 6. Choose or create the folder where you want BlueStacks to save, or you can just use the default Windows default Program Files folder.
Step 7. Follow the on-screen prompts until the installation runs its course.
Step 8. When the download finishes, find the BlueStacks shortcut icon on the Windows main desktop.
Step 9. Double-click on the icon to launch the emulator.
Step 10. For BlueStacks, the first launch will require that you use your Google account to sign in. This is necessary to activate the Play Store and all other Google services just like you would on an Android device.
Step 11. As soon as you reach the BlueStacks main interface, leave the emulator running in the background. Go back to the download folder and double-click on the Showbox APK you downloaded earlier. If the double-click does not work, you may drag and drop the APK file to the BlueStacks active window to start the installation within the emulator.
Step 12. After a few seconds, the Showbox app icon will appear on the emulator's app list. You can click on that icon to start your Showbox experience. That's it. You are good to go and enjoy your unlimited movie entertainment from all over the world.
The Showbox app is an almost perfect video streaming app. It is not perfect, but it has all the necessary features that the majority of users are looking for. It has a vast video library from servers all over the world, and it supports video resolution up to 4K.
Now, we are not saying that the Showbox app can replace Netflix. It may be the case for a lot of users but certainly not for everyone. The developers have a lot to improve on the app's overall build, but it is already great as it is.
In your opinion, which feature do you think that the Showbox app developer needs to improve or add if it is not yet present in the app? Tell us in the comment section below, and we will try to get back to you as soon as we can.
You may also leave some questions if there are points in this article that is not clear to you. We will be more than happy to give you more detailed information especially if it is a helpful point.


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