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Fundraiser to honor Ralph Black
January 27, 2021 Photography
( Photo / Troy Athletics )
Samuel Granville
Troy University has established a memorial fundraiser in an effort to name the home radio booth in Veterans Memorial Stadium after the Hall of Fame broadcaster,
Ralph Black.
Black, who passed away in July of 2020, made countless historic calls during his 26 years as the play-by-play announcer for Troy football, basketball and baseball.
The goal for the fundraiser is $50,000. Troy's Director of Broadcasting and current "Voice of the Trojans," Barry McKnight, said the memorial is a great way to honor his predecessor's memory.
"I think it's just a really strong way to finally recognize him," McKnight said. "To realize the commitment he made and how much he did mean to Troy and Troy Athletics, the community of Troy and certainly for the Troy Sports broadcast."
A native of Montgomery, Black called more than 1,000 Troy sporting events, including four national championships. His famous "Holy Mackerel" call came from the 1984 NCAA Division II National Championship Game when Ted Clem hit a 50-yard field goal as time expired to win Troy State the game.
"For Troy radio, what I'm involved in and what I've been involved in for the last 19 years here, Troy radio really began with Ralph Black," McKnight said. "He was a real mentor for me when I got to Troy. He was such a blessing to me professionally and as a great friend.
"Everything that Troy radio stands for, Ralph stood for, as well."
Troy Athletics and the Trojans Warrior Club launched the $50,000 fundraiser after a generous anonymous donation of $25,000 was gifted to the cause.
To learn more about the Hall of Fame legacy of Ralph Black or to support and provide a donation for the memorial, visit TroyTrojans.com/RalphBlack or contact the Trojan Warrior Club office at 334-670-3480 or troytwc@troy.edu.
Newsfundraiser, Ralph Black, Samuel Granville, Sportscaster, Trojan Warrior Club, TroyTrojans
SBDC gets new director
Global Scholars for a Global University
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Troy University administration announced that the mask mandate put in place in August will be relaxed....
Troy University announced that it will be requiring face masks in all indoor spaces beginning Monday,...


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Iran is only months from bomb technology, says Britain
Simon Tisdall and Ian Traynor
Thu 9 Mar 2006 19.12 EST First published on Thu 9 Mar 2006 19.12 EST
The west's confrontation with Iran over its nuclear activities intensified yesterday after Britain claimed that Tehran could acquire the technological capability to build a bomb by the end of the year.
A day after the International Atomic Energy Agency referred the dispute to the United Nations security council, British officials also indicated that London would back Washington's efforts to impose a UN deadline of about 30 days for Iran's compliance with international demands.
The five permanent members of the security council began consultations on an expected statement on Iran on Wednesday after Russian-led attempts to broker a compromise at the IAEA in Vienna failed. A deadline could be set as early as next week and would cover a period "of weeks, not months", officials said.
A senior Foreign Office official said that while it could take Iran several years to build a serviceable nuclear weapon, it might gain the technical knowhow within months. "By the end of the year is a ... realistic period," said the official. "It would be really damaging to regional security if Iran even acquired the technology to enable it to develop a nuclear weapon."
Until now, European diplomats have referred to a period of five to 10 years during which Iran might potentially build a bomb, while conceding that hard evidence is lacking. By publicly focusing on the level of Iran's technical capabilities, Britain may have shortened the timeframe for a peaceful resolution of the crisis.
Iran denies it is seeking nuclear weapons. The IAEA concluded this week that its assurances were insufficient.
Iran has 85 tonnes of uranium gas stockpiled for enrichment at its Isfahan facility, held under UN seals. American officials say this is enough for 10 bombs. Iran says it plans to install 3,000 centrifuges for enriching the gas at its Natanz underground complex by the end of the year. Western diplomats said any signs that Iran was moving the gas from Isfahan to Natanz would set alarms ringing.
Since last month, the Iranians are reported to have been feeding uranium gas into a small rig of 20 centrifuges at Natanz. That can yield little useful fissile material, but plenty of knowhow for a later, more ambitious project, said a senior official close to the IAEA investigation.
At the end of the Vienna talks this week, a statement by Britain and European negotiating partners said: "Indicators of a possible military dimension to Iran's programme continue to be a legitimate source of intense concern."
Britain maintains that military action to destroy Iran's suspect facilities is not under discussion. But the Bush administration, backed by Israel, has refused to rule out the use of force.
This week's Vienna breakdown has prompted angry recriminations. Faced with the threat of possible sanctions, Iran warned the United States on Wednesday that it could also inflict "harm and pain" in the dispute. Yesterday, Condoleezza Rice, the US secretary of state, said at a congressional hearing in Washington: "We may face no greater challenge from a single country than from Iran, whose policies are directed at developing a Middle East that would be 180 degrees different than the [one] we would like to see developed."

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Meanwhile, On The Herbacious Border
That's not Virginia Creeper in my yard. Not even close. Glossy dark-green pointed-oval, smooth-edged leaves with paler veins that grow singly is what I have, and nasty penetrating tendrils on it. But Virgina Creeper has five leaves, each a sawtooth-edged pointed oval, and uses little sticky pads to hang onto the wall or whatever; it's considered relatively harmless, though you can't pull it loose without damaging the surface -- you have to cut the root, and then it will fall off on its own. There's a little of the five-leaved stuff around Roseholme and it's well-behaved, at least compared to the other stuff.
So what's infesting my yard, trees, fences and walls? I don't know for sure.
What's On Your (Indiana) Ballot?
I'm not going to tell you "get out there and vote!" There aren't a lot of good choices this year, especially in the Presidential race. I wouldn't blame anyone for sitting this one out, or for not voting in contests where you don't feel you have anyone to vote for. Sure, you can vote against, but that means you're probably still voting for a seriously non-ideal candidate.
If I had a campaign sign in my front yard, it would read, "LOTSA LUCK." We're going to need it.
Bit of history: did you know the U. S. didn't even have secret ballots until the mid-19th Century, and most places hadn't had printed, government-supplied ballots until a few years before that? At one point, legislators were arguing that voting was a public trust and if you let people vote in secret, they'd only vote for their own self-interest instead of considering the needs of the greater community. What actually happened was voter turnout began to decline and has declined steadily ever since. Correlation isn't causation but that one makes me wonder.
Labels: marvels of government, marvels of politics
Leaves, Raked (Round Two)
Bagged the leaves from front yard. Raked up the back yard and spent a lot of time pulling up Virginia Creeper -- or, as I am coming to know it, "Yankee Kudzu." It's slower but persistent and it makes raking difficult. Got all that done in four and a half hours and kind of vegetated on the couch for a couple of hours afterward.
So I still have five heaps of leaves to bag before it rains today. Think I'll go let someone else cook me a healthy breakfast first.
We are by no means done with the season's raking.
I Slept In
Rode my bicycle several blocks for lunch yesterday; rode back and thought, "Gee, I over ate; I'll just have a nap." Woke up eight hours later, fiddled around a little, heard about Tam's day, went back to sleep and here I am.
It's those darned swing shifts. They really take it out of me. Or on me. Something.
I may be too old for this.
"T-t-tamara...? Guh-grease Fire...
"I thu-think we're about to have a guh-grease fire!"
And indeed there was, but it was a small one, a little dancing flame in the center of the gas burner that persisted, sputtering, after I turned gas off.
There had been a lone potato left over from early in the week. About medium-sized. I had eggs but no breakfast meat, so I thought I'd make home-made potato chips, pour off the grease, and scramble a couple of eggs in the same pan.
Slice a tater thin enough and you can't fit all the chips-to-be in even a 12" skillet with an eighth of an inch of olive oil sputtering in it. The potato really wanted rinsing in cold water, and I left half the chips soaking in a small bowl while I fried the first group, sizzling merrily away.
The second group was too damp -- I had tiny grease geysers! There's a price to be paid for that, in time spent scrubbing with household ammonia, but it's worth it for homemade potato chips. Got the second batch done and on paper towel in a Pyrex pie dish, and went to pour out the oil into a custard cup--
Hot olive oil has remarkable laminar flow properties, at least I think that's the term. The Coandă Effect: try to pour it and instead, it follows the surface in an unexpected manner. (This is why those old cast-iron frying pans have a pouring spout; alas, my lovely modern non-stick pans don't.) I got most of the olive oil into the cup and then noticed the spreading pool of olive oil on the top of the stove, flowing inexorably toward the recesses of the gas burners, one of which was lit. I had a 12" skillet in one hand, the pie dish was atop the other front burner grate, a teakettle lives on the back burner and the skillet's large enough that if I set it on the free back burner, it would block getting at the one that was on--
All of that went through my thoughts as quickly as a drop of hot grease melting through stryofoam. I shut off the burner and saw the sputtering, ghostly oil flame at the center, turned and grabbed several sheets of paper toweling while stuttering, "T- T- T-" and then managed to get out the sentence I opened with while frantically mopping up the oil. Got the grate fished out without burning myself or setting the paper toweling on fire, smothered the little flame and was working on the oil that had pooled around the burner when Tam showed up, looking alarmed.
The chips were good. I didn't scramble any eggs.
Labels: eediots, Food
Mother Said
"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
I'm all out of nice.
Bitten! Well, Nipped
Tam has been gone for three weeks, a mix of work and vacation that just happened to line up in space and time. For the last three weeks, I have been the sole provider for the two cats here at Roseholme Cottage.
Tam's cat, Rannie Wu, always makes up to me when Tam is out of town. Within 24 to 48 hours, Rannie will curl up next to me at bedtime, climb up me, purring, and try to smooth on my face when I watch TV, and so on. She's a little affectionate when Tam is around but never as much; she considers me a secondary cat-mommy.
Just how secondary was made clear this morning. Rannie Wu is a small and elderly cat, who must be fed in a few small servings because her tummy is smaller than her appetite. Between each serving, she tends to lurk underfoot, smoothing or pawing at my legs when she thinks the next installment is overdue. Occasionally, she'll nip my calves.
For the last three weeks, she hasn't nipped me. Not even once. Tam returned home late last night -- either that or someone started to steal the living room couch and the refrigerator but gave it up as a bad job, to judge from the clunkings and thumpings coming from the front part of the house around midnight. (Evidence that it was not an inept burglary attempt include the undisturbed fridge and sofa, not to mention The Tamara herself, fast asleep in her accustomed spot this morning).
Between feedings this morning, Rannie smoothed on my ankle a few times, reared up for a few pats at my knee, went back to all fours, glanced up at me, appeared to give the matter a little thought -- and then carefully nipped my calf, a good sharp pinch that didn't quite break the skin. The message is clear: her real Mommy is back and I've been relegated to secondary status.
The Era Of Bad Feelings
See also, "Sore Winner," which is one of the things we'll see after the upcoming election is over, no matter which side wins. Winning and then carping as badly as the losing side has become a feature of American politics and in my opinion, not one that reflects well on our parties and institutions. What happened to the gracious winner? --Dead on the scorched earth of the battlefield, trod into the dust and derided as a wimp, it would seem. We'll miss the principle, by and by; the wheel turns and without mercy, it turns quite cruelly.
There is still some reason to be uncertain of the outcome of this election, as there are indications the polling may be slanted -- though I would caution readers that polls can easily become self-fulfilling prophecy.
What I don't doubt is that the party system is getting shaken up and I suspect over the next eight years, we'll see some changes. A review of the "Era Of Good Feelings" would be in order, but for those too busy -- or too averse to reading, in which case, why are you here and not spray-painting a wall with the other mouth-breathers? -- one of the features of that "Era" was James Monroe's quiet, pleasantly-spoken strangling of the Federalist Party as it lay slumbering (or in a coma). When it ended, the Federalists were gone and, outside the U.S. Supreme Court, forgotten, and good riddance; but the lingering spirit of Hamilitonianism was infecting a new generation and in time, would lead to further problems.
American politics can be viewed as about half a battle between authoritarians and ant-authoritarians, nearly always fought at the grassroots level -- and half a battle between competing bosses, especially at the highest levels.
Come November, we'll get a new boss and he or she will be pretty much the same as the old boss. Drone strikes will continue, the NSA's files on each and every one of us will get fatter (but hey, don't worry, only the machines will read it, at least until our individual Treasonability Index exceeds a pre-set threshold, after which who knows), there will be Some War Somewhere Overseas and Another Few Wars here at home on Drugs, or Mexicans, or Tax Cheats or whoever looks suitably scapegoaty to the Administration; commentators will wag their heads solemnly and the blood and money will keep right on flowing.
And after four years, your money will be worth less and if you've got a raise, it won't have kept up with the rate of inflation. Spin the wheel again but remember: when the books are totalled up, the house always wins.
...That's the best case. Worst case? We're about due for a civil war and a lot of idiots think it would be a fine idea. If it comes, the survivors will know better.
Ha! Leaf-Raking. Also, Polls
I've got the yard about half-raked and perhaps a half of that bagged before I ran out of bags, so that's not too bad. It appears we won't get rain again until Wednesday, so there's at least a chance I can get the worst of the fallen leaves up before they get soaked again.
The strange people inside my TV tell me that Sec. Clinton now has a double-digit lead over Mr. Trump. Remind me again, what he would have done differently if he had set out to throw the election and embarrass the GOP? It's no use carping the mainstream media is in the bag for Sec. Clinton; you knew that going in and media favoritism certainly did not keep Richard Nixon from winning under similar circumstances. This Presidential race was the Republican party's to lose and if the polls are to be trusted -- a legitimate concern -- they have. As a libertarian outsider, I have watched the GOP's slide to the anti-intellectual social Right with concern: at one point, I could pick out the fiscal conservative/socially moderate candidates and vote for them with a relatively clear conscience, but they're a vanishing breed. Guess that's my problem and not the GOP's and if you're happy with the present formulation of the product, keep on keeping on.
The results of the downticket races this election will be instructive. I don't know if either Presidential candidate has much in the way of coattails but you can bet the party apparatchiks will have a finger to the wind.
Labels: marvels of nature, marvels of politics
So, About Those Leaves
Saturday didn't go as planned. A small breakfast -- one egg on toast -- and a nice soak in Epsom salted bathwater, and I was up and at 'em: took my bicycle to the stores, bought a fresh donut for later, had a nice lunch, rode around a little more, returned home, sat down--
And promptly nodded off. I was exhausted! By sheer will, I got up, sorted and started laundry, loaded the dishwasher, sat down in front of the TV and dozed again. Woke up when the washer stopped, loaded the dryer and started the dishwasher, puttered around a little and went to bed.
So today, maybe some raking. And nothing else very active. I guess I still haven't fully recovered.
It's chilly, the lawn is covered in wet leaves, I'm almost out of brown-paper leaf bags and there's plenty else to do. Including the gutters, also covered in wet leaves -- as is the roof, so I'll be working the gutters from a ladder instead of the quicker way from the steeply-pitched roof.
On the up side, it's supposed to be sunny today.
Next life, conifers.
It's Trash Day!
Oh, wondrous trash day! The day on which the City delivers fresh, new tra- Oh, wait. That's right: they take the old trash away. This is a better arrangement. Fincanced by my real-estate taxes. Could be done privately and, in fact, the City contracts it out. Do they take a cut and thereby increase what it costs taxpayers? Please.
It's also the lead-in to one of my increasingly infrequent days off, during which I will be raking up wet leaves. A lot of them. Won't that be fun?
Meanwhile, in that strange wold inside my TV set, it appears that someone might win the Presidency. This gives me cold chills down my spine. Meanwhile, Oceania has always been at war with Eastaisia. Always. And I'm off for another day of throwing history into the furnace.
Oh, and for those of you you don't follow me on F@cebook:
"Milo Yiannopoulos is proof that Röhm wasn't built in a day."
Dude, don't confuse the Browncoats with the Brownshirts.)
Labels: eediots, marvels of government, marvels of nature, marvels of politics
It Rained Last Night
We had water up to the curbs in low-lying intersections when I drove home from work. People were driving into them at speed and throwing huge roostertails.
The rain made for pretty pictures.
It kept on raining last night. So far the basement is mostly dry. Not sure how deep the puddles on the roads will be. Rain after the leaves begin to fall can be a problem: the drain grates get plugged.
You may wonder if I've got anything on the debate. I don't. Word is, they both got a little better, but neither one is a patch on famous Presidential debaters of the past. Seriously, Leader Of The Free World, and this the applicant pool? I've maintained for years that it's a lousy job, but really, they're best there was?
Labels: eediots, marvels of nature, marvels of politics
Meet Yuja Wang. Meet Tchaikovsky.
You boys'll start listening 'cos she dresses sexy. You stay listening 'cos she's really, really good.
That Russian was no slouch, either.
Bonus link: you wanna see a warm-up? She's machine-gun quick!
Labels: The Kinetoscope, The Phonohnograph, the wonderfulness of you
Still #1 On The Amendement Chart
The North Dakota judge hearing the state's case against Democracy Now!'s Amy Goodman tossed the "engaging in a riot" the charges out on their ear.
Reporting -- even reporting from, as the local prosecutor alleged and probably is correct about, "the sole viewpoint of justifying the actions of the protestors," acts up to and including crossing fences and closing emergency valves on an oil pipeline -- is not a crime. It's a Constitutionally-protected activity. Even if the reporter is a jerk; even if the reporter has in the past urged denying due process to persons or groups of whom she disapproves.
There are accounts of similar arrests targeting journalists, specifically ones with a large following and a strong slant towards the anti-pipeline side. Hello, North Dakota, meet The Streisand Effect. Better you should maybe listen to your judges.
Labels: eediots, marvels of government, What Would Gutenberg Do?
V For...Something?
Sunset last night:
Very pretty, but if it says "IV" in the sky tomorrow night, I'm going to get a train ticket out of town.
Labels: marvels of nature, things that should not go bang
Take A Class, Learn Some Stuff,
...Find out you might not be terrible at this "writing" thing. The Indiana Writers Center, of which I am again a member (oops! My membership had quietly expired and I had to renew) offers verious weekend classes and one that turns up every few months is "Flash Fiction," which is what I knew as "short-short stories," except now they have grown up to 750 words or less and have become High Art.
This, for me, requires a kind of willing suspension of something, perhaps modesty or good sense, as I don't aspire to much past Competent Craft: stories people don't fall asleep or wander off during, with a healthy side of Having Not Abused Grammar Beyond Reason. Then there's the whole Room Full Of Strangers thing, but heckers, I can out-strange eight (seven if you live in a really big or very small city) of the next ten people you meet, so--
So I went. The instructor was both pleasant and pleasantly competent, one of those cross-disciplinary folks who see with both eyes what most of us peer at through a monocle. In her case, a career in Art History (paintings, that is, and how nice to listen to someone who knows who Magrite was and uses a Degas painting to illustrate a story arc) coupled with an insatiable itch to write. Not to mention enough skill at it to be published and reprinted widely.
She spent a lot of time describing and even more time showing examples. We read aloud. (One student demurred. And I think I'm shy?) We talked about the essential images in the stories, about using and having effects without being gimmicky, and by and by it was time for the part "we rarely have enough time for." Writing. From prompts.
"Prompts?" It's a germ; more how you will tell the story than what it is about. Nothing specific. For example:
A. "Describe following someone: where, when. Describe who you are following and the process of following. Indicate your feelings. Last of all -- why are you following them?" And Leatherstocking, Sherlock, Sam Spade? You've got a whole 750 words in which to work.
B. "You're taking a journey How do you feel about it? What do you think will happen when you arrive? Do you arrive? What actually happens?" You've got to tease a whole story from this, not just a vignette. It's got to have a beginning, a middle and a satisfying end. You're not supposed to ditch the reader on a train unless you can convince them that's how it was supposed to happen.
C. "Describe two people in a relationship with emotional strain between them; then describe them in earlier times, in a romantic moment." The instructor remarked that her students never wrote from that prompt. Oh, lady: challenge accepted.
I had my used Surface Pro* out already; I'd been working on something else when we took a break halfway through the three-hour class. The other writers had pen and paper; I guess I'm just not romantic. My handwriting is either legible or fast and thoughts are only too fast, so for me, keyboard beats pen.†
Okay, I was cheating. I already had my people; we last met them on the Hidden Frontier, watching a meteor shower and listening to the evensong of the trap-door weasel in the outback of Kansas II.
300 words later (call it one double-spaced typewritten page or just over), I looked up. "It's too short."
The instructor shook her head. "No such thing. Is it a complete story?"
"I'm pretty sure."
"Then it's long enough."
We had fifteen minutes left. I spent it tightening things up, replacing a too-specific reference with a generic one and catching at least half the typos.
Come reading-aloud time, one of the other students led. She had a nice start, but it turned out to be a "Why I can't write this assignment" piece. Disappointing, as she clearly could have -- if she'd felt she could. Writing is an act of immense hubris -- no, really, it is -- and sometimes you daren't look down.
Another student had an image-rich "journey" story; I won't crib his work here but it was nicely jarring. He hadn't quite got an ending but you could see it through the fog.
Yet another had picked up "following," and borrowed noir tropes only to subtly subvert them. Good stuff. Alas, he was not sure about how to end his, either. --Hey, you try writing narrative haiku and see how far you get. The shorter, the more difficult.
I lucked out: I knew my people. I knew their situation. I wrote 'em. When my turn came, the story was well-received. Even the instructor had only a little (well-founded) criticism -- and she does fiction-as-art, and gets paid actual money for it, too. Okay, the typical pittance short fiction gets,‡ but in lit'ry circles, what you usually get paid in are extra copies of the book or magazine and the occasional coup-counting scalp. Good enough to get paid for it means when she talks, I listen.
I'm going to polish this thing and shop it around. Why not? And I'll file off the serial numbers and use it as the basis for a bridge piece in the Hidden Frontier "Stardrive Engineer Bobbi" arc. There's nothing at all science-fictional in it but I can crib from my own work and I've got nearly 450 words for world-building and miscellaneous background.
* Surfacii (Surfacea? Surfectants?) are crazy-expensive new, at least looking from my pocketbook. Vendors on Amazon offer used ones, clean-slate and checked out, for a third or less the price.
† Which means, of course, that keyboard >> sword. It's all fun and games until some literal-minded type lumbers by and clonks you over the head with a plowshare.
‡ A recent survey set the average writer's income from short fiction at $7500 a year. Pretty sure Steven King responded to the survey, so unless you're him, you might want to keep your day job. Black Mask is gone; The Saturday Evening Post is gone in all but name. New Yorker does one short per issue, the SF mags are still around, and all of their slushpiles are immense. Past that, you'll be getting the price of cheese sandwich or less, if you get published at all. (You can still read Black Mask online.)
Arrest Reporters?
Even trouble-making reporters? Even addled ones? Alex Jones and company like to see how close they can come; on the other hand (at least if we're charting from the French), Democracy Now!'s Amy Goodman likes to start trouble.
Trouble she's got. Covering a confrontation between protestors and pipeline workers/security, she managed to get herself arrested and charged with "trespass" and "riot." Trespass proving too tricky to prove, she's left having to answer to participating in a riot.
I don't find Ms. Goodman especially wonderful; there's likely nothing we agree on and she's a real hands-on advocacy journalist, with all that entails. But ah, there's that word: "journalist."
We've got this thing called the First Amendment. It protects even people we don't much like. Larry Flint, Alex Jones...Amy Goodman. Not just NBC, Matt Drudge, HuffPo or Breitbart; not just your local newspaper (if any) or the news department of your local radio stations (likewise). Nope, it all starts with edge cases. People you don't like. Viewpoints you abhor.
The principle is, you don't jail reporters for being on the wrong side of an issue, or for being jerks, or for being inconvenient. If they do actually break the law, the burden of proof is quite high. On the other hand, being reporters, they often can show proof in form of notes, or audio or video recordings -- indeed, sharing what they gather is a huge part of their job.
So we'll see how this one plays out. The pipeline is a huge issue, especially for those closest to it. Who wants to freeze in the dark? Who wants to roll the dice on an oil spill into their only water source? Who wants ten-dollar-a-gallon gasoline? --Nobody. And there's probably a better way to resolve it than by yelling, throwing things, using tear gas and dogs and breaking heads. Or valves. So far neither side has found anything better and without reporters shoving this under the national spotlight, there's not a lot of pressure on them to do so. The big guys at CNNBCABCBS/WaPoNYLATimes weren't paying a lot of attention until she and her ilk took an interest; it's tangled enough that you can't cover much in a minute-thirty or two column-inches and getting compelling images has a poor risk/reward ratio for them. So we need edge cases out there. We need agenda-driven reporters because they're the only ones willing to make the drive out to the middle of damn nowhere and send back words and pictures.
Arresting them is kinda not so very good.
Come Monday, we'll find out what the courts in North Dakota think. Stay tuned -- even if you have to dig for the results.
(You don't need to tell me what a terrible, terrible person she is in comments. Consider that stipulated. That's not at issue here; in fact, it had darned well better not be at issue in court, either.)
Labels: eediots, The Kinetoscope, What Would Gutenberg Do?
Basic Presidenting
One of the fundamental jobs we expect Presidents to do -- and this is why we're shocked when they don't -- is to "model adult behavior."* The President of the United Sates is supposed to be a grown-up's grown-up.
It doesn't always work; LBJ was infamous for working with staff from the toilet with the door open and his "explanation" to a reporter why the U.S. was waging a war n Vietnam supposedly consisted of flashing his privates. But in general, barring the odd deep bow to a king or vomiting on foreign diplomats, Presidents are supposed to behave in public with more dignity and decorum than the rest of us slobs. It's part of the job, unwritten but nonetheless required: set an example.
Look at the present field of candidates. Harshly. Be honest with yourself, do the Big Party bombastic, vindictive, petty contenders strike you as having much knack for graceful adulting? Are they an example for the kids?
You will live out your old age in a world run by people who grew up with one of them as a prime example of how to act. Are you okay with that?
* And not "behave like an Adult model." On the other hand, I'm willing to bet a pair of randomly-chosen porn stars could do a better job of acting as if they were running for President, though people would always be expecting "bow-chicka-bow-wow" instead of "Hail To The Chief," and then wondering why.
The Stopped Watch Speaks!
"What's Sauce For The Goose Is Sauce For The Gander"
It's a remarkably honest look at leaks, leaking and journalism-as-we-know it, especially as applied to the 2016 U. S. Presidential campaigns. It was published in The Guardian, which goes to show something, possibly only that it takes the breadth of an ocean and a low stake in the outcome to get any kind of perspective.
Labels: marvels of politics, What Would Gutenberg Do?
Voting At Gunpoint?
By gosh, you've got to hand it to the Russians: they came up with the one gambit that had me thinking (for five or ten seconds, anyway) about voting for Ms. Clinton:
Russia promises nuclear war if Hillary Clinton is elected. And that's from NBC, "America's Network Of (broken) Record," so you know it must be true -- or at least as true any of Brian Williams's tales of derring-do in dire and desperate, er, derpumstances.
Bite me, Russian government. I decided on Gary Johnson early, when neither party had anything even close to an acceptable candidate* and that has not changed. Point an H-bomb at me? You did that already! Naval Avionics has been in Indianapolis since before the Cold War and the Army has been writing paychecks for every soldier in this town for almost as long: I'm already a casualty of WW III. I was born dead. Every town I have ever lived in was a target.
I was born on (or just after, historians squabble) the very tail end of the Baby Boom. I grew up with this playing out inside my head.
What you call Hell, I call home. Bring it. Vlad. Let's make the rubble bounce and we'll see which side bred the best cockroaches afterwards. Are you so stupid that you really think we have any reason not to?
In other news, I'm exhausted all the time and I am tired of trying to turn the gibberish that comes off my fingers into intelligible text. The Prednisone side effects linger and so does the atypical pneumonia. I can't keep waking up and coming up with new stuff every morning any more. I'm going to try preloading interesting items as they occur and see if I can't buy myself some time.
Found out yesterday I'll be working random shifts through this weekend and then getting one day off the weekend after next. Meanwhile, the leaves continue to fall. The overtime doesn't add up to enough to pay for yard work.
* "Acceptable:" you know, Bernie Sanders didn't look all that bad compared to the eventual nominees: Presidents have limited powers and while Democrat politicians like to talk socialism, the overwhelming majority of them are owned by mechantilist capitalists who, however mealy-mouthed they are, shudder at the thought of "feeling the Bern." He couldn't've done all that much harm -- no more than Mr. Obama has, at least, which is plenty but the trains are not less on time than they were eight years ago -- and Congress would have spent four years wetting themselves in fear, waiting for their owner's banks and telecom companies to get nationalized by Executive fiat.† In hindsight, that image is pretty appealing. Seriously, him or Sec. Clinton, which one is worse? I'm going with her.
† Not an actual power of the President. Not that it has stopped them in the past.
Labels: eediots, Helloo? World War Threeee, marvels of politics, things that go bang, things that should not go bang, to not be a fly on that wall
Here's a Llama
A tiny one, at that:
The dollar bill is for scale. I'm tempted to name this gun "Sting."
The Spanish .380 showed up at our local gun store (Indy Arms Co.) for a song. Intrigued, I sang. Except for the external extractor, it's more a miniature 1911 than any I have seen, right down to the grip safety and sliding trigger.
Yes, it's a Llama, and the finish shows it. However, the safeties work, the sights are pretty well lined up and it's been running fine.
First thing: the Prednisone (and not very much of it) has turned out to have had a nasty side-effect or two on me, the worst of which is that my verbal censor is down and I have had to be very careful to keep my body language muted, or I'm gesturing like a clumsy puppet. This is far from unknown and should fade away over time. For now, it sucks out loud. And it sucks worse to know what's going on and still get blindsided by it. It's one thing to say stuff as you think it; finding yourself saying it while the thought is still forming is frightening. (On top of it all, I am still having chest pain and coughing.)
Second thing: came across an article in Wired about cash-strapped civic governments unpaving roads to save money, gravel being a lot cheaper than asphalt. (I'd put in a link but Wired and I are having a little disagreement about my using an adblocker to read their increasinly ill-written content.) This is straight out of the eerie post-industrial heartland of Atlas Shrugged -- and is no real surprise. In the real world, there's no John Galt; we can take some comfort that the villains are nowhere near Rand-scale, but not very much comfort.
I'm having a little trouble with the optimism this morning.
Labels: marvels of government, marvels of nature, or not
And The Sun Rises On A New Day
Lord help me, I looked at the debate.
Oh, not much, furtive glances over supper, really, while I tried desperately to find something, anything worth watching that was under an hour long.
For me, the debate was like a car wreck: you drive by, drawn but not wanting to look, certainly not so long a look that you begin see enough to sort body parts from automotive wreckage. Yet traffic slows to a crawl, stops, and you look, look away, look again--
If you have a major-party candidate you like or at least can vote for without agonizing mental gymnastics, I'm happy for you. How wonderful to not feel despair! For me, well, I didn't think much of either one of them going into the debate and what I saw did nothing to change that. Afterwards, Mr. Trump's supporters and Ms. Clinton's supporters both declared victory and posted hasty memes to that effect on social media.
The capper for me came this morning, when I stumbled over a hand-wringing piece on Vox (somewhere to the Left of the Left) annoyingly written in the present tense by a fellow who'd abstained from the 1968 Presidential election because at the time, he didn't see any difference between Richard M. Nixon and Hubert H. Humphrey. He proceeds to recount the traditional litany of horrors of the Nixon Presidency, including a number of items Nixon had nothing to do with, musing all the while that it would have been better under Humphrey. --I doubt that; he offers nothing in support of his notion past an axiomatic acceptance that Nixon was, in fact, the Devil. In 1968, things were screwed up, delicately balanced, and any touch was going to have disproportionate effects. Humphrey probably would have made a different mess but he would have made a mess. Bigger, smaller? I don't know; I don't know in 2016, either.
Go vote, you can't make matters any worse all by yourself and your neighbors are probably going to be voting at you. Make your choice. Refuse to regret it. There is one person you can decide for, one person for whom you can speak, one person whose moral character is under your control: yourself. That's all you've got.
I'm Betting The Canary Lives
So, the various pundits, saladins, paladins, celebrities and Great Minds are all calling for Mr. Trump's head, including no few in what had been starting to look like His Very Own Party.
Me, I'm reminded of the story about the venomous critter that wants to cross a river, and assures its host there's no possible way it's going to do harm while being carried --"After all, we'd both drown!" Of course, over the very deepest part, the critter strikes and as they go under, the hapless host wails, "But you promised," only to be reminded, "Hey, I am venomous."
The GOP has been snakebit.
Lose control of tens of thousands of classified e-mails -- offstage, awhile back, abstractly? The public yawns. Show up on lovely color tape with hi-fi sound, talking the way men talk when the wimmens aren't around?[1] The public sits up. Clickbait is around because it works -- and it works the same way blood sports worked for Rome. Is it a hatchet job? Yeah -- but Mr. Trump left the hatchet laying out and it's a way shinier one than any of the ones Ms. Clinton's got scattered about.
Like him or not, Mr. Trump shot himself in the foot, years in advance. He didn't go alone. A rising young celebrity reporter known as Billy Bush[2] was chortling right along with him On Saturday, NBC's political analyst Chuck Todd declared the election was over. Oh, the outrage! We have a canary in that coal mine: On Monday, we shall see if Mr. Bush is back at his most recent post, co-anchoring a later hour of NBC's Today Show.
If he's gone for good (he won't be), you'll know that the network is a fine, upstanding supporter of Genuine American Moral Character. Double points if they apologize officially!
If he's "on assignment" or otherwise shoved into the background, they're hedging their bets. Maybe the flap will blow over. And what if (cue dramatic organ) Mr. Trump wins? They'd be in the deep doodoo if they'd given Billy the ax!
If he's there, business as usual, maybe another pro forma "I was young and foolish and with bad companions," then forget it; it's just more cynical crap from an industry that has perfected and concentrated cynical crap into a form so toxic that just to stand near it is contaminating.
I know which way I'll bet. (Update: he's off the show, "pending investigation." Because the very same behavior that in inexcusable on the part of one man might be okay fine by another, if he's a TV host with a winning smile? Or will we go with "youth and bad influences?" It's a hedged bet, is all.)
Gary Johnson still gets my vote for President, same as he had since before the conventions. He's got serious flaws. He's probably a crude-ass, too, but he's more careful about live mics and cameras. If you can't stop being Junior High School barbarians (and in my darker moments, I think no human ever can[3]), you can at least learn to fake being civilized, right alongside everyone else trying to remember which fork to use and what not to stare at no matter how enticing. I think Gary could manage that, if he got the chance.
This election? There really aren't words strong enough. I miss Nixon and Humphrey. I miss George McGovern. I'm starting to miss John McCain, even at his crankiest. Herbert Hoover or Harry Truman would be a real relief about now.
1. Boys, you can fool your mothers, you can fool your wives or girlfriends, maybe you can even fool your sisters, but you can't fool me. I'm working so quietly at the bench in the back of the room, or up on a ladder overhead, or behind the equipment racks that you forget I'm there -- and in your heart of hearts, engineers don't have boobs anyhow, so I'm under the radar even if it pings a little. How you do talk when you think the chicks are away! Many of you are pigs, kept civilized by social pressure; many of you are primarily outraged at Mr. Trump from envy that he might indeed have been getting away with "Russian hands and Roman fingers" all over pretty young things and you rush to condemn him lest anyone suspect you might ever think or say what you have thought and said many times over. (And by the way, sometimes we look at the best of you with lust in our hearts, too. Don't take it as carte blanche to be crude.)
2. That would be young Mr. William Hall Bush, of those Bushes. NBC loves having a tame Bush on staff, much as the Persian Emperor had ex-Roman Emperor Valerian kept around as a stepstool.
3. What, me catty, gossipy and superficial, tending to form cliques and so on and on? Yeah, some. If boys get "crude," we get a social environment that can make dinner with the Borgia's look tame. And if you duck it, you're the one being gossiped about.
Labels: eediots, marvels of politics, The Kinetoscope
Elite Frenemies?
Maybe they were frenemies; it was the impression I had received, the only time I ever saw Gore Vidal[1] and William F. Buckley, Jr. share a TV screen, late in their lives and careers. They lit up, clearly pleased to not have to pull any punches: they knew they were well-matched. Oh, the blades were concealed; no blood was shed. But the daggers were there, keen, pointed and deftly wielded.
Possibly too they were too well-matched. Possibly each man saw in the other a kind of terribly-distorted reflection of himself. Both elites, though from families only a generation or three in from the rough, they viewed the American government with a proprietorial air. A crueler eye might suppose they were both concerned that the poor and under-represented were about ready to start eating the rich, and Buckley and Vidal only disagreed over the best way to prevent the process. But I think it ran deeper; I think they both worried the very soul of the country was in danger of being lost.
Last night I watched and enjoyed the documentary Best Of Enemies, which has the Buckley-Vidal ABC-TV debates from the 1968 Republican and Democrat conventions at its core. Long story short, in '68, ABC was an also-ran network, in third place nationally only because there was no lower spot. Literate and charming in their individual ways, Vidal and Buckley loathed one another, loved the United States (also each in their own very different way) and the network figured they'd make for good television.
It was compelling TV, anyway; face-to-face, Buckley called Vidal "feline" and was in turn painted as a war-monger -- no, make that a nuclear warmonger. In their better moments, the sparring was marvelous; at their lowest ebb--
I had thought it was during their first debate. I had thought it was in 1964. I thought civil relations between the two had improved. Wrong, wrong, wrong. In the next-to-last debate, the urbane gentlemen worked themselves down to barroom argument. In the midst of a rising dispute about not only freedom of speech but how one ought to react to persons who pushed the boundaries of it, Vidal -- perhaps a bit too comfy with himself from a habit of rehearsing debate zingers to appreciative newsmen -- called Buckley "the only sort of pro- or crypto-Nazi I can think of...," far more serious fighting words between men who had both served during WW II than we might grasp today. Buckley rose to the bait, calling Vidal out with "...you queer. Stop calling me a crypto-Nazi, or I'll sock you in the goddamn face, and you'll stay plastered." Live, on network television, in 1968. Howard K, Smith, the abruptly-onscreen face of ABC's news coverage, looked as if he had swallowed a spider.
Nor did the feud end there. The two sparred and escalated in the pages of Esquire, which led to a matched set of lawsuits that went for years, right down to the wire until the magazine (also named in the suits) settled their part and left the men a way out.
But there's a note of sadness. In later life, Buckley expressed regret over his word choice[2]. In later life, Vidal kept a series of framed photographs of the two men debating -- on the wall over the bathtub in his Italian home. Outliving his opponent, Vidal's poison-pen thumbnail Buckley eulogy to a reporter held this wistful gem: "...hell is bound to be a livelier place..."
With both of them gone, the world is a less-lively place. Neither was entirely comfortable with directions American party politics has taken; Vidal the flaming liberal went so far as to observe, "...essentially, there is no difference between the two parties." Mind you, he thought them both too right-wing, too concerned with "property," in the sense of what those who controlled the parties already owned: most of the country. He had a point.
Moderns will find much to disagree with in the expressed views of both over time; but so did they, growing and changing with the times. The two men were snobs, they were elites, they were, in many senses, effete. But they loved this country. They loved language, and accusing one another of maltreating it. They were, when on their best behavior, delightful to watch clashing swords. They were never going to be friends.
Best of Enemies offers an insightful glimpse of both men, in the kind of documentary that has become all too scarce: a lot of material straight from the original sources and speculation only on the part of interviewees. If you want to see history while it's still settling, this film is for you.
1. Almost Eugene Louis Gore Vidal, Jr., by the way, and aren't we all fortunate to have been spared that? You can thank him, as it was changed by his own choice.
2. Of course, he went on to say Gore Vidal was "an evangelist for bisexuality," which is indeed accurate. Harsh, perhaps, but fair; and there's William F. Buckley, Jr. for you in a nutshell.
Labels: marvels of history, marvels of politics, The Kinetoscope
I posted in great haste yesterday and in the process, left off one of the better books I'm reading -- yes, I have several going at any one time, usually one on the Kindle and one on paper, with occasional overage.
The present paperbound "overage" is an excess of delight and practicality, typewriter collector Richard Polt's The Typewriter Revolution, covering history, use, maintenance, philosophy and esthetics of, yes, the typewriter. It's got everything from tool-selection guidance to polemics and (partially tongue-in-cheek) propaganda, clearly written, lavishly and nicely illustrated, all in a lovely buckram binding with a bound-in bookmark in the form of red-and-black typewriter ribbon. It's A Compleat Thing, an artifact at once practical and pleasant. If you like typewriters, you should have this book.
Lines to love? This fellow Richard Polt, with such a deep appreciation of an obsolete, clunky technology, could have signed himself Dr. Polt (he didn't); he's a Professor of Philosophy at Xavier and no slouch at it, either, if a quick web search is to be trusted. Here he is on fixing your own typewriter, a few pages away from a photo of his neatly-organized workbench:
"I was never the kind of kid who took apart alarm clocks, but I was able to teach myself typewriter repair as an adult with patience and logic."
...Which is how we learn anything, from Heidigger to harmony, the application of patience and logic; a knack alone rarely cuts it. It shouldn't take a philosophy professor to point it out but I'm kind of glad it did.
This is a good book; you'll read the parts that appeal to your take on the hobby and save the rest for when you need it.
Things I am reading:
The Washington Frickin' Post, or stories from the first couple of pages of each section, anyway. Their app arrived installed on my Kindle Fire 7 and it makes for interesting reading, as their utter horror at Mr. Trump, glee over every stumble from Gov. Johnson and not-quite-concealed disdain for Secretary Clinton makes it clear that they, too (and by their own dim and twisted lights) are trying to put the best face they can on an election with less-appealing main contenders than a back-alley bumfight.* Good luck with that.
Crap about clowns: someone needs to start running a clowns-in-the-news aggregator, because it is becoming a regular item and not in a good way. Seriously, WTF, over? Juggalos run amoker? Fans (ew, squick) of John Wayne Gacy? Idiots? A "news flap," largely self-sustaining, fueled by hoax and rumor? --Logic favors the last two on the list. We were better off with Bigfoot and flying saucers. Remember when clowns were merely creepily cheerful and amused children? No? Me, neither.
Bloody Acquisitions, Drew Hayes: the third book in a series about Fred, the Vampire Accountant. A bit dry, perhaps, but Fred's a decent guy whose concentration on business -- even the undead have to keep financial records and file taxes -- blinds him from seeing just what an inadvertently brave and stand-up fellow he is. Luckily his friends, a mixed bag of parahumans, do notice. Scary hijinks ensue. These are fun books, best read in order, and if you were wondering what the less-apocalyptic side of Larry Corriea's MHI universe might look like, this is it. Well-written pulp, interesting characters, engrossing plots and, hey, accountancy. What more do you want?
Lionel Shriver, The Mandibles: A Family 2029 - 2047. Speaking of the Apocalypse, or an apocalypse, near-future calamity novels faded away as the Cold War and The Bomb came to feel routine. Shriver's brought the sub-genere back on a wave of bad debt rather than radiation, and it may be more frightening than Fail-Safe, Alas, Babylon or On The Beach. This future is mostly-linear extrapolation and the prediction perhaps errs on the gentle side -- but it's no walk in the park. I'm about a third of the way in. Turk Turon sent me the book with a note, "I read it thinking you'd be fascinated." So far, he's right: fascinated like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake, knowing the strike is inevitable and hoping it won't hurt too much. Every time I fill up an old-fashioned paper bag at the grocer's for over $50, I think thoughts of the sort Shriver puts on paper elegantly and well. I don't know how it ends, so don't spoil it. But it can't end well and we'd be wise to heed that.
* Look, if you are finding yourself favoring one of the Big Two candidates, I'm happy for you; just try to bear in mind that, rightly or wrongly, they are two of the least-liked people to ever run for President, and I'm including Richard Nixon in that tally. The people who don't like them -- and there are a lot who don't -- really don't like them and we're all going to have to live with that. Invest in an effigy factory and you can't go wrong. Make sure they'll burn nicely!
Labels: books, marvels of politics
Well, That's Better
Managed to work only eight hours, actually made some progress, learned about 1950s elevator controls,* discovered we would not be using the tower elevator in the downward direction that day -- "Kid, we don't carry parts that old on the truck," which I will take from someone who is both my senior and so obviously knows his trade -- got out roughly on time and made it to the drive-thru doc.
I drew a physician's assistant, who didn't hear any crackling from my lungs (I did, in bed in the middle of last night, but I've got to be listening close and I had to experiment to make sure it wasn't my sinuses) but wasn't at all happy with the sore throat, cough etc. Symptomatic treatment was the order of the day, some good strong cough syrup I can only take around bedtime and Prednisone as an anti-inflammatory: a "stop hurting, stop coughing and buy time" approach that makes sense to me; the Tincture of Time cures a lot of things if the symptoms don't drive the patient to distraction. The corticosteroid isn't without its own set of possible effects but it's not for very long, in a hit hard and taper off regimen that ought to help.
The Ancient Greek were probably right, though -- for serious doctoring, there should be some incense and a snake or two around, just so you can be impressed more. There's a boatload of headology in regular-type medical practice: they're mainly arranging things so your body can do the work. It doesn't hurt to breathe on the dice before you roll 'em.
However she did it, I was able to get a decent night's sleep and my outlook this morning is considerably less dyspeptic than it had been. This is a good thing, as I was about ready to sell a kidney, pay off the house, and retire.
* From the 1920s onwards, unless it says "Otis" on the elevator controls and possibly even then, C. J. Anderson built it. Sure, there's someone else's name tag on it, but those beautifully-wired slate or thick metal panels full of open-frame relays, with everything dressed neatly, flat roadmaps of wire held by soft-metal strips? Odds are good C. J.Anderson built it up near Chicago, IL, and odds are they still have repair parts for it. Don't try this at home; elevator repair is a job for experts, and that's who they sell to.
Who Am I, And Why Am I Here?
It was a better line before the spin-doctors got hold of it. Sadly, my present state is closer to how it was perceived afterwards.
Worked nearly 16 hours yesterday and I'm doing a short turnaround today, into a day that may itself run long. I'd like to say it's worth it, but increasingly, it is not. I'm running with a persistent and intermittently productive cough, a nasty sore throat and occasional dizziness. I'll probably go from work to the doc-in-a-a-box, who will give me some patent nostrum that won't do much.
To Add To The Fun
Not only am I on the early shift, I'll be working a double or near-double shift today, too. Okay, they pay me for it, but I'm still recovering from the pneumonia-or-whatever, with a nagging sore throat, sore chest and mostly-dry cough.
Well, either I'll get through it or it'll knock me flat for another couple of days. Or both. Plenty of time to sleep when the docs won't let you do anything but, right? And until then, the clock's ticking.
I'm Here
Just didn't have much to say. I'd like to tell you I slept in, but in fact, it's my lunch break. Oh, the glamor!
Posted by Roberta X at 10:13 AM No comments: Links to this post
Icebox-And-Pantry Omelet
It's not wise to skip grocery-shopping when you know you're low on staples, but I was sleepy last night and needed to get home to feed the cats only a little later than normal because Tam (who usually gets their evening meal) was out of town for the day.
But I had and there I was at 0500, hungry and wondering what I could come up with. Eggs we had, but no breakfast meat. Bread but I didn't want to just do toast... Half an onion, some black olives, some hard-toasted French bread rounds (think giant croutons) left over from Midwestern "chili"* the other night and a little balsamic bellavitano cheese: clearly, the Fates wanted me to have an omelet!
A couple of the rusks broken up and with some water over them sat and soaked while I chopped and cooked a little onion (with black pepper and paprika). I beat two eggs into the bread and water with a pinch of sage and thyme, took the onion out and poured the eggs into the pan. Once the omelet was starting to set, I added most of the onion, diced cheese and a few olives, folded the omelet and finished it: yum!
That combination works well. Sorry, I ate it as soon as it was plated rather than taking a photo.
* The skeptical quotes are a compromise, as Tam and people in the southwestern U.S. look askance at what we call chili up here in soybean-and-corn country. It's a flavorful stew with ground beef, canned tomatoes, red kidney beans, onion, a little chili powder and, typically, elbow macaroni. I skipped the pasta and added a small can of mild green chilis, some hot Italian sausage with the beef, a single fresh tomato along with the canned, and good dark chili powder. It's still nothing a Texan would call chili, so I put the word in quotes or name it by describing the contents, in order to avoid a long conversation on what does and does not constitute chili. In truth, "chili" is whatever you call chili, usually a red stew with meat, much as "science fiction" is whatever science fiction readers read, usually about the future.


text:
Deified is a solo studio album by American rapper Keak da Sneak. It was released on February 19, 2008 via AllNDaDoe/Koch Records. Production was handled by David "Mozart" Korkis, Traxamillion, CHOPS, Droop-E, The Slapboyz and DJ Vlad. It features guest appearances from Paul Wall, Bra-Hef, Celly Cel, Chingo Bling, Clyde Carson, Daz Dillinger, E-40, Lil' Keke, Lil' Retro, Matt Blaque, Messy Marv, Mistah F.A.B., Prodigy, San Quinn, Scoot, The Alchemist, The Jacka, Too $hort and Yaberation. The album sold 3,800 copies in its first week on shelves, debuting at #196 on the US Billboard 200 chart.

Track listing

Personnel
Sam Bostic – guitar (track 5)
David "Mozart" Korkis – mixing, mastering
Paul Grosso – art direction, design, creative direction
Laurel Dann – A&R
Marleny Dominguez – management
Deborah Rigaud – legal
Jane Minovskaya – production manager
Regena Ratcliffe – production manager
Gazelle Alexander – product manager
Sean Rock – product manager
Alex Rago – product manager
Dee Sonaram – promotion
Shadow Stokes – promotion
Christian Mariano – marketing direction, video production
Chris Herche – digital marketing
David Bosch – press marketing
Giovanna Melchiorre – press marketing

Chart history

References

External links
 Deified on Discogs

2008 albums
E1 Music albums
Keak da Sneak albums
MNRK Music Group albums
Albums produced by Droop-E

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


Foods that loosen the gut are sought because the arrest and belly increases the belly and is too bad. The question arises whether the fuba releases the intestine, or arrest. Well, besides the questions of fattening or not, there is also this doubt, if it is bad and such. Watch the video and check out.
youtu.be/JGvzMqlZznM - "Next Day Fat Pill?" Look!
youtu.be/K_JIAhPLego - "Juice Rose Detox Recipe" Watch!
ISTO VAI DESINTOXICAR O INTESTINO E SECAR TODA A GORDURA ALOJADA NA SUA BARRIGA EM POUCOS DIAS!
STF: NÃO PRENDE, SOLTA BANDIDOS, INOCENTAM CORRUPTOS E ATRAPALHAM A LAVA JATO. INÚTEIS!


text:
https://www.ophth.wisc.edu/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/Renata.jpg" /> Brazil Resident "Finds her Sparkle" at the University of Wisconsin-Madison – UW DOVS
Brazil Resident "Finds her Sparkle" at the University of Wisconsin-Madison
Education News // Featured News // Global Ophthalmology // News // Oct 28 2022
When Renata Martins Maia, MD talks about ophthalmology, her eyes sparkle, conveying the passion that drove her to travel more than 5,000 miles for the next phase of her career. Maia left the University of São Paulo, Brazil in September for a five-week residency observership with the University of Wisconsin Department of Ophthalmology and Visual Sciences (DOVS).
The department's Global Ophthalmology Initiatives (GOI) Research and Clinical Observership program started in 2017, thanks to a sponsorship with the non-profit Combat Blindness International (CBI) and the University of São Paulo. It provides a global ophthalmology resident the opportunity to spend five weeks with DOVS faculty, observing in clinic and the operating room, participating in educational opportunities, and conducting research under the guidance of a faculty mentor.
Maia credits her parents – her mother a cardiologist and father an ophthalmologist – for inspiring her love of medicine and her interest in plastic surgery. "At first I wanted to do plastic surgery," she said. "But eventually I realized that was not what I was looking for. Then I started in ophthalmology, and I loved it. You have so many choices within the specialty, including oculoplastics. It was a perfect fit."
Because of her interests, Maia partnered for the five weeks with Cat Burkat, MD, FACS who specializes in oculoplastic, reconstructive, and orbital surgery. "Dr. Burkat is artistic and thinks ahead," Maia said. "She's always four steps ahead, which is great because you often have to be creative and think about other ways besides the traditional to help a patient."
Cat Burkat, MD, FACS and Renata Martins Maia, MD
In addition to contributing to two research studies under Burkat, observations in clinical and surgical services including oculoplastics and neuro ophthalmology, Maia attended the American Society of Ophthalmic Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery annual fall symposium and the national American Academy of Ophthalmology conference in Chicago. She also participated in the department's annual Right to Sight Eye Clinic, another partnership with CBI.
Dr. Maia and Dr. Burkat at 2022 Right to Sight Eye Clinic
Maia's primary research was a Botox study to determine whether there is a correlation between forehead injections and diminished hand sensitivity. "We think of Botox as a cosmetic treatment," Maia said, "without really understanding the potential long term medical implications."
The second research study investigated Parry-Romberg Syndrome, a rare disorder that causes deterioration of the skin and soft tissues on half of the face. The project reviews past medical records to assess whether current treatments are effective. "This is not a common disease in Brazil," Maia said. "But now, I'll be able to recognize it when I see it and know how to treat it."
Maia noted some significant differences between patient care in the United States and Brazil, particularly in terms of patient privacy. In Brazil, exam rooms are large, open areas, with multiple patients sharing the same space. "Private information is given in a very public space," Maia said. "We need to change that."
Further, Brazilian doctors see as many patients per day as physicians trained in the United States, Maia noted, but with far less support. "In Brazil doctors complete all aspects of a patient's appointment, from start to finish, including paperwork and transport to other departments," she said. As a result, Brazilian doctors are less effective.
Perhaps most importantly, Maia learned skills and techniques that will help her communicate more effectively with her patients in Brazil. "You have handouts and other informational materials to assist in informing patients of their disease and the options for treatment. You use colored pencils and draw for them," she said. "I'm going to try to do that as well back home."
Maia's experience in Madison wasn't all work, as she took time to explore the community as well. She went to the capitol, the farmer's market, the zoo, and a dog park. She traveled to Devils Lake and spent a day in Milwaukee. She even experienced a Badger football game. "I learned to jump around," she said with a laugh. And, of course, she sampled Wisconsin food, naming cheese curds and apple pie as her favorites.
Maia credits DOVS faculty and education team with making her feel welcomed and supported. "They did their best to integrate me fully into the department," Maia said. "Even though they were busy, they did not forget I was there. I'm grateful for that." She specifically noted Senior Graduate Medical Education Program Manager, Hannah Baker, in her reflection. "Hannah is the most amazing person in the world. She was so happy and friendly. I can't be more thankful for her than I am."
The five weeks went quickly, but it was time well spent. Maia said it has motivated her to research international fellowship programs in oculoplastics in the United States. As she returns to her family and her residency at home, she brings with her new information, a greater experience, and something intangible. "I found my sparkle," Maia said.
Department Chair to be Honored at Outstanding Women of Color Awards
Department Hosts Inaugural Low Vision Rehabilitation Meeting


It is strange enough to learn that the latest missing child, Lonzie Barton is a distant cousin of the Still Missing Haleigh Cummings, there are a lot of other similarities that make the fact that these children are missing more than just an amazing coincidence.
First BOTH missing children were with siblings when they disappeared.
Second: Those surrounding both children had a long history with drug abuse.
Third: Both caregivers who were last with the children have stopped cooperating with law enforcement.
Fourth: The last adult to see each child gave conflicting statements as to what led to the children being missing.
Fifth: Both children went missing in the same general area of Northeast Florida.
Sixth:Both adults who were last with the missing children were not biologically related to them. They were girlfriend/boyfriend of the biological parent the children lived with.
Seventh: The biological parents were not with the children when they went missing. BOTH biological parents were, in fact, either at work or on their way home or away from work when the children went missing.
As time goes on, I am certain that the various armchair detectives out there will come up with more coincidences. Patterns are starting to emerge. Already, Detectives working both cases are joining forces to determine if there is something about these two cases that might provide some long awaited answers and that finally the mysteries of what happened to these two children will be solved.
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Modern Interior Colors 10 Modern Paint Colors Youll Want On Your Walls Mydomaine Uploaded by totalemul on Thursday, January 3rd, 2019 in category Decor and Design.
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text:
Narcissus obesus is a species of the genus Narcissus (Daffodils) in the family Amaryllidaceae. It is classified in Section Bulbocodium. It is native to Spain, Portugal and Morocco.

Description
Flowers solitary, horizontal to erect, floral tube and tepals yellow.

Distribution and habitat
Rocky cliffs, dunes and meadows, calcareous or acid soil.

References

External links
  Pacific Bulb Society
 Alpine Garden Society

obesus
Garden plants
Flora of Spain


text:
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/**
 * sfValidatorPropelChoice validates that the value is one of the rows of a table.
 *
 * @package    symfony
 * @subpackage validator
 * @author     Fabien Potencier <fabien.potencier@symfony-project.com>
 * @version    SVN: $Id$
 */
class sfValidatorPropelChoice extends sfValidatorBase
{
  /**
   * Configures the current validator.
   *
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   *
   *  * model:      The model class (required)
   *  * criteria:   A criteria to use when retrieving objects
   *  * column:     The column name (null by default which means we use the primary key)
   *                must be in field name format
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   *
   * @see sfValidatorBase
   */
  protected function configure($options = array(), $messages = array())
  {
    $this->addRequiredOption('model');
    $this->addOption('criteria', null);
    $this->addOption('column', null);
    $this->addOption('connection', null);
  }

  /**
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  protected function doClean($value)
  {
    $criteria = is_null($this->getOption('criteria')) ? new Criteria() : clone $this->getOption('criteria');
    $criteria->addAnd($this->getColumn(), $value);

    $object = call_user_func(array($this->getOption('model').'Peer', 'doSelectOne'), $criteria, $this->getOption('connection'));

    if (is_null($object))
    {
      throw new sfValidatorError($this, 'invalid', array('value' => $value));
    }

    return $value;
  }

  /**
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  protected function getColumn()
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    if ($this->getOption('column'))
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    }
    else
    {
      $map = call_user_func(array($this->getOption('model').'Peer', 'getTableMap'));
      foreach ($map->getColumns() as $column)
      {
        if ($column->isPrimaryKey())
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  }
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
← ARE YOU A LOCAL TRADIE LOOKING FOR DISASTER RECOVERY WORK?
CARLYLE GARDENS COMMUNITY DAY – 23rd MARCH →
COMMUNITY INVITED TO COMMENT ON SHOWGROUNDS FUTURE
A host of community ideas have been floated regarding the future shape a redeveloped former Bundaberg City Showgrounds should take.
Multi purpose buildings, a performing arts complex and sporting fields are just some ideas that have been informally expressed since Bundaberg Regional Council relocated the Showgrounds to a new site opposite the airport.
Council is now calling on the residents of Bundaberg to provide ideas and initiatives regarding just how the former Showgrounds land should be utilized for the benefit of the community and future generations.
A Community consultation session will be held at the main pavilion at the former Showgrounds this Saturday from 9.30am until 11.30am.
Mayor, Cr. Mal Forman said it was extremely important for the community to participate by offering contributions to the pool of ideas necessary to ensure a comprehensive consultation process.
"We are talking about an area of more than 14.7 hectares that is available for development under our Draft Land Management Plan," said Cr. Forman.
"It is this area that will contain community infrastructure. We have an additional freehold area of 6.9 hectares set aside where it is proposed to develop a mix of residential and commercial activities."
"The freehold area will provide a revenue source to assist Council to fund the development of the remaining land."
Council's Planning and Development portfolio spokesperson Cr. Ross Sommerfeld said pre-feasibility studies and needs assessments have highlighted that the site had the potential to address numerous opportunities. "A key component of preliminary investigations is the creation of a multi-purpose community building for public hall, and sport and recreation use."
He said Council recently announced the sale of the PCYC building to the State Government and is looking to relocate the organisation to premises at the old Showgrounds site. "This is an ideal facility for inclusion in a multi-purpose structure."
Cr. Sommerfeld said many of the existing buildings located on site would be gradually demolished. He said it was planned to consolidate the presence of some users not affected by proposed new infrastructure while undertaking the relocation of others.
""Much of the current open space will be formalised through parklands and it is intended to retain the existing substantial vegetation."
Public displays of the Draft Land Management Plan can be viewed at Council's Administration Centre lobby, Library and at Sugarland.
The Plan can also be viewed on line at www.bundaberg.qld.gov.au. Online and written submission close at 5pm on Friday March 22, 2013.


The Energy and Biomass Project started communication from scratch. The project started at a time when nobody knew what biomass was, nobody from the public or the private sectors was using modern biomass technologies, and the biofuel supply market was at an embryonic stage.
increase the number of biomass energy promoters.
Due to its integrated communication approach, which besides remote communication also involved interpersonal communication, direct contact with the target groups, mobilization of communities, partnership and support of decision-makers, the Energy and Biomass Project is successful in transmitting that the agricultural waste is a source of income for farmers, that production of solid biomass is a business opportunity and that biomass heating is a source of comfort and savings for the people and an opportunity to increase the country's energy independence.


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This union of churches idea is interesting to me. It appears as though it simply eliminates the conference level and with it a lot of expense. There definitely seems to be an upside with what looks like a lot of cost savings.
However, I wonder about the ramifications of such a move. Will such a move effectively eliminate the voice of the layperson from directing the church. I mean now, the conference is elected by lay people and the workers in a conference. However, will eliminating the conference level leave those lay people, and workers who are not politically powerful, from the table of decision making? Is such a move the best?
It is true that the discussions and decisions have to be made on how this will work, but I do wonder about whether the average pastor and average lay person will have as much say in the leading of these Union of Churches and in the leading of their local conference.
For that reason alone, I wonder if the elimination of the Union level might be brought to the table as a cost saving device as well. How many of us even interact with out union officials. We do see the conference officials often, but the union? Division, GC?
I'm all for monetary savings and am not philosophically against restructure, but I do think we need to be very careful about how we consolidate power. If done in the wrong way, we will never be able to get it back.


text:
Accounting in Central and Eastern Europe Vol: 13
Catalin Albu
Razvan Mustapa
Research in Accounting in Emerging Economies
Accounting & Finance »
Accounting Accountancy »
Countries in Central and Eastern Europe (CEE), most of them former components of the communist bloc, have suffered diverse influences over time. Historically, the advent of communism in the 1950s has stopped the economic and political development of these countries. Its fall during the late 1980s and early 1990s triggered severe changes in the economic and social environment, with profound consequences on the countries' accounting and business models. The accounting regulatory process of these countries has mostly been a public one, although some countries also involved private sector and professional bodies. With economic and political reforms these countries are now reforming their accounting systems with for example the adoption of International Accounting Standards/International Financial Reporting Standards (IFRS). Additionally, the CEE countries' political will to join the European Union compelled the regulators to ensure a high level of harmonization with the European Directives. This volume present theoretical and empirical papers that will further our understanding of accounting issues in CEE countries.
About the Editors. Introduction. List of Contributors. Accounting in central and eastern europe. The adoption of international financial reporting standards (IFRS) and loss avoidance in turkey. The effect of international financial reporting standards (IFRS) adoption on the value relevance of financial reporting: A case of russia. The true and fair view concept in romania: A case study of concept transferability. Institutional pressures and the role of the state in designing the financial accounting and reporting model in Estonia. Evolution of accounting in moldova: Some reflections about the importance of historical and cultural factors. Intellectual capital disclosure of romanian listed companies. The determinants of intellectual capital disclosure: Evidence from romania. Intangible assets and their reporting practices: Evidence from slovenia. Reconsidering financial reporting from the perspective of corporate social and environmental responsibility. Romanian companies' approach. Environmental disclosure of romanian listed entities. Does professional accounting qualification matter for the provision of accounting services?. Assessing accounting students' academic performance: A case study on Romania. Research in accounting in emerging economies. Accounting in central and eastern europe. Copyright page. About the Authors.
Advances in Accounting Behavioral Research Vol: 24
Khondkar E. Karim
Contemporary Issues in Public Sector Accounting and Auditing Vol: 105
Simon Grima
Advances in Taxation Vol: 28
John Hasseldine
Environmentalism and NGO Accountability Vol: 9
Kemi C. Yekini
Persistence and Vigilance Vol: 24
Yvette J. Lazdowski
Resistance and Accountability Vol: 22
Cheryl R. Lehman
'Counting Black and White Beans'
Anton Lewis
Research on Professional Responsibility and Ethics in Accounting Vol: 23
Charles Richard Baker
Advances in Accounting Education Vol: 24
Thomas G. Calderon
The Definitive Guide to Blockchain for Accounting and Business
Saurav K. Dutta


text:
Does Amy Acker Have a Husband? Insights on 9-1-1: Lone Star Actress' Married Life
Amy Acker (Image Source: IMDb)
Amy Acker is one of the most loved actresses from the United States who has worked in over 60 films and tv series.
Some of her prominent roles can be seen in the movies like Angel, The Cabin in the Woods, Alias, and Person of Interest.
The popular actress debuted on the big screen by landing the role of Venus / Catherine Morland / Priscilla in the tv series named Wishbone, which was released in 1997.
Since then, she has had an active presence in this field, and her work has helped her take multiple awards, including the Saturn Award in 2004.
Furthermore, Acker has a massive fan base who often asks questions regarding her personal life, mainly her married life. So, we've talked about it here but let's start with her short bio.
Amy Acker Age – How Old Is She?
Born Amy Louise Acker on December 5, 1976, she is 45 years old as of early 2022. Acker is a native of Dallas, Texas, who was raised by Robert Acker and Sandra Bruyere. From an early age, Acker was interested in pursuing a career in the entertainment line.
A post shared by Amy Acker (@theamyacker)
Initially, she was interested in ballet dancing, but due to some injuries, she left her career of 14 years. After that, Acker started working as an actress, and now she is considered one of the most experienced personalities. Now, let's move into the topic of her married life.
Also: Is Tatiana Maslany Married to Her Boyfriend? More on Her Dating Life
Married Life: Meet Amy Acker's Husband
Well, the 45-years-old actress is already married, and she leads a happy married life with her husband named James Carpinello, an American actor who is famous for his appearances in Tori Spelling's VH1 sitcom called So Notorious.
The power couple dated each other for some years before walking down the wedding aisle on April 25, 2003. Their intimate marriage ceremony was held in the presence of their family and close ones in California. So, they have been sharing the relationship of a husband and wife for many years.
Amy Acker and James Carpinello together in a frame with their dog ( Source: Instagram )
Being married for over a decade, the pair have started their family, and their first child, a son named Jackson James Carpinello, was born in 2005.
The following year in 2006, they became parents for the second time after welcoming their daughter, Ava Grace Carpinello.
The family of four lives happily, and the pair often posts their images on their social media handles.
Their social media posts show that the family lives a lavish life as the couple is engaged in the showbiz industry, and both of them have amassed a massive amount of money but are you familiar with the net worth of Acker?
Learn More: Kelsey Calemine Before and After Photos – Who Is She Currently Dating?
Amy Acker's Net Worth Is in Millions
The professional actress Amy Acker has preserved a huge fortune, and Celebrity Net Worth reports her net worth to be around $2 million, thanks to her long-term career as an actress.
Acker has worked in multiple big-budget movies that have grossed a huge amount.
Back in 2014, Acker appeared in Let's Kill Ward's Wife, which was made on a budget of $5 million. The respective project's box office collection is said to be pretty massive, but the actual amount is missing from the web.
Being an actress, Acker surely makes money from sponsorship and endorsement deals.
On the other side, her husband is also an actor, and he has worked on numerous projects that have done well in the industry. So, his net value is also not less than a million dollars.
We can get updated with the lifestyle of the happy family by following Acker on Instagram as @theamyacker and her husband as @jimmycarp.
Amy Acker James Carpinello