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District attorney: Sheriff's deputy cleared in shooting of unarmed man
A 23-year-old man was shot and killed by sheriff's deputies near southeast Fort Collins in June.
District attorney: Sheriff's deputy cleared in shooting of unarmed man A 23-year-old man was shot and killed by sheriff's deputies near southeast Fort Collins in June. Check out this story on coloradoan.com: http://noconow.co/2vbtmDO
Alicia Stice, astice@coloradoan.com Published 10:46 a.m. MT July 27, 2017 | Updated 4:25 p.m. MT Sept. 22, 2017
The Larimer County District Attorney has deemed a sheriff's deputy's use of force justified in a June shooting.(Photo: Coloradoan library)Buy Photo
Seconds before he was shot by a Larimer County Sheriff's Office deputy on the southeast edge of Fort Collins, 23-year-old Chet Knuppel was quickly moving toward three officers in a muddy field.
Even though Knuppel was later discovered to be unarmed, Larimer County District Attorney Cliff Riedel deemed the deputy's lethal use of force justified Thursday and provided more details on the events leading up to the deadly June 30 encounter.
"It was objectively reasonable to believe that Mr. Knuppel was armed with a gun and that he intended to shoot the deputies when in range," Reidel wrote in a letter detailing his opinion on the shooting.
In the hour before his death, Knuppel had reportedly taken his parents' car without their permission, threatened to shoot an 82-year-old man and steal his car, and forced another driver off the road before crashing near the intersection of Timberline and Carpenter roads.
Witnesses said Knuppel fled into a field when he heard the sounds of approaching sirens.
Three deputies — Derek Signorelli, Tyson Russell and Sam Roth — pursued Knuppel through the field. When Knuppel approached a farmhouse, he turned around, and quickly moved toward the officers, according to Riedel's letter.
Deputy Russell activated the emergency button on his body radio, which sends a signal to dispatch that officers need immediate assistance. It also opens the deputy's microphone for about 10 seconds. In those 10 seconds, officers can be heard telling Knuppel to get on the ground and put his hands up several times.
Listen to the audio in the clip below.
Knuppel next reached both hands behind his back, Riedel wrote, and deputy Signorelli fatally shot him in the chest with an AR-15 rifle.
Knuppel's father, Troy Knuppel, said in an email that Riedel's letter reflects "an opinion from one side of the story."
"We will be examining the evidence and coming to our own conclusion," he wrote. "It is a shame it has come to this. America is not protected and watched over by elected officials, but rather it is the government against the citizens of America. I am rather sure that the markings on the side of officers' cars state 'To Serve and Protect.' When did this change?"
It's unclear at this time if Troy Knuppel has hired investigators or what, if any, action he is pursuing.
"We can certainly understand the grief of any family that loses a loved one unexpectedly, especially a young person," Larimer County Sheriff Justin Smith said.
"As difficult as it is to read everything that's in (Riedel's letter), I think it paints a good picture of what responders were faced with when they got there, and how decisions were made, and the short timeline and the chaos that really was going on leading up to that."
In his letter, Riedel said that has become "all too common" for people with mental illness to try to force a deadly confrontation with law enforcement officers. Although officers are armed with batons and Tasers — a non-lethal alternative to the firearms they carry — that is not always a safe option for officers, Riedel wrote.
FAQ: FAQ: Answers to 5 common questions about police shootings
In January, a Fort Collins Police Services officer shot 24-year-old Austin Snodgrass, who later admitted to trying to force officers to kill him. Snodgrass survived the encounter. One day after Knuppel's death, 19-year-old Jeremy Holmes was fatally shot by officers near the Colorado State University campus after reportedly telling officers, "Kill me now," and moving toward the officers with a knife.
Knuppel had a documented history of mental illness, Reidel said. During an arrest for drunken driving in 2015, he reportedly asked a Fort Collins Police Services officer to shoot him. He also attempted suicide in January, according to Riedel's letter.
"The reach of a bullet from a suspect's gun is far greater than the reach of a police officer's baton, pepper spray, or Taser," his letter stated. "Colorado law allows officers to protect their lives, the lives of fellow officers, and the lives of innocent civilians by using deadly physical force in this situation."
Knuppel's death is one of four fatal police shootings in Larimer County this year.
Signorelli is still on paid administrative leave pending the outcome of an internal investigation, which is department policy. The sheriff's office also has a process for bringing deputies back on duty following a fatal shooting that includes a check-in with a mental health counselor.
Smith said there is no set time frame for Signorelli's return, but usually deputies are ready to come back within a few weeks of that process beginning.
Police shootings in Larimer County
Since late 2011, the Larimer County District Attorney's Office has issued opinions on 16 police shootings.
Officers were cleared in three use-of-force opinions issued in 2016 and 2015, two in 2014 and 2013, one in 2012, and one in 2011.
Year to date, there have been four in 2017 in Larimer County:
Fort Collins Police Services Officer Matt Brede was cleared of wrongdoing Feb. 7 in the nonfatal shooting of Austin Snodgrass on Jan. 21. Snodgrass is set for trial in October.
Loveland police officers Stephen Marchio, Sean McDonald, Geoff Reeves and Matthew Sychla were cleared July 6 of wrongdoing in the fatal shooting of Stephen Rich on June 8.
Larimer County Sheriff's Office Deputy Derek Signorelli is cleared of wrongdoing July 27 in the fatal shooting of vehicle theft suspect Chet Knuppel on June 30 on the outskirts of southeast Fort Collins.
Fort Collins Police Services Officer Erin Mast and Colorado State University Police Department Cpl. Philip Morris were cleared July 18 of wrongdoing after they fatally shot suspect Jeremy Holmes on July 1.
Correction: This story has been updated to correct Snodgrass' age.
Read or Share this story: http://noconow.co/2vbtmDO


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Mucci Farms is committed to giving back to the local community through several campaigns and contributions. In an effort to promote healthy eating to the next generation, one of many initiatives include the donation of several thousand pounds of fresh vegetables to local school kitchens. In addition to a variety of charitable events, the company was inspired by CEO Bert Mucci's passion for long distance running to put together a company defining initiative in 2015. Mucci Farms launched "50k for 50k", a fundraising campaign with proceeds benefitting the Make-A-Wish Foundation. With a pledge to run 50 kilometers, the goal was more than doubled with a total of $115 000 raised, making a wish come true for 12 terminally ill children.
Most recently, Mucci Farms has partnered with Transition To Betterness, a local charity dedicated to bringing comfort to patients and families impacted by life-altering illnesses. This initiative will see Mucci Farms and Thermo Energy build a greenhouse on-site at Hotel-Dieu Grace Healthcare, a local hospital in Windsor, Ontario. First of its kind in Canada, the greenhouse will grow fresh produce and serve as a healing garden for patients. Mucci Farms is dedicated to being socially responsible members of the community and remain committed to charitable work that raises the spirit of people and furthers the goal of promoting healthy eating.


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Lionel Messi says he wanted Neymar to return to Barcelona this year
Saidur Rahman
FC Barcelona players Lionel Messi (L) and Neymar attend a press conference to announce the sponsorship agreement between the team and Japanese e-commerce operator Rakuten Inc. in Tokyo, Japan on July 13, 2017.
Lionel Messi says he wanted Neymar to return to Barcelona this year, as the Brazilian would have helped the club make a leap forward, and added that his former team-mate was looking forward to joining the league champions again.
Barca spent most of the end of the season negotiating with Paris St Germain to return Neymar to the Camp Nou two years after he left for a world record of 222 million euros (198.77 million pounds), but the Catalans failed to reach an agreement with the champions of Ligue 1.
"The truth is that yes, I would have loved Neymar to come," said the captain of Barca to the newspaper Sport on Thursday.
The five most expensive players in the Premier League in 2019/2020
"I understand the people who were against it. And it's normal because of everything that had happened with Ney, how she left and how she left us. It's normal and logical that there are a lot of people who don't want him to come back, but thinking about it on a sporting level, for me, Neymar is one of the best in the world," added the Argentine star.
"Obviously our team would have increased the chances of getting the results we all want. I would have liked it to have come for what it would imply, not only at the sporting level, but also at the club level for what it means at the level of clubs, sponsorship, image, growth. The club would have taken a leap too. But well, it didn't happen."
The president of Barca, Josep Maria Bartomeu, said last week that the club did everything possible to sign Neymar, but admitted that he could not meet the price asked by PSG for the forward, who scored 105 goals in four seasons with the Catalans.
"I don't know what was going on inside the directive. I know what he talked about with Ney, what he told me about how things were going. I really wanted to come," said Messi, who could not play this season due to an injury in the soleus.
"I also understand that it is very difficult to negotiate with the PSG after all the roundtrips it has with Barcelona. And it's difficult because it's Ney, who is one of the best. These negotiations are never easy".
Messi, Barça's all-time leading scorer, also said he had no plans to abandon the Catalans at any time, shortly after the club confirmed that his contract contains a clause that allows him to decide at the end of each season if he wants to leave for free.
"Yes, I can say that I want to be in Barcelona as much as I can, to do my whole career because this is my home," he said.
"I want to be physically well, play and be important and see that there is a winning project.
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Jimi Hendrix, 'People, Hell & Angels' – Album Review
Michael Gallucci
Experience Hendrix / Legacy Recordings
If we're to believe 'People, Hell & Angels,' the latest in a long string of posthumous albums by Jimi Hendrix, its dozen previously unreleased tracks were the building blocks to the late guitarist's follow-up to 'Electric Ladyland,' his final album with the Experience.
But we've heard this claim many times before, from 'First Rays of the New Rising Sun,' the 1997 LP that reconstructs the album Hendrix was working on when he died, to various albums, box sets and compilations that feature leftovers from the era.
There's not even much that's entirely new on 'People, Hell & Angels'; most of the tracks have been released in one form or another on posthumous projects over the years – from 'Earth Blues' (first released on 1971's 'Rainbow Bridge' in a more fleshed-out take) to 'Inside Out' (which would evolve into the bootleg fave 'Ezy Ryder').
Recorded in 1968 and 1969 with primarily Billy Cox and Buddy Miles, who would make up Hendrix's post-Experience trio Band of Gypsys, the cuts on 'People, Hell & Angels,' like so many albums that have been released since his death in 1970, are more skeletal frames of songs than actual songs. There's plenty of fancy guitar work and creative ideas planted here, but few tracks boast the mind-bending studio tricks Hendrix experimented so wildly with on 'Axis: Bold As Love' and 'Electric Ladyland.'
Still, completists will dig some of the album's offerings. The stripped-down 'Earth Blues' reflects its title. 'Let Me Love' features a saxophonist. A cover of Elmore James' 'Bleeding Heart' comes from Hendrix's first session with Cox and Miles. And 'Izabella' was recorded with the band Hendrix played with at Woodstock.
But 'People, Hell & Angels' isn't revealing like 'First Rays of the New Rising Sun,' 'South Saturn Delta' and 'Valleys of Neptune,' the best posthumous Hendrix albums. Hendrix is basically being Hendrix on the 12 tracks, effortlessly tearing through guitar solos and working up bluesy shuffles that most likely would have been discarded or altered by the time he was finished with them. This is mostly the guitar legend finding his post-Experience footing.
Next: Top 10 Posthumous Jimi Hendrix Albums
Filed Under: Jimi Hendrix
Categories: Album Reviews, News


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Three ways to celebrate mistakes in class
Create the norm that you love and want mistakes.
Don't just praise mistakes - explain why they are important.
Give work that encourages mistakes.
Math teachers: To see similar videos specific to growth mindset in math class, sign up for Professor Jo Boaler's course, How to Learn Math, and check out youcubed.org.
Jo Boaler, Math Education Expert, Stanford University: So if you're a teacher, start classes with a norm that you love and want mistakes, and don't just say, "I love mistakes. Mistakes are good. We love mistakes," but give students time. And when they make a mistake, ask them to present it for everybody to see it.
One of the best teachers that I've ever worked with regularly did that with students. I saw her right at the beginning of the year say to one of her students, "Oh, would you go and present that on the board?" and he said, "But I got it wrong," and then she explained, "You know, it's really great for us to see mistakes because the ones students made, others will have, too, and we can all learn."
The student said, "Oh, okay," and got up and showed it. After that and other messages from the teacher, students became really willing to take risks and to make mistakes publicly. When I have tutored people in math, I've always started by saying, "By the way, I just want you to know that I love mistakes the most. They're the time when your brain grows, when you really learn. So it's really great to make mistakes." People immediately relax and breathe a sigh of relief and are much more willing to jump into problems and persist longer.
So the second advice is, "Don't just praise mistakes, but talk about why they're important." Maybe at the start of the year or at other times, talk to students about brain growth.
The third point is to give work that encourages mistakes. If students aren't making mistakes in their math work, they're not doing work at the right level for them. So try and always push the boundaries. Keep them at the edge of their understanding at all times. This may require talking to them about what's most helpful for them.
For example, you can tell students that when they get a question right, that's not really producing, and if you're getting all questions right, you're probably not doing work that's challenging enough. And, as Carol has said, students are missing out if they're not getting the chance to make mistakes.
Mistake Game
Students engage in a "game" where they intentionally make mistakes and see if other students can spot their mistakes. This is to encourage students to feel comfortable making and learning from mistakes.
Help students reflect on mistakes: See it in action
In this video, watch a second grade teacher, Mari Montoy-Wilson, help one of her students reflect on a mistake.
Activity: Crumpled Reminder
This activity helps participants understand that mistakes help us learn. It can used with students or during a PD.
Three Ways to Celebrate Mistakes
Three strategies that incorporate the idea that mistakes are important and necessary for growth and learning.


If you've been around Christ Community Church for any amount of time, you've probably seen Patrick Grant. Perhaps you've heard his deep voice echoing around the lobby. If you're in Celebrate Recovery, you've no doubt seen him on stage, leading worship or giving his testimony. And you certainly can't miss his infectious smile when he's greeting you at the front doors on Sunday morning.
In short, Patrick Grant is a fixture at CCC. It hasn't always been that way, though. There was a time when his energies were directed to more destructive practices – things like using and selling drugs.
Patrick, 55, is the youngest of four children, born and raised in the Columbus area. From his childhood as a self-proclaimed "Mama's boy" ("My dad was around, but our conversations were brief," he says) to his born-again identity as a warrior for Jesus Christ, Patrick's life story has more twists and turns than the Chattahoochee River. But through it all, the fingerprints of God are evident.
Ultimately he abandoned both college and sports, and joined the Army instead. By his late 20s he was back in the civilian world, working in a warehouse, twice-divorced and still trying to find his way. He had resigned himself to never marrying again, but then he met a woman, Rhonda, who captured his attention in a way no one else had before. They married and, though they had yet to realize a personal relationship with God, they attended a local church, albeit a somewhat unhealthy one.
The Lord intervened in Patrick's life again in 2007 when his son, Patrick II, came up one point short on his graduation test at Carver High School. Carver's then-head football coach, Dell McGee, learned that Patrick II could graduate by taking a summer course from another school in the area – a private Christian school. When the study materials arrived, the elder Grant took an interest and starting reading them.
The next step in that eye-opening process came when an old friend showed up at Patrick's house. Derrick Shields had been transitioning from a real estate career into a pastoral role at Christ Community Church. He wanted Patrick to hear his first sermon.
Ultimately, Patrick's sense of loyalty won out. Shields' wife, Andrea, was a client when Patrick worked as a cosmetologist, and Patrick and Derrick were involved in little league sports together over the years.
"I don't care when it was, or what I needed, I could call Derrick and ask for help," Patrick remembers. "I could say, 'I need a speaker at my little league banquet tonight,' and he'd say, 'All right, I'll be there.' I didn't want to go, but I couldn't let him down, so I said, 'Sure, man, I'll be there.' Then I got my son and said, 'You're gonna go with me.'"
Since CCC's founding 15 years ago, one of its hallmarks has been a sense of warmth and an ability to make newcomers feel welcome. Patrick's first point of contact when he arrived at the CCC campus (which at the time was a former car dealership off Macon Road) was Eric Kennedy, a greeter and one of CCC's founding members.
The Genesis account of Noah's Ark got Patrick's attention and instilled a hunger for God's Word that continues today.
Patrick first came to CCC at the invitation of Derrick Shields, a long-time friend who had joined the church staff in a pastoral role.
No journey to healing is without bumps in the road. Even after he began attending Celebrate Recovery – a Christ-centered healing program for people with "hurts, habits and hangups" – Patrick continued to struggle with substance abuse and declining health, and his and Rhonda's finances were deteriorating. When he became a no-show around CCC, Shields had to pay him another visit.
"Derrick came to the house and I was just sitting there with the lights off," Patrick recalls. "He said, 'Where have you been? What are you doing? Why is it so dark in here?' I said, 'They've cut the water off and they're gonna be cutting the lights off, so I'm just trying to get used to it.' I was low – I mean, really, really low.
With a personal relationship with God firmly established, Patrick continued to attend Celebrate Recovery and get a grip on his drug use. He stopped smoking, his health improved and his relationships healed. Today he's a living testimony to the transforming power of Christ.
Rhonda Grant saw dramatic changes come over her husband when he began attending CCC. Today the couple are influential leaders in the church's Celebrate Recovery ministry.
Have you entered into a personal relationship with Christ as Patrick as done? If you would like to learn more, click here or contact one of our staff members.


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Béard est une commune française, située dans le département de la Nièvre en région Bourgogne-Franche-Comté.

Géographie

Localisation
Béard est située à  de Nevers et  de Bourbon-Lancy.

Géologie et relief
La commune est située en territoire vallonné (altitude maximale de ), au cœur du Nivernais.

Hydrographie
Le territoire de la commune est traversé par la Loire.

Communes limitrophes

Voies de communication et transports
 Gare de Béard.

Urbanisme

Typologie
Béard est une commune rurale, car elle fait partie des communes peu ou très peu denses, au sens de la grille communale de densité de l'Insee.

Par ailleurs la commune fait partie de l'aire d'attraction de Nevers, dont elle est une commune de la couronne. Cette aire, qui regroupe , est catégorisée dans les aires de  à moins de .

Occupation des sols

L'occupation des sols de la commune, telle qu'elle ressort de la base de données européenne d'occupation biophysique des sols Corine Land Cover (CLC), est marquée par l'importance des territoires agricoles (50,9 % en 2018), une proportion sensiblement équivalente à celle de 1990 (52,2 %). La répartition détaillée en 2018 est la suivante : forêts (31 %), prairies (18,6 %), terres arables (18,5 %), zones agricoles hétérogènes (13,8 %), eaux continentales (6,8 %), milieux à végétation arbustive et/ou herbacée (6,2 %), zones urbanisées (5,1 %).

L'IGN met par ailleurs à disposition un outil en ligne permettant de comparer l'évolution dans le temps de l'occupation des sols de la commune (ou de territoires à des échelles différentes). Plusieurs époques sont accessibles sous forme de cartes ou photos aériennes : la carte de Cassini (), la carte d'état-major (1820-1866) et la période actuelle (1950 à aujourd'hui).

Toponymie

Histoire

Préhistoire
Des bifaces, des grattoirs, des pointes de flèches ont été découverts près de l'église. Ils témoignent d'une occupation de ce lieu dès le Néolithique.

Antiquité
Le site se situe sur le trajet de la grande voie romaine reliant Bourges à Lyon via Nevers et Decize, des tronçons ont été découverts au nord de la commune. On a retrouvé en 1894 les ruines d'une villa gallo-romaine de taille importante, datant du . Des vestiges d'un temple gallo-romain orienté plein sud ont été découverts près de l'église. Tous ces vestiges ont permis de collecter de nombreux objets : monnaies antiques, fragments de plaques de marbre et d'enduit peint, fragments de chapiteaux, céramiques et un petit sanglier en bronze.

Moyen Âge
Des moines du prieuré Notre-Dame de La Charité-sur-Loire fondèrent un prieuré bénédictin à Béard, rattaché à l'Ordre de Cluny. Durant la féodalité (), le village bénéficie d'un droit de basse et moyenne justice, compte tenu de son importance stratégique pour les puissants seigneurs du château de Druy dont il dépend. L'économie du village reposait essentiellement sur l'agriculture et l'exploitation de la Loire. Les droits de péage sur la navigation et les droits de pêche procuraient d'importants revenus aux seigneurs.

Temps modernes
Durant la période du , la « communauté des Bridons » exploitait de façon collective et familiale un ensemble de terres agricoles. cette communauté respectait des .

Depuis 1789

Politique et administration

Démographie

Économie

Culture locale et patrimoine

Lieux et monuments
L'église Saint-Laurent, datée du  pour ses parties les plus anciennes, et fortement remaniée au , est classée monument historique.

Personnalités liées à la commune

Voir aussi

Bibliographie

Articles connexes
 Liste des communes de la Nièvre

Liens externes

 Béard sur le site de l'Institut géographique national

Notes et références

Notes

Références

Commune dans la Nièvre
Aire urbaine de Nevers
Commune sur la Loire
Aire d'attraction de Nevers

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HomeFeaturesMainstream Bollywood: The Recent Representations of Class Disparity
Mainstream Bollywood: The Recent Representations of Class Disparity
July 17, 2019 Anuj Radia Features 0
There used to be a time where mainstream Bollywood was recognised for its larger-than-life dances, action sequences and whistle-worthy dialogues.
However, the definition of Hindi cinema's commercial space is churning and reflecting on this shift, Ranveer Singh explains:
"The times have changed and the landscape of Hindi cinema has really changed.
When a film like Badhaai Ho, AndhaDhun or Uri comes along, the rules are changing. What is commercial or what isn't, the lines are blurred now.
The audience just wants something authentic, entertainment and a certain quality level of excellence. You cannot fool the audience anymore."
In the last year, there seems to be more of an emphasis on highlighting social topics and issues, through various genres.
Particularly, this year, the mainstream has fearlessly represented class divide in Indian society through the premise of 'conventional' Hindi films like Gully Boy, Article 15 and Super 30.
Until Gully Boy, some critiqued Zoya Akhtar for constantly making films about the privileged and upper-class. However, she proved otherwise in this film.
It is a gritty but positive depiction of Mumbai's rampant rap-culture, through the main protagonist, Murad (Ranveer Singh).
By him idolising rap music, he imagines a life beyond the slums. In fact, this becomes his route of escapism and a chance to live life on his own terms, without resorting to crime.
Through social injustice songs like 'Doori', 'Azaadi', 'Har Gham Mein Khushi Hai' and 'Jingostan' Akhtar raises awareness of the lower-class' plight.
Class disparity emphasised in 'Doori Poem' especially in the words:
"Main yeh behte aansoon pochoon Utni meri aukaat Nahin hai… Kehne ko hum pass hai par, Kitni doori hai. Yeh bhi kaisi majboori hai."
These lyrics convey how classism restricts people from being basic human beings and enforces how drastic the disparity is.
Whilst the movie highlights the plight of the colonised poor, it is not all about the doom and gloom of living in the ghettos.
The revolutionary film is a universal story of hope and triumph.
The film's title references an article of the Indian constitution that prohibits discrimination on the basis of caste, religion, race or sex.
Ayushmann Khurrana plays Ayan, a police officer from a privileged urban, international, background.
His very first posting is to rural north India where three teenage girls have gone missing.
His honesty does not sit well with the existing, deeply entrenched corrupt system where, in 2019, a 1000-year-old practise where human beings are divided on the basis of caste continues.
Seeing sequences where the policemen abuse their powers make us realise how the gate-keepers of the legal system are majorly responsible for the flawed socio-political conditions.
Initially, the crux of a high-caste 'Bhramin' fighting against the system seemed quite problematic.
However, it is an essential plot because after all, the 'casteism' issue itself has stemmed from the elite in the first place.
There is a balanced portrayal of empowerment. as the film does not bash the elite caste nor does it victimise the lower-caste.
Subsequently, the movie's tagline: "Farq Bahaut Kar Liya, Ab Farq Laayenge" is progressive. It urges that responsibility must be taken to eradicate social division.
Inspired by the real-life story of Indian Maths wizard Anand Kumar, who founded the renowned Super 30 coaching institute in Patna, Hrithik Roshan plays Anand on screen.
The pivotal line "Raja ka Beta Raja Nahin Banega. Raja Wahi Banega jo Haqdaar Hoga" shapes our society.
The movie exhibits the class disparity within the education system and it is quite sad to think that so many financially disadvantaged kids have to suffer such circumstances.
In fact, a particular thought-provoking sequence is when the Super 30 alumni dream about studying at the high-class institute, IIT and in that reverie, they are shown to be misfits.
They are constantly engulfed in a web of negative thoughts, which is contributed by society.
As a result, 'education' is represented to be a 'beacon of change'… That subject becomes like an additional character in the movie as it becomes the strength/escapism for the underprivileged.
It is high time that dynastic privileges are omitted and opportunities are given to those who truly deserve it.
The 'Basanti No Dance' sequence signifies the power of overcoming 'weakness' especially language barriers.
Consequently, use Sholay, a film which has quite prominently formed the fabric of Indian pop-culture, as a way to stand up to class disparity.
Hindi Cinema's On-Going Representation of Class Division
Whilst these are contemporary examples, the depiction of class divide is no stranger to the industry.
From Bimal Roy's Do Bigha Zameen (1953) to Hindi Medium (2017), Bollywood has continuously strived to make movies around class struggles.
In traditional love stories, the narratives would revolve around a poor protagonist falling in love with an elite and how the lower-class has to overcome societal pressures in order to 'win' their love interest.
The most intriguing factor about such love stories is that these would not just be about the lower-class having to win the elite.
For instance, Maine Pyar Kiya (1989) the less-privileged father of the female love interest is humiliated by the affluent male love interest's father.
Subsequently, the male is forced to independently make money in order to make a life for him and his lady love.
Even in Taal (1999), the female protagonist chooses her self-respect after her father is mercilessly insulted by the male central character's father.
But Lagaan (2002), arguably, is a film which really changed the game with the way 'classism' is depicted in Hindi cinema.
Rather than it being a love story or a full-fledged patriotic venture, it uses sports to showcase the non-violent battle between the poor and elite.
Social Division: 'Glorified' by Bollywood?
Despite the prominent depiction classism, some feel that mainstream Bollywood's representation 'glorifies' the conflict between different segments of society.
For instance, Janhvi Kapoor in an interview said:
"I feel up until this point, a lot of films in mainstream Bollywood have glorified that divide because it creates a sort of conflict – that 'I can't live without the love of my life'.
I feel they have glorified that divide a little bit."
However, her film Dhadak is an exception to the 'glorification'.
The ending is brutal and displays the harsh reality – it highlights that the love interests of different social statuses do not always end happily.
But having said that is it necessarily a bad thing to see optimistic conclusions on films regarding class division?
Maybe through seeing hopeful, insightful yet progressive stories like Gully Boy, Article 15 and Super 30 can really help to evoke change (at least in the mind-set) of our society.
At least through commercial cinema, the audience is receiving a lot more than just plain 'naach gaana' and the films themselves are of more relevance.
Plus, given that the mainstream space usually revolves around the ideology of 'escapism', such films can help viewers to at least imagine a utopian society.
For so many years Indian cinema has been carrying the post-colonised baggage, perhaps this change in filmmaking content is the need of the hour.
Class Disparity
Hindi Cinema
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Chhichhore: In Conversation with Varun Sharma aka Sexa
September 15, 2019 Anuj Radia Interviews 2
In a special interview, Varun Sharma reflects over his experience of playing Sexa in Chhichhore and how the film really speaks to the youth of today. […]
Boney Kapoor: A Chat with Indian Cinema's Illustrious Producer
July 15, 2019 Anuj Radia Interviews 0
In a truly candid interview with Filme Shilmy, Boney Kapoor reflects on his career and his forthcoming production Nerkonda Paarvai, an adaptation of Pink. […]
Shalini Pandey Makes Bollywood Debut with Ranveer Singh in Jayeshbhai Jordaar
December 11, 2019 Anuj Radia News 0
Shalini Pandey, who featured in the Telugu blockbuster Arjun Reddy, will make her Bollywood debut opposite Ranveer Singh in YRF's Jayeshbhai Jordaar. […]


954-676-3350 is a contact number on a Cell Number. This tool is signed up in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, FL.
This is the Lenscrafters appointment reminder hotline. They very politely state that if you would like to be put on their do not call list to leave a message and you will be removed.
I have been getting calls from these number but i don't answer calls from numbers that i don't recognize and it kinda bothers me that they don't leave a message.
I just received a call from 954-676-3350, They said they were with the Dr's office at Len's Crafters in Sacramento California and wanted to remind me that I was due for my yearly eye exam. Last year I did have an eye exam with them so it was a legitimate call. It's not uncommon (though still repugnant) for national chains and professional services with whom people have dealt...to outsource the task of setting up appointment's and reminders. The national do not call list does not stop businesses with whom you've dealt in the past from calling you. Sadly, they can legally claim they have an ongoing business realtionship with you.
I have gotten at least 3 calls from this number in the last few hours. It comes up as a Florida call. Since I don't answer numbers I don't know, I'm relieved to hear that it is probably lenscrafters since, indeed, it is time for my annual. Thanks for the help.
Daily, frequent calls--they don't leave a message. The calls start at about 8:30am and come until 9:00pm. Glad to hear it's Lenscrafters--I won't go back there. The caller ID came up as Interactive Res most times, once it came up as Florida Call.
They have been calling almost every hour for the past two days. I am on Do Not Call List. I finally picked up. It was from Lenscrafters reminding me that I was due for my annual eye exam. I'm in Colorado. I didn't ask for any reminders.
Called 2X within three hours this morning, hung up and did not leave message. I am on Do Not Call List. Call appears to originate out of Ft. Lauderdale, FL.
If you recognize that has (954) 676-3350, please don't hesitate to publish it as well.
These jerks must have quite a few numbers. I am with TWC and have been able to block 30 of them. Unfortunately, that is all TWC allows you to block. So here I go again with the calls from "card services". There is no way you can stop them. I just refuse to answer the phone when an unrecognized number comes up. Perhaps someday someone will get these scam artists in jail where they belong. I find the "Do Not Call" act a joke.
1:56 pm (CST) ... caller ID displayed "card Services" ... same "final notice/chance" voice to lower interest rate.This time, instead of pressing 1 or 2 or hanging up, I VERY rapidly pressed random string of about 16 numbers ... then waited ... call was still connected ! Tying up your phone instead of freeing line is also violation of telemarketing/DNC act. I hung up. Like most of you, it's not the first time, it's not the same area code each time, and unless penalties for this stuff become significant enough and are applied often enough, not sure there is a solution. So, I choose to answer the phone in order to report numbers on sites like this ... and get for details to report to FCC, my state DNC complaint forum, and the AG in the state for the area code that displays.
I have been getting 2 or 3 of these calls weekly for over a year. I cannot get them to stop. If I say nighing they hang up. If I press 2 to say no they hang up. If I press 1 and tell the operator put me on the do not call list they hang up. Then I get another call from them after a couple days.
Got a call a couple of weeks ago. Caller ID said "Card Services". Called back, left message not to call again. Got another call tonight. Could hear someone on the other end, then they hung up. I have left two not-so-nice messages and will be in touch with BBB.
Card Service frauds adhering to a Do Not Call list is like an outta control Pathological Liar saying he'll stop lying. These people need to get their twisted heads examined by a good shrink.
I have been getting this "last chance" for 3 years now. Some last chance.
SOrry. I pressed *69 to get the number.
I got # 707-751-4018I did not call it back yet.This call occurs several times a week. Normally we acreen through our answering machine, and they leave a phone message. I asked the hispanic sounding woman what number I could call them at. WHen I indicated I wnated to be able to call them since they kept bothering us, she hung up.
I strongly suspect the caller ID number is fake. If you try to call back you'll just reach a disconnected number or some innocent person whose number was stolen. I have received the exact same message from 6 or more phone numbers.It goes with saying (but still feels good to say) the people behind this scam are A**HOLES and are certain to have miserable lives even if they have money from scamming people. The minions that they have answer the phones are trying to hold down a really crappy job working for really crappy people. Their circumstances are likely such that phone sales scamming is the only kind of job they can get. It's sad all around. I wish there was a way for them to break out their miserable existence. I also wish there is a way to punish the people leading this scam. Maybe looking at themselves in the mirror is punishment enough.
They have a lot of different numbers, I been called a number of times and made complaints. Some of their area codes are fake and how they get them I don't know. Card Services is a scam, and never press any nunmber they tell you to, because this could connect you to a long distance number you may have to pay for. better just to hang-up on these scum bags. Another thing to think about is who are they to tell you what to do?
I receive a call from this line - another of the multiple calls I receive daily from this criminal enterprise asserting it is the "final notice". Having been perturbed enough I hit 1 to get a real person, as soon as they heard me unhappy with the call they hung up without responding to my request for who they were. Time to buy the foghorn and get them to listen more closely for a moment before letting loose.
Year after you these people continue to call and say " last chance" whatever these people need to somehow find another scam ! Everyone is the USA knows to avoid this phone call !
Another ID Theft attempt. Just block it.
These jerks keep calling me every two weeks, even after being asked to stop.
i receved an unsolicited message on my phone from this number.
I ALSO GOT A CALL TODAY I REPORTED THEM FOR AS MUCH GOOD AS IT DOES. I ALSO TOOK MY TIME TO CALL THEM BACK AND LEAVE 5 DIFFRENT MESSAGES THAT WERE NOT VERY NICE.
Not sure how this number got my number but it's harassing.
Called ID said "Card Services". A partial Voice Mail said " this is your last chance .... press 1 to take advantage of the stimulus money". Apparently this is a Credit Card SCAM !!!
Caller ID said AAA. Voicemail left was a recorded message that they were calling about my membership. It doesn't expire until May and it's only Feb. 1st. WTH??? They did leave # 877-795-0568. Send me a bill like you have for the past 28 years.
I got a call from them on March 10th 2013 at 6:54AM & I also got a call from them on July 29th 2012 at 6:22PM I'm sure ill be back on this site to report the next call in the future.
Called mine and my husbands cell...found it strange? When I called the 1 800her number they left spoke to a person kept wanting to know my facility name.when I told them I was an individual they said sorry.
It is C H Robinson's Chicago office. They are truck freight brokers. If you aren't in the trucking business irt is a mis-dial on your number.
recieved a call on my cell, no one replied when I answered, was wondering who this was.
Like the others said. It's CH Robinson. Sounds like somebody forgot to call in their empty call and got a call from them.
CH ROBINSON is a trucking brokerage company. They broker freight to trucking companies from suppliers.
Just an unwanted call on my cell!
I just received a call today from Brian Snyder(mideastern accent) saying the same thing. This nut wanted me to call him back to give him my address so he could send me paperwork or for me to call my lawyer. I called my lawyer and he said to ignore these calls. Its a scam!! There should be something doneabout these jerks calling people and harassing them. Im tired of these trying to steal money from honest hard working people. We should out where they live and do the same thing to them.
Received a voicemail on my phone from a Brian Snyder (mideastern guy) said he had some very important documents to send to me. Said that he has left me several messages. Said I needed to call him back that they had legal actions against me and they would come to my to my office and arrest me if I didn't call them back. That all they could do is wish me good luck. My attorney told me not to answer or return any of their calls that it was a scam. If you owe money you would receive a call from the business and also something in writing.
I received a message from a Brandon Smith, with a threat of legal action against me, also. I have received calls like this before. There all the same, has to be scripted and even though they have very thick Indian accents they all seem to have very generic sounding American names.
Just got a call from a Brandon Smith and the same message as everyone else - lawsuit, arrest, blah, blah, blah... So tired of these bast****s calling me!!
get his address an go pay him a personal visit like i did with a debt company they NEVER messed with me after that the key is to intimidate them with info like who they are there family and where they live for starters and tell them you know where there kids goto school too just fyi Intimidation goes along way make them think your crazy person and they will leave you alone you can research them by name county state and find them then you can call there personal home phone harrassing them just like they do you only do it 2am in morning time tell them did you know you and me are the only ones up at this time of night just make them soooo happy they will get the message if you have address where they are pull it up on google earth and you can look at the color of there home and say nice 2 story home :-) theywill go Nuts not sure if your outside there home lol. remember Intimidation goes along way. so start practicing and they will leave you alone.
I received the same call from Michael Sinclair telling me that he was with the FBI and that I was going to lose my job and going to jail for not paying back cash advance loans. What a crock of mess. Don't listen to these people. They are liars and need to be stopped.
I have 11 missed calls from Michael Sinclair telling me the same bull about a lawsuit against my name and I was going to jail on Monday. How do I stop these calls?
Just talked to them, they called me saying there was a problem with a payday loan i took out and now i would be arrested and lose my job and all this crap. They told me everything that you guys have mentioned above! Just glad I am not the only one. I hung up on him cause I knew something wasnt right. Hope this gets stopped and if it was so important and I hung up on them why didnt they call back! What a joke!
The first call I answerted was from a man named Micheal who told me that I am going to jail on Monday, because I have a record against my name, what ever that means. he hung up on me, so I called backed and they hung up on me again. WHAT EVER.I feel sorry for others that have to scam people, go get a job and leave us that have lives alone.
This a man from The MidEast that told me it is very important that I return his call or have my agent or my attorney call him back. I am in a big legal mess. His name was Gary White. He told me if I did not call him back all he could do was wish me good luck. I have no idea who he is. He did not say what company he is from.
They are Liars!!!! They cannot keep their stories straight of who they are. Once a law firm, next credit bureau of investigations, then a loan officers office. All answering by a different name and never introduce themselves as a business. If an important business like those, I think would at least say the name of the business then their name. Total scam, don't fall for it. Oh, did I mention that when I called them a liar and told them off, he hung up on me. I called back and asked John why he hung up on me, he said he had another phone call, called back again and asked if he was mad at me, he hung up. Called back again, and told him that it doesn't feel great to be annoyed. HaHa!
This is a scam. I reported it to the Attorney General in Wisconsin. They know of the scam but cannot pinpoint it.
I got the same call. Very rude man. Called him back for the fun of it and rang 4 times then went dead. Reported him to the goverment do not call list.
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text:
A United 757-300 landing in San Francisco. (Photo: AirlineGeeks | Ben Suskind)
[ News ]April 7, 2019 10:21 am ET
By Parker Davis
United Continues Industry Trend By Eliminating Award Chart
In recent decades, airlines turned to loyalty programs as a way to drum up business, a way to attract not just the lucrative business travelers who are going to fly no matter what, but also the leisure travelers who were attracted to the idea that someday, if they spent enough time and money sitting in 27B, they might one day be able to take a domestic flight in 3A.
But in recent years, as members of airline loyalty programs across the world — from American's AAdvantage to Cathay Pacific's Marco Polo Club — continue to skyrocket into the multi-millions and the number of ways to earn miles comes to include everything from gas to groceries, the prospect of giving away too many free flights is at the forefront of many airlines' concerns.
As a result, in recent years, finding cheaper award flights, especially in premium cabins, has become a near Herculean task as airlines continue to increase blackout dates and even announce award chart devaluation after award chart devaluation.
But even the ever-present award chart has begun to fall in recent years, as airlines tout "fluid award pricing" as the way of the future, claiming the practice will give the customer a better deal in the long run. Four years ago, Delta did just that, meaning the price of any given seat on any given flight marketed by Delta can change almost immediately.
This week, another of the U.S. legacy carriers announced it would switch over to the airline-friendly pricing strategy. Chicago-based United Airlines has officially eliminated its award chart for travel after Nov. 15 as it makes the switch to dynamic pricing for all award flights.
For travel before Nov. 15, all United award flights will remain at their current price, while some could even decrease as the dynamic pricing model begins to take effect.
In doing so, the airline is continuing the precedent that Delta pioneered, that loyalty programs no longer need to be as lucrative for passengers as they once were. As airline executives have suggested, it is not as difficult today as when loyalty programs were first created to fill planes with not just paying customers, but customers willing to pay much more than before to get where they want to go.
As a result, loyalty programs have taken a hit, at least from most passengers' perspectives. This United change is emblematic of that, as the airline will now be able to charge an exorbitant amount for flights that would otherwise be nearly fully booked, effectively eliminating the mileage "sweet spots" that had enabled thrifty mileage enthusiasts to capitalize on cheaper per-mile redemptions in international premium cabins.
Of course, it remains to be seen how substantial the changes will be and how much mileage prices will shift with route demand and, as a result, how passengers will respond to this change. But the change is coming. So all passengers can hope for are changes that don't render their miles virtually valueless.
Parker Davis
Parker joined AirlineGeeks as a writer and photographer in 2016, combining his longtime love for aviation with a newfound passion for journalism. Since then, he's worked as a Senior Writer before becoming Editor-in-Chief of the site in 2020. Originally from Dallas and an American frequent flyer, he left behind the city's rich aviation history to attend college in North Carolina, where he's studying economics.
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awardsFeaturedmilesnewsRoutesUnited
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Ethiopian Airlines — Africa's largest carrier — is struggling with its passenger operations, but the airline could make a full…
Transatlantic flights are certainly always in season and are considered the backbone business for long-haul airlines, as passengers are always looking for a quick, direct flight or a connecting flight to their favorite destination. Thus, several airlines have consistently made the effort to increase their transatlantic flight operations. The United…


An Instance Of Intercultural -:- Hints for persuasive essay writing guidelines and skills -:- Essay-Writing-1.com!
An Instance of Intercultural Communication.
This paper examines an imaginary instance of intercultural communication. The various elements present in this communication, the goals and objectives for the communication of those involved, as well as techniques used in the communication are all examined.


text:
Arthur Magazine
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"Closest to the Edge: Life in a squatters' village on the wild side of Maui" by Paul Smart (Arthur No. 17/July 2005)
Originally published in Arthur No. 17 (July 2005)
Small parks are set up along the Upcountry road that leads to Kanaio, commemorating the Chinese workers who settled on these higher slopes as the lower lands got bought up by Westerners. Many of the similarly pushed-to-the-edge Hawaiian communities took up the Chinese iconography, feeling a kinship to its mix of the hard and beautiful.
Closest to the Edge: Life in a squatters' village on the wild side of Maui
By Paul Smart
Photography by Fawn Potash
Maui, the state of Hawaii's second largest island, is shaped like a small-headed figure eight laid on its side, a lopsided infinity symbol. Giant volcanoes, both dormant, center each half of its configuration; the middle is a verdant swath of massive pineapple farms and suburb-like housing tracts, malls and a busy airport. On the left, West Maui is ringed with increasingly expensive and exclusive resorts catering to someone's golf and condo dreams. At center is a verdant ring of cloud-draped mountains. On the right, the massive volcanic national park of Haleakala splits the terrain between bone dry and rain forest wetness. A small sliver of the northern coast is home to the world's leading surfing waves, while the southern coast is said to be Hawaii's sunniest spot.
"Upcountry" is what Maui natives, and guide books, refer to the long western slope of Haleakala, once a center for the island's great beef cattle industry. Today it's a land of Northern California-like communities nestled under imported eucalyptus trees and intensive flower farms shipping their goods world wide. Less touristed than the rest of Maui, Upcountry gets its own tourist brochures, touting the area's long vistas and cowboy heritage, its cooler temperatures and more mellowed lifestyle. There aren't many attractions up here besides a few restaurants and b&b-like lodgings. People tend to come for day trips to the National Park, or en route to the Eastern, rainforest side of Maui where Hana lies, a three-hour drive from the airport. Otherwise, it's a land of upscale bedroom communities, like the Bay Area's Mill Valley, the Berkeley Hills, the Peninsula.
The views are magnificent, and give a sense of what it must feel like to live on Maui year-round. There's little traffic. It feels laidback.
Yet all the maps of Maui, tourist-oriented or not, mark a quiet Upcountry border, including little boxes past the site of the Tedeschi Winery warning that rental cars are not allowed past a certain point. And the long, 50-mile Southern Coast of the island gets no references in guide books, or even in Maui's various newspapers.
That's Kanaio. That's where this story takes place.
We will come into Kanaio at its darkest. Late December and the firmament alive with a hundred constellations mirroring the tourist constellations created by the mega-resorts of Kihei and Wailea far below by the ocean's edge. I'm in a rented jeep climbing higher than anything I'm used to, feeling the altitude muddy my attitude, sweeping up the jet lag and flight fatigue into a maelstrom of mental mist, a long way from home. My wife's in the truck up ahead with her brother Brad. We spin out from the airport to Home Depot, then upcountry on back roads that channel through endless cane fields. There are fewer American flags flying in this part of the nation than we've grown accustomed to in recent years.
The humid smell of fertilizer rises up. I feel my pores soaking it all in, as if I've stepped from autumn crispness into a greenhouse. After a Y turn, I sense pineapples in the fields, even though all I can see are the jury-rigged tail lights on Brad's Ford pickup and red earth berms on either of the narrow roadway. We pass through a suburban tract of ranch-style homes festooned with giant swanlike shrubbery. Christmas lights on palm trees. A vinyl picket fence.
Brad turns onto a higher-grade two lane roadway and I follow him several miles until he signals left. We climb a steep incline past a siren tower and more houses, less ritzy now. We pass a strange, octagonal wood church that's all steeple and pull into an open-door concrete market for snacks. No one needs to watch the bags this far out of the tourist areas. Everyone knows each other up here, greeting each other with thumb/pinkie shaka waves, low and super-cool.
A native steps up: "Brother dude, how goes it?"
"Meet my sister, my brother-in-law, man," Brad says.
"You new to Upcountry, good people?"
"New to Maui," Brad tells him. "Coming from the airport."
"Heavy. Take'em to Kanaio, my man. They learn what it is now."
Brad buys New Zealand ale and Beck's, throws in a few packs of generic ciggies. We get some homemade macadamia nut cookie drops and basic supplies: pasta and tuna, canned corned beef, Spam. Back in convoy, we drive through a landscape of long vistas broken by gnarled trees, their purple blossoms littering the asphalt. Cows stare out from behind barbed wire fences, munching nonchalantly. We stop and down brews at Sun Yat Sen Park, eyeing the even-bigger vista at 3800 feet. A plane moves slowly across the horizon at eye level. There's nothing it can hit, no fears of it falling from the sky. Only an hour to go to Kanaio, Brad says, swigging on a Beck's.
Rock walls give everything the look of a lopsided Ireland. I'm filled with memories of Brittany and the Amalfi coast, of Quebec's Charlevoix district high above the St. Lawrence. But this is warmer. Softer, it seems.
I'm getting used to the firmament's subtle lighting. There's a hypnotic allure to the distant shimmer of resorts against an endless sea. I'm downing a beer now, too, although I know about Kanaio's reputation as an outlaw haven where drinking's no different than breathing.
We're here because my wife hasn't seen Brad in over a decade. He was a troubled boy, taken to drinking and fighting, going in and out of reform schools, even the Army, until he up and flew to Honolulu when he was barely 20. Since then he's been in touch only intermittently.
One time he'd gone home to the Midwest with his dog, who then got hit by a police car. Brad got into a scuffle with the cop. The dog died. Brad tried to give it a Kanaio-style burial, complete with bonfire. Only it was the Midwest. The cops came again. Now he isn't allowed back on the mainland.
Up more winding roads and we pass through a cluster of ranch buildings nestled into a copse of eucalyptus. A cinderblock church, St. John the Less, is surrounded by sweet-smelling honeysuckle and wild tobacco in a half-state of construction. I follow the battered truck off the paved road and up a long incline. We seem to pass through jungle. When the views return, they're darker. No more vistas of tourist hotels and convenience store lights. Instead kudzu shapes loom stretched out supine on the starlit sea.
After several miles we stop. Brad comes back to make sure the Jeep I've rented is in four-wheel drive. He's shirtless, dirty jeans slung around narrow hips. Flip-flops on dirt-encrusted feet. A disheveled mop of hair over an equally disheveled beard. He moves with the loping gait of a contractor, his main means of employment. He carries a beer in his thick hand.
Back in our vehicles we chug ever-so-slowly and carefully through increasing numbers of junk cars and tortured lava rock walls and cliffs. A cow looms in the road, lit red in Brad's sole running light.
We turn into what seems to be a gully. Plywood shacks brightly lit for the holidays come into view. We slow to a crawl, taking what feels like every possible wrong turn.
At a wall of weather-beaten plywood boards, a grizzled Hawaiian emerges and talks to Brad. He comes back and gives me a shaka sign, says I'm welcome here. A bit further on we pass a group of kids standing amidst fencing and kudzu. One's got a small dog in his arms. They stare at me and my rent-a-Jeep. No one waves.
Through piles of spent, windowless Nissans and Toyotas, Harvesters and Broncos, an A frame shines higher up. Above that, the stars. We're off the map. This is the side of Maui tourist agencies and car rental companies denote with a broken line. They don't want you to know about this side of it all, where what's left of the native Hawaiians have been given special squatters' rights… but no water or electrical service. No roads. Where the cheap labor that builds endless resorts and cleans them hunkers down with a view of their old holy island, Kahoolawe, now emptied after serving for years as a U.S. military bombing practice site.
We pull into trees and junk, a motor here, wires and old doors there. A dog barks. Brad gets out of the truck and asks me to keep the lights on as he fires the generator. Welcome to Kanaio, he announces with rough exuberance. We hear are the hum of generators, the rustle of strong wind, the distant love cries of drunken couples or their progeny, multiracial and tough as nails. We're on the far side of Paradise, the deep recess of America, the mirror image of all things consumer.
Brad pulls power anyway he can. He's got orange extension cords running through trees festooned with laundry. At one end is a generator. At the other, a solar cell on his shack's corrugated metal roof. Plugs run into jumper cables that hook to Brad's pickup, which he's used to running for hours at a time. Everything feeds into a converter, an inverter and more masses of cords and wires, all running pell-mell in this heap he calls home. To fill in the gaps, he's got stashes of candles, kerosene lamps, flashlights and lighters strewn all over.
Power lines run across roads all over Kanaio. When one house plugs in Christmas twinklers, four homes get their systems blown. People really scamper when a fuse blows. Now, during the holidays, everyone's being extra careful as they plug in. The men scoff at the luxury of lights, but it keeps their women around.
Only one or two places up here are hooked into Maui's water system, a PVC pipe that circumnavigates the island from the rain forest Hana side to this, the lava desert. People pay good money for the privilege. But the water's been shut down for years as the county struggles with the threat of new homesteaders setting up shop past this outlaw outpost and around the southern coast of 1790 lava flows. Costs per household are running upwards of $5,000 a spigot.
Kanaio, in its present form, is only a little over a dozen years old. A few Hawaiian families were allowed back on these lands after the rest of Maui started filling up and the giant ranches on this side of the island–Ulupulakua and Kaupo–were forced to share a bit. Each Hawaiian brought in family and friends. They built as they could and as the land dictated, dragging up old plywood, two-by-fours, corrugated metal, lots of tarps. Everything's been in flux ever since. People add onto stilted shacks, moving barbed wire fence boundaries to suit their whims, until collapse nears, either physical, mental or marital. Then they start over.
Exes hang on here like bad dreams, expanding family compounds and holiday events like cesspools covered with building scraps. Children count relations everywhere they look. Even newcomers like my wife and I are aunt and uncle to the Kanaio kids.
Dogs with names like Honeybear and John Wayne, Killer Dude and Argonne, Surf-Baby and King K break into fights over table scraps and too-close sniffings. Everyone has stories about what happens when a good bowzer goes bad. They get their head chopped off. It's a lesson, brother.
Stories also abound about a series of county busts several years back. Police wore camouflage and came down the side of the volcano from far above, where they'd been dropped by helicopter. Said they wanted to break up a thriving crystal meth business. Snooped into everything. Got threatened, hit, slightly mauled when the arrests came down. Which caused more arrests.
But the cops haven't been back. Too hard to get up here, people maintain. That's why the roads stay 4 by 4 only. That's why everyone keeps an eye out. People want it that way, much like the West during rancher days. Or the way they remember Maui from the early 1960s and 1970s, when cattle were still the big business up here, before the hippies came.
People here drink a bit too much for their own good. Wives take to hiding guns when binge time comes around. Men walk around bruised and unkempt. Brad tells us about Kanaio-style emergency care: duct tape and super glue. Over the course of a few days we see it in effect, or after the fact, on several men. Big, mean-looking sutures. It's funny, and slightly menacing.
Funny thing, too: everyone's named Paul in the hood—Hawaiian guys with stringy hair and half beards, Southern crackers who've pulled their teeth out with pliers. We meet three kids, all named Paul. Everyone laughs when hearing I'm also a Paul. Means I must be okay. Do the shaka sign, someone says… like this, a Paul tells me, waving his hand low to the ground like a surfer hanging ten. He smiles a big grin, so I shaka back.
Every once in a while every homestead is suddenly eating loads of beef. That means someone's poached a cow from a neighboring ranch. People up here don't like going much further than Upcountry for shopping.
Upcountry is the area of flower and weed farms we came through the first night, scattered roadside communities near the Sun Park, the Morihari Market and Chinese stores where everyone runs up accounts for their beer and ciggies. There's a hardware store down in Kula. Brad keeps saying it'd make sense to do a second one up here for all the local men, the Pauls who all do a bit of contracting when they're not patching their own homes. Even though they'll easily travel two or more hours for a contracting job, they don't like leaving Kanaio much. They're sick of employers who get mad about men having a few sustaining beers while on the job. And hours. Like, who keeps time? Wasn't this Paradise?
My wife and I take to exploring the local flora. It's amazing what can grow through lava, catching what it can from the sun and rain for nourishment. Kipukai, a mesquite-like tree, has subtle blossoms. There's something like heather that nestles in low rocks. Cactus and spindly-limbed shrubs. There are names for everything but most of the people in Kanaio can't remember them. They just know what smells good, and what's collectable for native leis.
Brad heads out one day and clambers over needle-sharp lava rocks to get some rare flowers that ride high in the gnarliest of local trees. His friend, Meadow, is a fan of the sweet-smelling Plumeria. My wife loves the honeysuckle allure of wild tobacco. Everywhere you look there's something new. The place is fecund, overflowing, hard to tame.
When Brad starts a frustrated flurry of work trying to finish the shack he's been talking about for years, we pick up tools and clothes, lighting implements and wires, and create some form of order. We cut back the junk trees in a small arroyo next to the shack and move in a giant picnic table, build up a firepit. We string Christmas lights (which will later break Brad's power grid). His 12-year old daughter Jesse, my wife's niece who she's not seen since a toddler, is coming for the holidays. We want to capture a sense of spirit out of the disarray.
All that's in Brad's home is a giant television and a bed. After a few days there's a kitchen nook, a table, some pictures up on the walls. We invite the neighborhood: Uncle Dennis, whose property this is and who's let Brad squat the far end of the property; Meadow, the Californian goat herder with a heart of gold and a penchant for marrying the wrong men; Dennis' son Little Dennis, always on the verge of boiling anger; Quentin, who's just recently married a German lady with a host of blonde kids. When not drunk and bitter, Quentin goes net fishing off the lava coast down-country. He's supposedly a genius at pulling in prize fish, none of which he or the others in this community like to eat.
Kanaio is one of the stranger edges of America. It's a circus side show where folks can't be called geeks. It's like Quasimodo's beloved Sanctuary. The Hawaiians know the specialness of the place. It's somehow apart from the concrete block houses that make up Hawaiian ghettos on the Big Island or in the vast expanses of bustling, dying Honolulu. The sea's omnipresent, the other islands popping in and out of view. There are no trees brought in from other parts of the world. And back when the French explorer Jean de Francois La Perouse first landed on Maui in 1786, this is where the population was based. Here, where the weather is always cooler.
The tourists that swarm the rest of Maui just don't make it up here. Maybe to the winery, a half hour away. Maybe on the road to Kaupo and its cute store, and then the Hana side of the island. But people turn around at the cattle guards that separate the 40 or so miles of empty road, surrounded by lava fields and the looming rise of the volcano, from what they were expecting in the South Seas.
Which may be why everyone says the place is utter shaka.
Christmas in Kanaio starts early with a wild boar hunt from ATVs, the hunters egging their dogs on. Everyone started drinking a few days beforehand—it's the holiday spirit, they say. Time's spent with guys looking into engines, hands firmly planted in back pockets. Womenfolk hold babies, hosting cousins and half-sisters and stepbrothers and uncles and aunts from all over the state, with great Peyton Place caches of woeful gossip and sordid tales. Everyone's got good weed to pass around in joints and bongs and brownies. Yet they keep it out of kids' view. Call it local discretion.
Some of the ladies, married into the Hawaiian community but originally from Indiana or Kentucky, a bit bloated and skin-scorched by Maui's constant sun and wind, decide to put up lights. The effort takes all day. At nightfall, they sit around drinking pineapple wine, waiting for their men to return.
It takes only a year or two for those seeking refuge up here to gain that singsong dialect that's pure Hawaiian. And with the dialect comes a shrinkage in language. People will read the daily Maui News, they'll listen to the all-Hawaiian music radio station and its homebred broadcasts from the Big Island, and they'll catch what's happening in the wider world via giant television satellite hookups. But they won't look at books much, or read magazines, or talk culture.
Christmas Eve, the guys come back with nothing but several small deer, eventually traded for a giant domestic pig which gets butchered, cleaned and carried up a back mountain 4-wheel drive path to a plywood sheep herder's cottage. Meadow's house. Many of the men know it well. She's central to a wide world of exes, and matron to a number of women going through troubles.
It's time for the Kanaio community's Christmas luau feast.
After dressing the heralded kalua pig, the ATV dudes dig a four-foot hole, line it with lava rocks and banana leaves, then heat the whole thing with a bonfire fueled by mesquite wood, shack leftovers, several cases of beer and an endless stream of Maui Wowie bowls. The next day, Christmas, everyone lays the dressed pig onto a bed of chicken wire and moist banana leaves. This is placed over the coals. More leaves cover the whole thing, which is then covered in blue and brown tarps and two feet of black lava soil. This whole contraption is called an imu. It draws a crowd like a swami in India.
The resulting spoon-soft kalua pig gets served with white bread, white rice, macaroni salad and more beer. Kids play with BB guns. Long-haired bare-chested bronze men drink in full-body swigs while discussing generators and quick ways of stealing water and cows. Womenfolk blow fuses with short-lived displays of Christmas lights. A radio plays an endless mix of Christmas tunes done Hawaii style. A shy hippie dude from higher up the mountain plays ukulele.
Morgan has just earned a PhD in studies of the South American ayahuasca vine, a powerful hallucinogen. He goes on and on about how he's planning to take over where Big Island grower/philosopher Terrence McKenna left off when he died. Morgan, with his Wyatt Earp mustache, seems to survive on capture-and-release diatribes. He keeps talking until someone finally smacks him so hard he's knocked silent.
Stuart is a braided white-beard sadhu from Colorado. He drives an expensive Toyota Land Cruiser and yaps on and on about a Finnish family who have discovered a pre-Ice Age Hall of Records.
Henry Silva is a leather-faced older guy who walks like John Wayne and is famous for making saddles and being, well, famous.
Gabriel's wearing an ankle bracelet, trying to break a crack addiction that led him to hold up a Bank of Hawaii without a gun. His dad turned him in after he spent all the bucks on generators, Steinlager and drugs. He says, quietly, that he loves nothing better than kalua pig. And beer. And drugs. And women…
Kenny talks for hours about his blackout problems while boar hunting. Paul's living with his ex-wife so he can provide shelter for a crack-addicted daughter and her five under-four year old kids. Bobby's a former prison guard who spent four years as a prisoner after his fishing partner disappeared following a major Methadone Clinic bust. He's now born-again. Tommy's pulled three of his front teeth out with pliers. His family's from North Carolina, though he claims rebirth the moment he hit Oahu twenty years earlier.
The women tend to cluster around kids and each other. They prepare the side dishes and talk about problems. Who's been drinking again. Who's cheating on who.
A beautiful teenager speaks about going to college in the coming year. She's been practicing hula since a girl, part of the ethnic craze for the almost lost art that's grown as big as the martial arts in recent years. Fawn asks the girl to show us what she can do but she begs off. She doesn't have her outfit. The air's too chilly up here. There's no music.
Her mother, who's been downing beers and spewing a litany of get-rich schemes she's been hatching for years, tells her little girl not to worry, mom will sing for her hula dance. But only after supper.
The men have pulled the pig from its pit and placed it in a cleaned bathtub. The bones have been picked out and everything placed in large-sized aluminum temp-containers. One dude's been very carefully cooking up teriyaki beef. The boys have all been helping out the men, and are now sitting down with pig meat and root beers, exhausted.
Before everyone's gathered, all have eaten. There's no toast, no formal sit down. It's like the food has just come and gone.
My wife gathers the hula girl and her mom in the tent. Some of the men stumble in and take chairs. The kids sit on the floor. The women teeter in the background. It's chilly and quiet when the hula girl appears, barefoot in jeans and tank top, a flower hastily placed in her long luscious hair. She nods to her mom.
The mother sings "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" in extra slow time, her voice quavering somewhere between Judy Garland and a drunken slur. But the girl takes to the sound and interprets the words with a lilting pumping of her strong supple blue-jeaned thighs. Her arms beckon, pull away. Her eyes look far off, past the back of the temporary garage tent to that idea of Paradise that's brought us all here. It's a stunning performance, heartfelt and raw. Every last one of the men, women and children in this place get tears in their eyes. The dance has entered our souls.
A half hour later, when the men start fighting, women pack the food into ziplock bags and put it in ice-filled coolers. They double check the generators, switching electrical current from solar to running truck engines. They sit my wife and me down and explain that although the men drink and fight so much, they're basically harmless.
Just before the imu got opened, as Richard the shy hippie played Bob Marley tunes on his ukulele, Uncle Dennis stumbled up to me with sunglasses on, even though it was already an hour past sunset and the only light around were hurricane lamps.
"Hey, brother, I call you New York Man," he said in his sing song pidgin Hawaiian accent.
I steadied my footing, awaiting a two-by-four upside the head.
But then he turned and swept a hand over the distant view of ocean and miles-away hotel lights, twinkling 3,000 feet below.
"Paradise's far, but at least we can still see it," he said to the wind before turning back in my direction.
He raised a close-fisted hand then extended thumb and pinky in the shaka.
"Take back the good word, brother," he said, pig smoke rising behind him. "It ain't all good. It ain't all bad. Doesn't need to be."
"If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea…" reads the inscription on Charles August Lindbergh's grave on the far side of Maui. It's part of a larger quote from Psalm 139 that continues with, "even there thy hand shall lead me."
The gravesite is lush, 25 miles and over an hour's drive around the lava flows from Kanaio. It's behind the fourth church headed east, not counting St. John The Less. That's including a French-looking place with weeds and ruins, the low-lying place that's always open by what some call Seal Beach, and the first of the lot, just down from Brad's place, that's no longer open.
We stop by there one afternoon and ask to look around. The woman looking after the place stands around the entire time we're there, following out our every move. She talks to her kids in Hawaiian. No shaka signs for her, no cool.
We learn later that the Kanaio Church should be open but this woman looking after it has got it in her head that the church is better kept vacant until the community gets its act together. We hear this in various versions throughout our time on Maui, usually a prelude to long harangues about the rights of Hawaiians, the way everyone's getting on each other's turf and the sad decline of things in general.
The churches on the southern edge of Maui, open as sanctuaries and weathered but alive, are about the only thing left of the pre-settlement years, when this side of the island was its most populated. Back before Mt. Haleakala's last eruption. Back before the things people wanted for themselves and their families began changing.
Lindbergh first saw this coast when he was in his final years. He was visiting a friend who's now buried near him at Kipaluhu, along with his friend's goats all lined up under headstones. Lindy had reached his strange, lone eagle years, when he rarely slept in the same place for more than a week. And this was the place that gave him peace at the same time that it reflected what was deepest at his troubled core.
It's hard not to think of Lindbergh while in Kanaio. There's the way Lucky Lindy pushed himself into fame via what was basically a massive gamble. A failed Congressman's son, Charles hadn't known what to do with his life. He'd liked flying, but it wasn't what his background had prepared him for. Then in one fell swoop he changed himself—and the world—by flying nonstop from Long Island to Paris in a single-winged plane from which he couldn't see ahead. Took two sandwiches, a small supply of water. Hallucinated. Landed to a crowd of several hundred thousand Frenchmen ready to ride him into their capital on their shoulders. Became the first great celebrity of the modern age, despite his incredible shyness. Found a wife in the hubbub, a fellow government official's child. Together, they hid from the spotlight, but also taunted fame by hiding. He taught her to fly. They had a baby. The child was kidnapped from a dream house before they could call it home. The trials and tribulations dragged on for years. The Lindberghs, moved overseas to try and quiet the storm of celebrity, blamed the media.
After the trial of his son's alleged kidnapper and murderer, Lindbergh had a successful career helping major airlines get up and running as an industry by doing tours of European countries to assess their air forces. Along the way, he grew impressed with Germany's Third Reich. He didn't see them as tyrants, found himself impressed with their underlying snobbism, which he'd fallen into himself after years of hounding from the press. A prickly situation ensued. Lucky Lindy refused to call Hitler evil. When the War started, he campaigned against U.S. involvement in it. He was wrong, it turned out. Very publicly wrong.
The way I started seeing it, Lindbergh's great mistake was to have a bad opinion and stand by it until forced to apologize. He still wasn't allowed to fly for his nation when he changed his mind about the War. So he flew surreptitiously, under pseudonyms. He knew the maps and the terrain, having flown much of the Pacific over the years. He even shot down Japs, bailed planes, did all the heroic stuff all over again, albeit in T.E. Lawrence-style understated fashion.
After the War, he wrote books. His wife, Anne Morrow Lindbergh, also wrote. The two topped the bestseller lists, won Pulitzers, kept at their lives. Bought a home in Connecticut. He dabbled in the sciences, inventing an artificial heart. Kept traveling as if to escape whatever it was that had made him wrong in the war years. He became an avatar of the World Wildlife Federation, his travels taking him into wild areas of the world where he became a true friend to indigenous peoples. He came to Maui in the late 1960s, and bought a patch of land as far from everyone else as he could. He settled in Kipaluhu, a long dirt road away from the wet side of Hana, then still remote. Kanaio wasn't available yet. But it was the same as what he bought.
Even when lush, the southern side of Maui is otherworldly. The rocks seem to have been placed in strange messages as yet undeciphered. Patterns show themselves: ripples in the giant puddles that wrap trees after heavy rains, the juxtaposition of cows and leafless trees in a lush green lava field, the crazy passion of local gravesites, built up and heavily festooned with photos and pop iconography lamenting those passed away at the early ages of 40 or 50.
The men who built Lindbergh's pine coffin are minor celebrities now. So are those few who attended his final service, held in Hawaiian so no one could complain.
Kanaio is a rough and tumble land. There's a drama to its contrasting edges: green fields bounded by razor sharp lava rock, deep blue ocean harboring hungry sharks, soft beaches lapped by treacherous riptides. Occasionally, one can find remains of past lives: a foundation here, old car parts there. Like the arroyos that can fill with flash floods at any moment. Like the bottled emotions of those who have come to call this coastline home, ready to spill over at any moment. It's just the guns that make it hard, the alcohol, the things one uses to anesthetize oneself to the terrible beauty that is life here in paradise.
The people who live here have chosen to inhabit an edge that has dangers we'll never know. To open that world up for closer scrutiny would force all of us to look closer at what it is that defines us, as well as our problems. That, in turn, would force us to look even more deeply than we have into the make-up of our own human family than any of us would want to. It's enough that we endure divorce and alcoholism, violence and the threat of rape, addiction and rampaging egotism.
Brad told us after one particularly confrontational, drunken evening that if he could, he'd go farther away from the center, closer to the edge. But he didn't know where to go from where he was. His property was already bounded up against a border fence that he was contemplating moving. Beyond was nothing but deeper wilderness, more fierceness, greater self-consciousness.
"Why did they even think of inviting me to their son's birthday party?" he kept hollering, wounded like an animal, after he and a neighbor had fought. "Don't they know I can't be trusted? Why do you think I'm here?"
All of the people we met in Kanaio had similar stories to tell. They'd tried living in the anonymity of cities, or the comfort of family compounds on Kauai or the Big Island. Some had spent time in the wilds of Alaska, or the bayous of Louisiana, looking for places where they could be as they were without causing too much trouble. To Fawn and I, this community seemed to be perperually poised over a powder keg, yet this was where these refugees felt safest.
Many of the people we meet talk about healing themselves with new herbs and vines. They speak of South Americans who have means of spiraling through death to the lessons on the other side. So they overuse the means as medicine to cleanse their alcoholism, their anger. But it just becomes a cycle. One drinks to sickness. One takes the medicine to get well again. And on and on.
This is a beautiful, strange life these men and women live, poised between the everyday and the fantastic, between the heaven of their hopes and the hells of their addictions. There's an innate poignancy embedded in their guilt over tarnished pasts, their grand hopes for idyllic futures.
Brad wants to build a two-storey addition onto his shack, a home for his daughter and her mother, his ex-wife Suzie. He draws up plans, scours the sides of roads for the pieces he can eventually put together in the form of a palace-like home. And yet he'll never be able to match the two ladies' ideal: one of those manufactured homes from the other side of the island that looks just like what they've seen on television, from the mainland, from Xanadu.
This landscape is built for nurturing, and is flourishing now, but feels destined to fail.
Some have said that when one dies one enters the flow of history. But that doesn't take into account the wildness of a place like this, where the present swallows all that came before it. Here in lovely, harsh, compassion-testing Kanaio, death simply places one into the spectrum of life. Which is as endless as the horizon, as the cycle of rain and drought, as the strangeness of life on a volcano.
I asked Brad about death once. He said there is a place on the other side where it's all okay. He tells me that he's defined his death already via the sharp edges he's used to define his life. He said he knows this from his medicine, from his pain, from his experience of Kanaio.
I tell him too few people can even see the beauty of a Kanaio any more. They need the quieter, more picturesque beauties to match what they've been given as a definition of life.
But dude, Brad tells me. That's not how it is. There is a greater beauty and a spirit in life and it can sometimes only be seen at the edges, in the darkness, in the spiral of blood and anger.
I tell him how I can't get over my brother's death-bloated face in the polaroid the cops gave me to i.d. him. So Brad says get over it. One of his first memories was of finding a dead body on his front porch and running. And how, now, he wished he'd not run.
But he had, I said. Yes, he said, he had.
Which in a way is how he, and his sister and I, have come to discover Kanaio. And the compassion and edges of life itself.
March 9, 2011 by Jay Babcock	Categories: Uncategorized	| Tags: Fawn Potash, Kanaio, Paul Smart | 1 Comment
About Jay Babcock
I am the co-founder and editor of Arthur Magazine (2002-2008, 2012-13) and curator of the three Arthur music festival events (Arthurfest, ArthurBall, and Arthur Nights) (2005-6). Prior to that I was a district office staffer for Congressman Henry A. Waxman, a DJ at Silver Lake pirate radio station KBLT, a copy editor at Larry Flynt Publications, an editor at Mean magazine, and a freelance journalist contributing work to LAWeekly, Mojo, Los Angeles Times, Washington Post, Vibe, Rap Pages and many other print and online outlets. An extended piece I wrote on Fela Kuti was selected for the Da Capo Best Music Writing 2000 anthology. In 2006, I was one of five Angelenos listed in the Music section of Los Angeles Magazine's annual "Power" issue. In 2007-8, I produced a blog called "Nature Trumps," about the L.A. River. Today, I live a peaceful life in the rural wilderness of Joshua Tree, California, where I am a partner in JTHomesteader.com with Stephanie Smith. https://linktr.ee/jaywbabcock
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One thought on ""Closest to the Edge: Life in a squatters' village on the wild side of Maui" by Paul Smart (Arthur No. 17/July 2005)"
Jon D Rapp says:	 February 10, 2018 at 12:08 am
Wow! Bravo- well-written & engaging


text:
Publishers get creative with an à la carte approach to digital media
May 6, 2014 | By Lucia Moses
The all-you-can-eat approach to digital media is going away in favor of à la carte.
Consider Facebook. It launched Facebook Messenger and Paper as standalone apps following its acquisition of Instagram. Foursquare also sees value in having a portfolio of services; it's separating its original check-in service from its recommendation service. The new app will be called Swarm, while the recommendation service will use the Foursquare name.
Publishers, too, are doing it. The New York Times is planning to launch dedicated mobile apps focused on food and opinion, on the heels of offerings for both light and rabid users. Yahoo introduced a tech vertical and is planning digital "magazines" on single topics like food and fashion.
The Economist has had success with less intimidating and expensive apps than its core magazine. On the high end, it bundles print and digital in a single $130 annual subscription. It also has pricey à la carte options like its $18.99 Traveller Briefings. The title complements those with everything from the free lifestyle app Intelligent Life to the Anthology Series, single-topic collections at $2.99 each, and the $3.99 Economist Radio: In Other Words. Launched a couple of weeks ago, In Other Words had some 11,000 downloads in its first few days, said Susan Clark, chief marketing officer at The Economist. That's hardly something to live off of, but every little bit helps.
"You're going to get people who want to buy small bits and bites and others who want the bundle," Clark said. "If you can get people to come in, especially at a lower price point, and get them to get a feel for the brand, over time, one would hope we could trade them up. Every one of these apps broadens the market."
With digital ad rates declining, even the more successful publishers need to find new ways to bring in revenue to their websites, said Rick Edmonds, media business analyst at Poynter. Verticals can supplement their core offering. "It's also that there are some universes of people who are looking for more specialized apps and are less likely to go through the New York Times or the others and pick out what they most want," he said.
It's also a recognition that people increasingly are using the side doors of search and social to get to the news. Roughly half of Facebook users — about 30 percent of the U.S. population — post or discuss news or events on those networks, according the Pew Research Center. People also are participating in the news themselves, one-tenth of them uploading news videos they have taken themselves. In a sense, the digital unbundling is an extension of the decline of general interest content in print form — like Reader's Digest and Newsweek — in favor of special-interest titles.
"News is packaged, consumed, shared in many different ways, and each of those ways is going to speak to a certain audience, and the needs of that audience," said Amy Mitchell, director of journalism research at the Pew Research Center. "So it's about meeting the interests of those and helping them find the content they're interested in but also maintaining the content structure for those who want to come across a wider mix."
If these products can bring in new readers or help keep existing ones, all the better. A question becomes whether they narrow the scope of the news people are exposed to — and whether publishers are draining resources from their core offering to create new products.
WTF is cookie stuffing?
Fraud is a well-documented pox on digital advertising, but it's also an issue for publishers and marketers working together on affiliate marketing deals, too. One of the more tried-and-true techniques is cookie stuffing.