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John Ro Myung (ur. 24 stycznia 1967 w Chicago w stanie Illinois w USA) – amerykański muzyk, kompozytor i instrumentalista. Uczęszczał do szkoły muzycznej Berklee College of Music w Bostonie. Basista progresywnometalowej grupy muzycznej Dream Theater. Znany również ze współpracy z Gordian Knot, The Jelly Jam czy Platypus.

Instrumentarium

Dyskografia

 Platypus - When Pus Comes to Shove (1999, InsideOut Music)
 Gordian Knot - Gordian Knot (2000, Sensory)
 Platypus - Ice Cycles (2000, InsideOut Music)
 The Jelly Jam - Jelly Jam (2002, InsideOut Music)
 Explorer's Club - Raising the Mammoth (2002, Magna Carta)
 The Jelly Jam - Jelly Jam 2 (2004, InsideOut Music)
 The Jelly Jam - Shall We Descend (2011, Molken Music)

Wideografia

 John Myung - Progressive Bass Concepts (1996, VHS /DVD, Warner Brothers Pub.)

Przypisy

Amerykańscy basiści rockowi
Amerykańscy basiści metalowi
Amerykańscy kompozytorzy muzyki rozrywkowej
Członkowie Dream Theater
Urodzeni w 1967
Absolwenci Berklee College of Music


AFTER such a scene as the last, Walter Morel was for some days abashed and ashamed, but he soon regained his old bullying indifference. Yet there was a slight shrinking, a diminishing in his assurance. Physically even, he shrank, and his fine full presence waned. He never grew in the least stout, so that, as he sank from his erect, assertive bearing, his physique seemed to contract along with his pride and moral strength.
But now he realised how hard it was for his wife to drag about at her work, and, his sympathy quickened by penitence, hastened forward with his help. He came straight home from the pit, and stayed in at evening till Friday, and then he could not remain at home. But he was back again by ten o'clock, almost quite sober.
He always made his own breakfast. Being a man who rose early and had plenty of time he did not, as some miners do, drag his wife out of bed at six o'clock. At five, sometimes earlier, he woke, got straight out of bed, and went downstairs. When she could not sleep, his wife lay waiting for this time, as for a period of peace. The only real rest seemed to be when he was out of the house.
He went downstairs in his shirt and then struggled into his pit-trousers, which were left on the hearth to warm all night. There was always a fire, because Mrs. Morel raked. And the first sound in the house was the bang, bang of the poker against the raker, as Morel smashed the remainder of the coal to make the kettle, which was filled and left on the hob, finally boil. His cup and knife and fork, all he wanted except just the food, was laid ready on the table on a newspaper. Then he got his breakfast, made the tea, packed the bottom of the doors with rugs to shut out the draught, piled a big fire, and sat down to an hour of joy. He toasted his bacon on a fork and caught the drops of fat on his bread; then he put the rasher on his thick slice of bread, and cut off chunks with a clasp-knife, poured his tea into his saucer, and was happy. With his family about, meals were never so pleasant. He loathed a fork: it is a modern introduction which has still scarcely reached common people. What Morel preferred was a clasp-knife. Then, in solitude, he ate and drank, often sitting, in cold weather, on a little stool with his back to the warm chimney-piece, his food on the fender, his cup on the hearth. And then he read the last night's newspaper--what of it he could--spelling it over laboriously. He preferred to keep the blinds down and the candle lit even when it was daylight; it was the habit of the mine.
At a quarter to six he rose, cut two thick slices of bread and butter, and put them in the white calico snap-bag. He filled his tin bottle with tea. Cold tea without milk or sugar was the drink he preferred for the pit. Then he pulled off his shirt, and put on his pit-singlet, a vest of thick flannel cut low round the neck, and with short sleeves like a chemise.
Then he went upstairs to his wife with a cup of tea because she was ill, and because it occurred to him.
"I've brought thee a cup o' tea, lass," he said.
"Well, you needn't, for you know I don't like it," she replied.
"Drink it up; it'll pop thee off to sleep again."
She accepted the tea. It pleased him to see her take it and sip it.
"I'll back my life there's no sugar in," she said.
"Yi--there's one big 'un," he replied, injured.
"It's a wonder," she said, sipping again.
She had a winsome face when her hair was loose. He loved her to grumble at him in this manner. He looked at her again, and went, without any sort of leave-taking. He never took more than two slices of bread and butter to eat in the pit, so an apple or an orange was a treat to him. He always liked it when she put one out for him. He tied a scarf round his neck, put on his great, heavy boots, his coat, with the big pocket, that carried his snap-bag and his bottle of tea, and went forth into the fresh morning air, closing, without locking, the door behind him. He loved the early morning, and the walk across the fields. So he appeared at the pit-top, often with a stalk from the hedge between his teeth, which he chewed all day to keep his mouth moist, down the mine, feeling quite as happy as when he was in the field.
Later, when the time for the baby grew nearer, he would bustle round in his slovenly fashion, poking out the ashes, rubbing the fireplace, sweeping the house before he went to work. Then, feeling very self-righteous, he went upstairs.
"Now I'm cleaned up for thee: tha's no 'casions ter stir a peg all day, but sit and read thy books."
Which made her laugh, in spite of her indignation.
"And the dinner cooks itself?" she answered.
"Eh, I know nowt about th' dinner."
"You'd know if there weren't any."
"Ay, 'appen so," he answered, departing.
"So you keep wagging on, then?"
"Ay," answered Mrs. Morel deprecatingly. "There's nothing else for it."
"Have you seen Hose?" called a very small woman from across the road. It was Mrs. Anthony, a black-haired, strange little body, who always wore a brown velvet dress, tight fitting.
"I haven't," said Mrs. Morel.
"Eh, I wish he'd come. I've got a copperful of clothes, an' I'm sure I heered his bell."
"Hark! He's at the end."
The two women looked down the alley. At the end of the Bottoms a man stood in a sort of old-fashioned trap, bending over bundles of cream-coloured stuff; while a cluster of women held up their arms to him, some with bundles. Mrs. Anthony herself had a heap of creamy, undyed stockings hanging over her arm.
"I've done ten dozen this week," she said proudly to Mrs. Morel.
"T-t-t!" went the other. "I don't know how you can find time."
"Eh!" said Mrs. Anthony. "You can find time if you make time."
"I don't know how you do it," said Mrs. Morel. "And how much shall you get for those many?"
"Tuppence-ha'penny a dozen," replied the other.
"Well," said Mrs. Morel. "I'd starve before I'd sit down and seam twenty-four stockings for twopence ha'penny."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Anthony. "You can rip along with 'em."
Hose was coming along, ringing his bell. Women were waiting at the yard-ends with their seamed stockings hanging over their arms. The man, a common fellow, made jokes with them, tried to swindle them, and bullied them. Mrs. Morel went up her yard disdainfully.
It was an understood thing that if one woman wanted her neighbour, she should put the poker in the fire and bang at the back of the fireplace, which, as the fires were back to back, would make a great noise in the adjoining house. One morning Mrs. Kirk, mixing a pudding, nearly started out of her skin as she heard the thud, thud, in her grate. With her hands all floury, she rushed to the fence.
"Did you knock, Mrs. Morel?"
"If you wouldn't mind, Mrs. Kirk."
Mrs. Kirk climbed on to her copper, got over the wall on to Mrs. Morel's copper, and ran in to her neighbour.
"Eh, dear, how are you feeling?" she cried in concern.
"You might fetch Mrs. Bower," said Mrs. Morel.
The sound was heard from one end of the Bottoms to the other. At last Aggie came running up, and was sent for Mrs. Bower, whilst Mrs. Kirk left her pudding and stayed with her neighbour.
Mrs. Morel went to bed. Mrs. Kirk had Annie and William for dinner. Mrs. Bower, fat and waddling, bossed the house.
"Hash some cold meat up for the master's dinner, and make him an apple-charlotte pudding," said Mrs. Morel.
"He may go without pudding this day," said Mrs. Bower.
Morel was not as a rule one of the first to appear at the bottom of the pit, ready to come up. Some men were there before four o'clock, when the whistle blew loose-all; but Morel, whose stall, a poor one, was at this time about a mile and a half away from the bottom, worked usually till the first mate stopped, then he finished also. This day, however, the miner was sick of the work. At two o'clock he looked at his watch, by the light of the green candle--he was in a safe working--and again at half-past two. He was hewing at a piece of rock that was in the way for the next day's work. As he sat on his heels, or kneeled, giving hard blows with his pick, "Uszza--uszza!" he went.
"Shall ter finish, Sorry?" cried Barker, his fellow butty.
"Finish? Niver while the world stands!" growled Morel.
And he went on striking. He was tired.
"It's a heart-breaking job," said Barker.
But Morel was too exasperated, at the end of his tether, to answer. Still he struck and hacked with all his might.
"Tha might as well leave it, Walter," said Barker. "It'll do to-morrow, without thee hackin' thy guts out."
"I'll lay no b--- finger on this to-morrow, Isr'el!" cried Morel.
"Oh, well, if tha wunna, somebody else'll ha'e to," said Israel.
Then Morel continued to strike.
"Hey-up there--LOOSE-A'!" cried the men, leaving the next stall.
"Tha'll happen catch me up," said Barker, departing.
When he had gone, Morel, left alone, felt savage. He had not finished his job. He had overworked himself into a frenzy. Rising, wet with sweat, he threw his tool down, pulled on his coat, blew out his candle, took his lamp, and went. Down the main road the lights of the other men went swinging. There was a hollow sound of many voices. It was a long, heavy tramp underground.
He sat at the bottom of the pit, where the great drops of water fell plash. Many colliers were waiting their turns to go up, talking noisily. Morel gave his answers short and disagreeable.
"It's rainin', Sorry," said old Giles, who had had the news from the top.
Morel found one comfort. He had his old umbrella, which he loved, in the lamp cabin. At last he took his stand on the chair, and was at the top in a moment. Then he handed in his lamp and got his umbrella, which he had bought at an auction for one-and-six. He stood on the edge of the pit-bank for a moment, looking out over the fields; grey rain was falling. The trucks stood full of wet, bright coal. Water ran down the sides of the waggons, over the white "C.W. and Co.". Colliers, walking indifferent to the rain, were streaming down the line and up the field, a grey, dismal host. Morel put up his umbrella, and took pleasure from the peppering of the drops thereon.
All along the road to Bestwood the miners tramped, wet and grey and dirty, but their red mouths talking with animation. Morel also walked with a gang, but he said nothing. He frowned peevishly as he went. Many men passed into the Prince of Wales or into Ellen's. Morel, feeling sufficiently disagreeable to resist temptation, trudged along under the dripping trees that overhung the park wall, and down the mud of Greenhill Lane.
Mrs. Morel lay in bed, listening to the rain, and the feet of the colliers from Minton, their voices, and the bang, bang of the gates as they went through the stile up the field.
"There's some herb beer behind the pantry door," she said. "Th' master'll want a drink, if he doesn't stop."
But he was late, so she concluded he had called for a drink, since it was raining. What did he care about the child or her?
She was very ill when her children were born.
"What is it?" she asked, feeling sick to death.
And she took consolation in that. The thought of being the mother of men was warming to her heart. She looked at the child. It had blue eyes, and a lot of fair hair, and was bonny. Her love came up hot, in spite of everything. She had it in bed with her.
Morel, thinking nothing, dragged his way up the garden path, wearily and angrily. He closed his umbrella, and stood it in the sink; then he sluthered his heavy boots into the kitchen. Mrs. Bower appeared in the inner doorway.
"Well," she said, "she's about as bad as she can be. It's a boy childt."
The miner grunted, put his empty snap-bag and his tin bottle on the dresser, went back into the scullery and hung up his coat, then came and dropped into his chair.
"Han yer got a drink?" he asked.
The woman went into the pantry. There was heard the pop of a cork. She set the mug, with a little, disgusted rap, on the table before Morel. He drank, gasped, wiped his big moustache on the end of his scarf, drank, gasped, and lay back in his chair. The woman would not speak to him again. She set his dinner before him, and went upstairs.
"Was that the master?" asked Mrs. Morel.
"I've gave him his dinner," replied Mrs. Bower.
After he had sat with his arms on the table--he resented the fact that Mrs. Bower put no cloth on for him, and gave him a little plate, instead of a full-sized dinner-plate--he began to eat. The fact that his wife was ill, that he had another boy, was nothing to him at that moment. He was too tired; he wanted his dinner; he wanted to sit with his arms lying on the board; he did not like having Mrs. Bower about. The fire was too small to please him.
After he had finished his meal, he sat for twenty minutes; then he stoked up a big fire. Then, in his stockinged feet, he went reluctantly upstairs. It was a struggle to face his wife at this moment, and he was tired. His face was black, and smeared with sweat. His singlet had dried again, soaking the dirt in. He had a dirty woollen scarf round his throat. So he stood at the foot of the bed.
"Well, how are ter, then?" he asked.
"I s'll be all right," she answered.
He stood at a loss what to say next. He was tired, and this bother was rather a nuisance to him, and he didn't quite know where he was.
"A lad, tha says," he stammered.
She turned down the sheet and showed the child.
"Bless him!" he murmured. Which made her laugh, because he blessed by rote--pretending paternal emotion, which he did not feel just then.
"I will, my lass," he answered, turning away.
Dismissed, he wanted to kiss her, but he dared not. She half wanted him to kiss her, but could not bring herself to give any sign. She only breathed freely when he was gone out of the room again, leaving behind him a faint smell of pit-dirt.
Mrs. Morel had a visit every day from the Congregational clergyman. Mr. Heaton was young, and very poor. His wife had died at the birth of his first baby, so he remained alone in the manse. He was a Bachelor of Arts of Cambridge, very shy, and no preacher. Mrs. Morel was fond of him, and he depended on her. For hours he talked to her, when she was well. He became the god-parent of the child.
Occasionally the minister stayed to tea with Mrs. Morel. Then she laid the cloth early, got out her best cups, with a little green rim, and hoped Morel would not come too soon; indeed, if he stayed for a pint, she would not mind this day. She had always two dinners to cook, because she believed children should have their chief meal at midday, whereas Morel needed his at five o'clock. So Mr. Heaton would hold the baby, whilst Mrs. Morel beat up a batter-pudding or peeled the potatoes, and he, watching her all the time, would discuss his next sermon. His ideas were quaint and fantastic. She brought him judiciously to earth. It was a discussion of the wedding at Cana.
"When He changed the water into wine at Cana," he said, "that is a symbol that the ordinary life, even the blood, of the married husband and wife, which had before been uninspired, like water, became filled with the Spirit, and was as wine, because, when love enters, the whole spiritual constitution of a man changes, is filled with the Holy Ghost, and almost his form is altered."
"Yes, poor fellow, his young wife is dead; that is why he makes his love into the Holy Ghost."
They were halfway down their first cup of tea when they heard the sluther of pit-boots.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mrs. Morel, in spite of herself.
The minister looked rather scared. Morel entered. He was feeling rather savage. He nodded a "How d'yer do" to the clergyman, who rose to shake hands with him.
"Nay," said Morel, showing his hand, "look thee at it! Tha niver wants ter shake hands wi' a hand like that, does ter? There's too much pick-haft and shovel-dirt on it."
The minister flushed with confusion, and sat down again. Mrs. Morel rose, carried out the steaming saucepan. Morel took off his coat, dragged his armchair to table, and sat down heavily.
"Are you tired?" asked the clergyman.
"Tired? I ham that," replied Morel. "YOU don't know what it is to be tired, as I'M tired."
"Why, look yer 'ere," said the miner, showing the shoulders of his singlet. "It's a bit dry now, but it's wet as a clout with sweat even yet. Feel it."
"Goodness!" cried Mrs. Morel. "Mr. Heaton doesn't want to feel your nasty singlet."
The clergyman put out his hand gingerly.
"No, perhaps he doesn't," said Morel; "but it's all come out of me, whether or not. An' iv'ry day alike my singlet's wringin' wet. 'Aven't you got a drink, Missis, for a man when he comes home barkled up from the pit?"
"You know you drank all the beer," said Mrs. Morel, pouring out his tea.
"An' was there no more to be got?" Turning to the clergyman--"A man gets that caked up wi' th' dust, you know,--that clogged up down a coal-mine, he NEEDS a drink when he comes home."
"I am sure he does," said the clergyman.
"But it's ten to one if there's owt for him."
"There's water--and there's tea," said Mrs. Morel.
"Water! It's not water as'll clear his throat."
He poured out a saucerful of tea, blew it, and sucked it up through his great black moustache, sighing afterwards. Then he poured out another saucerful, and stood his cup on the table.
"My cloth!" said Mrs. Morel, putting it on a plate.
"A man as comes home as I do 's too tired to care about cloths," said Morel.
"Pity!" exclaimed his wife, sarcastically.
The room was full of the smell of meat and vegetables and pit-clothes.
He leaned over to the minister, his great moustache thrust forward, his mouth very red in his black face.
"Mr. Heaton," he said, "a man as has been down the black hole all day, dingin' away at a coal-face, yi, a sight harder than that wall---"
"Needn't make a moan of it," put in Mrs. Morel.
She hated her husband because, whenever he had an audience, he whined and played for sympathy. William, sitting nursing the baby, hated him, with a boy's hatred for false sentiment, and for the stupid treatment of his mother. Annie had never liked him; she merely avoided him.
When the minister had gone, Mrs. Morel looked at her cloth.
"A fine mess!" she said.
"Dos't think I'm goin' to sit wi' my arms danglin', cos tha's got a parson for tea wi' thee?" he bawled.
"What are YOU putting in for?"
"I canna see what there is so much to laugh at."
One evening, directly after the parson's visit, feeling unable to bear herself after another display from her husband, she took Annie and the baby and went out. Morel had kicked William, and the mother would never forgive him.
She went over the sheep-bridge and across a corner of the meadow to the cricket-ground. The meadows seemed one space of ripe, evening light, whispering with the distant mill-race. She sat on a seat under the alders in the cricket-ground, and fronted the evening. Before her, level and solid, spread the big green cricket-field, like the bed of a sea of light. Children played in the bluish shadow of the pavilion. Many rooks, high up, came cawing home across the softly-woven sky. They stooped in a long curve down into the golden glow, concentrating, cawing, wheeling, like black flakes on a slow vortex, over a tree clump that made a dark boss among the pasture.
A few gentlemen were practising, and Mrs. Morel could hear the chock of the ball, and the voices of men suddenly roused; could see the white forms of men shifting silently over the green, upon which already the under shadows were smouldering. Away at the grange, one side of the haystacks was lit up, the other sides blue-grey. A waggon of sheaves rocked small across the melting yellow light.
The sun was going down. Every open evening, the hills of Derbyshire were blazed over with red sunset. Mrs. Morel watched the sun sink from the glistening sky, leaving a soft flower-blue overhead, while the western space went red, as if all the fire had swum down there, leaving the bell cast flawless blue. The mountain-ash berries across the field stood fierily out from the dark leaves, for a moment. A few shocks of corn in a corner of the fallow stood up as if alive; she imagined them bowing; perhaps her son would be a Joseph. In the east, a mirrored sunset floated pink opposite the west's scarlet. The big haystacks on the hillside, that butted into the glare, went cold.
With Mrs. Morel it was one of those still moments when the small frets vanish, and the beauty of things stands out, and she had the peace and the strength to see herself. Now and again, a swallow cut close to her. Now and again, Annie came up with a handful of alder-currants. The baby was restless on his mother's knee, clambering with his hands at the light.
Mrs. Morel looked down at him. She had dreaded this baby like a catastrophe, because of her feeling for her husband. And now she felt strangely towards the infant. Her heart was heavy because of the child, almost as if it were unhealthy, or malformed. Yet it seemed quite well. But she noticed the peculiar knitting of the baby's brows, and the peculiar heaviness of its eyes, as if it were trying to understand something that was pain. She felt, when she looked at her child's dark, brooding pupils, as if a burden were on her heart.
"He looks as if he was thinking about something--quite sorrowful," said Mrs. Kirk.
Suddenly, looking at him, the heavy feeling at the mother's heart melted into passionate grief. She bowed over him, and a few tears shook swiftly out of her very heart. The baby lifted his fingers.
"My lamb!" she cried softly.
And at that moment she felt, in some far inner place of her soul, that she and her husband were guilty.
The baby was looking up at her. It had blue eyes like her own, but its look was heavy, steady, as if it had realised something that had stunned some point of its soul.
In her arms lay the delicate baby. Its deep blue eyes, always looking up at her unblinking, seemed to draw her innermost thoughts out of her. She no longer loved her husband; she had not wanted this child to come, and there it lay in her arms and pulled at her heart. She felt as if the navel string that had connected its frail little body with hers had not been broken. A wave of hot love went over her to the infant. She held it close to her face and breast. With all her force, with all her soul she would make up to it for having brought it into the world unloved. She would love it all the more now it was here; carry it in her love. Its clear, knowing eyes gave her pain and fear. Did it know all about her? When it lay under her heart, had it been listening then? Was there a reproach in the look? She felt the marrow melt in her bones, with fear and pain.
Once more she was aware of the sun lying red on the rim of the hill opposite. She suddenly held up the child in her hands.
"Look!" she said. "Look, my pretty!"
She thrust the infant forward to the crimson, throbbing sun, almost with relief. She saw him lift his little fist. Then she put him to her bosom again, ashamed almost of her impulse to give him back again whence he came.
"If he lives," she thought to herself, "what will become of him--what will he be?"
"I will call him Paul," she said suddenly; she knew not why.
After a while she went home. A fine shadow was flung over the deep green meadow, darkening all.
As she expected, she found the house empty. But Morel was home by ten o'clock, and that day, at least, ended peacefully.
Walter Morel was, at this time, exceedingly irritable. His work seemed to exhaust him. When he came home he did not speak civilly to anybody. If the fire were rather low he bullied about that; he grumbled about his dinner; if the children made a chatter he shouted at them in a way that made their mother's blood boil, and made them hate him.
On the Friday, he was not home by eleven o'clock. The baby was unwell, and was restless, crying if he were put down. Mrs. Morel, tired to death, and still weak, was scarcely under control.
"I wish the nuisance would come," she said wearily to herself.
The child at last sank down to sleep in her arms. She was too tired to carry him to the cradle.
"But I'll say nothing, whatever time he comes," she said. "It only works me up; I won't say anything. But I know if he does anything it'll make my blood boil," she added to herself.
She sighed, hearing him coming, as if it were something she could not bear. He, taking his revenge, was nearly drunk. She kept her head bent over the child as he entered, not wishing to see him. But it went through her like a flash of hot fire when, in passing, he lurched against the dresser, setting the tins rattling, and clutched at the white pot knobs for support. He hung up his hat and coat, then returned, stood glowering from a distance at her, as she sat bowed over the child.
"Is there nothing to eat in the house?" he asked, insolently, as if to a servant. In certain stages of his intoxication he affected the clipped, mincing speech of the towns. Mrs. Morel hated him most in this condition.
"You know what there is in the house," she said, so coldly, it sounded impersonal.
He stood and glared at her without moving a muscle.
"I asked a civil question, and I expect a civil answer," he said affectedly.
"And you got it," she said, still ignoring him.
He glowered again. Then he came unsteadily forward. He leaned on the table with one hand, and with the other jerked at the table drawer to get a knife to cut bread. The drawer stuck because he pulled sideways. In a temper he dragged it, so that it flew out bodily, and spoons, forks, knives, a hundred metallic things, splashed with a clatter and a clang upon the brick floor. The baby gave a little convulsed start.
"What are you doing, clumsy, drunken fool?" the mother cried.
"Then tha should get the flamin' thing thysen. Tha should get up, like other women have to, an' wait on a man."
"Wait on you--wait on you?" she cried. "Yes, I see myself."
"Yis, an' I'll learn thee tha's got to. Wait on ME, yes tha sh'lt wait on me---"
"Never, milord. I'd wait on a dog at the door first."
He was trying to fit in the drawer. At her last speech be turned round. His face was crimson, his eyes bloodshot. He stared at her one silent second in threat.
"P-h!" she went quickly, in contempt.
He jerked at the drawer in his excitement. It fell, cut sharply on his shin, and on the reflex he flung it at her.
One of the corners caught her brow as the shallow drawer crashed into the fireplace. She swayed, almost fell stunned from her chair. To her very soul she was sick; she clasped the child tightly to her bosom. A few moments elapsed; then, with an effort, she brought herself to. The baby was crying plaintively. Her left brow was bleeding rather profusely. As she glanced down at the child, her brain reeling, some drops of blood soaked into its white shawl; but the baby was at least not hurt. She balanced her head to keep equilibrium, so that the blood ran into her eye.
He swayed again, as if he would pitch on to the child. With the catastrophe he had lost all balance.
"Go away," she said, struggling to keep her presence of mind.
He hiccoughed. "Let's--let's look at it," he said, hiccoughing again.
"Lemme--lemme look at it, lass."
"Go away," she said, and weakly she pushed him off.
He stood, uncertain in balance, gazing upon her. Summoning all her strength she rose, the baby on one arm. By a cruel effort of will, moving as if in sleep, she went across to the scullery, where she bathed her eye for a minute in cold water; but she was too dizzy. Afraid lest she should swoon, she returned to her rocking-chair, trembling in every fibre. By instinct, she kept the baby clasped.
Morel, bothered, had succeeded in pushing the drawer back into its cavity, and was on his knees, groping, with numb paws, for the scattered spoons.
Her brow was still bleeding. Presently Morel got up and came craning his neck towards her.
"What has it done to thee, lass?" he asked, in a very wretched, humble tone.
"You can see what it's done," she answered.
He stood, bending forward, supported on his hands, which grasped his legs just above the knee. He peered to look at the wound. She drew away from the thrust of his face with its great moustache, averting her own face as much as possible. As he looked at her, who was cold and impassive as stone, with mouth shut tight, he sickened with feebleness and hopelessness of spirit. He was turning drearily away, when he saw a drop of blood fall from the averted wound into the baby's fragile, glistening hair. Fascinated, he watched the heavy dark drop hang in the glistening cloud, and pull down the gossamer. Another drop fell. It would soak through to the baby's scalp. He watched, fascinated, feeling it soak in; then, finally, his manhood broke.
"What of this child?" was all his wife said to him. But her low, intense tones brought his head lower. She softened: "Get me some wadding out of the middle drawer," she said.
He stumbled away very obediently, presently returning with a pad, which she singed before the fire, then put on her forehead, as she sat with the baby on her lap.
Again he rummaged and fumbled in the drawer, returning presently with a red, narrow scarf. She took it, and with trembling fingers proceeded to bind it round her head.
"Let me tie it for thee," he said humbly.
"I can do it myself," she replied. When it was done she went upstairs, telling him to rake the fire and lock the door.
"I knocked against the latch of the coal-place, when I was getting a raker in the dark, because the candle blew out." Her two small children looked up at her with wide, dismayed eyes. They said nothing, but their parted lips seemed to express the unconscious tragedy they felt.
Walter Morel lay in bed next day until nearly dinner-time. He did not think of the previous evening's work. He scarcely thought of anything, but he would not think of that. He lay and suffered like a sulking dog. He had hurt himself most; and he was the more damaged because he would never say a word to her, or express his sorrow. He tried to wriggle out of it. "It was her own fault," he said to himself. Nothing, however, could prevent his inner consciousness inflicting on him the punishment which ate into his spirit like rust, and which he could only alleviate by drinking.
He felt as if he had not the initiative to get up, or to say a word, or to move, but could only lie like a log. Moreover, he had himself violent pains in the head. It was Saturday. Towards noon he rose, cut himself food in the pantry, ate it with his head dropped, then pulled on his boots, and went out, to return at three o'clock slightly tipsy and relieved; then once more straight to bed. He rose again at six in the evening, had tea and went straight out.
Sunday was the same: bed till noon, the Palmerston Arms till 2.30, dinner, and bed; scarcely a word spoken. When Mrs. Morel went upstairs, towards four o'clock, to put on her Sunday dress, he was fast asleep. She would have felt sorry for him, if he had once said, "Wife, I'm sorry." But no; he insisted to himself it was her fault. And so he broke himself. So she merely left him alone. There was this deadlock of passion between them, and she was stronger.
The family began tea. Sunday was the only day when all sat down to meals together.
"Isn't my father going to get up?" asked William.
"Let him lie," the mother replied.
Immediately Morel woke he got straight out of bed. That was characteristic of him all his life. He was all for activity. The prostrated inactivity of two mornings was stifling him.
It was near six o'clock when he got down. This time he entered without hesitation, his wincing sensitiveness having hardened again. He did not care any longer what the family thought or felt.
The tea-things were on the table. William was reading aloud from "The Child's Own", Annie listening and asking eternally "why?" Both children hushed into silence as they heard the approaching thud of their father's stockinged feet, and shrank as he entered. Yet he was usually indulgent to them.
Morel made the meal alone, brutally. He ate and drank more noisily than he had need. No one spoke to him. The family life withdrew, shrank away, and became hushed as he entered. But he cared no longer about his alienation.
Immediately he had finished tea he rose with alacrity to go out. It was this alacrity, this haste to be gone, which so sickened Mrs. Morel. As she heard him sousing heartily in cold water, heard the eager scratch of the steel comb on the side of the bowl, as he wetted his hair, she closed her eyes in disgust. As he bent over, lacing his boots, there was a certain vulgar gusto in his movement that divided him from the reserved, watchful rest of the family. He always ran away from the battle with himself. Even in his own heart's privacy, he excused himself, saying, "If she hadn't said so-and-so, it would never have happened. She asked for what she's got." The children waited in restraint during his preparations. When he had gone, they sighed with relief.
He closed the door behind him, and was glad. It was a rainy evening. The Palmerston would be the cosier. He hastened forward in anticipation. All the slate roofs of the Bottoms shone black with wet. The roads, always dark with coal-dust, were full of blackish mud. He hastened along. The Palmerston windows were steamed over. The passage was paddled with wet feet. But the air was warm, if foul, and full of the sound of voices and the smell of beer and smoke.
"What shollt ha'e, Walter?" cried a voice, as soon as Morel appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, Jim, my lad, wheriver has thee sprung frae?"
The men made a seat for him, and took him in warmly. He was glad. In a minute or two they had thawed all responsibility out of him, all shame, all trouble, and he was clear as a bell for a jolly night.
On the Wednesday following, Morel was penniless. He dreaded his wife. Having hurt her, he hated her. He did not know what to do with himself that evening, having not even twopence with which to go to the Palmerston, and being already rather deeply in debt. So, while his wife was down the garden with the child, he hunted in the top drawer of the dresser where she kept her purse, found it, and looked inside. It contained a half-crown, two halfpennies, and a sixpence. So he took the sixpence, put the purse carefully back, and went out.
The next day, when she wanted to pay the greengrocer, she looked in the purse for her sixpence, and her heart sank to her shoes. Then she sat down and thought: "WAS there a sixpence? I hadn't spent it, had I? And I hadn't left it anywhere else?"
She was much put about. She hunted round everywhere for it. And, as she sought, the conviction came into her heart that her husband had taken it. What she had in her purse was all the money she possessed. But that he should sneak it from her thus was unbearable. He had done so twice before. The first time she had not accused him, and at the week-end he had put the shilling again into her purse. So that was how she had known he had taken it. The second time he had not paid back.
"Did you take sixpence out of my purse last night?"
"Me!" he said, looking up in an offended way. "No, I didna! I niver clapped eyes on your purse."
But she could detect the lie.
"Why, you know you did," she said quietly.
"I tell you I didna," he shouted. "Yer at me again, are yer? I've had about enough on't."
"So you filch sixpence out of my purse while I'm taking the clothes in."
"I'll may yer pay for this," he said, pushing back his chair in desperation. He bustled and got washed, then went determinedly upstairs. Presently he came down dressed, and with a big bundle in a blue-checked, enormous handkerchief.
"And now," he said, "you'll see me again when you do."
"It'll be before I want to," she replied; and at that he marched out of the house with his bundle. She sat trembling slightly, but her heart brimming with contempt. What would she do if he went to some other pit, obtained work, and got in with another woman? But she knew him too well--he couldn't. She was dead sure of him. Nevertheless her heart was gnawed inside her.
"Where's my dad?" said William, coming in from school.
"He says he's run away," replied the mother.
"Eh, I don't know. He's taken a bundle in the blue handkerchief, and says he's not coming back."
"What shall we do?" cried the boy.
"Eh, never trouble, he won't go far."
"But if he doesn't come back," wailed Annie.
And she and William retired to the sofa and wept. Mrs. Morel sat and laughed.
"You pair of gabeys!" she exclaimed. "You'll see him before the night's out."
But the children were not to be consoled. Twilight came on. Mrs. Morel grew anxious from very weariness. One part of her said it would be a relief to see the last of him; another part fretted because of keeping the children; and inside her, as yet, she could not quite let him go. At the bottom, she knew very well he could NOT go.
When she went down to the coal-place at the end of the garden, however, she felt something behind the door. So she looked. And there in the dark lay the big blue bundle. She sat on a piece of coal and laughed. Every time she saw it, so fat and yet so ignominious, slunk into its corner in the dark, with its ends flopping like dejected ears from the knots, she laughed again. She was relieved.
Mrs. Morel sat waiting. He had not any money, she knew, so if he stopped he was running up a bill. She was very tired of him-- tired to death. He had not even the courage to carry his bundle beyond the yard-end.
As she meditated, at about nine o'clock, he opened the door and came in, slinking, and yet sulky. She said not a word. He took off his coat, and slunk to his armchair, where he began to take off his boots.
"You'd better fetch your bundle before you take your boots off," she said quietly.
"You may thank your stars I've come back to-night," he said, looking up from under his dropped head, sulkily, trying to be impressive.
"Why, where should you have gone? You daren't even get your parcel through the yard-end," she said.
He looked such a fool she was not even angry with him. He continued to take his boots off and prepare for bed.
"I don't know what's in your blue handkerchief," she said. "But if you leave it the children shall fetch it in the morning."
Whereupon he got up and went out of the house, returning presently and crossing the kitchen with averted face, hurrying upstairs. As Mrs. Morel saw him slink quickly through the inner doorway, holding his bundle, she laughed to herself: but her heart was bitter, because she had loved him.


text:
Les îles du Komsomol (en ) sont un groupe de 4 petites îles de la terre François-Joseph, en Russie.

Géographie
Il s'agit d'un petit archipel de  situé à  à l'est de l'île Heiss, dont il est séparé par le détroit d'Autriche, et à la même distance à l'ouest de la Terre de Wilczek. Il est constitué d'une île principale et de trois îlots sableux et rocheux, en grande partie libres de glaces, répartis sur  de manière triangulaire. Le point culminant () est situé sur la plus grande île.

Histoire

Julius von Payer et Karl Weyprecht les ont découvertes et cartographiées en 1874.

D'abord appelées îles Hayes par Payer et Weyprecht, Anthony Fiala ne les retrouve pas en 1903. En , une expédition russe en traineau, dont est membre Ivan Papanine, les cartographie de nouveau et leur attribue le nom actuel de Komsomol, nom de l'organisation de la jeunesse communiste du Parti communiste de l'Union soviétique.

Liens externes
  Cartographie (1 : ) : U-40-XXXIV,XXXV,XXXVI (1971)

Île de la terre François-Joseph

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


Brown-Nagin is the Daniel P.S. Paul Professor of Constitutional Law at Harvard Law School (HLS), a history professor in Harvard's Faculty of Arts and Sciences(FAS), and faculty director of the Charles Hamilton Houston Institute for Race and Justice. She is also co-director of the HLS Law and History Program. She will assume her new responsibilities on July 1, succeeding Dean Lizabeth Cohen, who has led the institute since 2011.


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Home Arts + Entertainment In the News Gateway Horror 101 film series is HERE!
Gateway Horror 101 film series is HERE!
The Gateway Film Center is pleased to announce that the recently new Horror 101 series is back, and will kick-off on Valentine's Day with the 1992 film Candyman. The evening will also feature several panelists and an intro from GFC President Chris Hamel, screening begins at 7:30 p.m. sharp.
Over the course of 2019, all 101 films will be screened, culminating with a closing night party on December 31, 2019.
Click here for a complete list of the films, dates and tickets for the Gateway Film Center Horror 101 series.
How did Horror 101 begin?
In 2017, Gateway Film Center launched its most ambitious program ever, Cult 101, which was a celebration of the best cult films of all-time. Selected by a national panel of experts, all 101 films were screened at the center in 2017, and presentations were often paired with conversations, expert analysis, and always with a healthy dose of audience affection. Many of the films were presented as restorations, sometimes in 4K, or on 70mm or 35mm film.
Now, one year later, the center will launch a companion program, Horror 101, paying tribute to the best of those films that scare, unsettle or disturb, and have created a measurable and enduring impact on our culture.
The program had its start this summer, when Hamel started reaching out to contacts made over decades in the film business, asking for opinions on the best horror films ever made. The response was amazing, and thus, Horror 101 was born. After Nightmares Film Festival concluded in October, Hamel set out to create a list of nearly 350 choices for the panel.
"If you are going to pay proper respect to the audiences who love these films, and the artists who created them, you have to do an extensive amount of work to ensure all bases are covered and the panel has a lot of content to choose from," says Hamel.
Click here for the final list of films for the Horror 101 series. Tickets and times are also available on the list.


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text:
U.S. Intel Officials: North Korea Successfully Produced Missile-ready Nukes
Nuclear weapons could fit inside Pyongyang's ballistic missiles, U.S. officials tell The Washington Post. Estimations place the number of nuclear bombs in North Korea's arsenal at 60
Send me email alerts for new articles by Haaretz
A test launch of a Hwasong-14 intercontinental ballistic missile in North Korea's northwest, July 4, 2017./AP
North Korea has developed miniaturized nuclear warheads that could be installed inside its missiles, taking an additional step towards becoming a nuclear power, U.S. intelligence officials have concluded.
The confidential conclusion by the Defense Intelligence Agency says the U.S. intelligence community has concluded "North Korea has produced nuclear weapons for ballistic missile delivery, to include delivery by [intercontinental ballistic misile]-class missiles," the Washington Post on Tuesday quoted the assessment as saying.
Miniaturization is the process necessary to harness a missile with a nuclear warhead. These developments follow North Korea's tests last month, proving the country's ability to reach intercontinental ranges.
A U.S. Intelligence Community assessment, dated July 28, which was read to the Washington Post, said that "North Korea has produced nuclear weapons for ballistic missile delivery, to include delivery by ICBM-class missiles."
Japan also said on Tuesday that it was possible that North Korea had already developed nuclear warheads.
"It is conceivable that North Korea's nuclear weapons program has already considerably advanced and it is possible that North Korea has already achieved the miniaturisation of nuclear weapons and has acquired nuclear warheads," Japan's Defense Ministry said.
"Since last year, when it forcibly implemented two nuclear tests and more than 20 ballistic missile launches, the security threats have entered a new stage," it added in a 563-page annual Defense White Paper.
It warned of an acute threat posed by North Korea's weapons programs as Pyongyang's continues a series of missile and nuclear tests in defiance of UN sanctions.
New estimations place the number of nuclear weapons in North Korea's arsenal at 60, as of last month's report by the U.S. Defense Intelligence Agency.
skip - U.S. President Donald Trump's tweet, August 8, 2017
After many years of failure,countries are coming together to finally address the dangers posed by North Korea. We must be tough & decisive!
On Tuesday, U.S. President Donald Trump tweeted: "After many years of failure, countries are coming together to finally address the dangers posed by North Korea. We must be tough & decisive!"
North Korea's latest ICBM test showed Pyongyang may now be able to reach most of the continental United States, two U.S. officials have told Reuters.
The United Nations Security Council unanimously approved on Saturday new sanctions to punish the North including a ban on coal and other exports worth over $1 billion, a third of North Korea's $3 billion annual earnings.
North Korea said in response that it will launch "thousands-fold" revenge against the United States over the adoption of the tough sanctions.
Reuters and DPA contributed to this report

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Looking Back: A quarter of a century of The Psychologist
Current Managing Editor Jon Sutton marks the anniversary with the help of his predecessors
A quarter of a century ago, in January 1988, The Psychologist emerged from the chrysalis of the Bulletin of the British Psychological Society, the two-colour format perhaps failing to do justice to the beautiful butterfly adorning that very first cover. 300 issues later, here we are, with the opportunity to look back at what the Managing Editor at the time, Elizabeth Mapstone, describes as 'an exciting, but at times painful, period in BPS history'. How did The Psychologist take flight, what chaos can ensue from a single flap of its wings, and do further transformations lie ahead? I talked to some of the former editors to find out.
'It's like The Sun'
'It was a period of metamorphosis,' says Dame Glynis Breakwell, now Vice Chancellor at the University of Bath but from May 1988 serving a stint as Honorary Editor with Graham Davey. 'Perhaps that is why I would choose the cover of the August 1988 issue as my favourite. For me, it seems to depict a moth turning into a book – though I guess it is meant to symbolise completely the opposite, and involve a butterfly somewhere along the line.' The theme of metamorphosis was so prominent, it appears, that it justified two similar covers in one year!
Mary Boyle, who was an Honorary Editor with Ray Bull for six years up to and including the The Psychologist's inception, describes the drivers for development. 'It's fair to say the Bulletin was held in some affection by readers – there was certainly a very high level of engagement with it. But by the mid-1980s it was clear that change was needed. Other professions were updating their publications with graphics, colour, more varied covers and a wider range of content, leaving the Bulletin looking decidedly staid. There was acknowledgement that the BPS needed to be more outward-looking in promoting psychology and in strengthening relationships with the media, policy makers and parliamentarians, including making them more aware of how psychological theory and research could inform policy. And internal communication was important too: the Bulletin was no longer up to the task of reflecting the diverse concerns and interests of psychologists. The (new) Psychologist was seen as playing a crucial role in keeping people in touch with what was going on, academically, professionally and in research across the discipline in the face of a growing number of specialisms, specialist journals, etc.'
Elizabeth Mapstone had been handed 'day-to-day responsibility for the new magazine, and the special task of developing the news and features sections', according to her welcome message in the first issue. 'I was extraordinarily naive in those early days,' she tells me, 'and blissfully unaware that the changes I had been hired to implement were, let us say, controversial. I simply supposed that everyone in the Society wanted what I was told at interview was the goal: a house magazine that could communicate across those barriers that criss-cross the many subjects of our discipline, academic and applied, becoming a publication which could eventually appear on the book-stands.'
Dame Glynis remembers Mapstone as 'driving change impatiently, moving us from thinking about The Psychologist as a pseudo-academic journal to thinking about it as a current affairs magazine for the broad professional psychology community. The Economist for the psychologist.'
But tensions were bubbling under the surface. 'There was a preoccupation with protecting the supposed integrity of academic articles and the Honorary Editors' authority over them,' reports Mary Boyle. 'The word "ringfencing" was never far from our lips.' Elizabeth Mapstone confirms that 'only the Honorary Editors were allowed to choose and/or comment on such articles, which continued to sport the long lists of references I was attempting to reduce in the "feature articles" of "more accessible style". Not surprisingly, readers did not always understand the distinction. Nor was this quite enough, at first, to allay fears. "Can't be doing with that," said one Society stalwart. "It's like The Sun."'
However, Boyle remembers the first issue was 'very well received; whatever fears people had proved groundless'. As well as the usual articles, there was a 'Who's who in the BPS', with a two-page profile of the then President, plus features on the use of video in trials of alleged child abuse; 'The Leading Edge', described as 'Influential psychologists make their choice of the "best" in recent research' and several pieces on 'Psychology in the Media'. The new format also allowed regular parts of the Bulletin – conference reports, Society news, etc. – to be reported at greater length. 'Even after 25 years,' says Boyle, 'it's still quite an interesting read. The design and layout wasn't great, particularly the cover layout, but we were all on a very steep learning curve. Elizabeth Mapstone as Managing Editor and Stephen White in the Leicester office were invaluable here as they were to the whole process of setting up and producing The Psychologist.'
Elizabeth Mapstone confirms 'the headache-inducing need to acquire desktop publishing skills in five minutes flat. Everyone worked extremely hard, but it would be true to say that during the early days, in Leicester technical know-how and experience were in short supply. Each issue in that first year was a small miracle.'
Challenging the orthodoxy
'There were moments of real concern as an editor – especially as a very junior and inexperienced editor,' says Dame Glynis. 'We wanted to reflect the debates of the day and in doing so it is inevitable that you rouse criticism and antagonism. Sometimes our selection of articles was considered very, very poor. Our readership let us know in no uncertain terms. On the whole it seems to me now to have been not just inevitable but mainly healthy and worthwhile disagreement. It is good to see that the current editorial team at The Psychologist continue to be willing to allow challenge to orthodoxy.'
'I think The Psychologist is much more confident now,' says Mary Boyle. 'At the beginning we were so braced for criticism of dumbing down the BPS House Journal, we were rather preoccupied with maintaining status – I wouldn't be surprised if the professor count of the contributors/reviewers was a little over the top. Thankfully, over the years this changed.' Dame Glynis concurs: 'I can see now that in format and choice of content we were hardly as radical as we thought we were being at the time.'
That may be so, but nevertheless over the years The Psychologist has tackled debates surrounding race and intelligence, torture, recovered memories, sexualities, drug treatment for ADHD, recreational use of Ecstasy, diagnosis, the Improving Access to Psychological Therapies agenda, and many more. The Psychologist puts its head above the parapet month after month, in a highly visible and accountable manner that is perhaps rare in the Society. The stated aim of the publication remains to provide 'a forum for communication, discussion and controversy among all members of the Society'. Often this controversy involves the Society itself, and The Psychologist's determination to serve as the mouthpiece of the membership rather than as a limp 'house organ' has been the source of considerable conflict.
Towards a new model
According to Mary Boyle, a definite high of her time was the formation of the Editorial (later Policy) Subcommittee. 'The original name was always a misnomer, meant at the time to reflect that the subcommittee supported the editors. It was a very engaged and supportive committee which didn't shirk from spirited and direct discussion of at times contentious issues.'
I would echo that to this day: The Psychologist and Digest Policy Committee plays a vital role as a representative body of Society members driving the publications and overseeing my performance as editor.
'The Editorial Subcommittee was seen as so important,' remembers Mary Boyle, 'due to considerable preoccupation with editorial independence and real concern about where control of the content would lie. An appointment like Jon Sutton's – a BPS employee based in Leicester as the sole editor – would have been unthinkable then; Maryon Tysoe's was the bridging editorship between the old and new models.'
Tysoe followed Hugh Foot, who had served as an Honorary Editor from May 1992 to May 1997. She picks up the story: 'I was the first person to be responsible for editing the publication as a whole, and in my second year, the post of Editor was moved from one paid day a week to two. I believe this upgrade of the role was very important in paving the way for the significant expansion in resources that came in later years (for instance, for the Editor to be full-time, and for a staff journalist – oh, what I would have given!).'
According to Mary Boyle, 'one (rather blunt) way of looking at the development of The Psychologist over the last 25 years is that it reflects the BPS's gradual and, I have to say, hard fought for recognition that if it wants a high-quality and effective house publication it will have to pay for it.'
I ask Maryon Tysoe about the highs and lows of her own time as editor. 'The coming-on-stream of new initiatives was always exciting – an expanded "Research in brief", as the section on the latest research was called then, new series ('State of the art', 'Why I study…', 'Personal space'), A Guide to Writing for The Psychologist to help contributors, and so on. Just one example of contributors' impressive work came in the November 1997 issue: 10 psychologists, at about three weeks' notice, writing short, insightful analyses – drawing on theory and research from their own areas – of the complex reactions to the death of Princess Diana. But sometimes there were very specific moments: these tended to be hit-you-in-the-eyes visuals, such as our first splashes of internal colour in just the centre pages. I remember too my thrill at the sight of the first issue in a completely new, engaging (we all hoped) and contemporary design (January 1999). It seemed a tangible sign of our attempts to build on my predecessors' achievements and to keep moving forward.'
My own first issue at the helm was in May 2000, after a chance conversation at a Society conference eventually led to me leaping from the ivory tower for the opportunity to become the first editor based solely in the Leicester office. '50 issues max', said my arrogant 25-year-old self, 'revolutionise it and leave in a blaze of glory'. Now, almost 13 years on, it's nearly impossible for me to look back on something I am still totally immersed in, and to convey the love I feel for The Psychologist (and not forgetting our Research Digest, which turns 10 this year). Churning out issues month after month, year after year, is hard; ensuring the publications constantly evolve is trickier still. Thankfully I have been supported by my small but perfectly formed team (we operate with three full-time equivalents), by a creative committee, by an ever-expanding and generous membership and by a thriving and fascinating discipline.
I ask my predecessors whether they have noticed that evolution. Mary Boyle says that 'obvious changes are the increased size; more international authorship; a wider range of content and creative development of features; use of colour; much greater use of illustrations and links to the web. It also seems "younger" and I don't think that's just because I'm getting older; there is more involvement now from younger members of the Society. But I'm struck by the continuities and that the original rationale – communication across members and external communication – still very much informs the content. The role hasn't changed much; what's changed is the variety of ways the role is met.'
Maryon Tysoe also notes changes and continuities. 'There is more of everything, operating to excellent effect: staff, readership, number of pages (including absorption of the Appointments Memorandum), amount of colour, news and new series. Very significantly, there's a strong web presence, which you initiated and is so vital now. But it seems to me to have stayed the same in its central purpose, to be the place where all psychologists can communicate with and interest both each other and the outside world.'
I think that last point is increasingly the key: communication with the outside world. At the Psychologist and Digest Policy Committee meetings we are fond of the 'village' metaphor: The Psychologist helps all members of the village communicate, but we might also showcase what psychology has done for those outside the village, and invite guests in. The Psychologist is no longer simply 'by members, for members': even though it is a membership publication with a reasonably controlled circulation, technology and social media give us an opportunity to seek more influence in the 'global village'.
That philosophy has informed some of the new formats in recent years and those planned for 2013. There has also been an attempt to diversify, to mix the professional and personal in new formats taking hold since the major redesign of 2008, such as 'One on one' and 'Big picture'. 'New voices' is our attempt to encourage emerging talent in science writing, and 'Looking back' reflected an overdue recognition of the fascinating tales lurking in psychology's past. There is much still to do, but I hope we are heading towards a publication that is as diverse and delightful as the discipline it represents.
Whatever became of the distinguished academic who likened The Psychologist to The Sun? 'They later offered to contribute a feature article, and became a strong supporter of the developing Psychologist,' recalls Elizabeth Mapstone. 'As the shock of the new wore off, dissenters became fewer. Looking back, it seems astonishing that the early days of what has become a properly professional publication should have provoked such anxiety.'
Personally, I'm not so surprised. As Hugh Foot said in 1993, 'As creatures of habit we didn't like change: change by its very nature breeds suspicions about slipping standards.' But I sense that anxiety to this day. I wonder if it reflects the fact that, as Maryon Tysoe comments, 'The Psychologist is still the only physical entity we get for our membership money… it has an ever more vital role to play in helping us to feel a collective identity as psychologists, no matter what our precise work, and to show the public the great value of psychology and how it can benefit them.' Perhaps this is increasingly so in a fragmenting discipline under pressure to demonstrate its worth.
Or maybe that's rather self-aggrandising, and our biggest challenge remains getting thousands of members to actually get the magazine out of the wrapper each month! I certainly recognise that for all the evolution of the last 25 years, the pace of change in the next 25 is likely to be greater. We have made strides in electronic publishing, with our hugely successful offshoot Research Digest blog (see www.researchdigest.org.uk/blog) and making The Psychologist available on tablet, smartphone and e-reader via our website. But we still need to develop our online offerings, while never neglecting the importance of what lands on your doormat each month.
For the final word, I will hand over to Dame Glynis once more: 'For me, The Psychologist remains a vital channel into the Society and its activities. It keeps me updated in an easy-to-digest way. It seems to have evolved and matured, it is no longer uncertain about the job it has to do… Long may it serve the Society – and evolve with it.'
Box - Covering the subject
Covers have always been a source of controversy for The Psychologist. 'While many praised our first,' says Elizabeth Mapstone, 'I was astonished to find the May cover, featuring a self-portrait by a child survivor of abuse, was severely criticised. Les Prince produced many memorable early designs, but towards the end of my stint, covers were to be designed by professionals. Not that this entirely eliminated angst: on their very first assignment (March 1993), they elected to change the approved photo, sparking widespread condemnation because the cover girl was too beautiful!'
In terms of my own editorship, I can confirm that nothing has provoked the fury of the membership as much as covers! Sometimes this is understandable: in 2005, a feedback session at the Society's Annual Conference in Manchester concluded that The Psychologist was 'puerile nonsense which has gone downhill in your time as editor', at least in part due to an April cover which makes me shudder with embarrassment to this day. Our January 2008 effort wasn't too popular in some quarters either!
All I can say in our defence is that psychological concepts are not always the easiest to illustrate, and that I hope the covers have improved over the years, with many more hits than misses. During my time alone we have sported a Banksy, mirror art, and myriad other styles and topics. Why not have a look at the archive at www.thepsychologist.org.uk and pick your own favourite?
- Dr Jon Sutton is Managing Editor of The Psychologist.
Box- One from each year
We have selected just one piece from each year of The Psychologist's history, to represent the quality and diversity of the publication. Why not visit the archive (currently stretching back to 1998) at www.thepsychologist.org.uk to find your own favourites?
Interview with B.F. Skinner – John Masterson (April 1988)
Noam Chomsky: American dissident – Interview by Celia Kitzinger (May 1989)
Special issue: Sexism, ageism and racism in psychology – (September 1990)
Special issue: Animal experimentation – (May 1991)
Torture and the torturer – Lindsey Williams (July 1992)
The psychology of women – Paula Nicolson (March 1993)
Robbie, Fitz and me: A venture into television – Ian Stephen (January 1994)
How Eurocentric psychology damages Africa – J. Owusu-Bempah and Dennis Howitt (October 1995)
Is the spirit willing? A pentalogue on parapsychology – Andrew Colman, Susan Blackmore, Robert Morris, Richard Wiseman and Christopher French (August 1996)
Towards a psychology of experience – Jane Henry, John Pickering, Richard Stevens, Elizabeth Valentine and Max Velmans (March 1997)
Pictures at an exhibition: The science of the face – Andy Young and Vicki Bruce (March 1998)
Understanding assets and deficits in autism – Francesca Happé (November 1999)
Head to head: how should ADHD be treated? – Steve Baldwin and Paul Cooper
Weird and wonderful: 100 odd-sounding papers from the world of psychology – Neil Martin (September 2001)
Sorted: Ecstasy facts and fiction – Jon Cole, Harry Sumnall and Charles Grob, plus peer commentaries (September 2002)
ECT: A shocking treatment – Lucy Johnstone (May 2003)
Locked in: Have psychologists got the key? – Andrea Kübler (March 2004)
The anarchic hand – Sergio Della Sala (October 2005)
Freud's influence: personal and professional perspectives (September 2006)
The social brain of a teenager – Sarah-Jayne Blakemore (October 2007)
Questioning the banality of evil – S. Alexander Haslam and Steve Reicher (January 2008)
Social cognitive theory goes global – Albert Bandura (June 2009)
The supreme infant – Alison Gopnik (March 2010)
Stanley Milgram: The man, his passions and motivations – Alexandra Milgram
Opinion special: Replication, replication, replication (May 2012)
Box - 25 years of psychology
Just as The Psychologist has experienced change and development, so has the discipline itself. We asked some of those who contributed to that very first issue for their 25 words on how psychology has changed in the last 25 years.
John Morton: Psychology fell in love with genes and neurons and drugs and happily abolished the mind. Then consciousness re-emerged! Can it be reduced to epiphenomenalia? Watch!
Clive Fletcher: Occupational psychology has grown hugely and is increasingly influential in organisations, but less often part of, or valued by, the narrowly neuroscience-dominated psychology departments.
Chris Brewin: In their treatments clinical psychologists sought less to 'correct' clients' 'faulty thinking' and exploited techniques requiring acceptance, increased mindfulness, or changing unwanted images through fantasy.
Cary Cooper: Psychology has moved from rats, to brains, to people, a tsunami-like effort to deal with a range of relevant behavioural issues of our time.
John Findlay: Psychology has greatly matured both as a science and a social science and has also enhanced its key role in developing cross-connections between both disciplines.
Graham Davies: The promise of an applicable cognitive psychology menaced by the REF with its emphasis on 'fundamental' research and the New Reductionism symbolised by fMRI studies.
Douglas Forbes: Psychology has become much more accessible through the wonders of IT, user-friendly Research Digests, etc. Happily, its findings now frequently impinge upon educated adult awareness.
Vol.26 (pp.72-75)
Intelligence and individual differences
Applying neuroscience to mental disorder
On the shoulders of giants


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Price Plus government fees and taxes, any finance charges, any dealer document processing charge, any electronic filing charge, and any emission testing charge. Subject to prior sale. On approved credit. Not all buyers may qualify. Estimated Monthly Payment will depend on vehicle make and model and will be determined upon actual vehicle inspection. All payments are estimates and subject to credit approval. The finance rate quoted is only an estimate and does not reflect the rate to which you are qualified.
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text:
Deputies shoot Florida man allegedly aiming crossbow at them
By The Associated Press | Posted - Dec. 23, 2016 at 7:10 a.m.
PALM HARBOR, Fla. (AP) — Sheriff's deputies in Florida fatally shot a Tampa Bay-area man who allegedly pointed a crossbow at them.
According to a Pinellas County Sheriff's Office statement, deputies were called to 55-year-old Stanley Eversole's Palm Harbor home Thursday evening. A friend was concerned about the safety of Eversole's 53-year-old girlfriend because the couple had been arguing throughout the week, authorities said.
Sheriff Bob Gualtieri told reporters that Eversole had threatened his girlfriend with the crossbow several times because he was angry that she was planning a European vacation with a friend instead of with him.
"He told her that if she called the police, he was going to kill the cops who showed up. So she didn't call the police. He continued with this angry and erratic behavior over the last couple days," Gualtieri said.
As deputies spoke outside with his girlfriend, Eversole abruptly exited the home with a crossbow loaded with an arrow and pointed it at two deputies standing nearby, Gualtieri said.
According to the sheriff's office, Cpl. Casey Hunter and Deputy Brian Sudbrink feared the other deputies' lives were in danger and fired at Eversole, striking him at least three times.
Eversole was pronounced dead at a hospital. Hunter and Sudbrink were placed on paid administrative leave. The sheriff's office didn't specify the races of Eversole or the deputies.
Eversole had no criminal history or any history of mental health problems, Gualtieri said.
Man warns of strange, uncommon disease that can kill dogs
Memphis police disband unit that beat Tyre Nichols


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text:
Joe Fass - jnfass@ucdavis.edu
14 December 2016

## Setup

Copy my data and scripts into your home somewheres:

```bash
mkdir workshopStuff
cp -av /share/biocore/workshops/Genome-Assembly-Workshop/examples/assemblyQC.joe/setup \
    ~/workshopStuff/assemblyQCfiles
cd ~/workshopStuff/assemblyQCfiles/
ls -ltrha  # or alias ll='ls -ltrha'; ll
```

---

## N50 and Related (Better!) Metrics

Test *NG50*; list sizes, add cumulative length column, print at desired cumulative length cutoff

```bash
cat p_ctg.fa | \
    ./fa.sizes.pl | sort -rn | \
    perl -ne 'chomp; $c+=$_; print "$_\t$c\n"' \
    > seqs.lengths  # cumulative len vs len data points
cat p_ctg.fa | \
    ./fa.sizes.pl | sort -rn | \
    perl -ne 'chomp; $c+=$_; print "$_\t$c\n"' | \
    perl -ane 'if ($F[1] >= 30000000) {print; exit}'
gnuplot  # enters gnuplot interactive mode; ctrl-d to quit!
set term dumb  # not an insult, just plots to the terminal instead of an image file
plot "seqs.lengths" with dots
# hit ctrl-d when done looking
```

Pop-quiz: how would you compare the lengths of the alternative contigs to the lengths of the primary contigs? Hint: "replot" is a gnuplot way to plot more information without erasing previoius data points.

What else do we want to know about our contigs? Base content?

```bash
cat p_ctg.fa | grep -v ">" | grep -o . | \
    perl -ne 'chomp; $h{$_}++ }{ print "$_\t$h{$_}\n" for (keys %h)'
```

Pop-quiz: what about *di-base* content?

---

## BUSCO

Ian Korf's lab published a **C**ore set of (highly conserved) **E**ukaryotic **G**enes, and a tool to look for these in draft genomes ([CEGMA](http://korflab.ucdavis.edu/datasets/cegma/)). Though CEGMA [isn't maintained anymore](http://www.acgt.me/blog/2015/5/18/goodbye-cegma-hello-busco), there's a new tool ... BUSCO. First download a relevant lineage tarball from [Evgeny Zdobnov's lab](http://busco.ezlab.org/) ... actually, nevermind; I've put it in your working directory. You'll also need an appropriate database - in this case a fungal database - which I've also put in your working directory.

We don't have a module for the most recent BUSCO yet, but the old module sets up the dependencies. So, load the module, but use the newer BUSCO script. Also we need to have a local Augustus (a gene prediction tool) config directory, so BUSCO has permission to muck around in it and make changes. I've put the Augustus tarball in your working directory; see the commented 'wget' command for where I got it.

```bash
module load busco/1.1b1
tar xzvf fungi_odb9.tar.gz
# download augustus-3.0.3 locally, to point at local config directory
# wget http://bioinf.uni-greifswald.de/augustus/binaries/old/augustus-3.0.3.tar.gz
tar xzvf augustus-3.0.3.tar.gz
export AUGUSTUS_CONFIG_PATH={~~~~~full/path/to/your/working/directory~~~~~}/augustus-3.0.3/config/  # replace "{...}"
# download BUSCO 2.0 locally to use updated script
tar xzvf busco-master-623f5a65e8467daea4dd1eedf13653a52de25897.tar.gz
# ... and run BUSCO on our FALCON primary contigs!:
./busco-master-623f5a65e8467daea4dd1eedf13653a52de25897/BUSCO.py \
    --in p_ctg.fa --out pet_fungus_BUSCO --lineage \
    /share/biocore/workshops/Genome-Assembly-Workshop/examples/assemblyQC.joe/test/fungi_odb9 \
    --mode genome -f  # beware; this will run for about a half hour
```

---

## Variant Visualization

How can we look at the variants found by falcon\_unzip (found in 4-quiver/cns\_output/)? Mauve, a whole genome aligner, is one possibility. With draft genomes, we'll often reorder contigs to more closely match a trusted reference (see command below). But in this case, with discrete variants, this can create false LCBs that cross contig boundaries and (visually) imply missing sequence between them. Just run progressiveMauve on the consensus haplotigs versus the consensus primotigs.

```bash
# wget http://darlinglab.org/mauve/snapshots/2015/2015-02-13/linux-x64/mauve_linux_snapshot_2015-02-13.tar.gz
tar xzvf mauve_linux_snapshot_2015-02-13.tar.gz
cd mauve_snapshot_2015-02-13/
# java -Xmx5g -cp Mauve.jar org.gel.mauve.contigs.ContigOrderer -output ../mauve.reorder -ref ../published.fasta -draft ../p_ctg.fa  # example for draft genome versus a published relative
mkdir ../mauve.progMauve
# progressiveMauve runs on this data in about 5 minutes, but took (for me) ~15 minutes to fully write and close the output!
./linux-x64/progressiveMauve --output=../mauve.progMauve/aln.xmfa ../cns_p_ctg.fasta ../cns_h_ctg.fasta
cd ..
```

We'll need to pull the alignment files down to a local machine to view them:

```bash
# for ~~example~~:
cd ~/Documents/
scp -r class8@cabernet.genomecenter.ucdavis.edu:/home/class8/mauve.progMauve .
# and we need the sequence files so Mauve can show nucleotides and sequence boundaries:
cd ..
scp -r class8@cabernet.genomecenter.ucdavis.edu:/home/class8/cns*fasta .
```

Inspect the alignment by launching Mauve, then File --> Open alignment.

Back on the server, pull out the cumulative lengths, as above, and plot at will. We can pull out the sizes of the alignments ... in this case, they represent the fraction of the genome that contains structural variation, according to FALCON\_unzip. Look in the backbone file. Pull out the sizes of alignment blocks, and cumulative lengths, this way:

```bash
tail -n +2 mauve.progMauve/aln.xmfa.backbone | \
    perl -ane 'if ($F[2]!=0 and $F[3]!=0) {$b=abs($F[1]-$F[0]); print "$b\n"}' | \
    sort -rn | perl -ne '$b=$_; chomp $b; $c+=$b; \
    print "$b\t$c\n"' > blocks.lengths
gnuplot
set term dumb
plot "blocks.lengths" with points
# to plot contigs and alignment blocks together:
plot "seqs.lengths" with lines
replot "blocks.lengths" with dots
# can't see 'em? down left, near the origin!
plot [0:1e5] [0:4e6] "blocks.lengths" with dots
# ctrl-d to quit
```

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


text:
Estonian Wooden Houses Cluster has been systemically run and has grown into a working network
Estonian Wooden Houses Cluster was awarded with titles "Appreciate the Promoters of Entrepreneurship 2018" and "Best Collaborative project 2018" last month and is also about to celebrate a 10-year anniversary. The sector's supporting organization (cluster) has a new leader since October – Eeva Vahtramäe.
Member of the Cluster Council, Managing Director at Nordic Houses KT OÜ and one of Cluster's founders, Argo Saul, says that he is continuingly happy about the development of the Cluster. "I still remember very well that during the recession in 2008 the wooden houses sector fell under a very strong economic pressure. Umbrella company of the Cluster, Estonian Woodhouse Association, was facing principal questions, whether to continue and if yes, then how would it be possible to rise from this difficult situation. Back then we decided that the focus has to be on export, common tool for achieving that would be the Cluster and our goal to become the biggest exporter of wooden houses in Europe."
In order to implement this ambitious plan, producers of wooden houses needed support. During that same year the State came to the rescue of production sectors through the cluster programme, one that according to Saul has been one of the most efficient support measures of competence and capability of different sectors. "As an organization, a cluster is an extremely complex form and is based on trust. Successful working is first and foremost related to strong and systemic management. In that sense we have made successful decisions in the Cluster Council, for example during the first 5 years the Cluster was managed by Elari Kivisoo, a very capable starter and during the past 5 years by Lauri Kivil, developer of significant competencies and resultful co-operation." Both managers are still active in the sector, Kivisoo in private entrepreneurship and Kivil as a Managing Director in Estonian Woodhouse Association.
Eeva Vahtramäe, who took over leading the Cluster in October has worked as a Marketing Specialist of the Cluster up until now. According to Saul the biggest challenges for Vahtramäe will be developing of the Cluster's international network and creating sales channels at sector's destination markets.
"Starting to co-ordinate Estonian Wooden Houses Cluster and all its activities is certainly a big step in personal aspect and undoubtedly a significant responsibility," says Vahtramäe. "Yet at the same time having been involved in marketing the Cluster I am well aware of the Cluster's development, a profile of the sector's companies and the sector's problems." Vahtramäe adds that wooden houses producers are already now very capable as a network but there are definitely plenty of extra resources and growth potential in the Cluster. "I see that an important direction of development is to make an already existing network of producers and related organizations work on international markets more effectively and through that ensure continuous growth of competitive advantage of the Cluster and its members."
Estonian Wooden Houses Cluster is a network that connects local strong wooden houses producers, supply chain members, science- and educational institutions. An objective of the Cluster is to through common activities increase export adeptness, international recognition and sales. By today the Cluster has developed into a real co-operation platform which acts as a coordinator of the sector's goal-oriented marketing and development activities. The Cluster currently has 46 members who represent more than 60% of the sector's sales turnover.


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text:
Ace Hardware Ranks #4 On Franchise Times' Top 400 List
Ace Ranks Higher in the Top 5 Versus Last Year
Ace Hardware, the largest retailer-owned hardware cooperative in the world, moved up from the #5 to the #4 position in the annual Franchise Times Top 400 List*. The Franchise Times' Top 400 List is an annual ranking of the 400 largest franchise systems in the United States by global systemwide sales, based on the previous year's performance.
Ace Hardware has consistently ranked in the top 10 on the prestigious list, garnering its highest position on the list at #4 this year. Ace Hardware is ranked among other globally renowned companies including McDonalds, 7-Eleven, and KFC. Ace overtook Burger King to claim the #4 position, growing sales by more than 21 percent, equating to a $3.5 billion increase. Ace's growth marks the best dollar amount sales increase across all franchises last year.
As an essential business, Ace fast tracked a digital strategy that helped catapult the company into the #4 position. "We moved at a breakneck pace to enable three main phases of our digital strategy. Phase 1: Fast Fixes (order tracking and cancellation, and Ace Rewards integration), Phase 2: Game Changers (order pickup process and mobile consumer app) and Phase 3: Transformation (mobile help and last mile white glove service). Our marketing, digital and IT teams worked tirelessly to bring to market over 660 enhancements to our platform when our stores and customers needed it—and continue to need it most," said John Surane, Executive Vice President, Chief Merchandising and Sales Officer at Ace Hardware Corporation.
In addition, Ace is on track to open more than 170 new stores this year alone and has opened more than 900 stores in the past five years, helping to top global sales of more than $20 billion.
"Ace is honored to be recognized by Franchise Times as one of the top franchises in 2021, and we are thrilled to jump into the 4th position on this impressive list," said John Kittell, Vice President, Retail Operations and New Business at Ace Hardware Corporation. "The incredible growth we have seen not only this year, but in the past five years, is a testament to the commitment and leadership of our independent store owners who work hard to provide amazing customer service every single day to serve their neighbors and support their local communities."
Ace Hardware is a retailer-owned cooperative where independent owners operate the majority of locations. Although Ace is sometimes considered a franchise system, Ace "franchisees," or retailers, not only own their individual stores, but also serve as shareholders in the organization. Unlike a traditional franchise operation, Ace Hardware store owners pay no ongoing franchise or royalty fees.
For information about investment opportunities with Ace Hardware, visit www.myace.com.
*Source: www.franchisetimes.com


The major Business Process Management (BPM) focuses on the managerial and corporate role of information and information systems and technologies in the corporate world, with an emphasis on business processes. The program addresses the way in which particular opportunities and threats in this context should be managed and governed. Graduates gain insight into the interaction between data, processes, information systems, and the way new information technologies create new opportunities for cross-functional business processes. Graduates are trained to analyse problems and to reflect critically on situations by offering a broad set of methodologies and techniques to apply in a process context. Eventually, graduates learn to understand how information systems and technology can support and fuel strategy making, innovation, and new business models in an international context.
The specialization MIS prepares graduates to cope with the current, rapidly changing business environment by developing appropriate strategies for and managing innovation / change projects in organizations. Complementary to a general perspective on strategy and innovation management, this specialization offers in depth knowledge in (open) innovation, innovation ecosystems, business model innovation, strategic innovation, change management, (corporate) entrepreneurship, and digital transformation strategies. This specialization is offering a broad set of analytical tools and teaching approaches: besides lecturing, instructors make use of teaching cases, guest lectures, videos, simulation games, experiential learning techniques, and analysis of recent online articles to apply the lessons learned to real-world situations, industries and organizations.
The specialization IMS focuses on business and marketing strategies in an international environment. Complementary to a more general marketing perspective, this specialisation digs deeper into marketing strategies, processes and the relationships between organizations with an emphasis on the business-to-business context. This major confronts graduates with challenging strategic business problems in the marketing domain in interaction with other functions such as business strategy and innovation management. IMS also trains students in analysing these problems by offering a broad set of analytical tools and knowledge with respect to the usefulness of these tools in different contexts, eventually to generate high-level contributions to ongoing business modelling in an international context.


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text:
Home > Transport > AirAsia flight QZ8501
Divers join AirAsia wreck hunt, but no sign of black box
Tue, Jan 06, 2015 - 5:40 PM
Search teams including divers took advantage of a let-up in bad weather on Tuesday to try to reach the wreckage of an AirAsia jet, but nine days after the plane crashed officials said there was still no sign of the crucial black box flight recorders.
[JAKARTA] Search teams including divers took advantage of a let-up in bad weather on Tuesday to try to reach the wreckage of an AirAsia jet, but nine days after the plane crashed officials said there was still no sign of the crucial black box flight recorders.
Indonesian officials believe they may have located the tail and parts of the fuselage of the Airbus A320-200 at the bottom of the Java Sea, but strong currents, high winds and big waves have hindered attempts to investigate the debris.
Flight QZ8501 plunged into the water off Borneo island on Dec 28, about 40 minutes into a two-hour flight from Indonesia's second-biggest city of Surabaya to Singapore. There were no survivors among the 162 people on board.
Jakarta has launched a crackdown on its fast-growing aviation sector since the crash, reassigning some officials and tightening rules on pre-flight procedures in a country with a patchy reputation for air safety.
"Today's weather is friendly, the team can work," the head of Indonesia's search and rescue agency, Fransiskus Bambang Soelistyo, told a news conference in Jakarta.
Mr Soelistyo said the multinational air and sea operation had two objectives: to recover bodies and wreckage floating in an ever-widening search area in the northern Java Sea, and to find wreckage and the plane's black box on the ocean floor.
The latter effort is focused on an area about 90 nautical miles off Borneo, where ships using sonar have located five large objects believed to be parts of the plane - the largest about 18 metres (59 feet) long - in shallow water.
Search and rescue agency official Supriyadi, who is coordinating the operation from the southern Borneo town of Pangkalan Bun, said there had been no "pings" detected from the black box's emergency locator beacon, possibly because it was buried in the seabed or the muddy water was impeding its signal.
"They haven't found anything, maybe because the water is turbid and there is zero visibility," he said. "There's a possibility it is buried in mud."
The captain of an Indonesian navy patrol vessel said on Monday his ship had found what was believed to be the tail - a key find since that section of the aircraft houses the cockpit voice and flight data recorders - but Mr Soelistyo said that could not be confirmed.
Only 37 bodies of the mostly Indonesian passengers and crew have been recovered. Many more could still be trapped in the fuselage of the aircraft.
The crash was the first fatal accident suffered by the AirAsia budget group, whose Indonesian affiliate has come under criticism from the authorities in Jakarta since the disaster.
The transport ministry has suspended Indonesia AirAsia's Surabaya-Singapore licence, saying the carrier only had permission to fly the route on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Flight QZ8501 took off on a Sunday.
Indonesia AirAsia, 49 per cent owned by Malaysia-based AirAsia, has made little comment, but said it would fully cooperate with investigations.
Indonesia's financial regulator said it did not believe the issue of whether the airline had the correct flight permits would affect insurers paying out on claims.
"AirAsia didn't fall because it was a Sunday," Firdaus Djaelani, non-bank financial institutions supervisor at the financial services authority, told reporters in Jakarta.
While the cause of the crash is not known, the national weather bureau has said the seasonal tropical storms common in the area were likely to be a factor. Last week, the authorities questioned whether the pilot had followed proper weather procedures.
On Monday, the transport ministry said officials at the airport operator in Surabaya and air traffic control agency who had allowed the flight to take off had been moved to other duties while the accident investigation is completed.
It also said it had issued a directive making it mandatory for pilots to be briefed face-to-face by an airline flight operations officer on weather conditions and other operational issues before every flight.
Indonesia is one of the world's fastest growing aviation markets and its carriers, such as Lion Air and Garuda Indonesia , are among the top customers for plane makers Airbus and Boeing.
But its safety record is chequered. The European Commission banned all Indonesia-based airlines from flying to the European Union in 2007 following a series of accidents. Exemptions to that ban have since been granted to some carriers, including Garuda and AirAsia.
QZ8501


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text:
TripAdvisor Adds Street View To iPad App
TripAdvisor has added a new virtual tours feature to its iPad app using augmented reality technology.
The new feature allows users to take a virtual tour to travel destinations with local places superimposed over Google's Street View. Users can view hotels, restaurants and other attractions.
Does Sony Want to Leave iTunes?
Recently, Apple rejected a Sony e-reader application due to a rules compliance issue. How did Sony respond? By stating they'd like to remove all of their music from Apple's iTunes store.
After reading about such a petulant reaction, my first thought was to title this post "Grown Men Fighting Over Money."
Official: The Beatles Now Available Via iTunes
UPDATE: iTunes has officially been updated and now features The Beatles prominently on the front of the iTunes store, as well as the company homepage. For more information check out The Beatles page on Apple.
Apple's Ping Draws a Great Deal of Criticism
Apple's Ping social network, which the company launched as part of the new iTunes 10, has drawn a big mix of excitement and criticism. While most seem to agree that the concept beind Ping is a pretty good idea (social network-meets-music-buying) it's not exactly the seamless experience one might hope for.
Let's take a look at some points made around the Blogosphere.
Google Plans To Launch New Music Service
Google is planning to launch a mobile music download service that would allow users to access songs wherever they have access to an Internet connection.
Apple to Update Apple TV (with Netflix), iTunes, iPod Touch
Apple announced that it will be streaming an event online today at Apple.com, at 10:00 AM Pacific/1:00 PM Eastern.
"Apple will broadcast its September 1 event online using Apple's industry-leading HTTP Live Streaming, which is based on open standards," the company says.
The whole thing is so open, you have to use a Mac running Safari on Mac OS X version 10.6 Snow Leopard, an iPhone or iPod Touch running iOS 3.0 or higher or an iPad. In other words you have to have bought an Apple device to view it.
Music Still Leads In iTunes Purchases
Almost all iPhone or iPod touch users have downloaded a free app, but 82 percent have actually made a music purchase from iTunes, according to a new survey from NPD.
PR Firm Settles FTC Charges Over False Reviews On iTunes
A public relations firm hired by video game developers will settle Federal Trade Commission charges it engaged in deceptive advertising by having its employees post favorable reviews on iTunes on behalf of the developers and not revealing the reviews came form paid employees.
PayPal Responds to iTunes Scam Issues
The other day, reports surfaced of scammers running up iTunes users' tabs through PayPal. Apple said there was no vulnerability in its system, and some blamed users for being gullible and falling for phishing scams.
Apple Set To Offer 99-Cent TV Show Rentals
Apple is reportedly in talks with News Corp's Fox, CBS, NBC Universal and Walt Disney to allow iTunes users to rent TV shows for 99 cents.
Under the deal, according to Bloomberg, episodes would be available to rent 24 hours after they air, would be commercial free and available to iTunes users for 48 hours.
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