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Sequels that are going to be made...
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27 Sep 2008, 12:24 AM #1 (permalink)
Vicious Vixen
http://www.ropeofsilicon.com/article...anger_20080926
A LOT of new sequels and remakes were announced this week, here's a list of a few of them with links to the source article or the film itself on RopeofSilicon:
* The Lone Ranger
* Pirates of the Caribbean 4
* National Treasure 3
* Hairspray 2
* Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
* I Am Legend Prequel
* Lethal Weapon 5
* Let the Right One In
On top of all that we learn Rachel McAdams will play the lead female in Sherlock Holmes, Pixar's Cars 2 has been bumped to 2011 and Newt moves to 2012, Spike Lee said Anthony Hemingway may be directing George Lucas's Redtails about the Tuskegee Airmen and while Johnny Depp may be down for a Pirates of the Caribbean 4 it sounds like Keira Knightley is done with it.
Some rumors have George Clooney as a potential star for The Lone Ranger starring opposite Depp who will play Tonto.
George A. Romero is making yet another zombie movie.
Yahoo has some Iron Man concept art and the first look at the cover art for The Dark Knight Blu-ray and Batpod Blu-ray are online.
Also Johnny Depp confirmed that he will star in the next Tim Burton film, Alice In Wonderland. It will be a live version, and he will play the Mad Hatter.
I am looking forward to Pirates 4, National Treasure 3 and Hairspray 2. The lone ranger movie too, maybe.
Thoughts, complaints, rants...
I've got the power!
Another Lethal Weapon?
But the one not on that list...
The return of Axel Foley in Beverly Hills Cop 4. Yep.
looking for my sig? look harder!
Tr(uth)iple H
Nothing but the TrutHHH
Location: Huntersville, Where we shoot to kill
I Am Legend Prequel
^^^^Made by the Big Homie Stick...PC representer.
Location: Taylorville, IL
National Treasure 2 was practically the same movie as National Treasure, so I'm not sure about the third. Pirates 4 should be good.
27 Sep 2008, 02:54 PM #5 (permalink)
Location: San Diego,CA
I didn't expect them to make a Pirates 4 but hopefully it'll be good because I've enjoyed all the other Pirate films,as long as Depp is in it then it should be good but it sucks Keira can't be in it.
I had heard about Lethal Weapon 5 but they were waiting for approval from Mel Gibson about it,I'd probably see it since I always liked the other Lethal films.
Johnny Depp as The Mad Hatter for Alice in Wonderland should be good.
I dunno what to think about everything else.
Sequels: your choice Sleepy Gorilla Entertainment 12 10 Mar 2005 12:06 PM
Sequels in the next couple of years Mr. Submission Entertainment 17 01 Oct 2004 02:26 AM
Sequels Kryptonite Archives 10 21 Jul 2003 06:39 PM
A list of this summer sequels.. BOSTON Archives 3 15 Apr 2003 08:04 PM
Games who you'd like to see sequels to! Forgotten Sin Games & Technology 8 07 Mar 2003 10:23 PM
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


Definitely one of my favorite shots!
So many excellent images but for inventiveness, wxcellent execution, adherence to theme and a straight-up captivating image, this is easily my pick.
Excellent composition, proportion, exposure, ingenuity, contrast... movement, eye appeal, a star burst and more...Super!


text:
**Party of the Two Parts**

**The Galaxy Project**

William Tenn

Series Editor Barry N. Malzberg

## Copyright

Party of the Two Parts
Copyright © 1954 by Phillip Klass, renewed 1982

eForeword
Copyright © 2011 by Barry N. Malzberg

Jacket illustration copyright © 1955 by the Estate of Ed Emshwiller
Cover art to the electronic edition copyright © 2011 by RosettaBooks, LLC

Special materials copyright © 2011 by RosettaBooks, LLC

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Electronic edition published 2011 by RosettaBooks LLC, New York.
ISBN e-Pub edition: 9780795321320

# Contents

About _Galaxy_ Magazine

About Science Fiction Novelettes and Novellas

About the Author

About the Author of the eForeword

About the Jacket

eForeword

Party of the Two Parts

# ABOUT _GALAXY_ MAGAZINE

The first issue of _Galaxy_ , dated October 1950, already heralded to the highest standards of the field. The authors it published regularly contributed to the leading magazine _Astounding_ , writing a kind of elegant and humanistic science fiction which although not previously unknown had always been anomalous. Its founding editor, H. L. Gold (1914–1996), was a science fiction writer of some prominence whose editorial background had been in pulp magazines and comic books; however, his ambitions were distinctly literary, and he was deliberately searching for an audience much wider and more eclectic than the perceived audience of science fiction. His goal, he stated, was a magazine whose fiction "Would read like the table of contents of a literary magazine or _The Saturday Evening Post_ of the 21st century, dealing with extrapolation as if it were contemporary." The magazine, although plagued by distribution difficulties and an Italian-based publisher (World Editions), was an immediate artistic success, and when its ownership was transferred with the issue of August 1951 to its printer Robert M. Guinn, it achieved financial stability for the remainder of the decade.

Galaxy published every notable science fiction writer of its first decade and found in many writers who would become central figures: Robert Sheckley, James E. Gunn, Wyman Guin, and F. L. Wallace, among others. Galaxy revivified older writers such as Frederik Pohl and Alfred Bester (whose first novel, _The Demolished Man_ , was commissioned and directed page by page by Gold). John Campbell fought with _Astounding_ and remained an important editor, and _The Magazine of Fantasy_ and _Science Fiction_ (inaugurated a year before _Galaxy_ ) held to high standards of literary quality while spreading its contents over two fields, but _Galaxy_ was incontestably the 1950s' flagship magazine for the acidly satiric, sometimes profoundly comic aspect of its best contributions. _Galaxy_ had a lasting effect not only upon science fiction but upon literature itself. J.G. Ballard stated that he had been deeply affected by _Galaxy_. Alan Arkin, an actor who became a star after 1960 and won an Oscar in the new millennium, contributed two stories in the mid-fifties.

At this point Gold was succumbing to agoraphobia, physical ills, and overall exhaustion (some of this perhaps attributable to his active service during WWII) against which he had struggled from the outset. (There is creditable evidence that Frederik Pohl was the de facto editor during Gold's last years.) Gold would return some submissions with notes like: "Garbage," "Absolute Crap." Isaac Asimov noted in his memoir "Anthony Boucher wrote rejection slips which read like acceptances. And Horace wrote notes of acceptance which felt like rejections." Despite this, the magazine retained most of its high standard and also some of its regular contributors (William Tenn, Robert Sheckley, Pohl himself). Others could no longer bear Gold's imperiousness and abusiveness.

# ABOUT SCIENCE FICTION NOVELETTES AND NOVELLAS

In the view of James E. Gunn, science fiction as a genre finds its peak in the novella (17,500–40,000 words) and novelette (7,500–17,500 words). Both forms have the length to develop ideas and characters fully but do not suffer from padding or the hortatory aspect present in most modern science fiction novels. The longer story-form has existed since science fictions inception with the April 1926 issue of _Amazing Stories_ , but _Galaxy_ developed the form to a consistent level of sophistication and efficiency and published more notable stories of sub-novel length than any other magazine during the 50s...and probably in any decade.

The novella and novelette as forms make technical and conceptual demands greater, perhaps even greater than the novel, and _Galaxy_ writers, under founding editor H. L. Gold's direction, consistently excelled in these lengths. Gold's most memorable story, "A Matter of Form" (1938) was a long novelette, and he brought practical as well as theoretical lessons to his writers, who he unleashed to develop these ideas. (John Campbell of course, had also done this in the 40s and continued in the 50s to be a directive editor.) It is not inconceivable that many or even most of the contents of the 1950's _Galaxy_ were based on ideas originated by Gold: golden technology becomes brass and jails its human victims when it runs amok—is certainly one of his most characteristic.

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

"William Tenn" was the pseudonym for the science fiction of Philip Klass (1920–2010) who through the early fifties shared with Damon Knight, Robert Sheckley, Frederik Pohl, and Cyril Kornbluth the defining voice of Horace Gold's _Galaxy_. A bitter and acute social satirist and a dark humorist of the first rank, Klass was never prolific, but his fifty or sixty short stories and his one novel, _Of Men and Monsters_ (1968), comprise a lasting and irreplaceable contribution to science fiction at its mid-century peak. His complete works were collected by the NESFA Press in the early millennium. Klass sold his first story, "Alexander the Bait," to John Campbell's _Astounding_ shortly after he left the military in 1945 and two years later published a novelette, "Child's Play," in the May 1947 Astounding, which is probably the most reprinted of all stories published within the confines of the genre. When Gold's magazine of social extrapolation and satire opened for business, Klass was among the earliest pursued, and he became (with the few others noted above) integral to the magazine. In the mid-sixties Klass, always a painstaking, anguished writer, was glad to be invited to join the English faculty at Penn State University, and he spent the next quarter century there as an effective and much admired Professor of Creative Writing. In the last forty years of his life, Klass published a total of three short stories (and a scattering of nonficton). A 40,000-word interview with Eric Solstein, reprinted in the NESFA _Dancing Naked_ , the collected nonfiction comes very close to a completely successful work of autobiography.

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR OF THE eFOREWORD

Barry N. Malzberg's _Beyond Apollo_ was in 1973 the winner of the first John W. Campbell Memorial Award for the best science-fiction novel of the year; he twice won the LOCUS Award for nonfiction books of critical history and commentary on science fiction. Several short works have been final-listed for the Nebula and Hugo and _Engines of the Night_ and _Breakfast in the Ruins_ , the nonfiction works, were on the Hugo final ballot for Best Related Nonfiction as is his collaborative book with Mike Resnick, _The Business of Science Fiction_.

# ABOUT THE JACKET

COVER IMAGE: "Chamber Music Society of Deneb" by Ed Emshwiller

Ed Emshwiller (1925–1990) was _Galaxy_ 's dominant artist through the 1950s. His quirky images, perspective, and off-center humor provide perhaps the best realization of the magazine's iconoclastic, satirical vision. Emshwiller was—matched with Kelly Freas—science fiction's signature artist through the decade and a half initiated by this color illustration. He and Carol Emshwiller, the celebrated science fiction writer, lived in Long Island during the period of his prominence in science fiction. (Nonstop Press published _Emshwiller: Infinity X Two: The Art & Life of Ed and Carol Emshwiller_, a joint biography and collection of their work in visual and literary medium, in 2007.) In the early 70s, Emshwiller became passionately interested in avant-garde filmmaking, and that passion led him to California, where he spent his last decades deeply involved in the medium of independent film and its community. He abandoned illustration: in Carol's words "When Ed was through with something he was really through with it." He died of cancer in 1990. His son, Peter Emshwiller, published a fair amount of science fiction in the 80s and 90s.

# eForeword

By mid-1954, _Galaxy_ had hit its fullest stride, its peak efficiency as a distributor of acid social satire disguised (sometimes only barely) as science fiction. Opinion splits on whether that peak had come within the first year or a little later with Alfred Bester's serialized The _Demolished Man_ which began in the January 1952 issue, but there is less debate on the magazine's slow decline, which I have always felt was signaled by the cutback from 162 to 144 pages with the issue of January 1955 and which by 1957 was becoming apparent to contributors who (appalled by Horace Gold's increasing nastiness) were fleeing and close readers (fan commentaries described _Galaxy_ as the "magazine of Freudian psychiatry") for whom Gold's paranoia and agoraphobia were ever more baldly reflected in stories like Damon Knight's "The Man In The Jar," which might have been written to order or might have been cynical attempts to exploit Gold's known obsessions. But that was later, and the issue of August 1954 was very much at the high end. The concluding installment of Pohl and Kornbluth's _Gladiator at Law_ , their second serial and almost as good as _The Space Merchants_ , appears in this issue along with short stories by Robert Sheckley (then at his own early peak) and the pseudonymous Arthur Sellings and F. L. Wallace's "The Impossible Voyage Home," characteristically ambitious work by a writer now forgotten but who at the time was considered on the level of the more famous contributors. "Party of the Two Parts" was the lead story as noted on the cover, and it stands 57 years later as well as any work of that period. (It is worth noting that the August 1954 issue of competing _Astounding_ contained Tom Godwin's "The Cold Equations" and the first installment of Clifton and Riley's _They'd Rather Be Right_ , which won the second Hugo for best novel the next year. That was a hot summer for science fiction.)

William Tenn—Phillip Klass's pseudonym for all of his science fiction through a fifty year period beginning in 1946—was also at his peak; he had become, along with Knight, Sturgeon, Sheckley, Pohl, and Kornbluth, a leading force in the voicing and slant of Gold's magazine. It is possible that Klass, in fact, was the _most_ influential of all Gold's writers; from his very first contributions, "Venus Is A Man's World" and "Betelgeuse Bridge" in 1951, he had caught the lightly mocking but brutally satiric tone which Gold sought, and his body of work, about sixty short stories in the aggregate and a single novel, is that which can least be disentangled from the magazine. To embrace _Galaxy_ or William Tenn is to embrace the other, and if you don't like William Tenn it is likely that the point of the magazine may evade you. In a memoir near the end of his life, Gold wrote: "I was _Galaxy_ and _Galaxy_ was me. Identification total. If you attacked _Galaxy_ you were attacking me and vice-versa." Klass, in the story afterwords to his complete works collected in three large volumes by the NESFA Press in the early millennium, makes similar indication.

"Party of the Two Parts" is about an amoeboid alien, an escaped felon of an amoeboid alien, that is to say, who, fleeing the Galactic cops, lands on Earth in a small spaceship out of fuel and needs to raise enough cash to replenish the fuel tank and continue his flight. Toward that end, he peddles the only goods which he feels might be negotiable, amoeboid pornographic photographs depicting mitosis in the most graphic and (according to the Galactic Federation) disgusting terms. The photographs migrate into the hands of a biology professor who includes them in an elementary textbook widely distributed, and the alien is jailed by Terran authorities on the serious charge of distributing pornography. "What pornography?" asks the felon. "Amebic mitosis is not considered pornographic on this planet. The photographs are included in a serious scholarly work suitable for schoolchildren." "Nonsense," the Galactic Federation lawyers respond, "this material is disgusting and outlawed on thousands of planets." They want the alien extradited to stand trial before all the governments. Terran lawyers are uncertain. A Galactic diplomat is caught at the center of the struggle, and the story is epistolary...reproduced as an increasingly hysterical series of memos that are sent to headquarters. Those memos include what the Galactic lawyers consider some of the most detailed and disgusting descriptions and representations of amebic reproduction that have ever been distributed.

To further or in more detail synopsize the story would be reductive. Like every great literary work of art, its only satisfactory paraphrase would be in its own terms at the original length. In an essay published thirty years ago in _Engines of the Night_ , I included the story on my personal list of the twenty greatest science fiction stories and added that it won pride of place in the subcategory of humor...it was nothing if not the funniest story the genre had ever produced. I don't think that in all the years intervening anything has come along to dislodge "Party of the Two Parts," and two subsequent generations of science fiction humorists, some of them wildly acclaimed (I will defer naming any of them) have through their entire body of work only managed to make clear the distance between this work and theirs.

The only shift in my opinion over these three decades has rather been what might be predictable in terms of age: "Party of the Two Parts" remains laugh-out-loud funny (in a lifetime I have not found five other works which do that for me) of course, but it is also increasingly frightening and has the dark underlay characteristic of the greatest humor. The story is not really about alien pornography; it is a displacement. It is about _human_ pornography and is one of the wildest, maddest, saddest, and gladdest meditations on the subject ever published. It embodies what Maurice Girodias felt to be the essence of the effect so-labeled "pornography" has on the public...it brings out the secret weakness, obsession, conflict, and ultimate silliness within all of us.

"I don't have to read your filth to know what it is," the retired Oklahoma Congressman O.K. (sic) Anderson said to me on a radio program on the subject over forty years ago. (Maurice Girodias was the third panelist; we were ostensibly there to discuss the subject in light of my two novels just published by the Olympia Press.) In the memoranda, in the cables and bureaucratic jargon of the Galactic Federation of Klass's story, I am able to read and hear most distinctly the voice of the good Congressman. The Federation doesn't want to be told that on Earth mitosis is not pornographic. They _know_ it is pornographic, godammit, and they want their hands on that miscreant _right now_. "Let me tell you about the mind of the censor," Girodias said to me that night, after the program. "The mind of the censor is always fixated on _how much money you are making_. And how much therefore they are not making. That is what really bothers them. It may be the only thing that bothers them. The rest of the prattle about innocent children and social standards is just to change the subject."

Klass had plenty up his sleeve after this (two more of his great stories appear in the initial issue of The Galaxy Project), but by the mid-sixties he was pretty well cooked. Off to a Penn State Professorship of Creative Writing until retirement in 1990, then the Afterwords, ten years later, to the stories in that massive NESFA project. He produced only three short stories in the last forty-six years of his life; a contracted novel was never delivered. Every time I think of this, I become angry, so I try not to think of it. Most writers granted a Biblically-assigned span give us all of which they are capable, and Klass had far more than an assigned span to extend his silence. _Quelle dommage_. "Party of the Two Parts" is nevertheless a great story. And boy are you fortunate to have it in hand! The Galactic Federation surely would have banned it.

—Barry N. Malzberg

# Party of the Two Parts

GALACTOGRAM FROM STELLAR SERGEANT O-DIK-VEH, COMMANDER OF OUTLYING PATROL OFFICE 1001625, TO HEADQUARTERS DESK SERGEANT HOY-VEH-CHALT, GALACTIC PATROL HEADQUARTERS ON VEGA XXI—(PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS TO, BE TRANSMITTED AS A PERSONAL, NOT OFFICIAL, MESSAGE AND AS SUCH WILL BE CHARGED USUAL HYPER-SPACE RATES)

My dear Hoy:

I am deeply sorry to trouble you again, but, Hoy, am I in a jam! Once more, it's not something that I did wrong, but something I didn't do right—what the Old One is sure to wheeze is "a patent dereliction of obvious duty." And since I'm positive he'll be just as confused as I, once the prisoners I'm sending on by slow light-transport arrive (when he reads the official report that I drew up and am transmitting with them, I can see him dropping an even dozen of his jaws), I can only hope that this advance message will give you enough time to consult the best legal minds in Vegan Headquarters and get some sort of solution worked out.

If there's any kind of solution available by the time he reads my report, the Old One won't be nearly as angry at my dumping the problem on his lap. But I have an uneasy, persistent fear that Headquarters is going to get as snarled up in this one as my own office. If it does, the Old One is likely to remember what happened in Outlying Patrol Office 1001625 the last time—and then, Hoy, you will be short one spore-cousin.

It's a dirty business all around, a real dirty business. I use the phrase advisedly. In the sense of _obscene,_ if you follow me.

As you've no doubt suspected by now, most of the trouble has to do with that damp and irritating third planet of Sol, the one that many of its inhabitants call Earth. Those damned chittering bipeds cause me more sleeplessness than any other species in my sector. Sufficiently advanced technologically to be almost at Stage 15—self-developed inter-planetary travel they are still centuries away from the usually concurrent Stage ISA and friendly contact by the galactic civilization.

They are, therefore, still in Secretly Supervised Status, which means that I have to maintain a staff of about two hundred agents on their planet, all encased in clumsy and uncomfortable protoplasmic disguises, to prevent them from blowing their silly selves up before the arrival of their spiritual millennium.

On top of everything, their solar system only has nine planets, which means that my permanent headquarters office can't get any farther away from Sol than the planet they call Pluto, a world whose winters are bearable, but whose summers are unspeakably hot. I tell you, Hoy, the life of a stellar sergeant isn't all _gloor_ and _skubbets,_ no matter what Rear Echelon says.

In all honesty, though, I should admit that the difficulty did not originate on Sol III this time. Ever since their unexpected and uncalled-for development of nuclear fission, which, as you know, cost me a promotion, I've doubled the number of undercover operatives on the planet and given them stern warning to report the slightest technological spurt immediately, I doubt that these humans could invent so much as an elementary time-machine now, without my knowing of it well in advance.

No, this time it all started on Rugh VI, the world known to those who live on it as Gtet. If you consult your atlas, 'Hoy, you'll find Rugh is a fair-sized yellow dwarf star on the outskirts of the Galaxy, and Gtet an extremely insignificant planet which has only recently achieved the status of Stage 19—primary interstellar citizenship.

The Gtetans are a modified ameboid race who manufacture a fair brand of _ashkebac,_ which they export to their neighbors on Rugh IX and XII. They are a highly individualistic people and still experience many frictions living in a centralized society. Despite several centuries of advanced civilization, most Gtetans look upon the Law as a delightful problem in circumvention rather than as a way of life.

An ideal combination with my bipeds of Earth, eh?

It seems that a certain L'payr was one of the worst troublemakers on Gtet. He had committed almost every crime and broken almost every law. On a planet where fully one-fourth of the population is regularly undergoing penal rehabilitation, L'payr was still considered something quite special. A current Gtetan saying, I understand, puts it, "You're like L'payr, fellow—you don't know _when_ to stop!"

Nonetheless, L'payr had reached the point where it was highly important that he did stop. He had been arrested and convicted for a total of 2,342 felonies, just one short of the 2,343 felonies which, on Gtet, make one a habitual criminal and, therefore, subject to life imprisonment. He made a valiant effort to retire from public life and devote himself to contemplation and good works, but it was too late. Almost against his will, as he insisted to me under examination in my office, he found his mind turning to foul deeds left undone, illegalities as yet unperpetrated.

And so one day, quite casually—hardly noticing, as it were—he committed another major crime. But this one was so ineffably ugly, involving an offense against the moral code as well as civil legislation, that the entire community turned against L'payr.

He was caught selling pornography to juvenile Gtetans.

The indulgence that a celebrity may enjoy turned to wrath and utter contempt. Even the Gtetan Protective Association of Two Thousand Time Losers refused to raise funds for his bail. As his trial approached, it became obvious to L'payr that he was in for it. His only hope lay in flight.

He pulled the most spectacular coup of his career—he broke out of the hermetically sealed vault in which he was being guarded around the clock (how he did this, he consistently refused to tell me up to the time of his lamented demise or whatever you want to call it) and escaped to the space port near the prison. There, he managed to steal aboard the pride of the Gtetan merchant fleet, a newly developed interstellar ship equipped with two-throttle hyperspace drive.

This ship was empty, waiting for a crew to take it out on its maiden run.

Somehow, in the few hours at his disposal before his escape was known, L'payr figured out the controls of the craft and managed to lift it off Gtet and into hyper-space. He had no idea at this time that, since the ship was an experimental model, it was equipped with a transmitting device that kept the spaceport informed of its location.

Thus, though they lacked the facilities to pursue him, the Gtetan police always knew exactly where he was. A few hundred ameboid vigilantes did start after him in old-fashioned, normal-drive ships, but after a month or so of long and fatiguing interstellar travel at one-hundredth his speed, they gave up and returned home.

For his hideout L'payr wanted a primitive and unimportant corner of the galaxy, The region around Sol was ideal, He materialized out of hyperspace about halfway between the third and fourth planets. But he did it very clumsily (after all, Hoy, the best minds of his race are just beginning to understand the two-throttle drive) and lost all of his fuel in the process. He barely managed to reach Earth and come down.

The landing was effected at night and with all drives closed, so that no one on the planet saw it. Because living conditions on Earth are so different from Gtet, L'payr knew that his mobility would be very limited. His one hope was to get help from the inhabitants. He had to pick a spot where possible contacts would be at maximum and yet accidental discovery of his ship would be at minimum. He chose an empty lot in the suburbs of Chicago and quickly dug his ship in.

Meanwhile, the Gtetan police communicated with me as the local commanding officer of the Galactic Patrol. They told me where L'payr was hidden and demanded extradition. I pointed out that, as yet, that, as yet, I lacked jurisdiction, since no crime of an _interstellar_ nature had been committed. The stealing of the ship had been done on his home planet—it had not occurred in deep space. If, however, he broke any galactic law while he was on Earth, committed any breach of the peace, no matter how slight...

"How about that?" the Gtetan police asked me over the interstellar radio. "Earth is on Secretly Supervised Status, as we understand it. It is illegal to expose it to superior civilizations. Isn't L'payr landing there in a two-throttle hyperspace-drive ship enough of a misdemeanor to entitle you to pick him up?"

"Not by itself," I replied. "The ship would have to be seen and understood for what it was by a resident of the planet. From what we here can tell, no such observation was made. And so long as he stays in hiding, doesn't tell any human about us and refrains from adding to the technological momentum of Earth, L'payr's galactic citizenship has to be respected. I have no legal basis for an arrest."

Well, the Gtetans grumbled about what were they paying the star tax for, anyway, but they saw my point. They warned me, though, about L'payr—sooner or later his criminal impulses would assert themselves. He was in an impossible position, they insisted. In order to get the fuel necessary to leave Earth before his supplies ran out, he'd have to commit some felony or other—and as soon as he did so and was arrested, they wanted their extradition request honored.

"The filthy, evil-minded old pervert," I heard the police chief mutter as he clicked off.

I don't have to tell you how I felt, Hoy. A brilliant, imaginative ameboid criminal at large on a planet as volatile culturally as Earth! I notified all our agents in North America to be on the alert and settled back to wait it out with prayerfully knotted tentacles.

L'payr had listened to most of this conversation over his own ship's receiver. Naturally, the first thing he did was to remove the directional device which had enabled the Gtetan police to locate him. Then, as soon as it was dark again, he managed, with what must have been enormous difficulty, to transport himself and his little ship to another area of the city. He did this, too, without being observed.

He made his base in a slum tenement neighborhood that had been condemned to make way for a new housing project and therefore was practically untenanted. Then he settled back to consider his problem.

Because, Hoy, he had a problem.

He didn't want to get in any trouble with the Patrol, but if he didn't get his pseudopods on a substantial amount of fuel very soon, he'd be a dead ameboid. Not only did he need the fuel to get off Earth, but the converters—which, on this rather primitive Gtetan vessel, changed waste matter back into usable air and food—would be stopping very soon if they weren't stoked up, too.

His time was limited, his resources almost non-existent. The spacesuits with which the ship was furnished, while cleverly enough constructed and able to satisfy the peculiar requirements of an entity of constantly fluctuating format, had not been designed for so primitive a planet as Earth. They would not operate too effectively for long periods away from the ship.

He knew that my OP office had been apprised of his landing and that we were just waiting for some infraction of even the most obscure minor law. Then we'd pounce—and, after the usual diplomatic formalities, he'd be on his way back to Gtet, for a nine-throttle Patrol ship could catch him easily. It was obvious that he couldn't do as he had originally planned—make a fast raid on some human supply center and collect whatever stuff he needed.

His hope was to make a trade. He'd have to find a human with whom he could deal and offer something that, to this particular human in any case, was worth the quantity of fuel L'payr's ship needed to take him to a less policed corner of the Cosmos. But almost everything on the ship was essential to its functioning. And L'payr had to make his trade without (1) giving away the existence and nature of the galactic civilization, or (2) providing the inhabitants of Earth with any technological stimulus.

L'payr later said that he thought about the problem until his nucleus was a mass of corrugations. He went over the ship, stem to stern, again and again, but everything a human might consider acceptable was either too useful or too revealing. And then, just as he was about to give up, he found it.

The materials he needed were those with which he had committed his last crime!

According to Gtetan law, you see, Hoy, all evidence pertaining to a given felony is retained by the accused until the time of his trial. There are very complicated reasons for this, among them the Gtetan juridical concept that every prisoner is _known_ to be guilty until he manages, with the aid of lies, loopholes and brilliant legalisms, to convince a hard boiled and cynical jury of his peers that they should, in spite of their knowledge to the contrary, declare him innocent. Since the burden of proof rests with the prisoner, the evidence does likewise. And L'payr, examining this evidence, decided that he was in business.

What he needed now was a customer. Not only someone who wanted to buy what he had to sell, but a customer who had available the fuel he needed. And in the neighborhood which was now his base of operations, customers of this sort were rare.

Being Stage 19, the Gtetans are capable of the more primitive forms of telepathy—only at extremely short ranges, of course, and for relatively brief periods of time. So, aware that my secret agents had already begun to look for him and that, when they found him, his freedom of action would be even more circumscribed, L'payr desperately began to comb through the minds of any terrestrials within three blocks of his hideout.

Days went by. He scuttled from mind to mind like an insect looking for a hole in a collector's jar. He was forced to shut the ship's converter down to one-half operation, then to one-third. Since this cut his supply of food correspondingly, he began to hunger. For lack of activity, his contractile vacuole dwindled to the size of a pinpoint. Even his endoplasm lost the turgidity of the healthy ameboid and became dangerously thin and transparent.

And then one night, when he had about determined to take his chances and steal the fuel he needed, his thoughts ricocheted off the brain of a passerby, came back unbelievingly, examined further and were ecstatically convinced. A human who not only could supply his needs, but also, and more important, might be in the market for Gtetan pornography!

In other words, Mr. Osborne Blatch.

This elderly teacher of adolescent terrestrials insisted throughout all my interrogations that, to the best of his knowledge, no mental force was used upon him. It seems that he lived in a new apartment house on the other side of the torn-down tenement area and customarily walked in a wide are around the rubble because of the large number of inferior and belligerent human types which infested the district. On this particular night, a teachers' meeting at his high school having detained him, he was late for supper and decided, as he had once or twice before, to take a short cut. He claims that the decision to take a short cut was his own.

Osborne Blatch says, that he was striding along jauntily, making believe his umbrella was a malacca cane, when he seemed to hear a voice. He says that, even at first hearing, he used the word "seemed" to himself because, while the voice definitely had inflection and tone, it was somehow completely devoid of volume.

The voice said, "Hey, bud! C'mere!"

He turned around curiously and surveyed the rubble to his right. All that was left of the building that had once been there was the lower half of the front entrance. Since everything else around it was completely flat, he saw no place where a man could be standing.

But as he looked, he heard the voice again. It sounded greasily conspiratorial and slightly impatient. "C'mere, bud. _C'mere!_ "

"What—er—what _is_ it, sir?" he asked in a cautiously well-bred way, moving closer and peering in the direction of the voice. The bright street light behind him, he said, improved his courage as did the solid quality of the very heavy old-fashioned umbrella he was carrying.

"C'mere. I got somep'n to show ya. C'mon!"

Stepping carefully over loose brick and ancient garbage, Mr. Blatch came to a small hollow at one side of the ruined entrance. And filling it was L'payr or, as he seemed at first glance to the human, a small, splashy puddle of purple liquid.

I ought to point out now, Hoy—and the affidavits I'm sending along will substantiate it—that at no time did Mr. Blatch recognize the viscous garment for a spacesuit, nor did he ever see the Gtetan ship which L'payr had hidden in the rubble behind him in its completely tenuous hyper-spatial state.

Though the man, having a good imagination and a resilient mind, immediately realized that the creature before him must be extraterrestrial, he lacked overt technological evidence to this effect, as well as to the nature and existence of our specific galactic civilization. Thus, here at least, there was no punishable violation of Interstellar Statute 2,607,193, Amendments 126 through 509.

"What do you have to show me?" Mr. Blatch asked courteously, staring down at the purple puddle. "And where, may I ask, are you from? Mars? Venus?"

"Listen, bud, y'know what's good for ya, y'don't ask such questions, Look, I got somep'n for ya. Hot stuff. _Real_ hot!"

Mr. Blatch's mind, no longer fearful of having its owner assaulted and robbed by the neighborhood tough it had originally visualized, spun off to a relevant memory, years old, of a trip abroad. There had been that alley in Paris and the ratty little Frenchman in a torn sweater...

"What would that be?" he asked.

A pause now, while L'payr absorbed new impressions.

"Ah-h-h," said the voice from the puddle. "I 'ave somezing to show M'sieu zat M'sieu weel like vairry much. If M'sieu weel come a leetle closair?"

M'sieu, we are to understand, came a leetle closair. Then the puddle heaved up in the middle, reaching out a pseudopod that held flat, square objects, and telepathed hoarsely, "'Ere, M'sieu. Feelthy peekshures."

Although taken more than a little aback, Blatch merely raised both eyebrows interrogatively and said, "Ah? Well, well!"

He shifted the umbrella to his left hand and, taking the pictures as they were given to him, one at a time, examined each a few steps away from L'payr, where the light of the street lamp was stronger.

When all the evidence arrives, you will be able to see for yourself, Hoy, what they were like. Cheap prints, calculated to excite the grossest ameboid passions. The Gtetans, as you may have heard, reproduce by simple asexual fission, but only in the presence of saline solution—sodium chloride is comparatively rare on their world.

The first photograph showed a naked ameba, fat and replete with food vacuoles, splashing lazily and formlessly at the bottom of a metal tank in the completely relaxed state that precedes reproducing.

The second was like the first, except that a trickle of salt water had begun down one side of the tank and a few pseudopods had lifted toward it inquiringly. To leave nothing to the imagination, a sketch of the sodium chloride molecule had been superimposed on the upper right corner of the photograph.

In the third picture, the Gtetan was ecstatically awash in the saline solution, its body distended to maximum, dozens of pseudopods thrust out, throbbing. Most of the chromatin had become concentrated in chromosomes about the equator of the nucleus. To an ameba, this was easily the most exciting photograph in the collection.

The fourth showed the nucleus becoming indented between the two sets of sibling chromosomes—while, in the fifth, with the division completed and the two nuclei at opposite ends of the reproducing individual, the entire cytoplasmic body had begun to undergo constriction about its middle. In the sixth, the two resultant Gtetans were emerging with passion-satisfied languor from the tank of salt water.

As a measure of L'payr's depravity, let me pass on to you what the Gtetan police told me. Not only was he peddling the stuff to ameboid minors, but they believed that he had taken the photographs himself and that the model had been his own brother—or should I say sister? His own one and only sibling, possibly? This case has many, many confusing aspects.

Blatch returned the last picture to L'payr and said, "Yes, I am interested in buying the group. How much?"

The Gtetan named his price in terms of the requisite compounds available in the chemistry laboratory of the high school where Blatch taught. He explained exactly how he wanted them to be prepared and warned Blatch to tell nobody of L'payr's existence.

"Uzzerwise, when M'sieu gets 'ere tomorrow night, ze peekshures weel be gone, I weel be gone—and M'sieu weel have nozzing to show for his trouble. _Comprenez?_ "

Osborne Blatch seems to have had very little trouble in obtaining and preparing the stuff for which L'payr had bargained. He said that, by the standards of his community, it was a minute quantity and extremely inexpensive. Also, as he had scrupulously always done in the past when using school supplies for his own experiments, he reimbursed the laboratory out of his own pocket. But he does admit that the photographs were only a small part of what he hoped to get out of the ameboid. He expected, once a sound business arrangement had been established, to find out from which part of the Solar System the visitor had come, what his world was like and similar matters of understandable interest to a creature whose civilization is in the late phases of Secretly Supervised Status.

Once the exchange had been effected, however, L'payr tricked him. The Gtetan told Blatch to return on the _next_ night when, his time being more free, they could discuss the state of the Universe at leisure. And, of course, as soon as the Earthman had left with the photographs, L'payr jammed the fuel into his converters, made the necessary sub-nuclear rearrangements in its atomic structure and, with the hyperspace-drive once more operating under full power, took off like a _rilg_ out of _Gowkuldady._

As far as we can determine, Blatch received the deception philosophically. After all, he still had the pictures.

When my OP office was informed that L'payr had left Earth in the direction of the Hercules Cluster M13, without leaving any discernible ripple in terrestrial law or technology behind him, we all relaxed gratefully. The case was removed from TOP PRIORORITY—FULL ATTENTION BY ALL PERSONNEL rating and placed in the PENDING LATENT EFFECTS category.

As is usual, I dropped the matter myself and gave full charge of the follow-up to my regent and representative on Earth, Stellar Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh. A tracer beam was put on L'payr's rapidly receding ship and I was free to devote my attention once more to my basic problem—delaying the development of interplanetary travel until the various human societies had matured to the requisite higher level.

Thus, six Earth months later, when the case broke wide open, Pah-Chi-Luh handled it himself and didn't bother me until the complications became overwhelming. I know this doesn't absolve me—I have ultimate responsibility for everything that transpires in my Outlying Patrol District. But between relatives, Hoy, I am mentioning these facts to show that I was not completely clumsy in the situation and that a little help from you and the rest: of the family, when the case reaches the Old One in Galactic Headquarters, would not merely be charity for a one-headed oafish cousin.

As a matter of fact, I and most of my office were involved in a very complex problem. A Moslem mystic, living in Saudi Arabia, had attempted to heal the ancient schism that exists in his religion between the Shiite and Sunnite sects, by communing with the departed spirits of Mohammed's son-in-law, Ali, the patron of the first group, and Abu Bekr, the Prophet's father-in-law and founder of the Sunnite dynasty. The object of the mediumistic excursion was to effect some sort of arbitration arrangement in Paradise between the two feuding ghosts that would determine who should rightfully have been Mohammed's successor and the first caliph of Mecca.

Nothing is simple on Earth. In the course of this laudable probe of the hereafter, the earnest young mystic accidentally achieved telepathic contact with a Stage 9 civilization of disembodied intellects on Ganymede, the largest satellite of the planet Jupiter. Well, you can imagine! Tremendous uproar on Ganymede and in Saudi Arabia, pilgrims in both places flocking to see the individuals on either end of the telepathic connection, peculiar and magnificent miracles being wrought daily. A mess!

And my office feverishly working overtime to keep the whole affair simple and religious, trying to prevent it from splashing over into awareness of the more rational beings in each community! It's an axiom of Outlying Patrol Offices that nothing will stimulate space travel among backward peoples faster than definite knowledge of the existence of intelligent celestial neighbors. Frankly, if Pah-Chi-Luh had come to me right then, blathering of Gtetan pornography in human high-school textbooks, I'd probably have bitten his heads off.

He'd discovered the textbooks in the course of routine duties as an investigator for a United States Congressional Committee—his disguised status for the last decade or so, and one which had proved particularly valuable in the various delaying actions we had been surreptitiously fighting on the continent of North America. There was this newly published biology book, written for use in the secondary schools, which had received extremely favorable comment from outstanding scholars in the universities. Naturally, the committee ordered a copy of the text and suggested that its investigator look through it.

Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh turned a few pages and found himself staring at the very pornographic pictures he'd heard about at the briefing session six months before—published, available to everyone on Earth, and especially to minors! He told me afterward, brokenly, that in that instant all he saw was a brazen repetition of L'payr's ugly crime on his home planet.

He blasted out a Galaxy-wide alarm for the Gtetan.

L'payr had begun life anew as an _ashkebac_ craftsman on a small, out-of-the-way, mildly civilized world. Living carefully within the law, he had prospered and, at the time of his arrest, had become sufficiently conventional—and, incidentally, fat—to think of raising a respectable family. Not much—just two of him. If things continued to go well, he might consider multiple fission in the future.

He was indignant when he was arrested and carried off to the detention cell on Pluto, pending the arrival of an extradition party from Gtet.

"By what right do you disturb a peace-loving artisan in the quiet pursuit of his trade?" he challenged. "I demand immediate unconditional release, a full apology and restitution for loss of income as well as the embarrassment caused my person and ego. Your superiors will hear of this! False arrest of a galactic citizen can be a very serious matter!"

"No doubt," Stellar Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh retorted, still quite equable, you see. "But the public dissemination of recognized pornography is even more serious. As a crime, we consider it on a level with—"

" _What_ pornography?"

My assistant said he stared at L'payr for a long time through the transparent cell wall, marveling at the creature's effrontery. All the same, he began to feel a certain disquiet. He had never before encountered such complete self-assurance in the face of a perfect structure of criminal evidence.

"You know very well what pornography. Here—examine it for yourself. This is only one copy out of 20,000 distributed all over the United States of North America for the specific use of human adolescents." He dematerialized the biology text and passed it through the wall.

L'payr glanced at the pictures. "Bad reproduction," he commented. "Those humans still have a long way to go in many respects. However, they do display a pleasing technical precocity. But why show this to me? Surely you don't think _I_ have anything to do with it?"

Pah-Chi-Luh says the Gtetan seemed intensely puzzled, yet gently patient, as if he were trying to unravel the hysterical gibberings of an idiot child.

"Do you _deny_ it?"

"What in the Universe is there to deny? Let me see." He turned to the title page. "This seems to be _A First Book in Biology_ by one Osborne Blatch and one Nicodemus P. Smith. You haven't mistaken me for either Blatch or Smith, have you? My name is L'payr, not Osborne L'payr, nor even Nicodemus P. L'payr. Just plain, old, everyday, simple L'payr. No more, no less. I come from Gtet, which is the sixth planet of—"

"I am fully aware of Gtet's astrographic location," Pah-Chi-Luh informed him coldly. "Also, that you were on Earth six of their months ago. And that, at the time, you completed a transaction with this Osborne Blatch, whereby you got the fuel you needed to leave the planet, while Blatch obtained the set of pictures that were later used as illustrations in that textbook. Our undercover organization on Earth functions very efficiently, as you can see. We have labeled the book Exhibit A."

"An ingenious designation," said the Gtetan admiringly. "Exhibit A! With so much to choose from. you picked the one that sounds just right. My compliments." He was, you will understand, Hoy, in his element—he was dealing with a police official on an abstruse legal point. L'payr's entire brilliant criminal past on a law-despising world had prepared him for this moment. Pah-Chi-Luh's mental orientation, however, had for a long time now been chiefly in the direction of espionage and _sub rosa_ cultural manipulation. He was totally unprepared for the orgy of judicial quibbles that was about to envelop him. In all fairness to him, let me admit that I might not have done any better under those circumstances and neither, for that matter, might you—nor the Old One himself!

L'payr pointed out, "All I did was to sell a set of artistic studies to one Osborne Blatch. What _he_ did with it afterward surely does not concern me. If I sell a weapon of approved technological backwardness to an Earthman—a flint fist-axe, say, or a cauldron for pouring boiling oil upon the stormers of walled cities—and he uses the weapon to dispatch one of his fellow primitives, am I culpable? Not the way I read the existing statutes of the Galactic Federation, my friend. Now suppose you reimburse me for my time and trouble and put me on a fast ship bound for my place of business?"

Around and around they went. Dozens of times, Pah-Chi-Luh, going frantically through the Pluto Headquarters law library, would come up with a nasty little wrinkle of an ordinance, only to have L'payr point out that the latest interpretation of the Supreme Council put him wholly in the clear. I can myself vouch for the fact that the Gtetans seem to enjoy total recall of all judicial history.

"But you _do_ admit selling pornography yourself to the Earthman Osborne Blatch?" the stellar corporal bellowed at last.

"Pornography, pornography," L'payr mused. "That would be defined as cheaply exciting lewdness, falsely titillating obscenity. Correct?"

"Of course!"

"Well, Corporal, let me ask you a question. You saw those pictures. Did you find them exciting or titillating?"

"Certainly not. But I don't happen to be a Gtetan ameboid."

"Neither," L'payr countered quietly, "is Osborne Blatch."

I do think Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh might have found some sensible way out of the dilemma if the extradition party had not just then arrived from Gtet on the special Patrol ship which had been sent for it. He now found himself confronted with six more magnificently argumentative ameboids, numbering among them some of the trickiest legal minds on the home planet. The police of Rugh VI had had many intricate dealings with L'payr in the Gtetan courts. Hence, they took no chances and sent their best representatives.

Outnumbered L'payr may have been, but remember, Hoy, he had prepared for just these eventualities ever since leaving Earth. And just to stimulate his devious intellect to maximum performance, there was the fact that _his_ was the only life at stake. Once let his fellow ameboids get their pseudopods on him again, and he was a gone protozoan.

Between L'payr and the Gtetan extradition party, Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh began to find out how unhappy a policeman's lot can become. Back and forth he went, from the prisoner to the lawyers, stumbling through quagmires of opinion, falling into chasms of complexity.

The extradition group was determined not to return to their planet empty-pseudopoded. In order to succeed, they had to make the current arrest stick, which would give them the right—as previously injured parties—to assert their prior claim to the punishment of L'payr. For his part, L'payr was equally determined to invalidate the arrest by the Patrol, since then he would not only have placed our outfit in an uncomfortable position, but, no longer extraditable, would be entitled to its protection from his fellow citizens.

A weary, bleary and excessively hoarse Pah-Chi-Luh finally dragged himself to the extradition party on spindly tentacles and informed them that, after much careful consideration, he had come to the conclusion that L'payr was innocent of any crime during his stay on Earth.

"Nonsense," he was told by the spokesman. "A crime was committed. Arrant and unquestioned pornography was sold and circulated on that planet. A crime _has_ to have been committed."

Pah-Chi-Luh went back to L'payr and asked, miserably, how about it? Didn't it seem, he almost pleaded, that all the necessary ingredients of a crime were present? _Some_ kind of crime?

"True," L'payr said thoughtfully. "They have a point. Some kind of crime _may have_ been committed—but not by me. Osborne Blatch, now..."

Stellar Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh completely lost his heads.

He sent a message to Earth, ordering Osborne Blatch to be picked up.

Fortunately for all of us, up to and including the Old One, Pah-Chi-Luh did not go so far as to have Blatch arrested. The Earthman was merely held as a material witness. When I think what the false arrest of a creature from a Secretly Supervised world could lead to, especially in a case of this sort, Hoy, my blood almost turns liquid.

But Pah-Chi-Luh _did_ commit the further blunder of incarcerating Osborne Blatch in a cell adjoining L'payr's. Everything, you will observe, was working out to the ameboid's satisfaction—including my young assistant.

By the time Pah-Chi-Luh got around to Blatch's first interrogation, the Earthman had already been briefed by his neighbor. Not that the briefing was displayed overmuch—as yet.

"Pornography?" he repeated in answer to the first question. " _What_ pornography? Mr. Smith and I had been working on an elementary biology text for some time and we were hoping to use new illustrations throughout. We wanted larger, clear pictures of the sort that would be instantly comprehensible to youngsters—and we were particularly interested in getting away from the blurry drawings that have been used and re-used in all textbooks, almost from the time of Leewenhoek. Mr. L'payr's series on the cycle of ameboid reproduction was a godsend. In a sense, they _made_ the first section of the book."

"You don't deny, however," Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh inquired remorselessly, "that, at the time of the purchase, you knew those pictures were pornographic? And that, despite this knowledge, you went ahead and used them for the delectation of juveniles of your race?"

"Edification," the elderly human schoolteacher corrected him. " _Edification_ , not delectation. I assure you that not a single student who studied the photographs in question—which, by the way, appeared textually as drawings—received any premature erotic stimulation thereby. I will admit that, at the time of purchase, I did receive a distinct impression from the gentleman in the next cell that he and his kind considered the illustrations rather racy—"

"Well, then?"

"But that was his problem, not mine. After all, if I buy an artifact from an extraterrestrial creature—a flint fist-axe, say, or a cauldron for pouring boiling oil upon the stormers of walled cities—and I use them both in completely peaceful and useful pursuits—the former to grub onions out of the ground and the latter to cook the onions in a kind of soup—have I done anything wrong?

"As a matter of fact, the textbook in question received fine reviews and outstanding commendations from educational and scientific authorities all over the nation. Would you like to hear some of them? I believe I may have a review or two in my pockets. Let me see. Yes, just by chance, I seem to have a handful of clippings in this suit. Well, well! I didn't know there were quite so many. This is what the _Southern Prairie States Secondary School Gazette_ has to say—'A substantial and noteworthy achievement. It will live long in the annals of elementary science pedagoguery. The authors may well feel...'"

It was then that Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh sent out a despairing call for me.

Fortunately, I was free to give the matter my full attention, the Saudi Arabia-Ganymede affair being completely past the danger point. Had I been tied up...

After experimenting with all kinds of distractions, including secret agents disguised as dancing girls, we had finally managed to embroil the young mystic in a tremendous theological dispute on the exact nature and moral consequences of the miracles he was wreaking, Outstanding Mohammedan religious leaders of the region had lined up on one side or the other and turned the air blue with quotations from the Koran and later Sunnite books. The mystic was drawn in and became so involved in the argument that he stopped thinking about his original objectives and irreparably broke the mental connection with Ganymede.

For a while, this left a continuing problem on that satellite—it looked as if the civilization of disembodied intellects might eventually come to some approximation of the real truth. Luckily for us, the entire business had been viewed there also as a religious phenomenon and, once telepathic contact was lost, the intellect who had been communicating with the human, and had achieved much prestige thereby, was thoroughly discredited. It was generally believed that he had willfully and deliberately faked the entire thing, for the purpose of creating skepticism among the more spiritual members of his race. An ecclesiastical court ordered the unfortunate telepath to be embodied alive.

It was, therefore, with a warm feeling of a job well done that I returned to my headquarters on Pluto in response to Pah-Chi-Luh's summons.

Needless to say, this feeling quickly changed to the most overpowering dismay. After getting the background from the overwrought corporal, I interviewed the Gtetan extradition force. They had been in touch with their home office and were threatening a major galactic scandal if the Patrol's arrest of L'payr were not upheld and L'payr remanded to their custody.

"Are the most sacred and intimate details of our sex life to be shamelessly flaunted from one end of the Universe to the other?" I was asked angrily. "Pornography is pornography—a crime is a crime. The intent was there—the overt act was there. We demand our prisoner."

"How can you have pornography without titillation?" L'payr wanted to know. "If a Chumblostian sells a Gtetan a quantity of _krrgllwss_ —which they use as food and we use as building material—does the shipment have to be paid for under the nutritive or structural tariffs? The structural tariffs obtain, as you well know, Sergeant. I demand immediate release!"

But the most unpleasant surprise of all awaited me with Blatch. The terrestrial was sitting in his cell, sucking the curved handle of his umbrella.

"Under the code governing the treatment of all races on Secretly Supervised Status," he began as soon as he saw me, "and I refer not only to the Rigellian-Sagittarian Convention, but to the statutes of the third cosmic cycle and the Supreme Council decisions in the cases of Khwomo vs. Khwomo and Farziplok vs. Antares XII, I demand return to my accustomed habitat on Earth, the payment of damages according to the schedule developed by the Nobri Commission in the latest Vivadin controversy. I also demand satisfaction in terms of—"

"You seem to have acquired a good deal of knowledge of interstellar law," I commented slowly.

"Oh, I have, Sergeant—I have. Mr. L'payr was most helpful in acquainting me with my rights. It seems that I am entitled to all sorts of recompenses—or, at least, that I can claim entitlement. You have a very interesting galactic culture, Sergeant. Many, many people on Earth would be fascinated to learn about it. But I am quite prepared to spare you the embarrassment which such publicity would cause you. I am certain that two reasonable individuals like ourselves can come to terms."

When I charged L'payr with violating galactic secrecy, he spread his cytoplasm in an elaborate ameboid shrug.

" _I told him nothing on Earth,_ Sergeant. Whatever information this terrestrial has received—and I will admit that it would have been damaging and highly illegal—was entirely in the jurisdiction of _your_ headquarters office. Besides, having been wrongfully accused of an ugly and unthinkable crime, I surely had the right to prepare my defense by discussing the matter with the only witness to the deed. I might go further and point out that, since Mr. Blatch and myself are in a sense co-defendants, there could be no valid objection to a pooling of our legal knowledge."

Back in my office, I brought Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh up to date.

"It's like a morass," he complained. "The more you struggle to get out, the deeper you fall in it! And this terrestrial! The Plutonian natives who've been guarding him have been driven almost crazy. He asks questions about everything—what's this, what's that, how does it work. Or it's not hot enough for him, the air doesn't smell right, his food is uninteresting. His throat has developed an odd tickle, he wants a gargle, he needs a—"

"Give him everything he wants, but within reason," I said. "If this creature dies on us, you and I will be lucky to draw no more than a punishment tour in the Black Hole in Cygnus. But as for the rest of it—look here, Corporal, I find myself in agreement with the extradition party from Gtet. A crime _has_ to have been committed."

Stellar Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh stared at me. "You—you mean..."

"I mean that if a crime was committed, L'payr has been legally arrested and can therefore be taken back to Gtet. We will then hear no more from him ever and we will also be rid of that bunch of pseudopod-clacking Gtetan shysters. That will leave us with only one problem—Osborne Blatch. Once L'payr is gone and we have this terrestrial to ourselves, I think we can handle him—one way or another. But first and foremost, Corporal Pah-Chi-Luh, a crime— _some_ crime—has to have been committed by L'payr during his sojourn on Earth. Set up your bed in the law library."

Shortly afterward, Pah-Chi-Luh left for Earth.

Now please, Hoy, no moralistic comments! You know as well as I do that this sort of thing has been done before, here and there, in Outlying Patrol Offices. I don't like it any more than you, but I was faced with a major emergency. Besides, there was no doubt but that this L'payr, ameboid master criminal, had had punishment deferred far too long. In fact, one might say that morally I was completely and absolutely in the right.

Pah-Chi-Luh returned to Earth, as I've said, this time disguised as an editorial assistant. He got a job in the publishing house that had brought out the biology textbook. The original photographs were still in the files of that establishment. By picking his man carefully and making a good many mind-stimulating comments, the stellar corporal finally inspired one of the technical editors to examine the photographs and have the material on which they were printed analyzed.

The material was _frab,_ a synthetic textile much in use on Gtet and not due to be developed by humanity for at least three centuries.

In no time at all, almost every woman in America was wearing lingerie made of _frab,_ the novelty fabric of the year. And since L'payr was ultimately responsible for this illegal technological spurt, we at last had him where we wanted him!

He was very sporting about it, Hoy.

"The end of a long road for me, Sergeant," he said resignedly. "I congratulate you. Crime does not pay. Lawbreakers always lose."

"Right," I agreed. "About time you learned that."

I went off to prepare the extradition forms, without a care in the Galaxy. There was Blatch, of course, but he was only a human. And by this time, having gotten involved in all kinds of questionable dealings myself, I was determined to make quick work of him. After all, one might as well get blasted for a _skreek_ as a _launt!_

But when I returned to escort the Gtetan to his fellow-ameboids, I almost fell through the surface of Pluto. Where there had been one L'payr, there were now two! Smaller L'payrs, of course—half the size of the original, to be exact—but L'payrs unmistakably.

In the interval, he had reproduced!

How? That gargle the Earthman had demanded, Hoy. It had been L'payr's idea all along, his last bit of insurance. Once the Earthman had received the gargle, he had smuggled it to L'payr, who had hidden it in his cell, intending to use it as a last resort.

That gargle, Hoy, was _salt water!_

So there I was. The Gtetans informed me that their laws covered such possibilities, but much help _their_ laws were to me.

"A crime has been committed, pornography has been sold," the spokesman reiterated. "We demand our prisoner. Both of him!"

"Pursuant to Galactic Statutes 6,009,371 through 6,106,514," Osborne Blatch insisted, "I demand immediate release, restitution to the extent of two billion Galactic Megawhars, a complete and written—"

And...

"It's probably true that our ancestor, L'payr, committed all sorts of indiscretions," lisped one of the two young ameboids in the cell next to Osborne Blatch, "but what does that have to do with us? L'payr paid for his crimes by dying in childbirth. We are young and innocent. Don't tell us the big, powerful Galaxy believes in punishing little children for the sins of their parents!"

What would _you_ have done? I shipped the whole mess off to Patrol Headquarters—the Gtetan extradition party and their mess of judicial citations, Osborne Blatch and his umbrella, the biology textbook, the original bundle of pornographic pictures, and last but not at all least, two—count 'em, two—dewy young ameboids. Call them L'payr sub-one and L'payr sub-two. Do anything you like with them when they get there, but please don't tell me what it is!

And if you can figure out a solution with the aid of some of the more ancient and wiser heads at headquarters, and figure it out before the Old One ruptures a gloccistomorph, Pah-Chi-Luh and I will be pathetically, eternally grateful.

If not—well, we're standing by here at Outlying Patrol Office 1001625 with bags packed. There's something to be said for the Black Hole in Cygnus—invaluable experience for a Patrolman.

Personally, Hoy, I'd say that the whole trouble is caused by creatures who insist on odd and colorful methods of continuing their race, instead of doing it sanely and decently by means of spore-pod explosion!

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaBook


text:
Len Ziehm On Golf
Daily Herald Columns
Chicagoland Golf
Morning Read
Hall of Fame, etc.
New Yorker Welch is Myrtle Beach's latest World Champion
William Welch of West Islip, N.Y., claimed the World Champion trophy at Barefoot Resort's Dye Course.
MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. — August is the biggest month of the golf season – and not just because big professional events like the PGA Tour's FedEx Cup Playoffs are contested then. The PlayGolf Myrtle Beach.com World Amateur Handicap Championship was different but every bit as impressive.
Staged for the 36th time on 55 courses in this South Carolina golf mecca, the World Am wasn't just older than any of that month's tour events, it also had more players. Many more, in fact..
The entry count hit 3,215 from 49 states (only Alaska was missing) and 20 countries. There were 161 international participants with Canada leading with 51. The internationals traveled approximately 500,000 miles to get here. As far as the U.S. states are concerned, South Carolina led with 312 players and Florida had 307.
Though multiple courses were used, organizers claim the World Am is "the world's largest single-site tournament'' – the "site'' being the general Myrtle Beach area.
The player coming the farthest was likely Steve Muller, who lives in Brisbane, Australia. Muller and his wife Karen were 24 hours in transit to get to Myrtle Beach for the first time.
Muller learned about the World Am via a Google search in January and made travel plans even before the tournament was accepting entries. He believes his home club in Australia, called Carbrook, is the only one with sharks in its ponds but Australia's `Great White Shark,' Greg Norman, has never played there.
Australians Steve Muller and wife Karen enjoyed their first taste of the World Am.
So, why did Muller enter?
"It's golf, so why not?'' he said. "Nobody from my club had heard about it but there'll be at least four from there here next year.''
The World Am had more winners than the August pro events, too. In addition to the 67 flight winners, there was an overall champion – William Welch of West Islip, N.Y.,' a Gross Division winner – Christopher Reina of Frisco, TX.; and a Senior Gross Division titlist – Steve Humphrey of Ocala, FL.
Welch shot a net 69 (gross 85) to win the Flight Winners' Playoff at the Barefoot Resort's Dye Course. That made Welch the 2019 World Champion. Reina shot a 75 to win the Gross Division and Humphrey a 76 en route to an eight-stroke victory in the Senior Gross Division.
The World Am is never about winning, though. It's about participation, fun and socializing, but there's of golf played. Myrtle Beach's biggest event consists of 72 holes on different courses for players in nine age groups, and there's also a "Just for Fun'' division. The handicap procedure is strictly supervised, and that's a big reason for the event's annual success.
Not to be forgotten regarding this event's popularity is the World's Largest 19th Hole, a nightly feature at the Myrtle Beach Convention Center. The big party featured music, food and beverages from a variety of Myrtle Beach restaurants and appearances by various Golf Channel personalities.
Tournament director Scott Tomasello called the World Am "a bucket list event for recreational golfers.''
"It is more than just a tournament to our players,'' said Tomasello. "It's an event. From what happens on the course to the World's Largest 19th Hole, the World Am becomes part of the annual calendar for our players.''
This year's version was blessed with great weather. Thirty-three courses hosted play each day and 55 used for at least one round. The World's Largest 19th Hole, staged nightly in a 120,000 square foot area of the Myrtle Beach Convention Center. included a 70-exhibitor golf expo and featured attractions included billiards legend Ewa Laurance.
Next playing of the World Am will be Aug. 31 through Sept. 4 of 2020.
Category: Travel Destinations
Playoff loss to Lopez doesn't cool Inbee Park's enthusiasm for the Olympics
Seven didn't turn out a lucky number for Small, Wu
GOLF TRAVEL NOTEBOOK: Myrtle Beach is going after golfers — from Alaska?!
While we have occasionally used photography provided by outside sources, the bulk of the pictures produced by Len Ziehm on Golf have been taken by Joy Sarver. We have travelled extensively to develop this website and her well-received photos have enhanced most all the pieces on these pages.
Golf Now Chicago – Cheryl Justak, based in Indiana, will be celebrating the 16th anniversary edition of her printed golf guide in 2018 and she also delivers periodic newsletters..
Golfers on Golf Radio Big Three partner Rory Spears hosts the longest-running Chicago golf radio show and is also a frequent contributor to area golf publications. .
GolfTrips Wisconsin-based Brian Weis producers an elaborate series of websites on golf travel destinations.
Gorman Golf Media Tom Gorman's properties include New England dot Golf, Pro Golf Weekly, Golf Life Real Estate, Under Par Media and eSouthernGOLF.
Illinois Golfer Big Three partner Tim Cronin, well-known for his books on golf history, has developed a website filled with news from a Chicago perspective.l.
Links Video Dave Lockhart is Chicago's premier golf videographer and has won awards for his pieces on travel destinations.
LinksNation Florida-based Jason Bruno touches on all phases of golf but brings a unique perspective on equipment issues.
Ohio Golf Journal Fred Altvater also has a companion video site, Back 9 Report TV which is posted to http://back9report.com/
From Our Peers
The Golf Channel's Damon Hack helped me celebrate a big night on Jan. 24, 2018, when I was honored for three of my pieces at the 24th International Network of Golf's Media Awards in Orlando, FL. Damon was the emcee for the awards presentation.
By email: lenziehm@gmail.com
Copyright © 2011. All rights reserved. Site by TeamIPC.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


7 The territory of Manasseh reached from Asher to bMichmethath, which is east of Shechem. Then the boundary goes along southward to the inhabitants of En-tappuah. 8 The land of cTappuah belonged to Manasseh, but the town of Tappuah on the boundary of Manasseh belonged to the people of Ephraim. 9 cThen the boundary went down to the brook Kanah. These cities, to the south of the brook, among the cities of Manasseh, belong to Ephraim. Then the boundary of Manasseh goes on the north side of the brook and ends at the sea, 10 the land to the south being Ephraim's and that to the north being Manasseh's, with the sea forming its boundary. On the north Asher is reached, and on the east Issachar. 11 Also in Issachar and in Asher dManasseh had Beth-shean and its villages, and Ibleam and its villages, and the inhabitants of dDor and its villages, and the inhabitants of En-dor and its villages, and the inhabitants of dTaanach and its villages, and the inhabitants of dMegiddo and its villages; ethe third is Naphath.1 12 fYet the people of Manasseh could not take possession of those cities, but the Canaanites persisted in dwelling in that land. 13 Now when the people of Israel grew strong, they put the Canaanites gto forced labor, but did not utterly drive them out.


text:
Q: How can I add value fields to the drop down items? I have a drop down with Small Medium and Large (code below).
I want to capture some text for each line - e.g. Small Tom; Medium Dick; Large Harry.
Supplementary question - can I get more than one name per size - e.g. Small Quantity 3 ;Tom, Dick, Harry
 <form target="paypal" action="https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr" method="post">      <input type="hidden" name="cmd" value="_s-xclick" />    <input type="hidden" name="hosted_button_id" value="B98VUHC4Y2HSU" />

<input type="hidden" name="on0" value="Size" />Size

<select name="os0">
<option value="Small (S)">Small (S)  </option>
<option value="Medium (M)">Medium (M) </option>
<option value="Large (L)">Large (L) </option>
</select>

<input type="image" src="https://www.paypalobjects.com/en_GB/i/btn/btn_cart_LG.gif" border="0"
name="submit" alt="PayPal – The safer, easier way to pay online!" />

</form>

A: No you cannot do that. Check out some information referenced here in another thread. You could try using some sort of bootstrap version of it. It isn't possible with just HTML.
As for that extra question, would you want to? You would have to parse through the return string to separate the values.
Here is a Bootstrap version of it from that thread.
HTML:

 --Select Country--

USA

UK

Russia

Others <input type="text" id="other"/>

JQuery:
 $('.dropdown-menu input').click(function (e) {
 e.stopPropagation();
 });
$('.dropdown-menu li').click(function(){

$('.dropdown-toggle b').remove().appendTo($('.dropdown-toggle').text($(this).text()));
});

Bootstrap JS Example

A: I accept that what I asked for is not possible or at least not in my competence.
I have realised that what I really want is different The more I thought about it the easier it got.
But for any future enquirer
I need to add one line in the cart for each unique combination of two variables OS0 (Size) and OS1 (Name) and Paypal does that anyway. Only if the pair are duplicated does it bump up the quantity on the existing line.
I call this one closed


You might have several famous branches of your family tree.
Whether it's Johnny Depp or the president of the United States, you won't know which of your distant relatives are famous until you do a little research. Fortunately, the Internet provides a number of new methods that, when combined with offline genealogical resources, will help you discover whether you have any actors, singers or even kings in your family.
Several online genealogical resources will help you find out if you're related to anyone famous. Most of these sites require a monthly or yearly fee, but they give you access to large databases of individuals to whom you are related, as well as official records, photographs and other documents. If you're related to anyone famous, this is an easy way to find out. Many of these resources even have special tabs that will reveal famous relatives when clicked.
If you don't have the time to conduct research yourself, you can hire a private investigator to trace your family tree and search for any celebrity connections. One of the advantages of this method is that you can ask the detective to search for connections to a particular person, if you suspect a link. However, this method is also the most costly, especially if it takes the investigator a long time to track down a connection.
Another new method for tracing relations to famous people is utilizing DNA technology. This method is most useful for tracing your relation to historical figures that a company has records of, but it's also one of the most reliable methods for confirming a relation. After paying the company's fee, you will receive a throat swab. Swab the back of your throat, place it back in the container and mail it to the company to obtain your results.
Archives contain a wealth of resources for chasing genealogy. Birth, death and marriage records are all reliable methods for looking up a relation to a famous person. This method is the most time-consuming, and you may need to make several trips to the archive. If you don't have easy access to the archive that you need to visit, contact the archive by phone or email and arrange to have photocopies of the documents sent to you for a small fee. Ensure that you know the real name of the person whom you are trying to track, as many celebrities change their names.


Walgreen Firm or just Walgreens is an American company that operates as the second-largest pharmacy retailer chain in the United States behind CVS Health 3 It focuses on filling prescriptions, well being and wellness products, well being info, and photo companies. Qualifying health and wellness objects can be robotically charged to your CareCredit credit card. You may visit the 24-hour areas at any time. Prescription prices may differ from pharmacy to pharmacy and are subject to vary. Walgreens carries many over-the-counter gadgets including allergy and pain medicines, eye drops, private hygiene products, and vitamins. A transgender lady generic daily cialis in Arizona stated this week that a CVS Health pharmacist refused to fill a prescription for hormone remedy, prompting the drugstore firm to apologize, say the conduct violated its policy and note that the pharmacist was now not employed there. Using the app means you get to see saving opportunities comparable to weekly Walgreens promotion codes in actual time. To resolve the Division's investigation of its privacy practices, CVS agreed to pay $2.25 million and implement a detailed Corrective Motion Plan to ensure that it will appropriately get rid of protected health info reminiscent of labels from prescription bottles and old prescriptions.


text:
Under CMS's new direction for CMMI, Diabetes Prevention Programs seem safe
Last week, Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services Administrator Seema Verma revealed — in a Wall Street Journal editorial and an informal request for information (RFI) — that CMS would be heading in a "new direction" with the Center for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation (CMMI). Primarily, Verma's CMS seems interested in dropping the mandatory adoption of new payment methods in favor of a...
Montefiore Health System sees improvement in anxiety, depression of patients using Valera Health's app
By Heather Mack May 24, 2017
While behavioral health and physical health have historically been thought of (and treated) as completely separate areas of care, the simple fact is there just aren't as many healthcare professionals who specialize in the mind as there are who treat the body. But nearly 70 percent of American adults who have a behavioral health condition also have a medical co-morbidity, which led the Bronx, New...
HHS nominee Price weighs in on telemedicine, innovation, and regulation in finance hearing
On Tuesday, Representative Tom Price, President Trump's pick for Secretary of Health and Human Services, faced his second confirmation hearing, this time before the Senate Finance Committee (previously he had gone before the Health committee). In between questions about Medicaid, the Affordable Care Act, his questionable investments, and his relationship with President Trump, Price fielded some...
Most states with CMS-backed SHIP grants are investing in telehealth, digital tools
Nineteen states intend to invest more in telehealth this year as they roll out innovative health care delivery services for their Medicare, Medicaid and CHIP populations. Twenty-five states have created "innovation plans" backed by grants from the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Innovation (CCMI). This week Accenture published a report that analyzes the investment priorities of these 25 State...
More telehealth makes the cut for Medicare coverage next year
By Aditi Pai November 4, 2014
Earlier this week, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) released its final rule that will lead to changes in coverage under Medicare Part B. The rule, proposed in July, will expand the range of telehealth services that can be reimbursed under Medicare starting in 2015. In July, MobiHealthNews noted in the new rule, CMS added seven new telehealth reimbursement codes, all category...
Mobile tools help public, private payers be more proactive
By Jonah Comstock December 6, 2012
(Left to Right) Mark Wynn, William Shrank, and CMMI Innovation Award winners Kevin Volpp, Deborah Stewart, and David Goodman Aetna CEO Mark Bertolini's opening keynote set the tone for an mHealth Summit with a notable, but not unexpected, payer presence. In 2010 MobiHealthNews wrote about the changing role of the payer in health care, predicting that payers would soon help drive the mobile...
ACA presents golden opportunity for wireless, mobile health
By Neil Versel July 5, 2012
The Supreme Court's decision to uphold most of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act certainly was stunning. Who really expected Chief Justice John Roberts to side with the liberal wing of the court? How many people thought that the reasoning would be that the individual mandate was a legal exercise of Congress' power to levy taxes? Similarly, the decision was polarizing. Plenty of...


As reported from a Chicago brunch restaurant, 26-year-old Carrie Lindroth has never felt love like this, once again.
Throughout the afternoon out with friends, Lindroth detailed the ways in which she finds Dunlap particularly unique. She discussed his sensitive side, his intelligence, and his love for animals. Her friends, having heard this speech twice before, listened as politely as they could.
"I thought I knew what love was before, but Mikey is teaching me that I knew nothing." Lindroth continued, seemingly unaware that she had said something almost identical about a different man just seven months earlier.
After ten straight minutes of repeating compliments Dunlap had paid her, Lindroth made meaningful eye contact with each of her friends, asking aloud, "I wonder when he'll propose." At this point, all of her friends report that they took a keen interest in their meals, and shoveled down their remaining pancakes and eggs.
At press time there was no indication as to whether or not Lindroth and Dunlap were still an item, but Lindroth had not yet deactivated her Tinder profile.


Cocooning atmosphere for this beautiful cotton canvas and its floral motif. Very soft but very resistant, this fabric will enhance your decoration with elegance and naturalness.
Its choice of timeless colors allows use in each room and will charmfully complement your decoration.


Some of the hottest Motorcycle Babes on the Internet have submitted their pictures for your enjoyment.
Take a look at our bevy of beautiful babes and pick your favorite.
The Motorcycle Babes need you!
Look at the pictures and cast your vote for some of the hottest Motorcycle Babes on the Internet. Your votes will help choose a winner! If you've got a bodacious Motorcycle Babe in your life, ask her to register for our model contest.
Krista Alex VOTE FOR ME!
Heather Shanholtz VOTE FOR ME!
Alessandra Vilei VOTE FOR ME!


We just saw this new video from the Game. how many real skaters are in this video? either way its always good to see a kareem campbell sighting..
eastcoast terrain and to work on some special projects.(stay tuned) good stuff coming soon.


text:
Ask Andrew – Carbon Monoxide
When operating at a slow idle, carbon monoxide can build up and blow back into the vessel.
As the seasons change and we move from warm summer into cooler fall, many fanatic boaters (especially those with cabin space) begin to use on-board heaters to extend the boating season. I was recently asked about some of the dangers associated with having heaters aboard – and I launched into a lecture about ventilation and the danger of Carbon Monoxide.
As I thought about the subject after the fact, I realized that there's a bigger story, here. The story is so big, in fact, that there are questions on carbon monoxide on the test necessary in obtaining your boater's license (Pleasure Craft Operator's Card) in Canada. That said, to most boaters, carbon monoxide poisoning is one of those terms that they hear, but without understanding exactly what it is, it's dangers, and methods of detection and prevention.
Anything aboard that involves burning a fuel (engine combustion (gas or diesel), diesel/propane onboard heaters, fuel burning stoves, generators, and barbeques), produces carbon dioxide by the natural incomplete burning of the oxygen in the air. If the oxygen being burned is coming from enclosed cabin spaces, it will no longer be available for breathing – all that will be left is the poisonous carbon monoxide exhaust gas.
The statistics are frightening: US coast guard ranks carbon monoxide poisoning among the top 5 causes of death of boaters. According to a 2017 US coast guard report: there have been 800 reported cases of carbon monoxide poisoning related to boating in the last 15 years (2002-2017), with 140 fatalities. In Ontario from 2001 to 2007 (the last period I can find numbers for), there were 74 accidental deaths from asphyxia due to furnace fumes and vehicle exhaust.
To make matters worse, the term 'silent killer' is highly accurate: Carbon monoxide is colourless and odourless. That said, there are a number of preventative measures that can be taken aboard, to protect yourself and your guests from being exposed and injured:
These exhaust tubes are inadequately secured to the boats muffler, potentially leaking exhaust fumes into the engine compartment.
1) Where both gas and diesel engines produce carbon monoxide, gasoline engines produce higher levels
2) Cold, poorly tuned, and overloaded engines produce more CO thank warm, properly tuned and load-matched engines
3) Each engine aboard (running engines and generators) should have their own exhaust line, venting exhaust gases overboard
4) Engine compartment blowers should be properly positioned, operable, with blower hoses secured and no rips/tears in the hose
5) Despite CO gases being vented overboard, boaters should still be aware of how CO gases can collect :
a. Boats with aft canvas enclosures can create the 'station wagon effect': exhaust gases are captured beneath the canvas and don't allow the CO to disperse
b. Swimmers/waterskiers should be kept well away from the exhaust vents when engines/generators are running
c. Swimmers should stay away from areas where CO gases can accumulate: beneather or around swim platforms and between pontoons
d. When rafting two vessels together, or docking against a seawall, CO can collect in areas that might otherwise be well ventilated
e. When riding with the bow high, exhaust gases may collect in cabin spaces and enclosed areas
While not an ideal generator installation, at least the generator is in a well ventilated area!
6) Cabin heaters that burn fuel (wood, paper, diesel) should have an independent exhaust flue, allowing exhaust to be vented topside
7) Non-electric stoves, water heaters and other appliances should never be used when unattended or when users aboard are sleeping (when CO poisoning symptoms may not be evident), and should only be used during periods when there is adequate ventilation in the cabin spaces
Beyond all of these preventative measures, is the detection of the poisonous gases. The American Boat and Yacht Council (ABYC) standard for carbon monoxide detection systems (A-24) requires that any boat with a cabin or sleeping area requires a CO detector. CO detectors can be battery powered, or wired into the boat's electrical system (but should include a block on the electrical panel to prevent the detector from being accidentally turned off). CO detectors had received negative reviews in past years due to their tendency to go off during periods of high humidity and other 'nuisance type' alarms. Modern CO detectors, especially those designed for marine use have been improved significantly.
Please read this as you stow your boat:
A final note, as a reminder for those who are involved with winterizing and shrink-wrapping – whether you've hired a contractor or are a do-it-yourselfer: Heat shrink guns produce a very high level of CO as shrink-wrap plastic is being heated. Be careful in areas of poor ventilation, and never heat shrink-wrap from the inside of the wrap.
Stay safe on the water.
Andrew McDonald is the owner of Lakeside Marine Services – a boat repair/maintenance firm based in Toronto. Andrew has worked in the marine industry for 12 years and is a graduate of the Georgian College 'Mechanical Techniques - Marine Engine Mechanic' program.
Questions or comments for Andrew? Email him directly via: This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
Outdoor Enthusiasts to Benefit from the New SPOT Gen3
Tuesday, 13 August 2013 11:36
SPOT adds customized tracking and enhanced power options to award-winning product line SPOT LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Globalstar, Inc. and leader in satellite messaging and emergency...
Study Highlights Carbon Monoxide Hazards On Houseboats
Friday, 04 July 2014 13:41
Boaters and marina workers should exercise caution this summer before taking to the seas. A study published online in the Journal of Occupational and Environmental Hygiene (JOEH) outlines hazards...
Boating Safety Equipment Education and Flare Disposal Days Help Boaters
Every year thousands of boaters go out on the water without the proper safety equipment that is required by law. This equipment can be of great benefit and comfort and can mean the difference...
May 2-4 Long Weekend, Let's Get on the Water…Safely!
Ah, long weekends. There are only four during the summer so each one is cherished by Canadians but this one coming up carries special significance for boaters and cottagers.
Important Child Safety Reminder
We were contacted by Jeff Rhodes, President of BC's Coastal Craft Boats who was moved by a U.S. news story about a 5-year-old being killed when he fell off the bow of the boat he was riding...
Your Help Could Save a Life
North American Safe Boating Awareness Week will take place across Canada from May 18th to May 24th, 2013. The purpose of this initiative is to promote safe and responsible boating practices to the...
Fountain 38LS
Fountain 34SC
Chaparral 247 SSX
Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless
Brabus Marine Shadow 500 Cabin
Formula Boats - Customer Experience
Yamaha Boat Accessories
Yamaha Waverunner Accessories
Royal Canadian Yacht Club announces new Director of Fleet and Sailing and new Director of Sailing
The Royal Canadian Yacht Club announces the appointment of two new directors to the senior team – Colin Clark as Director of Fleet and Thomas Fogh as Director of Sailing.
As part of efforts to continuously improve club programs, services and facilities, the Royal Canadian Yacht Club (RCYC) took a fresh approach to the recruitment of the senior leadership in Sailing. The club is very excited about the collaborative vision Thomas and Colin bring to the Club and Sailing Office. As Director of Sailing, Thomas will focus on programming and racing activities.


text:
/* From https://github.com/JakeWharton/u2020 */
package com.andrewreitz.onthisday.ui;

import android.app.Activity;
import android.view.ViewGroup;

import com.andrewreitz.onthisday.OnThisDayApp;

import static butterknife.ButterKnife.findById;

/** An indirection which allows controlling the root container used for each activity. */
public interface AppContainer {
  /** The root {@link android.view.ViewGroup} into which the activity should place its contents. */
  ViewGroup get(Activity activity, OnThisDayApp app);

  /** An {@link AppContainer} which returns the normal activity content view. */
  AppContainer DEFAULT = new AppContainer() {
    @Override public ViewGroup get(Activity activity, OnThisDayApp app) {
      return findById(activity, android.R.id.content);
    }
  };
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


Definition : Local block needles designed to inject anesthetics into the region posterior to the eyeball (i.e., retrobulbar) to block the nerves of the eyes during surgery (e.g., cataract surgery). These devices typically consist of 25-gauge, thin-wall, small-length needles (typically from 35 to 40 mm [1 1/4 to 1-5/8 inch]); the smaller needles avoid damage to the optical nerve.
Related Terms : "Needles, Ophthalmic Procedure"
Entry Terms : "Retrobulbar Needles" , "Needles, Eye"