text:
(To say nothing of the dog)
by Jerome K Jerome
The original, squashed down to read in about 30 minutes
(London, 1889)
From the hugely prolific JKJ, this was a new type of writing - as homely as speech, and so, to many critics, vulgar and plebeian. The Morning Post derided it as an example of the sad results to be expected from the over-education of the lower orders. Yet it sold over a million copies in its author's lifetime and has never ceased to be among the most popular of all books.
Abridged: GH.
Three Men in a Boat
THERE were four of us - George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and Montmorency the dog. We were all feeling seedy, and getting quite nervous about it. I knew it was my liver that was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent liver-pill circular, in which were detailed the various symptoms by which a man could tell when his liver was out of order. I had them all.
I remember going to the British Museum one day to read up the treatment for some slight ailment of which I had a touch - hay fever, I fancy. I discovered that I had typhoid fever - wondered what else I had got; turned up St. Vitus's Dance - found, as I expected, that I had that too, - began to get interested and so started alphabetically - read up ague, and learnt that I was sickening for it. The only thing I didn't seem to have was housemaid's knee.
I explained to George and William Harris how I felt in the morning, and William Harris told us how he felt; and George gave us a clever and powerful piece of acting, illustrative of how he felt in the night. George FANCIES he is ill; but there's never anything really the matter with him, you know.
"What we want is rest and a complete change," said Harris. George said: "Let's go up the river." He said we should have fresh air, exercise and quiet; the constant change of scene would occupy our minds (including what there was of Harris's); and the hard work would give us a good appetite.
We arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and I would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and George (who goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day, except Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two), would meet us there.
Harris said: "Somebody give me a bit of pencil, and I'll make out a list."
The first list had to be discarded. It was clear that the upper reaches of the Thames would not allow of the navigation of a boat sufficiently large to take the things we had set down as indispensable!
George said: "You know we are on a wrong track altogether. We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can't do without." George comes out really quite sensible at times.
How many people, on that voyage up the river of life, pile the little craft mast-high with fine clothes and big houses; with useless servants, and a host of swell friends that do not care twopence for them, and that they do not care three ha'pence for; with formalities and fashions, with pretence and ostentation, and with - oh, heaviest, maddest lumber of all! - the dread of what will my neighbour think. Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be packed with only what you need - a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing. You will find the boat easier to pull, and if it does upset; good, plain merchandise will stand water.
I beg your pardon, really. I quite forgot.
"We won't take a tent, suggested George; "we will have a boat with a cover. Now for breakfast we shall want a frying-pan" - (Harris said it was indigestible) - "a tea-pot and a kettle, and a methylated spirit stove." Harris said that we should be wanting to start at six in the morning.
Mrs. Poppets woke me up next morning: "Do you know that it's nearly nine o'clock, sir?" I woke Harris, and told him. He said: "I thought you wanted to get up at six?" "So I did," I answered; "why didn't you wake me?" "Get up, you fat-headed chunk!" roared Harris. "It's quarter to ten."
Our boat was waiting for us at Kingston just below bridge, and to it we wended our way, and round it we stored our luggage, and into it we stepped. "Are you all right, sir?" said the man. "Right it is," we answered; and with Harris at the sculls and I at the tiller-lines, and Montmorency, unhappy and deeply suspicious, in the prow, out we shot on to the waters which, for a fortnight, were to be our home.
IT was a glorious morning, late spring or early summer, when the year seems like a fair young maid, trembling with strange, wakening pulses on the brink of womanhood.
The quaint back streets of Kingston, looked quite picturesque in the flashing sunlight, the glinting river with its drifting barges. I mused on "Kyningestun," as it was called in the days when Saxon "kinges" were crowned there.
WE stopped under the willows by Kempton Park, and lunched. A pleasant grass plateau, along by the water's edge, overhung by willows. We had just commenced the third course - bread and jam - when a gentleman in shirt-sleeves and a short pipe came along, and wanted to know if we knew that we were trespassing. We said we hadn't given the matter sufficient consideration, but that, if he assured us on his word as a gentleman that we WERE trespassing, we would, without hesitation, believe it. Harris, who is of a chummy disposition, offered him a bit of bread and jam. I fancy he must have belonged to some society sworn to abstain from bread and jam; for he declined it quite gruffly.
Of course, all he really wanted was a shilling. There are a certain number of riverside roughs who make quite an income, during the summer, by slouching about the banks and blackmailing weak-minded noodles in this way. If these men had their way they would close the river Thames altogether. They draw chains across from bank to bank, and nail huge notice-boards on every tree. The sight of those notice-boards rouses every evil instinct in my nature.
I mentioned these feelings of mine to Harris. He said he not only felt he wanted to kill the man who caused the boards to be put up, but that he should like to slaughter the whole of his family and all his friends and relations, and then burn down his house. This seemed to me to be going too far, and I said so to Harris; but he answered:
"Not a bit of it. Serve 'em all jolly well right, and I'd go and sing comic songs on the ruins."
I was vexed to hear Harris go on in this blood-thirsty strain. You have never heard Harris sing a comic song, or you would understand the service I had rendered to mankind.
At Weybridge, the Wey (a pretty little stream), the Bourne, and the Basingstoke Canal all enter the Thames together. The lock is just opposite the town, and the first thing that we saw, when we came in view of it, was George's blazer on one of the lock gates, closer inspection showing that George was inside it.
George had rather a curious oilskin-covered parcel in his hand. It was round and flat at one end, with a long straight handle sticking out of it.
"What's that?" said Harris - "a frying-pan?" "No," said George, with a strange, wild look in his eyes; "they are all the rage this season. It's a banjo." "I never knew you played the banjo!" cried Harris and I. "Not exactly," replied George: "but I've got the instruction book!"
George towed us steadily on to Penton Hook. There we discussed the important question of camping, and we settled to push straight on for Runnymead, a quiet wooded part of the river, and where there is good shelter.
That canvas wanted more putting up than any of us had bargained for. It looked so simple in the abstract. You took five iron arches, like gigantic croquet hoops, and fitted them up over the boat, and then stretched the canvas over them: it would take quite ten minutes, we thought. That was an under-estimate.
They were not hoops, they were demons. First they would not fit into their sockets at all, and we had to jump on them, and kick them; and, when we were endeavouring to persuade one side of the hoop to do its duty, the other side would come behind us in a cowardly manner, and hit us over the head.
We got them fixed at last, and then we cleared the decks, and got out supper. We wanted that supper.
For five-and-thirty minutes not a sound was heard throughout the length and breadth of that boat, save the clank of cutlery and crockery, and the steady grinding of four sets of molars. Then a chorus of "Ah's!". We lit our pipes, and sat, looking out on the quiet night, and talked.
It was a glorious night. The moon had sunk, and left the quiet earth alone with the stars. They awe us, these strange stars, so cold, so clear. We are as children whose small feet have strayed into some dim-lit temple of the god they have been taught to worship but know not; and, standing where the echoing dome spans the long vista of the shadowy light, glance up, half hoping, half afraid to see some awful vision hovering there.
I WOKE at six the next morning; and found George awake too. The idea, overnight, had been that we should get up early in the morning, fling off our rugs and shawls, and spring into the river with a joyous shout. Somehow, now, the notion seemed less tempting.
"Well, who's going to be first in?" said Harris at last.
I thought I would dress; and I turned to do so; and, as I turned, a silly branch attacked me, and I was out mid-stream with a gallon of Thames water inside me before I knew what had happened.
"Is it all right?" sung out George. "Lovely," I spluttered back.
But I could not persuade them. I was very cold when I got back into the boat, and, in my hurry to get my shirt on, I accidentally jerked it into the water. It made me awfully wild, especially as George burst out laughing. I could not see anything to laugh at, and I told George so, and he only laughed the more. I never saw a man laugh so much. I quite lost my temper with him at last, and I pointed out to him what a drivelling maniac of an imbecile idiot he was; but he only roared the louder.
"Ar'n't you - you - going to get it out?" said George, between his shrieks. Which was when I realised, and told George:
"It isn't my shirt - it's YOURS!"
I never saw a man's face change so suddenly in all my life. "You silly cuckoo! Why can't you be more careful what you're doing? I tried to make him see the fun of the thing, but he could not. George is very dense at seeing a joke sometimes.
Harris proposed that we should have scrambled eggs for breakfast. He said he would cook them. It seemed, from his account, that he was quite famous for them. People who had once tasted his scrambled eggs never cared for any other food afterwards, but pined away and died when they could not get them.
The result was not altogether the success that Harris had anticipated. Six eggs had gone into the frying-pan, and all that came out was a teaspoonful of burnt and unappetizing looking mess. Harris said it was the fault of the frying-pan.
By Magna Charta Island, George asked if I remembered our first trip up the river, and when we landed at Datchet at ten o'clock at night, and wanted to go to bed. I answered that I did remember it. It will be some time before I forget it.
It was the Saturday before the August Bank Holiday. We passed a very pretty little hotel, with clematis over the porch; but there was no honeysuckle about it, and, for some reason or other, I had got my mind fixed on honeysuckle, and I said: "Oh, let's go on a bit further!."
So we came to another hotel. It had honey-suckle round at the side; but Harris did not like the look of a man who was leaning against the front door. He said he wore ugly boots: so we went on further.
We arrived at the Stag. "Oh, good evening," said George; "we want three beds, please."
"Very sorry, sir," said the landlord; "Three gentlemen sleeping on the billiard-table already, and two in the coffee-room. Can't possibly take you in to-night."
We picked up our things, and went over to the Manor House. The landlady met us with the greeting that we were the fourteenth party she had turned away within the last hour. As for our meek suggestions of stables, billiard-room, or coal-cellars, she laughed them all to scorn: all these nooks had been snatched up long ago.
The beershop was full, and so was the grocer's. In the end we asked a heavenly messenger (rather well disguised as a small boy) if he knew of any lonely house whose feeble occupants (old ladies or paralysed gentlemen preferred), could be easily frightened into giving up their beds, or, if not, could he recommend us to an empty pigstye.
He found us a place in his good mother's little four-roomed cottage and a 2ft. 6in. truckle bed, and George and I slept in that, and kept in by tying ourselves together with a sheet. We were not so uppish about what sort of hotel we would have, next time we went to Datchet.
To return to our present trip: nothing exciting happened, and we tugged steadily on to a little below Monkey Island, where we drew up and lunched on cold beef. I don't care for mustard as a rule, and it is very seldom that I take it at all, but It cast a gloom over the boat, there being no mustard. We ate our beef in silence. Existence seemed hollow and uninteresting. We thought of the happy days of childhood, and sighed. We brightened up a bit, however, when George drew out a tin of pine-apple from the bottom of the hamper. We are very fond of pine-apple, all three of us. We looked at the picture on the tin; we thought of the juice. We smiled at one another, and Harris got a spoon ready.
Then we looked for the knife to open the tin with. We turned out the bags. We took everything out on to the bank and shook it. There was no tin-opener to be found.
Harris tried to open the tin with a pocket-knife, and broke the knife and cut himself badly; and George tried a pair of scissors, and the scissors nearly put his eye out.
Then we all got mad. We took that tin out on the bank. George held the tin and I took the mast and poised it high up in the air, and gathered up all my strength and brought it down. It made one great dent across the top that had the appearance of a mocking grin, and it drove us furious, so that Harris rushed at the thing, and flung it far into the middle of the river, and as it sank we hurled our curses at it, and we got into the boat and rowed away from the spot, and never paused till we reached Maidenhead.
And at Marlow we left the boat by the bridge, and went and put up for the night at the "Crown."
MARLOW is one of the pleasantest river centres I know of. From Marlow up to Sonning is even fairer yet. Grand old Bisham Abbey is rich in melodramatic properties. It contains a tapestry bed-chamber, and a secret room hid high up in the thick walls.
It was while floating in his boat under the Bisham beeches that Shelley, who was then living at Marlow (you can see his house now, in West street), composed THE REVOLT OF ISLAM.
From Medmenham to sweet Hambledon Lock the river is full of peaceful beauty, but, after it passes Greenlands, the rather uninteresting looking river residence of my newsagent, until well the other side of Henley, it is somewhat bare and dull.
We got up tolerably early on the Monday morning at Marlow, and went for a bathe before breakfast. Montmorency made an awful ass of himself with a cat, and we had a good deal of trouble with steam launches.
There is a blatant bumptiousness about a steam launch that has the knack of rousing every evil instinct in my nature, and I yearn for the good old days, when you could go about and tell people what you thought of them with a hatchet and a bow and arrows. Yet, if I may do so, without appearing boastful, I think I can honestly say that our one small boat, during that week, caused more annoyance and delay and aggravation to the steam launches that we came across than all the other craft on the river put together.
"Steam launch, coming!" one of us would cry out, on sighting the enemy in the distance; and, in an instant, I would take the lines, Harris and George would sit down beside me, all of us with our backs to the launch, and the boat would drift out quietly into mid-stream.
"Why, George, bless me, if here isn't a steam launch!"
And George would answer: "Well, do you know, I THOUGHT I heard something!"
WE woke late the next morning, and, at Harris's earnest desire, partook of a plain breakfast, with "non dainties." We agreed that we would pull this morning, as a change from towing; and Harris thought the best arrangement would be that George and I should scull, and he steer. I did not chime in with this idea at all; I said I thought Harris would have been showing a more proper spirit if he had suggested that he and George should work, and let me rest a bit.
It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I like to watch an old boatman rowing, especially one who has been hired by the hour. There is something so beautifully calm and restful about his method. It is so free from that fretful haste, that vehement striving, that is every day becoming more and more the bane of nineteenth-century life.
We came in sight of Reading about eleven. At the lock we came up with a steam launch, belonging to some friends of mine, and they towed us up to within about a mile of Streatley. It is very delightful being towed up by a launch. I prefer it myself to rowing. The run would have been more delightful still, if it had not been for a lot of wretched small boats that were continually getting in the way of our launch, and, to avoid running down which, we had to be continually easing and stopping. It is really most annoying, the manner in which these rowing boats get in the way of one's launch up the river; something ought to done to stop it.
My friends' launch cast us loose just below the grotto, and then Harris wanted to make out that it was my turn to pull. I could not get either George or Harris to see the matter in its proper light, so, to save argument, I took the sculls. I had not been pulling for more than a minute or so, when George noticed something black floating on the water, and we drew up to it. George leant over, as we neared it, and laid hold of it. And then he drew back with a cry, and a blanched face.
It was the dead body of a woman. It was not a beautiful face; it was too prematurely aged-looking, too thin and drawn, to be that; but it was a gentle, lovable face, in spite of its stamp of pinch and poverty, and upon it was that look of restful peace that comes to the faces of the sick sometimes when at last the pain has left them.
Fortunately for us - we having no desire to be kept hanging about coroners' courts - some men on the bank had seen the body too, and now took charge of it from us.
Of course it was the old, old vulgar tragedy. She had loved and been deceived - or had deceived herself. Anyhow, she had sinned - some of us do now and then - and her family and friends, had closed their doors against her. For a while she had kept both herself and the child on the six shillings a week. But six shillings a week does not keep body and soul together very unitedly.
She had wandered about the woods by the river's brink all day, and then, when evening fell and the grey twilight spread its dusky robe upon the waters, she stretched her arms out to the silent river that had known her sorrow and her joy. And the old river had taken her into its gentle arms, and had laid her weary head upon its bosom, and had hushed away the pain.
God help her! and all other sinners, if any more there be.
WE stayed two days at Streatley, and got our clothes washed. We had tried washing them ourselves, in the river, under George's superintendence, and it had been a failure. The washerwoman said she felt she owed it to herself to charge us just three times the usual prices for that wash. She said it had not been been more in the nature of excavating.
The neighbourhood of Streatley and Goring is a great fishing centre. The river abounds in pike, roach, dace, gudgeon, and eels, just here; and you can sit and fish for them all day.
Some people are under the impression that all that is required to make a good fisherman is the ability to tell lies easily and without blushing; but this is a mistake. Mere bald fabrication is useless. It is in the circumstantial detail, the embellishing touches of probability, the general air of scrupulous veracity, that the experienced angler is seen.
George and I called in at a little river-side inn, for a rest, and other things. We went into the parlour and sat down. There was an old fellow there, smoking a long clay pipe, and we naturally began chatting.
Then, during a pause ensued in the conversation, our eyes rested upon a dusty old glass-case, fixed very high up above the chimney-piece, and containing a monstrous trout. George asked the old man how much he thought it weighed.
"Eighteen pounds six ounces," said our friend. "Yes, it wur sixteen year ago, that I landed him, just below the bridge with a minnow."
And out he went, and left us alone.
We were still looking at it, when the local carrier, who had just stopped at the inn, came to the door of the room with a pot of beer in his hand, and he also looked at the fish. "Good-sized trout, that," said George, turning round to him. "Ah!" said the carrier, "It was nearly five years ago that I caught that trout."
Five minutes afterwards, a third man came in, and described how he had caught it early one morning.
He went in his turn, and when he was gone, the landlord came in to us. We told him the various histories we had heard about his trout, and he was immensely amused, and told us the real history of the fish. It seemed that he had caught it himself, when he was quite a lad; not by any art or skill, but by that unaccountable luck that appears to always wait upon a boy when he plays the wag from school, and goes out fishing on a sunny afternoon.
It really was a most astonishing trout. It excited George so much that he climbed up on the back of a chair to get a better view of it. And then the chair slipped, and George clutched wildly at the trout-case to save himself, and down it came with a crash.
That trout lay shattered into a thousand fragments - I say a thousand, but they may have only been nine hundred. We thought it strange and unaccountable that a stuffed trout should break up into little pieces like that. That trout was plaster-of-Paris.
WE left Streatley early the next morning, and pulled up to Culham, and slept under the canvas, in the backwater there.
From Wallingford up to Dorchester the neighbourhood of the river grows more hilly, varied, and picturesque. Dorchester stands half a mile from the river. Dorchester, like Wallingford, was a city in ancient British times. In Saxon days it was the capital of Wessex. Now it sits aside from the stirring world, and nods and dreams.
At Abingdon, the river passes by the streets. Abingdon is a typical country town of the smaller order - quiet, eminently respectable, clean, and desperately dull. In in St. Helen's Church there is a monument to W. Lee, who died in 1637, "had in his lifetime issue from his loins two hundred lacking but three." Mr. W. Lee - five times Mayor - was, no doubt, a benefactor to his generation, but I hope there are not many of his kind about in this overcrowded nineteenth century.
WE spent two very pleasant days at Oxford. There are plenty of dogs in the town of Oxford. Montmorency had eleven fights on the first day, and evidently thought he had got to heaven.
We hoisted the cover before we had lunch, and kept it up all the afternoon, just leaving a little space in the bow, from which one of us could paddle and keep a look-out. In this way we made nine miles, and pulled up for the night a little below Day's Lock.
I cannot honestly say that we had a merry evening. The rain poured down with quiet persistency. Everything in the boat was damp and clammy. Supper was not a success. Harris babbled of soles and white-sauce, and passed the remains of his pie to Montmorency, who declined it, and, apparently insulted by the offer, went and sat over at the other end of the boat by himself.
After that, we mixed ourselves some toddy, and sat round and talked. George told us about a man he had known, who had slept out in a damp boat, and it had given him rheumatic fever, and he had died in great agony ten days afterwards. This naturally led to some pleasant chat about sciatica, fevers, chills, lung diseases, and bronchitis.
There seemed to be a desire for something frolicksome to follow upon this conversation, and in a weak moment I suggested that George should get out his banjo, and see if he could not give us a comic song.
I had always regarded "Two Lovely Black Eyes" as rather a commonplace tune until that evening. The rich vein of sadness that George extracted from it quite surprised me. Harris sobbed like a little child, and the dog howled till I thought his heart or his jaw must surely break.
The rain continued to pour down, and we sat, wrapped up in our mackintoshes, underneath the canvas, and drifted slowly down. On one point we were all agreed, and that was that, come what might, we would go through with this job to the bitter end. We had come out for a fortnight's enjoyment on the river, and a fortnight's enjoyment on the river we meant to have. If it killed us!
Nobody spoke. We looked at one another, and each one seemed to see his own mean and guilty thoughts reflected in the faces of the others.
Twenty minutes later, three figures, followed by a shamed-looking dog, might have been seen creeping stealthily from the boat-house at the "Swan" towards the railway station.
You'll love the book... ISBN 978-1-326-80644-6


Copper sheet and tube on cast copper and granite.
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text:
Bernart Arnaut d'Armanyac (mort el 1226) fou un noble i trobador occità.

Vida
Bernart Arnaut era fill de Bernart d'Armanyac, vescomte de Fézensaguet i germà de Guerau V d'Armanyac.

En el cançoner H es conserva una vida-razó que explica l'intercanvi de coblas entre Na Lombarda i Bernart Arnaut d'Armanyac, coblas que van inserides en el mateix text. La cobla de Bernat Arnaut és l'única poesia que ens ha pervingut d'aquest trobador.

El text, més centrat en la figura femenina de Lombarda, ens dona dades sobre la vida d'ella, i Bernart hi apareix de manera secundària en la razó. El text explica que Bernart Arnaut (Bernartz N'Arnautz, fraire del comte d'Armanhac) anà a Tolosa per veure Lombarda de qui havia sentit parlar i que li feu la cort i fou un amic seu. Però un dia li envià aquesta cobla (que es reprodueix en el text) i se'n va anar a la seva terra. Na Lombarda se sorprengué molt de l'actitud de Bernart i li envià una cobla en resposta (que es reprodueix també).

La cobla de Bernart comença dient Lombards volgr'eu esser per Na Lombarda / q'Alamada no'm plaz tan ni Giscarda ("Voldria ser llombard per Na Lombarda /, ja que Alamanda ni Giscarda no em plauen tant"). Les altres dues dames mencionades poden ser també trobairitz. També Bernart cita en un altre vers de la seva cobla el trobador Jordan de l'Isla de Venessi. Bernart en la seva cobla retreu a Lombarda que no correspongui als seus favors (qe par qe'm don s'amor, mais trop me tarda "que sembla que em doni el seu amor, però triga massa").

Obra
 (54,1) Lombards volgr' eu eser per Na Lonbarda (cobla adreçada a Lombarda).

Referències

Bibliografia
 Pierre Bec, Chants d'amour des femmes-troubadours. París: Stock, 1995, pàg. 158-163
 Alfred Jeanroy, Jongleurs et troubadours gascons, París, 1923, pàg. 16-19
 Alfred Pillet / Henry Carstens, Bibliographie der Troubadours von Dr. Alfred Pillet [...] ergänzt, weitergeführt und herausgegeben von Dr. Henry Carstens. Halle : Niemeyer, 1933 [Bernart Arnaut és el número PC 54]
 Martí de Riquer, Vidas y retratos de trovadores. Textos y miniaturas del siglo XIII, Barcelona, Círculo de Lectores, 1995, pàg. 217-219 [Reproducció de la vida-razó, amb traducció a l'espanyol]

Vegeu també
 Llista de trobadors i trobairitz
 Comtat d'Armanyac

Enllaços externs
 http://troubadours.byu.edu/PC/PC-054/54%20-%20Bernart%20Arnaut%20d'Armagnac.htm

Trobadors occitans
Compositors medievals francesos
Escriptors francesos en occità
Poetes francesos
Escriptors occitans

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


It's not the first award for Kansas City Chiefs' first-year starting quarterback Patrick Mahomes, and it's certainly not the last after a debut season that's rivaling some the best we've ever seen for any quarterback in NFL history.
Mahomes, who has already set numerous franchise and NFL records through 14 games and who currently leads the NFL in passing yards (4,543) and touchdowns (45), was recently selected as the "Top Quarterback of 2018" by a panel of 10 Associated Press football writers from around the country.
"When Mahomes got off to a ridiculously good start, many wondered if he could keep up that pace. The answer has been a resounding yes, and the Chiefs gunslinger has shown no sign of slowing," said New York-based Dennis Waszak Jr, via the release.
With two regular-season games remaining, Mahomes also has a chance to do something that's only ever been done one other time in history—a player surpassing 5,000 yards passing and at least 50 touchdown passes in the same season.
Peyton Manning's 2013 campaign, which is often argued as the best season for any quarterback in NFL history, was the only other time that's ever happened, and Mahomes could do it in his first season as a starter and before he even turns 24 years old. He only needs 457 yards passing and five more touchdowns to accomplish that feat.
Mahomes received six first-place votes, with the other four going to the New Orleans' Saints Drew Brees, who finished second in the voting. The Los Angeles Chargers' Philip Rivers finished third.
"When you look at the season he's having and compare it to some of the great ones we've ever seen over the years, I mean, he's right there," Reid added. "It's special what he's done and what makes it even better is that he's really not about these things.
Mahomes and the Chiefs are preparing to travel to the Pacific Northwest for a marquee showdown with the Seattle Seahawks on Sunday Night Football. Both teams are in the middle for the playoff races for their respective conferences and the outcome of Sunday's game will have plenty of implications for both teams moving forward.
It's also a chance for Mahomes to further solidify his standing as the odds-on-favorite to win the NFL's MVP Award this year. The award has gone to a quarterback for each of the past five years (Peyton Manning-2013, Aaron Rodgers-2014, Cam Newton-2015, Matt Ryan-2016 and Tom Brady-2017).
For context, those five quarterbacks combined to have a completion percentage of 66.1 percent in their respective MVP seasons, plus an average of 4,643 yards passing with 39 touchdowns and eight interceptions.
Mahomes already has a better completion percentage (67.1) and sits just 100 yards passing shy of the yardage total (4,543) with two games remaining, plus he has already thrown six more touchdowns (45) than those guys averaged in their MVP seasons.
Simply put: the awards should keep coming.
"A lot of work went into that, so anything he gets is great because he's earned it," Reid concluded.


text:
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import SvgFile from './svg-file.js';

export default class Svgo extends WorkerMessenger {
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    this._currentJob = Promise.resolve();
  }

  async wrapOriginal(svgText) {
    const { width, height } = await this.requestResponse({
      action: 'wrapOriginal',
      data: svgText,
    });

    return new SvgFile(svgText, width, height);
  }

  process(svgText, settings) {
    this.abort();

    this._currentJob = this._currentJob
      .catch(() => {})
      .then(async () => {
        const { data, dimensions } = await this.requestResponse({
          action: 'process',
          settings,
          data: svgText,
        });

        // return final result
        return new SvgFile(data, dimensions.width, dimensions.height);
      });

    return this._currentJob;
  }
}

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaGithub


A little help so you don't flounder in the kitchen (sorry, we had to).
With a mild sweet flavor and delicate flaky texture, Flounder is a versatile, easy-to-prepare filet of fish. This firm-fleshed white fish can be baked, sautéed, stuffed, and poached. We recommend cooking this lean fish with butter, white wine, or your favorite sauce to maintain moisture and prevent your filet from drying out. Substitute Flounder for tilapia, grouper, or catfish in any tasty seafood recipe you've got your heart set on.
Try baking your flounder filet with this recipe for sizzling flounder. Begin by seasoning your flounder filet with just salt and pepper before baking in a shallow dish filled with a thin layer of butter, skin side up. After 10 minutes in the oven at 450 degrees, flip the filet, baste with pan juices, and coat with a mixture of parmesan cheese and paprika. Cook for 5 minutes more and then finish by broiling the flounder for a couple minutes until the parmesan crust has reached bubble golden perfection. The savory and salty parmesan crust on this mildly sweet bite of baked flounder will be wildly impressive for a dish that takes only 20 minutes to prepare.
For an even quicker cook time, you can sauté your flounder filet with just oil, salt, and pepper. Pat the filet dry with a paper towel and toss into a skillet with a few tablespoons of oil, heated until the oil is nearly smoking. Cook the filet skin side up for approximately 4 minutes. You'll know it's time to flip your flounder when the white meat has a golden crust. Flip and cook for an additional 3 minutes. Serve hot!
Lemon juice, white wine, vinaigrette, and more can be added to the baking dish or skillet for enhanced flavor! Use flounder to show off your seafood skills and create quick and tasty suppers.


London: Britain's general election has ended with no party winning an outright majority, bringing the second so-called hung Parliament in the last three elections.
Here are a few questions over what it means and its implications for the country.
Answer: It's an unusual situation in which no political party wins more than half of the 650 seats in the House of Commons. Without such a majority, the government cannot be assured of passing legislation and often has to rely on the support of other parties. Prime Minister Theresa May called for this general election in April – three years early – because she thought her Conservative Party would win handily. It may not have.
The Conservatives previously had a majority of 331 seats in the House of Commons. They needed to win at least 326 seats. They are projected to have won 314 seats.
A: Prime Minister Theresa May, as the leader of the largest single party in the House of Commons, will have the first chance to put together a government and present a formal programme, known as the Queen's Speech. She could do this either by forming a formal coalition with one or more other parties, which would give those parties seats in her Cabinet. Or she could seek to govern through a so-called "confidence and supply" arrangement with other parties, in which they agree to support the minority government on vital matters, such as the Queen's Speech or the budget, in return for concessions.
Q: WHO WOULD BE THE PRIME MINISTER?
A: May would still be the prime minister tomorrow. But her position would become very precarious.
If she could retain the support of her own party, she would have the right to remain in office until the first meeting of the new Parliament, according to the Cabinet Manual, which lays out the rules and norms of the British government. The new Parliament is expected to meet early next week.
A: If she proved to have no overall majority, between now and then, May would try to shore up support from lawmakers, which would mean wooing other parties in the hope of creating a power-sharing alliance that would command at least 326 seats.
That could mean a coalition government, in which other parties get some seats in the Cabinet, or more likely it could mean a "confidence and supply" arrangement, in which smaller parties agree to support May in exchange for her support on specific policy goals they hold dear. Those parties would not get Cabinet seats, though.
May may find allies in two parties in Northern Ireland, the Democratic Unionist Party, which supported Britain's exit from the European Union, or Brexit, and the Ulster Unionist Party, which now accepts it.
But she could face hostility from larger parties like the Liberal Democrats and the Scottish National Party, which are left-leaning and anti-Brexit. If it becomes clear that a majority of Parliament members are unlikely to support May, the Cabinet Manual states that she is expected to resign.
A: The most likely partner for the Conservatives is the Democratic Unionist Party of Northern Ireland. Current projections give the DUP 10 seats in the House of Commons and the Conservatives 319, enough to form a working majority. While the parties are closely aligned they differ on issues such as pensions and the details of Britain's exit from the European Union. The Conservatives could be forced to compromise to win DUP backing.
Q: WHAT HAPPENS IF THE PRIME MINISTER CAN'T FORM A GOVERNMENT?
In 2010, the Conservatives formed a coalition government with the Liberal Democrats, the first formal coalition since Winston Churchill's government during World War II. In 1974, a minority Labour government was in charge for eight months because the Conservatives were willing to abstain on key votes. In the other four instances minority governments were able to survive as a result of agreements with other parties.


text:
Directed by: John Cassavetes
John Marley, as
Richard Forst
Gena Rowlands, as
Jeannie Rapp
Lynn Carlin, as
Maria Forst
Fred Draper, as
Freddie Draper
Seymour Cassel, as
Val Avery, as
Jim McCarthy
Dorothy Gulliver, as
Joanne Moore Jordan, as
Louise Draper
Darlene Conley, as
Billy Mae
Gene Darfler, as
Elizabeth Deering as
Reviewed on: January 6th, 2014
Gena Rowlands in Faces.
Faces is a groundbreaking 1960s drama by writer/director John Cassavetes. Shot in B&W using high contrast 16mm film stock and done in cinéma vérité-style (although it was completely scripted) it depicts the events of one night as a middle-aged couple's marriage falls apart. This is an early example of the hand held camera technique and one of the most satisfying. This isn't a happy movie but it is a riveting one. It features adult language and situations unlike many films had done before. It is quite possibly the first feature film to openly discuss cunnilingus.
The movie is a series of scenes in which the characters sit around, drink copious amounts of alcohol, argue, converse, and dance. It was mostly shot in John Cassavetes' real house where he lived with his wife, actress Gena Rowlands. Rowlands was three months pregnant at the time the film was made. She plays Jeannie Rapp. She's a real beauty but she is also a lonely prostitute. We aren't given any background information on any of the characters, we discover them as the film unfolds. True to the title there are many closeups of the actors faces.
This film, like many of Cassavetes, was shot in sequence in order to allow his actors to develop their characters. Faces doesn't seem like a scripted film at all. It seems as if we are eavesdropping on real people and real situations. It takes a while to adjust to the style of the film but for the patient viewer the payoff is well worth the time.
The talented cast brings these characters so vividly to life. In addition to Rowlands, John Marley, Lynn Carlin, and Seymour Cassel all give astounding performances. The latter two were nominated for Academy Awards in the Supporting Acting categories (the film was also nominated for Best Original Screenplay). Lynn Carlin (who was also pregnant at the time) is a revelation, especially during the film's disturbing second half.
My favorite performance, however, belongs to Dorothy Gulliver. She began her career in the silent era and kept acting until 1976. She has one scene but makes the most of it. She's an aging boozed up housewife who just wants to be loved and desired. The scene where she dances with Seymour Cassel inspires both pathos and hilarity.
Faces was independently financed, which no doubt explains how they got away with some of the graphic subject matter. It is one of the most influential of all independent films. Its influence can be seen in the work of such diverse filmmakers as Robert Altman and Woody Allen. Faces takes a no holds barred look at the cocktail generation with all its plasticity and disillusionment. It isn't an easy film to sit through -it's a bit like watching a train wreck in slow motion- but it is a completely original work of art that stands the test of time.
Photos © Copyright Continental Distributing (1968)

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


text:
Q: CORS with basic HTTP Authentication I'm having some problems using basic HTTP Authentication with CORS: We have a node express web server (UI), calling a HTTP API from a Java Dropwizard (Jersey) server, running on the same host.
The API is protected with HTTP basic authentication, and I''ve implemented the following filter on my Jersey server (taken from this post: How to handle CORS using JAX-RS with Jersey):
@Provider
public class CORSFilter implements ContainerResponseFilter {

    @Override
    public void filter(ContainerRequestContext request,
                                         ContainerResponseContext response) throws IOException {
        response.getHeaders().add("Access-Control-Allow-Origin", "http://localhost:9000");
        response.getHeaders().add("Access-Control-Allow-Headers",
                "Cache-Control, Pragma, Origin, Authorization, Content-Type, X-Requested-With");
        response.getHeaders().add("Access-Control-Allow-Credentials", "true");
        response.getHeaders().add("Access-Control-Allow-Methods", "GET, POST, PUT, DELETE, OPTIONS, HEAD");
    }
}

However, when I try to load the web UI, my console gives me the following output:
Cross-Origin Request Blocked: The Same Origin Policy disallows reading the remote resource at http://localhost:9000/intraday/parameters. (Reason: CORS header 'Access-Control-Allow-Origin' does not match 'http://localhost:9000')

I'm unable to make sense of this error. Clearly the origin is the same (http://localhost:9000), so I don't get why it doesn't match.
I've also made sure that any preflighted OPTIONS requests are answered with HTTP code 200.

A: From the description in the question, it sounds like the Java Dropwizard (Jersey) server is running on http://localhost:9000 and the node express web server (UI) is running at another origin.
Regardless, you must set the value of the Access-Control-Allow-Origin response header in the CORSFilter code on the Jersey server to the origin of the frontend JavaScript code that's making the request (apparently the node server). So if that's, e.g., http://localhost:12345, then:
response.getHeaders().add("Access-Control-Allow-Origin", "http://localhost:12345");

It anyway must be something other than http://localhost:9000, because there's no way your browser would emit that "disallows reading the remote resource at http://localhost:9000/…" error message if the frontend JavaScript code the request is getting sent from is being served from http://localhost:9000—since in that case it wouldn't be a cross-origin request and your browser wouldn't be blocking access to the response.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


text:
Staff of 2 employment agencies deny overcharging FDWs
By Vir B. Lumicao
The staff were charged in Eastern court in Sai Wan Ho
Three Filipina employment agency staff pleaded not guilty today, May 8, at Eastern court, to separate counts of charging two domestic workers more than what is allowed by law.
The amount involved in the two cases was between $500 and almost $2,000, whereas the legal charge should have been $452, or 10% of the then prevailing minimum wage of $4,520.
In the first case, defendant Glenda Beranda, an associate at Bandung Enterprises, pleaded not guilty to a charge of "excessive commission" before Magistrate Poon Siu-bunn.
Pindutin pra sa detalye!
The prosecution said that between Jan 15 and Feb 15 last year, Beranda received from job applicant Rosita Javier the sum of $1,998 as placement fee.
Under Hong Kong laws, an employment agency can only charge 10% of a domestic worker's first monthly salary as commission. This means the fee is payable only after the worker has received her first salary.
PRESS FOR MORE INFO
The worker complained to the Labour Department, which investigated and charged Beranda. The prosecutor said he would present two witnesses.
The prosecutor asked for a six-week break, but the defense lawyer said the earliest date that he would be available is Aug 10. Magistrate Poon said the case had been delayed too long, and set the trial for May 25.
Two similar charges of "excessive commission" against defendants Juliet Balicao and Melanie Fisher, associates of Millennium Employment Services, were consolidated by the prosecutor as they involved only one job applicant, Maribel Madeja.
But in this case, the amount allegedly collected by the two was only for a total of $500, a difference of just $48 compared with the $452 that they should have charged. Madeja was placed by the two between January and February last year,
Tunghayan ang isa na namang kwentong Dream Love.
Both defendants pleaded not guilty.
The prosecutor said he would call two witnesses including the domestic helper. The defendants said they would not present any witness.
Magistrate Poon scheduled the trial for Jun 12.


text:
Q: Error getRoutePointsForRoute After i drawn the route, i want to get the points of the route using the function getRoutePointsforRoute in the class SKRouteManager of SKOBBLER. The function returns a list of SKCoordinates but they are all zeros.
public void onAllRoutesCompleted() {
    List<SKCoordinate> list_coordinates = SKRouteManager.getInstance().getRoutePointsForRoute(idRoute);
    for(int i=0; i< list_coordinates.size();i++)
    {
     Log.d(LOG_TAG,i+" -> "+ list_coordinates.get(i).toString());
    }

}

A: You have to set requestExtendedRoutePointsInfo when requesting the route– You have to set requestExtendedRoutePointsInfo when requesting the route – this way you will get the coordinates for all the route points. Here's an example:
        SKRouteSettings* route = [[SKRouteSettings alloc]init];
        route.startCoordinate=CLLocationCoordinate2DMake(37.9667, 23.7167);
        route.destinationCoordinate=CLLocationCoordinate2DMake(37.9677, 23.7567);
        route.shouldBeRendered = YES; // If NO, the route will not be rendered.
        route.requestAdvices = YES;
        route.numberOfRoutes = 1;
        route.requestExtendedRoutePointsInfo = YES;
        [[SKRoutingService sharedInstance] calculateRoute:route];


AID15353: Shri Mehta of Bombay consigns 1,000 cases of goods costing Rs.100 each to Shri Sundaram of Madras.
Home / SolvedQuestion / AID15353: Shri Mehta of Bombay consigns 1,000 cases of goods costing Rs.100 each to Shri Sundaram of Madras.
Q: Shri Mehta of Bombay consigns 1,000 cases of goods costing Rs.100 each to Shri Sundaram of Madras.
It is found that 50 cases have been lost in transit and cases are still in transit.
Shri Sundaram is entitled to a commission of 10% on gross sales. Draw up the Consignment Account and Sundaram's Account in the books of Shri Mehta.


Today I have done another new horse painting in addition to my colourful horse painting series. It is again an oil painting and the size is 12″x24″, painted on stretched canvas. I have no title yet for this painting.


Combining cannabis and yoga is a no-brainer to us. That's why we are excited to chat with Stacey Mulvey, founder of Marijuasana, which offers hemp and cannabis-infused yoga classes in Denver, D.C., Boston, Portland, Seattle, Anchorage, and Las Vegas.
I've been teaching yoga for five years, but practicing in some form or another for over 20. The genuine discovery began once I made a serious commitment to a regular practice, after coming to the realization that I was living an unhealthy lifestyle that was causing me undue pain. Once I committed to a practice and knew that I could change my body, I couldn't go back to being unaccountable for my own health and pain levels.
Why is mindfulness so important in today's society?
We can too easily disconnect from each other and live isolated lives, because we are bombarded with an incessant din and endless opportunities to live in a mindless way. Mindfulness is also important because as human beings we all deal with a great deal of emotional trauma. I say that not as a way to say we are all victims. But it's inevitable some level of trauma will eventually occur in each person's life.
If we don't process and integrate our trauma, it gets buried and becomes stagnant. Then starts to affect us unconsciously. Mindfulness is a method to observe and deal with the trauma that we must go through.
What inspired you to incorporate CBD with yoga?
It was a happy accident that caused me to realize CBD worked so well with yoga. I had known about the effects of cannabis with mindful movement since my first explorations with weed, when I would get high and then feel like I wanted to get on the floor stretch my body.
I had been doing this for several years, and it eventually led to me to start a teacher training program for Pilates. Fast forward a few years, when I bought some CBD oil after getting my med card in Colorado. I decided to get really high one night and take some oil.
I was doing Pilates and yoga and began having a powerful and transformational experience where I felt like I had completely mastered control of my body and felt every layer of my physical being. It's a bit hard to describe, but it left a big impression on me and inspired me to keep investigating what I had felt.
THC is usually part of the equation for my practice. But depending on my circumstance, I sometimes abstain from the psychoactive effects of THC.
How does CBD elevate the yoga experience?
CBD is short for cannabidiol, and it's a phyto-cannabinoid. CBD happens to be the most prolific cannabinoid found in hemp. When we experience types of biochemical, psychological or physical stress, our body produces endocannabinoids to homeostatically regulate or balance how we interact with our environment. If we mindfully and consciously introduce "stressful" or novel behavior by moving our body in a healthy manner such as yoga, and supplement with phyto-cannabinoids found in hemp and cannabis, we're giving ourselves support to integrate the exercise, increase circulation and create tone in tissues that may have been experiencing restricted blood flow, increasing range of motion in our joints through increased proprioception, and creating new ways of thinking and perceiving our own mind by making novel associations in our brain.
The endocannabinoid system is the system in our body that bridges body and mind. It literally regulates every physiological system of the body: cardiovascular, digestive, nervous, immune, reproductive.
What challenges have you faced in building your company and expanding the business to various cities?
The biggest hurdle is in finding the right location. Typically, when cannabis is legalized recreationally, regulations either significantly restrict social consumption or fail to provide any guidelines on how businesses may do it. I've had issues with neighbors in Washington, DC where I had to defend my business license and home occupation permit in front of the Advisory Neighborhood Commission and City Council.
Luckily the DCRA sided with me in the end, but by then it was clear that other cities offered better opportunities for my vision and I'd moved on. It was still a victory for cannabis business in the District in my opinion.
I should probably say it's because of my keen understanding of the market and staggering wealth of knowledge, but it's been mostly gut feeling and instinct. When I went to Boston, it was out of sheer determination. I didn't know a single person who lived there.
I had just moved to DC and been accepted as a member of the Cannabis Society. I knew they were having a meeting, and just turned up to see what I could make happen. My choice to go to Anchorage came from having dear friends who live there. I've always heard about the incredible power and beauty of Alaska. I felt something calling me to go there, so I listened.
Any city or cities better for a cannabis-related business than others?
I've been lucky to visit a lot of places this last year, and I've been intrigued to see each city's unique cannabis community. While every community has welcomed me with its unique features and personality, the common thread is always a love and appreciation for cannabis.
Seattle has a luxurious and refined feeling at a lot of the dispensaries I've visited. The regs in Washington force companies to be more competitive with retailing, such as eye-catching packaging and thoughtful brand archetypes.
Boston has by far been the most receptive to my cannabis yoga classes. As soon as I visited Boston, there was a feeling of "yes" to Marijuasana's contemplative cannabis experience. I believe it's due to the energy that the East Coast seems to have, where everyone feels compelled to recite their resume as if that proves how valuable they are as people instead of being allowed to relax into themselves. Life is very competitive in that culture, and I think that's why so many people have found that cannabis provides a beautiful way to show love for themselves and to one another.
Have you tried CBD with other activities? Have they all been successful?
I teach several classes with cannabis and CBD. For example, I teach a class where we make malas. Malas are prayer beads used in the Buddhist, Hindu, and secular traditions used to count off mantras or personal intentions while meditating. They are made of 108 beads.
My clients get to pick the stones and thread colors, and before we make them I lead the class through a meditation where we set an intention into the stones. I teach them how to knot the beads together to form a beautiful object they can wear as a necklace or wrap around their wrist as a bracelet. This practice is one that I love to teach because it's one that transformed my life. In fact, the very first mala that I made led to me creating Marijuasana.
I also use cannabis with creative writing and teach a class called Lit on Lit. I enjoy the flow that cannabis cultivates for me as I write. It allows my inner critic to take a back seat, and I am free to write and express my thoughts without a filter. Writing this way has proven to be very therapeutic for me. I teach both classes as limited-time engagements in cities like Boston, DC, Portland and Oakland. Both the mala-making class and Lit on Lit can also be found on my website marijuasana.com.
What is your vision of modern cannabis?
I call it Weed 2.0. Cannabis has everything: agriculture, technology, economics, politics, law, sociology, history, science, and love. I'm sure I'm leaving something out, but you get the idea. Because this plant is elevating so many of us so rapidly, our collective consciousness will shift. That's my hope.
Lately I've found myself drawn to labyrinths and other stone works designed for mindful walking. When I first moved to Las Vegas about five months ago, I found a medicine wheel where stones had been laid out in a giant spiral near a trail in Calico Springs Basin, about 45 minutes west of the city. The canyon has brilliant red rocks, chola cacti, and overall positive vibes.
What is a saying you love?
"Mah nishtanah, ha-laylah ha-zeh, mi-kol ha-leylot" or "why is this night different from all other nights?" My Jewish brother in-law's grandpa says this all the time, but he says it in a cynical, "stop freaking out" type of way.
It tickles me that a saying recited in a solemn way during Passover has a double meaning, and it makes me think about when I'm in the midst of an emotional reaction. Why is this different from all the other times I've been upset about things that worked out in the end? Very profound.
What song/album is on repeat on your Spotify?
My malas. I have different ones that I wear depending on what I feel I need to cultivate for the day. For instance, I grab my red garnet mala when I want to feel grounded. My citrine mala for tapping into my solar plexus third chakra, and my Golden aura quartz when I need to reconnect to why I founded Marijuasana.
What do you like to do on a "lazy" day?


To ensure the quality of this item, insulated packaging with ice packs will be used. Standard Shipping Charges will apply.
Rich and buttery, Lovera's Caciocavera is a cross between smooth mozzarella and the earthy depth of provolone. Enjoy Traditional and Aged Caciocavera melted on your favorite sandwich, pasta dish, homemade pizza, and especially as a table cheese. The milk from all of Lovera's hand-crafted cheeses is from family owned single-source dairies, and is hormone and pesticide free.
In the late 19th century, Italian families began to arrive in the United States by the hundreds of thousands. They brought with them memories and recipes from home, adding to an already rich culinary marketplace. Today, many of these early pioneers have passed their love for Italian cuisine on to a new generation. While times have changed, the recipe remains the same: traditional Italian favorites made the old fashioned way, with locally sourced ingredients hand-picked for flavor.
For over sixty years Lovera's has been hand-crafting Italian specialties for the midwest and beyond. In addition to their award winning, hand-formed cheeses, Lovera's is proud to provide authentic Italian olive oil, baked goods, pasta and many other specialties. We invite you to experience this one-of-a-kind family tradition for yourself.


The county's redesigned tourism website will include more user-generated content, as well as integrate the stories of tourism stakeholders in the Haliburton Highlands.
Tourism director Amanda Virtanen updated members of the county's tourism advisory committee on plans for the www.myhaliburtonhighlands.com website, which is undergoing a reconstruction by local marketing company Positive Media, during a March 14 meeting.
The county will use online software CrowdRiff to amass a collection of user-generated imagery for use on the site.
As Virtanen explained, the software gathers images that have been marked with area hashtags – #MyHaliburtonHighlands, #Minden, #Haliburton, etc. – and makes them available for perusal.
"We can go through and pick what we want," Virtanen said, adding that specific parameters can be set.
For example, locally shot photographs featuring snowmobiles could be chosen, with the software then auto-generating those images.
"You can have galleries, where you pick the best of," Virtanen said.
In just the three days leading up to the meeting, some 61,000 assets relating to the Haliburton Highlands had been shared.
She added there are some professional photographers who regularly tag the area on social media. She said while sharing on visual and social media sites would not require permissions, "print is different." If the county wanted to use images in its print materials, those photographers could be approached and a fee negotiated.
Virtanen said the software has also been useful in identifying potential powerful promoters of the area. One cottager, she noted, has a social media following of nearly 6,000 people, and regularly tweets and posts about the Haliburton Highlands.
"This is someone we can then connect with and say, we'd love you to be an ambassador for our region," she said.
Committee member Sally Moore wondered how stakeholders could ensure their social media content was making it into the mix.
Virtanen said by using the #MyHaliburtonHighlands hashtag, but also said that in most cases, their content would already be included. The software also uses smart location technology, meaning that even without hashtag identifiers, it can tell where images are being generated.
"It will pick up through your Instagram that you are in Highlands East, and it will show up on our feed," Virtanen said.
Committee members seemed pleased by the concept, if not a little taken aback by the power of the technology.
"This is so scary," said Highlands East Deputy Mayor and County Warden Suzanne Partridge.
"We've been looking for the needle in the haystack, now we just got the whole haystack, and we can pick and choose," said Minden Hills Mayor Brent Devolin.
Algonquin Highlands Mayor Carol Moffatt wanted it to be clear to stakeholders that a certain type and quality of imagery, highlighting "the spectacular nature of what makes Haliburton what it is," is what the county was after.
""Somebody could be a stakeholder who only posts pictures of daffodils in their garden, and we don't need that, that's not what we're looking for, so there has to be a respectful understanding that it's not a giant party for everyone, it's actually a very specific marketing mechanism and we need to be very specific," Moffatt said.
The licensing fee for use of the software is approximately $500 per month.
Another feature of the redesigned website will be stories from tourism stakeholders, along with the inclusion of Google listings.
Google listings are online business profiles with ratings, directions, hours, photos, etc., which are created and maintained by business owners themselves. An interactive map on the website will allow users to access businesses' Google listings by clicking on icons.
"In working with Positive Media, they basically put together a recommendation that they feel that the Google listings are the best way to go in terms of a directory of services," Virtanen told committee members.
The site will contain four pages – pages for adventure, arts and culture, food, and accommodations – and each of those pages will feature three stories per month, for a total of 144 opportunities per year for local tourism businesses to promote themselves throughout the year.
Virtanen said there are at least 240 businesses in the county that fall into these categories.
"So a lot of folks would have the opportunity, if they wanted it, to be featured," Virtanen said.
Virtanen is looking for stories, not business descriptions, for the site.
"We want to know those unique stories, like we want to know about the time a group from Germany came, and had a blast and what did they do, and we really want to dig down and find those good stories," she said.
Photographs would accompany those stories.
Moffatt wondered about business owners who may not have the means to produce that kind of content, and if they would be looking to the county to create it.
"I think the tourism department is fine to help them edit some of that content, because we would want it to read a certain way, but we would really want them to supply us with the stories," Virtanen said.
She added that Positive Media has indicated it could help local businesses craft online content for a reasonable fee.
"And then, what would happen, is below those stories, would be the Google listings map with a legend that shows resorts, hotels, restaurants . . . all of the icons haven't been finalized yet," Virtanen said.
The county will offer training on Google listings for business owners.
"There would be training sessions for people who don't have a listing to get their listing up and running, but there would also be sessions for people to improve their Google listing," Virtanen said.
It is expected the new site will launch in or before the summer.


text:
Respawn website launches with teaser art
New online destination for studio founded by Jason West and Vince Zampella goes live with blurry game shot; Harry Potter, Star Wars concept artist on board.
By Eddie Makuch on June 29, 2011 at 1:43PM PDT
X360 PC XONE
$22.47 at Walmart
$59.99 at Gamestop
When Jason West and Vince Zampella--the embattled Infinity Ward cofounders--opened Respawn Entertainment last year, they did so without uttering a word about their new project. Now, the studio's website has launched in full, teasing what the shop is currently creating and who will be creating it.
Here's a first look at Respawn's new game.
One of the most intriguing bits of the just-launched www.Respawn.com is a blurry image of what appears to be a first look at the studio's development debut. The image shows what appears to be a landscape, with what looks like a building in the foreground. Earlier this month, EA Games boss Frank Gibeau hinted that Respawn's game might be a sci-fi shooter.
Also on the website is a detailed directory of Respawn employees. One of the biggest names attached to project is Iain McCaig, who will be working as a concept artist on the studio's first game. McCaig's credits include Hollywood blockbusters Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and the Star Wars prequels.
Most Respawn staffers have previous experience on Call of Duty games, and six have contributed to Sony's God of War series, specifically God of War 2 and God of War 3.
The Respawn Entertainment logo visible on its website is just a placeholder image, according to the studio's community manager. "We're still working on creating something that represents the studio and our game," the staffer wrote.
As for the ongoing litigation between West and Zampella, Activision, and Electronic Arts, that case is headed to court, where up to $400 million is at stake for the involved parties.
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Remember the book Kisses from Katie? It flew off Christian booksellers' shelves a few years ago, when we discovered the story of this young world-changer who dropped everything in Tennessee to move to Uganda in pursuit of Jesus' calling.
The book Daring to Hope: Finding God's Goodness in the Broken and the Beautiful is a continuation of that story of redemption. I am so, so, so thankful to be part of the team that's had early access to this book to share it with others. Katie's book has a beautiful message that I think will touch so many people–especially those who have experienced loss and struggle.
This book covers a lot of ground: Katie shares many stories from her time in Uganda, and she shares what God has been doing through her and her ministry, Amazima.
This book is about hospitality.
And I don't mean fancy dinner parties. In my exploration of what the church is (and isn't) in the last several years, I've read and experienced hospitality so beautifully, and I love to see how well Katie exemplifies this beautiful gift. She welcomes people into her home so, so well: those who need long-term care or support, and those who just need a warm, soft place to be heard.
What I love about this book, though, is that she's honest: "Loving people is hard. It brings us to the very end of ourselves. And as much as we are trained to avoid it, the end of ourselves is such a very sweet place to be" (49). With this beautiful dependence on Jesus, she walks with people through awful, difficult times in their lives, finding healing and hope simply in the presence of community.
This book is about loss.
It's so hard to imagine everything that Katie has seen in her time in Uganda–she details some of the hardships in this book, but I won't spoil them here.
But through it all, she writes with a deep understanding of who God is through her loss: "He wasn't promising me a world without trouble, without heartbreak along the way. He was promising me Himself" (23). She's developed the wisdom to see that in so many situations, He was present in the depths of her pain, and that is enough.
I think this book is important, then, for those who have experienced loss. Katie is so honest about it. There's no doubt it's been hard. But she also has learned who God is through the losses, and it's these beautiful lessons that I've stored away in my heart to recall when (not if) life brings pain.
I resonated so deeply with Katie when she explained that she had arrived in Uganda with a reckless optimism, with no concept of the pain and loss she'd soon endure.
She writes, "Reality would shatter my optimism, but I would realize that it was only a cheap substitute for true hope anyway" (5).
"God kept reminding me that I wasn't the writer of this story, and that when I tried to write all the endings, wrapping them up in a neat little package, I was diminishing who He was and all He could do" (24).
This book is a sweet taste of God's goodness and faithfulness in one corner of the world. It will refresh you and perhaps cause you to shift your perspective. I'm thankful I've read it, and it contains truths I will return to again and again.
On control and not having any.
I never would have labeled myself a "control freak." I'll change plans at the drop of a hat, let someone else plan and handle all the details while I ride along, happy to simply be. I've been known to put my jeans back on to go out with friends after I was already snuggling in bed for the night.
But sometimes, real life gets way out of control. I didn't have control over the presidential election when the candidate I voted for didn't win, and I don't have control of what the president-elect will do. I lost my job as an adjunct professor due to new federal regulations–can't control that. I live in a world that, in many ways, is under the control of others, and their decisions don't always make sense.
The fallback Christian answer–in the election season, in job woes, in relationships, etc.–is that "God is in control." I've said it (and sung it) myself. I've heard so many people remind each other, "God is still God." As if He can become something else.
But do I really believe that? With a dangerous man's finger on the nuclear trigger and car and student loan bills coming in as fast as I can pay them off?
I'm not being rhetorical. I'm seriously asking. I don't think I believe that enough to let Him have control of my life. I resist that with my whole fleshly being.
On the morning after the election, I woke up feeling like I was in a strange alternate universe where everything is wrong. A friend pointed me toward Psalm 23, and I was struck by the verbs in the psalm: he leads me. He guides me. He is with me.
I don't understand the theological implications of the control God has in our lives, and I don't necessarily want to. My finite little mind can only hold so much. But I know Who is leading me. I must try not to forget.
It took twenty years of weekly church attendance and sinking to rock bottom for me to figure out what the point of church is, and what the Bible really means when it talks about the body of Christ. But I know that the Lord is a Redeemer, and He has redeemed my legalistic thinking about His church and showed me how the Gospel operates in my life—here and now.
It all started with the rock bottom. I welcomed New Year's 2014 fighting a small legal battle against an ex-boyfriend—skipping class for meetings and phone calls with police officers, spending my evenings filling out paperwork for a restraining order and sinking into the pain of the end of an abusive relationship. It wasn't how I'd planned for my senior year of college to go. This wasn't really what I'd planned for my life at age 20. I was on an externally successful trajectory as I finished college and was accepted into grad school, but I was hurting and lost and alone; the relationship had caused me to lose most of my friends and fade from the religion I had grown up on.
I hadn't "lost my faith," necessarily. But my life didn't reflect that I knew the Lord in an everyday sense. I did not trust in Him as "my Rock, my Fortress and my Deliverer" (Psalm 18:2) through my pain or in my new season of life. Even though He was always close to my broken heart, like he promised in Isaiah 43:2, and He never left my side, I'd pushed Him away. I wasn't going to church, and hadn't gone consistently or intentionally in several years. And suddenly, I looked up and noticed that I had no community—anywhere. I graduated college and enrolled in grad school, hoping for a fresh start.
That's when I encountered Ecclesia Communities in the fall of 2014.
The first time I walked in the front door of the home where Ecclesia gathers, I came as an uncomfortable guest and left feeling … still rather uncomfortable. After months and years of keeping to myself — even within the pews of a church — I'd met an onslaught of new people in a very personal setting. It was the cozy, welcoming home of a family I'd never met. Believers of all ages filled their kitchen table with food, poured ourselves coffee, and ate breakfast together in their sunroom.
I'd never seen "church" done like this. We shared a meal together, sang together, and opened the Word of God together, but it slowly dawned on my nervous soul that there was no schedule. There wasn't even a bulletin or, at that point, a website. Instead, when the Lord impressed a verse or a praise on someone's heart, that person spoke up for the benefit of the group. It followed the model in 1 Corinthians 14, in which "each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation." It was different.
But I was intrigued, so I went back. The second Sunday morning, I was greeted by name when I walked in the door, and several people asked how my week went, how specific classes were going, how my roommates were doing. They remembered me. And I was welcomed into the family in a way that I had never experienced before.
Ecclesia represents to me the body of Christ in motion. These are the people I turn to when I have a need, and I'm constantly aware of theirs. They've helped me move, and I've helped them move. They've fed me and provided for me, and I've fed and given to them. They've asked me tough questions, challenged me to think, and they've prayed for me, and I strive to do the same for them. The family of Ecclesia has taught me about Jesus—and how He would have acted if He were on the Earth today.
I don't remember making a conscious decision to keep attending Ecclesia, to integrate myself as part of this body, but with the passing weeks and years I am more and more convinced that this is the body of Christ in motion.
Call it what you may: house church, missional community, simple or organic church, or simply following the Old Testament model. But Sunday isn't the point; it's not the religious pinnacle of the week. Wherever I am with other believers is just as powerful for edification and growth as a Sunday morning gathering. But the result of my participation in this body of intentional believers is that I began to view the Church as a part of my life, restoring my relationship to the Church as well as to the Lord.
Transitory. That's how I'd describe the past few years of my life. I've moved between many homes, traveled cross-country, worked new jobs, and met new people. This summer is the first in four years that I haven't moved living situations, but I have changed jobs after I completed my Master's degree last month, and with that comes an onslaught of the new. With each change, the rhythms of my life adjust accordingly, but it seems that I am only just getting settled in before something shifts.
Of course, constant change can bring a sense of insecurity, if my sense of security is found in earthly things. But I'm learning that these changes force me to realign my gaze with the one constant in my life: who God is and who I know him to be.
As a result of this forced realignment, I'm growing with each new season. As I go, I learn, and I collect more wisdom and truth and practical skills, assembling it all into a collage of who I am. I hope to never go through an entire season of my life without leaving as a changed person, more in tune with who God is in each situation. Whenever friends see an old photo of me with long hair, they comment on how much I've changed physically. I hope that my soul is changing just as radically.
I think this process honors God by allowing Him to move and work in my life. The Bible uses the metaphor of a potter and his clay several times; God as the Potter must shape away pieces of my life that don't align with the creation he's transforming me into. If I trust that He is a good Potter–the most excellent–and is crafting something beautiful, then I will allow for even difficult moments of shaping. Oswald Chambers says it well: "Allow the Potter to put you on His wheel and whirl you around as He desires. Then as surely as God is God, and you are you, you will turn out as an exact likeness of the vision." I hope to always submit to this process with humility and grace, knowing that even difficult changes shape me into who God wants me to be in order to best glorify Him.
Ultimately, the changes in seasons reminds us that everything around us is transient; this world is not our home. 1 Peter 2 calls us "sojourners and exiles." The only permanent identity we have is in Christ: we've been called "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession." In the midst of change and decay on this earth, God has promised that our souls can hope in Him who does not change. As we await eternity, may we be transformed into His likeness, leaning into the God who cannot be moved.


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Is Western Democracy Backsliding? Diagnosing the Risks
HKS Faculty Research Working Paper Series
HKS Working Paper No. RWP17-012
Paul F. McGuire Lecturer in Comparative Politics
The predominantly sunny end-of-history optimism about democratic progress, evident in the late-1980s and early-1990s following the fall of the Berlin Wall, has turned rapidly into a more pessimistic zeitgeist. What helps us to understand whether we have reached an inflection point—and whether even long-established European and American democracies are in danger of backsliding? This essay draws on Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan's Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation which theorizes that consolidation occurs when three conditions are met: Culturally, the overwhelming majority of people believe that democracy is the best form of government, so that any further reforms reflect these values and principles. Constitutionally, all the major actors and organs of the state reflect democratic norms and practices. Behaviorally, no significant groups actively seek to overthrow the regime or secede from the state. Evidence throws new light on the contemporary state of each of Linz and Stepan's conditions in Western democracies. Culturally the data suggests that, when compared with their parents and grandparents, Millennials in Anglo-American democracies express weaker support for democratic values, but this is not a consistent pattern across Western democracies and post-industrial societies. It is also a life-cycle rather than a generational effect. Constitutionally, trends from estimates by Freedom House and related indicators provide no evidence that the quality of institutions protecting political rights and civil liberties deteriorated across Western democracies from 1972 to end-2016. Most losses occurred under hybrid regimes. Behaviorally, the most serious contemporary threats to Western liberal democracies arise from twin forces that each, in different ways, seek to undermine the regime: sporadic and random terrorist attacks on domestic soil, which damage feelings of security, and the rise of populist-authoritarian forces, which feed parasitically upon these fears.
Norris, Pippa. "Is Western Democracy Backsliding? Diagnosing the Risks." HKS Faculty Research Working Paper Series RWP17-012, March 2017.


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text:
Sen. Ted Cruz driven from Washington restaurant by anti-Kavanaugh protesters
WASHINGTON – Sen. Ted Cruz was driven from an upscale restaurant Monday night by a crowd of protesters chanting, "We believe survivors."
In a video posted on social media, a woman approaches the Texas Republican and his wife Heidi as they prepare to sit at their table at Fiola, an Italian restaurant in Washington's Penn Quarter neighborhood. She asks Cruz how he plans to vote on Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh, as the chant begins to grow in the background.
"Hi. I'd love to talk with you about Brett Kavanaugh tonight," the woman says. "I'm a constituent. Love to know what your vote is going to be tonight. I know that you're very close friends with Mr. Kavanaugh. And do you believe survivors, sir?"
Two women, Christine Blasey Ford and Deborah Ramirez, have accused Kavanaugh of past sexual misconduct. Kavanaugh has denied the allegations.
"Senator, I have a right to know what your position is on Brett Kavanaugh," the protestor tells Cruz.
"God bless you, ma'am," he responds.
"Bless you as well, really appreciate you," she says.
The woman then says she is a survivor of sexual assault and mentions the women who have accused Kavanaugh of sexual assault.
"I know that you're close friends with him, could you talk to him about that?" she asks.
"Let's go ahead and go," Cruz tells his wife at that point. He rises and begins to put his coat back on.
In a second video, which has been viewed more than 2.3 million times, more than a dozen people are seen shouting at the couple and recording the incident on their phones as the senator and his wife try to exit.
Cruz politely says "excuse me" as he tries to work his way through the chanting crowd and adds, "God bless you," as one protester waves a middle finger in his direction.
"Excuse me, let my wife through," the senator says, turning back toward Heidi Cruz.
A few protesters cheer and yell "bye" after Cruz and his wife exit the establishment. "We booted him out," one voice exclaims.
A restaurant employee is then heard asking the protesters to "leave the premises."
One protester asked Cruz, "Are you going to confirm your best friend, Brett Kavanaugh?"
"Beto is way hotter than you, dude," another shouted in reference to Cruz's Democratic opponent in his re-election fight, Texas Rep. Beto O'Rourke.
O'Rourke tweeted Tuesday that Cruz should not have been treated that way.
"Not right that Senator Cruz and his wife Heidi were surrounded and forced to leave a restaurant last night because of protesters," O'Rourke wrote. "The Cruz family should be treated with respect."
Contributing: Erin Kelly


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Dispatches from a Mid West Cider Revolution – Minneapolis Cider Week
I've just spent a week drinking cider in Minnesota. My life is tough. Target destination was the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St Paul, which have always held a place in my heart after I spent a summer here 2 decades ago working for the food giant Pillsbury.
Nestled as they are on the opposite banks of the Mississippi, the younger Minneapolis has the downtown skyline one expects of a large US city, and the bustle to go with it; whilst St Paul, the state capital, is a little less showy – more akin to a European city with its quaint neighbourhoods and Victorian architecture. They both have different yet complimentary styles and characters.
And whilst Saint Paul is the older of the two, it's all pretty young from the settlers' perspective. Minnesota was actually part of the "Louisiana Purchase" of 1803 when the fledgling United States bought France's controlling interests in North America. The original French settlement was soon overrun, particularly by Germans and Scandinavians – Catholics settling on the East Bank followed shortly by Lutherans on the West. They've grown up pretty happy bedfellows.
And whilst the apple would have arrived with the early settlers it still felt like an unlikely place for a cider week. That was the wrong assumption to make; as I found, the Twin Cities have a vibrant and exciting cider market enjoying a massive surge in interest and popularity.
Local ciders
That's partly due to Minneapolis having had a local brand called Crispin. Well, I say local, but whilst the brand was based here it has always been made in Colefax California. Despite this anomaly, it was around as a Minnesota brand long enough to have at least made the locals aware of the category, if not wildly interested in it. This interest perhaps could have waned after the brand was bought by brewing giant Miller Coors a couple of years ago, but this happily coincided with a revival of smaller producers, who with a combination of locally sourced apples, a keen interest in craft brewing and a desire to take back their cider heritage are firmly putting Minnesota – and American cider in general – back on the map.
Minneapolis Cider Week ( @MPLSCiderWeek) is now in its fourth year and growing nicely. As the "Old World" producer in town I spoke at a number of events as part of the programme, and even had a slot on local radio station 1500ESPN's "The Beer Show" (22 May). A very common theme that kept recurring from the audiences was the fact that my family have been making cider since before America became a country, and that I was therefore some sort of cider guru and a fount of all knowledge. Whilst I obviously did as little as possible to dispel this absurd notion, I did consistently point out that America has a proud history of cider production and consumption dating back to the Pilgrim Fathers. The first record of cider in the US was on the "Bill of Fare" for the Plimoth Plantation 1627 Harvest Dinner with the Pilgrims, 100 years before Aspall was founded.
US cider making heritage
And there are other indicators that the US has a proud tradition of cider making all of its own. The second President John Adams, drank a glass of cider with his breakfast every day. In the 1800's it was the staple alcoholic drink of most Americans.
One of the main reasons for the spread of cider through the West was down to Johnny Appleseed aka John Chapman. Chapman had a knack of understanding where the next settlements were likely to spring up. Throughout the early 1800's he planted orchards across Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana and West Virginia. Wherever there were apples, so too could there be alcohol, and by the end of the 19th century, most settlements and towns had cider making operations.
When Prohibition came into force in 1929 nearly all of the cider houses closed down. With no use for the apples many of the orchards were grubbed up. By the time Prohibition was repealed in 1933 the raw material was no longer available and cider was consigned to the annals of US history and largely forgotten.
Chapman for his part became a folk hero, re-branded by the history writers as a champion environmentalist (which was likely true), who took healthy Vitamin C to the good frontiers people who made America. All very wholesome stuff.
Part of the resurgence of the US Cider Market in recent years is thanks to the uncovering of this forgotten history, and whilst many of the original orchards have disappeared, they have left enough of their offspring to give a glimpse as to what style of cider Great, Great, Great Grandpa and Grandma may have been drinking.
The next craft beer?
The bigger producers such as Angry Orchard, Woodchuck, Hornsby's have gone for the mainstream 'make it sweet' approach. There is now even a "Johnny Appleseed" brand produced by Anheuser Busch, the brewer of Budweiser and I had the grave misfortune of tasting it whilst on this trip. John Chapman must be spinning in his grave.
Happily, the emerging artisan producer has a greater respect for history as well as taste, and so is looking for dryness and complexity; the ciders I find most intriguing are those that manage to do this with local heirloom varieties and skilful cider making techniques. It's understandable to see many producers looking back to England, France and Spain for inspiration for the new wave of American ciders; if it were me though, I'd be asking the question "why have an English, or French style when you can have your own?"
Whichever style is being opted for, there are some fabulous American Ciders coming through and if the trail blazing US craft beer sector is anything to go by, get ready for a similar trajectory for US Cider. I for one, am enjoying the ride.