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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31619 | One of my spiders in the jar
…demanded, in high dudgeon, to know why I consider homosex “unnatural”. Another was greatly upset that I use a term like “homosex” to describe the unnatural act performed by active homosexuals (apparently being unaware that other, more descriptive language is even less pleasant). Still others insist, of course, that if you offer anything less than enthusiastic approval for, well, acts that no normal person wants to describe or visualize, then the problem is with you, not with the act.
To all of these people, I offer this (not for the weak of stomach). As with perpetual makers of fine distinctions in the matter of torture, homosex advocates who remain eternally puzzled about what O what “unnatural” means are, I submit, sophists full of crap. Indeed, as Dan Savage’s cruel and self-hating coinage of the term “santorum” makes clear they are often literally full of crap.
There’s a reason St. Paul said of wilful advocates of sin that “their glory is their shame”.
• ds
If you don’t support gay marriage, Obama will allow gay dudes to come to your house and pee on you.
• Mark Shea
If I had said anything about gay “marriage” you’d have made a devastating point instead of a stupid irrelevancy.
• ds
Devastating point: “santorum” was a funny takedown of a pompous baffoon.
Stupid irrelevancy: Mark Shea ok with gay men coming to his house to pee on him.
• Mark Shea
No. Naming what you do after his worst enemy was a curiously telling admission by Savage that what homosexual men do is disgusting. It’s not the first self-hating thing Savage has done, like calling kids he bullies “pansy-assed”.
Your attempt to laugh off these behaviors is not working. Sorry to break it to you.
• ds
It was a way to humiliate a man who said disgusting things about gays. And it wasn’t a telling admission that something gays do is disgusting, point was that Santorum would find santorum disgusting.
• Mark Shea
Riiiiiight. It was also, by the way, a way to humiliate all his children and everybody else who happens to have that name. But nooooooo, it’s not an unwitting confession that homosex results in anything disgusting or anything.
Yeah. sure.
• ds
And nothing ever, ever the least bit objectionable comes out of married heterosexual’s bodies when they have intercourse. Riiiiiight.
• Mark Shea
And so we come to the place where the “all sexual expression is beautiful” rhetoric gives way to the scorched earth “all sex is disgusting” fallback position. No. Coital Sex within heterosexual marriage is deeply beautiful and not disgusting at all. Anal sex (whether masturbatory between man and wife or between man and man) is disgusting.
It would really just be easier if you acknowledged that Savage’s rhetoric is amazingly hypocritical.
• ds
Savage is often wrong. So are you. Savage is also right a lot of the time, and has done a lot to try to help people. Same with you. You just don’t like gays unless they view their own sexuality as something they have to keep tucked away, not celebrated and enjoyed. Beyond that you two are way more alike than you think, including the black humor and snarky comments.
Savage is largely invulnerable to criticism because if you take exception you’re just a homophobe. You are largely invulnerable to criticism because everything that isn’t completely in line with the catholic church (oh and you, coincidentally!) is just STOOPID. Neither of you has ever directly said that, but you both sure write that way.
Go read Savage’s book about adopting his son (I think it’s called “The Kid”). It’s a quick read, it’s funny, it’s touching. It helped me come to terms with adoption after infertility (within my completely catholic non-contracepting-sex marriage). Seriously, read it. I know it won’t change any of your views on sexual morality, but it will help you see that Savage has a good heart and is maybe more like you than you’d like to believe.
Your continuous portrayal of one bad speech as Savage’s entire character is dishonest and uncharitable.
And the Santorum thing was some funny shit man. Think all you want that it’s some admission that gays can be disgusting, but it would really just be easier if you acknowledged that it was a clever takedown of a blowhard.
• Ted Seeber
Everything gays say in their own defense, just makes me more disgusted with the entire subculture.
• Meredith
“And the Santorum thing was some funny shit man.”
Shit, yeah, funny, no. Saying, “Santorum means poo!” is not exactly cutting satire, even if you get the rest of your internet tribe on board with it.
• Ted Seeber
Gays say disgusting things about themselves all the time.
• http://www.chesterton.org Sean P. Dailey
Yeah, gay pride parades and other events, like the aptly named Black Party (Thanks. Rod Dreher, for doin’ the recon on that, so the rest of us don’t have to): and folks still have the temerity to insist that gay “marriage” poses no threat to actual marriage.
• ds
YOU want to be gay married….to CHESTERTON! HAW HAW!!
• Kelley
I wouldn’t say I was “greatly upset” by your use of the term because I’m pretty used to you using it, rather I was saying it’s a derogatory slang term and distracts from your message. I’m extremely aware of descriptive language you could use that is “worse”, but does that make your use of this word appropriate? This has nothing to do with the belief of it being natural or not.
So in response you post a link to an article about gay pride? How is that relevant to the discussion since I wasn’t even debating the act or the teaching? It seems to me that it was just an attempt to demonize and shame gay people even more. Maybe that helps to justify using derogatory terms… I don’t know.
A little while ago you asked Catholics that are queer/gay/whatever term you prefer, to share their experience with you. I appreciated you doing that because it was creating an opportunity for a productive dialogue. This was not to debate the teaching, rather to share what their experience is like. My intent in commenting on your use of the term “homosex” is that since it is viewed as derogatory it is distracting from your message and limiting the opportunity for productive dialogue. I’m sure it works just fine for ‘preaching to the choir’, but is that your only goal for writing about this stuff? I guess I would be considered part of the ‘choir’ since I’m a devout Catholic that accepts the teachings, and yet I still find your use of that term off putting.
• Scott W.
Simply declaring “homosex” to be derogatory, doesn’t make it so. All this establishes is that you don’t like it. Well, sorry, but complaining about it is as non-conducive to dialog is red herring–it’s about controlling the language. And since homosex is direct, people aren’t going to like it in the same way pro-abortionists don’t like accurate descriptions of what actually goes on. As John C. Wright noted, Politcal Correctness is worse than lying because it is an attempt to cajole people into lying to themselves.
• bob
The term is very reasonable, here’s why. Actual reproductive behavior takes place between a male and a female organism. Same species and everything. When something *vaguely resembles* it but is not in fact it needs specific terminology for clarification. Two men or two women do not “have sex”. Neither, incidentally is it when my female dog romances my leg. Homosex is a subspecies of “sexual behavior”. And by the way, all sex on earth is fallen. The real kind as well as the pretend kind. There isn’t a way to redeem the pretend kind.
• Laura Kazlas
I read somewhere that homosexual acts are not found in the animal world. Is that true? I’m totally ignorant about this type of thing.
• Mark Shea
Not true.
• Scott W.
Read this: http://narth.com/docs/animalmyth.html
Long and short of it: Natural law doesn’t mean that if we can find an example of a certain behavior in the animal kingdom, then it is natural. Otherwise, lopping the head of your partner after mating and eating it would be morally acceptable. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31636 | Beefy Boxes and Bandwidth Generously Provided by pair Networks vroom
Keep It Simple, Stupid
Mac OS X Server and mySQL
by bladx (Chaplain)
on Sep 25, 2001 at 23:56 UTC ( #114650=perlquestion: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
Hi everyone!
I am the 2nd Webmaster at my High School, and my teacher-guy wants me to install mySQL for our school site that I will be working on, and creating throughout this year.
The problem is, I can't figure out how to install mySQL on our machine that will be the server, which is a Mac OS X Server box.
I have searched around the internet for help, but haven't found any *yet*. Does anyone know about this type of thing? Thanks!
Andy Summers
Comment on Mac OS X Server and mySQL
Re: Mac OS X Server and mySQL
by shadox (Priest) on Sep 26, 2001 at 00:20 UTC
Well, in the mysql homepage, in the download section there are a binary packages for MacOs X.
I have never installed it in MacOS X before, but i **supose** that the procedure should be the more or less the same of another Unix variants.
Dreams they just disapear into the shadows,
then they become true....
Re: Mac OS X Server and mySQL
by Moonie (Friar) on Sep 26, 2001 at 00:39 UTC
Re: Mac OS X Server and mySQL
by thpfft (Chaplain) on Sep 26, 2001 at 02:25 UTC
Marc Liyanage's pages have what you need. There are .pkg installers and startup scripts as well as instructions for installation from source. There's also useful stuff about php and postgresql and, er, ruby.
The downloads on that someone mentioned are _not_ what you want. They're for pre-10 versions of OS X - server 1.x and the public beta. The old OS X server was just a Rhapsody relic and should never have been called that: it has no real relation to the BSD-based server X which is now available.
nb. i've only done this on client os x: be sure to read the apple docs and make sure you're not trampling on some custom admin script or other.
i don't think you can have searched very thoroughly, by the way. try this one.
Re: Mac OS X Server and mySQL
by mischief (Hermit) on Sep 26, 2001 at 15:15 UTC
I don't mean to be rude, but perhaps you should be asking this somewhere else.
The reason this was posted, is because it IS related to Perl, because I will be using Perl to connect to the mySQL server.
It is not an off topic post. Nor is it meant to be.
Andy Summers
Sorry, but asking how to install MySQL on Mac OS X is absolutely nothing to do with Perl whatsoever. You might as well ask "what's the best computer to buy" because you use Perl on it, or "what kind of music do you listen to", because you're using Perl to write a cd database. And how on earth did your post get frontpaged? The section is called seekers of Perl wisdom, not seekers of MySQL wisdom.
update: I just noticed it's not on the front page anymore.
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Re^2: Golf: ROT-n
by dragonchild (Archbishop)
on Nov 09, 2004 at 18:19 UTC ( #406421=note: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
in reply to Re: Golf: ROT-n
in thread Golf: ROT-n
Nicely done. I always forget the ins-and-outs of tr///. A few improvements:
# 1 2 3 4 5 # 3456789 123456789 123456789 123456789 123456789 123456789 $_=pop;eval'y/a-z/'.chr(97+pop).'-za-z/';print
And you're at 46 strokes
Being unknowing, is not the same as being stupid.
Comment on Re^2: Golf: ROT-n
Download Code
Re^3: Golf: ROT-n
by fruiture (Curate) on Nov 09, 2004 at 18:37 UTC
Hot++, i was currently at 50 (or 49) strokes. I never think of tr/// vs y///, though (successfully forgot about y/// for readability).
# 1 2 3 4 5 # 3456789 123456789 123456789 123456789 123456789 123456789 eval'tr/a-z/'.chr(97+shift).'-za-z/,print for pop'
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Pathologically Eclectic Rubbish Lister
Re^2: Why Perl is a Valid Choice
by g0n (Priest)
on Feb 01, 2006 at 11:22 UTC ( #527029=note: print w/ replies, xml ) Need Help??
in reply to Re: Why Perl is a Valid Choice
in thread Why Perl is a Valid Choice
• Managers don't know enough to do it themselves, and they put too much trust in what the code cowboys tell them
• Managers don't have a strong technical background, but they like to think they do (Ed's comments here are interesting)
• Managers don't enforce proper coding standards, or don't even have any
• Managers don't make their technical people learn more
• Managers don't give their subordinates the opportunity for formal training (in any subject)
• Managers don't know how to measure productivity
• Managers can't or won't solve personality disputes between developers
• Managers don't make their team work as a team
• Managers don't build a team with diverse skills and use workers are commodities
• Managers are afraid to piss off the tech guys
• Managers want to be liked
• Managers don't want to work
• Managers ultimately want to protect their ego
There are some generalisations there that I'm not entirely in agreement with - remember, managers are people too. But your comments reflect something that I've been fulminating about for quite a while.
Take a look at any job advert for an IT manager. What characteristics are they asking for? Line management experience obviously, but primarily business management skills, budget management skills etc. Technical comprehension is *way* down the list, on the rare occasions it even appears. It's my contention that to provide a good standard of service an IT manager must have a good technical understanding, as well as an understanding of business priorities. Not that an IT manager must be a world class coder, or a top notch oracle DBA; but he or she should at least understand the issues, comprehend software life cycles, testing principles, and be able to see without assistance where code can do one thing easily, and another with difficulty.
That list is specific to managing coders, but the same principles apply to managing an internal IT department. Most IT managers make choices based on sales pitch, not on technical suitability. You don't have to be Donald Knuth to understand the relative merits of different products, you just have to have some understanding of them.
Underlying this IMO is the fact that technical expertise is largely devalued by business people, so the business managers (possibly the board) who appoint the IT manager want someone with the same skills as them. The fact that they have half a dozen accountants who can manage a budget in their sleep, but no one who can tell them why a server costs more than a desktop doesn't seem to matter.
In my perfect world, the IT manager would be a business oriented person who can code, but probably not very well. Someone who can meaningfully translate between business priorities and technical feasibility (am I bitter about not making the shortlist? You bet I am).
But that isn't happening any time soon, so (to return to the topic of the thread) if we want to promote Perl to the people who make the language decision, we need to put cbrandtbuffalos very well thought out, and crucially non technical article in front of them - very few of them visit PM, in case you hadn't noticed. How can we do that? Suggestions are welcome, but perhaps identifying the right magazines, getting the right journalists on side, and getting well written, business oriented (not technical) case studies and articles out there.
John Brunner, "The Shockwave Rider".
Comment on Re^2: Why Perl is a Valid Choice
Re^3: Why Perl is a Valid Choice
by cbrandtbuffalo (Deacon) on Feb 01, 2006 at 13:48 UTC
The way I've addressed this issue of technical and non-technical managers is to try to champion Brooks' The Mythical Man-Month. Despite the age of the book, his conclusions are as amazingly relevant to coding today as they were when he wrote them.
The bit that I've pulled out and harped on is that there should be two advancement paths within a technical department: project manager and technical manager. Both need to be equal paths, and people with equal experience and skill in each need to be treated equally in the company (authority, pay, etc.). Each significant project should have both a project manager and a technical manager assigned and they work together, each focusing on their expertise.
This has been very successful in our shop. We have several people who are certified project managers and do their job very well. They handle allocations, schedules, and dealing with stakeholders. I work as a technical manager where I keep my hands out of the project management software and make sure the technical challenges of the project are taken care of. I know about other projects going on, I help with code reviews, and I make sure coders know about all of our shared code and best practices.
You can't get this to work everywhere, but I feel rewarded for plugging away until we tried it. And the success has kept it going. The project managers really like having someone on the project whose job it is to know the technical bits. And I feel my time is better spent away from Gantt charts.
As for you other point, I thought about working this into something that we could share somewhere else. I just wanted to vet it through perlmonks first. I'm in The Perl Foundation, so maybe I can ask about throwing up a page on the TPF site somewhere.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31650 | Sunday, March 16, 2014
Inquirer Daily News
My offensive feline
THE FIRST two weeks of the football season have reinforced an awful truth: My family doesn't care about the Eagles. They care about junk food. I've carried that secret for years, but I refuse to bear the burden alone anymore. It's become much too heavy, so I'm laying it at my readers' feet. Now maybe my family can begin to heal.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm naive to believe that they'll change after all these years. In LaVeta's case, you're probably right. But it's not too late for the children. There's still time for them to see the light. Maybe I can get them to succumb to positive peer pressure by convincing them that the cool kids are Eagles fans. Maybe in five years or so my son will meet a hot girl who's really into football. Maybe in 10 years my daughter will take up a career in sports science. Then I can finally have real father-child conversations with them - you know, talks about the spread offense.
Until then, my life as an Eagles fan must go on. I must watch the games. I have to read the articles. I need to learn every shred of information about the team. That way I can call other fans idiots while listening to their inane ramblings on sports-talk radio.
More than anything, though, I need someone with whom I can watch the games - especially the late ones. That's the situation I was facing in Week One, when the Eagles were on Monday Night Football. So, with the wife and kids uninterested, I turned to our cat, Styx.
More coverage
• Cemeteries allow humans to be buried alongside pets
• The results weren't pretty.
The adventure started when I invited Styx into the living room, a gesture that interrupted her usual night routine of hanging out in the basement. As she lounged on the floor, I went upstairs and closed the bedroom doors - you know, so she wouldn't run upstairs and wake the family when I started yelling like the crazed fan that I am.
For the first few minutes, everything seemed to be going fine. Styx settled down next to the couch and stared at the TV. She looked at me curiously a time or two as I gestured at referees and shouted at players. But when she figured out that the guys on the screen weren't doing anything food-related, things began to change.
She walked in front of the television once or twice. She ambled into the kitchen. She hung out in the dining room for a little bit. By the time she came back to the living room, the Eagles were rolling. LeSean McCoy was running in for yet another score. Eagles fans everywhere were rejoicing. The hype machine was about to spring into action.
None of that mattered to Styx. The guys on the screen who were running, jumping, catching and tackling did not have food, toys or catnip. Therefore, they were irrelevant, as far as Styx was concerned.
Unimpressed by the bright lights and vibrant colors on the screen, Styx strolled upstairs. I turned down the TV so I could listen. I heard her meow once or twice, and if I were a betting man, I'd wager that she was saying, "Someone get me away from this maniac. He's trying to force me to watch things that don't involve feeding me."
That's when I knew. Styx is just like LaVeta and the kids. She doesn't care about football, only food. The difference? Styx is much more ruthless about it, because Styx is from the streets.
LaVeta and I have often imagined her meowing the lyrics to the 1979 Randy Crawford hit "Street Life." "'Cause there's no place she can go. Street life, it's the only life she knows."
At least that's the way Styx sees it. Why else would she forgo the luxury of watching an Eagles game in high definition on a big-screen TV? Why else would she refuse to meow even as Shady McCoy was running in for a touchdown? Why, other than her allegiance to the streets, would she refuse to pledge allegiance to the Eagles?
I'll tell you why. Styx is a cat, that's why. But she'll wise up, because next time, I'm going to do what I have to do to make her watch the boys in green. That's right. I'm going to give her some food.
By the time I get finished with that cat, she'll be meowing the lyrics to the Eagles fight song and doing her own little touchdown dance. She'd better, because she's my only hope.
Solomon Jones
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31655 | Pasta Works seems to be a place you bring kids. Several tables of parents or grandparents are here with their young wards tonight. Interestingly, a comparison of menus indicates that kiddies eat cheaper at Spaghetti Vendors: $2.50 versus $3.95 to $4.25 at Pasta Works. Either money isn't important to these caretakers, or wine and beer are. But wait, here come our entrees. White-blanketed lasagna primavera leaves us speechless. One taste is all it takes to peg this thing macaroni and cheese casserole with cream of something soup ladled over it. That is, if the cream of something happens to have mixed vegetables like cubed carrots and peas in it. Quite simply, this is the ghastliest interpretation of "primavera"--"spring," in Italian!--I've ever had the misfortune to eat.
Amazingly, spaghetti with pesto sauce is also dull, though certainly better than the lasagna. The pesto is crunchy with pine nuts and cheesy with Parmesan, but ultimately bland. The spaghetti is pleasant and thinner than the fat noodles I expected. But, let's put it this way, I wouldn't order it again.
Soft drinks cost $1, but that entitles you to "free refills." My accomplice is very conscientious about getting his money's worth. On returning with his second glass of root beer, he notes, "There, now it's only 50 cents a glass." We eat what we can and pack what is left of the spaghetti into Styrofoam to take home with us. We do our best to leave all memories of the "lasagna a la king" behind.
The third pasta joint, Ziti's Pasta Gallery, is a full-service restaurant. In addition to pasta, they serve seafood, chicken, veal, beef and pork. They offer a wine list and full range of cocktail beverages. They also have a gimmick.
Every table at Ziti's is covered with white butcher paper. Crayons are furnished as well. You supply the artistic talent, and judging by what's been saved in Ziti's "gallery"--there's plenty to be found, of varying degrees, in the East Valley.
Neither my dining accomplice nor I can resist the invitation to draw. (Must have been those years of art lessons.) We grab our favorite Crayolas and begin immortalizing each other on the table covering. Our waitress is impressed. "Oh, you're both artists," she coos, as she delivers our fried calamari. I bet she says that to everybody.
I pause in my portraiture long enough to try a few of the fried calamari sticks. You know, it had to happen: First there was fried zucchini, then fried mushrooms, and now, fried calamari sticks. Breaded with Italian seasoning, deep-fried and white on the inside, they could be made of any kind of compressed seafood. I honestly can't tell what they are, because they taste like nothing. But they are convenient for scooping up the tomato sauce that accompanies them. Our next course is no better. Italian bread sticks can't compete with (gulp) Olive Garden's. As these cool down, they grow tougher. Obviously they've been nuked. Minestrone is watered down and strictly Campbell's.
I hate it when restaurants pile shredded mozzarella cheese on your salad without asking you. Like, maybe I'm watching my cholesterol, you know? But it really doesn't matter. The very plain iceberg salad is tiresome. I leave it and return to my sketch. On the night we visit, the other guests at Ziti's Pasta Gallery fall into two distinct categories: very young people on dates and retired couples out for a meal. That puts the average age at forty, but there are no forty-year-olds here tonight.
Happily, our entrees arrive and they look pretty good. Baked ziti is large and hot and gooey with red sauce, mozzarella and ricotta. It's haphazardly assembled and ordinary looking, tasty but not special.
Vermicelli with sausage, peppers and onions is pleasant, thanks to julienne vegetables that are still slightly crisp. The pasta is al dente, but the sliced sausage is too mealy and mild to matter much. By the end of the meal, I'm feeling pretty jolly--thanks mostly to the crayons. I've finished my portrait and begun a still life of water glass and Chianti bottle. It's going very well. I'm in such a good mood that, after I ask to take the remaining ziti home, I spring for dessert.
I should have quit while I was ahead. Cookies and cream tartufo is awful. It looks like a chocolate-coated breast and tastes like an Eskimo Pie. I never do find the crushed cookie in this thing. The inside is coffee colored and conceals a frozen cherry. Worse yet, it's decorated with dabs of aerosol whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. This is no tartufo, this is a joke.
I don't know how you earn a spot on the wall in Ziti's Pasta Gallery, but I'm hoping one of us will. Maybe my portrait and still life can't match the "Spandex Hippie Rockers" sketch in the bar, but they're at least as good as some of the colorings dedicated "To Daddy" from Jason, or Adam.
You see? It works. The crayons-and-paper gimmick is a real hook for kids and other arrested individuals like myself. Unfortunately, the food and service are no better than adequate.
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Apartment Therapy
If writing about technology has taught me anything, it's that products and processes can always be improved. No matter how smart an idea seems, there's a good chance it'll get blown out of the water by something new later down the line. And it doesn't just apply to the high-tech world. Your little e...
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Cheryl Anderson
Cheryl Anderson • 2 years ago
its the simple things |
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this is cute.... call me maybe :D
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Inspiring! People try to run away from their problems thinking another state but I promise u if you do not correct what's in your heart it will always find you no matter where you run or try to go.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31716 | Photoshop 7 for Dummies
Photoshop 7 for Dummies | Paperback
Released on 30 May 2002
Author: Deke Mcclelland ; Barbara Obermeier | Format: paperback
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Adobe Photoshop is arguably the most comprehensive and popular photo editor around. Here are a couple of reasons why: When you work in Photoshop, you're not drawing from scratch; you're editing photos. Secondly, the program keeps you interested with a depth of capabilities that few pieces of software can match. Unlike other computer programs that have caught on like wildfire over the years, Photoshop is both powerful and absorbing. Just because Photoshop is a pleasure to use doesn't mean that it's easy to master. Directed toward making you comfortable and productive with the program, Photoshop 7 For Dummies points out the features you need to know and shows you exactly how to use them - no pain; all gain. You'll discover ways to. Work with the program window. Switch between Photoshop and other programs. Change the number of pixels in an image. Define colors using the Color Palette. Get ride of red eye. Blur the edges of a selected area. Apply filter effects Photoshop guru and author Deke McClelland reveals his own techniques for quick and creative image editing, along with specific tips that Photoshop veterans can use to take advantage of the software's new features.Plan to get the hang of. Producing high quality scans. Adding background textures, bevels, and text effects. Harnessing Photoshop's layering features and professional pre-press capabilities. Applying different types of gradients. Making a Web Photo Gallery. Placing your image into PageMaker of InDesign. Creating your own custom brush Graphics abound in Photoshop 7 For Dummies, with 16 pages of glossy pictures to show off special issues related to color. You'll find commands for both PCs and Macs and lots of step-by-step instructions to guide your image-editing efforts for print or the Web - in no time! |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31722 | [1st Baron Of Ulverston]
• ''I do not object to people looking at their watches when I am speaking. But I strongly object when they start shaking them to make certain they are still going.''
William Norman, 1st Baron Of Ulverston Birkett (1883-1962), British lawyer, Liberal politician. quoted in Observer (London, Oct. 30, 1960).
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31749 | Evangelicals: So Gone
[6 July 2006]
By Justin Cober-Lake
My first encounter with Evangelicals frontman Josh Jones came at 2005’s South By Southwest festival. Guitar Wolf pulled a random person out of the crowd to play on stage, and it turned out to be Jones, an actual guitarist, who proceeded to roll around on the floor and generally turn himself into a spectacle even amid the spectacle that is a Guitar Wolf show. I talked to him after the set, but had been deafened enough to be unsure of both his and his band’s name. Enough of the crowd at SXSW are in bands of one sort or another that I assumed this was the only thing I’d hear of them.
A little over a year later, the promo for So Gone shows up. I’m happy just to have gotten both names right, and I’m curious to hear what these guys actually sound like. Maybe Jones is the type to record 60 minutes of himself in pure chaos, but maybe he’s an indie boy more likely to listen to hometown neighbors the Flaming Lips or Starlight Mints. It turns out the chaos from that dramatic SXSW show comes through not so much in dazzling, noisy guitar sounds as in the untraditional song structuring that the band does. The actual sound has more in common with with Norman, Oklahoma space than with Japanese noise, but Jones and bandmates Kyle Davis and Austin Stephens take in a little bit of weirdness from everyone.
“What an Actress Does Best” encapsulates this attitude, as well as the spinning force of the band. It opens with an open, nearly California feel before an organ hints at a desire to trade in this pop for some harder rock. Still, Jones’s tenor keeps the song level, even if not smooth. The rough harmonies eventually give way to a rowdy guitar solo, turning the psychedelia down for a minute to get revved up.
That sort of burst keeps Evangelicals exciting, even if they don’t indulge it enough. It’s also reflective of the band’s of the haphazard nature of So Gone, a strength that can sometimes work against it. The album has that DIY feel in which the musicians don’t know what they’re doing, but they’re letting it rip. The personal explosiveness of the recorded music increases with its recklessness, but it can also veer off in the other direction, turning into something more like play. The group is testing out its own weirdness quotient, you can hear the “What if I do this?” process at work, so necessary for this kind of songwriting, but needing to be hidden on the final recording. It is a debut album, however, so a certain amount of footing-finding can be expected. The personal exploration serves artistic growth, but the recording of it would better fit bonus tracks for a deluxe edition of an album.
Even so, Evangelicals are creative enough and excited enough that So Gone ultimately works. You might feel at times as if you’re overhearing some college kids practicing in your building’s basement, but, for once, it actually sounds like a band who you’d bother to check out at their next show. For all the exploring going on, the band has actual ideas here. They’re working to merge retro-pop with art rock with direct rock ‘n’ roll, and when they succeed, they’re accomplishing it in a personal way. If they sound like they’re at play, they also sound like they’re passionate about their game, and it’s hard not to get caught up in that enthusiasm.
Published at: http://www.popmatters.com/pm/review/evangelicals-so-gone/ |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31755 |
By David Heisserer and Dillon Hodapp
Mixed Media Engineering
Back Next
To transform a normal JPEG image into pointillistic drawing, we wrote some software using Processing, an open-source programming language. The software averages the pixels from the JPEG into an array of different-size dots to create the image. During testing we learned that images with high contrast that aren’t cluttered and have a 3:5 aspect ratio work best.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31775 | Skip over navigation
News Archive
Princeton engineering professors named top young innovators
Two Princeton engineering faculty have been named to Technology Review Magazine's list of the top 35 young innovators for 2010.
Celeste Nelson, an assistant professor of chemical and biological engineering, and Michael McAlpine, an assistant professor of mechanical and aerospace engineering, were include in the magazine's annual TR35 list of innovative researchers under the age of 35.
The magazine lauded Nelson for her research into how organs such as the lungs or kidneys develop the complex branching structures of their internal anatomy.
Nelson developed a laboratory technique for growing structures from simple shapes that mimics the process by which embryonic tissue develops into organs. She found that the initial shape of the structure played an important role in how molecules communicate with each other and the final patterns that develop.
"Other researchers had previously theorized that geometry matters in tissue development," Technology Review wrote. "But Nelson’s technique - adapted from a process originally used to make computer chips - allowed her to prove it for the first time, and to spell out the mechanism involved."
Nelson and her colleagues have identified several genes that must be present for organs to develop normally. By studying how these genes control development, she hopes to find ways to fix abnormal development and possibly develop techniques for growing replacement organs.
The magazine noted McAlpine’s work to develop power-generating rubber films that could harness energy from natural body movements such as breathing and walking.
“Michael McAlpine has developed a flexible material that produces record amounts of energy when subjected to mechanical pressure,” the magazine wrote. “It could turn the action of a patient’s lungs into enough energy to power an implanted medical device; forces produced by walking around could be sufficient to drive portable electronics.”
McAlpine constructed the material by embedding ceramic nanoribbons onto silicone rubber sheets. The nanoribbons are made of lead zirconate titanate (PZT), a ceramic material that is piezoelectric, meaning it generates an electrical voltage when pressure is applied to it. When mounted on the silicone, the PZT generates electricity when flexed and is highly efficient at converting mechanical energy to electrical energy.
“So far McAlpine has made only small pieces of the material,” the magazine wrote, “but he is now scaling up the process to make larger wafers suitable for use in implanted electronics.”
Conor Madigan, a Princeton engineering alumnus who graduated in 2000, also made the TR35 list. Madigan is the cofounder and CEO of Kateeva, a startup company that is working to lower the cost of television displays based on organic light-emitting diodes, or OLEDs.
Madigan "is working to drive down the cost of these displays as the CEO and cofounder of a Silicon Valley startup called Kateeva, which is developing efficient machinery for printing pixels over large areas," the magazine wrote. "The technology makes it possible to manufacture OLED screens at 60 percent of the cost of LCD screens."
Since 1999, the editors of Technology Review have honored young innovators whose inventions and research they find most exciting. The TR35 list honors technologists and scientists from a range of fields whose work promises to have an impact on people's lives.
Tag(s): McAlpine, Nelson |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31787 |
Spock's Beard
Symphonic Prog
4.15 | 365 ratings
From Progarchives.com, the ultimate progressive rock music website
4 stars Before this album, I hadn't really listened to much Spock's Beard. I knew a few songs (All on a Sunday, Emperor's Clothes), but this album was the first real encounter I've had with the band and their music. The style of the album is heavy yet melodic and symphonic, blending the best aspects of bands like ELP, Genesis and Yes.
Hiding Out:
My favourite from the album. A fantastic opener that sets the tone for the album. The chorus is one of the most beautiful melodies that I've heard this year so far. The music and instrumentation is attention grabbing, with heavy rock riffs appearing throughout the track. Overall, a great, standout track. 8.5/10
I Know Your Secret:
Opens with an intriguing but catchy riff, which appears later in the song. A slightly more aggressive track than the opener, it features punchy bass guitar and a memorable groove in 9/8 in the chorus. It's not a bad song at all, but it doesn't leave the impression that 'Hiding Out' does. 7.5/10
A Treasure Abandoned:
The start of this song is reminiscent of Genesis' Trespass album, with gentle guitar and flute. The odd time signatures in this song make for a more interesting ride. This is another quite melodic track which keeps interest throughout by utilising changes of tone: there are some parts which are very gentle and beautiful, while other sections are heavier. The only negative point is the length: at nearly nine minutes it feels a little stretched out and unnecessarily long. 8/10
The most pop-ish song on the album. Has a catchy chorus, but unfortunately that is its only redeeming factor. It's not a bad track, but it isn't the best from this album. 6.5/10
A crunchy guitar opens this song with a hard rocking riff. The music feels deliberately 'silly' at some points, but it's pulled off well. Multi-layered vocals feature about halfway through, and are executed well. The main riff that holds this song together is great, and the solos are a fantastic addition. 8/10
Something Very Strange:
Processed, robotic, Daft Punk-sounding vocals open this track before a complex melody is played on the keys, which is added to by guitar and drums. The real star instrument in this song is the keyboard, but the bass is also quite prominent in the verses and choruses, which are fantastic. The instrumental section is a little boring at times, though. 7.5/10
Waiting For Me:
The longest song on the album (at nearly 13 minutes). After a 2 minute instrumental opening, the first verse starts at a quick tempo, and the chorus that follows almost sounds like it could be found on an album like Santana's 'Marathon'. It's quite pop-ish and funky, in a good way. There's a slower section about halfway through the song which is good also. The instrumental section is great, and main theme of the song ends both the song and the album on a good note. 8.5/10
Average: 78/100 = 4/5
zeqexes | 4/5 |
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31790 | Opportunity for clean up
August 20th, was flying early next morning so couldn't dive in the afternoon and the tide was washing in lots of rubbish. Within an hour I had filled a black bin liner full of plastic rubbish which otherwise would have ended up back out and possibly on the coral reef. Why not offer 'dry' divers a net rubbish bag instead of just lying on the beach? |
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THIS observation struck Bernard as extremely ingenious and worthy of his mistress's fine intelligence; he greeted it with enthusiasm, and thought of it for the next twelve hours. The more he thought of it the more felicitous it seemed to him, and he went to Mrs. Vivian's the next day almost for the express purpose of saying to Angela that, decidedly, she was right. He was admitted by his old friend, the little femme de chambre, who had long since bestowed upon him, definitively, her confidence; and as in the ante-chamber he heard the voice of a gentleman raised and talking with some emphasis, come to him from the salon, he paused a moment, looking at her with an interrogative eye.
"Yes," said Mrs. Vivian's attendant, "I must tell Monsieur frankly that another gentleman is there. Moreover, what does it matter? Monsieur would perceive it for himself!"
"Has he been here long?" asked Bernard.
"A quarter of an hour. It probably doesn't seem long to the gentleman!"
"Is he alone with Mademoiselle?"
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31806 | 88Nine Radio Milwaukee
Today's stream is sponsored by Maxie's
Freebie: Izza Kizza is here!
tmoody's picture
Click to enlarge
Just found about this from the guys over at The Fader. As some of you know we had a song called "Walk the Dawg" from Izza Kizza who is protege of the producer Timbaland. The song is from a forthcoming mixtape entitled Kizzaland. Well, that forementioned mixtape is no longer forthcoming. It is now available as a free download. As I said before this is the year of the mixtape. So grab it, and let me know what you think. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31858 | Last updated on March 16, 2014 at 6:03 EDT
Latest Patrick Dufour Stories
2007-11-21 13:00:00
Astronomers may have found another way that stars evolve Astronomers have discovered white dwarf stars with pure carbon atmospheres. These stars possibly evolved in a sequence astronomers didn't know before. They may have evolved from stars that are not quite massive enough to explode as supernovae but are just on the borderline. All but the most massive two or three percent of stars eventually die as white dwarfs rather than explode as supernovae. When a star burns helium, it leaves "ashes"... |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31882 | Baby Bash
Baby Bash's first success came as part of the Latin rap group Latino Velvet, where he was known as Baby Beesh. Latino Velvet released two albums and toured consistently, earning a loyal following in California. When the group eventually parted ways, Houston rapper South Park Mexican asked Bash to work on some songs with him. Frequent travels back and forth from California to Texas (coupled with Cali's skyrocketing rents) led Bash to relocate to Houston, where he immersed himself in the burgeoning Latin rap scene. With his heavy beats and fly rhymes constructed around solid hooks, it didn't take too long for the labels to come knocking. Bash released his major label debut, Tha Smokin' Nephew, in 2003, and scored with the single, "Suga Suga." In March, 2005, Baby Bash released his sophomore effort, Super Saucy. The album played like an ode to women, weed and whiskey (Hennessey, of course), and gleaned the radio hit, "Who Wit Me."
Listen to Baby Bash
and millions of other songs with Rhapsody
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31883 | Bad Brains by Bad Brains
Released: Feb 1982
Label: Virtual Label LLC
For years you could only get this album on cassette, where the lo-fi fury of Bad Brains seemed to make the most sense. This remastered version loses none of the hiss and absolute crushing power that the group had at its peak. No one outside of Minor Threat could play with such blinding passion and sound melodic, and still sound like they were going to kill you. Essential.
Jon Pruett
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31884 |
Ice on Mars - Pack of Briefs volume 2
15 April 2011 - 4:55pm
Available formats:
• 220 Blues
• ABC of Sex Education
• Goodbye to Garbage
• Who Cares
This is an iRiff!
If Hollywood has taught us anything, it's that people love sequels. That's why we've gone back to a project over a year old that never really sold like hotcakes to begin with. BECAUSE IT'S KIND OF A SEQUEL. Join Michael T Bradley and Scix Maddix as they tackle the following briefs, listed in the recommended viewing order:
Goodbye to Garbage. A fairly ridiculous short about "garbage disposers," as my mother calls them. You'll never look at a garbage disposal the same way again. If, y'know, you ever look at one. Not sure why you would, but ... if you do .... anyway. The sample is the full version of this, though one line has been changed for the final release & some audio tweaked. (Runtime 5:55)
Who Cares. This short might seem familiar. That's because it's been done before by both Film is Pwn & Movie Masochists. Whoops! Go buy theirs on iRiffs and enjoy them as well, but ESPECIALLY enjoy our take on it. A young unhappy boy is swayed to the dark side by atonal music. It is, like most shorts, just weird. (Runtime 11:01)
220 Blues. An odd little look at the issue of race. We are, of course, completely respectful of this controversial topic. (Runtime 16:37)
The ABC of Sexual Education for Trainables. Oh, now, what the hell is this? Seriously, the '70s, what was WRONG with you? So let's explain. "Trainable" is a euphemism that went out of style (for obvious reasons) for mentally handicapped. Yes, that's right, this short is about teaching sex ed to people who make you uncomfortable on the subway. Again, we approach this short with only the most sincere and respectful of intentions. (Runtime 19:48)
These shorts absolutely contain explicit, graphic material. Mature subject matter & riffing. "Enjoy"--if that word even exists anymore--these lovely little morsels of oddness. ENJOY.
The reviews are in!
Pain will not hurt you if you add these to your cart
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31910 | • Story alerts
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"We've got ants in the kitchen again," I told my husband Patrick. "Hmph. That's nothing. My computer is buggy," he grumped in reply. "It's sluggish, and it just isn't working the way I want it to."
"Sounds like you when you have a cold."
"Ha ha. Just for that, you get to help me wipe its nose. Actually, its hard drive."
"It's gonna cost you in foot rubs."
"Story of my life."
Patrick blew me a kiss as I headed out the door and over the hill to Bullseye Computers in La Mesa (619-589-8096). Owner Bill Dettweiler smiled when I told him Patrick's request. "Typically, when people bring in their computers to have the hard drive wiped, we try to find out if that's what they really need. Sometimes, it's not -- they just have one little problem that will take care of everything. So, we try to talk to them, find out what the real problem is. People talk about a computer being slow or buggy. If the hard drive gets too full, the computer slows down. If files get corrupted, then when the file tries to tell the computer what to do, it doesn't do it, because it can't process the corrupted data and send a logical command."
Dettweiler could see that I needed him to back up a bit. "Inside a computer, basically, are a motherboard, a processor, memory chips, a hard drive, and a CD-ROM drive. The motherboard has the memory chips and everything on it; it controls operations. It talks to the hard drive, and routs data to the processor."
The processor, he said, "does the calculation. Everything in a computer is done in bits -- ones and zeroes. It processes all that data. If you type the letter 'h' on the keyboard, the motherboard registers that and tells the processor you've typed it. Then the processor says, 'Okay, I'm going to put the letter "h" in the memory I've allocated for what we're doing right now and show the letter "h" on the screen.' If you decide to print, the processor tells the printer how to print it. And if you want to save that letter 'h,' the processor sets up a file and puts the letter 'h' on the hard drive."
Dettweiler compared the hard drive to "a parking lot. All the files are cars in the lot. When you want to use a file, you get that car out of the parking lot and drive it to the regular memory -- the highway. The processor is directing it."
Then he got back to those corrupted hard drives. "A computer can be fouled maliciously, by viruses or spyware. Spyware watches what you do on the computer -- what Internet sites you visit, or what keyboard strokes you make. That slows a computer down. Viruses corrupt files," leading to the bugs Patrick mentioned. "But a power surge can also corrupt a file, because the data is magnetic."
The only way to fix a corrupted hard drive "is to erase everything on the computer and reinstall the operating system. That's called 'wiping' a hard drive. It's basically the same thing as formatting a hard drive. You're not actually erasing everything; you're resetting the indexes. Indexes are what the hard drive uses to keep track of data. When the processor sends a command to the hard drive, the hard drive uses an index to find the data. Without the index, the hard drive doesn't know where to find data." So if you remove the old indexes, the corrupted data can't be found.
It is possible to save files, he said, but not software. "If people want to save data, we can do that. We take the files -- the cars -- and move them to another parking lot: a CD or another hard drive. Then we reset the indexes and reinstall the operating system." After that, the data can be reloaded. Software, however, must be reinstalled from its original discs.
Bullseye does repairs at an hourly rate of $67.50 . "We typically quote an estimate when people bring the computer in, and then try to stick to it. To wipe a hard drive and restore an operating system will normally cost $67.50 ," with a two-day turnaround.
Bullseye Computers could not, however, work on Patrick's computer, because it was a Macintosh. "Apple has really limited the availability of information about their computer, and it is a very different computer," said Dettweiler. "All the other PCs run on gas; Apple runs on Kryptonite or something. We don't repair them."
So I rang up Phil Hammerling at Mad Macs in Miramar (858-454-8535). "Macs have an entirely different operating system," he confirmed. "It's like a different set of instructions. And for now, they use a different processor as well. We charge $75 an hour to work on a computer. Getting a hard drive wiped with data recovery can usually be done in the first hour or two. It depends on how much data, and what type of data it is. But the price is the same for laptops or desktops."
Hammerling also offered a little advice for keeping your hard drive clean: "Do as little as possible. I know the programs I use, and I try not to load a lot of superfluous items. If you don't need it, leave it off your computer. There are people who download a piece of software just because it looks cool, and it eats up resources. You may have trouble removing it, since it can be stored in little bits and pieces all over the hard drive, and it may cause conflicts."
Other prices around town:
CompUSA, Kearny Mesa (858-573-1000). Diagnostic check and wiping the hard drive: $99.99 for a desktop, $139.99 for a laptop. Data recovery, additional $69.99 .
Best Buy, Mira Mesa (858-831-9003). Diagnostic check and wiping the hard drive, $120 . Data recovery, additional $89.99 .
Cry Wolf Computer, Clairemont Mesa (858-277-9653). Rate, $89 per hour.
Gordon Computer Service, Spring Valley (619-466-8700). Rate, $95 per hour.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31920 | Serious Adverse Events During Ruxolitinib Treatment Discontinuation in Patients with Myelofibrosis.
submitted by: mcgheekkm
Dr. Animesh Pardanani, Assistant Professor of Medicine and Consultant in the Division of Hematology at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, Discusses his article, coauthored with Dr. Ayalew Tefferi, on potential complications from withdrawal of ruxolitinib. Available at: |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31945 | I have been playing around with PaintShop Pro 7 and realize that there are a "zillion" things to learn about web graphics.
For example I am still trying to figure out how to design a header like the one at http://www.teleseminarsuccess.com/
Without giving away any "secrets" can someone briefly describe how this header was done? Am I looking at many layers "sliced" together? |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/31964 | The problems women have with big feet
August 26, 2005
Clare Cahill has the whole world beneath her feet, and she hates it.
I'm putting my foot down. Watch out, it's very big. The other one is big too. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have large feet.
Now, to most of you, generously sized feet probably doesn't seem a physical characteristic worthy of complaint. There are worse things, like an excessively hairy back. But unfortunately, for a woman in her early 20s such a biological attribute doesn't have the same beneficial associations as it does for men. In fact the answer to the age-old question "You know what they say about a girl with big feet?" is almost inevitably "Get stuffed".
I am the leper of the shoe-buying community. "We don't stock that size here" is a phrase I've heard far too often. On the days I do get by the bigotry, the buying of shoes becomes an event. Salespeople are unconvinced when I request my size. They scoff. They seem sure no normal-looking person like myself could sport such a disproportionately sized base. They proceed to jam my foot into a series of smaller shoes. Customarily after the 14th pair there is a realisation that I am in fact the size I requested and then, inevitably, a look of pity.
But the suffering doesn't end there. Large feet scare off guys, either because it shames them, seeing my innocent feet as a direct challenge to their manhood or because they are worried about all the work involved in giving a foot massage. Finally, they force you to suffer that slight amount more indignity when getting in and out of two-door cars - and if ever there is a time when additional indignity is not needed, that is it.
I'm sure many would assume that there are benefits to such a genetic abnormality. After all one of our greatest sports stars, Ian Thorpe, is himself the proud owner of inordinately sized flippers.
The same thought had occurred to me last week, and with that renewed hope in mind I gracefully dived into my local swimming pool. Strangely enough I did not break any records. I could barely float. My feet remained the same impediment as they were on land, possibly more so because the ripples from my kicking made for "rough seas".
The thought may also have crossed your mind that large feet equals an improved sense of balance. I tested the theory. I won't horrify you with the details but let's just say the balance beam and I are no longer on good terms.
I am looking to other solutions. The ancient Chinese custom of foot-binding has crossed my mind. I'm also eager to consult a cosmetic surgeon about foot reduction surgery. At the very least I thought I'd pursue a support group for fat-footed freaks, though my search for such a thing on the internet turned up some disturbing results.
For now I suppose I will have to live with my irregularity, demurely hiding my feet under tables and constantly drawing people's attention away with ridiculous hand gestures and facial expressions. If all else fails I could always step on them, though my footprint may be a dead giveaway.
|
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32021 | Department of Mangement Science and Engineering
Stanford Engineering
Department of Management Science and Engineering Web Site
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MS&E Department home page is: http://www.stanford.edu/dept/MSandE/
Please visit our homepage to locate the page you want.
If you can't find the information you need, please e-mail:
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tim.keely @ stanford.edu |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32087 | Results 1 to 5 of 5
1. #1
Extra 6mm wetsuit?
Anyone in the Connecticut/Rhode Island/New York/Massachusetts area got an extra 6mm wetsuit they want to let me borrow/buy cheap for the upcoming swell this weekend?
2. #2
I have an old O'Neill Psycho II 6/4 size M you can have for free if you want to come to NJ and pick it up. It's gotta be about 8 or more years old, but it was only worn a handful of times. It was always too warm for me.
3. #3
Join Date
Apr 2008
i stupidly bought an ultimate elasto rip curl 6 mil.more like restricto.
4. #4
If you don't have a suit I'm going to assume you haven't surfed all winter? I don't think it is a good idea to paddle into overhead surf if you not only have not been surfing but aren't used to the extra 50 pounds the suit adds..
Just my 2 cents and why I and many others didn't surf the doomsday swell.
5. #5
I surf in southern nc and obx. Ive been on it all winter. I hit R.I. over december for the doomsday swell, but i was borrowing my friends 6/5. Hes out of town and all i got is a 4/3 with holes in it. Fine for warmer southern temps but def not good for up here. Extra rubber weight doesn't bother me as much as cold |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32100 | Captain's Corner | Ed Walker
Worming your way to bass with a wacky rig
If a bass fisherman tells you he's going wacky, don't assume the fish have finally driven him off the deep end. The more likely explanation involves a peculiar rig that often draws strikes when bass ignore other baits. It's called the wacky rig: a plastic worm with a hook through the center of its body. Despite its unconventional appearance and seemingly random arrangement, the wacky rig can be an effective presentation in many scenarios. Reason: A wacky-rigged worm will shake and flutter enticingly with little more than a simple cast. The wacky worm is truly a bait for all seasons and can be particularly effective when bass retreat to deeper structures or into the shade of docks and boathouses.
Make it shake
Essential to this presentation is a limber worm and a light hook. When dropped, the worm's center — the heaviest point — sinks first and the ends tip upward.
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Stopping the bait in the water column, or letting it hit bottom, allows the head and tail ends to catch up and level the bait. Subtle twitches impart amazingly lifelike action.
Aggressive bass may gobble the bait on first sight, but warm-season bass often have to give potential meals a good stare before easing up and sucking in the chow.
Wacky worms do a good job of imitating actual invertebrates, but the quivering motion also looks like the natural movement of various forage, such as a dying shad or a crawfish scurrying across the bottom.
Subtle, natural and nonintrusive, the wacky rig keeps a consistent presentation in a visible and vulnerable position.
Weighting game
The wacky rig draws most of its strikes on the fall. Therefore, savvy anglers have developed several tricks for making the worm fall just the way they want it to.
Weighting wacky rigs fosters much creativity and variations run the gamut of external to internal options. Desired sink rates vary with depth and the amount of weight needed varies with worm size.
During spring's prespawn, spawning and postspawn period, many bass pros use dense, large-body soft stick baits like the Senko, Yum Dinger or Wave Worms' Tiki Stik to present sizable targets to aggressive fish.
When the bass become lethargic in summer's heat, moving to a smaller finesse bait like the Zoom Trick Worm or Yum's Houdini Worm is usually best.
With larger worms, adding a one-sixteenth-ounce bullet weight above the hook or inserting a peg weight (a lead cap with a peg stuck into the worm) works well. To weight a lighter worm, anglers stick a small nail into the head.
These arrangements make the baits nosedive, but switching weights to the tail ends creates an opposite drop, a clear benefit when you're trying to reach far beneath a dock.
For the ultimate simplicity, Tru-Tungsten makes finesse worms with tungsten powder molded into the tails and heads. With head- and tail-weighted designs and fall rates of half a foot per second and a foot per second, these baits offer increased wacky rig performance without adjustments.
Either option works, but one theory holds that most wounded or dying baitfish will sink headfirst. Bass bite wacky rigs that sink both ways, so experiment to determine the day's preference.
Working a wacky
Cast or flip the bait against a weed line, next to a stump or under a dock. Hold your rod at about 3 o'clock and let the bait drop on a semi-slack line. Keep it relaxed enough for the worm to fall naturally, but not so much that you lose contact with the descending bait.
Strikes are usually light when wacky-rigging, so pay close attention to your line. Watch the angle and rate of descent. If anything changes, reel up the slack and set the hook with a smooth but firm sweeping motion.
Sometimes your line will simply stop. Other times, it will suddenly start moving to one side or the other. Again, any change should signal prompt response.
The wacky rig may sound crazy, but it's a sound choice when you can't get bit on anything else.
Worming your way to bass with a wacky rig 07/04/08 [Last modified: Friday, July 4, 2008 4:31am]
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More than a dozen wildfires continue to rage in Southern California, where the hot, gusty winds are spreading embers in all directions and making it difficult for firefighters to put out the flames. The United States Forest Service deployed manned aircrafts over the fires to map their locations, find hot spots, and determine the directions in which the blazes are spreading. But weather conditions have grounded many planes.
Now, the National Interagency Fire Center has called on NASA to use its unmanned aerial vehicle equipped with a new thermal-imaging sensor to help track the fires.
The sensor is much more sensitive in the thermal range than are the line scanners that are normally used to map fires. The new sensor can also track a fire with greater accuracy, says Everett Hinkley, the National Remote Sensing Program manager at the U.S. Forest Service and a principal investigator on the project to test and develop the sensor. (Technology Review previously reported on the project and technology behind the sensor. See “Mapping Wildfires.”)
NASA’s unmanned aerial vehicle, Ikhana, began its first 10-hour mission on October 24 and will continue missions for three days. In its first mission, Ikhana flew over seven different fires. The aircraft lingered over each fire for about half an hour and then repeated the drill in order to monitor how each fire was progressing, says Vince Ambrosia, an engineer at NASA Ames Research Center and the principal investigator of the thermal-imaging sensor. Both Hinkley and Ambrosia are stationed at the fire center located in Boise, ID, overseeing the use of the sensor for the California fires.
The images are processed onboard the aircraft, and the data is sent in real time to a ground station where it is incorporated into a Google Earth map. (See images below.) Capturing the images in real time is a major advance. Previously, images captured by a sensor had to be put on a “thumb drive” and dropped out of the aircraft through a tube as it flew near a command station, or the aircraft had to land so that the data could be given to a colleague to perform the analysis.
“These particular fires are very dynamic, fast-moving fires, so having very frequent updates … will be a big help,” says Hinkley.
On the morning of October 24, NASA began mapping the wildfires in California using a new thermal-imaging sensor onboard an unmanned aerial vehicle. This image is of the Harris fire in San Diego County, on the California-Mexico border. The image was taken using the 12-channel spectral sensor, and the data was automatically processed onboard the aircraft, then sent to ground stations where it was incorporated into a Google Earth map. The data is displayed in an array of colors: the fire’s hot, active spots are yellow; warm areas that were recently burned are shades of red; and areas that are cooling are blue.
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Tagged: Computing, NASA, imaging, mapping
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At 11:30 last Friday night I was frantically doing jumping jacks in my living room, trying to hit my activity goal for the day: 4,000 points. The more I moved, the more points I got from the Nike+ Fuelband SE fitness tracker on my wrist—and at nearly midnight I had 3,957.
Even though I had put in a full day of work, cycled for miles around San Francisco, and spent an evening out with friends, I felt compelled to keep going until I hit that magic number. So I jumped and yelled obscenities to the empty room, and after a few minutes the black, rubbery Fuelband lit up with a rainbow of congratulatory LEDs. My goal met, I slumped on the couch, victorious, and ate a bowl of ice cream.
I wasn’t always this way. A couple of weeks ago, though, I started tracking my activity—my steps, bike rides, sleep patterns, and more—with some of the newest wristbands, all of which can automatically sync activity from the band to a smartphone via low-energy Bluetooth: the aforementioned Nike+ Fuelband SE, the Fitbit Force, and the Jawbone Up 24. The idea was to see whether they could accurately log my moves and encourage me to meet specific daily activity goals without making me feel as if I were under house arrest.
I tested each wristband on its own with its accompanying iPhone app, and spent one day wearing all three on the same wrist to determine differences in their tracking skills. The bottom line: each of these gadgets encouraged me to be more active and wasn’t too obnoxious at buzzing my wrist and sending alerts to my phone. Each synced flawlessly with its companion app, making the whole experience much more habit-forming than if I’d had to connect them manually.
Even so, I’m not ready to shell out my own money for one of these. None was close to excellent. They all fit imperfectly—a big problem, since they are intended to track both activities and sleep—and their accompanying apps need to be slimmed down and simplified. I also have concerns about their accuracy. On the same day, the FuelBand SE said I had taken 9,725 steps, the Force counted 11,981 steps, and the Up 24 logged 6,785. Over weeks and months, such differences would really add up.
Here are the pluses and minuses of each.
Jawbone Up 24 ($150)
Though it still needs work, the Up 24 quickly became my favorite for its ability to blend function and style.
Like the preceding Up band, which could not sync wirelessly with a smartphone, the Up 24 looks more like a modern-art bracelet than a tracking device. A sleek wave pattern is carved into its rubber band and two gently overlapping ends make it stylish and easy to slip on or off. The single button on one of the ends of the band shows you how much power the device has and lets it start or stop tracking your sleep.
Beyond being the most fashionable of the trackers I tried, the Up 24 was the most full-featured and had the most user-friendly app. One of the best features was its “smart alarm,” which tries to wake you up with gentle vibration when you’re in a state of light sleep, up to 30 minutes before your planned wakeup time. Using this felt much less jarring than my standard blaring iPhone alarm.
The app offers a slew of features, but its “Home” tab is simply laid out, with colorful arrows indicating how much you’ve moved and slept. The app also lets you log the meals you’ve eaten—you can use your phone to scan bar codes on packages of food rather than typing the information in—and can draw in data from other fitness apps, like RunKeeper and Strava.
The Fitbit Force can do that, too, but the Up 24 takes it further by connecting to the app IFTTT (If This, Then That), which lets you use the Web to automate reactions to specific triggers. For example, I set the Up 24 to turn on an Internet-connected desk lamp every time I woke up. Or you could use it as a trigger for your coffeemaker when you get up in the morning. That would be pretty cool.
Fitbit Force ($130)
The Fitbit Force’s app needs work, but the wristband was the most comfortable overall since it’s fully adjustable. It’s the most digital-watch-like in appearance—the time even shows up first on the display, by default, though you can edit this in the app—which may also make those of us who are new to fitness tracking feel a little more at ease wearing it daily.
Furthermore, it was the easiest to use while on my arm, with a crisp, bright, slightly angled OLED display jutting out of its band and a side button that you can use to cycle through its different data fields (including time, steps taken, distance traveled, and calories burned). It’s expected to soon be able to show you incoming calls, which will make it even more useful.
I had one big concern with the hardware, though. A removable piece of plastic secures the band to your arm, making it a pain to put on and the subject of constant worrying: I fretted that I would lose this little, specialized part.
As for the app, it’s the easiest for gathering lots of information at a glance. A page for each day shows measurements like steps taken, miles walked, and weight to lose until you hit a weight goal, and these are easy to hide if you don’t care about certain metrics. It’s confusing to navigate, though, requiring several taps.
Also, logging activities is really difficult, as my fiancé can attest: he got to hear me yelling at the app for a good 10 minutes one evening, completely enraged by its inability to properly account for the calories I surely burned during a 30-minute bike ride.
Nike+ FuelBand SE ($149)
The FuelBand SE sets itself apart with its focus on competition, from the virtual trophies that you can reap for hitting certain activity goals to the way it encourages users to “win” hours (defined by five minutes of activity per hour).
The FuelBand SE also has its own system of points you earn from activity (“NikeFuel”), illustrated on the wristband with a rainbow row of LEDs that gradually change from red to green throughout the day. I liked this because it helped me think less about the specifics of movement and more about being active in general.
The bracelet looks sportier than its peers, with a stiff-framed, rounded, rubbery body and a strong clasp that opens with the push of a tiny button and closes with a satisfying click. However, this hard body made it feel like a court-ordered monitoring bracelet (not that I know from personal experience). And I hated how it slid around on my wrist while I was biking or running down the street. I popped a spacer link out of the bracelet to make it fit more snugly, but this made it too tight.
The sporty feel carries over to the Fuelband SE’s display, which is the most interesting and colorful of the three. Below the band’s rubbery face are several rows of LEDs that light up to show you various activity and calorie measurements and to alert you when you meet, say, your daily points goal. The arrangement makes it look like you have your own personal scoreboard, which is pretty cool, and although it’s bright, it can smartly adjust to the surrounding lighting conditions.
The app was easy to use if you just wanted to check your points and activity levels, but overall it felt crowded with options that weren’t always simple to find or control. Settings were spread out and sometimes repeated in a couple of different parts of the app, and there didn’t seem to be any way to add workouts or sleep—what the Fuelband refers to as “Sessions”—after the fact. I hate futzing with my phone when I’m trying to get out the door or nod off, so this meant that I didn’t end up logging most of my cycling activity and probably lost out on a bunch of points.
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Credit: Photograph by Rachel Metz | MIT Technology Review
Tagged: Computing, Communications, Web, iPhone, smartphone, Android, wearable technology, Jawbone, Fitbit, Nike
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32112 | TextWrangler is a text editor, not a word processor, and there's an important difference.
It's the bee's knees at jobs such as complicated search-and-replaces, sorting, line numbering, and so on, but it doesn't care much about appearance. Changing the display font is about all you can do.
So you shouldn't consider it as an alternative to Word, NeoOffice and the like. Nor is it really an alternative to TextEdit or Stickies for quick-anddirty scribbles.
Where TextWrangler comes into its own is in logically manipulating large chunks of text. For example, through a single dialog you could change a price list order 'SKU, price, product name' into 'product name, SKU, price', and then use just one more dialog to sort that list by price.
There is, of course, a learning curve. Advanced search-and-replace, for example, is based on the Unix utility Grep. But TextWrangler's documentation is excellent, and well-integrated with AppleScript, so you can save processes and call them up.
Other features include multi-file search-and-replace and tools for adding and removing hard line breaks, as well as smartening and dumbing down quotes – tasks that frequently become chores when you're moving text from one format to another. It's difficult to fault.
One welcome addition, however, would be support for opening DOC and RTF files.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32116 | TED Conversations
Patrick Murphy
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Buggin' Out: Urban Bug Farming for the Future
Why Insects Should Be in Your Diet By Aaron T. Dossey
The Cricket Bigger Than Beef By Claire Lemarchand
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Jun 4 2013: Many of us arent aware of the fact that we eat bugs everyday. The FDA allows chocolate to contain 60 insect components/100g, peanut butter can contain 30 insects parts/100g. These are just the beginning of all the products that contain bugs, all processed food contains insects. What i would be concerned about is insect farms exploding all over and creating fast and cheaper insects by giving them genetically altered food that will make them bigger and able to produce more protein. If we can make sure that we dont over exploit insects like we do almost everything else than adding insects to our diets may be extremely beneficial.
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Jun 5 2013: I agree with you Cori, but I also think the over exploitation of insects is going to be inevitable if we start producing them as a food source because it will be fast and cheap.
In the U.S. we kind of already do use bugs as a food source. Chocolate covered ants and chocolate covered grasshoppers can be bought at specialty stores and they're actually not that bad. I think that bug farms can be extremely beneficial in our diets once people get over the gross factor and realize that bugs can taste pretty good. As children most of us have probably eaten our fair share of insects, I know I have. It wasn't gross to us then, so why does it become so gross as we grow older?
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Jun 5 2013: Good point! I wish it does not happen!
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32117 | TED Conversations
greg dahlen
Alumnus, academy of achievement
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what makes a story go national, or international?
Certain incidents and events become known across a nation where many or most people are aware of them, thinking, talking and feeling about them. Here in the U.S. I can think recently of the trial of George Zimmerman who killed Trayvon Martin as one such story, and Miley Cyrus's appearance at the VMA awards where she "twerked" vigorously as another. One international story is the problems of Greece, and I imagine Barack Obama's election made some waves in other countries (did it?) What is it that makes certain stories get many people's attention and awareness? Is it that there's a lot of emotion in the events involved? Is it that something in the story impinges on many other people's lives, and how does that work? Perhaps there are different factors for why different stories become prominent?
For those in other than the U.S., what stories have gone national in your country?
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Dec 23 2013: If I have to try summing up in key words of the patterns of news on the media here.It would be like this:
-tensions,conflicts and war
-disasters or catastrophes
-economic crisis,corruptions
-foreign policies.etc.
-social issues like food safety ,real estate issue,corruptions
-national or local polices
Today one of the headline is that the Gv finalises a proposal to abolish the re-education thru forced labor system. And recently, there's a big discussion among the cyber community on a moral dilemma that people face -when an elderly people unexpectedly fall in the street while walking,what do you do?
I think whether it goes national or international depends on the influence of the news,including the influence what the media incorporated into the news delivery according to their agenda. And it does affect your views on some aspects of things if you are not aware of it.
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Dec 23 2013: Amily, your name doesn't sound Chinese, but you live in China? Can you tell me some of your story, I'm trying to understand what influences your particular perspective on media.
I wonder how there can be so much discussion of the question what to do if an elderly person falls, that doesn't seem like it would be so complicated?
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Dec 23 2013: Yep,I live in China and am a Chinese.Shaw sounds the closest to my hard-to-read family name so I chose it for convenience. What influences your particular perspective on media?I grow up reading newspaper and what i learn is that what's on the news is not always "the whole picture"or it's just some parts of the story,being aware other source of information.So I started to question who decides what is to be packed into the screen delivery.
The background of that discussion is several reports on cases where some elderly people were sent to hospital by strangers and then said it's the strangers who pushed them down afterwards.There has been follow up reports on it about social insurance,doubts about modern man's conscience or trust issue within a society.
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Dec 23 2013: Amily, I have some questions for you about how important the individual is versus the group in China, but I am not sure how to put them, so I'll have to wait.
In the meantime, are you saying the elderly people fell in the street and then a stranger called for someone to come help the person? But why would people think the stranger who called for help pushed down the elderly person?
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Dec 23 2013: Usually I think natives might not be the best person to tell their culture because they get so used to and close to it that they can hardly see a difference without reference to another culture.But no pro.I'll be happy to share when you form a question.
What the news reported is that the helpee (the elderly person) accused of the helper(stranger) of pushing her down so that she asked the stranger to pay for all her fees in hospital but actually she fell down herself .Not sure why people spend much time in this.
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Dec 24 2013: Well, Amily, here in the U.S. our newspapers also cover major policies and political events. But we also see a lot of coverage of events that only involve a few people, many times it would be a crime that one person committed against another person, or it might be something controversial that one person did, for example, did you hear about Miley Cyrus, she is a well-known young entertainer who went on a TV program and danced in a way that some think is sexually suggestive by bending over and rolling her buttocks. Now do you see a lot of stories like this in China that just focus on one person or a few people and something they did? Would you tell me some of the stories that became national?
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Dec 26 2013: Yes.We have news on crimes and celerities here as well,which usually cover spaces on national or local news,but rarely make it to international.I don't read news now but scan it sometimes unless there's a need for in-depth reading.(how many worth reading though?)The recent one that Im aware of from the large coverage is a divorce case of a very successful musician Faye Wang and her husband.Nothing unusual about the divorce itself but people talk about it because of her popularity.
I remeber seeing the Miley Cyrus news somewhere. Isn't being controversy a trick some people play?Being not totally" wrong" and not too plain so that you have different "groups" to interact with each other .Thus, noises made and people hear them.No news means bad news.
Happy holidays to you Greg and everyone;D
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Dec 26 2013: Thanks, Amily. Well, I personally would think that people's first thought in doing something is not to create a "trick" controversy, it's to do what they want to do, what they enjoy doing or think is right, but then secondarily what they do is ambiguous so creates controversy. But you don't agree, you think people deliberately do things to create controversy, even when it's things they don't really want to do, or don't really care about?
How much did Chinese people follow the doings of the performer Michael Jackson, do you think he reached the level of international news, and why is that?
Now we just celebrated Christmas here in America. But you don't observe Christmas in China I don't think?
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Dec 27 2013: Hi Greg.What you said is possible too.
Some people follow that.The reasons I can think of are his reputation and influence and the media coverage.
Here we have Christmas too but not a national holiday.
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Dec 27 2013: Thanks, Amily, you sure seem smart, what is your story, are you working or going to school, what sort of work do you do?
One thing about you, you seem very low-key. Are you often, or ever, excited in your life? Is there anyone you would be excited to meet, can you tell me who?
You said you only occasionally read the news in depth. What stories attract you enough to read in depth, and why?
I wonder if you are correct that Faye Wong's divorce is just an ordinary divorce? Maybe it is ordinary in the bare facts, but maybe it is unusual because presumably a famous person has more intense feelings and emotions than an ordinary person?
Do you mind if I ask you about another matter? I happen to love to drink milk, that is, milk that comes from a cow, and here in the U.S. we drink a fair amount of it. But in Asia they don't drink so much, correct? Do you have any idea why that is, we can say that it is tradition but then why did the tradition start? Here is a list from Wikipedia that shows countries in order, starting with the highest, in how much milk they drink per capita, per capita means per person. You can see no Asian country shows up until number 75: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_milk_consumption_per_capita
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Jan 2 2014: Hi Greg. Sorry for the late reply for I have been away for several days.
Ha Ha. I do get excited in life!! But I can easily get bored and when you think about something you don't often sound excited, do you?
What stories attracts ?It really depends on personal preference. I actually followed up that re-education thru forced labor system news as it develops.It starts from the cyber community where this young GV staff wrote something critical against GV with the intention that the GV might improve it's governance and then he was "invited to have tea"(a phrase that means going thru investigation) and dramaticly he was arrested and sent to the forced labor system,accused of spreading inproporiately agitating information and the evidence are articles on his web pages and a T-shirt with "Give me liberty or give me death"printing.(Crazy,I know) And a lawyer later helped him with this case and the final results is that the whole forced labor system is proposed to be abolished.(There are several similar cases) I'm concerned cuz I think this has to do with ourselves. If nobody stands up for anything(very risky tho) then nothing will change.And it's good to see the GV is willing to admit mistakes too.
Then,it's my turn ;DDDDD
What makes you want to know why Asian don't drink milk?
How does that relate to what we are talking about?
What's the benefits of drinking it do you think?
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Jan 3 2014: Thanks, Amily. Did you go anywhere interesting?
Well, there is something rather edited or stripped down when you post your thoughts, I'm not criticizing you, it's just a little different for me from most people as most wander around a bit more. What does excite you in life? Is there anyone you would be excited to meet, famous or obscure? Maybe getting excited isn't all that great, it can be sort of tiring to get excited?
Sounds like you're into the more serious stories. That's one thing I learned from this conversation, almost everyone who has answered has been pretty serious in the news they consume. I wonder if they're being honest with me, or perhaps they just want to look like they are deep thinkers? For me I usually go to stories that are a little lighter. Today the only news I read was about the Rose Bowl, it was a college football game that was played yesterday very close to where I live. It was extra interesting to me because one of the teams was Stanford, where I got my degree.
So you really don't consume any light news? What do you do when you need experiences in life that are more light, not so serious?
Oh, I'm very interested in milk, Amily. I got interested by reading about the Masai tribe in Kenya. They are known for only living on food from their cows, milk and beef. About five years ago I was having some health problems, and the way I fixed them I began to live entirely on milk, what we call skim milk which is milk with most of the cream taken away. Every day I drink about two gallons, or nine liters, of skim milk, and hardly eat or drink anything else. It's very great for weight loss and weight management, and it's also easy on the body to digest and use, I think because it's fluid. It has been so great for me that I wonder why Asians don't drink much, it's surprising to me. Not really related to this conversation, since you're in China I thought you might know.
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Jan 6 2014: Hi Greg. You seem to have tons of curiosities!:-)
Yes.Some family time in another place.
I sometimes modify words as I type as to convey more accurate ideas due to the reason that English is not my first language or sometimes I brainstorm a better idea.People I'm excited to meet would be my close friends in other places or authors Iike Long yingtai or any interesting people.
I believe people just present what they think about this issue and take your question seriously and share contemplated understanding to contribute to this thread. Not necessarily how they want others to think about them.
I don't consume light news but I do watch videos, cartoons or listen to music and chat for entertainment and sometimes Karaok or live music.
Good that you benefited from the milk .Greg. We have more assembled- lined milk-related drinks than the actual milk.But I don't think that's as good as milk.I don't find many cow farms around.I guess if you want to drink fresh milk you need to be reasonably close to the farm since it preserve just for a short time?
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Jan 6 2014: can you tell me what Long yingtai writes about that interests you? I see on Wikipedia that she has a newspaper column that appears in mainland China?
You might be right, it's hard to know whether people are being honest. It might be a question of emphasis, that in life people read both serious news and light news, but when someone asks them what they read, it is the serious news that comes into their minds the most.
Can I ask what you mean by "videos," do you mean music videos, or.....?
Would you like to be a newspaper reporter, or columnist, why or why not?
Well, I'm not sure, Amily, I believe you don't have to be so close because the milk can be transported in trucks. One person told me that the Asian rejection of milk might be because of Buddhism? I don't know, are Buddhists vegetarians? But actually, if Buddhists are not drinking milk, I suppose really they are vegans, correct? Is Buddhism still important in China, is Buddhism considered a religion, and hasn't China outlawed religion?
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Jan 8 2014: Hi Greg.I know her as being an author instead of a columnist.What interests me? She has this youthfulness energy instilled in her writing,questioning the indifference of people to what's not "right" with the culture,politics ,eventually affecting the well being of themselves and she encourages people to think and talk and make a change with a public spirit and social consciences .And in that way I like her being authentic ,not speaking out for something what people want to hear but what matters.
Yes.Music concert,comedy,cartoons...many sorts.
Yes and no.Yes because you are in constant flow of changes in journalism ,new things just keep emerging.No because there's this censorship issue here and I have other priorities.
As far as I know, Buddhists are generally known as being vegetarians for they believe butchery is inhumane.Some think it's okay to drink milk and some don't.
Is Buddhism still important in China?
I think it's still relevant when you think about it's influence in languages,food and art.We have many vocab deriving from Buddhism,e.g. "Yuan "don't know how to explain precisely but destiny or fate would be close and you have "Bao ying" Chinese for Karma.You can buy in supermarkets some Toufu-like food made from certain temples.And it finds it's expression in literature,sculpture,architechture...ect. That's from the past when it flourished here.But today I think it's like any other religions that people convert to various level.
hasn't China outlawed religion?
No.Actually they are law-ed.In law,it writes people are free to convert to religion but not to interfere with the social orders.We have legal three-selfs churches(self- supporting,self-governing,self-propagating)but I think it has been" censored".
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Jan 10 2014: well, Amily, if there is a censorship issue, how is Long yingtai able to get published? Because her writing could shake things up and encourage rebellion?
Do people in China eat much meat, here in America we have lots of "Chinese food" restaurants, and they serve huge amounts of meat, the menu is meat, vegetables, and rice everywhere you go in Chinese restaurants.
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Jan 16 2014: Hi Greg.I guess it depends on what get censored and what dose not and that standard changes.And she is with good intention and her works mainly focus on the culture and i don't think her writing could actually shake things up.
Yes.Dishes with meat, vegetables and rice are quite common.In the north of China people mainly eat noodles, buns or dumplings that are made of flour while in the south rice is preferred.
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Jan 19 2014: so can you remember any specific subject she took up, what she said about it, and why it interested you?
Well, if Chinese people are eating meat, then I don't think Buddhism is the explanation for why they are not drinking cow's milk, since Buddhism generally discourages meat-eating? Well, it's surprising, Amily, if you come to market here you will see dozens of gallons of milk for sale in a supermarket. But maybe our broader range of food available makes us struggle more with obesity, by cutting out milk the Chinese might have reduced obesity? But I wonder why they chose to cut out milk, they could instead have cut out meat? If you like to do me a favor, ask your family and friends why they think chinese don't drink much cow milk and if you get an answer let me know.
Maybe chinese cut out milk because it is product of woman, or female animal? Aren't women somewhat suppressed in asian society? Why is that, do you know?
Showing single comment thread. View the full conversation. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32147 | US states hope to tax online sales
Des Moines, Iowa
October 5, 2005 - 1:40PM
A coalition of 18 US states representing about 20 per cent of the population has forged an agreement to begin collecting sales taxes on internet purchases.
The group hopes to convince retailers - but does not force them - to begin collecting taxes and turning it over to state governments.
The agreement puts in place a procedure for businesses to collect sales taxes from internet and catalogue purchases, and puts in place an amnesty that protects them from being pursued for taxes not paid in the past.
After negotiations, which lasted for three years, the states including Iowa had agreed to definitions of taxable items and procedures for paying the taxes.
The deal is designed to provide a uniform system for retailers who routinely sell across state lines. In exchange for collecting and sending tax revenue to the state, retailers would be compensated for the costs of collecting the taxes, and protected against liability for accounting mistakes.
"The implementation of the streamlined agreement will allow states to recoup valuable resources that can, in turn, be put toward education, public safety, tax relief, or other pressing state needs," said Illinois State Senator Steve Rauschenberger, president of the National Conference of State Legislatures.
The boom in electronic sales through the internet and burgeoning catalogue sales could generate billions of dollars a year in tax revenue for states. The NCSL estimates states lose as much as $US8.9 billion ($A11.7 billion) a year from sales taxes that aren't collected on the electronic transactions.
Filling that gap has proven to be problematic, and it is far from certain how much will be collected from the agreement which went on the books over the weekend.
The measure puts in place the procedures for businesses to remit sales taxes but doesn't require the payment, and many large retailers have said they have no intention of paying.
Fiscal conservatives, in particular, face conflicts on the issue, because they are generally opposed to any tax increases and many view broadening the sales tax as a tax hike.
They face conflicting pressure, however, from main street businesses, another core constituency. Those business owners argue that it isn't fair to force them to pay sales taxes when online retailers they compete with don't pay the taxes.
The agreement does not change state tax rates, and it leaves individual states the decision on what items are taxed.
The US Supreme Court ruled in 1967 and again in 1992 that states do not have the authority to require a retailer to collect sales taxes for a state where the retailer doesn't have a physical presence.
The court did leave the door open to Congress to grant the authority to the states to make those collections, but Congress hasn't done so.
The creation of uniform standards and rules is a way the states can send a signal to Congress they are ready to begin collecting the taxes if given the authority.
The 18 states which signed on to the agreement are Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan, Minnesota, Nebraska, New Jersey, North Carolina, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota and West Virginia. Also Arkansas, Ohio, Tennessee, Utah and Wyoming. Nevada will become a member in January.
Copyright © 2005 Associated Press. All rights reserved.
|
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32148 | South Americans know how to dance. Australians ... not so much.
South Americans know how to dance. Australian men ... not so much. Photo: Getty Images
The night begins the way it would in Australia, with people standing around drinking. In this case, most of the punters are sipping caipirinhas rather than slugging VB but the basics are all here. You could almost imagine you were back home if it wasn't for the Portuguese phrases rattling around the room.
Until something weird happens.
Just as people are starting to settle in, going back for a second round of booze, welcoming more friends to the group, easing into the night, the house lights go down. There's a rumble of something through the crowd - excitement, I guess - as a bloke with a microphone jumps onto the small stage at the front of the dance floor.
His bald head glistening in the spotlight, his muscled arms straining against his shiny shirt like a Lycra bag full of watermelons, the guy starts talking to the crowd in the local tongue, urging them to do, well, something. I don't speak Portuguese but a few seconds later, I find out what that something is: hit the dance floor.
The really strange bit? Every single person in this Sao Paulo bar is doing as they are told, the crowd dropping drinks onto tables en masse and heading for the open space in front of baldy, muscly guy.
It's moments such as these when you realise you're not in Kansas any more, Toto. If some bloke jumped up at the front of a bar in Australia and told everyone to stop boozing and join him on the dance floor, he'd probably be wiping beer off himself for days.
But in Brazil? In a couple of seconds, baldy, muscly guy has a packed dance floor in front of him. A few seconds after that, he has them all in perfect lines moving to choreographed steps he's leading, the whole place bumping and grinding as one, like some far-fetched scene from an American college film that you know would never happen in real life. Except it is.
Damn, Brazilians can dance. From the girls, you kind of expect it. But the guys are equally, if not more, enthusiastic, swaying their hips and shuffling their feet. They do it with such a practised nonchalance, too; they're all Latino good looks and natural rhythm.
Nothing makes you feel more like a gringo than watching a South American guy dance. Sure, everyone's friendly and they try to coax you into trying a few moves, but you can tell what they're thinking: "Damn, Australians can't dance."
There's some sort of anatomical difference between Latin Americans and Anglo-Celts, as though Latin Americans have a few extra ligaments in their hips that allow them to roll and shake the way they do. (It could also be practice and passion but I'm sticking with my extra-ligaments theory.)
At that Sao Paulo bar, I gave it my all, attempting to make up in enthusiasm for what I lacked in skill. I'm pretty sure I came off looking as if I was trying to fuse the samba with the robot but no one could say the Aussie guy didn't give it his unco-ordinated best.
If you're planning to spend much time in Latin America, you'd better get used to this phenomenon. It's the same throughout the continent, this shared love of shaking your booty in an open, public place. It's infectious and more than a little intimidating. They make it look so easy.
A few weeks later, I'm in a nightclub in Ushuaia, Argentina, the southernmost city in the world, and though it's freezing outside, things are heating up on the dance floor. It's 3am and swarthy chaps in questionable shirts have started to get their groove on with ladies local and foreign, swinging them around the place and wiggling their hips.
Us foreign guys, for the most part, are doing what we do best: standing around the sides, drinking beer and looking awkward. After a while, however, it becomes painfully obvious that if we don't get out there and shake something soon, it's going to be a long night.
So we chug our drinks, steel ourselves for the coming embarrassment and get out there. To paraphrase a movie I haven't seen: no one puts Ben in the corner.
There are a couple of inalienable truths I've learnt about women and of this one I'm sure: they like a guy who can dance. That isn't a problem in Australia, because we non-dancers are in the majority. It's only when you go to Latin America that your shortcomings as a hip-shaker become glaringly obvious.
There are classes you can take, of course, and many's the gringo traveller who rolls up to a few salsa classes to try to imbue themselves with some rhythm. But we're mostly fighting a losing battle. Still, it's an important battle to fight. As ridiculous as we might look flailing about in nightclubs, it gradually becomes obvious why most Latino guys are such good dancers: they love what they're doing. Sharing that love might not have you owning Brazilian dance floors but at least you'll have fun trying.
Ever faced embarrassment when trying to blend in with the locals? Post your comment below.
Read Ben Groundwater's column Sundays in the Sun-Herald. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32170 | Terry Gilliam talks apps, iPad and interactivity
Film director and Monty Python star on why 'there's no way of being a Luddite any more' when it comes to technology
Director Terry Gilliam
Terry Gilliam is going with the flow for Monty Python's iPhone and iPad apps
"We're in this position of having survived, with people interested in any new iteration of Python, and if we can squeeze any money out of our fans, we're quite rapacious..."
Tongue firmly in cheek, Terry Gilliam is referring to the two Monty Python apps released in 2012.
The Holy Book of Days is an iPad app collecting video, audio, animations, 360-degree spinnable props and memories from the 28-day shoot for Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, iPhone app Python Bytes gathers 22 sketches from the first series of Monty Python's Flying Circus.
"iPads are here, apps are here: there's no way of being a Luddite any more! You have to go with the flow," says Gilliam.
"I'm impressed by both apps: the Holy Grail is very nicely done, with a lot of work put in to make it a nice-looking thing. And the iPhone app is really elegant – it's the way I want to see more of our stuff put out."
Gilliam doesn't have an iPhone himself, but he's borrowed one from Python Bytes developer Heuristic Media – co-founded by longtime friend and fellow filmmaker Richard Loncraine – to practise scribbling his signature on the touchscreen using a stylus, for its App Signing feature.
Gilliam and fellow Pythons Michael Palin and Terry Jones will be making use of that feature, as well as discussing the app, at an event in Apple's Regent Street store in London on 3 May.
One interesting thing about the Python Bytes app is the way it randomises the order in which sketches are played: users shake their iPhones to skip to a new clip.
"When we made the shows, we spent so much time making sure they went out in the order we planned them, untouched," says Gilliam, referring to the infamous re-editing of the series for transmission in the US.
"Now we're letting them be used any way. It doesn't bother me any more, although at the time it might have. Certain sketches work better than others, so let's edit out the weak stuff. And I do like the randomness: the serendipity of it."
Python Bytes Python Bytes shows sketches from the first series of Monty Python's Flying Circus
Gilliam gracefully bats back a suggestion that his use of animation in the original shows was as technologically advanced for its time as a slick app is in 2012 – "It was very crude animation!" – but he has interesting views on interactive media.
He actually worked on a CD-ROM game in the mid 1990s, which Gilliam says he really enjoyed, even though the project ultimately fell apart before it could be released. More recently, he was involved in the promotional campaign for console game Heavy Rain.
"I don't like interactivity when it comes to doing films. That's being a storyteller," he says.
"A movie to me is something I make, and you can watch it. Hopefully I engage you, and you like it and are stimulated by it. But you don't get to share in it. But in video games, you can, and that's interesting. The two worlds should both exist."
Gilliam notes that games are having an impact on some filmmaking aesthetics now though – he cites Inception as a prominent example – and talks approvingly of the fact that filmmakers like Heuristic's Loncraine are bringing their storytelling skills to apps.
"Richard's running with this thing, and we're delighted with his enthusiasm and inventiveness," he says.
"The problem with Python now is that we're not together enough to make the decisions we used to when we were working together every day. But with Richard, I trust him, and know he's going to do a good job and make interesting choices."
In the meantime, Gilliam remains a critical yet engaged observer of the world of apps and tablets, including from the standpoint of his day-to-day work on a computer with Wacom tablet, and on pen and paper.
"I've got an iPad, but it frustrates me, because it's not really a computer," he says. "Some of the things I want to do, I can't do well on it. I have this Bamboo Stylus now to do drawings on the iPad, but the nib is too big: I find it very cumbersome still."
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32171 | Book of revelation
Andrew Motion
Andrew Motion believes the Bible stories are an essential part of cultural luggage that schoolchildren now miss out on. Photograph: David Levene
"I'm not a believer." Pleasantries exchanged, this is the first thing Andrew Motion says to me when we meet at his north London flat. So why is he so passionate about the Bible? "Simply because it is full of terrific stories. These stories are primitive. They speak to us about human nature and the recurring patterns of human behaviour."
The poet laureate believes all children should be taught the Bible from an early age. Sadly, he says, many children miss out, and not just on the stories themselves. Poor knowledge of the Bible limits understanding of a whole raft of literary work, from John Milton through to TS Eliot.
"Take any of the metaphysical poets, almost any of the Victorian poets," he says. "Even reading the great romantics like Keats requires you to know things about the Fall, who some of the people in the Bible are, ideas of sinfulness and virtue. It's also essential for Tennyson, Browning and Arnold, and needs to be there in the background of the modernist period. Even a writer like TS Eliot is re-imagining all kind of mythological structures.
"Think of a poem like The Wasteland. You can't get anywhere near it without this kind of knowledge. Yes, you can have a conversation without referring to where these ideas come from, but you can have a much richer one by connecting them to their original sources."
He recalls the first cohort of English literature students he taught at Royal Holloway, where he is now professor of creative writing. "These were all bright students, very hard-working, all with good A-levels, but their knowledge of the great ancient stories was very sketchy. So when the time came to talk about Milton, I found very few knew there had been a civil war. As for the Bible, forget it. They just about knew who Adam and Eve were."
These days, he mainly teaches postgraduate students, but the lack of biblical knowledge still presents difficulties. "Many of my students stumble into vaguely mythological stories in their writing. When I ask them anything about the Bible, they frankly, by and large, don't know. I don't particularly blame them for it. But I do think there is a real problem with the education system that has allowed these great stories to disappear, to fade out of the diet everyone gets at school. It's an essential piece of cultural luggage."
For Motion, addressing the problem at higher-education level could be relatively straightforward. All undergraduate humanities students could take a crash course in the great stories alongside their degree subject. "I would start with Christian stories, Qur'anic stories, Greek and Roman stories, but it could be refined depending on what the subject is: a little history for people doing English, a bit of English for people doing history, for example."
He admits that tackling schools is far more challenging. "I am not for a moment suggesting that everybody be made to go to church during their childhood," he says. "But what I do think would be worth thinking about [is] how there could be some kind of general treatment of this all the way through a child's schooling."
Although he now describes himself as an atheist, religion played a big part in Motion's early life. Raised in a village on the Essex/Suffolk border, in what he describes as a "country upbringing", he attended church every Sunday, and studied the Bible at Sunday school and later at his Oxford public school, where there were daily prayers and church services.
While he describes his parents as "pretty devout", there is an underlying sense of scepticism. "My father's involvement in church was exactly what you'd expect given the context, but he was distrustful of what he would have called 'bells and smells'," Motion says.
He was confirmed at 11 in a fit of "what I thought was devotion, but was just a mixture of fright and ignorance and a liking of ritual". He may no longer believe, but his love of ritual remains, as does his love of the Bible. "If people want to get down on their knees and believe it line by line, good luck to them. I often wish I could, but as it happens I can't. But it doesn't destroy my pleasure in reading the Bible or my sense of its importance, at all."
In Motion's fantasy curriculum, study of the great stories (classical, biblical and other religious stories) would form part of a general studies programme - which has long since dropped off the syllabus at many schools.
"I can imagine every teacher in the land saying, 'not more to do', because the pressure on the curriculum is so enormously heavy already," he says. "I'm not suggesting this as a 'bolt-on', but part of a broader rethinking about what education is meant to be. What is probably required is a more radical conversation about how the curriculum is structured."
Teacher training has a crucial role to play in keeping these stories alive, he says. "Only about 50% of English teachers are actually specialists in their subject. They are nervous, their breadth and depth of reading is perhaps less than it should be. So they pass on their anxiety to the students."
If Motion is correct, today's newly qualified teachers may themselves have limited knowledge of the Bible, so how can they be expected to integrate this in their teaching? Accessing suitable teaching resources could be problematic. Aside from the Cross Reference Project, which is supported by the Bible Society, and provides resources to help students to understand how literature has been shaped by the Bible, there is little out there.
Motion is dismissive of the idea that some parents might object to the notion of Bible studies, or see it as force-feeding children religious ideas. "If people say this is about ramming religion down people's throats, they aren't thinking about it hard enough," he says. "It's more about the power of these words to connect with deep, recurring human truths, and also the story of the influence of that language and those stories."
Neither will he accept the idea that young people might not want to read the Bible, or don't see it as relevant to their lives. It is an idea that clearly irritates him. "Writers don't have any obligation to be relevant. They have an obligation to tell us the deep truth about ourselves."
Motion was educated at Radley College and sent his children to private schools, so it is tempting to conclude he is out of touch with education in the real world. Can he really see teachers in crowded state schools, already grappling with disaffection and poor behaviour, inspiring children with stories from the Bible?
Yes, actually. "I have been in hundreds of schools over the past few years. I've never left a school without a sense that the students there have seen something about what stories might mean for them. Maybe it is a reflection on me, but I find it much easier to imagine telling someone about the Adam and Eve story or the myth of Diana and Actaeon than anything else. You only have to ask yourself why Christ told parables - because people understand stories, because their metaphoric power is so rich," he says.
He concedes that some children are turned off by Shakespeare, for example, but says that is down to "the way it is taught and indeed with something in the zeitgeist, for boys in particular".
He adds: "The sense of refusal around Shakespeare is manifest and depressing. Very often the same boys lie on their bedroom floors and learn the lyrics of the Arctic Monkeys off by heart. Can't they see or be made to appreciate that poetry and the Arctic Monkeys are joined up somehow?"
Still, he is happy to admit he does not have all the answers. "What's the alternative to suggesting it? Sitting around, wringing our hands, saying quite soon very large parts of what should be common knowledge will be disappearing?
"There is nothing elitist about this. I just find it really depressing that large parts of our heritage are going to become the preserve of only the academies and only parts of the academies. It seems a great denial of the opportunities open to us as human beings."
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32175 | Journalists are saints, but Murdoch is a sinner
If you want more context about the quote on this page by William Powers, columnist with America's National Journal, it comes from a short article about Rupert Murdoch's potential purchase of Dow Jones and its flagship, the Wall Street Journal.
It continues: "The best newsrooms in America, including the Journal's, are run by people who believe in journalism itself, and its ability to illuminate, make sense of, and improve the world. It's a quaint notion, wildly out of step with the culture and, to more practical minds, bordering on the ridiculous. But it's this core belief, and the way it's reflected in the work every day, that make those newspapers desirable in the first place to people like Murdoch." (Via National Journal)
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32204 | 'You're Goths, and you can't serialise my next book'
Social Media spinola from deepest Shoreditch
High performance access to file storage
FoTW George Orwell called advertising "the rattling of a stick inside a swill pail". What would he call the business of writing advertorials about Twitter, and other Web 2.0 hypes, then?
Answers on an email, please. But we're honoured to have D-list Shoreditch New Media celeb and serial-Twitterer Paul Carr for this FoTW.*
This one starts gently, then heats up nicely.
From: Paul Carr
Subject: Twitter
Date: 15 February 2009 23:25:45 GMT
I'm sure a billion people have emailed about your Twitter piece, but you know the number you quoted is a tiny percentage of the total raised, right?
Subject: Re: Twitter
From: [email protected]
Date: 16 February 2009 09:16:14 GMT
To: Paul Carr
This is getting quite interesting -
> you know the number you quoted is a tiny percentage
> of the total raised, right?
And you would know that if you'd read the piece carefully: It's really clear that the number quoted is for twestival.fm, a subset of a bigger event. Reg readers had no problem seeing this, but Twitter users (including yourself) didn't.
So what accounts for this? Do you think Twitter users have poorer reading abilities, or lower cognitive functions? Or do they simply go by what the herd is saying, without Reading TFA? Or are they just being emotional (the "group" is attacked - attack back!) ?
The options are not mutually exclusive: if someone is a bit thick, they may be more likely to take comfort in letting the Crowd make their mind up on their behalf.
all the best,
From: Paul Carr
Subject: Re: Twitter
Date: 16 February 2009 10:06:25 GMT
To: [email protected]
Sorry, Andrew, that's bollocks. "Really clear"? I'm not denying you said the figure came from twestival.fm but the headline, subhead, thrust of the piece and link to the Day Today jam festival thing all made it clear you were saying that Twestival was a disappointing failure. It simply wasn't.
A group of unpaid volunteers used social media to create a global event that has already - before anything like the final total has been counted - raised a six figure amount to provide clean water to some of the world's poorest people. Your response to that was sneering and deliberately skewed to prove your point.
I emailed you as a professional courtesy because I wanted to give you a chance to say, "yeah, shit, I suppose I was a little hasty. I just don't like Twitter very much, but taking a pop at a successful charity event to make my point was a bit lame. I'll edit the piece to clarity that the total raised was much higher."
As I say, I was offering a professional courtesy before I write my column on Tuesday tearing you and the Reg new one, and you've responded by calling me an idiot.
Courtesy ends.
Paul then Twittered the perceived insult in real-time to the Twittersphere. Can it get any more exciting?
Taking it personally
To: Paul Carr
Subject: Re: Twitter
From: [email protected]
Date: 16 February 2009 10:47:57 GMT
Calm down, lad - you're responding very emotionally. Cf:
> and you've
> responded by calling me an idiot.
The ability to take distance yourself from an idea, and to discuss it coolly and rationally, is a sign of emotional maturity. Construing something as a hostile personal attack suggests you've lost that vital critical distance.
Paul, you don't strike me as a stupid person - you're a funny writer, but you do have a tendency to pander to your peers. You've done it before with blogs, and now you're doing it again.
I'm guessing like many Outraged Twitter Users you didn't RTFA closely. Of course, it's possible you did read it, but decided you would have better column material if you went with the Twitter version of reality. Getting outraged is very predictable, but it means you're failing to explore the real story with the wider readership.
One thing this approach misses out is the sociological aspect - isn't this group mentality is the most interesting part of such phenomena? My point of writing about Twitter specifically is because it's a great example of a closed cybernetic feedback loop.
> who are inferior to all of the Register readers
> who - as one mass - understood
> the brilliance of your piece and commented accordingly.
Er, no. Before you make a total chump of yourself, I've been correcting people who think Twestival.fm is the totally of Twestival in the Comments. There just aren't very many.
But I suspect you won't let facts get in the way of a good rant - if it earns you the peer approval you seem to crave.
all the best,
From: Paul Carr
Subject: Re: Twitter
Date: 16 February 2009 11:09:20 GMT
To: [email protected]
Dear me Andrew - peer approval I crave? Group mentality? The last people I met who were so obsessed with the evils of popularity were the kids at school who didn't have any. You're like the goths of web 2.0.
But my real question is why you are banging on about Twitter and the people who use it? I don't give a shit if you think everyone on Twitter is frightful - including presumably Charlie Brooker who is a collaborator with the guy who wrote the clip you fanboyishly used to make your - er - point.
My gripe is about your coverage of Twestival and the people who very successfully organised a charity event only to have their hard work and success shat on by someone who wouldn't let the facts get in the way of a good rant. You took your lack of understanding of Twitter out on good people who, I'll wager, have collectively done a hundred - maybe a thousand - times more for charity this year than you have. Correcting people in the comments is as cowardly as publishing a tabloid apology on the bottom of page twenty-nine, and you know it. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself.
I'm sorry you find my writing pandering and emotionally immature. I assume next time I publish a book, The Reg won't come asking to publish any more of it.
Splendid stuff. Twitter reminds me of the the early days of blogging - when people were so pleased with themselves simply for being there, they became very tribal, and infantile.
Apparently because El Reg makes fun of Twitter, we're also a "bunch of aggro loner twats", according to The Guardian's Jemima Kiss. But alas, Jemima was Twittering, not emailing, so it doesn't qualify as a FoTW.
Now there's a really great explanation for the media's current Twitter stupidity, and we'll be going into it more later this week. For now, check out James Harkin's excellent new book Cyburbia to see how Web 2.0 feedback loops are nothing new.®
* The original version of this piece might have been read to imply a commercial relationship between Paul Carr and Sarah Lacy. Paul did approach us last year with a suggestion that we might care to serialise Sarah Lacy's book, but - as was clear to us at the time - he did so only as a favour. We're sorry for any implication to the contrary. Paul adds that it's only Andrew, not the whole of the Reg who is "the goths of Web 2.0." Which disappoints us - must try harder.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32226 | Lindsay Lohan and Gwen Stefani like leopards
August 29th, 2005 // 3 Comments
llohan_vma.jpgI didn’t actually watch the VMA’s because I was too busy trying to get my underwear back from the wicked hot model that broke into my house, but I hear Lindsay Lohan and Gwen Stefani wore disturbingly similar dresses. I’m not entirely down on etiquette, but when two women wear the same thing to a big event, isn’t it customary for them to mud wrestle to the death to determine who the rightful dress wearer is? Or if that’s too degrading, they could just strip down naked and perform sexual acts on each other while I tape the whole thing. Because, uh, that’s like way less degrading.
1. b~money
hey, Lindsay’s dress even matches her skin (eww).
neat trick!
2. sara
do you like each other
Leave A Comment |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32231 | Lumia 920 and 820 w/ Pureview leaked
This tweet suggests a Lumia 920 running WP8 with a 4.5 inch screen and the most-anticipated Pureview camera technology. This leak is also on a Neowin forum post
Neowin user ~Johnny commented:
Wouldn't it kind of extoll any benefits of actually having a PureView camera if the lens is that small and body isn't that thick. You're not going to get much oversampling done if the most it can do is something like 21 MP :p
Still - 720p AMOLED display and I'll probably take it.
All I can comment is that, 21MP can still be considered Pureview, and yes, a 720p screen would be great, But isnt AMOLED owned by Samsung?
Another user GP007 says:
21MP is better than 8MP, regardless. But who knows? We'll have to wait and see for sure. Most of the 808s bulk comes from the 2nd SoC that helps them get that 41MP image and not so much the lens.
I definitely have to agree with this, the more MP, The better and more detailed the picture becomes.
At the same time, This very site, The Verge, reported that it will be called the 820
So will there be 2 Nokia WP8 phones? |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32264 | Princess Pantha and a couple of guys she doesn't usually pal around with, from a Thrilling Comics cover. Artist: Alex Schomburg.
Medium: Comic books
Published by: Standard Comics
First Appeared: 1946
Creators: unknown writer and Art Saaf, artist
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The "white jungle goddess" comic book genre started in 1938, with the American debut of Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. from Fiction House Magazines (Sky Girl, Firehair). But for a long time it consisted only of Sheena and one or two knock-offs (like the same company's Camilla). It wasn't until the middle of the 1940s that its representatives, such …
continued below
… as Rulah, Judy of the Jungle, Tygra of the Flame People and Tiger Girl really proliferated. For example, Princess Pantha, published by a company variously known as Standard, Nedor, or Pines Comics (whose other female protagonists include Jetta of the 21st Century and The Woman in Red), didn't turn up until 1946.
It was in the 56th issue of Thrilling Comics, dated October of that year, that the company (which called itself "Better Publications" just then) introduced Princess Pantha. Unlike most, she didn't arrive in the jungle by accident (such as being born there). She was a circus-performing wild animal handler by trade, and went there on business, to capture a legendary giant gorilla she'd heard about. She disappeared shortly after setting out, and it took only a little more than a month for Gilt-edge Gates, owner of The National Circus, which had sent her, to begin getting worried. He hired Dane Hunter, a famous explorer, to find her. And by the way, "Princess Pantha" had been her stage name, and readers never did find out her real one.
Dane soon reached her vicinity, but by then she was barefoot, wearing a leopard-pattern bikini, and had been living on her own in the jungle for two months. Her safari had been wiped out by an unknown hostile native tribe, and she'd saved herself by using her handy sound system to make an extra-loud gorilla call. The natives mistook this for the approach of M'Gana, the gorilla she'd been looking for, and scattered. Fortunately, she had her animal skills, her knowledge of jiu-jitsu, and a few primitive weapons salvaged from the wreckage of the safari. She saved Dane from the same natives, but wouldn't go back with him because M'Gana remained uncaught. Dane stuck around to be her boyfriend and occasional rescue object.
The writer of this origin story hasn't been identified, but the artist was Art Saaf. It's likely he was chosen because he worked for both Better and Fiction House, and was drawing Sheena at the time. Saaf remained Pantha's regular artist as long as her feature lasted.
Two issues after her debut, Princess Pantha displaced the superhero Doc Strange from the cover of Thrilling Comics. He was seen there only once more — with her. She remained on the cover until her own displacement by Buck Ranger, a western, in #72 (June, 1949). From Doc to Buck, including all of the Princess Pantha run, the covers were done by Alex Schomburg. Schomburg was, like L.B. Cole (Wiggles the Wonderworm), a cover specialist, rarely seen on interior pages but familiar to readers for covers from Sub-mariner to The Black Terror.
Shortly after Buck first appeared on the cover, his genre took over Thrilling Comics altogether. Princess Pantha's final story before the westerns replaced everything was in #74 (October, 1949).
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Old August 18 2010, 03:03 PM #21
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Location: Lat: 40.1630936 Lon: -75.1183777
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Re: TMP Klingons: what were they thinking?
Yep, this is pretty meaningless. Captrek seems convinced that the Klingons were shooting at clouds, despite evidence from the theatrical release that they knew there was an object at the center. In that original release, the Klingons reported home, saying:
"... believe luminescent cloud to be enormous power field surrounding alien vessel ... size and description unknown..our sensor scans unable to penetrate. Imperial Klingon Cruiser Amar ... continuing to attack."
We don't know what happened previously to provoke them, but Klingons don't need much provocation to unleash their dogs of war, and if V'Ger pulled a stunt with the Klingons at all similar to what it did with Comm Station Epsilon IX, then they're perfectly justified sending whatever they have in to counter-attack.
This movie was made when the film makers still realized that a weapon with the specifications of a photon torpedo would do a lot more damage than knock the paint off a starship's hull. In the original series and The Motion Picture, a photon torpedo detonated with a force greater than nukes. Later in the film, a single photon torpedo smashes an asteroid to rubble as a demonstration.
It certainly doesn't matter if V'Ger is a diminutive spec compared to the cloud. It was a power field and a simple analysis of the lines of force would point back to the center. V'Ger conveniently gave them handy cross-hairs for targetting in a "bummer of a birthmark" move that, realistically, was probably unavoidable considering it's capabilities.
They didn't just fire three photon torpedoes and then run away, either (although it's easy to make that mistake from the way the scene is edited). They continued to attack, so the salvo we saw was just the opening round of a battle that the Klingons presumably intended to prosecute with torpedo barrages until they got close enough to cut into the target with beam weapons, or it surrendered or broke. What they didn't count on was watching their super-nukes vanish without effect. And the Captain's response was to order evasive maneuvering, not a retreat.
So let's summarize:
1. The Klingons weren't shooting at the cloud, they were shooting at the object they knew was at the center.
2. They weren't firing beam weapons, they used -- as Timo notes -- strategic weapons capable of causing massive damage even if they missed.
3. These were only the first shots of battle that the Klingons intended to continue as they closed range.
They made the mistake of being overly aggressive against an opponent who vastly outclassed them, but they certainly weren't trying to destroy a target that was 82 (or just 2) astronomical units in diameter.
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Old August 27 2013, 05:44 PM #2607
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Location: Yorkshire
Re: So What Are you Reading?: Generations
Read Witchblade Vol. 2 by Ron Marz et al outside while it was sunny. Oddly this collection is issues 86-92 or something...
With Marc Silvestri out of the way the sexism is dialled down a lot in this volume - despite the typically lurid covers, Sara actually dresses sensibly for a New York Cop throughout - except for in the last episode, which has his take on Sara as Botticelli's Venus, gratuitous nudity, and does the Witchblade's origin as both predictable and a total ripoff of the origin of the Slayer line in Buffy.
Before that, however, it's actually really good - Sara does proper police work, there's action, atmosphere, good art, somewhat predictable storylines (hello "Fugitive"), and... Yeah, actually pretty decent. "Partners" is especially good- very moving, female-friendly, takes some risks...
Good jumping-on point for new readers, and an improvement on where I'd left off in the series back around the #30s or so.
Reading: La Peur (Gabriel Chevallier)
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32424 | Monolithsoft’s Wii U project ‘X’ out 2014, inspired by Xenoblade
Tuesday, 11th June 2013 15:34 GMT By Dave Cook
The game will feature controllable mechs that will let the player fight against a variety of monsters roaming the game’s world.
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1. Blue Oni
2014 is the year i buy a WiiU then.
#1 9 months ago
2. polygem
wow, this looked rather sweet -didn´t it?!
#2 9 months ago
3. yeoung
And so the Wii U becomes a contender
#3 9 months ago
4. grizzlycake
It looked like an awesome game!
#4 9 months ago
5. mistermogul
#5 9 months ago
6. manamana
This looks indeed like a killer-app! It seems that Monolith will be the only innovative driveforce for the WiiU …
#6 9 months ago
7. Ireland Michael
Oh my… *faints*
#7 9 months ago
8. monkeygourmet
One of the games of the show, but Nintendo needed a lot more like this… Especially after the PS4 pricing…
All in all, you can get a PS4 + Vita or a PS4 + Wii U for virtually the price of an Xbone… :)
It’s a no brainier really, I hope this really fucks MS up.
#8 9 months ago
9. CyberMarco
^ Yeah, probably I’ll get a PS Vita next year around Spring and day-1 PS4 when KH3 is released!
Gotta love PS+ too! :D
Also, Kingdom Hearts 3 baby! :D :D :D
#9 9 months ago
10. salarta
Looks very appealing. This and Bayonetta 2 have me more likely to actually buy a Wii U.
Now hopefully Nintendo of America will actually be open to releasing it in the U.S. this time around instead of making everyone question why they should buy a Wii U by announcing it at E3 only to refuse to bring it over for consumers for a good year of massive fan campaigns.
#10 9 months ago
11. manamana
You can watch it here in HD
#11 9 months ago
12. mistermogul
@11 – thanks for the HD share… :)
#12 9 months ago
13. Bomba Luigi
That is for me the Best WiiU Game we know till now (and probably for quite a while), and probably the best JRPG on Console since… well, Xenoblade. Really looking forward to this, Monolith Soft Rocks.
#13 9 months ago
14. Rockin a Jack D
Seriously, this looks better than any fucking X1/PS4 game i’ve seen over these past few days…
#14 9 months ago
15. Puggy
Well, considering it all boils down to Xenogears, what inspired Xenosaga, waht inspired xenoblade, what inspired this game, it should be quite good. Looking forward to it.
#15 9 months ago |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32429 | Angels and Insects
With their beckoning tunnels of light and stairways to heaven, soothing mantras of it's-not-so-bad and it's-never-too-late, New Age afterlife movies are primarily feel-good experiences, born of an understandable, even poignant need to not just demystify but rose-tint the unknown. Still, Vincent Ward's What Dreams May Come, a bottomless trough of mystic swill, is too confused to even fulfill the paradigm's most basic requirements. At once light-headed and lugubrious, the film's vision of the afterlife makes death even more of a frightful proposition.
What Dreams May Come opens, nauseatingly, with Chris (Robin Williams) and Annie (Annabella Sciorra) meeting on a lake in the Alps, and quickly flashes forward to tragedy, killing off the couple's two young children in a car crash. Cut to a few years hence, and Chris perishes in similar fashion. In the first sign that the film might have been conceived in the proximity of some king-size spliffs, Cuba Gooding Jr. then appears to the newly deceased Chris as a naked, out-of-focus smudge, turning pirouettes and spelling out the metaphysics of the great beyond in stubbornly unhelpful syllogisms. "If you're aware you exist, then you still do. That's why you're here."
If nothing else, afterlife movies can usually be counted on for a certain reductive clarity, reconfiguring matters of divine judgment and karmic payback in the reassuringly earthly vernacular of point systems and plea bargains. But in What Dreams May Come, a curiously laissez-faire philosophy applies: your heaven is what you make it (e.g., heaven is an oil painting, heaven is a purple tree, heaven is your daughter transmogrified into a Singaporean flight attendant—don't ask). This is offset by ripples of old-school damnation (suicides go to hell), though, as it turns out, Annie's version of hell (yes, she kills herself) is a dilapidated mansion containing nothing more traumatizing than cobwebs.
Sail away: Williams and Gooding in What Dreams May Come
Frank Masi
Sail away: Williams and Gooding in What Dreams May Come
What Dreams May Come
Directed by Vincent Ward
Written by Ron Bass, from the novel by Richard Matheson
A Polygram release
Opens October 2
Directed by Eric Darnell and Tim Johnson
Written by Todd Alcott, Chris Weitz, and Paul Weitz
A DreamWorks release
Opens October 2
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In the complete absence of romantic sparks, the film's love-is-stronger-than-death theme never really stands a chance. Sciorra is bland and particularly susceptible to the fits of hysterical cackling that, under Ward's direction, signify Happy Times (maybe those spliffs were on hand again) and Williams, never more dreadful than when serious, resorts to the crinkly-faced simpering that passes for restraint in his book. Ward and screenwriter Ron Bass's attempts to bridge the plot chasms mainly consist of blinding bursts of white light and flashbacks that involve the once-happy family cavorting in a garden. The over-the-top production design—phantasmagorical without ever conveying a hint of wonder or enchantment—is as flamboyantly moronic as the film deserves.
Alongside the gaudy, incoherent mise-en-scène of What Dreams May Come, the microscopic microcosm of Antz seems even more immaculate and imaginative. DreamWorks's first animated feature (like Toy Story, entirely computer-generated) is a film of small, transient pleasures, diminished slightly by the clunkiness with which it wields it pat, Disney-esque self-determination moral.
Z, the innocently rebellious worker ant who sparks a colony-wide revolt, is distinctively voiced by Woody Allen, and the filmmakers signal their intent to run the casting coup/ gimmick into the ground by opening with Z on a couch talking to his shrink about abandonment issues. Sharon Stone provides the voice of the love interest, a haughty princess, and Gene Hackman is the villain, a soldier ant with genocidal tendencies. Matching their superbly expressive computer-generated counterparts, the actors are all enjoyably hammy, but the real star of Antz is the art direction, a marvel of teeming detail wittier and more sophisticated than the script.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32433 | '1962: New York Film Critics Circle' at BAMcinématek
Sure, there were missiles in Cuba. But what about the film critics' awards?
"The past is never dead. It's not even past." So wrote William Faulkner, and so BAM's current series "1962: New York Film Critics Circle" hopes to remind us.
Pegged to the 75th anniversary of the New York Film Critics Circle, BAM's "1962" revisits the year that, thanks to a newspaper strike that began on December 8, 1962, and extended through the following March, the nation's oldest film critics' association, made up of movie reviewers from New York's then seven dailies, was unable to present its annual awards. Quelle catastrophe! And what might they have recognized?
David Lean's galumphing Lawrence of Arabia—the centerpiece of the BAM show, programmed by the current NYFCC chairman, Armond White—won the Oscar for Best Picture, and it's likely that the '62 Critics Circle would have concurred. Although, in a show of East Coast defiance, the Circle might instead have bestowed its highest honor on one of the year's two American epics: Darryl Zanuck's D-Day extravaganza The Longest Day or Sidney Lumet's adaptation of Long Day's Journey Into Night.
The Chapman Report should get an award for something, that's for sure.
Warner Bros./Photofest
'1962: New York Film Critics Circle'
Through November 9, BAMcinématek
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The two Long Days both appeared on the personal 10 Best list put forth by veteran New York Times critic Bosley Crowther—then the most authoritative of New York daily critics and, if only by default, the one who represented the NYFCC's most aesthetically adventurous position. Crowther's 1962 position paper, published on the very day of the strike under the headline, "Theirs and Ours: Foreign Films Forging Ahead of American," expressed his disappointment with middlebrow Hollywood offerings like Mutiny on the Bounty and Gypsy, and opined that middlebrow imports (Ingmar Bergman, Tony Richardson, Alain Resnais) were better!
Not one of Crowther's 10 is included in the BAM show. To judge from White's selection, the critic whose taste has prevailed is then Voice writer Andrew Sarris. Of course, Sarris did pan Lawrence of Arabia as an "expensive mirage, dull, overlong, and coldly impersonal," but four of the American films he rated highest in '62, auteur flicks all, are on BAM's lineup: John Ford's seemingly geriatric, then generally dismissed The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance; Robert Aldrich's wildly popular, hence held as trash by the Crowthers of the world, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?; Howard Hawks's tedious but undeniably Hawksian potboiler Hatari!; and George Cukor's slick adaptation of a racy bestseller, re-edited by two studios and thus auteurist cause célèbre, The Chapman Report were all championed by Sarris as manifestations of their directors' worldview. Another, Sam Peckinpah's Ride the High Country, was his designated "sleeper of the year." (Sarris also had a soft spot for middlebrow bête noir Jerry Lewis, whose 1962 release The Errand Boy is also at BAM, introduced by moi.)
But however revolutionary in 1962, the Sarris aesthetic is itself now something of an artifact and even then was one of several new and competing cine-ideologies. The greatest barometer of that year's critical upheaval is the Winter 1962/63 issue of Jonas Mekas's Film Culture, which included three flaming manifestos, each with a distinct take on the appreciation of American movies: Sarris's "Notes on the Auteur Theory in 1962"; Manny Farber's defense of B-movie virtues, "White Elephant Art vs. Termite Art"; and Jack Smith's celebration of trash, "The Perfect Filmic Appositeness of Maria Montez." Pauline Kael's piece on Shoot the Piano Player is also polemical, faulting those Americans who failed to appreciate Truffaut's film (who they?) for failing to recognize how American it was.
And, actually, Crowther was onto something. The fertile '50s were over; the genres were in decline. Despite a pair of great twilight Westerns, 1962 was only a fair year for Hollywood, and things would get worse for the remainder of the decade. The first New York Film Festival was held in 1963; the foreign movies released in New York in '62 would have made an edition for the ages. BAM is showing Michelangelo Antonioni's Il Grido, plus four associated with the French New Wave (also championed by Sarris): Jacques Demy's Lola (which opened the series), Agnès Varda's Cléo From 5 to 7, Shoot the Piano Player, and another Truffaut, revealed in a '62 Voice poll as the critical favorite, Jules and Jim. Notable imports that didn't make the BAM cut include two more Antonioni features, three from Kurosawa, two each by Bergman and Buñuel, Jacques Rivette's Paris Belongs to Us, Satyajit Ray's Devi, and the year's most controversial art film, Last Year at Marienbad (dissed by Sarris, while praised by Crowther).
Obviously, BAM can't screen everything, but its representation of the year's cine-excitement is a good deal less freewheeling than the times warranted. Underground things were happening as well. Two scurrilous beatnik features—Ron Rice's The Flower Thief and Shirley Clarke's adaptation of The Connection—both got theatrical runs, as did the ultimate film maudit, Orson Welles's Mr. Arkadin. Jack Smith completed Flaming Creatures although, like another vastly influential '62 production, Dr. No, it would not be shown publicly in New York until '63.
An amazing year. Had I but known. From my (barely) teenaged perspective, the most intriguing movie of 1962 was, without a doubt, Stanley Kubrick's Lolita, followed by the racy-sounding Chapman Report. Mothra, the Japanese giant moth movie (double-billed with The Three Stooges in Orbit), had the most memorable TV ads. And the rat-pack Western Sergeants 3 was undeniably ring-a-ding—check it out some time, as well as Roger Corman's fierce bargain-basement civil rights melodrama The Intruder. As a politically minded youth, I was fascinated and appalled by Otto Preminger's adaptation of Advise and Consent. For anxious thrills, however, nothing could top the Cuban Missile Crisis. (Try wearing your "Hands Off Cuba!" button, mid-embargo, in the George J. Ryan Junior High schoolyard.)
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32436 | Arts & Entertainment
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Best Argument for Devised Theater New York 2010 - The Debate Society
Resolved: New York is currently enjoying an unprecedented wealth of devised theater as established companies such as the Wooster Group and Mabou Mines give rise to newer collectives: the Builders Association, Elevator Repair Service, the Collapsable Giraffe, Radiohole, etc. In recent years, a fresh round of experimental companies has emerged: Banana Bag & Bodice, Waterwell, Nature Theater of Oklahoma. They're all excellent, but The Debate Society has made a particularly fine case for the genre. Writer/performers Paul Thureen and Hannah Bos and director Oliver Butler form an unlikely triumvirate, crafting skillful and gently absurd meditations on art, life, and bingo. In the past year, they've triumphed with two shows. First, there was You're Welcome, a cycle of deliciously bad plays such as Is That Sharks in That Smoldering Moat?! and Monster Trucks: A Reading. Secondly, there was Buddy Cop 2, a strange and strangely moving study of small-town policing that featured numerous racquetball games. How delightful were they? Let's just say there's ample room for Debate.
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Jeffrey Dinsmore
Jeffrey Dinsmore
Congratulations, Debate Society! Now for the shameless plug: two of the founding members of the Debate Society recently created an excellent short film called "grand marshal" for Awkward Two, a book and film experiment from indie-publishers Awkward Press. You can (and should) watch the video right now at: And if you live in New York, go see everything the Debate Society produces; their work is amazing!
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32505 | Quest:Chicken Clucking for a Mint (Horde)
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Revision as of 16:23, October 21, 2011 by Raylan13 (Talk | contribs)
Hallow's End icon
Horde 32 Chicken Clucking for a Mint
StartInnkeeper Norman
EndInnkeeper Norman
Level10 (Requires 10)
Rewards[Undercity Mint]
Do a chicken emote at Innkeeper Norman, and in exchange you'll receive an Undercity Mint!
• Cluck like a chicken for Innkeeper Normans
Ah, trick-or-treating for a sick child, are we? I was going to say, you're a little old to be rummaging about for candies...
Happy Hallow's End!
You will receive:
Inv misc food 28 [Undercity Mint]
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32506 | Quest:Ogre Abduction (Alliance)
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Revision as of 00:00, September 15, 2010 by KaydeeBot (Talk | contribs)
Alliance 32 Ogre Abduction
Level37 (Requires 35)
Rewards[Soulstealer's Bracers]
[Shoulders of the Ogre-Nabber]
[Abductor's Coverings]
[Modified Spell Shield]
PreviousEstulan's Examination
Objectives Edit
Use the Modified Soulstone to capture a Gordok ogre.
Description Edit
This is neither a crude ogre trinket, nor an ancient relic made by my kind. Its specific construction is new to me...and this fact disturbs me greatly.
The wolf-girl will be sending you to Dire Maul soon, to fight the Gordok elite. They are the leaders of the Gordunni, and would know who is supplying these.
Take the orb back, I've cast a few enchantments on it. Hold it up in front of a weakened Gordok ogre, and once you've captured him, bring it back here.
Rewards Edit
You will be able to choose one of these rewards:
Inv bracer 62
[Soulstealer's Bracers]
Inv shoulder 136
[Shoulders of the Ogre-Nabber]
Inv helmet 187
[Abductor's Coverings]
Inv shield 09
[Modified Spell Shield]
You will also receive: 40Silver
Progress Edit
Completion Edit
Quest progressionEdit
1. Official alliance mini-icon [37] The Gordunni Orb
2. Official alliance mini-icon [37] Estulan's Examination
3. Official alliance mini-icon [37] Ogre Abduction
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32512 | NPR News
The Union Jack may not last long in the New Zealand flag. NPR's Jacki Lyden talks to journalist Tim Watkin about the flag, which some see as a symbol of British colonialism. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32529 | February 9, 2013
Book review: The rise and fall of Gary, W.Va.
U.S. Steel and Gary, West Virginia: Corporate Paternalism in Appalachia.
By Ronald Garay
University of Tennessee Press, 2011, 265 pages. Hardcover, $48.
CHARLESTON, W.Va. -- Back in 1970, I began traveling widely throughout the Appalachian coalfields -- from western Pennsylvania and West Virginia down to eastern Kentucky, southwestern Virginia and northern Alabama.
One of the most striking coal towns I ever visited was Gary, just south of Welch in McDowell County. The complex of coal towns U.S. Steel built around Gary had some of the most attractive company buildings, stores and miners' homes I ever saw.
Steel companies in general, I thought, built some of the nicest towns in the coalfields. And they were open to hiring more black miners than most other coal companies.
Having returned to the Welch area many times over the past 42 years, it has been depressing to watch a downtown bustling with stores, restaurants, clothing shops and movie theaters evolve into somewhat of a ghost town.
Many wonderful people still live there. But most storefronts and buildings along the once-vibrant McDowell and Mercer Streets, just above the banks of the Tug River, are now vacant and abandoned.
In his engaging book, "U.S. Steel and Gary, West Virginia: Corporate Paternalism in Appalachia," Ronald Garay tells a powerful story.
Beginning in 1902, the country's biggest steel company began building what became a vibrant complex of towns around Gary, housing people working in 14 different mines producing high-quality metallurgical coal.
But U.S. Steel, exercising nearly total control over what happened in its coal towns, changed Gary from a vibrant place through the 1960s into increasingly abandoned neighborhoods, beginning in the 1980s.
"During the 20th Century, Gary assumed the mantle of industrial powerhouse in the hollows of southern West Virginia. Gary mines were crucial to steelmaking in World War II," Garay writes.
Between 1942 and 1945, Gary's mines produced one quarter of all coal mined in McDowell County and one quarter of all coal used by U.S. Steel during the war.
Gary employed a significant number of black miners. Its school system began to integrate during the late 1950s, but was not fully integrated until 1964.
But "the relative ease with which Gary Hollow schools were integrated reflected a racial harmony unique about Gary and its satellite towns," Garay wrote.
African-American miners throughout Southern West Virginia were often assigned more difficult jobs inside the mines and poorer living conditions with their families.
But "for years, Gary coal miners, regardless of race or ethnicity, had worked alongside one another, performing equal tasks for equal pay (the UMWA had seen to that)."
The United Mine Workers always represented workers at the company's mines.
U.S. Steel also maintained racial equality in its neighborhoods. "Everyone lived both figuratively and literally on the same side" of the tracks, Garay pointed out.
In November 1973, Francis Martin, a black miner from Gary, was elected to the International Executive Board from District 29 of the UMW -- the first black miner elected to the board in the 20th century.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32558 | Avalon String Quartet
When Feb 17, 2012
from 07:00 PM to 08:00 PM
Where York College Performing Arts Center
Contact Phone 718-262-3750
Attendees Suggested donations: $10.00
Add event to calendar vCal
Formed in 1995 at the Norfolk Chamber Music Festival, the Quartet came to the fore after participating in The Isaac Stern Chamber Music Workshop at Carnegie Hall. In 1997 Stern invited the Avalon String Quartet to perform at The Chamber Music Encounters in Jerusalem and later presented the ensemble's Carnegie Hall debut at Weill Recital Hall.
The quartet captured first prize at the Concert Artists Guild Competition in New York in1999, and top prize at the ARD Competition in Munich in 2000.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32612 | BURIED in the 2001 round of George Bush's tax cuts was a macabre oddity. The Republican Party had long sought to repeal America's inheritance tax, levied at a top rate of 55%. But ending it would have cost the Treasury too much tax revenue. The biggest viable reduction was a gradual cut in the rate to 45% and an increase in the exemption to $3.5m from 2002-09, followed by full repeal only in 2010, at the end of which year the whole tax package expires.
The right hoped that a later Congress would scrap the levy for good. If not, however, the old rates would be restored when the law expired—meaning that heirs whose parents die on the last day of 2010 will get a lot more money than those whose parents die the next day. Paul Krugman, a columnist for the New York Times, called the law the “Throw Momma From the Train Act”.
This January 1st, the one-year repeal duly took effect. Since then, billionaires like George Steinbrenner (the owner of the New York Yankees), Walter Shorenstein (a property developer) and Mary Janet Cargill (a corporate heiress) have passed away without incurring a cent in death duties. On New Year's Day, however, the party is set to end. Will the children of the rich really “pull the plug on grandma”, as Barack Obama put it (in an admittedly different context)?
History suggests that some of them will. In Sweden, which scrapped its estate tax on January 1st 2005, people subject to the levy were 10% more likely to die that day than on the preceding New Year's Eve, according to one study, by the University of Uppsala. The worse-off showed no such disparity. When Australia scrapped its tax in 1979, more than half of people with taxable estates who would have died during the tax's last week managed to delay their passing to the following week, an Australian university study found. “You can picture the family gathering in the hospital room saying, ‘This is what dad would have wanted',” says David Handler, an estate planner.
There is still a month to go, and Congress is currently arguing over Mr Bush's tax cuts, unable to agree on which of them to extend, and for how long. Most of them will be reinstated. Congress will probably set an estate-tax rate well above zero but below 55% for 2011—one Senate proposal calls for 35%, and Mr Obama has suggested 45%. Either rate, though, will still leave a strong incentive to beat the deadline. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32617 | Hail to the True Victors of Rupert’s Revolution
Such are the Cameron government's priorities following the great "humanitarian" victory in Libya. As Margaret Thatcher once declared: "Rejoice!" And as the bankers and arms merchants raise their glasses, let us not forget the heroic RAF pilots who made Libya ours again by incinerating countless "pro Gaddafi elements" in their homes and cots and clinics, and the unsung stalwarts of the British drone industry at Menwith Hill in Yorkshire who, before and after lunch, provide the information for drone targets so that Hellfire missiles can flatten homes and suck the air out of lungs, a specialty. And cheers to QuinetiQ's drone testing site at Aberporth and at UAV Engines Limited in Lichfield.
This is Rupert's Revolution, after all. Gone from the Murdoch press are pejorative "insurgents". The action in Libya, says The Times, is "a revolution… as revolutions used to be". That it is a coup by a gang of Muammar Gaddafi's ex cronies and spooks in collusion with Nato is hardly news. The self-appointed "rebel leader", Mustafa Abdul Jalil, was Gaddafi's feared justice minister. The CIA runs or bankrolls most of the rest, including America's old friends, the Mujadeen Islamists who spawned al-Qaeda.
This is not to detract from Gaddafi's awful dictatorship, a "rendition" destination for MI6, we now learn. But his odium is unrelated to the rape of his country by imperial caricatures such as Nicholas Sarkozy, a Napoleonic Islamophobe whose intelligence services almost certainly set up the coup against Gaddafi. US diplomatic cables released by WikiLeaks disclose the west's panic over Gaddafi's refusal to hand over the greatest source of oil in Africa and his overtures to China and Russia.
Propaganda relies not only on Murdoch but on apparently respectable voices inducing historical amnesia. The Observer, which has yet to apologise for its catastrophic promotion of Iraq's non-existent weapons of mass destruction, is in thrall to the "honourable intervention" of Sarkozy and Cameron and their "humanitarian and emotional" motives. Its political columnist Andrew Rawnsley completes an impressive double. As Media Lens reminds us, in 2003, Rawnsley wrote of Iraq: "The death toll has been nothing like as high as had been widely feared." A million dead Iraqis later, Rawnsley insists that, in Libya "Britain got it right" and "the number of civilian casualties inflicted by the air strikes seems to have been mercifully light". Tell that to Libyans with loved ones obliterated by corporate-friendly Hellfires.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32626 | The Damn Thing
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The Damn Thing Issue Two 1940 Cover Art by Ray Bradbury
The Damn Thing
Issue Two 1940
Cover Art by Ray Bradbury
Contributors included Ray Bradbury (Futuria Fantasia), who had work in four of the five issues, including art work and cover drawings; Ewing Brown, Ted Burk, Edwin Chamberlain, Walt Daugherty (Shangri L'Affaires), Raymond Van Houten (Tesseract, Fantasy-Times), Arthur Louis Joquel II (Specula, Sun Trails), writing as "Fywert Kinge", Damon Knight, John B. Michel ( The International Observer of Science and Science Fiction, Terrible Tales of Tittering Terror), Jack Chapman Miske (Scienti-Snaps) and writing by several obvious pseudonyms, including Eustace Bilgewater, Rigour Fungus, Prof. Stinkywitz, and Carleton J. Fassbeinder, a frequent pen name of Yerke's, and editor of his own fanzine Bedside.
There is much discussion of fan events, such as a movie night in which a projector being run by Ray Harryhausen, Arthur L. Joquel (editor of FMZ Digest, Specula, and Sun Trails) and Yerke almost catches fire; criticism of New York State fans and the goings-on there; and criticism of Fantasy Amateur Press Association fanzines. This fanzine was one of the very early fan publications devoted mainly to fan activities.
Letters came from Louis Russell Chauvenet, Henry D. Goldman, Melvin Korshak, Lew Martin (The Alchemist), and Harry Warner, Jr. (Horizons).
During 1941, The Damn Thing was a split zine with Shangri L'Affaires.
As "Carlton Fassbeinder", T. Bruce Yerke also published Bedside.
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Option for disabling popup needed Rated 3 out of 5 stars
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This guidebook contains a series of geology field trips featuring destinations along the San Andreas Fault in the region that experienced surface rupture during the Great San Francisco Earthquake of 1906. The...
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32632 | Where the world comes to study the Bible
There is a true and biblical doctrine of kenosis, but the Greek used by Paul in Philippians 2:7 has been wrenched out of its New Testament context to make it mean what it does not. It does not mean that Christ divested Himself of His divine attributes, but only that He veiled them and laid aside the voluntary use of those attributes when He took the form of true humanity. They were still His and He still possessed them, for as God the Son who is immutable (unchangeable) and eternal, He could never cease to be God. One of the attributes of God is immutability from the standpoint of His divine essence. Deity cannot stop being deity or He would never have been truly God.
One of the things we must understand about the person of Christ is that, according to Scripture, He is both undiminished deity and true humanity united in one person. This is, of course, a mystery and most difficult for us to grasp because of our finite minds. Nevertheless, it is the plain teaching of the Bible including the Old Testament. In keeping with this, it is also important to understand that when things were prophesied about Jesus as to His life, actions, and thoughts on earth, though always speaking about the person of Jesus Christ, some statements applied to His human nature while others applied to His divine nature. For instance, as man Jesus grew tired, He learned, and experienced all forms of human pain, even temptation. But from the standpoint of His divine nature, none of these things applied. As God the Son, even while in human form, He was omnipotent, omnipresent, and even omniscient. It appears that for the most part, when He manifested His divine power (e.g., calming the sea or knowing men even before He met them) that He did this at the direction of the Father and the Spirit. Again, as God, He had all the divine attributes of God, but in becoming man, He humbled Himself as a servant, and this included, not the removal of His attributes, but the veiling and surrender of their use voluntarily. From the standpoint of His humanity, He walked in dependence on the Father and the Spirit (Matt. 12:17f; John 5:30; 8:28; 14:10f; Phil. 2:8).
When Jesus made the statement in Mark 13:32, “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father,” Jesus openly expressed this limitation and affirmed His humanity. In His Incarnation Jesus voluntarily accepted human limitations, including this one (cf. Acts 1:7), in submission to the Father’s will (cf. John 4:34). On the other hand, Jesus’ use of the title “the Son” (only in Mark) instead of the usual “Son of Man” revealed His own awareness of His deity and Sonship (cf. Mark 8:38). Nevertheless He exercised His divine attributes only at the Father’s bidding (again cf. 5:30; John 8:28-29). Undoubtedly, this is a mystery, but it does express the plain truth of Scripture. Note that Paul plainly affirms that in Jesus Christ is all the fullness of God and this includes all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. Carefully read Colossians 1-2.
All of this means that it is was Christ, the Son, who created the angels before the world was created as described in Genesis 1. Jesus, the humanity of Christ, was miraculously conceived in the womb of Mary and was born on earth as described in Matthew and Luke. Thus, when the Bible speaks of the person of Christ as creator, etc., it is making a statement that relates to his deity, not the humanity of Jesus. This is part of the mystery of the incarnation.
Related Topics: Christology |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32635 | #18352 closed New feature (wontfix)
You can't use AnonymousUser in the database API
Reported by: teolicy Owned by: nobody
Component: contrib.auth Version: 1.4
Severity: Normal Keywords:
Cc: Triage Stage: Unreviewed
Has patch: no Needs documentation: no
Needs tests: no Patch needs improvement: no
Easy pickings: no UI/UX: no
There's an ancient ticket (#3413) with the same title, where the person opening the ticket probably failed to realize that you can't use AnonymousUser with the ORM and didn't duly check is_authenticated() before using request.user (or whatever).
I do understand the difference between User and AnonymousUser, and understand the latter can't be used with the ORM, but I think this is poor behaviour which may need correction (though breaking backwards compatibility could be a very good reason not to fix this). I think it's tedious and error prone to check for is_authenticated() all the time, and I had more than one bug where I was bit by request.user not having get_full_name() or .pk or plainly not being searchable as SomeModel.objects.filter(owner=request.user).exists() or so.
I think the best solution would be for AnonymousUser to be 100% compatible with the ORM, and I think the sanest way to get there would be to make it possible to create a User object with reasonable values. Backwards compatibility could be achieved with a setting like AUTH_NEW_STYLE_ANONYMOUS=True, syncdb() could create the record in the database.
I'd love to hear your comments, I'm thinking about implementing this as a (very small) external project if this will be rejected, so in addition to knowing whether this is a good idea for django, I'd appreciate your thoughts about whether this is a good idea at all.
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Change History (2)
comment:1 Changed 22 months ago by teolicy
• Needs documentation unset
• Needs tests unset
• Patch needs improvement unset
Excuse me if I'm rambling, a couple more thoughts:
1. Storing the new AnonymousUser in the database will of course have its share of issues, like making it potentially mutable (yikes!) and needing adjustments to is_authenticated() and so. I think all sane usecases can be solved by overriding .save() and .delete(), and bulk updates of the User table are probably very rare and done very carefully.
2. Perhaps the right setting is AUTH_NEW_STYLE_ANONYMOUS_PK=0 (or similar). That way, you can instantiate AnonymousUser for request.user without hitting the database, by doing something like User(pk=AUTH_NEW_STYLE_ANONYMOUS_PK, first_name=...).
3. The reason I'm leaning towards making AnonymousUser a real database object (a null object, if you will), is that I fear it's the only sane way to make it 100.0% compatible with the ORM without adding ugly special cases all over the code (hint: currently, we lay the onus of all these special cases on the user, which might not be as careful as framework authors must be). However, I think the AnonymousUser compatibility situation can and should be improved even if my idea of using an actual AnonymousUser record in the database is not the right way to go about doing this.
comment:2 Changed 22 months ago by aaugustin
• Resolution set to wontfix
• Status changed from new to closed
I understand your reasons for proposing this, but I'm very reluctant to introduce in Django the solution you're suggestion. It mixes very different things and it's likely to break in all sorts of funny ways. Also I don't like the idea of introducing a setting for this.
To sum up I acknowledge the problem but I don't believe this is an acceptable solution.
Could you bring this up on the django-developers mailing list? This is the best way to see if a new feature has support. Thanks!
PS: this should be doable with a custom authentication backend and/or middleware.
Last edited 22 months ago by aaugustin (previous) (diff)
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32636 | Version 1 (modified by jacob, 3 years ago) (diff)
Django's data portal
Inspired by David Eaves, here's some information on accessing Django's contribution data.
Please take it, mash it up, and let show us the results!
If there's other data you'd like to see, please get in touch (jacob -at- and let me know what you'd like to see. I'll do my best!
Trac's database
Data dumps out of Trac, our ticket tracking software.
There's two ways to access the data: Trac's RPC interface and the daily data dumps.
Trac's RPC interface
Trac has a XML-RPC and JSON-RPC interface. You view some documentation of these APIs at:
You'll need to be logged in to access this page and to access the data. If you need to create an account, the sign-up page is at
The base URLs you'll use for for the XML-RPC and JSON-RPC APIs is:
The easiest way to access these APIs is with Python's xmlrpclib library. Here's a quick example:
>>> import xmlrpclib
>>> rpc_url = ""
>>> trac = xmlrpclib.ServerProxy(rpc_url)
# Get a single ticket's info.
>>> ticket, time_created, time_changed, attributes = trac.ticket.get(1337)
>>> attributes['resolution']
# Perform a search. - counts the open (i.e. not-closed) tickets.
# Query syntax is documented at
>>> not_closed = trac.ticket.query('status=!closed&max=5000')
>>> len(not_closed)
Please be careful here. There are APIs that write data and using them could look like spam, so please ask me (jacob -at- for permission first!
Daily data dumps
These are direct data dumps of the Trac database, collected nightly, in various formats. They're sanitized to remove some tables with senstive info (session data, etc.) but are otherwise complete.
Dumps are currently available in the following formats:
• CSV (tar'd & bzipped directory; one CSV file per table; ~35MB).
The database schema is documented at The most interesting tables are probabably the ticket and ticket_change tables. ticket_change, in particular, contains each change ever made to a ticket and so probably has some of the most itnersting data available.
If you create a mashup, please add it here!
If you've got questions, please contact JKM (jacob -at- |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32637 | Category:Carl Richard Jacobi
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English: Carl Richard Jacobi (July 10, 1908 - August 25, 1997) was an author. He wrote short stories in the horror, fantasy, science fiction, and crime genres for the pulp magazine market. Jacobi was born in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1908 and lived there throughout his life. He attended the University of Minnesota from 1927 to 1930 where he began his writing career in campus magazines.
Pages in category "Carl Richard Jacobi"
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Media in category "Carl Richard Jacobi"
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32646 | Awesome module! The D6 version seems to play very well with CCK & Field Groups, but the D7 version seems to completely ignore Field Groups and Tabs. I am not sure if this is a Support Request, Feature Request or Bug Report.
The new tab groups and fieldsets aren't seen in the Manage Form page. The individual fields show instead, but aren't effected.
Subscribing. This is a great module for d7, and I'm using it in conjunction with field_group and this new conditional_field_state module ( Working great, except for the field groups aren't showing up in the nodeformcol Manage Form page, and therefore I can't assign any fieldgroups to the right-side area.
Thanks for a great module!
(Oh, just another bit of detail - in the Manage Forms page, the fields themselves are showing up as assigned to the Right section, but because they're actually living in the fieldset, on the actual node add/edit form, they're in the main section in the fieldset.)
That would be a great addition to this great module!
I really don't know if this is the best way to do that, but I cut off line 38 from
- (isset($field['#type'], $field['#group']) && $field['#type'] === 'fieldset')
and add that at the end of nodeformcols_form_alter (line 85, nodeformcols.module)
+ unset($form['additional_settings']);
It works fine here. Why hide fieldsets from settings page?
You could try with, it makes the vertical tabs available for fieldgroups (so you can change them to fieldsets). Note that it's not stable yet.
Hi #8, I'm trying to apply this changes:
+ unset($form['additional_settings']);
in respective functions, but I can't see fieldset fields in manage form tab. What version are you using? nodeformcols 7.x-1.x-dev ???
After having a quick go at the solution in #8 it seems that it only works for the groups of fields such as those provided by drupal core such as the publishing options and authoring information etc.
It doesn't seem to work for field groups provided by the Field group module.
I guess maybe that should have its own issue.
Any news on this?
I think this feature is holding back the usage of this module. I use a lot of fieldgroups and basically any field that resides in the group can never be rendered int he allocated region. They show in the manage form tab but nothing happens past that.
What is the main reason for no movement forward on this?
I switched to "Display Suite Forms" and found that it also did multiple columns node form, only better.
Here is a patch that make field_groups available to node form columns.
It hides all the fields in field groups and displays the field group(s) in the "manage forms" section so you can position them as with any other field.
It's not possible to use the "hide" checkbox. It has no effect on the field groups. The patch dose not fix this problem but I guess you could use the function field_group_hide_field_groups(&$element, $group_names) mentioned here: to accomplish this.
thank you, works for me
#9 - big thanks!
Issue summary:View changes
Is this patch in the latest dev, 7.x-1.x-dev ?
#16, I also used DS for this and it works and looks great. However, its a huge module for just this feature. I may come back to it, though, because it will be ideal for a panel page replacement. I.e., I need to use Juicebox for all my images, but it doesn't work in panels. With DS you can nearly duplicate what panels can do AND I'll get to use Juicebox.
Great patch @MickeA, thanks. Only thing I'm going to add is a check to see if the field_group module exists and if there are actual groups for that node type. This patch returns an error if you don't have field groups.
Status:Active» Needs review |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32650 |
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Friendly Seduction
Sara Banks is a virgin. Apparently that word can make a grown man run scared--at least that's what her last boyfriend did. Now she's on a mission to shed her good-girl persona and start living. But the best Helios, Arizona, has to offer pales in comparison to her best friends Rob and Marc. She'd love nothing more than to go home with them--either of them. If only they could see past their childhood friend to the woman she's become.
Rob and Marc can't believe their eyes when they enter the hottest bar in town and see tomboy Sara dressed to kill, doing the bump and grind on the dance floor. Once they learn she's finally single, the hunt is on. Each is determined to prove he's the only man Sara needs. But to get the girl of their dreams, the best plan of attack might just be a joint, friendly seduction.
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Excerpt from Friendly Seduction by Gillian Archer
Sara Banks was feeling no pain as she bounced to the music with Mr. Bushy Brows. Damn it, what was his name? She probably shouldn't call him that to his face. He was her first choice for a one-night stand. Although given the slim pickings, he was probably her only choice.
At least he had been until Rob and Marc showed up to rain on her little parade. She'd have a hard time sneaking out with Mr. Bushy Brows if those two shadowed her all evening.
But did she really want him? Was he the one for her? She peeked up at his face but just couldn't get past those eyebrows. They looked like two furry caterpillars. Especially when he wiggled them like that. Did he think that was hot?
Definitely not.
"I'm gonna grab another drink," she shouted above the pounding music as she pulled out of his sweat-dampened arms. Ugh. She swore she could feel a slimy residue on her hips.
She darted through the crowd. No need to give him the opportunity to hang around any longer.
When she reached the bar, she collapsed on a stool and lifted a finger at the bartender. No more communication required. He plunked a frosty bottle of hard lemonade in front of her but waved her off when she started to dig into her tiny clutch. He jerked his head, signaling behind her. Sara turned on her barstool and her breath stalled in her chest. Her euphoria disappeared in an instant.
Marc towered over her and he looked pissed.
Sara grabbed her bottle, hopped off her stool and started for the dance floor. Three steps later she froze when Marc's hand curled around her elbow.
Fuck. A. Duck.
She just couldn't get a break tonight. Sara blew her bangs out of her eyes and met Marc's glare with one of her own.
"Thanks for the drink." She turned to get away from his big-brother stare but couldn't shake his grasp.
"We need to talk."
She didn't try to hold back the eye roll. "Ah, no we don't. I need to find a dance partner and you need to find some other helpless little woman. Because this damsel doesn't need saving." She jerked her arm again but Marc held firm.
"Well, why didn't you say so, princess? I'd love to dance." Marc plucked the bottle from her and slammed it on the bar before steering her toward the dance floor.
Crap. Sara tripped over her feet as she struggled to keep up. Her short, little legs were no match for Marc's long, lean ones. After finding a small clearing a few feet from the DJ, he pivoted and brought her into his arms with a flick of his wrist. She stumbled, crashing into his chest.
Mmmmmmm and what a firm chest it was. Unlike most of the men's here, Marc's chest was solid the old-fashioned way, from hard physical labor. His calloused fingertips sent shivers down her spine. What she wouldn't give to feel those calluses rubbing her in a far more sensitive place than her bare arms. Crap. She couldn't think like that. Marc was a friend. Her best friend, or one of them anyway. He obviously felt as if he had to play the overprotective older brother tonight.
She fought the urge to whine and stamp her feet. Why tonight of all nights? All her plotting and primping would go to waste. Her plan of a simple one-night stand wilted beneath the glare of Sergeant Sourpuss. But why easygoing Marc? It was usually Rob who played the overprotective, save-the-damsel-in-distress caveman. Marc was the one she could count on to crack a joke and lighten the atmosphere.
She peeked up at his face. Judging by his stony expression, he probably wasn't in the mood tonight.
"Um, Marc?" she whispered before mentally slapping herself. There was no way he was going to hear her over--
"What, princess?" His growl vibrated the rock-hard chest beneath her ear.
"Where's Rob?" She cursed under her breath. That wasn't what she wanted to say.
Why did she go from confident She-Ra warrior to helpless Victorian virgin just because some tall, gorgeous man put his strong, firm arms around her? And his calloused fingers rubbed her exposed back in short, tantalizing circles, making her wonder what they would feel like when he parted her thighs and--
Stop. She shouldn't think that way about her best friend. Friend. Not the guy she was here to pick tonight to help her--
Wait a minute. Why hadn't he answered her?
"Marc?" Her head tilted back to meet his gaze and she searched his hazel eyes.
He seemed...conflicted. The muscles in his cheek flexed as he bit down, anger evident in the curl of his lips. But his eyes...they were sad. As if he had just lost his best friend.
"Oh God. Is he okay? What happened? He was just here!" She panicked at the thought of Rob hurt, in pain. The sexually induced haze cleared from her brain as she pulled away and looked around the room for his trademark auburn cropped hair.
"Sara, he's fine. He's just--"
"Right here," a deep voice finished behind her.
She knew that voice. Had heard it mature from a gorgeous alto to its current husky baritone. Sara sagged into Marc's arms as all the tension left her body. Rob was okay.
But that still didn't explain Marc's conflicted emotions. Or the tension the throbbing music couldn't mask. Something was up with the two most important men in her life. And she was literally caught in the middle.
"Mind if I cut in?" Rob's husky voice in her ear caused the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to vibrate as a shiver rocked her body.
God, his voice was hot.
"Actually, we're in the middle of--"
"No, I'd like to dance with you, Rob." She didn't know why there was so much tension between them but it was probably better if she separated them quickly. With the looks Marc was tossing over her shoulder, bloodshed was sure to follow.
"Looks like you're the better man, Rob. Congrats and all that." Marc pulled away from her before stomping over to the bar, grabbing her drink and taking up residence on the barstool.
"What's--" she gasped as Rob pulled her into his arms. From one hard chest to another. Wow, these guys smelled good. She cleared her throat. "Uh, what's up with you and Marc?" Sara tried to look into his blue eyes but couldn't get past his lips.
"Nothing. We're good."
Sara snorted. "Uh, yeah, I don't think so. Marc's not good. He just walked away like someone with their panties in a wad. You guys have a fight or something?"
"I didn't ask you to dance so we could talk about Marc." With that, Rob pulled her in close until her groin rubbed up against his jean-covered thigh.
Was that... He wasn't... He couldn't be! Sara couldn't believe she felt Rob's erection rubbing against her belly. It had to be just the fit of his jeans.
Yeah sure, the little voice in her head answered sarcastically. His jeans and the sock he hid in his pants.
Oh God.
But it couldn't be over her--Rob had never shown even the slightest hint he saw her as anything other than a friend. Crap, she was beginning to hate that word, friend. Lord knew she had a special ability to make any erection disappear. Just ask her ex.
He probably just got an erection from dancing with another girl and wanted some time to cool off before he went home with another woman. Like every other Friday night.
"Sara?" Rob murmured in her ear.
"If you get any stiffer, someone's gonna call the morgue."
Sara's lips curled. Normally Marc was the funny one but she appreciated Rob's effort to lighten the mood. But he had her beat in the stiffy competition. She gave in to his subtle demand and let her body melt into his. For once in her life she wanted to indulge in the fantasy of being with Rob. If only for one dance.
They moved to the smooth beat of the music. Heaven. Sheer heaven. Sara couldn't imagine a more perfect place to be than in Rob's arms. Unless it was in Marc's. She tensed at the thought. Shit, she couldn't even let herself pretend for one moment that this would last forever, since apparently she couldn't even choose between them in her fantasies.
She pulled back to get some distance from him. She needed to think and feeling his body against hers just confused her.
"What's wrong, darlin'?"
She tried not to whimper as Rob ran his thumb over her trembling lips. She couldn't help but think if only. If only Rob wanted her like she wanted him. If only he weren't her best friend. She'd give anything to throw caution to the wind and throw herself at him. If only she weren't afraid of the damage it would do to their friendship when he politely turned her down.
And that's what he would do. There was no way a man like Rob would even look twice at her if she hadn't been his friend since childhood. Short, chunky tomboys like her never drew the attention of guys like Rob. Or Marc.
If only.
She forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. "Nothing." |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32652 |
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Midnight Moon
and desperate hungers must be satisfied...
"Elise is Handeland's most appealing heroine yet...this tense, banter-filled tale provides...solid entertainment."
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Lori HandelandNotify me of new titles added by this author
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• Publish Date
August 01, 2006
• eBook ISBN
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Excerpt from Midnight Moon by Lori Handeland
I got off the plane in Port-au-Prince for the second time in my life about midafternoon on a sunny Thursday in October. Not much had changed. Heat wavered above the asphalt, shimmering, dancing, making me dizzy.
Inside the airport, a man whose starched white short-sleeved shirt and khaki trousers emphasized the ebony shade of his skin hurried over. "Priestess Cassandra?"
I winced. What had been good business in New Orleans sounded pretentious in the shadow of the mountains where voodoo had first come into its own.
"Just Cassandra, please," I murmured.
I wondered momentarily how he'd known me. Perhaps my being the only white woman who'd gotten off the plane was a pretty good clue. I'm sure my blue eyes and short dark hair weren't all that common around here, either. But what usually made me stand out in a crowd was the slash of pure white at my temple.
The oddity, which had appeared in my hair shortly after my daughter died, had gradually lost pigment from its original gray. I probably should have covered it with dye--I was, after all, in witness protection--but the white strip served to remind me of my daughter and my mission. As if I needed reminding.
The streak also served as my penance. I hadn't done the one thing a mother was supposed to do--protect her child against everyone. Even her father.
The man in front of me dipped his head. "I am Marcel, Miss Cassandra."
His accent hinted at France. A lovely lilt in English; in Creole, the language of the island, he'd sound fabulous.
I opened my mouth to tell him my last name, then realized I no longer had one. Once I'd testified against my scum-sucking, drug-dealing pig of a husband I'd become Priestess Cassandra, one name only--? la Cher, the Rock, Madonna.
WITSEC, short for witness protection folks, had been unamused when I'd refused to acknowledge the need for a last name. Of course very little amused them. They'd slapped Smith on my records, but the name wasn't any more mine than Cassandra.
"Monsieur Mandenauer has arranged for a room at the Hotel Oloffson," Marcel said, taking possession of the single bag I'd carried onto the plane.
I'd recently joined a group of government operatives known as the Jager-Suchers. That's Hunter-Searchers if your German is as nonexistent as mine.
The Jager-Suchers hunt monsters, and I'm not using the euphemism applied to so many human beings who belong in a cage. I mean monsters--the type whose skin sprouts fur, whose teeth become fangs--beasts that drink the blood of humans and only want more.
Edward Mandenauer was my new boss. He'd sent me to Haiti to discover the secret of raising a zombie. I loved it when my personal and work interests collided. Almost made me give credence to that "there are no accidents" theory.
"This way, please." Marcel awaited me at the door of the airport.
I hurried after him, leaving behind the shady, cool interior of the building and stepping into the bright, sunny bustle of Port-au-Prince.
Though Haiti is horrendously overpopulated--the newest estimates say 8.5 million souls--there is also a vast amount of uncharted, unexplored, and nearly unexplorable land in the mountains. I was certain any secrets worth uncovering lay in that direction.
I glanced at the teeming crowd of humanity that made up the capital city. Secrets certainly couldn't be kept here.
Marcel had parked at the curb in direct defiance of the signs ordering him not to do so. He held the passenger door, and I climbed inside, nearly choking on the scalding air within. After tossing my bag into the back, Marcel jumped behind the wheel, cranking the air conditioner to high, before setting off at a speed meant to crush any slow-moving bystanders.
In a very short time, we squealed to a stop in front of a large Victorian mansion. The Hotel Oloffson was originally built as a presidential summer palace. Used by the marines as a hospital during the initial U.S. occupation of 1915, it became the first hotel in Haiti.
Marcel led me up the steps and into the foyer. The hotel was expecting me, and in short order I followed Marcel into one of the veranda rooms with a view of the city.
He dropped my bag to the floor with a thud. "Monsieur Mandenauer has arranged for you to meet a friend."
"Edward has friends here?"
Marcel slid me a glance. "He has friends everywhere."
Of course he did.
"This friend will help you find what you seek."
I frowned. "You know what I seek?"
"There was a little trouble with a curse, oui?"
I wouldn't have referred to the beast ravaging New Orleans as a "little" trouble, but it sounded as if Marcel knew the basics.
In the Crescent City I'd seen amazing things, but none as fantastic as a man changing into a wolf and back again.
Werewolves are real. You might think this would be an upsetting bit of knowledge for a former PTA member, but it wasn't. Because if the werewolves of legend exist, doesn't it follow that zombies do, too?
"Edward told you why he sent me?"
"To remove a curse, you need the voodoo queen who performed it, and she is dead."
"For about a hundred and fifty years."
Marcel lowered his voice to just above a whisper. "You must raise her from the grave. Zombie."
Not exactly. To raise a shuffling, decaying, frightening nightmare was not what I aspired to do. Though a George Romero Night of the Living Dead type zombie might be enough to satisfy Edward, it was not enough to satisfy me. I couldn't sentence my child to become such a creature.
I'd been searching for a way to bring life from death since I'd left here the last time. All I'd found was more death. Then I began to hear whispers of incredible power in these mountains, an ability beyond the mere reanimation of a corpse. However, I hadn't had the means to return to Haiti, neither the funds to search the island the way it needed to be searched nor the cash to pay for what a secret like that must cost.
Until now.
I strolled onto the veranda and stared at the distant hills. Somewhere out there was a voodoo priest who, according to the latest rumors, could raise the dead to live again.
As if they'd never been dead at all. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32660 | League (unit)
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A league is a unit of length (or, rarely, area). It was long common in Europe and Latin America, but it is no longer an official unit in any nation. The word originally meant the distance a person could walk in an hour.[1] Since the Middle Ages, many values have been specified in several countries.
In nautical usage, a league of 3 nautical miles (5.5 km) is roughly how far an observer of average height (around 6 ft. or 1.8 m) can see when standing at sea level.[2] Thus, a ship travelling one "league" has reached what was previously the farthest visible distance on the horizon. The lack of an historical and global standard for the exact measure of a "league" can be accounted for by the variable elevation of the observer. For example, a crow's nest mounted atop a 50 ft. (15.2 m) mast extends the visible range to 9.35 miles (15.1 km).[3]
Different definitions[edit]
English-speaking world[edit]
On land, the league was most commonly defined as three miles, though the length of a mile could vary from place to place and depending on the era. At sea, a league was three nautical miles (about 5.6 km). English usage also included any of the other leagues mentioned below (for example, in discussing the Treaty of Tordesillas).
Ancient Rome[edit]
The Argentine league (legua) is 5.572 km (3.462 mi) or 6,666 varas: 1 vara is 0.83 m (33 in).[5]
Brazil and Portugal[edit]
In Portugal, Brazil and other parts of the Portuguese Empire, there were several units called league (Portuguese: légua):
• Légua of 18 by degree = 6,172.4 metres
• Légua of 20 by degree = 5,555.56 metres (Maritime légua)
• Légua of 25 by degree = 4,444.44 metres
The names of the several léguas referred to the number of units that made the length corresponding to an angle degree of a meridian arc.
As a transitory measure, after Portugal adopted the metric system, the metric légua, of 5.0 km, was used.
In Brazil, légua is still used occasionally in the country, where it has been described as about 6.6 km.
The French lieue – at different times – existed in several variants: 10,000, 12,000, 13,200 and 14,400 French feet, about 3.25 km to about 4.68 km. It was used along with the metric system for a while but is now long discontinued.
As used in Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, a league is four kilometres.[6][7]
In Yucatán and other parts of rural Mexico, the league is still commonly used in the original sense of the distance that can be covered on foot in an hour, so that a league along a good road on level ground is a greater distance than a league on a difficult path over rough terrain.
The Danish or Swedish mil was defined as a suitable walking distance between rests, or between inns. While etymologically similar to a mile, the definition shares origin with a that of a league. An old Scandinavian mil ranges from 7.5 km to 12 km depending on nation or region, but has since metrification been defined as 10 km in Norway and Sweden.
The Spanish League or legua was originally set as a fixed unit of distance of 5 000 varas (0.84 m each), about 4.2 km (2.6 miles). Contemporary writers also show it as three millas (miles of 4 566 feet (1 392 meters) each making a total of 13 698 feet (4 175 m or 2.594 miles).[8] Officially the league was abolished by Philip II of Spain in 1568, but it is still in use unofficially in parts of Latin America, with exact meaning varying in different countries.
• Legua nautica (nautical league): Between 1400 and 1600 the Spanish nautical league was equal to four Roman miles of 4 842 feet, making it 19 368 feet (5 903 meters or 3.1876 modern nautical miles). That seems pretty straight forward until one realizes that the accepted number of Spanish nautical leagues to a degree varied between 14 1/6 to 16 2/3 so in actual practice the length of a Spanish nautical league was 25 733 feet (7 843 meters or 4.235 modern nautical miles) to 21 874 feet (6 667 meters or 3.600 modern nautical miles) respectively.[8]
• Legua de por grado (league of the degree): From the 15th century through the early 17th century, the Spanish league of the degree was based on four Arabic miles. Although most contemporary accounts used an Arabic mile of 6 444 feet (1 964 meters), which gave a Spanish league of the degree of 25 776 feet (7 857 meters or 4.242 modern nautical miles) others defined an Arabic mile as just 6 000 feet making a Spanish league of the degree 24 000 feet (or 7315 meters, almost exactly 3.950 modern nautical miles).[9]
• Legua geographica or geográfica (geographical league): Starting around 1630 the Spanish geographical league was used as the official nautical measurement and continued so through the 1840s. Its use on Spanish charts did not become mandatory until 1718. It was four millias (miles) in length. From 1630 to 1718 a millia was 5 564 feet (1696 meters), making a geographical league of four millias to be 22 256 feet (6784 m or 3.663 modern nautical miles). But from 1718 through the 1830s the millia was defined as the equivalent of just over 5 210 feet, giving a shorter geographical league of just over 20 842 feet (6353 m or 3.430 modern nautical miles).[8]
• Legua marítima (maritime league): From around 1840 through the early 20th century, a Spanish marine league equaled 18 263.52 feet (5566.72 meters or 3.005 79 modern nautical miles), i.e. about 35 feet (10 meters) longer than our modern maritime league.[8]
In the early Hispanic settlements of New Mexico, Texas, and Colorado, a league was also a unit of area, defined as 25 million square varas or about 4,428.4 acres (1 792.110 hectares).[10] This usage of league is referenced frequently in the Texas Constitution. So defined, a league of land would encompass a square that is one Spanish league on each side.
Comparison table[edit]
A comparison of the different lengths for a "league", in different countries and at different times in history, is given in the table below. Miles are also included in this list because of the linkage between the two units.
Length (m) Name Where used From To Definition Remarks
01,482 mille passus, milliarium Roman Empire Ancient Roman units of measurement
01,486.6 miglio[11] Sicily
01,500 Persian mile Persia
01,524 London mile England
01,609.3472 (statute) mile USA 1893 today 1760 yards From 1959 also called the U.S. Survey Mile. From then its only utility has been land survey, before it was the standard mile. From 1893 its exact length in metres was: 3600/3937 x 1760
01,820 Italy
01,852.3 (for comparison) 1 meridian minute
01,853,181 nautical mile Turkey
02,065 Portugal
02,470 Sardinia, Piemont
02,622 Scotland
02,880 Ireland
03,780 Flanders
04,000 general or metric league
04,000 legue Guatemala
04,190 legue Mexico[13] = 2500 tresas = 5000 varas
04,444.8 landleuge 1/25° of a circle of longitude
04,513 legue Paraguay
04,513 legua Chile,[13] (Guatemala, Haiti) = 36 cuadros = 5400 varas
04,808 Switzerland
04,828 English land league England 3 miles
Germanic rasta, also doppelleuge
(double league)
05,000 légua nova Portugal[13]
05,196 legua Bolivia[13] = 40 ladres
05,152 legua argentina Argentina, Buenos Aires[13] = 6000 varas
05,154 legue Uruguay
05,200 Bolivian legua Bolivia
05,370 legue Venezuela
05,500 Portuguese legua Portugal
05,510 legue Ecuador
05,510 Ecuadorian legua Ecuador
05,532.5 Landleuge
(state league)
05,540 legue Honduras
3 nautical miles
05,570 legua Spain and Chile Spanish customary units
05,572 legua Kolumbien[13] = 3 Millas
05,572.7 legue Peru[13] = 20,000 feet
05,572.7 legua antigua
old league
Spain[13] = 3 millas = 15,000 feet
05,590 légua Brazil[13] = 5,000 varas = 2,500 bracas
05,600 Brazilian legua Brazil
05,840[14] Dutch mile Holland
06,197 légua antiga Portugal[13] = 3 milhas = 24 estadios
06,277 Luxembourg
06,280 Belgium
06,687.24 legua nueva
new league, since 1766
Spain[13] = 8000 Varas
06,797 Landvermessermeile
(state survey mile)
07,400 Netherlands
07,409 (for comparison) 4 meridian minutes
7,419.2 Kingdom of Hanover
07,419.4 Duchy of Brunswick
07,420.439 geographic mile 1/15 equatorial grads
07,421.6 (for comparison) 4 equatorial minutes
07,448.7 Württemberg
07,450 Hohenzollern
07,467.6 Russia 7 werst Obsolete Russian units of measurement
07,480 Bohemia
07,500 kleine / neue Postmeile
(small/new postal mile)
07,532.5 Land(es)meile
(German state mile)
Denmark, Hamburg, Prussia primarlly for Denmark defined by Ole Rømer
07,585.9 Postmeile
(post mile)
Austro-Hungary Austrian units of measurement
07,850 Romania
08,800 Schleswig-Holstein
08,888.89 Baden
09,062 mittlere Post- / Polizeimeile
(middle post mile or police mile)
Saxony 1722
09,206.3 Electorate of Hesse
09,261.4 (for comparison) 5 meridian minutes
09,277 (for comparison) 5 equatorial minutes
09,323 alte Landmeile
(old state mile)
Hanover 1836
09,347 alte Landmeile
(old state mile)
Hanover 1836
09,869.6 Oldenburg
10,044 große Meile
(great mile)
10,670 Finland
10,688.54 mil Sweden 1889
11,113.7 (for comparison) 6 meridian minutes
11,132.4 (for comparison) 6 equatorial minutes
11,299 mil Norway was equivalent to 3000 Rhenish rods.
Similar units:
Use in fiction[edit]
See also[edit]
1. ^ Trade, Travel, and Exploration in the Middle Ages: An Encyclopedia
2. ^ DataGenetics: Consequences of living on a sphere
3. ^ Sussex Scrapbook: The distance visible to the horizon from different heights
4. ^ The Oxford English Dictionary
5. ^ Espasa-Calpe Dictionary, Argentina and Mexico Edition 1945: headword Legua
6. ^ [1]
8. ^ a b c d Spence's Guide to Shipwreck Research, by Dr. E. Lee Spence, Narwhal Press, Charleston/Miami, © by Edward L. Spence, 1997, p. 32
10. ^ Vikki Gray (1998-12-24). "Land Measurement Conversion Guide". Vikki Gray. Retrieved 2007-06-04.
12. ^ Pre-metric units of length
14. ^ IKAR-Altkartendatenbank der Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Kartenabteilung.
15. ^ Fonstad 1991, Introduction, p. x |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32661 | [[PageOutline]] This is the design document for SIMD support in GHC that resulted from the October 11, 2011 meeting at GHC HQ. Please see the [wiki:SIMD top-level GHC SIMD] page for further details. == Introduction == We are interested in the SIMD vector instructions on current and future generations of CPUs. This includes SSE and AVX on x86/x86-64 and NEON on ARM chips (targets like GPUs or FPGAs are out of scope for this project). These SIMD vector instruction sets are broadly similar in the sense of having relatively short vector registers and operations for various sizes of integer and/or floating point operation. In the details however they have different capabilities and different vector register sizes. We therefore want a design for SIMD support in GHC that will let us efficiently exploit current vector instructions but a design that is not tied too tightly to one CPU architecture or generation. In particular, it should be possible to write portable Haskell programs that use SIMD vectors. On the other hand, we want to be able to write programs for maximum efficiency that exploit the native vector sizes, preferably while remaining portable. For example, algorithms on large variable length vectors are in principle agnostic about the size of the primitive vector operations. Finally, we want a design that is not too difficult or time consuming to implement. === Use cases === We are mainly interested in scientific / numerical use cases with large arrays / vectors. These are the kinds of use cases that DPH already targets. In the interests of limiting implementation difficulty, we are prepared initially to sacrifice performance in use cases with small vectors. Examples with lots of small vectors include 3D work where there are lots of 4-element vectors and 4x4 matrices. These tradeoffs show up in our choices about calling conventions and vector memory alignment which are discussed below. Note: we will need to be clear with users that initially this SIMD work is not suitable for small vectors, just big arrays. === Existing SIMD instruction sets === Intel and AMD CPUs use the [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Streaming_SIMD_Extensions SSE family] of extensions and, more recently (since Q1 2011), the [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Vector_Extensions AVX] extensions. ARM CPUs (Cortex A series) use the [http://www.arm.com/products/processors/technologies/neon.php NEON] extensions. PowerPC and SPARC have similar vector extensions. Variations between different families of SIMD extensions and between different family members in one family of extensions include the following: '''Register width''':: SSE registers are 128 bits, whereas AVX registers are 256 bits, but they can also still be used as 128 bit registers with old SSE instructions. NEON registers can be used as 64-bit or 128-bit register. '''Register number''':: SSE sports 8 SIMD registers in the 32-bit i386 instruction set and 16 SIMD registers in the 64-bit x84_64 instruction set. (AVX still has 16 SIMD registers.) NEON's SIMD registers can be used as 32 64-bit registers or 16 128-bit registers. '''Register types''':: In the original SSE extension, SIMD registers could only hold 32-bit single-precision floats, whereas SSE2 extend that to include 64-bit double precision floats as well as 8 to 64 bit integral types. The extension from 128 bits to 256 bits in register size only applies to floating-point types in AVX. This is expected to be extended to integer types in AVX2, but in AVX, SIMD operations on integral types can only use the lower 128 bits of the SIMD registers. NEON registers can hold 8 to 64 bit integral types and 32-bit single-precision floats. '''Alignment requirements''':: SSE requires alignment on 16 byte boundaries. With AVX, it seems that operations on 128 bit SIMD vectors may be unaligned, but operations on 256 bit SIMD vectors needs to be aligned to 32 byte boundaries. NEON suggests to align SIMD vectors with ''n''-bit elements to ''n''-bit boundaries. === SIMD/vector support in other compilers === Both GCC and LLVM provide some low-level yet portable support for SIMD vector types and operations. GCC provides [http://gcc.gnu.org/onlinedocs/gcc/Vector-Extensions.html vector extensions] to C where the programmer may define vector types of a fixed size. The standard C `+`, `-`, `*` etc operators then work on these vector types. GCC implements these operations using whatever hardware support is available. Depending on the requested vector size GCC uses native vector registers and instructions, or synthesises large requested vectors using smaller hardware vectors. For example it can generate code for operating on vectors of 4 doubles by using SSE2 registers and operations which only handle vectors of doubles of size 2. The LLVM compiler tools targeted by GHC's [wiki:Commentary/Compiler/Backends/LLVM LLVM backend] support a generic [http://llvm.org/docs/LangRef.html#t_vector vector type] of arbitrary, but fixed length whose elements may be any LLVM scalar type. In addition to three [http://llvm.org/docs/LangRef.html#vectorops vector operations], LLVM's operations on scalars are overloaded to work on vector types as well. LLVM compiles operations on vector types to target-specific SIMD instructions, such as those of the SSE, AVX, and NEON instruction set extensions. As the capabilities of the various versions of SSE, AVX, and NEON vary widely, LLVM's code generator maps operations on LLVM's generic vector type to the more limited capabilities of the various hardware targets. == General plan == We need to implement support for vectors in several layers of GHC + Libraries, from bottom to top: * code generators (NCG, LLVM) * Cmm * Haskell/Core primops * Some strategy for making use of vector primops, e.g. DPH or Vector lib === Vector types === We intend to provide vectors of the following basic types: || Int8 || Int16 || Int32 || Int64 || || Word8 || Word16 || Word32 || Word64 || || || || Float || Double || === Fixed and variable sized vectors === The hardware supports only small fixed sized vectors. High level libraries would like to be able to use arbitrary sized vectors. Similar to the design in GCC and LLVM we will provide primitive Haskell types and operations for fixed-size vectors. The task of implementing variable sized vectors in terms of fixed-size vector types and primops is left to the next layer up (DPH, vector lib). That is, in the core primop layer and down, vector support is only for fixed-size vectors. The fixed sizes will be only powers of 2 and only up to some maximum size. The choice of maximum size should reflect the largest vector size supported by the current range of CPUs (256bit with AVX): || types || || || vector sizes || || Int8 || Word8 || || 2, 4, 8, 16, 32 || || Int16 || Word16 || || 2, 4, 8, 16 || || Int32 || Word32 || Float || 2, 4, 8 || || Int64 || Word64 || Double || 2, 4 || || Int || Word || || 2, 4 || In addition, we will support vector types with fixed but architecture-dependent sizes (see below). We could choose to support larger fixed sizes, or the same maximum size for all types, but there is no strict need to do so. === Portability and fallbacks === To enable portable Haskell code we will provide the same set of vector types and operations on all architectures. Again this follows the approach taken by GCC and LLVM. We will rely on fallbacks for the cases where certain types or operations are not supported directly in hardware. In particular we can implement large vectors on machines with only small vector registers. Where there is no vector hardware support at all for a type (e.g. arch with no vectors or 64bit doubles on ARM's NEON) we can implement it using scalar code. The obvious approach is a transformation to synthesize larger vector types and operations using smaller vector operations or scalar operations. This synthesisation could plausibly be done at the core, Cmm or code generator layers, however the most natural choice would be as a Cmm -> Cmm transformation. This approach would reduce or eliminate the burden on code generators by allowing them to support only their architecture's native vector sizes and types, or none at all. Using fallbacks does pose some challenges for a stable/portable ABI, in particular how vector registers should be used in the GHC calling convention. This is discussed in a later section. === GHC command line flags === We will add machine flags such as `-msse2` and `-mavx`. These tell GHC that it is allowed to make use of the corresponding instruction sets. For compatibility, the default will remain targeting the base instruction set of the architecture. This is the behaviour of most other compilers. We may also want to add a `-mnative` / `-mdetect` flag that is equivalent to the `-m` flag corresponding to the host machine. == Code generators == We will not extend the portable C backend to emit vector instructions. It will rely on the higher layers transforming vector operations into scalar operations. The portable C backend is not ABI compatible with the other code generators so there is no concern about vector registers in the calling convention. The LLVM C library supports vector types and instructions directly. The GHC LLVM backend could be extended to translate vector ops at the Cmm level into LLVM vector ops. The NCG (native code generator) may need at least minimal support for vector types if vector registers are to be used in the calling convention (see below). If we choose a common calling convention where vectors are passed in registers rather than on the stack then minimal support in the NCG would be necessary if ABI compatibility is to be preserved with the LLVM backend. It is optional whether vector instructions are used to improve performance. == Cmm layer == The Cmm layer will be extended to represent vector types and operations. The `CmmType` describes the machine-level type of data. It consists of the "category" of data, along with the `Width` in bits. {{{ data CmmType = CmmType CmmCat Width data Width = ... data CmmCat -- "Category" (not exported) = GcPtrCat -- GC pointer | BitsCat -- Non-pointer | FloatCat -- Float }}} The current code distinguishes floats, pointer and non-pointer data. These are distinguished primarily because either they need to be tracked separately (GC pointers) or because they live in special registers on many architectures (floats). For vectors we add two new categories {{{ | VBitsCat Multiplicity -- Non-pointer | VFloatCat Multiplicity -- Float type Multiplicty = Int }}} We keep vector types separate from scalars, rather than representing scalars as having multiplicty 1. This is to limit disruption to existing code paths and also because it is expected that vectors will often need to be treated differently from scalars. Again we distinguish float from integral types as these may use different classes of registers. There is no need to support vectors of GC pointers. Vector operations on these machine vector types will be added to the Cmm `MachOp` type, e.g. {{{ data MachOp = ... | MO_VF_Add Width Multiplicity }}} For example `MO_VF_Add W64 4` represents vector addition on a length-4 vector of 64bit floats. == Core layer == We need Haskell data types and Haskell primitive operations for fixed size vectors. In some ways this is a harder problem than representing the vector types and opertions at the Cmm level. In particular, at the Haskell type level we cannot easily parametrise on the vector length. Our design is to provide a family of fixed size vector types and primitive operations, but not to provide any facility to parametrise this family on the vector length. for width {w} in 8, 16, 32, 64 and "", (empty for native Int#/Word# width)[[BR]] for multiplicity {m} in 2, 4, 8, 16, 32 `type Int`''{w}''`Vec`''{m}''`#`[[BR]] `type Word`''{w}''`Vec`''{m}''`#`[[BR]] `type FloatVec`''{m}''`#`[[BR]] `type DoubleVec`''{m}''`#`[[BR]] Syntax note: here {m} is meta-syntax, not concrete syntax Hence we have individual type names with the following naming convention: || || length 2 || length 4 || length 8 || etc || || native `Int` || `IntVec2#` || `IntVec4#` || `IntVec8#` || ... || || `Int8` || `Int8Vec2#` || `Int8Vec4#` || `Int8Vec8#` || ... || || `Int16` || `Int16Vec2#` || `Int16Vec4#` || `Int16Vec8#` || ... || || etc || ... || ... || ... || ... || Similarly there will be families of primops: {{{ extractInt{w}Vec{m}# :: Int{w}Vec{m}# -> Int# -> Int{w}# addInt{w}Vec{m}# :: Int{w}Vec{m}# -> Int{w}Vec{m}# -> Int{w}Vec{m}# }}} From the point of view of the Haskell namespace for values and types, each member of each of these families is distinct. It is just a naming convention that suggests the relationship. === Optional extension: extra syntax === We could add a new concrete syntax using `<...>` to suggest a paramater, but have it really still part of the name: || || length 2 || length 4 || length 8 || etc || || native `Int` || `IntVec<2>#` || `IntVec<4>#` || `IntVec<8>#` || ... || || `Int8` || `Int8Vec<2>#` || `Int8Vec<4>#` || `Int8Vec<8>#` || ... || || `Int16` || `Int16Vec<2>#` || `Int16Vec<4>#` || `Int16Vec<8>#` || ... || || etc || ... || ... || ... || ... || === Primop generation and representation === Internally in GHC we can take advantage of the obvious parametrisation within the families of primitive types and operations. In particular we extend GHC's `primop.txt.pp` machinery to enable us to describe the family as a whole and to generate the members. For example, here is some plausible concrete syntax for `primop.txt.pp`: {{{ parameter Width Multiplicity with in <8, 2>,<8, 4>,<8, 8>,<8, 16>,<8, 32>, <16,2>,<16,4>,<16,8>,<16,16>, <32,2>,<32,4>,<32,8>, <64,2>,<64,4> }}} Note that we allow non-rectangular combinations of values for the parameters. We declare the range of values along with the parameter so that we do not have to repeat it for every primtype and primop. {{{ primtype IntVec# primop VIntAddOp "addIntVec#" Dyadic IntVec# -> IntVec# -> IntVec# {Vector addition} }}} This would generate a family of primops, and an internal representation using the type names declared for the parameters: {{{ data PrimOp = ... | IntAddOp | VIntQuotOp Width Multiplicity }}} It is not yet clear what syntax to achieve the names of the native sized types `Int` and `Word`. Perhaps we should use "", e.g. {{{ parameter Width Multiplicity with in <8, 2>,<8, 4>,<8, 8>,<8, 16>,<8, 32>, <16,2>,<16,4>,<16,8>,<16,16>, <32,2>,<32,4>,<32,8>, <64,2>,<64,4> <"",2>,<"",4> }}} === Optional extension: primitive int sizes === The above mechanism could be used to handle parametrisation between Int8#, Int16# etc. Currently these do not exist as primitive types. The types Int8, Int16 etc are implemented as a boxed native-sized Int# plus narrowing. Note that while this change is possible and would make things more uniform it is not essential for vector support. That is we might have: {{{ parameter Width with in <8>, <16>, <32>, <64>, <""> primtype Int# primop IntAddOp "addInt#" Dyadic Int# -> Int# -> Int# with commutable = True }}} generating {{{ data PrimOp = ... | IntAddOp Width }}} We might want some other solution so we can use `+#` as well as `addInt#` since `+8#` as an infix operator doesn't really work. == Native vector sizes == In addition to various portable fixed size vector types, we will have a portable vector type that is tuned for the hardware vector register size. This is analogous to the existing integer types that GHC supports. We have Int8, Int16, Int32 etc and in addition we have Int, the size of which is machine dependent (either 32 or 64bit). As with Int, the rationale is efficiency. For algorithms that could work with a variety of primitive vector sizes it will almost always be fastest to use the vector size that matches the hardware vector register size. Clearly it is suboptimal to use a vector size that is smaller than the native size. Using a larger vector is not nearly as bad as using as smaller one, though it does contribute to register pressure. Without a native sized vector, libraries would be forced to use CPP to pick a good vector size based on the architecture, or to pick a fixed register size that is always at least as big as the native size on all platforms that are likely to be used. The former is annoying and the latter makes less sense as vector sizes on some architectures increase. Note that the actual size of the native vector size will be fixed per architecture and will not vary based on "sub-architecture" features like SSE vs AVX. We will pick the size to be the maximum of all the sub-architectures. That is we would pick the AVX size for x86-64. The rationale for this is ABI compatibility which is discussed below. In this respect, the !IntVec# is like Int#, the size of both is crucial for the ABI and is determined by the target platform/architecture. So we extend our family of vector types with: || || native length || length 2 || length 4 || length 8 || etc || || native `Int` || `IntVec#` || `IntVec2#` || `IntVec4#` || `IntVec8#` || ... || || `Int8` || `Int8Vec#` || `Int8Vec2#` || `Int8Vec4#` || `Int8Vec8#` || ... || || `Int16` || `Int16Vec#` || `Int16Vec2#` || `Int16Vec4#` || `Int16Vec8#` || ... || || etc || ... || ... || ... || ... || ... || and there are some top level constants describing the vector size so as to enable their portable use {{{ intVecSize, int8VecSize, int16VecSize, int32VecSize, int64VecSize :: Int wordVecSize, word8VecSize, word16VecSize, word32VecSize, word64VecSize :: Int floatVecSize, doubleVecSize :: Int }}} Note that these constants are of type Int since top level values of type Int# are not currently supported. This should not be a problem as they should always get inlined and unboxed where it matters. The native-sized vector types are distinct types from the explicit-sized vector types, not type aliases for the corresponding explicit-sized vector. This is to support and encourage portable code. == Vector operations == The following operations on vectors will be supported. They will need to be implemented at the Haskell/core primop layer, Cmm `MachOp` layer and optional support in the code generators. In the following, `` ranges over `Int`, `Word`, `Float`, `Double`. Loading and storing vectors in arrays, `ByteArray#` and raw `Addr#` {{{ indexIntVecArray# :: ByteArray# -> Int# -> IntVec# indexWordVecArray# :: ByteArray# -> Int# -> WordVec# indexFloatVecArray# :: ByteArray# -> Int# -> FloatVec# indexDoubleVecArray# :: ByteArray# -> Int# -> DoubleVec# readIntVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, IntVec# #) readWordVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, WordVec# #) readFloatVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, FloatVec# #) readDoubleVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, DoubleVec# #) writeIntVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> IntVec# -> State# d -> State# d writeWordVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> WordVec# -> State# d -> State# d writeFloatVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> FloatVec# -> State# d -> State# d writeDoubleVecArray# :: MutableByteArray# d -> Int# -> DoubleVec# -> State# d -> State# d readIntVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, IntVec# #) readWordVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, WordVec# #) readFloatVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, FloatVec# #) readDoubleVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> State# d -> (# State# d, DoubleVec# #) writeIntVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> IntVec# -> State# d -> State# d writeWordVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> WordVec# -> State# d -> State# d writeFloatVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> FloatVec# -> State# d -> State# d writeDoubleVecOffAddr# :: Addr# -> Int# -> DoubleVec# -> State# d -> State# d }}} Extracting and inserting vector elements: {{{ extractIntVec# :: IntVec# -> Int# -> Int# extractWordVec# :: WordVec# -> Int# -> Word# extractFloatVec# :: FloatVec# -> Int# -> Float# extractDoubleVec# :: DoubleVec# -> Int# -> Double# }}} {{{ insertIntVec# :: IntVec# -> Int# -> Int# -> IntVec# insertWordVec# :: WordVec# -> Int# -> Word# -> WordVec# insertFloatVec# :: FloatVec# -> Int# -> Float# -> FloatVec# insertDoubleVec# :: DoubleVec# -> Int# -> Double# -> DoubleVec# }}} Duplicating a scalar to a vector: {{{ replicateToIntVec# :: IntVec# -> Int# -> IntVec# replicateToWordVec# :: WordVec# -> Word# -> WordVec# replicateToFloatVec# :: FloatVec# -> Float# -> FloatVec# replicateToDoubleVec# :: DoubleVec# -> Double# -> DoubleVec# }}} Vector shuffle: {{{ shuffleVecToVec :: Vec# -> Int32Vec# -> Vec# }}} For the fixed size vectors (not native size) we may also want to add pack/unpack functions like: {{{ unpackIntVec4# :: IntVec4# -> (# Int#, Int#, Int#, Int# #) packIntVec4# :: (# Int#, Int#, Int#, Int# #) -> IntVec4# }}} Arithmetic operations: {{{ plusVec#, minusVec#, timesVec#, quotVec#, remVec# :: Vec# -> Vec# -> Vec# negateVec# :: Vec# -> Vec# }}} Logic operations: {{{ andIntVec#, orIntVec#, xorIntVec# :: IntVec# -> IntVec# -> IntVec# andWordVec#, orWordVec#, xorWordVec# :: WordVec# -> WordVec# -> WordVec# notIntVec# :: IntVec# -> IntVec# notWordVec# :: WordVec# -> WordVec# shiftLIntVec#, shiftRAIntVec# :: IntVec# -> Word# -> IntVec# ShiftLWordVec#, ShiftRLWordVec# :: WordVec# -> Word# -> WordVec# }}} Comparison: {{{ cmpIntVec# :: IntVec# -> IntVec# -> WordVec# cmpWordVec# :: WordVec# -> WordVec# -> WordVec# }}} Note that LLVM does not yet support the comparison operations (See the comment at the end of the documentation for the [http://llvm.org/docs/LangRef.html#i_icmp icmp] instruction, for example). Integer width narrow/widen operations: {{{ narrowIntToVec# :: IntVec# -> IntVec# -- for w' < w narrowWordToVec# :: WordVec# -> WordVec# -- for w' < w widenIntToVec# :: IntVec# -> IntVec# -- for w' > w widenWordToVec# :: WordVec# -> WordVec# -- for w' > w }}} Note: LLVM calls these truncate and extend (signed extend or unsigned extend) Floating point conversion: {{{ narrowDoubleToFloatVec# :: DoubleVec# -> FloatVec# widenFloatToDoubleVec# :: FloatVec# -> DoubleVec# roundFloatToInt32Vec :: FloatVec# -> Int32Vec# roundFloatToInt64Vec :: FloatVec# -> Int64Vec# roundDoubleToInt32Vec :: DoubleVec# -> Int32Vec# roundDoubleToInt64Vec :: DoubleVec# -> Int64Vec# truncateFloatToInt32Vec :: FloatVec# -> Int32Vec# truncateFloatToInt64Vec :: FloatVec# -> Int64Vec# truncateDoubleToInt32Vec :: DoubleVec# -> Int32Vec# truncateDoubleToInt64Vec :: DoubleVec# -> Int64Vec# promoteInt32ToFloatVec :: Int32Vec# -> FloatVec# promoteInt64ToFloatVec :: Int64Vec# -> FloatVec# promoteInt32ToDoubleVec :: Int32Vec# -> DoubleVec# promoteInt64ToDoubleVec :: Int64Vec# -> DoubleVec# }}} TODO: Should consider: * vector constants, at least at Cmm level * replicating a scalar to a vector * FMA: fused multiply add, this is supported by NEON and AVX however software fallback may not be possible with the same precision. Tricky. * SSE/AVX also suppports a bunch of interesting things: * add/sub/mul/div of vector by a scalar * reciprocal, square root, reciprocal of square root * permute, shuffle, "blend", masked moves. * abs * min, max within a vector * average * horizontal add/sub * shift whole vector left/right by n bytes * and not logical op * gather (but not scatter) of 32, 64bit int and fp from memory (base + vector of offsets) === Int/Word size wrinkle === Note that there is a wrinkle with the 32 and 64 bit int and word types. For example, the types for the extract functions should be: {{{ extractInt32Vec# :: Int32Vec# -> Int# -> INT32 extractInt64Vec# :: Int64Vec# -> Int# -> INT64 extractWord32Vec# :: Word32Vec# -> Int# -> WORD32 extractWord64Vec# :: Word64Vec# -> Int# -> WORD64 }}} where `INT32`, `INT64`, `INT64`, `WORD64` are CPP macros that expand in a arch-dependent way to the types Int#/Int64# and Word#/Word64#. To describe this in the primop definition we might want something like: {{{ primop IntAddOp "extractWordVec#" Dyadic WordVec# -> Int# -> with in <8, 2,Word#>,<8, 4,Word#>,<8, 8,Word#>,<8, 16,Word#>,<8, 32,Word#>, <16,2,Word#>,<16,4,Word#>,<16,8,Word#>,<16,16,Word#>, <32,2,WORD32>,<32,4,WORD32>,<32,8,WORD32>, <64,2,WORD64>,<64,4,WORD64> <"",2,WORD>,<"",4,WORD> }}} To iron out this wrinkle we would need the whole family of primitve types: Int8#, Int16#, Int32# etc whereas currently only the native register sized Int# type is provided, plus a primitive Int64# type is provided on 32bit systems. == Data Parallel Haskell layer == In [http://www.haskell.org/haskellwiki/GHC/Data_Parallel_Haskell DPH], we will use the new SIMD instructions by suitably modifying the definition of the lifted versions of arithmetic and other operations that we would like to accelerate. These lifted operations are defined in the `dph-common` package and made accessible to the vectoriser via [wiki:DataParallel/VectPragma VECTORISE pragmas]. Many of them currently use `VECTORISE SCALAR` pragmas, such as {{{ (+) :: Int -> Int -> Int (+) = (P.+) {-# VECTORISE SCALAR (+) #-} }}} We could define them more verbosely using a plain `VECTORISE` pragma, but might instead like to extend `VECTORISE SCALAR` or introduce a variant. '''NB:''' The use of SIMD instructions interferes with vectorisation avoidance for scalar subcomputations. Code that avoids vectorisation also avoids the use of SIMD instructions. We would like to use SIMD instructions, but still avoid full-scale vectorisation. This should be possible, but it is not immediately clear how to realise it (elegantly). == ABIs and calling conventions == For each CPU architecture GHC has a calling convention that it uses for all Haskell function calls. The calling convention specifies where function arguments and results are placed in registers and on the stack. Adhering to the calling convention is necessary for correctness. Code compiled using different calling conventions should not be linked together. Note that currently the LLVM and NCG code generators adhere to the same ABI. The calling convention needs to be extended to take into account the primitive vector types. We have to decide if vectors should be passed in registers or on the stack and how to handle vectors that do not match the native vector register size. For efficiency it is highly desirable to make use of vector registers in the calling convention. This can be significantly quicker than copying vectors to and from the stack. Within the same overall CPU architecture, there are several sub-architectures with different vector capabilities and in particular different vector sizes. The x86-64 architecture supports SSE2 vectors as a baseline which includes pairs of doubles, but the AVX extension doubles the size of the vector registers. Ideally when compiling for AVX we would make use of the larger AVX vectors, including passing the larger vectors in registers. This poses a major challenge: we want to make use of large vectors when possible but we would also like to maintain some degree of ABI compatibility. === Alternative design: separate ABIs === It is worth briefly exploring the option of abandoning ABI compatibility. We could declare that we have two ABIs on x86-64, the baseline SSE ABI and the AVX ABI. We would further declare that to generate AVX code you must build all of your libraries using AVX. Essentially this would mean having two complete sets of libraries, or perhaps simply two instances of GHC, each with their own libraries. While this would work and may be satisfactory when speed is all that matters, it would not encourage use of vectors more generally. In practice haskell.org and linux distributions would have to distribute the more compatible SSE build so that in many cases even users with AVX hardware would be using GHC installations that make no use of AVX code. On x86 the situation could be even worse since the baseline x86 sub-architecture used by many linux distributions does not include even SSE2. In addition it is wasteful to have two instances of libraries when most libraries do not use vectors at all. === Selected design: mixed ABIs using worker/wrapper === It it worth exploring options for making use of AVX without having to force all code to be recompiled. Ideally the base package would not need to be recompiled at all and perhaps only have packages like vector recompiled to take advantage of AVX. Consider the situation where we have two modules `Lib.hs` and `App.hs` where `App` imports `Lib`. The `Lib` module exports: {{{ f :: DoubleVec4# -> Int g :: (DoubleVec4# -> a) -> a }}} which are used by App. We compile: {{{ ghc -msse2 Lib.hs ghc -mavx App.hs. }}} There are two cases to consider: * if the function being called has an unfolding exported from `Lib` then that unfolding can be compiled in the context of App and can make use of AVX instructions * alternatively we are dealing with object code for the function which follows a certain ABI Notice that not only do we need to be careful to call `f` and `g` using the right calling convention, but in the case of `g`, the function that we pass as its argument must also follow the calling convention that `g` will call it with. Our solution is to take a worker/wrapper approach. We will split each function into a wrapper that uses a lowest common denominator calling convention and a worker that uses the best calling convention for the target sub-architecture. The simplest lowest common denominator calling convention is to pass all vectors on the stack, while the fast calling convention will use SSE2 or AVX registers. For `App` calling `Lib.f` we start with a call to the wrapper, this can be inlined to a call to the worker at which point we discover that the calling convention will use SSE2 registers. For `App` calling `Lib.g` with a locally defined `h`, we would pass the wrapper for `h` to `g` and since we assume we have no unfolding for `g` then this is how it remains: at runtime `g` will call `h` through the wrapper for `h` and so will use the lowest common denominator calling convention. We might be concerned with the reverse situation where we have A and B, with A importing B: {{{ ghc -mavx B.hs. ghc -msse2 A.hs }}} That is, a module compiled with SSE2 that imports a module that was compiled with AVX. How can we call functions using AVX registers if we are only targeting SSE2? There are two design options: * One option is to note that since we will be using AVX instructions at runtime when we call the functions in B, and hence it is legitimate to use AVX instructions in A also, at least for the calling convention. * The other is to avoid generating AVX instructions at all, even for the calling convention, in which case it is essential to avoid inlining the wrapper function since this exposes the worker that uses the AVX calling convention. While the first option is in some ways simpler, it also implies that all ABI-compatible code generators can produce at least some vector instructions. In particular it requires data-movement instructions to be supported. If however we wish to completely avoid implementing any vector support in the NCG backend then we must take the second approach. For the second approach we would need to add an extra architecture flag and check to inlining annotations. There are already several conditions that are checked prior to inlining (e.g. phase checks), this would add an additional check. === Optional extension: compiling code for multiple sub-architectures === If we have support for arch-conditional inlining, we in future may want to extend the idea to allow inlining to one of a number of arch-specific implementations. Consider a hypothetical function in a core library that uses vectors but that is too large to be a candidate for inlining. We have to ship core libraries compiled for the base architecture. Hence the function from the core lib will not be compiled to use AVX. Another possibility is to generate several copies of the function worker, compiled for different sub-archtectires. Then when the function is called in another module compiled with -mavx we would like to call the AVX worker. This could be achieved by arch-conditional inlining or rules. This option should only be considered if we expect to have functions in core libs that are above the inlining threshold. This would probably not be the case for ghc-prim and base. It may however make sense for the vector library should that become part of the standard platform and hence typically shipped to users as a pre-compiled binary. === Types for calling conventions === One of GHC's clever design tricks is that the type of a function in core determines its calling convention. A function in core that accepts an Int is different to one that accepts an Int#. The use of two different types, Int and Int# let us talk about the transformation and lets us write code in core for the wrapper function that converts from Int to Int#. If we are to take a worker wrapper approach with calling conventions for vectors then we would do well to use types to distinguish the common and special calling conventions. For example, we could define sub-architecture specific types: {{{ FloatSseVec4# DoubleSseVec2# FloatAvxVec8# DoubleAvxVec4# }}} We would also need some suitable primitive conversion operations {{{ toSseVec4# :: FloatVec4# -> FloatSseVec4# fromSseVec4# :: FloatSseVec4# -> FloatVec4# etc }}} Then we can describe the types for the worker and wrapper for our function {{{ f :: DoubleVec4# -> Int }}} This remains the type of the wrapper, which also is still called f. If we compile the module with -msse2 or -mavx then we would get workers with the respective types: {{{ f_worker :: (# DoubleSseVec2#, DoubleSseVec2# #) -> Int }}} or {{{ f_worker :: DoubleAvxVec4# -> Int }}} Note that in the SSE2 case we have to synthesize a vector of length 4 using native vectors of length 2. Now it is clearer what the calling convention of the workers are. What is the calling convention of the wrapper? {{{ f :: DoubleVec4# -> Int }}} We have said that this is the lowest common denominator calling convention. The simplest is passing vectors on the stack. This has the advantage of not requiring vector support in the NCG. === Calling convention and performance === The mixed ABI approach using worker/wrapper trades off some performance for convenience and compatibility. Why do we think the tradeoff is reasonable? In the case of ordinary unboxed types, Int/Int# etc, this approach is very effective. It is only when calling unknown functions, e.g. higher order functions that are not inlined that we would be calling the wrapper and using the slower calling convention. This is unlikely for high performance numeric code. === Optional extension: faster common calling convention === On x86-64 we know we always have SSE2 available, so we might want to use that in our lowest common denominator calling convention. It would of course require support for vector data movement instructions in the NCG. === Alternative design: only machine-specific ABI types === With the above extension to use vectors registers in the common calling convention, it would make sense to say that in fact the wrapper `f` has type: {{{ f :: (# DoubleSseVec2#, DoubleSseVec2# #) -> Int }}} This is a plausible design, but it is not necessary to go this way. We can simply declare types like `DoubleVec4#` to have a particular calling convention without forcing it to be rewritten in terms of machine-specific types in core. But it would be plausible to say that types like `DoubleVec4#` are ephemeral, having no ABI and must be rewritten by a core -> core pass to use machine-specific types with an associated ABI. === Memory alignment for vectors === Many CPUs that support vectors have strict alignment requirements, e.g. that 16 byte vectors must be aligned on 16byte boundaries. On some architectures the requirements are not strict but there may be a performance penalty, or alternative instruction may be required to load unaligned vectors. For example AVX has special instructions for unaligned loads and stores but Intel estimates a [http://software.intel.com/en-us/articles/practical-intel-avx-optimization-on-2nd-generation-intel-core-processors/ 20% performance loss]. LLVM has primitives that can load and store vectors from unaligned memory locations, which (presumably) compile to either aligned vector instructions if the architecture has them, or non-vector instructions if not. So alignment of vectors in memory is optional, and we can make an independent choice about whether we align stored vectors * on the stack * in a heap closure * in an array '''Alignment in arrays.''' Arrays of vectors are clearly the most important case, so we must support allocation of aligned unboxed arrays. Indeed GHC already does support ''pinned'' arrays of unboxed data, and any array larger than about 3k is implicitly pinned. Supporting unpinned arrays would be somewhat more difficult, requiring some GC support to keep the objects aligned when copying them, and requiring that the "slop" be filled in some cases, but it could be done. '''Alignment on the stack.''' Aligning the stack could be done either by ensuring that all stack allocation is a multiple of the alignment (thus possibly wasting a lot of stack space), or by adding extra frames to fill the slop when allocating a frame that needs alignment. Neither option is particularly attractive. We propose to use unaligned access to vectors stored on the stack for the time being, and revisit this decision if it is found to be a performance bottleneck later. '''Alignment in the heap.''' Again, while we could arrange the correct alignment for vectors stored in heap objects, it would be painful to do so, requiring code generator support and GC support. We propose not to do this, at least for the time being, and to use unaligned loads and stores for vectors in heap objects. === ABI summary === The size of the native-sized vectors `IntVec#`, `DoubleVec#` etc correspond to the maximum size for any sub-architecture, e.g. AVX on x86-64. The ordinary `IntVec#`, `Int32Vec4#` etc types correspond to the slow compatible calling convention which passes all vectors on the stack. These vectors must all have their obvious strict alignment. For example `Int32Vec4#` is 16 bytes large and has 16 byte alignment. Extra machine-specific types `DoubleSseVec2#`, `FloatAvxVec8#`, `FloatNeonVec4#` etc correspond to the fast calling convention which use the corresponding vector registers. These have the alignment requirements imposed by the hardware. The machine-specific types need not be exposed but it is also plausible to do so. We will use worker/wrapper to convert between the common types and the machine-specific types. Initially, to avoid implementing vector data-movement instructions in the NCG, we will add arch-conditional inlining of the wrapper functions. If later on we add vector data-movement instructions to the NCG, then the arch-conditional inlining of the wrapper functions can be discarded and the compatible calling convention could be changed to make use of any vector registers in the base architecture (e.g. SSE2 on x86-64). == See also == * [http://perilsofparallel.blogspot.com/2008/09/larrabee-vs-nvidia-mimd-vs-simd.html Blog article about Larrabee and Nvidia, MIMD vs. SIMD] * [wiki:SIMD/Implementation/Llvm SIMD LLVM:] A previous (LLVM-specific) iteration of this SIMD proposal. * [wiki:SIMD/Implementation/Old Vector Computing:] A previous proposal to make use of x86 SSE in GHC. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32662 | Version 2 (modified by simonpj@…, 6 years ago) (diff)
Infix Type Constructors
Brief Explanation
GHC allows type constructors to be infix operators (conops, beginning with :, but not including : itself).
qtycon -> qconid | ( qconsym )
qtyconop -> qconsym | ` qconid `
And type gets an extra production:
type -> btype qtyconop type
Add infix type constructors
• This is a straightforward generalisation, doesn't break any existing code, and improves the consistency of the syntax.
• Need to have a way to set the fixity of a type constructor T differently than the data constructor T (or not?).
• Need to allow infix notation in contexts
f :: (a :>: b) => bla blah
• Watch out for code like this (
infixr 5 `Foo`
infixr 6 `Bar`
data a `Foo` b = a `FOO` a `Bar` b
data a `Bar` b = a `BAR` b |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32671 |
No encontramos iTunes en este ordenador. Para escuchar un fragmento y comprar música de Roaring of the Lamb de Steely Dan, descarga iTunes ahora.
Tengo iTunes Descarga gratuita
iTunes para Mac + PC
Roaring of the Lamb
Steely Dan
Abre iTunes para escuchar un fragmento, comprar y descargar música.
Reseña de álbum
In the years before they formed Steely Dan and released the band's debut album Can't Buy a Thrill in 1972, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen made numerous demonstration recordings of their songs under the auspices of their manager, Kenny Vance of Jay & the Americans. Vance began leasing these recordings for commercial release in 1983 with the album Becker & Fagen: The Early Years, and since then they have been repackaged over and over in various combinations, appearing on such albums as Berry Town, Sun Mountain, Old Regime, and Stone Piano. Twenty-eight different songs (plus an alternate version of the song "Sun Mountain") have turned up on one album or another, and The Roaring of the Lamb presents half of them. Steely Dan fans who have never heard any of these tracks may be pleasantly surprised. None of Becker and Fagen's vaunted studio perfectionism is present on these primitive and usually spare tracks, but the work comes only a short time before the polished Steely Dan commercial recordings, and it is identifiably by the same performers. In fact, "Barrytown" later turned up on the third Steely Dan album, Pretzel Logic. "Android Warehouse," meanwhile, is basically a demo of "The Caves of Altamira" from the fifth Steely Dan album, The Royal Scam. Most of the tracks feature only Fagen on lead vocals and piano, and Becker on bass and harmony vocals, though some are more developed arrangements presumably including Demian (featuring guitarist Denny Dias, later of Steely Dan, drummer John Discepolo, and singer Keith Thomas), the band with whom they were playing at the time. As long as buyers aren't expecting the usual Steely Dan sonics, they may enjoy a glimpse into the band's beginnings.
Fecha de formación: Los Angeles, CA, 1972
Género: Rock
Biografía completa |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32699 |
Re: mplayer installer package
On Sat, Oct 19, 2002 at 09:27:01AM +0200, Dariush Pietrzak wrote:
> there will be, latest version that went to my sponsor can be found at
> http://eyck.forumakad.pl/debian, along with mplayer-skins ( this will
> follow shortly after mplayer is in debian ) and mplayer-fonts ( this will
> have to wait some more, until someone tells me that those fonts generated
> from microsoft .ttfs are distributable, or someone comes up with free
> .ttfs ).
apt-get install ttf-freefont
- mdz
Reply to: |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32701 |
Re: bug reporting workflow is outdated
OoO En ce milieu de nuit étoilée du lundi 23 mai 2011, vers 03:42, Paul
Wise <[email protected]> disait :
>> The only advantage of this would be for systems that firewall outgoing
>> mail conections but allow http or have a http proxy but no smarthost.
> There are a *lot* of ISPs that do this. My ISP does this so I have to
> send mail via SSH tunnel or webmail.
Does it allow port 587 (submission)? This becomes common those days to
accept SMTP listening on this port.
Vincent Bernat ☯ http://www.luffy.cx
* Hash table gook..
2.4.0-test2 /usr/src/linux/fs/buffer.c
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32702 |
Re: OSD && DFSG - different purposes
On Sun, 02 Mar 2003, Russell Nelson wrote:
> The modified software can be distributed by the recipient without
> telling anyone anything except the 2nd recipient.
> The modified software can be modified by the recipient only if he
> tellss the public at large. This is the same condition.
I'm not sure that I follow this argument.
How is (a) providing source to an individual receiving a copy of the
modified software the same as (b) providing source to the public at
'a' would involve offering the source to at least one person, whereas
'b' would require offering the source in a manner calculated to be
reachable by the public at large (which presumably means everyone, at
the very least including the originating copyright holder.)
Don Armstrong
Debian's not really about the users or the software at all. It's a
large flame-generating engine that the cabal uses to heat their coffee
-- Andrew Suffield (#debian-devel Fri, 14 Feb 2003 14:34 -0500)
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Re: Moving contrib and non-free of master.debian.org
On Wed, Jun 23, 1999 at 05:59:45PM -0400, Will Lowe wrote:
> That's the problem is was (unsuccessfully) trying to get at earlier.
> public, no matter what the Social Contract says.
interesting point, how many users (not developers) knows our social
contract and the differeces among main, contrib and non-free ?
Note that in italy the biggest part of debian users uses the cd on
the magazine that are a mix of main/contrib/non-us/non-free divided
in different numbers of the magazine (monthly).
Is not so easy find an official debian cd-rom distribution (only
from internet) and is impossible download the official cdrom.
Please consider this point
Andrea Fanfani
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SubjectRe: 2.0.7 - freeze at runlevel prompt
Eric S. Mountain wrote:
> Hi,
> 2.0.7 froze at the "Enter runlevel:" prompt - and I really mean
> _froze_. I suspect the sound module which I load and unload in the
> background so the sound card is initialised with some decent values.
> Sorry it's 6:30am and I have to go to work, so no chance of testing
> things further.
> It did happen with 2.0.5 or 2.0.6 too though - just once, next time I
> booted thinger were OK (with the same kernel), so it's intermittent.
> Worst kind of problem...
I had a 2.0.7 freeze yesterday. I didn't have time to mess about with
telnetting in to the frozen machine (P166), but I had no response from X
(which I was in at the time) or VCs. Hardware reset was my recourse.
I doubt that the sound module is to blame: I've got no sound card in
this machine and no sound support configured into the kernel.
\ /
©2003-2011 Jasper Spaans |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32724 | Fernando César
Hello there, you just arrived here, on my own, personal, Debian Wiki page! Uah! Wasn't that something?... :D
I'm a Computer Engineering student at Técnico Lisbon (Portugal).
My plans:
1. Make a page about Managing Multiple Workstations (MMW).
• Talk about:
• terminology (cluster, cloud, grid, workstations network)
• have the same software everywhere
• perform the same action in every machine
• configuration managers (reverse engineering configurations)
• how to monitor everything
• ...
2. Make page listing all services running by default in Debian, so people can disable what is not relevant
My pages (working progress)
Feell free to leave a message after the "BEEP". (don't forget the date and your contact!) |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32741 |
Build-A-Bear Workshop is an American retailer headquartered in St. Louis, Missouri that sells teddy bears and other stuffed animals. Customers go through an interactive process in which the stuffed animal of their choice is assembled and customized during their visit to the store, and is the largest chain that operates in this style. The company has been acclaimed for the quality of its working environment, especially as a workplace for teenagers. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32769 | Disclaimer: OK, I don't own Harry Potter people. I don't. I know I'm the best writer EVER (DEFINITELY kidding) but if you think that I actually wrote the books or own the characters, then you must be dum D-U-M dum! (Kidding, I know how to spell dumb.) The music lyrics "birthday party cheesecake jelly bean boom." Are from the song "It's the End of the World as We know It (And I Feel Fine)" by Meander.
Summary/Author's Note: Hermione stays home throughout the summer and goes through some changes. Ron starts trying to come on to her (Unsuccessfully) and Harry starts to try to puzzle out why he is always so happy whenever he's around Hermione, but not Ron. There is a DEFINITE HG/HP pairing in this fanfic. It's still a work in progress, and is not even close to complete. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! I don't want to be one of those authors who don't ever find out how they actually write because no one ever reads their stories and tells them what they can improve on and what they're good at truthfully. But please, though I am desperate for reviews, don't use them to be cruel, use constructive criticism, please. I have a very tender ego when it comes to these type of things. OK, I think that's it. Oh! Before I forget, if you don't like HG/HP pairing then don't read it! Pairings: HG/HP, RW/LL, DM/GW, DT/PvP, NLB/PdP, SF/LB, MB/VC, BZ/PnPk! I'm a pairing fanatic, I can't help it. In this story, Blaise is a boy in this fic, because some people make him/her a girl, so I just wanted to clear that up! FYI! Also, Please let me know if I misspelled any of the names because sometimes my computer edits the story by itself and I don't notice. Also, all names of new students being sorted came from my own head. If they are actually somebody's name, that is completely unintentional. Let me know how you like my fic! This is the first one I've ever posted online, so all feedback is much appreciated!
Summer Changes
Chapter 1:
Hermione frowned at the mirror. She tugged on her skirt once more, but it seemed determined to remain at least six and a half inches above her knees. She flipped her brunette hair out of her eyes, but the tamed mane still covered half of her forehead. Finally, she grabbed her train case, volleyball, and her duffle bag, and walked out the door to her car. She slipped into the driver's seat and revved the engine, preparing for a new year at her boarding school.
To say that Hermione had changed over the summer would be a massive understatement. Her hair had lost its trademark untamable frizz and bushiness, little by little, soon becoming the sleek and shining hair that she had always wanted. She had taken up volleyball while visiting her cousin in the United States, playing for hours at a time at the beach, so her arms no longer resembled sticks anymore. Also, Hermione had started running one mile a day to get into shape for football and volleyball. Her skin had bronzed from the hours on the beach and field, and her hair had also lightened several shades.
Now, she was driving to the train station to go back to Hogwarts. To take her car back home, her parents had taken the bus to London and were going to pick up her car at the station. They had promised repeatedly that they would take care of it. There was no reason for a eighteen-year-old to be worried. And yet, as she drove through downtown London towards the station, she couldn't help but start growing apprehensive at how her friends would react to her new look.
She knew what Ron would do, of course. He would practically drool all over her and stare at her body when he thought she wasn't looking. Surprisingly, Hermione was worried about how Harry would react to her. Over the summer, she had realized that she liked Harry in a definitely non-best-friend-not-platonic-way. Whenever she was examining her hair, or she was messing with her subtle makeup, she always thought about him. Whenever she did anything, she was reminded of him.
Finally, burdened with these thoughts, Hermione arrived at the station. She picked up her volleyball, tucked her knee pads, football, and cleats into her duffle bag, and shut the trunk and locked the car. Her mother and father were waiting for her at the entrance to the station.
"Have a good time, sweetie." Her mother said into her ear as they hugged goodbye. Hermione smiled reassuringly and then faced the station. Heaving a sigh, she walked to the assigned platform. She then reached into her bag and pulled out her Head Girl badge, and pinned it to her jean skirt, a habit she had picked up from one of her volleyball friends. Then, she boarded the train.
Looking into each compartment as she passed, Hermione finally found an empty one that would serve her and her friends nicely. After lugging her bags in and piling them onto one of the racks, Hermione proceeded to walk back onto the platform to find Harry and Ron.
She was stepping off the train, when one of her Wallabies caught on one of the door hinges. She fell as if in slow motion, the ground was coming closer and closer, when suddenly, she felt arms reach out and catch her. She landed softly in a man's arms. Once spotting his ebony hair and sparkling green eyes, Hermione's breath caught in her chest as she recognized him. "Hey Harry." She said breathlessly as a blush rose to her cheeks. He smiled, and then set her down gently on the ground.
"Hey." He said and flashed another smile. But behind the sparkling façade, Hermione saw a tinge of sadness. Then, he gave her an once-over to make sure that she was alright. "You look different." He said, the sadness gone from his eyes.
"Oh, yeah, I took up some new stuff this summer." She said as she tried to calm her heart rate without him noticing.
"Like what?" He asked, looking genuinely interested.
"Stupid curiosity," Hermione thought darkly as she tried to form the words in her head into coherent sentences. "Volleyball, football, um, clothes I guess would count, and running."
"Volleyball? Football?" Harry asked in surprise.
"Yeah. I didn't have much time to read this summer."
"You didn't read? Okay, who are you, and where's the real 'Mione?" He asked jokingly.
"Ha ha." She replied sarcastically and punched him lightly on the arm. As she playfully punched him, Hermione caught a look at her watch.
"Oh! I gotta go, Harry! I promised Dumbledore and McGonagall that I would have a meeting with them about my Head Student duties before we got to the school, and now is as good a time as any. I'll be back in the compartment later!" she called as she rushed toward the front of the train after quickly hugging him. She had almost reached the far end of the train when she turned back. "I put my stuff in the last compartment!" she shouted. Harry gave her a thumbs up and she smiled and continued running away. Harry stood watching her, and then turned when someone called his name.
"Go Harry! Hittin' on the chicks! Glad to see you're getting over the break-up with Ginny, man!" Ron said, giving Harry a friendly clap on the back.
"Ron, that was 'Mione." Harry said as if her were talking to a three-year-old.
"Oh… Man, she got hot!" He imitated a spanking motion, and Harry just shook his head.
"Are you saying she wasn't pretty before?" Harry asked, feeling insulted for Hermione.
"Well, Harry, we both know that she wasn't exactly the most sought after girl in Hogwarts. She was a total bookworm. Let's face it. She wasn't pretty. I guess that someone finally got through to her."
"What is your problem, Ron? You always seem to say the wrong think at the wrong time." Harry ground out angrily. Then, he walked away toward the compartment. Ron hesitated, and then followed.
"So, I guess this means that you think I don't have a chance with her?" He called as he tried to catch up with his friend.
Hermione walked out of the meeting about an hour and forty-five minutes later. "That was a long meeting." She thought. "'Course, Ernie was always kind of anal about all of our responsibilities as students before this." Suddenly, a pair of hands reached out of a compartment and grabbed her by the shoulders. She struggled mightily, but her captor managed to pull her into the compartment. Just when she remembered to scream, a smooth hand clapped over her mouth.
"You look good, mudblood." A voice said into her ear that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She caught a more than detectable hint of firewhiskey and rolled her eyes. Stupid boys.
"Malfoy." She said spitefully into his hand.
"So you recognize me? I almost didn't recognize you now that you are actually dressed as a girl." Hermione bit back the sharp retort she wanted to say to him. "Not talkative are we?" He asked, his gray eyes flashing. She didn't bother to point out that she couldn't talk when his hand was over her mouth anyway. "Let's see if we can fix that." Then, he put his arms around her waist and yanked her towards him.
"Malfoy, get off!" Hermione said angrily as Draco grabbed her. All that she received for her anger was a self-satisfied smirk. With the little room she had, Hermione mustered all of her strength and punched his face as hard as she could. When she did, she felt the smooth reaction of soft cartilage breaking under her knuckles. Malfoy doubled over in pain, giving her the chance to get away. As she ran toward the door, Malfoy shouted, "Stop her!" and Goyle the man-mountain blocked her way menacingly.
Meanwhile, Harry had left the compartment to look for Hermione. He had become worried when she was gone for more than two hours, which was much longer than the expected meeting time. He became especially worried when Ernie McMillan, the Head Boy, got back five minutes after he first started wondering where she was. Harry knew how anal he was about the meetings, so it was easy to deduce that he would be the last one to leave. He was walking down the corridor in search of Hermione, when he heard Malfoy's shout. Running towards the sound, he found the locked compartment. Through the translucent glass, he saw Goyle blocking Hermione's way. He also saw Malfoy's bloody nose and Crabbe behind Hermione, about to grab her while Goyle distracted her.
Releasing his anger, Harry leaned back slightly and kicked the door in. The door landed on Goyle, temporarily knocking him unconscious. "Look out 'Mione!" Harry roared, and she turned in time to see Crabbe advancing and moved out of harm's way. Malfoy, having recovered from Hermione's initial blow, tackled Harry before he could draw his wand, slamming him against the wall in the process. As Malfoy pulled his fist back to punch Harry, Hermione grabbed his fist and twisted his arm into a painful position behind his back. Harry quickly yanked out his wand, "Accio wand!" he shouted, and Malfoy's wand flew into his hand from the floor. Goyle lay forgotten on the floor, and Crabbe was paralyzed as a result of Hermione's Petrificus Totalus.
Once Harry saw that the fight was essentially over, he faced Malfoy menacingly and slammed him against the wall with one hand after Hermione moved out of the way. "If you ever touch her again," He growled. "I will see to it that you throat is slit myself."
"Bit jealous now, aren't we?" Malfoy jeered as the blood dried on his face. "You fancy the mudblood?"
"I protect my friends. And you are certainly not one of them." Harry answered, ignoring his second comment.
"You wouldn't turn me over to the Headmaster. You know for a fact nothing would ever happen to me. My father-" he drawled.
"I don't care about your father." Harry interjected. "StayAwayFromHermione." He said, emphasizing each word by banging him against the wall.
"You can't harm me. I have friends in high places, you know."
"Is that so?" Harry asked, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Please go on. I'm beggin' you. I've been dying for revenge on Voldemort." At this, Draco looked disgusted and clamped his mouth shut. From behind Harry, Hermione watched this encounter. To make sure Harry wouldn't harm Malfoy, she quickly cast an Immobulus, and Harry then tossed him to the ground as carelessly as with a doll.
"I'll alert the Headmaster." Hermione said quietly as she walked towards the doorway. "And Harry?" she murmured; Harry looked over his shoulder at her. "Thanks," she said with a weak smile. She quickly ran out the door and towards the front of the train.
During the ten minutes it took Hermione to get the Headmaster, Harry stood lost in thought. When she returned, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall in tow, Harry still stood in the same position he had been when she left. "There he is, sir." Hermione said respectfully, pointing toward Malfoy.
"Thank you; and Miss Granger? Would you please escort Mr. Potter back to your compartment? I'm sure Mr. Weasley is curious about your whereabouts."
"Yes, sir," she said and grabbed Harry's hand. "C'mon Harry," she whispered to him," Let's leave ferret-face here." Harry came out of his thoughtful daze once she said this, and he followed her out the splintered door frame.
When they got back to the compartment, Ron was gorging himself with pastries and sweets, seemingly unaware that Harry had even left. Hermione quickly engaged him in conversation, asking him how his summer went and what he and Ginny had been up to, while Harry sat staring out the window, lost in thought.
They arrived at the school, and boarded the Thestral-drawn carriages. Once they reached the main castle, the trio walked through the front doors and into the Great Hall. They quickly sat down with Harry and Ron on either side of Hermione. Their friends quickly filled in the gaps, and they all chattered happily amongst each other as they waited for the sorting to begin. Suddenly, the huge doors leading into the Great Hall banged open and Professor McGonagall led a terrified-looking group of first years down the center aisle.
"I don't remember looking so terrified when we were sorted. Did we really look so stupid?" Harry whispered to his friends and Ron sniggered rather loudly while Hermione playfully slapped Harry on the arm in mock anger.
While this exchange was going on, McGonagall had gingerly placed the Sorting Hat on the stool. Once they noticed this, the trio looked at the hat expectantly along with the rest of the hall. Immediately, a seam near the brim of the hat opened as a crude mouth and the hat started to sing.
So you want to be a wizard?
You want to learn how to cast
Certain spells and magicks
Cast by others in the past?
Then sit your merry self down
And listen to my singing
For everyone can still hear
The school bells a-ringing!
A wand is really all you'll need
And we'll provide the rest
Filling your mind with knowledge
With which you'll be the best!
But before these talents are taught
First you need to be placed
Into a House which suits you
And you'll show it on your face!
Perhaps you'll be a noble Gryffindor
A courageous bunch you'll find
A group of witches and wizards
That are truly brave and kind.
Or maybe in pleasant Hufflepuff
Is where you'll find your course
These jolly do-gooders never see
A second of remorse!
Maybe clever Ravenclaw
Where there's knowledge abundant
With their books and studies
They will never be redundant!
Or Ambitious Slytherin
Could be the place for you
Where dreams of gold and power
Always do come true!
There's the thing you wanted
Houses have been described
Now place me on your head
And your Fate will be inscribed!
A moment of silence followed the song, and then murmuring rampaged throughout the Hall. After a stern look from McGonagall, the hall became quiet once again and she unrolled the scroll of names and cleared her throat. "Abbey, Richard!" She called, and a thin boy with light hair and mouse-like features jumped in the back of the crowd. Finally, with a nervous smile, he crept up to the hat. He sat upon the stool at a gesture from McGonagall, and then half of his face disappeared under the worn cloth that formed the hat's brim. After a few seconds, the hat opened its mouth, "GRYFFINDOR!" It shouted, and a very relieved looking Richard rushed to the end of the table.
"Crabbe, Samantha." McGonagall said. A dark-haired, tan-skinned girl walked nervously toward the stool. She sat down, and the hat was placed on her head.
"10 knuts says she's a Slytherin." Ron muttered. Harry nodded.
"You're on." Hermione whispered furiously back.
"You just got 10 free knuts." Harry whispered to Ron.
"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted again.
"Pay up." Hermione said with a smirk. Ron ruefully dumped the ten bronze coins in her hand.
"You cheated." Ron said hotly.
"How could I have possibly cheated? Did I will the hat not to put Crabbe's sister in Slytherin?" She asked with another smirk. For the next few people, Ron sat muttering darkly in his seat.
2 more Gryffindors, 1 Hufflepuff, and 2 Ravenclaws later, McGonagall read "Finnigan, Amelie" off of the list. Seamus whooped loudly from the table. The hat was on her head for less than a second, when, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Yes!" Seamus shouted, and his sister skipped to the empty seat beside him. "Goyle, Nicole" became a Hufflepuff, shocking the Gryffindor crowd once again, and making Ron lose another 10 knuts to Hermione.
"Malfoy, Cassandra." McGonagall said sternly.
"Here comes the first Slytherin." Ron whispered.
"10 sickles says she's a Gryffindor." Hermione said with a smile, "Or are you afraid you'll get beaten again?"
"Am not! I'm in!" Ron retorted ever so predictably. Many minutes later, the Hat opened its mouth.
"GRYFFINDOR!" Ron's jaw dropped to the floor as the platinum-blond girl rushed to the table. Ron numbly handed the 20 coins to Hermione who let out a triumphant grin.
"Ron, I don't think you should bet anymore." Harry said and received an attempt to smack him on the head because of it. The other 16 people turned into 5 Gryffindors, 7 Hufflepuffs, and 4 Ravenclaws.
"There wasn't a single Slytherin out of 26!" Harry said in shock after tabulating the numbers.
"You would think there would be more than ever!" Hermione pointed out, "What with the rise of Voldemort and all."
Ron resembled a goldfish gasping for air for a few seconds as he sat in shock and then said, "You… You said h-his name!"
"Fear in the name only increases fear in the thing itself." Hermione retorted, doing a remarkable impression of Dumbledore. As Ron was about to respond, Dumbledore picked up his goblet and banged it on the table several times.
"I do not want to detain you from your meals any longer. I only wanted to say that for the first years, the Forbidden Forest on the edge of the grounds is off-limits to all students. Next, for third years and up, there will be a Hogsmeade visit this weekend on Saturday. Also, the seventh years will get to have a Muggle ball three weeks from Saturday, so it is advised that tuxedoes and gowns be bought while in Hogsmeade. Muggle dress is required for the ball, and the type of clothing is extremely formal. Lastly, our returning Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin, should be made welcome by all students. Now, if none of the staff have any announcements, you may dine!"
"That was a long speech for Dumbledore," Harry said in stupefaction.
"Yeah," Ron said as he loaded his plate with scalloped potatoes and fried chicken.
"Usually, he only says something like "twiddle dee, twiddle dum, kumquat" or "birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom" Hermione remarked.
"Isn't that from a song?" Harry asked while staring transfixed as Ron shoveled food into his mouth and made noises resembling a pig.
"What is?" Hermione replied, also staring.
"Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom," Harry replied, tearing his eyes away from the horrid spectacle in order to regain his appetite.
"I don't think so… Maybe," Hermione said and picked up one of the few remaining drumsticks. "Ron! Slow down!" She snapped, visibly agitated, "I'm surprised you haven't swallowed your fork! Stop shoveling food into your mouth long enough to let other people eat without having the urge to throw it back up!" At this, Ron paused in his eating and looked at her. Realizing that he had finally stopped, Hermione quickly started drinking her pumpkin juice so that she could eat and drink a little before the gorge-fest started again.
"Hermione." Ron said after swallowing the mouthful of food that he had managed to cram into his mouth before Hermione's outburst. She nodded to show that she heard him with her mouth full of pumpkin juice. "Will you go out with me?" Hermione was so shocked that she accidentally spewed her pumpkin juice all over Seamus, while Harry was so surprised that he started choking on the chicken in his mouth with laughter.
"Yuck! Hermione!" Seamus shouted while Harry tried to stop laughing long enough to swallow.
"Ron…" Hermione said, "Let me put this delicately… Hell no! You said that I wasn't pretty before this summer, and we tried last year, and everyone at Hogwarts knows what a disaster that turned out to be!"
"How did you know I said that you weren't pretty before this summer?" Ron asked in surprise, ignoring the rest of her statement.
Meanwhile, Harry started to sink below the table. "You told her?" Ron asked furiously as his ears started to turn red.
"Maaaaaaybe," Harry said with an innocent grin. "What?" he asked under Ron's glare. "We can't keep anything from each other! She knows when I heard something that puzzled or distressed me or when I need help with something. I told her on the train while I walked with her back from the meeting. It's like she's a mind reader or something!"
"No, I'm not a mind reader," Hermione said, glad for the distraction from Ron's recent dating failure. "You have a certain expression you make when you experience a certain emotion."
"Like what?" Harry asked disbelievingly.
"Well, when you don't believe someone, like now, you raise your right eyebrow," Ginny looked at his face from across the table.
"She's right," She said and returned to her meal.
"And when you're frustrated, you run your hands through your hair once every five minutes that until it practically stands on end. Also, when you are concentrating really hard, like when you're doing homework or trying to catch the snitch, you narrow your eyes to slits. You do it every single time; it's kind of funny really. When you're checking out a girl, you tilt your head to the right."
"How have you noticed all of this?" Harry asked in awe.
"I've been your best friend for seven years, Harry. What haven'tI noticed about you?" Harry smirked. "Not like that, you pervy git!" She exclaimed and punched him playfully on the arm.
"You're the one who thought of it! Not me!" Harry said as he rubbed his arm. Hermione sighed in exasperation, and then the group stood up to go back to the Gryffindor Common Room. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32770 | First of all, this pairing is addictive. Temari was never supposed to be a part of this...but things happen. Blame firefly and ShadowSilk, and while you're at it, check out their stuff. Secondly, Hidan and Temari belong to Kishimoto-san. Thirdly, this is not meant to be offensive to anyone! If you take offense, I'm sorry! Fourthly, this is my first time writing Hidan, so your criticism and comments would be very much appreciated! This is also my first try at a real crack-fic. So please, please, please, help me out here.
by green see-through ghosts
WARNING: AU, strong language, and a bit of an OOC Temari. Please forgive me.
"So I was thinking that since the pastor hasn't given me a fucking job yet, I might as well do whatever until he gets around to filling out my fucking paper-work, you know? And after the shit-head actually gets his work done, I won't have to fuck around in the whatever jobs anymore."
The middle-aged church secretary stared blankly at the man who had just finished speaking. The woman's modest pants suit and boring, brown bob were at sharp odds with the tight blue jeans and half-open, button down shirt of the man across from her.
"I'm the new junior pastor, after all," he added, reaching back with both hands to smooth his already slicked back silver-white hair away from his peaked forehead.
"Is this April First?" the secretary asked confusedly, swiveling around in her padded chair to reach for the wall calendar. The Little Critters calendar was on January, though, and it was Sunday the twentieth.
"No, but it is Penguin Awareness Day," The secretary answered herself as she noticed the little penciled-in words in the top of the twentieth square. She turned to eye the man; he did have white hair and a rather pointy nose, but that was where the penguin resemblance ended.
"I don't give a fuck about penguins," the man muttered, confirming her doubts in the worst manner. "I just want to know what the hell I can do until they have my job ready." Had the man pulled out a two foot machete and begun fighting invisible enemies Rambo-style while screaming, "The Birds! The Birds!", he could not have elicited a grander reaction from the suddenly red-faced, open-mouthed, shocked secretary. Horrified did not begin to describe her expression; she was appalled, shocked, aghast, sickened, disgusted, revolted, dismayed, horror-struck -- yes, all of those and more.
She sputtered for something to say, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
"What the hell?" the young man asked curiously, arching a single, finely curved eyebrow in confusion. "Did I say something?"
Before the secretary could even think of answering, the office door swung open to reveal a pale, twenty-something girl wearing a blue-jean skirt and a fitted maroon hooded sweatshirt. Her light blonde hair was pulled back into a set of four spiky pigtails, and a mug of black coffee was gripped tightly in her right hand. She stepped halfway through the door, then shoved a sealed envelope at the white-haired young man, her tired teal eyes focused somewhere on the ceiling.
"Mr. Hidan," she said, her voice so low that it was nearly inaudible. "The Pastor wanted me to give this to you." For a brief second, she looked at him, then raised her eyes to the secretary. A startled look that had begun when she'd seen the new pastor crossed her blank face as she noticed the woman's look of absolute abhorrence; she sipped her coffee, blinking sleep back from her eyes in hopes that she was hallucinating. Her hopes seemed to be in total vain; when she opened her eyes, the secretary still looked shell-shocked and the new pastor still looked hot.
"Thanks," the man said casually as he pulled the envelope from her hand, glancing up to meet her eyes for a short second.
"No problem," she replied, raising an eyebrow as she looked back at the secretary, who was, sadly, still gaping. Then, without another word, she stuffed her hands inside the front pocket of her sweatshirt and exited, letting the wood door slam behind her. Equally silent, the silver-haired man tapped the letter down in the envelope before ripping off the end and tossing the tattered paper on the desk.
"You're Mr. Hidan?" the secretary finally gasped, her face turning fifty different shades of red within the space of five seconds.
"Christ, you don't have to sound so surprised," the man muttered, offended, as he dumped the folded paper into his hand, dropping the rest of the envelope beside the torn end. The secretary simply stared at him as he unfolded the page and scanned the few lines of scrawling cursive.
"You know, never mind," he said as he reached the bottom. "It looks like they assigned me to…crèche? What the fuck is that? Ah well." Hidan stood to his feet, tucking the paper with the book and notebook underneath his arm. "Thanks for all your help…not," he said in a sarcastic tone as he left, shooting the silent woman one last puzzled look before exiting.
For a long moment after Hidan had disappeared, the secretary stared at the door, dumbstruck. Then, without a break in her expression, she reached for the cordless phone and dialed a number. It rang three times before a female voice answered.
"Beatrice," the secretary said, her voice low, shaking, and dead serious. She paused for dramatic effect, then whispered, "There is a demon running loose in this church."
After leaving the office, Hidan crossed the lobby and made his way down two sets of stairs and into the basement. The room was full of children from the ages thirteen to three, rushing from Sunday-school room to Sunday-school room in search of parents, friends, enemies, food, clothing, chew-toys, and entertainment. They brushed past the older and taller figure without a glance to be spared, though some of the older boys and girls did a double take at the sight of his bared chest and the heavy metal necklace that bounced against his sternum with each step.
"Room one-o-one…room one-o-one…" he muttered under his breath, sharp lavender eyes scanning the name-plates of half a dozen rooms on the left side of the carpeted basement. The plaque that read Room 101 belonged to a half open door to which was taped a large piece of cream-colored construction paper; the words "Four through Two" were written on the paper in multi-colored crayon with stars, hearts, smiley-faces, and flowers providing a soothing background.
"What the fuck?" Hidan muttered, stopping short in front of the door. A most hideous sound was issuing from just inside the entrance; it reminded him of a hack-saw, but more grating. A moment later, he realized that it was infantile crying, and, as a look similar to the poor secretary's crossed his face, Hidan understood the meaning of the rainbow-colored sign.
Nursery? They had assigned him to the fucking nursery?
A young mother carrying a small child and holding the hand of another brushed past his still figure and pushed the door to Room 101 wide open; as she entered, Hidan caught sight of a disgustingly bright room full of plastic toys, stuffed animals, puzzles, pre-school books, and a grotesque rocking horse that was grinning at him with the most disturbing of smiles. He stared at the horse for a full five seconds until the door succumbed to gravity's pull and swung back to its half-open position, breaking the tense stare-down. A high-pitched scream cut the air.
"Mommy, I want to stay with yoooooouuuu!" The last word trailed off for what seemed like ten seconds, then was cut off sharply, as if someone had slapped a hand over the child's mouth. After a short moment, the young mother suddenly reappeared, her hands miraculously empty and a triumphant, carefree smile on her face.
"Hell no," Hidan muttered, violet eyes wide as he slowly stepped away from the door. Another scream issued from somewhere inside as a child appeared at the door, as if making one last break for freedom. A pair of adult arms wrapped around it before it could get out, though, and the kid began screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs as he was dragged back inside the room.
Hidan spun around and began walking -- hell, running -- back across the child-strewn floor, nearly dropping his stack of books in his haste. He glanced back at the door as if expecting drooling children to be chasing him, just as the blonde-haired girl who had delivered the note stepped out of a nearby classroom, straight into his path. For a split second, they saw each other, recognized each other, and had the time to think, Oh shit before their bodies, still moving at higher speeds than either would have desired, crashed into each other.
Hidan's books fell to the floor a second before he did. The girl stumbled backwards, nearly managing to catch her balance before dropping to the carpet-covered cement with an undignified thud. Hidan was not quite so lucky; he did a full one-eighty in midair to land on his stomach, the heavy metal necklace pinned between his bare chest and the hard floor.
"Shit!" he screamed as the spikes of the necklace dug into his tender skin. He pushed himself off the floor and into a sitting position so quickly that the girl was left blinking in surprise. While her exhausted mind was still trying to process what had just happened, he'd moved fast enough to make her head spin. Not good.
Silence fell over a good deal of the crowd; everyone turned their heads to look at the disturbance near the center of the floor.
"Christ, why can't you watch where you're going, bitch?" Hidan raged as he rubbed his hand over the red dents in his chest. "That hurt!" The blonde-haired girl's wide eyes narrowed in sudden anger.
" I wasn't the one looking the other way," she snapped, standing up in one fluid motion, despite the full-length skirt and two inch platform sandals. She glared down at the man before glancing up at the still silent crowd of children. "Hey," she hissed in a much quieter voice. "Can you watch your language in front of the kids?"
"No, I fucking can't," Hidan snapped as he pushed himself up. A few parents on the edge of the room gasped out-loud before they began talking very loud, herding their children towards the stairwell or their class-rooms with a new brand of speed. "I was not looking the other way," Hidan continued.
"Yes, you…whatever," the blonde sighed. She moved past him and bent to collect his cased book and the black notebook. The pen-written note had came open in the fall; as she lifted it from the carpet, she couldn't help but scan the scrawled words.
Her blood ran cold.
"Is this yours?" she asked abruptly, spinning around and holding the note in front of his face.
"Yes, and that's private, thank-you very fucking much."
"I said," the blonde hissed, stepping forward menacingly, "watch your language, bud." She shoved his books against his chest and began stalked away. "And don't bother with the note," she added, turning to glare at him over her shoulder. "I don't need any help in the nursery."
Hidan watched, his eyes still narrowed, hand rubbing his sore chest, as the blonde crossed the room, pushed the door to Room 101 wide open, and disappeared inside just as another worked left, letting the door slam shut behind her. The basement was nearly empty by then; a few short seconds later, there was not a person in sight.
Hidan stood in the center of the room for another moment, until he could hear the first strains of music start up in the main sanctuary. Then, mumbling a vivid string of curses under his breath, he crossed to Room 101 at a jerky walk, the scowl on his face enough to pickle cucumbers.
He opened the door.
A small child standing just on the other side looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes as it sucked on its middle finger.
He swallowed hard, then smiled.
It stared at him for another moment, frozen in mid-suck, then ran away screaming.
"Fuck," Hidan muttered as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
"I told you I didn't need help!" the blonde exclaimed as she scooped the screaming child up into her arms. She already had a drool-faced toddler balanced on her left hip; another was holding onto her skirt, nearly pulling it down with the force of its grip.
"Look," Hidan sighed. "I really, really, need this job here, so-"
"As a nursery-worker?" she said, eyes widening in shock. "No way."
"Hell no!" Hidan snapped. "I'm the new junior pastor, damn it!"
"Language!" she snapped back. Both of the kids in her arms began to cry -- long, gasping wails that had them turning positively purple. "Now look what you've done," the blonde said crossly as she walked over to the row of hung coats and discarded shoes and kicked off her sandals. "Please, just leave," she sighed as she began rocking the two kids.
"I can't just leave," Hidan snapped. "The service has already started."
"So who cares?" the blonde said quietly as she attempted to sooth the two screaming children. Hidan could barely hear her over their shrieks, plus the loud, gun-shot like bursts coming from the three kids who were slamming large pieces of chalk against the old green chalkboard; the steady drone of a spinning toy held by a child in the corner; the slam of a plastic hammer against a plastic ball; and the overall excited chatter that filled the room. "Just walk in," the blonde continued, but if Hidan heard her, he made no acknowledgement. "Okay?" Still no reply. "Hello? Mr. Hidan?"
Growing more irritated by the second, the blonde turned away from him and moved across the room to a child-sized couch upon which she set the two wailing children. They screamed even louder as she stood up and jogged to a set of shelves placed high enough on the wall that none of the kids could get their grubby hands on anything. The shrieks increased in volume as she reached onto the very top shelf and pulled a silver and black contraption away from the wall, a black electrical cord trailing after it. The children at the chalkboard began to yell at each other, each one deciding that they needed the other's chalk. The kid with the hammer started banging on the wall. The droning toy increased in pitch.
"Oh God, make it fucking stop!" Hidan moaned, clamping his hands against his ears as he squinted his eyes shut; his books fell to the floor unnoticed. "This is even the good kind of pain!" he wailed.
The blonde stopped short and stared at him in disbelief for a long moment before placing the roughly square, silver box in the middle of the floor. After plugging the cord into an outlet and fiddling with a few dials on the side of the box, she hit the main switch.
A cloud of bubbles burst out of the whirring machine, iridescent shimmers that filled the air like a cloud. The shimmering globes were propelled upward at a high speed before they drifted down towards the light blue carpet, flitting gently around in the movement of the air.
"Look guys," the blonde said as she stood, her voice carrying to every set of ears in the room. "Bubbles."
The screaming stopped. The chalk-beating stopped. The toy ceased to drone. The hammer ceased to fall. And, moving like one who is either very high on marijuana of very, very tipsy, the children made their way to where the bubbles were falling, their hands uplifted to catch the rainbow shimmers as one-of-a-kind smiles broke out on every single face. The wonders of chalk-boards and hammers were forgotten in the delights of the bubble. The only sound was the soft whir of the machine and the joyful laughter of the children.
"That's right," the blonde said with a sentimental smile and a sigh. "We love bubbles, huh?" She watched a moment longer, then, with an inwardly steeling deep breath, turned to face the new junior pastor.
"What…the…fuck," he breathed, staring at the bubbles with widened, shocked eyes as his hands dropped to his sides. "You're teaching them idol worship!"
"What?!" the blonde cried, incredulity breaking out across her face.
"Look at that!" he exploded. "They look like they're fucking high! They're worshipping those…those…"
"Bubbles?" she suggested, tone extremely dry.
"Bubbles!" Hidan hissed. "Of all the things you could use to influence them, and you choose bubbles!"
"Uh, excuse me?" the blonde said. "I don't see you doing anything to calm them down."
"Look, blondie-"
"It's Temari, all right?" the girl snapped. "And just get out, will you? You really are upsetting some of the kids."
"Listen, blondie," Hidan said, stepping forward and spinning her around so that they were both facing the laughing children. "That," he said, pointing at the scene, "is a fucking sin."
"Do you have a better idea?" Temari snapped, turning to glare at him with her hands fisted on her hips.
"Well, of course," Hidan said with a roll of his eyes.
"Tie 'em and gag 'em," he said lightly. Temari choked on air and started coughing; when the breathing troubles cleared, it was revealed that she was actually laughing. Hidan was not amused; he frowned down at her, as if asking what the fuck she thought was funny.
Temari noticed. The laughter stopped abruptly.
"You were serious?" she gasped, her blue-green eyes wide with disbelief.
"Get out," Temari said firmly. "Now."
"No, seriously," Hidan said. "I can't leave these kids alone with you. You'll corrupt them, or something."
"What are you talking about!" Temari freaked. "I have been babysitting most of these kids since they were born!"
"That doesn't mean you're doing the right thing," Hidan snapped back.
"Listen, bud," Temari hissed. "You think you can handle these kids better than I do?"
"Then fine," Temari snapped, turning around and crossing the room to pick up a notebook and pen from the wide, sippie-cup covered counter. "You see what you can do with them." She dropped down in a rocking chair in the corner with a long sigh. "And no cussing," she added as an afterthought.
"Whatever," Hidan muttered under his breath. Kicking his book and notebook against the wall, he made his way through the group of eight bubble-infatuated toddlers to where the bubble-machine lay. With one jerk on the cord, he unplugged it. The whirring stopped and, after a moment, so did the bubbles.
Eight pairs of wide, shining eyes turned on Hidan. Eight little faces looked up at him expectantly. Eight little attention-spans began their countdown.
"Okay," Hidan announced. "This," pointing down at the bubble-machine, "is a blasphemy. An abomination. An idol."
One of the three-year-olds turned and tackled the boy standing next to him. Another burped and sat down on the floor, reaching for the plastic hammer.
"This," Hidan continued, still pointing at the machine, "will send you to hell so fast that your little bodies will ignite from the speed."
A small boy with brown curly hair and twinkling blue eyes stumbled up to stand right in front of Hidan, his face turned up to stare into the man's strange eyes.
"This is evil," Hidan said. "Do you understand?"
"I want some Cheez-Its," the boy declared in a loud, lisping voice.
"What the hell is a Cheez-It?" Hidan barked.
"Hey," Temari snapped. Hidan pointedly ignored her.
"I want some Cheez-Its!" the boy repeated.
"Like I said, bud, what the fuck is a Cheez-It?"
"Hey!" Temari hissed. "You can't cuss around kids."
"And why not?" Hidan asked, looking back over his shoulder to scowl at her.
"Because they'll repeat it!" Temari snapped. Without thought, she set aside her notebook and jumped to her feet, reaching up onto the shelf to grab a bag of square orange crackers from the top shelf. "If you want a snack, go sit down at the table!" she ordered the kids. As if she had said some soft of magic word, all eight little beasts were suddenly sitting at, and in some cases on, the table, their grimy hands uplifted as they cried for food.
"Like…birds," Hidan said as he surveyed the sight. Their mouths were opening and closing; their cries were shrill and piercing. "Little birds…chicks…what have you done to these children?!"
"If you want some Cheez-Its, you need to be at the table, not on it," Temari said cheerfully, a plastic smile glued to her face. "If you want to be helpful," she told Hidan as the kids moved into miniature plastic chairs, "help pass these out."
"I don't want to be helpful," Hidan grumbled. "And what the hell happened to me seeing what I could do with them?"
"I can't let you," Temari said simply as she dropped approximately eleven crackers in front of each child. "I have a responsibility to these kids. You're the one who would be corrupting them."
"How the hell would I corrupt them?"
"Do you hear yourself talking?" Temari demanded. "Or is there a little dwarf in your mouth he just adds the cuss words as you speak?" She glared at him in righteous challenge; Hidan simply looked confused.
"Why the fuck would there be a dwarf in my mouth?" he asked, tilting his head to one side in thought.
"Please," Temari sighed. "Just stop talking if you can't do it without cussing."
Both adults were silent as Temari finished handing out the crackers. Although most of the talk from the kids was unintelligible, Hidan heard enough to alert him to the fact that Temari was right. They would repeat it.
He glanced at her to see if she'd noticed, but her face was no more red than before, nor were her eyes any more narrowed.
"How, uh, long are they down here?" Hidan asked, glancing up at the clock to see that no more than ten minutes had passed.
"Another forty-five minutes or so," Temari said, glancing up at him warily. "Why?"
"Just…uh, what do you f-…do with them for an hour?" he asked, scratching the back of his head, still staring at the clock.
"After the snack, we'll do a story-time-"
"Nothing blasphemous?"
"Of course not," Temari sighed. "And I don't think you can prove that bubbles are blasphemous either," she added indignantly.
"Trust me, Blondie, they're blasphemous." Temari rolled her eyes at his assuredness.
"Whatever. After the story we'll do some singing-"
"I bet you make them listen to Cradle of Filth."
"I do not!" Temari exclaimed. "Good grief, would you just listen for a second?"
"After the songs, we'll have a little bit of game time. Like, duck, duck goose type games."
"Ring around the rosey?" Hidan asked, eyebrows raised. Temari stared at him. "It was always my favorite game," he said with a shrug.
"You do realize that the little poem is about the Black Plague," she stated.
"Uh…yeah? Isn't that the point?"
"And hopefully," Temari sighed, cradling her forehead in her hands, "the service will be over by then."
"What if it's not?"
"Then I'll figure something out," Temari stated noncommittally.
"You mean we…right?" Hidan glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, a self-satisfied smirk growing on his lips.
"No," Temari said. "You're going to go upstairs for the rest of the service, remember?"
"I already told you, as the new junior pastor, I can't leave you down here to pervert the kids any which way you want." Despite the smile on his face, Hidan seemed dead serious. "For all I know, you're probably a pedophile."
Temari gaped at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed into vivid slits.
"If we were anywhere else," she hissed, her voice barely discernable, "I would kill you right now."
"Bring it, Blondie." The effect of the casual challenge of his words was ruined by the arrival of a Cheez-It to his face; the cracker bounded off his forehead and fell down his unbuttoned, black shirt. "Shit!" he exclaimed, spinning around to face the table. "Which one of you fuckers threw that?"
With a rough growl of frustration, Temari pushed him aside and stepped forward, hoisting the bag of crackers up high.
"Who wants more Cheez-Its?"
As she circled the table, placing a few more crackers in front of each child, Hidan attempted to get the cracker out of his shirt; after some intense jumping up and down -- which reminded Temari to do the Father Abraham song later -- the cracker dropped to the floor and was crushed by a rubber-heeled shoe.
"That'll teach you to walk around half naked," Temari said smugly. "Clean that up, please."
"Bitch," Hidan grumbled under his breath as he knelt down to brush the crumbs of the unfortunate Cheez-It into his hand. Just as he lifted his head, another cracker met his face -- this time his nose. Hidan caught sight of a little snub-nosed boy -- the same blue eyed kid who'd asked for the damn crackers in the first place -- drawing his arm back in aim again, an orange cracker gripped in his little fist.
"Don't even fucking think about it," he ordered in a low, grim voice. The boy looked at him for a second, then at Temari.
"Alexis, eat your Cheez-Its, not Tyler's," she was saying, one hand on the shoulder of a black-haired girl dressed in a frilly pink dress who was grabbing at the crackers of the orange-haired boy beside her.
The blue-eyed boy looked back at Hidan, smiled, and, instead of throwing the cracker, stuffed it in his mouth.
"Want one?" he asked as fluorescent crumbs overflowed his mouth.
"Uh…no." The boy's hand scrambled around on the plastic table until it encountered another Cheez-It.
"Here," the boy said as he held the cracker out in Hidan's direction. Startled -- I said no, didn't I? -- Hidan looked down at the cracker in the grimy white hand, then up at the boy.
"No thanks," he said. Unperturbed, the boy stuffed the cracker into his mouth without swallowing the remains of the other.
"Keyan," Temari said, attracting the blue-eyed boy's attention with her surprisingly gentle voice. "One at a time, remember?"
"Want one, Auntie?" he asked, holding out another cracker in her direction.
"Sure," she said with a smile, even though she had an entire bag gripped in one hand. And, the smile never wavering, she leaned across the table, accepted the cracker, and popped it inside her mouth. "Thanks, buddy," she said after a moment of chewing and a single swallow.
Hidan smirked at the scene. Just a little softy after all, isn't she?
"You're welcome," the little boy said. Then, in the same soft lisp as all his other words, he turned towards the girl beside him who was reaching for his crackers and said, "Don't even fucking think about it."
Angry could not even begin to describe Temari's expression as she turned her eyes on the still smirking Hidan.
If looks could kill…
…then Hidan would be burning.
Ten Minutes later…
"Which story do we want to read?" Temari asked the kids sitting in a half circle around her cross legged figure.
"Sampson!" the orange-haired boy demanded.
"Noah's Ark!" another child screamed.
"David and Goliath!"
"Lot's wife!"
With a snarl already forming on her lips, Temari glared at the figure sprawled out on the floor at the back of his group.
"You know, the one where God smites down Lot's lazy-ass of a wife for looking back at the fucking sinful cities? Also known as the tale of Sodom and Gomorrah?"
"Let's read about Sampson," Temari said cheerfully. The children cheered, and Temari smiled. But underneath the expression was a glare of fury that would have made most normal men tremble in their shoes.
Hidan simply grinned as he flipped her the bird.
Twenty-five minutes later…
"Okay, let's sing Peace Like a River," Temari said, hand resting on the buttons of the CD player. Both of her bottom pigtails had long since been pulled out by grasping children; her hair surrounded the bottom half of her face in a wild jumble that matched the psychotic look in her eyes very nicely.
"No, let's sing Convert, You Fucking Heathens, Convert!"
"Is that even a song?" Temari demanded.
"Uh…yeah?" Hidan turned to face her, oblivious to the children who were watching and, surprisingly, listening. "You know?" He looked at her for another moment, then started to sing in a falsetto pitch. "Listen up you whores and sodomites/we're here to save your souls/with our Bibles we will beat you/until the day is old?"
"Get. Out. Now," hissed Temari after a long moment of silence.
"Teach us!" cried the children in remembrance of the catchy tune.
"Sure thing," said Hidan, though to whom is yet unknown.
Thirty-five minutes later…
"Ring around the rosey, pockets full of posey, ashes, ashes, we all fall-"
"DOWN!" bellowed Hidan as eight giggling children collapsed on the floor around him. "No, no, no!" he snapped, bending down to pull the kids back up. "I told you, no laughing! You've got to do this seriously, got it?"
"Hidan, let them play their game," Temari sighed.
"This is not a fucking game," he said darkly, glaring at her over his shoulder. "Now, shut the hell up and let us finish." He turned back to the kids. "When you fall, it has to be like you're dead," he explained. "You know?" Releasing their arms, Hidan collapsed to his knees, then his side. His eyes closed. His arms went positively limp. His tongue poked out of his mouth.
Giggling like hyenas -- which would mean they were shrieking, and right in Hidan's ear -- the two children leapt on top of his prone figure. Their example was immediately followed by the other kids.
"What the hell!" Hidan raged as he tried to sit up. "Get off me, you little psychos! Ow! Not the hair, imbecile! Not the hair!"
"What were you saying about this being serious?" Temari asked with a grin.
"Bitch!" Hidan raged. "You've got to help me out here-- gah, that's personal!" A little girl had pulled his heavy rosary from around his neck and slid the chain over her own and was now prancing about in her filly blue skirt, purple shirt, and spiked necklace. "Hey, you little mother-fucker, give that back!" Hidan gasped, his hand outstretched towards the girl until the blue-eyed Keyan sat on it.
Temari laughed out-loud, her eyes crinkling merrily.
"Now, play nice, Hidan," she admonished him lightly. "We don't want to have to send you upstairs to your parents, do we?"
"Bitch," he muttered as Keyan began tickling his arm.
Forty-five minutes later…
As the last child left the room in the arms of its burdened parent, Hidan collapsed on the miniature sofa.
"I can't see over my fucking knees," he declared. He was quite right; the coach was so low that his face was blocked by his knees.
"Scoot over," Temari ordered as she crossed the room, carrying notebook in one hand and her sandals clenched in the other. Hidan grumbled as he scooted over a few inches, making room for her on his right side. With a sigh, Temari dropped down beside him, smiling at the sensation of being ten times too big for something.
"Listen," she said as she lay her sandals beside her feet. "I think you've got the wrong religion, buddy."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Hidan snapped.
"You seem to be pulling all the wrong things out of this one," Temari informed him. "I mean, Convert, Fucking Heathens, Convert?" She raised her eyebrows. "You sound a bit pre-covenant to me."
"Listen, Blondie," Hidan said gruffly. "Are you calling me a fucking Jesus-killer?"
"Do you hear yourself?" she asked for the second time. "You're condemning and racist and uncharitable and have the worst mouth of anyone I've ever met-"
"-and that isn't the point of this religion," Temari finished.
"All a matter of opinion, Blondie."
"It's Temari," she sighed.
"And it's not a matter of opinion," she added.
"Is too."
"You want to take it up with the Head Pastor?" Temari snapped. "Who is, by the way, my father?"
"You're an idiot, Hidan," Temari said, unable to keep a smile off her face.
"And you're a fucking bitch, seriously."
With a sigh, Temari reached over the edge of the couch and snagged the bag of crackers that was laying on the floor a few feet away. She slid a deft hand inside and withdrew an orange cracker, eyeing it for a moment before popping it into her mouth.
"Cheez-It?" she asked around the cracker, offering Hidan the bag.
"Whatever," Hidan muttered, shoving his own hand inside the bag. A little warily, he stuck a cracker in his mouth and began chewing.
A strange look entered his eyes; he stopped, then chewed again, then stopped again, then finished chewing and swallowed the cracker.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, eyeing his small handful as Temari crunched away beside him.
"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows as she ate another cracker.
"You know…" he said slowly, "…these things aren't half bad."
"Kids usually have good taste, you know," Temari informed him wisely.
"Well, that sure as hell wasn't what I meant," Hidan muttered.
"What, you think I'd poison them?"
Hidan grinned as he looked over to meet her teal eyes.
"Something like that."
Reviews would be wonderful :) |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32771 | ok i probably shouldnt be starting a new fic right now but on the other hand this is all ive written for this fic... im sure i'll continue it eventually but updates may take awhile for lack of time - feel free to throw ideas at me :) (and reviews are always good motivation :) and yay! my first twilight fic :) ive wanted to write one for so long :)
i know i havent updated masked happiness yet (sorry) - its next on my list and i will when i find the time, i have no intention of not finishing it, it may just take awhile (and i know i keep saying that but the next chapter needs finishing and editing first and i want to do it properly)
disclaimer is on profile
onwards... :)
Breathing Softly
Breathing softly. The sound soothed Edward to a state as close to sleep as he was able to get. Watching Bella breathing, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks every so often when she dreamt, soothed Edward. He could watch her, hold her in his arms and see her sleeping, see her breathing, and know she was alive.
He had thought she was dead. The thought had scared him like nothing else in his unnaturally long lifetime, had depressed him more than he thought was possible. It had ended his life again, very nearly for good. And it was her that had saved him as well. Not for the first time, but the in most obvious way so far. She had hurtled into him, probably giving herself bruises against his hard, unforgiving frame, and begged and pleaded until he understood that he wasn't dead yet and that she wasn't either. What did he do to deserve her?
They had been back from Volterra for a week. The whole incident, the last six months – it was as though it never happened. Of course it all had consequences, it seemed that nothing was the same, but in this moment, in watching Bella – his Bella – sleep, everything melted away and nothing mattered. It was as though none of it had happened. He knew that he was incapable of sleep but at the moment, he felt he was the one who was dreaming.
It had happened. It had all happened. In this moment he could ignore how gaunt Bella looked, how pale and thin she looked. How like him she looked. He could ignore the dark smudges beneath her own eyes, so much like his. And her eyes, oh her eyes. In this moment, with them safely shut, he could ignore the heart-breaking mixture of desperation, fear, helplessness and the worst of them all, hidden deep behind the others like it was as natural as breathing for her, the complete and utter faith that he knew she still had in him.
The look of child-like hope in her eyes whenever she opened them in the morning and the following look of ecstatic surprise when he was still there made him want to cry. She didn't deserve this. And it made him wonder how she woke up when he wasn't here, all those mornings he'd missed. Had she woken up with those hope-filled eyes? What was the look that replaced the hope when he wasn't there? He didn't want to think about it but he knew he had to. He had to think about it everyday. Every time she opened those eyes that he frequently fell into, drowned himself in. He had to think about it to remind himself that this was where he needed to be, always. He needed to be here, looking right back at her, making sure the hope was replaced by something positive.
And if one day his presence brought something negative instead, if his presence ever became the reason her face fell in the mornings like his absence apparently had for the last six months, then he would leave. He would be gone instantly, so fast her face wouldn't have time to fall completely. No, he reminded himself, not that fast. Never again that fast. No, he would explain this time. Honestly. He wouldn't lie to her a second time and he couldn't do it anyway… to either of them. He was far too selfish. No, he would make sure she smiled before he left, and he would always watch her, keep an eye on her. He would never really leave again.
He cringed inwardly that he had actually left. If it came to it again, if she ordered him away he would go, but never so far that he couldn't see her anymore. He would be her shadow, behind cars and trees, flitting after her, looking after her, loving her from a distance, what she would probably refer to as her 'guardian angel'. He smiled at that, gazing down lovingly at her as she slept. She already does.
He knew he was getting too far ahead of himself, he always did, she always told him so. Instead he spent his time watching her. Committing every millimetre of her skin, her face, her features, her hair, all of it to his long, perfect memory. He gazed for an immeasurable amount of time at the rise and fall of her chest, just where her neck ended and her collar bone cast a slight shadow. Not slight enough, he thought with a frown, it was still more pronounced than it should have been. Than it had been. Edward shook his head free of the thoughts and began again.
If this was the only way he'd learn to stop over analysing everything, by watching Bella sleep, well it almost wasn't worth learning the lesson just for the chance to repeat it every night.
He kept a completely still vigil by her side through the night, not moving once and just watching her take deep, slow breath after deep, slow breath. The first small glimpse of sunlight that spilled over the windowsill set millions of tiny lights reflecting off of every surface of Edward that was exposed to it. It was to be the only glimpse of sunlight all day, as the sun slipped quietly behind the dense cloud cover immediately afterwards, but seeing his own reflected rainbows shining warmly from Bella's face and her eyelids fluttering in reaction made Edward grin.
He was glad that on some level she hadn't missed the glimpse of sunlight. She loved sunlight.
She lay still again for a few moments more before letting out a small, almost inaudible whimper as her body began to wake up and her mind refused to, even as it complied. Her hand that lay next to her head on the pillow between them curled, making a loose, incomplete fist before releasing again. Edward watched raptly.
She let out her small sound again as she unconsciously rolled slightly, facing Edward a little bit more. Her eyelashes fluttered again and he watched, utterly enthralled by every movement, as they slowly opened, the ever-present morning hopefulness shining blearily up at him. He smiled gently but with so much tenderness that it made her momentarily breathless. He smiled.
And her face fell.
a cliff hanger so soon in a story that may take awhile to update... does that make me mean? heh sorry, but please please please review and let me know what you think - first twilight fic, i need to know what im doing right/wrong and what people would like to see next too :)
thanks for reading :) have fun |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32774 | TITLE: I Know the Score
ICON ARTIST: satinlie
AUTHOR: Kuria Dalmatia
Characters/Pairings: Hotch/Haley, Rossi/Wife #2
RATING: R (Profanity, sexual situations)
TIMELINE: Pre-series.
No beta. All mistakes are mine. Standard disclaimers.
Jesus, they were drunk. Not tipsy. Not buzzed. No. They were honest-to-God, goddamn drunk. So drunk, in fact, that Aaron 'Even My Pajamas Are Starched' Hotchner had taken off his tie, unbuttoned his top two buttons of his light blue dress shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. So drunk, that Hotch had knotted the neckwear again before sliding it over Haley's head so it settled loosely against her neck. She, of course, had stared at him in shocked disbelief.
Hotch then declared, quite loudly, "Haley Brooks Hotchner? You are the sexiest woman ever. You know that, right? Sexiest. Woman. Ever." He grinned and then nodded towards the woman sitting next to her. "Sorry, Car, but she's got you beat."
"Aaron!" Haley hissed as she flushed a pretty shade of crimson.
"Oh, honey," Carolena replied with a sharp smile as she patted Haley's hand, "it's not like he can do a damn thing about it." She then looked expectantly at her husband, waiting for the obligatory, My wife is hotter than yours bravado that was expected in social situations like this.
But as David Rossi opened his mouth to reply, the words stuck in his throat. His second wife wore her bleached blonde hair in sharp curls around her salon-achieved tanned face, coal black eyeliner that she swore brought out her green eyes, and ruby red lipstick that she reapplied liberally after almost every drink. How she played tennis with those brightly painted talons was a mystery to him.
Haley was softer, more demure. Not plain by any stretch of the imagination. Minimal makeup. Naturally blonde hair. Sitting next to Carolena, she was sexier. It almost made Dave laugh. Haley was the Politician's Wife. Carolena, the Mobster's Wife. Instead, he quirked a smile, leaned forward, and said with flourish, "Tu sei il sole del mio giorno."
Carolena narrowed her eyes, her lips slightly pursed. Despite her very Italian name, she didn't speak a word of the language. Sometime during the six years they had been married, she had developed a hatred of him speaking Italian, clearly paranoid that he was saying something offensive instead of complimentary.
Haley gasped a little and then dabbed her eyes. "Oh, David, that is so sweet."
He smiled.
Carolena suddenly preened, although he knew she had no clue what had been said. "I didn't know you spoke Italian," she cooed.
Haley nodded shyly, blushing. "I love opera."
"Oh my goodness!" Carolena exclaimed and then raised a hand to her mouth. "David! Those tickets we can't use!" Dave cocked his head to the side, confused. Before he could ask, she turned to Haley and continued, "He has season tickets to the opera, but we're not going to be able to make the one that's coming up... it's by that Po-CHI-nah person."
"Puccini," Dave corrected automatically and tried his best not to scowl. That particular production was the only reason he had re-upped. He knew that Carolena wasn't a fan of opera, but she certainly loved dressing to the nines to go to it and the bonus of a very fancy dinner beforehand. But what she was doing...
"The rival of Gianni Schicchi?" Haley asked, her eyes bright with hopeful interest. She looked from Carolena to Dave, biting her lower lip slightly. She turned to Hotch, who was blinking rapidly as if trying to sober up. "It's based on one of the stories from Dante's 'The Divine Comedy'. It's been sold out for months."
Carolena waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, the names all run together for me."
Haley shook her head. "We couldn't possibly—"
"I insist," Dave's wife stated, complete with thumping her fist on the table. "There! That's settled. Give me your address so I can mail them to you. We can't trust these boys, you know! They'll leave the tickets in Pittsburgh!"
Both women laughed.
Dave twitched.
"C'mon, tiger," Dave finally said, looping an arm around Hotch's shoulders and tugging him a bit more upright. "You and me. The cigar bar and brandy." Because damn it, Carolena had given away his damn tickets and there was no way in hell Haley was going to protest him dragging Hotch off for a stogie after that little stunt.
"Don't get lost," Carolena called after them once they had managed to get to their feet.
Hotch leaned heavily on Dave and then motioned toward Haley. "Camera. Photo. Me 'n Dave."
Haley giggled and dutifully pulled out the small camera. The photo was snapped, Hotch continued to smile like a drunk idiot, and Dave dragged them both to the second floor.
"Two Cohibas," he told the waitress as he pressed a twenty in her hand. He wasn't up to messing with the humidor, not with a plastered and very happy Hotch. "Bring along two Knob Creek's and some water as well."
The waitress, with her pale skin, jet black, straight hair, and curves that he couldn't help but admire, smiled at him. "Coming right up."
"You're gonna make me sick, aren't you?" Hotch asked, still grinning but there was a sharpness to his gaze. He waved a finger, "You know, that's transference."
"No profiling," Dave groused.
"You can have them back," the other man said, honestly and concern bleeding through his slurred words.
"No," he snapped and then rubbed a hand over his face. "They're a gift. Period." He paused. "I didn't know Haley enjoyed the opera. Hell, I didn't know you liked it."
Hotch waggled his eyebrows, which clearly translated to, If I listen to Opera, I get laid.
The most David had ever gotten was a passed out wife in the back of the taxi.
Their drinks and cigars arrived promptly. Dave forced himself to smile. "Give us about thirty minutes." He offered up another five spot and she accepted it. "Then call two taxis."
What he wasn't expecting was the business card pressed into his hand as she took his money.
For the first time in months, he grew hard. He had to shift slightly because of the pressure against his zipper. She sashayed off.
Dave glanced over. Hotch was watching curiously. Dave frowned. "I'm not," he answered the unspoken question flatly and then lit the card on fire. They both watched it burn in the ashtray. "No matter what they say—"
"I know that, Dave," Hotch interrupted. Even drunk, the man was coordinated enough to prep his cigar without slicing a finger off. He paused, took a sip of his drink, and then lit up the stogie. Dave followed suit. Two puffs later, Hotch said casually, "But maybe you should."
Dave stared.
Hotch shrugged.
"You know, I'm gonna remind you of this conversation on Monday," Dave told him. "And I'm going to love every second of you turning beet red and squirming in your chair because of what you just suggested."
Hotch offered a lopsided smile. "What's good for the gander is good for the goose."
And if it had been anyone else, Dave would have leaped across the table and slugged the shit out of him for suggesting his wife was sleeping around. Instead, cold washed through him, sobering him up hard and fast. Dave had seen all the signs but convinced himself that he'd been working too much, too hard, and reading his work into everything that he did nowadays, especially his home life.
Carolena? Cheating on him?
He downed the bourbon in one mouthful and signaled for another one.
"Dave..." Hotch began, his voice full of apologies and embarrassment, but shut up when the other man held up a hand.
"I know the score, Hotch," he said quietly. "I know the score." |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32775 | A/N: This story is a LONG time coming. It's finished, chaptered, and took me about a year to complete. This takes place in a world where there is no iOMG, no "little crush", no Gibby in the main credits (but I have excellent foresight), and it is one-hundred percent, complete canon - the way it should happen.
It's a Thursday night, and Carly laughs as Sam and Spencer veer into their own side conversation, one where, almost immediately, she has no idea what they're talking about. She tells them how ridiculous they are, and that she's going upstairs to do some homework. Spencer tells her to do what her heart tells her, and Sam keeps talking, waving a hand in Carly's direction. Forty-five minutes later, she comes back down the stairs to see them sitting in front of the television; they immediately shush her, engrossed in a celebrity reality show Carly never wants to see again.
To get away from the stupidity on the screen, Carly decides to go over to Freddie's apartment to watch the newest edition to Freddie's Steven Spielberg movie collection. Sam and Spencer don't notice her leave, but five hours later, when she realizes she should come back home, they don't notice her either. They're both asleep in front of a blue television screen, slumped down low with their heads on top of each other. Carly walks over to them, poking Sam to wake her up. Carly doesn't really think a whole lot of it, because she's woken Sam up before in the exact same manner many times, but she's never gotten the reaction she receives now.
As she pokes her in the shoulder repeatedly, Sam shakes her head slowly and shifts into Spencer, moving her head onto his chest and circling her arms around him, in turn waking him up to re-position too – his arms wrapped around her holding her to him, resting his head back on the couch. Carly pokes Sam again, but she doesn't move, mumbling, "I'm sleepin'. Leave me alone," and with more pokes she continues, "I'm comfy, go 'way, stop it." And with a grunting sigh, nuzzling her head down, Sam falls soundly back asleep.
Thoroughly frustrated, Carly tiredly walks to the kitchen searching blindly in the dark for their air-horn, now determined to wake them up. It takes her a good ten minutes of blind rummaging to remember it was actually in Spencer's room, and a few more to find it in there. Back in the living room, she covers an ear and presses the button near their heads. Both Sam and Spencer jerk awake, sitting upright, and Carly, satisfied, drops the air-horn. Sam barks, annoyed, "Was that really necessary?" while Spencer covers his ears, simultaneously trying to cover himself back up with the blanket.
Carly just croaks at them, "Bed. Now," lightly shoving them so neither falls back asleep on the couch. It works as they start to shuffle to bed, and so does Carly, too exhausted to think about anything else.
"So Sam, what're we doing on Saturday?" Carly asks, plopping down into a beanbag chair after their weekly rehearsal, tired from her faux enthusiasm.
Sam looks at her confused, plopping down herself, "We're doing something on Saturday?"
"No, what are we doing?"
"I didn't know we were doing anything."
Freddie butts in, "Carly doesn't either, that's why she's asking."
Carly rolls her eyes, "Thanks, Freddie."
"Hey, just trying to help the brainless wonder over there."
Sam doesn't seem to catch any of this, telling them, "But I'm already doing something on Saturday."
"You are? What? With who? Did you get a date and not tell me?"
Sam still looks confused, "Me and Spencer are going to that concert I told you about. With the lead singer I'm dying to meet? Spencer says he's got a plan to help me meet him."
"Wait – wha- ?"
"I don't know how he's going to pull it off, but he seems really confident and I just want to see them live. Up close. In person."
"You've got plans with Spencer?"
"I thought he told you?"
Carly doesn't really remember what else happens in that conversation, but she knows Sam knows almost every detail of her plans with Spencer on Saturday – that Carly doesn't think actually needs to take all day, but it does. When Saturday comes, she's left alone in the loft feeling awkward until Freddie comes over, insisting they go out to a movie. It's the new movie Carly's been wanting to see and she really enjoys herself. When she gets home she never realizes that Sam and Spencer aren't back yet, even though they told her they would be back an hour before that.
Wednesday rolls around, and Carly is particularly content as she sits in Mrs. Briggs class. She only has one class after this, she got an A on the test and the paper she got back, and every time Freddie smiles at her she gets a little flutter in her stomach. So on the whole, Carly is having a good day. She would attempt to skip home if that wasn't lame and if she didn't look so stupid skipping. That is, until Ms. Briggs barks out, "Sam!"
Sam jumps in her seat, clearly not paying Ms. Briggs any attention, and Carly knows that this will not end well. "Sam, what do you have under your desk?" She walks closer, staring Sam down, and for once Sam looks both guilty and upset at being caught. "Is it a cell phone?"
"No, it is not a cell phone."
"Hand it over."
Sadly, Sam gives her phone to Ms. Briggs, and watches as it goes to the front of the room in a box marked "Dangerous Items." Carly watches her best friend's expression throughout the rest of class, and she acts like nothing but herself. It's an incredibly irritating situation for Carly, because it doesn't add up in her head; Sam doesn't listen and looks bored and unworried, but she did look genuinely upset and sad that she had her cell phone taken away. Ms. Briggs's policy is that all confiscated items can be retrieved after school, or after any school day after today, but when class ends, Carly decides to try her luck.
"Ms. Briggs?"
"Yes, Carly?"
"I know Sam can't have her phone back until after school, but I was wondering if I could have it." Ms. Briggs raises her eyebrows, and she knows it's time for her 'Sam is such a delinquent, and I know because she's my best friend, and I put up with it all the time' spiel. "Sam and I don't even have the next class together, so I won't actually see her until after school, and we both know that Sam won't come to pick it up after school – she'll forget about it for days and it'll just be sitting there, and I'll be the one who has to pick it up anyway. So why not just skip to the end?" There's a pause where Carly hopes this'll work, and once she senses it won't, adds, "Plus, this way I can hold it hostage longer, maybe actually get her to do her homework."
Carly stands there being scrutinized, hoping she's giving off the impression Ms. Briggs is getting the better side of the deal here. A few seconds later, she gets the nod of approval and grabs the phone before there's a chance for Ms. Briggs to change her mind. In the hallway, Carly smiles widely at her success, but before she reaches her locker Sam is in front of her. "You got it! Yes." She goes to take it back from Carly, who pulls back.
"Hold on! Who were you texting?" She opens the phone and scans through all of Sam's newest read and unread texts, and the further she goes the wider her eyes get. "These are all from Spencer!"
Sam grabs her phone out of Carly's hands, "I know!" She scans through her phone, "He texted me the whole time, too – jerk." Even though she knows she just said 'jerk,' Carly watches Sam smile broadly looking at her phone, and an uncomfortable feeling starts to gnaw at the pit of her stomach.
The next Thursday night, Freddie, Carly, and Sam are in the iCarly studio rehearsing for that week's show, and everything is going perfectly. Unusually, it's going to be a shorter show, and when they get to the end, Sam complains, "I still have energy! We need it to be longer!"
Freddie frowns at her, "It's not even three minutes shorter than usual!"
Carly rolls her eyes and brings up the fact, "You were fine with a shorter show when we planned it out."
"Yeah, but I think this now."
Freddie chimes in, "Okay, but we don't have anything. Do you have a bit we could use?"
"I dunno," Sam shrugs, but a split second later she says, "Spencer has some great new sculptures we could show. People love that."
Freddie raises his eyebrow in interest, "That could work."
"Yeah, but we have to ask Spencer…"
Sam just gives Carly a look and hollers, "SPENCER!"
"What?" echoes up the stairs.
"Can we use your sculptures?"
Sam looks like she going to keep yelling, so Carly interjects, "GET UP HERE."
After a minute Spencer walks into the room, covered in paint and dried clay, "What's up?"
"We want to show some of your stuff on tomorrow's show."
Carly cuts in, "She means, is it okay if we –"
"Yeah, sure – which ones?"
Freddie shrugs, and as Carly thinks about it for she realizes she hasn't seen sculptures around recently, but Sam is looking at Spencer thoughtfully. "Did you finish that leaf – "
"Last week."
"What about the whole 'the earth is flying so fast' whatever it was?"
"Finally finished it yesterday."
Sam hits him on the arm, "You didn't show me!"
"It wasn't done when you were here! So ow," he pushes her back lightly, "maybe I won't show you now."
Sam's face falls a little, but Spencer smiles and she continues. "And, what are you wearing? Can we show that?"
He looks confused for a second until Sam picks off a chunk of clay from his shirt, "Yeah, it's just drying now."
Freddie speaks up, commenting on the layout, timing, and asks some questions that are actually pertinent. Carly just stares, amused by all of them, wondering when her life turned into whatever the hell this is, because she has no clue.
As a rule, Carly has fun doing the web show, but tonight there isn't a moment when her smile falters, or she isn't a second away from laughing. The art stayed in the studio the whole time, so both girls had to keep weaving in and out of the sculptures, ducking and trying to be seen over Spencer's work. And it wasn't clear if he was helping with that problem, or he just decided to come in early, but Spencer showed up halfway through the show, which increased their comedy, but greatly reduced their efficiency. Not that Carly noticed through all of her laughing. Either way it was one of the most chaotic, most hilarious, unplanned webisodes they ever did, and Carly feels extremely triumphant by the time they sign off.
Freddie stays calm but amused until he can put his cameras away properly, away from danger, and then he comes over to Carly smiling and jumping in time with her. She doesn't have to explain and he doesn't have to ask, they can both feel the high from a successful webcast. They take a minute, bouncing and giggling before calming down enough to turn and see Sam and Spencer among the sculptures. Carly stops bouncing but her smile won't fade; watching Sam pelt Spencer with stuffed animals, the two dodging in and out of the towering sculptures, throwing out insult after insult. Standing next to her, Freddie grins too, and after ducking a flying wiener dog, suggests they get out of harm's way.
While Freddie attempts to whip up a snack downstairs in the kitchen, Carly realizes something important: while her best friend and her brother are extremely entertaining, she hadn't felt like part of the conversation, or fight, or even the show the whole time.
The small gnawing at the pit of her stomach grows in size as Freddie sets down her plate in front of her, "Hey." Her voice is low and she asks him slowly, "Will you watch Sam and Spencer for me?"
Freddie doesn't comment; she's pretty sure from the way her voice is wobbling he understands. "Sure."
"He really wants to interview you?" Spencer pours everyone some punch, looking ecstatic.
Freddie nods from his laptop. "Yeah, but not in person."
"He wants to do it online. Like a chat room or something."
"Because we're not worth flying out to really meet him."
Spencer looks like he's been struck. "But he still wants to interview you! And you are a webshow, so it does make sense…" All three teenagers just glare back at him until he continues. "Okay, so it's not all that. But it's still David Letterman, watched by millions of people all over the country. Plus," he adds, "anyone who watches that is old and has never heard of you."
Carly nods slowly, still upset. "Yeah, I guess it is still pretty good."
Freddie thinks for a second and says, "And it does make it easier for us, too – I mean, the ACT test is the next day."
"Nobody cares about the stupid test, Freddie."
Carly interjects, "Yes they do!"
"I just really wanted to go to New York," Sam pouts, lying down on the couch.
Spencer rolls his eyes towards Carly and Freddie. "You can be on a talk show more than once." After a second of thought, he adds, "And if you're lucky you might even move up from Letterman to Leno."
He plops down on the chair next to her and Sam smirks, turning on the TV. "Leno does kick Letterman's ass."
And with that the discussion's over, Freddie digging out what may or may not be homework (no one can ever tell), and Carly staring at Sam and Spencer in disbelief for a while before remembering her own schoolwork.
Saturday morning, Carly wakes up tangled in the sheets of her bed, and as she plops back onto her pillow in frustration, she presses the number 3 on her speed dial. "Freddie? I need to talk to you. Meet me at the Groovy Smoothie in ten minutes?"
It only takes her five minutes to get there, two of which she spends untangling herself from her bed, and she spends ten minutes after she gets there pacing through the chairs sitting on top of the tables. Even though the Groovy Smoothie doesn't open for another four hours, Carly knows how to jiggle the handle to get in. Or maybe T-Bo forgot to properly lock up the previous night, she isn't sure, but she really couldn't care. Freddie walks in on her fifth lap around the shop, his hair sticking out oddly, buttons mismatched on his shirt, and boogers in his eyes.
"Hey," he mumbles, trying for a second to sit down before realizing there were no chairs.
He waits for her to go on, but she doesn't and he has to ask, "So what?"
"So?" her voice is anxious and pointed.
"Carly, it's six thirty, and I'm here, and that's all I got. I am not the conversation starter here."
She starts to pace around him as he takes down a chair and slumps into it. "Sam and Spencer!"
"Oh, right. Everything's normal." He looks down and notices his buttons. "There's nothing to notice."
"Aha!" Carly shouts, "Exactly!"
"Exactly what?"
"Everything's normal."
Freddie gives up on his mismatched buttons. "Okay, I'm confused."
"You think everything's normal, but it's not. And that's totally the worst part, Freddie. I don't know how much more I can take."
"Of what? Being normal? I still don't – "
"It's – I just – Freddie. They do stuff together all the time, they're like, best friends, and I've found them asleep on the couch more than one time."
"But so what? They're friends, right?"
"No, Freddie. It's just all weird, and then they act like they always have and it's just all really weird. Because they fall asleep all cuddly and I have to wake them up and they don't even notice. The whole thing is wrong, but Sam and Spencer don't notice that everything is wrong, and that's the worst part!"
Freddie is bent over, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. "Okay," he draws the word out and pauses long enough for Carly to take some deep breaths and take down a chair for herself. Taking his head out of his hands he asks, "What do you mean they fall asleep all cuddly?"
"I mean, her head's on his shoulder, arms around each other, cuddly snuggling!"
He cocks his eyebrow at her. "No way."
"I'm not lying! It just really bugs me because they didn't even notice! They just went to bed!"
"So I don't know if something's going on, or what they're not telling me, or… I don't know. Freddie, you have to help me."
He burrows his face in his arms on the table. Then he peeks up to see Carly and huffs, saying, "Okay, fine – but it's six in the morning, Carls."
Carly lays her head in her own arms and she whispers across the table to Freddie everything that's bothering her, and eventually they come up with a plan.
A/N: Like? Do you want more? Would you like to know what the plan is? Do you want to see Gibby? The more you review, the faster I update! I actually have the next chapter completely ready! |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32776 | Chapter Three – The City
I followed the mysterious girl all the way to Craftia. When we arrived, I couldn't stop myself from showing my amazement as we crossed the bridge leading into the city.
It was a more organized city than my home, Minia. In the inner-part of the city were a bundle of markets, selling various armors, clothes, weapons, tools, and rare items.
On the outer-part was the shops, like the Blacksmith, Bank, and Trade Shop. That was where I planned on heading first, to get supplies for my journey ahead.
"Well, you're here." The girl told me with a grin. I dipped my head towards her.
"Thank you again for saving me," I told her, "I never did get your name."
"Raven," the girl said, extending her hand, which I shook, "And yourself?"
"Todd Kraftem." I stated. The girl looked surprised.
"Son of John Kraftem?" Raven exclaimed. I raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Everyone's heard of his troubles in the desert!...Could that be why you're here?"
I nodded. "I plan on finishing his expedition and, hopefully, finding him and the rest of his team." I told her, "I needed to stop by here for supplies."
Raven's eyes were lit up, as if I had suddenly become ten times more interesting because my father was a well-known figure. "What kind of expedition was he on?" she asked me.
"Well, he was searching for a sword of Redstone, which was said to be the only one in existence." I answered.
"A Redstone sword? That would be priceless!" Raven exclaimed. Then, she set a hand on her chin for a moment, and said, "How about I accompany you? I'm sure you didn't plan on going alone."
Actually, I was, I thought with a sigh. However, I quickly realized that having a second person would help a lot. I could tell by the look in her eyes that all she wanted was to make a fortune, but any help would be good enough for me.
"Sure, as long as you do one thing for me." I said. Raven nodded eagerly.
"Anything!" she exclaimed. I grinned.
"I need some help lugging supplies around."
The look Raven had was priceless. We had just picked up a load of materials, such as coal and glass,from a local blacksmith, and were heading towards the Trade Shop. Both of us had full packs of the materials, and Raven looked like she was about to die.
"Here we are." I said, opening the door and allowing her to step in first. I followed, and we set the bags on the counter.
An elderly man with small reading glasses was standing behind the counter. "This is quite a load. What are you looking for it?" he asked me.
"I'm looking for a 10% under-trade." I stated. The man looked surprise.
"Rarely do we see someone who wishes for less than what they pay," the man stated, nodding and impressed, "I think I'll go even on you, how about that?"
I nodded. "Sure, thanks a lot. How long will it take to price this?" I asked. The man thought about it for a moment.
"Give me half an hour." he stated, and I nodded, turning and walking off, making sure to grin at Raven as he stepped out of the Trade Shop.
"What are you so happy about?" she wondered.
"I just got us an even trade," I said, "My dad told me that Trade Shops like to keep you at least 5% under, therefor giving you less than what you traded for."
Raven looked impressed. "You're definitely the son of John Kraftem." she said, and we both smiled.
For that half an hour, we wandered around the city, picking up some melons and apples from the market, as well as a other various non-necessities. When it was time, we headed back to the Trade Shop, where the elderly man was awaiting our return.
"I've counted it up. You've got thirty-three diamonds from this trade." the man stated. Todd nodded, slightly impressed by what they had managed to get.
"How much for two weeks of rations?" I asked. The elderly man looked up in thought for a moment.
"I'd say six." he stated. I nodded in agreement, and stretched out my hand.
"Pleasure doing business with you."
The economy in Craftia was based off of Diamonds, which are extremely rare, and, because of this, you were given slips of paper that are backed up by a Diamond mine run by the city leaders to trade in at the end of every month for Diamonds. For anyone who never comes to Craftia, they are practically worthless.
The other twenty-eight diamonds we had left after rations went towards mining supplies: Pic-Axes, Shovels, Torches, Ropes, and other various items. I also had an Iron Sword made, which, after my encounter with the Spider in the snow, would help me feel much better about the journey ahead. I strapped it to my side, so that it would always be within reach.
"Alright, are you ready?" I asked Raven as we stepped up to the main gate to the city. She nodded, obviously eager to begin.
And with that, we stepped out onto the second leg of our journey. The Blok Desert was about half a days travel away, and they would still need to venture far out into it, which would likely take them an entire day as well.
I looked up at the Sun, which was rolling down the sky already. It would be nightfall before we arrived at the edge of the desert. We had plenty of time, although I felt myself wanting to get to our destination quickly.
The hours passed by fast, and, before I knew it, the Sun was falling over the horizon.
"Look! I can see the desert just ahead." Raven pointed out. I let out a sigh of relief.
"Well, I'm glad we've made it. Let's make camp here for the night." I stated, setting my pack down, which was a relief to my sore shoulders.
Nearby, there was a small pond of water, which we gladly drank from. Raven made a fire out of some of the wood we had brought with us, and I searched the area to make sure that nothing dangerous was nearby. We were in the clear.
"Looks like we'll be safe here." I said as I returned to our camp...However, I quickly realized that Raven was no longer there. The fire was blazing, and her pack sat beside it; So where was she?..
Then, suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something metal flash in the firelight. I quickly drew the sword from my side as a man stepped out from the shadows, a sword of his own in hand.
"Come on kid, just give us what we want, and we'll be on our way." he said in a deep, threatening voice that was extremely smug. I gripped my sword tighter.
"I'd like to see you try and take it!" I said, jabbing the sword forward menacingly...
But then, all too late, I saw the gleam of another sword to my left. I turned, was greeted by the side of a stone sword slamming into my face, sending me down to the ground...
And the light from the fire faded as I slipped into unconsciousness.
To be continued...
Next Chapter – The Chase |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32777 | First attempt at writing Sherlock. I should get a beta reader later since I am most definitely not British. I plan for this to be a collection of one-shots. Please enjoy and review.
Molly Hooper was quite relaxed as she finished stitching up the cadaver. Today had been quiet and without anything-or anyone –to add any unneeded stress to her day. The dead woman in front of her (sixty-two years of age, average height, overweight, mother of three, grandmother of eight, married forty years) had died from complications from diabetes, just what Molly had suspected. Blood tests in the lab and her work in the mortuary had confirmed that. Statements from the husband and children added to her conclusion. Despite their attempts to get her to eat healthier and take her medication like she should, this woman couldn't commit herself to living a better life for herself.
After the woman was put away and Molly washed up, she was finally able to collapse in a chair and finish up the paperwork. At this rate, she might even be able to go home early and without a visit from a certain consulting detective either. She had not seen him since he was last in here two days before. That day had been rather trying. She overslept, was nearly half an hour late for work, Sherlock had already begun snooping through her list and running experiments in the lab, he pestered her constantly about wanting to see this body and that body and when was she going to get him that foot for an experiment he needed to prove a man's alibi?
She tried ignoring him as best as she could until he decided to make some snide remark on the quality of her work. The she snapped and told him off, proved that he was wrong and she was right about the cause of death of two of the cadavers lying on metal slabs in the mortuary. In her tirade she only managed to register just a little bit that Sherlock was rendered speechless and John Watson and Detective Inspector Lestrade were snickering at the scene. Sherlock Holmes, dumbfounded and shrinking back from a small and normally even tempered pathologist. Molly smiled to herself at the thought.
The door to the mortuary creaked open and Molly could hear light footsteps walk several paces in. They didn't come anywhere close to her. The owner of the footsteps was keeping their distance. Molly turned around in her chair, confirming her suspicions. Of course Sherlock would stride in here right toward the end of Molly's shift. No doubt he would be expecting her to drop any plans for the evening-which were sadly, nonexistent and he probably knew that, too-to help him with some sort of experiment all because he was bored. There was something quite different about him this evening. He seemed almost…hesitant. Sherlock Holmes never hesitated about anything. Of course, he was also a great actor when he wanted something. Then there was the way his arms went behind his back-hiding something, obviously.
"What are you hiding?" Molly asked. Sherlock remained motionless and silent, giving no indication that he heard Molly speak at all. She turned back to the paperwork. If he wasn't going to speak, neither would she. Maybe he was hesitating, maybe he was deducing, and maybe he had an entirely different purpose altogether, but it took almost a full minute before Sherlock walked over to her desk. Molly could detect a very strong scent that was definitely not Sherlock's cologne-and even that smelled different today. Wordlessly, Sherlock place a bouquet of flowers on her desk. Just two days before, Molly had made Sherlock speechless with words. Now he had made her speechless with this silent gesture.
"I was informed, numerous times, by both John and Lestrade, that I might have been an arse the other day. Alright I was an arse," Sherlock added before Molly could say the exact same thing. "Your work has been nothing but phenomenal in all the years that I've known you and I should know better than to question it or imply that your conclusions were wrong. I am truly sorry for what I said." Sherlock cleared his throat. No doubt, admitting all of this was somewhat difficult for him. "I researched on the internet and asked John about what to do when you act like a complete prat to a woman and both suggested flowers."
Molly smiled up at him. "Thank you for buying me the flowers. And for apologizing to me."
Sherlock was looking at the wall, most determinedly not looking at Molly. "No need to thank me for the flowers. I didn't buy them. I didn't steal them, either," he added hastily when Molly opened her mouth to protest. "I helped the owner of a flower shop on a case once. Eliza is always happy to repay the favor. It's why Mrs. Hudson always gets flowers on her birthday."
Molly smiled once again and filed the report away in its folder. "Did you need anything?" Molly asked. "A look at a cadaver? Body parts? Did you want to run some sort of experiment in the lab?"
Sherlock finally looked down at her and shook his head. "No. You are obviously finishing up with work and wish to go home. Your plans for the evening are most likely, eating dinner, feeding Toby, and watching some banal show or another on the telly. You do not wish to stay here any longer than necessary. However it is late in the evening, so I will remain here until you are ready to go and you can get into a taxi. At that point I will be assured that no unexpected attacks will occur on you tonight. You are the only competent pathologist they have here at Bart's. My mind would be at ease knowing you get home safely. Why are you looking at me like that?"
Molly ducked her head down. "No reason, really. You just never offer anything like that. Usually when it's you and John here, he's the one that insists you two stay and walk me out. It's not really like you to do remember to do something like that."
Sherlock adjusted his scarf. "Go get your things," he said quietly. Molly left him in the mortuary to his own thoughts. She was right: he never did things like this. He had been feeling different as of late. He'd been acting different, too, according to John. He was used to being considered odd, but apparently, he had been acting odder than usual. He would have to think about this with his violin later.
"I'm not watching telly tonight, by the way," Molly said from the doorway of the mortuary. Sherlock looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "I'm watching a film from one of my DVDs."
"Let me guess," Sherlock said, holding open the door and letting Molly pass. "Is it a musical?"
Molly shook her head, amused. "No."
"Then it must be a period drama. One based on Jane Austen's works that Mrs. Hudson and millions of other women enjoy watching so much?"
"Wrong again."
Sherlock's brow furrowed. "I suppose it could be some sort of documentary or a comedy. Or an action movie. Filmmakers will add scenes and plot points purely for the sake of drawing in a female audience. A James Bond film?"
"I'll be watching The Sting," Molly finally told him. Sherlock shrugged.
"Never heard of it," he admitted. Molly laughed.
"That doesn't surprise me at all."
Sherlock would forget to be the gentleman and escort a lady safely to a cab late at night. John's influence is strong. Internet cookies go to the person who can spot the My Fair Lady reference. It is rather obvious. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32778 | Disclaimer: Regrettably, I'm not Tammy Pierce.
Kara knew before most people. When a master George Cooper came to the village, introducing himself as Alanna of The Bloody Hawk's friend and companion, Alanna had already hinted the details to Kara, Kourrem, and; judging by the twitch to the corner of Halef Seif's mouth when master Cooper was granted an audience with the headman, Halef Seif had picked up on a hint as well.
When he entered Alanna's tent uninvited, Kara caught her breath. If her suspicions were incorrect, he was about to come zooming out of the tent flap, to fly through the air and land in the dust on the other side of the village. If her suspicions were correct, a listening spell would, she supposed, be improper. She would have to resort to the Bazhir maiden's old standby – although traditionally used to find out ahead of time who your father had chosen for you to marry, good old fashioned eavesdropping had its other uses. However, as he was clearly no stranger, as he had not flown from the tent yet, and she could hear muffled talk from within the tent, there was someone she had to tell first. She brought her thumb and forefinger together, then opened them to reveal a ball of pale green fire held between them. She brought it to her mouth and whispered into it "Kourrem, I need you by Alanna's tent now. And when you come, come quietly!"
Kourrem materialised next to Kara in a second. "I wish Alanna hadn't taught you to do that. Do you know how vexing it is that you can?" "Never mind that" replied Kourrem. "What is it? Is that Cooper causing trouble?" "You could say that" Kara said wryly "Listen. No spells. Alanna will pick them up in an eyeblink." They pressed their ears to the tent wall.
"-fore I brought –" The man broke off. Then he said, somewhat abruptly "Jon's announced he's to marry Thayet. The Bazhir will have told you." "It's one of the advantages to having a king who's also the Voice." Kara and Kourrem were not interested in this. They knew already that the Voice was to marry the beautiful northern maiden who was also in the village, visiting Alanna. "Thayet said you gave your blessing." They heard Cooper probe. "I did." Alanna said, frankly. "You're not sorry for it? Had you wanted, you'd be queen!" came the incredulous reply. "I didn't want it." There was a nervous shrug in Alanna's voice. There was a pause.
Then Cooper said, more softly "What do you want, Alanna?" Kara and Kourrem stared, wide eyed, at each other – this was what they were here for! Then, from the inside of the tent, they heard the most exciting piece of news they had heard since they found out about the Voice's wedding "I want to be yours. If you're still interested." The man asked "Why?" The reply came after a pause, then "...I love you." By this time Both Kara and Kourrem were weeping silently at the beauty of the moment, meaning both of their veils got horribly soaked. Kourrem ripped hers from her face, disgusted with herself then they heard "Enough to wed with me? Enough to give up roamin' and settle down and be the lady of Pirate's Swoop?" There was a snort, and the sound of an eyebrow being raised. "Well, to roam with me along" – Pause – "Enough to bear my – our – little ones?"
Kara did a double take; the Woman Who Rides Like a Man wed anyone? Bear anyone children, even this man, who clearly loved her as much as she him? Impossible. Then – "I'd like to have you to myself for a year or two." Kara nodded in satisfaction what made her do another – almost comical – double take, was Alanna saying "After that, we can have all the children we want." – Pause – Was that a stifled sob of joy? – "I'd be proud to."
Kara and Kourrem ran, as they heard the man and woman rise. They ran to the other side of the village, running to inform the headman of Alanna's news. Kourrem heard voices within – "Gammal, you know I value your opinion, tell me honestly – is it... proper... for the headman to wed the deputy head shaman?" "There's nothing in the law against it. No deputy head shaman has ever been a girl before." Kourrem heard and froze – Kara, on the other hand, clearly did not. She ploughed ahead, straight into the council tent. Kourrem hesitated, and then followed her.
Inside, Gammal, Hakim Fahrar, and Halef Seif all also froze. Kourrem noticed with interest that Halef Seif also blushed a deep shade of scarlet. Kara didn't notice this either. She took a deep breath and blurted out "...er...'dbeproudtobearhimchildren!" "WHAT?" Exclaimed the three men. At that moment Alanna and George strolled in and Alanna said nervously "...Er... there's something we need to tell you..." |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32779 | A watched pot never boils, Emma knows, although admittedly she only cooks once every few weeks, throwing pasta together when she can't face another night of eating out. No, a watched pot feels like it will never come to the boil, and a watched door will not produce the one person she's both dying to see and dreading the arrival of.
Henry keeps catching her eye, now and every other time they both look back at the room filled with people in a botched attempt at pretending neither of them were staring at the white double doors that form the entrance to Storybrooke's Great Hall.
Paige takes pity on Henry first, dragging him into the throng of people on the dancefloor. Emma knows about the diamond ring tucked into the corner of Henry's sock drawer, but they don't talk about these things now he's home from college on something like a permanent basis. They're closer to roommates now that he's been out in the real world, and it's peaceful in its own way. Emma likes not being the only one to buy beer for the fridge these days; she's learned to take the perks where she can find them.
It's getting a beer that distracts her in the end. Her father insists on taking her to the bar, as though simply bringing her a bottle of the same beer she drinks at every event is too much for him to remember. They're in conversation about the turnout, about how happy Snow looks to be holding court for the evening once more, when the hush falls over the room.
Not a real hush, anyway, because the music is still blaring over the crappy PA system, but the talking and yelling that mingled with old pop songs has stopped in an instant. Even without that, the hairs on the back of Emma's neck are standing on end, and there's only one person who ever had that effect on her.
"Regina," she says, striding across the room to shake the other woman's hand. Someone turns the music down, and the murmuring begins. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Mom!" Henry says, scurrying across the floor without any concern about looking cool. The relief on Regina's face when Henry pulls her into a hug is so palpable that Emma almost feels dizzy to look at it.
Thankfully, the private moment between mother and son is enough to make most people do the decent thing and turn away. The music starts back up, and Emma exhales slowly.
"Emma," Regina says, once Henry releases her. He towers over her now, the Charmings' height now evident in him. "Thank you for inviting me."
"You're always invited, Mom," Henry reminds her. "We're just glad you could make it this time."
"Henry, can you-"
"Scotch, neat. Got it," Henry says, shaking his head but smiling. His close-cropped hair shows off the face that turned out so much like his father's, a man he spent a handful of days with and never saw again; it's just another thing they don't talk about, and one that Emma's goddamned grateful for.
"You trained him well, in New York," Emma teases. "I'm surprised he didn't have the drink waiting for you."
"I can't believe it's been six months since he graduated," Regina admits, dark eyes tracking Henry's movements on the other side of the room. "I hoped he would go back, do his Masters degree, but..."
"You wanted to keep him there longer," Emma accuses, but there's no malice in it.
"Perhaps," Regina admits, tucking fur-lined gloves into her sleek red purse, and putting that under her arm in a practiced gesture. Her coat is already unbuttoned, and Emma steps behind her to slip it from Regina's shoulders, because habits apparently still die slow and hard out here in Maine.
In deep red velvet, dark enough to look almost black in the shadows, Regina is as stunning as ever. Emma tries to hide it, but too late, and the hitch in her breathing gives her away. She looks instead at the jewels that shimmer at Regina's ears, and then at her throat. Rubies, like drops of blood, and even with all the memories the sight brings, Emma can't tear herself away.
In her own simple black pantsuit she feels dowdy, even though two hours ago it felt like trading up from her signature jeans and leather jacket, just a couple of sizes larger these days because forty is creeping up and sleepy towns don't do a lot to keep a girl active.
"Let's sit," Emma says, steering Regina with a light touch that barely grazes her elbow, towards a table in the back corner of the room.
By the time they're seated in adjacent chairs, no more than a few inches between their knees, Henry has returned with Regina's drink. Emma takes a long pull of her beer to preempt any need to clink glass on glass, or worse, make any kind of toast. Paige hovers behind Henry, still wary, still mistrusting Regina with those eyes that are so very much like Jefferson's, without the widened whiteness of crazy.
"Mom, I know I haven't seen you in a few weeks, but I'm supposed to be helping with the-"
"Go," Regina says, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "I'm staying tonight, so if we don't get time now, you can take me to breakfast."
Emma swallows hard at that little piece of news. The B&B is being refurbished since Ruby finally decided to sell it last year, which implies that Regina is inviting herself to a night in her old home. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, but Emma doesn't dare to presume anything about Regina's visits anymore.
"So, I have a guest?" Emma asks when the kids leave, recruited by Snow for some organizing task or other.
"Problem?" Regina asks, quirking one eyebrow as she downs the double (Henry knows better by now) in one gulp.
"Just wondering why we're wasting our time here," Emma says simply.
"Well," Regina says. "Give it half an hour, make them squirm a little more."
"Deal," Emma agrees, leaning back in her chair and unbuttoning the single button on her blazer.
"There's something we need to discuss," Regina warns, and the darkness in her voice is unfortunately familiar. "Tonight, preferably."
"Whatever you want, Regina," Emma replies, because that's just the way of things these days.
Talking gets forgotten somewhere on the drive home.
Emma's one beer over the limit but not about to arrest herself. The Bug was consigned to the town scrapheap long ago, right by the boundary that Emma can't cross, and these days she gets around in a truck that used to be Michael's, sold at a knockdown price in exchange for a couple of years' worth of parking tickets disappearing.
Regina couldn't look more out of place, in her designer dress and killer heels, but she says nothing about the takeout wrappers and empty bottles that litter the floor of the passenger seat. She stares for a moment when the truck first guns into life, but seems satisfied that Emma is still driving stick, that some things don't change, and as soon as they're out on the main road Regina's hand comes to rest on Emma's thigh, her touch warm even through the fabric of the black pants.
"It's been longer, this time," Emma points out when she pulls the truck into the driveway that used to be Regina's, but it's where Emma calls home these days.
Regina struts around the front of the truck, and no doubt there's a bitchy reply forming on her lips, but she reaches Emma before the words can spill and then they're kissing, Emma's back pressed against the window and her hands already grasping at Regina's silky dark hair.
"Too long," Regina admits when they part for air. Her lipstick is smudged, half of it no doubt smeared on Emma's willing lips now, obliterating the pale gloss that was her one concession to dressing up for the evening. "We really do have to talk, first."
"If you're going to tell me you're marrying some stockbroker son-of-a-bitch..." Emma mutters, but Regina looks up in surprise.
"I'm not dating," she says. "I mean, socially, a dinner here and there. Nothing more."
"Henry said there were guys sometimes. I mean, that was the deal," Emma blusters, trying not to sound like the jealous mistress in the equation, even if she's never asked for anything more. She hasn't exactly lived like a nun in Regina's absence.
"Drinks. Dinner. The occasional night at the opera," Regina confirms with a shrug. "But no, I won't be marrying anyone to secure my social station again, not in this life or any other."
"Come inside," Emma says, because the air is cold enough for snow and they've already lingered far too long. She hangs back for just a second, the cold determination in Regina's voice about marriage bringing up some old, unanswered questions, but a moment later it already feels like the wrong thing to ask.
They're in the foyer when Regina grabs her by the arm, eyes wild and unable to stop the words from tumbling out.
"I've done it!"
"Done what?" Emma says, ignoring the prick of recognition in the pit of her stomach.
"Found the way out of your deal," Regina confirms, putting Emma's most dangerous and scarcely forgotten hope into words. "The deal that you used to save my life. I can get you back your freedom."
Emma can't breathe at the thought of finally leaving this town again, almost eleven years after consigning herself to it for the rest of her life.
"Don't say that," she snaps after a minute, a lifetime of cynicism taking over once more. "It's a price I was happy to pay." They've talked about this a hundred times, maybe. Over the years of talking to Regina and not, of kissing and not, of only exchanging sullen glares over the top of Henry's head, to achieve this fragile peace sometimes feels like enough; and Emma Swan has always known not to ask for too much.
"To be trapped here? While everyone else can come and go?" Regina scoffs. She knows Emma too well to be tricked so easily. "No, I don't think so. Your eyes lit up like the Fourth of July at just the mention of it, so don't you dare lie to me now, Emma Swan."
"It's fine," Emma says, peeling away from Regina's vice-grip on her arm, heading towards the living room. Nothing is quite as fancy as Regina left it, the day she was run out of town, but Henry keeps track of the things that Emma misses. "So long as Henry comes often enough. I think he's staying through the summer to finish this design he's working on. And... well, it's nice to see you sometimes, too."
"I want more," Regina says quite bluntly, biting her lip after making the admission. After all this time, after all those years of terrorizing people, she still expects a bad reaction to simply stating what she wants. "It was fine with the distraction of Henry at Columbia, but no more. I'm not living like this."
"The deal was pretty clear," Emma says, gripping the back of a stylish armchair that's not remotely comfortable to sit in. "It's how we got rid of Gold. It's how I kept Henry alive. It's how I kept you."
"You should have let him kill me, you know," Regina says. "That was my destiny. Especially after I killed Baelfire."
"Neal," Emma corrects, out of habit. "And he was trying to take Henry from us. I'm every bit as guilty as you. Won't breaking the deal let him come back?"
"No. The banishment is permanent. But the Blue Fairy has ruined my life for long enough," Regina says bluntly. "We have to depose her. Put someone sympathetic in her place. Someone who'll let you change the terms of her deal and leave. Then we can be together. Near wherever Henry wants to go, if he'll have us there."
"I'm here to safeguard their magic," Emma reminds her. "They're terrified it'll run out, like the fairy dust, so I'm the Strategic Magic Reserve."
"They want to secure the magic that's in you," Regina reminds her, pacing now, although the heels have been kicked off by the sofa as though she's still the Mayor, as though she still lives here. "If the fairy dust stops growing, and they think yours is the only magic left, do you think they'll still let you walk around untouched? They will drain it from you."
"That doesn't sound like something I'd survive," Emma concedes. "Mostly because I'm thinking they're going to drill me like those bits of Alaska where nothing but birds live."
"You wouldn't," Regina says, blunt as ever.
"Moms?" Henry's voice echoes in the hallway.
"In here, kid," Emma answers. He appears a moment later, cautious about peering round the door.
"Oh, you're decent," Henry says. "Did you explain to her?" He directs that one at Regina and Emma hangs her head, because of course they're in it together.
"Almost," Regina says, her smile benevolent as she ushers him into the room. He folds his lanky frame onto the sofa and watches them both expectantly. "I was just getting to the good part."
"About how you found a way to take her magic out?" Henry asks, because in some ways he's still just a kid with a book that he believes every word of, even when the rest of the world laughs. "And give it to the fairies?"
Emma searches desperately for the memories of when talk like this made her roll her eyes, or turn away in disbelief. She comes up blank, and it only frustrates her further.
"It's not without risks," Regina explains. "And my own magic is rusty from all the time away from here. But if we wait until the end of my 48 hours, I have hope I can do it. Presenting them with your magic should be enough to get us what we want."
"Hope is kind of in short supply these days," Emma says, but she can already feel the flickering ember inside her whoosh into flame. For all the sensible reasons not to be caught up in this scheme, she needs it too much not to respond to Regina's cautious optimism. "But damn, I'd like to go further than the town limits again."
"We could all live in New York for a while," Henry suggests. "I heard Ruby might be making her way back from California soon, too."
"No promises," Emma cuts him off. "There's still a lot to discuss."
"Yeah, discuss naked," Henry sasses under his breath, already standing to leave them be. "I'm going to turn in. Breakfast at Joe's, Mom. Don't forget."
"Joe's?" Regina asks, momentarily puzzled. "Oh, Granny's."
"Yeah," Henry says, leaning in to peck each of them on the cheek. "Sleep tight."
"I can't help feeling that Henry had a point," Regina says, barely concealing the smirk once he's left the room. "I've told you the plan, and we'll get into the specifics later."
"You know," Emma says, letting Regina take her by the hand. "You were still the prettiest girl at the ball, tonight."
"That," Regina sniffs. "Was no ball."
"Well, it sure wasn't a hoedown," Emma argues, because that's how they communicate and the thought of being able to do it every day has left her feeling light-headed. Regina being allowed back for two days every two months or so has never been enough.
"Shut up and take me to bed," Regina groans, as they approach the staircase.
"Yes ma'am."
Emma wants to take her time, wants to savor every line and curve that she's been dreaming of for the past nine weeks, and so often before that, but Regina is drunk on power again. They're fucking before the bedroom door even closes, fingers inside each other in determined strokes as Regina backs Emma against the wall.
"What," Emma gasps. "Happened to patience?"
"Fuck patience," Regina growls, her mouth against the base of Emma's throat.
Emma's spent a lot of her life being told she's not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed, but even she has never been stupid enough to consider arguing with a proposal like that.
"I don't trust the fairies," Regina says later, sitting up against the headboard with one white sheet barely covering her. Emma, flat on her back, tilts her head to stare at Regina, upside down. "But they're our only hope."
"And I'd be totally done with magic?" Emma asks, considering the energy she can feel buzzing quietly in her blood sometimes. "I mean, the true love baby crap wouldn't make it just come back?"
"Almost certainly not," Regina responds. "Even less chance if you go out into the world where nothing magical can happen."
"This felt pretty magical," Emma says, blushing furiously at her admission. No matter how many intimate moments they have, she can't ever quite feel like the kind of person who says these things. Regina smiles at the token effort, though, running her fingers absent-mindedly through the jumble of Emma's curls.
"Of course," Regina says quietly. "You don't have to come with me, when you're free. I would understand if you wanted to run very far, very fast."
"We need to be able to come back," Emma hedges. "I'm not giving up on my family, not now." She leaves unspoken her concern over Storybrooke's degraded infrastructure, of the cracks that have shown up since the fairies took charge of everything important and left her parents as little more than community organizers with slightly fancier titles; a long way from King and Queen of anything.
"Yes," Regina sighs, taking the non-answer as confirmation. "And I'll help you with anything you need to get set up in-"
"Regina," Emma says, rolling over and wrapping an arm around Regina's thighs. "I'm coming with you. To you. However you want to put it."
"Oh," Regina says, smiling down into her chest.
"I'm going to suck at it," Emma warns. "I mean, I'm better at the sleeping over and people in my space. My little sister hasn't exactly given me a choice there, and Henry's not really much better."
"And if your parents object?" Regina queries.
"Let them," Emma shrugs. "They've mostly given up on setting me up with some nice guy, at least. And I only get the lectures after your visits if Snow is drunk and emotional."
"She's drunk tonight-should we be expecting her to start yelling from the garden?"
"I think we're safe," Emma says, wriggling into place at Regina's side, waiting for the little huff of air and movement on Regina's part. It's taken far longer than it should have to be this comfortable with each other, to be able to touch in ways not designed to bruise or to thrill.
It's the love that Henry taught them, pulled from each of them like a physical force, that got them through. On the nights they've been lost and at a loss with each other, remembering how to feel for Henry has pushed them further along the path to loving each other, even if they still don't dare to call it that.
"We'll finalize the plan over breakfast," Regina explains, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.
"I'm helping my parents with the clean up in the afternoon," Emma murmurs. "Can you play nice for a few hours?"
"I'll be at the library," Regina says, the words stiff. "Belle won't be much use, but I know some of the old books found their way there. And I'll talk to Nova, of course."
"Maybe you can take Lily, keep her out from under our feet," Emma suggests, biting her tongue to keep from laughing.
"I am not a babysitter," Regina snaps. "And it's not like they'd ever trust me with their other daughter."
"Well, I trust you with this one," Emma says suddenly, before pressing her face into Regina's shoulder and letting sleep pull her down.
They wake far too early for a Sunday breakfast, and when Emma's response to Regina's quiet grumbling about morning breath is to drag them both into the en suite bathroom for tooth brushing and then a very thorough joint shower, the early hours pass in a happy whirl.
Henry is waiting for them downstairs, and Emma finds herself misty-eyed at the way Regina comes to a dead halt in the doorway, hand over her heart at the sight of Henry in such a familiar spot, hunched over a bowl of cereal and flicking through a comic book.
"I'm hungry," he says, off Emma's accusatory glare. "I couldn't wait all morning for you two to surface."
"Manners, Henry," Regina says, but she ruffles his short hair on the way past anyway. She looks far more relaxed now, dressed down in gray slacks and a shirt borrowed from Emma's closet. Actually, the shirt might have been Regina's to start with, but these years of visits that aren't long enough and Emma's inability to change much about a place she can't feel at home in, have left their lives with jumbled fragments.
"We should get going," Emma says, picking up her truck keys from the counter. For the first time in far too long, she's actually eager to get on with the day.
Emma's stacking the last of the chairs, laughing at the way her father keeps slowing everyone down by dancing through the space with Lily in his arms, when the doors fly open, slamming against the wall. Regina comes marching in, every inch the Queen, and various people scatter out of habit.
Only the Charmings hold their ground, and Emma treats Regina to a quite spectacular eyeroll before turning back to the chairs.
"Emma!" Regina barks, some of her natural melodrama dulled by Emma's refusal to engage. "I spoke to Nova, but more importantly, I was right!"
"You usually are," Emma says, taking her time about turning around. "But I assume you mean about the magic stuff."
"What magic stuff?" Snow demands, insinuating herself between the two women, offering a tight smile that's fooling no one. "Because if you remember, Regina, the condition on you being allowed to visit Henry here in town is that you don't use magic when you're here."
"I'm well aware," Regina snaps, but Emma takes over before the old hurts can rise up and cause another argument.
"Regina thinks she's found a way to get me out of this town," Emma says. "I mean, I could come back to visit. But it would break the deal that's keeping me here."
"Emma," David says, his once-boyish face crumpling into a frown. "You know we wished that for you a thousand times, but the fairies insist there is no way to break the deal."
"They also insisted there was only one space in the wardrobe forty years ago," Emma snaps, because with this glimmer of hope she no longer has the focus to hide her frustration from them. Her parents are kind and loving and supportive, but Emma still can't talk to them about the nights she's driven to the town boundary and wondered if it wouldn't be worth the quick, merciful death that came with crossing it. They somehow believe that the loneliness that once made her run all the time is filled by having parents a few decades too late.
Regina, at least, knows that it isn't. She understands hurts that won't heal and voids that won't fill. She steps past Snow and lays a possessive hand on Emma's shoulder, reminding her silently of exactly that.
"Your blue friend has caused enough trouble for one lifetime," Regina says, and the fire is dancing in her eyes again. Emma knows the Evil Queen was never truly vanquished, knows that in all her time alone Regina still obsesses over past slights and scores in need of settling, but it's still uncomfortable to watch. Mostly, Emma scolds herself, because she finds the whole 'princess of darkness' thing almost unbearably attractive. "We simply mean to effect a change in leadership: Nova agrees that it's needed, and she'll put her own name forward. Then we can negotiate new terms."
"You've never believed in negotiation," Snow snaps, arms crossed over her chest in defiance. "Why on earth would we trust you now?"
"I'm not asking for your trust," Regina states, quite plainly.
"She has mine," Emma says, her voice tight as she offers support.
"And mine," Henry says, ruffling Lily's black curls as he steps into the little standoff. "I want both my moms to be happy; we've all waited long enough."
"Why are you only considering it now?" David asks, unusually sharp, but even he's learned a lot in the past twelve years. "If it's so simple, why not do it right away?"
"I didn't know I wanted to," Regina admits. "You remember the terms Emma and I first parted on. If not for Henry, I would never have come back here in my allocated hours. And somewhere along the way..."
"I wasn't ready to try, either," Emma confirms. "It's only with Henry being away at college that I've realized how much I want to get back to the real world; back to my world."
"Emma, your world is-"
"Don't," Emma pleads, cutting her mother off. "That was never my world, Mom. I think I proved that when I ran around trying to shoot ogres."
"If there's to be a plan," Snow resumes, changing tack. "I insist we be involved. Not just to keep an eye on Regina."
Regina looks as though she's about to object, but mercifully bites her tongue.
"Yes," David agrees. "We want your happiness, too, Em. Let us help."
"I don't need help," Regina fumes, but Emma takes her hand and squeezes firmly. "But... I suppose, it may make things a little easier. If you do as you're told for once, Snow White."
"Anything for Emma," Snow says, tilting her chin the same way Henry does when his mind is made up. Emma can't be sure if she does the same herself, but she smirks to see that Regina does. Someday they might all appreciate what they've learned from each other, but Emma isn't hopeful that it will be today.
"We only have until tomorrow evening," Emma reminds them. "Regina wants to try once her magic is fully recharged. It gets weaker out there."
"What about your magic?" David asks, obviously uneasy.
"Well," Emma sighs. "I guess we should explain."
She gets about six words in before the storm of protest explodes, echoing through the hall like gunshots; Emma begins to wish she hadn't bothered at all. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32785 | Next: , Previous: Washing Mail, Up: Getting Mail
6.4.11 Duplicates
If you are a member of a couple of mailing lists, you will sometimes receive two copies of the same mail. This can be quite annoying, so nnmail checks for and treats any duplicates it might find. To do this, it keeps a cache of old Message-IDs: nnmail-message-id-cache-file, which is ~/.nnmail-cache by default. The approximate maximum number of Message-IDs stored there is controlled by the nnmail-message-id-cache-length variable, which is 1000 by default. (So 1000 Message-IDs will be stored.) If all this sounds scary to you, you can set nnmail-treat-duplicates to warn (which is what it is by default), and nnmail won't delete duplicate mails. Instead it will insert a warning into the head of the mail saying that it thinks that this is a duplicate of a different message.
This variable can also be a function. If that's the case, the function will be called from a buffer narrowed to the message in question with the Message-ID as a parameter. The function must return either nil, warn, or delete.
You can turn this feature off completely by setting the variable to nil.
If you want all the duplicate mails to be put into a special duplicates group, you could do that using the normal mail split methods:
(setq nnmail-split-fancy
'(| ;; Messages duplicates go to a separate group.
("gnus-warning" "duplicat\\(e\\|ion\\) of message" "duplicate")
;; Message from daemons, postmaster, and the like to another.
(any mail "mail.misc")
;; Other rules.
[...] ))
Or something like:
(setq nnmail-split-methods
'(("duplicates" "^Gnus-Warning:.*duplicate")
;; Other rules.
Here's a neat feature: If you know that the recipient reads her mail with Gnus, and that she has nnmail-treat-duplicates set to delete, you can send her as many insults as you like, just by using a Message-ID of a mail that you know that she's already received. Think of all the fun! She'll never see any of it! Whee! |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32792 | Lesson 31: “Sealed … for Time and for All Eternity”
Doctrine and Covenants and Church History: Gospel Doctrine Teacher’s Manual, (1999), 176–82
To help class members understand that eternal marriage is an essential part of Heavenly Father’s plan, to help youth prepare for eternal marriage, and to encourage married couples to abide in the marriage covenant.
1. 1.
Prayerfully study Doctrine and Covenants 131:1–4; 132:4–33; and the other scriptures in this lesson.
2. 2.
3. 3.
If you teach youth, bring to class one or more copies of For the Strength of Youth (36550). You may want to bring a copy for each class member or ask class members to bring their own copies to class.
4. 4.
If you use the attention activity, contact a ward member who has been married in the temple. Ask the person to prepare to take four or five minutes at the beginning of class to talk about the day he or she was married in the temple. You might ask the person to bring a photograph or other memento of the wedding. Ask him or her to consider the following questions in preparation:
• What did you do to prepare for temple marriage?
• What difference does it make to be married in the temple?
• What counsel could you give class members who have not yet been married in the temple to help them prepare?
Note to the teacher: As you teach this lesson, be sensitive to the feelings of single parents and others who are not in traditional family situations (see the first additional teaching idea). If class members ask questions about divorce or other sensitive issues, encourage them to speak with the bishop in private rather than discuss the questions in class.
Suggestions for Lesson Development
Attention Activity
Invite the assigned ward member to talk about the day he or she was married in the temple (see “Preparation,” item 4). After the presentation, comment briefly on the things the person has said. Explain that this lesson is about eternal marriage.
Discussion and Application
1. Eternal marriage is essential in Heavenly Father’s plan.
Teach and discuss D&C 131:1–4; 132:4–33. Explain that these passages contain revelations from the Lord to the Prophet Joseph Smith about eternal marriage. Elder Parley P. Pratt, one of the original members of the Quorum of the Twelve in this dispensation, recalled his feelings when he first heard the Prophet Joseph teach these doctrines:
“I had loved before, but I knew not why. But now I loved—with a pureness—an intensity of elevated, exalted feeling, which would lift my soul. … I felt that God was my heavenly Father indeed; that Jesus was my brother, and that the wife of my bosom was an immortal, eternal companion. … In short, I could now love with the spirit and with the understanding also” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt [1975], 298).
• The First Presidency and Quorum of the Twelve Apostles have declared that “marriage between man and woman is essential to [God’s] eternal plan” (“The Family: A Proclamation to the World,” Ensign, Nov. 1995, 102; see also D&C 49:15). Why is marriage an essential part of God’s eternal plan? (See D&C 131:1–4; 1 Corinthians 11:11.)
Share one or more of the following statements. After sharing a statement, invite class members to discuss its meaning and application.
Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin of the Quorum of the Twelve said: “The sweet companionship of eternal marriage is one of the greatest blessings God has granted to His children. Certainly, the many years I have shared with my beautiful companion have brought me the deepest joys of my life. From the beginning of time, marital companionship of husband and wife has been fundamental to our Heavenly Father’s great plan of happiness. Our lives are touched for good, and we are both edified and ennobled as we savor the sweet blessings of association with dear members of the family” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1997, 42; or Ensign, Nov. 1997, 32).
• If a husband and wife are not married in the temple for time and eternity, what will be the status of their marriage when one of them dies? (See D&C 132:7, 15–18. Their marriage will “not [be] valid neither of force,” even if they have made a vow to be together forever.)
• When a man and woman are married for time and eternity in the temple, they make a covenant with the Lord. What blessings will they receive if they are true to their covenant? (See D&C 131:1–4; 132:19–24, 30–31. Answers could include those listed on the following page.)
1. a.
They will be together “in time, and through all eternity” (D&C 132:19). Their children may also be part of their eternal family. (You may want to explain that the Holy Spirit of Promise is the Holy Ghost, who confirms that the priesthood ordinances we have received and the covenants we have made are acceptable to God. This approval depends on our faithfulness.)
2. b.
They will be exalted in the highest degree of the celestial kingdom with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ (D&C 131:1–3; 132:23–24).
3. c.
They will “inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities, … powers, [and] dominions” (D&C 132:19).
4. d.
They will continue to have seed, or spirit children, throughout eternity (D&C 132:19, 30–31; see also D&C 131:4).
5. e.
“They shall be gods, because they have all power” (D&C 132:20–21).
• What blessings does temple marriage bring in mortality? (Invite class members to share their feelings about being married in the temple. If you have not read the statement by Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin on page 177, you may want to do so now.)
2. Youth should prepare now for eternal marriage.
If you are teaching youth, use this section of the lesson to encourage them to prepare for temple marriage. If you are teaching adults, you may want to omit this section or use only a small portion of it.
• Why do you think temple marriage is emphasized so much to the youth of the Church? (Help class members understand that the decision to marry in the temple is one of the most important decisions a person can make. Church members should begin preparing for eternal marriage when they are young.)
President Spencer W. Kimball said: “Marriage is perhaps the most vital of all … decisions and has the most far-reaching effects, for it has to do not only with immediate happiness, but also with eternal joys. It affects not only the two people involved, but also their families and particularly their children and their children’s children down through the many generations” (“Oneness in Marriage,” Ensign, Mar. 1977, 3).
• What are some things that young men and women can do to prepare to be married in the temple?
• How does dating during teenage years influence marriage later in life? (If you brought copies of For the Strength of Youth have class members read “Dating,” pages 24–25.)
• What kind of person do you want to marry someday? (You may want to ask each class member to name one quality and say why it is important. List responses on the chalkboard. See also the following quotations for other ideas.) How must you live in order to prepare to marry such a person? (Invite class members to ponder this question silently rather than answer aloud.)
President Gordon B. Hinckley counseled: “Choose a companion of your own faith. You are much more likely to be happy. Choose a companion you can always honor, you can always respect, one who will complement you in your own life, one to whom you can give your entire heart, your entire love, your entire allegiance, your entire loyalty” (“Life’s Obligations,” Ensign, Feb. 1999, 2).
“A prospective husband should also honor his priesthood and use it in service to others. Seek a man who accepts his role as provider of the necessities of life, has the capacity to do it, and is making concerted efforts to prepare himself to fulfill those responsibilities” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1999, 31; or Ensign, May 1999, 26).
• How can parents and other adults help youth prepare for eternal marriage? How can they help small children prepare for eternal marriage?
3. After a husband and wife are sealed in the temple, they must abide in the covenant to receive the promised blessings.
Have a female class member read the following quotation. Then ask class members to guess who said it.
“I was just sure the first ten years would be bliss. But during our first year together I discovered … there were a lot of adjustments. Of course, they weren’t the kind of thing you ran home to mother about. But I cried into my pillow now and again. The problems were almost always related to learning to live on someone else’s schedule and to do things someone else’s way. We loved each other, there was no doubt about that. But we also had to get used to each other. I think every couple has to get used to each other.”
Tell class members that the statement was made by Sister Marjorie P. Hinckley, wife of President Gordon B. Hinckley (in Sheri L. Dew, Go Forward with Faith: The Biography of Gordon B. Hinckley [1996], 118). Emphasize that it takes love, work, and dedication to have a successful marriage. When a man and woman are sealed in the temple, they will receive the promised blessings only if they “abide in [the] covenant” (D&C 132:19). Use the questions, scriptures, and quotations in this section of the lesson to help class members understand specific things husbands and wives should do to “abide in [the] covenant.”
• Read D&C 42:22 with class members. Explain that this commandment applies equally to men and women. What does it mean to love a husband or wife with all one’s heart? What does it mean to cleave to a husband or wife and none else?
President Spencer W. Kimball explained:
President Gordon B. Hinckley gave this simple counsel to married couples: “Be fiercely loyal one to another” (Ensign, Feb. 1999, 4).
• When a man and woman are married in the temple, they covenant to be true to one another and to be true to the Lord. What are some things that married couples can do to strengthen their love for each other and for the Lord? (Write class members’ responses on the chalkboard. Answers could include praying and reading the scriptures together, seeking to be guided by the Spirit together, holding family home evening, going on dates together, taking time to talk to one another, helping one another around the house, and attending the temple together. You may want to use the second additional teaching idea as part of this discussion.)
If you are teaching youth or others who have not yet been married in the temple, encourage them to prepare for eternal marriage. Encourage class members who have been married in the temple to abide in the marriage covenant.
Additional Teaching Ideas
1. Faithful Saints will not be denied the blessings of eternity
Share the following statements concerning those who are single.
Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve counseled:
“Many of the most important deprivations of mortality will be set right in the Millennium, which is the time for fulfilling all that is incomplete in the great plan of happiness for all of our Father’s worthy children. We know that will be true of temple ordinances. I believe it will also be true of family relationships and experiences” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1993, 101; or Ensign, Nov. 1993, 75).
2. Examples of happy, enduring temple marriages
After prayerful consideration, contact a man and a woman in the ward who are good examples of successful temple marriages. Ask each person to prepare to take two or three minutes of class time to share suggestions for a happy, enduring marriage.
After these presentations, you may want to give class members the opportunity to share other suggestions.
3. Assignment for youth and young single adults
If you teach youth or young single adults, encourage each class member to go home and write a letter expressing love for his or her future spouse. Instruct class members to keep their letters until they are married and can share them with their spouses.
4. Avoiding worldly trends
• What are some trends showing that people are disregarding God’s standards about marriage? What can we do to stay true to the Lord’s standards?
5. “Temples and Families” video presentation
If Doctrine and Covenants and Church History Video Presentations (53912) is available, consider showing “Temples and Families,” a nine-minute segment.
6. Plural marriage
The following information is provided to help you if class members have questions about the practice of plural marriage. It should not be the focus of the lesson.
The Lord’s purpose for commanding His people to practice plural marriage
In the Book of Mormon, the prophet Jacob taught: “For there shall not any man among you have save it be one wife. … [But] if I will, saith the Lord of Hosts, raise up seed unto me, I will command my people; otherwise they shall hearken unto these things” (Jacob 2:27, 30). At various times throughout biblical history, the Lord commanded people to practice plural marriage. For example, He gave this command to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, David, and Solomon (D&C 132:1).
The revelation to practice plural marriage in this dispensation
The Church’s position on plural marriage today
In 1890, President Wilford Woodruff received a revelation that the leaders of the Church should cease teaching the practice of plural marriage (Official Declaration 1, pages 291–92 in the Doctrine and Covenants; see also the excerpts from addresses by President Woodruff that immediately follow Official Declaration 1).
In 1998, President Gordon B. Hinckley made the following statement about the Church’s position on plural marriage: “This Church has nothing whatever to do with those practicing polygamy. They are not members of this Church. … If any of our members are found to be practicing plural marriage, they are excommunicated, the most serious penalty the Church can impose. Not only are those so involved in direct violation of the civil law, they are in violation of the law of this Church” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1998, 92; or Ensign, Nov. 1998, 71). |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32820 | Guidelines for Reviewing OWASP projects
Jump to: navigation, search
This page will contain detailed guidelines for OWASP Project reviewers (usually part of a Season of Code initiative or when a project is reviewed according with the Project Assessment Criteria):
• Be reasonably easy to use
• Include online documention built into tool (based on required user documentation)
• Include build scripts that facilitate building the application from source (Goal: One-click build)
• Publicly accessible bug tracking system established, ideally at the same place as the source code repository (e.g., at Google code, or Sourceforge)
• Be run through Fortify Software's open source review (if appropriate) and FindBugs.
• When approved to be Release Quality: Update the link to it on: the OWASP Project page and update its project quality tag on its project page to be Release Quality.
a review undertaking consists at least in the following tasks.
1. Make sure that the project’s roadmap has been accomplished,
2. Having into account which was the project’s status target (Quality Status in this case), check project stage/features against the OWASP Assessment Criteria,
3. Point out scientific/technical and methodological mistakes, propose paths to follow, propose tools and documentation/bibliography to be studied and consulted.
More details here:
The guidelines need to be linked here:
And here is an example of an assessment Google excel spreadsheet check list: |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32824 |
Re: PackageKit policy: background and plans
On Thu, 19 Nov 2009, Conrad Meyer wrote:
> > I think it's fair to say that having this happen as root would generally
> > be worse than it happening as an unprivileged user. For the latter, the
> > attacker would need to also then succeed with a local privilege escalation
> > attack to the same effect.
> On the contrary. On the typical single user system, it's just as bad if an
> attacker can steal / delete / modify the user's files as it is if the attacker
> can modify / delete system files. Privilege escalation isn't needed to delete
> everything the single user cares about.
Note that I said generally.
In the specific case where the attacker only wants access to the user's
files, can exploit an existing vulnerability to do so, and can also get
the data back out without further privilege (if they want the data), then
yes, it's game over at that point.
There are many possible scenarios where an attacker would want more
privileged access to the system, e.g. install rootkits/firmware kits,
modify firewall settings, run network services, attack other systems,
evade detection etc. IOW, the current landscape of windows malware,
data-stealing worms, botnets and so on.
Getting root access is much more valuable in the general case.
There are also the separate issues, as I mentioned subsequently, of
increasing the attack surface, breaking the MAC model, and executing at
full system privilege (also, without further authorization).
I think we're throwing away a lot of well-established security benefit in
moving away from the simple model of using a root/wheel account (or sudo)
for admin and a separate user account for everything else.
- James
James Morris
<jmorris namei org>
|
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32837 | WHOI WHOI People
Sharks & Other Fish
peacock groupericon-caption
WHOI Senior scientist and Director of the Ocean Life Institute Simon Thorrold was tagging whale sharks in the Red Sea with the support of King Abdullah University of Science and Technology (KAUST) and reporting back via Facebook. On April 1, Thorrold sent this photo and wrote: "One of the sharks from yesterday was considerably further offshore than we normally see them and in some beautiful blue water that made for a good photo op. This shark also got a GPS tag so we will wait anxiously to see if we hear from the tag in the next few days." (Photo by Simon Thorrold, Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution)
What are they?
Fish are aquatic animals that were among the first vertebrates (animals with a backbone) to evolve on Earth. They are divided into two broad groups: teleosts, which have a bony skeleton and symmetrical tail and include most familiar fish species, and elasmobranchs, which have a skeleton made of cartilage and include sharks, rays and skates. There are about 30,000 species in the two groups combined (equal to the number of all other vertebrate species combined) in existence today.
Bony Fish (Teleosts)
Bony fish are found around the world in both salt and fresh water, from the tropics to the Arctic and Antarctic, and from the coasts to the deepest parts of the ocean. They range in size from the pygmy goby, at one-third of an inch (9 millimeters), to the marlin, which can grow to nearly 12 feet (3.5 meters).
The behaviors and life cycle strategies of fish is almost as varied as the number of species. Some fish can survive being frozen for long periods, while others have adapted to life near hydrothermal vents. Some fish have even evolved mechanisms to deal with high levels of pollution.
Cartilaginous Fish (Elasmobranchs)
Sharks, skates, and rays are also found around the world and, unlike bony fishes, have a skeleton made of cartilage. They also lack the swim bladder found in other fish species, often relying instead on a large, oily liver to control their buoyancy.
There are about 500 species of sharks, several of which are among the most recognizable fish species on Earth, including the white shark, one of the ocean's largest predators, and the whale shark, which is the largest fish in the ocean. Because they are wide-ranging animals, many basic questions about sharks remain unanswered, including where many species migrate, when and where they mate and give birth, and what they eat. This lack of information has made it difficult to estimate shark populations and challenging to design conservation measures for even the most threatened species.
Sharks are generally slow to mature—white sharks likely take at least 20 years to reach reproductive age—and only produce two to ten pups per litter. This means shark populations are especially vulnerable to human activities such as fishing. Each year, between 50 and 100 million sharks are killed, mainly for their fins, which are used to make a traditional Chinese soup. This level of harvesting is unsustainable and has dramatically reduced populations of many shark species around the world.
Why are they important?
Fish serve important ecological and economic functions. Ecologically, they are both predator and prey, providing food for other animals (including birds and land mammals), and serve to keep the numbers of prey species in check, many of which could destroy important ecosystems such as coral reefs and mangroves if their numbers are allowed to grow. At the same time, fish move nutrients through aquatic food webs and provide a link between ocean and terrestrial ecosystems.
The incredible diversity of fish species provides an important insurance policy for the ocean against changing conditions. This diversity means that fish as a group have evolved a wide range of behaviors and characteristics, from migratory behaviors to reproductive strategies. Many fish species have adapted the potential to survive a changing climate, varying levels of food availability, or even sudden pollution spills. Resilient ocean ecosystems in turn are able to provide critical services to humans, including storm and flood protection, nutrient and sediment cycling, carbon storage, and oxygen production.
Economically, fish are an important source of food for people around the world. An average of 20 percent of global protein demand is met by fish and shellfish, a number that has been rising faster than population growth in recent years. As a result, many parts of the ocean are over-fished, leading to localized collapses of marine ecosystems and a rising reliance on aquaculture and farm-raised fish. Fishing is also in important recreational and cultural activity that provides income to inland and coastal communities around the world. |
global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32853 | View Single Post
Joined: Aug 2009
Location: Seattle, WA
Oddometer: 71
Assuming the clock on your bike is always on (not personally familiar with that model) use your multimeter and watch the voltage at the battery with the ignition off and then turn the switch on. Though the clock is on you may see that it drops considerably just by turning the key to "on". Also, it wouldn't be a bad idea to load test the battery on the bench if you have something to test with as it may show borderline voltage but have low amperage. If a load tester isn't readily available swing by an independent dealer and they most likely will be happy to test it for you for free (I usually tip the tech $5 for his time).
macd7919 screwed with this post 11-19-2012 at 06:46 PM
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32854 | Thread: Loctite
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Old 09-13-2007, 04:03 PM #9
Beastly Adventurer
spagthorpe's Avatar
Joined: Aug 2002
Location: San Diego
Oddometer: 14,105
The gel stuff seems to work okay in some applications. I don't see anything on it though, that says what version of Loctite it is, so it may not work for all applications. Say you need 243 for the oil resistance for example. I mean, I'd use the gel on handguard bolts, but wouldn't trust say, the bolts holding my clutch together.
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32882 | Take the 2-minute tour ×
I would like to send text messages via Google Voice, as it is the number I give out for voice calls. However, I find sending SMS through the Voice app to be a bit cumbersome. The new widgets improve this somewhat, but it is still awkward.
I would prefer something with an interface more like Handcent or ChompSMS.
Are there any other apps that support sending SMS via Google Voice?
share|improve this question
There is a similar question regarding using Google Voice # for some contacts and cell phone # for others. The OP is looking into this answer which involves getting the Voice Choice app. It's not clear if the app works for SMS though. – gary Sep 17 '10 at 2:14
As near as I can tell, Voice Choice doesn't do SMS. – Josh Sep 19 '10 at 1:52
Voice Choice 2.0 does SMS as well. It works well for me. – Ryanmt Apr 2 '12 at 16:48
add comment
1 Answer
This isn't the cleanest solution, but it's an option:
If you set up your google voice number so SMS messages are forwarded to your phone, every time somebody texts you, you will receive that text from a 406 area code phone number. If you send a message back to that number, it will reach your that person, and appear to them as if it came from your google voice number. So you can save the 406 number for each contact as a secondary phone number, and set it as the default number to use for SMS.
(if you think the Google Voice app is cumbersome, you should try doing it from an iPhone ;) )
share|improve this answer
Yeah, I was hoping for something a little cleaner, but if that's the only way, I may settle on that. – Josh Sep 19 '10 at 1:53
If the sending phone number that the recipient sees is your top priority, then I think this is a pretty decent way. But if you also want to manage your text-message costs, then this isn't such a good way since each message sent or received will still count toward the limits set by your service provider; messages that go directly through GV get applied to your data plan instead. – Rob Kennedy Nov 4 '10 at 0:11
You can get google voice to forwrd your texts as emails; then you just reply to them using the email client on the phone and that goes back to the originator as SMS. – Chris Stratton May 15 '11 at 3:17
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Your Answer
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32910 | Take the 2-minute tour ×
Since three months I am waiting and searching for a solution to mount a USB stick again.
I am using Ubuntu 11.10 32bit and 64bit Dell machines and I could not really find a useful answer what exactly I need to do being able to mount a USB Stick.
Unable to mount [VolumeName] Not authorized
Can you please point me in the right direction what I need to do/change/adjust being able to mount a USB device again?
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This happened to me when I added a nopasswd user. When I removed that user the problem went away. – hbdgaf Apr 8 '12 at 21:31
Can you mount it as root (sudo mount /dev/disk/by-label/whatever /media/wherever)? – ohno Apr 8 '12 at 22:18
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2 Answers
I think this could be the answer here:
It says: "If your usb device doesn't appear on your desktop, you should check that your user has the correct privileges. Go to System->Administration->User and Groups, choose the user, click on "Properties", then go to the "User Privileges" tab. You should have the "Access external storage devices automatically" option checked."
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If your USB stick is formatted ntfs make sure you have the NTFS Fuse programs installed.
sudo apt-get update && sudo apt-get upgrade && sudo apt-get install ntfs-3g ntfsprogs;
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global_01_local_0_shard_00000017_processed.jsonl/32911 | Take the 2-minute tour ×
I inserted Boot CD into drive and choose "try", but monitor appears many horizontal lines passing through. My laptop is WolfNFox, win XP SP1. Can you help me?
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Probably it is a graphics card issue, retry it once more ,If it wont work remove the graphics card and retry .it – Tachyons Apr 19 '12 at 8:26
Cam you post the hardware specs of your machine. – mikewhatever Apr 19 '12 at 9:07
there can also be a problem with the cd. try a live usb – Ashu Apr 19 '12 at 10:29
Or you just might just haven't waited enough. It takes a while to load the GUI and all that stuff. I guess the maximum should be around 2min from cd and 40sec from USB. – jP_wanN Apr 19 '12 at 18:46
Ohh, initially, my boot CD is OK, I can choose the language and then press try Ubuntu without installing. But after that, there are only lines passing through. I did wait for around 5 minutes but the Ubuntu desktop did not appear on the screen. I already checked the boot CD and no error was found. Please help me. – Dzung Apr 20 '12 at 2:54
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You can select "nomodeset" parameter from boot options and try to install.
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