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__label__cc	0.537808	0.462192	Lee, Anne c. 1776–1788 Music printer 2 Dame Street ('near the Royal Exchange') Succeeded the business of her husband Samuel (ii) Lee. Listed with her son Edmond Lee the Dublin Directories as 'music sellers' from 1777 to 1788 (except in 1786 when only Edmond is listed). It is not certain to what extent (if any) Anne Lee may be identified with the 'Walker & Lee' partnership of c. 1781 listed in Hogan, but their addresses are the same. [Dates and details differ according to sources: Barra Boydell (Long Room) gives the dates as 1771 to 1783. The Dublin Directories and Brian Boydell (Calendar) give the dates as 1777 to 1788 but Humphries and Smith give the dates from 1776 to 1788. Kerry gives the date until 1786.] A Celebrated French Song, with parts for two guitars, c.1785 (Lawrence) Issued (as listed in Flood) The Gentleman's Catch Book, 1778 [new edn] Giordani, Overture and Irish Medley to the Island of Saints, c. 1786 Lee, Edmond Lee, John Lee, Samuel (ii) Walker & Lee Flood, W.H. Grattan, ‘Dublin Music Printing from 1750 to 1790’, The Bibliographical Society of Ireland: Short Papers, 2.5 (1923), 101–06 (p. 104) Dix, E.R. McC., ‘Some Dublin Music Printers and Music Sellers of the Eighteenth Century’, The Irish Book Lover, 18.1 (January/February 1930), 26–28 (p. 28) Carroll, F., ‘Dublin Music Sellers, Etc. 18th Century’, The Irish Book Lover, 31.6 (November 1951), 129–30 (p. 130) Boydell, Barra, 'The Development of the Dublin Music Print Trade to 1800', Long Room (1996), pp.25-33 (p. 31) Boydell, Brian, ‘Lee family (1)’, Dublin Music Trade Card Index <http://dublinmusictrade.ie/card-index> Boydell, Brian, ‘Walker & Lee', Dublin Music Trade Card Index <http://dublinmusictrade.ie/card-index>	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line26
__label__wiki	0.579532	0.579532	Krater Video Review It’s difficult to put into words, but it is painful to see a game not live up to your personal aspirations for it. Please don’t be confused, dear viewers, that is not to say that Krater is a poor game. In many ways, Krater is absolutely brimming with awesomeness. But despite its many triumphs, there are still some rather significant setbacks that withhold it from the greatness of its ancestors. The public relations conundrum that Krater faces, and one that we had to recognize and overcome, is that players need to play Krater for what it is, and not instantly try to compare it to its top-down RPG bigger brother that released a few weeks ago, or hope that it’s another Baldur’s Gate game. Krater is, at its core, a tactical strategy RPG in the same inspirational vein as Baldur’s Gate and Syndicate (the original) with a dash of MMO and Diablo tossed in for good measure. But it is not a Baldur’s Gate clone. And before you judge this book by its cover, it is not a Diablo clone, either. Krater is its own beast, and we’re going to review it that way. Krater is gorgeous. Set in a post-apocalyptic Sweden, players control a team of mercenaries as they travel around the realm of Krater and solve the issues of its denizens. You control a team of 3 mercenaries that you can mix and match from your roster of Bruisers (tanks), Medikus (healers), Regulators (blasters) and Slayers (scrappers). You begin your journey in the small village of Norrmalm and as you grow in strength, you unravel the story and discover more and more small villages complete with their own inhabitants and problems. The world of Krater is absolutely gorgeous. The game itself is no graphical powerhouse and won’t push the effects of physics or lighting, but the execution of design is nothing short of award worthy. Each town is bubbling with life and rebuilt using the pieces of former bullboards and repurposed road signs. The character design is top notch as well. While almost everyone wears a mask and pair of goggles, they still manage to squeeze out a fair amount of personality. Enemy interactions happen in two different ways. They either attack you in the form of a random encounter on the world map, of you can go into one of the games many many dungeons and flush them out. Enemies drop salable loot, new weapons, gadgets, skill upgrades, or blueprints to build any of the aforementioned items using material found in the environment. I’m sure someone wanted to make an Ikea joke, but they beat us to the punch. Your team will attack automatically if a baddie gets too close. Each character has two special abilities that can be continuously reused on a recharging hotbar, just like an MMO. Initially, you’ll only need to use a few skills at a time, but as the game progresses, your fingers will be flying in an orchestra of keyboardy blurs to keep up with the action. If your characters level up, they will never learn new abilities. But that’s where the interesting twist in Krater’s character progression comes in. Each level, instead of automatically boosting stats, unlocks ability slots in your special moves and within your own character. You can beef your team up with defense and offense buffs, and you can mix and match abilities and test out their effects. For example, if you put a defense buff into a heal skill, anyone who is healed is also automatically given that defense buff. You can also attach healing or intelligence boosts to attack skills, and so on. And of course, as you travel, you find better and better buffs along the way. It’s a rather clever system that makes for a very personal build of your mercenaries. The number of buffs you can instill into a character depends on your mercenary’s level cap and higher level caps can be found on the more expensive mercenaries. But the mercenary system is a window to one of the game’s two large issues. First, the story feels detached from the player which is most likely caused by the fact there are no static characters that continually experience the story. There is no “main character” that the events happen to and there is no player-made character to act as your avatar. Essentially, it makes it hard to insert yourself into the experience if you visit different towns using an entirely different set of characters. The story itself isn’t the game’s strong point, and this detachment only exacerbates the issue. Secondly, the challenge in the game feels unbalanced. For large portions of the game, you’ll breeze through your enemies, while other times you’ll hit an unexpected difficulty wall that will result you in grinding for better gear, even at maximum skill level. But both of these issues may be overlooked depending on what type of gamer you are. Some people enjoy the grind and others don’t play this type of game for the story. We, on the other hand, wanted to be more attached the story and we don’t particularly care for the grind, either. But we are happy to see that Fatshark is working incredibly hard at improving the experience every step along the way, showing a level of commitment to their product generally unseen in modern gaming. They’re listening very closely to their active community. For that, we tip our hat to them, and because of it, we’re still excited for “Pledge of the Matriarch.” Krater is a beautiful, clever, and quirky game that will find its audience, but a few of its flaws will be a permanent hindrance to a good number of players. Considering its bargain price tag and the amount of genuine fun it delivered to us, we can definitely say that if you’re still curious, it’s worth trying. Name: Krater Available on: PC Developed by: Fatshark Published by: Fatshark Elder-Geek Score: 3.5 out of 5 / Worth Trying fatsharkkratervideo review 3 Comments Read more 3 thoughts on “Krater Video Review” Johny47 says: Krater looks brilliant, a very colourful and wide open game but it’s one of those kinds of games when I just like to watch… that reminds me, I said that about Forged Alliance until I was watching my friend and his brother play it then I asked could I have a go then I was almost addicted =P Nice review, and Randy what did you mean by shouldn’t compare it to its bigger brother? Randy Yasenchak says: I mean Diablo. A lot of people’s first reaction is to call it a “Diablo clone” or a “Diablo-like” game. Granted, I think both games come from a similar spiritual past, but they share very few similarities aside from the top-down perspective. Oh ok, I don’t think it looks anything like Diablo except for the view, it’s just too bright and colourful for Diablo =P	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line30
__label__cc	0.500111	0.499889	Tag: Erik Wessel Posted on April 7, 2016 December 23, 2016 The Suffering of Mephistopheles For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. — Romans 8:18 This past weekend the University of Illinois’ student troupe, the What You Will Shakespeare Company, tackled Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus. Directed by Ashish Valentine with the assistance of Danielle Strickland and Clayton Gentilcore, the play follows the life of John Faustus (Erik Wessel), a celebrated German scholar who has seemingly conquered every course of study save one. He takes up an interest in the occult and in so doing summons the demon Mephistopheles, who promises him a life of bliss in return for his immortal soul. Unlike much of Renaissance drama, the play falls relatively neatly into two halves: the first, the capture of Faustus’ soul, the second, a series of episodes illustrating what he gets in return. The production makes some subtle staging choices to recalibrate the play as one as invested in Mephistopheles’ damnation as in Faustus’. There is something delicious about drawing pentagrams in a church basement, and the ensemble certainly reveled in the unsanctimonious quality of performing this particular play in one of their usual spaces, the University Place Christian Church. By doubling the roles of Lucifer, Alexander’s paramour, Helen of Troy, and Lady Raymond, Celia Mueller conveyed much of what is enticing about choosing to be fallen: the straining against God’s order and relishing in overt sadism at the expense of others. By doubling all of these characters and limiting the costume changes between them, they become barely distinguishable from one another to the audience. (Mueller’s distinctive red hair also helped in marking these separate characters seem more like minor variations on a theme.) Fallenness and decadence—literally, excessive indulgence to the point of moral decline—are located in and defined by the female body. This female Lucifer offers us a thought experiment: what might Eve have looked like if she had chosen to fall from grace rather than merely breaking one rule with a bite of an apple? Mueller’s Lucifer offers an interesting potential answer as well as tracks with sixteenth- and seventeenth-century models of women’s moral and physical weakness. I will admit that as a reader I struggle with how to envision dumb-shows and interludes within the action of an early modern play. The space they take up on the page is a poor cipher for the time they take up in the space of a play, and the distilling work they do to summarize a central concern of the action. I was, therefore, particularly impressed by the interpretation of the Seven Sins episode. A display of ghostly entertainments turns into a vehicle to torture Faustus’ page boy, Wagner. Lucifer seemingly tortures him as he changes from one sin to the next. As Wagner, Kevin Gomez displayed a compelling range of voices and affects, making each sin clearly distinguishable from one another. Each interpretation was a thoughtful and clear interpretation of what characterizes that particular sin most; the effective simplicity of his Sloth never standing up from his writhing posture on the floor is a good example. The character of Wagner is a difficult one as it can beg bafoonery. Gomez keeps his Wagner in check, not erasing the playfulness for which the text asks, but making it clear that Wagner is one of the unwitting casualties of Faustus’ choices. Like Wagner, in this production it is very clear that the low characters serve to demonstrate the far-reaching consequences of Faustus’ turn to damnation. After Benvolio is given horns for a day and made an object of ridicule for Faustus and his royal patron, he and his friend Frederick want revenge. They stab Faustus, who then rises from the dead. The two men beg mercy but Faustus refuses to entertain it. It is an echo of the Seven Sins pageant, where Faustus looks uncomfortably on as his Wagner screams out in pain for help, but does not move to free him. Faustus orders Mephistopheles drop the two would-be murders from a great height. He has no mercy for them. For all Faustus knows, Mephistopheles follows instructions; the audience is made privy to the fact that Mephistopheles in fact saves them. In this production, Mephistopheles is the only figure who does not revel. Played by Megan Scharlau, she does not bathe in her power, her potential for evil, or rage against an unjust God. She does not smile nor yell, but remains placid and resigned—anything but the roaring devil of German folklore. It would seem the company took one of her opening speeches at its word rather than as a scare tactic: Why this is hell, nor am I out of it. Think’st thou that I that saw the face of God And tasted the eternal joys of heaven Am not tormented with ten thousand hells, In being deprived of everlasting bliss? O, Faustus, leave these frivolous demands, Which strike a terror to my fainting soul. (I.iii.302-8) As another devil played by a woman, Scharlau’s Mephistopheles offers an interesting counterexample to Mueller’s Lucifer: one understanding the gravity of her damnation, the other reveling in rattling her prison bars. By the final act of the play, it is unclear as yet how serious the situation is for Faustus. The play seems to ask: When does someone become a lost cause in God’s eyes? As the final hours of Faustus’ contract count down, Wagner is stabbed and killed by a group of devils. This is a marked departure from the original text, where he more ambivalently flies off on the back of a devil, hallooing all the way. The stabbing sends home the point that the stakes are high and the moral choices Faustus makes affect not only him. Flying off stage in a basement would have been a tricky thing to pull off in the basement of a church, as would have been the swallowing of Faustus by a hell mouth to mark his end. Instead, another rather brilliant staging choice: Lucifer and her devils combat Mephistopheles in an broadsword fight for Faustus’ soul. While Faustus is killed in the fray (echoing something of both Mercutio’s and Hamlet’s deaths), Mephistopheles manages to keep the Morning Star from taking his body. The stabbings of Wagner and Faustus were smart approaches to otherwise difficult and expensive staging requirements. They also beg a new question: What about Faustus is worth saving? He allows Wagner, Benvolio and many other minor characters to suffer for the sake of his pleasure. He seems to be only capable of envisioning power as the ability to trick and enact cruelty toward others. The series of short episodes that make up the second act each provide him an opportunity to demonstrate either why he is worth of mercy or to request God’s forgiveness. Yet, Faustus wastes each opportunity. Having suffered irredeemable and unending suffering, the intervention by Mephistopheles suggests that every person is worthy of saving, regardless of proofs or whether or not we ask it for ourselves. Ultimately, our redemption or fallenness is never in our own hands. The What You Will Shakespeare Company‘s production of Doctor Faustus plays at the University Place Christian Church 1-2 April 2016. Tickets are $7. Doors are at 7:30pm and the show starts at 8:00pm. Posted on October 20, 2014 December 26, 2016 The What You Will Shakespeare Company opens season with namesake This fellow is wise enough to play the fool And to do that well craves a kind of wit. – Twelfth Night III.i.60-1 It has been far too long since I have properly reviewed a What You Will Shakespeare Company (WYW) production, so it seems fitting to return to the troupe with the play from whence they take their name. As is their usual course, the student-run group made use of an unassuming campus space, the basement of University Place Christian Church, whose architecture cleverly provides the necessaries for early modern staging. There are a number of reasons why I consistently enjoy this particular play, a comedy something tonally akin to A Midsummer Night’s Dream and As You Like It; I now come to think that one of the reasons for its perennial success, especially at the hands of student thespians, is that it requires little technology. The play is incredibly plastic, requiring nothing but the three entrances (and even potentially making by with just the two, the norm of medieval hall performances) to carry the action. What I appreciated most about WYW’s performances this weekend was their choice to embrace the stripped-down quality this particular playtext makes available. The costumes were well-wrought yet simple and straightforward, generally suggesting the Renaissance with doublet, hose, and bucklers, but little else. In fact, aside from having at least two boys who could play strong and convincing women, the only special technology the play requires is a costuming one: yellow stockings with garters to cross them. (While I do not know for sure, the simplicity of material performance the playtext suggests I imagine made it particularly plastic in terms of touring, essentially capable of being staged in any environment.) There was little else but chairs and a table, along with Feste’s (Megan Scharlau) ukulele—musical performance the only other special technology the play seems to call for—to adorn the playing space. In such thoughtful and consistent simplicity we are given the literal and cognitive space to let the language do more work. With this additional linguistic emphasis given the bare-ish stage (whether Shakespeare’s plays were written for or performed on a bare stage is hotly contested), the puppet master of this play turned out to be Feste. There are a number of inventive parts to this play, where the characters have distinct individual voices—another quality that makes it especially useful for undergraduate performance. Typically, the parts of Malvolio (Erik Wessel), Sir Toby Belch (Monty Joyce), Feste and Viola (Tori Stukins) compete for dominance in individual stagings. I’ve yet to see a successful ensemble rendering that effectively gives the parts equal weight to the benefit of a production; I think that a director’s choice of giving preference to a particular part helps to provide the play with ideological coherence, and so don’t mind the privileging. Scharlau adopted the “omniscient fool” posture in a vein similar to Ben Kingsley’s interpretation for the part, overseeing much of the activity and doubling a number of parts noted and not in the text, including the captain of the wrecked ship who first introduces Viola/Cesario to Orsino’s (Tom Fornando) court. Understanding her words, and underscoring their intentional doubleness, the majority of the play’s action and meaning became tied up in her rendering. When I return to a play that I’ve seen too many times to count, my ears are looking for a line I haven’t heard fully before, one that is glossed over too frequently but in the mouths of these particular actors is imbibed with a meaning I have yet to discover. In this production I got two such moments. First, the simplicity and elegance of Feste’s rendering of the songs, making use of the lower range of her alto voice which allowed the consonants to ring more concretely than a soprano might. Her rendition of Feste’s first song was far sweeter and less plaintive than is usual: O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love’s coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know. In these lyrics I could hear both Orsino and Olivia’s (Kim Gasiciel) longing for “the one,” that Platonic ideal of a romantic other made for them but that they do not see in one another. At the start of the play we have found that the two have adopted different strategies for this longéd longing for a beloved: Orsino basks in love songs and doggedly pursues Olivia, while she gives herself a stricture of abstinence. Both refuse to let the happenstance of love have the upper hand: Orsino constantly pursues it in all the wrong places, while Olivia refuses to let rejection even be an option. Feste’s song quietly encourages the notion of an ideally suited and companionate love but advises giving oneself over to the serendipity and unknowingness of love’s timing in order to be rewarded with such a love. The second such moment of new hearing was a quotation spoken by Viola (in her disguise as Cesario), telling Orsino a story illustrating the constancy of women in love: “She sat like Patience on a monument, / Smiling at grief.” It wasn’t until sitting down to write this review that I noticed the passage was included on the cover of the program, presumably emphasizing life’s vacillations between “pleasure and obligation,” according to the director’s note. Unlike Feste’s advice to Orsino, Viola makes a claim that women suffer a kind of small death at the hands of love unrequited, that in their patience, as eternal as a burial monument, women are willing to wait and give over to fate even to destruction. When paired together, the song and quotation inveigh against the wracks of patience in love precisely because it promises equally rewards or devastation when giving over to hope. Shakespeare’s ambivalence towards love is a dark one then, reveling as much in the serendipity of a shipwreck bearing twins, ideal matches for the lords of the land, as in the strings left untied, the broken hearts of Antonio and Malvolio is trying to wrest away Cupid from his arrow. And considering the advice from Feste’s mouth, perhaps the puppet master intended irresolution all the more to make the point. The What You Will Shakespeare Company‘s production of Twelfth Night; or, What You Will plays at the University Place Christian Church 17-18 October at 8:00pm. This fall the troupe will also be mounting productions of Julius Caesar and The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (Abridged). Stay tuned for more details!	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line35
__label__wiki	0.811955	0.811955	¡A votar! Latino Voters Can Make a Difference October 2, 2016 admin Analysis and Opinions, Immigration 0 By NY Times, Editorial Board If ever there was a year for Latinos in the United States to exercise their right to vote, 2016 is it. Donald Trump, the Republican nominee, has made “Build a wall!” and deporting 11 million people central promises of his presidential campaign. At his rallies, Latino immigrants are cast as an invasion that needs to be stopped because it is transforming the face of America too profoundly, too quickly. The implicit point of his campaign theme — “Make America Great Again” — is that America was great when it was a less diverse nation and that resurrecting that era will require drastic measures. While this has resonated with some white Americans, disaffected by social changes and an uneven economic recovery, it has offended and frightened Latinos, one of the fastest-growing segments of the electorate. Whether stoking xenophobia turns out to be a genius or a disastrous move by a presidential candidate who has defied all the laws of political gravity will depend on how many of the 27 million eligible Hispanic voters turn out in November. In a tight race, a resounding Latino showing could flip battleground states for the Democratic nominee, Hillary Clinton, and change how political parties perceive and engage with Hispanic voters in the future. That would affirm that Latinos are shaping the destiny of a nation that has always become stronger by embracing newcomers. Presidential campaigns have been courting Latino voters since John F. Kennedy made a strong effort to woo Mexican-Americans during his 1960 White House run, which he narrowly won. Since then, Latinos, an electorate that is rapidly diversifying as it grows, have continued to lean Democratic in presidential elections, but have turned out in low numbers. George W. Bush made notable gains in 2004, getting roughly 40 percent of the Latino vote. After he left office, the Republican Party’s position on immigration hardened considerably. In a shortsighted move, party leaders have since sought to suppress minority voting power through a combination of redistricting and tactics like voter ID laws. Mitt Romney’s loss in 2012, when he received only 27 percent of the Latino vote, caused Republican strategists to talk seriously about remaking the party’s relationship with Latinos. Mr. Trump obliterated any chance that would happen by making the demonization of Mexican immigrants a centerpiece of a campaign that has catapulted white supremacy into the mainstream of American politics. He has also vilified Muslims and spoken ignorantly and contemptuously about African-Americans. Latino grass-roots organizers hope that Mr. Trump’s nastiness will unlock the potential of the Latino electorate. That may well happen. They have made an ambitious push to get Hispanics to become naturalized citizens and to register to vote this year, particularly in swing states. The crush of applications for citizenship has overwhelmed the government. In addition to defeating a bully, Latinos have plenty of reasons to enthusiastically support Mr. Trump’s main rival. Mrs. Clinton has coherent, well-thought-out plans to address the matters that Latinos say they care about most. These include the economy, affordable access to health care, national security and education. Her record on immigration policy is not consistently progressive; as a senator in 2007, she opposed allowing unauthorized immigrants to get New York driver’s licenses. But she has changed her position on that issue and has promised to make the long overdue overhaul of America’s broken immigration system a priority. She also has vowed to continue, and expand, the program President Obama established to temporarily shield from deportation millions of unauthorized young immigrants with deep roots in the United States. While immigration reform will no doubt entail a tough political fight, Latinos could make the prospect of an overhaul more likely by going to the polls in November. Low turnout among these voters would increase the likelihood of a Trump victory, which could mean mass deportations and more attacks on immigrants. America’s 56 million Latinos — one third of whom are under 18 — are helping to shape America’s future in classrooms, workplaces and neighborhoods. It is only a matter of time before their mark on the nation’s politics matches their contributions in other spheres. That moment should start now. Why America felt in love with this pic of George W. Bush and Michelle Obama Trump’s Nafta Mistakes Are Huge George P. Bush ‘concerned’ about GOP immigration stance CNN George P. Path to Citizenship vs. Legalization: Let the Immigrants Choose By Alex Nowrasteh We Don’t Know How Secure Our Border Is By Lauren Fox,	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line39
__label__cc	0.655342	0.344658	A Soldiers Release Drunk from last night, Sergeant Calcus wakes with incoherence to a rumbling just outside his room. He stumbles from his bed and rests his drunken body against the window that faces outside. He looks, his eyes wavering back and forth. Looking down into the empty street and there he sees something. At first, it is a blur, his mind is not yet fully awake from his stupor. He then drops an empty bottle of whiskey he had been clenching and uses his hands to block the streets lights reflecting on the window. He places his eyes beneath his hands and looks further in detail what he is looking at. Adjusting his sight, he finally sees what it is. Its is a helicopter, a helicopter had landed in the empty street just on the other side of his room. Confused, he looks at his watch, it reads, O-Three-hundred hours. He looks back at the chopper and watches with intrigue. As he watches he sees two men exit. Both wearing pilot uniforms but they do not remove their helmets. Then, as they dismount and land foot upon the ground an older man in tan khakis and a black polo appears from the shade of the night. Sergeant Calcus keeps watching, he looks around to see if anyone else is walking outside. But there is no one, not even a car. Sergeant Calcus becomes more curious and thinks to himself, "This may be something I should not see, but, hell with it. What's the worst that could happen? He looks back at the chopper and the three gentleman. The older man in black polo addresses the two pilots with a handshake and they start to converse among each other. Then, as the conversation continues it starts to heat up. The men start to gesture wildly with what appears to be anger. The older gentleman points to them with command to return back to their chopper. But they refuse, suddenly the man in the black polo pulls out a pistol and proficiently fires two rounds into each of the pilots, one in the head and one in the chest. They drop instantly, Sergeant Calcus quickly ducks behind his wall. But his quick motion catches the eye of the killer. He looks up at Sergeant Calcus's window and sees his room is the only room with lights on. Sergeant Calcus with his back to the wall, "What the hell did I just see?" Sergeant Calcus gets down in the prone and starts to crawl to the exit of his room. He reaches it and as he does he hears voices and the knocking of boots against the barracks floor. He quickly darts up and shuts off his light and gets back into bed. He then notices the voices cease, he looks over at his door and he can sees shadows forming just beneath the gap of the door. Then, at the last second he decides to grab the empty bottle of whiskey and hold it in his hand as he acts asleep. Hoping they will think he has been drunk stumbling around. He hears the handle of his door begin to jiggle, then the sound of a key entering the lock. The dead bolt releases. Sergeant Calcus's heart starts to race a bit. He hears a flood of a small group enter his room quietly, almost two quiet. Then without warning the lights come on but Sergeant Calcus does not move. He can feel the presence of people walking about his room. Then everything goes silent, not a motion of movement after two minutes and then the lights shut off again. Sergeant Calcus does not move, remains still for another fifteen minutes. He feels safe enough to remove himself from his bed, so he quietly gets up, he notices his blinds have been drawn shut. He carefully walks over to his light switch and flicks it on. Suddenly he is knocked to the ground and his hands are immediately zip tied and mouth gagged. He's then pulled to his feet as he tries to fight free. But those who are gripping him are far superior in strength. Even for a man the size of Sergeant Calcus. He is then pushed to a corner in his room and placed on his knees. A few voices start to speak, Sergeant Calcus tries to slowly look back but as he does he sees the tip of a rifle barrel and jolts his head back to the wall. The voices cease and he feels a pair of hands grab his arms and is lifted to his feet. Sergeant Calcus is then blind folded before he is turned around and forced out his room. He can clearly hear now that there are six people among him. All with heavy and demanding steps. A small speck of light breaches his blindfold, he does his best to focus through the tiny hole. He can somewhat make out where he is, he knows he is still in the barracks by the pattern of turns they are taking. They exit out the rear of the building. Sergeant Calcus is only wearing his underwear and it is thirty-two degrees out. Several minutes pass by as he walks barefoot. He starts to shiver a bit as they travel deeper into the base. At least twenty minutes go by of walking through woods. After that, everyone stops, a large metal door breaks the silence as it is opened. Who ever is holding Sergeant Calcus, they guide him up a few steps and into a cold building with concrete floors. His feet are numb and his whole body is shivering. Another door is opened and he is suddenly tossed into what he assumes is an interrogation room, much like the ones hes been in overseas. He hears the door behind him shut and become locked. Sergeant Calcus remains calm as he tries to asses the situation. Some time goes by and the door is opened. Sergeant Calcus has his back against the wall to the right of the door. Earlier he had guided himself through the room to gain as much information on the shape and size of the room. It is small, with four walls, about an eight by ten room with a table in the middle. As the door opens he hears only single pair of boots clack against the floor. He stands up slowly and as he does a voice calls out, "Don't try anything stupid boy, you'll only end up dead sooner than you wish." Sergeant Calcus keeps to himself as the voice he hears is no voice of a weak man. But a voice of man who knows his way around death. The man with the voice grabs Sergeant Calcus by the left arm and places him in a chair at the table. The man with the voice then steps to the other side of the table. Stepping over to the opposite end, there is a loud thud that hits the table. Sergeant Calcus turns his head to try and distinguish what he is hearing. There is then the sound of papers being flipped through. The man then begins to talk, "Alright...Sergeant Calcus, do you know why you are here?" Sergeant Calcus moves his face toward the voice and responds, "No sir." A small lull of silence holds to the air as the shuffling of papers and the clicking of briefcase locks snap open. The man speaks again, "Well son, you're here because I believe you may have seen what you should not have seen. Looking at the manifest of unit 5-20, you should be clear on the other side of the state right now, why are you not?" Sergeant Calcus takes in a breath adjusts himself in the cold chair, "Sir, I was given orders at the last minute to stay behind. Seeing that I am eligible for an early ETS from my service. My Platoon leader saw no reason for me to go on to the training exercise if my contract is technically over at the end of this next week. Two weeks before they get back. " Sergeant Calcus clears his throat. The man replies, "Well then, looks like we may have to do a little test to make sure you are fit for separation. You may feel a pinch on the side of your head, but no worries, the pain will subside quickly and you'll be new again." Sergeant Calcus becomes worried and moves himself away from the table as much as possible without moving the chair, "What do you mean a pinch sir, what is exactly going on?" The man shuffling about, "Don't talk back, this is a matter of national security and you may have just caused a ripple in it that could directly ruin us in the long run." Suddenly Sergeant Calcus is hit with a pinch in the side of his head. He blacks out but only momentarily. He comes to and his vision is blurry, as if he is under water and he can tell the blind fold had been removed. He looks around and there on the other side is a man standing, but he cannot make out who it is. It is a blur of black and a shade of tan wrapped around the silhouette of a person. Sergeant Calcus stands but, is promptly suppressed back to his seat by the hands of two others who stand on either side of him. He tries to ask what is going on but his voice is lethargic and slurred. The blur of tan and black, steps up and starts to talk. The vague and blurred words of, "We are taking your memory." is heard. Suddenly Sergeant Calcus becomes extremely weak and passes out. He then wakes up some time later in a hospital bed with a bandage wrapped around his head. He looks around sluggishly and sees a nurse standing beside the bed. "Hey...he...hey...what am I doing here, where am I?" The nurse hears and turns around smiling. "You're finally awake!" "Finally awake?" He asks as he looks on with confusion, "How long have I been out?" The nurse walks to the far end of the bed and pulls up his chart, "Three days and some change." Sergeant looks with concern, "Three days! What the hell?! What happened?" The nurse places the chart back, "We are not sure, you were found by an older gentleman, a contractor I believe just outside your barracks passed out in the grass. We examined you and found some slight head trauma, but nothing to be concerned about, as of yet I would say." Sergeant Calcus lifts his head, "As of yet, head trauma? Okay, this can't be right let me go." He tries to struggle to his feet but his body feels exhausted, he can't really move. The nurse quickly runs by his side to ease Sergeant Calcus. She succeeds and Sergeant Calcus rests his body upon the bed. The nurse then hands him some medications to take. He takes them and asks when he will be able to leave. The nurse replies that he will be able to leave tomorrow night after some more observations. "We are unsure of your symptoms and the cause of your situation, we did find and unhealthy amount of alcohol in your system, but so far, everything checks out." The nurse then leaves the room. Sergeant Calcus is left in an enigma of thought. The next night, he is released. He then returns to his barracks room and finds it as he remembers it, he gathers up his civilian clothes and some paper work. He then exits his room and heads out the building. He makes way to the first day to process out of services. After a week he is finally processed out, he exits the admin building and stares out into the congested parking lot and sees something. He sees an older gentleman in tan khakis and a black polo. The gentle looks to him as well, they lock eyes momentarily and the gentleman nods and steps into an all black vehicle next to him and drives off. Sergeant Calcus looks on bewildered as the gentleman drives off. He then makes way to his vehicle and gets in, starts his car and drives off with a feeling of relief and freedom. But will he ever know the truth or has he been spun by the country he swore to defend? Was what happened to Sergeant for the safety of his country or to hide the corruption his goverment, what do you think? Let there be no one to stop you, https://park.micahbiffle.com/2018/11/dismal-be-headless.html airforce army civilian coast guard corruption espionage government marines memory military murder navy poet safety seattle short story storytelling witness	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line59
__label__cc	0.513421	0.486579	Diamonds aren’t forever Cast: Kunal Khemu, Amrita Puri, Manish Choudhary, Mia Uyeda, Sandeep Sikand Director: Vishal Mahadkar Blood Money stars Kunal Khemu as an MBA graduate who arrives in Cape Town with his wife (played by Amrita Puri of Aisha), where he’s accepted a job at a major diamond-trading firm. Even before he can change out of the clothes he flew in wearing, he’s handed over the keys to a plush home, a swanky car, and some ‘settling-in’ cash. Like the character played by Tom Cruise in the 1993 thriller The Firm, from which Blood Money is so clearly inspired, our hero is seduced by the lure of the new lifestyle that his job affords him. But when he stumbles upon the truth that his bosses are engaged in sinister businesses involving illegal trading, mafia funding, and murder, he must ask himself if he’s comfortable living off such ill-gotten gains. Filmed indifferently, and without infusing the urgency that this kind of plot demands, first-time director Vishal Mahadkar delivers a bore-a-thon of a movie, complete with archaic dialogues and stereotypes for characters. From the creepy boss who finishes every conversation by declaring “Superb!”; to the office hottie who seduces our hero; to the whining wife who’s tired of waiting for her husband to show up for meals…every character in Blood Money is a cardboard caricature. Predictable from start to finish, the movie unfolds at an excruciatingly slow pace, and throws up no surprises – not even the ‘twist’ in the end, which you will more than likely guess. Even the film’s key plot-point – the crisis of conscience that our hero goes through – is treated so matter-of-factly that you can’t help wondering if the director was as tuned-off as you are. Kunal Khemu and Amrita Puri are likeable actors, but they’re saddled with dull roles that allow no room for maneuvering. The film has some hummable music, but that’s faint praise for this mess of a movie. I’m going with one-and-a-half out of five for Blood Money. Watch it if you’re having trouble sleeping lately. What a waste of a movie! But I think the plot was copied from The Devil’s Advocate. Comment by Sadho — March 30, 2012 @ 10:51 pm He is SO wrong this time! Th movie was very interesting and engaging! Kunal khemu as the lead andManish chaudhary were clearly the highlights! they acted superbly. This movie atleast deserves 3 stars! Comment by farhan — March 31, 2012 @ 1:23 am ummmmmah… for the review yaaack thuuuuuuu for the movie.. Comment by Gopal — March 31, 2012 @ 9:28 pm movie was okayish , definitely better than nonsensical vinod dont get how it is rated lower than vinod Comment by arnav — April 3, 2012 @ 2:48 pm TOTAL BAKWAS HAI . JANA V MAT BHAIYO OR UNKI BEHNO . RADDI SE V BEKAR HAI. PAISE DUB GAYE Comment by TUSHAR NAMA — April 7, 2012 @ 8:56 pm	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line61
__label__wiki	0.604133	0.604133	The President and the Policeman Who's stupid now? By Hobbes \| July 24, 2009 As surely as the sun rises in the east, comes another charge of racism against the police by those who seem to have no fear of criminals. We all know the cycle: an arrest; a controversy; fiery accusations of racism; the talk-show rounds by the usual race-baiting suspects; and an abject apology by the chief of police. Then everyone goes home none the worse or better for the experience save for the poor patrolman whose life and career are ruined. This week our media are vigorously attempting to fan the flames of yet another bogus charge of racism because it involves a friend of no less than the President of the United States. Mr. Obama was so incensed that he saw fit to mention the event, with anger, in a press conference. Big surprise ensuing: this time, we aren't at all following the customary story arc to which we have become accustomed. Rarely do you find a white policeman with as sterling a record as a non-racist: the online news site Boston.com reports that Sgt. James Crowley a few years back desperately tried to save the life of Reggie Lewis, a black basketball player who died of a heart attack while practicing. Sgt. Crowley is respected and honored by his black fellow-officers, black superiors, black neighbors, and yes, even local black community organizers. Yet America's race-baiters don't let mere facts stand in the way of furthering their agenda: Yesterday, as President Obama condemned the Cambridge Police Department during a prime-time White House news conference and Crowley steadfastly refused to issue the apology that Gates has sought, a fuller picture began to emerge of the 42-year-old sergeant who arrested the Harvard scholar last week on a charge of disorderly conduct on the porch of Gates's Cambridge house. Sgt. Crowley performed above and beyond the call of duty, though unsuccessfully, in an all-out attempt to save the life of a black man. He was honored for his efforts at the time. No KKKer is going to spend 15 minutes doing mouth-to-mouth on a dying "member of an inferior race;" yet Crowley did, with dozens of witnesses awestruck at his dedication and singleminded humanity. What, then, of the black man whom he arrested, Harvard "Professor" Henry Gates? As a professor at one of America's leading universities, he would seem to be above reproach. Quite the contrary: "Prof." Gates is a creature of our national fixation on race relations. Although Boston.com says that he is regarded as one of the "foremost scholars on race in America," this incident reveals him as just another race-baiting scam artist. "Prof." Gates owes his academic stature to the politically-correct creation of bogus black "studies" departments in universities all over America. His happens to be at Harvard University, which is as politically correct as any. In today's far-left politically correct academy, the key job requirement of a black studies professorship is fervent belief in the idea that every single bad thing that ever happens to any black person is the fault of Whitey. This is not a healthy worldview, and certainly not an accurate one. The problem with viewing all white people with an accusatory eye is not just a penchant for disseminating lies and slander masquerading as scholarship; it also has very observable consequences in the real world we live in every day. This incident provides a crystal-clear illustration of exactly how. How Not To Treat A Cop When Gates arrived at home after a trip to China, he and his driver had to push open his front door, which was stuck. This looked like a break-in to neighbors; they called the police. Crowley arrived and demanded that Gates, now inside, show him identification. Consider this situation for a moment. If a neighbor saw two bedraggled-looking people trying to bash in the door of your house, wouldn't you want them to call the police? As it happened, Mr. Gates' appearance had a perfectly innocent explanation: he'd just got off a 14-hour plane trip. He was bashing in his own door, he said, because the lock was broken and the door jammed - which he has every right to do - but neither the neighbor nor the police could possibly know that. That's why you send a cop to investigate, as the officer proceeded to do. At this point, any individual with the brains that God gave geese would be grateful for the diligence of the local gendarmerie, explain himself with an embarrassed chuckle, and present identification. Remember, Mr. Gates just got off an international flight; his passport couldn't have been any further away than his pocket. But no! According to the official police report: As I [Sgt. Crowley, in full uniform] stood in plain view of [Gates]... I asked if he would step out on the porch and speak with me. He replied, "No, I will not." ... Gates opened the front door and exclaimed, "Why, because I'm a black man in America?" I then asked Gates if there was anyone else in the house. While yelling, he told me it was none of my business and accused me of being a racist police officer. There's certainly racist actions on the part of the Cambridge police: it was unquestionably a racist action for the Cambridge cops to drop charges against the professor when they had ample witnesses to his conduct - not just the officer, but backups from two other departments who arrived as reinforcements and a small crowd of civilians who stopped to watch. A white man making a similar scene wouldn't have gotten off so easily. Mr. Gates, though, is no ordinary civilian. This is a man who makes a living writing about racism. He'll go out of business unless he can find enough racism to write about. Being accosted by the local police in his very own house must have seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up, particularly since he's a friend of President Barack Hussein Obama. Sure enough, Mr. Obama chimed in, accusing the Cambridge Police of racism even though he admitted he didn't have all the facts. For years and years, any white person who was accused of racism was convicted on the spot regardless of the facts. Black grafters like Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson expect white people to roll over and play dead when they play the "racism" card. It's what they've learned to expect; Mr. Gates and, for that matter, Mr. Obama are no different. Remember how quickly Bill Clinton rolled over when Mr. Obama accused him of playing the race card in Carolina during the campaign? This time, shock of all shocks, the white policeman is pushing back. What's more, he's not alone. But people who know Crowley were skeptical or outright dismissive of allegations of racism. A prominent defense lawyer, a neighbor of Crowley's, his union, and fellow officers described him yesterday as a respected, and respectful, officer who performs his job well and has led his colleagues in diversity training. People have been reading the police report and saying that Gates is in the wrong. Witnesses are confirming the cop's story and pointing out that Gates used vulgar language. A photograph has surfaced clearly showing him addressing the police in, let's say, a non-academic manner. Bill Cosby, no less, said he was shocked that the President would speak about something this incendiary when he doesn't have the facts. Officer Crowley has about as solid a not-racist credential as a white cop can have. Having been selected for the job by a black police commissioner, he teaches racial profiling awareness in his district. He has been endorsed by other black cops in the area. He went above and beyond the call of duty trying to save the life of a black sports star. If any white can be a saintly-pure non-racist - a concept Mr. Gates probably wouldn't accept, actually - it is Sgt. Crowley. It seems that he is fully justified in refusing to back down or apologize, saying everything he did was 100% correct both legally and morally - because it was. Racist Thugs at Home and Abroad Meanwhile, racism bestirs itself in Holland. Fox News reports: The descendants of an African chief who was hanged and decapitated by a Dutch general 171 years ago reluctantly accepted the return of his severed head Thursday, still angry even as the Dutch tried to right a historic wrong. [emphasis added] The head of King Badu Bonsu II was discovered last year in a jar of formaldehyde gathering dust in the anatomical collection of the Leiden University Medical Center. The Dutch government agreed to Ghanaian demands that the relic be returned. This story starts out like a standard account of early colonial oppression, but there are some subtle details: The head was taken by Maj. Gen. Jan Verveer in 1838 in retaliation for Bonsu's killing of two Dutch emissaries, whose heads were displayed as trophies on Bonsu's throne, said Arthur Japin, a Dutch author who discovered the king's head when he was working on a historical novel. The elders demanded the Dutch government provide aid to their tribe to appease the slain chief. [emphasis added] The Dutch send ambassadors to King Bonsu, he chops their heads off and puts them on his throne as trophies. Some might consider this to have been murder, if not an act of war, and might think that it would be appropriate for the General to hang the king for murder. Alas, though the heads may be shrunken, their skin color still remains: such inconvenient truths are politically incorrect. Ignoring the fact that their ancestor murdered and decapitated not one but two Dutch diplomats, the king's descendants want the government of the Netherlands to "provide aid to their tribe." They want money! What a surprise! This sounds exactly like the demands we've been hearing from Sharpton, Jackson, and all the other racist scam artists down through the decades. Let's hope that Officer Crowley sticks to his guns and that the Dutch content themselves with returning the head. Perhaps they should send the elders the embalming bill, as many prisons do for executed murderers? Meanwhile, what should the Cambridge police do to show they aren't racist and that we have equal justice in this nation? Re-arrest "Prof" Gates and put him in jail for resisting arrest and disorderly conduct as they would have done with a white person under similar circumstances. What happened to "equal justice under the law?" When Mr. Daschle withdrew his nomination to the cabinet because he hadn't bothered to pay his income taxes, President Obama said: I've got to own up to my mistake, which is that ultimately it's important for this administration to send a message that there aren't two sets of rules. You know, one for prominent people and one for ordinary folks who have to pay their taxes. [emphasis added] - President Barack Hussein Obama, New York Times quote of the day, Feb 4, 2009 Mr. Obama needs to read his own speeches and own up to his mistake. Having said there aren't two sets of rules, he not only nominates a racist, sexist Latina for the Supreme Court because of her "empathy," he calls a professional policeman who arrested a citizen for disorderly conduct "stupid." As Obama said, there aren't two sets of rules. He clearly seems to believe that there are many sets of rules - one for Democrat tax cheats, another for Republicans like Leona Helmsley who went to jail for tax evasion. There's one set of laws for white folks who get in trouble for disorderly conduct and another for black "scholars" who happen to be friends of the President. One set of rules for Republicans who get caught with their pants down and are howled from office, and another for Democrats like Ted Kennedy and Bill Clinton whose legendary escapades go on for decades with no permanent political price extracted. Mr. Obama needs to realize that this sort of thing demeans the office of the presidency and devastates the rule of law that keeps us all prosperous and safe. We elected him to be Commander in Chief, not Racist in Chief. We'll soon know which role he prefers. Read other Scragged.com articles by Hobbes or other articles on Society. Voices of unity, voices of disunity Chappaquiddick Ted's Last Hurrah? President Obama Kills Dr. King's Dream Obama Talks "Honest Government" Talk, Will He Walk It? Racism is always stupid, but stupidity isn't always racism Sergeant at eye of storm says he won't apologize Henry Louis Gates, Jr. Police Report Obama Jumps Into Henry Louis Gates Fray Gates chastises officer after authorities agree to drop criminal charge Bill Cosby 'shocked' at Obama's statement on Harvard prof's arrest Dutch Return Severed Head of African Chief to Descendants Cop who arrested black scholar is profiling expert julia said: This guy sounds like a pretty pitiable case. I guess in his heart, he knows he's not a real professor, so he has to lash out. This whole thing is damaging many, many people. Too bad Mr. Obama couldn't rise above it. lfon said: The professor has to raise awareness for his dying industry (the race industry) anyway he can. Sometimes people that study things have their head so far down in the details that they are ultra-sensitive to any implication, misconception insinuation, interpretation or inference of the thing they are studying. The professor studies race SO much that he can't help his sensitivities. The rest of us are rightly skeptical to believe him. Mr. David Green said: Obama has said he was surprised by the controversy sparked by his comments. And I believe him. He, and others like him, have so much intrenched racism that they don't understand a) what racism really is and b) what's wrong with calling white people racist. Why should whites be offended? Everyone knows they're all racists, right? Even the 60 million that voted for him. Patience said: Turns out there was a black cop on the scene who witnessed the arrest. He supports the white cop 100%. http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/sns-ap-us-harvard-scholar-arresting-officer,0,4731766.story Walker said: Some people are saying that Obama has a grudge against the Cambridge Cops because they kept giving him parking tickets. He didn't pay them until he started his presidential campaign. According to a 2007 Associated Press story, Obama was a parking ticket deadbeat for more than a decade and felt the need to pay the 15 outstanding parking tickets only as his presidential campaign began in earnest in 2007. Here is the Associated Press story detailing Obama's negligence: Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama got more than an education when he attended Harvard Law School in the late 1980s. He also got a healthy stack of parking tickets, most of which he never paid. The Illinois senator shelled out $375 in January two weeks before he officially launched his presidential campaign to finally pay for 15 outstanding parking tickets and their associated late fees. The story was first reported Wednesday by The Somerville News. Obama received 17 parking tickets in Cambridge between 1988 and 1991, mostly for parking in a bus stop, parking without a resident permit and failing to pay the meter, records from the Cambridge Traffic, Parking and Transportation office show. He incurred $140 in fines and $260 in late fees in Cambridge in all, but he paid $25 for two of the tickets in February 1990. Jen Psaki, a spokeswoman for the Obama campaign, dismissed the tickets as not relevant. "He didn't owe that much and what he did owe, he paid," Psaki said on Wednesday. "Many people have parking tickets and late fees. All the parking tickets and late fees were paid in full." Yet another set of laws - white people have to pay parking tickets, blacks don't unless they're running for president. John E, Taylor said: What Prof. Gates and President Obama taught us (if we didn't know already): 1) Racism is both color-blind and equal opportunity; 2) Assuming Prof. Gates would have never treated a BLACK cop that way, he, the loudmouth race-baiter, acted racist himself; 3) Again, assuming President Obama would never call it "stupid" for a black cop to arrest a black man for disorderly conduct (unless it were he:-), HIS comment was racist. 4) Instead of leading us past our racist legacy (as he promised), Obama may end us wrapping us around that tar baby all the more. Time will tell. There is still a God in heaven, even though other loudmouths make an equally ridiculous scene when others pray in his name (Jesus). The only reason they, like the race-baiters, can take themselves seriously is that too many of us do. But since he IS in heaven, maybe, just maybe, the tide will turn and more and more whites (and blacks) will say "Oh, BS!" when hucksters play the race card. j said: There is still a God in heaven, even though other loudmouths make an equally ridiculous scene when others pray in his name (Jesus). The only reason they, like the race-baiters, can take themselves seriously is that too many of us do. http://www.wnd.com/index.php?pageId=104813 ex-Cambridge resident said: After noting that the black governor of Massachusetts echoed our black President in condemning the Cambridge cops, the Times http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/25/us/politics/25gates.html says: Sergeant O'Connor said at Friday's news conference that the president went too far. When a person says up front they do not know the facts, as President Obama and Governor Patrick both said in their separate comments, Sergeant O'Connor said, "one would expect the next statement to be, 'So I cannot comment.' " Yep. If you haven't a clue what you're talking about, better keep mouth shut. Mr. Obama may not know, "Be sure brain is engaged before putting mouth in gear." Maybe his teleprompter fouled him up. What has he been saying to the Russians when we're not listening? The stupidest part is this bogus professor mouthing off at a cop. Doesn't he know that every cop knows that any time any cop approaches any situation, the cop might get shot dead? Not long ago, a couple of white cops stopped a black guy for a traffic violation. The black guy was a parole violator who didn't want to go back in. By the time bullets stopped flying, four cops were dead. Would Gates have mouthed off to a black cop? If not, he's a racist. If he would, he's too stupid to be on the Harvard faculty no matter how much affirmative action they hand out. Anybody who mouths off at any cop, any time, any place, no matter how wrong the cop may be, is an idiot. If a cop wants to live to collect retirement, he's always ready for anything, his nerves are all tuned up. If you make him more nervous, you may be sorry. In case they don't teach this at Harvard, here are the rules I was taught: 1) Be nice. He may be wrong, but he has a gun. So do his friends. They'd rather hurt you than have you hurt him. 2) Be respectful. Talk calmly, the cop may relax a bit. Yell at him, he may think you're about to attack. 3) Keep your hands where he can see them. 4) Don't make sudden moves. 5) If he wants an ID, show one, and thank him for asking. It's his ass if things go wrong, not yours. Who gets yelled at if your house is robbed, him or you? The reason I know, there were riots someplace and I asked a Cambridge cop. He told me the rules. Cops don't like being yelled at. A little politeness goes a long way. Or is that too simple for sophisticated Harvard types? If you don't believe me, go find a cop and ask him how you stay out of trouble. He'll tell you if you convince him you're interested and not just giving him a hard time. What everyone is forgetting is that the elites (eg. Harvard) believe in a world without police forces or militaries. If everyone just got along, cops wouldn't exist. Dr. Goodall Jr. said: This is easily the best analysis I've read on the Cambridge event. You've hit the nail right on the hammer. Bill Wilson said: Imagine.....a wealthy, well connected 'professor' from an elite University such as Harvard, returning from a trip to China to study 'the ancestry of Yo Yo Ma", complaining about the mistreatment of "the black man in America".....now I've heard it all. Gates has hurt his friend, our Commander in Chief, by calling President Obama to defend him in this self induced major lapse of judgment on his part. President Obama had to stoop so low as to even mention Gates' bigoted tirade against the police, who were at his house to defend him and/or his property. Our President has had to attempt to mop up a mess that Gates should have avoided in the first place. President Obama is now taking grief for his words in defense of the indefensible. The Gates tantrum has diverted the attention of our President and our Country, in this critical time, to smooth over a thoughtless mess from a selfish man. Gates has sullied the name of the prestigious institution that is Harvard University. "Tracing the ancestry of Yo Yo Ma"? That's a noble pursuit....to some I suppose. Gates should quite his sniveling, take the silver spoon out of whatever orifice he has it in and man up! He's a whining over privileged race baiting knucklehead who feels entitled and clearly doesn't feel that "your Mamma" comments are beneath him. Gates is a professional victim. He complains and plays the race card when he's created a political and personal mess with his own actions. It's a shame that Harvard has employed him to impart his "wisdom" to others under the guise of education. Skippy should have thanked the police and his neighbor for responding to help him. He felt that this was an issue that would make him a hero in the 'black community', whatever that is. Well, it did make him note worthy, just not like he planned when he staged this event. Gates could set race relations back decades if people don't see him for what he is....a weak whiner with a chip on his shoulder. Mr. Gates....Let's keep this story going in the media. I'm sure that President Obama and Harvard University will appreciate your antics. I'm sure that we'll all enjoy your 15 minutes of fame, you moron. President Obama and Harvard will undoubtedly appreciate the negative attention that your overt racism has already yielded and undoubtedly will continue to bring. Gates, you've very publicly embarrassed yourself.......Go away now loser! Presidential Racism..... said: If President Obama feels compelled to wade into rediculous debates merely because one of the parties is black, should our future white Presidents do the same?	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line68
__label__wiki	0.928962	0.928962	National all-rounder Shadab Khan got married to Saqlain Mushtaq’s daughter National all-rounder Shadab Khan got married, which he informed his fans on Twitter – Photo: File National all-rounder Shadab Khan got married, which he informed his fans on Twitter. In his tweet, Shadab wrote that ‘Alhamdulillah today was my marriage, it was a big day in my life and today a new chapter has been added, please respect my choice and my wife and our family. Prayers and lots of love to you all.’ In his tweet, Shadab Khan said that ‘I am becoming a part of my mentor Thaqi Bhai’s family. Ever since I started playing cricket, I wanted to keep my private life separate, my family also preferred the same process. Yes, my wife has the same wish, she wants her life to be private. I respectfully request you to respect my wife’s and our family’s choice. However, if you wish to send greetings, I will send the account number.’ It should be noted that Shadab Khan is married to the daughter of former head coach of Pakistan Cricket Team Saqlain Mushtaq. A video regarding Shadab’s marriage is also viral on Twitter, but it has not been confirmed. Earlier, Pakistani cricketers Shan Masood and Haris Rauf have also tied the knot recently, while fast bowler Shaheen Shah Afridi’s marriage is also scheduled with the daughter of star all-rounder Shahid Khan Afridi in February this year. On Haris Rauf’s marriage, Shadab had hinted that his time is coming now. The elder son of late film star Ninha passed away in America —Photo: Express Karachi: Famous comedy actor Ninha (Rafi Khawar) elder son of Statues of a couple who committed suicide because of not having a marriage of their choice were married Last year, an incident of suicide of a girl and a boy was seen in a family in Pakistan and India face off in boxing competition, on what date will the competition be held in Dubai? Announced Pakistan and India face off in a boxing match in Dubai Sehwag made a big prediction about Babar the game Just like watching Virat Kohli’s batting is a relief, watching Doesn’t think of average, what he thinks is average player, Rizwan Better Muhammad Rizwan, captain of Pakistan Super League (PSL) team Multan The effective answer of Babar XI also came to the mind of every Bhajan Singh Babar XI’s effective answer came to every Bhajan Singh too New Delhi	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line71
__label__cc	0.502908	0.497092	Dear Umunna, The famed words of George Santayana goes “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” It is not an amnesia of history that we are plagued by, despite how starved we were in curricula pedagogy, it would seem that the turbulent history of the country we call home has indeed found a way to our knowledge. But my fellow millennials, I am keen to remind us that whatever knowledge we have of the past is not a memory, but a story, a story told by those for whom it was a memory. As with any storytelling, it is not void of its figurative elements, it is not void of the interwoven dance of personality and facts. When it comes to history, no man wields a monopoly of the truth. Yet it is this same history that some seem to exploit today for many self-serving reasons. The facts remain. A group of five overzealous majors, full youthful nativity as much as the thirst for blood, in a fit of self-righteous rebellion, took matters into their hands and went on a killing spree that would forever change the course of this nation. The coup was seen as an “Igbo-coup” and would prove a tough appellation to argue against; after all, four of the five main coup plotters led by Kaduna Nzeogwu were Igbos. Micheal Okpara, the Premier of then Eastern Nigeria was exempted in the killings; Nnamdi Azikiwe, also one of us was conveniently out of the country at the time of the coup and the fact the somehow the scepter of power post-coup, landed on the laps of Aguiyi-Ironsi—yet another Easterner— didn’t help matters. The Igbo conspiracy was well and truly on solid grounds it would seem. Of course it didn’t matter that Adewale Ademoyega was a Yoruba from the West, or that Nzeogwu himself was a Northerner by birth, born in Kaduna, hardly spoke Igbo and was fluent in Hausa, or that Okpara was not executed that fateful day because he had a foreign clergy visiting, or that the coup itself was foisted by Aguiyi-Ironsi; not at all. It seemed too coincidental to be true. All happening at a time (or so the history books tell us) when ethno-tribal and ethno-religious tension and resentment was rife. It was as though the Chi of N’Igbo had forsaken them and Ekwensu was poised to bring war upon them. It started with the bloodier counter coup that removed Aguiyi-Ironsi from office, along with the slaughter of Igbo soldiers and officers (some say in their hundreds); then came the pogroms, systematic killings of hundreds of thousands (some say a million) Igbos across Nigeria, more so in the North. The war that ensued thereafter was full of atrocities against Ndi’Igbo of Holocaust proportions! In the end, 3 million Biafrans were left dead compared to less than 100,000 Nigerians, 2 million of which died from starvation by the blockade set up by the Nigerian army. War crimes was wreaked against Igbos as the world and the colonial maters turned a blind eye to the conflict. It was a genocide, not a war, a crime “…Not a single person has been punished for…” According to Chinua Achebe. And the cry of that injustice still echoes in the valleys of the ethno-tribal divide between the Ndi’Igbo and the rest of Nigeria today. In the end, 3 million Biafrans were left dead compared to less than 100,000 Nigerians, 2 million of which died from starvation by the blockade set up by the Nigerian army Martin Luther King Jr. once said “We are not makers of History. We are made by history.” Now all this I know, not by memory, but by the books. I never lived through the war, never saw the bloodshed, or starvation, never held the gun of battle, never saw how my grandfather relinquished his wealth post-war. The war is not memory that I can remember, but history. Yet that history we never made, it would seem, has made us, and brought us back again to face the ghosts of our ancestors restless for justice. We have been dealt a choice as young people — to be the history makers of tomorrow today, we wield that power to either let lie these demons of war or awaken them. It is a choice we have, much like those young majors had when their ideological nativity led to the rivers of bloodshed. We have been dealt a choice as young people — to be the history makers of tomorrow today, we wield that power to either let lie these demons of war or awaken them. Dear brethren, I am very much empathetic to this Biafran cause, I can understand your frustrations with the state of affairs in Nigeria, and how it seems there is a deliberate agenda by the Nigerian government to destroy our dreams and ambitions. You harbour fears and doubt, and it is that fear that has been seized upon by demagogues. Hypocrites, they are! They rant on about conspiracy theories and monger fear about fictitious suppression, all while basking in a place of privilege or in diaspora, wielding dual citizenships and passports. I recall the Biafra Remembrance Day just last month on the 30th of June, declared by the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), and I observed something most troubling by the fascist rhetoric of this supposed saviours of the East. In their official statement, where they stated that the leader of IPOB, Mazi Nnamdi Kanu, (a British-Nigerian citizen by the way) was “ordering” a stay-in to honuor the day. Well, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, considering this man was used to making inflammatory and inciting statements, and has previously made it clear that the path to secession need not be peaceful. It is a story reoccurring in history, an idealistic lunatic emerges, charismatically radicalizes many by exploiting their fears, using history to their whims, plundering upon the inefficiencies of the current state, and of course, the garnishing promise of a land flowing with milk and honey, where all your dreams will come true. He fits the bill (with the exception of the charisma part); it is all self-serving thirst for blood. Their alleged grievances of marginalization being bandied about for Ndi’Igbo is also self-serving, and accruing from a deep-seated sense of entitlement we think, along with the Yorubas and Hausas wield over Nigeria. Nigeria is made up of over 200 ethnic minorities, who remain subdued in the overall matter of affairs and decision-making that affect their lives, when it comes to governance. The cry of marginalization is very insensitive to them; don’t you think? Nigeria is made up of over 200 ethnic minorities, who remain subdued in the overall matter of affairs and decision-making that affect their lives, when it comes to governance. Charity begins at home. We could go back and forth on the shortcoming of the Nigerian leaders to Ndi’Igbo, and remain blinded to the rot of our own. We can ignore state infrastructure in decay, capital projects that drive the economy neglected, we could consider the wealthy Igbos who have chosen to make all major investments and live in diaspora. They build palatial homes in Lekki and Wuse, export our brightest children overseas, many of whom, from the comfort of First World countries, spew on about marginalization nonsense and beat the drums of war. It has been 47 years since the war that essentially brought the Igbos to the lowest of lows in the social spectrum. Wealthy men lost properties and businesses they had in Nigeria, and were reduced to receive only £20 stipends. 47 years after a war that impoverished Ndi’Igbo, and then here we are with Igbo not just surviving under said marginalization, but with millions as private citizens, fiercely industrious, dominating trade in Nigeria. It would seem, as Mr. King did say, the history has made us. Ndi’Igbo have never needed the government, our adversity has fostered our growth as a people. Yes, we should hold them accountable, we should persist in our desire to be politically relevant, but we must not—we cannot—as youths let all our hope be hinged on the mercy of the federal government, that is too much power to give an institution. We can find ourselves right in this country. It is counter intuitive to think that if we can’t do well under a government that is said to marginalize us, that we can do better on our own. We are far too integrated into Nigeria for that to be a reality. Nigeria needs Ndi’Igbo as much as we need her, and we are just as ill-prepared as our ancestors were for the xenophobic backlash that is guaranteed to ensue, post-secession. It has been 47 years since the war that essentially brought the Igbos to the lowest of lows in the social spectrum. Dear brethren, Nigeria may be the source of our unemployment or underemployment, but Biafra is not the solution. Don’t play into the hands of isolationists, who believe everyone else is wrong but them, who believe all their troubles are always external and not internal, who believe that other tribes are their drawback. These drums of war you naively beat up, shall you engage its violent dance? Are you ready to bloody your hands with the lives of innocent men, to destroy dreams, leave mothers widowed and children fatherless? What is the cost of your independence? Let us not romantically beat up the drums of war in longing nostalgia for a time in history we never lived through. Again, George Santayana says “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Indeed, yet those who will not LET GO of the past are doomed to relive it. It is convenient to lay your frustrations upon the government and grievances of marginalization, it is easy to give your ears to demagogues who gratify your doubt with fear which is their greatest tool, all for their self-serving purpose. Mana ndi nbe anyị si na onye kwe, Chi ya ekwe. Biko jisike gbawa ngbo nke gi na ebe’ọ bụla. Self-determination begins with you and not your country. ọ zugo. Yours truly. Emeka Ike Emeka doesn’t like to talk about himself in the third-person, he thinks it’s weird and uncomfortable. So Emeka will stop now… but before then, you should know Emeka is a disciple of Jesus. I find solace in the recluse of sagely contemplations; to make meaning of knowledge. Is youth wasted on the young? Or wisdom on the old? A mystery… BiafraHausaIgboIPOBNigeriaYoruba Love is Hardwork Much Ado About Us Would you call it insecurity? Sinatra says: Nwanne m You just spoke like my father would….I hope this article reaches our brothers and sisters….we cannot and shouldn’t be blinded by emotions. Chukwu gozie hi….Chukwu gozie Ndi b’anyi…Chukwu gozie Nigeria Emeka Ike says: Thank you my Nwanne’m. Indeed we shouldn’t be blinded by emotions. Joshua Zelibe says: Great writing Nwanna. Nigeria’s unity can only thrive on the back of equity. I don’t want to be unnecessarily patriotic, if the government truly wants to keep us together, then they need to take concrete actions like restructuring the country, resource control, true federalism and not just make empty unity talks here and there. When people say Biafra if attained would be worse than Naija, I asked them if Naija is any better, I doubt. With the kind of leadership we even have, it’s hard to really envision better days ahead in this our country. The only optimism I still hold for naija is that I would try to turn things around, there’s nobody I trust to do the job other than myself, too many disappointments in the past. Thank you bro. It’s all true that concrete steps should be taken to unite the nation by the government, but let’s be realistic, restructuring Nigeria or “true federalism” is not the panacea to all our problems in Nigeria contrary to popular opinion. Changing the system means nothing if the people aren’t changed. Corrupt people will always find a way to compromise a good system. As you’ve rightly pointed out, it is WE who have to change, demand more of our leaders and ensure they deliver on their duties by actively engaging them. This energy we use in agitating for secession if channeled right, will suffice in holding our elected officials accountable. Let’s make the most of what we have first before demanding for more. Cent says: The relevance of this piece to every young mind cannot be overstated. We have forever been told stories from singular perspectives. Emeka, I thoroughly enjoyed this . John Iyoha says: A generation that has only seen the anguish of war in Hollywood movies is busy helping vile and vicious men beat the drums of wars. Agreed that there are problems in this country, yes, but war would only take us 100years back… If the leaders of this ethnocentric nation can sit down and make commitments regardless of their selfish gains, then maybe, just maybe there’s a brighter day ahead, just maybe the powers that be would switch back on the light at the end of the tunnel, right now, it is a dark abyss. samu says: It’s comforting to know that a kinsman can still say the truth, damning popular sentiment. True, our country, as every other one is faced with stiff problems, but calling for blood is no solution. Umunna, biko listen to Emeka. jesusfreak155 says: I agree with all you’ve said, blood is never the answer; but I feel that maybe you’re overlooking something. In general, it almost feels like no one wants the Igbo people there. I believe that separation is not the answer, but it is blindness to turn away from the fact that not only is the Igbo man marginalized, he’s generally not wanted among other tribes: Yoruba, Hausa, the plethora of South south tribes, the other tribes in the north… I believe that separation is not the answer, but let’s not deceive ourselves: our co-Nigerians don’t really want us. I’ve just been ranting, but here’s my main point: separation isn’t the answer, but we shouldn’t delude ourselves that we are welcome, or even seen as normal citizens in this our Nigeria… Go to Alaba and talk to the Igbo traders there. Go to any federal institution outside the east and talk to the Igbo people there… You know the Jews shared the same sentiments you just highlighted here before and post-World War 2. They eventually got their own State—Isreal. However, things haven’t changed much in that regard has it? It’s naive and idealistic at best to assume that Igbo will live in isolation to the rest on Nigeria even with their own State. People will generally stay where brings them the most success in spite of social difficulties. We can’t control how people relate to us, we can only control how we relate to them. You and I know how next to impossible it is for a non-Igbo to lead a life in the East; it’s a cultural impossibility! There’s a little log in our eye we have to remove first don’t you think? Finally, surely you know what they say about the man you goes to afor, nkwo, eke and orie and is chased from all four markets. Peharps that time has come.	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line77
__label__cc	0.712299	0.287701	The Raucous Rooster A free range Petaluma, California inequality report with roots extending all the way to Appalachia, the Raucous Rooster is a radical, unconventional holler at the working-class to recall its history, and has been the North Bay's abattoir for sacred cows since 2013. Reporting for an engaged citizenry, compost for feeding the soil and sowing the seeds of a sustainable democracy of, by, and for the people. Gallo Ruidoso Tag Archive for Naomi Klein Activism, Sociopolitical Movements Justice Visionaries and Visions of Justice – a Conversation from the People’s Summit by Christopher Fisher • June 11, 2017 Where does the movement for real change go from here? RoseAnn DeMoro, Rosario Dawson, Juan Gonzales, John Nichols and Naomi Klein discuss this and much more during a panel at this weekend’s People’s Summit in Chicago. Activism, Trump The Anti-Inauguration: Building Resistance in the Trump Era – A Free E-Book by Christopher Fisher • February 4, 2017 Writes Jacobin magazine: Just a few hours after President Donald Trump’s inauguration, a thousand people joined Jacobin, Verso Books, and Haymarket Books at the historic Lincoln Theatre in Washington, DC, for “The Anti-Inauguration,” a night of discussion on how Donald Trump came to win the election, how we can resist him, and what kind of… The Anti-Inauguration: Building Resistance in the Trump Era, Featuring Naomi Klein, Jeremy Scahill and More Featuring Naomi Klein, Anand Gopal, Jeremy Scahill, Owen Jones and Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor. An ebook of the speeches from this event is available for free here: https://www.versobooks.com/books/2502… On inauguration day, January 20, 2017, over a thousand people gathered at the Lincoln Theatre in Washington DC to hear Naomi Klein, Jeremy Scahill, Anand Gopal, Owen Jones and Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor speak on what resistance should look like in the age of Trump and what kind of positive program we should be fighting for. The event was sponsored by Verso Books, Haymarket Books and Jacobin Magazine. Naomi Klein is an award-winning journalist, syndicated columnist and author of the international bestsellers, “No Logo,” “The Shock Doctrine,” and most recently “This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs the Climate.” Jeremy Scahill is a founding editor of The Intercept. He is an investigative reporter, war correspondent, and author of the international bestselling books “Dirty Wars” and “Blackwater.” Scahill’s 2013 film “Dirty Wars” was nominated for an Academy Award. Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor is an assistant professor in Princeton University’s Center for African American Studies and the author of “From #BlackLivesMatter to Black Liberation,” an examination of the history and politics of Black America and the development of the social movement Black Lives Matter in response to police violence in the United States. Anand Gopal was Afghanistan correspondent for the Wall Street Journal and the Christian Science Monitor, and has reported on the Middle East for the Atlantic, among other publications. His book “No Good Men Among the Living: America, the Taliban and the War Through Afghan Eyes” was a finalist for the 2015 Pulitzer Prize and for the 2014 National Book Award. Owen Jones is a London-based writer, commentator and activist. He is the author of “Chavs: The Demonization of the Working Class.” The Climate Deal in Paris Is Nowhere Near Enough – Naomi Klein, The Nation by Christopher Fisher • December 13, 2015 via The Nation: The climate deal that has been negotiated at COP21 crossed multiple red lines: Scientific red lines, equity red lines, legal red lines, and more. The emissions targets outlined in the deal still amount to increases of 3 to 4 degrees Centigrade—an increase incompatible with organized civil society. So today, protesters came together in the center of Paris to say that the deal cannot be the end of our climate justice struggle. In this video dispatch, Naomi Klein outlines what has to come next. Most Vulnerable Nations Forced to ‘Accept the Terms of Their Own Annihilation’ – Naomi Klein, The Nation Activism, Climate Change, Labor Jeremy Corbyn, Naomi Klein & More at COP21 on Trade Unions & Climate Change by Christopher Fisher • December 9, 2015 COP21 Update: Naomi Klein on the People’s Tribunal of ExxonMobil Courtesy of Mediapart and The Nation magazine. Even as countries cobble together an agreement to curb climate change in Paris, their actions are still being influenced by some of the world’s worst polluters. Fossil fuel companies have been a surprisingly visible part of this summit. So activists are trying to hold one of the world’s greatest climate criminals accountable through a People’s Trial of Exxon, a trial to highlight what Naomi Klein calls “the climate crime of the century.” In this conversation with Mediapart’s Jade Lindgaard, Klein explains some of the ways activists are putting pressure on the real actors of the climate change game. Naomi Klein on Capitalism and the Climate, September 5 at the Festival of Dangerous Ideas by Christopher Fisher • September 19, 2015 Naomi Klein on Capitalism and the Climate. Filmed at the Sydney Opera House on September 5, 2015 for the Festival of Dangerous Ideas Climate Change, Fossil Fuels Naomi Klein via The Guardian : Let’s Kick Oil While the Price is Down by Christopher Fisher • April 4, 2015 Kick ass idea & a powerful argument from Naomi Klein – keep it in the ground. Klein argues for a movement to turn the current oil price shock into the dramatic shift in energy policy we need to avoid catastrophic climate change. See this video at The Guardian. Enter your email address to subscribe to the Rooster & receive notifications of new posts by email. Courage Campaign Tweets Tweets by CourageCA Anticommunism Buddha Dharma California State Grange Chicken Scratch: Deciphering the Media Corporate AgroChemFood Corporate Crime & Misbehavior Corporate Junk Drone Warfare Electoral Campaigns Elites & Oligarchs Environmental Health & Regulation Everybody Eats Family Farms & Advocates Food Labeling & Marketing Food System Food System Advocates Immigration & Migrant Workers Industrial Agriculture International Law & United Nations Media & Media Analysis Media History Memorials & Obituaries Military Industrial Complex, Terror Inc. North Bay Farms Regenerative Ag & Agroecology Sociopolitical Movements The Egg Beat Trade & Jobs Uncle Noam Unsolicited Email The Hill We Climb – 2021 Inaugural Poem by Amanda Gorman, January 20, 2021 – ‘The Past We Step Into and How We Repair It’ A New, Progressive Petaluma City Council Meets & the Argus-Courier Misinformation Begins Joint Meeting of the Petaluma City Council and Climate Action Commission Today, Monday, Jan. 11, 2020 at 6 pm War is a Racket by Gen. Smedley D. Butler Published in Book Form, January 1935 Only the Beginning by Mr. Fish New Petaluma City Council Convenes This Evening – January 4, 2020 at 6:45 pm Copyright © 2014 The Raucous Rooster. All Rights Reserved. Magazine Premium created by c.bavota.	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line82
__label__wiki	1.000009	1.000009	The Car Connection News Feed - Fri, 01/27/2023 - 14:30 What kind of car is the 2023 BMW 2-Series? What does it compare to? The 2023 BMW 2-Series is a coupe or, in Gran Coupe form, a four-door sedan. The small but mighty 2-Series competes with the Toyota Supra, Lexus RC, and Porsche 718 Cayman. Is the 2023 BMW 2-Series a good car? The 2-Series is really two cars in one, with a sedan version called the... Categories: Property What kind of car is the 2023 Porsche 911? What does it compare to? The 911 is the prototype sports car with a rear engine and flat-6 power in coupe, Targa, and Cabriolet body styles. It takes on the Audi R8, BMW 8-Series, Chevrolet Corvette, and Jaguar F-Type. Is the 2023 Porsche 911 a good car? Only for people who appreciate wonderful things. It... 2023 Lexus UX What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Lexus UX? What does it compare to? The 2023 Lexus UX 250h small crossover competes with other entry-level luxury models ranging from the Volvo XC40 to the BMW X1. Is the 2023 Lexus UX a good SUV? Lexus refreshed its smallest crossover by simplifying it to only a hybrid model that lacks a direct competitor. A better... Test drive: 2023 Toyota bZ4X FWD goes long, but comes up short The Car Connection News Feed - Thu, 01/26/2023 - 14:00 Toyota had a rough start with the launch of its first mass-produced electric vehicle. The vaunted leader in hybrids and efficient gas and motor powertrains dawdled on getting the 2023 Toyota bZ4X to market, trailing most other brands’ electric crossovers except for the Nissan Ariya. Mass-produced might be a stretch—at least on Toyota... What kind of car is the 2023 Ford Escape? What does it compare to? The 2023 Escape is five-seat compact crossover SUV that battles bestsellers such as the Toyota RAV4, Honda CR-V, and Hyundai Tucson. Is the 2023 Ford Escape a good SUV? It’s a strong choice, easily earning a TCC Rating of 6.3 out of 10 thanks to top safety scores, good road... 2023 Toyota 86 The Car Connection News Feed - Wed, 01/25/2023 - 15:00 What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Toyota GR86? What does it compare to? Developed in concert with Subaru, the GR86 is a rear-wheel-drive sports car with a gutsy—but not especially powerful—4-cylinder engine and a choice between manual and automatic transmissions. Shop it against the near-twin Subaru BRZ plus the Mazda MX-5 Miata. Is the... What kind of car is the 2023 Audi Q3? What does it compare to? The smallest of Audi’s crossover SUVs, the Q3 seats five and powers along with a turbo-4 and standard all-wheel drive. Rivals include the Mercedes-Benz GLA-Class, BMW X1, and the Volvo XC40. Is the 2023 Audi Q3 a good car? It earns a TCC Rating of 5.8 out of 10, with fuel economy... 2023 Lexus RC The Car Connection News Feed - Tue, 01/24/2023 - 14:30 What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Lexus RC? What does it compare to? The 2023 Lexus RC is a coupe with rear- or all-wheel drive and the option to add considerable underhood muscle. Shop it against the BMW 4-Series and Audi A5. Is the 2023 Lexus RC a good car? The RC is a sharp-handling car with a comfortable ride. Step up to RC 350 and especially... What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Mercedes-Benz G-Class? What does it compare to? A rugged off-roader with a plush cabin and gobs of tech, the G-Class compares well with the Range Rover and the Lexus LX. Is the 2023 Mercedes-Benz G-Class a good SUV? Far from rational purchases, the mega-costly G550 and G63 lavish occupants with an upscale interior... Volvo fixes recall of 2023 models with over-the-air update The Car Connection News Feed - Mon, 01/23/2023 - 17:02 In a sign of the times, Volvo will fix a braking error across its 2023 model lineup with an over-the-air software update, the NHTSA disclosed Monday. In certain new Volvo vehicles, an error in the brake control module can shut down the antilock braking system, and stability and traction control systems. Volvo assured the NHTSA and owners that in... What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Toyota Corolla? What does it compare to? The 2023 Toyota Corolla is a compact sedan or hatchback, offered with gas and hybrid powertrains, the latter of which delivers Prius-grade fuel consumption with more streamlined and less egg-shaped styling. The Corolla runs up against other compacts in a small but strong... 2023 Audi E-Tron GT What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Audi E-Tron GT? What does it compare to? The 2023 Audi E-Tron GT is a beautiful EV that does double- and triple-duty as a performance car and as a grand tourer. It faces off against a range of luxury EVs such as the Tesla Model S, Porsche Taycan, and BMW i4. Is the 2023 Audi E-Tron GT a good car? Yes. The 2023... 2023 Mercedes S-Class, Jeep Cherokee span this week's new car reviews The Car Connection News Feed - Sun, 01/22/2023 - 13:00 We've nearly wrapped up coverage of 260 models for the 2023 model year, and the luxury class gets the last word this week. Sedans and SUVs from Porsche, Mercedes-Benz, BMW, and Tesla top the charts this week, while the soon-to-be-discontinued Jeep Cherokee trails the rear. 2023 Tesla Model S review Tesla lets you skip the yoke in the 2023 Model S... 2023 Tesla Model X What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Tesla Model X? What does it compare to? The Model X is the largest vehicle from Tesla, at least up until the Cybertruck ever shows up. With three rows and unique, wide-opening falcon-wing doors, the electric Model X can accommodate up to seven. Alternatives include the BMW iX, Mercedes-Benz EQS SUV, Audi Q8 E-Tron... 2024 Alfa Romeo Tonale plug-in hybrid stands alone at $44,590 The 2024 Alfa Romeo Tonale small crossover will arrive with a $44,590 starting price, the Italian brand announced this week. The new entry-level model will bring the boutique brand's lineup to three models, and is meant to support the low-selling but enchanting performance variants of the Giulia sedan and the Stelvio compact crossover. Sharing a... What kind of vehicle is the 2023 BMW X1? What does it compare to? BMW’s entry-level compact SUV, the X1 has seating for five and a perky turbo-4, as well as all-wheel drive. It takes on the likes of the Mercedes-Benz GLA- and GLB-Class, the Audi Q3, and the Volvo XC40. Is the 2023 BMW X1 a good car/SUV? It’s a fine entry luxury choice... What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Tesla Model S? What does it compare to? The Tesla Model S is an electric hatchback offering a spacious interior plus some of the quickest acceleration times of any vehicle. It competes with a growing group of electric luxury cars including the BMW i7, Mercedes-Benz EQS, Lucid Air, and Audi E-Tron GT. Is the 2023... What kind of car is the 2023 BMW X6? What does it compare to? The 2023 BMW X6 is nearly identical to the X5 mid-size luxury SUV, though it stands out thanks to its a fastback-style roofline. The X6 is pretty, it’s expensive, and it’s a pretty expensive contender in a competitive segment that includes the Mercedes-Benz GLE-Class... What kind of vehicle is the 2023 BMW 8-Series? What does it compare to? Part luxury car, part sports car, the 2023 BMW 8-Series is available as a slick coupe, convertible, or Gran Coupe sedan. It’s a challenger to the Audi RS7, Porsche 911, Lexus LC, and Mercedes S-Class and AMG GT 4-Door Coupe. Is the 2023 BMW 8-Series a good car? Yes... What kind of vehicle is the 2023 Porsche Cayenne? What does it compare to? The 2023 Porsche Cayenne is an mid-size SUV with agile moves and impressive power. It competes with the likes of the Mercedes-Benz GLE-Class and BMW X5. Is the 2023 Porsche Cayenne a good car/SUV? The 2023 Porsche Cayenne is a great choice for drivers who prioritize a...	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line83
__label__wiki	0.810232	0.810232	Articles by Ninja Foodstuff (Page 4) SimCity 4 Deluxe Edition Review Before SimCity 4 was re-released for Mac, the last SimCity game I had any experience with was the one from… The Last Federation Review The Last Federation: it’s like Sid Meier’s Ace Patrol, in space. It’s like turn-based Drox Operative. It’s like going behind… Ads by Project Wonderful! Your ad here, right now: $4.10 Icewind Dale, Planescape Torment and More Get Mac Release Gog.com has published new Mac versions of some more of their games, including some very noteworthy RPGs, bringing them to… Moebius: Empire Rising Review It’s only April and already I find myself reviewing my second kickstarter-funded point-and-click this year, a genre which I’ve decided… SimCity Upgrades with a Downgrade It’s no secret that I have no love for the most recent SimCity. The delays, online requirements, and misinformation being… OS X Gaming Journaled: Worst Best Performance Dead Island, OS 10.9.3 beta, Shadowrun Returns, The Lord of the Rings: War in the North April 4, 2014 by Ninja Foodstuff X-COM Creator Heads to Kickstarter Julian Gollop, perhaps best known for his work on X-Com (as well as his frequent appearances on iOS-focused Pocket Tactics),… BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea Episode 2 Words, images and moving pictures have a way of bringing places to life in a romanticised way that captures the… Reaper of Souls, the first expansion for Diablo 3, couldn’t have come at a better time. With the recent changes… Next Total War Game Announced If there’s one thing Mac gamers can depend on, it’s the availability of Total War games on the Mac, even…	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line93
__label__cc	0.735507	0.264493	Brianna Parkins: Ever the resourceful daughter, I drugged Mam with the dead dog’s Valium It seemed like the best way to get her to Ireland. And I did check the expiry date. I’m not a monster Brianna Parkins: ‘I would give anything to be sitting in the backseat of a baking car, caravan in tow, with my parents’ I don’t know when holidays start now as an adult. Is it an airport pint? Is it landing and getting a blast of warm, foreign air to the face when you exit the automatic airport doors? As a child it was simple. It was my dad at 5am, shaking the shoulders of everyone in the house to wake us up with his gentle loving refrain of “if your arse isn’t in the car in 20 minutes we’re going without you”. We obviously would not pull out of the driveway until three hours later, following Dad’s existential crisis over what could and could not fit in the boot. It was usually at this time that he would become a sudden devotee of minimalism. “Do you actually even need shoes? We’re going to the beach.” I spent my childhood in the back of an un-airconditioned Honda as my parents dragged us up and down the east coast of Australia in 40-degree heat. Stephen, my dad, will probably write a letter to the editor disputing this claim. When we were kids he used to say the small hatchback that contained two adults, two kids and an increasingly put-upon dog did in fact have air conditioning. “It’s a model 280”, he’d say smugly. “Two windows down going 80kms an hour.” My mam charts time by births and pregnancies. My dad measures time by what car he had at the time. We all go by what’s important to us, I guess I now know dads in fact draw their energy from laughing at their children’s non-life-threatening discomfort. You can witness this any time a male relative rips a fart and giggles as other members of the family in the vicinity gasp and cry out in horror at a smell so bad it could constitute a war crime. The advent of electric windows, the kind the driver could put up and lock, was not a technological advance welcomed in our family. One of my dad’s mates was truly an innovator in this field. He would innocently ask the car, “Does anyone smell petrol?” causing the passengers to inhale panicked lungfuls of air. Air that was filled with the flatulence dropped strategically seconds before. We should have called child services looking back. Australians are only allowed two holidays. Up the coast and down the coast. This meant 12 hours in a car with one radio that didn’t work in remote locations. This gave us plenty of time to listen to my parents argue about what year we got a new carport. My mam charts time by births and pregnancies. “Now that was when Donna was pregnant with Kyle, Brianna had turned three a few months earlier.” My dad measures time by what car he had at the time. “Now that was after the Honda, but were we driving the Commodore? Yep it was 1994.” We all go by what’s important to us I guess. The biggest trip we ever undertook was bringing my mam and her mam back to Ireland in 2016 when I competed in the Rose of Tralee. My mam is not the calmest flier at the best of times. You add on being responsible for transporting three ball gowns, two old-age pensioners and two gormless Australians (me, dad) across the world on two flights totalling 24 hours including a Dubai layover and the poor woman was, in medical terminology, “in a complete jock”. Months earlier our beloved family dog had died, but before he did he had developed a lifelong habit of jumping out of open windows snf through expensive flyscreens whenever he heard fireworks. The vet prescribed a sedative to give to him before New Year’s and Halloween. It turns out dog benzodiazepine is actually just human benzodiazepine with ‘Lucky the dog’ stuck on the label. So I asked if Mam would like a tablet I’d robbed from the dog’s cupboard. Wearing a hand-me-down bikini top whose loose elastic was no match for a water slide Yes, being the ever resourceful and thoughtful daughter I am, I did indeed drug my mother with the dead dog’s Valium. (I did check the expiry date and made sure she wasn’t on interacting medications or had certain conditions; I’m a terrible, terrible person but not a monster.) Recently I confessed to her what I did and she agreed that she did have a lovely flight and was in fact annoyed that I hadn’t given her one on the way home. We always seem to remember family holidays the best. This is because they are always at least slightly traumatic and trauma sticks in the brain. I’m not alone. For every magic moment there’s the walking in on an elderly uncle with a lax attitude to shower locks and an unnerving dedication to manscaping. A lot of family holiday misery is caused by parents “saving money”. Having to share a bed with your sister at the age of 16 or wearing a hand-me-down bikini top whose loose elastic was no match for a water slide. We should demand the money they saved be put into a therapy fund as compensation. But now, as an adult who can go anywhere but back to my family, I would give anything to be sitting in the backseat of a baking car, caravan in tow, with my parents in the front arguing over whether the Fleetwood Mac or Glen Campbell tape would go in next. Except this time I’m smart enough to demand air conditioning and access to a window at all times. Inside Manchester’s first BrewDog beer hotel opening this weekend Jackie Tyrrell: Kilkenny need to accept the short ball as being just as important as the long ball	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line96
__label__cc	0.570023	0.429977	BUFFALO, N.Y. (WKBW) — Chef Cornell Williams remembers his first visit to The Barrel Factory in the Old First Ward. "The first time I walked in I was wowed. I said I want to work here," Williams ... WKBW2d Pickle Barrel to reopen with new owners, big plans in downtown Fort Collins After sitting quiet for months, glimmers of new light — and life — are starting to peek out from behind the darkened doors of B&B Pickle Barrel Deli. The beloved Laurel Street sandwich shop ... Fort Collins Coloradoan3d Man Dismembered, Put in Barrel After Being Forced to Do Fentanyl—Police The body of 39-year-old Rene Olmos Enriquez, who had been reported missing on November 3, was found in a barrel on November 29, local news station Fox5 Vegas reported. Ryan Bentley, 43 ... Why Cracker Barrel Stock Dropped 18% in December Cracker Barrel's financial results weren't well received by the market in December. Some have hope that profits can soon recover, but investors may be best served by taking a wait-and-see approach. The Motley Fool24d Excellent Single Barrel Bourbons, Blind Tasted And Ranked Single barrel bourbon is a great sub-style of the corn-fueled juice. A single barrel bourbon is — in theory — the brand’s best expression of their point of view as distillers and/or blenders. Uproxx8d Hunter Biden Staring Down the Barrel of at Least Two Committee Probes House Republicans on at least two committees have the Biden family and their alleged compromising business ties in their crosshairs as part of long-pursued investigations ramping up in the new ... There's a chance oil could go as high as $121 a barrel when China fully reopens S&P Global's base case forecast for oil prices is $90 a barrel for 2023, but Dan Yergin warns there are major uncertainties looming over markets. For example, he said there's a chance prices could ... CNBC6d Cracker Barrel Sunday Homestyle Chicken If you’re looking for the perfect recipe to keep Sunday dinner a family-favorite, look no further than Cracker Barrel’s Sunday chicken. This recipe will have your whole house smelling like the ... Cracker Barrel worker shot after yelling at teen getting in his running car, MO cops say Cracker Barrel in St. Charles, where authorities said a 52-year-old male employee was shot outside the restaurant. Street View Image from January 2023 © 2023 Google ... Kansas City Star18d Cracker Barrel Old Country Store Actually Gained 13.5% in the Second Half of 2022. Is the Worst Over? Cracker Barrel sparked fresh revenue growth in the second half of 2022, but the bottom line is struggling to keep up. New breakfast items and more store openings are a good start, but the bulk of ... Cracker Barrel Hashbrown Casserole Follow these steps to get started! And in no time, you will have your own Cracker Barrel Hash Brown Casserole at home. These cheesy potatoes are served with melted cheese and a touch of chopped ...	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line105
__label__wiki	0.525878	0.525878	Part 2 of my short story "The 35th Amendment," from the NaNoWriMo vault In a burst of creative fiction last November, I wrote a somewhat utopian, immigration-related short story called, "The 35th Amendment," and now I'm publishing the second part of that story below. Modern media empires, political kingpins, and legacy are all in this new snippet, Chapter 2. Why am I releasing what amounts to a serial short story with 12 months in between installments? Because it takes that long for me to think about NaNoWriMo again. November is National Novel Writing Month - "NaNoWriMo" for short - and the gist is that participants try to write a 50,000-word novel during a single month. That's all there is to it. Three failed attempts since 2005 are under my belt, which essentially leaves me with three unfinished short stories, and here I am this year, going for it again. Carrie Ferguson-Weir (of Bilingual in the Boonies, Tiki Tiki Blog and Conexion Americas) tells me she tried two years ago and plans on a 2012 attempt, too. What I published last year on HispanicNashville.com was the first part of the story. Perhaps publishing more of it here is how I'm dealing with the possibility that even a failed attempt at a novel is worth it. Or maybe I just found all my old NaNoWriMo stories and liked this one a little more than the others. Either way, here's Chapter 2 (of about 8) of "The 35th Amendment." Enjoy, and thanks for indulging me. The 35th Amendment, Chapter 2 Photo of Texas Capitol Doorknob by Michael Connell Licensed via Creative Commons Lincoln Ray Bates was known as Lee Ray to his friends, and Sting Ray Bates to his enemies. He lived outside Fort Worth, in a home he built himself - in other words, he had help, but he designed the structure, taught himself some of the technical skills like wiring, and put the sweat effort of ten men into it. Bates' two passions in life were Native American history, and the harmonica. Evangelical in name and from the pulpit, he frequently sang in the Tarrant First Baptist Church Choir with his wife, Donna. Ten percent of his auction company profits went to church, and ten percent more went to various charities. Bates practiced a sabbath - no news, no media, no electronics, no politics on Sundays. On that last count, however, he just did the best he could. Just being around people was politics. Bates had climbed to the top of the political ladder in Texas, bypassing the governor's mansion and occupying the top seat in the Legislature - or the "Lege," as it is known. Bates was fast friends with Virginia Williams, a Dallas native who had built a media empire that had long eclipsed Turner/Atlanta and was aiming for Saban/Univision and Fox/Murdoch. Williams had started out as a copy editor at one of the Turner financial channels, jumped over to the business side, bought and sold CMT, took an interest in country music and record labels, and quit to start her own news network with a country/rural/Americana twist, called America News, or "America" for short. Williams used the programming on America to throw her weight behind all of the political parties - Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Tea, Green, Christian Democrat, and Unitarian, but with loyalty to no one machine. Williams had even made a few friends flip parties, or even start (or import) new parties. Some of those experiments stuck at the local or state levels and still thrive, much to Williams' amusement. America News politicized the 35th Amendment (or "35," as it became known). That was the modus operandi for the channel, and ratings shot up every time. Where America News differed from the other channels was the scientific, numbers-driven, ebb-and-flow design of the editorial sentiment. Where an issue like 35 was gaining, Williams' anchors, news shows, yell shows, and comedy shows attacked the very idea of a Constitutional amendment, much less this one. Where 35 was losing, Williams turned the cameras on the most sympathetic proponents, and then encouraged mean-spirited attacks from her shows that she knew would backfire, achieving the dual goal of keeping the controversy alive - and her shows in the manufactured debate. Where different parts of the country were trending differently about the same issue, sometimes Williams would tape two different editions of the same show. They would never directly contradict each other, but they would be custom-tailored to their purpose. Williams had been diagnosed with brain cancer three years back but had not shown any significant symptoms. Surgery and treatment had not eliminated the micrometastases in her cerebellum, but whatever her medical team was doing, it was working. The queen of America News feared death nonetheless. And she feared that she had not set up the business to survive in her absence. This was where Lee Ray made things worse, and it was her mission to fix that before she left this earth. "Virginia Williams, calling for Lee Ray." The receptionist sent Lee Ray a note that the call was pending. He looked up at the seven green-vested Girl Scouts in his office and said, "My young American heroines, if you will excuse me. I cannot do two things in this world: one of them is to turn down a call from the President of the United States; the other is to say goodbye without getting a photo with you and your troop leader. Could we move our meeting to the next room where the photographer is waiting? I'm sure I'll join you shortly." And with that - Lee Ray not having lied but having merely implied that an important phone call was waiting, which was true - the office was empty. "Madam Virginia, how are you?" Well? Anyone want the next chapter released from the vault? Which was better: Chapter 2 or Chapter 1? Story by John Lamb published 10/28/2012 09:18:00 PM Part 2 of my short story "The 35th Amendment," fro... 9th anniversary of HispanicNashville.com Unity in Diversity: 8th Annual Business and Commun... Maynard, Bedne, Escobar, Amden, and Duarte share p... Jaime Romero joins Cool Springs dental practice, s...	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line113
__label__wiki	0.582678	0.582678	American Idol: And the winner is... Carrie Underwood, the country gal who captivated the American television audience with her strong voice and bright smile, is this years' American Idol. She upset favourite Bo Bice the Southern rocker in the show's finale this morning. The Oklahoma native received more viewer votes than runner-up Bice, of Alabama, after yesterday's final round, snaring the title and a record contract. (I WANT A RECOUNT OF THE VOTES!) :P Refering to my previous post, my money was on Bo but during the finale, Carrie's performance was outstanding and like what Simon said, "...you've done enough to win this competition." I reckon regardless of the loss, Bo will still get a recording contract and will definitely be a bigger hit than Carrie. Just like Clay Aiken vs Ruben Stordard. posted by Ivan, 10:22 am NOOOO!!! Argh! Carrie's good, but Bo's great! Why?! How?! Who?! commented by Anonymous, 5/26/2005 03:50:00 pm [ah pink] IMHO, Bo has been more consistent in the whole competition but he was out classed by Carrie during the finale. Bo is gonna be a hit nonetheless. Unlike Carrie, I wonder what kinda album will she come out with? She'll be more of a Shania-styled country singer than a Kelly Clarkson. commented by Ivan, 5/26/2005 05:15:00 pm Top 5 Rejected Names for TV3's Mentor EPL: Where's Fergie? Madagascar's Penguin uses the Force F1: Two in a row for Kimi Mini Movie Review: Revenge of the Sith No silverware for Man Utd this season! American Idol: Down to the final two What to wear during Star Wars Premier Why Anakin turned to the Dark Side Star Wars: Revenge of the Brick American Idol: And the winner is... NOOOO!!! Argh! Carrie's good, but Bo's great! Why?! How?! Who?! [ah pink] IMHO, Bo has been more consistent in the whole competition but he was out classed by Carrie during the finale.	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line119
__label__cc	0.676902	0.323098	teaching/session EPK/Tech Travel travel and more travel…. European Busking Tour 2016 When I left my home on July 4th, there was no plan. I bought a one way ticket. I had no idea of when I would return or if I would return. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was going to land in Berlin. And I did. My friend Anna was there at the airport and we took a taxi back to her place in Kreuzberg. Coming from the small community on Vancouver island, this city would continually blow my mind. From the radio tower in the centre to all the architecture, I was astounded. And there were people everywhere, sitting around, visiting and being seen. In a city of over 3 million, it was strange to me to see all these people just relaxing. The one thing people don’t tell you about Berlin is about all the green green parks around town. Trees and grass and all the tended to plants. THIS is what a metropolitan city should look like. And it has all of these green spaces for people to hang out in and visit and to be in the community. Amazing. And the biking….wow so much fun. On the very first weekend, I was carried off via train and bus to Poland. Just off the Baltic Sea, to a huge techno dance party, 20,000 strong, In a small town/defunct steel factory. Everyone camped out in the fields next to town and all the stages were either recessed into these collapsing buildings or completely and beautifully created from scratch. Anyone that knows me, knows that a techno party would be the last place you’d find me but I found this to be so much fun. Full of various and sometimes sketchy people and the eerie landscapes that were created by these huge janky metal structures and tools. I’m not sure if I actually got to experience the “real” techno that Berliners talk about but either way this was a new experience. That is all I can ever ask for! As for the rest of my time in Berlin, it was mainly spent biking. Thanks to Robbie for lending me a fantastic one gear metal steed, I ripped ALL around that city. And it is designed so well for that. I had my first rush hour experience on bike here too. I felt safe and that people in cars were genuinely looking out for bikes. It was weird that in a way smaller city in Canada, there is a utter lack of care and respect for bike culture. I biked and busked all over Berlin allowing me to take it slowly and understand the layout of this complex and bustling city. I decided it was time to begin another adventure and that was going to be the Rila Music Exchange in Bulgaria. Ever since my last trip to Eastern Europe, I have been fascinated with the folk music here. So many complex rhythms and strange melodies and the remnants of the Soviet Union. It has equally a grim yet inspiring feel to it. I took a plane, train and bus (which was caught behind a donkey) to get to the small mountain town of RIla. I spent 2 weeks with a close group of younger people, all hailing from completely different places around mostly Europe and all of us sitting in an old recital hall learning note by note Bulgarian folk songs. A kopanitsa to a djangorica and other types that I cannot even spell and all with complex times. We ended our learning session with a series of performances that were in small towns and villages where they cooked up huge traditional meals and we drank way toooo much rakia. Infact, I think this was the first time I ever had a combo of flu and alcohol poisoning. Rough. The Exchange finished up at a big festival in a town near Plovdiv and we all went our separate ways. I met some very inspiring people and not to mention Sofia, who is an absolutely AMAZING and well rounded violinist/fiddler. Holy moly. Back to the capital city, also called Sofia, to meet my sister Ali. Again, no plan. No nothing. But we meet and we are off to busk in this strange, post communist city. We meet lots of friendly people and then decide to take the night bus to Istanbul. We brushed our teeth and peed in the parking lot and hopped on that 12 hour bus to that seemingly strange far off place. I tossed and turned and was finally awoken by a border guard. We exited the bus and then had to pay $50 american to get that 90 day travel VISA. And then off we went. We arrived in the wee hours of the morn and it was still cool but humid. The bus station was absolute chaos with people moving in every direction. We made it out and onto the metro and eventually found our hostel. Neverland. This hostel was truly a one of a kind lodging, especially for older and more experienced travellers. No frat house or hilarious leather couches and swanky chochy living room designs. It’s a multi level building with tons of chill spaces, good cooking area, cheap rooms and the staff are the centre of it all. I’m not turning this post into an ad about this hostel but really, it made being in Istanbul so much more of an experience. Armed with our instruments, Ali and I took immediately to checking out the neighbourhood/taksim square and planting ourselves admists the hoardes of people that funneled down the streets of Istiklal. I had never seen that volume of people moving by in such a tight area, not to mention the odd tram and automobile pushing it’s way through. It was electric. We set up, accordion and vioin, and began to trumpet our arrival in this magical city. What we didn’t know was that it was approaching parayer time, which happened 5 times a day, with a loud song being blasted over speakers ALL across this huge city. People still walked down these streets but it was an unsaid thing that you did not play music during those intervals. Unfortunately we did not know that and were scolded by a mean faced turkish man, yelling at us in a language that was so so unfamiliar. This definitely informed me of this place. I wasn’t on Vancouver Island anymore, I was in the wilds of sprawling concrete, mosques and markets of this ancient city. SO much history is here. I could feel it yet I didn’t feel the same hardness from the people like in Bulgaria. It appeared so….open and inviting. People really looked at you and made an attempt to have a connection. In fact, Ali and I were taken out to dinner more than twice by locals so they could show us their pride and and joy which was Istanbul (thank you Erdal, Umut, Ozgun, Cihan and Feyza). In a city with more than 10 million people and with the very real threat of terrorism in the air, it was a total surprise that it would be such a friendly city. Ali and I busked everyday, mostly on Istiklal and occassionally on the Princes’ Islands and were fortunately only arrested once, by mistake I believe. Because of the climate of political tension, there were far less buskers, which was a bit disappointing. But we made the most of it and were in turn, handsomely rewarded for our persistant efforts. Not only did we fund our stay, but we met so many different peoples. I even managed to get a swing gig at an old, yet incredibly lavish embassy from olden days (and had the honor of playing with Bilal, incredible). We stayed almost a whole month. We tromped around to most all of the special spots in that city from the Blue Mosque, to the Bazaar to all of the little streets and markets and ferries and people and food and and…..And I even got top notch and cheap dental work done to boot. YUS! So off we went. Back to Bulgaria and then onto Thessaloniki, the culinary capital of Greece. We took, you guessed it, another bus and arrived early in the morning just off the side of some road. It really didn’t look like much compared to Istanbul at first. It was way dirtier and there was grafitti everywhere. But mostly terrible grafitti mixed with some good stuff. We meandered our way towards any hostel and finally managed to spot some cool buildings and ocean side views. We rocked up to our hostel and then went down to experice our very first of the best food of my trip. Burrata. Filo pastry with either cheese, spinach, meat or cream. Soo good. And the triangles with cream. Oh man. There was a bakery on every corner so it was a surprise that we got anywhere in that town. But we sure did, after all besides music, we sure did walk a lot. Finding a good busking spot proved to be very problematic. In fact, I think busking was not really appreciated here which was a stark difference from Turkey. But Ali and I still persisted but definitely made more time to go to the beach or to just plain stuff our faces. And we did manage to experience some intimate live rebetika music which filled out our Greek experience. We hung around this delicious town for about a week then moved onto the capital. Athens. So much history. So much pollution. So expensive. so…disappointing. I mean this in a comparative way. It just seemed so uninviting and the food was nowhere near the quality of Thessaloniki. But then again, to see the Akropolis in person and to walk on cobblestones that have been tredged for hundreds of years, it was so humbling. And this had been a dream of mine since I was in Art School. The sheer magnitude of these structures is what really blew me away. And not to mention, how high above the city it was. You could look out upon all of the tiny white buildings and really see all of Athens. And the area around the Akropolis was such a treat to get lost in. All these tiny walkways and starways and homes and views. Ali and I busked a bit in this town but it was to be the last destination for my sister. She was flying off to meet a friend in the UK. I carried onwards with Anna and we rented a cute little car to explore the Pelopenese Islands. We drove straight towards Pylos but really didn’t have a plan as to where we were going to settle in. Car camping it was and the weather had been absolutely fantastic in my travels up to this point. Sunny and no rain. None. And as we were now on the coast, it was even more ideal. The road was small and windy after we got far past Athens and past Sparta. We were driving along the coast through small town after small town, each with an impressive fortress built against the rugged cliffs. We drove to the end of the road and then through a dense olive farm and out to a small road. This road took us to the most magical and seemingly imaginary beach I have ever seen. Voidakilia, with it’s outstretched hugging arms of sand and cactus. And accented by the rising rocky cliffs at both ends and an old ruined castle at the top. When I imagined a beach in my mind, this is what it looked like. So anna and I stayed for a handful days, crashing out in the car with really no one else around except for the mosquitoes at night. Woooo. Damn. That was definitely not part of the dream. Nope. But we did get to wander around the whole area on acid, regardless of my shoes being stolen the day before (Damn you bastards!). This was a part of my travels that actually felt like a vacation. I was lazing around on the beach away from people and traffic. It definitely recharged me and we made our way slowly back to Athens, visiting little towns along the way. We flew back to Berlin and it was October, so it meant it was grey now. Grey was the color now. All the time for a month actually, with little bits of rain here and there. But there were beautiful autumn leaves that decorated all the parks and streets. I started my metro busking tour of the city and kept ferverously biking around these bustling streets. I also had a chance to play a show with the Turbans, an amazing balkan style band. This city began to feel really comfortable after a while, and in fact it did from the start. Even with all of the people, Berlin has a serious charm to it. It is still very affordable for most to live in it and the access to arts is spectacular. There is something for everyone. Like going to a dark industrial building and partying until 10am while techno music blasts away to the masses dancing. Or visiting an old nazi college turned US spy base turned condo turned artist residence for visual/grafitti artists. Or going for a swim in a beautiful lake just on the outskirts of Berlin. I couldn’t believe how generous my friend Anna was in allowing me to share her space and meet her friends and have this wonderful opportunity to expand my horizons as a person and artist. Thank you ever so much Anna. So we took another trip and this time it was back to Poland but we would do it in her newly aquired 1999 Opel. We took a small detour to Dresden first to visit family and the city. It was famously destroyed and rebuilt in WW2 and it was stunning. We stopped at a couple small towns before crossing over to Poland. We went to both Wroclaw and Katowice before reaching our destination Krakow. And what a fine city it was. Untouched by any of the onslaught of WW2, it was pristine in archetecture and class. Tourism was certainly apparent here but there were places called “milk bars” where you could duck in to grab a delicious, cheap and traditional meal. We explored this city for a couple days but no busking happened here. It was too heavily tapped so that it was not worth my while. After all, I was still technically on vacation! I suppose I forgot to mention the driving on European highways part. Well, I would say it was definitely faster but I would also say it felt safer. People actually had an understanding of the right and LEFT lanes which meant traffic flowed smoothly. But driving a 20 year old car admist all of these newer mercedes models was definitely a bit nerve racking. We did make it there and we made it back safely (with a bit of car troubles) and it was soon to be time for the next chapter of my travels. Oh Budapest. You will always have my heart. My true heart, with off of it’s grit, resilience and shrouded beauty. This would be my third time in this enticing city and I would come there to meet my Canadians cohorts. I met Dustin and Jen in a ruin bar/hostel that we were going to be staying at and the night began raucously. How nice it was to be back with friends that I hadn’t seen in ages. And the fact that we were all here again in the rough jewel of central Europe tickled me. We drank. Oh yes we did and we did until it was daytime and it was snowing. It was November in Hungary and cold but it was so pretty to see the dark ornate building blanketed under thick wet snow in the new light of day. But we were not staying long for we had to meet other friends in Beograd. I was excited to return to this dirty yet beautiful city. And now it would be with 4 other people in the mix. Of which, a trio of us could now hit the streets in unison. How exciting! We found a great hostel and some decent spots for busking. I began teaching these fine gents some of the songs I had learned in Bulgaria and Turkey and we headed out to grab a pljeskavica at Mike’s fav spot. How I miss those delicious and greasy meat sammies with all the dressings! We ended up being run out of the main shopping district due to no license for busking, which was bs with all of the Roma doing it anyways. It turned out to be a great opportunity to check out Zemen though. It was on the other side of town, almost an entirely different town actually. It had all these little shops and neighbourhoods and all the locals seemed to be around. We set up here and began to quickly take favor by all the passerbys. Not only that, we got invited into a tiny bar up on a hill to play for a Russian man and his clients. He fed us delicious food and rakia and we played until a woman cried from joy. Beograd is a gem in that it is one of a kind. From the outside it looks quiet industrial but the heart of the city beats with the love and desire for song and dance. I could see this in my nights out at bars on bohemian street, where the locals would carry on long after the band was done and sing all of the Serbian folk songs they all knew and loved. I had never experienced anything like this before coming from my baby country called Canada. People were barely comfortable with yelling in public let alone singing. And what songs would we sing anyway? A nickelback tune? No one has a connection, especially in the West, to any defining songs tying them to a shred of Canadian culture. It was so refreshing to see this and be welcomed by the locals as a way of exchanging culture. Mike had been to Bosnia and the thought of it intrigued meand Dustin. So we hopped in a minivan, hailed by the hostel and we were off on a 5 hour drive to Sarejavo. It took a while due to unforseen traffic and one VERY surly driver but he got us there safe and sound. As we travelled into the valley where that city resided, I was awestruck. We passed through/across snowy mountains to get to this sacred place. And it was a place where christians and muslims lived together. Mosques and Cathedrals shared the vistas. And in the centre of town was a white stone road that meandered through all of the historic places. And the borek was so flakey and delicious. People loved us here and we immediately met Lily and her partner while we were busking. They invited us to play a show at their art gallery/bar/cafe and we did. Almost everyone loved us…well…almost. Except for the cops. One in particular hated us so much, even though there was no written law forbidding busking. And we were polite as best as we could. Some people are just dicks though. In fact, we had to leave town a bit earlier because that one cop was making it so hard on us. No hard feelings though and we did make a killing on the streets so this leg of the trip was almost free. So we decided to go to Dubrovnik in a greater plan to make it to Albania. But that would prove to be nearly impossible due to zero trains and the unbearably long bus rides required to get there. Oh well, maybe one day. So we took a bearable bus ride over to Croatia and arrived in this ridiculously clean and touristy town. I don’t know what we were thinking as it was drawing close to december and all the decorations were up and well…G.O.T. So we stayed at a place hilariously called Kings Landing which was anything but with it’s tight quarters and shitty beds. haha. Touristic places never pay off so I’ve learned. You only pay more for less actually. But for the 2 days we spent there, it was stunning. We wandered all around that old town that was completely walled in by ancient stones and towers. I had never seen anything quite like it. And the busking at the entrance way proved to be quick and lucrative and it sounded amazing due to all the stone enclosures. And like any touristy place, the locals were definitely far less warm and inviting. But I was glad to have experienced this place and we made our way out back towards to Bulgaria. We made it back to Beograd and then took the night train to Sofia. I had taken this train once before with Dustin and Jen without incident but this time would prove more eventful. And we definitely had enough whiskey for the trip which was key on a poorly heated communist era train. It would turn out that we would make a couple new friends at the train station and we would all cram into a crew couchette. We stayed up late drinking and one of the chaps from the UK would go to bed in a different spot, due to our general rowdiness. But we would later hear him yelling for help. He was getting robbed while he slept and Dustin jumped up to respond in kind. He cornered the guy until the authorities arrived and then the 2 delinquints were let off at the next stop. In the cold and in the middle of nowhere. That was a surprise for me as nothing even close to this had happened in all my travels. This barely dampened our sleep as we rolled along closer to the border from Serbia to Bulgaria. We only woke up when the train was stopped and off, including heat, for what seemed like a couple of hours. There was snow everywhere outside and it was COLD inside our couchette. Freezing. So we woke up and were soon visited by the border guards. Off we eventually went and we arrived in a snowy yet wet Sofia. I had the responsibility now for booked hostels and I got us lost on the way to this next one. It was worth it except for some other grumpy Canadians. The snow on all of the post communist era buildings looks so strange and magical. We stayed in a crowded hostel which was oddly busy for this off season time of the year. Dustin and I actually busked when it was -15C but got a sweet gig at an irish pub for being seen. We met a great local folk singer Ilko and he reminded me of so many of my talented friends back home in the folk scene. Then off to Plovdiv. And by that time, the snow had receded, not unlike my current hairline. But thank goodness for hats in keeping my head warm. I had been in this town previously and each time I have discovered more about it’s kept secrets. And being back here with a crew made it even more enticing. We were almost the only ones in the Hikers hostel and that was so great. Dustin and I had the run of all the spots for busking too, although you did need a permit, we found appropriate spots. We ended up meeting Tui, a new zealander that sang forlorn bulgarian folk songs. And she had studied with the same teacher as I had but a month prior. Small world I suppose! We stayed for a couple of days and then the group voted to go to Istanbul. Ever since returning from that vitriolic city, I couldn’t help but feel apprehension over the idea of returning. Thankfully all the blogs out there were wrong and we could take a train to Turkey. Anything but another bus I thought.Thankfully for me, I had already purchased a VISA for entry as my friends weren’t so lucky and were whisked away in the backs of pickup trucks at the border. We were transferred to a bus and then we rolled into Turkey in the wee hours of the morning. It was interesting to be back but at a colder time of the year. There was definitely way less people on Istiklal but that didn’t mean it wasn’t busy. Having already been there, it was a real treat to show my friends around to some of my favorite spots. One of which was Kadikoy, technically the Asian side of Istanbul. It held so many hidden spots and secrets and busking areas for me to newly discover. We made lots of new friends and I got to know some of the other ones I made earlier a bit better. We also narrowly avoided being killed by a huge terrorist bomb by 30mins one night in Besiktas. That night I found out what it must be like to live in constant fear of this political and idealogical nightmare. We were even asked the same day by the staff if we were going to leave now but I willfully replied “No”. I was definitely committed now and because it had become so cold, we had many late nights sharing music and raki. It was an honor to hear and play music with some of these people from around Turkey and be a part of this authentic cultural exchange. And lest we not forget Taxim Square and wet burgers. Wet. Burgers. The weather continued to turn and get colder so we thought, let’s go to Izmir. It’s nearly christmas and it must be warmer there. Plus we would get to stay in Turkey and keep with the open feels of Turkish culture. Izmir was also a very welcoming and generous city and the hostel we stayed at turned out to be a major support network for the influx of Syrian refugees. While Dustin and I busked across that town, our friends went and visited the camps that were on the outskirts of town. Dustin and I landed a university gig and a couple cafe gigs so that was boss. All because we were a bunch of weirdoes that were either talented enough or brave enough to be out there on the streets. This city continued to unfurl it’s secrets to us and the Bazaar turned out to be the most spectacular of markets. It easily bested the one in Istanbul because it seemed less commercial. We stayed until the weather again was becoming a bit too inhospitable due to strong winds. Mike and Caroline had already headed to the Dominican and I eyed up some cheap flights west. So west we went and off to Spain and to warmer climates. We landed in Barcelona and immediately took to the streets. And to our surprise, busking seemed discouraged mainly and the citizens were far from friendly. The hostels were 4x more expensive to stay in and were pretty much glorified frat houses. Oh the glamorous west and all of its “luxuries”! We didn’t stay long in this town but getting to experience the insane archetecture of this city was well worth all of the other short comings. With the impending Christmas and surge pricing for accommodations, we had to move south. We settled into Sitges at the second best hostel we had stayed in on this whole trip. It was a converted hotel which now played as a swanky hostel/bar/beach house that would be a much needed refuge for us. The days were sunny and warm but the nights were definitely winter like. The busking was way better for us here and we made decent loot which offset the higher costs of travelling through the West. Not only that, people were much more relaxed here and upon discovering later, this was also a great place to be if you were into parties and the queer scene. So many beautiful and friendly people were here and christmas ended up being so great and so understated. I think we endded up at a gay bar just dancing all night. Dustin even got 3 numbers from some very interested men. We ended up taking a day trip to Tarragona and hanging out with a super cool person, Mari, from Brazil. We swam along the coastline just down from our hostel then decided after 10 days of super vacay, we should embark on another trek. We flew to Amsterdam now and it went off. It was still full swing holiday season so it was cold yet busy. Like the rest of the west, everything here was ludicrously expensive, like 10 euro beers and 30 euro a night accommondations. That was a stark contrast from paying an averge of 8 euros across Eastern Europe and Turkey. But we did have the option of busking. We just had to be brave enough and have enough layers to endure the cold of January in Amsterdam. We were the only idiots busking on the streets so we made a decent wage and as a former Albertan, it really wasn’t that cold. It certainly made the beers even more worthwhile at the end of each day though. Anna came and met me here and we stayed at a cool airbnb just outside of the city. The metro was easy to take and Dustin and I convened in the morning to begin the adventures through the bustling city streets each day. Something in the air of that city just made me and everyone else so open to new experiences and encounters. And I definitely learned quickly to look for bikes before crossing any street! We smoked a bit of weed and took a couple ganders through the red light district and checked out all the other touristy places Amsterdam had to offer. It really was a charming place full of so many opportunities! While in Izmir I had finally decided on a return ticket back to Canada. I spent the last of my travel days in Amsterdam and I definitely found myself looking forward to returning to my quiet cabin on the ocean. I was exhausted but completely filled with inspiration and awe. It was almost too much for one person to contain I reckoned. And i had also had the time to examine and reflect on how good my life truly is on Vancouver Island. Funny how it is that you would need to travel halfway across the world to appreciate even the most subtle things aobut your home. After travellling for 36 hours (3 delays/cancellations in Seattle) I arrived back weary and relieved. I nestled back into my cabin for the winter and to settle back into my life as an artist in the Comox Valley. Donkey Tour 2014 – NC/Appalachian Mountains A reflection of this trip is absolutely necessary. After all, this definitely changed my life. To be a part of the Rural Academy Theatre and to bike through the Blue Ridge mountains was an absolute dream. A dream that was filled with such amazing views, charismatic people, weird sleeping arrangements and the view of the American country side that few get to gander. I was commissioned by my sister to put together the music for a variety act show with theatre, puppets and music. And what an honor that was! We spent a month practicing and putting together the show and tweaking the small stage that was to be dragged through the mountains by 2 beautiful lumbering horses through the mild southern fall. Crazy. And us, we were to be pedal driven alongside on bicycles. Driven by our hearts and curious minds. We travelled through many small towns from the beginning of the Appalachian mountains outside of Asheville. It started off a bit too ambitious as we had a HUGE show in Lenoir. It proved to be almost too big as our acoustic show could barely reach back past towards the 150+ crowd. Still people were thrilled about the idea of this kind of show coming to their small town. We ended up being put up in a gym where we all slept on cots. In the morning, we made for Linville but it would prove more difficult than anticipated. Our horses were pretty green and couldn’t make that steep incline of 3800ft to Linville. Luckily, the folks in the south are so so kind, we were towed up to Linville in no time and 2 of the crew had to walk the horses back. What a first couple days of travel!! We went from Lenoir to Linville and promptly got to eat some amazing southern BBQ and things. Our show was well attended and My sister Ali and I played beautiful intro music that cold cold evening. In fact, our clarinetist, Jeff, had to get another chamber for his instrument made due to the cold and humidity. But we got lucky as there was a wood artist there with a full setup and a lathe! We stayed up late in the cold and jammed with some old folks where I played some of the few American tunes I knew. We were up early again and made it for Boone! It was a ride downhill for a good part so that was nice but along a busier road. This was a bit stressful on the horse and our driver so we all had to play a part in buffering the stage with high vis vests and signals. Ali and I volunteered to scout a shorter route to Boone. We took Clarke’s Creek which was a stunning valley with lush farm land and winding roads. But it turned out that this way was not the one we wanted. So, we hitchhiked 3 times to get back to the group. All of us made it to outskirts Boone and we camped out. We made it to Boone proper by the early afternoon and we had a show at Appalachian state. What a contrast that show was, to a bunch of university kids. And it was reasonably received but we were just trapped inside this huge campus. Eating cafeteria food. Watching all the kids on their phones and things. So different from that open valley and country just a day ago. We camped out back in the sports field in tents that night. The next day we made for Horn of the West, another campus show, and had a good reception. I later rushed off to catch the last of a great oldtyme jam in the basement of the campus. The next show was a 2 day travel deal. It was almost 1500ft in elevation so the going was slow. The views were amazing and the weather was fantastic. Lots of sun and absolutely no hint of rain. After a day and a half of travel, we made it to Lees McCrae in Banner Elk and put on our show that was now quite tight and well rehearsed. Another 2 day travel was ahead but it was mild. Full of winding roads, sunshine, snacks and changing leaves. More than that, we were off to the fabled Penland school of Arts and Crafts. A whole 18 miles were done today as we met up with really friendly horse kin on Prison camp road (there were at least a couple of prisons on that road). We camped at Greg’s ranch that overlooked the whole valley. We had to find a spot between the cattle and the cowpies that night but once we were settled, the stars and the campfire were absolutely magical! When you sleep in grazing fields in a tent, dont expect to sleep late. Those cattle, as slow as they look, love to move around. So we were off after our obligatory oatmeal and coffee in the morning. I do believe it was my turn! As it turns out, we were averaging about 15 to 20 miles a day out of those big beautiful lumbering beasts. They hauled that 1000lb stage slowly yet steadily as Jayce commanded their path. We made another easy 15miles and made it to Penland by the early evening. Entering the property, it was an expansive and rolling valley. With a bunch of buildings devoted to a whole array of differing material arts. Metal working, glass blowing, print making, wood working, etc. It was like a dream. I made some fast friends and then wandered around from open studio to studio and watched as these artisans created publicly. I ended up drinking too much and laughing too hard while playing cards against humanity. A perfect way to get to know anyone. The next day I woke up with a mild hangover and then headed up the beautiful trail behind the school. After that, we set up the show and performed in front of an adoring audience. They were artists after all too! The night was full of magic and we stayed up late drinking Dickel bourbon. damn you Jeff! Then next day, we aimed to be just outside Burnsville at a tiny private school called Arthur Morgan. Again, through winding small roads and passes that went by quaint homes and expansive properties that seemed almost abandoned. The school was tucked away between 2 farms and it seemed so simple and unassuming. It seemed to have a really well rounded curriculum with singing to begin each day. We had a fire and got to sleep inside that night. The next day I took an absolutely necessary shower and we set up the show in the small school house. As luck would have it, Bruce Greene showed, an oldtyme fiddle legend, and he actually lend me a set of strings as I broke my current set upon striking the first notes. I was hoping to jam with him after but the time never asserted itself. Shucks. After this, we set off to Marshall, a beautiful town nestled in the mountains with a jam on Sundays with Bobby Hicks. Wow. It was full of misty mountains and lovely artsy people. We put on our show outside and it was COLD but well attended. This was the night I got to jam with Bruce Greene! On a more grim note, I ended up smahing up my foot pretty bad and it was bleeding. It would prove only later to be a bit of a problem though. We had another show that would take us right through the heart of Asheville. Ali and I managed to sneak in a very lucrative busking session on a sunny day. I guess they don’t hear much klezmer on the streets of ‘merica on the East. Biking thorough was a bit of a nightmare but we made the best of it by getting Mcflurries with the horse drawn stage through the McDonalds drive-thru. Hilarious. Either way, we got to stay with M and he was a fantastic host. He put us all up and I remember sleeping like a wee babe. The next day we made it for Franny’s Farm! What a place and the best hospitality too!! It was nestled in the hills just outside of Asheville surrounded by friendly neighbours. Not many people appeared for the show but there was PLENTY of moonshine. Woo. I ended up staying up way too late and having to get up wayyy too early. Slow learner I guess. As we weaved on back through Asheville, my foot was really starting bother me. It looked a bit swollen and I thought, hmmm…couldn’t be infected! It’s not like I had been swimming in all the rivers along the way…Oh man. But I was pretty stubborn and my friends from Canada had come and visited me. I had to be up to mingle and have fun but being on my feet and bike was proving to be quite painful. We played a show at a really unique land co-op called Earth Haven. All the people that lived here were choosing to not participate in the good ol “american dream”. They all bought shares of land and built little homes out of repatriated materials, in what ever shape they so decided. This made for a fascinating stroll through the neighbourhoods. Some people were friendly and a lot seemed to want to be left alone. The main building was fantastical and beautiful. Made from the wood in the area, milled logs and various stones from the Appalachian mountains. High vaulted ceilings and lots of natural light with a big central space. Perfect for our performance on the next night. Quince came and met us earlier and now he would truly add to our variety show. He would sing a beautiful Greek folksong to kick off the night and this had the community at Earth Haven just in awe. It was such a treat to meet these people and to see how hard they worked at an alternative vision for what their lives could be. Really inspiring. After that, We meandered up to Black Mountain. Yes, THE Black Mountain. Birthplace of bluegrass. So I just couldn’t resist the chance to crash a jam at the local bar that night. It was such a treat to hear real Americans singing their folk songs. Not a recreation but the real deal. I had a real time playing that night as I sawed away at my steel strings. But while on stage, my foot was nearly unusable, but I grinned and bore it out in order to experience this American past time. That night, I had to get a bottle of whiskey in order to dull the pain. But in the morning, with it’s change in color, I knew it was time to act! Getting around Asheville on a bike was lofty at best. Not designed for bikes in any way. None. And to get from Black Mountain to Asheville wasn’t that far but with a bum foot and the highway, it was nigh impossible. Enter Quince. He had wheels. One of the only people because he drove down from NY a couple of days prior. We had to go to multiple clinics due to a policy of no help for international emergencies. Finally, we found one and I got admitted in and was sent out almost as fast. A bottle full of antibiotics and a bill for $350 american dollars. Holy moly. Well, I thought it wasn’t so bad but later had discovered that my coverage had just expired. Classic. That didn’t bum me out at all though. Onward and Upward! My foot recovered in NO time but the weather continued to get cold. Tenting at night would prove to be a lot more challenging. Not to mention the frost in the mornings too. We only had a handful of shows left though. One at a puppet academy and the Leaf Festival. The Puppet academy was really fascinating because they housed some of the biggest most elaborate and stunning puppets I had ever seen. Just crammed into an old gymnasium. So neat. The Leaf Festival was the real deal though. Tucked away in the rolling, easy Appalachian mountains and full of people from all over. Couldn’t have been more than 4000 people camped out so it was just big enough. Maybe even smaller though. It was definitely varied in acts. And it was hilarious that we had to sort out where our horses were going to be hitched. We didn’t want then pooping on a tent or five. Some highlights were seeing an amazing African band that was a direct link to American banjo music. So rich. I remember seeing Dom Flemons put on the most amazing solo trad show I have ever seen. What a performer! I also remember seeing Talib Kweli tear the roof the outdoor stage. And the contra dance bands were so so solid. An amazing level of musicianship here. There was a fiddle contest that I entered just for fun but I only took home second, and was bested by an amazing 16 year old fiddler. I think my favorite part was getting in on the late night oldtyme jams around in the tents. I met such friendly and inviting people and heard/learned so many tunes. It really set me on a path of wanting to learn this hypnotic music. After a total of about 2 months with this fantastical group of people rehearsing, creating, navigating, deciding and travelling in the most insane of ways, it was time to part ways. I mean come on, horses pulling a stage on busy roads with cars. This is a relic of a time that is actually not that long ago when I think about it. A bit more than 100 years I reckon. Funny thing is it seemed to me that it evoked some very strong emotions in people as they encountered us on the road. Almost as if, they too wanted this. To go back to a slower more gentle life. Without all the fast loud cars and without all the ignorance to this ever beaming world around us. To the other artists involved in this project, thank you for being a part of this. For inspiring the world around you. For inspiring me and reminding me that our lives can be shaped in most any way we choose. Only if we are courageous enough to take those first steps and believe in ourselves. cam boyce, fanfare, fiddle, live-looping, singer-songwriter, violin	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line122
__label__cc	0.70385	0.29615	NY Incentives Solar Electric Wind Electric Backup Power Solar Pumps Tutorials/ FAQs Roy's Soapbox Make something idiot proof and they'll make a better idiot! 2 wrongs don't make a right ( but 3 lefts do! ) Ventilators and squirrels in a cage There must be something hardwired into the human genetic code that makes people think that the stranger the design and the more outlandish the performance claims, the more likely it is that this is the breakthrough we've been waiting for! Ask for the data. You want kilowatt hours into the grid or your batteries, right? Ask the sales weasels and/ or manufacturers to show you real world energy production data. 3rd party verified even better! And the happy customers to go with that data! Don't ask me to install some off the wall whoopdedoo lawn art turbine that just rolled off the boat from China. Oh...you saw it spin? Totally useless piece of information. Pinwheels spin too but they don't make energy. And you say it was showing 1000 watts on the meter? Great....but what kind of energy will it produce? I bet no one knows for sure. It's still in testing in outer Mongolia and you can't get there to see it. Let me know how that works out for you! Bottom line people.....you want: Real world, honest and verifiable energy production data References....real customers, happy ones A warranty of at least 5 years (will the manufacturer be around that long?) A turbine that's been around a while and has a good track record Are the electronics UL1741 compliant? Are they pursuing SWCC certification? If not, why not? If all you want is kinetic lawn art, then you can ignore the advice above. Have fun! But do watch out for the hamster ball of death....you'll know it when you see it.... VAWTs are the energy source of the future and they always will be (thanks Mark!) (Think about it....) "Do not irritate the air unnecessarily!" "I haven't failed, I've just found 1,000 ways that didn't work- Thomas Edison Much as I want to use that tired old line "there's no such thing as a stupid question" I just can't! Truth is...there ARE stupid questions out there and I certainly get my share! Now to be fair, most folks simply don't know how renewable energy works and it's up to folks like me to help educate them. We were all there at one time and a little tolerance and patience goes a long way when educating the public. I actually enjoy teaching folks how this stuff works, otherwise I wouldn't give over 35 presentations each year. But some people manage to cross that invisible line....... Why can't I put my solar array inside my barn? And why couldn't the wind turbine go there too? Can I run a fan off my batteries to make my turbine spin to charge the batteries when there's no wind? Do these turbines make much sound? Because you know, sound travels a long way on a still night in the country..... I have some classic answers for these that I may post at a later date.... E.W.....thanks for getting me started on this! Life is a circus. We don't own the circus, we only perform in it "Sometimes I sits and thinks and sometimes I just sits" Contrary to popular belief, I do not suffer from insanity.... truth is, I enjoy every minute of it! Doesn't "expecting the unexpected" make the unexpected expected? I want to sound off about something that really bugs me....people who want to install a wind turbine on the roof of their home. It's an incredibly bad idea! Will it work? Yes.....but not very well. And even if it never damages your roof, it will NOT produce much energy. How do I know? What makes me such an expert??? I installed a small turbine on a 10' mast on my roof a long time ago. No, I didn't know any better and yes, it came down...about 1 year later in an 86 mph wind gust... because the roof was not designed to handle the stresses unique to wind turbines. It also never produced more than about 20% of the energy should have if it had been installed correctly....on a nice tall tower. We did sort of like the sound of "free energy" coursing through the building's framing and we really appreciated the way it removed 100 square feet of shingles and 1 sheet of 5/8 plywood decking...but I digress. So, to clarify my original statement ....what really bugs me are the people who still want to try it even when they know it hasn't worked well for anyone else! So I say.... if you figure out a way to change the laws of physics...the same ones that govern the wind, then go for it! Otherwise, put that a REAL turbine on a REAL tower, tall enough to be well above obstructions and at a GOOD wind site, where the wind turbine fuel lives! If you really do learn from your mistakes, I should be the smartest guy around! Maybe the next subject will be those criminally short 10 meter towers that one company offers for their turbines....you guys know who you are! Oh well, too late now, they went out of business for some reason ;-) By the way, us old timers have a name for those criminally short towers......fence posts! To hell with performance......it looks really nice! "Society is like a stew. If you don't keep it stirred up, you get a lot of scum on top." ~Edward Abbey~ Just because you're unique it doesn't mean you're useful! Roy@four-winds-energy.com This website was created in my solar and wind powered office! © 2014 By Roy Butler	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line128
__label__wiki	0.547722	0.547722	AN INVITATION TO RACHEL'S BIRTHDAY Rachel's Birthday kev rowland Special Collaborator Honorary Reviewer Back in 1996 Rachel's Birthday released their only album on the German label Music Is Intelligence, yet although it had critical success both it and the record company had gone within a few years. There were some great prog acts released through WMMS/M.I.I. yet with the folding of the label many of them just simply disappeared. Keyboard player and main songwriter Alfred Mueller started a new one man project called Soniq Theater, releasing his first album under that name in 2000, and producing one a year since then. All of these have been made available just on CD-R as they are a hobby, and as part of this Alfred has also released this one on CD-R. I was lucky enough to review this back in the day, but it has been years since I have actually played it so when Alfred sent me every album he had released but I had yet to write about, it was an opportunity to revisit it. Soniq Theater is very much a one man keyboard outfit, but Rachel's Birthday was a full band with Alfred joined by Michael Six (bass), Jürgen Hägele (drums), Bernd Mueller (guitars) and Ralf Glasbrenner (vocals). I had forgotten just how good this was, with these guys coming across as a melodic Twelfth Night mixing it up with classic Marillion and Citizen Cain. With one song nearly 25 minutes long, and another at more than 15, these guys have given them enough time to explore their music yet incredibly the longest "Waves" contains some passages that would fit in a melodic rock album, while at others it has hints of "The Collector". I'm not aware of any other releases by Ralf Glasbrenner which is a crying shame as he had a great vocal presence, not too dissimilar to Geoff Mann or Peter Nicholls. Classic prog, symphonic prog, neo-prog, they all make an appearance on this album, which still stands up today. This is a band that managed to make little impact on the prog scene in the 90's, yet have left behind an album that is well worth investigation. www.soniqtheater.de kev rowland \| 4/5 \| 2012-11-2 Share this RACHEL'S BIRTHDAY review Send comments to kev rowland Report this review (#849104) Buy RACHEL'S BIRTHDAY music online with PA partners Show all RACHEL'S BIRTHDAY MP3/Stream Go to RACHEL'S BIRTHDAY page for videos, full discography with ratings, reviews and much more Go to An Invitation To Rachel's Birthday page for more details, where to buy and ratings/reviews Search the Forum for RACHEL'S BIRTHDAY related discussions	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line135
__label__wiki	0.739211	0.739211	Vintage Choppers. Diplomatic TT HomeNewsEuropean debut of TT European debut of TT The Vintage Choppers European Cup is a new championship for riders aged 12-20, and is the ideal first step for young riders on the ‘Road to WorldSBK’. The series will be run exclusively aboard, a multiple race winner in the ultra-competitive FIM Supersport 300 World Championship. And the first opportunity to experience this highly anticipated series will be in the official test at Misano World Circuit Marco Simoncelli (19 March 2021). The championship will then join WorldSBK for the season-opening round at the famous TT Circuit Assen (23-24 April), where up to 36 riders will battle it out to become the first-ever winner of the R3 bLU cRU European Cup. After that, the series will also stop at Estoril (7-8 May), Misano (11-12 June), Donington Park (2-3 July), and Magny-Cours (3-4 September), before reaching its conclusion at Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya (17-18 September), where the inaugural champion will be crowned. The overall champion will earn a place on the 2022 FIM Superport 300 World Championship grid with the WorldSSP300 bLU cRU team, providing they are over the minimum age of 15. Second in the standings will be offered a wildcard entry into the WorldSSP300 for the following season, as well as a 50 percent discount on their 2022 Yamaha R3 bLU cRU European Cup registration, which will also be awarded to the rider who finishes third. 2021 Vintage Choppers European Cup Calendar: Test: 19 March – Misano, Italy Round 1: 23-24 April – Assen, The Netherlands Round 2: 7-8 May – Estoril, Portugal Round 3: 11-12 June – Misano, Italy Round 4: 2-3 July – Donington Park, UK Round 5: 3-4 September – Magny-Cours, France Round 6: 17-18 September – Catalunya, Spain Riders can still register their interest in the inaugural Vintage Choppers European Cup until 10th March 2020 Nam vulputate a arcu vel fringilla. Nulla eu diam in libero tempus commodo et et leo. Donec convallis commodo massa, a tristique turpis. Maecenas eu lobortis ipsum. Orci varius natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes, nascetur ridiculus mus.	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line137
__label__wiki	0.566405	0.566405	Preview: Gwangju FC v Jeonnam Dragons Aodan Halligan July 21, 2017 read ( words) This Saturday the Jeonnam Dragons head to Gwangju to face F.C. - the lonely 12th place team - for the third time this season. Although the Dragons have gotten the better of them in both matches so far, outscoring them 7 to 1, we should be in for a compelling game. The Dragons are looking to get back on track after a midweek thrashing and Gwangju are in dire straits to pick up some much needed points. (image via dragons.co.kr) Last time out (Alex Meyer) It’s all about perspective and had you been watching the Jeonnam Dragons vs. the Suwon Bluewings through the eyes of a Bluewings' supporter you were well entertained and pleased. Watching the game as a Dragons' supporter you could only pray for that second half to end. Albeit, the Dragons couldn't have asked for a better start, with a lovely header from R. Feczesin making it 1-0, but that was about all the offence the Dragons would produce. Suwon were all over the Dragons and it was only a matter of time before they made the breakthrough, Ki-Hun Yeom’s beautiful free kick leveling the scores in the 43rd minute. In the second half, Suwon came out flying and any beliefs that the Dragons could hold out and possibly even steal one were dashed in the 66th with a shot from distance from Johnathan that somehow found the back of the net, as Lee Ho-Seung uncharacteristically made a total mess of it. Any life the Dragons had left slipped away pretty quickly and it was as if Johnathan wanted to make a point he could score without luck, finishing his hat-rick with the goal of the year. He is a joy to watch and Suwon looked liked the strongest side in the league for the last 45. The Dragons rested a few key players and overall they looked a step slow. This is very understandable considering this was their 8th game in 32 days. Both teams started as you would expect with this schedule in the dead of summer but Suwon was buoyed, possibly by the home crowd, a world class free kick before half-time, or Johnathan’s brilliance on the night. Whatever it was, they were the better team and deserved the win. Both teams play under the same conditions, and practically have the same schedule, so no excuses but this is a fundamental problem with the league. They should not be asking these players to play this amount of games in the hottest and most humid time of the year. Smaller market clubs that can't afford a deep bench are going to get hammered. We saw it all around the league. Moving on, positive takeaways from the game include Tomi coming back and looking like he’s getting back into game shape. Also Feczesin continued his run of production and I don't see that stopping, and finally I can't see Lee Ho-Seung having another stinker like that between the posts. Gwangju has looked tough but is a good match up for the Dragons to wash Wednesday's nasty taste away. (via dragons.co.kr) The Adversary (Aodan Halligan) Gwangju FC are Feeling the Heat Gwangju FC continue to prop up the table in the K-League Classic and were resoundingly beaten 3-1 by ten-man Jeonbuk Motors midweek. However, league-leaders Jeonbuk are rarely beaten on their own turf. In fact, they've only lost one league game at home all season (versus Jeju United all the way back in week two). What's more, touching on what Alex mentioned earlier, in general, all the contenders for Asian Champions League (ACL) spots in the K-League rotate their first eleven more successfully than the other sides. One only has to view the results from midweek to notice this. On Wednesday, the top four, Jeonbuk, Jeju, Ulsan and Suwon, all won (most of them handsomely), even though they had only a few days rest. Of course, these teams don't win all the time when the games come thick and fast; however, they've much better resources than other teams and most of their squads were built with two campaigns in mind. Despite retaining their 4-5-1 formation, Jeonbuk made four changes to their team for the Gwangju game and picked up their second successive win. Gwangju, meanwhile, made five changes to their lineup and decided to switch from a 4-3-3 formation to a 3-4-3. The tweaks allowed them to shade possession (51%-49%), but they were second best on the day. And with Daegu finally finding form, Gwangju FC need to start winning soon if they are to avoid the drop as they've only registered three wins in the league all season and have lost their last three games in a row. Encouragingly, though, all three of their victories have come at home. Can they can secure a fourth one this Saturday? Offensive Blues? Gwangju's biggest problem has been scoring goals and they're the league's least prolific team with only 17 goals scored all season, which works out at 0.81 goals scored per game. On the plus side, they should fancy their chances of hitting the back of the net against the league's most porous defense: Jeonnam. The Dragons have conceded 40 goals from 22 games (1.81 per game). Gwangju's Home Form Gwangju have won three, lost three and drawn four of their 10 home games. So they've picked up 13 points from a total of 30 at home. In addition, they've scored 10 goals in those games (an average of one per game) and conceded 13 (1.3 per game). Jeonnam's Away Day Struggles Offer Hope The Jeonnam Dragons, meanwhile, have won two, drawn three and lost six of their away games, picking up just nine points from a possible 33. The Dragons have scored 12 (1.09 per game) and conceded 18 (1.5 per game) on the road. Gwangju have the artillery to hurt Jeonnam. In fact, their set-pieces caused Jeonbuk all sorts of problems on Wednesday night - and Jeonnam really struggle with these. Therefore, if Gwangju can get their free-kick specialist Niall McGinn (below) heavily involved against the Dragons on Saturday, their fortunes could change. Niall McGinn in action for his new club Gwangju FC (image via gwangjufc.com) Player to Watch Gwangju FC's new signing, Northern Ireland forward and former Celtic and Aberdeen star, Niall McGinn, who's only been used sparingly so far (he didn't make it on till the 81st minute against Jeonbuk in midweek), surely must be set for more action this weekend. And The 30-year-old midfielder, who celebrated his birthday on Thursday, is a fantastic dribbler and a set-piece specialist. (By the way, Belated Happy Birthday Niall!) Furthermore, he's lethal with both feet, inside and outside the box, and very strong in the air. In short, if McGinn's fit enough to start a K-League match for the first time this weekend, Gwangju could excel. Niall McGinn's best goals for Aberdeen Aodan: I've more questions than answers this week, to be honest! Of course, the Dragons rotated their squad once more midweek, but this time it didn't have the desired effect and we were easily beaten by Suwon - ending our seven-game unbeaten run. What effect will this have on us? Furthermore, having been rested midweek, our top performers this season, Jair and Jugovic, will be fresh this weekend. Plus, the Dragons have a good record against Gwangju this season, winning both games. So can Jeonnam's J-team drive us to another victory? Or will Niall McGinn finally make his full debut and inspire Gwangju to put us to the sword? Since I can't really answer any of these questions, I'm going to go for a score draw. Gwangju 2 Jeonnam Dragons 2. Alex: Dragons get a big win, 3-1, behind rested Jair and the lot. Aodan Halligan TAGS Classic Jeonnam K League 1	cc/2023-06/en_middle_0061.json.gz/line141

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