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T. S. Eliot was a morally, intellectually, and sartorially fastidious man. His manner was so correct that it sometimes seemed a few degrees too correct. He was known to friends as a connoisseur of cheese—there are several anecdotes about him in which the punch line is provided by a remark about cheese—and as a collector of umbrellas with custom handles. He came to hold political and religious views that were far to the right of most of his contemporaries', and to believe that Western civilization had been in decline since the thirteenth century, the time of Dante. He claimed to consider Richard III, who died in 1485, the last legitimate English king.
The poems and plays that Eliot published in his lifetime fill a single volume; his prose works are collections of talks and occasional journalism. The project to which he committed most of the latter part of his career, the revival of verse drama, was a failure. He was dismissive of grand theories of poetry, or anything else, and he never held a regular academic appointment. During his most productive years as a writer, from 1917 to 1925, he worked in a bank. His place in the curriculum is established, but he is hardly popular as a subject of teaching or scholarship.
Yet he was a true avant-gardist, and he made a revolution. He changed the way poetry in English is written; he re-set the paradigm for literary criticism; and his work laid down the principles on which the modern English department is built. He is the most important figure in twentieth-century English-language literary culture, a position he achieved with a relatively small amount of writing produced in a relatively brief amount of time and in unpromising circumstances.
He was a foreigner in a society, literary London, that is almost as incestuous and xenophobic as intellectual Paris. The writers he counted as comrades were looked upon by most of the literary establishment with distaste: Ezra Pound, an American; Wyndham Lewis, whose father was an American; and an Irishman, James Joyce. (There was not much love lost on their parts, either.) He was cut off from his family by the war; he was married to an unhealthy, demanding, and unstable woman; and he had troubles all his own. At the height of his creative and critical output, he had a nervous breakdown and diagnosed his condition as aboulie—lack of will. While he was recovering, he wrote "The Waste Land."
His success is an improbable and amazing story, and the publication, in two volumes, of his correspondence from 1898 to 1925, "The Letters of T. S. Eliot" (Yale; $45 each), lets us watch that story as it was unfolding, day by day, from the inside. The letters (some of which are by Eliot's correspondents) have been compiled and edited, with generous annotation, by Hugh Haughton and Valerie Eliot, the poet's second wife. They take up almost two thousand pages.
The inside view makes the success only a little easier to understand. Eliot was not just inscrutable; he performed inscrutability. He was pleased to adopt Pound's nickname for him, the Possum, and the too-correctness was a way of suggesting that the umbrella fetish, the cheese-course rituals, the white flower (for York) that he wore on the anniversary of the Battle of Bosworth Field, where Richard III was killed, and all the rest of the bowler-hatted persona might be a put-on. He came across as a man who had got trapped inside an elaborate, Chaplinesque joke of his own devising. He was enjoying the joke, but he couldn't get out. Ivor Richards, a founder of modern literary studies and one of Eliot's most powerful disciples, recalled "the ghostly flavor of irony which hung about his manner as though he were preparing a parody."
But what was within? Richards's wife, Dorothea, described Eliot, on a visit, as "very gaunt & grim—as if he had burnt himself out. His queer coloured, strangely piercing eyes in a pale face are the most striking thing about him. He is pale with special wrinkles which run horizontally across his forehead & his nose is delicately Jewish. He doesn't understand all I say nor do we him. His questions are surprising—disconcerting because so simple, sometimes also inane." This was in 1928, a low point in Eliot's life: he had secretly converted to Anglicanism the year before, and he was preparing to leave his wife. But from the beginning of his time in England the same details turn up in people's takes on him: the unusual eyes (tawny, like a lion's), the enervated demeanor, the uninspired conversation.
"Dull, dull, dull," complained the Bloomsbury-circle hostess Ottoline Morrell in 1916, after Eliot's first visit to her estate. "He is obviously very ignorant of England and imagines that it is essential to be highly polite and conventional and decorous and meticulous." Most of the Bloomsbury figures had the same response at first. "Altogether not quite gay enough for my taste," Lytton Strachey reported. "In an envelope of frozen formality," Leonard Woolf remembered him. Bertrand Russell thought that Eliot was "lacking in the crude insistent passion that one must have in order to achieve anything." But Eliot made friends with them all. He also made friends with many of their rivals, like the Old Guard novelists Hugh Walpole and Arnold Bennett. He plugged himself in.
The letters show that he knew what he was doing. He was persistent, and he understood how the game was played. "Don't think that I find it easy to live over here," he wrote to his brother, Henry, in 1919, after he had been in England for five years:
It is like being always on dress parade—one can never relax. It is a great strain. And society is in a way much harder, not gentler. People are more aware of you, more critical, and they have no pity for one's mistakes and stupidities. They are more spontaneous, and also more deliberate. They seek your company because they expect something particular from you, and if they don't get it, they drop you. They are always intriguing and caballing; one must be very alert. They are sensitive, and easily become enemies. But it is never dull.
He saw that, among people so high-strung and self-centered, being an outsider, someone who appeared to have no personal stake in things, could be a source of authority. More important, he held all the English writers in contempt. It was a cool and disinterested contempt; it came from arrogance, not from pettiness or insecurity, and he gave just enough of a hint of it to make people nervous. The only contemporary writers he considered his peers were Pound and Lewis (though he knew their limitations extremely well). The only one he looked up to was Joyce.
That London was the square of the board Eliot landed on was something of an accident. If he had picked a city to expatriate to, it would probably have been Paris, where he spent a very happy year after graduating from Harvard College, in 1910. But he had not intended to emigrate at all. When he arrived in England, in August, 1914, just after the outbreak of the First World War, he was on a fellowship from the Harvard philosophy department. He planned to spend a year at Oxford, reading Aristotle and writing his dissertation, and then return to the United States and become a professor.
He liked Aristotle. He disliked Oxford. "I hate university towns and university people, who are the same everywhere, with pregnant wives, sprawling children, many books, and hideous pictures on the walls," he wrote to an American friend, the poet Conrad Aiken. "Oxford is very pretty, but I don't like to be dead." He had met Pound soon after arriving in London—a meeting arranged by Aiken—and he had already written "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." Pound, who had been in England since 1908 on a self-appointed mission to modernize the natives, read the poem and was stunned. "He has actually trained himself and modernized himself on his own" was his famous reaction, in a letter to the editor of Poetry, Harriet Monroe. He encouraged Eliot to make more poems.
In the spring of 1915, at a party hosted by Scofield Thayer, a wealthy Harvard classmate who was also studying at Oxford, Eliot met Vivienne Haigh-Wood, a friend of Thayer's sister. She was English, and working as a governess. Three months later, without informing their parents, they married. Eliot was twenty-six and, before they met, almost certainly a virgin. She was a party girl, unrefined, vivacious, and self-dramatizing—pretty much everything he was not.
People assumed that Eliot was sexually infatuated, but, considering the entirety of his romantic history (fairly barren), this doesn't seem the most likely explanation. Eliot's own version, in an unpublished memoir written near the end of his life, was:
I think that all I wanted of Vivienne was a flirtation or mild affair: I was too shy and unpracticed to achieve either with anybody. I believe that I came to persuade myself that I was in love with her simply because I wanted to burn my boats and commit myself to staying in England. And she persuaded herself (also under the influence of Pound) that she would save the poet by keeping him in England. To her, the marriage brought no happiness. . . . To me, it brought the state of mind out of which came "The Waste Land."
They did, in the end, have one thing in common. They were both tremendously ambitious for his career.
The month they were married, June, 1915, "Prufrock" appeared in Poetry. Apart from work in student publications, this was the first poem that Eliot ever published. It was as though "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon" had been the first painting by Picasso ever exhibited, or "The Rite of Spring" the first piece by Stravinsky ever played. Pound was right: it was something new. It changed the rules. Eliot knew it, too. "I feel more alive then I ever have before," he wrote to his brother in July. He told his parents that he was abandoning his academic plans and staying in England.
The euphoria didn't last. As the story of the career in the "Letters" surges ahead, the story of the marriage is the dark cloud racing alongside. Some of the letters are by Vivienne, and they are spunky and uninhibited. "I am very popular with Tom's friends," she writes to Thayer a few months after the marriage, "and who do you think in particular? No less a person than Bertrand Russell!! He is all over me, is Bertie, and I simply love him. I am dining with him next week. I see a good deal of the Pounds, of course, and between ourselves, find them rather boring."
It is the first sign of the dark cloud. Eliot had met Russell at Harvard, when Russell was lecturing there. Soon after Eliot arrived in England, they ran into each other on the street, went for tea, and began a friendship. Russell thought Eliot the brightest of the American philosophy students he had met. (Eliot did finish the dissertation. Josiah Royce, one of the most eminent members of the Harvard department, called it "the work of an expert," and the chairman, James Woods, was still urging Eliot to return and accept an appointment as late as 1920.)
Russell was in the middle of an affair with Ottoline Morrell. (Russell had an unhappy marriage; the Morrells had an open one.) When Eliot and Vivienne married, he assumed the role of couples therapist. The three shared housing, and Bertie spent time with Vivienne when Tom was working or away. It's believed that they had an affair, although proof is lacking, and Russell may simply have hoped to give that impression to Morrell, who he thought was neglecting him. In September, 1915, he reported to her that Vivienne had "a great deal of mental passion & no physical passion, a universal vanity, that makes her desire every man's devotion, & a fastidiousness that makes any expression of their devotion disgusting to her"—which suggests that something did happen, or failed to happen, between them. In Eliot's surviving letters to Russell, there is nothing indicating suspicion, only gratitude.
The trouble with the marriage was not infidelity. It was the opposite, an asphyxiating mutual dependency. They were both anxious, brittle people. Her medical and psychological issues were serious and ultimately incapacitating (she ended up being committed to an asylum); his were merely chronic. He complained a lot during the marriage, in nearly every letter that is not purely professional and in many that should have been. He is overworked, he is ill and in bed, she is unable to get up or to eat, they don't have enough money, their flat is too noisy, he can't go on, she can't go on, they can't go on. It's relentless, the misery. Every bump in the road is a trip through one of the circles in Dante's Hell. In her diary, Virginia Woolf wished that "poor dear Tom had more spunk in him, less need to let drop by drop of his agonized perplexities fall ever so finely through pure cambric. One waits; one sympathizes, but it is dreary work."
And all the time he was conquering the world of letters. "There is a small and select public which regards me as the best living critic, as well as the best living poet, in England," he wrote to his mother in 1919. "I really think that I have far more influence on English letters than any other American has ever had, unless it be Henry James. I know a great many people, but there are many more who would like to know me, and I can remain isolated and detached."
The literary scene in England was highly factionalized. Eliot's strategy was to avoid taking sides by showing up on every side. He wrote for tiny modernist magazines, like The Egoist, which Pound had commandeered and turned into the flagship of free verse, and which had a circulation of a hundred and eighty-five. He reviewed for papers hostile to modernism, like The New Statesman, and for Bloomsbury-dominated journals, like The Athenaeum, edited by the critic John Middleton Murry. And he wrote lead articles for the Times Literary Supplement, where most of the pieces were unsigned—"the highest honour possible in the critical world of literature," he informed his mother. He did it all at home after a day at the bank, and on weekends.
It's one of the most remarkable runs in literary journalism. All of Eliot's intellectual bristles are on display in these pieces. They are smart and showoffy, and seeded with dicta from which tall forests of academic criticism would one day grow:
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. A thought to Donne was an experience; it modified his sensibility. The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events, such that when the external facts, which must terminate in sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked. On Henry James:
He had a mind so fine that no idea could violate it.
A consistent theme is the sorry state of English letters. The English don't know how to write criticism, and they don't know how to write poetry. They use literature as a means of expressing ideas and personal feelings, or they confuse it with something else, with social commentary, or mysticism, or philosophy. As he wrote in 1922, "The present situation here has now become a scandal impossible to conceal from foreign nations: that literature is chiefly in the hands of persons who may be interested in almost anything else; that literature presents the appearance of a garden unmulched, untrimmed, unweeded, and choked by vegetation sprung only from the chance germination of the seed of last year's plants." This had been Pound's position. It's why they were comrades.
In less than three years, from the middle of 1919 to the end of 1921, Eliot wrote all the essays in his first two volumes of criticism, "The Sacred Wood" (1920) and "Homage to John Dryden" (1924); he published "Gerontion," "Burbank with a Baedeker: Bleistein with a Cigar," "Sweeney Erect," and "Song for the Opherion" ("The wind sprang up at four o'clock"); and (while having a nervous breakdown) he composed a complete draft of "The Waste Land."
"Lack of will" is a peculiar diagnosis for a man producing an outburst like that. Reading the letters, we would conclude that Eliot was suffering from major depression, but you don't write "The Waste Land" while you're suffering from major depression. Eliot sought treatment in Lausanne, from a doctor, recommended by Morrell, named Roger Vittoz. Vittoz practiced a precursor of cognitive behavioral therapy, teaching his patients to redirect compulsive thoughts. It worked for Eliot. He finished his poem.
On the way home, he stopped in Paris, where Pound was now living, having given up on the English as a hopeless job, and—a canonical moment in modernist legend—Pound made his celebrated editorial intervention. "Complimenti, you bitch," he wrote to Eliot after reading the near-final draft. "I am wracked by the seven jealousies." He thought that Eliot had given their movement its monument. It was January 24, 1922. A little more than a week later, on February 2nd, Joyce's "Ulysses" was published.
What was the revolution all about? Inner and lower were the directions modernist writers took literature, toward what goes on inside the head and below the waist. That is certainly how readers experienced modernism, at least, and why the books attracted the censors. For the writers themselves, it was largely about technique. To modernize is not to make a brand-new thing; it's to bring an old thing up to date. "Prufrock" is a dramatic monologue, a standard nineteenth-century poetic genre. There is a tension built into the form, a tension between what the speaker "presents" and what we "see"—as in Browning's "My Last Duchess," to pick a hoary middle-school example. In "Prufrock," tension is created by shifting tonal registers: the title itself; the unexpected Italian epigraph from the Inferno; the opening simile comparing the evening to someone in a coma; the couplet about the women and Michelangelo, which seems to belong to a different poem and gets played, for no apparent reason, twice, like a refrain, or a jingle.
It's an exercise in syncopation, like a Cubist portrait. It perpetually wrong-foots you. Eliot thought that Stravinsky, in "The Rite of Spring," had transformed "the rhythm of the steppes into the scream of the motor horn, the rattle of machinery, the grind of wheels, the beating of iron and steel, the roar of the underground railway, and the other barbaric cries of modern life." He had taken something primitive and recast it in a contemporary idiom—the way Picasso used African masks for his portrait of the prostitutes in "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon," or Joyce put the whole of the Odyssey underneath "Ulysses." What was important for Pound and Eliot was that the bones of the old are legible (or visible or audible) under the contemporary skin. That's what produces the modernist dissonance. Behind the wan and squeamish flâneur is the defiant shade of Guido da Montefeltro, burning in the eighth circle of Hell.
"It is a battle cry of freedom," Eliot said about free verse, in 1917, "and there is no freedom in art." He meant that when people pick up a poem they expect that it will read like a poem, and this expectation defines the formal field of play. The modernist poem puts pressure on the form, distorts it in places, grows impenetrable in places. But it never abandons it. The form is the electric current that the writer taps into.
Eliot's word for this current was "the tradition," and his classic statement about it is the essay "Tradition and the Individual Talent," published in 1919 in The Egoist, where he was an assistant editor. The term is unfortunate, since it connotes some kind of capital "C" canon. (Eliot used it because he was tacitly responding to a book called "Tradition and Change," by Arthur Waugh, in which he and Pound were attacked.) There is no doubt that Eliot believed in a capital "C" canon, but that is not the point of his essay.
The point is philosophical. I know that what I am looking at is a house because I am already familiar with things that look more or less like it and are houses. This is what enables me to say that the particular house I am looking at is a big house, an ugly house, a modern house, and so on. The same thing happens when I read a poem: I relate it to all the other poems I have read—in the head of an ideal reader, to all the poems that have ever been written. Past poems condition my response to any new poem. And the really new poem conditions my response to all the poems that preceded it. After "Prufrock," the Inferno is, ever so slightly, a different poem. After I see a house by Marcel Breuer, my own house looks, ever so slightly, different.
Eliot argued that, since this is the case whether a poet is conscious of the tradition or not, he or she might as well be conscious of it. The more complete the poet's saturation in the whole of literature, the more genuinely new that poet's work is likely to be—that is, the more powerfully it is likely to affect the old.
Still, this doesn't quite explain Eliot's own practice. Eliot didn't just write with the literature of the past "in his bones," as he put it. He made poems out of the poems of other people. "Burbank," a poem of thirty-two lines plus epigraph, borrows from or alludes to a dozen other texts. Most of those texts have something to do with Venice, where "Burbank" takes place. But where any poem referring to Venice also "takes place" is within the set of all things that have been written about Venice—"The Merchant of Venice," "The Aspern Papers," "The Stones of Venice," and every other representation of that city. Eliot simply flipped over the tapestry. He put the textual background in the foreground. He wrote a poem about Venice that is also a poem about poems about Venice.
Eliot was regularly accused of plagiarism, and it tickled him. "I should be glad to participate with a few quotations which the critic would perhaps not identify," he wrote to Monroe after she had reported a complaint. With "The Waste Land," he approached the scandalous limits of the technique. The poem is a collage of allusion, quotation, echo, appropriation, pastiche, imitation, and ventriloquism. It uses seven languages, including Sanskrit, and ends with several pages of notes, written in a sendup of academic citation: "The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found in the Brihadaranyaka—Upanishad, 5, 1. A translation is found in Deussen's Sechzig Upanishads des Veda, p. 489." Good to know the next time you are in a German library.
It's astonishing how readily these notes have been taken at face value—as useful annotations, or keys to interpretation. In "The Norton Anthology of English Literature," Eliot's notes are printed not at the end of the poem, which is where he put them, but at the bottom of the page, as footnotes, interspersed with the Norton editors' own annotations. On what authority? The notes are not a reader's guide to the poem. They are part of the poem. They don't interpret the riddle; they are one more riddle to be interpreted. If Joyce had written them, no one would imagine they were merely what they appear to be.
In fact, the notes, and much else in the poem, were almost certainly inspired by Joyce. Eliot finished "The Waste Land" before "Ulysses" was published, but he had already read nearly the entire novel, first in The Egoist, where some of the early chapters were serialized, and then in a manuscript loaned to him by Joyce himself. (Pound had put them in touch.) In April, 1921, Joyce sent Eliot the late chapters known as "Oxen of the Sun" (the tour-de-force imitative history of the language, from Anglo-Saxon to pidgin), "Circe," and "Eumaeus." A month later, Eliot returned the manuscript. "I have nothing but admiration," he wrote Joyce. "I wish, for my own sake, that I had not read it." Years later, he told an interviewer that he stopped working on "The Waste Land," believing that Joyce had already done what he was attempting, but that Pound persuaded him that, even if Joyce had done it in prose, it still needed to be done in verse.
"The Waste Land" is a report on the condition of postwar Europe; "Ulysses" is the story of a day in the life of three Dubliners. But they are simultaneously fantastic pieces of verbal artifice, Rubik's Cubes of possible meanings, recursive devices that appropriate so many styles and traditions that they have no style of their own. "Ulysses," Eliot told Virginia Woolf, "destroyed the whole of the nineteenth century. It left Joyce himself with nothing to write another book on. It showed up the futility of all the English styles." It seemed to have exhausted all of literature. It was the end of something. He wanted his poem to be the same.
For him, it was. "The Waste Land" was published in October, 1922—in the United States in The Dial, edited by Eliot's friend Thayer, and in Britain in the first issue of Eliot's own journal, The Criterion. Eliot now told everyone that he was finished with that sort of thing. He began speaking of the poem as a kind of psychic reflux, "a piece of rhythmical grumbling." He did not disown it, exactly, but he rarely discussed it again, except as the by-product of a bad marriage. He had been through a compositional experience that, whatever it was, he did not wish to go through again.
Eliot's first books sold poorly in England. The book edition of "The Waste Land," published by the Woolfs' Hogarth Press, sold three hundred and thirty copies in the first six months. In April, 1923, the British publisher of "The Sacred Wood" reported that only about twenty copies had been sold that year. But Eliot was almost immediately taken up by young British academics, particularly at Cambridge. His route to influence and renown passed through an institution he had pointedly scorned.
Cambridge is where Richards taught. He sought Eliot out at the bank to entice him to teach a course. Eliot demurred (he liked his job at the bank), but Richards and other Cambridge academics, including Richards's student William Empson, and even Richards's rival F. R. Leavis, found in Eliot's books the template for a new method of teaching English. Their American counterparts, the New Critics, were also Eliot's devoted exegetes (and almost all of them cited Richards as a model and inspiration). Together, they created the modern English department.
The English department is founded on the belief that people need to be taught how to read literature. This is not a self-evident proposition. Before there were English departments, people read stories, poems, and plays without assuming that special training was required. But most English professors think that people don't intuitively get the way that literary writing works. Readers think that stories and poems are filled with symbols that "stand for" something, or that the beliefs expressed in them are the author's own, or that there is a hidden meaning they are supposed to find. They are unable to make sense of statements that are not simple assertions of fact. People read literature too literally.
Almost everything in Eliot's early criticism, except his aversion to methods and theories ("There is no method except to be very intelligent," as he disarmingly put it), met the situation of literary academics. Eliot attacked the confusion of literature with other kinds of writing. He formulated terms, like "objective correlative," that looked like precision tools for critical analysis. (Eliot himself never used the term again.) He insisted that works of literature be judged on literary grounds, and he separated literature from biography and intellectual history. He argued for the principle that the most important thing you need to know in order to read a poem is other poems—a principle that Leonard Woolf, in a review of "The Sacred Wood," identified as "back to Aristotle." Eliot helped to reëstablish the autonomy of literature. That was modernism's other great project, and it is also what literature professors needed in order to make English an academic discipline.
Within a few months of his return from Lausanne, Eliot had a relapse. "Am very tired and depressed," he wrote to Lewis in March, 1922. "Vivien has been in bed with fever, and life has been horrible generally." The drip of complaints becomes a downpour. "I am feeling pretty well worn out at present and I am convinced that I cannot keep at this kind of life for very long" (February, 1923). "I have been hopelessly tired out and run down for a long time" (January, 1924). "I have gone through some terrible agony myself which I do not understand yet, and which has left me utterly bewildered and dazed" (April, 1924). To Virginia Woolf: "I have been boiled in a hell-broth" (August, 1924).
Vivienne had nearly died, apparently because of some quack medical treatments. She also had periods of derangement, and tormented her husband. Eliot told Russell that "everything has turned out as you predicted ten years ago." He went for succor to, surprisingly, John Middleton Murry, who had been his editor at The Athenaeum, where he had published some of his best early pieces. There were few literary people Eliot held in lower esteem. An "apostle of suburban free thought," he called him. (He also despised Murry's first wife, Katherine Mansfield: "one of the most persistent and thickskinned toadies.")
Murry either didn't sense this or didn't care. He was a loyal friend, and, when Eliot turned to him in his post-"Waste Land" desperation, Murry responded with a simple piece of advice. "Live, and let come what may," he said—meaning, do something for yourself, even if it might hurt Vivienne. Eliot seems to have found this liberating. Or, since it was Eliot, he seems to have felt authorized by it to fabricate for himself a new and more damage-proof carapace.
This crisis coincided with a dramatic turn to the right. Eliot had become interested in right-wing French thought during his postgraduate year in Paris, but his early letters, as far as they touch on political issues, are not illiberal. After "The Waste Land," it is as though a curtain had been raised. "My political and social views," he writes to his mother in 1924, are "reactionary and ultra-conservative." It is nearly an understatement. In his capacity of editor of The Criterion, he writes to Charles Maurras, the leader of the anti-Semitic, proto-fascist Action Française_,_ assuring him, "I am certain that the Criterion group represents the body of opinion nearest to l'Action Française." To one contributor, he suggests that "an essay by you vindicating either Charles the Second or George the Third would be truly appreciated." To another, he confides, "I am all for empires, especially the Austro-Hungarian empire."
"I wish you would look about at Fashismo," he asks an associate. "Find out whether it has any general philosophy and if so whether its general ideas can in any way be attached to our own." (He concluded that fascism, as a secular ideology, was uncongenial.) In 1928, he announces, in the preface to a book of essays, that he is a classicist, a royalist, and an Anglo-Catholic. "The World is trying the experiment of attempting to form a civilized but non-Christian mentality," he writes in 1931. "The experiment will fail; but we must be very patient in awaiting its collapse; meanwhile redeeming the time: so that the Faith may be preserved alive through the dark ages before us."
The sheer extremity of the positions Eliot embraced after 1922—George III?—is hard to explain. They seem intentionally perverse, flying way over the head of any serious conservative movement in England. Some sort of self-laceration may have been at the bottom of it. In his criticism, he began attacking writers he had once promoted to great effect, such as Donne and Jules Laforgue, the late-nineteenth-century French poet who had been an enormous influence on "Prufrock." Eliot now saw these poets as literary magpies, piecing together bits of ideas and images and infusing them with essentially unrelated emotions. This kind of poetry seemed to him an inadequate attempt to make meaning in a world without faith, and his own early poems must have appeared to be symptoms of the same futility. So he tried to shut the door on modern life. It was too late, of course. He was the author of "Prufrock" and "The Waste Land." He was already inside. ♦


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Dalai Lama is a wolf in monk's robes: China
March 19, 2008 18:57 IST
Unmindful of global protests and calls for dialogue with the Dalai Lama [Images], China on Wednesday dubbed him a "wolf in monk's robes" and admitted that it was locked in a "life-and-death battle" in Tibet after the strongest challenge to Beijing's [Images] rule there in two decades.
Initially led by monks, the demonstrations began peacefully on March 10, the anniversary of a failed uprising in 1959 against the Chinese rule, and then spiraled out of control in the Tibetan capital Lhasa, claiming at least 13 lives and injuring many.
The Tibet regional government has claimed that 105 protesters had surrendered to police yesterday. Authorities had threatened to punish harshly protesters who failed to surrender by a Monday night deadline. Lhasa police are apparently conducting house-to-house searches and making arrests.
The Tibetan government in exile in Dharamshala says 99 people have so far died in clashes with security forces, including 80 in Lhasa. But China says only 13 were killed. China has banned the entry of foreign journalists into Lhasa and the flow of information is tightly controlled, making it difficult to verify either of these claims.
Rattled by the massive scale protests and international reaction, Tibet's Communist Party secretary Zhang Qingli has warned of a "long-term" struggle against the Tibetan exile movement, labelling the Dalai Lama a "wolf in monk's robes".
"We are in the midst of a fierce struggle involving blood and fire, a life and death struggle with the Dalai clique," he told a meeting of local leaders.
The 1989 Nobel Peace Prize winner, Dalai Lama, has strongly rejected Beijing's repeated claims of "masterminding" the anti-China violence in Tibet and called for calm.
Lhasa was reportedly calm after authorities rushed in troops to maintain order.
The massive protests, which Beijing has accused the Dalai Lama of orchestrating, sparked a crackdown by Chinese forces and focused international attention on the country's human rights record ahead of the Olympic Games in Beijing.
Western nations led by the United States have repeatedly urged China to address Tibetans' grievances and engage in direct talks with the Dalai Lama, Tibet's exiled Buddhist leader.
The Human Rights Watch (HRW) said China has virtually sealed off Tibet by expelling or turning away foreign tourists and journalists and demanded access to independent monitors to the people detained to give "confidence to the world" that they were not being tortured or mistreated.
"Given the long and well-documented history of torture of political activists by China's security forces there is every reason to fear for the safety of those recently detained," Brad Adams, Asia director at Human Rights Watch, said.
Some foreign journalists based in China have claimed that they have been obstructed by authorities at least 30 times as they sought to cover unrest in Tibet and nearby provinces in recent days.
The Foreign Correspondents Club of China said journalists had experienced interference in the cities of Beijing, Chengdu and Xining, as well as in Lhasa.
Paris-based media watchdog Reporters Without Borders slammed China yesterday for what it called steps taken by Beijing to prevent media coverage of demonstrations and an ongoing crackdown in Tibet.

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College in your future? Tuition Assistance dollars are available!
By Ed Barker, Naval Education and Training Professional Development Center Public Affairs
PENSACOLA, Fla. (NNS) -- For service members interested in pursuing or continuing their education while on active duty, Navy tuition assistance (TA) is designed to help.
"Two of the questions we get asked most often are 'How do I get started with my education?' and 'How do I pay for it?'," said Naval Education and Training Professional Development Center Voluntary Education (VOLED) Program Director Ernest D'Antonio. "The answers are easy. 1) Start with the Navy College Program (NCP) website or Virtual Education Center (VEC), and 2) Talk with your Navy College Education Counselor to ensure TA eligibility, and 3) Apply."
- TA can fund up to 16 semester hours, 24 quarter hours, or 240 clock hours per fiscal year, and pay up to $250.00 per semester hour, $166.67 per quarter hour or $16.67 per clock hour.
- TA can be used to pay for courses leading to a first certificate, associate, bachelor's, or master's degree.
- TA funded classes, combined with credits already earned from a service member's military training from their Joint Services Transcript (JST), may accelerate degree completion while on active duty. Also, Final Multiple Score advancement points are available for degree completion through the E-6 exam.
Lt. Cmdr. Nick Turner, Navy VOLED deputy director, stressed that TA money is currently available, and Sailors have a broad window in which to apply.
"The summer term is fast approaching and now is not too soon to begin planning for the fall term as well," said Turner. "Sailors need to ensure their WebTA applications are submitted and command approved between 120 and 14 days before the term start date."
For Sailors in the Continental United States (CONUS), contact a Navy College education counselor with your questions via the NCP website at (http://www.navycollege.navy.mil) "Assistance Center," using Help Requests, CHAT, or call the Navy College Virtual Education Center (VEC) at 1-877-838-1659, DSN 492-4684. Customer service hours are Monday-Friday, 7 a.m. - 7 p.m. EST. The VEC is closed on federal holidays. The website also includes training, informational videos, and briefs to help Sailors navigate the VOLED process.
For Sailors outside CONUS, visit your local Navy College Office or use any of the methods mentioned above.
All Sailors should also download the Navy College Program mobile app from the GooglePlay or Apple Store.
For the latest information on Navy Voluntary Education, visit http://www.facebook.com/NavyVoluntaryEducation/ or http://www.navycollege.navy.mil/.


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Express. Home of the Daily and Sunday Express.
Ferdinand out for 'three to four weeks'
Sir Alex Ferguson has ruled Rio Ferdinand out for another three to four weeks with a thigh injury.
Ferdinand suffered a slight tear in his thigh during training last week ahead of the Premier League opener against Birmingham. Initially Ferguson felt that Ferdinand would only be sidelined for a couple of weeks. However, that estimate has now been revised.
"Rio is going to be out for three to four weeks," said Ferguson.
It means Ferdinand will miss Saturday's trip to Wigan, plus next week's eagerly anticipated encounter with Arsenal.
In addition, Ferdinand now seems certain to miss the next two England games, starting with a friendly against Slovenia on September 5, then a World Cup qualifier against Croatia four days later, when victory would book the Three Lions' place in South Africa next summer.
It also raises concerns over Ferdinand's general fitness given the £29.1million defender suffered a back injury and a calf problem last season that kept him sidelined for extended periods.
There is some good news on the injury front for United though as Ferdinand's central defensive partner Nemanja Vidic is set to make his first start of the season at the DW stadium on Saturday as United look to bounce back from Wednesday's shock defeat at Burnley.
"Nemanja has trained with us for 10 days and he is ready for the game," said Ferguson.
"Hopefully he will be okay by tomorrow."


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From Openmoko
English • العربية • Български • Česky • Dansk • Deutsch • Esperanto • Eesti • Español • فارسی • Suomi • Français • עברית • Magyar • Italiano • 한국어 • Nederlands • Norsk (bokmål) • Polski • Português • Română • Русский • Svenska • Slovenčina • Українська • 中文(中国大陆) • 中文(台灣) • Euskara • Català
This daemon uses the framework to track and log all the calls made to and from the moko. Because it uses the framework, it's limited to FSO supporting distributions only. The daemon uses sqlite and currently (Read: Has to change) keeps the database in "/home/root/.phonelog.db". It has a dbus interface which enables pulling out incoming/outgoing and missed calls including the time the call was placed at.
This daemon uses the "org.smartphone.opimd" dbus bus name. It's by no means the expected opimd, it's just a daemon that uses this name because it makes sense!
This package also includes a working gtk+ gui for use with the daemon. The gui also keeps a file in "/home/root/.phonelog.dat".
If you want the gui to work with finger scrolling, download: python-mokoui2
- Install the pyphonelog (gui) package.
- Install pyphonelogd (daemon) as well.
Notice: (If you use SHR and have a brand new self built ophonekitd you don't have to install this daemon.)
I strongly suggest adding the following configs to your gtkrc:
style "treeview" { GtkTreeView::expander-size = 40 } widget_class "*TreeView*" style "treeview"
- author: Tom Hacohen <available_at_profile>
- code is at: git
- gui: package (SHR USERS CAN JUST 'opkg install pyphonelog')
- daemon: package
Important Notices
- The gui and the daemon are now in different packages, and the packages no longer comply with the older package name. To install this version please first 'opkg remove fso-phonelog' if you had a version older than 0.9.0 before.
- The gui now supports the SHR phone logger so users that run SHR should not install the pyphonelogd. (Actually they should if they don't use the latest git generated package, the logger isn't yet up stream).
Change Log
This is now mainly for the legacy daemon, for pyphonelog's changelog please refer to the git commit log. (Major changes may still be listed here)
- Fixed a major issue causing the fallback to legacy daemon not to work..
- Added support for config vars of all types, and added many new configuration options
- Added a configuration file, it now only supports one option 'phonekitd = True/False' (True by default, falls back to the legacy if phonekitd isn't found, change to False to force legacy use) this option must reside in the configuration file, though many will be added in the future. The configuration now resides in ~/.phonelog/phonelog.conf also moved the time file.
- Fixed the bug concerning the daemon with empty lists.
- Fixed some major bugs rendering 0.13 useless with the legacy daemon.
- The done now conforms with gui completely, every gui feature is supported.
- Added the general list tab.
NOTICE: all of the other changes were removed to improve page readability, if you want to view them, please go to this page's history.
Watch the TODO file in the git tree.


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Transparency Market Research includes new market research report " Mobile Commerce Market - Global Industry Size, Market Share, Trends, Analysis, And Forecast 2012 - 2017" to its huge collection of research reports. Mobile commerce is handled by devices like laptops, cellular phones, Smart phones and tablet computers to execute online commercial transactions. Mobile commerce is experiencing continuous growth in a variety of fields including sales and purchase of a wide range of services and goods, payments of bills, net banking and so on. All these transactions are collectively known as m-commerce or mobile commerce.
Brows For Full Report at: http://www.transparencymarketresearch.com/mobile-commerce-market.html
Mobile commerce is a successor of e-commerce but with its unique functionalities it should be viewed as the next powerful tool to communicate with the customers. Increasing usage of smart phones has led to the growth of mobile commerce. M-commerce is still in its initial stage and is seeking a huge potential market.
There are some industries which are benefitted by the usage of m-commerce. These include:
- Commerce
- Travel and Ticketing
- Entertainment
- Education
- Enterprise Resource planning
- Traffic
- Dispatching and Inventory tracking
Global mobile commerce usage is increasing and the supporting factors for this growth are: Spontaneous need and decisions, frequent usage of internet, online businesses and cheap technology which contributes to the adoption of internet.
Despite the various growth drivers, mobile commerce has some issues and challenges which may restrain the growth of the market. These are: lack of power of processing, less memory, lack of mobile literacy and so on.
Mobile commerce is recognized as a widely growing sector and the opportunities in this sector can be identified and catered to. Popular use of mobile commerce includes for cash withdrawal and deposits, transaction between various merchants and cash transfer between user's bank accounts.
This research report analyzes this market depending on its market segments, major geographies, and current market trends. Geographies analyzed under this research report include
- North America
- Asia Pacific
- Europe
- Rest of the World
This report provides comprehensive analysis of
- Market growth drivers
- Factors limiting market growth
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- Market structure
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Recent News
February 22, 2013
Heartland Brands Voluntarily Recalls Two Varieties of Granola Cereals
The Missouri Department of Health and Senior Services received information regarding the recall of two varieties of Heartland Brands granola cereals due to the possible presence of fragments of flexible metal mesh in an ingredient.
The two Heartland® cereal varieties are:
- Heartland® Harvest Spice Granola Cereal - 14 oz.; UPC 024300 090394; Best If Used By dates from 20130326 (March 26, 2013) through 20130910 (Sept. 10, 2013).
- Heartland® Fruit & Nut Harvest Granola Cereal - 14 oz.; UPC 024300 090387; Best If Used By dates from 20130325 (March 25, 2013) through 20130910 (Sept. 10, 2013).
The product was sold in United States, Bahamas, Bermuda, Costa Rica, El Salvador, Israel and Trinidad.
The full recall and product information can be found at www.fda.gov/Safety/Recalls/ucm340717.htm.


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Vitamin K2
Synthesis creates a pure, all-trans menaquinone-7 molecule Ingredient purity is enhanced significantly by synthesis production compared to fermentation. Synthesis creates a pure, all-trans molecule...brochures/bioequivalence/#c745
The Møller study demonstrated that K2VITAL® is bioequivalent to the natural-fermented K2 fileadmin/content/factsheets/11-Bioequivalence/moller-study-graph.png right middle 1 1 1brochures/bioequivalence/#c523
Fermentation-derived K2 products have been shown in clinical studies to prevent and reverse arterial calcification and improve bone mineral density in healthy postmenopausal women. Since K2VITAL®...brochures/bioequivalence/#c524
The Møller study has proven that all benefits obtained with the natural-fermented MK-7 are equally valid for K2VITAL® fileadmin/content/factsheets/11-Bioequivalence/vitamin-production-graph.png...brochures/bioequivalence/#c525
Different Forms of K
Although all vitamin K forms are Comparison of different K vitamins absorbed to varying degrees in the presence of fat, vitamin K1 and MK-4 quickly disappears from circulation in the body...brochures/different-forms-of-k/#c396
Currently, about 30% of K2 MK-7 ingredient production is based on synthesis and the remainder on a fermentation process. This will change. Synthesis production provides several advantages over...brochures/bioequivalence/#c526
Different Forms of K
Vitamin K2, menaquinones, differ in their chain length and their biological activity. The most important types of K2 are MK-4 and MK-7. They are found in animal products such as meat, dairy, eggs...brochures/different-forms-of-k/#c397
K2 Stability


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The High Life: St. Moritz
St. Moritz was Switzerland's glitziest resort before glitzy was even a word. Now the most exclusive of European mountain towns is feeling the onslaught of globalization. Is that all bad? Luke Barr returns to his former homeland to find out.
At the top of Piz Nair, the weather seems different, imported from another planet maybe. The raw and menacing peaks—10,000 feet tall—loom over us like something out of an IMAX movie, close enough to touch. The air is thin and cold; wind whips snow across our faces. There's no time to check the spectacular view, really—let's get going. It's the last run of the day and my friends and I are taking St. Moritz from top to bottom—this here being the top, the alpine resort town below us in the valley being the bottom. I point my skis down the exceedingly steep slope.
I haven't done this in years, but fortunately I have attached to my feet a pair of high-tech parabolic skis invented, I believe, by J. K. Rowling and able to ski themselves down any mountain at top speed—at least, that's how it feels. At first, I barely manage to stay upright, throwing my body into the turns and doing my best to avoid other skiers. But soon it's clear: these skis can do no wrong. Easy does it, go with the flow. Now I'm zipping across the soft and powdery snow, the sun is shining, and if you were to set this scene to music the song would be "I Believe I Can Fly," by R. Kelly. I am skiing like a god (and exaggerating only a little).
Forty-five minutes later we arrive in St. Moritz and clomp through town with skis slung over our shoulders toward Badrutt's Palace, the fanciest of many fancy resort hotels in a very fancy town. I grew up skiing in the Alps, often enough with these same friends, but I can't say this is the sort of hotel we stayed in back then. As teenagers we all lived and went to school together near Zürich, and so this is, inevitably, one of those life-is-good, remember-the-crazy-old-days moments. As we walk past art galleries and luxury boutiques and many, many people in fur, it is also a moment to take in how much Switzerland has changed over the years. But more on that later.
The lobby of the Palace is the white-hot center of high-society socializing, the place to see and be seen—if you know who to look for, anyway. A black and white marble corridor extends the length of the space, from the grand dining room at one end to Mario's bar at the other. Along the way are comfortable armchairs arranged before huge windows overlooking the frozen, snow-covered Lake St. Moritz and an epic panorama of mountains. Their tips are lit up with the last of the day's sunshine; a blue evening haze cloaks the rest of the valley; everything seems to glow slightly. I pass by a man playing softly on a grand piano, an elderly couple dressed for a ball, Italian fashion types, an oversize Russian speaking assertively into a diminutive cell phone.
Freshly showered, I head to the bar and order scotch and soda from the white-jacketed barman. This is Mario, it turns out, a Jean-Paul Belmondo look-alike and St. Moritz fixture. He's Italian, and he's been tending bar here since 1963. He has stories to tell—about celebrities and princesses, scandals and rumors and late-night escapades. "The woman was not his wife," he is saying, "it was four in the morning, he was drunk, and the car was stuck in a snowbank. Who else was he going to call?"
We all laugh and have some more drinks. I'm sure he's been telling these same charming, rakish stories for decades. And indeed, sitting in his small bar off the grand lobby of this opulent palace, it's not hard to imagine that time has stood still somehow, that this right here is la dolce vita of the postwar-decadence years, a fantastical place of refined taste and winking sinfulness, civilized and seductive and rich.
But of course it's all an illusion, however delightful. I won't pretend to be an expert in the ways and means of jet-setting European aristocrats or the hermetically sealed world of unspeakable wealth and old-school decorum they inhabit. But when you're in St. Moritz you can't escape the feeling that their grip on the place is loosening, that the town is opening up and awash in new money—bewildering amounts of it. Villas and condos are going up all over; there are construction cranes wherever you look. The gaudy boutiques lining the streets are filled with fur-clad Russians. "The Monte Carloization of St. Moritz," as one insider puts it dolefully, is in full swing. And while the energy in the air is undeniably thrilling, what the future holds is less clear. The town's clubby and self-mythologizing nature—the very thing attracting newly minted oligarchs hungry for the reassuring prestige of brand-name luxury—is threatened by all the growth.
Which is why everyone here is talking about the Russians. And not in a friendly way, necessarily. Everywhere I go, they are a main and always entertaining topic of conversation. Russians, Russians, Russians. And if it's not the Russians it's La Baracca, a new and trendy restaurant recommended to me time after time.
"The girls are wonderful, but the men—the men are frightful!" says David Webb-Carter, speaking of the Russians. He's only kidding, of course. Or he's laughing, anyway. Webb-Carter is the secretary of the Corviglia Club, a 130-member group founded in 1930 by European aristocrats and today the epitome of jet-set exclusivity. I've wandered out of Mario's bar and just around the corner, where the club has a small office off the Palace lobby. Up on the mountain is its private lodge, where members eat lunch. Webb-Carter is himself British, affable, and a former Army officer. "I can't discuss our members," he says apologetically, though he does mention "royal types" and "South Americans." No Russians? I inquire. "We are gender blind, nationality blind, race blind," he answers. I take that to mean "no."
Webb-Carter spots a friend in the lobby and waves him over. "Come say hello." Sven is blond and good-looking, in his early thirties and dressed casually but exceedingly tastefully in jeans and a buttery-soft sweater. He's closely involved with the Cresta, another of St. Moritz's exclusive private clubs, though nowhere near as exclusive as the Corviglia. The Cresta is devoted to its namesake high-speed, headfirst toboggan run nearby.
"Sven is quite the daredevil," says Webb-Carter, introducing Sven Ley, whose parents founded Escada, the German fashion brand. Ley amusingly describes the numerous spectacular Cresta-member crashes posted on YouTube. "Just type in cresta crash of the day and you'll see," he says. But soon the conversation moves along to the usual St. Moritz topics: global warming wreaking havoc at lower altitudes this winter; the existence of local Russian prostitutes; La Baracca, popular with the Palace crowd as well as everyone else (I'd better make a reservation); and Dracula, the private nightclub founded by legendary playboy Gunther Sachs. "On a good night, it's the best nightclub in the world," says Ley. He tells me that what he likes most about St. Moritz is the airport, which makes the town so convenient and accessible. "NetJets," he says, "has made a huge difference." The popularization of private jet travel is indeed a wonderful thing, I agree, nodding solemnly, as if I might be considering buying a share of a plane myself.
The next day, I drive out of St. Moritz and into the wide Engadine valley, which is dotted with beautiful small towns. We pass through the center of Pontresina. Thick-walled medieval buildings crowd the street, many with traditional frescoes and elaborately carved wooden doors and window shutters. Traffic slows to a crawl; in some spots the road narrows into one lane. Snow blankets the wide-open spaces of the valley floor and the many frozen lakes, making for ideal cross-country ski terrain.
When I was a kid, cross-country always seemed like a tedious affair—pushing skis along in other people's tracks, never leaving the parallel grooves. But here under a grand Alpine panorama, circling the Silvaplana Castle, the sport suddenly makes sense. The small stone structure, built in the 19th century on the edge of Lake Silvaplana, is now at the intersection of a number of ski routes. What's as appealing as the view is the dynamism of "skating," a style of cross-country done on shorter skis, the movement of which resembles ice skating or rollerblading. It's much faster than the classic sport, and skiers follow wide paths and slopes rather than a track.
Olivier Molly, a private instructor, explains all this to me. "More and more, people are switching over from downhill," he says, "especially as they get into their forties and fifties." Molly grew up here in the Engadine, and teaches tennis in the summertime. He's a thoughtful guy, and when I ask him how St. Moritz has changed, he answers by reeling off some troubling developments: "The town is more and more built up, and yet apartments are empty most of the time," he says. "It's a bad trend—the place is going to die out! Look at the stores—there's only luxury shopping, and nothing else. No one even manages to stay open all year-round." (St. Moritz effectively shuts down in the spring and the fall—the hotels, the mountain railroads, the shops, everything closes.) The solution, Molly believes, is to tax the empty houses.
"Half of them are empty for 48 weeks a year. And they're being heated!" says Hanspeter Danuser, head of St. Moritz Tourism since 1978, who came up with the tax idea. "We sold the cow instead of the milk," he says, when I visit him in his downtown office. A 2005 law limiting new residential construction has made prices skyrocket. The Shah of Iran's villa (built in the 1960's) just sold for about $34 million. Recent marquee developments include two from architect Norman Foster: Chesa Futura, a beautiful blob-like wooden apartment building completed in 2003, and Murezzan, his residential development in the center of town, with its chic restaurant, Post Haus.
Both of these projects (and especially Chesa Futura) are striking and elegant and cool, more proof that Foster is the great architect of our age (just an opinion, of course), but they are also emblematic of the changes here. The luxury real-estate market is booming at the expense of affordable, middle-of-the-market places like the now-closed Albana and Posthotel, which were four-star properties before being incorporated into the Murezzan development. Danuser's idea is to force absentee owners to rent their residences out or pay a punitive tax. This would draw a broader spectrum of people to town, not just the extremely wealthy. "But," he says, "people are afraid of the new. And in Switzerland, property is holy." He laughs. "They call me an old radical, a communist Alp Marxist. But we need to solve the problem before the bureaucrats in Bern decide to do it for us." The proliferation of vacation houses is a political issue—and not just in the Swiss capital. Many wish to preserve the authentic character of the country's small villages.
On my way out of Danuser's office, one of his assistants asks how I'm enjoying St. Moritz. "Have you been to La Baracca?" he asks. "I'm going, I'm going!" I answer.
After all the talk of over-the-top, $20 million villas inhabited by the super-rich for a few weeks a year, I jump at the chance when a friend invites me to see one and meet its owner. Luca Bassani is the Italian founder of Wally, a company that makes superfast, high-tech megayachts, the sort of things James Bond would pilot and which cost even more than St. Moritz villas do. Bassani's house in Suvretta, a hillside area in St. Moritz, is quietly spectacular, with lots of pale woodwork and lots of light. It's built in the traditional Engadine style, with modern touches: floor-to-ceiling windows, bent-wood chairs, a squash court, a pool, and art photography on the walls. Bassani and his family spend weekends here all winter, and summers in Portofino.
He built the house in 2000, he tells me while showing me around, and plans to build another on an adjacent plot of land and then sell it. He met some potential Russian buyers who wanted both houses—this one and the yet-to-be-built property next door. Bassani doesn't say what the offer was, but laughs at the memory of the astronomical sum. "They also asked if it would be possible to install bulletproof glass." He told the Russians he wasn't selling.
But of course, they're buying anyway, and they're not all Russians. Lakshmi Mittal, the London-based Indian industrialist, recently built what is said to be the most expensive villa in town. He had to arrange for 24-hour security at the construction site to protect the house's gold-plated radiators.
My thought is to leave the hotel in good hands when we die," says Hansjürg Badrutt, owner of the Palace, explaining why he and his wife recently announced they were bequeathing the hotel to its general manager, Hans Wiedemann. I'm sitting in the lobby with the two men, who, after only four years of working together, have a father-and-son-style relationship that seems warm and absolutely genuine. The Badrutts have no children, and the backstory to their unusual act of generosity is an estranged cousin's sale of his shares in the hotel to an Italian real-estate speculator; leaving their large ownership majority to Wiedemann is an act of legacy preservation.
Hansjürg Badrutt's grandfather Caspar opened the hotel in 1896; the family's roots in St. Moritz go back even further, to the hotelier's great-grandfather Johannes, who founded the nearby Kulm Hotel (now owned by the Niarchos family) and by all accounts originated the very idea of the Alpine winter resort. Hansjürg has run the hotel since the 1950's (much of that time with his late older brother), and he reminisces with pleasure about notable guests—Alfred Hitchcock telling him the idea for a scene in Strangers on a Train, Erich Kästner writing best sellers in the lobby, all the legendary playboys. "In the 60's," he says, "everyone wore a tuxedo to dinner. And if you didn't, other guests would complain."
There is a great store of nostalgia for the old days—the days of tuxedos at dinner and season-long visits. "People used to come for a month," says Horst Edenhofer, former head of Cartier Switzerland. "Now they come for a week." Cartier opened one of its first shops in Switzerland in St. Moritz, and sponsors an annual winter polo event on the frozen lake. Edenhofer has an air of wry bemusement about him. "You have to be a little crazy to be in St. Moritz," he says knowingly. But is that still true? "The good old 'sporting spirit' is not there anymore," says Max Keller, who was the Palace general manager from 1980 to 1991. "Today it's about the love of money—these are the times we live in."
"Look, the world is always changing," Wiedemann says. "January used to be a slow month for us, but now it's the best month of the year. Why? Because of the Russians." Early in the month Orthodox Christmas and new year draw a celebratory crowd. "At first," he says, "it was not so comfortable—we had men lighting cigars in the lobby with 100 franc bills." Recently, though, things have gotten better. "We need to be open!" he says emphatically. "The Russians are here, and the Indians are coming, and so are the Chinese—like it or not. We are a small country, and there's a big wide world out there."
Not all local hoteliers are as international-minded: at Suvretta House, one of the top hotels in town, Russians were nowhere to be seen until just this year. (Not that the hotel had an official anti-Russian policy, but I hear from numerous people that the staff feared their long-standing, very conservative clientele would complain about garish outsiders.) I spend a number of days at Suvretta House: it's the most traditional of the luxury hotels in St. Moritz—which is another way of saying it's the most Swiss. The lobby is grand but low-key. The wide hallways are hung with oil paintings, dark and mysterious. The main restaurant requires black tie at dinnertime. There's a swank, understated austerity about the place, and whatever its unseemly policy of guest profiling may have been, I must say that I love the hotel. My room has a large terrace where I watch the moon rising over the Alps.
Skiing makes you hungry, and there are many places in St. Moritz to have lunch on the slopes. One day, after an invigorating few hours (my dormant skills ever improving), I sit outside on a sheepskin-covered chair at El Paradiso and order their Älpler Magronen, a Swiss specialty of pasta with a beef ragù, topped with applesauce. Which sounds suspect but isn't at all—it's delicious. El Paradiso is new, a beautiful space overlooking the valley, designed by local architect Hans-Jörg Ruch.
Another day I stop at La Marmite, more than halfway up the mountain in the funicular station at Corviglia. This place is an institution: a slightly cartoonish rendering of a high-end gourmet restaurant, with a menu focusing on foie gras, truffles, lobster, venison, gravlax, and caviar. You get the idea. Needless to say, it's a popular spot with the Russians. The waitresses wear ruffled lace aprons à la Heidi, and there's a man singing Simon & Garfunkel songs in a dubious accent. It's all just a little silly, but the food is remarkable—light and fresh, a relief after days of fondue and pasta. "I combine the best local products with exotic flavors," says Reto Mathis, chef and proprietor and all-around local dynamo, whose father founded the restaurant in 1967. Mathis has numerous restaurants and sidelines, including an annual gourmet food festival. He loves the Russians ("What you hear about their behavior—I find it unfair. They haven't had a chance to prove themselves") and scorns the nearby Corviglia Club. ("So conservative—but good for my business. All the people who aren't allowed in there come to me.")
It's at Reto Mathis's restaurant that I meet Reto Lamm (Reto is a common name in the Engadine), a snowboard champion turned entrepreneur. Like Mathis, he grew up here—in 1926 his great-grandfather founded Lamm Cashmere House, a shop in the center of town with the largest selection of cashmere sweaters I've ever seen, a place so traditional it's almost trendy. Lamm dropped out of school at age 19 to go pro and, now 37, is one of the sport's pioneers; these days, he organizes competitions, markets sportswear for Bogner, and makes movies. He coproduced the official Russian video that promoted Sochi's winning 2014 Olympic bid.
"St. Moritz is becoming hip," he says, citing the Norman Foster architecture, the fact that snowboarders are coming—they never used to; La Baracca, of course; and yes, the Russians. "I think they're great," he says. "They're over-the-top. It's no-holds-barred, money is no object—just bring me what you have, let's party! The Russians are turning St. Moritz into a sexy ski town again!"
This is strange to say, but both of these men, these Retos, so quintessentially Swiss and rooted in Engadine tradition, also seem somehow American to me—their striving, their openness to new ideas and opportunities, their embrace of the Russians and all they represent. "You have to face the future," says Mathis, sounding a little like Donald Trump. "You have to do something, get out there, take the next step, take a chance."
At long last, I have dinner with friends at La Baracca. It's on the outskirts of town, a nondescript shack in the middle of a parking lot. The lack of pretense or polish or "style" is clearly deliberate, and it's refreshing in formal St. Moritz. Inside, the place is hopping. The crowd is a mix of locals and tourists, aristocrats and ski bums, and Russians, too. The place feels cosmopolitan, energetic, and casual—it feels "downtown." Max Schneider, the agreeable proprietor, squeezes past our crowded round table, the bartender makes mojitos at the bar for three young women, and a weather-beaten man starts playing a hand organ. A large bowl of salad arrives for the table, and we pass it around, family-style. Plate after plate of pasta comes after that, and it's good, and the wine is even better.
This is the future, I think, the inevitable high-low combustion engine of change, connection, and fun. It's not the Russian oligarchs who are transforming St. Moritz; it's the new generation of entrepreneurs and restaurateurs who are doing the job, opening doors. Everyone is talking about La Baracca because it's the kind of restaurant where strangers talk to each other.
And everyone is here.
Luke Barr is the news director of Travel + Leisure.
Getting There St. Moritz is a three-hour drive from Zürich, and 3½; hours away by train.
Where to Stay
Badrutt's Palace Hotel. Doubles from $683.
Carlton Hotel. Doubles from $910.
Hotel Misani. Doubles from $150.
Hotel Saratz. Doubles from $275.
Kempinski Grand Hotel des Bains. Doubles from $533.
Kulm Hotel. Doubles from $500.
Suvretta House. Doubles from $589.
Where to Eat
Chesa Veglia. Dinner for two $160.
El Paradiso. Dinner for two $60.
Hanselmann. Dinner for two $52.
La Baracca. Dinner for two $75.
La Marmite, at Mathis Food Affairs Lunch for two $180.
Post Haus. Dinner for two $159.
Where to Shop
Eisenwaren R. Eichholzer & Co. Hardware, housewares, and gifts. 3 Via Veglia; 41-81/833-4950.
Lamm Cashmere House 15 Via Maistra; 41-81/833-3315; cashmerelamm.ch.
Rebecca Ardessi Remarkable antique jewelry. 27 Via Serlas, Palace Galerie; 41-81/833-0006.


text:
Deadly blast sets Egypt on edge ahead of revolt's anniversary
For weeks, Egypt's military-installed government has claimed that it's wrested control of an unstable nation from those seeking to destroy it.
It arrested thousands of political dissidents, journalists and opponents who it said threatened the state. Last week, it celebrated that 98.1 percent of Egyptian voters had approved a new constitution. It waged a military campaign against militants in the restive Sinai Peninsula. It all but banned protests and branded its most powerful opponents as terrorists. It promised that it was prepared for any attacks that might coincide with Saturday's celebration of the third anniversary of the start of the 2011 uprising that toppled Hosni Mubarak.
The reality, however, told a different story, never more so than on Friday, when four explosions rocked Egypt's capital, killing six people and wounding at least 100. It was the deadliest series of attacks on government targets in the capital since the uprising. Four other people died in clashes at protests nationwide.
The government's response to the attacks appeared to be focused primarily on its political opponents. Between the third and fourth bombings, President Adly Mansour released a statement vowing to arrest those responsible. Yet security forces raided the home of a liberal filmmaker, Aalam Wassef, and arrested him for producing satirical videos about the government. He was released around midnight..
In the aftermath of Friday's attacks, the government said it had arrested 111 people, with the Interior Ministry calling them "Brotherhood elements" who were "trying to provoke riots," a reference to the Muslim Brotherhood, the now-banned secret organization through which ousted President Mohammed Morsi rose to power.
Even before the bombings, there were signs that the government wasn't sure of its ability to contain its opponents Saturday, when thousands of supporters and opponents are expected to take to the streets to mark the beginning of the so-called Jan. 25 revolution.
A feeling of angst hung over the capital. Earlier this week, officials closed all traffic through Cairo's iconic Tahrir Square, where demonstrators first gathered in 2011. Elsewhere around the country, soldiers and police officers took up positions in a show of force.
Outside police stations, officials erected walls in case protesters tried to storm the facilities and break out prisoners, and some prisoners were moved from jails to prisons in anticipation. On Wednesday, officials suspended Egyptian Railways service to Cairo so that protesters couldn't overrun the capital; the official reason was technical problems.
The bombings happened despite those efforts, sowing concerns among some Egyptians that in spite of their new military-imposed government, the nation was on the path to persistent instability.
Hundreds took to the streets near the blast sites to show their support for the minister of defense – and Egypt's de facto leader – Gen. Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi. They vowed that the attacks wouldn't deter them from coming back Saturday. But away from the rallies of support, there were quiet murmurs that perhaps the government had orchestrated the bombings and that in any case, the nation was plummeting toward chaos.
The largest of the three explosions was a car bomb, officials said, that detonated in front of the main Cairo police headquarters, killing four people and wounding at least 76, most of them police officers and security personnel who were sleeping in the large, multi-story building. The attackers struck at 6:32 a.m. when officers were changing shifts, creating a security gap. A security camera captured video of a white sedan parked in front of the police station just before the explosion. The video played on a continuous loop on state television.
The second blast, near a police station in the Giza section of Cairo, killed one person. The third, the day's smallest, detonated near the Harem metro station, near the Pyramids, at 10:23 a.m. The fourth detonated around 5 p.m. at a movie theater near the site of the third, claiming the day's sixth victim. At least 24 people were wounded in the three smaller explosions.
Were it not that Friday was the start of the weekend here, there probably would have been more victims. The family of each police officer killed will receive 5,000 Egyptian pounds in compensation, about $714; the wounded will receive 2,000 pounds, about $286.
The nation's divisions were on display at the bombing sites.
Those who support the government's harsh crackdown on the Muslim Brotherhood blamed the group for the blasts.
"Down, down with the Brotherhood!" yelled one man who'd been hoisted on the shoulders of another. Thousands of bystanders, many carrying posters featuring el-Sissi, cheered.
In a 21-minute audio message featured on the website of the newspaper Youm al Sabah immediately after the attacks, Egypt's most feared Islamist group, Ansar Beit al Maqdis, embraced the attacks but didn't claim them. The statement said the group was angry about the government and claimed that el-Sissi takes orders from the United States.
"The battle today is between Islam and the international nonbelievers. . . . We are watching every day our brothers being killed. Why? Because they seek to implement God's Shariah," the voice on the tape says, referring to Islamic law. "We are calling people to revolt for the sake of God's Shariah."
Separately, a statement from the group reportedly urged people to stay home Saturday for their own safety.
While Ansar Beit al Maqdis, like the Muslim Brotherhood, opposed the military's return to power, the groups aren't officially affiliated. Through its own online statement, the Brotherhood condemned the attacks, as did the U.S. Embassy and the Arab League.
For those near the sites, it made no difference. The Brotherhood had contributed to divisive streets, the crowds said, and many said the attacks made them more resolute to come out in support of el-Sissi on Saturday. El-Sissi is the front-runner for still-unscheduled presidential elections.
There were worries, however, that the government had failed to provide security.
"The Brotherhood did it, but the government is sleeping. The security forces should have taken better precautions," Emad Ibrahim, a plastics worker who owns a shop on a nearby side street, said as other shop owners around him cleaned up debris. Of Saturday's anniversary, he said, "I am expecting chaos."
The impact of the blast could be seen from hundreds of yards away, where charred glass covered apartment buildings, shops and a number of government buildings.
Perhaps the most devastating damage occurred at the Museum of Islamic Art, across from the police headquarters. Government news publications released photos of destroyed display cases, shattered glass and a gutted building. It was unclear how many artifacts had been damaged.
That an Islamic group could destroy religious artifacts in a quest to go after the government wasn't lost on some.
"We don't know who is responsible for this. Every day they tell us someone different. But no one who loves Egypt, who has a heart or mercy would do this," said Sameer Eran, 51, a furniture shop owner, as he stood over the damage three blocks away from the first bombing. "God only knows what will happen tomorrow."
McClatchy special correspondent Amina Ismail contributed to this report.


text:
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tunctl is used to set up and maintain persistent TUN/TAP network interfaces,
enabling user applications to simulate network traffic. Such interfaces
is useful for VPN software, virtualization, emulation, simulation, and a
number of other applications.
Maintained by: Murat D. Kadirov
Keywords: tun,tap,virtual network
ChangeLog: tunctl
Download SlackBuild:
tunctl.tar.gz.asc (FAQ)
(the SlackBuild does not include the source)
|Individual Files:
| slack-desc
| tunctl.SlackBuild
| tunctl.info
© 2006-2019 SlackBuilds.org Project. All rights reserved.
Slackware® is a registered trademark of Patrick Volkerding
Linux® is a registered trademark of Linus Torvalds
Web Design by WebSight Designs | Managed Hosting by OnyxLight Communications


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text:
Harvard's swarming defense limited Bucknell to just 23 yards rushing (Photo courtesy: Justine Agaloos).
CAMBRIDGE, Mass. - After exploding out of the gates the last two weekends, Harvard's offense was held in check by the Bucknell Bison for the first 20 minutes of the game; however, the No. 21/22 Crimson eventually found its rhythm and cruised to its 14th straight win, 35-7, at Harvard Stadium Saturday evening.
The Bison, who came into the game with one of the nation's top run defenses, held Harvard to just seven points and forced a turnover in the early going, but the Crimson eventually scored on its final three possessions of the second quarter and its first of the third to put the game out of reach and improve to 5-0 in 2012.
Harvard's Colton Chapple finished the game 11-of-18 for 189 yards and two touchdowns, and he also carried the ball eight times for 120 yards and two scores to lead the team in rushing. Kyle Juszczyk had two grabs for 79 yards and a touchdown, and Cameron Brate added five catches for 57 yards and a score.
Defensively, it was an entire team effort for the Crimson as 10 different players accounted for the team's 12 tackles for loss for a total of 52 yards. Josh Hodges led the way with 3.5 tackles for loss and a sack, while Nnamdi Obukwelu had a team-high seven tackles and two quarterback hurries.
While the offense struggled to get going, the Crimson's defense carried the team in the beginning, forcing turnovers on back-to-back possessions.
Following a Chapple interception, Bucknell took over deep in Harvard territory and was marching towards an early lead when Chris Splinter intercepted a Brandon Wesley pass in the end zone to keep the Bison off the board.
After a Harvard punt on the ensuing possession, linebacker Matt Martindale leveled Wesley in the backfield to force a fumble that was recovered by Jaron Wilson at the Bucknell 27 to give the Crimson the ball back.
Harvard was finally able to take advantage of a Bison turnover as Chapple rushed the ball three times to account for all the yardage on the series, culminating the drive with a six-yard option keeper to get Harvard on the board with 4:01 left in the first.
Bucknell briefly stymied the offensive attack, but the Crimson found the end zone again on its second possession of the second quarter to open up the floodgates.
Chapple was again the catalyst, carrying the ball for 17 yards and throwing it for 54, including a 14-yard touchdown strike to Brate at the 7:07 mark.
After forcing a Bucknell punt on the Bison's next offensive series, Andrew Fischer took a reverse 52 yards untouched into the end zone on the Crimson's first play of the drive to extend Harvard's lead to 21.
The Crimson hit pay dirt again after getting the ball back as Juszczyk plowed through the Bucknell defense, shedding four Bison tacklers, to score from 59 yards out to cap a four-play, 81-yard drive with 1:41 left in the half.
In the second half, the Bison held the ball for the first 8:57 of the third, but it didn't slow the Harvard offense. After sitting for nearly 40 minutes of real time, Chapple moved the ball down the field in just four plays, capping the series with a 59-yard scamper for his second rushing score of the game.
While the outcome was never in jeopardy in the second half, Bucknell did ruin the shutout with 59 seconds remaining as Jeremiah Young plunged in from one yard out to deny the Crimson its first shutout since 2008.
The Crimson heads to New Jersey next week for a showdown with Princeton at 1 p.m.
Game Notes
- Harvard extended its winning streak to 14 games with each victory by double figures.
- Chapple has accounted for at least four touchdowns in the last three games after having five against Holy Cross and Cornell.
- Harvard has scored 205 points in its first five games, which is the most since the Crimson had 224 in 1892.
- Chapple now has 13 touchdown passes at the halfway point of the season.
- Chapple has nine touchdowns in two games against the Bison after throwing for five last season and rushing and throwing for two this year.
First Quarter
- Harvard received the ball to start the game for the first time this season.
- Harvard failed to score on its opening drive for the first time in three weeks.
- Chapple's interception was just his third of the year.
- Splinter's end zone interception was his second in as many weeks.
- Josh Boyd has now played a part in a turnover in the last three games. He forced a fumble against Holy Cross, forced and recoverd a fumble versus Cornell and tipped the ball on Splinter's interception.
- Chapple's touchdown run was his third of the year.
Second Quarter
- Fisher's 52-yard touchdown run is Harvard's second longest scoring run of the season behind Treavor Scales' 66-yard rush against San Diego in the season opener.
- Juszczyk's 59-yard TD reception is Harvard's longest passing play of the season and second-longest scoring play.
- Chapple threw for two touchdowns in the quarter, upping his total to nine passing touchdowns and two rushing scores in the last three first halves. In those six quarters, he has completed 38-of-56 passes for 607 yards.
- Harvard held Bucknell to -11 rushing yards in the first half and 90 net total yards.
- The Crimson scored its three touchdowns in the span of six offensive plays, and the drives lasted a total of 11 plays (six, one and four plays).
Third Quarter
- Chapple's 59-yard rush supplanted Fisher's score as the second-longest scoring run of the season and matched Juszczyk's for second-longest scoring play.
- Prior to Chapple, the last time a Harvard quarterback rushed for over 100 yards in a game was Oct. 29, 2011 when Collier Winters had 15 carries for 126 yards and two touchdowns versus Dartmouth at home.
Fourth Quarter
- Bucknell's touchdown with 59 seconds left snapped a streak of 56 consecutive points scored by the Crimson.
- The touchdown also ended Harvard's hopes of its first shutout since it blnaked Yale, 10-0, Nov. 22, 2008.
- The 7-play, 91-yard touchdown drive by Bucknell is the longest drive by an opponent this season.


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text:
iMac 24" 2.16 GHz Cables
iMac 24" 2.16 GHz ile çalışan iş parçaları:
Ürünler Gösteriliyor 1 - 1 of 1
Cihaz Bilgisi
The introduction of the Intel Core 2 Duo processors added more power under the hood of this version. The addition of a Firewire 800 port added connectivity.
Need more memory? A PC2-5300 2 GB RAM chip and a PC2-5300 1 GB RAM chip will max out your memory at 3 GB. A 2 TB SATA hard drive will top off your storage capacity.
Select your category below or browse all compatible parts to find what you need to fix your machine!


text:
Menlo Innovations' Rich Sheridan named AnnArbor.com's 2012 Executive of the Year
Courtney Sacco I AnnArbor.com
Related story: AnnArbor.com unveils winners of 2012 Deals of the Year awards at annual ceremony
Whenever people in the entrepreneurial community talk about Ann Arbor as a next Silicon Valley or global innovation hub, a key component that always comes up as lagging is networking and mentorship in the startup community.
Collaboration is a much bigger buzzword these days than competition, and people are trying to find new ways for successful executives to rub elbows with young people who have new ideas. When you're looking for people creating that mentorship network in Ann Arbor, you can't miss Menlo Innovations co-founder and CEO Rich Sheridan, named Friday night as AnnArbor.com's 2012 Executive of the Year.
AnnArbor.com's 2012 Deals of the Year award winners
Deals of the Year award winners were unveiled at annual ceremony on Friday
- Company of the Year: Bank of Ann Arbor
- Executive of the Year: Rich Sheridan
- Health care: University of Michigan Health System and Trinity Health-Michigan
- Retail: Corner Brewery
- Technology: LLamasoft
- Research: U-M Transportation Research Institute Connected Vehicles Project
- Commercial Real Estate: Barracuda Networks at 317 Maynard
- Nonprofit: Ann Arbor PTO Thrift Shop and Ann Arbor Public Schools Educational Foundation
- Construction and Development: Landmark
Sheridan was awarded Executive of the Year not only for his guidance of Menlo Innovations as it has grown without any venture capital investment and moved into its new "software factory" this year, but also for the impact he has had on the entrepreneurial community in Ann Arbor.
Sheridan stumbled upon the idea of communal mentorship in the startup community years ago by doing what he did every morning — getting a cup of coffee.
"While I was at Cafe Verde I would bump into someone interesting, someone I really wanted to know," he said.
"I remember thinking, 'This is really cool. Rather than making coffee in a little kitchen, if I bring my morning e-mail checking to the coffee shop, I increase my chances of just bumping into people.'"
Sheridan said at the beginning of his "coffee shop marketing" days he was the mentee asking others for advice. Now that Menlo is a successful and growing software development company, he's become a central cog in the growing mentorship community that is offering guidance to new entrepreneurs in southeast Michigan.
"The mentorship network is becoming strong from top to bottom, and once it gets there it's a virtuous cycle that is very hard to stop," he said.
Melanie Maxwell | AnnArbor.com
The drive to create a network of mentorship is a large part of what led Menlo to relocate this year to its current space in the Offices at Liberty Square. Sheridan said that when co-founder and CFO Bob Simms wanted him to look at the space, he was hesitant to look underneath a parking structure for an office.
"But when I saw [student startup accelerator] TechArb here with the glass wall, my heart-meter went 'ding!'" he said.
U-M assistant director of student ventures Moses Lee said Sheridan, like everyone at Menlo, serves as an informal mentor for students at U-M's student startup accelerator and is also an adjunct faculty member at the College of Engineering, helping to teach the practicum course in entrepreneurship.
Sheridan was also tapped to lead an "un-conference" at the North Campus Research Complex earlier this year that brought the startup and innovation communities together to talk about the future of innovation in the region.
In addition to having TechArb next door, Menlo shares its workspace with other startup companies that pay nominal rent to be downtown and connected to the community that Sheridan is building. Sheridan said that while the companies are not paying a tremendous amount, they are contributing to the vibe and the entrepreneurial density of downtown.
"Entrepreneurship is very much about community," said Lee, whose startup company Seelio is also located in Menlo's space.
"Entrepreneurs need a community of support because the ideas are very fragile early on. So being here, that's why they call it incubators, because it helps it grow from ground zero."
Paul Krutko, chief executive of Ann Arbor SPARK, where Sheridan sits on the board, said Sheridan is a vital part of the community in large part because he believes in Ann Arbor and is willing to help make it a destination for companies from across the country.
"Rich has got that community gene in that he wants to have the Ann Arbor region be successful and he's willing to give of himself to do that," Krutko said.
"He opens his doors to everyone he's one of the shining stars of the Ann Arbor entrepreneurial system."
Ben Freed covers business for AnnArbor.com. You can sign up here to receive Business Review updates every week. Reach out to Ben at 734-623-2528 or email him at firstname.lastname@example.com. Follow him on twitter @BFreedinA2
Sat, Nov 3, 2012 : 5:13 p.m.
Mutual-admiration society gathers to congratulate each other for being part of the same group-think.
Wolf's Bane
Sat, Nov 3, 2012 : 3:26 p.m.
DeParry named Developer of the Year, given keys to the city.
Sat, Nov 3, 2012 : 2:40 p.m.
This guy is the real thing. Very impressive operation.
Sat, Nov 3, 2012 : 1:40 p.m.
An annarbor.com award goes to Menlo? Shocking.
Linda Peck
Sat, Nov 3, 2012 : 12:04 p.m.
Congratulations, Mr Sheridan! I like your community spirit and your solid contributions!


text:
Love, Death & Robots Specials
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