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Monday, August 30, 2010
The Evil That Men Do
The Maharal
Who was Rabbi Loew, referred to by many as the Maharal and what did he have to do with the Kabbalah? He certainly is not the man that has been currently portrayed and recently celebrated back in the Prague festivities of September 2009 celebrating the 400th anniversary of his death. And contrary to the publicized claim that Loew was the chief rabbi of Prague after he had served for 20 years as a chief rabbi of Moravia which is now a region of the Czech Republic he never actually held that distinction. Twice turned down for the position of Chief Rabbi of Prague the community actually feared the power grabbing attitude and mystical bent of the man therefore denying him the honour which is now falsely claimed for him. Just so his supporters and false biographers can't pretend any longer that this was true, I'll provide you with the two men that the community deemed worthier than Rabbi Loew for the position. The first time the position became available the community and council elected Rabbi Isaac Melling and the second time when he put his name up for election in 1604 with the hope that he'd come out of exile in Poland and return to Prague, the community unanimously selected Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim. The Jews of Prague didn't want the Maharal anywhere near their city. "Exile?" you ask. Exactly what happened to him as he packed his bags and left the city just weeks after his private meeting with the Emperor Rudolf II in February 1592. After all, if he was as great as his followers claimed, he would hardly have left the city after being praised as they claimed by the Emperor and asked to tutor this monarch in the ways of the Kabbalah.
The truth is that he was a man constantly in conflict with his own community and who committed specific forbidden acts under the guise of religious mysticism or the Kabbalah as these Rabbis wish to call their esoteric and forbidden arts. What exactly was this black art that he performed to cause his expulsion from Bohemia and earn the antagonism of his own community? Like Dr. Frankenstein in Mary Shelly's book, he allegedly created a monster that terrorized the city and caused the death of a dozen people. Commonly referred to as the Golem, as much as we'd like to discuss this creation of animate matter as utter nonsense we as Karaites cannot because this 'nonsense' infests our Rabbanite brethren to the point of blackening Judaism with its heresy and affront to the Almighty. To ignore it is to watch the demise of Judaism as the spread of these Kabbalistic teachings which are in vogue in today's society, take both heart and mind of the confused, desperate and dissatisfied that are constantly searching for God but don't know where to find Him
The Golem
Both Singer and Rosenberg based their books on the original legend of the Golem of Prague and Rabbi Loew as it was passed down by Katz who just happened to be the Maharal's son-in-law. Obvious distortions occurred as a result of their reliance on a relative that owed his position and income to the Maharal but the flatteries and claims of greatness were more so out of necessity to cover up the truth than by an intention of bias. Yes, just as both their versions testify, there was a banker involved, as was the mayor and several other prominent people from the Prague Jewish community just as these mythological tales reveal but what they overlooked to tell their readership was that the Emperor did have very good reasons to lay charges and as historical documents point out, to not only take possession of the mayor of Josefov's fortune as well as his property, but even to have his two nephews arrested. Points of law which Emperor Rudolf did do after Meisel's death but for which the authors accuse one of the most benign and tolerant monarchs of his time as being both criminal and anti-Semitic. The latter accusation which is entirely incongruous with Katz's claim that Rudolf was enthralled by the Maharal and couldn't praise him enough with the hope that he would become his teacher in the Kabbalah. The story as presented by Singer, although quaint and enchanting, does not provide the history behind the actual events. The crimes committed by the banker, the printing house and the Golem were more than legend but reality evident in historical facts but buried in fables. And since the art of fables is well mastered by the rabbis as proven in their Talmud it should not be to anyone's surprise that they have created something of such magnitude that it defies the imagination though concealing the perpetration of the crime quite effectively.
Challenging God
But in their efforts to mix myth and alchemy into the true practice of Judaism they have willingly overstepped the bounds of mortal men until they have proclaimed themselves as superior and in their own minds as being gods themselves. For they have said as much in the Talmud and made no effort to hide their perfidy though the size of their egos would have made that virtually impossible. For it is written in their Talmud that Rava said, "If the righteous wished, they could create a world, as it is written [Isaiah 59:2]: "it is your iniquities that have separated you from your God" (i.e., made a distinction between you and God). Rava created a man and sent him to Rabbi Zera. Rabbi Zera spoke to him but he [the man] did not answer. Then he [Rabbi Zera] said to him: You are from the companions (i.e., a creature created by the rabbis). Return to your dust." Here we have proof of their efforts to practice the black arts, to create living beings that they could command, and in so doing openly declaring that they have the right to play God because it was their dues for being righteous as promised in Isaiah. For any man to see himself as a god is the establishment of a false image, a graven statue to one owns glory, and in thinking themselves lofty and having the power of gods, they have condemned themselves to the greatest heresy possible. Their fate is no different from that of Nimrod as he built his tower into the heavens in order to challenge God. When men who are thought of us the spiritual leaders of Judaism have chosen a path into darkness then it can be no wonder that the world has come to see the Children of Israel as being abandoned by the Lord. Let us look no further than the Babylonian Talmud, in Sanhedrin 65B where it states, "Rabbi Hanina and Rabbi Oshaia spent every Sabbath eve studying the Book of Creation (Sefer Yezirah); a third-grown calf was created for them, and they ate it." Remember carefully what I said in my article http://hubpages.com/hub/39-Lashes-Karaite-Sabbath in regards to what is banned and not banned on the Sabbath and that which is referred to as melakha. If it has to do with creation then it certainly is banned work and by God's own words 'the creation' is punishable by death. When we examine that ruling we realize that God was not talking about people doing simple tasks but instead exactly what these two fools were doing. Using the Sabbath to create a living creature, practicing black arts on the Sabbath and then sacrificing the animal not to God as would have been the Sabbath sacrificial right but eating it themselves as if they themselves were accepting the burnt offering. Not only was the entire act sacrilegious, it is obviously praised by their rabbinic colleagues that have incorporated it into the Talmud. This one act alone renders the Talmud a thing of evil, the antithesis of Judasim, and a blasphemy before God.
Telling It Like It is
But returning to the matter at hand, the reality was that in the year of 1588, the city of Prague was held in the grip of terror, victim to the murderous rampage of an inhuman monster created from the seeds of hatred and sown through religious intolerance and mortal greed. Not 1580 as the legend presented by Singer and Roseberg would have you believe based on Katz's notes. Rabbi Loew was still in Morovia in that year and didn't travel to Prague until 1586, the same time the Roman Catholic priest Taddeush was leading the mobs against the Jewish community. Therefore the legend of the Golem must be viewed from this perspective to appreciate it fully. Persecutions and murders of Jewish citizenry were taking place and in defence a creature or something even more sinister was let loose on the city but in so doing, not only those guilty of the murder of Jews were in turn killed but innocents as well. And therein lies the dilemma, for at what point do we as God's light to the world end up as corrupt and evil as the rest of the world? When have we become no different from them? I'm not saying I have the answer but it certainly wasn't the one these Kabbalists including Rabbi Judah Loew arrived at. According to Prague's Chabad rabbi, Manis Barash, he claims the Maharal was one of the first rabbis to popularize Kabbalah, If this is what the Kabbalah was intended to achieve, then a curse upon all of them. Sherwin, the director of doctoral studies at Chicago's Spertus Institute of Jewish Studies, says Rabbi Loew achieved fame as the golem's creator because of his greatness but there were many other rabbis of his era who are also well documented as trying to animate golems. Greatness? Since when is evil and the practice of black arts deemed greatness? How misguided have these Kabbalists and their Jewish followers have become to see what they are doing as greatness and no longer view it as the great sin it truly is.
There is another story about the events in Prague, a more accurate and definitive story that portrays what occurred in the light in which it should be properly viewed. Yes, it is a Karaite perspective but it is my ancestor's perspective and he more than anyone had a right to say what really happened. To read his story and understand the dark path that the Kabbalah will lead you down then I recommend reading Shadows of Trinity released by Eloquent Books http://www.eloquentbooks.com/ShadowsOfTrinity.html (Also available from Amazon Books at http://www.amazon.com/Shadows-Trinity-Allen-Goldenthal/dp/1606933337/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1275204896&sr=1-1) and Barnes and Noble at http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Shadows-Of-Trinity/Allen-Goldenthal/e/9781606933336/?itm=1&USRI=Shadows+of+Trinity )in order to compare the legend against the historical documentation. I will not state that I did not take some creative leniency in telling of the story but only doing so to make the story flow more easily as historical facts are reeled off one after the other for all to see. For the most part the story preserves each historical fact as it was recorded in the Austrian Royal Archives, familial traditions passed down orally, and details recorded in the legends by both Singer and Rosenberg, revealing a series of strange and shattering events that occurred during the years 1588 and 1589 in Prague as supposedly good men turned evil.
Posted by Believer at 11:01 PM No comments:
Labels: evil, Golem, Golem of Prague, kabbalah, Kahana, Karaite, Maharal, Shadows of Trinity
Sunday, August 8, 2010
A Karaite Sabbath
Amongst Karaites the commandment to keep Shabbat as a day of rest is imperative and although it is repeated many times in the Tanach, its vital importance is probably no better stressed than in Exodus 31:12-17:
And the LORD spoke unto Moses, saying: 'Verily ye shall keep My sabbaths, for it is a sign between Me and you throughout your generations, that ye may know that I am the LORD who sanctify you. Ye shall keep the sabbath therefore, for it is holy unto you; every one that profaneth it shall surely be put to death; for whosoever doeth any work (melakha—מְלָאכָה) therein, that soul shall be cut off from among his people. Six days shall work be done; but on the seventh day is a sabbath of solemn rest, holy to the LORD; whosoever doeth any work in the sabbath day, he shall surely be put to death. Wherefore the children of Israel shall keep the sabbath, to observe the sabbath throughout their generations, for a perpetual covenant. It is a sign between Me and the children of Israel for ever; for in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day He ceased from work and rested.'
So the question that must be asked is how is it that the Shabbat restrictions can be so varied and so different between both Karaites and Rabbanites. Even more so between the various branches of Karaism where some may still observe the Ananite tradition of sitting in darkness an entire evening though others have taken a more reasonable and practical approach. The issue revolves around a single word. Where the interpretations have struggled is when it comes to understanding the word (מְלָאכָה) melakha. Traditionally it has been translated as "work" but it was never intended in my opinion to mean work as we know it. It is very different from the common use of (עבודה) avodah that is associated with physical type labour. Instead we can look to Genesis 2:1-3 for its true meaning. That paragraph reads as follows:
Heaven and earth, and all their components, were completed. With the seventh day, God finished all the work (melakha) that He had done. He ceased on the seventh day from all the work (melakha) that he had been doing. God blessed the seventh day, and he declared it to be holy, for it was on this day that God ceased from all the work (melakha) that he had been creating to function.
Therefore it can be seen that melakha was not a term for work but a word that was in reference to the physical act of creating or the making of something new and unique. Perhaps we can extend and extrapolate its meaning to cover starting something new as well but it is clear that it was not a reference to doing work that was already started or established. The term is also used in Exodus 31:1-11 when God is instructing Moses about the construction of the Tabernacle and even though this was a work in progress, it would appear that He is clearly telling Moses that the work on the Tabernacle must cease on the Sabbath since all the manufacturing done by Bezalel is referred to as being melakha. From this we can further deduce an understanding to the term melakha that it was a reference to work especially pertaining to that having a religious connotation or spiritual significance. It may never have been intended for everyday activities.
Rabbinical Folly
It is no coincidence that the 39 lashes for transgressions has taken on a mystical significance for the Rabbanites as they list their 39 concepts of melakha. By relating the traditional punishment to an exact number of prohibitions the Rabbis have used a very old technique of association to reinforce their policing of their own statutes. A case of merging A and B in order to form C and give it a religious stature as if God had provided them. Demanding that the people do not transgress in any manner their edicts the rabbis have extended their prohibition to practically everything and no longer confining it to that which is creative and which might change the environment. Their use of the biblical threat of lashes created the impression amongst the minds of their followers that it must be the law. But in so doing they created a fallacy of hardship that in some essences is even cruel when extended to the prohibition of saving lives as I will point out later. Even matters which can be rectified and thereby provide a greater level of safety are banned such as the removal of small bones from fish, or the filtering of water. Are we foolish enough or gullible enough to think that God would want our health and safety placed in jeopardy so that we would not be able to worship Him? The Rabbanites obviously think so and therefore I take exception to their regulations though I have to admit there are many Karaites that still adhere to these rules because they have not fully understood and interpreted the meaning of melakha for themselves. Those wishing to see the exact working of the thirty-nine forbidden activities of the Rabbanites, I direct your attention to the Mishna Shabbat 7:2.
Horticultural Prohibitions
These activities include 1. Planting, 2. Plowing ,3. Reaping, 4. Binding Sheaves, 5. Threshing , 6. Winnowing , 7. Selecting, 8. Grinding, 9. Sifting, 10. Kneading, and 11. Baking. Although it is obvious that one could not bake bread if there was no wheat planted, the question of creating as implied from the word melakha would really only extend to activities 1 and 2, since everything that follows is material that has already been generated. But since many of these other activities would distract the individual from finding time to worship God on the Sabbath as the day was intended, then perhaps activities that would involve extended lengths of time should not be engaged in. What would be the rabbinical ruling if the threat of flooding could be avoided by opening a sluice gate or closing a damn if it fell on the Sabbath, thereby preventing the loss of crops? The answer is that they would forbid it but in so doing they have placed the lives of the people in jeopardy which is forbidden even on the Sabbath. Clearly it is evident that the rabbis have not given the act of forethought to this matter and by extending their prohibitions beyond the restrictions of creating and altering the environment they have failed to appreciate the full meaning of the Sabbath Laws.
Wool Prohibitions
Their list continues with 12. Shearing, 13. Scouring 14. Beating 15. Dyeing 16. Spinning 17. Weaving 18. Tying two loops 19. Weaving two threads 20. Separating two threads 21. Tying and Untying, 22. Sewing two stitches 23. Tearing for the purpose of sewing. It is clear that God did not want Bezalel working on the curtains and fabrics of the Tabernacle during the Sabbath but did this prohibition truly extend to the day to day work of shepherds and wool scourers? Once again, if this work prevented the worker from observing the Sabbath properly and praying to God then it was not to be permitted but it should not be restricted under the context that shearing and scouring were thought of as creative acts whereas the production of coloured wool through dyeing could be. Similarly, the knotting of the wools, the subsequent looping to make a design or fabric were creative acts. But if I tie up my horse with more than two loops, that must be considered a completely different activity than one would use when making macramé or knitting. The first is practical, the second is creative. The fact is that there is a distinct line between what might term as 'creating' and the rabbis failed to appreciate this but still enforced their regulations upon their congregations. How fortunate for Karaites that we are entitled to use independent thought and interpret the Tanach in a practical manner. In the early days of Karaism when it first broke away from the Rabbanites there was the matter of indoctrination by the rabbinical sabbatical laws and some thought that by making them even more stringent they could show that they were better followers of Judaism but fortunately cooler heads prevailed and over the next few hundred years Karaites began to interpret the laws more clearly and with better intent.
Livestock and Animal Prohibitions
The Mishna then moves on to prohibition 24 about trapping which the rabbis use as a reference to hunting but they are quick to say that this does not apply to domestic animals. So if I put my cattle and sheep in a pen, or my dog in a kennel, then that is not considered work but if I snare a deer then that is work. It gets even more ludicrous when the rabbis try to explain their inconsistencies in the Meno Netziv which says that an animal that is not normally trapped (e.g. a fly, a bee, or a lizard) is not covered under the Torah prohibition of trapping. But the rabbis themselves prohibit it, so they instruct not to trap the animal unless one is afraid of the animal. In that situation one may trap it. That being the case, if I'm afraid of deer and do not normally trap them, then for my own security I could ensnare them. The fact was simply that hunting was not an activity practiced by the rabbis. It was an activity of the common man, living off nature in order to provide for himself and his family. Something unfamiliar to the rabbis since it involved hard work, rather than living off the gifts and offerings of the community. So it was very easy for them to pass edicts and make rules that never affected themselves directly.
Prohibitions 25. Slaughtering, 26. Flaying, 27. Salting, 28. Curing, 29. Scraping and 30. Cutting. These are a mixed bag of activities, the first three having nothing to do with creating an object, especially one that might have religious significance since there are only in preparation for a meal, but the next three have to do with making leather goods and therefore are about creating an object that didn't exist before. Since the offerings on the Sabbath did involve parts of the burn offerings that could be eaten by the priests, then would that not be considered to be similar to parts of the normal cooking process and therefore not prohibited? Once again common sense should have prevailed and the question was not which activity was prohibited but which ones would prohibit sufficient time to worship properly on the Sabbath.
Lettering Prohibitions
We next move on to prohibitions 31. Against the writing of two or more letters and 32. Regarding the erasing in order to write two or more letters. That being the case I must assume that the rabbis didn't think very carefully about coded messages with perhaps symbols instead of letters, or else code consisting of one letter that meant far more. Let us take a more sensible approach or should I say a more Karaite approach. The Sabbath was about praising and worshipping God. If in doing so I chose to write a prayer, or my thanks or a psalm to God then I am fulfilling the Sabbath obligation. It never should have been a prohibition about letters or writing but an assurance that if writing one is not doing their customary business but the business of God. Because if writing more than two letters was seen as an evil act on the Sabbath by the rabbis then so too would have been reading two or more letters. And that being the case then reading a prayer book in the synagogue, especially since so many read the words without the meaning, in an act to get through the service as quickly as possible is more of a contravention of the Sabbath requirements than any writing of letters.
Construction Prohibitions
Then there is the matter of 33. Building and 34. Tearing down. Though the first would definitely be creating an object and very time consuming the second is not a creative accomplishment but in fact a destructive one. But again, the matter should not be which activities are prohibited in this case but what will involve copious amounts of time that prevent the proper keeping of the Sabbath.
Fire Prohibitions
Two of the key prohibitions that I will take exception to as a Karaite will be 35. Extinguishing a fire and 36. Igniting a fire. In the early days of Karaism the Rabbanites taunted us and accused us of being 'Sitters in the Dark,' a reflection of some of Anan's early laws in which he would not permit a fire to be lit before the Sabbath so that there would be light in the home during the Sabbath evening. Perhaps a little too zealous in his interpretation and preserved for a long time by those that were part of the Ananite sect, at least common sense prevailed and by the time of Kirkisani the acceptance of candles lit before the Sabbath was reinstated. So let's put the first prohibition into its proper perspective since the restriction should have been about lighting fires not putting them out. If a fire has the potential to cause serious destructive damage, then it also by implication has the potential to be life threatening. The failure to extinguish any unsafe, uncontrolled or monitored fire is by itself a failure to perform an act that ultimately would result in great environmental change. And since it was the rabbis themselves that said environmental change on the Sabbath was forbidden, then their ruling in this case is in error simply because it violates their own restriction. Exodus Chapter 35 שְׁמוֹת clearly states the following:
א וַיַּקְהֵל מֹשֶׁה, אֶת-כָּל-עֲדַת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל--וַיֹּאמֶר אֲלֵהֶם: אֵלֶּה, הַדְּבָרִים, אֲשֶׁר-צִוָּה יְהוָה, לַעֲשֹׂת אֹתָם.
1 And Moses assembled all the congregation of the children of Israel, and said unto them: 'These are the words which the LORD hath commanded, that ye should do them.
ב שֵׁשֶׁת יָמִים, תֵּעָשֶׂה מְלָאכָה, וּבַיּוֹם הַשְּׁבִיעִי יִהְיֶה לָכֶם קֹדֶשׁ שַׁבַּת שַׁבָּתוֹן, לַיהוָה; כָּל-הָעֹשֶׂה בוֹ מְלָאכָה, יוּמָת.
2 Six days shall work be done, but on the seventh day there shall be to you a holy day, a sabbath of solemn rest to the LORD; whosoever doeth any work therein shall be put to death.
ג הַשַּׁבָּת. לֹא-תְבַעֲרוּ אֵשׁ, בְּכֹל מֹשְׁבֹתֵיכֶם, בְּיוֹם,
3 Ye shall kindle no fire throughout your habitations upon the sabbath day.
Once again as in Chapter 31 the word for work used is melakha and this was not intended to be interpreted as every day type work otherwise there would have been a tremendous number of people being executed for meaningless tasks in those days. And in the third sentence it was explicitly forbidden to 'kindle' a fire in the home on the Sabbath. The act of kindling meant that it did not apply to having a fire already lit in the home, only of starting a new one. Obviously it was the igniting a flame which was strictly prohibited in the Torah and there are no ifs, ands or buts. The kindling of a fire in the home was given a specific ordinance because of its use in other religions as not only part of their temple worship but what would have been their house sanctuary as well . This especially was true for Moloch worship and later in Zoroastrianism. It was probably also true for Aster or Ishtar worship with fire seen as part of the purification rites. We know from the Greeks and Romans they two had their little home sanctuaries in which they would light numerous candles and incense as part of the ancestor worship ceremonies. In prohibiting such a practice it would become immediately evident if someone was practicing these rites from other religions and that is why they would be put to death.
The rabbis failed to understand and appreciate this restriction and have distorted it even further with their prohibition of flicking a light switch in our modern age. But let's be perfectly clear, fire and electricity are two entirely different processes. So when the rabbis extended the prohibition to electricity they in fact were in error because they lacked the knowledge of appreciating these differences. We know now that fire is a chemical reaction involving the release of energy through the consumption of oxygen but electricity is the flow of an electric current, movement of electrons and is therefore a physical reaction. Rather than admit their error the rabbis have insisted that electricity is still forbidden as it involves construction or building (i.e., the building and completion of an electric circuit). No this is not true, the circuit already exists, it's just a matter of whether it is open or closed and therefore is not a case of creative work.
The Finishing Touches Prohibition
If one wishes to split hairs, then they can look at Prohibition 37 which involves applying finishing touches, or bringing something into a state of final use. Yes, one can say this is an act of creating and therefore the ban applies. But again, more importantly is not the act of making finishing touches but the fact that to do so the individual is not praying to God, is not giving the day its proper religious respect and is not putting aside his own personal interests to appreciate what God has given him.
The Travel Prohibition
Prohibition 38 is the transferring between two domains which can be one of the most confusing of all the rabbinical prohibitions. In Chapters 1 and 11 of the Talmud tractate Shabbat it deals with what the rabbis called the melakha of transferring from one domain to another. Let's put this into more practical language and refer to it as it actually was or what we would commonly refer to as carrying an object even if that object is yourself. The tractate distinguishes four domains: private, public, semi-public and an exempt area. It holds that the transfer of an article from a private to a public domain is Biblically forbidden; transferring an article between a semi-public to a private or public domain is Rabbinically prohibited; transferring of an article between an exempt area and any other domain is permissible; and carrying an article about 1.7 miles may be forbidden in a public or semi-public domain and permitted in a private domain or exempt area; but carrying inside a private domain or between private domains may be permissible. For these purposes "transferring" means "removing and depositing", so that carrying an article out of a domain and returning to the same domain with it does not constitute transferring. This may fall into the category of "wearing". But the rabbinical definition of public and private domain is related to the number of enclosures and has nothing to do with actual ownership of the tract of land. If you're already confused by this list of restrictions then imagine those that tried to live by them. Of course these very confusing restrictions are all related to the commandment of Exodus 16:29, which states, "Let no man leave his place on the seventh day." How one interprets this commandment may certainly differ but what the rabbis have done with it in regards to the prior restrictions is sheer nonsense and spin doctoring to the point of massive confusion. How I interpret it is at its most simplistic of meanings and I think the way God intended it to be interpreted. God was referring to someone starting a trip on the Sabbath. Placing their own desires or needs, whether it be business or pleasure before that of attending to worshipping God on that day. So 'his place' as it is referred to had a much broader concept as indicating that no man should set himself upon the highway or a ship, and thereby making it impossible for himself or his family to tend to their keeping of the Sabbath day. There was no restriction on distance as long as the individual could provide the time to worship properly. Common sense was all that God wanted to prevail, something which is clearly lacking in the last prohibition by the rabbis that I will now discuss.
Saving of Certain Lives Prohibition
Finally but definitely not least is the 39th prohibition the one which I take the greatest exception with as it is a clear display of not only the failure of the rabbis to interpret properly but of their prejudice and improper advice that has led to the persecution and death of our people for almost two thousand years by those this prohibition actually affects. This final prohibition involved the saving of human life of which more information can be found in the Pikuach Nefesh of the Talmud. If there is a human life in danger on the Sabbath then it is not a violation of the Sabbath to save that life, an interpretation which is not only correct but inviolate, but the rabbis could not help themselves but to turn this one infallible statement into a controversy. They had the audacity to speak for all of us and say that it only pertained to Jews and was not applicable to the saving of a Gentile's life on the Sabbath. In the writings of Maimonides (1137-1204), he said, "As for the gentiles, the basic Talmudic principle is that their lives must not be saved, although it is also forbidden to murder them outright." This is further emphasized by the writings of Rabbi Samuel Eliezer Eidels (1555-1631), who said in regards that the release from the prohibition only applies to Jews, "That any man who saves one soul in Israel, and it is intentionally specified 'one soul in Israel', in the singular form, as this is the image of God, the Singular one of the world, and Jacob's [Israel's] form is His likeness ... but Kuttim [non-Jews] do not have the form of man, only the form of other creatures, and whoever brings about the loss of a soul among them does not lose the world, and whoever saves a soul among them neither adds nor diminishes anything in this world." Rabbi Eidels comments were in regard to many of the sayingsin the Talmud including the one that says non-Jews are neither to be lifted out of a well nor hauled down into it if found on the Sabbath. If leaving them in the well is not being complicit to murder, I do not know what is. Sadly this flawed thinking was taken to Israel's Chief Rabbi Untermann in 1966 and although he said that it would be acceptable to violate the Sabbath to save the life of a non-Jew it was only made so under the codicil expressed by the orthodox religious authorities that it was not based on democratic ideals, but instead only to protect the Jewish religion (and the life-saver) from possible retaliation and therefore in essence had nothing to do with the Gentile at risk but the fact that it could ultimately save Jewish lives if the act was performed.
In Conclusion
Obviously, I am greatly saddened by what these rabbis had to say and their subsequent malicious interpretations. They certainly are not my interpretations as I have clearly made evident and although my own personal interpretations may differ from my fellow Karaites, they are mine and they are as God intended; for each of us to find our own path to his words. But what these 39 prohibitions are, when we closely examine them, are certainly not the way of Judaism and they certainly are not the voice and words of God as He intended. These men had neither the right to speak on behalf of the Jewish people nor propagate this evil intent as a manifestation of the Torah. One of my Karaite colleagues has recently opened up a forum on Facebook calling for debate with the Rabbanites. Yes, debate should be encouraged, but how do you argue with men that are so deficient in their thinking? How do you rationalize with men that think there are Jews created in the image of God and all the rest that are creatures not worthy of saving? How do you reconcile what God has given to Moses and what men of their own volition perverted to their own cause? Perhaps there is no debate only condemnation and the warning that those that have pronounced themselves as the upholders of Judaism are nothing more than the most vile of men that have ever betrayed Judaism. Let us look to our next Sabbath not only as the day to give God praise but as the day we take back the Sabbath from these rabbis and their prohibitions that were never God's intended message to us. Let us make the world aware that 'yes' we have been relatively silent for the past six centuries but we will be quiet no longer.
Posted by Believer at 5:55 PM 2 comments:
Labels: creation, Day of Rest, fire, God, Judaism, Karaite, prohibiitions, Sabbath, Shabbot, sins
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Hey BFFs Breaking News! Charlie & Brooke: We're ABSOLUTELY Not Getting A Divorce!
The tumultuous couple's lawyers slam reports that claim Brooke and Charlie have separated and reached a financial settlement!
From domestic abuse charges, to drug and alcohol rehab, to rumored custody battles, Charlie Sheen and his wife of two years, Brooke Mueller, have been through a lifetime of drama in the last four months — but divorce will not be added to the list, their lawyers tell us.
"They are not seeking a divorce, nor has one been contemplated. There [have] been no financial agreements between the parties of any sort. Stories to the contrary are false," Brooke's lawyer, Yale Galanter, and Charlie's legal rep, Marg Burg, explained in a statement to HollywoodLife.com May 3.
"Since the December 25 incident involving Charlie and Brooke Sheen, the couple have been going through their martial trials and tribulations, and have been the subject of enormous speculation in the media. Over-speculation, if there is such a word, would be more accurate. The couple asks that their privacy be respected at this time."
Even though their reps claim Brooke and Charlie aren't seeking divorce, Brooke, 32, reportedly moved out of the couple's house April 26 and took their twin nearly one-year-old boys, Max and Bob after discovering the 44-year-old Two and a Half Men allegedly cheated on her during his stint in rehab.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
JEDDAH (Reuters) - U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry told Syrian rebel leader Ahmad Jarba on Friday that the moderate opposition he heads would be important in repelling ISIL, the al Qaeda offshoot which is fighting in both Syria and Iraq.
Kerry is visiting the Middle East to press regional leaders to tackle the threat from Islamist militants in both conflicts - a task given greater urgency by the situation in Iraq, where ISIL, the Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant, has captured a series of towns and cities.
"We have even more to talk about in terms of the moderate opposition in Syria, which has the ability to be a very important player in pushing back against ISIL's presence," Kerry told Jarba in a meeting at Jeddah airport at the start of a brief trip to Saudi Arabia.
"President Jarba represents a tribe that reaches right into Iraq. He knows people there, and his point of view and that of the Syrian opposition will be very important going forward," said Kerry before a scheduled meeting with Saudi King Abdullah.
The Obama administration on Thursday asked for $500 million from Congress to train and equip vetted members of Syria's opposition, the most significant U.S. move so far to support those fighting against President Bashar al-Assad.
Saudi Arabia has been the most prominent backer of the Syrian rebels, and was very critical of Washington last year when it backed away from air strikes against Assad after a poison gas attack in Damascus.
Jarba told Kerry that the worsening situation meant more effort would be needed by both Washington and Riyadh, as well as others, to address the situation in Iraq, whose border with Syria he said was now "practically open". "The policies of Iraqi Prime Minister Nuri al-Maliki after eight years in power have resulted in greater division. Now the situation is very grave," he said.
Maliki, a Shi'ite Muslim, is a close ally of Sunni Saudi Arabia's main regional foe Iran, and is fighting to stay in power after coming under criticism over the ISIL-led advance. Washington has placed its hopes in forming a new, more inclusive government in Baghdad that would undermine the insurgency. In Baghdad on Monday, Kerry said Maliki assured him the new parliament, elected two months ago, would meet a July 1 deadline to start forming a new government.
Saudi Arabia has long distrusted Maliki as being too close to Iran and sees him as ruling on behalf of Iraqi Shi'ites to the exclusion of Sunnis. Last week Saudi officials, in an apparent message to Tehran, warned that foreign countries should stay out of Iraq.
Baghdad is racing against time as the insurgents consolidate their grip on predominantly Sunni provinces, and Kerry has been pushing Saudi Arabia to use its influence among fellow Sunnis in Iraq to join the government and ensure it represents everyone.
On Thursday King Abdullah ordered "all measures" to be taken to protect Saudi Arabia against militants. [ID:nL6N0P749G]
Kerry met the monarch at his palace in Jeddah, where the U.S. delegation was ushered into the large marble-columned lobby of the palace. The king, who is over 90, spoke clearly in Arabic but did not get up when Kerry entered the large room.
On Thursday, Kerry met with foreign ministers from Saudi Arabia, Jordan and United Arab Emirates to inform them of plans for air strikes against ISIL once a new government is formed.
The United States also wants these countries to do more to cut off the flow of funding from private donors to ISIL.
Editing by Angus McDowall and Mark Trevelyan


text:
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text:
The Clawfoot Requiem | Gwendolyn Kiste
When my sister Savannah set out to do something, she never failed to impress. So on the morning she opened her wrists and emptied what was left of her heart, the bathroom looked less like a butcher block and more like an altar. A dozen lit candles decorated the sink. Opened to Corinthians, a withered King James Bible sat on the floor next to the tub. And with her favorite shade of lipstick—a drugstore brand named Rose Petal—Savannah inscribed a final message on the mirror: Now we know for certain where I'm going.
Despite the impediments in both utensil and surface, even a calligrapher would have envied the flawless penmanship.
As her only roommate, I was the one to discover her. At first, it seemed the most natural thing in the world as if I intuited the moment would someday arrive. I watched her for a long time, memorizing the quiet expression across her face.
Then the invaders came. With their loud sirens and sweating brows, they descended upon our red brick house, vultures that fed not on the flesh but on the sorrow. One man waited in the white vehicle while two others defied the threshold yet offered no words of comfort. Instead, they hoisted her from the scarlet water, deposited her on a makeshift bed, and hauled her outside like a leaking bag of garbage.
"Which funeral home?" The man closed the door to the ambulance, and I realized I had followed Savannah as far as I could go.
"I didn't know there was a choice."
"You can use Lassiter's. They're downtown. Or Solenski. They're about two miles from here." A fly landed on his forehead and drank from a bead of perspiration. He swatted it, scratched the spot it sullied, and continued. "Or you could use McMiller's. But almost nobody goes there."
"The first one," I said.
The insect revisited his face and imbibed a second time.
The man persisted with his diatribe, undeterred when I strolled back to the house and locked the door behind me. I peered out the window until he and his uniformed friends spirited my sister to whatever uncharted sovereignty awaited her. Part of me thought if I didn't see them leave, they'd linger there until the next time I regarded our driveway. My driveway. Savannah asserted ownership over nothing now, other than the remnants of herself she left in the bathroom.
I returned to the scene that now lacked its star. Like a stagehand converting a proscenium between acts, I extinguished the candles that had already retreated to wicks and cleaned the mirror of the message I instinctively knew by heart.
After closing the bible and placing it on the sink, I kneeled before the final piece of Savannah's magnum opus. The air was stifling, yet the stained water undulated in an almost imperceptible current. That was when I understood what Savannah learned while the passion within her faded. This blood defined her. It gave her life and it revoked it. One pint she could have spared. Two or three or maybe even four
wouldn't have destroyed her. But this tub—the Victorian blueprint she demanded when our parents remodeled more than a decade before—contained her murder weapon. The spoiled porcelain was an unwitting measuring cup of her life.
And if I drained the blemished water, she too would swirl through the grate.
As though a silent voice commanded me, I sank to the floor, rested my head on the pink and white tiles, and fell asleep.
I held no funeral for Savannah. The prospect of an open casket meant spectators would search for evidence of her wounds. If I selected to bury her in a long-sleeved blouse to obscure the gashes, everyone would know that concealed beneath the cotton was a self-hatred great enough to be a young woman's undoing. But if I arranged for a closed casket, they'd invent scenarios far grislier than the truth.
Our Aunt Adelle, however, insisted on a wake. She told me I would regret it if I failed to honor Savannah. I said she was wrong. She informed me she'd already advertised the occasion in the paper, and it was too late to rescind the notice.
To protect Savannah, I declared the second floor bathroom out of order. The downstairs one would serve better for the occasion anyhow. Just to be sure, I fashioned a sign to make my lie official. I found a piece of paper, but no pen or pencil materialized, so I used the Rose Petal lipstick on the sink.
"My writing's never been as nice as yours," I said to the bathwater as I affixed the notice to the door.
I flicked the light switch and plunged the bathroom—and my sister with it—into darkness. But her soul could see through the gloom. I knew because I could feel her watching me from where I stood in the doorway.
"I'll be back soon," I said. "No one will bother you until then. I promise."
Even if I wanted to discard the blood—which I had no inclination to do—I couldn't touch the water to drain it. That would be akin to putting my fist through her heart.
My aunt arrived early, carving a path of domestic destruction through my home. Every chair from the garage came clanging into the living room. My mother's punch bowl was set free of a quarter inch of grime. The vacuum whirred and whined and then released a rattle of misery and died.
I guarded the upstairs bathroom. My aunt might demand to inspect it for mildew, and I couldn't let her disturb my sister.
A squawk rang up the stairs. "Sabrina, come help me."
"I don't think so," I said.
They tumbled into our home, one after another until the driveway overflowed with rubber and chrome. The familial shell bulged at its seams and the steadfast bricks threatened to shatter from the mortar, but still a dozen more late arrivals swelled into every recess of the house. I was certain that if I opened a hamper or a top shelf cabinet, I'd find a mourner hiding there, eager to offer a corny phrase that was more trope than sympathy.
Most of the people never met my sister. They were patrons of my aunt. From cathedral pews and bingo games, they swarmed to her. They did whatever she said. And on this day, she commanded them to mourn. So they mourned, passing around apologies like churchgoers sharing a collection plate.
"Thank you." Despite a lack of tears, my aunt dabbed her eyes with a floral handkerchief. "At least my sister Gladys didn't live long enough to see her baby go."
I figured she would invoke my mother's name at some point, but she might have had the civility to wait until hour two or three instead of opening with it.
Uninterested in hearing her recount my family's tale of woe, I faced the stairs to ensure no one intruded on Savannah. My sign forbidding entry might not hold the most curious at bay.
As I played sentry on behalf of my beloved, a hand caressed my shoulder.
"I'm so sorry about Savannah," a man whispered.
I stared at his face but could make no sense of his features. The individual components—the chestnut brown eyes, the cleft in the chin, the thick yet colorless eyebrows—signified some passing familiarity but put together, I could discern nothing outside of an ordinary man with an ordinary visage. I recognized him much as one pedestrian recognizes another on a city sidewalk. You've passed each other before, but you don't know where and you don't care to find out.
"Sabrina, are you all right?"
The stranger knew my name. That was never a good sign.
"My sister's dead," I said. "How do you think I am?"
He embraced me. I squirmed.
"Joseph!" My aunt maneuvered me to one side and flung her arms around the man.
Based on his uncomfortable response to her affection, he was apparently in attendance more for my benefit than hers. I wondered if I called him Joseph or Joe. Or maybe we had some pet names for each other like Honey or Peach. My fingers fluttered to my lips, and I suppressed a gag.
Like rubble from a ship, splinters of memories surfaced and submerged, but I endeavored neither to bury nor retrieve them. I knew him. Maybe I loved him. Maybe I didn't. My aunt adored him, and that was enough to make me wary.
Adelle mixed back into the crowd, and the man named Joseph gave me a half smile, the kind that apologizes for your problems yet at the same time insists you cheer up.
"Your aunt's in good spirits… considering."
"She likes to call herself indomitable," I said. My mind ran through a list of adjectives I preferred to call her instead.
A gentleman with a red, creased face shifted through the door. I almost pilfered my aunt's handkerchief and bestowed it on him. He clearly needed the solace more than she did.
"Who is that?" I asked.
My aunt glanced at the man. "Someone who doesn't belong here."
She glided toward him, a queen arrayed in her blackest couture. A whisper into his ear, and he departed before I could learn his name or anything else about him.
For the next few minutes, the noise in the room fell out like the false bottom on a gravity carnival ride. Mouths dropped up and down and lips pursed and parted, but all the time, I wished to hear Savannah, see Savannah, even just sit next to the bathtub sheltering Savannah.
Much to my disappointment, sound reemerged in the world. At first, only a few rehearsed words penetrated the air—emissaries to ensure this was indeed the house where they belonged—before the whole, reprehensible din rushed into the spaces where silence had been, threatening to crush me under the weight of make-believe bereavement.
A woman—whose name I may have forgotten or may simply never have known—moved toward me and presented a brief condolence. I focused on the strange geometrical design on the linoleum. If I stared long enough without blinking, the patterns started to move.
"I just met Joseph." She smiled. "What a nice young man. You're very lucky, Sabrina."
"He seems agreeable enough," I said.
Across the room, my so-called lover shook whatever hand outstretched to him.
"Are you two planning to wed soon?"
I examined my fingers. No ring.
"I don't think so," I said.
The woman had no other conversation starters in her arsenal, so we sipped the syrupy potion Adelle had poured into my mother's punchbowl.
After an uneasy interval, she settled on a safer topic. "Where is the restroom?"
I flailed toward the doorway. "Past the kitchen."
An accomplished eavesdropper, my aunt pointed to the stairs. "There are nicer facilities on the second floor."
"No," I said without inflection. "Those facilities are out of order."
The woman excused herself and walked toward the kitchen.
My aunt inhaled. "Do you need a plumber, dear?"
I shook my head.
"Then what's the problem?"
"My sister's dead."
"I meant about the bathroom."
"So did I."
I retired to the room my father called his study back when he could declare things his own. The door closed behind me. At last, I was alone.
But not alone. On my father's dusty desk—a shrine my mother left just as it looked the morning his heart avowed no more—I found a necklace belonging to my sister. I lifted the piece of jewelry to the window as though the movement could somehow reveal what the silver chain and charm were doing so far adrift. Savannah had worn the necklace only a week before, so it hadn't sat in the stale room for seven years. But why she bothered to visit our father's study defied my understanding. I shoved the trinket deep in my pocket and decided to return it to its owner later that evening. Then I searched each crevice for an answer.
The bible.
There it sat in its rightful place on the bookshelf. That was why my sister had come into this room. But I had no recollection of returning it. If someone had asked me where our family's bible resided, I would have guessed the decrepit text remained on the sink upstairs. Still, I supposed it was my work. Savannah was in no condition to replace it.
My fingers fumbled to her last selection. Page 686. Or 687. I couldn't tell which passage between Corinthians chapters two to six inspired her. But something there proved the final words on my sister's mind, and I wanted to decipher the secret.
The murmur of mourners pierced the room, and I glanced to the now opened door. Joseph loitered at the threshold of the study.
"Is there anything I can do?" He was the first person I believed all day.
I smoothed the crackling, thin pages. "Why do you think she chose Corinthians?"
He secured the barrier behind him and sealed out the invaders' whispers. "First or Second?"
"I forgot there were two." I glimpsed the top of the page. "First Corinthians."
With one hand lightly stroking my back, he examined the bible. "Maybe there's no reason. Maybe she just opened it and left it there."
I looked at him. "Do you know who that man was? The one my aunt sent away?"
"I'd never seen him before."
"He knew Savannah," I said. "He was so upset he must have."
Joseph nodded but said nothing else. Together, we squinted at the printed verse and tried to interpret the hidden signs my sister left behind.
After the wake, I hoped I would be alone. Yet once the funeral guests departed, more visitors arrived, and their stay came with no clear expiration. I first heard their gossips three days after Savannah's exodus. Roused from my sleep on the cold tiles, I peered over the edge of the bathtub and caught them in the midst of defiling her. I reached to protect my sister, but the creatures proved too quick for any perfunctory attack. And though they knocked at no door, I should have expected them. They manifested anywhere death resided, but I wondered how they learned about hers. Perhaps even flies read obituaries.
I should have viewed them as minor nuisances. After all, the bathroom accommodated a postmortem cistern, so like a bevy of pallbearers, the scavengers had a function to fulfill. But with each quaff of decay, the pests stole an iota of my sister. Again and again, they came to the tub to drink the ambrosia, and I realized given enough time, they'd whisk off her blood like the men in the ambulance had abducted her body.
I found a swatter and obliterated as many of the ghouls as I could. But what to do with the carapaces? For every fly that took a piece of Savannah, the tiny corpse retained a fragment of her soul. I supposed I could collect the leftovers—in a jar perhaps, next to the tub where Savannah had deposited the bible—but the thought of assembling their crushed bodies nauseated me.
I erased the unexpected massacre from the bathroom and apologized to my sister for sacrificing part of her essence in the process. As recompense, I promised to buy a couple strips of fly paper.
"That might catch them before they get to you." I hoped the consolation might appeal to her, but that familiar honeyed voice provided no opinion either way. Stoic and still, I regarded the claret water until my eyes could no longer focus on its maddening homogeny.
Over the next week, the days assumed a pattern. Purge the room of its unwanted visitors. Adorn our newly adopted bedroom with any stray trinkets I discovered lounging about the house. Answer galling phone calls from Joseph. Listen for my aunt's unannounced raids.
She arrived in grand form each visit. Because my mother gave her a key when we bought the house, Adelle could waltz through the front door any moment of the day and disrupt what little bliss I preserved.
A pile of groceries sprawled onto the counter. Most of what she brought included dairy or soy. I was allergic to both and had been since childhood. But she did her service by bringing an offering of food, and that was all that mattered.
Her grievances opened the morning's dialogue. "I talked to the groundskeeper," she said. "You haven't been to the cemetery yet."
I sat on the landing to keep her from violating the second floor. "Why do I need to visit her grave?"
"Because, dear, that's what you do. That's how people mourn."
"You act like there's only one way to do it."
A faucet somewhere in the house dripped, and I glanced upstairs to ensure it wasn't in Savannah's asylum. Another droplet struck a pan with a metallic thud. The kitchen, I thought. Sighing, I rested my head on the railing.
"I'm worried about you, Sabrina. You should join me for Sunday services. It would be good for your soul."
"I doubt that. But thanks for the offer."
Another drop. Definitely in the kitchen.
"Have you called a plumber yet?"
I shook my head.
"Do you need the number of someone?"
I shook my head again. "Who was that man at the funeral?"
"No one."
"Whoever he was, I think he loved her. An old boyfriend maybe." I hesitated. "Or a new one."
"Who can be certain about anything when it comes to your sister?" My aunt drifted toward the downstairs bathroom. "She was a ghost even when she was alive."
The door locked behind her, sealing out any truth I might glean about the unknown gentleman.
But in that moment, something else transfixed me. On the counter sat my aunt's keys. Glinting back at me was the one that unlocked my front door. I listened to her movement in the adjacent room and predicted she would skulk in front of the mirror for another minute. My fingers slipped the teethed silver around a series of scuffed grocery store cards and pressed the furtive treasure against my palm.
She appeared in the doorway. "I'll stop by again next week, so let me know if there's anything you need by Wednesday."
I nodded. Even if I provided her a detailed list, she would bring the same dozen items she had deposited on the sacrificial altar every week since our parents died.
The key ring swayed in her hand, and I self-congratulated my cunning. But when we reached the door, she halted. Her wide eyes examined me, and I was certain I'd been caught.
Instead, she crinkled her nose. "You should get that bathroom fixed sooner than later. I can smell it backing up."
Another drop against the pan.
After waving farewell to Adelle, I retreated to the kitchen and adjusted the cold knob on the faucet. The water seized in the pipes.
At eight that night, Joseph phoned. He talked about us going on some silly vacation. Something about me needing to get away for awhile. All I wanted to discuss was the man my aunt wouldn't mention.
"Maybe he broke it off with Savannah. Maybe he's the reason she killed herself." I paced the perimeter of the kitchen, dodging leftover chairs from the wake.
"Sabrina, the reason your sister killed herself was because she was despondent."
I remained silent, curious what other drivel he might spew.
"You could search through the name of everyone she ever met," he said, "but that isn't going to bring her back. Or excuse her for abandoning you."
"She didn't abandon me," I said and hung up the phone.
On the counter next to a block of orange cheese that needed no refrigeration was a lone Mason jar. It was surplus from three weeks earlier when my sister and I preserved a bundle of fresh tomatoes from our garden. The rabbits and groundhogs probably thanked me for forsaking our rows of corn and pumpkins since Savannah died. At least someone was eating well.
The clear jar reflected against the overhead light.
Twenty-five cans. No matter what fruit or vegetable was in season, we preserved exactly twenty-five cans. But Savannah always prepared an extra jar.
"A failsafe," she'd say. "In case one breaks in the water."
I curled my hand around the glass and stared through the dust and grime to the other side. Cradling the souvenir, I retired to my newfound bedroom and talked with my sister long into the night. She was an excellent listener.
I feared I couldn't keep her forever. The flies descended upon the bathtub with ever greater frequency as if the first few escapees had alerted the whole of their kin. A despairing aroma overtook the air and obliterated the remnants of jasmine and patchouli Savannah once considered her trademark.
And they'd soon be arriving. For the previous two days, the phone calls and resultant messages plagued me no more, and while I preferred to believe Adelle and Joseph had simply surrendered in unison, it was far more likely they were concocting some devious scheme together.
To prepare for one final invasion, I crossed the invisible border between the upstairs hallway and the kingdom my sister built in a twelve by ten space. Until then, I hadn't dared to disrespect it. But Savannah asked me to go there. And I couldn't ignore her wishes.
An hour later, they appeared. My aunt toted a bevy of brown paper bags, and Joseph carried the overflow. She groped at the door for almost a minute, searching in vain for her key. I stood on the other side, reveling in her protest.
Finally, she knocked. As a greeting, she thrust a bag at me.
"Help us with these."
I vacated my usual post at the landing to drudge another grocer's special of anaphylaxis through the door.
With a series of heavy sighs, my aunt unloaded several more blocks of cheese.
Joseph frowned at the loot.
"Aren't you allergic?" He mouthed the words, and I nodded.
But Adelle cared only about her thwarted entrance. "I can't find my key," she said and inspected me. "You don't know anything about that, do you?"
I stared at her, employing as vacant an expression as I could muster.
She sniffed. "What is that disgusting odor?"
Before I could block her, Adelle ascended the stairs. I didn't pursue her. Perhaps if I pretended not to care, she'd conduct a brief search and return to the first floor, filled with nothing more than complaints of my poor domestic skills.
Then I heard her open the bathroom door.
I braced for the inevitable scream while Joseph grinned with an almost endearing innocence.
"Oh my god!"
I sighed.
"Adelle?" Joseph rushed up the stairs, and I followed placidly behind.
By the time I arrived in the bathroom, they were already gaping at my sister. I parted my lips to tell them she didn't appreciate their gawking when my sometimes lover interrupted.
"Is that—" But the smell recalled the rankest of summertime carrion and inspired Joseph to abandon his question and blot out the stench with his sleeve.
"Savannah," I said to assist him.
My aunt gagged. "This is madness."
She reached toward the plug, but I lunged before she could disturb the water. We toppled to the tile, and I hoped she might strike her head against the edge of the tub, inducing a temporary—or permanent—stupor.
Unfortunately, my gambit simply annoyed her.
"What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?"
"Sabrina." Joseph took my arm and helped me to my feet. He tried to cradle my face in his hands, but I pushed him toward the sink and turned to my aunt.
"You won't touch her."
"Her?" She stared at me. "It's dirty bathwater filled with rancid blood. There's no one in there!"
"You can't take her away from me."
I charged, ready to add more red décor to the room, but Joseph caught me in midair. He wrapped his arms around my waist as I flailed toward the water, desperate to destroy my aunt before she could hurt Savannah.
"This is for your own good." Adelle speared her fake nails through my sister's core and removed the colorless plug. For a moment, she even permitted the chain of the would-be life preserver to dangle from her fingers, just so I would know the deed was done. My body pulsed forward, but Joseph pinned me against his chest.
The water gurgled as it disappeared.
"She's screaming!" I wept.
My aunt rolled her eyes. "It's only the drain."
In under a minute, my sister had departed.
"Savannah." I panted, swallowing my tears. "Please forgive me."
"She has nothing to forgive you for. She needs to be the one asking for forgiveness."
Joseph adjusted his grip on my now limp body. "Because she committed suicide?"
My aunt fluttered her eyes and moved away from the bathtub. "Because she had too many secrets."
He inched toward her. "Like what?"
Impatient to play Greek chorus, the drain emitted a final rattle.
"The man at the funeral," my aunt said, lowering her voice, "was carrying on with Savannah. His wife told me so." She shrugged. "My niece was a sinner. And I made sure she knew it."
I heaved, remembering the message on the mirror. "Did you happen to mention hell in the conversation?"
"I told her the truth. By having that dalliance, she damned herself." Adelle shrugged. "Simple fact."
As he recognized the murderer sharing the room with us, Joseph shifted his stance, and this time, his grasp around my waist began to slack. "How could you do that?" he asked.
Sensing his waning resolve, my body seized into tight stillness. One calculated thrust would shatter Joseph's bones and free me to eradicate the inhuman thing standing near the sink, acrylic caressing her pancake face.
But the unexpected calm belied my intentions.
"Leave," he said to her. "Now."
She exhaled, one eyebrow lifted. "Or what?"
"Or I'll let her go."
Adelle's gaze flitted from Joseph to me and back again. Her masterfully feigned empathy melted away, and without another word, she exited the room.
When he was certain she had gone, Joseph released me.
I kneeled before the pink stain left in my sister's wake.
"Sabrina," he whispered, "she wasn't in there anymore."
I glared at him. "What do you know of souls? How can you be sure she wasn't there?"
Quivering, he gaped at me, yet his face again assumed the look of a stranger.
My fingers pressed into the porcelain tub, searching the invisible pores for any trace of my sister.
At some point, Joseph vanished. I thought of checking the driveway to ensure he'd gone, but there in the bathroom, I was already alone.
A stream of pleading messages coalesced into static.
"Forgive me."
"I was wrong to hold you back."
"I love you, Sabrina."
"Please call me. Please."
I unplugged the archaic answering machine and flung it against the wall. The consequent shards sprang apart like glints from a Fourth of July sparkler.
A week later, Adelle returned to the house and knocked unabated for ten minutes. I cracked the door but left the chain in place.
"I talked to my friend," she said as though she possessed only one acquaintance. "He's a lawyer. He told me I could get power of attorney over you."
I scoffed. "Not without Joseph's testimony. And now he loathes you too."
"I won't go away." She crossed her arms. "I'll keep knocking until you let me in."
"I'll call the sheriff and tell him you're trespassing."
"You wouldn't."
"You're right," I said. "I won't call the police. I'll put you in that bathtub instead."
She stiffened on instinct. "I could have you committed."
"You could try."
Her car departed the driveway, and I waved goodbye.
In the afternoon, my sister called to me. The voice in the bedroom beckoned softly in a lilt no longer her own. In lieu of words, this new Savannah used a singular code of floorboard creaks and white noise purrs that only I could understand.
"Don't worry," I said to assuage her latest fear. "She's gone now. And I don't think she'll come back again."
I moved to the dresser and, with a careful hand, slipped open the top drawer. Tucked between a lacy camisole she hadn't worn since high school and an armory of colorful underwear, Savannah waited inside the leftover Mason jar.
"You were right," I said. "This was the safest place for you."
I positioned Savannah on the nearby vanity and watched as graceful waves rippled through her.
"I'm sorry I couldn't save all of you," I said. "They didn't give me enough time."
My ring finger caressed the glass barricade that estranged us. And for the first time since my sister swapped shells, I smiled.
A motorcycle whirred past the house, and Savannah hummed in reply.
"But we fooled them all," I said. "Didn't we, darling?"
Giggling, Savannah smiled back at me.
Gwendolyn Kiste is a speculative fiction writer based in Pennsylvania. Her stories have appeared in Nightmare, Shimmer, LampLight, and Interzone as well as Flame Tree Publishing's Chilling Horror Short Stories anthology. She currently resides on an abandoned horse farm with her husband, two cats, and not nearly enough ghosts. You can find her online at gwendolynkiste.com and on Twitter (@GwendolynKiste).


text:
Would I do it again? You bet. A lot. Til I'm on my death bed.
I could always say more, but some of it gets to simply stay with me. Here is my final and very disjointed recap of my big, bad birthday present to myself ... the good, the bad and the stupendous.
The things I didn't quite love so much, at all:
|This birdhouse art installation held
pieces of paper and words written
directly on them, which expressed
regrets and/or forgiveness.
Not enough olive brine for my dirty martini.
Oh, my aching feet.
A situation where someone drank too much and got a little douchey. The frustration of having to take the time to address it and then build healthy boundaries.
The first three minutes on my bike. Always. Every single time I got on it. Calves on fire, and I always, always, ALWAYS hit soft, thick sand and came to an immediate stop, while my body (sometimes) flew off. At the four minute mark, I was a cycling rock star and owned those miniscule dunes.
My body's need for a decent night's sleep. I did not deny myself this, so it meant making a deliberate choice to not stay up all night ... every night.
Putting in my contacts every day. I either had residual from a baby wipe or playa dust on my hands and fingers. Both burn your eyes like fire. It was always a race to rinse my hands with water before dust had time to stick to them.
Missing the Pink Ride.
The handful of cranky people when I was feeling uber happy and joyful.
The tens of thousands of uber happy and joyful people when I was feeling cranky.
Having to poop in the middle of the night, which required putting on the least amount of clothing possible while still not freezing your tukus off, always putting on socks and lacing up your dusty *&%#! boots (so your feet would be clean when you finally crawled back into bed) and then hiking a block to the porta potties.
One night when I really did not feel very well at all. It lasted about four hours. I absolutely did it to myself and pushed too hard. I did not care for that. Lesson learned.
The things I loved like crazy cakes:A roller rink in the middle of the desert, finding a pair of skates that fit and had purple laces! Hooping while roller skating. Watching a guy follow behind me with an electric screwdriver, tightening screws on the roller rink floor.
Full moon.
Gifting hand and foot massages to a really relaxed, fun couple, Adam and Grizz. They didn't do or say anything particularly spectacular, but they were easy. Easy to get to know. Easy to connect with. Fun and full of laughter, and genuinely enjoyed getting to know everyone around them.
Riding a zip line.
Gifting a foot soak to a woman from Berlin. Using her own vegan nail polish to paint her nails. Then waiting while she dug through her backpack to find and gift me a lighter that reads "Berlin loves you." "I want you to remember our lovely conversation today anytime you see this. I will think of you each time I wear this polish."
Ringing the bell (something all virgins are welcome to do), declaring myself a citizen of Black Rock City. Lying down and becoming one with the playa dust.
Getting "branded" along the way to whatever else I was planning to do. Ya' know, because there was a camp that was "branding" people. And the lady with the brands was super happy and loud. Sooooo, it'd be stupid not to.
My friend, Temporary, actually (for realsies) getting the Man branded on his chest. For realsies.
Standing at a smaller burn, knowing my friend's ashes were included. I'm sure my face (and oodles of tears) made my giant feelings very obvious. Hearing a very kind voice ask, "May I hug you?" I accepted, and received a very thoughtful embrace. "What are you feeling?" I explained the loss of my friend and how he died. Didn't expect to feel as overwhelmed as I was, by the sight of the fire. This complete stranger asked me questions about my friend and created a space for me to grieve for a few minutes. J was exactly what I needed at that very moment. We swapped camp info, but as normally happens on the playa, neither of us expected to see each other again.
Talking bladder issues and menopause with a wonderful woman in her 60's, and us both finding ourselves laughing and feeling deeply connected over how we pee. Then showing off my pStyle (no, not actually demonstrating) to her while everyone around ooo'd and ahhh'd.
Same woman was a part of our village. The night the Man burned, she never let my mug be without champagne. Chased me around in between hooping. Always overfilled it so I had to lick the bubbles off my hands. We'd giggle and laugh and her bright little wig would wobble all over the place.
Randomly running into Adam and Griz along a street somewhere. They noticed the hoops my friend and I were carrying. We stopped in the middle of the street and showed them a little hoop love. That is when we discovered Griz spins fire poi. My friend, Jamie, has always wanted to but simply hadn't had the opportunity yet. Plans were made, quickly, as they are: "We are at such-and-such camp and we will be there tomorrow night at such-and-such time." Which could be exact or we may never, ever see them again.
|That is me, all lit up in the top
right corner.
The journey to find a friend-of-a-friend whose camp was not listed publicly. Finding a trampoline. Attempting to hoop on said trampoline. Looking at the dry erase board next to the trampoline and seeing a map where people could write in unpublished camp names. There was the friend's camp! Just what we were looking for!
That friend-of-a-friend is now simply "a friend." He made me my very first Ramos Fizz. I'm a fan.
"Hey, Christine, I'm gonna' hang out across the street for awhile, and play some Ms. PacMan." Because, ya' know, there was a full-sized arcade game just across from our village, right next to the telephone where you could record a message to yourself which would be delivered back to you, via email, sometime in the future.
Riding or walking and seeing 37 different things every 60 seconds.
Looking up while working at the Day Spa, and seeing J walk in. He had written enough info on his arm in Sharpie the night before. Found me. I was able to give him a foot wash and massage, and visit for a long time - pour some love back into him after he created such a beautiful space for me the previous evening.
The big glass Buddha who would answer any of your yes-or-no questions, in magic eight ball fashion. Glowing at night with swirls at each chakra. Even cooler was the awesome guy sitting with the Buddha who talked with us for quite a while and told us his story.
Showing up to Adam and Griz's camp and they were there as we had hoped! Their village was having a wine tasting. One of their camp mates had smuggled in pate from France (stashed within socks within shoes in his suitcase). It was amazing. And then, this happened.
Marching band throw down at Center Camp.
While the bands were having their competition, I noticed a guy in front of us who was dancing on his own, in a way that said, "I have never been happier than in this moment." It was such a gift to watch. I hopped down and walked over. "I have had the best time watching you dance! May I hug you?" I just wanted to show him a little love for bringing his enthusiasm to the room. He was so very grateful and just as exuberant and delightful from the front as he was from the back! (insert winky smiley face here)
Eating more steak in one week than I've had in two years (that would = two small pieces).
"Hitting the wall." Everyone hits the wall at some point out there. It's different for every person, but eventually you either have a point of physical exhaustion or emotional depletion. Yours may last minutes. Mine lasted about seven hours. I stood up at the Day Spa at 3:45 (we "closed" at 4:00) and said, "I want to invite all of you to use everything we have here. Wash one another's feet. Paint nails. Whatever you would like. If I do it for one more second, I'm going to start crying again. And that would just be bad and wrong. Thank you for understanding." Or something like that. I hit my wall, and had camped there for way too many hours. So, I went and did some self care and kicked it to the wind. And, no, I did not list this in the wrong category. While it was rough and miserable, I loved it. Everyone hits the wall, especially their first year. I hit my wall on the playa! Felt like a rite of passage.
In the middle of my giant emotional/physical wall, I found myself in a pretty big argument with a good friend. We worked through it. Came out stronger. Better.
Many mornings on my way back from my first trip to the porta potties, I'd slip into a dome across the street (which was usually empty), climb onto the giant loop of rope secured from the top and swing for awhile (standing) in the cool breeze as I woke up and said hello to the day.
The people I was with while watching marching bands at Center Camp.
Bowling at night in the middle of the desert. Meeting a couple sitting at the lanes who had both lost the people they were hanging out with. Finding themselves in the same predicament, they decided to make it their first date. It began by watching "The Big Lebowski" together, which was playing on the screens at the bowling lanes ... out in the middle of ... nothing.
Looking at a man taking a picture of two women in beautiful Victorian dresses. Commenting on how gorgeous they looked and the photographer looking at me and asking, "May I hug you?" Our hug turned into a giant group hug of all these wonderful people.
Hooping on the stern of a giant yacht driving across the playa.
Making coffee every morning and then gifting it to whomever.
Always taking some of that hot coffee over to my neighbors, some who were 40 years my senior, and chatting about life and love and religion.
Gifted omlets in baggies.
Buzz, who likes to give out random playa names to everyone he meets. "They're not GOOD playa names, but I can give you one." All around me people were being deemed things like "Firetruck" and "Ghost." He put his hand on top of my head, took a deep breath and declared me to be "Lube." Heh. Heh.
While working at the Day Spa, having some neighbors walking through with afternoon hors d'oeuvres to love on all of us who were loving on others.
Watching the Man burn while on the top deck of one of our village's art cars. On each side of me were the guys who started Barbie Death Camp. One of them, who has burned for years and years, had his wife with him for the first time. She was sporting the bright pink polish I had done for her the day before.
All of that, and it's still just the tip of the iceberg.
You simply cannot explain all that it is, but thanks for letting me try.


text:
So says Homer Simpson in a catchy little tune.
Well I suppose that depends on the type of friends you want, and the salads you make. If you're thinking of some iceberg lettuce, a bit of tomato and maybe some cucumber or shreds of carrot – boring! But that's not what salads are, at least not any longer.
My basic garden salad includes baby spinach leaves, rocket, tomato, mushroom, capsicum, carrot, cucumber, corn, avocado and a yummy dressing. Usually there's a lot more in it than that. I like to throw in some other things like beans or chick peas, nuts, radish, zucchini, broccoli, seeds, roast pumpkin, asparagus, sprouts, snow peas, quinoa, bulgar, crunchy noodles etc. Then there are pasta salads, rice salads, roast vegie salads, noodle salads, warm salads, the options are almost endless. But no salad is going to be a 'friend maker' without a good dressing. Dips often make great salad toppers too, so if you've got favourite dip, pile it on!
To make a filling meal, plonk a big pile of salad on a baked potato, or serve with vegie sausages or patties, chips, simple roast vegies, tofu steaks, tempeh etc.
There are so many options when it comes to dressings, and of course you can buy them ready-made, but making your own brings a huge range of options to the table.
So here are a few to get you on your way:
Creamy mustard dressing
1/3 cup vegan mayonnaise
1 tbsp seeded mustard
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
3 tsp water
Place all the ingredients into a lidded jar and shake well to combine.
Nutty dressing
1/2 cup peanut butter (I prefer crunchy)
1/4 cup tahini
1-2 tbsp Braggs or soy sauce
1 tsp minced garlic
1 tsp minced ginger
1 tsp olive oil
1/2 cup water
Place all the ingredients into a lidded jar and shake well to combine. Add more or less water depending on the consistency you like.
Soy dressing
1 tsp minced garlic
1 ½ tsp minced ginger
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp vinegar (white)
2 tbsp light soy sauce or tamari
2 tsp agave or rice syrup
1 tbsp water
Optional – chilli and/or lime juice
Place all the ingredients into a lidded jar and shake well to combine.
What are your favourite salads and dressings?


text:
Plans to integrate health and care services in Norfolk and Waveney will not be achieved unless additional funding is made available, Norman Lamb has warned.
Responding to the publication of the Sustainability and Transformation Plan (STP) for the region, the North Norfolk MP welcomed proposals to ensure a greater focus on the prevention of ill health, better integration between health and social care, and embedding mental health support more effectively into primary care.
However, in a letter to Dr Wendy Thomson, Managing Director of Norfolk County Council, he said that the plans are "very high level with no detail at all about how these good aspirations can be achieved".
He also suggested that the plan would require "substantial investment in new ways of providing more coordinated and integrated services", and "does not appear to be grounded in reality in terms of what is achievable" within the current financial constraints in health and care.
Mr Lamb stressed the importance of working towards a single pooled budget and joint commissioning between health and social care in the region. He also outlined the need for a clear plan for digitising the health and care system, linking up primary care, acute and mental health services, social services, the ambulance trust, and patients themselves.
Commenting on the STP, Mr Lamb said:
"Despite the horror stories emerging from STPs in some parts of the country, I am broadly encouraged by direction of travel in the Norfolk and Waveney plan. However, the work is at a very early stage and little detail currently exists.
"The focus on bringing the different parts of the system together more effectively – physical health, mental health and social care – is welcome.
"But these proposals will have very clear cost implications, which I fear will prove fatal to its objectives at a time when the local health and care system is facing an enormous deficit.
"A lack of funding will inevitably result in an emphasis on sustainability over transformation. If we are to capitalise on the potential of STPs to deliver better and more joined-up patient care, the Government must build a cross-party consensus on a long-term funding settlement for the NHS and social care."


text:
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- Summary
An ancient Greek motif was the inspiration behind our distinguished hurricane. Curved lines come together on the solid brass frame to create a simple yet striking design. The polished nickel finish adds shine to the hurricane's sparkling clear glassand reflects candlelight beautifully.
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- 9.75" diam., 15.5"H.
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text:
The Government's partial asset sales programme will leave its operating balance $108 million a year worse off compared with the $49 million a year impact previously estimated.
Treasury provided an update on the fiscal impact of the ``mixed ownership model" in this morning's Half Year Economic and Fiscal update.
Treasury estimated the Government will lose out on $327 million a year in profits from Mighty River Power, Meridian Energy, Air NZ and Genesis Energy as a result of reducing its ownership to 51 per cent in each company.
The foregone profits include $321 million a year in lost dividends which will now go to investors who bought shares in the companies.
The total foregone profits are lower than the $340 million it previously expected to lose out on in the first full year following completion of the programme.
Treasury recently reduced its estimate of the amount raised by the programme and the mid point is now $4.8 billion compared with $6 billion six months ago. It expects that money will reduce Government borrowing by $4.2 billion.
That will in turn result in finance cost savings or reduced interest payments of $219 million a year.
The net effect is $108 million reduction in the operating balance. At the Budget Treasury estimated a net reduction in the operating balance of $49 million in the first full year following completion of the programme.
The reduction in proceeds from the asset sales and the fact the cash would all be received by the end of the 2014-15 year had altered the fiscal impact of the sales, Treasury said.
Net debt would would decrease sooner and that reduction would be smaller.
While the finance cost savings would decrease sooner, the Government's share of profits would be reduced sooner as well.
Finance Minister Bill English said the Government didn't regard estimates of foregone profits as reliable given the risk profile of businesses like those in the asset sales progamme.
He said the Government was happy to have reduced its exposure to risky commercial assets like the companies in the asset sales programme.
He said the asset sales had demonstrated that ``anyone can own these assets" but a more important role for the Crown was to use its balance sheet to manage the risks of natural disasters, social failure and long term welfare dependency.


text:
When Will We Tame The BEAST?
I've been working infosec for a long time. Normally, when I see news of breaches, hacks, leaks, misconfigurations, critical information stored in the clear, I simply don't bat an eye. This one got me. Ok, sort of. It's an article over at The Register indicating that SSL Pulse surveyed 179,000 "popular websites" and found that 71% are still vulnerable to the BEAST. My reaction was simple astonishment. How could it still be that bad?
While my career path has taken me out of the cryptographic weeds, I happen to know a few things about SSL/TLS, proper configurations, and attacks against them (dating back to the Bleichenbacher attack; an adaptive chosen-ciphertext attack that can be used in a variety of ways). Truth be told, I feel embarrassed for our community of information security professionals. Why is BEAST so hard to tame? Why haven't we been able to improve this situation more than we already have?
The only conclusion I can reach at this point is that we haven't done enough to help users update and configure their systems. The first step to identify a solution is to understand the problem. So, why aren't users updating and configuring their systems?
It is arguable that the driving force behind use of secured sockets is really online transactions between businesses and consumers. It's further arguable that the majority of end-users don't know (or care to know) what sockets are, much less how to secure them – nor should they have to, in my opinion. But, in this world, we all have to learn and know some things we'd rather not. It's also arguable that ensuring the security of online transactions is critical to our global economy, which brings in the additional problem of crossing jurisdictional boundaries.
In brief, securing online transactions is (at least):
- An educational issue – users aren't aware of good practices
- An accountability issue – neither users nor services are held accountable for poor practices
- A legal issue – any regulation or enforcement must contend with jurisdictional issues
How can we solve this problem? It seems that we could approach this on two fronts: 1) Address the browser providers from this point forward, and 2) address the users with browsers already in the field.
Regulation could be used to address browser vendors from this point forward. A number of US agencies could issue regulations on browser and server vendors to:
- Always support the latest secure socket protocols
- Always default to limited, "known-strong" cipher suites
- Provide a segregated updating mechanism for security updates with a default configuration to auto-update.
Addressing fielded browsers and services is somewhat more difficult, but we could argue that addressing the browsers first is the better way to go. To that end, what if:
- A simple set of proper secure socket configuration were provided by each major browser provider, while, at the same time,
- Servers were configured to provide links to those instructions whenever a insufficiently strong cipher suite was negotiated?
Yes, this requires coordination. Yes, some users would be inconvenienced. But, wouldn't businesses and service providers – the operators of these poorly configured servers – be viewed favorably by demonstrating that the care about the security of their users activities and information? It seems that they would.
Maybe the SSL Pulse group should consider attempting to orchestrate such an effort. It seems worthy to try, even if it might be futile. Or, perhaps the EFF, whose mission is entirely about protecting privacy online. How about the FTC, SEC, US Department of Commerce, or even the United Nations should get involved (this is a global issue, after all).
Or, perhaps we should just let this whole thing fail when users and businesses aren't taking any responsibility for securing the Internet we all know and (dare I say) love? I mean, is Internet security really too big to fail?
In any case, if you're an infosec genius, IT administrator, business professional, or plain-old user and you're reading this, do yourself and your loved ones a favor. Update your systems and configure your browsers correctly – help those you know, but who don't practice good system hygiene.
Here's all the appropriate links I could find inside 15 minutes.
- Google Chrome SSL Settings
- Internet Explorer (7) SSL Settings
- Safari (5.1 or earlier) Secure Connections
- Enabling SSL in IIS
- Apache HTTP 2.4 SSL/TLS Strong Encryption FAQ
- Apache HTTP 2.2 SSL/TLS Strong Encryption FAQ
Short of getting some regulation moving or getting cooperation among vendors, this is about all we can do.


text:
The BBC has fired its chief technology officer (CTO) John Linwood over its failed Digital Media Initiative (DMI).
The project, which the BBC cancelled in May last year, resulted in the write-down of £100 million worth of assets and Linwood's suspension. He lost his job two months later.
The Public Accounts Committee (PAC) has previously questioned why Linwood was the sole person suspended over the major project, claiming that more than one BBC manager was to blame.
According to the BBC, Linwood, who was paid £280,000 for his role on the project, did not receive a pay-off after his contract was ended. The news of his dismissal has been delayed for "legal reasons", the corporation said.
DMI was set up in 2008 as a complex business transformation programme aimed at changing the way that the BBC makes content for its audiences. It intended to improve production efficiency by enabling staff to develop, create, share and manage video and audio content and programming on their desktop, moving away from using video tape.
Following a failed agreement with Siemens in 2009 to deliver DMI, combined with a belief that the technology required was not commercially available, the BBC brought the project in-house in 2010. The project was then cancelled in 2013.
A PricewaterhouseCoopers (PwC) review commissioned by the BBC Trust claimed that the BBC had shown serious weaknesses in project management and reporting, as well as a crippling lack of focus on business change.
Former BBC director-general Mark Thompson is due to give evidence on DMI at a Commons committee next month.


text:
Adnerds Idents
For an ongoing process to rejuvenate Proximity's corporate identity, the Adnerds approached me and colleague Matthias Crommelinck to conceive a so-called "leave-behind"; A nifty toy or gadget that could be given to clients during pitches, to serve as a reminder/goodwill gesture. Under Jan Algoed's direction, we designed a series of plastic toys.
For Adnerds presentations I also made several 3D animations using the character model.
The real toy is now in development and should be in production soon.


text:
Troubleshooting Methodology 4 : Analysis and results
At the risk of sounding like a debater, let me begin with a definition: The Oxford English Dictionary defines Analysis as:
Detailed examination of the elements or structure of something
Another good word for this step would the Theorising. OED gives us:
Form a theory or theories about something
Basically we look at the information we have gathered and try to come up with an explanation for the occurrence from it. The order is most important as if you theorise before getting some data the temptation is to make the data fit the theory rather than the theory fit the data. Holmes was very clear on the unacceptability of this in the previous post! Most of this phase changes from issue to issue and there are a lot of times where this phase is done in parallel with the data collection phase (sometimes the cause is obvious when you get some information on the problem). While there is much variation in how the analysis proceeds there are a few general questions that always need to be answered:
- Patch levels: is the product on a supported version?
- Does the issue description match a known bug?
- Check event logs around the time of the known occurrences of the issue. Any items of note should be recorded even if they don't appear relevant at the moment, may be useful later.
- Confirm it's not a configuration issue.
The final phase -and if you're working in a customer facing support role, the most important one -is giving results to the interested parties.
The end result of the analysis will take one of four forms:
- The cause is identified and the issue resolved.
- The cause is not identified but an acceptable work around is found.
- The cause is not identified and no workaround is possible. Needs to be escalated to vendor.
- The cause is not identified and you have to refine the approach and find more information.
Of the above results I would honestly only consider #1 and #3 to be the end of the matter. With 1 you have resolved the problem and with 3 its escalated to the vendor and you have to work with them but with specialist help a solution should be found or at least a cause identified. I would consider #2 to be ok in the short to medium term but not a valid solution in the long term and obviously #4 means you have to start the whole process again.
Hopefully the time spent reading these posts will help refine whatever method you use to troubleshoot issues.