text: LOL, tell me I'm not the only one that does this. I find myself just gazing lovingly at my Mono speedy while at work (it resides on the counter behind me). My DH thinks I'm nuts cause I hug it and tell him how much I love beautiful purse! I love my other bags too, but my speedy is my favorite (shhh, don't tell the others!)


text:
Tell us your Story
Public Relations: Press releases are welcome to firstname.lastname@example.com. Please note, we don`t guaranteed to publish your release!
FounderTalk: You are a founder of a Startup Company and you are Interested to tell us your Story for our readers, please email us at email@example.com
Tip: You have a inside story or a interesting topic, please feel free to get in touch with us at email@example.com
ElevatorPitch: Submit your Startup for free in the Startup Valley Elevator Pitch and perform your Startup in a virtual pitch to our readers!
Guest Column: Are you interested to write a Column in the StartupValley Magazine send us a mail at firstname.lastname@example.com
Located in Beautiful Southern Germany: Editor in Chief Sabine Elsaesser Office: StartupValley Waldblickstr.40 D-75245 Neulingen Phone:+49(0)7237-4868197 Cell: +49(0)151-235343357 E-Mail: firstname.lastname@example.com

subset: commoncrawl


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Brought to you by Groupon.
Have you ever been a late adopter? I love technology {hello, blogger!} but there have been many times when I've been late to the party. Like, Snapchat for one. And then Groupon for another. My neighbours, and my hairdresser have been harping on about Groupon for years to me now. They go to dinner in town almost every single weekend {no lie, they do!} using the deals they find and nab in the Groupon App. I resisted for some reason, for so long, until recently…
I live in a beautiful part of the world. I'm just minutes from the Gold Coast, and just an hour from Brisbane. I had a little bit of a staycation, using experiences from Groupon. Summer is long, especially with school holidays coming up, and I'm all for making it a bit more fun without breaking the bank. Who doesn't love a bit of an adventure?
How does Groupon work? Simply download the App, set your location {or the location you'll be in} and scroll. Give that thumb a workout! Find a deal you love, grab it, and get busy using it. Using the deal is easy, all you have to do is present the voucher on your phone when you arrive and they scan and you're on your way.
How to make summer better with Groupon
Of all the meals you can eat out, I do love breakfast best. I'm a morning person, but I also love me a good breakfast… especially when it's TWELVE BUCKS.
We headed to my favourite part of the coast, Currumbin, and took advantage of a Groupon deal offered by The Deck. It was right on the beach, the portions were massive and the food was delicious.
If you're in Brisbane you could try THIS place that offers breakfast for just $7. If you're in Sydney, you could also nab brekky for just $7 at THIS place. And Melbourne you could try THIS delicious offer for two people for just $19. Wherever you live, you can start searching for a bargain breakfast right here.
Despite staying so many nights in hotels with work, I still get a thrill every time I check into a new hotel. I love a little change, and a hotel stay. It always feels like a treat. Lacey, my mum and I headed up the coast to a hotel called Urban Brisbane which cost just $129. It's located right in the City, but in a spot I'd never stayed before, Spring Hill. We were walking distance from everything we needed, and had great views over the City too.
If you're in Sydney you could try THIS hotel for $149 a night. In Melbourne? THIS is just $99. Or maybe you really want to jet off to somewhere like Thailand? THIS could be just the one for you. Wherever you live, you can start searching for a hotel stay here.
Have you ever played tourist in your own town? Sometimes I'll visit somewhere new and explore places that even the locals haven't checked out. When we were up in Brisbane we took some time to go on the Wheel Of Brisbane. It cost just $12 each, and went for 12 minutes. We learned so much about Brisbane that we never knew before, and got to experience some pretty amazing views.
You might like to also try the Great Ocean Road Guided Tour for $49, or the Shark Island cruise with BBQ for just $39. Wherever you live, you can start searching for a fun tourist-y experience here.
My standard dinner out is over and done with pretty quickly. We got to the same place every time {Japanese} and are home before the kids have even gone to bed. So, it's nice to try something new and go a liiiiittle bit fancy. While we were in Brisbane, we treated ourselves to a 5 course degustation at The Euro, a chef hatted, award-winning restaurant {it was just $75 each}. The food was amazing. Lacey came along and loved it too. It's so nice to try a series of small meals, with such yummy flavours. I highly recommend taking advantage of this deal if you're in Brissy.
If you're in Sydney you might like to try this TWELVE course degustation for $69. If you're near the Hunter Valley you could try THIS wine and chocolate tasting for $15. If you're in Melbourne you could try THIS degustation and cider for two for just $49. Wherever you are you can search for a fancy meal near you.
Back on the Gold Coast, Shane and I took a helicopter tour over the coast with Professional Helicopter Services. I'd explored other places around the country by helicopter {oh man, I hope that doesn't sound braggy!} but never around home. We asked the helicopter pilot to fly over home, and we did! The kids were out the front {we didn't leave them alone, promise}, then we headed out over the coast and were reminded just how beautiful this place we live in is. It's just $99 for a tour, and awesome. I might not like small planes, but helicopters I love.
If you're in Sydney you could try THIS helicopter tour for three or THIS Open Water Dive Course. If you're on the Gold Coast you could try THIS Jet Boat Ride. Wherever you are you could find an adventure near you {they make for great gifts too}.
High teas are the best. Like seriously, who doesn't love a small sandwich, and a fluffy scone and sweet treats? I headed up the coast with my little sister and her kids for a spot of high tea at The Coffee and Tea Factory for just $39 {for two}. Those sandwiches were the bomb, as was everything else. But those sandwiches. ?
If you're in Sydney you could totally try THIS high tea. Or Brissy peeps, THIS high tea for two for $25 looks awesome. Perth friends, you could try THIS high tea at the Hyatt. Wherever you are, you can search for a yummy high tea near you.
I don't think I'll ever say no to a massage {except if someone creepy off the street asks me, then it's absolutely no} but massages are good. Especially when they cost only $49 for 80 minutes. That almost seems like a crime. I arrived at Gold Coast Massage Therapy and was taken to my room, and offered the choice of a foot massage or facial as an added extra after the massage, and a tea infusion to finish. I am so glad this is so close to home and I can go back again and again. Also, if you're in my family… you should probably look away because this is what you're all getting for everything birthday, Christmas, anniversary for the rest of your lives. So good.
Wherever you are you can search for massages, and beauty treatments over on Groupon.
So, I don't mean to be bossy… but you should kinda check out Groupon so you can make your own summer sensational. OK? Good. If you haven't noticed, I'm totally converted. I love a good bargain. ?


text: Audifans has a number of sublists, but a couple of them are not well populated or don't receive much traffic. I've suggested to Dan that we recruit sublist admins for those lists, and he's agreed with the idea. Please see: http://www.audifans.com/blog/adopt-a-sublist Please read through the post before volunteering- and if you already have a list under your care, I'd prefer it be someone else as these lists need someone who can focus their available-to-Audifans time on one particular list to help it grow. Consider this also to be a call to help populate these lists; maybe you own a relevant vehicle or have a buddy/coworker who does, etc. However, remember that general Audi-related topics are intended to go on the main list (quattro at audifans.com.) It's in your best interests: it has the largest membership! Brett


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This is a composite of two photos taken at daybreak from Anchorage, Alaska. Although the storm looks threatening and fast moving it was actually quite stationary and seemed to dump all of its rain over Cook Inlet. The Kenai (Keen' Eye') Mountains overlooking the Kenai Peninsula make up the background landscape.
December 2, 2010


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Florida court considers commuting death sentences
TALLAHASSEE (FOX 13) - Back in 1998, it was headline news. Popeye's employee Cynthia Harrison was stabbed to death by her co-worker, Timothy Hurst at the restaurant.
Hurst was convicted of her murder and sentenced to death, but on appeal, his sentence was overturned. A new jury sentenced him to death, again.
Then the U.S. Supreme Court took on Hurst's case, and turned Florida's death penalty law upside down.
In January, 2016 the high court ruled Florida's sentencing procedures were unconstitutional. The Supreme Court said jurors should decide a defendant's fate not a judge.
In March, state lawmakers scrambled to fix the law and passed new sentencing guidelines, saying at least 10 jurors must recommend a death sentence.
That means Hurst could be sentenced for a third time.
Arguing before the Florida Supreme Court Thursday, Timothy Hurst's attorney John Selden said, because the U.S. Supreme Court ruled on his case, his death sentence should be thrown out.
"What I would like this court to do is reverse and vacate the death sentence and remand the imposition of life sentence without parole," said Selden.
Justice Barbara Pariente agreed the Supreme Court's decision was sweeping.
"It meant that there was no death penalty procedure in Florida," explained Pariente.
However, the weighty decision by the State Supreme Court could have vast implications for the 400 inmates currently sitting on death row.
State prosecutors are fighting the possibility of throwing those sentences out, switching them for life sentences. The prosecutors said the ruling should not be retroactive.
Vivian Singleton argued on behalf of the attorney general's office.
"In the Hurst decision the, Supreme Court did not say Florida's death penalty was unconstitutional; only that the sentencing scheme was unconstitutional," said Singleton.
She argued those sitting on death row committed heinous, atrocious and cruel acts, which she said all deserve to be paid for with their lives.
This week, the Florida Supreme Court heard from three former justices, elected officials and legal scholars who have called for hundreds of death row inmates to have their death sentence replaced with life sentences.


text: Anyone ever use the SmashBox Lip&Lid?? Does it really keep the eyeshadows and lip color on longer? How about the Photo Finish Foundation Primer? Does it help the make up stay on longer? Does it help moisterize your face like it claims to?? Does anyone ever experiance breaking out from their make up? I currently use mineral make up because when I used MAC before, it just ate my face up and gave me loads of pimples. What's your opinion on SmashBox??


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Discussion in 'General Pro Player Discussion' started by venusandserenafreak, Apr 11, 2008.
Yep like i said earlier-semi western grip----
Stop! HAMMER time!
Berdych?? ...eastern!!
Improper you say??
Steffi Graf uses an eastern forehand grip. T-Berd uses a semi-western forehand grip similar to Safin and Sveta.
Martina Navratilova and Chris Evert!
It should be you're an idiot. Not your a idiot.
I believe Delpo uses an eastern grip and possibly Berdych.
I think Federer has said that he modifies his FH grip(especially on clay)to counter higher balls and to create more spin.
I got this thread showing up in my alerts and couldn't for the life of me remember when I posted in it. Then I found my post... from 2008. You guys are necromancers with resurrecting dead threads
Separate names with a comma.


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The Espresso Coffee in the bar is the Café par excellence, the way that intensifies to the maximum taste and aromas. The preparation of the Espresso Coffee is a true art. To obtain an excellent result at home, we advise you to follow these rules:
( 1) the quality of the water: use natural mineral water instead of tap water. Its calcareous concentration can prevent the correct operation of the machine and affect the quality of the coffee.Every two months use specific anticalcareas sachets for home espresso coffee machines.
|( 2) the correct dose: for each cup serving 7 grams of coffee Segafredo Zanetti. Control the dose, using the gauge supplied with the machine ( you can hire a coffee maker at catering equipment hire company), which is equivalent to about 7 grams.
( 3) a barman hand: once filled the filter holder, beat him gently on the table or in the Palm of the hand to distribute evenly the coffee powder. Then, tighten the coffee strength, using the presser supplied with the machine: a level surface is essential for a good Espresso Coffee.
( 4) correct weather: coffee has to exit the nozzle forming a continuous and homogeneous thread. Be careful at the time of extraction: If the coffee comes out too fast, try pressing it with greater intensity; Vice versa, in the case of a very slow start, try not too pressed coffee.
( 5) careful maintenance: whenever you prepare coffee, remove residues from the previous coffee powders, filter to avoid out dregs and unwanted flavors. From time to time, run the water in the filter vacuum, as if you were preparing a cup of coffee.Before preparing another, wait for 2/3 minutes, making sure there is no water remaining in the inside of the filter holder. Also use this method when you wash the filter holder with the tap water.
A small trick: the coffee in the Cup may not be hot enough. Try to run the water in the filter holder as in the previous section.Then, without remove the portafilter from the machine, power steam resistance up to the power of the specific indicator. A simple and quick system to increase the temperature of the water.
Sometimes when the coffee is in the cup, it isn't hot enough.
Try to let the water flow through the filter-holder just like before. Then, without removing the filter-holder, activate the steam resistance until the appropriate light turns on.
This is a quick and easy way to increase the water temperature.


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From within her taxi, the girl takes in the half-built and skeletal structures, the night lights, and loud honks from cars that make Manama feel like home. The pink, beige, and gray highrises are decorated with pictures of three bearded men: they shout at her, remind her she is a foreigner, an outsider, a woman. Their curved, neon letters accompanied with English translations remind her of Manila, the dark and impoverished, loud city her father escaped from when he was her age, 25 years old, still young and yearning.
Bahrain feels like Los Angeles, where she has left her familia. The land is dry, rough, and out of water; smells of salt, spice, and the calm sea. The difference is the water's blueness, a teal blue, and it surrounds the tiny island country, traps it, encloses the rows of houses made of sand and clay.
The girl is here to meet the boy, her lover, a man she has loved since 14. It is a star-crossed meeting, to fly across the world and meet the USS Douglas MacArthur porting days in Bahrain. They married three years ago. Eloped at twenty-one. She was a writer, going back to school for a Master of Arts; he was a nuclear engineer in the U.S. Navy. With him, she was impulsive; with her, he wished he could be someone else, someone better.
In this city, so far from what they know, the girl rolls down the window of the cab driving to their arranged hotel. The hot air rushes in. She knows she is lost, she has always been lost. She wants to hurt him and is jealous of this city that feels more alive than her, but there is something that draws her back to him, that claws and needs him, maybe it is because he is so like her father, a man of charm and broken laughter.
It has been over two hundred days since their last kiss on the corner of his gray ship that looks like a prison, a monster of lights on the sea that permeates darkness. She knows she must tell him she is leaving him.
The flight was brutal. It was twenty hours of agitation with two layovers, one in New York and the other in London. It felt suffocating to be confined in her seat, the noise of the plane filling with kids crying, men kicking her seat, the fear in seeing him again. Her heart palpitated each time she landed, each time she took off. On the plane to Bahrain, she sat next to a Filipina woman who owned the same Coach bag as her. She pointed to it, smiled at the woman, and the woman beamed, her mouth immediately falling into Tagalog. The girl cannot understand her familia's own language, and the woman quickly noticed, turning her head, disappointed and cruel. The girl tried to smile again, but it was clear: she was Americana Filipina, and the woman was a balikbayan, a domestic worker, an indentured slave. That's how much the girl understood in her spitfire Tagalog, complaints of flying to a desert city without familia, without blood relations, without an anchor, the pain of leaving home.
Once in Bahrain, she walked through the airport hallways with quick steps. Her father was right: the eyes never left her. The men dressed in white and the women covered in black, stared and stared, as if each one questioned her existence, her smile, her looking down at her shoes. She gave the immigration agent her Bahraini visa and he motioned for more. She was confused. The girl asked him what he needed. He pointed at her: Why are you alone? Where is your husband? Your father? Brother?
She rummaged through her purse, a Coach bag she thought would signify her class, her American-ness, but the man behind the counter eyed her, questioned the petite body with the black hair and light brown skin, finally saying: You Filipina, no? Are you here to work? Clean houses? He laughed.
He eyed her: Where is your sponsor? Your master?
No, I'm American. She repeated, tapping on the blue passport. The man still didn't look up, he scoffed, and she continued: I'm here to see my husband. His ship, the MacArthur, is pulling in soon. See? I'm married. American.
She pushed the marriage certificate toward him with such force that he smiled, but not at her. He stamped her passport without a word, and she walked out into a crowd filled with happy families being reunited and still staring.
In the hotel, there are faces she recognizes, Filipino faces with Filipino-accented English, all who smile at her like she is used to, all who call her Madame, which she isn't used to—it plants a seed of uneasiness. She rides up the elevator to the 18th floor, walks to the corner of the hallway, and opens the door to a room with two twin-sized, separate beds instead of the queen she reserved.
Maybe this is fitting, she thinks. A sign.
She rolls her luggage in, closes the door, sits on the bed. The girl plays with the sheets, fluffs the pillow. Agitated, she whines, I'm agitated. She opens her beloved blue purse, takes out her documentation, makes sure she has it all.
She pulls out the marriage certificate. Her ticket. Her proof of independence, her right to walk around alone in a city such as this. It's a vibrant, colorful document—blue and red and purple—and she presses the notary seal with her fingers, smells the certificate until she can remember the heat of Las Vegas filling her lungs. The memories rush in, flowing from the heart to the head, taking her to the gray, lonely courthouse in Vegas, where a wrinkled woman who married them said their love was true and young, the things you only see in the movies. She remembers the wet heat of Charleston, the sounds of hurried feet, of running into each other, of long deep kisses in the morning light, of her arms reaching out to him, longing for his body. Her mind shifts to the smell of swamp, of Norfolk, where the Navy whisked him off and she couldn't bare to follow, a city desolated with big freeways and storefronts peppered with bankrupt malls, Borders, Circuit Cities, and Big Lots. A city where familia was thousands of miles away, she was alone, and he was away at sea.
The girl begins to remember their ten-year history: Los Angeles, their home, Las Vegas, their elopement, Charleston, their first duty station, Norfolk, their separation—her back to California, to San Francisco, where she was going to be a real writer, she said with firmness, I'm going to be somebody, she told him and herself in the mirror.
In each city, she thinks, I was unfinished, still becoming. The girl has always been dramatic. She is an unmothered girl, a Filipina orphan in her own right: raised by her father's mother since the day she was born, the day that her mother birthed her in agony and left her after she healed. She switches her thoughts to her lover, his family, their hatred of her. The girl was an orphan, they surmised, too needy, too broken, impulsive. She laughs at this as the mind rotates to his affair, her lover's own impulsive desire for attention, how on one of their "off" periods, he took a querida, had an affair with the friend-enemy she both despised and loved. She thinks of all of this as she places her personal artifacts, the certificate and passport and military ID and other things, in the room's vault.
She locks it with a code she knows her husband would know: the numbers 1-4-2. It was a joke they shared; he would say that his favorite numbers stood for I love me instead of the childish 1-4-3, I love you, which they used to text to each other on late nights when they were teenagers. She sits at the desk and sees a notepad. Her mind races. She begins writing a note to her husband, jotting down the things she wants to say, notes how she should act after not seeing him for five months, wonders to herself how he must've changed, how he must look. Surprising herself, she jolts up and pushes the beds together until they fit snug against the wall. She pulls the sheets off, makes it a queen.
I don't even know what I want, she tries to explain to the quiet room, the lamps, the beds, I want the sex and I want to leave.
The room is bare with American, bland décor. It surprises her: the American-ness of the hotel. It is a thing she only notices now, after she has organized all her things and her anxiety had subsided, taking in the aura around her.
Hints of imperialism, she says aloud, to no one. Neo-colonialism, she corrects herself. Her father told her there would be poor Filipino workers in Bahrain. People, balikbayans he called them, who would come from the homeland to support their familia back home.
Anak ko! I once built those skyscrapers, he said to her on the phone. She had called him from the airport before boarding her plane from San Francisco to New York.
Dad, you never told me you were an OFW. She pulled the phone closer to her ear and relooked through her bag to make sure she had all her documentation: proof she wasn't a balikbayan.
OFW? What's that? A drink? If I were a drink, I would taste salty!
Because of your love of adobo? She laughed. But dad: you were an Overseas Filipino Worker? Why did you never tell me, papa?
She heard her father sigh, for a long time a marker of his disappointments. She imagined him in their old, ruined house in L.A., sitting nearby the window, looking at the gray expanse as if he could see her face, his beloved child's face. Anak, my child, these are my secrets, things I will keep until the grave. Why would you pry? Walang hiya, my dear, didn't I ever teach you shame? But what can I say, look at the woman you've become: traveling across the seven seas to tell your husband: I love you. A waste of money, a waste of time, but still, it's true love, di ba, and I like him. He reminds me of me! I still remember that buff he used to beat me in poker. I'm still surprised, anak, you two lasted this long.
She nods her head in agreement but doesn't speak, doesn't disagree.
Blue covers the entire room. The walls are blue with portraits of abstract ocean art. The corner window expands from the blue floor to the ceiling. She opens the curtains and sees the rows of highrises extending before her, the blinking lights in Arabic, all red, all curved. It is twilight—the early dark morning before the sun basks everything into light. She hears in the distance a melodic sound, a calling. In the middle of the city stands a domed mosque that pierces the cityscape. The girl presses her palm on the glass, covering the oval building painted gold and surrounded by the city's glow. To the east is the sea, the moon high above, the city still roaring and wide awake. She tries to see if she can see her husband's ship pulling in in the distance. She imagines its ghastly lights, to smell its reeking smoke that hovers above the pilot deck and rows of military war jets, but she's here early. Her husband's ship will come when it arrives; that is life of the Navy, the life of a Navy wife, one of perpetual waiting, perpetual heartbreak. The girl lives for the boy, schedules her life around him. She knows this. Despises it.
He deserves at least this, she explains to the blue walls, at least one last good-bye.
She doesn't close the curtains shut. The girl stands before the landscape with its blinking lights, takes off her clothes, naked before the windowpanes, hands placed on the warm glass. Alone with the roaring cars down below, she pictures her husband behind her, his nakedness wanting, the desire from both bodies bare before the city and the sea. The girl tries to touch herself. It is brief, it is uncomfortable, her moans are quick and uneven, forced. She sees herself in the window's reflection. She was taught that she was beautiful, on her familia's terms, holding a beauty that is warped in denial: she is light-skinned unlike her older sister, unlike the friend-enemy, unlike her husband, whose sepia skin matches the photographs of her as a child, when she played and did everything out in the sun. She is only light-skinned because her grandmother taught her to dye her skin with papaya facial soap, gave her lessons on how to shape her eyebrows perfectly with eyeliner. —I can't do anything about your wild Até, anak, but I must do something about you.
She touches her cheeks, her lips, and though she inherited her father's chin, she hides it with bronzer brushed under her neck, to strengthen the weak jaw line, and in this moment, she feels, for once, valuable, adored, sexy. But alone, she can't come. The voices come instead, these low whispers of doubt and ugliness, all appearing in the voice of her lola, her grandmother who raised her, appearing in her forgotten mother's voice, a mother she does not know: Are you a whore? it repeats, are you?
The room is dark, it is hot, the air is sticky, and her body is damp with sweat: she can't sleep. She tosses, turns, tosses, turns, and stays up until the sun rises.
There is a knock at the door. She sits up, scared, and pulls the blankets over her nakedness. There's another knock, again and again. She doesn't know what to do, so she rushes to her luggage, puts on a collared shirt and skirt, easy things to rush into, but the knock becomes louder, harder.
Hold on! she says, putting on her shoes, high heels that her lola would always force her to wear—to make a black duckling look maganda, her grandmother used to say—and finally she is at the door. She can't see through the door eyehole. She's too short even with the heels.
She asks: who is it? There's no answer. She asks again. Silence. Finally, she opens the door with the chain lock still attached. It extends and jolts the door from fully opening. A loud bang, a stop.
A Filipino woman stares back at her, her make-up impeccable. She wears an orange ball gown. She is darker, more like her sister's orange shade, and wears heels quite similar to hers, black with two straps across the ankle.
The woman gasps: Oh! I didn't know this room was already being serviced. My name's Brittany. Would your guest like a third?
She looks at the orange girl, Brittany. Brittany is much younger than her, she can tell—it's her eyes, eyes that give a look of desperation and wanderlust—but the red lips are alluring. The orange dress exposes the legs, which are short like hers, and the breasts are round, very round, and she can't help but think what this girl whose name sounds too foreign in the girl's mouth could possibly be doing here, in the hallway, in a hotel with blue walls, a girl who looks too much like herself.
Excuse me? What do you mean? I'm staying here. Are you looking for someone?
The orange girl laughs: oh, I didn't realize this was your room, Madame. I thought you were servicing someone.
The orange girl stops laughing: Madame?
Brittany eyes her for a long time.
The orange girl continues: I'm sorry. I apologize. I realize I was wrong. You sound different. I thought you were like me. Excuse me. I'm sorry, Madame.
She wants to grab the girl in the orange dress but she's already gone, down the corridor, knocking on a door far away from the corner room, across the hall. She sees a man answer, an American, maybe another U.S. serviceman, and his Southern accent reminds her of home. Brittany enters the room again laughing, her voice echoing: yes, sir, I promise a good time, very good time..
She then pushes the door shut, the chain lock retracts, and its clicking sound echoes in the silent blue room. The girl paces the room in her high heels, almost trips, and sits on the corner couch near the large windowpanes, legs crossed, stares into the nothingness, the captivity of a city so far from what she knows, and gets up once more. The girl paces and paces, her heels sinking into the carpet then she collapses on the floor, still in her wonderful black shoes, legs no longer crossed, and there, quietly and alone, the girl weeps.
When he finally is here, knocking on the door four days later, four days late, four days filled with guilt, shame, and room-serviced food, of a sorrow she cannot explain, she opens it, excited and sad, in black lingerie and still in her black shoes.
They first exchange this: quick hellos, long sighs, quick kisses, long ones too, him lifting her up, against the wall, against himself, her clawing into him, her wanting him, him holding her as if it is the first time and the last time. They need no wasted time to know each other's bodies: they are strangers and non-strangers, desperate lovers in a sun lit room where the reflected blue surrounds them, swallows them, opens them, and now her legs are open, now they are rushing, now the emotions spill, tear, lap, lick, push: they are no longer at bay, no longer apart for months and days, and here is the want, the need, the fucking.
The moans are long and heavy, happy. Honeymoon moments of reunification that is still joyful sensual painful. When they finally wake from their daze, their sex, the nakedness, in the middle of the night, she turns on the lamps nearby the pushed together beds, she can't sleep, and sees him for the first time.
You look great, you look skinner, she says. She smiles and touches his flexed arms.
They're not skinny—I've been working out, you know. Knowing that I was seeing you.
I've missed you, she says.
He looks up, toward her, brushes her hair out of the way, and pulls her in.
She pulls away. The girl gets up and walks toward the notepad. She brings her knees toward her chest. She's naked, still bare and open, her body shivering in her sweat. She begins to speak, but silence comes out.
He walks to her. In the light, she can see how he's changed: his body is leaner, his body is darker, more brown, more beautiful, the head is shaved, eyebrows still bushy, the sex is exposed as if still wanting, arms are molded, chest is harder, thicker, the eyes still bright and yearning.
They are silent. She remembers when she fell in love with him; it was constant, like a recurring wave, like water crashing on the shore—this need to meet, to be loved. First, it was in history class; how their Japanese teacher, stern and harsh and cunning, had her bow to him when she couldn't answer a history question and he could; second, it was the Philippine Independence Day Festival, where he bought her a baby chick and it pooped in his hat, where she first saw him play chess, where, in his shyness, he gifted her the winning trophy like a bouquet; third, it was after the fighting, after his mother would turn her eye at her short skirts, damning her as a querida; it was when the friend-enemy came on the scene, a perfect, inverted mirror to the girl, everything she was not: darker skinned just like her sister, a girl with less demanding beauty, she surmised—long dark hair, hazel eyes, and a button nose.
Her friend-enemy entered every classroom with a fierce grace and cool, controlled brilliance. Their school friends were confident that with her Catholic, Madonna-like demeanor and calming voice, she would save the world, voting her as the Most Likely to Succeed, when their shared lover was voted as the Class Clown. The girl was never voted as anything because she was thought to be too temperamental. It was a weakness, they gossiped, every joke and teasing could put the girl into a squall. They called her, batibot. Always feeling too much.
The friend-enemy once told the girl she always wanted to have her skin, her light color, but her integrity was more important than typical Filipina beauty. And the papaya soap, wasn't that irritating her face? You look so colonized, she taunted, in the same sardonic, prideful voice her grandmother had. They were sitting in AP English Language class and just received their scores for the AP Exam. To everyone's surprise, the girl was the only student who passed the exam. The friend-enemy was appalled; when their teacher praised the girl for passing, the friend-enemy kept hitting her pen against the desk and glared at the girl, like she wanted to devour her and her skin, eat it up, chew and spit it out.
After high school, the friend-enemy came and went like a ghost. Maybe it was being unmothered children that melded their distorted friendship together. They were both unanchored, both on a constant search for home, for acceptance. They competed in all their shared AP classes, vying for their teachers' approvals, their love, and it was college that finally fizzled them out, until the affair seeped into the open, until the girl found out and it was too late, years later and the two had already eloped, despite their familia's wishes.
But he loved her. This is the truth of their childish tragedy. It was the military that forced his love out of him. It was boot camp, the letters back and forth, the realization he was alone in the world, that his mother's love wasn't enough, that the friend-enemy's attentions weren't enough, and that he needed the girl he loved without reason, despite his familia, despite the girl's fire.
But they are here, now, in this blue hotel thousands of miles away from home, and yet the past rushes toward them without remorse, with such desperation.
He holds her with this assurance, this neediness he never had before. Distance, she thinks, made him love her, a thing she always wanted.
I met a Filipina prostitute?
She turns to him, almost angry.
She knocked on the door. Looking for someone like you—someone in the military.
He's at her knees now and he bends down, placing his head on her lap. She holds his head still, moving her hands gently across his scalp, feeling his breath.
She looked a lot like me, she says. I don't know how to deal with it, there're Filipinos everywhere. Back in Charleston, we were the only Filipinos in a block radius. Well, besides the Navy cooks, she laughs. Wasn't that weird?
I was afraid to bring you here because of that. In Dubai, Filipinos working at the coffee shops, at the hotels and malls, walking little kids. You were right about that, he says.
But me and the prostitute were practically the same, she says.
No, you're not. Not at all.
I married you. She lifts his face toward her. I married you for money. I was scared. I have sex with you, in a hotel room far from home, you flew me here, it cost thousands of dollars, you pay for my rent, you pay for my food; we're the same.
He stares at her, tries to smile, But, don't you love me?
Of course I do, she starts, but. She pauses. I wake up every night in a sweat.
He's still looking at her, his hands wrapped around her body, he pulls her against him, he smells her, takes her in. He says nothing for a while. She stays quiet. He looks up, back at her, then lifts himself, walks toward the window, puts on his boxers, and keeps his body toward the cityscape and the sea.
Then what will you do? He asks.
I don't know. She stops talking, composes herself, sits straight, speaks again: I ended up like my mother. With a sweet, funny man who cheated on me. What am I supposed to say?
He paces around the room. He folds his arms across his chest, unfolds them and sits on the bed. He stares out the window.
I'm sorry, he begins. He repeats it, starts pleading, what do you want me to do? What can I do? Erase the past?
She stays silent, turns off the lamp at the desk. The darkness surrounds them, enters the room, keeps her still, confined to the chair.
He breathes in. He places his hands on his head, fingers splayed across his ears.
Do you know what I go through? Do you know how hard it is to live on that ship?
I can imagine, she starts.
You can't, he says. I go through this for you. For us. To keep us together. Like your father did for your family. I work hard. For you.
She shakes her head.
I didn't ask you to join, she looks away. I'm sorry, she crosses her arms. She's quiet. He tries to reach for her. She pulls away. She starts again: What can I say? She walks toward her Coach bag, pulls out a thin book, and begins to read aloud:
Forgiveness, I finally decide, is not the death of amnesia, nor is it a form of madness, as Derrida claims. For the one who forgives, it is simply a death, a dying down in the heart, the position of the already dead. It is in the end the living through the understanding that this has happened, is happening, happens. Period. It is a feeling of nothingness that cannot be communicated to another, an absence, a bottomless vacancy held by the living, beyond all that is hated or loved.
Claudia Rankine, she finishes. And the title, she laughs in disdain, she knows she is dramatic, she knows it, sums me up perfectly: Don't Let Me Be Lonely.
They both know she is dramatic. They both laugh at the irony. He kisses her. She lets him.
If you leave, he says. He still looks down. He doesn't finish.
It is here when she goes to him, when the girl holds the boy, when she takes him in. Here, the boy caves, here, the boy wraps his arms around the girl's naked body, here, the boy pulls the girl in close as if she's already gone, and because of this, she does not let go, she does not pull away.
The last days they spend together are quiet, they do not speak. They take a tour of the city, fighting with the taxi drivers and their peppered English, repeating the words: meter, meter, use the meter. The men laugh, they point at the girl. She is beautiful, one man said, pushing his sunglasses toward his face. I'll give you a discount. The meter for the lady.
They hold hands in the cab, watch the city pass them by, tower after tower, crowded street after crowded souq, men yelling at each other, women covered, and then they find the bodies that look like them: the pinays, the pinoys, the workers. They fill the megamalls, they work the coffee shops, the toy stores, the clothing stores, the restaurants, the food courts, the movie theatre, the bars, the clubs, and every space with children, there are Filipinas walking groups of children to and fro, pushing strollers, fixing hair, rubbing dirt off cheeks. The stares are still present but less so, she is not a woman alone. She presses her palms against her husband's, unwilling to let go of him, not willing to speak about their heated confessions, of her want to leave. Only a few hours had passed since she admitted her doubts. He looks at her quietly, without anger, and in moments when they laugh, he grabs her hand under a table, behind a pillar, in their hotel room.
Can't you stay, the hands say, and her hands would respond, slowly slip away, and he would grab them back, she would give them back. Their hands stay there, longing.
They eat at a restaurant they find down an alleyway near their hotel, a few blocks down from the Navy base. They had heard Tagalog floating in the air. Although neither of them speak it fluently, they know the staccato of Taglish, the corny jokes, the laughter. They step into a dark restaurant with dark wood panels and an American breakfast menu. The chairs are plastic and red, filled with men from the base, all of them chatting and slugging down Bud Light beers. He sees sailors from his command, introduces them to her, tells them proudly: this is my lovely wife, and he smiles, he laughs, and she smiles back at them, her arm linked with his. The Filipina waitresses sit them down, hand them the American breakfast menu, but at the end of the list they find the item, Pinoy Breakfast, and they are ecstatic, happy. They order fried eggs, spam, and garlic rice, devouring the food as if they are home.
The waitresses are interested, they ask them: Are you half?
Half, they respond, confused, what do you mean half?
The waitresses laugh: Filipino, Madame and Sir. Are you half?
They both shake their heads, No, they say, we're Filipino.
Filipino? The waitresses are confused, they point at their dress, their clothes, too fancy, they say with their eyes.
Filipino American, he says, smiling at the women, and then, as the waitress reaches over to pour more water in her cup, she recognizes the girl, Brittany, in the orange dress.
I recognize you, she starts. The waitress shakes her head, Really, Madame? I don't remember.
She pinches her husband, and he glances at the waitress, then at his wife, who he thinks is leaving, and he drums the table, looks down, holds his wife's hand tighter.
You can't do that, the waitress points to their intertwined hands, you might get in trouble. She disappears. A man with a cane point to their table, and the girl who once wore that orange dress shakes her head, mouths: they're American, she says, they do not have to do what we do to get by, di ba?
They watch the waitress turn away, evade the boy's and the girl's gaze. The woman who once wore that orange dress joins a crowd building around a man grinning in a suit. A white, American man grinning in a black-and-white suit. The waitress then takes off her shirt, reveals a black, glittery, low-cut shirt, matching perfectly with her cut-up, washed out jeans. Other women crowd the man, similarly dressed women—Filipina women—and they laugh and touch him on the shoulder, gently slap his cheek, bring him beer after beer until he is red in the face, ready for another exchange. They watch as a he pulls out his wallet, eyes the waitress in the black, glittery shirt, chooses her, and out they go, into the heat, into the dark night.
An exchange, the girl says after they leave. Did you see that? That man—he just, he just bought her. It was an exchange.
The boy nods. An exchange of wants, he says.
The girl looks back to him—an exchange for sex, an exchange for survival.
The girl and the boy then stop speaking, they are silenced by the witnessing, of seeing a body—who very much resembled their own, their parents', their families' bodies—enter into a barter between sustenance and desire, and even months later, they do not speak of that moment, do not speak of seeing the woman who once wore that orange dress enter into an exchange of wants with the man in a suit—and who was that man grinning in that suit? Another military man, maybe an officer, maybe a chief? It doesn't matter. It is not until months later, when the girl waits for the boy on the pier in Norfolk, where that monstrous ship finally moors back on American shores, that the girl and boy rush to each other, even if it's just for a moment, a second more, as the pain rushes within, without, against the crowd of happy families reuniting, against the wet, damp cemented base with the humid winds rising beneath them. An exchange of wants washes over them without notice, without stopping, and maybe the words of Rankine don't leave them, maybe they sing it in their heads, this need, this want: Don't let me be lonely, and they let it come, they fall into the other, hands intertwined, and the girl and boy collapse, hold on, let the emotions stay, push them forward, however unfinished, let the smell of the ocean and salt follow them home.


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text: We all know the new NSX will be released sometime in the next three years. We have seen the NSX Concept at the Detroit Motor Show where Honda released the specification of V6 mid-mounted engine, Sport Hybrid SH-AWD (Super Handling All Wheel Drive) hybrid system. Honda UK website currently does not list any information or the actual sale date but the dealers are taking pre orders since the 4th of July. To book your 2nd Generation NSX get into a dealer with your £5000 deposit to get your name down and get a piece of Honda motoring history. Honda will exclusively give these customer updates and sneak previews before anyone. Man I am so excited if I get a windfall from somewhere or work my socks off. I will do anything to get the new NSX.This car is coming home no matter what the cost is.Three years of handwork here I come.


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This Advanced Tech Node is sponsored by Cisco.


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Historical Reflections Upon Calvinism and Southern Baptists | Conclusion
Dr. Robert Hughes | Professor of Missions & Evangelism
Clear Creek Baptist Bible College, Pineville, KY
*For more information about Dr. Hughes or Clear Creek Baptist Bible College click HERE.
Click HERE for Part One.
Click HERE for Part Two.
Click HERE for Part Three.
Trail of Blood?
Baptists debate when exactly the Baptist faith came into being. Some argue that there have always been "true" believers in the faith of the New Testament who never became organizationally linked to the Roman Catholic Church. A little pamphlet called The Trail of Blood sketched out how these groups—identified primarily by their rejection of infant baptism—maintained their separation down through the centuries, often in hiding, at other times enduring persecution. The historical accuracy of this viewpoint is challenged by the fact that some of the groups cited as "baptistic" by the pamphlet were, in fact, far from orthodox (sometimes way far from orthodox!). Still, there is no question that there were often dissenters against prevailing views.
During the time of the Swiss Reformation some of the strong supporters of Zwingli in Zurich raised objection to baptizing babies. Zwingli had them convicted of heresy and drowned. Those who held this view came to be known as Anabaptists (rebaptizers), because they refused to accept as members anyone who did not make a conscious and public profession of faith in Christ. These groups, which sprang up all across Europe independently (generally as a result of reading the scriptures for themselves) are usually referred to as the Radical Reformation. It was out of the Radical Reformation that Baptists formed.
Birth of English Baptists
Most historians trace the beginnings of present-day Baptists to the separatist John Smythe, who had himself rebaptized while in exile in Holland in the early 1600s. He formed the first English Baptist church. Smythe was an Arminian… About the same time as another separatist group in Holland—those we Americans know as the Pilgrims—departed for the New World in the Mayflower, Smythe's Baptist church moved back to England. While Smythe later left the Baptist church that he helped to form, other Baptist churches began to spring up. Thomas Helwys formed one outside the walls of London. Helwys was an Arminian…
Since Baptists have generally resisted any kind of top-down governance (this attitude is called the "free church tradition") it's difficult to trace their growth with precision. There's enough research, however, for us to know that there were two main groups of Baptists: There were the earlier General Baptists, who were basically Arminian in doctrine, and the later Particular Baptists, who were Calvinist. This split among Baptists in England did not die, but it would have been well if they had made peace. The General Baptists, as Arminians do historically seem to do, slipped off toward what we would call today liberalism. The Particular Baptists, as Calvinists historically seem to do, slipped the other direction into so called "hyper-Calvinism." What that means, essentially, is an overemphasis on the sovereignty of God to the point of the loss of human freedom, and an eventual loss of any missionary motivation. It would have been better for the Kingdom of God if the General Baptists and the Particular Baptists had moved closer to one another, rather than further away. It seems a fact of Baptist history that the two groups—or their spiritual descendants—do much better at reaching the world when they remain together and challenge each other. This finally happened with British Baptists in the 1900s.
American Baptists
Of course Baptist folks—both General and Particular—moved across the Atlantic to the colonies. They were poor and uneducated in contrast to other American Christians, but they had strong convictions and much zeal, and Baptists grew during the First Great Awakening (although the split between General and Particular Baptists remained.) (Of course, there was also a major split in the First Great Awakening between Jonathan Edwards and George Whitfield, Calvinists, and the Methodist Wesley.) "I follow Whitfield!" "I follow Wesley!" (Sounds like "I follow Apollos!" "I follow Paul!" doesn't it?)
It was during the Second Great Awakening, however—the great revival on the frontier—that Baptists grew into one of the largest groups in America. Methodists did, too. By contrast, the Calvinist Presbyterians shrunk. Why? These results had much to do with the Camp Meetings movement.
The Second Great Awakening
Between 1800 and 1830 a new Awakening began to spread through the newly expanded United States, particularly in the South and along the Western frontier. Methodist and Baptist churches in particular expanded rapidly through the "camp meeting" approach. People in sparsely settled regions would gather in great encampments that would last for several weeks. These served to strengthen relationships in these areas, and were often multi-denominational, with several different styles of preaching taking place in different parts of the camp. The Cumberland Presbyterians (who broke from the more formal Eastern Presbyterians during this time – and modified their Calvinism) and the Disciples of Christ developed out of this second Awakening. The Methodist bishop Francis Asbury established the pattern of the "circuit rider" preacher, traveling thousands of miles in his lifetime establishing and strengthening Methodist congregations.
There was an indirect theological shift taking place throughout this revival—a movement from Calvinist to Arminian theology. The emphasis in these camp meetings was often placed upon the free will of an individual to choose Christ's offer of salvation -or to refuse it. From the Calvinist perspective this sounded like a salvation of works rather than grace—the "work" being the choice on the part of the individual. After early participation in the camp meeting approach Presbyterians abandoned it, questioning the emotionalism and the lack of doctrinal teaching. As a result, the Methodists and Baptists became the dominant churches in the South and West, and a pattern of thinking was established that would eventually give rise to Pentecostalism.
This period was also the run-up to the Civil War, the cataclysm that would split both the Methodists and the Baptists into Northern and Southern wings. In 1845 the Southern Baptist Convention was formed. Many of the Baptist leaders of this split were adamant supporters of a union of Southern states as well. While southern Baptists were united on slavery, there were differences in theology between the educated, highly cultured East (which was largely Calvinist) and the rough and tumble, uneducated churches of the revivalist West, hi many ways this was just a continuation of the old General Baptist-Particular Baptist division, which had been imported from England long before. Because Baptists are a "free Church tradition"—because Baptists had a long tradition of simple Biblical theology, in contrast to adherence to a more formal systematic theology—because unlettered Baptists mistrusted education—because Baptists in the American West had a tradition of evangelicalism, revivalism, and personal invitations -this age-old division was never healed. Instead, Southern Baptists after the Civil War became united in the fervent pursuit of missionary advance. That became the lynchpin, the common ground, the point of agreement that moved the Southern Baptist Convention toward cooperation (and, incidentally, toward the Cooperative Program.) The result? While other denominations battled over liberal theology or hyper-Calvinism, The SBC grew. Its focus was upon missions and evangelism, not on theology and perfectionism. Would that it still were.
Doctrines of Grace?
Sometimes these days during class a student will make off-handed reference to "The doctrines of grace"—by which he means Calvinism. This strikes me about like it does when Texans speak of that state being "God's country"—as if everywhere else (including my native California or my adopted Kentucky) is not. Excuse me, but I have always held a theology based in grace. Oh, I understand: The naïve assumption of a Calvinist tends to be that if you're not "with us", then you must be an Arminian. I'm not. When pressed about my position on the five points, I give my OWN five points, as follows:
Junk (not by God's design – Rom 7:18-19)
Eternal Love (God's, from the foundation of the Universe)
Supreme Sacrifice (John 3.T4-15)(Christ's – for me and for you)
Universally Offered (John 3:16; 1 Tim 2:4; Rom 10:12; James 10.T6)(Whosoever)
Secure in Christ (Romans 8:38-39)(Nothing can pluck me out of His hand)
Then I say "You can keep your TULIP, I'll keep my JESUS."
That, however, may be a bit too "preachy" and not intellectual enough for such a gathering. So let me finish by being intellectual and properly theological…
Models and Qualifiers
I refer to the thinking of I.T. Ramsey, who wrote most effectively about "models and qualifiers". Hang with me here for a moment…
Ramsey was engaged in the debates about religious language, which swirled through theological circles after Wittgenstein in the early 1900s. Don't worry if you don't know whom or what I'm talking about; most people don't, and are perfectly fine without it. But Ramsey's point was interesting: He said that much of our confusion and argument in the areas of religious discussion was related to the use and abuse of human models and heavenly qualifiers in our discussion. That is, we acknowledge God as our Father, but modify that concept with the word "heavenly" so that it conveys the more, the mystery of God that we cannot express. Father is the model, heavenly is the qualifier. We use the model of Life when we talk about heaven, because that's what it is and will be, but we modify that word with eternal—Eternal Life—to express the inexpressible nature of that life. Life is the model, eternal is the qualifier. Understand?
Now look at the TULIP. Grace is the model, irresistible is the qualifier. From the Arminian side "resistable" is the qualifier. Friends: How can we possibly know whether grace can or cannot be resisted? Upon what can we base our understanding? We want to resist the World's temptation to base everything upon experience instead of upon scripture, but honestly—how can we know?
Think about Atonement. The wonder of that word is that Christ paid the penalty for our sin upon the cross. We can never praise Him enough for that gift, that grace! But when we put "limited" or "unlimited" in front of that marvelous word we end up in fruitless debate that says nothing about God, and everything about our petty intellectualism. As if we knew the wondrous workings of God's omnipotent mind!
Instead of focusing upon the qualifiers, let us focus instead upon the five points of theology: Mankind's sin! God's grace! God's favor! Christ's atonement! God's promise! And for goodness sake, let's start telling the World about these wonderful truths so people don't end up going to hell because they never heard!
There's a fire. People need to be saved. Let's lead them to safety instead of arguing about the color of the exit signs.


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Kwestro "REPRESENTS" at The Kill City 1yr. Anniversary!
For those of you who didn't make it out to the Kill City " HIP HOP THAT DOESNT SUCK" 1yr Anniversary, you missed an epic performance by Kwestro . He had the ladies dancing like it was Saturday night, the dudes breakin' their necks and people flooding in by the bundles! With his permission I'm releasing the live mix he played for free download! So turn this up, bang it in your car, your job or any party occasion to get it "POPPIN" properly![audio:http://www.boycottmag.com/media/Kwestro_The_ Kill_City_1_yr_ Anniversary.mp3]
DOWNLOAD: Kwestro @ The Kill City 1yr. Anniversary (Austin,TX)


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Chris Marker's brilliant and passionate but rarely seen (and never before US-distributed) multimedia docudrama reflects on the epic and decisive WWII Battle of Okinawa and its often suppressed historical relevance. Catherine Belkholdja plays a French computer programmer researching the battle – including its 82-day siege and the loss of a third (roughly 100,000 people) of its island population – and documentary footage is mixed with her monologues as she simultaneously sorts through her feelings regarding a deceased lover. Less a plot point than a metaphor, Belkholdia's interactions with the computer (suggested by creative graphics courtesy of Marker's beloved Macintosh) offer a third layer of consideration: the growing importance of the internet and the computer's role as a human memory device. Like much of Marker' career, the film deals both poetically and concretely with themes of time and identity, and like his other masterworks – such as A Grin Without a Cat (1977) and The Last Bolshevik (1993) – history is shown to be a vital source of human narrative and personal meaning. Important films cited include Nagisa Oshima's Dear Summer Sister (1972) and John Huston's Let There Be Light (1946), and Marker's trademark touches (references to owls, cats and Hitchcock's Vertigo) are on full display. It's a fascinating and important film that never allows its substantial cleverness to replace its deep and profound empathy.
One comment
I will want to see this, thank you, a persuasive review.


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KASHGAR – THE END OF THE LINEBy
ALONG THE SILK ROAD (part III)
I had a burning thirst as I entered Kashgar. For days, the dust and grit suspended in the Taklamakan's air got under my clothes, in my hair, in my shoes and in my parched throat. I enjoy a good cold beer. But even this is hard to find. Oh! Beer is in plentiful supply! But cold beer – that seems to be a foreign concept – literally.
After coming to rest at the Barony Tarim Petroleum Hotel on Seman Road, I dropped my gear and set out in the still blinding sun. This large city has a vibe! Here, one shares the sidewalks with different ethnic groups and the dress styles that distinguish them. For me it is exciting, and not a lot different from Toronto – a city with many distinct races and ethnic groups, making for an exciting city. The different cultures provide variety, unique festivals, amazing foods and diverse art & theatre scenes. Here in Kashgar, it may not be as varied, but there is a true cultural blending which is typical of this area so close to so many ancient cultures.
Not far away, as the shadows lengthened is the site of the famed Sunday market. Sadly, I will not be able to extend my visit to attend the market. But standing on the broad steps of the Id Kah Mosque, one can feel the anticipation and almost hear the thousdands of sellers and buyers competing to be heard, and arguing, trying to get the lowest prices for the sheep standing obliviously nearby.
A sight that always intrigues, is a man having his head washed and handsome beard trimmed. The skull cap removed, shows a snow-white scalp, protected by the ever-present cap above a sun-burned face. The man getting a trim is obvioulsy used to the ways of the barber, who with one finger partially missing (not a good omen in my opinion), lathers the virgin scalp with a bar of soap before the gleaming straight razor is whipped out. Fascinated, I continue watching as the barber tips his clients head back by yanking upward on his equally snow-white beard.
As a man who also has a beard – and could do with a trim after days in the desert, I slink away, not noticed, and retreat into the darkening shadows. Perhaps now that I have survived the surgical mastery of an ear cleaning in Chengdu, the next time I find myself in Kashgar, I may pluck up the courage to go under the knife – as it were!
I think other web site proprietors should take this web site as an model! – very clean and fantastic style and design, in addition to the content. You're an expert on China.
You write about this place that we hear is in a dangerous area of china. but you make it sound inviting. mark of an open mind
You are my inspiration.
"Never mistake motion for action."
– Ernest Hemingway.
Wow! This could be one particular of the most helpful blogs We have ever arrive across on travel to China. Basically Magnificent!!! I'm also a avid traveler therefore I can understand your effort.
It's best to participate in a contest for among the best blogs on the web. I will suggest this website!


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White Chocolate Ritz Fluffernutter Bars
Raven Higheagle
☆☆☆☆☆ 0 votes0
- 16 oz
- vanilla almond bark
- 1 can(s)
- (14 oz) sweetened condensed milk
- 50 (ish)
- ritz crackers
- 1 1/2 c
- creamy peanut butter
- 1 jar(s)
- (7 oz) marshmallow fluff
How to Make White Chocolate Ritz Fluffernutter Bars
- 1Line a 9x13 pan with foil. Spray foil with nonstick vegetable oil spray and set aside.
- 2In a large bowl, melt vanilla almond bark according to package directions.
- 3Stir in sweetened condensed milk and stir until smooth and combined.
- 4Spread half of the candy mixture in the bottom of your prepared pan.
- 5Press crackers on top of the candy, so that they are touching.
You'll have roughly 7 rows of 4 crackers.
- 6Spoon peanut butter evenly over the surface of the crackers, then spread with an offset spatula or the back of a spoon.
- 7Spoon marshmallow creme evenly over the peanut butter and spread with offset spatula or back of a spoon.
It doesn't have to be perfect, so don't worry if it smears a little.
- 8Top surface evenly with crackers, making sure they are all touching.
- 9Pour remaining white chocolate mixture over the top of the crackers.
- 10If it's too thick to pour, place in microwave and heat for 30 seconds at a time until it's thin enough.
- 11Spread candy over crackers evenly.
- 12Garnish with sprinkles.
- 13Cover and refrigerate until firm.
- 14Cut into bars and serve.


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This item has been discontinued and we do not expect it to be offered again.
Welcome baby to the world with the help of the Peanuts Gang! This basket full of fun features Snoopy and Woodstock musical Beanie Babies along with a great selection of essentials the new parents will love. A white wicker basket is filled to overflowing with a 5 Piece Baby Gift Set (3 Cotton One-pieces, Cotton Hat and Baby Booties), Baby Brush Set, Pacifier and Printed Nursery Bottle. Just press the beanie babies and they play the peanuts theme! Tied with a cheerful yellow bow, this gift is perfect for either gender.
Approximate gift dimensions: 12"L x 12"W x 15"H.
Item Number: GC-8052


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Posts by: Tushna Commissariat
Setting the standards for physics
By Tushna Commissariat in New York City, US
As most of our regular blog readers will know, last week Physics World's Matin Durrani and I were in Baltimore attending the APS March meeting. While we spent most of the week at the conference centre, last Friday we visited the National Institute of Standards and Technology's (NIST) Gaithersburg campus, as well as the Joint Quantum Institute (JQI), which is based at the University of Maryland. It was a jam-packed, exciting day that we spent zipping around to and from more than 10 different labs and departments, meeting people who use physics to do everything from improve the safety of body armour to redefining the kilogram.
As we saw so many interesting projects, covering them all would make for a rather long read. Instead, join me for a quick visual tour of NIST below (I will cover our JQI visit in a separate blog) to get a small taste of the physics and people involved.
Getting a fix on quantum computations
By Tushna Commissariat in New York City, US
Although the APS March meeting finished last Friday and I am now in New York visiting a few more labs and physicists in the city (more on that later), I am still playing catch-up, thanks to the vast number of interesting talks at the conference. One of the most interesting sessions of last week, and a pretty popular one at that, was based on "20 years of quantum error correction" and I went along to the opening talk by physicist John Preskill of the California Institute of Technology. I had the chance to catch up with Preskill after his talk and we discussed just why he thinks that we are not too far away from a true quantum revolution.
Just in case you haven't come across the subject already, quantum error correction is the science of protecting quantum information (or qubits) from errors that would occur as the information is influenced by the environment and other sorts of quantum noise, causing it to "decohere" and lose its quantum state. Although it may seem premature that scientists have been working on this problem for nearly two decades when an actual quantum computer has yet to be built, we know that we must account for such errors if our quantum computers are ever to succeed. It will be essential if we want to achieve fault-tolerant quantum computation that can deal with all sorts of noise within the system, as well as faults in the hardware (such as a faulty gate) or even a measurement.
Over the past 20 years, theoretical work in the field has made scientists confident that quantum computing of the future will be scalable. Preskill says that "it's exciting because the experimentalists are taking it quite seriously now", while initially the interest was mainly theoretical. Previously, scientists would artificially create the noise in the quantum systems that they would correct but now actual quantum computations can be fixed. Indeed, Preskill says that one of the key things that has really moved quantum error correction along in the past few years is the concentrated improvement of the hardware used, i.e. better gates with multiple qubits being processed simultaneously.
The everyday physics of knitting, ribbon-curling and more
By Tushna Commissariat in Baltimore, Maryland, US
You may think that a simple occurrence such as a tree shedding its leaves or an everyday activity such as knitting or ribbon-curling does not involve a great deal of physics, but you would be wrong. In a press session here at the APS March meeting entitled "The physics of everyday life", three different groups of researches talked about the unexpectedly complex physical principles that govern all of the above mentioned instances.
Sunny Jung of the Bio-Inspired Fluid Lab at Virginia Tech in the US studies the shapes of different leaves and the thickness of their "petioles" or stalks – both of which determine the stresses a leaf can withstand on a windy day and what happens when it ultimately falls. Jung's team studies this because leaves are actually very good at withstanding all kinds of stress and strain without buckling – something that could be applied to large man-made industrial objects such as suspended road-signs.
The researchers found that slender leaves are more likely to bend under high winds, whereas a flat leaf is more likely to twist at the stem before falling. They also discovered that the length of the stalk is determined by the size of the leaf, with larger leaves needing longer stems so that sunlight can cover more of their surface area.
Would you encourage your grandchildren into condensed-matter physics?
By Tushna Commissariat in Baltimore, Maryland, US
One of the most popular talks this morning at the APS March meeting was almost certainly given by Nobel-prize-winning physicist Anthony Leggett of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign in the US. Leggett, who shared the 2003 Nobel Prize for Physics for his work on superconductors and superfluids, talked about his "Reflections on the past present and future of of condensed-matter physics".
As the abstract of his talk suggests, Leggett looked at the ways, means and even the very definition of "condensed-matter physics" has changed and "evolved since its inception in the early 20th century, with particular reference to its relationship to neighbouring and even distant disciplines". He went on to "speculate on some possible directions in which the discipline may develop over the next few decades, emphasizing that there are still some very basic questions to which we currently have no satisfactory answers".
I missed the beginning of his talk as I was attending the morning's first set of press briefings (more on those later) but when I did walk into the packed hall for his talk, his slide had the rather interesting title: "Would I encourage my grandchildren to go into condensed-matter physics?" Happlily enough, his answer at the end of his talk was a resounding "yes".
Baltimore braces itself for physics
By Matin Durrani and Tushna Commissariat in Baltimore, Maryland, US
So here we are in Baltimore to attend the 2016 March meeting of the American Physical Society (APS). We're writing this at the window seats in a burrito bar on Pratt Street while staring at the hulk that is the Baltimore Convention Center, where nigh-on 10,000 physicists will be congregating all week.
We've been playing a game of "spot the APS attendee" while tucking into our burritos. Without wishing to stereotype physicists (okay, go on then, we will) they're the ones with the backpacks stuffed with poster tubes, pulling little trolley suitcases, looking lost before veering towards the convention centre.
There are also some physicists inside Chipotle Mexican Grill – you can tell because they're huddled around laptops looking at PowerPoint presentations showing graphs of Fermi surfaces and topological insultators. Probably not the usual subject of discussion in here.
Lilting to the LIGO tune, Fukushima five years on and more
By Tushna Commissariat
Looks as if LIGO's gravitational-wave discovery is still rocking all over the world, as you can now groove to the dulcet tones of singer and physicist Tim Blais, who runs the acapellascience channel on YouTube. With some help from the Perimeter Institute in Canada, the singer has created his latest "nerd-pop" parody, titled "LIGO Feel That Space" (sung to the tune of The Weeknd's "Can't Feel My Face"). After you listen to the catchy tune above, take a look at this interview with Blais on the Perimeter website to find out just how he creates his songs and how he went from physicist to a viral YouTuber.
Primates and paradoxical twins in the ISS, cosmic musicals, alien advertising and more
By Tushna Commissariat
The International Space Station (ISS) usually has only the human variety of primate on board, but earlier this week a gorilla seemed to have joined the crew. If you thought that this was part of one of the hundreds of planned experiments on the ISS you would be wrong. Instead, it was crew member Scott Kelly's birthday hijinks after his twin brother sent him the suit for his birthday as the astronaut celebrated a year in space. Kelly will return to Earth in six days' time.
Interestingly, this is the first time NASA has sent up one half of a pair of twins into space and is studying just how life on the ISS will change Scott's physiology from that of his twin Mark. Apart from looking at how life in space will alter everything from Scott's DNA to his gut microbes, this is also a real-life variation of the "twin paradox" experiment where Scott will return to the planet a bit "younger" than his twin in that Scott's clock runs a bit slower than Mark's, thanks to the ISS's orbital speed of 17,000 mph. After reading this, if you feel like you would like a go on the ISS, NASA is currently hiring.
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Surfing the LIGO wave, sounding out black holes and more
By Matin Durrani and Tushna Commissariat
Unless you are completely disconnected from all electronic media, the Internet and don't read a newspaper, by now you must have heard that the LIGO Virgo collaboration has made the first ever detection of gravitational waves, spewed out by two black holes merging into one. The story made waves across the world, if you will excuse the pun, and seemed to capture the interest of scientists and the public alike. Above you can listen to the chirp of the merger event, dubbed GW150914, that occurred 1.3 billion years ago, when multicellular life was just emerging on Earth. Indeed, these sounds are so intriguing that they are being turned into musical compositions.
Scientists battle celebrities, a quantum 'unconference' and space travel, past and future
By Tushna Commissariat
Its been a strange week for scientists and celebrities popping up together on the world stage – what with rapper B.o.B and Neil deGrasse Tyson's very public face-off about the former's conspiracy theory claims of the Earth being flat – but it didn't end there. In a celebrity trio that is even more surprising, physicist Stephen Hawking has come together with Hollywood actor Paul Rudd, (most recently starring in the film Ant-Man) in a video narrated by Keanu Reeves. Earlier this week, Caltech's Institute for Quantum Information and Matter hosted the event One Entangled Evening: a Celebration of Richard Feynman's Legacy. As a promo of sorts for the event – which had special appearances by Rudd, Reeves, Hawking, Bill Gates and even Yuri Milner, apart from actual quantum physicists such as John Preskill and Dave Wineland – they filmed the above video with Rudd and Hawking battling each other at a game of quantum chess. You will have to watch the video to see who wins.
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Recent Posts
Robotic Arm Links
Author Archives: shanesh
Back at the BAC; weaving cont.
It had taken us a bit longer to get things set up than orginally thought. Esko was kind enough to stay later, but by 6:00 we had to get going. We did have to finish the pattern by hand at … Continue reading
Posted in Uncategorized Leave a comment
Weaving during Operation
The toolpath was successful in that in did weave the pattern with the precision needed, but the tip of the fixture did allow for a bit too much "freedom". The string and tip sometimes got caught on the head of … Continue reading
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Chris & Shane Tool Path Test
Chris and I had some success in stringing around the nail heads with enough tension to hold the pattern. This was just a sample. We realized the path size taken around each nail head was key. We just need to … Continue reading
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Product Features
Outdoor Research updated the revolution-worthy style of their Exit Cap with more modern lines. The breathable and warm Alpine-wool is both functional and good looking. The updated radar silhouette has a structure brim and a soft, moisture-wicking fleece interior with stylish trim details on the outside of the cap.
Key Features of Outdoor Research Exit Cap:
- Fabric: Alpine Wool Plus Fabric: 65% Polyester, 25% Wool, and 10% Nylon
- Breathable
- Wicking
- Plastic-Stiffened Brim
- Weight: (L) 2.7 oz / 77 g
All Gear by: Outdoor Research


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Soup is one of my favorite things to cook for our family and also one of my favorite comfort foods. I often try to cook meals that will result in leftovers that we can take to the office or school for lunch. In all honesty, I have never been a big fan of split pea soup as it is typically bland and lacking in texture. This recipe omits the pureeing of the soup and results in a hearty, chunky soup.
splash of olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
4 carrots, diced roughly
4 celery stalks, sliced
1 red bell pepper, chopped
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning
2 cups of chicken broth
2 cups of water
16 ounce bag of green split peas, picked and rinsed
2 cups of ham, diced
salt and fresh ground pepper to taste
Add a splash of olive oil to a large stock pot and warm over medium heat for 1-2 minutes. Add the onion, carrots, celery, bell pepper, thyme and Italian seasoning. Cook for about 3-5 minutes until the vegetables start to soften a bit. Add the broth, split peas, ham, chicken broth and water. Bring the soup to a boil and reduce the heat to medium-low. Cover partially and simmer until the peas are soft, about 30-40 minutes.


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An acclaimed exhibition from The Anne Frank Trust will be visiting Central Library from 11 – 22 May.
The 'A History for Today' exhibition covers themes such as the history of the Frank family, the introduction of the racist Nazi state and the victims and appalling consequences of the Holocaust.
The exhibition places the complex historical events of the Holocaust against the backdrop of the life of one inspirational young person – enabling visitors to grasp the human consequences of persecution and war.
The exhibition will be open for general viewing by library users throughout this time and will be hosted in the City Library area, on the lower ground floor.
The Anne Frank Trust staff will also work with Manchester Libraries to deliver workshops to school groups, for pupils aged 10+.
Councillor Sue Murphy, Deputy Leader of Manchester City Council, said: "We are honoured to work with the Anne Frank Trust to bring this hugely important exhibition to Manchester. 'A History for Today' challenges us to consider what we can and must do to continue to stand strongly against hatred, prejudice and discrimination."
Shona Gibbs, Head of Education Delivery at the Anne Frank Trust, said: "We are delighted to showcase 'A History for Today' at Manchester Central Library and hope this creates a legacy of people working together to eradicate all forms of prejudice and discrimination.'


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It is said that the performance and durability of open-gear machine heads is inferior to sealed-gear (Rotomatic) types. Because the bushing is physically separate from the machine head body it is difficult to accurately position the string post through it when mounting onto the guitar. To solve these problems the SXB510 series includes a centering guide at the base of the body to ensure a flush fit combined with Rock Solid string posts. Also, the SXN510 series employs a nut mount system and can be installed as a direct replacement into the same holes drilled for Rotomatic style tuners. The improved performance and durability which the SX510 series provides, thanks to GOTOH's unique design and manufacturing, gives you the chance to experience a sound you've never heard before.
|Arrangement :
|String Post :
|Finishes :
|Gear ratio :
|1 : 15
|Weight :
|27.3g/pcs (In case of button 05. Bush include)
|*Weight changes with combination.
|Accessories :
|Include : Bush, Screw
Additional Information
|Availability of this product
|O.K! (Lead-time required.)
|About System and Delivery Time
Why? "Production by Order" System.
* Please understand that the lead-time of about 1 month may be required very rarely.
When equipping the existing musical instrument with GOTOH products, processing of addition to the musical instrument side may be necessity. If attachment impossible without processing is carried out, there is a possibility of leading to breakage of a musical instrument. Please check size etc. well before purchase. Moreover, We recommend that clearing work is requested from specialists, such as a repair shop. In addition, about breakage of the musical instrument when replacing, an accident, etc., it shall be considered as self-responsibility, and our shop shall not take any responsibility.


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A Wallonia delegation, set up by the Walllonia Export-Investment Agency (AWEX) and Logistics in Wallonia, will exhibit at the Transport Logistic exhibition in the Munich Trade Fair Centre from 5 to 8 May 2015. The delegation brings together several key players of the sector, among which:
- The Autonomous Port of Liège (PAL)
- The Autonomous Port of the Centre and the West (PACO)
- The Direction of the Promotion of Waterways and the Intermodality (DPVNI)
- Liège CAREX
- Ubidata
These organisations will be happy to assist you with any questions and/or help you with the development of your activities. You can find them at stand 103/202 – Hall B4.
You are also invited to join us for the cocktail of the Wallonia Region on Wednesday 6 May!
For any further information about the Wallonia delegation, please don't hesitate to contact
- Marie PHILIPPOT (AWEX) – firstname.lastname@example.com
- Patrick HOLLENFELTZ (LOGISTICS IN WALLONIA) – email@example.com
Transport Logistic Munich 2015
Sustained growth for e-commerce, continued automation of logistic processes, the revolutionary effects of 'Industrie 4.0' on transport and logistics – these are the enormous challenges that we are faced with to ensure maximum mobility of people and goods and optimal market efficiency.
This is the 15th edition of one of the world's leading exhibitions for Logistics, Mobility, IT and Supply Chain Management, where professional visitors from around the world will be able to discover the latest innovative solutions.
An exhibition focused on networking, an atmosphere that encourages contract conclusions and first-rate side events hosted by 200 experts – these features turn Transport Logistic into an unparalleled dynamic marketplace.


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Words containing discodermoli
Found 1 words containing discodermoli. Browse our Scrabble Word Finder, Words With Friends cheat dictionary, and WordHub word solver to find words that contain discodermoli. Or use our Unscramble word solver to find your best possible play! Related: Words that start with discodermoli
- Scrabble
- Words With Friends
- WordHub
- Crossword


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Q&A With Arnold & Porter's Lester Sotsky
Q: What is the most challenging case you have worked on and what made it challenging?
A: Representing BP in connection with the...
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text: True 3D in Action by 3DPrint.com | Mar 16, 2017 | True 3D from EchoPixel brings together virtual reality and 3D modeling for surgical preparation Facebook Comments Stay up-to-date on all the latest news from the 3D printing industry and receive information and offers from third party vendors. Enter your email address NameThis field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged. This iframe contains the logic required to handle Ajax powered Gravity Forms. 3DPRINT.COM HIGHLIGHTS & RESOURCES


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Ex-LandAmerica Execs Fight Tolling Agreement
The executives, including former CEO Theodore Chandler, ex-Chief Financial Officer G. William Evans and former independent members of the board of directors, allege that LandAmerica's trustee didn't consult them before agreeing to apply a two-year-old tolling agreement to the proposed class action, which alleges that the executives breached their...
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The last thing I expected to see while walking into my yoga class was a hummingbird. Even though hummingbirds are so tiny, she stuck out like a sore thumb perched on a bright-yellow pipe running along an equally bright yellow-brick wall.
It was thrilling to see a hummingbird so close, but terrible as soon as I realized her predicament. She was scared out of her wits, flying furiously as soon as anyone approached, slamming her delicate little body into the ceiling trying to escape. My yoga mates and I realized it was best to leave her alone and hope she would fly towards the open door and freedom on her own; otherwise she might physically harm herself trying to flee from us.
I couldn't take my eyes off of her. So petite and perfectly sculpted, who are these creatures?
Hummingbirds are part of the family Trochilidae and are only found in the Americas, mesmerizing the first Europeans to cross the Atlantic having never seen them before, according to Donald and Lillian Stokes, authors of Beginner's Guide to Hummingbirds.
The Sibley Guide to Bird Life & Behavior states there are more than 300 species of hummingbirds, but only 18 live in or fly about North America. In the South Bay, there are many opportunities to glimpse hummingbirds, but the most common are the Allen's and the Anna's.
To identify hummingbirds, it's best to have a guidebook and amazing vision. But there are distinguishing characteristics to look for that will make identification a bit easier.
Dan Cooper, President of Cooper Ecological Monitoring, Inc. and local bird expert who wrote the book Important Bird Areas of California, gives the following advice on how to best distinguish the two most common hummingbirds.
"Note that both Allen's and Anna's come in two plumages each, with females lacking the bright shiny gorget, the reflective feathers on the throat and forehead," said Cooper. "People report gray hummingbirds a lot, which are female Anna's. And as a tip, if you see orange on a hummingbird, assume it's an Allen's."
But things have changed locally in the last 20 years. Anna's used to be the most common hummingbird, but now the Allen's are the most common in the South Bay after expanding their empire from beyond the Palos Verdes Peninsula.
This trend is thanks to the influence of humans.
According to Cooper, "As for the expansion of Allen's, it's a couple factors, the popularity of Cape honeysuckle and red-flowering eucalyptus in landscaping, as well as intrinsic biological factors involving the birds [Allen's], like their pugnacious nature, dominance around Anna's and ability to exploit, not adapt to, but actually take advantage of and expand their range while using non-native vegetation. "So, in effect, their abundance is a 'bad sign' ecologically, since it shows that we've messed up our native ecosystem so this thing can thrive."
Since hummingbirds are so cool, it's a bummer to think that Allen's are actually another red flag, or orange flag if we stick to their coloring, indicating thanks to us the natural order is out of whack.
But regardless, seeing a hummingbird is breathtaking.
Identification is easier on a bright sunny day because if the angle is right the light will reflect off a hummingbird's gorget and then you know it's a male. If that flash of light and color is orange, it's an Allen's and if it's red then it's an Anna's. The gorget on a full-grown male Anna's covers the entire head like a shiny red face-mask, while a full-grown Allen's has shiny feathers just on the throat area like a bright orange beard. And if you don't see color, then it's a female. As Dan describes, grayish coloring indicates an Anna's and a dull orange-brown is most likely an Allen's.
Weighing in at only .1 to .3 ounces, hummingbirds could be mailed with a 44 cent stamp; that is if you could ever catch one, which you shouldn't because they are protected, not to mention aggressive. Hummingbirds have been observed defending their territories and nests against animals several times their size.
Despite their petite looks and delicate mannerisms, hummingbirds view sex as strictly business. This means that males stake out areas considered to be good pick-up locations for meeting ladies and once business is complete females fly off to areas suited for nesting and each defends their separate territories.
These mini birds fly up to 45 miles per hour (the Sibley Guide says up to 60 miles per hour!) and their wings beat up to 78 times per second according to Donald and Lillian Stokes. It's Superbird!
But what do hummingbirds eat to sustain this level of activity? Every child's dream diet—sugar.
Hummingbirds are perfectly adapted for feeding on flowers, sticking in their beaks and sometimes their heads to gather nectar. Since their beak is shaped like a miniscule straw, it's easy to imagine them sucking up nectar delights like sugar crazed people do with a milkshake. But hummingbirds don't suck nectar, they lick it.
Having the fastest tongues in the west, they furiously lick nectar with a long slender tongue that extends far beyond their beaks. The tongue actually has grooves along each side that act like gutters allowing nectar to flow down their throats with grace and ease.
But don't get too jealous of a hummingbird's sugary nutrition plan, they still have to fulfill their version of the Atkins diet by getting protein from bugs including fruit flies, gnats, mosquitoes, maggots and spiders, just to name a few.
After chirping away in a high pitched voice throughout the yoga class, the hummingbird collapsed from exhaustion to the floor. A classmate used a cloth to gently pick her up and place her outside in a leafy area where she could recover. I say "her" because I'm pretty sure the hummingbird was a female Anna's, mostly greenish-gray without any distinctive coloring. Her tiny eyes blinked at us in fear. But later she took off, a superbird once again, and is hopefully back to enjoying bugs or a sugary snack from a flower.


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Economic Integration between Countries
There are many different types of economic integration between countries:-
Free trade areas
A free trade area is a form of integration where countries simply agree to remove tariff
and non-tariff barriers between them to promote free trade in goods and services.
e.g. The North American Free Trade Area (NAFTA).
Customs Unions
A customs union comprises two (or more) countries which agree to:-
Abolish tariffs and quotas between member nations to encourage free movement
of goods and services.
Adopt a common external tariff (CET) on imports from non-members
Preferential tariff rates apply to preferential or free-trade agreements which the Custom
Union enters into with third countries or groupings of third countries.
Single Market
Single markets are a deeper form of integration than a customs union. E.g. The EU
It involves the free movement of goods and services, capital and labour and the concept
is broadened to encompass economic policy harmonisation
Deeper economic integration requires some degree of political integration
The aim is to gain benefits from trade creation and trade diversion.


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Easter is a very special time in Catholic countries, as Easter marks the end of Lent and the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. The absence of eggs and other dairy products during Lent might explain, in parts at least, why eggs play such a central role in our Easter celebrations!
Caribbean-inspired Coleslaw for the All-New, All-Healthy Me
In many ways, Lent is the old-fashioned Christmas hangover cure: after all the indulgences of carnival and Mardi Gras, you're ready for a massive detox. It's like Dry January but in March, lasting (in theory) for 40 days. Well, we'll see how that pans out.
Sauerkraut – Pickling for Beginners
OK, the run-up to Christmas might not be the right time for such a healthy pursuit, but, seriously, there is never a better time for pickling cabbage! It's right on trend, vegetarian, vegan even, as well as gluten free and paleo-compatible. Who would have thought that Sauerkraut's the quintessential pro-biotic food?
Fattoush – The Perfect Summer Salad
A few weeks ago we had a very special Fiesta Friday: following an invitation by the wonderful Selma, a few of us regulars met up in a beautiful setting just off Regent Street, for a bit of non-virtual fun. I was incredibly excited to meet so many of you in the flesh – reading your blogs,…
Krautsalat: Bavarian Coleslaw
With the barbecue season upon us, it's the season to check out some salads – after all, we need to offset all that meat by eating a couple of spoonfuls of healthy stuff on the side. And this cabbage salad does just the trick: cabbage is so incredibly healthy and nutritious, especially when eaten raw….


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The fulldata.rar file you have requested: Modifications / Unofficial Patches / fulldata.rar - 31.94mb is not available. Perhaps try browsing all files for the game Ragnarok Online and upload any files you want to share or are missing. This is the only information we could locate:
This data folder is for all Madness Player.. just unrar it into your Programfiles/Gravity/RO/ FullData for MadnessRO
We recommend you return to the download list and browse the links from there. If the problem persists, contact us with the details.