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Loomis had never believed that line about the quality of despair being that it was unaware of being despair. He'd been painfully aware of his own despair for most of his life. Most of his troubles had come from attempts to deny the essential hopelessness in his nature. To believe in the viability of nothing, finally, was socially unacceptable, and he had tried to adapt, to pass as a believer, a hoper. He had taken prescription medicine, engaged in periods of vigorous, cleansing exercise, declared his satisfaction with any number of fatuous jobs and foolish relationships. Then one day he'd decided that he should marry, have a child, and he told himself that if one was open-minded these things could lead to a kind of contentment, if not to exuberant happiness. That's why Loomis was in the fix he was in now.
Ever since he and his wife had separated and she had moved with their son to Southern California, he'd flown out every three weeks to visit the boy. He was living the very nightmare he'd tried not to imagine when deciding to marry and have a child: that it wouldn't work out, they would split up, and he would be forced to spend long weekends in a motel, taking his son to faux-upscale chain restaurants, cineplexes, and amusement parks.
He usually visited for three to five days and stayed at the same motel, an old motor court that had been bought and remodelled by one of the big franchises. At first the place wasn't so bad. The Continental breakfast included fresh fruit and little boxes of name-brand cereals and batter with which you could make your own waffles on a double waffle iron right there in the lobby. The syrup came in small plastic containers from which you pulled back a foil lid and voilà, it was a pretty good waffle. There was juice and decent coffee. Still, of course, it was depressing, a bleak place in which to do one's part in raising a child. With its courtyard surrounded by two stories of identical rooms, and excepting the lack of guard towers and the presence of a swimming pool, it followed the same architectural model as a prison.
But Loomis's son liked it, so they continued to stay there, even though Loomis would rather have moved on to a better place.
He arrived in San Diego for his April visit, picked up the rental car, and drove north on I-5. Traffic wasn't bad except where it always was, between Del Mar and Carlsbad. Of course, it was never "good." Their motel sat right next to the 5, and the roar and rush of it never stopped. You could step out onto the balcony at three in the morning and it'd be just as roaring and rushing with traffic as it had been six hours before.
This was to be one of his briefer visits. He'd been to a job interview the day before, Thursday, and had another one on Tuesday. He wanted to make the most of the weekend, which meant doing very little besides just being with his son. Although he wasn't very good at doing that. Generally, he sought distractions from his ineptitude as a father. He stopped at a liquor store and bought a bottle of bourbon, and tucked it into his travel bag before driving up the hill to the house where his wife and son lived. The house was owned by a retired marine friend of his wife's family. His wife and son lived rent-free in the basement apartment.
When Loomis arrived, the ex-marine was on his hands and knees in the flower bed, pulling weeds. He glared sideways at Loomis for a moment and muttered something, his face a mask of disgust. He was a widower who clearly hated Loomis and refused to speak to him. Loomis was unsettled that someone he'd never even been introduced to could hate him so much.
His son came to the door of the apartment by himself, as usual. Loomis peered past the boy into the little apartment, which was bright and sunny for a basement (only in California, he thought). But there was no sign of his estranged wife. She had conspired with some part of her nature to become invisible. Loomis hadn't laid eyes on her in nearly a year. She called out from somewhere in another room, "Bye! I love you! See you on Monday!"
"O.K., love you, too," the boy said and trudged after Loomis, dragging his backpack of homework and a change of clothes. "Bye, Uncle Bob," the boy said to the ex-marine. Uncle Bob! The ex-marine stood up, gave the boy a small salute, then he and the boy exchanged high fives.
After Loomis checked in at the motel, they went straight to their room and watched television for a while. Lately, his son had been watching cartoons made in the Japanese anime style. Loomis thought the animation was wooden and amateurish. He didn't get it at all. The characters were drawn as angularly as origami, which he supposed was appropriate and maybe even intentional, if the influence was Japanese. But it seemed irredeemably foreign. His son sat propped against several pillows, harboring such a shy but mischievous grin that Loomis had to indulge him.
He made a drink and stepped out onto the balcony to smoke a cigarette. Down by the pool, a woman with long, thick black hair—it was stiffly unkempt, like a madwoman's in a movie—sat in a deck chair with her back to Loomis, watching two children play in the water. The little girl was nine or ten, and the boy was older, maybe fourteen. The boy teased the girl by splashing her face with water, and when she protested in a shrill voice he leapt over and dunked her head. She came up gasping and began to cry. Loomis was astonished that the woman, who he assumed was the children's mother, displayed no reaction. Was she asleep?
The motel had declined steadily in the few months that Loomis had been staying there, like a moderately stable person drifting and sinking into the lassitude of depression. Loomis wanted to help, find some way to speak to the managers and the other employees, to say, "Buck up, don't just let things go all to hell," but he felt powerless against his own inclinations.
He lit a second cigarette to go with the rest of his drink. A few other people walked up and positioned themselves around the pool's apron, but none got into the water with the two quarrelling children. There was something feral about them, anyone could see. The woman with the wild black hair continued to sit in her pool chair as if asleep or drugged. The boy's teasing of the girl had become steadily rougher, and the girl was sobbing now. Still, the presumptive mother did nothing. Someone went in to complain. One of the managers came out and spoke to the woman, who immediately, but without getting up from her deck chair, shouted to the boy, "All right, God damn it!" The boy, smirking, climbed from the pool, leaving the girl standing in waist-deep water, sobbing and rubbing her eyes with her fists. The woman stood up then and walked toward the boy. There was something off about her clothes, burnt-orange Bermuda shorts and a men's lavender oxford shirt. And they didn't seem to fit right. The boy, like a wary stray dog, watched her approach. She snatched a lock of his wet black hair, pulled his face to hers, and said something, gave his head a shake and let him go. The boy went over to the pool and spoke to the girl. "Come on," he said. "No," the girl said, still crying. "You let him help you!" the woman shouted, startling the girl into letting the boy take her hand. Loomis was fascinated, a little bit horrified.
Turning back toward her chair, the woman looked up to where he stood on the balcony. She had an astonishing face, broad and long, divided by a great, curved nose, dominated by a pair of large, dark, sunken eyes that seemed blackened by blows or some terrible history. Such a face, along with her immense, thick mane of black hair, made her look like a troll. Except that she was not ugly. She looked more like a witch, the cruel mockery of beauty and seduction. The oxford shirt was mostly unbuttoned, nearly spilling out a pair of full, loose, mottled-brown breasts.
"What are you looking at!" she shouted, very loudly from deep in her chest. Loomis stepped back from the balcony railing. The woman's angry glare changed to something like shrewd assessment, and then dismissal. She shooed her two children into one of the downstairs rooms.
After taking another minute to finish his drink and smoke a third cigarette, to calm down, Loomis went back inside and closed the sliding glass door behind him.
His son was on the bed, grinning, watching something on television called "Code Lyoko." Loomis tried to watch it with him for a while, but got restless. He wanted a second, and maybe stronger, drink.
"Hey," he said. "How about I just get some burgers and bring them back to the room?"
The boy glanced at him and said, "That'd be O.K."
Loomis got a sack of hamburgers from McDonald's, some fries, a Coke. He made a second drink, then a third, while his son ate and watched television. They went to bed early.
The next afternoon, Saturday, they drove to the long, wide beach at Carlsbad. Carlsbad was far too cool, but what could you do? Also, the hip little surf shop where the boy's mother worked during the week was in Carlsbad. He'd forgotten that for a moment. He was having a hard time keeping her in his mind. Her invisibility strategy was beginning to work on him. He wasn't sure at all anymore just who she was or ever had been. When they'd met, she wore business attire, like everyone else he knew. What did she wear now? Did she get up and go around in a bikini all day? She didn't really have the body for that at age thirty-nine, did she?
"What does your mom wear to work?" he asked.
The boy gave him a look that would have been ironic if he'd been a less compassionate child.
"Clothes?" the boy said.
"O.K.," Loomis said. "Like a swimsuit? Does she go to work in a swimsuit?"
"Are you O.K.?" the boy said.
Loomis was taken aback by the question.
"Me?" he said.
They walked along the beach, neither going into the water. Loomis enjoyed collecting rocks. The stones on the beach here were astounding. He marvelled at one that resembled an ancient war club. The handle fit perfectly into his palm. From somewhere over the water, a few miles south, they could hear the stuttering thud of a large helicopter's blades. Most likely a military craft from the Marine base farther north.
Maybe he wasn't O.K. Loomis had been to five therapists since separating from his wife: one psychiatrist, one psychologist, three counsellors. The psychiatrist had tried him on Paxil, Zoloft, and Wellbutrin for depression, and lorazepam for anxiety. Only the lorazepam had helped, but with that he'd overslept too often and lost his job. The psychologist, once she learned that Loomis was drinking almost half a bottle of booze every night, became fixated on getting him to join A.A. and seemed to forget altogether that he was there to figure out whether he indeed no longer loved his wife. And why he had cheated on her. Why he had left her for another woman when the truth was that he had no faith that the new relationship would work out any better than the old one. The first counsellor seemed sensible, but Loomis made the mistake of visiting her together with his wife, and when she suggested that maybe their marriage was kaput his wife had walked out. The second counsellor was actually his wife's counsellor, and Loomis thought she was an idiot. Loomis suspected that his wife liked the second counsellor because she did nothing but nod and sympathize and give them brochures. He suspected that his wife simply didn't want to move out of their house, which she liked far more than Loomis did, and which possibly she liked more than she liked Loomis. When she realized that divorce was inevitable, she shifted gears, remembered that she wanted to surf, and sold the house before Loomis was even aware it was on the market, so he had to sign. Then it was Loomis who mourned the loss of the house. He visited the third counsellor with his girlfriend, who seemed constantly angry that his divorce hadn't yet come through. He and the girlfriend both gave up on that counsellor because he seemed terrified of them for some reason they couldn't fathom. Loomis was coming to the conclusion that he couldn't fathom anything; the word seemed appropriate to him, because most of the time he felt as if he were drowning and couldn't find the bottom or the surface of this murky body of water he had fallen, or dived, into.
He wondered if this was why he didn't want to dive into the crashing waves of the Pacific, as he certainly would have when he was younger. His son didn't want to because, he said, he'd rather surf.
"But you don't know how to surf," Loomis said.
"Mom's going to teach me as soon as she's good enough at it," the boy said.
"But don't you need to be a better swimmer before you try to surf?" Loomis had a vague memory of the boy's swimming lessons, which maybe hadn't gone so well.
"No," the boy said.
"I really think," Loomis said, and then he stopped speaking, because the helicopter he'd been hearing, one of those large twin-engine birds that carry troops in and out of combat—a Chinook—had come abreast of them, a quarter mile or so off the beach. Just as Loomis looked up to see it, something coughed or exploded in one of its engines. The helicopter slowed, then swerved, with the slow grace of an airborne leviathan, toward the beach where they stood. In a moment it was directly over them. One of the men in it leaned out of a small opening on its side, frantically waving, but the people on the beach, including Loomis and his son, beaten by the blast from the blades and stung by sand driven up by it, were too shocked and confused to run. The helicopter lurched back out over the water with a tremendous roar and a deafening, rattling whine from the engines. There was another loud pop, and black smoke streamed from the forward engine as the Chinook made its way north again, seeming hobbled. Then it was gone, lost in the glare over the water. A bittersweet burnt-fuel smell hung in the air. Loomis and his son stood there among the others on the beach, speechless. One of two very brown young surfers in board shorts and crewcuts grinned and nodded at the clublike rock in Loomis's hand.
"Dude, we're safe," he said. "You can put down the weapon." He and the other surfer laughed.
Loomis's son, looking embarrassed, moved off as if he were with someone else in the crowd, not Loomis.
They stayed in Carlsbad for an early dinner at Pizza Port. The place was crowded with people who'd been at the beach all day, although Loomis recognized no one they'd seen when the helicopter had nearly crashed and killed them all. He'd expected everyone in there to know about it, to be buzzing about it over beer and pizza, amazed, exhilarated. But it was as if it hadn't happened.
The long rows of picnic tables and booths were filled with young parents and their hyperkinetic children, who kept jumping up to get extra napkins or forks or to climb into the seats of the motorcycle video games. Their parents flung arms after them like inadequate lassos or pursued them and herded them back. The stools along the bar were occupied by young men and women who apparently had no children and who were attentive only to one another and to choosing which of the restaurant's many microbrews to order. In the corner by the rest rooms, the old surfers, regulars here, gathered to talk shop and knock back the stronger beers, the double-hopped and the barley wines. Their graying hair frizzled and tied in ponytails or dreads or chopped in stiff clumps dried by salt and sun. Their faces leather brown. Gnarled toes jutting from their flip-flops and worn sandals like assortments of dry-roasted cashews, Brazil nuts, ginger root.
Loomis felt no affinity for any of them. There wasn't a single person in the entire place with whom he felt a thing in common—other than being, somehow, human. Toward the parents he felt a bitter disdain. On the large TV screens fastened to the restaurant's brick walls surfers skimmed down giant waves off Hawaii, Tahiti, Australia.
He gazed at the boy, his son. The boy looked just like his mother. Thick bright-orange hair, untamable. They were tall, stemlike people with long limbs and that thick hair blossom on top. Loomis had called them his rosebuds. "Roses are red," his son would respond, delightedly indignant, when he was smaller. "There are orange roses," Loomis would reply. "Where?" "Well, in Indonesia, I think. Or possibly Brazil." "No!" his son would shout, breaking down into giggles on the floor. He bought them orange roses on the boy's birthday that year.
The boy wasn't so easily amused anymore. He waited glumly for their pizza order to be called out. They'd secured a booth vacated by a smallish family.
"You want a Coke?" Loomis said. The boy nodded absently. "I'll get you a Coke," Loomis said.
He got the boy a Coke from the fountain, and ordered a pint of strong pale ale from the bar for himself.
By the time their pizza came, Loomis was on his second ale. He felt much better about all the domestic chaos around them in the restaurant. It was getting on the boy's nerves, though. As soon as they finished their pizza, he asked Loomis if he could go stand outside and wait for him there.
"I'm almost done," Loomis said.
"I'd really rather wait outside," the boy said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.
"O.K.," Loomis said. "Don't wander off. Stay where I can see you."
"I will."
Loomis sipped his beer and watched as the boy weaved his way through the crowd and out of the restaurant, then began to pace back and forth on the sidewalk. Having to be a parent in this fashion was awful. He felt indicted by all the other people in this teeming place: by the parents and their smug happiness, by the old surfer dudes, who had the courage of their lack of conviction, and by the young lovers, who were convinced that they would never be part of either of these groups, not the obnoxious parents, not the grizzled losers clinging to youth like tough, crusty barnacles. Certainly they would not be Loomis.
And what did it mean, in any case, that he couldn't even carry on a conversation with his son? How hard could that be? To hear him try, you'd think they didn't know each other at all, that he was a friend of the boy's father, watching him for the afternoon or something. He got up to leave, but hesitated, then gulped down the rest of his second beer.
His son stood with hunched shoulders, waiting.
"Ready to go back to the motel?" Loomis said. There was plenty of light left in the day for another walk on the beach, but he wasn't up to it.
The boy nodded. They walked back to the car in silence.
"Did you like your pizza?" Loomis said when they were in the car.
"Sure. It was O.K."
Loomis looked at him for a moment. The boy glanced back with the facial equivalent of a shrug, an impressively diplomatic expression that managed to say both "I'm sorry" and "What do you want?" Loomis sighed. He could think of nothing else to say that wasn't even more inane.
"All right," he finally said, and drove them back to the motel.
When they arrived, Loomis heard a commotion in the courtyard, and they paused near the gate.
The woman who'd been watching the two awful children was there at the pool again, and the two children themselves had returned to the water. But now the group seemed to be accompanied by an older heavyset man, bald on top, graying hair slicked against the sides of his head. He was arguing with a manager while the other guests around the pool pretended to ignore the altercation. The boy and girl paddled about in the water until the man threw up his hands and told them to get out and go to their room. The girl glanced at the boy, but the boy continued to ignore the man until he strode to the edge of the pool and shouted, "Get out! Let them have their filthy pool. Did you piss in it? I hope you pissed in it. Now get out! Go to the room!" The boy removed himself from the pool with a kind of languorous choreography, and walked toward the sliding glass door of one of the downstairs rooms, the little girl following. Just before reaching the door the boy paused, turned his head in the direction of the pool and the other guests there, and hawked and spat onto the concrete pool apron. Loomis said to his son, "Let's get on up to the room."
Another guest, a lanky young woman whom Loomis had seen beside the pool earlier, walked past them on her way to the parking lot. "Watch out for them Gypsies," she muttered.
"Gypsies?" the boy said.
The woman laughed as she rounded the corner. "Don't let 'em get you," she said.
"I don't know," Loomis said when she'd gone. "I guess they do seem a little like Gypsies."
"What the hell is a Gypsy, anyway?"
Loomis stopped and stared at his son. "Does 'Uncle Bob' teach you to talk that way?"
The boy shrugged and looked away, annoyed.
In the room, his son pressed him about the Gypsies, and he told him that they were originally from some part of India, he wasn't sure which, and that they were ostracized, nobody wanted them. They became nomads, wandering around Europe. They were poor. People accused them of stealing. "They had a reputation for stealing people's children, I think."
He'd meant this to be a kind of joke, or at least lighthearted, but when he saw the expression on the boy's face he regretted it and quickly added, "They didn't, really."
It didn't work. For the next hour, the boy asked him questions about Gypsies and kidnapping. Every few minutes or so, he hopped from the bed to the sliding glass door and pulled the curtain aside to peek down across the courtyard at the Gypsies' room. Loomis had decided to concede that they were Gypsies, whether they really were or not. He made himself a stiff nightcap and stepped out onto the balcony to smoke, although he also peeked through the curtains before going out, to make sure the coast was clear.
The next morning, Sunday, Loomis rose before his son and went down to the lobby for coffee. He stepped out into the empty courtyard to drink it in the morning air, and when he looked into the pool he saw a large dead rat on its side at the bottom. The rat looked peacefully dead, with its eyes closed and its front paws curled at its chest as if it were begging. Loomis took another sip of his coffee and went back into the lobby. The night clerk was still on duty, studying something on the computer monitor behind the desk. She only cut her eyes at Loomis, and when she saw he was going to approach her she met his gaze steadily in that same way, without turning her head.
"I believe you have an unregistered guest at the bottom of your pool," Loomis said.
He got a second cup of coffee, a plastic cup of juice, and a couple of refrigerator-cold bagels (the waffle iron and fresh fruit had disappeared a couple of visits earlier) and took them back to the room. He and his son ate there, then Loomis decided that they should get away from the motel for the day. The boy could always be counted on to want a day trip to San Diego. He loved to ride the red trolleys there, and tolerated Loomis's interest in the museums, sometimes.
They took the commuter train down, rode the trolley to the Mexican border, turned around, and came back. They ate lunch in a famous old diner near downtown, then took a bus to Balboa Park and spent the afternoon in the air-and-space museum and the natural-history museum, and at a small, disappointing model-railroad exhibit. Then they took the train back up the coast.
As they got out of the car at the motel, an old brown van, plain and blocky as a loaf of bread, careened around the far corner of the lot, pulled up next to Loomis, and stopped. The driver was the older man who'd been at the pool. He leaned toward Loomis and said through the open passenger window, "Can you give me twenty dollars? They're going to kick us out of this stinking motel."
Loomis felt a surge of hostile indignation. What, did he have a big sign on his chest telling everyone what a loser he was?
"I don't have it," he said.
"Come on!" the man shouted. "Just twenty bucks!"
Loomis saw his son standing beside the passenger door of the car, frightened.
"No," he said. He was ready to punch the old man now.
"Son of a bitch!" the man shouted, and gunned the van away, swerving onto the street toward downtown and the beach.
The boy gestured for Loomis to hurry over and unlock the car door, and as soon as he did the boy got back into the passenger seat. When Loomis sat down behind the wheel, the boy hit the lock button.
"Was he trying to rob us?" he said.
"No. He wanted me to give him twenty dollars."
The boy was breathing hard and looking straight out the windshield, close to tears.
"It's O.K.," Loomis said. "He's gone."
"Pop, no offense"—and the boy actually reached over and patted Loomis on the forearm, as if to comfort him—"but I think I want to sleep at home tonight."
Loomis was so astonished by the way his son had touched him on the arm that he was close to tears himself.
"It'll be O.K.," he said. "Really. We're safe here, and I'll protect you."
"I know, Pop, but I really think I want to go home."
Loomis tried to keep the obvious pleading note from his voice. If this happened, if he couldn't even keep his son around and reasonably satisfied to be with him for a weekend, what was he at all anymore? And (he couldn't help but think) what would the boy's mother make of it, how much worse would he look in her eyes?
"Please," he said to the boy. "Just come on up to the room for a while, and we'll talk about it again, and if you still want to go home later on I'll take you, I promise."
The boy thought about it and agreed, and began to calm down a little. They went up to the room, past the courtyard, which was blessedly clear of ridiculous Gypsies and other guests. Loomis got a bucket of ice for his bourbon, ordered Chinese, and they lay together on Loomis's bed, eating and watching television, and didn't talk about the Gypsies, and after a while, exhausted, they both fell asleep.
When the alcohol woke him at 3 A.M., he was awash in a sense of gloom and dread. He found the remote, turned down the sound on the TV. His son was sleeping, mouth open, a lock of his bright-orange hair across his face.
Loomis eased himself off the bed, sat on the other one, and watched him breathe. He recalled the days when his life with the boy's mother had seemed happy, and the boy had been small, and they would put him to bed in his room, where they had built shelves for his toy trains and stuffed animals and the books from which Loomis would read to him at bedtime. He remembered the constant battle in his heart those days. How he was drawn into this construction of conventional happiness, how he felt that he loved this child more than he had ever loved anyone in his entire life, how all of this was possible, this life, how he might actually be able to do it. And yet whenever he had felt this he was also aware of the other, more deeply seated part of his nature that wanted to run away in fear. That believed it was not possible after all, that it could only end in catastrophe, that anything this sweet and heartbreaking must indeed one day collapse into shattered pieces. How he had struggled to free himself, one way or another, from what seemed a horrible limbo of anticipation. He had run away, in his fashion. And yet nothing had ever caused him to feel anything more like despair than what he felt just now, in this moment, looking at his beautiful child asleep on the motel bed in the light of the cheap lamp, with the incessant dull roar of cars on I-5 just the other side of the hedge, a slashing river of what seemed nothing but desperate travel from point A to point B, from which one mad dasher or another would simply disappear, blink out in a flicker of light, at ragged but regular intervals, with no more ceremony or consideration than that.
He checked that his son was still sleeping deeply, then poured himself a plastic cup of neat bourbon and went down to the pool to smoke and sit alone for a while in the dark. He walked toward a group of pool chairs in the shadows beside a stunted palm, but stopped when he realized that he wasn't alone, that someone was sitting in one of the chairs. The Gypsy woman sat very still, watching him.
"Come, sit," she said. "Don't be afraid."
He was afraid. But the woman was so still, and the expression on her face he could now make out in the shadows was one of calm appraisal. Something about this kept him from retreating. She slowly raised a hand and patted the pool chair next to her, and Loomis sat.
For a moment, the woman just looked at him, and, unable not to, he looked at her. She was unexpectedly, oddly attractive. Her eyes were indeed very dark, set far apart on her broad face. In this light, her fierce nose was strange and alarming, almost erotic.
"Are you Gypsy?" Loomis blurted, without thinking.
She stared at him a second before smiling and chuckling deep in her throat.
"No, I'm not Gypsy," she said, her eyes moving quickly from side to side in little shiftings, looking into his. "We are American. My people come from France."
Loomis said nothing.
"But I can tell you your future," she said, leaning her head back slightly to look at him down her harrowing nose. "Let me see your hand." She took Loomis's wrist and pulled his palm toward her. He didn't resist. "Have you ever had someone read your palm?"
Loomis shook his head. "I don't really want to know my future," he said. "I'm not a very optimistic person."
"I understand," the woman said. "You're unsettled."
"It's too dark here to even see my palm," Loomis said.
"No, there's enough light," the woman said. And finally she took her eyes from Loomis's and looked down at his palm. He felt relieved enough to be released from that gaze to let her continue. And something in him was relieved, too, to have someone else consider his future, someone aside from himself. It couldn't be worse, after all, than his own predictions.
She hung her head over his palm and traced the lines with a long fingernail, pressed into the fleshy parts. Her thick hair tickled the edges of his hand and wrist. After a moment, much sooner than Loomis would have expected, she spoke.
"It's not the future you see in a palm," she said, still studying his. "It's a person's nature. From this, of course, one can tell much about a person's tendencies." She looked up, still gripping his wrist. "This tells us much about where a life may have been, and where it may go."
She bent over his palm again, traced one of the lines with the fingernail. "There are many breaks in the heart line here. You are a creature of disappointment. I suspect others in your life disappoint you." She traced a different line. "You're a dreamer. You're an idealist, possibly. Always disappointed by ordinary life, which of course is boring and ugly." She laughed that soft, deep chuckle again and looked up, startling Loomis anew with the directness of her gaze. "People are so fucking disappointing, eh?" She uttered a seductive grunt that loosened something in his groin.
It was true. No one had ever been good enough for him. Not even the members of his immediate family. And especially himself.
"Anger, disappointment," the woman said. "So common. But it may be they've worn you down. The drinking, smoking. No real energy, no passion." Loomis pulled against her grip just slightly, but she held on with strong fingers around his wrist. Then she lowered Loomis's palm to her broad lap and leaned in closer, speaking more quietly.
"I see you with the little boy—he's your child?"
Loomis nodded. He felt suddenly alarmed, fearful. He glanced up, and his heart raced when he thought he saw the boy standing on the balcony, looking out. It was only the potted plant there. He wanted to dash back to the room, but he was rooted to the chair, to the Gypsy with her thin, hard fingers about his wrist.
"This is no vacation, I suspect. It's terrible, to see your child in this way, in a motel."
Loomis nodded.
"You're angry with this child's mother for forcing you to be here."
Loomis nodded and tried to swallow. His throat was dry.
"Yet I would venture it was you who left her. For another woman, a beautiful woman, eh, mon frère?" She ran the tip of a nail down one of the lines in his palm. There was a cruel smile on her impossible face. "A woman who once again you believed to be something she was not." Loomis felt himself drop his chin in some kind of involuntary acquiescence. "She was a dream," the woman said. "And she has disappeared, poof, like any dream." He felt suddenly, embarrassingly, close to tears. A tight lump swelled in his throat. "And now you have left her, too, or she has left you, because"—and here the woman paused, shook Loomis's wrist gently, as if to revive his attention, and indeed he had been drifting in his grief—"because you are a ghost. Walking between two worlds, you know?" She shook his wrist again, harder, and Loomis looked up at her, his vision of her there in the shadows blurred by his tears.
She released his wrist and sat back in her chair, exhaled as if she had been holding her breath, and closed her eyes. As if this excoriation of Loomis's character had been an obligation, had exhausted her.
They sat there for a minute or two while Loomis waited for the emotion that had surged up in him to recede.
"Twenty dollars," the woman said, her eyes still closed. When Loomis said nothing, she opened her eyes. Now her gaze was flat, no longer intense, but she held it on him. "Twenty dollars," she said. "For the reading. This is my fee."
Loomis, feeling as if he'd just been through something physical instead of emotional, his muscles tingling, reached for his wallet, found a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to her. She took it and rested her hands in her lap.
"Now you should go back up to your room," she said.
He got up to make his way from the courtyard, and was startled by someone standing in the shadow of the Gypsies' doorway. Her evil man-child, the boy from the pool, watching him like a forest animal pausing in its night prowling to let him pass. Loomis hurried on up to the room, tried to let himself in with a key card that wouldn't coöperate. The lock kept flashing red instead of green. Finally the card worked, the green light flickered. He entered and shut the door behind him.
But he'd gone into the wrong room, maybe even some other motel. The beds were made, the television off. His son wasn't there. The sliding glass door to the balcony stood open. Loomis felt his heart seize up and he rushed to the railing. The courtyard was dark and empty. Over in the lobby, the lights were dimmed, no one on duty. It was all shut down. There was no breeze. No roar of rushing vehicles from the 5, the roar in Loomis's mind cancelling it out. By the time he heard the sound behind him and turned to see his son come out of the bathroom yawning, it was too late. It might as well have been someone else's child, Loomis the stranger come to steal him away. He stood on the balcony and watched his son crawl back onto the bed, pull himself into a fetal position, close his eyes for a moment, then open them. Meeting his gaze, Loomis felt something break inside him. The boy had the same dazed, disoriented expression he'd had on his face just after his long, difficult birth, when the nurses had put him into an incubator to rush him to intensive care. Loomis had knelt, then, his face up close to the incubator's glass wall, and he'd known that the baby could see him, and that was enough. The obstetrician said, "This baby is very sick," and nurses wheeled the incubator out. He'd gone over to his wife and held her hand. The resident, tears in her eyes, patted his shoulder and said, for some reason, "You're good people," and left them alone. Now he and the child were in this motel, the life that had been their family somehow dissipated into air. Loomis couldn't gather into his mind how they'd got here. He couldn't imagine what would come next. ♦


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Kevin MacMillan: Stop wasting water with Ice Bucket Challenge
I learned of the "Ice Bucket Challenge" several weeks ago. It's the newest social media-fueled cultural phenomenon to hit America, and one gaining incredible steam as celebrities, athletes and even politicians are getting involved.
Wikipedia defines the challenge (it's amazing what constitutes a Wikipedia entry these days, by the way) as such: "The Ice Bucket Challenge, sometimes called the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, is an activity involving dumping a bucket of ice water on one's head or donating to the ALS Association in the United States. It went viral throughout social media in summer, 2014."
Basically, if you're challenged, you post a video (usually to Facebook) of you doing it, while also challenging others. In some renditions, you do the challenge in order to avoid donating money to the foundation, where as in others you donate $100, rather than $1,000 if you don't complete the challenge within 24 hours.
While it's true it's gone viral — videos of challenges from Colin Kaepernick, Ricky Gervais, Bon Jovi and countless others are all the rage — I'm making it clear that if anyone challenges me, you can count me out.
Allow me to explain. It's no doubt the challenge is working, as millions of dollars have reportedly been raised for the ALS Association, and that's a wonderful thing.
At times, whether it's due to apathy or just a general loss of interest, creative ideas are needed to remind people the importance of disease research. In these terms, think of the Ice Bucket Challenge as some sort of impromptu Relay for Life for ALS.
Personally, I've never known anyone afflicted with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis — better known as Lou Gehrig's disease — but any endeavor that is able to boost money donated to a worthy cause is to be applauded.
But I do take issue when that endeavor comes at the expense of our environment.
You've read the stories in our newspapers and plenty of others across the West, discussing the harmful environmental impacts of the current drought, which is shaping up to be one of the worst we've ever had.
Locally, our Tahoe-Truckee water agencies on the California side have mandated in recent weeks a reduction in use through measures such as specific days one can water lawns and requiring restaurants to not pour water for patrons unless requested.
Meanwhile, the situation is far worse as you travel west and south into the parched valleys. A quick drive past Folsom "Lake" tells you all you need to know about how bad the drought really is.
Considering that, to essentially waste water and ice by pouring it over your head is a bad example for anyone, from average Joes to celebrities, to set.
By all means, feel free to donate to the ALS Foundation, or any other foundation or organization about which you feel passionate.
But please, leave the water in the tap and the ice in the cooler while you do it.
— Kevin MacMillan is managing editor of the Sierra Sun and North Lake Tahoe Bonanza. Email him at email@example.com.

subset: commoncrawl


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Force with UK in new Star Wars film
The latest Star Wars film is to be made in the UK in what Chancellor George Osborne hailed as a fresh coup for British tax breaks.
Due to start production next year and be in cinemas in 2015, the much-anticipated seventh episode of the series is being directed by Emmy-award -winning JJ Abrams.
Confirming the move, Lucasfilm president Kathleen Kennedy said she was "delighted that Star Wars is coming back to Britain".
Mr Osborne took to Twitter to reveal the decision, joking: "May the force be with us..."
Ms Kennedy said: "We've devoted serious time and attention to revisiting the origins of Star Wars as inspiration for our process on the new movie, and I'm thrilled that returning to the UK for production and utilizing the incredible talent there can be a part of that.
"Speaking from my own long-standing connection to the UK with films like Raiders of the Lost Ark, Empire of the Sun and recently War Horse, it's very exciting to be heading back."
Lucasfilm representatives met with Mr Osborne earlier this year to work on a deal to make the film in this country.
All of the six previous Star Wars movies have included UK production. Parts of previous films were shot in studios steeped in British cinematic history, including Elstree, Shepperton, Leavesden, Ealing and Pinewood Studios.
Star Wars: Episode VII is being scripted by Toy Story 3 writer Michael Amdt and directed by Abrams, who was behind TV's Lost and was also picked to revive the Star Trek franchise.
The director has been described as fhe "ideal choice" by Star Wars creator George Lucas. Lucasfilm was bought last year by Disney for £2.7 billion.
PA Media


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Cost of Attendance (COA)
A student's total cost of attending a postsecondary institution for a specified period of time, as established by law. The COA includes tuition and fees; room and board (or an allowance for housing and food); a reasonable cost for the documented rental or purchase of a personal computer that the student will use for study for the enrollment period; an allowance for books, supplies, transportation, loan fees, and dependent care (if applicable); disability-related expenses; a one-time allowable cost of obtaining the first professional credential in a program requiring professional licensure or certification; and some miscellaneous expenses as well.
Effective Family Contribution (EFC)
A comparative measure, determined according to a need analysis formula specified by law, of how much the student and his or her family can be expected to contribute to the cost of the student's education for an award year. This figure is used to determine an applicant's eligibility for federal student aid. The EFC figure is shown on the SAR and ISIR received after completing the FAFSA.
The difference between a student's cost of attendance (COA) and what the student's family is able to pay—the expected family contribution (EFC). The cost of attendance minus the expected family contribution equals the student's financial need. Also see need analysis.


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On my MacBook Pro, I am planning on removing the optical drive and adding an SSD to the mix. Since Apple doesn't support this configuration, I don't find any official documentation covering SSD in the optical bay or HDD in the optical bay.
I presume the energy saver setting would spin down any spindle-based drive when it's idle (like in a Mac Pro), but would like to ask others that may have experience with this configuration in a recent MacBook Pro.
When booted from OS X installed onto an SSD, will the internal HDD be spun down when not in use?


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Sustainable Agriculture Research & Education
Welcome to Alaska's SARE program
In 1988 Congress established SARE (Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education) to promote ecologically sound agricultural practices, sustain rural communities, and address the disappearance of the family farm. SARE does this by supporting research and educational programs.
In Alaska, sustainable agriculture thrives and is the main way of doing business. The typical farm is a small family farm that has found ways to diversify to survive. Because there are few pests in Alaska, farmers have little reliance on pesticides. We are helping to build rural farming communities in places like Nenana, Delta Junction, Point Mackenzie, and Soldotna. There is a lot to brag about!
For more information, join our listserv.
There are several ways we are attempting to strengthen the SARE program in Alaska. Sustainable agricultural educational activities include:
- Educational programs that build an understanding and reduce reliance on pesticides
- Networking and education through newsletters, conferences and listservs
- Encouraging farmers to get more involved in sustainable agricultural practices through grants
The long-term sustainability of Alaska's agricultural community will depend upon cooperation and the sharing of information among ourselves.
Please feel free to contact us with any questions you may have!


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Evernote, Remember The Milk, SMTP / MIME and z/OS Batch
MartinPacker 11000094DH Comments (3) Visits (15774)
Another kernel popped the other day: SMTP / MIME.
But what on earth is MiGueL Mainframe troubling himself with SMTP / MIME for? Let's come at this from a different angle...
You probably know by now that when you send me your data it gets put through some batch reporting: Ultimately I don't create the graphs by hand, but I do do the analysis and put the presentation together myself. That's the "high value" creative part.
You probably also know that the JCL to build performance databases and do the reporting is generated using ISPF File Tailoring and some panels.
But what about the actual workflow? In broad terms it's pretty much all the same - for each engagement: I'd like my "to do" list for a project to be automatically generated. And I might well want some other notes to be automatically generated - perhaps a slide template or a "lessons learned" boilerplate note or something.
For most of my life I keep notes in a very fine service: Evernote. I also keep my "to do" list in Remember The Milk. I'm sure other fine services exist but these are the ones I use - and the ones I know the following technique work for.
I'd like to automate my workflow, as I said, and some of my engagement-related documentation.1.
Both Evernote and Remember The Milk supply an email address specific to an account: If you knew my Evernote email address, for instance, you could email in a note and Evernote would store it for us.2 So I can teach any email client how to add notes to Evernote and "to do" items to Remember The Milk. The latter accepts a list of items, along with due dates, priorities etc.
(To find your Evernote email address see here. Likewise for Remember The Milk.)
Between them I'm sure I can automate quite a lot of workflow, while continuing to make careful choices to keep client information secure.
Email and z/OS / TSO Batch
So why not have my JCL generator include some steps to generate this material?
Though that was a rhetorical question it does have an answer. You have to make it so - with a SMOP.
But actually it's not difficult.
In "Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants"3 Mode, I notice we already have a jobstep - very early in our process flow - that uses XMIT to send a small tracking file, containing a File-Tailored set of information about the study. It's a flat file but it points the way. It doesn't use SMTP and it doesn't include HTML.
I found out the appropriate SMTP address that my z/OS system has access to. With it I can send emails to anywhere - inside IBM and beyond (as Evernote and RTM both are).
Putting It Together
I've already created a batch job that can send HTML-formatted emails. It looks like this:
In the above I chose to use MSGDSNAME rather than DSNAME to point to the data. This stands a better chance of having the EBCDIC translation work right. It points to the actual MIME message:
Helo MVSHOS mail from
This is in what is called "multipart MIME format" - and you can tell this from the "Content-type: multipart/mixed;" line. (Each part is separated by the line "simple boundary".) The HTML is obvious and the fact it is to be treated as HTML is indicated by the "Content-type: text/html" line.
One of the things this illustrates is that sending HTML by email isn't complicated at all.
Note:The actual "to address" in the "rcpt" line needed a relay address in my case - preceded by an "@" and separated from the eventual address by a ":". You might need one too.
When I sent this HTML to Evernote it worked fine and I have a nicely formatted note, complete with the title preserved. If you want to understand how Evernote handles emails look here. For Remember The Milk look here.
The note in Evernote looked very much like this:
This is Arial font in blue.
As I said earlier, sending an HTML-formatted email is not significantly more difficult than sending a plain text one. I hope this blog post demonstrates that: Examine the code you're using today to send emails from z/OS and I think you'll agree. And I think you'll find cases where it would be a better solution.
On a final note, IBM (and others) have email solutions. And indeed workflow solutions. Those have their own applicability - for the more complex or larger-scale applications.
But if you want "lightweight", "simple", "informal" workflow my approach might make sense to you. As it is I'm going to build this, small pieces at a time - like I do most of my development work.
1 I'm very clear about not compromising customer data or situations. Customer confidentiality is key - and along with other cloud services - I can't store sensitive or identifiable data in Evernote or Remember The Milk.4. Similarly, I'm incredibly circumspect in reviewing customer-related stuff in public places.
2 Obviously this is open to abuse - as anyone with the email address can fill your account up with SPAM. But you can change the email address at any time - and I don't give it out often.
3 When I first heard this cliché I thought it was Albert Einstein. And later on I thought (slightly more accurately) it was Isaac Newton. Obviously giving Maths/Physics giants more credit than they're due. I wonder why.
4 As one of the authors of this piece of the IBM Social Computing Guidelines I'd urge you to read this short document to understand IBM's stance.


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Juan 2:1-11
26 de agosto de 2018
Dr. Howard Harden
Your Name:
Your Email/URL (Optional):
Your Comment:
Comment Guidelines: No HTML is allowed. Off-topic or inappropriate comments will be edited or deleted. Thanks.
29050 SW 177th (Krome) Ave
Just north of Homestead city limits at the intersection of
Krome Ave. and 288th (Biscayne) St.
(305) 247-1662
Fax: (305) 247-0117
Prayer: (305) 24/7-7729 (PRAY)


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Proteak End-Grain Rectangular Cutting Board
Easy, hassle-free returns online and in-store for eligible items.Learn More
Earn 5% Back in rewards4 plus free standard shipping3every day when you shop with your Williams Sonoma credit card at Williams Sonoma.Apply Now Learn More
- Summary
Known for its outstanding moisture resistance and strength, teak makes a superb material for cutting boards. This handmade board is attractive enough to double as a serving platform for cheeses and meats.
- Made of FSC-certified teak from environmentally managed plantations.
- Designed with a handy cut-out for transferring ingredients to a bowl.
- Beautiful wood grain makes this a handsome presentation piece as well as a work surface.
- Hand grip at both ends for stability.
- End-grain construction is gentle on knife blades.
- Dimensions & More Info
- 20" x 14" x 2 1/2" thick.
- Made in Mexico.
- Use & Care
- Board should be seasoned with a food-grade mineral oil before first use.
- To season the board properly, warm the mineral oil slightly and apply it in the direction of the wood grain using a clean, dry cloth. Allow the oil to soak in and repeat with another application. Allow the board to dry and wipe off any excess oil.
- Hand-wash with hot, soapy water. Dry thoroughly.
- Do not soak or submerge board in water.
- Occasionally rub with a food-safe mineral oil to keep wood from drying out.
- To sanitize, wash the board with a solution of one part vinegar to five parts water.
- Remove odors by rubbing the board with kosher or table salt and half a lemon. Let sit for 2 to 3 minutes then wipe clean with a damp cloth. Remove excess moisture with a clean paper towel and stand the board on end to air dry.
- Store in a dry area away from extreme temperatures.
- Shipping
Shipping Information
This item is shipped from our warehouse by UPS to arrive within 3-5 business days of our receiving your order.
Shipping Rates
The shipping rate varies depending on your order total and shipping destination. View Shipping Options and Charges.
Next Day Delivery
For an additional charge of $26 per address, we can expedite delivery to most destinations. This service is not available for some oversize items, items shipped directly from the supplier (including perishable and custom-manufactured items), out-of-stock items and items to be shipped outside the contiguous 48 states.
Orders received by 9:00 p.m., Eastern time, Monday through Thursday will arrive the next business day; orders placed Friday through Sunday will arrive on the following Tuesday.
Return Policy
At Williams Sonoma, we take great pride in the quality and craftsmanship of our products. Attention to design, materials, safety and construction are our priority. Upon receipt, please inspect your purchase and notify us of any damage; we will arrange for a prompt replacement.
If within 30 days, you are dissatisfied for any reason, you may return your purchase for a refund of the merchandise value. An original receipt or gift receipt is required for all returns and exchanges. Returns with a gift receipt will be refunded in the form of a Merchandise Credit for the amount indicated on the gift receipt. Returns with original receipt will be refunded in the original form of payment, cash and check refunds over $100 will be issued as a company check (may take 14 business days from time of request).
For all cutlery returns (knife sets, single knives, cutting boards, knife sharpeners, and knife storage) please contact us at 888.922.4108 to initiate the return.
We cannot accept returns on monogrammed, personalized, special-order items, custom upholstery, food, items shipped direct from the vendor, or on items damaged through normal wear and tear. Final sale items ending in .97 or .99 cannot be returned.
For returns of items purchased from your Williams Sonoma Gift Registry, we will gladly provide a refund or exchange for the merchandise within 90 days of your event or within 90 days of purchase, whichever date is later. View Full Returns Policy.
- Price Match Guarantee
Williams Sonoma Price Match Guarantee
At Williams Sonoma, we're committed to bringing you the best quality at the best prices.
If you find a lower price on any of our products, we'll match it—guaranteed. Click here for details.
Rated 1 out of 5 by GreatHera from Warps, cracks easily, cheap material The first one I got warped almost immediately so I exchanged it. The second warped about 2 months later and then cracked about 4 months in. It's too heavy to lug around and try to exchange or ship back, so I kept it. Now, I'm so irritated because it won't even stay steady on a flat surface. It spins when I try to use it.Date published: 2019-08-31Rated 3 out of 5 by Tuscangal from Board bleeds I've cleaned the board several times but it keeps bleeding a dark color, like a staining product. Other than that I like the addition to my counter! I am going to wait to use it until it "runs clean."Date published: 2016-02-26Rated 4 out of 5 by All2Picky from Best Cutting Board... This cutting board has a permanent place on my kitchen counter!!! It is a very substantial weight, as well as, being a great size. I had tried several others and this proved to be the one.Date published: 2015-09-21Rated 5 out of 5 by LoriMI from Quality Board & What a Beauty! I purchased this board about a week ago for our center island prep area. It has a cut-out beneath the board to slide food into a pan which is very handy. The pieces of end-grain are really nice and have beautiful grain details. I had the clerk bring out 3 boards so I could pick the one I wanted. Once I got home, I washed it with hot, soapy water, rinsed it off, dried it and then rubbed it with Howard Butcher Block Conditioner which really brought the beauty of the board to life. This cutting board is simply a lovely, useful piece of art for the kitchen. The board is substantial and I love the 2 recessed handles for easy moving of the board. With proper care, this board will last for years if not a lifetime. Well worth the money.Date published: 2015-09-05Rated 5 out of 5 by Ronigirl from Great heavy duty board This is by far the best cutting board I have had the pleasure to own. Heavy duty and quite a beauty. No issues. I think with proper care it will last a lifetime and then some. The cut out is also a great feature. Really glad my husband picked this one out for me. I use it every day and am really happy with it. Also think this will make a great display piece for cheese and crackers.Date published: 2015-01-11Rated 5 out of 5 by Snowcat from Lifelong Cutting Board Everything about this cutting board makes it a 5 star product. First off, the wood used is not only beautiful and a great eye-pleasing addition to the kitchen, but it is also made of environmentally sustainable wood. If you treat this board right I think it will last a lifetime, it sure is heavy duty enough. Additionally, the wood is not harsh on your knives (as cheap boards can be) as well as it is fairly grippy when chopping. The last thing that is so great about this cutting board is the notch on the bottom of the board that is cut out to slip a mixing bowl under so it enables you to seamlessly scrape your choppings off with no mess.Date published: 2013-05-01Rated 3 out of 5 by MelY13 from Would have been a great board, except... I had ordered this chopping board for my mother, and upon first glance, it was a gorgeous board that would look great on our kitchen island. Great size and weight, and the bowl cutout underneath is a useful feature. After closer examination, however, we noticed several cracks on the board. This was disappointing, as it did not suggest longevity for the rest of the board. We called Williams-Sonoma and they are replacing it. However, this is the second item in the past month that has arrived damaged, and it is making me wary of ordering anything else from W-S.Date published: 2013-02-12Rated 5 out of 5 by MickiA from Love this cutting board I have many wooden cutting boards but this is by far my favorite! It is nice and heavy and doesn't move around while working on it. I have used it as a serving piece as well as a chopping board. The wood is easy to care for and has not warped or cracked.Date published: 2012-01-08


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An Antidote to Urgency
As the pollution spreads in the Gulf of Mexico, destroying life there for decades, I'd like us to notice one potential source of internal pollution, what might be clouding our minds, clogging our hearts, poisoning our clarity. The air we're breathing right now in America is filled with anger and despair, grief and loss. It's impossible to avoid feeling outraged by events and overwhelmed by grief as the enormity of what's happening to "America's Sea" sinks into our consciousness.
These are very valid human responses—I'd worry if we weren't feeling them. However, rage and despair fuel another strong emotion, especially for us activists: urgency. We must do something now! We must fix this now! This must never happen again!
There's a big problem with urgency—it's always toxic. Like the black plumes of oil moving underwater through the Gulf, urgency blinds us. It pollutes our thinking, making it impossible to see clearly or to choose wise actions.
Urgency can't be avoided in a crisis. As details of any disaster become clearer—as BPs safety violations and omissions become known—we angrily demand solutions. The more we know about how the disaster could have been prevented, the more we cry for instant solutions and immediate fixes. But this isn't because we know what to do. This isn't clarity. This is anger morphing into urgency. Anger gives the illusion of clarity, as Buddhist teacher Dzigar Kongtrul writes:
"The difference between the clarity we believe we have when angry and the clarity that results from actually seeing clearly is that aggression has its own narrow logic, which does not take into account the deeper level of causes and conditions that surround each situation."
Think about what happens to us and our relationships when we feel a sense of urgency. We work harder and harder, we push our plans and agendas, we shove aside or disdain anyone with an alternate plan or point of view. We push forward because we think we have no choice, the situation demands it, there's no time to lose.
But lose we do. We become exhausted. We alienate people. Our own fierceness creates opposition and resistance. We shut down and stop taking in information that could be useful to our cause.
Urgency always leads to this place, a toxic wilderness of poisoned relationships and shriveled potential. Yet there is an antidote to urgency. We can stop. We can stop pushing, stop insisting. We can notice we've got blinders on, that we've stopped listening. We can silence our demands and pause for a short while. Yes, the time is now, but let's look around and see who else has an idea, who else is ready to work on this. Let's detox what we can control, our own minds and behaviors. Let's rid them of the hyper fuel of anger, and find what's sustainable for the long-term—clarity developed free from aggression.
Visit to learn more about the book Perseverance, and look inside some of its pages. You can also sign-up for a free 8-week subscription series where you'll receive two pages from the book every week.


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Skip to comments.LIBERTARIAN PARTY FOUNDER ENDORSES BUSH
Posted on 10/24/2004 10:37:30 AM PDT by Y2Krap
From Elder Statesman John Hospers * * *
Dear Libertarian:
As a way of getting acquainted, let me just say that I was the first presidential candidate for the Libertarian Party back in l972, and was the author of the first full-length book, Libertarianism, describing libertarianism in detail. I also wrote the Libertarian Partys Statement of Principles at the first libertarian national convention in 1972. I still believe in those principles as strongly as ever, but this year -- more than any year since the establishment of the Libertarian Party -- I have major concerns about the choices open to us as voting Americans.
There is a belief thats common among many libertarians that there is no essential difference between the Democrat and Republican Parties -- between a John Kerry and a George W. Bush administration; or worse: that a Bush administration would be more undesirable. Such a notion could not be farther from the truth, or potentially more harmful to the cause of liberty.
The election of John Kerry would be, far more than is commonly realized, a catastrophe. Regardless of what he may say in current campaign speeches, his record is unmistakable: he belongs to the International Totalitarian Left in company with the Hillary and Bill Clintons, the Kofi Annans, the Ted Kennedys, and the Jesse Jacksons of the world. The Democratic Party itself has been undergoing a transformation in recent years; moderate, pro-American, and strong defense Senators such as Zell Miller, Joe Lieberman and Scoop Jackson are a dying breed. Observe how many members of the Democrat Party belong to the Progressive Caucus, indistinguishable from the Democratic Socialists of America. That caucus is the heart and soul of the contemporary Democratic Party.
Todays Democrats have been out of majority power for so long that they are hungry for power at any price and will do anything to achieve it, including undermining the President and our troops in time of war; for them any victory for Americans in the war against terrorism is construed as a defeat for them.
The Democratic Party today is a haven for anti-Semites, racists, radical environmentalists, plundering trial lawyers, government employee unions, and numerous other self-serving elites who despise the Constitution and loath private property. It is opposed to free speech witness the mania for political correctness and intimidation on college campuses, and Kerrys threat to sue television stations that carry the Swift Boat ads. If given the power to do so, Democrats will use any possible means to suppress opposing viewpoints, particularly on talk radio and in the university system. They will attempt to enact hate speech and hate crime laws and re-institute the Fairness Doctrine, initiate lawsuits, and create new regulations designed to suppress freedom of speech and intimidate their political adversaries. They will call it defending human rights. This sort of activity may well make up the core of a Kerry administration Justice Department that will have no truck with the rule of law except as a weapon to use against opponents.
There are already numerous stories of brownshirt types committing violence against Republican campaign headquarters all over the country, and Democrat thugs harassing Republican voters at the polls. Yet not a word about it from the Kerry campaign. Expect this dangerous trend to increase dramatically with a Kerry win, ignored and tacitly accepted by the liberal-left mainstream media. This is ominous sign of worse things to come.
Kerry, who changes direction with the wind, has tried to convince us that he now disavows the anti-military sentiments that he proclaimed repeatedly in the l970s. But in fact he will weaken our military establishment and devastate American security by placing more value on the United Nations than on the United States: for example he favors the Kyoto Treaty and the International Criminal Court, and opposed the withdrawal of the U.S. from the ABM Treaty. He has been quoted as saying that it is honorable for those in the U.S. military to die under the flag of the U.N. but not that of the U.S. Presumably he and a small cadre of bureaucrats should rule the world, via the U.N. or some other world body which will make all decisions for the whole world concerning private property, the use of our military, gun ownership, taxation, and environmental policy (to name a few). In his thirty-year career he has demonstrated utter contempt for America, national security, constitutional republicanism, democracy, private property, and free markets.
His wifes foundations have funneled millions of dollars into far-left organizations that are virulently hostile to America and libertarian principles. Not only would these foundations continue to lack transparency to the American people, they would be given enormous vigor in a Kerry administration.
Already plans are afoot by the Kerry campaign to steal the coming election via a legal coup, e.g. to claim victory on election night no matter what the vote differential is, and initiate lawsuits anywhere and everywhere they feel it works to their advantage, thus making a mockery of our election process, throwing the entire process into chaos -- possibly for months -- and significantly weakening our ability to conduct foreign policy and protect ourselves domestically. Let me repeat: we are facing the very real possibility of a political coup occurring in America. Al Gore very nearly got away with one in 2000. Do not underestimate what Kerry and his ilk are going to attempt to do to America.
George Bush has been criticized for many things and in many cases with justification: on campaign finance reform (a suppression of the First Amendment), on vast new domestic spending, on education, and on failing to protect the borders. No self-respecting libertarian or conservative would fail to be deeply appalled by these. His great virtue, however, is that he has stood up -- knowingly at grave risk to his political viability -- to terrorism when his predecessors, Ford, Carter, Reagan, and Clinton did not. On many occasions during their administrations terrorists attacked American lives and property. Clinton did nothing, or engaged in a feckless retaliation such as bombing an aspirin factory in the Sudan (based on faulty intelligence, to boot). Then shortly after Bush became president he was hit with the big one: 9/11. It was clear to him that terrorism was more than a series of criminal acts: it was a war declared upon U.S. and indeed to the entire civilized world long before his administration. He decided that action had to be taken to protect us against future 9/11s involving weapons of mass destruction, including suitcase nuclear devices.
Indeed, today it is Islamic fundamentalism that increasingly threatens the world just as Nazis fascism and Soviet communism did in previous decades. The Islamo-fascists would be happy to eliminate all non-Muslims without a tinge of regret. Many Americans still indulge in wishful thinking on this issue, viewing militant Islam as a kind of nuisance, which can be handled without great inconvenience in much the same way as one swats flies, rather than as hordes of genocidal religious fanatics dedicated to our destruction.
The president has been berated for taking even minimal steps to deal with the dangers of this war (the allegations made against the Patriot Act seem to me based more on hysteria and political opportunism than on reality). But Bush, like Churchill, has stood steadfast in the face of it, and in spite of the most virulent hate and disinformation campaign that any American president has had to endure. Afghanistan is no longer a safe haven for terrorists. Saddams regime is no longer a major player in the worldwide terror network. Libya has relinquished their weapons of terror. The Pakistani black market in weapons of mass destruction has been eliminated. Arafat is rotting in Ramallah. Terrorist cells all over the world have been disrupted, and thousands of terrorists killed. The result: Americans are orders of magnitude safer.
National defense is always expensive, and Bush has been widely excoriated for these expenditures. But as Ayn Rand memorably said at a party I attended in l962, in response to complaints that taxes are too high (then 20%), Pay 80% if you need it for defense. It is not the amount but the purpose served that decides what is too much. And the purpose here is the continuation of civilized life on earth in the face of vastly increased threats to its existence.
Bush cut income tax rates for the first time in fifteen years. These cuts got us moving out of the recession he inherited, and we are all economically much better off because of them. 1.9 million new jobs have been added to the economy since August 2003. Bush has other projects in the wind for which libertarians have not given him credit. For example:
(l) A total revision of our tax code. We will have a debate concerning whether this is best done via a flat tax or a sales tax. If such a change were to occur, it would be a gigantic step in the direction of liberty and prosperity. No such change will occur with Kerry.
(2) A market-based reform of Social Security. This reform, alone, could bring future budget expenditures down so significantly that it would make his current expenditures seem like pocket change. Kerry has already repudiated any such change in social security laws.
The American electorate is not yet psychologically prepared for a completely libertarian society. A transition to such a society takes time and effort, and involves altering the mind-set of most Americans, who labor under a plethora of economic fallacies and political misconceptions. It will involve a near-total restructuring of the educational system, which today serves the liberal-left education bureaucracy and Democratic Party, not the student or parent. It will require a merciless and continuous expose of the bias in the mainstream media (the Internet, blogs, and talk radio have been extremely successful in this regard over the past few years). And it will require understanding the influence and importance of the Teresa Kerry-like Foundations who work in the shadows to undermine our constitutional system of checks and balances.
Most of all, it will require the American people -- including many libertarians to realize the overwhelming dangerousness of the American Left a Fifth Column comprised of the elements mentioned above, dedicated to achieving their goal of a totally internationally dominated America, and a true world-wide Fascism.
Thus far their long-term plans have been quite successful. A Kerry presidency will fully open their pipeline to infusions of taxpayer-funded cash and political pull. At least a continued Bush presidency would help to stem this tide, and along the way it might well succeed in preserving Western civilization against the fanatic Islamo-fascists who have the will, and may shortly have the weapons capability, to bring it to an end.
When the stakes are not high it is sometimes acceptable, even desirable, to vote for a minor party candidate who cannot possibly win, just to get the word out and to promote the ideals for which that candidate stands. But when the stakes are high, as they are in this election, it becomes imperative that one should choose, not the candidate one considers philosophically ideal, but the best one available who has the most favorable chance of winning. The forthcoming election will determine whether it is the Republicans or the Democrats that win the presidency. That is an undeniable reality. If the election is as close as it was in 2000, libertarian voters may make the difference as to who wins in various critical Battle Ground states and therefore the presidency itself. That is the situation in which we find ourselves in 2004. And that is why I believe voting for George W. Bush is the most libertarian thing we can do.
We stand today at an important electoral crossroads for the future of liberty, and as libertarians our first priority is to promote liberty and free markets, which is not necessarily the same as to promote the Libertarian Party. This time, if we vote libertarian, we may win a tiny rhetorical battle, but lose the larger war.
John Hospers
Los Angeles, CA
Um, yahoo search lists only one John Hospers living in CA. If anyone wants to call him up and confirm that would be nice, though I'd bet he wouldn't like to be swarmed with phone calls .
Kerry may get his very own French Revolution over here. :>) People are very sick of lawyers hijacking our system.
I endorse and will cast my vote for Mr. Badnarik.
However, given the astounding ineptitude of Republicans and the even more astounding criminality of DemocRATs I fully expect Mr. Kerry to claim the White House in a few short days.
Perhaps my use of the Free Republic Search engine is incompetent, but I am unable to find more than a few posts on the topic of Hugo Chavez and the Venezuelan elections which I believe will be the paradigm for our election in November.
Best regards,
Yet to hear from Harry "blame America first" Browne.
Whata partee.
"johnjhospers" is currently online on AIM. I'm afraid I don't have the nerve to IM him... not that it's really him.
Any takers?? lol
Why does this letter look familiar?? Isn't this a compilation of quotes from others??
There is a difference between Democrats and Republicans. For all of GWB's many faults, and his many failures as a (compassionate) conservative, only a fool could support the LP in this election.
Can't improve on this.
I hope so. there is only 9 days left till the election. I hope a great portion of Americans who have been sleeping wake up and vote for W. We need/want a landslide. Looks like Hawaii, NJ, MN are starting to wake up.
Sure would like some AUTHENTICATION on this...
Funny you should post that.
I just got an email from the aol email address which gave me the same phone number and confirmed that he wrote the endorsement. (But, of course, that isn't exactly an ironclad authentication...)
I gave him the URL of this thread and asked him if he'd care to discuss with us.
Will check later to see if there is any type of authentication for this post...
Yea, you've got a point...Jimmy Carter watching over both. Could be some similarities. There were some posts.
Mr. Badnarik, as I remember has run for a few offices, but never won. Young, Good looking, programmer, who instructs a lot for a living. Nothing wrong, but not much of a candidate. So you are really doing is voting against W...obvious.
I wasn't aware of that. Are you saying the Libertarian will not strike first when he knows a fist is coming at his face? Will a Libertarian shoot first if someone points a loaded pistol at him and knows they are going to pull the trigger?
Thanks for your work in contacting Dr. Hospers.
From what I know of him, this letter fits his worldview.
L. (not H.) Ron Hubbard was a totalitarian--never anything close to a libertarian in any sense, even if he tried to cloak himself that way.
The Libertarian Party itself has lurched over to the looney, Bill Maherish, hedonistic side, and abandoned their rational, ethical individualism and laissez faire capitalism foundations.
I'm thrilled to hear Dr. Hospers endorse President Bush.
There's only one difference between Kerry's politics and Hillary's--Hillary is a better politician. She hasn't been as rabidly anti-war recently as Kerry has, because she knows the country is basically conservative. But make no mistake, if Hillary had her way, the UN (headed by her sock puppet husband) would rule the world, and US taxpayers would pay a global income tax. US sovereignty would be gone, its borders would disappear, and the Constitution would be replaced by a global constitution, drafted by a delegation from all nations including Syria, Iran, North Korea and a newly created Palestinian State. Hillary has been planning this all of her adult life, and given the chance, she will do her damnedest to make it happen.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.


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How Big Deficits Became the Norm
Economic Volatility, Hefty Benefits Spending and a Decade of Tax Cuts Brought U.S. to Brink of Cliff
Big budget deficits haven't always been with us.
From the end of the Eisenhower years through the Carter presidency, the deficit averaged a modest 1.4% of the nation's economic output. The budget was nearly balanced in seven of the 20 years from 1960 to 1979. And, as Bill Clinton reminds at every opportunity, the U.S. government was in surplus for four years at the end of his presidency.


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Hey people, I want to create a teleport.
I just googled how to do it, and I found out that the trigger texture should be a trigger_teleport.
Now here's my problem: everytime I select trigger_teleport the brush disappears (trigger).
Also if I select the trigger texture and do it with the entities it also disappears. Also Misc -> map info: no trigger_teleport
I also don't get teleportet ingame.
How to do it now that it doesnt disappear?


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Looks like you are using an old version of Internet Explorer - Please update your browser
Two fighting dinosaurs found fossilized in the Gobi Desert.
No results found in .
Answers in Genesis is an apologetics ministry, dedicated to helping Christians defend their faith and proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ.


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I've heard a lot of buzz about the Iron languages..
I mostly write line of business applications in c# and I'm not really enjoying c# these days.
Is IronRuby mature and fast enough to be used in silverlight right now?
As in am I gonna get a call in the middle of the night from an angry customer cause the silverlight app they depend on is buggy / grindingly slow?


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Student or Learner
Is it extension? Is t sound silent? That word is at the first minute time (01:27). Please note that this video is located behind Petraeus' photo under the title (CIA director David Petraeus resigns over affair).
In countries like Pakistan and Yemen Mr. Petraeus and the CIA are also synonymous with growing program of drone strikes which many see as of the CIA mandate into lethal paramilitary operations.
More: BBC News - CIA director David Petraeus resigns over affair
It is 'extension' and it appears to be pronounced normally.


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What Now?
Congratulations on your admission to Saint Xavier University! You may be wondering ... what now?
Below is a guide to help you learn even more about Saint Xavier and complete the enrollment process.
- Experience SXU: Visit Campus or Attend an Admitted Student Event: Be our guest and schedule a visit to campus or attend an event. For a list of events and campus visit opportunities, check out our Visit SXU page.
- File for Your Financial Aid: In addition to your merit scholarship, you may be eligible for additional state, federal or institutional need-based aid. To determine your eligibility, file the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) after October 1, 2016. Our school code is 001768. It is highly encouraged to file by the priority date of November 15. If you need help filing out your FAFSA, call the Office of Admission at 773-298-3050.
- Say "Yes" to SXU! Submit Your Tuition Deposit: To reserve your place at Saint Xavier, submit your $100 tuition deposit. This deposit confirms you will be attending Saint Xavier and is a credit toward tuition charges. Deposits are refundable until May 1.
- Live in the Center of it All -- Submit your Housing Contract: To secure your campus housing, be sure to submit your housing contract online.
- Register for First-Year Orientation (Via): Our new student orientation program (Via) is a two-day summer orientation designed to provide a smooth transition to SXU. Attendance at Via is required for all First-Year students. Via registration is now open.
- Send Your Final High School Transcript: Once you have graduated, be sure to send an official final high school transcript to the Office of Admission.
Important Contacts
Office of Admission
We are excited to welcome you to the Saint Xavier community! Use our office and your admission counselor as a resource for your questions. You can schedule a one-on-one meeting with your admission counselor to discuss your questions and complete your enrollment. We can also arrange for you to tour campus, meet with a student or professor or attend an admitted student event.
Phone: 844-GOTO-SXU (844-468-6798)
Fax: 773-298-3076
Email: firstname.lastname@example.com
Office of Financial Aid
Do not delay in reviewing your financial aid options! If you have questions about FAFSA, accepting your loans, Federal Work Study, or other financial aid questions, contact the Office of Financial Aid. You can also schedule an appointment with your financial aid counselor to review your financial aid award letter and discuss your options.
Phone: 773-298-3070
Fax: 773-298-3917
Email: firstname.lastname@example.com
Office of the Bursar
The Bursar is the billing office. If you need assistance in setting up your payment plan or if you have questions about tuition/fees, financial clearance or student health insurance, contact the Office of the Bursar.
Phone: 773-298-3046
Fax: 773-298-3917
Residence Life
Are you planning to live on campus? Contact the Residence Life Office if you have questions about living on campus or how to submit your deposit and contract.
Phone: 773-298-3977
Fax: 773-298-4335
Email: email@example.com
Student Life
For questions regarding First-Year Orientation (Via), campus life, student activities and organizations, contact the Student Activities Office.
Phone: 773-298-5114
Email: email@example.com


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Critical power for critical systems
Providing reliable and continuous power to control systems and IT/ communications infrastructures and isolating them from electrical disturbances caused by severe weather or other factors is a critical goal to the successful operation of any cement plant.
- Critical Power, Uninterruptible Power Supplies (UPS), Surge Suppressors
- Global, end-to-end AC and DC-based back-up power products and services
- Comprehensive solutions designed for both plant and corporate environments
- Solutions for sensitive electronic, network, communication and industrial equipments
Value PropositionSchneider Electric helps you secure the continuous and conditioned power supply of your critical applications and protect against many of the primary causes of data loss, hardware damage, and downtime.
- Proven power protection for control applications and harsh environments
- The leader in Data Center Infrastructure Management


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The legal framework of Sri Lanka is complex and a mixture of laws ranging from Rome, England, Holland, South India and Old Ceylon. The religious and colonial history of the nation, traced from 1505 to 1948, is the factor responsible for this rich legislative inheritance.
The Sri Lankan judicial system has the Supreme Court as the apex court of the nation followed by the Court of Appeal, High Court, District Courts, Magistrates' Courts and Primary Courts.
The Laws of Sri Lanka is intended to be the tool for both the legal community and the general public.
The object of the
The Laws of Sri Lanka is such that any Sri Lankan enactment can be searched easily on the internet chronologically as well as in alphabetical order with annotated amendments.
Subscribers to the website have access to Clean Acts and amended annotated Acts.
Blackhall Publishing publishes the consolidated laws of Sri Lanka in print, in eight hard cover volumes, on CD-ROM and online. The CD–ROM edition is published using Folio Views®
Contents Include:
• All Acts (Clean and Amended)
• Alphabetical and Chronological Tables.
Key Benefit:
• All Acts are presented in fully consolidated and annotated form.
• Acts can be searched and printed in pdf and text formats.


text: You know who your hero is - that person you look up to, admire, and respect. The word hero may evoke a classic image of a caped crusader, or could be someone in your own life that serves as the ultimate role model. Whatever a hero means to you, we want to see your pictures capturing them. Be sure to add a description that describes why the person pictured is your personal hero.


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A recent post on Behind The Noodle Curtain, titled Canadian boys need to toughen up, highlights the danger signals to watch for when it comes to Thai bar girls on the lookout for soft touch tourists, and ex pats who so easily fall in love . Rick's excellent post, also tells the tale of two of his fellow Canadian nationals who fell victim to the honey traps often laid by Thai bar girls. One lost a lot of money, the other his life, a victim of murder when shot dead by a hit man.
Rick's post is a must read for anyone new to Thailand, or those about to visit for their first time. In fact Rick's post is also a reminder to all of us that going into a cross cultural relationship, without a grasp of your partner's language, really does leave you open to the idiom of love being blind.
A list of life's untrustworthy 'professions', would see Thai bar girls vying with metropolitan taxi drivers for a place very near the top. A read through many Thai blogs and forums reveals horror stories of bar girls skimming, scamming and ripping off customers, boyfriends, and their other halves… but does one bad apple spoil the whole bar girl bunch?
The post on Behind The Noodle Curtain is educational and thought-provoking but is there only one side to Thailand's sex industry coin. In trying to squeeze all the pips from the sour tasting apple, Beyond The Mango Juice puts on its little black micro mini, ankle boots, spaghetti strap top, and after drowning and downing some M-150 (Red Bull) and yaba daba doo ( methamphetamine), takes a look at the western male through the eyes of a Thai bar girl.
The photographs used in this post are for illustration purposes only and Beyond The Mango Juice in no way implies any of the women pictured are involved in the sex industry.
When Caucasians land in the City of Angels they head off to the likes of Pattaya and think they own it. We are talking about those who believe they can walk on water and avoid drinking it, the western tourist and ex pat.
Any young Thai girl heading for Pattaya and Bangkok's sex tourist spots for the first time, would do well to be advised by one of the industry's more experienced hands on the kind of customers she will certainly meet. But what should the young protégée be wary and warned of.
Pattaya is the worlds sex capital, and anyone who has been there will know temptation is only one bar away, and inside them is a human menagerie which spans to every society of life. Here's a few characters you are always going to find in Pattaya, and my guess at how Thai bar girls might view them.
Typical Pattaya Bar Punters
- Johnny Cash – Johnny's been hanging around for a couple of months now, and he's always got money, but where's it coming from. If he's splashing big cash in the bars and living life like there's no tomorrow, he's either a rich man, or a plastic freak whose wallet is full of money and ATM cards. If he's drinking around the girl bars of Pattaya, and not staying at the more exclusive Thai resorts, there's every chance he's surviving on credit cards. People with real big money in Pattaya often settle for the quiet life. Take him for what you can, but don't give him your heart.
- Johnny Nightlife – Johnny visits Pattaya twice every year for three weeks at a time, and is out every night, but never during the day. He's bedded many bar girls, but only at hand-picked hotels, and his 'dates' apartment. Johnny's probably a married man and spends the daytime with his overweight western wife. Go with Johnny and clean him for all you can.
- Johnny No Johnnie – When it comes to safe sex Johnny's as unprotected as they come. Johnny doesn't care about HIV, or even himself, so he won't care about you. When Johnny's in the bar the only bell ringing should be one worn around his neck. Johnny No Johnnie has been banned from all the single clubs and online dating sites in his home town, now he's turned his loins to Pattaya. Avoid.
- Fat Johnny – The only time Johnny gets off his bar stool is when his bladder is full, or to jump on the back of his rented motorbike to take one of the girls back to his room. Johnny didn't get overweight by being energetic, so every time he wants a takeaway, a pack of cheap cigarettes, or a beer from the fridge, you'll be ordered to get it. Nearly forgot, as you would expect, girls on top. Johnny's harmless but hard work.
- Johnny Rotten – He personifies all the qualities the Thai's dislike. Johnny's loud, rude and disrespectful. He'll think nothing of swapping girls from the same bar night after night. You're going nowhere with this one so try to shun any advances. Either that, or hike up your price.
The tourist spot revellers and their antics highlighted above, can barely be described as 'criminal', but they do quickly convince new Thai bar girls that money and self-respect are not always partners in bed. A new bar girl from a poor rural village, who witnesses at first hand the drunken capers of most falang, soon realises her customers have less common sense than her parent's buffaloes. Sadly for some, it's a money-making opportunity too good to miss.
A number of the bar girls who find 'love' with holidaying tourists will be sent packing back to their towns and villages with a bundle of cash, and a promise of more to come. For many the monthly handouts dry up as the falang realizes work, and an alcohol free life, are paying for buffaloes and a motorbike he can't afford to travel and see. When the pay cheques stop, the girl heads back to the beach resort with a changed and hardened outlook towards the western man.
A soi (street) wise Pattaya bar girl will view most tourists and ex pats as honest, good-hearted people, who are easy prey to a good-looking girl with a sparkling smile. Regrettably, the Johnny's among those westerners, have soured and disillusioned the minds of so many Thai bar girls over the years that a bite of the forbidden fruit, often leaves many western men with a bitter taste. Pattaya's apple has been churned into cider and gout, but don't always blame the bar girl.[dublin-core-metadata]
Top photograph Bar girl by int16 / Webshots
Photograph Two Thai girls by mark_karasek/Webshots
Photograph Thai girl by mark_karasek/Webshots
© 2010 – 2014, Martyn. All rights reserved.


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In the world of sandwiches, GRILLED CHEESE is pretty much royalty. We're paying homage by electing the cheesy, crispy treat to the throne of EDIBLE IDOL!
The wrong ingredients can send your grilled cheese into the danger zone, nutritionally speaking. Here are our go-to choices... All guilt-free and delicious!
The Laughing Cow Light Cheeses - The light wedges come in so many flavors and bring AMAZING creamy taste to any grilled cheese. Sure, it's untraditional to use spreadable cheese in a GC sandwich, but we don't allow ourselves to be bound by tradition! Each of these wedges has only 35 calories and 1.5 - 2g fat (PointsPlus® value 1* -- SmartPoints® value 1*). Go, Cow!
Kraft Skim Milk and 2% Milk Singles - Kraft Singles are an iconic choice in their own right. They're what your inner child probably craves. When your grilled cheese has lots of decadent ingredients, keep the stats low with fat-free slices, which have only 25 calories a pop (PointsPlus® value 1* -- strongSmartPoints® value 0*). If you have a little more wiggle room, opt for 2% slices, with 45 - 60 calories and 2.5 - 4g fat each (PointsPlus® value 1* -- strongSmartPoints® value 2*).
Light Whipped Butter or Light Buttery Spread - These fat-slashed finds are the way to go. Brummel & Brown is our absolute favorite, with 45 calories and 5g fat per tablespoon (PointsPlus® value 1* -- strongSmartPoints® value 2*). It has loads of rich flavor and an unbelievably creamy texture. There are, however, many others out there with similar stats. Click for more info! And here's a hot buttered tip: You need only a teaspoon or two to give your sandwich that buttery crispness, as long as you start by spraying your skillet with nonstick spray. The spray will keep your sandwich from sticking, leaving the butter free to flavor up your grilled cheese!
Light Bread - Can't have grilled cheese without bread. (We're unconventional, not crazy.) Look for slices with high fiber counts and 40 - 45 calories per slice. The 45 Calories & Delightful line from Sara Lee is our hands-down favorite. Choose from Wheat, 100% Whole Wheat with Honey, and Healthy Multi-Grain, each with 45 calories (doy!) and 0.5g fat per slice (PointsPlus® value 1* -- strongSmartPoints® value 1*). Click here for more light bread picks!
Ready to get a little crazy? Check out these unique treats...
Grilled Cheese Dunkin' Duo, Greek Grilled Cheese, and Apple 'n Jack Grilled Cheese - A side of tomato soup for dipping, crumbled feta with fresh basil... chopped apple and Monterey Jack shreds?! We know how to think outside the box when it comes to grilled cheese.
Fancy 5-Minute Grilled Cheese - Easy. Cheesy. Fancy. Schmancy!
Caramelized-Onion Grilled Cheese and Club-Style Grilled Cheese - Crave sandwiches zazzled up with super-indulgent ingredients, like caramelized onion and bacon? Zazzle, zazzle!
Fancy Grilled Ham & Cheese, Sausage-Stuffed Breakfast Grilled Cheese, and Savory Pumpkin Grilled Cheese - Three more quirky variations on the classic. We promise, the pumpkin one is delicious!
Gobble, Gobble Cranberry Grilled Cheese - While inspired by Thanksgiving leftovers, this sandwich is too good to save for the fall. Year-round yumminess, people!
Jalapeño Popper Grilled Cheese and BBQ Chicken Grilled Cheese - Check out these exclusive recipes in the "Comfortably Yum" chapter of HUNGRY GIRL TO THE MAX! The BBQ one, especially, is out of this world!!!
Click "Send to a Friend," pass around this email, and set up a grilled-cheese girls' night! (Okay, boys are allowed.)
It's National Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day, April 12th! However will you celebrate? ;)
SmartPoints® value not what you expected? Click here for more info on how the values are calculated, plus more FAQs about PointsPlus® and SmartPoints® values on our website.


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Shiller's Bottom Line: Risk Lingers in Housing
It's possible that home prices have hit a bottom, but heavy government involvement to stabilize the mortgage market and the broader economy has made it harder to gauge the durability of recent home-price gains, says Yale economist Robert Shiller, the co-creator of the S&P/Case-Shiller index that bears his name.
The Case-Shiller 20-city index was up by more than 8% in November from its February 2012 trough as falling supplies of homes for sale and stronger demand have boosted prices. Developments spoke with Mr. Shiller on Monday about his outlook for U.S. housing markets right now. What follows is an edited transcript: