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Monday - Friday
Saturday: CLOSED
Sunday : CLOSED
(03) 9578 5666
Mob 0412 100509
The Engenius Long Range Cordless Telephone provides mobility and communication in demanding business environments including (but not limited to): Nurseries, Car and Truck Rental Lots, Storage Facilities, Caravan Parks, Farms, Marinas, and other Large Campus environments.
The EnGenius Durafon 1X (SN 902) supports 1 PSTN Line, combined with up to 9 Handsets per base and a maximum of 4 bases.
A large range of accessories are available, allowing you to customise the EnGenius solution to your exact requirements.
Two-way radio, independent of the base unit. Gives handset to handset communication.
Broadcast Facility - direct announcement to all handsets or a group of handsets
Call Manager. Program handsets by individual base unit to receive or transfer calls
Caller ID and Caller ID on Call Waiting tones 30 calls (network dependant)
Speakerphone function
Rugged splashproof housing
SMS Messaging between handsets
PABX Compatible
Programmable PABX Options
Call transfer - announced or unannounced
High Capacity Li-ion battery. Eight Hours talk time, 50 hours' standby time
Battery change with call on hold
Four Line illuminated display
Digital privacy and clarity
Key Guard to prevent accidental dialing
Call Timer
30 name/number speed dial memory
Auto Power Management
Call Hold
Mute/flash/last number redial
Signal strength indicator
Six Level Volume Control
Any key answer (optional)
User Defined long distance dialing prefix
Four level keytone volume
Four distinct ringing tones
Low battery alarm and display
Four selectable keytones
Hearing Aid Compatible
Two handset antennas included
Audio in socket for music or message on hold
Headset Socket
Car Charger socket
Convenient belt clip
Optional high gain outdoor antenna
One year all-component warranty


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So the next generation Xbox was announced yesterday, called "Xbox One." Its name is a little confusing, since, well, this is the 3rd generation console and the 4th model design. I think its code name during development, "Durango," is better than what they ended up with and that's saying something because even Durango is a stupid name for a console.
Name aside, there are also some other troubling things I read about Microsoft's next generation video game console. For example, its design. The thing is a big black boxy piece of ugliness. It looks plain and boring. Many have compared it's look to a VCR. I think someone dropped the ball on that one because if its being compared to a piece of technology that was around in the 1980's is not a good thing.
It was also announced that due to the type of processors it would have, the Xbox One would not be backwards compatible with Xbox 360 games. I would have hoped that Microsoft could have figured out a way around this because this is a huge drawback. But no worries, approximately half of original Xbox games should be compatible via emulation with hopefully only some hiccups (please note the sarcasm here).
Before you think it couldn't get any worse, the Xbox One will also have a built-in system to prevent t wide sale of used games. Per my understanding, once a game is purchased the Xbox One will require you to download the game to the console's hard drive. If someone else tries to load that game to the console from that disc, they would be required pay an unspecified fee (in addition to however much they purchased it for at the store). It is also rumored that once you sell that game and someone else pays to load it to their system, your copy is removed.
I should note that I'm not mentioning any of the advantages of the Xbox One, and I'm not going to. These shortcomings are too great and outweigh any advancements it makes. For me, I'll stick with my Xbox 360 and skip this generation Xbox or wait until Microsoft fixes these drawbacks.
Related articles
- Why The New Xbox One Won't Play Old Xbox 360 Games (MSFT) (businessinsider.com)
- Microsoft's New Gaming Console:the Xbox One (techinformat.wordpress.com)
- The Internet's Best Reactions to Microsoft's Xbox One Reveal (businessbee.com)
- Xbox One: What do we know? (thesquaredbox.wordpress.com)
- Xbox One Won't Be Always Online, But Internet Preferred (tomshardware.com)

subset: commoncrawl


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When a circus ship runs aground off the coast of Maine, the circus animals must stagger to the shore of a small island. At first the townspeople view them with suspicion, but it's not long before locals and animals are sharing the island in harmony. Loosely based on a true historic event, The Circus Ship is a story about the bonds of friendship and community.
"The verse is sprightly, but the pictures are the true stunners. Children will pore over the panoramic spreads. Splendid!" ~ Kirkus, starred review
"Van Dusen's illustrations burst with color and energy and utilize perspective and texture to add drama and humor. The spread of the animals in 'hiding' is pure genius." ~ School Library Journal
"The fantasy of African wildlife on a quiet Maine island will absorb a read-aloud audience, and a clever hide-and-seek page lets readers hunt for the animals."
~ Publisher's Weekly
This book was inspired by the absolutely unbelievable wreck of The Royal Tar which sank off the coast of Maine. I added an Author's Note at the back of the book which tells the true story of the 1836 tragedy.


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"HP finally revealed the fate of webOS last week, announcing plans to open source the orphaned mobile OS rather than sell it to someone else or simply abandon it. As a fan of the open source model I was pleased to hear this -- it would have been a shame to let webOS die -- but I'm also realistic that opening it up isn't going to suddenly resurrect the OS and put it right back into contention alongside iOS, Android, and Windows Phone."
HP has made some waves with its announcement that it intends on open sourcing webOS. Will is save the beleaguered operating system from death? Possibly. Will it bring it to the forefront? Unlikely. Without strong and major backing, the OS is likely to stay small, and see interest mostly from niche groups. Yes, there are thousands of webOS users out there thanks to the firesale that HP had with its TouchPads, but I have doubts that most consumers really know what they got into, and are just as likely to pick up an Android or iOS device next. That is not a knock against webOS, but that with any product, it needs some backing and marketing in order to get into the minds of consumers, and with HP pushing it, I do not see that happening.
Copyright 2007 - Thoughts Media Inc. | Privacy Policy | Created by Creative Pattern.com


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I finally finished the little write up about the Sipapu weekend. Things have been busy and needed to sort through some pictures. It was a great weekend with good friends. Special thanks to Leonard, David, and Jackie for making this a trip I will never forget. Thanks guys.
Read all about the trip here:


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I'm honoured to be playing along with Taylored Expressions today. The 5th birthday bash is continuing this week with the Share Joy Campaign benefiting Union Rescue Mission of Los Angeles, Prodigal's Home of Phoenix, and Iowa Homeless Youth Shelter. These wonderful charities work tirelessly to bring comfort and care to many homeless individuals and families throughout the year. One way they are sharing joy each and every day is by celebrating the birthdays of their members, and you can help by sending in your handmade birthday cards!
These charities need birthday cards of all kinds: child, adult, baby, so send in your funny, sweet, elegant and masculine works of art and know that you'll be brightening someone's day in a way that only a handmade card can.
It's a wonderful opportunity to donate some of the cards we make (and I know that I definitely have more cards in my stash than I can send) to be given to deserving people. Read all the details on the Taylored Expressions Blog. Card size is restricted to A2 only please, and you do not need to include envelopes.
I created a fun, masculine birthday card using Joan's colour challenge. I love these bright colours for a birthday card!
I started with a Sweet Tooth card base then added a layer of Banana Split. The patterned paper is from the My Mind's Eye Fly a Kite collection.
I used the It's Your Birthday stamp for the sentiment, stamping it with Memento Tuxedo Black onto X-Press It Blending Card, then I coloured it with copic markers. I gave the letters three coats with my clear glaze pen so they're super shiny in real life.
Don't forget to hop over to the Taylored Expressions blog for all the Share Joy Campaign details, and for a list of today's participants. There will be challenges each day this week to inspire you to play along.
Here are the supplies I used:
Thanks for stopping by!


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A bad month in footy
It hasn't been a good month for the local teams, in any type of footy. We're heading into another AFL Grand Final without a local team; Melbourne Storm lost the NRL semi-final; and Melbourne Victory is the only team in the A-League with no wins in the season so far.
I must admit that I don't follow any of these sports too closely, though. I don't even have a preferred AFL team, but I was hoping St. Kilda would go to the final, so that we would at least have a local team to barrack for. As for NRL, I mostly ignore it, as (it seems) most other Melburnians do. And soccer, well, it's too new and isn't on free-to-air TV, so that limits my chances of watching it. It's my favourite, though, and I hope that the league will work and that Melbourne will get better.
But, it's Grand Final week, and I'm told I have to pick a side. So… go Eagles!
1 Comment so far
Normon October 17th, 2005 @ 9:40 am
Wilson – I note you're new to Melbourne. That's got to be the reason why you wanted St Kilda to be your "Melbourne" team in the AFL Grand Final. Everybody else in the country knows Sydney Swans originally come from South Melbourne! But a nice blog anyway….


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It's a moment frozen in time. I like to hear a clock ticking."
Deborah Turbeville
When I was growing up and fashion magazines held the world I wanted to grow up in, one of the worlds I most wanted to inhabit, was a gauzy realm of ruins and secrets.
"There's something happening here, what it is ain't exactly clear..."
Buffalo Springfield
All photos by Deborah Turbeville


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What options do you have after you have tested best therapies to luxury acute and repeated niggle and zip has been successful. The reply may lie in the use of an treatment practitioner. This psychiatric help is no longer thoughtful eastern deception but instead is habitual medical bailiwick based by concrete irrefutable investigating. As such, galore relatives are considering anyone an stylostixis professional person as their selected occupational group and are attempting to land the allowed legal instrument to custom.
Acupuncture is a group of psychiatric therapy for headache assuagement. It can be utilized to heal tons polar corporal and ardent ailments. Linked near time-honored Chinese medicine, acupuncture is the spatial relation of small, aluminous needles in specific muscles or psychological state. Practitioners imagine that these needles progress the conveyance of pain in the uneasy set-up.
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Domestic Spying: How Much Scrutiny Are You Under?
The Article that has inspired this blog tonight.
President Bush signed a secret order in 2002 authorizing the National Security Agency to eavesdrop on U.S. citizens and foreign nationals in the United States, despite previous legal prohibitions against such domestic spying.
Bush's' words about the program: "A program that is in my judgment necessary to win this war and to protect the American people."
You know something Bush, I haven't trusted your judgement since you were the Governor of Texas.
Different groups that have been monitored: Greenpeace, PETA - the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, Catholic Worker, anti-war groups and even bicyclists in New York City.
So what constitutes the government rights to spy on us in their eyes?
Do you have a friend or family member that lives in a country other than the US? Do you correspond with them regularly through phone calls or emails? You might want to be careful as to what you say, chances are you being spied on. You pose a risk to the United States simply because you have ties outside of our borders.
Do you speak out against the president? Question his judgements? His decisions? Be forewarned you may very well be under surveillance.
Yes, we live in the land of the Free, well, as long as what you say coincides with what they want you to think, to say.
Welcome to America!


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Term Three - 2015
As we come to the end of Term Three I'd like to take this opportunity to acknowledge the efforts of all our students, staff and parents in our College community and wish everybody a safe, happy and restful holiday break. During this term our Grades 3, 5, 7 and 9 have been busy preparing for Naplan. This year our overall Naplan results have improved significantly. We have also had outstanding results with our Year 12 Debating Teams successfully making it in to the Top 16 schools in the state. Our Secondary Hume Community Hub Project has also reached a great milestone of engaging with the broader community. Download [34.78 mb]
Semester 1 - 2015
Assalamu Alaikum, Dear Ilim College Families, All praises to Allah (swt) for allowing us to reach another Ramadan. Ramadan Kareem! As a school, we often remind our students that at school and when we go on excursions or have visitors, we uphold our school values - RESPECT, CARING, COMMITMENT, HONESTY and INTEGRITY. At Ilim College, it is also important that we live these values in our everyday lives. As parents and adults, it is our role to model the exemplary behaviours pertaining to each of the school community values around the school grounds and within the school community. When children are in uniform, they are representatives of the school. Schools' reputations are built on this. Download [41.98 mb]


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Express. Home of the Daily and Sunday Express.
Joy for Jackett at last
Millwall manager Kenny Jackett was finally able to celebrate play-off success on Saturday as Swindon were left cursing the Wembley pitch.
Skipper Paul Robinson's first-half goal in the League One play-off final fired the Lions back to the Championship after a four-year absence. Millwall, beaten in their previous five play-off campaigns, also needed a helping hand from the much-maligned Wembley turf as a nasty bobble denied Swindon's Charlie Austin the chance to equalise.
"It's nice," Jackett said. "It's the sixth time for Millwall in the play-offs and for me as a manager it's my third time, and it certainly beats losing."
He added: "The club had come a long way last year and it was so disappointing at the end.
"So we built on that anger and I'm pleased to say the players have seen it through."
Robinson's goal came six minutes before half-time, the defender poking home from six yards after Swindon failed to deal with Danny Schofield's corner.
Millwall had the ball in the net earlier in the first half via the head of Swindon defender Kevin Amankwaah, but his blushes were spared by an offside flag.
Swindon's big opportunity to level fell to Austin, the prolific striker plucked from non-league Poole Town back in October.
The 20-year-old was gifted a clear run on goal by Robinson's poor header in the 70th minute but, as he shaped to shoot, the ball bounced up and his shinned effort drifted wide.
"It's maybe the bit of fortune you need," Jackett admitted.


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The EGLSF Board is pleased to announce a new initiative to support the development of inspirational local projects amongst EGLSF members and other interested sports organisations in Central and Eastern Europe.
There are 6 grants available. Each grant is worth 500 Euros.
Who can apply?
The Good Practice Development fund is open to all EGLSF members and other interested organisations which are active in the field of Sport and will carry out the activity/ies in Central and Eastern Europe.
Special focus and priority will be given to organisations and initiatives which have not received support from EGLSF in the past and to the projects including youth.
Each organisation or initiative may submit one application for funding only.
How to apply
Please download and complete the application form and return it to email@example.com.
The deadline for applications is November 10, 2013.


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No Make No Life (NMNL) is a Tokyo-based subscription box company that delivers monthly boxes of goodies ranging from skincare, makeup and other beauty products. This company are also behind the monthly subscription boxes Tokyo Treat and Yume Twins. The name for the NMNL box comes from a popular Japanese phrase "nomakenolife" that is commonly used by those in Japan who believe makeup is an essential part of their life. Their philosopy is to curate and deliver high-quality and unique japanese beauty products that will help to improve your daily beauty routine.
Each month's box of products are sent out in a simple tough black cardboard box with the brand initials "nmnl" printed on the front. The NMNL boxes always have a theme and for June, this was '2-in-1 beauty products'.
In this month's NMNL Box I received a total of 5 beauty and skincare products. So now let's take a look at what was inside this month's box!
Angel Recipe All In One Essence
The Angel Recipe All In One Essence is a clear and lightweight gel formula that has little white micro bubbles that burst when spread on you skin. It contains ingredients such as collagen, vitamin C and arbutin. The essence is meant to nourish and brighten skin, even out skin discolouration and more. The gel absorbs quite quickly into the skin and would be suited for use during summer as it is lightweight but may not be moisturising enough for those with drier skin types. There is also a slight scent that fades very quickly after application. The Angel Recipe essence retails for 1000 yen (around $9 USD).
Country & Stream Honey UV Water Gel
The Country & Stream Honey UV Water Gel is a honey and lemon scented watery gel based sunscreen that can be used for both the face and body. It contains honey, royal jelly extract, a range of different collagens and many more skin friendly ingredients. In terms of texture it is nice watery, light and moisturising gel that doesn't leave a white cast on the skin like most sunscreen products. I quite like the overall texture but the scent I can do without as it has quite a strong artificial perfume smell. For that reason, I don't think I'd use this for my face but will definitely use it as a body sunscreen. This UV water gel retails for 900 yen ($8 USD).


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The soccer was perfect for my Saturday afternoon workout. Just a pick-up game in the park, it was twenty-somethings like myself, some teenagers and even a few younger kids nipping around the edges hoping for a touch or two of the ball. The goalposts were backpacks and water bottles and the feel of the ground under our sneakered feet was as rewarding as thumping the ball. It was relaxed fun, but the play was vigorous. Best of all, being somewhat new to the town of Seever, Tennessee, I was among people.
I love people. There's no point to being human if the rest of humanity doesn't intrigue you and make you salivate over the web of relationships and learning that is society.
Already I had made a few friends in the game. I had too much of a weightlifter's physique to be good at skills like dribbling or passing, but I could see the openings in the other team's defense and the strikers and playmakers respected that enough to take my advice.
It was near the end of this game. My latest trap worked perfectly. Until it didn't. This big bull of a defender got in the way of the striker as he cut left. The next thing I knew, the other team's best mid-fielder was past me with the ball and had no defenders before him.
A pink streak flashed by his side, coupled with a whirl of white sneakers and the ball was knocked into the open. The action paused to reveal an athletic boy of about twelve in a bright pink polo shirt.
I had seen him join the game earlier; it was hard to miss a boy in bright pink shirt. But he had been on the far side of the field from me and had only been a part of a few plays.
Now that he'd saved the team from my busted plan, I drifted over to him in the backfield as the ball moved back towards the other goal.
"Nice play, kid."
"Thanks, Mister Stennis."
I'm sure my jaw went slack in surprise. I'd only ever introduced myself as 'Rick' here at the park. The boy was looking downfield towards the action, but I could tell that he was still paying attention to me. He was smiling to himself for pulling the trick with my name.
"Do I know you?" I asked.
"No." He leaned forward a bit, tracking the distant ball, his pink shirt seemingly molded to his trim torso.
I decided to play it cool. I just waited with him while our team pressed the attack on the far end of the field.
Eventually, he cracked, but not all the way. "My name is Danny," he said. "Danny Parson."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Ri—"
"Heinrich Stennis," said Danny. That sure was a cocky smile he had. "From Steiger, Fritz and Ernst. I know."
"I'm at the courthouse for the summer. My school has a job observation program."
I gave the boy a closer look. He was handsome, with a cleft in his strong chin and cool, dark eyes under a solid forehead. His hair was straight and black, windblown, with the longer bits in front sweeping across his brow.
"I didn't know the courthouse even had a student program," I said as we shadowed the distant ball together. "Haven't seen you around."
He moved fluidly, with a faint snap of aggression in his casual run and half an ounce of arrogance in the swivel of his neck.
He said, "I'm in probate and family law. The old building in the back of the main complex." Then he smiled. "I guess they felt you criminal court lawyers would corrupt us or something."
"I've never been over there," I said, surprised because I liked to wander the grounds on my few breaks to clear my head. Well, okay, I admit: To grab a cigarette, away from the odious 'No Smoking' signs inside the new county and municipal building. "I'll have to come and take a look around sometime."
The game didn't last much longer and I only got a brief wave goodbye to Danny as he left with a couple of his friends. He waved back with his I-got-you-figured-out smile.
But what had he figured out, I wondered.
I didn't have a court appearance until Wednesday. I thought about Danny a lot before then. Mostly it was the vibrant image of him in that pink shirt. Was I behind the times? Was pink acceptable among middle school boys now? And the shirt had not been some quasi-pink pastel or peach. It had been the color of a carnival flamingo, but the boy had worn it as if he wasn't aware of the politics of the color.
Why was I so fascinated with his shirt? Maybe because he looked so damned tasty in it? Or was it the level of assurance he displayed by wearing it?
I decided not to have lunch in the cafeteria with the other lawyer scum despite the opportunities for networking and collecting new anecdotes of the worst—and most entertaining—kinds of human behaviour. Instead, I took my brown bag out to a cracked stone bench near the ironwork gate that separated the new court building from the old. No one ate lunch here anymore it seemed. A small tree in the weedy garden gave sprinkled shade from the summer sun.
I loosened my tie and placed my jacket carefully beside me. As I ate, I had a clear view of the peeling paint on the front door of the building where Danny was stationed. When the tuna salad was done, I gave my stomach five minutes to settle before lighting up a smoke.
"That is such a disgusting habit," said a girlish voice behind me. It turned out to be a tween in a conservatively cut skirt and blouse, her hair in a severe pony-tail. Danny stood grinning beside her with another boy, both of them in serious, long-sleeved white shirts and dark slacks. Danny's tie was bubble-gum pink and his hair defied his neat dress with its tumbled look. He leaned against the fence, clearly satisfied to just let the others attack me. From their posture, it was clear that this was a battle-tested group of friends. It was almost certainly no accident that they were working at Danny's side this summer.
The second boy was not bad looking, but he had over-gelled his hair, and I could smell the cologne on him even through the smoke. He said, "Man, I'm never going to smoke. Girls hate that. I'd never get laid. I mean, it was cool like a hundred years ago, because it was a good way to impress women that you were a real man, like having a hairy chest, but not now."
"Hairy chests?" said the girl, incredulous. "Don't make me vomit."
The boy turned to the girl, but was still throwing his voice in my direction. "My sister says that she could never kiss a guy who smoked."
"I don't know about that," said Danny, coming off the fence. "I'd kiss a guy who smoked." He looked me straight in the eyes. "If he was hot enough. You know, in good shape and smart, like, say...a lawyer who played soccer." He turned slightly, towards the front door of their building. The others seemed unperturbed by his declaration and simply fell into place beside him as if by magnetic pull. Still in eye contact with me, Danny added, "Of course, he'd have to at least swallow some mouthwash first."
I was too stunned to say anything as they walked towards the door, almost afraid to speak in case the performance was not yet over. On a hunch, I unhooked three buttons at the top of my shirt and waited. Danny looked back right after he ushered the other two kids into the building, his face set in that sly smile. Casually, I pulled my shirt aside. To any observer I would have been simply a man looking to get cool on a hot summer day. But it revealed to Danny the thick mat of dark hair covering my muscular chest. He took a stutter step as his knees went weak for half a second and his smile slipped, replaced by a mix of alarm and amazement, before he regained his poise and went inside.
Friday, I was back at the courthouse and we recessed early due to a scheduling conflict. Thank goodness. I was already jittery from not smoking and the judge had reprimanded me twice for losing focus.
I lodged my briefcase with the security desk and headed for the probate building. One short conversation with a janitor who liked 'knock-knock' jokes and I was at the back office where Danny worked.
The pink tie was easy to spot behind the reception desk. "Good morning, Mister Stennis," said Danny, holding his hand out. "It's nice of you to visit us. Is there anything I can help you with?"
I said, "Very professional, Mister Parson. Very sincere." We shook hands, my first time touching him. Electrical tingles ran up past my elbows. "Did they train you to greet everyone that way?"
"No, they didn't train us to do anything." Danny smiled disdainfully. "This place is full of people who just goof off. But, I thought I should be doing the job the right way if I'm going to be doing it at all."
"Practice is never wasted I've heard. You should keep it up."
Danny cleared his throat, slipping back on the mask of decorum. "Would you care for a guided tour of our facilities, sir?" He gestured back out the office door.
"Are you sure?" I asked, stepping out of our impromptu customer service act. "I know they must have you kids on some kind of leash in here."
"My duties for the day are taken care of," said Danny, still in character. "I am sure my supervisor, Mister Crocker, 'that smelly motherfucker,' will be delighted to hear that I was of service to you when he gets back from his one-hour coffee break. Assuming he doesn't simply move on to his two-hour lunch break."
As I followed him out of the door, I said, "You've got a mean streak on you, kid. And quite a tongue too."
"Oh, you have no idea the things my tongue is capable of."
I took a quick look about to make sure no one was around to overhear. Danny smiled, happy at my discomfort.
"So, what do you actually do here?" I asked as I followed him up a discolored stone stairway.
"We're supposed to only observe and take notes, but they have us do intern type stuff. Make coffee and fetch things mostly."
"Having fun?"
"Yes, actually." Danny led me down a side corridor lined with faded doors and then back down the next flight of stairs. "I'm learning that things in the courts aren't how I imagined them. It's not about using the right language and logic and any of that stuff you see on TV. It's about who knows which clerk and which judge went to school with which lawyer and who's the most willing to dig in for a long, dirty fight."
I covered my mouth in jovial shock. "Are you saying that there's corruption in the court system?"
"You ought to know," said Danny going down a dead-end corridor. "I saw that bottle of scotch you gave Judge Hernandez in the parking lot."
"A mere token of my esteem, Danny, to salute the judge's erudite ruling in a recent case."
"Which you won, of course."
"Of course," I said. Then I looked at the approaching wall. We had not passed any people for a while in this deserted section of the building. "You know, this is an odd guided tour. You're not making any stops or pointing out any sights."
"That's because there's only one place in this rat nest worth seeing." He took a keycard from his pocket and opened a door that I had not even realized was a door, since it was painted the same pale green as the wall.
With a flourish, Danny led me into a storeroom. Uncountable stacks of black and brown binders and books stood on tall, shadowed shelves. Sunlit dust floated above it all, near the high, arched ceiling that was visible like the sky through a forest.
I sniffed the still air. It was dry with the time-traveling scent of old paper and rusty steel. My footsteps raised more dust on the plain, wooden floor. Sarcastically, I said to Danny, "Oh this is wonderful! This is the most marvelous storage room I've ever seen. It's like Niagara Falls frozen in winter. Like the throne room of Gond—"
"I'm sure you know by now that the look of a room isn't important," said Danny. "It's what you do there that makes it special."
And what were we to do in this room, I wondered. My stomach tingled and my cock swelled at least an inch as I observed the shine of Danny's lips, the curved line of his neck near the collar of his shirt and the swell of his butt as he turned his back to me.
Despite all the signals and come-ons from Danny, I held back, preferring to joke instead. "Yes, Danny, you're right, and what people do here is store crap. Giant piles of it."
Danny finished 'locking' the door with a chair under the knob and smiled his smile of secret knowledge as he faced me. He signaled me to follow him with his finger and backed away, towards the brighter center of the large room.
At the intersection of the passageways, the floor was awash in light. Even Danny's dark hair seemed to glow as he waited for me. After joining him, I stopped in awe. The ceiling was at its highest point there and near the top of the wall, to my left, was a large, round window of sparkling stained glass. Jesus in a white and red robe was descending from a blue sky, his hands spread in majestic benediction. Rays of gold spread from behind him as boyish angels played trumpets on either side.
"Wh— How— Thi...wow."
"I knew you'd be impressed," said Danny.
It was too high up to reach, but I held my hand out to the window anyway, the incoming light streaming through my spread fingers. "This is amazing. Where did it come from?"
"This used to be the courtroom chapel. Then there was this big case a while back about removing a Ten Commandments monument over in Alabama, so the chief judge here in Seever made it into a storage room to hide the window, before any atheists decided they didn't like it."
"How'd you know it was here?" I dropped my hand to look at Danny.
"The judge was my grandfather." With a mix of sarcasm and admiration, the boy added, "Grandpa told me that one day God is going to vaporize all the atheists and this place will be a chapel again."
"You know, I worked a small part on a case about this kind of thing once. A cross erected on a highway. We took—"
"Munroe v. City of Jerusalem Grove, 2006," said Danny. "You saved the case. The judge was about to throw it out because she said your client didn't have standing and you gave her this argument about the interconnectedness of humanity and changed her mind. You even quoted John Donne."
"That was cliche and showy, but necessary," I said. "In any case, what swung it for us was me sweet-talking the judge in the hotel bar the night before."
"Nothing inappropriate, I hope," Danny teased.
"Of course not," I said quickly. "But the point I'm making is that I've fought against this kind of thing. I know in my heart that Jesus being here is a signal of bias in the law—the law that I swore to keep pure. But I look at this window and all I can feel is wonder."
Danny walked up next to me and took my hand in his, like a small child with a parent. We stood together in the light, looking up at the sun's rays playing with the glass on the way through.
Looking over at the boy, I said, "Danny, you didn't invite me down here for sex at all, did you?"
He looked scornful. "Uh, no."
"Well, this was worth the trip anyway, so thanks."
"No problem."
For five minutes I stood there studying the gentle face of Jesus, the triumphant posture of the angels and the divine glow of it all.
Then I looked over at Danny again. "But I notice you did lock the door when we got here. Are you sure you didn't invite me down here for sex?" I congratulated myself on figuring out his game. It felt good to knock that cocky smile off his lips.
Except, I hadn't.
More than ever, Danny was looking at me like he was two steps ahead—his 'gotcha' smile. He said, "Well, that took you long enough. I was afraid you—"
Determined to surprise him for once, I grabbed his pink tie and pressed him against the nearest stack of books. Leaning down, I glued my lips to his.
I hoped I'd used enough mouthwash.
With no lack of poise, he kissed me back, his arms attempting to encircle my broad shoulders. I slipped my left hand to Danny's hip, holding him more firmly to the shelf as his body arched in excitement.
"Mmmmmmnnggmmh," he moaned as our heads angled and nudged at each other. Danny broke the kiss briefly to smile up at me and say, "Now, this is what I wanted."
I ignored his commentary and plunged back in, getting my tongue as deep as I could, moving it in robust sweeps, tasting him, learning him. Danny hugged me tighter. He was light enough that I easily lifted him by the arms to a more convenient height, my body still pinning his against the shelf. He tasted so good. He felt so good. The subtle variations of his wet flavor as I made contact in turn with his tongue and his lips ignited the passion in my crotch. I ground myself against Danny's thighs and moaned.
His head twisted sideways for space. "Hey, this is getting kind of uncomfortable now."
"Sorry." I placed him gently on his feet. "I just really enjoy kissing you." I backed away a little.
"Well, don't stop!"
"But you said—"
"I didn't say stop kissing me. It was just awkward in that position." Danny craned his neck up, but was still too short to reach me. I combed his wayward, black hair out of his forehead then bent to his lips and kissed him briefly. "Although," Danny said, "I did enjoy you holding me up like that. You're so strong and that's—"
"Makes you horny?"
"Mmhmm." Danny kissed me again. "Even the first time I saw you I could tell under your suit that you had really big shoulders and arms and that's why I started stalking you. It was like I couldn't control myself. I'd just get this airy feeling in my stomach, you know?"
I lifted Danny again, to the point where his head was actually above mine and kissed him. He wrapped his legs about my torso and settled back down on me, holding my face as we sought each other's tongues and lips.
"And there's something else," he said, loosening my tie.
"The chest hair?"
"Yeah! That was awesome when you showed me under your shirt the other day."
"It's still there, you know."
"I know." Danny lifted my tie free and dropped it. Then he unbuttoned the top of my shirt. I was forced to put him back to the ground so I could remove my jacket and place it carefully on a nearby stepladder. He finished opening my shirt and pulled the front halves apart. With a look of worship, Danny just barely brushed my chest hair with the surface of his palms, sliding his hands up from my stomach. For me, it was like a light tickling breeze. His palms split along my pecs and then descended my side.
"This is sooo cool," he breathed excitedly. "It feels so smooth and thick." Danny sunk his fingers in halfway and made the circuit of my torso again. Then a third time, with his fingertips along my skin. There was a thrill from the idea that this young boy was into my body and into this most male aspect of it. Danny sunk his cheek into the valley between my pectorals, sliding first the left and then the right against me, his nose burrowing into the center as he took deep breaths. "You smell amazing," he said dreamily, "Like stinky in a good way."
I held his head close to me, caressing it, my fingers combing through his hair. Danny's hands wandered down my stomach, sliding past my navel and into the waistband of my pants. I unbuckled my belt for him, then he massaged the front of my boxers with one hand, stiffening my cock even more. His other hand unclasped and unzipped the pants and they fell to my ankles.
"You thought about how far you want to go with this?" I asked him.
"Mmhm." He knelt at my feet, pulling my boxers down and releasing my hard cock to bounce around. Danny seemed not to notice it. Instead, he stroked my hairy legs up from the ankles. Three times, he brought his palm up to my hip, each time stroking deeper in the leg hair.
Then the boy cupped my balls, playing with the scrotal pubes, even sliding a finger on occasion through the hair of my butt crack, making me grunt. The fingers went to the hair above my cock, sliding through it. "Really stinky and really good," said Danny. He moved in, holding the swollen shaft of my cock to his cheek and rolling it slightly along his smooth skin. I shivered. He dipped his nose into my crotch and inhaled with a smile. It was the Danny smile, the one that said he'd made everything happen the way he wanted.
I confess, it annoyed me. I had made a life out of taking those smiles off people, from the coach who denigrated my push-up skills in fifth grade, to the prosecutors who never realized the weak spots in their star witnesses. It was an instinct in me now to never be predictable, to never be mastered.
I grasped Danny's head on either side, asserting myself. "Open up, I need you to suck me."
He tried to keep the teasing going, shying away a bit, but I was too charged up to be sidetracked and in the end he took me in one skillful gulp.
Danny's mouth was the most naturally thrilling place I'd ever parked my cock—warm and moist and soft and slick. He was working on me too, sliding his tongue along the bottom of my length, with a strength that spoke of practice. He kept just the right pressure on my skin with his lips, an abundance of spit slicking the shaft for his sliding motions. Danny understood not to keep too much of a steady rhythm, changing his action to pay attention to the tip, then the base; the top, the bottom; each side in turn. With changes of pace that flowed like a melody.
This boy loved sucking cock. It was apparent in his dreamy look of achievement every time he glanced up; in his enthusiasm and his noisy moans. And that was the biggest thrill of all for me, to have an ardent disciple for my organ.
It was strange to think that I was the one with an adult-sized cock plunging down his child's throat as I gripped his head in place, yet Danny seemed to have all the power. Once again he had exactly what he wanted. The fact that what he wanted was me and my sturdy cock mitigated any sense of being mastered by him.
Who had taught this boy, I wondered. He was far too good to be an amateur. The usual list of suspects cycled through my mind: Uncle, teacher, coach, scoutmaster, priest.
Scoutmaster. That seemed to fit. Danny struck me as the outdoorsy type. A sudden image formed in my mind, Danny in his scout uniform with a bright pink neckerchief, pants down, bent over a log. I chuckled.
Below, Danny lost his tune—his motion not stopping, but becoming erratic. I looked down. He seemed disturbed by the smile on my face, by the idea that my mind was in some secret place where he could not follow. I kept smiling. I had broken his monopoly on hidden knowledge. He accepted my victory and returned to his task, regaining his technique.
It seemed like my cock was getting continuously harder and larger as Danny worked on it. He was totally into the act now, no longer looking up at me to gauge my reactions or to signal his enjoyment to me with his eyes. Instead his eyes were closed, his face half-shadowed by the light coming from Jesus, and he was in communion with the flesh of my cock through his lips—lips which quivered as if in silent prayer. I took it as long as I could, the pleasure spreading out to the ends of my body, as he sucked and rubbed and licked.
"Stop," I said. "Unggh. Stop. Danny. Stop."
He slurped his way off the end and looked at me, sitting back on his feet, hands on his knees.
"Danny, that was amazing."
"Uh, thanks." He seemed almost embarrassed to be praised like that. No doubt he was conflicted about being so good at something so bad.
And speaking of bad things, I was ready for more of Danny.
"Are you as good with cocks in your butt?" I asked, nodding to my still rock-hard organ.
"Sure." He looked like he was getting a birthday present.
"Brace yourself on that shelf."
He was still fully clothed as he bent forward and gripped a steel shelf. After a bit of hobbling in my ankle-grabbing pants, I pressed against his back, my mouth at his ear, my naked cock hard against his ass. I said, "Lose the shirt." As he quickly complied, I opened his slacks and, going to my knees, slid them to the dusty floor with his briefs.
His asshole was a perfect small circle before me, almost a dot. He'd need some serious preparation. I salivated at the thought, and pressed my lips to his pucker.
"Ohhhhh, God. Yess. Rick, that feels so nice."
He smelled divine, and I breathed in big whiffs as I stroked with my tongue at his opening. His flavor was light and the texture smooth. I took more insistent strokes, looking to massage his ass muscles into relaxation. Little by little it worked, until I could stick the end of my tongue into the opening. With some more effort, I was soon straining my tongue to its limit in him, the tension in his sphincter much less. A finger, then two, then three and he was ready.
I stood and hunched my knees, getting lined up at the height of Danny's narrow butt cheeks. He had left the tie on in his haste, so a small band of pink silk encircled his neck. The sight of his back—skinny, smooth and glowing—below my hairy, muscled stomach and chest, made me even more eager and I pulled his hips to me. My cock seemed too wide to possibly fit in him as it rested in his cleft. So much juice had leaked out of my cock's tip that it almost looked like I had already cum over his back.
"You sure you want this?" I asked, my cock throbbing against him with each quickened heartbeat. "It could hurt."
"Yes. I want it. I've wanted it all summer. I've dreamed about it."
"Hang on tight." I stiffened my stomach and pressed against him with the blunt end of my cock, feeling the opening give, but not break.
"Nnnhhhhhgh," Danny grunted.
I tried again, with starting just as slowly, but ending with twice the effort.
"Nnnhh! Nngghrrrrrgh!
I got twice the stretching of his hole, but still no entry. I stroked his flanks, like he was a nervous horse. "Shhh. Relax. We can do this." I slipped a finger in, all the way, and circled it gently. I snagged the tip of my cock inside just as I withdrew the finger.
"That's it, Danny. Good boy. We're going all the way now."
I kept the pressure against him, not trying to go further, but enough to keep from slipping back. I leaned forward, one hand holding my shaft steady and pushed with my hips, feet firmly against the floor.
"Ughhrrrhh," said Danny
Another half an inch gained. The pressure and warmth on my cock head only made me more eager for the full experience. It was easier after that. Danny was really wet and slick from my tonguing and it was just a matter of overcoming the nervousness of his ass muscles. A little patience and some persistence and I slid evenly up his chute, like a battleship through a canal, filling him to capacity with no damage done.
I rested against Danny's back for a little bit once I was securely in.
"How's that feel?" I asked him, licking and gently kissing his shoulder.
"Like I dreamed it would."
Then I felt it: His butt squeezed me. An undulating, controlled grasping of my shaft, starting at the base and squeezing to the tip. This boy's ass was as skillful as his mouth.
"OhhhgghhhhHHHH!!" I reared back, unable to speak sensibly.
"How's that feel?" he asked me.
Even from the side I could see Danny's smirk. He had gotten me good once again: Lain in wait for the right moment to twist my perceptions, knowing all along that he would. I wanted to resent him. (He hit me with another series of squeezes. I kept still, enjoying them.) I couldn't resent him. He had earned his sense of accomplishment. Every step of the way, Danny had put in the effort to know me, to prepare for me. I could not begrudge him that feeling of victory.
A sense of calm surrender took me over. I ceased worrying and just enjoyed the sensations. He continued to work his rectum against my cock even as I started to gently fuck him with short, tentative strokes. Even these tiny motions in his hot, slick ass were thrilling. I draped myself over his back, passing my left hand under his chest to grasp his smooth jaw and pull him into a kiss. With my right hand I reach around for his stiff, not-so-little dick and stroked it.
"God, yes, fuck me," Danny said. "Rub your chest on me. I love the way your hair feels."
I gripped his right shoulder with my left hand and slid my chest along his back, raising up at the end and starting again lower down.
"Ohhh. Mmmhhhmmmnnn," Danny groaned.
This rocking motion complemented my fucking, making me work my cock more strongly into his tight passage, each forward slide of my hairy chest coming with a slow plunge into him. Each withdrawal of my cock setting me up for another slide along his slim, smooth back.
I kept jacking him as I fucked his ass. He was leaking as much as I was. Every time I pressed forward, he stiffened his arms against the shelf, holding himself in place for me to drive into him.
My eyes were losing focus as I slipped into a sexual high. On the bookshelf before me, golden letters glinted in the light: Sexual Depravity and the Law. I smiled. Here I was, a man fucking a child: Committing sin in a chapel; committing crime in a courthouse. With Jesus looking over my shoulder.
I pulled Danny even closer. He was panting now—teeth clenched. I forced my mind to stay extra alert, registering—remembering. The feel of a willing boy under me, giving me the gift of his inner places, letting me spear his tender boy hole again and again. The sight of the tiny hairs on the back of his neck above the circle of his pink tie. The softness of his shoulder as I tightened my grip from underneath.
I was fucking him forcefully now and I could sense the effort it took for him to hold himself in place. His arms were stiff with strain, threatening to buckle each time I rammed him. The shelf began rocking. It made my brain burn with a feeling of power, like our fucking was causing an earthquake. Even as Danny turned to me, alarm and uncertainty on his face, I slammed twice as hard into him. Books were rattling in the shelves now as kept up the stiffer thrusts into his tight ass.
Danny said, "Wait, hold up a bit. This is—" He turned, trying to rise, momentarily letting go of the shelf just as I made my latest firm stroke. This knocked Danny's chest forward into the teetering shelf.
I could have stopped then and given him a chance to regain his balance. We could have calmed down a bit. But his face was full of surprise. He had not planned or anticipated any of this. The lost look on his face sparked the dominant traits I thought I had put away. Now it was as if I had an invisible tail arching up from my spine, tingling with the urge to pounce. The back of my brain was in charge now and I never paused, heaving myself into Danny. One, two, three, four, five...
And then the world was falling. I swear my hips were thrusting into him even as we clung on to the toppling shelf. For a half a second our shelf rested on the one behind and then my next push knocked them both forward. There was a great crashing sound. Five tall steel shelves slowly keeled over, the ones above landing and bouncing on those below.
I heard Danny yell out in pain. I did too, as my knee took a sharp blow. My head then slammed forward onto steel and I bounced back up, my cock popping free of Danny.
The crash instantly cleared my head. I crouched behind the boy and calmly asked, "You okay? You injured?"
He grimaced and looked himself over. "No. Just banged my elbow. Fucking hurts, but I'm not bleeding or anything."
"You think anyone heard that?"
"Nah. No one ever comes down here."
He started to lift himself up on his hands and my brain snapped back into that animal mode it had just experienced. I actually did pounce on him, knocking him flat.
"Jesus, Rick! Wha—"
His hole and my stiff cock were both still mightily slippery and I guided my cock back up his ass easily.
"Aarrggghhhhggh," he protested as I resumed my robust fucking. My lawyer's brain understood enough about Danny by now to know how this was affecting him. The clanging and toppling had disordered his mind and he had lost that feeling of control he cherished and now he was floating in uncertainty. And it turned him on, that feeling of helplessness, of being mine. His dick was harder and leakier than ever when I took it in hand, even as he grunted in shock.
Our shelf lay almost horizontal, with a low up-incline away from us. Danny's waist rested on the edge of the lowest shelf, his ass hanging over the edge. His forearms pressed between himself and the second-lowest shelf. I lifted onto my toes, centering my weight over his ass as I hammered him with carefully timed thrusts. I continued to press my chest hair against his back. I got a thrill as I imagined what we must look like, my large, hairy body grinding on top of his slim, boyish one, amidst all the wreckage.
It was easily ten strokes before Danny got himself recovered enough to pant out, "Rick. Rick, wha—?"
"Isn't this what you wanted?" I slammed extra firmly into him and continued to masturbate his slippery shaft.
"Isn't this what you dreamed about?" Another extra stiff lunge.
"Isn't this why you brought me here?" And another.
"Urggh. Erh. Rhuhyyyr."
"Isn't it?" I asked him as I quickened the pace.
"Isn't it?"
"Yesss," he finally was able to say.
"Good. Well, now you're going to get it."
He gurgled in happiness and confusion.
"Say you want it, Danny."
"Tell me you want it."
"Please," he panted. "Please..."
"Please what?" I asked.
"Please what, Danny?"
I actually eased up at this point, going back to the smoother action that had gotten me so worked up in the first place, moving more like it was a dance. I had made my case and the argument was won. We were in harmony again, him pushing back, me sliding into him, his hole grabbing and massaging me.
I could not tell you how long that lasted. It ended eventually, though, as soon as I felt his ass spasm around me and his body jerk about in orgasm. I started cumming then too, my stomach tightening and my lungs constricting. I struggled to stay in control. As the orgasm hit full force, I led him in the dance unperturbed, keeping the rhythm and the form of the thrusting moves as regular as ever, speeding us over the edge into mind-bursts of light and spasming pleasure.
Slowly, I wound down my fucking, finally coming to rest on him. Danny was groaning. I eased back, slipping my semi-hard length out of him, and fell on my ass on the dusty floor. The boy's butt was propped in the air at an angle with glistening, white cum running down his slim left leg.
He shifted himself upright and sat on the shelf. "Holy shit, that was incredible."
"I'm sorry about not stopping when the thing fell down."
"God, I don't know if my ass hurts more or my stomach." There were red welts on the insides of his forearms and across his ribs.
"I know a good personal injury lawyer if you need one."
He laughed in spite of himself, then got serious again. "Rick, dude, what got into you?"
"Was it too much for you? I'm sorry you didn't enjoy it. I wasn't trying—"
"No, that's not it at all!" said Danny. "I told you, it was incredible. It was hot. I just never expected anything like that from you."
It was my turn to smile as I thought, 'Gotcha.'
I reached out and took his hand in mine. "Danny, you were awesome. I've never had better sex in my life."
He blushed. Again he showed that hesitation to be recognized for his sexual prowess. I pulled him onto my lap so that he sat with his side to me. I kissed his head. "You're a good kid, Danny. You've been a good kid since the minute I met you. Hell, you even got me to quit smoking for the past day."
He said nothing. I tugged his pink tie and he looked up. I smiled and bumped his forehead gently with mine. He smiled back and rested his face against my furry chest, not fetishizing it like earlier, just relaxing against me to enjoy being with me.
He seemed so small and delicate against my dark, hairy muscles. I felt a lurch in my stomach looking at him, like I was falling down an elevator shaft. He was indeed awesome, in the old sense of the word, like walking on water was awesome.
That thought made me glance up at Jesus. For the first time, I noticed how the lips in his picture curled slightly in the corner of one side. Jesus was smirking at me, seeming to say Gotcha.
Comments welcome. Even if you're reading this in an archive years from now, I'd love to hear what you think.


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Royal United Hospitals Bath NHS Foundation Trust has been fined £300,000 after failing to control the risk to patients from exposure to legionella bacteria in its water systems.
This follows an investigation of a death in the hospital Bristol Crown Court heard how, in July 2015, Mr Terence Brooks, a 68-year-old patient at Bath's Royal United Hospital, died from legionnaires' disease. The HSE found that the Trust had failed to put in place all of the necessary precautions to minimise the risk to patients in the annex to the William Budd ward from exposure to legionella.
Royal United Hospitals Bath NHS Foundation Trust fined £300,000 and ordered to pay costs of £37,451.78.


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This distinctive contemporary home designed and built by Coast Homes provides a new lifestyle for the owners – 'The Buxtons' a couple from the Waikato.
After living on a 121ha farm most of their lives the Buxton's decided it was time to downsize, with their new home situated on a 750sqm site in the Coast Papamoa Beach subdivision. As with all Coast Homes, attention to detail and a sense of refinement is central to the design, we recognise the importance of adding special features that are unique to us, in particular with the Buxton's design, we have added height to all windows to maximise both the sun and the picturesque natural surroundings in the subdivision. The sense of space, warmth and light captured by design and architecture is so compelling the Buxton's say they have been able to adjust to their new Coast lifestyle with ease.


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HEFCE publications - alternative formats
HEFCE publications are available on the web for free download, in Word or PDF format.
Most of our publications can be made available in large print and on CD. Please call 0117 931 7339 for printed copies of publications or for alternative format versions, or send an e-mail to our publications department.
Last updated 30 March 2011


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text: New Optware Package named MEGA is on track. UPDATE on 30/06/10... Current Version 1.0.5 (Beta) Now Is on BETA 5 and can be Installed... Here is the First Two Pages .... Page ONE Page TWO What Included until now ? Midnight Commander v.188.8.131.52 (working) dropbear (working) Cron (working) nano (working) Lighttpd (working) PHP-fcgi (working) SQLite (working) microperl (working) rTorrent + ruTorrent (cookies, erasedata, search, trafic, scheduler) (working) Transmission (working) Samba 3 (working) vsftpd (working) Download Engine v.2.0-18 (working) syslog-ng (working) QuiXplorer. (working) RRDTool Traffic Graph Page (working) NOD32 v.3 è 4 (working) Privoxy (working) Sawanna CMS (working) phpSQLiteCMS (working) RRDTool (working) NOD32update (working) System Info (working) Townky Media Server v.5.0 Beta 1 (working) Media Tomb (working) Imageview v.2 (Flash Photo Gallery) (working) WebICQ v.1.0 (working) SMS messages on your phone (working) vnStat PHP frontend 1.4.1 rus (working) ADOS — Download Master (working) Ipkg (the ipkg web frontend) (working) [*]Asterisk 1.6.2 with Addons & Sound Samples and Web Interface (working) [*]SABnzbd Plus with Web Interface (need more debug) [*]NZBGet with web interface (working) [*]Ushare Media Server (working) [*]Plowshare Commnand line Down/Uploader (working) [*]Vlighttpd By frater ( DD-WRT ) (not ready yet) [*]mysql5 - 5.0.88-1 - PHPmyAdmin (working) [*]Service Manager (DD-wrt frater Script) (not ready yet) [*]WiMAX (modem Samsung SWC-U200 from Yota) (working) [*]MLDonkey (Donkey, BitTorrent, FileTP) (ADDED and Working) [*]ExBB FM 1.0 RC1 (Forum) (Added and Working) [*]YaBB_2.4 (Forum) (not ready YET) [*]DBHub a really nice HUB Server for DC++ Community (working) List of APPS is not Closed Yet... If you want to TEST it as a BETA2 (Not Full Functional) then Download from HERE. I need your feedback to debug the errors or your ideas about addons.... Some ScreenShots... L_A Source Here


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Take a boy with Asperger's Syndrome, he and his loving brother are thrust into a work camp; reminiscent of Nazi controlled Europe.
Travel back in time to a brilliant young chemist who is developing drugs for mind control.
Jump forward to the recent past and witness the birth of a seemingly benign totalitarian government. The populous is afraid, unemployment and crime are high. A small time politician is extremely uncomfortable with the politics as his party rises to ascendancy in modern England.
These are the high points of the plot, there are several smaller subplots also.
While seeming to be irreconcilable, these plots and subplots are woven into a fascinating tale. Mr. Kenyon has brought us an interesting angle to the typical dystopian future story.
I have to say that learning about Asperger's through Paul's eyes was very rewarding.
However, with so many threads to pull, I was not surprised that the pace of the book was up at times and down at others. I understand that you cannot have a breakneck speed constantly, but there were several spots that were dragging quite a bit. To be fair, the rest of the book flowed quite well.
There were quite a few spelling errors, not the type where it is a British spelling as opposed to American. I am talking about misplaced words, missing words, and the occasional multiple words. As if there were some words left from an incomplete edit of a sentence.
To sum up: I enjoyed the story even though the ride was pretty bumpy at times,
a lot of potholes in the road. I will give it 3.5 out of 5 stars. If the spelling had been a lot cleaner it would have been a higher score.
This is definitely a good read. The ending left me glowing!
The book is on Amazon, twitter: @stuartkenyon81


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Working for yourself
Birmingham City University offers a variety of schemes to support enterprising graduates who are looking to start their own business. Some schemes also offer support for existing businesses.
Interested in starting your own business?
Do you have a great idea? Do you want to set-up a business? Then the BSEEN (Birmingham Skills for Enterprise and Employability Network) project may be for you.
The project offers access to funding, workshops, an enterprise hub, business mentors and more. You must be a graduate either studying for a postgraduate qualification or for a second degree, or have graduated from Birmingham City University in the last five years. For more info and full details email email@example.com.
BCU Advantage
BCU Advantage is the business growth service from Birmingham City University. It enables organisations and individuals to Get Connected with Knowledge, Skills and Money in business, innovation and enterprise.
If you're an entrepreneur, SME, or a larger, more established firm; BCU Advantage can connect you with Birmingham City University academic experts, business specialists, research, knowledge, skills, students, graduates and strategic partners, along with other businesses, to help you achieve your strategic and funding objectives.
If you're a Birmingham City University student or graduate, BCU Advantage can connect you with the invaluable advice, skills, mentoring, business and enterprise opportunities and practical experience you need to realise your entrepreneurial and career goals.


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RedOne, Daddy Yankee, French Montana, Dinah Jane – Boom Boom
DJ Khaled isn't the only star-wrangling super-producer counting his blessings these days. RedOne released the album art for his latest track, "Boom Boom," on Wednesday (Oct. 25), and it features an impressive line-up of A-listers, including Dinah Jane of Fifth Harmony, stepping out on her own for a feature, alongside Daddy Yankee and French Montana.
The track is set to be released on Friday (Oct. 27), according to an extended Twitter countdown posted by the frequent Lady Gaga collaborator. There was speculation that the track may be a reworking of the never-released RedOne collaboration with Fetty Wap, French Montana, and Dinah Jane titled "U Here Tonight.


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Planting Seeds for a Lifetime Appreciation of Trees
Below, you'll find resources for youth to learn more about the benefits of trees and how to care for them.
TreesCharlotte Activity Sheet
Download our activity sheet for children that includes a maze, word search and crossword puzzle.
(Download Answer Sheet)
Companion Curriculum
The following curricula are written with the intent to provide interdisciplinary opportunities in the use of a school's tree garden, outdoor classroom or learning environment. Thank you to TreesGreenville for allowing us to share these.
NC Wildlife Federation Great Outdoors University
Great Outdoors University of Greater Charlotte is a conservation-based experiential education program created by the North Carolina Wildlife Federation and National Wildlife Federation, designed to bring life-changing experiences to kids 6-18 who have limited opportunity to explore the natural world.
Mecklenburg County Nature Centers & Preserves
Latta Plantation Nature Center serves as the gateway to the 1,351 acres of Latta Plantation Nature Preserve and is the source for educational programs and information on the preserve's natural communities, flora, and fauna. The preserve, Mecklenburg County's largest, forms a green peninsula extending into Mountain Island Lake and protects a natural heritage site and several endangered plants.
McDowell Nature Center serves as the gateway to the 1,108-acre McDowell Nature Preserve and is the source for educational programs and information on the preserve's natural communities, flora, and fauna. The preserve, the oldest in Mecklenburg County, has been left 90% undeveloped and protects mostly forested, rolling terrain along the banks of Lake Wylie.
Reedy Creek Nature Preserve protects 737 acres of natural, forested habitat within Reedy Creek Park. Reedy Creek Nature Center and Nature Preserve is located at 2900 Rocky River Road in northeastern Mecklenburg County.
Nature Explore
Nature Explore is a collaborative program of the Arbor Day Foundation and Dimensions Educational Research Foundation. The goal of Nature Explore is to support efforts to connect children with nature.


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When reading this MyPC Backup review we were quick to learn that after MyPCBackup mentioned unlimited storage, they meant no quota applied to the complete account, and all sorts of computers on that account. Most would agree that there are hardly any, perhaps few other, provider that provides this kind of service. So you do not need to be worried about any extra surcharges appearing on your own bill which you weren't expecting, because you look at how much storage you might be entitled. After all, what number of us could even guess simply how much storage would be enough.
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Each time a good online backup service arrives we love to share with you that. However, if a fantastic online backup service occurs we want to be sure that our MyPC Backup review reflects and stresses that. In the end, an organization that goes far beyond to own finest in services at most affordable price deserves to have that mentioned over and over, big event?


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The Classical — Why We Watch: Steve Novak, Catch and Shoot
: Written by Robert Silverman : 11-28-2012 : One Comment
So I waxed philosophical about Steve Novak over at TheClassical.org today. Here's a excerpt: Right, this too. Steve Novak is white. He's so pale (How pale is he?) that he appears almost translucent. More than that: he mostly lacks professional-grade muscle tone and never quite breaks into a full sprint on the court. Rather, he ambles goofily, with his sloping, shoulders dangling idly, as if they knew the precious, limited kinetic energy contained within had to be carefully rationed for any and all shot attempts. His entire face seems to be made out of a soft cheese that wildly contracts …continue reading


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First of all, reading that from poet Sharon Olds immediately pierced me, with some hope.
I come here lacking gratitude for my opening buds, and especially for the buds that have yet to be formed.
But I'm feeling a little chastened. I usually don't do this much throat clearing before I get into a post.
(This post is brought to you by the pre-mid-life crisis transit of Pluto square Pluto.)
I don't feel so lucky. I feel tired. I feel late. I have been planning my life my whole life. Hear the travails and laments of a tortured double Capricorn.
I thought I had some wisdom about this post, about how things were supposed to happen. It seems to have escaped me. I'm sure I'll find some new wisdom as I write.
Things are getting better. I feel 10 years late on that, though. If I were 29 and finally starting my own business, that seems right. Why did this take so long?
I know why. It's a lot of stuff, and here's the timeline:
family upheaval caused by untreated mental illness ➡ delay in attending and finishing college ➡ finding my own emotional equilibrium ➡ discovering I suck at college science ➡releasing medicine as a future profession ➡ picking up writing as a potential profession at age 30 or so ➡ finally getting to do it on my own as a legit business nine years.
But that's how the story was supposed to go. Why? Because it happened that way. This was my timeline at age 17:
college ➡ med school ➡ psychiatry residency ➡ married and have my first kid by 30.
Look how tidy that is. I am pretty sure I was fretting about this with my 11th grade English teacher. Maybe deep down, I knew that this little neat timeline was not going to happen, which is why I was having legit panic about whether this was going to happen.
The delays, the diversions, the detours—at least I can say that it got me back to myself, to my first love of writing. I also thought that things like marriage and kids would just happen.
And, they haven't.
I've gotten to this weird place of resignation that probably comes from going through very hard times for a very long time.
Sidenote: I hate that I have to care about this stuff as a woman, but I also hate that I hate that I care about any of this at all. Most men do not sit around fretting about marriage and kids. Maybe I thought like a dude for a little too long. Even beyond just stupid fertility, I'm socialized to want this thing that does not help ultimately make women happy.
I'm in this thing I can't really speak of publicly, but it's like this energetic holding pattern where I have to wait around to see what happens. In the back of my head, instead of anxiety, there's just a knowing that things will work.
But the resignation makes me feel safer. I'm tired. Holding out hope for things you can't control gets tiring.
And that's probably the point, too, right? To let go already. There's some weird alchemical thing that has to happen. You have to reach the end of yourself, to feel your fingertips to start slipping on the last threads of hope you have, and then something, Something, catches you, just in time.
I'm starting not to care anymore, though, like time's run out. I should just be grateful that I can kinda be an adult that can take care of herself, that can see herself through crisis after crisis. And yet time probably hasn't run out. Yet it's easier to grieve and let go than to hold on. It's doubly sad to think about. But hope is a very heavy thing and my arms are buckling…
And then the Universe will send a sign. It is not in agreement with me about giving up. It's a cycle of despair and determination that I've gone through many times this year, not only with love, but just life in general. I've thought about how life would just be better if it stopped because the agony of living was not worth waking up to.
So, I was thankfully wrong about that.
Let's go back to what Sharon said. Am I going to be one of the very lucky ones when it comes to love? I feel like my business had to be established before I'm released from whatever holding pattern I'm in. And maybe, you know, it's not about me. It could be about the other person, it could be about other things that I had to go through that I don't even realize yet. I've been told as much by probably tarot readers and astrologers. It's hard to remember since the goons of poverty have been pummeling for a while now.
Patience. Oh, patience. I tire of you.
When I think about my friends who have all started families, looking at their curated pictures on Facebook, I stare back into the emptiness that engulfs me locally. Being down here so long, as I have said a few times here, I started to forget how to be human. In Libra season especially, it starts to look like
something is wrong with me.
🗣Nothing is wrong with me.
Going back to Chicago this month to escape Hurricane Irma, I realized how easy it was to be myself there. I left a lot of heartache and betrayal there, too, but I laid it all to rest (almost 15 years of shit). When I move back, I don't want to be thinking about any of that. This year, with a bevy of Aquarian friends, I've been able to find that wicked sense of humor that carried me through so much grief and loss, but also just made the room lighter.
Hey man, I'm back.
So looking into whatever *this* could be, it's more than my 17-year-old self could have hoped for. That's why I'm still kind of loitering in confusion. It would be worth waiting for, too, even this long, even as patience and temperance and perseverance try me. That isn't me holding onto hope, though. That's me being curious about how things will work out, if at all.
Gosh, could it really be that good?
And here comes the grace…boy, it has been a time. I have had a time. Why would I expect anything good from people when I could write a series of books of all the heartache, betrayal, and just plain evil I've experienced? My track record with the human race is spotty. There have been some angels and demons, and then some people I can't remember…
Scolding my skepticism seems silly now.
Despite wanting to join Facebook Nation and say, hey, I checked some other adulting things off of my to-do list, it's the Pluto square Pluto thing (transiting Pluto is in my 1st house, and my Pluto is in my 10th house). I've been obsessed with legacy. What am I leaving behind when I die? I really hope it's good people—my (now future) kids.
Nothing seems good enough yet. I have barely begun.
But whatever. I'm a double Capricorn who can't plan that much right now. I feel like I've been benched. Put me in, Coach? I'm ready to play? Today?
Yet it does feel weird to just think—if this were meant to happen, it would have happened already. It almost sounds logical, but my life is strewn with late blooms…
Oh well. You tried. Good effort. At least you survived. Count your lucky blooms, girl.
Consolation prize: your very breath. *sigh*
Did I mention I was tired? If anything, if anything, this year, my ceiling was raised so high, it's practically the sky. If I have to come back and try again, then I know what to aim for. And that would be a very big if at this point.
It's also a sign of healing, though. Please let's give myself some credit before I drag my sorry soul over more broken glass. My hierarchy of needs is not an inverted triangle anymore. Being able to support myself means I can support a relationship, and now I don't feel as desperate for it anymore. And I've heard that desperation, shockingly enough, pushes things away.
During my years long time out with the Universe, I've watered and nurtured my spiritual roots. I've found amazing women that I am close with and love dearly. It's the right ordering of things. As I told one friend: boys last. Always last.
But hey, it's Libra season. I do care about the one-on-one, a lot. Where my Pluto is, also in Libra, also means I'm going to care about this topics in a big mushroom cloud sort of way. I don't want to kid myself here.
I'm ready to live already. Unencumbered. I've waited for college, for grad school, for my career. Even still, though: good news! The treacherous obstacle course of my life seems to be nearing completion. I'm not sure if this will be waiting at the end.
So I'm just going to close my eyes and run like hell to the finish line.
This song just came up in a Daily Mix I'm listening to. I hear you, Universe…
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Thanks for your support! 💘


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Well, I was going to say a quiet requiem mass for the demise of "Rock of Love 2," but apparently it ain't over until the fat lady sings or the blonde stripper yanks a weave out of another stripper's head, whichever comes first. Check out this clip from next week's reunion show:
Just when you think you're out, they pull you back in!
OK. Let's get thee to a recappery!
Previously on "Rock of Love 2," Destiney was eliminated by reason of lack of insanity and Bret's final skanktestants were Daisy, her breasts, and Ambre.
Bret announces that they are all to be whisked off on a private jet to Cancun, Mexico, for a romantic three-person vacation. They arrive at a swanky hotel and are greeted by traditional Mayan dancers. Daisy looks confused, as do her boobs.
The girls go up the room they are sharing, which is kind of small, although there is a bed out on the balcony. A kind and thoughtful p.r. firm has left them gifts--a bunch of teensy tiny t-shirts and crappy hats to wear. They both pretend they are from Bret and squeal with so much delight that it makes me kind of sad.
They join Bret for dinner. Daisy whips out a list of questions she has written down that she wants to ask Bret. Daisy can write! Sentences! Or, at least, sentence fragments. Or someone else has written them for her. Which means she can at least read! Or she has memorized it all. Which means she can memorize! Well, maybe. Anyway, her main question is she wonders if her connection to Bret is merely a physical one, or if it might also have a deep, meaningful, intellectual component. Bret replies, "Uh, mainly physical." She tells Bret that she doesn't mean to use her sexuality on purpose, because as we all know, poor Daisy just woke up one fateful morning to find that God had bestowed upon her ginormous breast implants, trout lips, fake eyelashes and a complete wardrobe of stripper outfits and whore shoes. To not use these holy gifts would be an affrontery to the Lord, right?
Ambre wants to know what Bret thinks she "brings to the table" besides brownies, mom jeans, and 6 extra years that she forgot to mention. Bret thinks Ambre wants to win at all costs, which doesn't sound like a compliment, but with Bret you can never tell. Daisy and Bret both think Ambre is a jenny-come-lately to the whole rock skank lifestyle, and Ambre says that while yes, it's true that Bret is the first member of Poison she's ever dated (which is more than Daisy can say!), and yes, her previous beau was a Little League coach who liked to wear a "World's Greatest Cook" apron over his pleated shorts while he grilled in the backyard with the neighbors, she is now certain that a talentless balding, bewigged former rock star from the '80s who stuffs socks into the crotch of his carefully-ripped jeans is exactly what she's been looking for all along.
Bret tells them that first Ambre will have an all-day date with him, and then Daisy will have her turn. Shudder.
The next morning as Ambre is getting ready for her date, she and Daisy naturally get into a huge fight over sexiness. Daisy has hurt feelings because Ambre played the "sexuality" card with Bret, ie, saying that Daisy has sexuality and is not afraid to use it on weak-minded prey like Bret. Well, der. What the hell else is Daisy supposed to use--her razor-sharp wit and jaunty banter? She can barely speak without using her hands! (Seriously, what is up with that? The way she gesticulates it is as though she is physically dragging each and every syllable out of her cerebellum with her hands. If her arms were cut off, I'm pretty sure she'd be a mute.) Then Daisy really goes for the jugular, accusing Ambre of being UNSEXY. There is no worse insult than can be hurled on this show. Really. It's the "n-word" of "Rock of Love." Of course Ambre gets all riled up at this terrible slur and demands to know how, besides her complete lack of body fat, her scary/perky/intense personality, and soccer mom looks, she is not sexy. It quickly becomes like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas: "Am I clown to you? Do I amuse you? How am I so un-sexy? HOW AM I SO EFFING UN-SEXY?" So Daisy calmly explains that Ambre is a hunch-backed old crone who wears granny panties, and then proceeds to get up and rather cruelly imitate her hunchy posture while walking. Ambre, like the good suburban housewife she is, just sees this whole scene as one of life's lemons that has been handed to her, and she is determined to make lemonade out of it. Hot, sticky, sexy lemonade!
She arrives at the date with Bret, which takes place at what appears to be a Disneyland version of a Mayan temple in the jungle. Bret says he knows Ambre enjoyes "adventures," so they are going to have one and then get spa treatments. Their "adventure" consists of walking down a path and touching some giant moths. Dude, they could totally have an adventure like that at my house, for free. Then they get massages on tables set in the water and I start to get violently jealous because it really does look like a beautiful setting with a waterfall and greenery and discreet Mexican masseurs. And I remain very covetous until the precise moment when Ambre takes it upon herself to "step up her game" and straddle Bret's midsection while he lays on his stomach on the massage table. He's greased up like Ned Beatty in Deliverance. Much like a pus-filled blister, a really long makeout party then erupts, but it's far more revolting. (The viewing party finally figured out what makes Bret's makeout sessions with Ambre particularly nauseating and it's that she kisses exactly like he does, leading with her lips, like a dead fish. That's why he thinks she's "by far the best kisser" he's ever encountered! I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.)
They eat lunch and Bret talks about the fact that in the past he has dated people more in the Daisy vein, ie, young, cheap, and retarded, but Ambre goes into full-on selling mode. She knows her ABC's--Always Be Closing. She sounds like an HerbaLife or Mary Kay rep or something, with her eyes bulging out and her over-the-top perkiness that makes me want to lie down. She is in such a great place in her life! She knows exactly what she wants! She has so much to bring to this infamous table! Bret worries once again that she won't be able to handle his "rock-n-roll lifestyle." Oh, Bret. Anyone who has attended an oldies show in between riding the Tilt-a-Whirl and eating a corndog can handle your "rock-n-roll lifestyle."
After the day portion of the their date is over, they head back to the hotel to take an hour-long break and get ready for the (boom-whacka-whacka-boom-boom) evening portion. While Bret adjourns to his suite to festoon his wig with his formal doo-rag and put on his best bedazzled Affliction™ evening t-shirt, Ambre goes back to her room, where she finds a sulky, pouting Daisy. Daisy wants to know what they, like, did, on like, their date, and Ambre is still pissed about the "u-word" incident so she refuses to answer and they get into another tiff and Ambre calls Daisy a "hateful bitch." Daisy is disgusted with what she repeatedly calls Ambre's "white picket fence" lifestyle, by which she means not having become a stripper in order to support Marilyn Manwich, their terrible goth band, her boob job, and her lip implants. (I think now is as good a time as any to relay the fact that Friend of Felt Up Skinny J., who coined the name "Marilyn Manwich," also came up with Daisy's new nickname, "Horseface Killah." Well-played, Skinny J. Well-played, indeed.)
Ambre, trying and failing not to appear hunchy as she clomps her way to dinner in a very short and extremely unflattering minidress, dazzles Bret with her mom-ish sexuality. He tells her she looks "smokin' hot," which, in the universe of "Rock of Love" is akin to winning the Nobel Peace Prize, but skankier. Bret hands Ambre a box containing another thoughtful gift from yet another generous, gracious p.r firm hawking products for a client. This particular client appears to manufacture hideous charm necklaces. Ambre tries valiantly to believe that Bret actually went out and picked this just for her.
Ambre decides she needs to "turn up the heat," so she tells Bret that she's not wearing any underwear. And then it happens: THE GREATEST MOMENT IN TELEVISION HISTORY. Forget the "Daisy ad," Lucy getting pregnant with Little Ricky, the moonwalk, forget even last week's view of Bret's naked wig, because Bret actually asks if he "can see it." IT! He asks to see IT! ON TV! And Ambre just spreads those legs and lets him take a gander. AT IT! Then he asks to see IT again! And she shows IT to him, again! Let me tell you, we had to rewind that scene about ten times. I may never recover. I mean it. Anybody can see The Vagina Monologues, but "Rock of Love" goes one better and gives you The Vagina Dialogues. I wonder if IT has a wee white picket fence for a festive and ironic touch...
They go up to Bret's suite and totally do it.
The next morning Ambre has her walk of shame back to her room. Daisy is getting ready for her date with Bret and acting like a baby. What a shock!
Daisy and Bret go on their date, and this time it's a fishing trip on a big boat. Everything is going pretty well--they re-enact the "I'm the king of the world!" scene from Titanic at the front of the boat (I wish I was kidding)--and then suddenly it all goes awry. Daisy's equilibrium, which is no doubt already under duress from the unnatural extra ballast of those fake boobs, gets disturbed, and she turns green and feels pukey. And then pukes. Bret calls off the fishing expedition and turns the boat around. You can tell he feels extra-specially chivalrous for giving up his fishin' time for a chick. He rubs ice on her belly and for some reason this makes me want to hurl. When they get back to dry land they make out. I'm guessing that with all his years on the road Bret has developed quite a refined palate and can tell a lot about a girl from the way her puke tastes in his mouth: "Hmmm...it's piquant, but not overbearing. The chunks are a little on the mealy side, but the pear overtones and faint oakiness provide a nice mellow contrast. This one might be a keeper."
They go back to the hotel for dinner and Bret gives Daisy the identical horrible necklace that he gave Ambre. They talk about Daisy having a lot of love, and diseases, to give Bret, and that she's not from that "white picket fence" background that she won't shut up about. They make out for a bit and blibberty blahberty for a while and then make out some more.
They go up to Bret's suite and totally do it.
The next morning Daisy has her walk of shame back to her room. Where Ambre is sitting around doing nothing. The world of this show is so bizarre! They have both had sex with the same dude in the past 48 hours and have to sleep in the same tiny room in Mexico and make small talk with each other! Needless to say, it's a bit awkward.
Bret has a lot of thoughts to think, and so we must endure a montage of him walking on the beach while one of the incredibly terrible songs from his horrible new album plays horrifically in the background. What a conundrum! On the one hand, Daisy is young, "hot," and embraces his celebrated and hilariously overstated "rock-n-roll lifestyle," ie, she's a skank. On the other hand, Ambre is within a decade of his age, stable, determined, and showed IT to him on national television.
Finally it is elimination time. Bret shows up wearing his formal wig, evening bandanna, and a sharkskin silver suit which is ne flatter pas to his groinal region. He goes into all the usual pros and cons of each girl--he and Daisy have an "intense physical connection" and she's a rocker and blah blah blah, while Ambre is smart and beautiful, but perhaps not rock-n-roll enough to handle bagging up the leftover fruit trays after an evening of playing "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" for the 9,000,000th time at the pre-game show for the Cedar Rapids Kernels baseball team. Bret is looking not just for his Rock of Lust, or his Rock of Like, but his Rock of Love. Also, perhaps, his Rock of Cocaine.
The whole time he's gibberty gabbertying about this crap, Daisy and Ambre are convulsing, pouring sweat, and truly appear on the verge of fainting. They are either really nervous or they are suffering from a particularly virulent strain of Montezuma's Revenge. Either way, they are not exactly taking me to Erection Cove, let me tell you. But then, I'm not Bret Michaels.
He calls down Daisy. Is she the "winner"? Does she get to be his fake girlfriend? Is Horseface Killah his Rock of Love? NO! It's a classic fake-out! Her tour ends here. Daisy, and the world, is in total shock. I don't think her brain stem can handle this much stimuli. Bret interviews that as much as he cares for her, Bret worries that Daisy needs him more than she wants him. Which means that Heather's devious plan (to plant the seed of doubt in Bret's mind that Daisy was mainly looking for a sugar-daddy to cough up major cash to pay off her debts) totally worked! I consider this not just a failure for Daisy but a huge triumph for Heather and her evil stripper schemes! Huzzah!
So, in a move carefully calculated by his ever-dwindling "people" to increase sales of his new cd in the highly coveted 39-54 year-old suburban haus frau market, Bret has crowned Ambre his Rock of Lust, Like, And Love.
And scene.
Normally I'd be all sad and shit, but not this time! No, the promise of seeing Heather grab Daisy's weave off its tracks and pounding her to pulp has me giddy as a school girl in a short, slutty uniform. Yippee! It will not be until the reunion show is over that my whole world will crumble and I'll have to take to my bed. But until then, it ain't nothin' but a good time!
Monday, April 14, 2008
A Price Above Boobies
Posted by jennifer at 6:47 PM
Labels: bret michaels, hos, reality shows, reasons to live, rock of love
3 comments:
What Ambre really knows are her ABO's- Always Be Opening...your thighs.
Jen - you rock OUR world!!! How about Daisy sans make-up? Her bare skin hasn't seen the sun for ages - she looked like Gollum!
Dying to see her get whacked by Queen Heather!!!
- Blogger said...
I've just downloaded iStripper, and now I can watch the hottest virtual strippers strip-teasing on my desktop.
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