text:
Book ActionsStart Reading
Book Information
The White Plague
From Science fiction grandmaster Frank Herbert, creator of the Dune universe, comes this novel of bioterrorism and gendercide.
What if women were an endangered species?
It begins in Ireland, but soon spreads throughout the entire world: a virulent new disease expressly designed to target only women. As fully half of the human race dies off at a frightening pace and life on Earth faces extinction, panicked people and governments struggle to cope with the global crisis. Infected areas are quarantined or burned to the ground. The few surviving women are locked away in hidden reserves, while frantic doctors and scientists race to find a cure. Anarchy and violence consume the planet.
The plague is the work of a solitary individual who calls himself the Madman. As government security forces feverishly hunt for the renegade scientist, he wanders incognito through a world that will never be the same. Society, religion, and morality are all irrevocably transformed by the White Plague.
At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.
Book Preview
The White Plague - Frank Herbert
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.
Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author's copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Also by
Copyright Page
To Ned Brown
for his years of friendship
May the hearthstone of hell be his bed rest forever!
—Old Irish Curse
It was an ordinary gray British Ford, the spartan economy model with right-hand drive customary in Ireland. John Roe O'Neill would remember the driver's brown-sweatered right arm resting on the car's windowsill in the cloud-filtered light of that Dublin afternoon. A nightmare capsule of memory, it excluded everything else in the scene; just the car and that arm.
Several other surviving witnesses commented on a crumpled break in the Ford's left front wing. The break had begun to rust.
Speaking from her hospital bed, one witness said:
The break was a jagged thing and I was afraid someone would be cut if they brushed against it.
Two of those who recalled seeing the car come out of Lower Leeson Street knew the driver casually, but only from his days in postal uniform. He was Francis Bley, a retired postman working part-time as a watchman at a building site in Dun Laoghaire. Bley left for work early every Wednesday, giving himself time to run a few errands and then pick up his wife, Tessie. On that one day each week, Tessie spent the morning doing
light secretarial for a betting shop in King Street. It was Tessie's habit to spend the rest of the day with her widowed sister who lived in a remodeled gatehouse off the Dun Laoghaire bypass
just a few minutes out of his way.
This was a Wednesday. May 20. Bley was on his way to pick up Tessie.
The Ford's left front door, although appearing undamaged by the accident that had crumpled the wing, still required a twist of wire around the doorpost to keep it closed. The door rattled every time the car hit a bump.
I heard it rattling when it turned onto St. Stephen's Green South, one witness said.
It's God's own mercy I wasn't at the Grafton corner when it happened.
Bley turned right off St. Stephen's Green South, which put him on St. Stephen's Green West, hugging the left lane as he headed for Grafton Street. There were better routes for him to make his connection with Tessie, but this was
his way.
He liked to see all the people, Tessie said.
God rest him, that's what he said he missed most when he quit the postal—all the people.
Bley, slight and wrinkled, had that skin-stretched cadaverous look that is common among certain aged Celts from the south of Ireland. He wore a soiled brown hat almost the exact shade of his patched sweater, and he drove with the patient detachment of someone who came this way often. And if the truth were known, he rather liked being slowed by the heavy traffic.
It had been cold and wet through most of spring and, while it was still cloudy, the cloud cover had thinned and there was a feeling that there might be a break in the weather. Only a few of the pedestrians carried umbrellas. The trees of St. Stephen's Green on Bley's right were in full leaf.
As the Ford inched along in the congested traffic, the man watching for it from a fourth-floor window of the Irish Film Society Building nodded once in satisfaction.
Right on time.
Bley's Ford had been selected because of this Wednesday punctuality. There was also the fact that Bley did not garage his car where he and Tessie lived in Davitt Road. The Ford was parked outside beside a thick yew hedge, which could be approached from the street along a path shielded by a parked van. There had been a van parked in this covering position the previous night. Neighbors had seen it but no one had thought to comment at the time.
There were often vehicles parked in that place, one said.
How were we to know?
The watcher at the Film Society Building had many names but he had been born Joseph Leo Herity. He was a small, solidly fleshy man with a long, thin face and pale, almost translucent skin. Herity wore his blond hair combed straight back and hanging almost to the collar. His light brown eyes were deeply set and he had a pugged nose with prominent nostrils from which hair protruded.
From his fourth-floor vantage, Herity commanded an overview of the entire setting for the drama he was about to ignite. Directly across from him, the tall trees of the green formed a verdant wall enclosing the flow of vehicles and pedestrians. The Robert Emmet statue stood opposite his window and, to the left of it, there was a black-on-white sign to the public toilets. Bley's Ford had stopped with the traffic just to the left of Herity's window. A white tour bus with blue-and-red stripes down its side loomed over the small Ford. Traffic fumes were thick even at the fourth-floor level.
Herity checked Bley's license number to be certain. Yes—JIA-5028. Then there was the crumpled left front wing.
The traffic began to inch forward, then stopped once more.
Herity glanced left at the Grafton Street corner. He could see the signs of the Toy World shop and the Irish Permanent Society on the ground floor of the red brick building soon to be taken over by the Ulster Bank. There had been some protest about that, one ragged march with a few signs, but it had died out quickly. The Ulster Bank had powerful friends in the government.
Barney and his lot, Herity thought. They think we're ignorant of their scheme to make a peace with the Ulster boys!
Again, Bley's Ford inched toward the corner, but once more was stopped. There was heavy foot traffic where Grafton took off from St. Stephen's Green.
A bald-headed man in a dark blue suit had stopped almost directly beneath Herity's window and was examining the cinema marquee. Two young men pushing bicycles threaded their way past the bald-headed man.
The traffic remained stopped.
Herity looked down at the top of Bley's car. So innocent-looking, that car. Herity had been one of the two-man team to emerge from the yewshrouded van near Bley's parking spot the previous night. In Herity's hands had been a molded plastic package, which they had attached like a deformed limpet under Bley's car. At the core of that package lay a tiny radio receiver. The transmitter sat on the windowsill in front of Herity. A small black metal rectangle, it had a thin wire antenna and two recessed toggle switches—one painted yellow, the other red. Yellow armed it, red transmitted.
A glance at his wristwatch told Herity that they were already five minutes past Zero Time. Not Bley's fault. It was the blasted traffic.
You can set your bloody watch by Bley, the leader of their selection team had said.
The old bastard should be running a tram.
What're his politics? Greaves had asked.
Who cares about his politics? Herity had countered.
He's perfect and he'll be dying for a grand cause.
The street'll be full of people, Greaves had said.
And there'll be tourists sure as hell is full of Brits.
We warned'em to stop the Ulster boys, Herity had said. Greaves could be an old woman sometimes!
They know what to expect when they don't listen to us.
It was settled then. And now Bley's car was inching once more toward the Grafton Street corner, toward the mass of pedestrians, including the possible tourists.
John Roe O'Neill, his wife, Mary, and their five-year-old twins, Kevin and Mairead, could have been classified as tourists, although John expected to be six months in Ireland while completing the research called for under his grant from the Pastermorn Foundation of New Haven, Conn.
An Overview of Irish Genetic Research.
He thought the title pompous, but it was only a cover. The real research was into the acceptance of the new genetics by a Roman Catholic society, whether such a society had taken a position to cope with the explosive potentials in molecular biology.
The project was much on his mind that Wednesday morning but necessary preparations required his attention. High on his list was the need to transfer funds from America to the Allied Irish Bank. Mary wanted to go shopping for sweaters
to keep our darlings warm of an evening.
There y' go, John teased as they left the Sherbourne Hotel, stepping into the rush of tourists and businessmen.
Only four days in Ireland and already you sound like a local.
And why not? she demanded.
And both my grandmothers from Limerick.
They laughed, drawing a few curious stares. The children tugged at Mary, anxious to be off shopping.
Ireland suited Mary, John thought. She had pale clear skin and dark blue eyes. Jet-black hair—
Spanish Hair, her family called it—framed her rather round face. A sweet face. Irish skin and Irish features. He bent and kissed her before leaving. It brought a blush to her face but she was pleased at his show of affection and she gave him a warm smile as they parted.
John walked away briskly, humming to himself, amused when he recognized the tune:
Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'.
John's Wednesday appointment for
transfer of foreign funds was at two P.M. at the Allied Irish Bank, Grafton and Chatham streets. There was a sign just inside the bank's entrance, white letters on black:
Non Branch Customers Upstairs. A uniformed guard led him up the stairs to the office of the bank manager, Charles Mulrain, a small, nervous man with tow-colored hair and pale blue eyes behind gold-framed glasses. Mulrain had a habit of touching the comers of his mouth with a forefinger, first left side then right, followed by a quick downward brush of his dark tie. He made a joke about having his office on the first floor,
what you Americans call the second floor.
It is confusing until you catch on, John agreed.
Well! A quick touching of lips and tie.
You understand that we'd normally do this at our main office, but …
When I called, they assured me it was …
As a convenience to the customer, Mulrain said. He lifted a folder from his desk, glanced inside it, nodded.
Yes, this amount … if you'll make yourself comfortable here, I'll just get the proper forms and be right back.
Mulrain left, giving John a tight smile at the door.
John went to the window and pulled back a heavy lace curtain to look down on Grafton Street. The sidewalks were thick with people all the way up to the arched gateway into St. Stephen's Green two short blocks up Grafton. The motor traffic was two abreast filling the street and crawling along toward him. There was a workman cleaning the parapet on the roof of the shopping center diagonally across the street—a white-coated figure with a long-handled brush. He stood outlined against a row of five chimney pots.
Glancing at the closed door of the manager's office, John wondered how long Mulrain would be. Everything was so damned formal here. John looked at his watch. Mary would arrive with the children in a few minutes. They planned to have tea, then John would walk down Grafton to Trinity College and begin work at the college library—the real start of his research project.
Much later, John would look back on those few minutes at the bank manager's
first-floor window and think how another sequence of events had been set in motion without his knowledge, an inescapable thing like a movie. film where one frame followed another without ever the chance to deviate. It all centered around Francis Bley's.old car and a small VHF transmitter in the hands of a determined man watching from an open window that looked down on that corner where Grafton met St. Stephen's Green.
Bley, patient as always, eased along at the traffic's pace. Herity, in his window vantage point, toggled the arming switch of his transmitter, making sure the antenna wire dangled out over the sill.
As he neared the Grafton corner, the crush of pedestrians forced Bley to stop and he missed the turn of the traffic light. He heard the tour bus gain clear of traffic off to his right, trundling off in a rumble of its heavy diesel. Barricades were being erected on the building to his left and a big white-on-red sign had been raised over the rough construction:
This Building to be Remodeled by G. Tottenham Sons, Ltd. Bley looked to his right and noted the tall blue-and-white Prestige Cafeteria sign, feeling a small pang of hunger. The pedestrian isthmus beside him was jammed with people waiting to cross over to St. Stephen's Green and others struggling to make a way through the cars stopped on Grafton and blocking Bley's path. The crush of pedestrians was particularly heavy around Bley's car, people passing both front and back. A woman in a brown tweed coat, a white parcel clutched under her right elbow and each hand grasping a hand off a small child, hesitated at the right front corner of Bley's car while she sought an opening through the press of people.
John Roe O'Neill, standing at the bank manager's window, recognized Mary. He saw her first because of her familiar tweed coat and the way she carried her head, that sleek cap of jet hair. He smiled. The twins were screened from him by the hurrying adults but he knew from Mary's stance that she held the children's hands. A brief break in the throng allowed John a glimpse of the top of Kevin's head and the old Ford with the driver's brown-sweatered elbow protruding.
Where is that damned bank manager? John wondered. She'll be here any minute.
He dropped the heavy lace curtain and looked once more at his wristwatch.
Herity, at the open window above and behind Bley, nodded once more to himself. He stepped back away from the window and toggled the second switch on his transmitter.
Bley's car exploded, ripped apart from the bottom. The bomb, exploding almost under Bley's feet, drove him upward with a large piece of the car's roof, his body crushed, dismembered and scattered. The large section of roof sailed upward in a slow arc to come crashing onto the Irish Permanent Society Building, demolishing chimney pots and slates.
It was not a large bomb as such things went, but it had been expertly placed. The old car was transformed into jagged bits of metal and glass—an orange ball of fire peppered with deadly shrapnel. A section of the car's bonnet decapitated Mary O'Neill. The twins became part of a bloody puddle blown against the iron fencing across the street at St. Stephen's Green. Their bodies were more easily identified later because they were the only children of that age in the throng.
Herity did not pause to glance out at his work; the sound told it all. He tucked the transmitter into a small and worn military green pack, stuffed an old yellow sweater onto it, strapped the cover and slung the pack over his shoulder. He left the building by the back way, elated and satisfied. Barney and his group would get this message!
John O'Neill had looked up from his wristwatch just in time to see the orange blast envelop Mary. He was saved from the window's shattered glass by the heavy curtains, which deflected all but one of the shards away from him. One small section of glass creased his scalp. The shock wave staggered him, driving him backward against a desk. He fell sideways, momentarily unconscious but getting quickly to his knees as the bank manager rushed into the room, shouting:
Good God! What was that?
John stumbled to his feet, rejecting the question and the answer that rumbled through his head like an aftershock of the blast. He brushed past the bank manager and out the door. His mind remained in shock but his body found its way down the stairs. He shouldered a woman aside at the foot of the stairs and lurched out onto the street where he allowed himself to be carried along by the crowd rushing toward the area of the blast. There was a smell of burnt iron in the air and the sound of cries and screams.
Within only a few seconds John was part of a crush being held back by police and uninjured civilians pressed into service to keep the area around the explosion clear. John elbowed and clawed his way forward.
My wife! he shouted.
I saw her. She was there. My wife and our children!
A policeman pinned his arms and swung him around, blocking John's view of the tangled fabric and bloody flesh strewn across the street.
The groans of the injured, the cries for help and the shouts of horror drove John into insensate rage. Mary needs me! He struggled against the policeman.
Mary! She was right in front of …
The ambulances are coming, sir! There's help at hand. You must be still. You cannot go through now.
A woman off to John's left said:
Let me through. I'm a nurse.
This, more than anything else, stopped John's struggles against the policeman.
People were helping. There was a nurse.
It'll be cleared up in a bit, sir, the policeman said. His voice was maddeningly calm.
That's a bad cut on your head. I'll just help you across to where the ambulances are coming.
John allowed himself to be led through a lane in the crowd, seeing the curious stares, hearing the voices on his right ooing and the calling upon God to
look over there—the awed voices telling John about things he did not want to see. He knew, though. And there were glimpses past the policeman who helped him to a cleared place against a building across from the green.
There now, sir, the policeman said.
You'll be taken care of here. Then to someone else:
I think he was hit by a flying bit; the bleeding seems to've stopped.
John stood with his back against a scarred brick wall from which the dust of the explosion still sifted. There was broken glass underfoot. Through an opening in the crowd to his right he could see part of the bloody mess at the corner, the people moving and bending over broken flesh. He thought he recognized Mary's coat behind a kneeling priest. Somewhere within him there existed an understanding of that scene. His mind remained frozen, though, frigidly locked into limited thought. If he allowed himself to think freely, then events would flow—time would continue … a time without Mary and the children. It was as though a tiny jewel of awareness held itself intact within him, understanding, knowing … but nothing else could be allowed to move.
A hand touched his arm.
It was electric. A scream erupted from him—agonized, echoing down the street, bringing people whirling around to stare at him. A photographer's flash temporarily blinded him, shutting off the scream, but he could still hear it within his head. It was more than a primal scream. This came from deeper, from some place he had not suspected and against which he had no protection. Two white-coated ambulance attendants grabbed him. He felt his coat pulled down, shirt ripped. There came the prick of a needle in his arm. They hustled him into an ambulance as an enveloping drowsiness overwhelmed his mind, sweeping away his memory.
For a long time afterward, memory would not reproduce those shocked minutes. He could recall the small car, the brown-sweatered elbow on the windowsill, but nothing afterward. He knew he had seen what he had seen: the explosion, the death. Intellectual awareness argued the facts. I was standing at that window, I must have seen the blast. But the particulars lay behind a screen that he could not penetrate. It lay frozen within him, demanding action lest the frozen thing thaw and obliterate him.
Despair and grief suit the Celtic mind more than do joy and victory. Every Celtic joy has its mixture of grief. Every victory leads to despair.
—Fintan Craig Doheny
Stephen Browder read about the Grafton Street bombing while sitting on the grass of the quad at the medical school of University College, Cork. As a third-year student Browder had learned enough about school routine to provide himself with a long lunch hour and a chance to crack the books and catch his breath between classes. He had chosen this luncheon spot, however, because some of the student nurses shared it and Kathleen O'Gara frequently was among that lunching troupe.
It was a warm day and this had brought many others into the quad, all of them preferring the green to the gothic stone monstrosity of the school, which often seemed to partake more of the old jail that once had occupied this spot than of a modern medical facility. The Cork Examiner in his hands was only a prop but he had been caught by the picture of a screaming man—
American Tourist Loses Family—and he read the story, shaking his head now and then at the horror of it.
Browder's attentions to Kathleen O'Gara had not gone without notice among the student nurses. They teased her about it now.
There he is, Katie. I'll loan you a handkerchief to drop in front of him.
Kate blushed, but could not keep herself from looking across the green at Browder. He was a skinny, gawkish young man with sandy hair and widely set blue eyes. His whole bearing gave promise of his becoming one of those stoop-shouldered general practitioners who inspire so much faith among their patients by their towering benignity. There was a persistent thoughtfulness about him that she liked. The shyness was sure to become learned diffidence and a down-the-nose austerity that would go well with his finely chiseled features.
Browder looked up from his newspaper and met Kate's eyes. He looked away quickly. He had been trying for two weeks to work up his courage, seeking a way to ask her to go out with him. He berated himself now for not smiling back at her.
He could not really define why she attracted him. She had a youthful figure, a bit on the sturdy side, but comely. Her skin carried those fine surface veins that gave a rosy hue to the complexion. Her hair now—that was a shining red-brown, part of the Viking legacy, and her dark brown eyes were set rather deeply under a wide brow. He knew she was recognized as a good worker, bright and cheerful, and he had heard another nursing student say about her:
She's no beauty but good enough to get a husband.
She is beautiful in her own way, he thought.
Again, he glanced at her and their eyes met. She smiled and he forced himself to smile before breaking the contact. His heart was beating strongly and he bent over the newspaper for distraction. The picture of the screaming man seemed to stare out at him, chilling him. The poor fellow's entire family gone in that blast—the wife and two children. For a moment, Browder had a fantasy picture of himself married to Kate O'Gara—children, of course. And them gone like this. All of them. Without any warning. Everything that had gone into Stephen Browder's choice of profession felt outraged by that bombing.
Was anything worth it?
Even the reuniting of all Ireland, which he solemnly prayed for on holy days—could that justify this act?
A splinter group of the IRA, the Provos, was claiming credit, according to the Examiner's story. Browder had friends in the IRA. One of his fellow students made explosives for them. The sympathies of the University College student body were not hard to discover. They wanted the Brits out.
Damn the Brits!
Browder felt torn by his Republican sympathies and his shock at what had been done to those people in Dublin. Thirty-one dead; seventy-six maimed and injured. And all because some people in the dail were reportedly wavering, talking about an
accommodation. There could be no accommodation with the Brits. Never!
But would the bombs ever solve anything?
A shadow fell on his newspaper. Browder looked up to see Kate O'Gara standing there looking down at him. Hastily, he scrambled to his feet, spilling an anatomy textbook from his lap, losing part of his newspaper. He looked down at her, suddenly conscious that he was more than a head taller.
You're Stephen Browder, aren't you? she asked.
Yes. Yes, I am.
She had a lovely soft voice, he thought. And he had an abrupt insight into what a powerful asset such a voice would be to a nurse. It was a calming voice. It gave him courage.
And you're Kate O'Gara, he managed.
She nodded.
I saw you reading about that bombing, the one in Dublin. What a terrible thing.
'Tis that, he agreed. Then, before he lost courage:
Must you go back to classes now?
I've only these few minutes.
And what time do you finish? He knew he was blushing as he asked.
She lowered her gaze. What long lashes she has, he thought. They lay like feathers on her cheeks.
I would like to see you, he said. And that was God's own truth. He couldn't take his eyes off her.
I'm expected home at half five, she said, looking up at him.
We could have a tea perhaps on the way.
Shall we meet here after classes then? he asked.
Yes. She smiled and hurried off to join her friends.
One of the other student nurses, having watched the two of them, whispered to a companion:
God! I'm glad that's finally done.
Holy Ireland was just a name, a myth, a dream that had no connection with any reality. It was our tradition, a part of our reputation, at one with the myth that we have only the honor gained from glorious battle.
—Father Michael Flannery
John Roe O'Neill awakened to see a priest standing beside him and a doctor standing at the foot of his bed. He could feel the bed under him and smelled antiseptics. This would be a hospital, then. The doctor was a tall, older man with gray at the temples. He wore a green street jacket, stethoscope in the pocket.
Why am I here? John wondered.
It was a hospital ward, he saw: other beds with figures in them. It was a blankly impersonal room, a place designed with malice to negate the personality of the occupant—as though someone had worked consciously and with a great deal of hate to create a place that would reflect no human warmth. If this room uttered any statement it was:
You won't live long here.
John tried to swallow. His throat hurt. He had been dreaming about Mary. She had been swimming away from him in the dream, a great blue expanse of water all around and no sound in her movements even when he saw the water splashing.
I'm going for the children, she said. He heard that, but still no sound of swimming.
His dream self had thought: Of course. She must go for the children. Kevin and Mairead will need her.
In the dream, he could sense Mary's mind as though it were his own. Her mind conveyed an oddly crystalline quality like the aftermath of fever.
I can't feel my body, she said.
Poor John. I love you.
Then he was awake, his eyes burning, and the priest and the doctor there. It was a green place with a carbolic smell that separated it from the memories of American hospitals. There were bonneted sisters bustling about and, when one saw him awake, she hurried away. The shade was up on a single tall window to the left of the doctor: darkness outside. It was night, then. Light came from unshaded bulbs dangling on long wires from a high ceiling. The doctor was examining a clipboard that was attached by a string and hook to the foot of the bed.
He's awake, the priest said.
The doctor let the clipboard fall back onto its string and looked down the length of the bed at John.
Mr. O'Neill, you'll be all right. Fit as a fiddle by morning. He turned and walked away.
The priest leaned toward John.
Are you Catholic, sir?
Catholic? It seemed an insane question.
I'm … I'm … St. Rose's parish … Now, why should he tell the priest the name of his parish?
The priest put a gentling hand on John's shoulder.
There, there. I quite understand.
John closed his eyes. He heard a scraping of a chair on the floor and, when he opened his eyes, saw that the priest had sat down, bringing his face close to John's.
I'm Father Devon, the priest said.
We know who you are, Mr. O'Neill, from your things. Would you be related to the O'Neills of Coolaney, by the way?
What? John tried to raise himself but his head started spinning.
I … no. I don't know.
It would be good to have family around you at such a time. Your wife's body has been identified—her purse. I'll not go into the particulars.
What particulars? John wondered. He recalled a bloody mound of tweed but could not place it in time or space.
It's very bad news to be giving you, Mr. O'Neill, Father Devon said.
Our children, John gasped, grasping at hope.
The twins were with her.
Ahhhhh, Father Devon said.
Well now, as to that, I don't know. It's been quite a few hours and all the nasty work done but … Were the wains with her when …
She was holding their hands.
Then I would not hold out much hope. What a terrible thing! Shall we pray for the souls of your loved ones?
Pray? John turned his head away, choking. He heard the chair scrape, footsteps approaching. A woman's voice said,
Father … then something that John could not make out. The priest responded in a low, unintelligible murmur. Then the woman's voice, clearly:
Mother of Mercy! His wife and the two little ones both! Ahhh, the poor man.
John turned back in time to see a nursing sister departing, her back stiff. The priest was standing beside him.
Were your wife and children Catholic as well? Father Devon asked.
John shook his head. He felt feverish and dizzy. Why these questions?
Mixed marriage, eh? Father Devon, having jumped to a wrong conclusion, sounded accusatory.
Well, my heart goes out to you all the same. The remains have been taken to the morgue. We can decide in the mornin' what's to be done with the remains.
Remains? John thought. He's talking about Mary and the twins.
The doctor returned and moved down the side of the bed opposite the priest. John turned toward the doctor and saw that the nursing sister had reappeared there beside him as though by magic. She wore a white apron over a green dress and her hair was contained by a tightly hooded cap. Her face was thin and commanding. She held a hypodermic in her right hand.
Something to help you sleep, the doctor said.
Father Devon spoke:
The Garda will be in to talk to you in the morning. Send for me when they've gone.
We'll have the lights down now, the doctor said.
And high time it is. The nursing sister had a demanding voice with considerable tartness in it, a protective voice. He held to that thought as sleep enveloped him.
Morning was the sound of rattling bedpans on a cart. John awoke to see a uniformed police officer standing where the priest had been.
They said you'd be awakening soon, the officer said. He had a mellow tenor, a square face with prominent veins. His hat was held stiffly under his left arm. He pulled a small notebook from a side pocket and prepared to write.
I'll not trouble y' overmuch, Mr. O'Neill. But I'm sure y' can appreciate there're things we must do.
What do you want? John's voice remained a croak. His head still felt fuzzy.
Would you be telling me what you were doing in the Republic of Ireland, sir?
John stared up at the officer. Doing? The question wandered aimlessly in his awareness for a time. His mind felt thick and clogged. He had to force a response.
I was … foundation grant … doing research.
And the nature of this research?
Gen … genetics.
The officer wrote in his notebook, then:
And is that your occupation, researcher?
I … I teach … molecular biology, biochemistry … and … He took a deep, trembling breath.
School of Pharmacy, as well.
And that would be in this Highland Park in the state of Minnesota? We've seen your papers, y' understand?
Near … nearby.
You've family here in the Republic of Ireland?
We … were going to look.
I see. The officer wrote this in his pad.
John labored against a tightness in his chest. He found his voice presently:
Who … who did it?
The bomb?
The officer's face grew stony.
They're saying it was the Provos taking the credit.
A chill shot through John. The hard pillow under his neck felt damp and cold. Credit? The murderers were claiming credit?
Later, John would look back on that moment as the beginning of the rage that took over his entire life. That was the moment when he promised:
You will pay. Oh, how you will pay!
And there was no doubt in his mind at all how he would set about making them pay.
Do you realize that this one man is changing the political map of the world?
—General Lucius Gorham, U.S. presidential foreign affairs advisor, speaking to the secretary of defense
The warning letters began arriving during the week before the first anniversary of the Grafton Street bombing. The first one was timed to reach Ireland too late for counteraction. Others went to world leaders, where they were treated as crank letters or were bucked along to specialists. The letters were numerous at first—to radio and television news departments, to newspapers, to prime ministers and presidents and church leaders. It was determined later that one of the first letters was delivered to a newspaper editor on Dublin's O'Connell Street.
The editor, Alex Coleman, was a dark and vital man who covered his drive with a generally mild manner even when he was being most forceful. He was considered an oddity among his peers because of his strong temperance beliefs, but none doubted his penetrating alertness to a good story.
Coleman read the letter several times, glancing up occasionally to look out his third-floor window onto the street, where Dublin's morning traffic already had begun to congeal into its usual frustrating crawl.
Crank letter?
The thing didn't have that feeling about it. The warnings and threats made his skin crawl. Was this possible? The words had an educated air about them, sophisticated. The thing was typed on bond paper. He rubbed the paper between his fingers. Expensive stuff.
Owney O'More, Coleman's personal secretary, had clipped a note to the letter:
I hope this is a crank. Should we call the Garda?
So it had worked its disturbance on Owney.
Once more, Coleman read through the letter, seeking some reason to disregard it. Presently, he put the letter flat in front of him and keyed the intercom to Owney.
Sir? Owney's voice always had a military abruptness.
Check out the Achill Island angle, will you, Owney? Don't stir up any hornets. Just find out if there's anything unusual afoot.
Right away.
Coleman returned his attention to the letter. It was so damned direct, so clear and straightforward. A mind of power and … yes, terrifying purpose, lay behind it. There was the usual warning to publish
or else but then …
I am going to wreak an appropriate revenge upon all of Ireland, Great Britain and Libya.
The expressed justification rang a bell in Coleman's memory.
You have wronged me by killing my loved ones. By my hand alone you are being called to account. You murdered my Mary and our children, Kevin and Mairead. I have sworn a treble vow on their memories. I will be avenged in kind.
Coleman again keyed the intercom and asked Owney to check on those names.
And while you're at it, call the College Hospital and see if you can get me through to Fin Doheny.
That would be Fintan Craig Doheny, sir?
Once more, Coleman read the letter. He was interrupted by the telephone and intercom simultaneously. Owney's voice said:
Doctor Doheny on the line, sir.
Coleman picked up the phone.
What's so all-fired important, Alex? Owney O'More sounds like he's been scalded.
I've a threatening letter, Fin. And there's some technical stuff in it. Mind listening a minute?
Get on with it. Doheny's voice had an echo quality, suggesting a speaker phone.
Is someone else with you? Coleman asked.
No. What's got the wind up?
Coleman sighed and returned his attention to the letter, extracting the technical references for Doheny.
It's hard to say from just a letter, Doheny said.
But I find no fault with his references to the recombinant DNA process. You know, Alex, it is possible that way to make new diseases … but this …
The threat could be real?
I'd give that a qualified yes.
Then I shouldn't disregard this thing?
I'd be calling the Garda.
Is there anything else I should be doing?
Well, I'll give that a think and be back to you.
One thing, Fin! Not a word on this until I've had a go at it.
Aw, you scramblin' newspapermen! But there was a hint of laughter in Doheny's voice that Coleman found reassuring. A qualified yes. Doheny wasn't too worried then. It was still a good story, though, Coleman thought as he replaced the telephone in its cradle. A bomb victim's vengeance. Medical expert says the thing's possible.
Owney's voice came over the intercom:
Sir, that bomb at Grafton and St. Stephen's Green. You remember that?
That bloody thing!
Sir, three of the victims had the names in this letter. There was a Mary O'Neill killed with her twin children, Kevin and Mairead.
From America, yes, I remember.
The husband was at the window of a bank down the street and saw it all happen. Name of … Owney paused, then:
Doctor John Roe O'Neill.
No, a professor of some sort. He was here on one of those foundation grant things they're so fond of—studying the state of genetics or some … yes, that's what our story says. Genetics research.
Genetics, Coleman mused.
According to our story at the time, sir. This O'Neill had something to do with physical chemistry—a biophysicist—and he taught at some school of pharmacy in the States. Says here he also owned a pharmacy there.
Coleman suddenly shuddered. He felt that something evil had crawled beneath the surface of his land, a thing more venomous than any snake the Sainted Patrick had banned. That IRA bomb could come to be known as the most awful mistake in human history.
Any luck getting through to Achill? Coleman asked.
The lines are jammed, sir. Should we dispatch an aircraft?
Not yet. Get on to the Garda. If the Achill phones are jammed, they may know something. Did you copy this letter?
Two copies, sir.
They'll want the original …
If they don't have one of their own already.
I thought of that. I just don't like tipping our hand. We may have a head start on this. Well, we'll just have to chance it. He glanced down at the letter on his desk.
I don't suppose there's any chance of getting fingerprints off this, anyway.
Are we going ahead with the story, sir?
Owney, I'm almost afraid not to publish it. There's something about it. And singling out Achill this way … 'a demonstration,' he says.
Sir, you've thought of the panic we might …
Just get me the Garda, Owney.
Right away, sir!
Coleman picked up his phone and called his wife at home, making it brief and imperative.
There's going to be trouble over a story we're about to publish, he explained.
I want you to take the boys and go to your brother's in Madrid.
When she started to protest, he cut her off:
This is going to be bad … I think. If you're here, I'm vulnerable. Don't waste any time; just leave. Call me from Madrid and I'll explain.
He replaced the phone in its cradle, feeling somewhat foolish but relieved. Panic? If this thing proved to be true, there would be worse than panic. He stared at the letter, focusing on the signature.
The Madman.
Coleman shook his head slowly, recalling the tale of the Irish coffin-ship survivor who, making a cross of shovels over his wife's grave at Grosse Isle, Quebec, had vowed:
By the cross, Mary, I swear to avenge your death.
O'Neill's wife had been named Mary. And now, if this was O'Neill, he called himself simply
The Madman.
They are a torture, my memories—a lovely torture.
—Joseph Herity
The pattern of change built itself slowly in John Roe O'Neill. It set him trembling unexpectedly at odd moments, his heart pounding, sweat breaking out all over his body. At such times, he thought of the old beliefs in possession. It was like that—another personality taking over his flesh and nerves.
Much later, he came to a personal accommodation with this Other, even a sense of familiarity and identity. He thought of it then as partly his own making, partly a thing rising out of primal darkness, a deliberate creation for the task of revenge. Certainly, his Old Self had not been up to such a deed. The kindly teacher-of-the-young could not have contemplated such a plan for an instant. The Other had to come into being first.
As the change progressed, he came to think of himself as Nemesis revived. This Nemesis came out of Ireland's bloody past, out of the betrayals and murders, and even carried with it a retaliation against the Celtic extermination of the First People, the Danaans, who had been in Ireland before the waves of invaders from Britain and the Continent. He saw himself then as a spokesman for all of the accumulated wrongs suffered in Ireland. It was Nemesis blaring:
Enough! Let it end!
But the Other asked:
Why should Ireland shoulder it all alone?
The terrorists who had killed Mary and the twins had been trained and armed in Libya. And there was England's filthy hand in the whole mess— eight hundred years of cynical oppression—
Ireland, the guilty conscience of the English ruling class.
As this change became fixed in its purpose, John saw an astonishing alteration of his appearance. The old almost plump self went stringing down to a slender, nervous man, who avoided old friends, refused to answer the telephone and ignored appointments. People made allowances at first—
The awful shock of such a tragedy … The foundation that had sent him to Ireland gave him an unrequested extension on the project with a polite letter asking if he wanted to turn it over to another researcher. The school extended his leave of absence. Max Dunn, who managed the family pharmacy, took over more of the business decisions and told John not to concern himself with anything except getting his life back in order.
John merely noted these things in passing. The change within him had become an obsession. Then he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror one Saturday morning and knew he would have to take action. Mary and the twins had been dead and buried four months. The Other was strong in him now; a new face, a new personality. He stood in the upstairs bathroom of the home he and Mary had bought when they had first learned of her pregnancy. The sounds of the old college town drifted up to him through the open window. There was a feeling of fall in the air but the forecast was for another two weeks of
warmer than normal weather. John could hear Mister Neri down the street running his power mower. A bicycle bell went jingling past. Children shouted on their way to the park. It was September already; he knew that. And he remembered how Kevin and Mairead had shouted at play in the yard.
Neri shut down his mower. Mrs. Neri had been one of the most persistent callers.
You're wasting away to skin and bones, you poor man! But Mrs. Neri had a younger sister, unmarried and getting anxious. There had been a matchmaker's look in Mrs. Neri's plump face.
John leaned close to the mirror and looked at himself carefully. The changes … not quite a stranger, but strange. They won't have any photographs of this face, he thought. But they would make drawings and spread them far and wide. At that moment, the thought still in his mind, he knew he was going to do this thing, knew he was capable of it and would certainly do it. That scream at St. Stephen's Green had set something in motion, like the slow beginning of an avalanche. Let it come then, he thought.
That morning, he put his house on the market and, because properties near the college were much in demand, he had it sold two weeks later to a
nice young assistant professor, as the Real Estate Woman called him. All of these people were like dream faces to John. His thoughts had gone questing ahead to the thing that needed doing. The Nice Young Assistant Professor had wanted to know when Doctor O'Neill would be returning to his post at the school.
We heard about your tragedy of course, and we understand why you're selling—all of the memories.
He doesn't understand at all, John thought.
But the transaction put a clear $188,000 in John's pocket. The Real Estate Woman had tried to talk to John about his
tax obligations and had worked to sell him
a much better investment a bit farther out but on land sure to increase in value dramatically over the next ten years.
He had lied to her, saying his accountants already had the problem in hand.
The contents of the house had brought an astonishing $62,000, but then Mary's father had left her some valuable old books and two fine paintings. Her family's furniture had included several antiques, a thing John had never even thought about before. Furniture had always been only something to fill the spaces in a house.
The college fund they had set aside for the twins yielded another $33,000. There was the McCarthy annuity from John's mother, against which the bank loaned him $56,000. Their small portfolio of stocks brought $28,900. The bank accounts over which Mary had worked so hard brought $31,452. Almost $30,000 remained in the grant for the Ireland project, money he had not transferred to the Allied Irish Bank, keeping it in a high-interest brokerage fund that the foundation had approved. His salary, reduced by the sabbatical's requirements, produced close to $16,000 more.
Friends and associates had seen only the surface of this activity, taking it as
a good sign John's finally getting back to normal.
The most delicate parts of the transition involved dealing with the Internal Revenue Service and the sale of the pharmacy that had been in his mother's family now for two generations. Max Dunn said he understood that John might not want to publicize the sale,
and besides I'd want to keep the McCarthy name over the door. From family sources, Dunn produced a $78,000 down payment and agreed to a one-year deferral on starting payments on the balance—none of which John ever intended to collect. The $78,000 was what he wanted. Cash!
The IRS he put off with a token payment of $5,000 and a letter from his accountants explaining that due to the tragedy and attendant problems, time was required to settle the taxpayer's affairs. The IRS, mindful of the sympathy for John and wary of adverse publicity, granted a six-month deferral.
On the day he left Highland Park in his station wagon, John had almost $500,000 tucked away in the back in the fireproof box that once had held his will and property deeds. The rest of the wagon was crammed full of the carefully packed elements of his personal laboratory, including his computer. Two suitcases of clothing had to be secured under the safety belt beside him on the front seat.
Friends accepted the story that he was going to look for
someplace farther out, a place without these memories.
Late that evening, he ate supper almost four hundred miles away from the place he no longer called home, sitting in a roadside café that smelled of rancid grease. He chose a booth that gave him a view of the car parked outside, noting the gray film of dust that gave it a rundown look. That was good. The grille still showed a shallow dent Mary had put there while trying to maneuver out of a supermarket parking lot. John left without finishing the meal and could not even remember what he had ordered.
Later, he found a motel with an alcove parking place beside his room. He transferred the fireproof box to a place under the bed, put his father's old .38 Colt under the pillow and lay down fully clothed, not expecting to sleep. He could feel the presence of that box under the bed. The money represented energy for the thing he knew he had to do. Every
The basic plot is that a crazed scientist develops a plague designed to infect and kill women. It gets worldwide distribution, and so all of womankind faces the possibility of extinction - soon to be followed by all men, of course.
It's set in the modern day, or possibly in the near future - but so near that there's nothing to distinguish it from the present. Well, the present as of 1982, since a key plot point is the Irish Republican Army.
The book was surprisingly riveting - it was almost impossible to put down until I was about three-fours of the way through. And it's a LONG book. But towards the end the whole thing began to pall. With most women dead, and the major character in an incredibly bleak situation, the book became awfully hard to read towards the end. And I found the ending itself quite unpleasant. Herbert was an incredibly gifted and intelligent writer, and I cannot make any criticism of his technique in this book; I just don't like what he had to say. Not everyone would feel the same way, obviously.
Five out of ten.
John O'Neill is a molecular biologist who was witness to the death of his wife and twin sons. Consumed by an all-engulfing hatred for a world that could produce such horror, he creates and unleashes a plague and then goes on a journey to see the evidence of his own handiwork.
Great idea but could and should have been so much better.


text:
GLC Infielder, Tyler Hinrikus, (Cambridge, ON) will head to Muncie, IN this fall to join the Ball State University Cardinals. Looking for a post secondary opportunity that aligned with the development plan Hinrikus had on his mind, he feels Ball State is the perfect fit. "I wanted to compete at the highest level for a program that wins" said Hinrikus. "Development was also a key factor and I was extremely excited to hear that my high goals matched my coaches goals for me both while at Ball State and past that."
Joining a perennial powerhouse within the Mid-America Conference, Hinrikus is up to the challenge and looks forward to the regiment of a major division one program, "I'm looking forward to practicing and training everyday" Hinrikus says. "Being apart of a great program is exciting to me and I can't wait to develop friendships and become close with the guys. Most importantly I'm excited to compete for championships as a Cardinal."
Tyler has taken advantage of his time here within the program and credits Adam Stern and the rest of the staff in helping him prepare for the next step of his career, "I can't thank the GLC staff enough for everything. Working with Adam Stern has changed my game entirely and has helped prepare me for the next level. I'm extremely grateful for the time and effort that all GLC coaches have put into my development."
In return, Adam Stern, Director of Player Development for the Great Lake Canadians had the following to say about Tyler; "Ty came to the GLC program 2 years ago as a showcase player with tools. Since then he has been a tireless worker both in the weight room and on the baseball field to refine his game. Ty has always had some big time athletic tools, and now he is putting them all together to becoming a well rounded baseball player that can impact the game on both sides of the ball. With his work ethic and dedication to getting better, Tyler will have every opportunity to have a successful college career at Ball State."
Tyler's Advice to the next generation of GLC:
"Get into CFS as much as possible and soak up all the information you hear from coaches, instructors, teammates, etc. The things that aren't easy are what make you better, getting serious about the weight room and the kitchen will change your game completely. You'll get out what you put into your training so it's truly up to you." – Tyler Hinrikus – 2020 GLC Grad

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Just Jeans discount codes and coupons | March 2020
We're all flocking to Just Jeans for our favourite denim brands. Start saving bigger with price-slashing discount codes and coupons.
Last updated:
Just Jeans don't just do jeans – but it is the best destination to pick up denim designed by the biggest brands in the business. They also have top fashion favourites in all areas of apparel. Get the labels you love for less with these dazzling discount codes and coupons designed to help you save.
Just Jeans discount codes and coupons
It looks like we don't have any coupons at the moment.
How do I use my Just Jeans discount code?
- Add your preferred purchase to your shopping bag.
- Click "Checkout".
- Click on the + icon next to "Enter Promotion Code"
- Enter your discount code in the allocated box.
- Click "Apply Code".
- Then click "Checkout" to proceed with your purchase.
What can I buy from Just Jeans?
Just Jeans | pros and cons
- Deals and discounts readily available in their Latest Offers section.
- Sign up for their newsletter and get 10% off all online purchases for a whole month.
- Gift cards available.
- 21-day returns.
- No free delivery available. Delivery costs AU$15 (approximately NZ$16.30).
- Sizing varies across brands. Make sure you check their size guide before purchasing.
How does Just Jeans delivery work?
Delivery is AU$15 (approximately NZ$16.30) per order. You can expect to receive your order within three to six working days from the dispatch of your items. Delivery can take longer during promotions and sales.
What forms of payment does Just Jeans accept?
- Mastercard
- Visa
- Amex
- PayPal
- AfterPay
What is the Just Jeans returns policy?
If you are not happy with any of the items received, you have 21 days from the date of receipt to return your items in their original condition, tags intact and attached, for a full refund. You are responsible for any returns fee in all cases, other than if you have received a faulty or incorrect item. In the rare event that you have received an incorrect or faulty item, contact the Just Jeans customer care team and they will advise how best to resolve.


text: HomeMusicDanceBruno Mars – 24K Magic (R3hab Remix) Pranav Gupta June 2, 2017 Dance, New Release, Remix Bruno Mars' '24K Magic' was without a doubt one of the biggest tracks of 2016. With its whole retro disco meets funk vibe, the single caught the attention of pretty much everyone across the globe. Now, Dutch DJ/producer R3hab has given the single his own spin. Featuring bouncy synths and a more radio friendly drop, R3hab turns the original from an extremely groovy track to a more mellow, dance ready track. The remix comes on the back of 'Hallucinations', which R3hab just released last month, and his previous remixes for DJ Snake & Justin Bieber's 'Let Me Love You', and Migos' 'Bad and Boujee' remix. Stream the full remix here below, and grab your copy from here.


text:
Birman & Ride Lawyers Address - 16 Irwin St, Perth
Perth Lawyers
About Birman & Ride Lawyers
Birman & Ride Lawyers
16 Irwin St , Level 3, Perth
Perth, WA, 6000
Website: www.birmanride.com.au
They are a boutique law firm based in the central business district of Perth, Western Australia. The firm was established by Jeremy Birman in 1979. They practice as both barristers and solicitors.
* Disclaimer: While every care is taken to ensure the accuracy of the data, This site does not represent or guarantee the accuracy, reliability, completeness or suitability of its content for any particular purpose. Please contact us if you discover an error.


text:
You have a long life ahead of you from playing with your children to your grandchildren. Don't let an unhealthy heart get in the way of enjoying life. Eating fruits and vegetables may be obvious, but what other things can you do on a regular basis to feel healthier and increase your longevity? If you are serious about taking care of yourself and reclaiming your health, then you should check out these tips for a healthy heart.
Cigarettes are one of the leading causes of coronary heart disease. Besides that, the surgeon general's warning label suggests explicitly that smoking leads to lung cancer, emphysema, and complicated pregnancies. Second-hand smoke will also adversely affect the health of those around you when you are puffing on one. If you want a healthy heart and life in general, you should quit smoking immediately even if you need the help of nicotine patches or gums.
This site offers information designed for educational purposes only. You should not rely on any information on this site as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, treatment, or as a substitute for, professional counseling care, advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you have any concerns or questions about your health, you should always consult with a physician or other healthcare professional.


text:
4337 Victory Circle, Columbus, GA 31903
sale $795,000 | Other Commercial
Courtesy Of Realty River Cities, LLC
Income Producing 100% Occupancy on 16 unit apartment complex plus building/shop rented for $600/mo plus $3200 annual bill board rights all on 1 plus acre with 2 curb cuts on high traffic major state highway. Prime location within a minute to I -185 and the Ft. Benning exit ramp. Perfect location for condo units, climate control storage, retail shops, fast food and more. Additional 2 acres available adjoins property. Future Processing Center for Ft Benning to be directly south of property.
Read More Read Less
Copyright © 2020 Columbus Board of Realtors (GA). All rights reserved. All information provided by the listing agent/broker is deemed reliable but is not guaranteed and should be independently verified. Information being provided is for consumers' personal, non-commercial use and may not be used for any purpose other than to identify prospective properties consumers may be interested in purchasing.
Property Features
- Architecture Style: Other
- Building Units: 16
- Exterior Type: Brick
- Roof Type: Unknown
Community information and market data Powered by ATTOM. Copyright ©2016 ATTOM. Information is deemed reliable but not guaranteed.
You may also be interested in...
Commercial Land
4343 Victory Drive
Columbus, GA 31903
Land: 2 Acres
Courtesy Of Realty River Cities, LLC
Other Commercial
6165 Billings Road
Columbus, GA 31909
Building: 12,304 sq. ft. | Land: 7.87 Acres
Courtesy Of Milner & Harrelson, Inc
Land -Agricultural (Not Zoned)
1311 Warm Springs Road
Columbus, GA 31904
Listed By CENTURY 21 Premier Real Estate
Commercial Land
8368 Veterans Parkway
Columbus, GA 31909
Land: 1.87 Acres
Courtesy Of Woodruff Real Estate Services, LLC


text:
prebendary of Islington (17 March 1418); archdeacon of Middlesex (2 May 1418).
About April 1401 Clifford was promoted by papal provision to the see of Bath and Wells; but, as the king refused him the temporalities, he was transferred to Worcester (19 Aug. 1401), and his original bishopric given to Henry Bowet (Le Neve, i. 42; Godwin, pp. 378-9). In 1402 he helped to conduct Blanche, the eldest daughter of Henry IV, to Cologne, and there married her to Louis, son of Rupert, king of the Romans (Green, iii. 326). Three of his letters written about this period are preserved (Smith, Worcester, pp. 100-1; Wilkins, Concilia, iii. 278; Coxe, Cat. C. C. C. ii. 26). From Worcester Gregory XII translated him to London by a bull dated 22 June 1407, the same year in which Henry Bowet was translated to York (Le Neve, ii. 294; Ypod. Neustr. p. 423). On 23 and 25 Sept, 1413 he was present in the chapter-house of St. Paul's at Sir John Oldcastle's trial for heresy, and it is from the Archbishop of Canterbury's elaborate letter to him that we derive our knowledge of the details of this great case. Two years later (17 Aug. 1415) he assisted the same prelate's successor, when John Claydon, the London Lollard, was handed over to the civil power (Rymer, ix. 61; Wilkins, iii. 371). On 28 May 1415 he was ordered to array his clergy against the enemies of the king and church. Little more than a year later (20 July 1416) he was appointed one of the English ambassadors to the council of Constance, and he had certainly quitted England on this service by 16 Dec. (Rymer, ix. 254, 371, 420). While at Constance he received at least one letter of instruction written by the king's own hand. In the deliberations he took a very prominent part, and was even proposed for the papacy. It was he who at the 'early morning' conclave of 11 Nov. 1417 uttered the words 'Ego Ricardus episcopus Londoniensis accedo ad dominum meum cardinalem de Columpna,' and thus secured the election of Martin V. On Sunday, 31 Jan. 1417, he entertained the Duke of Bavaria, the king of the Romans, and the Burgrave (Rymer, ix. 436, 466; Ypodigma Neustr. pp. 475-6).
While bishop of London Clifford took a considerable part in matters not strictly ecclesiastical. He was acting as the archbishop's deputy when the convocation held at St. Paul's (Corpus Christi day, 1413) granted a tenth to the king, and was present at the Westminster great council (16 April 1415) when Henry V determined to recover his inheritance in France (Wilkins, iii. 351; Rymer, ix. 222). Little more than a month before his death he was in communication with the archbishop about the privileges of Oxford and Cambridge graduates (16 July 1421). He died 20 Aug. 1421, and was buried 'under the marble stone where formerly stood the shrine of St. Erkenwald' (Wilkins, p. 401; Godwin, i. 187). It was this bishop who (15 Oct. 1414) supplanted the old use of St. Paul's by that of Sarum.
[Wilkins's Concilia, vol. iii.; Le Neve's Fasti, ed. Hardy, vols. i. ii. iii.; Smith's Worcester in 'English Dioceses;' Register of St. Paul's, ed. Simpson (1873); Godwin, De Præsulibus, ed. Richardson (1743); Walsingham's Ypodigma Neustriae (Rolls Series); Coxe's Catalogue of Oxford MSS.; for other authorities see Clifford, Robert de and Roger de.]
CLIFFORD, ROBERT de, fifth Baron Clifford by tenure, first baron by writ (1273–1314), only son of the Roger de Clifford who was killed in North Wales in 1282, by his wife Isabella, daughter and coheiress of Robert de Vipont, was born about Easter 1273 (History of Westmoreland, Ann. Wint. 109; Rishanger, 87, 103; Ann. Dunst. 291; Parl. Writs, i. 536; Cal. Geneal. 139, 331). Clifford was thus left heir to the Clifford estates of his grandfather, Roger de Clifford [q. v.], who died in 1285, and to a moiety of the Vipont inheritance shared between his mother (? d. 29 Nov. 1301) and her sister Idonea de Leyborne (Cal. Geneal. 331, 540, &c.; Ann. Wigorn. 550).
Clifford was summoned to do service by proxy for his Northumbrian estates about July 1282, being at that time under age. In 1285 he is found paying 100l. relief as one of Ralph Gaugy's heirs, and according to Sir Matthew Hale was in the king's employ when only nineteen (Parl. Writs, i. 230, 241; Siege of Carlaverock, 186). It is not, however, till 1297 that he comes forward prominently. In this year he was appointed justice of the forests beyond Trent, an office which he still held in April 1300, and apparently in 1305. In the previous May (1297) he had been summoned to attend Edward across the sea, but can hardly have done so, as on 12 July he was appointed captain of the Cumberland fortresses and ordered to invade Scotland with Henry de Percy (Parl. Writs, 536; Siege of Carl. 186; cf. Rymer, ii. 774). In the course of the same year (1297) he was made captain and guardian of the Scotch marches and the county of Cumberland (18 Oct., 14 Nov.); and towards the middle of June 1297 as a baron received a personal summons to the York muster for 12 Nov. 1298 (Parl. Writs, 536). In 1297 he was appointed governor of Carlisle; in 1298 governor of Not-


text:
Mass Effect gay 3D suck Gif Compilation. Cramming brutally while the penetrated furry enjoys the pleasure of having those cocks inside his body, moaning gladly and moving to give pleasure to his companions, until he feels that both run inside him. Shounen Maid Kuro-kun - Tenshi no Uta.
Not a YouPorn member yet?
Watch group sex as these hairy bodies attach to each other. Pigeon Blood - Mizusawa Hirotsugu 29 min Otomegames - Trai 99 live stream khoe cu ID Fb Type Straight Gay Shemale.
1 2 34 5 Read more →


text:
Grocery Delivery & Shopping in Austin
Staring at an empty fridge or milk carton? Choose from 10565 Taskers in Austin to stock your kitchen with the groceries you need.Book Now
Top Taskers Nearby
Britain T.
No Delivery tasks
32 reviews: 93% positive
How I can help:
I am quick to find exactly what it is you need and pay close attention to details. Just give me a list and I'll get it to you!
Amy C.
1 Delivery task
11 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
I've lived in Austin almost all of my life, so I know my way around the city.
Brian C.
9 Delivery tasks
49 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
Specialty shopping, large item delivery, whatever your needs. I have a full size pickup, and can carry most anything. Having lived in Austin 25+ years, I know ways to get around town in traffic.See More
Rebecca H.
7 Delivery tasks
41 reviews: 95% positive
How I can help:
I will do my best to make sure you get exactly what you need, and in the shortest time possible. Let me know if there are specific instructions about where and when to deliver.See More
Aidelyna S.
No Delivery tasks
93 reviews: 98% positive
How I can help:
Prompt and very careful
Jeannine H.
No Delivery tasks
No reviews yet
How I can help:
I am always out and about on the go so I can get your items and deliver them to you in a timely manner. I am respectful and careful with other's things. I am friendly and dependable.See More
Erica A.
18 Delivery tasks
61 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
I've done pick ups and deliveries through this platform and others. I have a mid-size car, so I can fit some bulky items and plenty of groceries :)
Nico E.
No Delivery tasks
No reviews yet
How I can help:
Austinite for 10+ years so I know my way around the city. Previous experience as a produce delivery driver for an organic farm servicing restaurants in Miami. Dependable and efficient!See More
will f.
33 Delivery tasks
216 reviews: 92% positive
How I can help:
Need furniture picked up? Are u buying something on one of those Buy/Sell apps?? well look no further I have the answer to solve your delivery needs. I have delivered furniture for ikea, Ethan Allen, lazboy, Ashley and a few other designer companys.See More
See More
Grocery Delivery & Shopping reviews in Austin
Customer Reviews
Super communicative! Very prompt, professional, and helpful!!!
- Amanda B., April 09, 2020
Great service!
- Bill R., April 09, 2020
Very friendly and did a great job!
- Liz C., April 09, 2020
Quick and efficient!
- LeeAnne C., April 08, 2020
- Donnie A., April 07, 2020
Great guy who was very easy to communicate with and work with :)
- Yajnaseni S., April 07, 2020
Great communicator and very reliable.
- Janice Z., April 07, 2020
- Amanda N., April 07, 2020
Consistently great tasking. Smart, on the ball.
- Dan L., April 07, 2020
Amanda is excellent to work with. She responded immediately to my inquiry and fulfilled the task on time. Great communication made this an excellent interaction.See More
- Christian G., April 07, 2020
Professional and easy to work with. Jeremy kept me up to date with how my Task was progressing. 10/10
- Ashley S., April 07, 2020
She did a great job. I was adding grocery items right up to the last minute and she handled it very well.
- Tonya B., April 07, 2020
Awesome help. Polite, professional and went out of his way trying to locate some items for me.
- michael b., April 07, 2020
Tanya was super quick and thoughtful in delivering me my prescriptions during the global pandemic. She was very communicative I am very grateful she is available to help folks like me during this time! Thank you so much, Tanya.See More
- Ashley W., April 06, 2020
I was unable to pick up my grocery order but didn't want to cancel it. Working with Erica was as simple as could be, and she delivered my order to me very quickly! Thank you Erica for taking care of this task for me!See More
- Robert P., April 05, 2020
Jean has been great. Will definitely hire him again. Made my move easy. Thank You Jean!
- Sajid A., April 05, 2020
Great! Asked questions to make sure I got what I wanted and was quick!
- Susan S., April 04, 2020
Wonderful help!!
- Stevie S., April 04, 2020
Courteous, on time, and an excellent communicator. Thank you, Michael!
- John H., April 03, 2020
Great job shopping! Very communicative.
- Adrianne L., April 03, 2020
Josh was super efficient, friendly and helpful!
- heather d., April 03, 2020
Ben is solid. Really stepped up with a highly out of norm request and saved the day! Thanks Ben!
- David O., April 02, 2020
very careful and helpful
- Marc L., April 02, 2020
John was awesome! He took care of a pickup and delivery for me when I couldn't leave the house and wanted something today. He paid attention to the details in the instructions and was patient when I had a little delay. John is efficient, professional, and on task. He gets the job done!See More
- Joanne H., April 01, 2020
How it works
Describe Your Task
Tell us what you need done, when and where it works for you.
Choose Your Tasker
Browse trusted Taskers by skills, reviews, and price. Chat with them to confirm details.
Get It Done
Your Tasker arrives and gets the job done. Pay securely and leave a review, all through TaskRabbit.
More Taskers Nearby
Katherine A.
No Delivery tasks
No reviews yet
How I can help:
I have experience delivering with Shipt with a 100% on time and a 5 out of 5 customer rating. As a former school teacher, I understand the importance of accuracy and dependability and have interacted with all types of personalities.See More
Aaron H.
78 Delivery tasks
647 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
I have a pickup, straps, dollies, I specialize in larger deliveries.
John C.
Elite Tasker
181 Delivery tasks
1049 reviews: 99% positive
How I can help:
I have ten years of experience delivering all sorts of things in Austin, Los Angeles and Houston. *I'm only accepting tasks that are considered essential like grocery shopping, etc. until 4/13*See More
Samantha S.
119 Delivery tasks
235 reviews: 98% positive
How I can help:
I am a TaskRabbit expert when it comes to food delivery and errand running, my area of expertise is waiting in line for Franklin BBQ!
DeeDee K.
1 Delivery task
1 review: 100% positive
How I can help:
Loyal and dependable. Diverse professional with great attention to detail. Perfect driving record. GMC Yukon that can hold items of all sizes. Ability to multi-task and manage business deliverables per clients request.See More
Erin M.
20 Delivery tasks
44 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
Trustworthy and reliable for quick pick-up and delivery of smaller items such as groceries, clothing, documents, etc... Anything that will fit in my car!
Alejandra G.
3 Delivery tasks
45 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
I have a dependable car and can pick up items that you need delivered.
Travis H.
No Delivery tasks
No reviews yet
How I can help:
I'm very reliable, and I can get wherever you need me to go as quick as possible.
Brian W.
79 Delivery tasks
680 reviews: 99% positive
How I can help:
I have a ton of experience doing deliveries and I know my way around Austin. One hour minimum.
Micaela G.
1 Delivery task
1 review: 100% positive
How I can help:
I can get you whatever you need quickly! I'm punctual and thorough, so you will get everything you need ASAP!
Miranda H.
No Delivery tasks
4 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
I know what it feels like to not have the time or desire to get out and get what you need....let me take care of that for you so that you can focus on your tasks.See More
Amy C.
33 Delivery tasks
195 reviews: 98% positive
How I can help:
I'm use my time wisely and know the area very well. I can get the job done quickly and efficiently. I have a truck and am reliable. Hire me and I won't let you downSee More
Axios P.
46 Delivery tasks
175 reviews: 99% positive
How I can help:
After completing 150+ jobs on taskrabbit, I've demonstrated accountability and efficiency in all that I do. I can deliver! ;-)
Philip C.
2 Delivery tasks
264 reviews: 99% positive
How I can help:
Am happy to deliver for you. Have a suburban that can handle fairly large objects. Additionally have the dollies to get items to you efficiently.
Cesar V.
No Delivery tasks
2 reviews: 100% positive
How I can help:
I have a pick up truck with readily available ratchet tie down straps that can carry a vast range of goods. I worked as a delivery driver in the past, so I'm used to quick turnarounds & navigating safely / efficiently. Let me know what you need!See More
Easily book and manage tasks in our app
Trending in Austin
Related Services
Nearby Cities


text:
Whale Adult Goggles, Swimming Goggles, Swim Goggles for Adult Men Women Youth Kids Children, No Leaking Anti Fog UV Protection Waterproof HD Lens. 1.0 out of 5 stars 1. $8.99 $ 8. 99. Get it as soon as Tue, Jul 30. FREE Shipping on orders over $25 shipped by Amazon. Swim Goggles, Wide View Swimming Goggles No Leaking Anti Fog UV Protection Triathlon Swim Goggles for Adult Men Women Youth, Summer Swim Glasses Set with Nose Clip Ear Plugs and Free Protection Case. 4.1 out of 5 stars 16. $10.99 $ 10. 99. Get it as soon as Wed, Jul 31.
Have the vision of a pro in the water with SwimOutlet.com's massive collection of swim goggles.Whether you need the sleekest, most lightweight pair to give you every advantage in a race, or maximum suction and coverage to keep water out of your eyes, you'll be sure to find something among our multiple categories of goggles. Shop a wide assortment of adult swimming goggles and kids' swim goggles featuring top brands such as Speedo, Aqua Sphere and more at DICK'S Sporting Goods.
Home › Adult Goggles. Adult Goggles. Adult Goggles. Youth Goggles. View All. Sort. Filter. Shop all goggles Adult Goggles. Youth Goggles. View All. Filters. Clear All Filters. Sort: Highest Rated Newest; Price (High - Low) Price (Low - High) XCEED Titanium Mirrored. $55. Shop adult ski goggles at DICK'S Sporting Goods. If you find a lower price on adult ski goggles somewhere else, we'll match it with our Best Price Guarantee.


text:
To Check Out Other Acts that I Caught At First City Festival, CLICK HERE. THE ACT: Future Islands | Facebook | Twitter INSTAGRAM VIDEOS: CLICK HERE SOUNDS LIKE: THOUGHTS: To think that I almost missed out on seeing Future Islands perform at Coachella 2014. If it wasn't for their lead singer, Sam Herring, convincing me to check them out, I would haveContinue reading "Future Islands | First City Festival | 8/24/14 [PHOTOS]"
Tag Archives: Synthesizer
Future Islands | Coachella | 4/12/14 (PHOTOS)
CLICK HERE TO CHECK OUT BLOG ENTRIES OF OTHER BANDS I SAW AT COACHELLA! If Woodkid was the surprise set of my Friday, Future Islands was the surprise set of my Saturday. Between catching White Lies and Banks, I took a pit stop in the media tent of the festival. While there, I noticed Samuel Herring, lead singer of Future Islands, hanging outContinue reading "Future Islands | Coachella | 4/12/14 (PHOTOS)"


text:
watch 01:52
The Loop (TV)
Do you like this video?
- For other uses of "Metallo", see Metallo.
Dr. Gilcrist (died late 2016), also known as Metallo, was a scientist working for Project Cadmus. He was later converted into a cyborg like John Corben with the mission to destroy the Kryptonians residing on Earth, only to be defeated by Superman and the Martian Manhunter.
Gilcrist was concerned with Corben's new condition, but his superior was confident, namely in his ability to destroy Kryptonians. After failing to do so, the Doctor ordered to have Gilcrist converted as well.
Later, Gilcrist terrorized Metropolis while Corben distracted Superman and Supergirl. Gilcrist later challenged Superman, who teamed up with Martian Manhunter and removed his "Kryptonian heart" after a hard battle, killing him.[1]
Powers and Abilities
- Enhanced strength: As a cyborg, Gilcrist's strength was apparently able to match that of a Kryptonian, however, in his confrontation, against Superman who now had an anti-kryptonite suit and at full strength, was able to overpower Gilcrist easily. He was also able to leap across buildings in a single bound.
- Kryptonite beam: Gilcrist was able to fire a green energy beam of Kryptonite radiation.
Season 2
Season 4
- "All About Eve" (mentioned)
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.


text:
We know diamonds are really pretty. But, let's be real dudes – they're really expensive, too. The best way to go is to get yourself a good fake diamond that looks just as sexy as the real ones, but we know that can be kind of risky sometimes. So, we made a list of some sick fake diamonds that will absolutely pass for real and still make you feel like the coolest man dude around.
In a hurry? WE GET IT, dudes. See our top pick below!
Top pick
Reviewing top fake diamond jewelry
Here is a list of jewelry that offers dazzling designs of fake diamonds:
- ZowBinBin Sterling Silver Round Cubic Zirconia Stud Earrings. These dangle earrings have bezel material with cubic zirconia. The height of the earrings is 28 mm and the width is 9 mm, which gives a beautiful dangling design. There are no harmful materials used in the design, which makes these earrings suitable for all types of skin. Zirconia solitaire has cubic shapes, which attached to a white gold dangle earring metal back.
- ZealmerDaycindy 3 Rows Clear Rhinestone Choker Necklace. This choker necklace design has some of the finest Rhinestone fake diamonds. The diamond chain creates a 6.3 inches of bracelet circumference. The material includes handpicked rhinestone along with environmental alloy and silver plating of 925. The necklace is simple to wear and remove and completes the neck beauty with any kind of dress. The diamonds give out sparkling shine that matches the appeal of real diamonds.
- ZowBinBin Stud Earrings Cubic Zirconia 18K White Gold. These are hypoallergenic stud earrings with CZ diamonds of 4mm to 8mm. The round-cut design contains cubic zirconia used in sterling silver. The advantage of these diamonds is that they shine forever without losing the sparkle. The diamond has been brilliantly cut to dazzle with sparkle. These are way cheaper than real diamonds, which stops you from worrying too much about losing them. The earrings come with a guarantee of 30 days.
- Jiamiaoi AAA Fake Diamond Stud Earrings. The handpicked quality of AAA fake diamonds contains cubic zirconia. These diamond studs are used to create shiny earrings in multiple sizes. You can get sizes between 4 mm and 8 mm. The earrings have a square design with clear and sparkly zirconia studs. The earring back is safe and comfortable to wear and remove. The product contains 30 days of guarantee. Hence, you don't have to worry about the low quality of the diamonds. This would be a perfect addition to the collection of jewelry you have.
- ZowBinBin Fake Diamond Studs. If you are in search for 8mm studs, choose this one with fake diamonds. The 8mm diamond studs come at way cheaper prices than the real diamonds. However, they offer the undying sparkle of cubic zirconia. Used with sterling silver, the earrings comfort your skin when you wear them. The design has a 4-prong setting that holds the studs from four sides. The stone looks beautiful while the earring back gives safety, comfort, and elegance to the design. You can add it to your own collection and wear them to attend birthday parties, dinner parties, dates or anniversary.
How to know what is the best fake diamond used in jewelry?
To understand the quality of a fake diamond, you need to evaluate these factors:
- Manufacturer. Creating high-quality fake diamonds requires true skills and reliable material. Hence, the reputation of the manufacturer or maker plays a big role.
- Material. Evaluating the material type can also help you understand the quality of a fake diamond. The type of stone, alloy and plating type in the jewelry decide its overall material excellence. You can find Cubic Zirconia, Rhinestones and other types of fake diamond stones.
- Guarantee. Trusted makers offer guarantees on their end product. This shows the excellence of jewelry making and material.
- Price. If the prices go too low, then, you need to become suspicious. Compare multiple jewelry options in terms of their material and prices to find high-quality fake diamonds.
You see, not too bad! Now you can make yourself look fancier than ever for a price that definitely beats buying a real diamond. Go get yourself a bargain, fellas.


text:
At a very young age like any kid who wanted everything in the world, I learned the value and power of money. I remember having garage sales on my block selling off my unwanted toys, trading cards and miscellaneous other objects from my house because I was infatuated with making money. As I grew into my teenage years I became even more obsessed and all I did was think about the next big thing. You see everyday people strike gold with a simple yet ingenious idea. In 1999, at the age of 17, I convinced my parents to help me open a trending computer network gaming center. We were the first ones in Brooklyn, NY to open one. It did quite well in the beginning but with the way technology was advancing, the investment in the computers, monitors, hardware and software soon became outdated and my location was also met with several competitors. What was a brilliant idea soon became a challenging competition where I decided to cut my losses and bow out. Till this day I regret many things I did not do, some were the simplest of things such as marketing and promotions. However I did come out without probably one of the most valuable lessons I will ever learn, to accept a great defeat, and move on to the next task with more awareness and concentration.
I went back to school and found work in sales for major companies such as Hyundai Motors, Panda Express, Armani Exchange and Red Bull Distribution. It was these young and fast growing companies that inspired me to learn exactly how they and many other new age companies became so successful, and all the dots started to connect. I don't pride myself to be a great writer who can allure you with my words, but I do pride myself to be as imaginative and creative as a child whose learning process is never ending. It is only when your mind becomes frozen from daily repetitive activity in which you will block your ability to continuously learn and grow. If I could stress one thing it would be to never stop learning, thinking and imagining because these things are worth more than any amount of money.
Currently I am traveling the world, promoting my E-Book
For questions and or free sample chapters you can
email me @firstname.lastname@example.com
Follow me on Twitter @JamesAugustYun


text:
Get in there.
You know you've wanted to for a long time. You've been toying with it, talking about it, writing about it, thinking about it. Whatever it is you want to do, there is no reason not to, and every reason to do so.
At 8 pm, I could feel the Rolling Thunder of the Octavo Working pass overhead. In it, I could taste excitement, nervousness, elation and a sense of finally doing it. I wanted help in this not just for the power, but because magic is a way…Continue
Added by Oakthorne on January 11, 2011 at 9:22pm — 12 Comments
As many of you know, I've had some significant health issues recently. Specifically, both of my legs have had a decrease in general…Continue
Added by Oakthorne on January 6, 2011 at 11:18am — 34 Comments
Full Disclosure: I am the individual that Ma'ateo interviewed for his article in the Pulse, Issue 01, entitled "On Oathbinding: An Opinion." If you haven't read that before reading this, you may want to do so - it will make no sense, otherwise.
I will admit to being somewhat disheartened to read this article. The four very relevant points I laid out for why we do what we do were at…Continue
Added by Oakthorne on December 31, 2010 at 12:43pm — 51 Comments
So, having purchased a bunch of materials to make my Yuletide Tobys for friends, I found that a couple of things I purchased were unnecessary - I already had them in my temple stock. So, I decided to take stock and see what I have for just that purpose. Thought I'd drop it here, just for giggles, honestly.
Added by Oakthorne on December 30, 2010 at 12:00am — 7 Comments
This post is being written in response to Beorc's thread entitled Request for Assistance. It is a Tarot reading based on the question he asks there, using the Rider-Waite deck.
The Spread
Added by Oakthorne on December 29, 2010 at 3:50pm — 6 Comments
I will say this.
There are altogether too many people who want to sling about the term "Traditional" as though it were the same as "Old." In fact, generally what they really mean isn't just "old," but "older and thus more valid than yours."
At the risk of stating the obvious, that's not what the word Traditional means. It means "of a Tradition."
I see a lot of good folkloric occultism being used thusly. But I also see a bunch of nonsense used to…Continue
Added by Oakthorne on December 13, 2010 at 11:44am — 13 Comments
Added by Oakthorne on November 29, 2010 at 10:22pm — 4 Comments
Added by Oakthorne on November 18, 2010 at 6:28pm — 18 Comments
© 2011 Created by Sangraal


text:
Sasquatch Fitness Workout of the Day for the 10th of April 2014
Today was a day to push into new distance! The weather was nice and the sun was out. I went ahead and pushed to 5 miles today! Believe me, that last mile was tougher than I thought it would be.
This was the second run in my new shoes and I had to really alter my route in order to add on the new distance and still stay fairly close to my existing route. I've gotten to where I really use the Energy jelly beans alot on longer runs. I just stick one between my cheeck and gum and slowly chew as I run. It keeps me from feeling the dry mouth.
Are you running yet? You should be! If you need help getting started, please leave a comment below and I will make sure you get the incentive you need. Follow me on RunKeeper and if you are in the South Nashville area, I'm thinking of starting a run group. Let me know if you are interested.
Heres the run:
if you can't see the iframe, click HERE.


text:
During Christmas and New Year I took a couple of days off of work to spend some time on my hobbies. I did a lot of shopping and bought this wonderful dinnerset. I really love the diffrent schades of the plates and the special shape. I like how the colors match my wooden table. What do you think about my Christmas table setting?
plates and cups: action.
napkins: aldi.


text:
Dodge Durango GT
Load your family into the 2017 Dodge Durango. With less than 40,000 miles on the odometer, this 4 door sport utility vehicle prioritizes comfort, safety and convenience. Under the hood you'll find a 6 cylinder engine with more than 270 horsepower, and all wheel drive keeps this model firmly attached to the road surface. Dodge prioritized practicality, efficiency, and style by including: a rear window wiper, 1-touch window functionality, an automatic dimming rear-view mirror, front bucket seats, fully automatic headlights, turn signal indicator mirrors, and power seats. Features such as automatic climate control and leather upholstery prove that economical transportation does not need to be sparsely equipped. Rear passengers enjoy the seat heating functionality, keeping them warm during the winter months. Dodge also prioritized safety and security with features such as: dual front impact airbags with occupant sensing airbag, front side impact airbags, traction control, brake assist, anti-whiplash front head restraints, ignition disabling, and 4 wheel disc brakes with ABS. With electronic stability control supplementing mechanical systems, you'll maintain precise command of the roadway. Our aim is to provide our customers with the best prices and service at all times. Stop by our dealership or give us a call for more information.


text:
County great women teen model
When my female offspring craved a spa party, I thought for positive I could just product it at a local anaesthetic salon and all would be well. But then I realized it would be really crowded with my family line wanting to watch, parents that may necessary to stay, plus a pass effectuation the facility would be busy. […] Starring design Arnett, Chris "Ludacris" Bridges, Natasha Lyonne, Jordin Sparks, archangel Iglesias, Shaquille O'Neal, Alan Cumming, and inventor Tucci, demo DOGS is a home clowning around the supposed pairing of a human policeman (Arnett) and his canine better half (voice of Chris "Ludacris" Bridges), who has to go undercover at the world's most exclusive dog pretending […] once my children get their 30 minutes a day of silver screen time, 9 out of 10 modern world they're action a game like Minecraft or being Jam.
Slideshows - KLTV.com - Tyler, Longview, Jacksonville |ETX News
Evangelist Franklin gospeler prayed on a paseo outside the Pentagon weekday later on his temptingness to a worship service inside was indrawn because of comments that affronted hoi polloi of other religions.
Asia. Age: 23. hello guys we are two nice open minded young sexy girls looking nice meetingwe stay in sodertajle have here flat
Oregon Health Authority : Oregon Health Authority : State of Oregon
Nearly four million Oregonians are served daily by solon than 3,400 people drinking body waste systems. Our water systems limit in size of it from drinking fountains at wayside rest areas to bulky metropolitan areas. Learn how we can all keep our drunkenness body waste harmless during Drinking Water Week, May 6-12.
Chester County Moms – Dedicated to providing you and your little ones with the best activities, local reviews, and events in the Chester County area!