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Jesus says a strange thing in Matthew 10:14. He is advising his disciples regarding entering new towns or cities and says if you are welcomed, salute that house (give it your blessing and peace). Then he considers what to do if you are not welcomed. "And if anyone will not receive you or listen to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or town."
At first, I thought that did not sound like Jesus. He would never give up. But other verses implied a hostile reaction would cause Jesus to pass them by and go on to others willing to accept him.
When do we give up working to bless people and change them for the better? As a first year graduate student at Yale Divinity School, I tried to work and pay most of my own way instead of asking my father to sacrifice more to get his fifth child through college. I saw an ad in the New Haven paper that a vacuum cleaner company needed salesmen to work at whatever time they could spare. I applied, purchased a sample vacuum cleaner and was put with an older, experienced salesman to learn the ropes. He was a terrific teacher and could detect within minutes if a customer was a good prospect or whether he was wasting time. I learned the hard way that you could demonstrate a good machine for hours only to find out this prospect would never buy your product. I learned to "retreat" politely with "Think about it and call me if you decide you need this machine."
The military has a statement: "Some times you must retreat in order to live another day and fight a better battle later." Now I am curious as to how Jesus' advice would play in with our American troops stationed in Afghanistan and Iraq and Libya and other far-away hostile countries. There are times I wish we could get out of every country that does not want us and is not likely to accept democracy and a way of life we consider sacred. Should we "knock the dust from off our feet" and either bring our troops home or assign them to places they would be wanted and accepted? There is one suicide a day for those on active duty and 16 suicides a day for those who have come home who can't get away from years of warfare and separation. We are told our cost to help those with emotional damage right now will be astronomical in the days ahead. Cut our losses and leave and let the money we would have spent ($1 million per soldier a year) go to paying off our national debts?
We must learn the art of retreating and knocking the dust off of many of our personal problems, retreating from excessive spending and borrowing, retreating from drinking and drugs, retreating from any habit which is debilitating or self-abusive (alcohol, tobacco, drugs, gambling, lust and reckless living. It's good we can "knock the dust off of our feet" from encounters that hurt us or our families or society. Can Jesus's words interplay with political and military problems today? I think they do. Let's all retreat from what isn't the best to find that which is worthy of our best effort and brains. Call this political if you wish. Let's retreat from a questionable position to a more productive position.


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The Mapplethorpe/
So, now that my little Benjamin Button-esque ankle biters have been safely ferried off to see friends in Kingston, Ontario, methinks it a perfect time to unwind and chillax, the chilly autumn air providing the perfect backdrop for a little respite and reflection, and the flavors of the season (this is already starting to sound like a Hallmark card) taking the edge off frazzled nerves.
What I'm talking about is the fall-friendly, locavorish, apple-maple concoction Sean and I whipped up this weekend. We had some Calvados lying around, we had a bit left of our Sortilege maple liqueur (produit du Canada), we had terrific, local apples in peak season... and actually, we also had pomegranates on hand, because for reasons unknown the local grocer had them on sale for like 69 cents apiece (!!!). Sean took lead on this drink and tried to come up with something that incorporated all three. But as you might imagine, the drink came out physically and flavor-ly too muddled.
I suggested he drop the pomegranate part, that it tasted like we were trying too hard and to just trust in the apple and maple to see the drink though. (Yes, I worried that apple and maple was just so obvious. But as I've proven to myself a few times before, sometimes obvious is the exact-right way to go.)
Our new friend Farley -- who was having dinner with us that night, who likewise just moved to Montreal from the States to study at McGill, who just started making his own beer at home but who knows so little about cocktails that he actually asked us what muddling was -- Farley asked me how I knew to get rid of the pomegranate. I basically told him to stick with me, kid.
The Mapplethorpe has a good amount of complexity. It gives your palate something to consider, but not so much that your brain isn't able to wander off on its own, contemplating the turn of the seasons and the taming of the shrew and whatever other lofty idealisms come to mind when you get the chance to curl into a cozy sweater and ponder brown leaves as they scatter down the street.
The Mapplethorpe
1 1/2 ounces Busnel Fine Calvados
3/4 ounces Sortilege
1/2 ounce lemon juice
2 dashes Fee Brothers Whiskey Barrel Aged Biters
Two apple slices
Maple syrup (optional)
Muddle an apple slice and the bitters in the bottom of a cocktail shaker. Fill shaker with ice and add Calvados, Sortilege and lemon juice. Shake vigorously. Strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with other apple slice, if you like, after dipping it in some maple syrup.
Tasting Notes
Don't be tempted to skip the lemon juice! It's an essential brightener for the rest of your flavors.

subset: commoncrawl


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This is not an offer for credit and should be used for estimation purposes only based on the information you provided. You should not base your decision on this estimate alone. Title, registration, tax and other fees, and personal circumstances such as employment status and personal credit history, were not considered in the calculations.
Front - Hydraulic disc with dual piston caliper
Rear - Hydraulic disc
Front - Carlisle® Trail Pro® 26 x 8-12
Rear - Carlisle® Trail Pro® 26 x 10-12
Front - Double A-arm
Front Travel - 12.2 in. (31 cm)
Rear - Double A-arm
Rear Travel - 12.6 in. (32 cm)
Shocks - JRi ECX-1 Compression Adjustable Shocks


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Newsletter Sign-Up
Vision, Mission & Values
We at CSUN are passionate about contributing to a world, which does not depend on power from fossil fuels. Our aim is to accelerate the adoption of solar technology across the world to conserve our environment and provide an environmentally friendly, sustainable and conflict-free power supply.
Sustainable global economic development requires reliable, cost-effective and quickly scalable energy solutions. CSUN is a global high-tech company and was established to provide these solutions. With a global installed base of over 100 GWp, we believe that solar power is now a mainstream, viable technology of 'today' enabling the move towards a zero-emission power supply. We seek to provide our customers high-value add solutions through building on our strong foundation in photovoltaic manufacturing and our commitment to innovation to drive the efficiency, quality and profitability of our products. We remain aggressive in our focus on innovation and cost but remain conservative in our implementation to ensure CSUN products are a safe choice for our customers.
At CSUN, we put our customers and partners in the center of our attention and treat them with trust, respect and integrity. While driving for world-class products, continually improving the quality and environmental friendliness of our products are at the core of CSUN values. We are committed to comply with international safety, environment and quality standards at all times.


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Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Josh Niles at Big Light, Nashville, Tennessee
The only times that Andrew Combs isn't miserable, he's happy. Seems like a cut and dried statement, something that could be true for a lot of people, but examined closer, you understand that it doesn't leave much room for the middle gradient. There's no place for those ho-hum days that just leave you unaffected. There's nothing written into the equation that fits over any other form that could be taken. If there were a diagram of the different moods, or expressions that could come over the young Nashville-based, guitar-playing songwriter, it would need just two panels - one for a grim and contemplative-looking man, staring off into the distance and the other of someone who looks as if they just snuck a piece of the pie that the cook was saving for dinner's dessert. He moves himself around the two harbors of the emotion and state of love - one where the ship is docked and it's staying docked, meaning prolonged happiness and companionship, and the other where the ship has set sail and there's no turning it back around. There's the part of love when the devil has got into his woman and it's a good thing - a GREAT thing - and then there's the part of love when the devil's got into his woman and she doesn't want to see him any more.
Things can change quickly, from the kisses that he used to find so sweet, to feeling them peck dryly and without passion, leaving a mark that burns with the departure. He laments these loves and he writes them into his country songs, making each one feel as if it could have been the greatest story ever written about the subject. He sings, "We used to really be something," and this comes from him when he's moving into a blue period, when he's looking back on the girl he used to have and the time that they used to share. He gets worked up about getting worked over, or being left there at the end of the pier, seeing that ship sail.
The most endearing part of his songs about the loss or the fear of the loss of his girl is that he phrases it so that it can be used to pick the pieces back up. His songs are charming, gallant and dusty. Even on these new cuts -- "E-M-I-L-Y" and "Worried Man" -- there's this thought that his paranoia is all rooted in the greatest love that a man could ever have for a woman. Even when he sings about taking his shotgun and shooting out his baby's ankles so that she can't dance at night with that other cheater, the grisly sentiment is coming from a sweet place. We think.
He uses his accent and you can almost hear his puppy dog eyes in the way he begs a woman to not fall out of love with him, as if she wasn't already aware that it would demolish the poor man. He sings, "Love is just a drug to throw you around/Going up ain't worth the coming down," and this is his personal observation, his worst fear come alive - that coming down. He's lying to us here though. He always believes love is worth it, even if on the other side of it is the worst hangover imaginable and that misery that he loves to hate.
*Essay originally published November, 2011


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A man working near DeBeque receives second-and third-degree burns in the first of two explosions at a natural gas compressor station today.
The first explosion happened at about 2:30 Tuesday afternoon in a compressor station above the town of DeBeque about one half mile from the high school.
Firefighters began treating the man, who is believed to be in his early 20's, before he was sent to St. Mary's Hospital for treatment of burns that are not believed serious.
The building was fully engulfed when one firefighter began shutting off gas so others could enter the building to fight the fire. Before they could enter the building another explosion ripped through the plant, sending flames shooting 80 feet high through a hole in the damaged roof.
The fire was put out in minutes, and no one on the two water tenders and three fire trucks from DeBeque and Plateau Valley were injured.
A gas compressor station raises pressure lost in transport through hundreds of miles of pipeline from gasfield to user. It is not yet known what caused the explosion at the station, which is owned by a subsidiary of Englewood–based Cantera Resources. This is the second explosion at a compressor station in recent days following an explosion at a station in Weld County last Sunday.


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The Victim
Belllow, Saul
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Title: The Victim
Publisher: Vanguard
Publication Date: 1947
Binding: Hardcover
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SOHO Ribbed Management Chair (Grey Fabric)
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The SOHO series management chair is the #1 choice for your Eames style office chair. Made from the highest quality materials, our chairs support over 400 lbs, don't bend like cheaper versions, and have seating surfaces that last for years. Once you own one, you'll see why hundreds of businesses, hotels, and interior designers consistently rely on the SOHO series from Laura Davidson.
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Our furniture is the highest quality of commercial office furniture, above and beyond our competition. However, if anything happens, we'll repair or replace your furniture at no cost (assuming you didn't drop it out a 4 story window). It's that simple!
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Occupy Wall Street is more than a protest: It's democracy.
"This is what democracy looks like."
That's one of the common chants of the protesters down at Occupy Wall Street. After having spent a lot of time there over the last couple of weeks, I couldn't agree more.
Millions of folks out there are still calling this movement unorganized and "anti-American," including the House majority leader, Eric Cantor, R-Va., who referred to the protesters as a "mob" (a word one historically associates with lynchings and gangsters, not democracy and freedom of speech).
It's not just the corporate-owned media or politicians, either; even little old ladies deride what is perceived as a shiftless, pointless movement. Two days ago, after my stepmother posted on her Facebook wall that she was proud of me for being a part of Occupy Wall Street, her cute elderly "friend" replied that protesters like me are lazy, need to find jobs and that hopefully the cops would end it all soon by "tear-gassing all of them out of there!" (That, by the way, is what a police state would look like.)
What many people fail to understand is that I, like many of the folks down there, do work—hard, in fact. After a 12-hour workday, we are still willing to go down there to support our jobless friends because we believe in what they're doing for the rest of us—the employed 99 percent.
Many Americans also don't know that Occupy Wall Street is a democracy in its purest form, the kind of democracy upon which this country was founded. Its members not only have the courage and freedom to question a system that isn't working for them (or for the rest of the 99 percent), but they also truly govern themselves.
Now that megaphones and microphones have been banned, an occupier wanting to address the crowd has to say "mic check" first. After the people closest to the speaker repeat what he or she has said, the words flow like a wave through the crowd until the statement reaches everyone. This means there's little room for proselytizing or long-winded speeches. And if the crowd does not agree, it simply won't repeat what the speaker has said. Unlike in our current media system, the people themselves control the distribution of information, not the privileged folks who own the microphones.
I myself doubted that a movement could really work if it didn't have a chosen leader, but on Oct. 5, I was proven wrong. After a huge parade of over 20,000 occupiers, union leaders, teachers and students ended, one protester lost his cool and threw something at the police. When someone called for a mic check and reminded the people that we are fighting for the police's pensions too, the crowd listened and repeated: "They are not the enemy; they are part of the 99 percent!" As in a truly democratic government, the people looked out for everyone—even the ones on the other side of the riot shields.
Some have criticized the occupiers for their loose, fragmented approach. The media wants you to think they are lost souls, dirty hippies who bong on their drums and believe anarchy is the answer. OK, some might smell because they can't shower very thoroughly in a McDonald's sink. And they're dirty because they're camping. The protesters in suits and the ones pushing strollers are rarely featured on Fox News because that would confer legitimacy on this movement, and those in power don't want that.
I'll let you in on a secret: These occupiers are not only extremely organized, but they've also created an eco-friendly, sustainable community and government, complete with its own newspaper, library, make-shift hospital, cell phone charging station, free clothing center, cyber café, arts and crafts center, media center, recycling center, composting area, sleeping area and community kitchen with a water-filtration system. How could they be unorganized drifters when they hold daily general assemblies?
Their reach is national: Americans from all over the country donate food online, which is then delivered directly to the community kitchen. People throw cash in the donation buckets during meal times and drop off much-needed supplies (sleeping bags, tarps, clothes) throughout the day. Occupy Wall Street feeds and clothes anyone—even tea partiers or cheapskates passing by on the way to the subway. Unlike in the rest of our country, nobody at OWS ever goes hungry.
OWS also feeds souls, giving jobs, a feeling of belonging and a sense of purpose to people who desperately need them. The other night, while I washed dishes in the community kitchen, people kept approaching me, thanking me for my service and begging to help wherever it was needed. Countless others asked how they could donate money or food.
Contrary to what Fox News will have you believe, these occupiers are role models for what most Americans believe we once were and should be: a democracy with integrity. We could learn a lot from them, for unlike our current government, OWS is not sponsored by anyone, nor is it for sale.
This is what a democracy looks like.
Melanie Hamlett is a writer, storyteller, comedian and part-time New Mexican. Follow her adventures at melaniehamlett.com.


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Sound of Science "Hydrodome" Teaser (From Within)
May 4, 2013 · Posted in Uncategorized
Sound of Science have released their first synthpop single Hydrodome. This is Tom Carpenter and Jason Huffman band. Tom as you know is the man who creates the Analogue Solutions synthesizers. He has some great remixers on this single: Daniel Myer (Haujobb), John von Ahlen, Northern Kind and Julian Beeston. The next Sound of Science single will feature someone all Wire to the Ear readers know well so stay tuned.
"All alone in the hydrodome I can't take it anymore." – SOS
Buy now: iTunes


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More information coming soon…
INAA: Chapter 14-Historical archaeology
Hi everyone. I just want to ensure two things:
1. Has everyone seen the Author Guide here: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1aNA7tvrDy89Btt10S5u_B0mXj_69p-zntBQuiY4CH4Q/edit?usp=sharing?
2. Once you are signed up for a given chapter(s), you will receive access to all Google folders and docs necessary to complete the work in your group. If you are signed up for a chapter and you have not received access via email, please let me know!
That is all for now. Let me know if you have any questions as you work towards completing your chapter outline by November 1st. ~Katie
Hi everyone! We're pleased to announce that Rebus Projects is now live! This is our new platform that guides open textbook projects through the publishing workflow and makes it easy to find, recruit, and organize collaborators. The main listing for this project is now found on the new site.
To stay involved & updated on this project's progress, head to Rebus Projects, log in with the same details you use on the Rebus Forum. Then, find this project in the listing, and click on "Join the Project" in the new platform! We look forward to seeing you there!


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Civic, business leader Jack Blanton dies at 86
Civic leader, oil tycoon and philanthropist Jack Sawtelle Blanton Sr. died Saturday. He was 86.
Blanton died peacefully in his Galveston vacation home, according to Peter Wareing, Blanton's son-in-law.
Blanton's influence permeated so many aspects of Houston and Texas that friends said his passing marks the end of a generation of the city's great civic leaders.
"He dedicated his time, effort and knowledge to the improvement of the state and Houston, and we're all better for it," said Sen. Rodney Ellis, D-Houston. "Jack provided an example of what it truly means to be a civic leader. He'll be missed dearly."
The Shreveport native grew up in Houston and graduated from Lamar High School. He earned a law degree from the University of Texas at Austin in 1950.
Blanton joined Scurlock Oil Company in Houston that same year, becoming its president in 1958 and then chairman in 1983, after the company was sold to Ashland Oil.
His leadership touched every aspect of the Houston community, as he served on the boards of the Houston Endowment, the Methodist Hospital Healthcare System, the Texas Medical Center and the Houston Zoo, among others. "His leadership style was to be a consensus builder," said Wareing. "He wanted to move the city forward. He wanted to be part of the team."
A trusted friend
He is known for diversifying the investment portfolio of the Houston Endowment, helping double its assets to more than $1 billion in the 1990s. Blanton replaced ledger books with computers and moved its offices to a more efficient and larger space. Today, the foundation donates more than $75 million a year to non-profit organizations.
"Jack has transformed Houston Endowment to a modern institute, which greatly made a huge impact in Houston," said Steven Fenberg, community affairs officer of the foundation and author of a biography on entrepreneur Jesse Jones, who established the Houston Endowment in 1937.
"Jack improved Houston and perpetuated Jones' legacy when he served as chairman of Houston Endowment, guided its evolution and enhanced its philanthropic practice of improving life for the people of greater Houston," said Fenberg.
Blanton had a long, close relationship with the Jones family, which may have influenced Blanton's dedication to improving the community.
"Jack was an involved civic leader whose benevolent personality helped Houston become the dynamic city it is today," said former Chronicle editor Jack Loftis. "As a journalist, I relied on him frequently for his perspective on matters affecting the well being of our community."
Blanton's father, Bill, worked for Jones as general manager of the Houston Chamber of Commerce. As a trusted friend of the Jones family, Blanton executed the estate of Audrey, Jones' granddaughter, in donating her assets to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston.
"Whatever good happens in Houston, it probably involves Jack," said Dr. John Mendelsohn, former president of M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, which Blanton helped in its fundraising efforts.
Blanton's other life-long quest was improving state education, especially at his alma mater. Appointed to the board of regents of University of Texas System by Gov. Mark White in 1985, Blanton expanded the university's presence to South Texas, establishing University of Texas in Brownsville. UT renamed its art museum after him in 1997 to honor a $12 million donation it received from the Houston Endowment, helping to make it one of the nation's largest university museums.
"He was very eager for the museum to touch the public and students," said Larry Faulkner, former University of Texas at Austin president. "It is an interface between the state university and people at large."
Blanton made the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center happen, said former President Lyndon Johnson's daughter Luci. Blanton helped Johnson with fundraising after her husband died.
"He will be missed by generations of Johnsons. He gave us magic memories. We adored him," said Luci Baines Johnson.
Fierce competitor
Blanton, a stellar tennis player, once beat President George H.W. Bush in a match when he was in office. His fierce competitiveness on the tennis court was his hallmark.
"He'd give you the shirt off his back, but not a point on the tennis court," Luci Baines Johnson joked.
The family remembers Blanton's deep identification with Texas. After his first grandchild, Laura, was born in Boston, Blanton flew there with soil from Texas. He placed the dirt under her bed so they could say she was born in Texas.
With his first wife, Laura Lee Scurlock, he had three children, Elizabeth Blanton Wareing, Jack S. Blanton Jr. and Eddy S. Blanton. He was later married to the late Lucinda Bailey Blanton and is survived by his wife, Virginia Nelson Blanton. Funeral services will be at 11 a.m. Saturday at St. Luke's United Methodist Church, 3471 Westheimer.


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American National Bankshares Inc. Announces Fourth Quarter 2014 Cash Dividend
For more information, contact:
William W. Traynham
Chief Financial Officer
American National Bankshares Inc.
Traded: NASDAQ Global Select Market Symbol: AMNB
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: November 19, 2014
DANVILLE, VA American National Bankshares Inc. (NASDAQ: AMNB), parent company of American National Bank and Trust Company, announced its Board of Directors has declared a quarterly cash dividend of $0.23 per common share, payable Dec. 19, 2014, to shareholders of record Dec. 5, 2014.
American National Bankshares Inc. considers the payment of appropriate dividends a vital part of its capital planning and management program. The Company adheres to a dividend policy based on a review of earnings, growth, capital and such other factors that the Board of Directors considers relevant to the dividend decision process.
About American National
American National Bankshares Inc. is a multi-state bank holding company with total assets of approximately $1.3 billion. Headquartered in Danville, Va., American National is the parent company of American National Bank and Trust Company. American National Bank is a community bank serving southern and central Virginia and north central North Carolina with 24 banking offices and two loan production offices. American National Bank and Trust Company also manages an additional $643 million of trust, investment and brokerage assets in its Trust and Investment Services Division. Additional information about the company and the bank is available on the bank's website at www.amnb.com.
Shares of American National are traded on the NASDAQ Global Select Market under the symbol "AMNB."
# # #


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Elert Archive
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The Parliament has voted to pass the legislation to ban the letting fee from 12th December onwards. The housing minister Phil Twyford said that letting fees are unfair for the tenants and banning it will be a good initiative in improvising the conditions for tenants, while in the long run, they are still reviewing the Residential Tenancies Act. He stated "Our tenancy laws are antiquated and don't reflect the fact that renting is now a long-term reality for many of our families. Around half of New Zealanders now live in rented homes. This change could put up to $47 millionRead more
Tag: property law
Dear reader, Who is Metro NZ Property Management, you may be asking yourself. The easy answer would be a twenty-one-year-old nationwide overly experienced investment and property management company based in Auckland, New Zealand. In honesty, this company is SO more than just that. We are a group of people that have been in the business long enough to understand the needs and wants of people like you. We are all about values. We manage and invest in property with honesty and integrity and we will always have our client's best interest at heart. Most of all, we are a familyRead more
Dear Reader, GOOD NEWS FOR ALL AROUND NEW ZEALAND: STARTING ON THE FIST OF JULY NEXT YEAR, INSULATION IS COMPULSORY IN ALL RENTAL HOMES AROUND THE COUNTRY. New Zealand is well known for the fact that most rental homes have minimum care about insulation, specially in the colder regions down south like Dunedin. The government of New Zealand has approved a new insulation policy which says that rental homes will compulsorily have underfloor and ceiling insulation, and it is coming in place on July 2019. Property managers are aware of the new changes and even though the policy will onlyRead more
Dear Reader, It is clear that as time goes by, society changes and with time their wants and needs also change. This post will explore what are some relevant global market trends for property management in 2018. The next twelve months will show a few changes in the field and the most relevant ones are as it follows. Technology orientation According to R. Braun (2018), property management firms should be investing in more technology. Embracing the era of digitalisation and automation will mean that much more will be done faster and things will be done better. The rateRead more
Dear Reader, As a landlord, managing your own property can be quite tricky. There is a whole lot of factors that need to be met, things that need to be done and or amended. Property managers are very aware of everything that needs to be done with a wide background of experience and a lot of answers and resources. Here at Metro NZ Property Management, we have twenty-one years of experience that will most definitely help home investors, be it your first time or not, to actually get the best value out of your property. In summary, according to R.Read more
Dear Reader, December last year was filled with changes in the New Zealand Government. A bill that would amend the current overseas act was introduced to revise the Overseas Investment Act. The current act applies to sensitive land, but not residential land. The new bill would fit residential land within the category. According to Housing Minister, Mr. Phil Twyford, the government is determined to make New Zealanders first time buyers able to buy their first home without the competition of foreign buyers. Our property managers have been working hard to make sure our clients get the best out ofRead more


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So this is weird. Even by Los Angeles standards, this is really weird. A pair of lungs has been discovered on a sidewalk on the city's southside, and officials still aren't sure where (or who/what) they came from. According to the L.A. Times:
Coroner's officials said Monday they will examine what appears to be a pair of lungs that were found on a sidewalk in South Los Angeles to determine if they belonged to a human or an animal.
Sheriff's sources familiar with the investigation said much will depend on the corner's assessment of the organs. They noted that even if they turn out to be human lungs, it will not be clear if they resulted from foul play or were discarded remains from some other source.
In what we sincerely hope was a cheeky understatement, L.A. Coroner's Office spokesman Ed Winter said he found the situation "a little strange."
We'd love to have a talk with Mr. Winter about where the line between "a little strange" and "mind-bogglingly weird" is drawn. I mean seriously, what the hell happened here? Is this a case of repositioned roadkill? A black market organ deal gone wrong? Did something fly out the back of a butcher truck? Whatever it is, we're damn curious; but it sounds like there's a good chance we'll never know for sure.
UPDATE: The LA Times reports that the lungs are of animal origin:
Coroner's Lt. Fred Corral said an exam was performed Tuesday morning and it was not clear what kind of animal the lungs came from. He did confirm, however, that the organs were lungs.
"They're not of forensic value," Corral said. "We're going to dispose of them."
[LA Times via Discovery News]
Top image of pig lungs via Wikimedia Commons


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NEW YORK (AP) The father of New York Yankees manager Joe Girardi has died.
The Deiters Funeral Home says Jerry Girardi died Saturday at 81. He had suffered from Alzheimer's disease since the 1990s and died in Metamora, Ill.
The Yankees were set to play Game 4 of the AL division series Thursday night against Baltimore and Girardi was at Yankee Stadium. New York leads 2-1 in the best-of-five matchup, and Girardi has been with the team for every game.
Jerry Girardi served in the U.S. Air Force in the Korean War and worked in construction sales and as a bricklayer, according to an obituary on the funeral home's website.
A funeral is scheduled for Monday in Peoria. His wife, Angela, died in 1984. The couple had four sons and a daughter.


text: Terms of Use Privacy Policy Hide Fashion Advice Things You Need To Stop Wearing Forever Things You Need To Stop Wearing Forever 40 Things You Need To Stop Wearing Forever Wraparound Sunglasses Work Boots Trucker Hats Tracksuits Too Much Cologne Clothes That Are Too Tight Stained Undershirts Square-Toed Shoes Skinny Jeans Banker Ties Skinny Ties Sideways Hats Pinkie Rings Perma-tans Oversize Clothes Over-Tweezed Eyebrows Layered Polos Highlighted Hair Hemp/Shell Necklaces Hair Plugs Fur Coats Floor-Length Winter Coats Fleece Half-Zips Fauxhawks Elf Shoes Dog Tags Designer Logo Shirts Deep V-Neck Tees D-Bag Dress Shirts Dad Jeans Crocs Combovers Chunky Shoes Carpenter Jeans Bootcut Jeans Bedazzled Jeans Beanies Athletic Jerseys Board Shorts Abercrombie D-Bag Dress Shirts Adam Fox September 16, 2014 Share Tweet Flip 0 Shares It's oversize, untucked, multi-colored and multi-patterned. The extra special kind may even have a cross silk-screened on the back. Pair it with an equally ill-fitting sport coat and True Religion jeans to qualify as cutting edge in Orange County. Prev Next Recommended Reading Fashion Trends Modern Sweatpants For The Modern Man Fashion Advice Fashion Dos And Don'ts: What You Should Learn From The World's Flashiest Dressers Fashion Advice Top 12 Fanny Pack Hacks - Just Kidding. Put. The. Fanny Pack. Down. Fashion News An Abercrombie & Fitch Protest Like You've Never Seen Fashion Advice 10 Things You Can't Wear In Your 30s


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Just about every one I know has been affected by our down-turning economy. With gas prices rising, unemployment and homeless rates skyrocketing it becomes a little harder to justify spending half a paycheck on a pair of shoes.
One unique caveat of the beauty and cosmetics industry is that they are able to anchor in customers who would normally never be able to afford the brand. A taste of luxury is offered in relatively affordable perfumes and fragrances. For example, items of Christian Dior clothing/accessories that I own: 0; number of Christian Dior Diorshow Mascara that I've gone through: countless.
Historically, when the rest of the economy was hit, the beauty and cosmetics industries stayed fiscally strong for that reason, but it seems like this time around, we are not immune to the turn of events.
Molly Prior of WWD writes, "In gloomy periods gone by, shoppers continued to seek out little luxuries: a lipstick instead of a designer handbag, or a fragrance in lieu of a gown. This time around, practicality has set in, as consumers begrudgingly absorb the ballooning costs of energy and food prices."
Personally, I have cut back on a lot to save money. I will rarely treat myself to a manicure of pedicure, and am trying to make my hair cut and highlights stretch. I am also becoming more skeptical about buying the next hottest thing that I read about in Allure magazine, waiting until there is an actual buzz "in the streets" rather than by people who may be profiting off of it.
Have you recently changed your beauty spending habits? In what ways, if not, why not?


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or being accused of sounding so.
To start at the beginning, I am active on several discussion boards including ActiveRain (which is by and for people involved in the real estate industry) and another general board that is just a casual mix of people.
On ActiveRain, there are periodic *joke* posts that are very bigoted against atheists. I'm sure you've all seen the "April Fool's Day" one - that is one example. For years I have ignored this sort of nonsense, mostly because I really didn't want to be "out" in a business/career setting. I've felt like I couldn't risk the loss of business from other people's prejudices.
But I am reaching a point where I can't stand not speaking up, so I did comment on two recent posts. I asked why people found the "jokes" funny and wondered if they would also be cheering on similar jokes about other minority groups. One "joke" teller simply deleted my objection while leaving all of the agreeing responses. The other replied with the typical condescending "I'm sorry if you didn't like the joke" type reply, refusing to acknowledge the blatant bigotry on what is supposed to be a professional business related board.
So then I posted about my frustration on the general board. I said that I was thinking about starting a new discussion on ActiveRain to discuss why this sort of bigotry was allowed to continue without adverse comment when we all know that similar "jokes" about any other group would be roundly censured by the majority.
I was told, among other things, that "He has the right to say it" and that "I find your tone to be very strident and combative." I feel like these people (Christians) are really saying "Just shut up if you can't take the joke."
Maybe I should just shut up. But it makes me sick to my stomach to stay silent (and I don't) when people are making bigoted jokes against gays or blacks or other groups that I don't even belong to, so why should speaking up against bigotry in this situation be any different.
Of course, people don't like being called on their trash talk against gays or Jews or Blacks or any other group either. But if they are NOT called on it, how will it ever change?
Views: 86
ROFL!! Good advice overall and the last line cracked me up! Thanks!
yes, that may have been one I replied to. The one that really bugged me though is this one:
If you don't know GOD, don't make stupid remarks!!!!!!
A United States Marine was taking some college courses between assignments. He had completed 20 missions in Iraq and Afghanistan . One of the courses had a professor who was an avowed atheist, and a member of the ACLU. One day the professor shocked the class when he came in. He looked to the ceiling and flatly stated, "GOD, if you are real, then I want you to knock me off this platform... I'll give you exactly 15 min." The lecture room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. Ten minutes went by and the professor proclaimed, "Here I am GOD, I'm still waiting." It got down to the last couple of minutes when the Marine got out of his chair, went up to the professor, and cold-cocked him; knocking him off the platform. The professor was out cold. The Marine went back to his seat and sat there, silently. The other students were shocked and stunned, and sat there looking on in silence. The professor eventually came to, noticeably shaken, looked at the Marine and asked, "What in the world is the matter with you? Why did you do that?" The Marine calmly replied, "GOD was too busy today protecting America's soldiers who are protecting your right to say stupid stuff and act like an idiot. So He sent me." The classroom erupted in cheers!
It was bad enough that the joker was trying to make atheists look bad, but why are people cheering (in the joke and on the board) for a violent thug of a "Marine" who clearly doesn't understand the idea of "freedom of speech" at all?
LOL Yep! I brought up every one of your points on the other general board (EXCEPT calling them "authoritarian thugs" or even "ignorant bigots" ;-) ) when I was trying to decide if I wanted to post a full response on ActiveRain.
I was told I sounded "strident" and "combative"
I feel like it is their method of trying to shut me down - shove me back in the closet. I have a bit of a temper anyway, so I am really trying to figure out how to calmly but pointedly object to both the "jokes" and the BS accusations that immediately follow my objections to said "jokes" without letting them push my buttons.
I really admire atheists that can seem to keep their calm in the face of the most stupid ad hominem attacks.


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Encounters at 'Broadway Barks'
Photos by G.
For the last 14 years, Broadway and film stars turn up in Shubert Alley in New York for Broadway Barks, the annual adopt-a-thon created to find homes for pets from city animal shelters. I hung out to watch the stars arrive and as you will see above and below, I had quite a magical day meeting some truly amazing people.
Thanks to everyone for such great experiences! See more photos after the jump and on Playbill dot com!


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Holiday Inn Denver-Cherry Creek
Holiday Inn Denver-Cherry Creek
455 South Colorado Boulevard
455 South Colorado Boulevard
Denver, Colorado
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Welcome to Holiday Inn Denver-Cherry Creek
Experience the best of Denver when you stay at the Holiday Inn Cherry Creek.
The Holiday Inn Hotel Denver-Cherry Creek offers a premier location just 4 miles from downtown Denver in the heart of Cherry Creek, and 1 block from the luxury Cherry Creek Shopping District. Our hotel is just minutes away from all of Denver's major attractions, landmarks, outdoor activities, world class shopping, museums, and events. Our upscale zip code features elite Fortune 500 companies and renowned hospitals, such as National Jewish Medical and Research Center and the University of Denver. Business and leisure travelers can enjoy our newly renovated guest rooms that are spaciously appointed and include modern amenities, plush furnishings, rich color schemes and stylish architectural features that reflect the lifestyle of historic Denver while offering sweeping skyline views and inspiring vistas of the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Designed with a modern take on charming Colorado lodge style decor, our Cherry Creek accommodations feature plush pillow top beds, flat screen televisions, gourmet coffee, and workstations with ergonomic desk chairs, so you can truly work and relax in comfort and style.
Indulge in yourself in our Chef's creations in Flagstone's, Eggcetera or Roaster's, featuring Starbucks.
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Kids ages 18 and under stay for free when sharing their parents' room. Up to four kids ages 11 and under eat free any time of the day in any Holiday Inn® on-site restaurant.
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Play area located in the Cherry Creek Mall.Play scapes located in City of Brest Park adjacent to the hotelDenver Children's Museum located 4.5 miles from hotel
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See yesterday's column for the why of what we're doing here, hear below a We7 playlist snappily entitled A Playable Thirteen-Track, One Hour-Plus Playlist In Search Of What Was Left 1991-2001 Through Songs At Least Co-Written By The Man In Question (Except One By R. Kelly But Oh Well) And Mostly Not The Hits, Either.
01. 'Jam' (from Dangerous)
Dangerous was released at the end of 1991, a year before the Chandler allegations made the media, but managed to become Jackson's second-best selling album despite the attendant sales drag (it had been anticipated enough for armed robbers to steal an airport shipment...) The record's engineered eclecticism reflected an industry-wide turn toward (CD-optimised) longer collections – more 'multi-faceted' (ew) spectacular than thematic suite.
'Jam' kicks in through the heavy symbolism / special FX of breaking glass, and its madeover urbanism is mannered enough to recall a current affairs inner city segment. Somewhere over the graffito, Slash's preeniest 'licks' (um) gel fairly faultlessly with the New Jack Swing scaffolding brought in by Teddy Riley, and Jackson's gift for unlikely fusion plus widescreen projection scale sharp details for stadia (though it's worth noting that his sister Janet had already had huge success with a similar sound on the remorselessly wonderful Control) and Rhythm Nation albums).
02. 'In The Closet' (from Dangerous)
Originally, the uncredited 'mystery girl' who wheezily recites perfume ad pseudo-transgressions ("The truth of lust", "Touch me there...cast the spell" ooo etc) was to be Madonna, but her words were allegedly too actually rude. Instead, in a kind of weird coup, Princess Stephanie of Monaco ended up in the role, suggestive but never beyond the point of plausible deniability, loaded with blanks (additionally, the New York Times hit a cultured zinger when a correspondent noted only Jackson would use such a title for a heterosexual duet...).
More importantly, 'In The Closet's synthetic intimacy oozes along on a phenomenal rhythm track – clinks and tuts like stoneware engaging in outercourse, in a laboratory. Like much of the earlier Nineties' rash of middlebrow erotica, it's aching hard to be considered art for adults, and the video reinforces that thrust with sepia badlands cinematography, though minor royal is eschewed for supermodel (one of the many projects cancelled due to the Chandler allegations was apparently a his'n'hers scent).
03. 'Give In To Me' (from Dangerous)
Michael Jackson - Give In To Me (Official Music Video) - Watch more amazing videos here
One of the album's two calculatedly unlikely and doubtless fully-insured 'special guest performances' by Slash is inescapably a rock ballad, complete with wilty solo and well-conditioned hair. Somehow, it is still good (shut up, it is). The video semi-cleverly casts Jackson as, like, just the singer in some band who remotely trash their equipment via psychic power of pro rock, rowr, etc. Plenty loud, still pretty.
What I find compulsive about this particular love song, though, is our frontman's dominant tone, as opposed to passive/possessed plaything (the latter being annoyingly standard in mass market love songs, and a common disclaimer sheathing fantasies besides...) Sometimes the lyrics are even fairly disturbing, considering: "Don't try to understand me / Just simply do the / Thing I say..." It reads more like psychological warfare than passion – which is probably why I like it, but almost certainly not what was intended. "Give in to me," he snarls as Slash drags his, ahem, 'axe' (anyone ever said that in real life?) through the gutter. "Give in to me / Give in to me..." and so on, you know.
04. 'They Don't Care About Us' (from HIStory)
The initial round of investigations ended in 1994, and some genius (or, more likely, glass table of genii – I'm pretty sure that's the plural) decided the bruised quiet after the storm was the perfect time to prod a greatest hits / new songs compilation toward an uncertain public via the most alienatingly hubristic campaign of propagandistic statues imaginable. Likewise, nobody on the inside seemed to notice that there was something inescapably bathetic about floating statues...
Things could have gone badly wrong here, especially when 'They Don't Care About Us' – otherwise probably the strongest song on the album (read as: my favourite) – was accused of anti-semitism (the lyrics were overdubbed at his own cost, and this version became his biggest hit in Germany). He also worked with Spike Lee on two videos, one terrifyingly inflammatory if-slightly-camp version shunned by the media for visualising solidarity with prisoners, and a friendlier, more celebratory trip to a Brazilian shanty-town that was immediately accused of exploitation (though that would later be contested – and here's Spike Lee's opinion.
05. 'Stranger In Moscow' (from HIStory)
From Rio to Russia – in interviews, Michael would claim to wander streets alone at night ("Here abandoned in my fame"), and 'Stranger in Moscow' does nail a sense of not belonging to your surroundings. Best, it's kept simple: ebbing verses, the three-time tease when he leaves "How does it feel?" unanswered before the chorus arrives – itself only really a muted extension. Stubby beats, a strumming waterclock guitar motif – the problem with his most abject songs is that however milky they are from the off, he often can't resist dumping in a load of sugar besides. Not here.
06. 'This Time Around' (from HIStory)
Synchronising with the mid-Nineties R&B via collabos like this with Dallas Austin proved a way out of the baroque cul-de-sac of the 'single as video as event' mindset which had ruled top-down MTV but risked presenting easier targets to growing doubters. New producers would help prune his obsession with over-elaboration in favour of more understated elegance, while crucially maintaining momentum. Texture-rich minimalism also gave more latitude to showboat in less hysterical ways. 'This Time Around' would also feature his first Notorious B.I.G. guest rap (the second would be posthumous).
07. '2 Bad' (from HIStory)
Not so much to say about this one. It's kind of a continuation-as-accretion of the big city rhythm tics plus rock peacockery he used for his streetsier singles – a well-choreographed riot in the suburbs, if you like. Also: the longer it lasts, the more the arrangement congests toward maximum caffeination, a hyper-articulated ensemble piece for fight game percussion. It even cannibalises a sample from his own 'Beat It' (aside: the video for which featured – they say – more real gang members, primped by stylists, than dancers).
08. 'Ghost' (from Blood On The Dancefloor)
Something else that got cancelled due to the Chandler allegations was Jackson's Pepsi contract, just on the eve of a project which would have revisited the schlock horror imagery of 'Thriller'. Returning to the idea independently, he would premier Ghosts (co-written with Stephen King) at Cannes in 1996.
The film is stymied by the ostentation of its victim complex – synopsis: archetypal outraged smalltown locals confront eccentric stranger (guess who) in mansion. Really more child-friendly comedy than horror, the most disturbing element remains Jackson's own portrayal of thinly-disguised, very demonised legal adversary Tom Sneddon (also winning a song to himself in 'D.S.'). "Are you the ghost of jealousy?"
Meanwhile, as a song: excellent noises, including a loop that sounds a bit like coins rolling through a metal pipe, or a vibrating phone on a steel drum – the kind of thing American critics insist on calling 'digital funk' in a bid to make me shit a broken rib.
It's perhaps reading too deeply, but I've spent quality time musing how his fascination had switched from 'Thriller's werewolf – civilised man struggling with own animal nature – to ghost (albeit one with spectacular powers). It's as if he suspected even then he'd outlived himself.
09. 'Is It Scary' (From Blood On The Dancefloor)
This playlist is intended as an indirect guide to where Michael was more or less at in that long lost decade-and-a-half, but there are a few peaks I would – CONTROVERSIALLY – say measure up against his best – and this is one of them. Syncopated gasps, operatic splendour, all-or-nothing dynamics...
The tweenage-idea-of-spooky lyrics are embarrassing, though – UNTIL: "Am I amusing you / Or just confusing you? / Am I the beast / You visualised? / If you want to see / Eccentricities / I'll be grotesque / Before your eyes." FOLLOWED by: "Can the heart reveal the proof / Like a mirror reveals the truth? / See the evil one is you..." And THEN: "Am I scary for you?" BOLD this: "You know you're scaring me too" And, for extra EMPHASIS: "I see the evil is you." It's like the acquittal speech in a murder musical, pure crescendo.
10. 'Heartbreaker' (from Invincible)
It feels weird to write about 2001's Invincible as The Final Album since it seemed both muted and transitional (let's not talk about Thriller 25's botched resurrections). Hindsight also shows that – diminished as he was by the wake of the Chandler allegations, he was closing fast on a second round that would hit twice as hard (2003). The dogmatic defiance of the persona embodied across the disc would be even more fragile than he realised, and when he sings "You can't touch me, 'cause I'm untouchable" it sounds more like caste sadness than an injunction. If his career had bounced, say, half of the way back, it was increasingly noticeable that the fans he had lost were those at home, and it was only the global trickledown outside traditional markets holding him in place.
'Heartbreaker' offers Rodney Jerkins the chance to marry the staggering syncopations of his and Brandy's 'What About Us' to the bass croak of Timbaland/Ginuwine's 'Pony'. If it may not go beyond the parameters of its classic templates, that's nothing new – Michael's talent for singing, dancing and writing was ultimately underwritten by an even stronger instinct for popularisation.
11. '2000 Watts' (from Invincible)
One of the good things about Invincible having its video budget unceremoniously cut (just after Sony were informed he'd soon be leaving, funnily enough) is that the album's songs escape the 'visionary' multi-media treatment that had so long been his default. Maybe music that would remain just music, rather than multi-tasking as soundtrack or dance routine could have provided a chance to reconnect with whatever of him hadn't long since been mined clean by the spotlight. '2000 Watts' is certainly atypical, with his lyrics delivered in an unusually low register over chrome-plated drivetime beats, boding well for the future, except...
12. 'Morphine' (from Blood on the Dancefloor)
Nothing illustrates the relative obscurity of Jackson's last works like the fact that, as the media added up the emerging drug addictions, no one (that I saw) thought to illustrate an article with this song from his penultimate album which – in the reviews at the time – was compared not unreasonably to Nine Inch Nails (at least one invoking 'industrial groove' in an attempt to make my kidneys implode). The comparison actually stands up courtesy of the ultra-compressed bands of just-about melody that sear the verses. However, the moment at 3:37, when all that falls away and we're left with the brittle piano notes of a Disney death bed fantasia is all his own. "Demerol / Demerol / Oh God he's taking Demerol" he sings, see-sawing between act-out anger and abject cry for help. This song is from 1997. Suddenly, everything which followed seems wholly avoidable.
13. 'Cry' (from Invincible)
Michael Jackson -Cry
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The penultimate single, the last video (in which he didn't appear), the only song on the list he didn't write. It's full-on anodyne business from R. Kelly, an uphill beat, pretty clusters of muted notes, a gospel choir emoting in a vacuum. But there's a startling line amidst the platitudes – and, even if he didn't write it, he approved it, he sings it like he means it.
Choir: "You can change the world"
Michael: "I can't do it by myself"
Choir: "You can touch the sky"
Michael: "Gonna take somebody's help"
Choir: "You're the chosen one..." (Hmm)
Michael: "I'm gonna need some kind of sign"
And here it is, after all this, their voices combining, the music abruptly highwater bouyant, a steady, heavy march from somewhere, new energy in the masses finally opening up. So, what are they singing? What is the answer they arrive at together?
All: "If we all cry at the same time tonight..."
As an ultimate expression of passive-aggressiveness, as a spectacular dead end, as a pretty good summation of how broken he'd been and damaged he'd remained despite the posturing – now at the end, unable to think beyond the simple solidarity of despair. Whatever the facts of the story – if we ever know, and we probably won't – it's the sadness, in the end, that stays.
Tomorrow: What Happens Next In A World Without A King (Of Pop)? Forthcoming Releases, Posthumous Remixes And Home Demos, Further Confusion Plus Conclusion Failure


text:
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text:
New Girl At Its Peak
Spoilers ahead-
Yes, on prime-time TV, something magical happened; something we all wanted to happen since the start. I am of course, talking about the highly-talked and anticipated kiss between Nick (Jake Johnson) and Jess (Zooey Deschanel) on New Girl during episode 15 (Cooler). Arguably being one of the best kiss seen on a comedy series, now the show reached its peak moment, it could finally reach a near conclusion, no?
Unfortunately, being a hopeless romantic, this was probably the most climatic and satisfying moment on the show after the chicken dance on the first season. It was one of those perfect moments you wish you could see more often, even though that's why it made it so special. Girls out there, I know you agree when I say this was the hottest kiss we've all seen on a sitcom recently.
That said, now that something finally sparked between the main characters, what more can us viewers want out of it? Honestly, that could just be it and nothing more. The show doesn't need to go on with predictable situations where one is in love, but the other one isn't at the same time or the usual sh-bang that always end up ruining a show. Yes, it offers more than just that, but besides its quirky comedy and Schmidt over-stereotypical-but-lovable character involvement, but we all know that Nick and Jess' romance is what we were all really interested in and what we were rooting for this whole time.
Don't get wrong here, I know two seasons isn't a lot for a show and I could easily see how non-lucrative it would be for the network to cut it so short, but I would prefer my shows to end while they're still on their prime with an appropriate and satiating conclusion instead of dragging whatever plot-line for years and years, making the whole premise completely pointless (cough-How I Met Your Mother-cough).
But if we take example on The Office (UK) or even Spaced, where both shows lasted only two seasons, and had very good and substantial conclusions without all the in-between bullshit. Spaced was loosely on the same premise; on the second season, once the sexual chemistry between the main protagonists was long-established, near the last episode,their conflicts are resolved making it end in a way where you know they're finally going to end up together. And that was it. Why ask for more? There was no need to have more than what it was able to offer.
I would be just fine seeing New Girl just ending with this season on the basis we saw on last week's episode, because I would hate to see it tainted with everything else that is now common on TV shows and ruin a perfect good memory on how I chose to pass my Tuesday nights. Why water-down the sauce and not enjoy it while it's still juicy and hot? Like I said, I love the show and God forbid it would be cool if stuff like that just runs forever,but that always ruin them and I don't want that to happen to New Girl.
Comments3 Responses to "New Girl At Its Peak"
Yeah….Just saw the last episode yesterday…the writers and producers of the show probably disagree with you, cause they took off the romance…bye bye great kiss…We're on for another season with sexual tension and misunderstandings…


text: Hi, I've got a bunch of servers running ISP Config (they vary between 3.0.4 and 3.0.5 from SVN) and they all seem to eventually run into this issue. The issue is that at some point email will start to stack up in the mail queue, and is no longer sent. The reason is because amavis is no longer running. I'm not able to locate any error logs that have any information relating to amavis, and the only indicator that something has gone wrong (aside from emails not sending) is that the mail logs are reporting connection refused to the amavis port. I'm not sure what the common denominator is because it's a very gradual thing. I had one server running for 150 or so days until the issue cropped up, and another that ran for only a day or so. All of the servers are a standard ISP Config install on Debian 6. Any help would be appreciated.


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9 May 2012 at 11.19am
Antonio Pappano being awarded the honour of Cavaliere di Gran Croce by Italian President Giorgio Napolitano © Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia 2012
Royal Opera House Music Director Antonio Pappano has been awarded the honour of Cavaliere di Gran Croce dell'Ordine al merito della Repubblica Italiana by Italian President Giorgio Napolitano.
The Maestro, also conductor of Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, was invested with the honour at a ceremony in Rome. The award supersedes the award of Commendatore that he received in 2008 and is the highest ranking honour of the republic. It may be awarded to those in the fields of the arts, economy, public service, for humanitarian activities as well as in recognition of long civilian and military careers.
Upcoming performances conducted by Antonio Pappano during the remainder of the 2011/12 Season include David McVicar's new production of Les Troyens as well as Otello and the Plácido Domingo's Operalia Winners performance. In 2012/13 he will conduct The Ring Cycle, The Minotaur, Don Carlo and Simon Boccanegra.
Maestro Pappano was awarded a knighthood in the New Year Honours earlier this year.


text:
2 North, The Looney Bin
February, 1996
My husband drops me off. I'm going to be evaluated while he runs a few errands. He'll come pick me up when he's done. I walk up to the reception desk and introduce myself. "Oh yes. Someone is on their way to talk with you. You can wait in this room. Would you like a soda?" I accept the receptionist's offer and receive a Diet Coke as I'm led to a room to wait. Silent tears start to stream down my face as I replay the events of the day.
It started with an overseas call to my mother June. "I have to leave my family. All I do is cause damage." I had been in the grip of the Blue Meanies for months. I've been lying to my husband about what I do all day, which is hide and panic. He thinks I'm working full-time and making good money. Sadly, I've been dodging and scrambling. Working six hours a week at a law firm, writing myself check after check from their Trust Account, waiting to be caught. I unplug the phone so it doesn't ring off the hook from creditors. I have our mail put on vacation hold so I can weed out the NSF checks that are being returned with hideous fees. It's exhausting, smiling through the lies, waiting for it to all come crashing down. "I'm horrible, terrible. I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't stop. This isn't fair to my family. I'm toxic. I destroy everything I touch. The only way to save them is to remove myself."
"Why do you do this?" asks June. "You're such a lovely girl."
I walk, haggard and makeupless to the law firm. I go into the office of the most compassionate attorney. "I'm a split personality." I tell him. "I thought I had this under control. I'm so sorry. I just realized I've stolen thousands of dollars from you." I'm not a split. Just out of my mind. The Blue Meanies have been running amok. I'm looking for an out.
While I am confessing, June is not getting an answer at the house. She calls my doctor's office and tells her I'm suicidal. I'm picking up my son from kindergarten when my doctor tries the house. She calls the police, who are on my front lawn talking to my completely-in-the-dark husband when I arrive home with my son. "Are you suicidal?" an Officer asks me. No. "Are you taking anything for depression?" Prozac. "Have you taken it today?" Yes. Satisfied, they leave. I tell my husband we need to talk and take my son to the daycare he went to the year before. "I'm having a breakdown." I say to the woman who runs the place. "Can you take him?" She does. No questions asked.
My husband is beside himself. He got a panicked call from June at work and rushed home only to find me gone and police standing at the door. He is concerned about my mental health, but not knowing of my recent exploits, thinks my mother may have overreacted to a bad phone call. If she isn't overreacting, he wants to know, why I'm reaching out to her instead of him. The phone rings and it's my doctor ordering me to 2 North for an evaluation. I tell her I'm fine but she says she will get a court order to commit me. She tells me it is much easier to get out of 2 North if I go in voluntarily than it is if I'm court ordered in.
So here I sit. In a small, white room. More like a cell than a room. And oh My God, it is actually padded. The walls are fucking padded. They think I'm a crazy person and have put me in a padded cell! The room is totally empty. Nothing to hurt myself with. The door is propped open, so everyone walking by can see me, Crazy Woman, sitting on a padded bench in a padded room, heaving silent sobs as the reality of my situation sinks in. Up until now I have been in Full Crisis Mode. Calmly picking up my son, assuring my husband and the police that everything is perfectly fine, my mother just blew things out of proportion. Now I have nothing to do but sit in an empty room and Think. Fuck! Finally the shrink arrives.
I hear myself talking. What am I saying? Better pay attention. "Please help me. My brain is breaking. I really believe my family would be better off without me. I would have had a better life if my father had left earlier or killed himself. I don't want my son to grow up with me. I want my husband to find a good wife." The shrink gives me a choice. I can commit myself to the Looney Bin voluntarily, or go home and the police will come to my house with a court order, and put me in the back of a waiting ambulance for my child and his neighborhood pals to see. "My husband will be back soon to pick me up. Will you tell him where I am?"
I am escorted to the North wing on the hospital's second floor. We go through two sets of locked doors and I am deposited on another padded bench. This bench is not in a cell, but in Crazy House Proper. I look around. To my right, a nurse behind a safety glass wall. To my left, a plastic table covered in crayons and coloring books. A large, white-trash looking guy comes at me. "I'm Bob." he says very loudly. "You having boyfriend problems?" he shouts when he sees I'm crying. A nurse comes to my rescue, "Bob, she's new here. She's scared. Go away and leave her alone." Bob assures me I'll get over the guy and asks the nurse to unlock the payphone. He wants to call Princess Diana.
How long do I have to sit on this bench? I hear muffled screams from some not-too-far-off room. It goes on and on. I am scared. Is this it? They leave me on a bench and walk away? I smell something. I look up to find an old man in a hospital gown, soiled diaper around his ankles. What the fuck am I doing here? Isn't there some middle ground? Something between out patient counseling and being locked up with people who call dead princesses and shit themselves? A nurse asks me if I want anything while I watch the old man being cajoled with a candy bar to go get his diaper changed. "You mean like a sandwich?" I ask. She laughs, "No, not a sandwich. Something to help relax you." YES PLEASE.
My husband comes and goes and I am drugged to the point of being oblivious. I am considered a threat to myself, and my overnight bag is searched. I'm shown a bed and introduced to my roommate who has just come out of a sixteen day coma induced by the massive number of pills she swallowed trying to kill herself. No matter where I go in 2 North, I can't escape the screaming. It's constant. Each scream sounds more painful and full of anguish than the last. I have no desire to socialize, so I stay in my room and read. I go to the required group therapy sessions which are held in a room with a bulletin board. The board is dedicated to famous people who have battled mental illness, with 8" x 10" glossy head shots of Kurt Cobain, Judy Garland, Earnest Hemmingway, Vivian Leigh.... I find it cruel that they've chosen people who met such sad endings. They might as well just post a sign that says, "Don't expect to get better or live much longer." The screaming. The screaming. How can anyone stand this?
My husband surprises me on my second full day at 2 North with my son, and a pass to be let out for dinner. I am horrified that he has brought our boy to this awful place. "You're his mother. He loves and misses you. He needs to see you and know you are ok." When I return from dinner, there is another roommate to meet. She's too hoarse to talk. She's been screaming for 72 hours straight.
The truth spills out. My husband is devastated. Spinning. Reeling. Working two jobs, going to school, caring for the house, pets, and of course, our son. Frantically trying to borrow enough money to pay back the lawyers so they don't press charges. He does not want me to leave the family. He wants me to come home and get better. It will be ugly, but we can put it back together. Start again.
After three days full days in lock up he comes to me and says, "The doctors say you're not participating. Would you make a goddamned fucking lanyard or color in the lines so they will let you come home?" That night I help plan the Valentine's Day Dance, and they let me go the next morning. No follow up care, but a big fat prescription for Ativan which I am addicted to soon enough.
follow me @ open.salon.com/blog/a_girl_named_michael


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text:
There was a time when there were not that many people in the world more famous than Mickey Rooney. The star of the hugely successful 1930s and 40s series of "Andy Hardy" movies for MGM, Rooney was the perfect embodiment of all-American male purity, optimism, and energy, a kid whose boundless enthusiasm and willingness to put himself out there couldn't help but result in a happy ending. His onscreen partnership with music and film legend Judy Garland only cemented his star status. In 1940 he shared a special "Juvenile" Oscar with Deanna Durbin "for their significant contribution in bringing to the screen the spirit and personification of youth, and as juvenile players setting a high standard of ability and achievement." Hell, rumor even has it that Walt Disney named his most famous creation after the lad. THAT'S how famous he was.
But as often happened to actors who achieve their greatest fame as youngsters, Rooney found it difficult to make the transition from Golden Boy to more dramatic, adult roles; the studios and public just weren't willing to accept Andy Hardy as a grown man, and Rooney's diminutive stature didn't help him any there. In the middle years of his career, plagued by drug addiction and unable to find big studio work (with the exception of his now infamously un-PC portrayal of buck-toothed Japanese neighbor Mr. Yunioshi in Breakfast at Tiffany's), Rooney was forced like others before him to take some film roles that many considered far beneath his ability and reputation.
Perhaps none of these roles was further removed from that fresh-faced boy of the 40s than Rooney's portrayal of demented wannabe-moviemaker B. J. Lang in Yabo Yablonsky's 1971 cinematic freakout, The Manipulator.
We open the film in a pouring rainstorm, showcasing some excellently composed shots of an old-fashioned streetlamp and a decrepit back alley. A trench-coated figure wanders down a lonely back street and finally ends up at the stage- and movie-props warehouse that may or may not be his home. Once inside he takes off his weather-wear to reveal--well, MICKEY ROONEY, but with a bushy gray beard that makes him look like a kinder, gentler Coffin Joe. He's also wearing exactly the same sunglasses Kermit the Frog wore when pretending to be a big-shot producer in The Muppet Movie, which makes me wonder if Jim Henson was a fan of the film.
This goes on for a while, and it's to Rooney's credit that it never gets particularly boring--though a viewer gets the very real feeling that Mickey is perhaps more than a little "altered" here, and not just through method acting, Rooney's years of training and experience come through strong and he is able to hold your attention and make you interested in his character's psychosis. He's assisted greatly by the work of cinematographer Baird Bryant, whose work will be consistently wonderful throughout--extreme closeups of dust-covered props and extreme Dutch angles give the creepy old warehouse a "haunted playroom" ambience that's quite effective.
It's during this part of the movie Lang first starts hallucinating what might be scenes from his movie, but in fact are a kind of waking nightmare--kabuki-faced women and naked old men doing a slow waltz in front of the derelict props, mannequins smiling and laughing at the action, and Lang himself pushing them on to great heights of frenzy. I was reminded favorably of the opening sequence of the Roald Dahl TV series "Tales of the Unexpected", in the best possible way.
Soon Lang starts hearing high-pitched noises that could be whimpers or mad laughter, and at first this seems just another manifestation of his madness. However, the stakes are raised when he pulls back a dusty curtain to reveal the source of the noises: the wheelchair-bound Carlotta (Luana Anders), an actress Lang has somehow kidnapped and is forcing to perform in his "masterpiece." Note that when I say "wheelchair-bound" here, I don't mean she's paralyzed--I mean she's literally bound, tied to the wheelchair with strips of cloth and stout cord, unable to move till Lang calls for ACTION.
Obviously Carlotta has been Lang's prisoner for quite some time, as when Lang appears she immediately starts begging for food. "I'm hungry, Mr. Lang...Mr. Lang, I'm hungry!" Lang ignores her pleas for a while, chastising his actress for being late to the set and reliving a few more memories of his glory days in studio-era Hollywood. Eventually he relents to her pleas, though, feeding her spoonfuls of baby food from a small glass jar. The way Carlotta snaps at the offered spoon every time Lang's attention wanders is actually kind of chilling, emphasizing the mental and physical strain the poor girl is under.
The rest of the movie is pretty much Lang tormenting Carlotta by insisting she perform the romantic lead in his version of Cyrano de Bergerac, with Lang himself as her long-nosed hero, of course. More mental torture is in store as the increasingly unhinged director reminisces about the Old Days some more while applying Carlotta's make-up--all while in the persona of the fey make-up man Lang in fact used to be, with Rooney wearing heavy eye-shadow, lipstick, and tons of rouge! Again, Rooney manages through force of acting talent to take the strange, silly scene and make it somewhat chilling, coming off like nothing so much as a crazy old man in Nora Desmond drag.
You'd think that an hour of watching an old man act crazy for the benefit of a young(er) lady tied to a chair would get tedious, and unfortunately you'd be right. Despite Rooney's periodically excellent performance, the plot wears thin by the halfway point, and even Carlotta's eventual required escape (accomplished through a piss-poor all-around heart attack scene in which the spasming Rooney releases Anders so she can get his pills) and extended game of hide-and-seek through the creepy warehouse (featuring a cameo by a frankly embarassed-looking Keenan Wynn as a homeless drunk crashing in the costume department) do little to spice things up.
What *does* help spice things up, though, are Yablonsky's frequent detours into cinematic Acid Trip-ville. Not only do we have repeats of Rooney's earlier creepy hallucinations and more extreme close-ups than you can shake a powder-puff at, we also get Mickey doing a rendition of "Chattanooga Choo Choo" at Keystone Kops speed (TWICE), an extremely odd wrap party/orgy sequence (featuring moustachioed men in harem girl outfits, writhing masses of gauze-draped hippie chicks, and a naked toddler Rooney cradles to his chest protectively, whispering "My baby! My baby!"), and a delirious Carlotta dashing down long corridors of hanging sides of beef only to encounter a string quartet performance going on in a butcher's locker, men in tuxes and women in furs enjoying the chilly, meat-scented performance! And yes, it makes just as much sense as it sounds like.
When it's talked about at all, The Manipulator is often compared to Otto Preminger's infamous LSD-fueled flop Skidoo (1969), in which Rooney also had a role. I haven't seen that film yet, but judging from the synopses I've read, that sounds about right--only replace the all-star cast with a one-star cast, and remove the Preminger prestige factor. While LSD is never mentioned in The Manipulator, one can't help feeling it or some other mind-altering drugs (or perhaps a coctail of *all* of them) had a hand in forming Yablonsky's vision.
Yablonksy himself never directed another film but had some success as a playwright and screenwriter; in fact, the stage version of The Manipulator (entitled B. J. Lang Presents: Cyrano) is still periodically produced. His teleplay for the TV movie Revenge for a Rape (1976) also got some good notices.
Rooney was famously "born again" in the 70s, becoming good friends with Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and making frequent appearances on the PTL Club. He also experienced a latter day career resurgence, as his boyish stature and aged baby-face looks suit him very well playing kindly and/or crotchety grandfather types. He's still working, recently putting in a role as an unlikely heavy in the blockbuster Night at the Museum. Rooney always says he's proud of everything he's done, and only wishes he could have done more--still, I have to wonder if his post-conversion pride extends as far as The Manipulator.
Whatever the case there, for a Mad Movie fan, The Manipulator has an undeniable charm. Despite the late-film drag and the rather silly ending, the joys of the weird visuals and Rooney's kind of amazing performance more than even it out. Though it's been called "one of the most bizarre, inept films ever made" by those who obviously haven't seen as many such films as I have, I give The Manipulator 2.25 thumbs. It's on the Mill Creek 50 Drive-In Movie Classics set, so it's easy to come by for those interested. If you get the chance, give it a spin.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Manipulator (1971): or, Hey Kid, Let's Put on a Show!
Posted by The Vicar of VHS at 10:30 AM
Labels: '70s, 2-3 thumbs, Drive-In Movie Classics, Mill Creek, Strange
9 comments:
- The Duke of DVD said...
Dear Christ, that image of Rooney in drag fills me with a nameless dread; it will haunt my dreams.
What a bizarre movie you've brought us, Vicar. Bravo on a superb review, as usual. You make us want to watch such things as Mickey Rooney ranting at nothing while a wheelchair-bound girl asks for more baby food.
(special kudos for the Apocalypse Now reference, I let loose a guffaw at that one, sir)
- May 19, 2009 at 12:54 PM
- ThatQuebecGuy said...
Sold, I'll be buying 50 Drive-In Movie Classics anytime now, I just hope I'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed 50 Chilling Classics. Damn those folks at Mill Creek Entertainment, actually giving me quality and quantity for my hard-earned money.
- May 19, 2009 at 1:32 PM
- The Vicar of VHS said...
@Duke of DVD--I really wasn't expecting much when I went into this one, but it truly is one of the more bizarre finds I've stumbled upon recently. It helps that through my older brother, the Minister of Musicals, I had experience with Mr. Rooney's prior work. ;)
@ThatQuebecGuy--the Drive-In Classics set has its share of gems, though not quite as many as Chilling Classics yet. There *is* a lot of crap on the set as well, but as with my previous Mill Creek experiences, it more than evens out in the end. Happy hunting!
- May 19, 2009 at 2:27 PM
- Samuel Wilson said...
I remember this film getting a rave review in the Slimetime book and I've had it sitting in a couple of Mill Creek box sets. Vicar, your comments will have me finally looking at it sooner rather than later.
- May 20, 2009 at 5:42 PM
Here's a lost curio from the acid-inspired days of indie filmmaking. A tripped out vision of insanity featuring a tour de farce performance by Mickey Rooney. It's also an amazing achievement, which quickly destroys any preconceptions you might walk in with...Almost the entire film is set in a warehouse chocked with hallucinatory backdrops, old movie props, scrap sculptures, and cobwebs. And Rooney (who's in nearly every scene) stars as B.J. Lang, a crazed old man who believes he's the greatest director of all time in the midst of planning his next epic -- while in actuality he's just a deluded has-been stumbling through an abandoned building. Looking particularly haggard and sporting a scraggly beard, Rooney gives a brave, over-the-top performance consisting of stream of consciousness monologues and acting that transcends the boundaries of camp. It's one of the ultimate psycho performances of all time, and Rooney's jolly persona only adds a more deranged touch to the brew, especially when we discover B.J. isn't just a menace to himself. You see, he's keeping a young woman (Luana Anders) captive in his warehouse, and keeps referring to her as "Carlotta", his personal starlet. Tied to a wheelchair and pleading for food ("I'm hungry, Mr. Lang," she begs repeatedly, until he finally spoons her some baby food), Rooney torments Carlotta and forces her to act out scenes for his "camera"; while Mickey dances, screams, emotes, practices death scenes, wears rouge and lipstick, and spends the second half of the flick with a fake Cyrano nose... Essentially, it's a two-character work (except for a five-minute stumble-thru by Keenan Wynn as a wino) -- a theatre piece that's been adrenalized by wild editing, hyper-kinetic photography, strobelights, freeze frames, and every imaginable camera trick in the book. Directed by first-timer Yabo Yablonsky (whose only other credit was co-scripting John Huston's soccer flick VICTORY), and with labyrinthine art direction & set decoration by Larry Cohen, it's a slim concept (SUNSET BOULEVARD meets THE COLLECTOR) mutated into a hallucinogenic, comic nightmare in which the fantasy world of filmmaking takes its toll and reality takes a backseat to illusion. Foremost there's Rooney, who (hard to believe) is unforgettable -- whether he's playing a broken, pathetic man reminiscing about the past, or chasing Luana past sides of beef (?) with a rapier. After 90 minutes of its dizzying pace, you feel like you're on the verge of madness too. Overbearing, pretentious and brilliant, this is one film that bares repeated viewing.
- July 12, 2009 at 11:39 PM
- The Vicar of VHS said...
Hi Anonymous! Thanks for the supplemental review! Did you ever think of getting your own website?
Oh, wait--since what you have there is cut and pasted from here:
I'm guessing you already DO have a website. Unless for some reason you're just randomly pasting related reviews from one site to another...which makes no sense. :P
- July 13, 2009 at 8:29 AM
- Kentie said...
I bought that DVD collection and I am halfway through the movie now.
- November 19, 2009 at 5:23 PM
- highway2344 said...
Nothing about the amazing Gil Melle score? Possibly the best thing about this movie...
- March 30, 2010 at 11:03 AM
- Emily said...
I admire your powers of observation, dear Vicar. As you know, I'm getting through it right now and finding it challenging to keep my eyes onscreen. I agree that it has an avant garde charm that truly does go all out, but if I see one more slo-motion scene of Carlotta running down a hallway I may have to kidnap Mickey Rooney and force him to perform my favorite plays.
Come to think of it, this feels very much like bad avant garde theater. But this is coming from someone who spent way too much time with bad avant garde theater in college, so that may explain a lot of my bitterness.
- August 9, 2010 at 9:51 PM