text:
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
61 comments :
My dog, Misha, does the same thing when she knows it is dinner or snack time. You can never be too sure when a human might try to get out of snacks!ReplyDeleteReplies
They can hear a banana being peeled from the other side of the house but when it is time for serious cooking, they take these positions.Delete
Chikken - we're on our way over!ReplyDeleteReplies
We will meet you at the door!Delete
MOL, no way to escape ! PurrsReplyDeleteReplies
We are a great team when it comes to food!Delete
I luffs that…pawfect guarding positions fellas, I hopes you got a good tasty morsel!ReplyDelete
Loves and licky kisses
Princess Leah xxxReplies
Dad always gives us samples that is why we feel the need to trap him. BOL!Delete
You guys give him lots of room! I like to be closer so that mom has to keep stepping over me.ReplyDeleteReplies
We love to get under Mom's feet but we act like little angels when Dad cooks because it gets us more samples. LOL!Delete
Quite a few years ago, before the blogging empire began, Mom lost a lot of work stuff when her computer misbehaved. She subscribed to Carbonite and has ever since. No need to think about backing up, it just happens all the time and it gives us piece of mind. If something happens, the only things that might not be saved are the very last things we did, but usually they are already captured too. Hope you didn't lose too much.ReplyDeleteReplies
I'll have to check into Carbonite. Luckily, a friend of my son's is a tech wiz and had backed up my stuff when we began trying to fix the problem.Delete
Ha ha, they have him surrounded - smart boys!ReplyDelete
Jan, Wag 'n Woof PetsReplies
They lay there and stare at him until the chicken is done and he always gives them samples. It is so funny and sweet.Delete
A little bit of herding dog in everydog, especially near the kitchen!ReplyDeleteReplies
They are definitely herders when they think there might be treats or food samples!Delete
They see to have some military training. Smart strategy,ReplyDeleteReplies
If you believe them, they are war dogs and have seen many battles. Of course, they have absolutely no military training but they like to tell tall tales!Delete
Oh yes, I learned my lesson years ago about backing the computer up! On my mac, I have Time Machine which automatically backs up every hour.ReplyDelete
My dogs do the same thing, their favorite is fresh carrots. As soon as they hear me getting the cutting board out, they come running :)Replies
Thanks for visiting! The boys LOVE mini carrots. We give them as treats too.Delete
Joey dog used to do that too! I'd rather ignore the cooking process, and then food watch from the side of table when the food is being served and eaten.ReplyDeleteReplies
Oh, they sit on either side of their Dad at the table! Bentley plays both sides of the table! LOL!Delete
Hi Miss Melissa, Bentley & Pierre! Doggies, I bet that technique of yours works like a charm! Tee hee hee! -Valentine (& Mom) of Noir Kitty MewsReplyDeleteReplies
We find ourselves irresistible! LOL! Thanks for visiting us.Delete
Smart dogs! Glad you are back up and running!ReplyDelete
Hazel & MabelReplies
Thanks girls! We are happy to be back in the blogging business too. Y'all need to try trapping your peeps in kitchen. LOL!Delete
Thank goodness!ReplyDelete
Lily & EdwardReplies
We are tail wagging happy about it too!Delete
That's awesome! They sure have the whole thing planned!ReplyDeleteReplies
They know exactly what they are doing. Your three could really trap y'all!Delete
Great teamwork, guys!ReplyDeleteReplies
Thanks! We have it down to an art form! LOL!Delete
You boys aren't fools, there's only 1 way out!ReplyDelete
Your Pals,
Murphy & StanleyReplies
Feel free to use this same maneuver! It is fool proof.Delete
LOL. Dogs know *EXACTLY* where the boundaries are.ReplyDeleteReplies
They know exactly where to get for the biggest begging impact.Delete
That is hilarious...Pierre and Bentley does your dad drop a lot of samples?ReplyDelete
Hugs madi your bfffReplies
He is the BEST at dropping samples for us. He will even blow off the pieces of chicken so we don't burn our mouths.Delete
Best to cover all entrances and exits. You two could go to work for the FBI. ...maybe after dinner.ReplyDelete
Love and licks,
Definitely after dinner. We need our energy!Delete
We hope those two didn't have to wait long for their chicken!ReplyDeleteReplies
They have built-in timers and know when the 20 minutes is about to be up. It is uncanny! They do it with their 10 minute waiting period for their dinner too. LOL!Delete
BOL! Smart dogs! The Goldens will actually try and lay right by our feet so we nearly break our necks while trying to get dinner together. lol Hope they got a little nibble! :)ReplyDeleteReplies
That is how the act with me. I spend most of the time in the kitchen straddling Bentley!Delete
Harley's like a door stopper even when there's no door! LOL Glad your "stuff" was backed up! Learning how to navigate a new laptop is both exciting and frustrating at times - hang in there my friend!ReplyDeleteReplies
Harley could trap me anytime! I think I'm falling in love with my new laptop!Delete
great picture. I hate getting a new laptop, I did so a few months ago and i'm still getting used to it and my pictures are all messed up, it's driving me nuts.ReplyDeleteReplies
Thankfully, my photos and blogs transferred easily to this new laptop. I'm sure I'll be discovering new things that it will do for quite some time though.Delete
Yup Taffy and I pretty much assume the same position in the kitchen! Love DollyReplyDeleteReplies
It works great, doesn't it?Delete
LOVE that photo! Glad you are adjusting well to the new laptop!! DakotasDenReplyDeleteReplies
The boys are so funny when their Dad is cooking! I think this new computer is going to be my favorite so far. (It's my 3rd)Delete
BOL!!! OMD, that is FABulous!!!! Since our kitchen is super small, I need only to lay at the entrance (it's a galley style kitchen), and Ma can't escape! (she does often slip on the drool puddle though....)ReplyDelete
Ruby ♥Replies
Mom has to mop with vinegar to scrub up my super strong drool! BOL! Your pal, BentleyDelete
Haha! They have him surrounded! "Give us the chicken, and no one will get hurt." BOL!ReplyDeleteReplies
That is exactly how it goes!Delete
We believe team works always works best.ReplyDelete
That must be some yummy chicken to get Bentley to wait so patiently! My cats would never be that patient. I often have to close them into the bedroom when food is being cooked. They will steal it right out of the pan on the stove! Silly kitties.ReplyDelete
-Purrs from your friends at www.PlayfulKitty.netReplies
He know if he waits long enough then his Daddy will give him samples. My cats would have helped themselves too!Delete
It's the universal dog rule that must not be broken. Lay in the way whenever anyone is in the kitchen. The rewards are just too tempting.ReplyDelete
AMBUSH!! That is too funny! These two pups are too smart for their own good, LOL!ReplyDelete
Love & Biscuits,
Dogs Luv Us and We Luv Them


text:
Early guesstimates of U.S. cotton acreage point to producers planting about 10 million acres in 2010, which would be an 11 percent increase over 2009.
The bump in acres is due to rising cotton prices, declining corn prices and other factors.
But when cotton planting is complete sometime in May (we hope), how close will actual acreage track these early projections?
According to John Robinson, Extension economist at Texas A&M University and a featured speaker at the Ag Market Network's Jan. 14 teleconference, reliability of projections can differ significantly by region and by year.
The first scientific report on cotton acres is the National Cotton Council's Early Season Planting Intentions Survey, which is conducted in December and released at the NCC's annual meeting during the first week of February.
USDA conducts a March survey for all crops, which results in the Prospective Plantings report, released at the end of March. A few months later, USDA will conduct a survey of actual planted acres, and release a report at the end of June.
Differences between what cotton growers say they're going to plant in January and what actually ends up being planted in May "isn't rocket science," Robinson says. "It can be attributable to weather or changes in relative prices in competing crops, such as corn and soybeans."
Robinson noted that over the last three months of 2009, cotton futures climbed from below 72 cents to the mid-70-cent range by early November and peaked at 78 cents in late November.
"Prices began to come down a little and go sideways and in December, we saw a trend downward, and a recovery just below 75 cents. Here recently, we've seen another drop, and it seems to be holding around 74.5 cents. Over this time, producers began to do some forward pricing of cotton, so these higher prices were attracting acres."
Meanwhile December corn and beans had their respective rallies in October and November," Robinson said. "They peaked and recently have come down hard. Cotton has probably gained some ground on those crops."
All this has contributed to the optimism for cotton, notes Robinson. "But what could change in the coming months? What needs to happen from a price standpoint that would either encourage additional plantings or reverse those intentions?"
For a historical perspective, Robinson compared projected acres from the NCC's January survey to what was actually planted for the first decade of the 2000s. "In some years, there appear to be some strong weather influences, which can cause as much as a 15 percent change between intentions and actual plantings. For some years, prices can contribute to variations from early intentions.
"In 2007 in the Southeast, planted acres dropped 14 percent from what was intended, while in the Mid-South and Southwest, planted acres dropped nearly 20 percent from intentions. That year, during the Beltwide Cotton Conferences, corn futures rallied a dollar a bushel and soybean futures followed them up. The change in that relative profitability led to huge adjustments."
Robinson said that historically, the average percent change from intentions to actual planted acreage "is about 6 percent one way or another. The Mid-South and the Far West regions tend to change more, with an average change of about 9 percent. I believe this is due to a combination of weather influences in the Mid-South, and more cropping alternatives in the Mid-South and Far West.
"Some years the NCC's survey and actual planted acreage can be very close. A third of the time, the change varies by only about 1 percent. On the other extreme, about a third of the time, the change can be as much as 15 percent."

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Symposium: W. B. Yeats and the Arts
26th-27th August, 2011
Moore Institute, National University of Ireland, Galway
Funded by the NUI Galway Millennium Fund, and the '1916 and After' project.
This two-day international symposium, presented by ECHO, NUI Galway's Humanities Research Forum, and funded by the NUI Galway Millennium Fund and as part of the international research project '1916 and After', seeks to promote research on all aspects of Yeats's interactions with the arts, from storytelling to stained-glass windows. It offers a forum for discussing different historical, methodological and theoretical approaches, crossing disciplines to bring together critics of literature and drama, musicologists, and historians of dance and the visual arts. It thus includes panels on Yeats and Music, Yeats and Dance, Yeats and the Visual Arts, Yeats and Drama, Yeats and the Book, and Yeats and the Wider Arts, presented by the some of the finest scholars in the field. There will also be a conference dinner and an evening's entertainment of Joycean and Yeatsian songs.
As well as addressing key issues within Yeats's work, the symposium looks to wider debates in Irish studies, and cultural history and theory. It considers questions about the value and relationship of the arts, Ireland's role in European modernism, and the links between late-Victorian and modernist culture. Examining the interaction between aesthetics and politics, it also reflects on the political operation of centres of cultural production and the role played by art in political radicalism in Ireland in the period, leading up to the 1916 uprising and the revolutionary conflicts that followed. Through a focus on Yeats's work and career, it seeks to encourage further a growing body of cultural history and criticism based on genuinely interdisciplinary research.
We are delighted to welcome as our keynote lecturer Daniel Albright of Harvard University. Our panels of Yeatsians and other scholars from many disciplines include such distinguished speakers as Nicholas Allen, Brian Arkins, Richard Rupert Arrowsmith, Nicola Gordon Bowe, Terence Brown, Adrian Frazier, Warwick Gould, Margaret Mills Harper, Sue Jones, Stoddard Martin, Emilie Morin, Aidan Thomson and Deirdre Toomey.
The two-day symposium is free to all from NUI Galway, and €50 (€40) otherwise. All are very welcome.
For further information please look at our website: http://echoforum.wordpress.com/
or address the conference organisers:
Adrian Paterson (National University of Ireland, Galway) email@example.com
Thomas Walker (University of Oxford/Trinity College Dublin) firstname.lastname@example.com


text:
John Carmack has a long history working with Apple on gaming products, not all of it positive.
"My relationship with Apple has been long standing, but it's a rollercoaster ride," he told Kotaku. "I'll be invited up on stage for a keynote one month and then I'll say something they don't like and I can be blacklisted for six months."
Working with Apple on iPhone games has been no different, Carmack said, but he is happy to see that former collaborator Graeme Devine is now working at Apple in the iPhone Game Technologies division.
Devine worked at id Software from 1999 to 2003, producing and programming on a number of games including Quake III, Doom 3 and Return to Castle Wolfenstein. Devine went on to Ensemble Studios where he worked on Age of Empires 3 and Halo Wars before that studio was shut down.
Earlier this year he moved to Apple.
"Graeme Devine is in a significant position as a game developer at Apple," Carmack said. "I have a real man on the inside now. We knew each other from way back in the day.
"He's a real developer and I understand everything he is saying."
Devine's role at Apple doesn't mean that Carmack's dealings with the company has gotten any less bumpy though. Doom Classic was rejected twice before Apple allowed it to appear in the store with some minor changes.
Carmack thinks the run-ins with Apple are because the company, the highest people in the company, look down on games. But the popularity of gaming on the iPhone has forced Apple to try and come to grips with that, even if they're not happy about it.
"At the highest level of Apple, in their heart of hearts," Carmack said, "they're not proud of the iPhone being a game machine, they wish it was something else."


text:
A Few Utopian Impressions
Section 1.
But now we are in a better position to describe the houses and ways
of the Utopian townships about the Lake of Lucerne, and to glance a
little more nearly at the people who pass. You figure us as
curiously settled down in Utopia, as working for a low wage at
wood-carving, until the authorities at the central registry in Paris
can solve the perplexing problem we have set them. We stay in an inn
looking out upon the lake, and go to and fro for our five hours'
work a day, with a curious effect of having been born Utopians. The
rest of our time is our own.
Our inn is one of those inns and lodging houses which have a minimum
tariff, inns which are partly regulated, and, in the default
of private enterprise, maintained and controlled by the World
State throughout the entire world. It is one of several such
establishments in Lucerne. It possesses many hundreds of practically
self-cleaning little bedrooms, equipped very much after the fashion
of the rooms we occupied in the similar but much smaller inn at
Hospenthal, differing only a little in the decoration. There is
the same dressing-room recess with its bath, the same graceful
proportion in the succinct simplicity of its furniture. This
particular inn is a quadrangle after the fashion of an Oxford
college; it is perhaps forty feet high, and with about five stories
of bedrooms above its lower apartments; the windows of the rooms
look either outward or inward to the quadrangle, and the doors give
upon artificially-lit passages with staircases passing up and down.
These passages are carpeted with a sort of cork carpet, but are
otherwise bare. The lower story is occupied by the equivalent of a
London club, kitchens and other offices, dining-room, writing-room,
smoking and assembly rooms, a barber's shop, and a library. A
colonnade with seats runs about the quadrangle, and in the middle
is a grass-plot. In the centre of this a bronze figure, a sleeping
child, reposes above a little basin and fountain, in which water
lilies are growing. The place has been designed by an architect
happily free from the hampering traditions of Greek temple building,
and of Roman and Italian palaces; it is simple, unaffected,
gracious. The material is some artificial stone with the dull
surface and something of the tint of yellow ivory; the colour is a
little irregular, and a partial confession of girders and pillars
breaks this front of tender colour with lines and mouldings of
greenish gray, that blend with the tones of the leaden gutters and
rain pipes from the light red roof. At one point only does any
explicit effort towards artistic effect appear, and that is in the
great arched gateway opposite my window. Two or three abundant
yellow roses climb over the face of the building, and when I look
out of my window in the early morning--for the usual Utopian working
day commences within an hour of sunrise--I see Pilatus above this
outlook, rosy in the morning sky.
This quadrangle type of building is the prevalent element in Utopian
Lucerne, and one may go from end to end of the town along corridors
and covered colonnades without emerging by a gateway into the open
roads at all. Small shops are found in these colonnades, but the
larger stores are usually housed in buildings specially adapted to
their needs. The majority of the residential edifices are far finer
and more substantial than our own modest shelter, though we gather
from such chance glimpses as we get of their arrangements that the
labour-saving ideal runs through every grade of this servantless
world; and what we should consider a complete house in earthly
England is hardly known here.
The autonomy of the household has been reduced far below terrestrial
conditions by hotels and clubs, and all sorts of co-operative
expedients. People who do not live in hotels seem usually to live in
clubs. The fairly prosperous Utopian belongs, in most cases, to one
or two residential clubs of congenial men and women. These clubs
usually possess in addition to furnished bedrooms more or less
elaborate suites of apartments, and if a man prefers it one of these
latter can be taken and furnished according to his personal taste. A
pleasant boudoir, a private library and study, a private garden
plot, are among the commonest of such luxuries. Devices to secure
roof gardens, loggias, verandahs, and such-like open-air privacies
to the more sumptuous of these apartments, give interest and variety
to Utopian architecture. There are sometimes little cooking corners
in these flats--as one would call them on earth--but the ordinary
Utopian would no more think of a special private kitchen for his
dinners than he would think of a private flour mill or dairy farm.
Business, private work, and professional practice go on sometimes in
the house apartments, but often in special offices in the great
warren of the business quarter. A common garden, an infant school,
play rooms, and a playing garden for children, are universal
features of the club quadrangles.
Two or three main roads with their tramways, their cyclists' paths,
and swift traffic paths, will converge on the urban centre, where
the public offices will stand in a group close to the two or three
theatres and the larger shops, and hither, too, in the case of
Lucerne, the head of the swift railway to Paris and England and
Scotland, and to the Rhineland and Germany will run. And as one
walks out from the town centre one will come to that mingling of
homesteads and open country which will be the common condition of
all the more habitable parts of the globe.
Here and there, no doubt, will stand quite solitary homesteads,
homesteads that will nevertheless be lit and warmed by cables from
the central force station, that will share the common water supply,
will have their perfected telephonic connection with the rest of
the world, with doctor, shop, and so forth, and may even have
a pneumatic tube for books and small parcels to the nearest
post-office. But the solitary homestead, as a permanent residence,
will be something of a luxury--the resort of rather wealthy garden
lovers; and most people with a bias for retirement will probably get
as much residential solitude as they care for in the hire of a
holiday chalet in a forest, by remote lagoons or high up the
mountain side.
The solitary house may indeed prove to be very rare indeed in
Utopia. The same forces, the same facilitation of communications
that will diffuse the towns will tend to little concentrations of
the agricultural population over the country side. The field workers
will probably take their food with them to their work during the
day, and for the convenience of an interesting dinner and of
civilised intercourse after the working day is over, they will most
probably live in a college quadrangle with a common room and club. I
doubt if there will be any agricultural labourers drawing wages in
Utopia. I am inclined to imagine farming done by tenant
associations, by little democratic unlimited liability companies
working under elected managers, and paying not a fixed rent but a
share of the produce to the State. Such companies could reconstruct
annually to weed out indolent members. [Footnote: Schemes for the
co-operative association of producers will be found in Dr. Hertzka's
Freeland.] A minimum standard of efficiency in farming would be
insured by fixing a minimum beneath which the rent must not fall,
and perhaps by inspection. The general laws respecting the standard
of life would, of course, apply to such associations. This type of
co-operation presents itself to me as socially the best arrangement
for productive agriculture and horticulture, but such enterprises
as stock breeding, seed farming and the stocking and loan of
agricultural implements are probably, and agricultural research and
experiment certainly, best handled directly by large companies or
the municipality or the State.
But I should do little to investigate this question; these are
presented as quite incidental impressions. You must suppose that for
the most part our walks and observations keep us within the more
urban quarters of Lucerne. From a number of beautifully printed
placards at the street corners, adorned with caricatures of
considerable pungency, we discover an odd little election is in
progress. This is the selection, upon strictly democratic lines,
with a suffrage that includes every permanent resident in the
Lucerne ward over the age of fifteen, of the ugliest local building.
The old little urban and local governing bodies, we find, have long
since been superseded by great provincial municipalities for all the
more serious administrative purposes, but they still survive to
discharge a number of curious minor functions, and not the least
among these is this sort of aesthetic ostracism. Every year every
minor local governing body pulls down a building selected by local
plebiscite, and the greater Government pays a slight compensation to
the owner, and resumes possession of the land it occupies. The idea
would strike us at first as simply whimsical, but in practice it
appears to work as a cheap and practical device for the aesthetic
education of builders, engineers, business men, opulent persons, and
the general body of the public. But when we come to consider its
application to our own world we should perceive it was the most
Utopian thing we had so far encountered.
Section 2.
The factory that employs us is something very different from the
ordinary earthly model. Our business is to finish making little
wooden toys--bears, cattle men, and the like--for children. The
things are made in the rough by machinery, and then finished by
hand, because the work of unskilful but interested men--and it
really is an extremely amusing employment--is found to give a
personality and interest to these objects no machine can ever
We carvers--who are the riffraff of Utopia--work in a long shed
together, nominally by time; we must keep at the job for the length
of the spell, but we are expected to finish a certain number of toys
for each spell of work. The rules of the game as between employer
and employed in this particular industry hang on the wall behind us;
they are drawn up by a conference of the Common Council of Wages
Workers with the employers, a common council which has resulted in
Utopia from a synthesis of the old Trades Unions, and which has
become a constitutional power; but any man who has skill or humour
is presently making his own bargain with our employer more or less
above that datum line.
Our employer is a quiet blue-eyed man with a humorous smile. He
dresses wholly in an indigo blue, that later we come to consider a
sort of voluntary uniform for Utopian artists. As he walks about
the workshop, stopping to laugh at this production or praise that,
one is reminded inevitably of an art school. Every now and then
he carves a little himself or makes a sketch or departs to the
machinery to order some change in the rough shapes it is turning
out. Our work is by no means confined to animals. After a time I am
told to specialise in a comical little Roman-nosed pony; but several
of the better paid carvers work up caricature images of eminent
Utopians. Over these our employer is most disposed to meditate, and
from them he darts off most frequently to improve the type.
It is high summer, and our shed lies open at either end. On one hand
is a steep mountain side down which there comes, now bridging a
chasm, now a mere straight groove across a meadow, now hidden among
green branches, the water-slide that brings our trees from the
purple forest overhead. Above us, but nearly hidden, hums the
machine shed, but we see a corner of the tank into which, with a
mighty splash, the pine trees are delivered. Every now and then,
bringing with him a gust of resinous smell, a white-clad machinist
will come in with a basketful of crude, unwrought little images, and
will turn them out upon the table from which we carvers select
(Whenever I think of Utopia that faint and fluctuating smell of
resin returns to me, and whenever I smell resin, comes the memory of
the open end of the shed looking out upon the lake, the blue-green
lake, the boats mirrored in the water, and far and high beyond
floats the atmospheric fairyland of the mountains of Glarus, twenty
miles away.)
The cessation of the second and last spell of work comes about
midday, and then we walk home, through this beautiful intricacy of a
town to our cheap hotel beside the lake.
We should go our way with a curious contentment, for all that we
were earning scarcely more than the minimum wage. We should have, of
course, our uneasiness about the final decisions of that universal
eye which has turned upon us, we should have those ridiculous sham
numbers on our consciences; but that general restlessness, that
brooding stress that pursues the weekly worker on earth, that aching
anxiety that drives him so often to stupid betting, stupid drinking,
and violent and mean offences will have vanished out of mortal
Section 3.
I should find myself contrasting my position with my preconceptions
about a Utopian visit. I had always imagined myself as standing
outside the general machinery of the State--in the distinguished
visitors' gallery, as it were--and getting the new world in a series
of comprehensive perspective views. But this Utopia, for all the
sweeping floats of generalisation I do my best to maintain, is
swallowing me up. I find myself going between my work and the room
in which I sleep and the place in which I dine, very much as I went
to and fro in that real world into which I fell five-and-forty years
ago. I find about me mountains and horizons that limit my view,
institutions that vanish also without an explanation, beyond the
limit of sight, and a great complexity of things I do not understand
and about which, to tell the truth, I do not formulate acute
curiosities. People, very unrepresentative people, people just as
casual as people in the real world, come into personal relations
with us, and little threads of private and immediate interest spin
themselves rapidly into a thickening grey veil across the general
view. I lose the comprehensive interrogation of my first arrival; I
find myself interested in the grain of the wood I work, in birds
among the tree branches, in little irrelevant things, and it is only
now and then that I get fairly back to the mood that takes all
Utopia for its picture.
We spend our first surplus of Utopian money in the reorganisation
of our wardrobes upon more Utopian lines; we develop acquaintance
with several of our fellow workers, and of those who share our
table at the inn. We pass insensibly into acquaintanceships and the
beginnings of friendships. The World Utopia, I say, seems for a time
to be swallowing me up. At the thought of detail it looms too big
for me. The question of government, of its sustaining ideas, of
race, and the wider future, hang like the arch of the sky over these
daily incidents, very great indeed, but very remote. These people
about me are everyday people, people not so very far from the
minimum wage, accustomed much as the everyday people of earth are
accustomed to take their world as they find it. Such enquiries as
I attempt are pretty obviously a bore to them, pass outside their
range as completely as Utopian speculation on earth outranges a
stevedore or a member of Parliament or a working plumber. Even the
little things of daily life interest them in a different way. So
I get on with my facts and reasoning rather slowly. I find myself
looking among the pleasant multitudes of the streets for types that
promise congenial conversation.
My sense of loneliness is increased during this interlude by the
better social success of the botanist. I find him presently falling
into conversation with two women who are accustomed to sit at a
table near our own. They wear the loose, coloured robes of soft
material that are the usual wear of common adult Utopian women; they
are both dark and sallow, and they affect amber and crimson in their
garments. Their faces strike me as a little unintelligent, and there
is a faint touch of middle-aged coquetry in their bearing that I do
not like. Yet on earth we should consider them women of exceptional
refinement. But the botanist evidently sees in this direction scope
for the feelings that have wilted a little under my inattention, and
he begins that petty intercourse of a word, of a slight civility, of
vague enquiries and comparisons that leads at last to associations
and confidences. Such superficial confidences, that is to say, as he
finds satisfactory.
This throws me back upon my private observations.
The general effect of a Utopian population is vigour. Everyone one
meets seems to be not only in good health but in training; one
rarely meets fat people, bald people, or bent or grey. People who
would be obese or bent and obviously aged on earth are here in
good repair, and as a consequence the whole effect of a crowd
is livelier and more invigorating than on earth. The dress is
varied and graceful; that of the women reminds one most of the
Italian fifteenth century; they have an abundance of soft and
beautifully-coloured stuffs, and the clothes, even of the poorest,
fit admirably. Their hair is very simply but very carefully and
beautifully dressed, and except in very sunny weather they do not
wear hats or bonnets. There is little difference in deportment
between one class and another; they all are graceful and bear
themselves with quiet dignity, and among a group of them a European
woman of fashion in her lace and feathers, her hat and metal
ornaments, her mixed accumulations of "trimmings," would look like a
barbarian tricked out with the miscellaneous plunder of a museum.
Boys and girls wear much the same sort of costume--brown leather
shoes, then a sort of combination of hose and close-fitting trousers
that reaches from toe to waist, and over this a beltless jacket
fitting very well, or a belted tunic. Many slender women wear the
same sort of costume. We should see them in it very often in such
a place as Lucerne, as they returned from expeditions in the
mountains. The older men would wear long robes very frequently, but
the greater proportion of the men would go in variations of much the
same costume as the children. There would certainly be hooded cloaks
and umbrellas for rainy weather, high boots for mud and snow, and
cloaks and coats and furry robes for the winter. There would be no
doubt a freer use of colour than terrestrial Europe sees in these
days, but the costume of the women at least would be soberer and
more practical, and (in harmony with our discussion in the previous
chapter) less differentiated from the men's.
But these, of course, are generalisations. These are the mere
translation of the social facts we have hypotheticated into the
language of costume. There will be a great variety of costume and
no compulsions. The doubles of people who are naturally foppish on
earth will be foppish in Utopia, and people who have no natural
taste on earth will have inartistic equivalents. Everyone will not
be quiet in tone, or harmonious, or beautiful. Occasionally, as I go
through the streets to my work, I shall turn round to glance again
at some robe shot with gold embroidery, some slashing of the
sleeves, some eccentricity of cut, or some discord or untidiness.
But these will be but transient flashes in a general flow of
harmonious graciousness; dress will have scarcely any of that effect
of disorderly conflict, of self-assertion qualified by the fear of
ridicule, that it has in the crudely competitive civilisations of
I shall have the seeker's attitude of mind during those few days at
Lucerne. I shall become a student of faces. I shall be, as it were,
looking for someone. I shall see heavy faces, dull faces, faces with
an uncongenial animation, alien faces, and among these some with an
immediate quality of appeal. I should see desirable men approaching
me, and I should think; "Now, if I were to speak to _you_?" Many of
these latter I should note wore the same clothing as the man who
spoke to us at Wassen; I should begin to think of it as a sort of
Then I should see grave-faced girls, girls of that budding age when
their bearing becomes delusively wise, and the old deception of
my youth will recur to me; "Could you and I but talk together?"
I should think. Women will pass me lightly, women with open and
inviting faces, but they will not attract me, and there will come
beautiful women, women with that touch of claustral preoccupation
which forbids the thought of any near approach. They are private and
secret, and I may not enter, I know, into their thoughts....
I go as often as I can to the seat by the end of old Kapelbrucke,
and watch the people passing over.
I shall find a quality of dissatisfaction throughout all these days.
I shall come to see this period more and more distinctly as a pause,
as a waiting interlude, and the idea of an encounter with my double,
which came at first as if it were a witticism, as something verbal
and surprising, begins to take substance. The idea grows in my mind
that after all this is the "someone" I am seeking, this Utopian self
of mine. I had at first an idea of a grotesque encounter, as of
something happening in a looking glass, but presently it dawns on me
that my Utopian self must be a very different person from me. His
training will be different, his mental content different. But
between us there will be a strange link of essential identity, a
sympathy, an understanding. I find the thing rising suddenly to a
preponderance in my mind. I find the interest of details dwindling
to the vanishing point. That I have come to Utopia is the lesser
thing now; the greater is that I have come to meet myself.
I spend hours trying to imagine the encounter, inventing little
dialogues. I go alone to the Bureau to find if any news has come to
hand from the Great Index in Paris, but I am told to wait another
twenty-four hours. I cease absolutely to be interested in anything
else, except so far as it leads towards intercourse with this being
who is to be at once so strangely alien and so totally mine.
Section 4.
Wrapped up in these preoccupations as I am, it will certainly be the
botanist who will notice the comparative absence of animals about
He will put it in the form of a temperate objection to the Utopian
He is a professed lover of dogs and there are none. We have seen no
horses and only one or two mules on the day of our arrival, and
there seems not a cat in the world. I bring my mind round to his
suggestion. "This follows," I say.
It is only reluctantly that I allow myself to be drawn from my
secret musings into a discussion of Utopian pets.
I try to explain that a phase in the world's development is
inevitable when a systematic world-wide attempt will be made to
destroy for ever a great number of contagious and infectious
diseases, and that this will involve, for a time at any rate, a
stringent suppression of the free movement of familiar animals.
Utopian houses, streets and drains will be planned and built to make
rats, mice, and such-like house parasites impossible; the race of
cats and dogs--providing, as it does, living fastnesses to which
such diseases as plague, influenza, catarrhs and the like, can
retreat to sally forth again--must pass for a time out of freedom,
and the filth made by horses and the other brutes of the highway
vanish from the face of the earth. These things make an old story to
me, and perhaps explicitness suffers through my brevity.
My botanist fails altogether to grasp what the disappearance of
diseases means. His mind has no imaginative organ of that compass.
As I talk his mind rests on one fixed image. This presents what the
botanist would probably call a "dear old doggie"--which the botanist
would make believe did not possess any sensible odour--and it has
faithful brown eyes and understands everything you say. The botanist
would make believe it understood him mystically, and I figure his
long white hand--which seems to me, in my more jaundiced moments, to
exist entirely for picking things and holding a lens--patting its
head, while the brute looked things unspeakable....
The botanist shakes his head after my explanation and says quietly,
"I do not like your Utopia, if there are to be no dogs."
Perhaps that makes me a little malicious. Indeed I do not hate dogs,
but I care ten thousand times more for a man than for all the brutes
on the earth, and I can see, what the botanist I think cannot, that
a life spent in the delightful atmosphere of many pet animals may
have too dear a price....
I find myself back again at the comparison of the botanist and
myself. There is a profound difference in our imaginations, and I
wonder whether it is the consequence of innate character or of
training and whether he is really the human type or I. I am not
altogether without imagination, but what imagination I have has the
most insistent disposition to square itself with every fact in the
universe. It hypothesises very boldly, but on the other hand it will
not gravely make believe. Now the botanist's imagination is always
busy with the most impossible make-believe. That is the way with all
children I know. But it seems to me one ought to pass out of it. It
isn't as though the world was an untidy nursery; it is a place of
splendours indescribable for all who will lift its veils. It may be
he is essentially different from me, but I am much more inclined to
think he is simply more childish. Always it is make-believe. He
believes that horses are beautiful creatures for example, dogs are
beautiful creatures, that some women are inexpressibly lovely, and
he makes believe that this is always so. Never a word of criticism
of horse or dog or woman! Never a word of criticism of his
impeccable friends! Then there is his botany. He makes believe that
all the vegetable kingdom is mystically perfect and exemplary, that
all flowers smell deliciously and are exquisitely beautiful, that
Drosera does not hurt flies very much, and that onions do not smell.
Most of the universe does not interest this nature lover at all. But
I know, and I am querulously incapable of understanding why everyone
else does not know, that a horse is beautiful in one way and quite
ugly in another, that everything has this shot-silk quality, and is
all the finer for that. When people talk of a horse as an ugly
animal I think of its beautiful moments, but when I hear a flow of
indiscriminate praise of its beauty I think of such an aspect as one
gets for example from a dog-cart, the fiddle-shaped back, and that
distressing blade of the neck, the narrow clumsy place between the
ears, and the ugly glimpse of cheek. There is, indeed, no beauty
whatever save that transitory thing that comes and comes again; all
beauty is really the beauty of expression, is really kinetic and
momentary. That is true even of those triumphs of static endeavour
achieved by Greece. The Greek temple, for example, is a barn with a
face that at a certain angle of vision and in a certain light has a
great calm beauty.
But where are we drifting? All such things, I hold, are cases of
more and less, and of the right moment and the right aspect, even
the things I most esteem. There is no perfection, there is no
enduring treasure. This pet dog's beautiful affection, I say, or
this other sensuous or imaginative delight, is no doubt good, but it
can be put aside if it is incompatible with some other and wider
good. You cannot focus all good things together.
All right action and all wise action is surely sound judgment and
courageous abandonment in the matter of such incompatibilities. If
I cannot imagine thoughts and feelings in a dog's brain that cannot
possibly be there, at least I can imagine things in the future of
men that might be there had we the will to demand them....
"I don't like this Utopia," the botanist repeats. "You don't
understand about dogs. To me they're human beings--and more! There
used to be such a jolly old dog at my aunt's at Frognal when I was
a boy----"
But I do not heed his anecdote. Something--something of the nature
of conscience--has suddenly jerked back the memory of that beer I
drank at Hospenthal, and puts an accusing finger on the memory.
I never have had a pet animal, I confess, though I have been fairly
popular with kittens. But with regard to a certain petting of
Perhaps I was premature about that beer. I have had no pet animals,
but I perceive if the Modern Utopia is going to demand the sacrifice
of the love of animals, which is, in its way, a very fine thing
indeed, so much the more readily may it demand the sacrifice of many
other indulgences, some of which are not even fine in the lowest
It is curious this haunting insistence upon sacrifice and
It is slowly becoming my dominant thought that the sort of people
whose will this Utopia embodies must be people a little heedless of
small pleasures. You cannot focus all good things at the same time.
That is my chief discovery in these meditations at Lucerne. Much of
the rest of this Utopia I had in a sort of way anticipated, but not
this. I wonder if I shall see my Utopian self for long and be able
to talk to him freely....
We lie in the petal-strewn grass under some Judas trees beside the
lake shore, as I meander among these thoughts, and each of us,
disregardful of his companion, follows his own associations.
"Very remarkable," I say, discovering that the botanist has come to
an end with his story of that Frognal dog.
"You'd wonder how he knew," he says.
"You would."
I nibble a green blade.
"Do you realise quite," I ask, "that within a week we shall face our
Utopian selves and measure something of what we might have
The botanist's face clouds. He rolls over, sits up abruptly and puts
his lean hands about his knees.
"I don't like to think about it," he says. "What is the good of
reckoning ... might have beens?"
Section 5.
It is pleasant to think of one's puzzling the organised wisdom of
so superior a planet as this Utopia, this moral monster State my
Frankenstein of reasoning has made, and to that pitch we have come.
When we are next in the presence of our Lucerne official, he has the
bearing of a man who faces a mystification beyond his powers, an
incredible disarrangement of the order of Nature. Here, for the
first time in the records of Utopian science, are two cases--not
simply one but two, and these in each other's company!--of
duplicated thumb-marks. This, coupled with a cock-and-bull story
of an instantaneous transfer from some planet unknown to Utopian
astronomy. That he and all his world exists only upon a hypothesis
that would explain everyone of these difficulties absolutely, is
scarcely likely to occur to his obviously unphilosophic mind.
The official eye is more eloquent than the official lips and asks
almost urgently, "What in this immeasurable universe have you
managed to do to your thumbs? And why?" But he is only a very
inferior sort of official indeed, a mere clerk of the post, and he
has all the guarded reserve of your thoroughly unoriginal man. "You
are not the two persons I ascertained you were," he says, with the
note of one resigned to communion with unreason; "because you"--he
indicates me--"are evidently at your residence in London." I smile.
"That gentleman"--he points a pen at the botanist in a manner that
is intended to dismiss my smile once for all--"will be in London
next week. He will be returning next Friday from a special mission
to investigate the fungoid parasites that have been attacking the
cinchona trees in Ceylon."
The botanist blesses his heart.
"Consequently"--the official sighs at the burthen of such nonsense,
"you will have to go and consult with--the people you ought to
I betray a faint amusement.
"You will have to end by believing in our planet," I say.
He waggles a negation with his head. He would intimate his position
is too responsible a one for jesting, and both of us in our several
ways enjoy the pleasure we poor humans have in meeting with
intellectual inferiority. "The Standing Committee of Identification,"
he says, with an eye on a memorandum, "has remitted your case to the
Research Professor of Anthropology in the University of London, and
they want you to go there, if you will, and talk to him."
"What else can we do?" says the botanist.
"There's no positive compulsion," he remarks, "but your work here
will probably cease. Here----" he pushed the neat slips of paper
towards us--"are your tickets for London, and a small but sufficient
supply of money,"--he indicates two piles of coins and paper on
either hand of him--"for a day or so there." He proceeds in the
same dry manner to inform us we are invited to call at our earliest
convenience upon our doubles, and upon the Professor, who is to
investigate our case.
"And then?"
He pulls down the corners of his mouth in a wry deprecatory smile,
eyes us obliquely under a crumpled brow, shrugs his shoulders, and
shows us the palms of his hands.
On earth, where there is nationality, this would have been a
Frenchman--the inferior sort of Frenchman--the sort whose only
happiness is in the routine security of Government employment.
Section 6.
London will be the first Utopian city centre we shall see.
We shall find ourselves there with not a little amazement. It will
be our first experience of the swift long distance travel of Utopia,
and I have an idea--I know not why--that we should make the journey
by night. Perhaps I think so because the ideal of long-distance
travel is surely a restful translation less suitable for the active
We shall dine and gossip and drink coffee at the pretty little
tables under the lantern-lit trees, we shall visit the theatre, and
decide to sup in the train, and so come at last to the station.
There we shall find pleasant rooms with seats and books--luggage
all neatly elsewhere--and doors that we shall imagine give upon a
platform. Our cloaks and hats and such-like outdoor impedimenta will
be taken in the hall and neatly labelled for London, we shall
exchange our shoes for slippers there, and we shall sit down like
men in a club. An officious little bell will presently call our
attention to a label "London" on the doorway, and an excellent
phonograph will enforce that notice with infinite civility. The
doors will open, and we shall walk through into an equally
comfortable gallery.
"Where is the train for London?" we shall ask a uniformed fellow
"This is the train for London," he will say.
There will be a shutting of doors, and the botanist and I, trying
not to feel too childish, will walk exploring through the capacious
The resemblance to a club will strike us both. "A _good_ club," the
botanist will correct me.
When one travels beyond a certain speed, there is nothing but
fatigue in looking out of a window, and this corridor train, twice
the width of its poor terrestrial brother, will have no need of that
distraction. The simple device of abandoning any but a few windows,
and those set high, gives the wall space of the long corridors to
books; the middle part of the train is indeed a comfortable library
with abundant armchairs and couches, each with its green-shaded
light, and soft carpets upon the soundproof floor. Further on will
be a news-room, with a noiseless but busy tape at one corner,
printing off messages from the wires by the wayside, and further
still, rooms for gossip and smoking, a billiard room, and the dining
car. Behind we shall come to bedrooms, bathrooms, the hairdresser,
and so forth.
"When shall we start?" I ask presently, as we return, rather like
bashful yokels, to the library, and the old gentleman reading the
Arabian Nights in the armchair in the corner glances up at me with a
sudden curiosity.
The botanist touches my arm and nods towards a pretty little
lead-paned window, through which we see a village sleeping under
cloudy moonlight go flashing by. Then a skylit lake, and then a
string of swaying lights, gone with the leap of a camera
Two hundred miles an hour!
We resort to a dignified Chinese steward and secure our berths. It
is perhaps terrestrial of us that we do not think of reading the
Utopian literature that lines the middle part of the train. I
find a bed of the simple Utopian pattern, and lie for a time
thinking--quite tranquilly--of this marvellous adventure.
I wonder why it is that to lie securely in bed, with the light out,
seems ever the same place, wherever in space one may chance to be?
And asleep, there is no space for us at all. I become drowsy and
incoherent and metaphysical....
The faint and fluctuating drone of the wheels below the car,
re-echoed by the flying track, is more perceptible now, but it is
not unpleasantly loud, merely a faint tinting of the quiet....
No sea crossing breaks our journey; there is nothing to prevent a
Channel tunnel in that other planet; and I wake in London.
The train has been in London some time when I awake, for these
marvellous Utopians have discovered that it is not necessary to
bundle out passengers from a train in the small hours, simply
because they have arrived. A Utopian train is just a peculiar kind
of hotel corridor that flies about the earth while one sleeps.
Section 7.
How will a great city of Utopia strike us?
To answer that question well one must needs be artist and engineer,
and I am neither. Moreover, one must employ words and phrases that
do not exist, for this world still does not dream of the things that
may be done with thought and steel, when the engineer is
sufficiently educated to be an artist, and the artistic intelligence
has been quickened to the accomplishment of an engineer. How can one
write of these things for a generation which rather admires that
inconvenient and gawky muddle of ironwork and Flemish architecture,
the London Tower Bridge. When before this, temerarious anticipators
have written of the mighty buildings that might someday be, the
illustrator has blended with the poor ineffectual splutter of the
author's words, his powerful suggestion that it amounted simply to
something bulbous, florid and fluent in the vein of the onion, and
L'Art Nouveau. But here, it may be, the illustrator will not
Art has scarcely begun in the world.
There have been a few forerunners and that is all. Leonardo, Michael
Angelo; how they would have exulted in the liberties of steel! There
are no more pathetic documents in the archives of art than
Leonardo's memoranda. In these, one sees him again and again
reaching out as it were, with empty desirous hands, towards the
unborn possibilities of the engineer. And Durer, too, was a Modern,
with the same turn towards creative invention. In our times these
men would have wanted to make viaducts, to bridge wild and
inaccessible places, to cut and straddle great railways athwart the
mountain masses of the world. You can see, time after time, in
Durer's work, as you can see in the imaginary architectural
landscape of the Pompeian walls, the dream of structures, lighter
and bolder than stone or brick can yield.... These Utopian town
buildings will be the realisation of such dreams.
Here will be one of the great meeting places of mankind. Here--I
speak of Utopian London--will be the traditional centre of one of
the great races in the commonalty of the World State--and here will
be its social and intellectual exchange. There will be a mighty
University here, with thousands of professors and tens of thousands
of advanced students, and here great journals of thought and
speculation, mature and splendid books of philosophy and science,
and a glorious fabric of literature will be woven and shaped, and
with a teeming leisureliness, put forth. Here will be stupendous
libraries, and a mighty organisation of museums. About these centres
will cluster a great swarm of people, and close at hand will be
another centre, for I who am an Englishman must needs stipulate that
Westminster shall still be a seat of world Empire, one of several
seats, if you will--where the ruling council of the world assembles.
Then the arts will cluster round this city, as gold gathers about
wisdom, and here Englishmen will weave into wonderful prose and
beautiful rhythms and subtly atmospheric forms, the intricate,
austere and courageous imagination of our race.
One will come into this place as one comes into a noble mansion.
They will have flung great arches and domes of glass above the wider
spaces of the town, the slender beauty of the perfect metal-work far
overhead will be softened to a fairy-like unsubstantiality by the
mild London air. It will be the London air we know, clear of filth
and all impurity, the same air that gives our October days their
unspeakable clarity and makes every London twilight mysteriously
beautiful. We shall go along avenues of architecture that will be
emancipated from the last memories of the squat temple boxes of the
Greek, the buxom curvatures of Rome; the Goth in us will have taken
to steel and countless new materials as kindly as once he took to
stone. The gay and swiftly moving platforms of the public ways will
go past on either hand, carrying sporadic groups of people, and very
speedily we shall find ourselves in a sort of central space, rich
with palms and flowering bushes and statuary. We shall look along an
avenue of trees, down a wide gorge between the cliffs of crowded
hotels, the hotels that are still glowing with internal lights, to
where the shining morning river streams dawnlit out to sea.
Great multitudes of people will pass softly to and fro in this
central space, beautiful girls and youths going to the University
classes that are held in the stately palaces about us, grave and
capable men and women going to their businesses, children meandering
along to their schools, holiday makers, lovers, setting out
upon a hundred quests; and here we shall ask for the two we more
particularly seek. A graceful little telephone kiosk will put us
within reach of them, and with a queer sense of unreality I shall
find myself talking to my Utopian twin. He has heard of me, he wants
to see me and he gives me clear directions how to come to him.
I wonder if my own voice sounds like that.
"Yes," I say, "then I will come as soon as we have been to our
We indulge in no eloquence upon this remarkable occasion. Yet I feel
an unusual emotional stir. I tremble greatly, and the telephonic
mouthpiece rattles as I replace it.
And thence the botanist and I walk on to the apartments that have
been set aside for us, and into which the poor little rolls of the
property that has accumulated about us in Utopia, our earthly
raiment, and a change of linen and the like, have already been
delivered. As we go I find I have little to say to my companion,
until presently I am struck by a transitory wonder that he should
have so little to say to me.
"I can still hardly realise," I say, "that I am going to see
myself--as I might have been."
"No," he says, and relapses at once into his own preoccupation.
For a moment my wonder as to what he should be thinking about brings
me near to a double self-forgetfulness.
I realise we are at the entrance of our hotel before I can formulate
any further remark.
"This is the place," I say.


text:
Sascha Konietzke
A digital native with a deep tech focus but business in mind. I practiced my first words of English with Navy officers during the early days of the Internet.
I'm the CEO and one of the co-founders of Contentful, which is a cloud-based content management platform for Web & Mobile applications.
Before that I've developed iOS and Web applications as a freelancer and co-founded Tagcrumbs, a delicious-like platform to share places in real life.
I quit my blog as I never found the time to write besides my startup activities.
I'm currently located in Berlin but I've been living all over the world (Silicon Valley, Tokyo, Buenos Aires).
"Ships in harbor are safe, but that's not what ships are built for."


text:
In medieval times the river was seen and experienced as a great flow of energy moving slowly and inexorably trough landscape. It was a flow of energy that could be harnessed and put to use. In many river towns mills were built next to river. Rivers also provided the water used for washing and drinking.
River – Section E
Angle: 30°
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|80 g
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text:
To escape the hail of bullets the Hussars spurred forward leaving the Pandours to deploy and clear the rocks overlooking the road. There was no escape however and the Hussars were met by a charge of the Orleans Light Horse, oldest of the Rosmark cavalry regiments and now apparently part of the Rebel army.
At first the Hussars held their own but soon the weight of numbers told and those not cut down were taken prisoner.
The remaining Royal troops, now reinforced by the Queen's Regiment and the 2nd squadron of Hussars, pushed to cover the vital convoy from all angles as the old King's Regiment appeared rushing to block the road ahead and an unidentified body of light troops emerged from cover behind the convoy.
Amidst the smoke and confusion the Hussars, pushing their way to the front, suddenly found themselves mere yards from a company of grey coated infantry and drawing sabers, were upon them before they could fire. The infantry recoiled in disorder but the Hussars could not allow themselves the luxury of finishing them off. They rallied back. Behind them, the Pandours having already suffered heavy casualties from Rebel sharpshooters, had been hit by the Orleans cavalry and despite their Colonel taking his pipe out his mouth long enough to personally lay low an enemy trooper, had collapsed and run.
As the Hussars rallied back, the 2nd company of the Queen's pushed forward to cover the front while the 1st company spread out as far as possible to cover the flank and rear. Through the smoke ahead them the ghostly shapes of infantry appeared. It was the 2nd company of the King's rushing to fill the gap. After a short sharp melee, both side fell back and prepared to resume the fight in a more disciplined fashion.
Although their ranks were much thinned, the Orlean's Regiment gathered it and once again spurred forward crashing into the Queen's men around the carriages. With horses blown and men tired they could make no headway but they had forced the infantry to fall back and rally while they rallied themselves.
To give the Queen's regiment time to rally, the Hussars pushed to the front once again. Passing through the enemy skirmishers before these had time to fire they galloped against the old King's men. Now rallied, these delivered a shattering close range volley and the Hussars were held. Behind them the sharpshooters closed in on those hated Red Pants from front and rear.At point blank range their fire was deadly and soon the Queen's Regiment joined the flow to the rear.
Full fledged Civil War looms!
Happy New to all! Here's to toy soldiers and bloodless battles a plenty in 2014.


text:
Ode to the WPBT
I was too drunk to remember my cards, but I remember for a fact (after a night at the Sherwood Forest bar in the Excalibur hotel) that I had laid a perfect trap with my flush (or maybe it was two-pair) and Bill Rini got lucky on the river to take my stack and send me home defeated … like literally with no more money.
That was at a cash game in 2005 (or maybe 2006?) during one of the earlier WPBT weekends.
The World Poker Blogger Tour held its 9th annual Winter Classic tournament this past weekend, at Aria. The $125 no-limit hold'em tournament (complete with lasts-longer bets, team competition, and inside-jokey booby prizes) is technically what brings everyone to town. But the WPBT is so much more — an event that spreads across the entire Las Vegas Valley for a long weekend. It's the drinking, and golf, and this year hiking around Red Rock Canyon, and drinking, and fancy meals and dive bars, and mixed games, and more drinking, and gambling in the pits, and the occasional hookup of course, and more drinking … I think they're mighta been a marriage or two linked to the WPBT, and even a couple divorces.


text:
50°32' / 23°44'
Translation of Laszczow chapter from
Pinkas Hakehillot Polin
Published by Yad Vashem
Published in Jerusalem
Project Coordinator
Morris Gradel z"l
Our sincere appreciation to
Yad Vashem
for permission
to put this material on the JewishGen web site.
This is a translation from:
Pinkas Hakehillot:
Encyclopedia of
Jewish Communities, Poland,
Volume VII, pages 292-293, published by Yad Vashem, Jerusalem
JewishGen, Inc. makes no representations regarding the accuracy of
the translation. The reader may wish to refer to the original material
for verification.
JewishGen is not responsible for inaccuracies or omissions in the original work and cannot rewrite or edit the text to correct inaccuracies and/or omissions.
Our mission is to produce a translation of the original work and we cannot verify the accuracy of statements or alter facts cited.
(District: Tomaszow; Province: Lublin)
Laszczow (L) is mentioned for the first time at the end of the 15th century as a private possession of Polish noblemen. In 1549 it was granted urban status with the right to hold markets and fairs. After the Third Partition of Poland in 1795 L came under Austrian rule; in 1807 it became part of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw; and 1815 until the First World War it was incorporated into the Kingdom of Congress Poland. The town was occupied by the Germans in 1915, and they remained there until they withdrew in 1918.
As early as the first half of the 17th century L had a Jewish population. In 1673 it owned three houses out of the 70 in the town. At the beginning of the 18th century it had an organised community and a synagogue and Bet Midrash (for this and other terms, see Notes at the end of this translation).
L is mentioned a few times in the Records of the Council of the Four Lands, and in 1719 was the venue of its session. At the Council's meeting in 1731, held in Jaroslaw, it was decided to include L in the Zamosc District. In 1815 the rabbi of L was R. Mordechai Zyskind, who gave his approval to the publication of the book Shivchei Habesht. With the growth of Chassidism in Poland, its influence also reached L, where stieblich (prayer houses) of the Chassidim of Belz, Turzysk, Radzyn and Gusyatin (Husiatyn) were to be found. In 1909 the town's rabbi was R. Yekutiel Szmuel Glass.
At the end of the First World War, before it came under the sovereignty of an independent Poland, the Jews of L fell victim to the troops of the Ukrainian General Bulak-Blachowicz - at that time an ally of the Poles in their war against the Soviet Union. On September 5th, 1920, these soldiers arrested Rabbi Glass, and only released him upon payment of a ransom of 20,000 rubles. Between September 10th and 13th the Cossacks fell upon the Jews, killing a woman, wounding 60, raping some 100 women and girls, and robbing the Jews of their valuables and money. Many Jews were ruined, and after these disturbances a goodly number left the town.
In the 1920s and 30s most of the Jews of L were engaged in small trading, peddling and crafts. They could hardly eke out a living. The main welfare institutions operating in L were Provident Funds, Bikur Cholim, and Linat Zedek. This period also saw the establishment of a Cooperative Bank. During the economic crisis of 1928-31, when their incomes were drastically reduced, many Jews were saved from hunger by these institutions.
The community of L was known as religious in character, although in the 20s and 30s the influence of the Zionist movement made itself increasingly felt. In 1931 the elections to the Community Council of eight included three Zionists, three non-Party candidates, and two from the Artisans' List.
On May 17th, 1942, came the end of the community - its Jews were despatched to their deaths in the camp at Belzec. A mere handful succeeded in escaping to the woods and a few of them survived until liberation.
Bet Midrash: a school usually attached to the synagogue and giving religious instruction, mainly to adults.
Council of the Four Lands: the Jewish self-governing body in Russia-Poland originating in the 16th century. Named for the four regions of Major Poland, Minor Poland, red Russia and Lithuania, it was called in Hebrew 'Va'ad Arba Artzot'.
Shivchei Habesht: In Praise of the Baal-Shem-Tov (Rabbi Israel Ben Eliezer, the founder of Chassidism).
Chassidism / Has(s)idism: the Jewish revivalist movement originating in eastern Europe in the late 16th century. It maintains many of the characteristics of the time, such as its dress. Diverse sects of Chassidim hail from different towns and follow different leaders or 'rebbes'.
Bikur Cholim: literally 'Visiting the Sick', but sometimes also health service, or even hospital.
Linat Zedek: basically a hospice for the poor and homeless, it also carried out a number of other welfare tasks.
The above notes were compiled by the translator/editor. Some of the definitions were taken from The Timetables of Jewish History, by Judah Gribetz with Edward L. Greenstein and Regina S. Stein (Simon and Schuster, 1993).
Yizkor Book Project JewishGen Home Page
Copyright © 1999-2023 by JewishGen, Inc.
Updated 26 Nov 2006 by LA


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Technology, social media, and access to the Internet are redefining what it means to be a "broadcaster." NewTek's Broadcast Minds is a moderated panel event where creative media entrepreneurs discuss the shift in the way people consume television and explore new ways to produce network-style television programs.
Broadcast Minds 2013
Internet Content Creators Talk What's Next Online
The 2013 NAB Show teamed up with NewTek to host Broadcast Minds: Internet Content Creators Talk What's Next Online.
The live discussion – featuring Jim Louderback from Revision3, Penn Jillette of Penn & Teller and Celebrity Apprentice, Shira Lazar from "What's Trending," and Bruce Gersh from FishBowl Media – explores how content creators of all kinds are thinking differently about how to produce TV-quality shows online, and build loyal audiences.


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This year, we observed National Men's Health Week from June 9 to 15. Each year we observe Men's Health Week the week prior to Father's Day, focusing on awareness, prevention, education and family.
And, June 8 was Best Friends Day, so if your dad happens to be your best friend too, all the more reason to celebrate.
Social Security encourages you to support fathers and friends everywhere in their efforts to stay healthy. The right balance of diet, exercise, regular visits to doctors and health care providers, and overall healthy living can go a long way to help everyone remain a part of your daily life for years to come.
Avoiding stress helps folks stay healthy. That's why we'd like to suggest that you advise the men in your life (and everyone for that matter) to avoid scams and phishers. Fathers and best friends may like to go fishing, but make sure they aren't the catch of the day when a criminal offers alluring bait.
For example, Social Security will not call or email you for your personal information such as your Social Security number or banking information. If someone claiming to be from Social Security contacts you and asks for this information, do not give out your personal information without calling us to verify the validity of the request. The caller may be an identity thief phishing for your personal information. Just call the local Social Security office or Social Security's toll-free number at 1-800-772-1213 (TTY 1-800-325-0778).
If you receive a suspicious call, please report it to our Fraud Hotline. You also can report such calls online at http://oig.ssa.gov/report or by telephone at 1-800-269-0271 from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. If possible, please include the following details:
• The alleged suspect(s) and victim(s) names, addresses, phone numbers, dates of birth, and Social Security numbers, if known;
• Description of the fraud and the location where the fraud took place;
• When and how the fraud was committed;
• Why the person committed the fraud (if known); and
• Who else has knowledge of the potential violation.
Identity theft is one of the fastest-growing crimes in America. If you or anyone you know has been the victim of an identity thief, the place to contact is the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) at www.idtheft.gov. Or, call 1-877-IDTHEFT (1-877-438-4338); TTY 1-866-653-4261.
Whether you go fishing, play some ball, or take a hike, we encourage you to enjoy some healthy time with your father and with your best friend. But make sure no one falls victim to the wrong kind of phishing. Learn more by reading our publication, Identity Theft And Your Social Security Number available at www.socialsecurity.gov/pubs.
Editor's note: Mr. Hyneman is the Social Security district manager in Cambridge.


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Great ideas are sometimes borne out of desperation.
In my case, the desperation was to get back on a horse after a lumbar fracture at the beginning of the hunt season. Having already sat out much of the season, I just couldn't see myself not riding at the annual joint meet in Ridgecrest, Calif. Hounds and members of Red Rock Hounds, Kingsbury Harriers, Santa Ynez Hounds, Grand Canyon Hounds, Paradise Valley Beagles, as well as members of several eastern hunts all come together for three days of hunting, eating, drinking and mingling with great friends and fantastic animals.
Riding was definitely not on my list of "can do" activities but give me a quiet horse and a promise to only walk then no harm can be done, right?
Normally, I ride in the first field and love nothing more than to gallop fast behind the pack so this idea of walking was a tremendous compromise. But at least I'd be on a horse.
The concept of leading a field of others who may not want to run, gallop or navigate steep ravines and rocky mountains started to formulate. In fact, I have three friends who wanted to try hunting but were apprehensive about riding fast and furious. Two of the three had actually joined Red Rock Hounds for the 2011-12 season but hadn't yet ventured out to the hunt field. The timing was right for the opportunity to introduce them to the excitement of following the hounds.
The Ridgecrest fixtures are ideal to start out in foxhunting. The country has terrific footing, gentle terrain with wide open spaces, and the weather is usually very non-January-like. It couldn't be better to introduce my friends to the excitement of riding to the hounds. And, maybe some others would want to join us.
Red Rock MFH, Lynn Lloyd, gave me her blessing to add a field for people who wanted to join the hunt but at a slower pace. A much slower pace. In fact, at a leisurely pace.
The inaugural outing of the Leisure Field was at the Robbers Roost fixture in Ridgecrest. To minimize the mayhem surrounding the first day of a large joint meet we waited to mount up until the dual packs of Red Rock and Santa Ynez, along with riders from all the hunts, had ridden off in search of the elusive coyote trail.
Our Leisure Field of about 10 embarked on our journey at a decidedly un-brisk pace. Best described as an ambling walk, we had only gone several yards when we had our first viewing—a very fast jackrabbit!
Because I knew we'd be traveling long distances over unfamiliar hunt country I brought along my GPS BackTrack D-Tour to track our distance, elevation and, most importantly, to find our way back to the fixture. Our sauntering pace gave us opportunity to discuss hunting protocol, etiquette and principals to help our rookie hunt enthusiasts become knowledgeable about their new activity. We had some great conversations, but I did inform everyone that once they graduated to first or second fields their chatting ways would be silenced in respect of the hounds and huntsmen.
Our first check occurred when my field mentioned the need for a break. A quick glance at my GPS declared we had gone about 569 yards—yes, perfect timing for a check. We were met by the "Whoopie Wagon," piloted by Ron Crossley, completely stocked with water, Power Bars and courage-inducing liquids for flask refills. Ron also provided horse holding and mounting assistance for riders who had a need to take a walk behind a bush.
After re-mounting, we continued our journey to the top of Robbers' Roost—2.1 miles from the fixture where, of course, we had another check!
Scout Valentine, an apprentice falconer and wildlife expert riding in the Leisure Field, treated the field to an enlightening mini-lecture on the birds and wildlife indigenous to Robbers' Roost, a nesting ground for birds of prey.
As we descended Robbers' Roost we used our GPS to point us in the right direction for the fixture. Of course, we could see the horse trailers way off in the distance, but it was more fun to use the GPS. Frankly, we didn't need our eyesight or techie tools to find our way back. As soon as we turned towards the fixture our field hunters accelerated from their sluggish, dawdling pace to a brisk march. Where does their inner GPS come from?
The Leisure Field arrived back at the fixture after a two-hour hunt where we viewed four or more jackrabbits, a burrowing owl and numerous birds. We observed several dens, nests and tracks of the wildlife that call Robbers' Roost home. We even came back with a partial jawbone from a bobcat. While we didn't view a coyote that day we surely did see plenty of evidence of the clever animals' existence.
During the three days of the joint meet the Leisure Field gained popularity. Not limited to riders that were new to hunting, we were joined by others that desired a quiet day or had horses being introduced to hunting or were fractious in first or second fields. This enjoyable, non-fearful introduction to foxhunting proved addictive to my three rookie friends. At the close of the meet one of the new-but-not-yet-hunted members had purchased a new horse. The other is contemplating a new mount or some hunt training for her current one, and the non-member is now a member of Red Rock Hounds.
What started out as a lark and in my own self-interest to getting back in the saddle may well have started a new idea for introducing and recruiting new participants to the joys of riding to the hounds. Several members of other hunts mentioned they wanted to take the idea of a Leisure Field to their hunt management to consider the idea.
A Leisure Field, or whatever you chose to label it, is an idea for every hunt in need of new members to consider. We have all been new to foxhunting at some point and could've benefitted from a mentoring program to learn all about our new pursuit. Experienced members may have had a horse that needs a gentle introduction to their job of field hunter or, like myself, have an injury where we've been banned from the saddle by our medical providers but in need a "hunting fix." I truly had a delightful time teaching my rookie field members and encouraging them to join us in following the hounds in the future.
Foxhunting has so many misconceptions. We're thought of as crazy, running fast, jumping high and traversing through all sorts of treacherous country on a horse that can jump anything. So maybe the "crazy" and "run fast" part is true for some of us. If you want to jump then, yes, your horse would best have that skill. Yet, following the hounds CAN be for the faint of heart! As evidenced by the debut of the Leisure Field, we can engage new membership for a whole faction of horse, nature and hound-loving people by offering an introduction that is not overwhelming (ie, frightening!). The Leisure Field is also a superb way to introduce a green horse to the hounds and the hunt or to re-introduce a seasoned horse that is unfit or returning to work after an injury layup.
It just makes so much sense! Too bad I had to break my back to think of it!
It'll be several more weeks until I can ride again (yes, Ridgecrest was strictly in violation of doctor's recommendations), but once I'm back in the saddle for good it'll be even more weeks until I can move back up to first field. You can be sure during that time I'll be leading out the Leisure Field every chance I can.
And, even after I'm back up in first field I'll happily be the Leisure Field Master occasionally to introduce newcomers to the fun world of Red Rock Hounds. Besides, I like those frequent checks with the Whoopie Wagon!
This story was re-published with permission of Joy Smith. It was originally published on her blog. See more photos of the Leisure Field.


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Classic attractions can be found in the Mitte district in the heart of Berlin. Here you'll find Branderburger Tor (the Brandenburg Gate) at one end of the famous Unter den Linden boulevard, and the Berliner Dom (Berlin Cathedral) and Alexanderplatz – a well-known square and a public transport hub – at the other end. In Mitte you can also check out the Reichstag (parliament building) with its large glass dome, which is itself a famous landmark.
You can also take in some beautiful views of Berlin from the city's famous Fernsehturm (TV Tower) with its revolving restaurant, and from the huge Siegessäule victory monument.
On the Museumsinsel (Museum Island) in the River Spree you'll find several museums – the most famous being the Pergamon Museum. The Jüdisches Museum (Jewish Museum) with its spectacular architecture is also well worth a visit.
Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche (Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church) – ruins of the church that was destroyed in a bombing raid during World War II. A rebuilt church with a new tower incorporates parts of the original church ruins.
Holocaust memorial – a monument built in memory of the Holocaust victims, with thousands of large stone blocks laid out as a maze in the middle of the city.
East Side Gallery – 1.3km long part of the Berlin Wall decorated with artworks.
Haus am Checkpoint Charlie – a museum at the old border crossing between East and West Berlin.
Tiergarten – Berlin's largest park is close to the Berliner Zoo (Zoologischer Garten Berlin), one of the largest zoos in the world.


text: An analysis of a piece of Android spyware targeting a prominent Tibetan political figure suggests it may have been built to figure out the victim's exact location.The research, performed by the Citizen Lab at the University of Toronto's Munk School of Global Affairs, is part of an ongoing project that is looking at how the Tibetan community continues to be targeted by sophisticated cyberspying campaigns.Citizen Lab obtained a sample of an application called KaKaoTalk from a Tibetan source in January, according to its blog. KaKaoTalk, made by a South Korean company, is a messaging application that also lets users exchange photos, videos and contact information.The application was received on Jan. 16 through email by a "high profile political figure in the Tibetan community," Citizen Lab wrote. But the email was forged to look like it had come from an information security expert who had previous contact with the Tibetan figure in December.At that time, the security expert had sent the Tibetan activist a legitimate version of KaKaoTalk's Android Application Package File (APK) as an alternative to using WeChat, another chat client, due to security concerns that WeChat could be used to monitor communications.But the version of KaKaoTalk for Android had been modified to record a victim's contacts, SMSes and mobile phone network configuration and transmit it to a remote server, which had been created to mimic Baidu, the Chinese portal and search engine.The malware is capable of recording information such as the base station ID, tower ID, mobile network code and area code of the phone, Citizen Lab said. That information is typically not of much use to a scammer who is trying to pull off frauds or identity theft.But it is useful to an attacker that has access to a mobile communication provider's technical infrastructure."It almost certainly represents the information that a cellular service provider requires to initiate eavesdropping, often referred to as 'trap and trace'," Citizen Lab wrote. "Actors at this level would also have access to the data required to perform radio frequency triangulation based on the signal data from multiple towers, placing the user within a small geographical area."The Citizen Lab noted that their theory is speculative and that "it is possible that this data is being gathered opportunistically by an actor without access to such cellular network information."The tampered version of KaKaoTalk has many suspicious traits: it uses a forged certificate and asks for extra permissions to run on an Android device. Android devices typically forbid installing applications from outside Google's Play store, but that security precaution can be disabled.If users are tricked into granting extra permissions, the application will run. Citizen Lab notes that Tibetans may not have access to Google's Play store and must install applications hosted elsewhere, which puts them at a higher risk.Citizen Lab tested the tampered version of KaKaoTalk against three mobile antivirus scanners made by Lookout Mobile Security, Avast and Kaspersky Lab on Feb. 6 and March 27. None of the products detected the malware.Citizen Lab wrote that the finding shows those who are targeting the Tibetan community quickly change their tactics.As soon as discussions began to move away from WeChat, the attackers "leveraged this change, duplicating a legitimate message and producing a malicious version of an application being circulated as a possible alternative," Citizen Lab wrote.Send news tips and comments to email@example.com. Follow me on Twitter: @jeremy_kirk


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Tomorrow, April 6, 2010, André Néron will have been dead for 25 years.
In spite of the weight of his work on abelian varieties, I've only been able to ascertain the following information:
- His birth and death dates (born November 30, 1922)
- In 1943 he graduated from the École Normale. He got his doctorate in 1951 and his advisor was Châtelet (though not at any particular school, just somewhere in Paris according to German Wikipedia) and his only student was Colliot-Thélène at Orsay (shared with Swinnerton-Dyer)
- He was employed at Poitiers. It also seems that in 1953 when he was inducted into the Société Mathématique de France he was listed as being at Orsay. In years 59-60 he was at the IAS and in 1954 he was an invited speaker at the ICM in Amsterdam.
That's pretty much what I found. And all that does is hint that there's a really fantastic story in there!
What happened during the war?
How did he get back to mathematics?
Who else did he work with (not just publish papers with, MathSciNet suggests his only collaborators were Serge Lang and Pierre Samuel)?
Why so few students? Was he difficult to get along with or was it just a sign of the times?
Why did he die at age 62?
If you have any data or stories about him, please leave them here, one answer per.


text:
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Remember, Edmonton: if you think a white man robbed you, he probably didn't.
Of course, here's a crazy question. Why the hell hasn't this asshole been deported?
Defence lawyer Deborah Hatch said Teklie, originally from Ethiopia, came to Canada from Africa and was in a Kenyan refugee camp for years. He is currently a permanent resident of Canada.


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Vikings punter Chris Kluwe and Ravens linebacker Brendon Ayanbadejo have been the most outspoken proponents of gay marriage in the NFL, if not in all of sports. This fall, they found themselves on the right side of gay-marriage referendums in their respective states, Minnesota and Maryland, whereupon both Kluwe and Ayanbadejo proudly claimed victory. And now they've put their names behind a case currently before the U.S. Supreme Court that seeks to block the implementation of California's Proposition 8, which was noxious enough that even Theodore Olson and David Boies saw eye to eye on it. This morning, Kluwe and Ayanbadejo filed an amicus curiae brief with the court that supports the cause that Proposition 8 is unconstitutional.
Kluwe's and Ayanbadejo's motion does not include the term "lustful cockmonsters," which is a shame. But what it lacks in colorful language it makes up for in the symbolism of two professional athletes moving beyond the safe precincts of PSAs and speaking directly to the highest court in the land. From the letter:
We are just beginning to see progress with regard to the issue of sexual orientation. No active athlete in any of the major male sports has come out, as professional athletes themselves feel the impact of homophobia, like soccer pro (footballer) Robbie Rogers, who only came out recently as he retired from the sport.
Yet many professional athletes are speaking up—both to clear the way for any teammates who may be gay and closeted, and from an understandingof how even seemingly minor acts by professional athletes can reverberate with the public. Tolerance is becoming the message in locker rooms and from teams that recognize they cannot countenance use of pointless slurs like "faggot," "queer," and "gay." Regardless the intent with which those terms are spoken, they classify a group and particular people as synonymous with the lesser, and professional athletes are beginning to understand that.
The case before the U.S. Supreme Court is formally known as Hollingsworth v. Perry. It reached the Supremes because a federal judge in the Ninth Circuit overturned Proposition 8. That judge's decision was subsequently upheld by the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. In their brief, Kluwe and Ayanbadejo further maintain that the Supremes can strike a blow against discrimination within the sports world by voting to uphold the Ninth Circuit's ruling:
If the Court reverses the Ninth Circuit, many professional athletes will take their cues from that. And that will cause a ripple effect as even more people follow their role models, their leaders, their heroes. Those against same-sex marriage? They will use it as yet another tool to support their preconceived idea that gay Americans, who pay their taxes, serve in our military, and by every measure of societal participation are superior neighbors and citizens, are instead second class members of society. That they do not deserve the same rights as everyone else. That separate can be equal.
The amici hope that our support for marriage equality here will matter—both with the Court and with people looking for confirmation that it is okay to treat other good people as equals. We know for a certainty that this Court's decision truly will matter, and in a tremendous way for many people's lives.
The entire amicus brief Kluwe and Ayanbadejo filed this morning with the U.S. Supreme Court can be read below. Kluwe tells us he's looking for others in the sports world—athletes, managers, coaches, or teams—to sign on to it. Anyone interested can reach him at email@example.com or @ChrisWarcraft on Twitter.


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Core Curriculum
All bachelor degrees awarded by the University of St. Thomas shall meet the core curriculum requirements of the undergraduate program. The core curriculum is organized into nine curricular areas.
Please use the right side menu to navigate the specific areas of the Core Curriculum.
Goals of the Core Curriculum
The importance of offering a well-integrated undergraduate core curriculum flows from the commitment of St. Thomas as a Catholic university to the underlying unity of the human person: We are called to integrity in our personal, social, and spiritual lives. The unity of the person entails the interrelatedness of the various branches of knowledge, and we are guided in our search for such interrelations by the recognition that faith and reason are fundamentally compatible and complementary. Moreover, this vision of the human person brings into focus the communitarian dimension of the person, leading us to emphasize the ethical and social development of all students and to insist that knowledge should serve the common good. Finally, because this tradition calls upon us to recognize the dignity of the human person, the curriculum fosters both an appreciation for the life of the mind and an awareness of interdependence with others on local, national, and global levels.
Drawing upon the Catholic identity of the university as an over arching principle, the undergraduate program is then framed by three additional key principles: the pursuit of liberal learning, the cultivation of a vocation aimed at serving the common good, and the promotion of fruitful interaction with the urban community within which the university flourishes.
Students formed within the architecture of such a curriculum will exhibit a love of learning and will act in accord with their deeper understanding of the responsibilities they carry within the various communities within which they participate. Through their learning they will be prepared to engage in fruitful dialogue across the many differences that constitute the polyphony of human culture, standing open to being challenged while exhibiting a readiness to seek out the deepest insights of those who at first might have seemed strikingly different from themselves.
To further these over arching objectives, graduates of St. Thomas should have developed:
- the ability to think analytically, critically, and creatively, and to solve problems by applying knowledge in appropriate circumstances
- the ability to write and speak clearly, to read demanding works with comprehension, to listen and observe carefully, and to respond appreciatively to the precise and imaginative use of language
- an understanding of the fine arts as modes of expression that deepen human experience and open new perspectives on human cultures
- an understanding of the nature and function of faith and Catholic tradition in the modern world
- the ability to articulate and support moral and ethical judgments about what constitutes good actions and a good society
- the ability to participate responsibly in a democratic society, to respect the value of informed dialogue and to give thoughtful consideration to differing ideas
- an understanding of the responsibility of educated persons to contribute to the communities and the environment in which they live on local, national, and global levels
- knowledge of their own and others' cultures and traditions, including non-Western and non-majority cultures, and respect for the diversity of peoples and cultures within the fundamental unity of humankind
- knowledge of the natural world and of the modes of inquiry cultivated by the natural sciences
- the ability to reason quantitatively and to evaluate basic mathematical and statistical arguments
- the ability to understand how the power of technology can be used in service of the common good and as a tool within academic disciplines
- the ability to use knowledge from various fields and to integrate ideas across disciplinary boundaries
- knowledge in depth in at least one field of study, including an understanding of the route to acquiring knowledge and demonstration of some ability to do research or learn independently in that field.
Courses used to satisfy the requirement in a curricular area are of two types:
- core courses – in which a specific course is designated as fulfilling a requirement; and
- core-area courses – in which a selection is made from a list of courses designated as fulfilling the requirement.
Overview of requirements:
- Faith and the Catholic Tradition - 12 credits
- Fine Arts - 4 credits
- Historical Studies - 4 credits
- Human Diversity - 4 credits (courses fulfilling this requirement may also fulfill another core or core area requirement)
- Language and Culture - 12 credits
- Literature and Writing - 8 credits
- Moral and Philosophical Reasoning - 8 credits
- Natural Science and Mathematical and Quantitative Reasoning - 12 credits
- Social Analysis - 4 credits
- Writing Across the Curriculum - 4 classes (courses fulfilling this requirement may also fulfill another core or core area requirement)