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It was Lao Lan who invented the scientific method of forcing pressurized water into the pulmonary arteries of slaughtered animals. With this method, you could empty a bucketful of water into a two-hundred-jin pig, while with the old method you could barely empty half a bucket of water into the carcass of a dead cow. The amount of money that the clever townspeople have spent on water from our village when they thought they were paying for meat in the years since will never be known, but I'm sure it would be a shockingly high figure.
Lao Lan had a substantial potbelly and rosy cheeks; his voice rang out like a pealing bell. In a word, he was born to be a rich official. After rising to the position of village head, he selflessly taught his fellow-villagers the water-injection method and served as the leader of a local riches-through-ruse movement. Some villagers spoke out angrily and some attacked him on wall posters, calling him a member of the retaliatory landlord class, which was intent on overthrowing the rule of the village proletariat. But talk like that was out of fashion. Over the village P.A. system, Lao Lan announced, "Dragons beget dragons, phoenixes beget phoenixes, and a mouse is born only to dig holes." Sometime later, we came to realize that he was like a kung-fu master who will never pass on all his skills to his apprentices—who holds back enough for a safety net. Lao Lan's meat was water-injected, like everyone else's, but his looked fresher and smelled sweeter. You could leave it out in the sun for two days and it wouldn't spoil, while others' would be maggot-infested if it didn't sell the first day. So Lao Lan never had to worry about cutting prices if his supply did not sell right away; meat that looked as good as his was never in danger of going unsold.
My father, Luo Tong, told me it wasn't water that Lao Lan injected into his meat but formaldehyde. My father was much smarter than Lao Lan. He'd never studied physics, but he knew all about positive and negative electricity; he'd never studied biology, but he was an expert on sperm and eggs; and he'd never studied chemistry, but he was well aware that formaldehyde can kill bacteria, keep meat from spoiling, and stabilize proteins, which is how he guessed that Lao Lan had injected formaldehyde into his meat. If getting rich had been on my father's agenda, he'd have had no trouble becoming the wealthiest man in the village, of that I'm sure. But he was a dragon among men, and dragons have no interest in accumulating property. You've seen critters like squirrels and rats dig holes to store food, but who's ever seen a tiger, the king of the animals, do something like that? Tigers spend most of their time sleeping in their lairs, coming out only when hunger sends them hunting for prey. Similarly, my father spent most of his time holed up, eating, drinking, and having a good time, coming out only when hunger pangs sent him looking for income. Never for a moment did he resemble Lao Lan and people of that ilk, who accumulated blood money, putting a knife in white and taking it out red. Nor was he interested in going down to the train station to earn a porter's wages by the sweat of his brow, like some of the coarser village men. Father made his living by his wits.
In ancient times, there was a famous chef named Pao Ding, who was an expert at carving up cows. In modern times, there was a man who was an expert at sizing them up—my father. In Pao Ding's eyes, cows were nothing but bones and edible flesh. That's what they were in my father's eyes, too. Pao Ding's vision was as sharp as a knife; my father's was as sharp as a knife and as accurate as a scale. What I mean to say is: if you were to lead a live cow up to my father, he'd take two turns around it, three at most, occasionally sticking his hand up under the animal's foreleg—just for show—and confidently report its gross weight and the quantity of meat on its bones, always to within a kilo of what might register on the digital scale used in England's largest cattle slaughterhouse. At first, people thought my father was just a windbag, but after testing him several times they were believers. His presence took blind luck out of the equation in dealings between cattlemen and butchers, and established a basis of fairness. Once his authority was in place, both the cattlemen and the butchers courted his favor, hoping to gain an edge. But, as a man of vision, he would never jeopardize his reputation for petty profits, since by doing so he'd smash his rice bowl. If a cattleman came to our house with a gift of wine and cigarettes, my father tossed them into the street, then climbed our garden wall and cursed loudly. If a butcher came with a gift of a pig's head, my father flung it into the street, then climbed our garden wall and cursed loudly. Both the cattlemen and the butchers said that Luo Tong was an idiot, but the fairest man they knew.
People trusted him implicitly. If a transaction reached a stalemate, the parties would look at him to acknowledge that they wanted things settled. "Let's quit arguing and hear what Luo Tong has to say!" "All right, let's do that. Luo Tong, you be the judge!" With a cocky air, my father would walk around the animal twice, looking at neither the buyer nor the seller, then glance up into the sky and announce the gross weight and the amount of meat on the bone, followed by a price. He'd then wander off to smoke a cigarette. Buyer and seller would reach out and smack hands. "Good! It's a deal!" Once the transaction was completed, buyer and seller would come up to my father and each would hand him a ten-yuan note and thank him for his labors. What must be made clear is that, before my father showed up at the cattle auctions, the deals had been negotiated by old-style brokers, dark, gaunt, wretched old men, some with queues hanging down their backs, who were proficient in the art of haggling by finger signs hidden in wide, overlapping sleeves, thus lending the profession an air of mystery. My father effectively drove the shifty-eyed brokers off the stage of history. This remarkable advance in the buying and selling of cattle on the hoof could, with only a bit of exaggeration, be called revolutionary. My father's keen eye was not limited to cattle but worked on pigs and sheep as well. Like a master carpenter who can build a table but can also build a chair and, if he's especially talented, a coffin, my father had no trouble sizing up even camels.
Early one summer day, Father carried me on his shoulders over to the threshing floor. We were still living in the three-room shack we'd inherited from my grandfather. Our shack looked particularly shabby and awful now that it was tucked in among a bunch of newly built houses with red tiled roofs, like a beggar kneeling in front of a clutch of landlords and rich merchants in silks and satins, asking for a handout. The wall around our yard came barely up to an adult's waist and was topped by weeds. Thanks to my lazy, gluttonous father, we lived a life of extremes, with potfuls of meat on the stove during good times and empty pots during the bad. Whenever he was the target of Mother's frantic curses, he'd say, "Any day now, very soon, the second land-reform campaign will begin, and you'll thank me when it does. Don't for a minute envy Lao Lan, since he'll wind up like that landlord father of his, dragged off to the bridgehead by a mob of poor peasants to be shot." He'd aim an imaginary rifle at Mother's head and fire off a round: bang! She'd grab her head with both hands and go pale with fright. But the second land-reform campaign didn't come and didn't come, and poor Mother was forced to bring home rotten sweet potatoes that people had thrown away so she could feed the pigs. Our two little pigs never got enough to eat and they squealed hungrily most of the time. It was annoying.
That morning, Father had railed angrily, "What the hell are you squealing about? Keep it up and I'll toss you two little bastards in a pot and have you for dinner!'
Cleaver in hand, Mother glared at him. "Don't even think about it," she said. "Those are my pigs. I raised them, and nobody will harm a hair on them. Either the fish dies or the net breaks."
"Take it easy," Father said, with a gleeful laugh. "I wouldn't touch those skin-and-bones animals for anything."
I took a long look at the pigs—it was true that there wasn't much meat on either of them, but those four fleshy ears would have made for good snacking. To me, the ears were the best part of a pig's head—no fat, not much grease, and tiny little bones with a nice crunch. They were best with cucumbers—the thorny ones with flowers—and some mashed garlic and sesame oil. "We can eat their ears!" I said.
"I'll cut off your ears and eat them first, you little bastard!" Mother said. She grabbed hold of my ear and jerked it hard, while Father tried to pull me free—by the neck—and I screamed for all I was worth, afraid my ear would be ripped off. My screams sounded like the squeals of pigs being slaughtered in the village. In the end, Father, with his superior strength, managed to yank me free.
Rage turned Mother's face waxen and her lips purple; she stood at the stove shaking from head to toe. Emboldened by my father's protection, I cursed, spitting out her full name: "Yang Yuzhen, you stinking old lady, you're making my life a living hell!"
Stunned by my outburst, she just stared at me, while Father chuckled, picked me up, and took off running. We were already out in the yard by the time we heard Mother's shrill wail. "I could die, I'm so mad, you little bastard. . . ."
Father rapped me on the head and said softly, "You little imp, how did you know your mother's name?"
I looked up into his swarthy, sombre face. "I heard you say it!"
"When did I ever tell you her name was Yang Yuzhen?"
"You told it to Auntie Wild Mule. You said, 'Yang Yuzhen, that stinking old lady, is making my life a living hell!' "
Father clamped his hand over my mouth and said under his breath, "Shut up, damn you. I've been a pretty good father so far. Don't you go and ruin things for me now."
Mother came out of the house, cleaver in hand. "Luo Tong," she shouted, "Luo Xiaotong, you two sons of bitches, you scruffy bastards, I wouldn't care if I died today if I could take the two of you with me. Today will see the end of this family!"
The terrible look on her face announced to me that this was no joke. My father may have led a dissipated life, but he was no fool. The smart man avoids danger. He swept me up, tucked me under his arm, turned, and ran toward the wall and all but somersaulted over it, putting my enraged mother and a whole lot of trouble behind us. I harbored no doubts about her ability to scamper over the wall, as we'd done, but she chose not to. Once she'd driven us out of the yard, she stopped chasing us. She jumped about for a while at the foot of the wall, then went back inside to finish chopping the rotting sweet potatoes and fill the air with loud curses. It was a brilliant way to let off steam: no blood and no mess, no falling afoul of the law, yet I knew that those rotten potatoes were surrogates for the heads of her bitter enemies.
Now, as I think back, I realize that the true bitter enemy in her mind was neither Father nor me—it was Wild Mule, who ran a wine shop in the village. My mother was convinced that the slut had seduced my father, and I simply cannot say if that was or was not a fair assessment of the situation. Where Father and Wild Mule's relationship was concerned, the only people who knew who'd seduced whom, who'd cast the first flirtatious glance, were the two of them.
Seven or eight cattle merchants were sitting on their haunches at the edge of the threshing floor when we got there, smoking cigarettes as they waited for the butchers to show up. (Once our village had been turned into a huge slaughterhouse, the fields, for all intents and purposes, were left fallow, and the threshing floor had become the place where cattle were bought and sold.) The cattle stood off to the side, absent-mindedly chewing their cud, oblivious of their impending doom. The merchants, most from the western counties, spoke with funny accents, like radio-play actors. They showed up every ten days or so, each bringing along two head of cattle, maybe three. For the most part, they came on a slow, mixed freight-and-passenger train, men and beasts in one car, arriving at the station nearest our village at around sunset. They didn't reach our village till after midnight, even though the station was no more than ten li away. A stroll that should have taken an hour or two took these merchants and their cattle a good eight. Why did they prefer to reach our village in the middle of the night? That was their secret. When I was young, I asked my parents and some of the village graybeards that very question. But they just gave me stony looks, as if I'd asked them the meaning of life or a question whose answer everyone knew.
The cattle's arrival was a signal for the village dogs to set up a chorus of barks, which woke up everyone—man, woman, young, and old—and informed us that the cattle merchants were here. In my youthful memories, they were a mysterious lot, and this sense of mystery was surely tied to their late-night entry into the village. On some moonlit nights, when the silence was broken by the chorus of dogs barking, Mother would sit up, wrapped in a comforter, stick her face close to the window, and gaze at the scene outside. This was before Father skipped out on us with Wild Mule, but there were already nights when he didn't come home. Noiselessly, I'd sit up, too, and look past Mother, out the window, at the cattle merchants driving the animals silently past our house, the freshly bathed cattle glinting in the moonlight like giant pieces of glazed pottery. If it hadn't been for the seething current of barks, I'd have thought I was observing a beautiful dreamscape; even with the dogs, as I think back now, it seemed like one.
Our village boasted several inns, but the merchants never bedded down in them; instead, they led their cattle straight to the threshing floor and waited there till dawn, even if the wind was howling or it was pouring rain, if the air was bitter cold or steamy hot. There were stormy nights when innkeepers went out to drum up business, but the merchants and their cattle remained in the inhospitable elements like statues, unmoved, no matter how flowery the invitation. Was it because they didn't want to part with that little bit of money? No. People said that after they sold their cattle they went into town to get drunk and whore around on a spending spree that stopped only when they had just enough to buy a ticket for the slow train home. Their life style could not have been more different from that of the peasants. Their thinking, too. As a child, on more than one occasion I heard some of our more eminent villagers comment, with a sigh, "Hai, what kind of people are they? What in the world is going on inside those heads of theirs?" When they came to market, they brought brown cows and black ones, males and females, fully grown cows and immature ones, and once they even brought a nursing heifer whose teats looked like water jugs, and my father had trouble estimating a price for her, since he didn't know if the udder was edible or not.
The cattle merchants would stand when they saw my father. They wore mirrored sunglasses early in the morning, which was a spooky sight, though they smiled as a show of respect. My father would lift me off his shoulders, squat down on his haunches ten feet or so from the merchants, pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and remove a crooked, damp cigarette. The cattle merchants would take out their packs, and ten or more cigarettes would land on the ground by Father's feet. He'd gather them up and lay them back down neatly. "Lao Luo, you old fuckhead," one of the merchants would say. "Smoke 'em. You don't think we're trying to buy your favors with a few paltry cigarettes, do you?" Father would just smile and light his cheap smoke.
The village butchers would start showing up then, in twos and threes, all looking as if they were fresh from a bath, though I could smell the scent of blood on their bodies, which goes to show that blood—whether from cows or pigs—doesn't wash off. The cattle, smelling the blood on the butchers, would huddle together, fear flashing in their eyes. Excrement would spurt from the bungholes of the young cows; the older ones looked composed, but I knew that was for show, since I could see their tails draw up under their rumps to keep them from emptying their bowels. Their legs trembled, like the ripples on a pond in a passing breeze.
Negotiations began as soon as the butchers arrived. As they circled the animals, a casual observer might think they were having trouble deciding which ones to buy. But, if one of them reached out and grabbed a halter, within three seconds the others would do the same, and, lightning quick, all the cows would have buyers. No one could recall ever seeing two butchers fight over the same animal, but if something like that had happened the dispute would have been quickly resolved. In most occupations, competitors are rivals, but the butchers in our village were united in friendship, prepared to confront any and all opponents as a brotherhood. When each of them had a halter in hand, the cattle merchants approached languidly and the bargaining began. Now that my father had cemented his authority, these negotiations took on little importance, became pro forma, a mere custom, for it was left to him—he had the last word. The men would jockey back and forth for a while, then walk up to my father, cow in tow, like applicants for a marriage license at the town hall.
But something special occurred on this particular day: instead of heading straight for the cows, the butchers chose instead to pace back and forth at the edge of the square, their meaningful smiles making anyone who saw them uncomfortable. And, when they passed in front of my father, something was hidden in those smiles that hinted at unpleasantness, as if a conspiracy were afoot, one that could erupt at any moment. I cast a timid glance at Father, who sat there woodenly smoking one of his cheap cigarettes, just as he did every day. The better cigarettes tossed his way by the merchants lay on the ground untouched. Once the deals were struck, the butchers would come over, gather up the cigarettes, and smoke them. And, as they smoked, they would praise my father for his incorruptibility. "Lao Luo," one would say, half in jest, "if all Chinese were like you, Communism would have been realized decades ago." He'd smile but say nothing. And this was the moment when my heart would swell with pride and I'd vow that this was how I would do things, that he was the kind of man I wanted to be. It was obvious to the merchants as well that something was in the air that day, and they turned to look at my father, except for a few who coolly observed the butchers as they paced. A tacit agreement had been reached: everyone was waiting to see what would happen, like an audience patiently waiting for the play to begin.
A bright-red sun rose above the fields in the east, like a blacksmith's ruddy face, and the leading actor in the drama finally appeared at the threshing floor: Lao Lan, a tall, husky man with well-developed muscles. He had a bushy brown beard, the same color as his eyes, which made you wonder if he was of pure Han stock. The minute he strode into the square, everyone's eyes were on him. With the sun shining down, his face glowed. He walked up to my father, but his gaze was fixed on the fields beyond the squat earthen wall, where rays of morning sun dazzled the eye. The crops were jade green; the flowers were in bloom, releasing their perfume into the air; the skylarks sang in the rosy-red sky. My father, who seemed to be nothing in the eyes of Lao Lan, might as well not have been sitting by the wall at all. And, naturally, if my father meant nothing to him, I meant even less. Maybe he was blinded by the sun—that was the first thought that entered my juvenile mind—but I quickly understood that Lao Lan was trying to provoke my father.
As he cocked his head to speak to the butchers and the merchants, he unzipped his pants, took out his dark tool, and let loose a stream of burned-yellow piss right in front of my father and me. A heated stench assailed my nostrils. It was a mighty stream; he'd probably been saving it up all night, without relieving himself, so that he could humiliate my father. The cigarettes on the ground tumbled and rolled in the man's urine, swelling up until they lost their shape. A strange laugh had arisen from the clusters of butchers and merchants when Lao Lan took out his tool, but they broke that off so abruptly it was as if a gigantic hand had reached out and grabbed them by the throat. They stared at us, slack-jawed and tongue-tied, looks of surprise frozen on their faces. Not even the butchers, who had known that Lao Lan wanted to pick a fight with my father, had imagined that he'd do something like this. His piss landed on our feet and on our legs, some even spraying into our faces and our mouths. I jumped up, enraged, but Father didn't move a muscle. He sat there like a stone. "Fuck your old lady, Lao Lan!" I cursed. My father didn't make a sound. Lao Lan wore a superior smile. My father's eyes were hooded, like those of a farmer taking pleasure in the sight of water dripping from the eaves.
When Lao Lan finished pissing, he zipped up his pants and walked over to where the cattle were standing. I heard long sighs from the butchers and merchants, but couldn't tell if they were sorry that nothing had happened or happy that it hadn't. With that, the butchers walked in among the cattle and in no time made their selections. Then the merchants walked up and the bargaining commenced. But I could tell that their hearts weren't in it, that something other than making deals was on their minds. Though they weren't looking at my father, I was sure they were thinking about him. And what was he doing? He'd brought his knees up and was hiding his face behind them, like a hawk sleeping in the crotch of a tree. Since I couldn't see his face, I had no way of knowing what he looked like at that moment. But I was unhappy with what I saw as weakness. I may have been only a boy, but I knew how badly Lao Lan had humiliated my father, and I also knew that any man worth his salt would not take that without a fight; I'd proved that by my curses. But my father remained silent, as if he were dead.
That day's negotiations were brought to a close without his intervention. But, when they were over, all the parties walked up as usual and tossed some notes at his feet. First to do this was none other than Lao Lan. That mongrel bastard, apparently not content to piss in my father's face, took out two brand-new ten-yuan notes and snapped them between his fingers to get my father's attention. It didn't work, for he kept his face hidden behind his knees, which seemed to disappoint Lao Lan. He took a quick glance all around, then flung the two notes down at my father's feet, one of them landing in a still steaming puddle of his piss, where it nestled up against the soggy, disintegrating cigarettes. At that moment, my father might as well have been dead. He'd lost face for himself and his ancestors. He was less than a man, reduced to the level of the bloated cigarettes swimming in his adversary's piss. After Lao Lan had tossed down his money, the merchants and butchers followed his lead, sympathetic looks on their faces, as if we were a father-and-son team of beggars who deserved their pity. They tossed down double the amount they usually gave my father, either as a reward for not resisting or in an attempt to copy Lao Lan's generosity.
As I stared at all those notes which had fallen at our feet like so many dead leaves, I began to cry, and at long last Father looked up. There was no sign of anger on his face, or of sadness. It had all the lustre of a dried-out piece of wood. He gazed at me coldly, a look of perplexity in his eyes, as if he had no idea why I was crying. I reached out and clawed at his neck. "Dieh," I said, "you're no longer my father. I'll call Lao Lan Dieh before I ever call you Dieh again!"
Momentarily stunned by my shouts, the men around us quickly burst out laughing. Lao Lan gave me a thumbs-up. "Xiaotong," he said, "you're really something, just what I need, a son. From now on, you're welcome at my house anytime. If it's pork you want, that's what you'll get, and if it's beef you'll have that, too. And if you bring your mama along I'll welcome you both with open arms."
That was too great an insult to ignore, so I rushed him angrily. He easily sidestepped my charge, and I wound up face down on the ground with a cut and bleeding lip.
With a loud guffaw, he said, "You little prick, attacking me after calling me Dieh! Who in his right mind would want a son like you?"
Since no one offered to help me up, I had to get to my feet on my own. I walked over to my father and kicked him in the leg to vent my disappointment. Not only did that not make him angry; he wasn't even aware of it. He just rubbed his face with his large, soft hands. Then he stretched his arms and yawned like a lazy tomcat, looked down at the ground, and, slowly, conscientiously, carefully, gathered the notes that were steeping in Lao Lan's piss, holding each one up to the light, as if to make sure it wasn't counterfeit. Finally, he picked up the new note from Lao Lan that had become dirty in the urine and dried it on his pants. Now that all the money was stacked neatly on his knees, he held it with the middle two fingers of his left hand, spat on the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, and counted it. I ran over to grab it out of his hand, intending to tear it up and fling it into Lao Lan's face, to avenge the humiliation that had settled on us both, father and son. But he was too fast for me; he jumped up and held his left hand high in the air, muttering, "You foolish boy, what do you think you're doing? Money's money. It's not to blame; people are. Don't take your anger out on money." Grabbing his elbow with my left hand, I tried to claw my way up his body to rip that shameful money out of his hand. I didn't stand a chance, not with a full-grown man. I was so mad I rammed my head into his hip over and over, but he just patted me on the head and said genially, "That's enough now, son, don't get carried away. Look over there at Lao Lan's bull—see, it's getting angry."
It was a big, fat Luxi bull with straight horns and a satiny hide over rippling muscles, the kind I saw later on athletes on TV. It was a golden yellow, all but its face, which, surprisingly, was white. I'd never seen a white-faced bull before. It was castrated, and the way it looked at you out of the corner of one of its eyes was enough to make your hair stand on end. Now that I think back, that was probably the look people describe when they talk about eunuchs. Castration changes a man's nature; it does the same with bulls. By pointing out the bull to me, Father made me forget about the money, at least for the moment. I turned just in time to see Lao Lan swagger out of the square, leading his bull. Why not swagger, after the way he'd humiliated my unresisting father? His prestige in the village and among the cattle merchants had risen dramatically. He'd gone up against the only person who dismissed him as irrelevant, and won; no one in the village would ever defy him again. That only makes what happened next so startling that I'm not sure I believe it even now, years later.
That Luxi bull of his stopped in its tracks. Lao Lan tugged on the halter to get it moving again. It didn't respond. Without even trying, the bull made a mockery of Lao Lan's show of strength. A cattle butcher by trade, he had an odor that could normally make a timid calf shake like a leaf and cause even the most stubborn animal to meekly await its death when he stood in front of it, knife in hand. Unable to get the bull moving again by tugging on its halter, he went around and smacked it on the rump with an ear-piercing yell. Now, most animals would have lost control of their bowels in the wake of that smack and yell, but this Luxi bull didn't so much as piddle. Still enjoying the glow of victory over my father, and acting like a cocky soldier, Lao Lan kicked the animal in its underbelly, giving no thought to the nature of a bull. Well, the animal shifted its rump, let out a loud roar, lowered its head, and flung Lao Lan into the air with its horns, as if he weighed no more than a straw mat. The cattle merchants and butchers were shocked by what had just happened, shocked and speechless, and none of them went to Lao Lan's aid. The bull lowered its head again and charged. Now, Lao Lan was no ordinary man, and when he saw those horns coming at him he rolled out of the way. Eyes blazing with anger, the bull turned to charge again, and Lao Lan saved his skin by rolling out of the way a second time and a third.
When he was finally able to scramble to his feet, we saw that he was injured, if only slightly. He stood there facing down the bull, hips shifted to one side, not taking his eyes off the animal for a second. The bull lowered its head, slobber gathering at the corners of its mouth, and snorted loudly, as it prepared for the next charge. Lao Lan raised his hand to distract the bull, but he was clearly only putting on a front to appear brave. He looked like a terrified bullfighter who would do anything to save face. He took a cautious step forward; the bull didn't move. Rather, it dropped its head even lower, a sign that the next charge was imminent. In the end, Lao Lan abandoned his macho posturing, gave one final, blustery shout, turned, and ran madly. The bull took off after him, its tail sticking out stiff and straight, like an iron rod. Hooves kicked mud in all directions, like a spray of machine-gun fire; meanwhile, Lao Lan, hellbent on escaping, headed instinctively toward the onlookers, hoping to find salvation in the crowd. But rescuing him was the last thing on their minds. With shrieks all around, they, too, ran for their lives, cursing their parents for not giving them more than two legs. Luckily, the bull had enough intelligence to single out Lao Lan and not vent its anger on anyone else. The merchants and butchers sent sand flying as they scrambled over walls and up trees. Lao Lan, stupefied by his predicament, ran straight toward Father and me.
With a sense of desperation, Father grabbed me by the neck with one hand and the seat of my pants with the other, and flung me up onto the wall only seconds before that damned Lao Lan took refuge behind him, grabbing his clothes so that he couldn't break free, and would screen him from the charging bull. My father retreated; so, of course, did Lao Lan, until they were both backed up against the wall. Father waved the money in his hand in front of the bull and muttered, "Bull, ah, bull, there's no bad blood between you and me, not now, not ever, so let's work this out . . ."
It all happened faster than words can describe: Father threw the money at the bull's face and leaped onto its back before the animal knew what was happening. Then he stuck his fingers in the bull's nose, grabbed its nose ring, and jerked its head up high. The cows the merchants brought from the western counties were farm animals, so they all had nose rings. Now, the nose is a bull's weak spot, and no one, not the best farmer alive, knew more about bulls than my father did, though he himself wasn't much of a farmer. Tears sprang to my eyes as I sat on top of the wall. I'm so proud of you, Father, I thought, of the way you washed away the humiliation and reclaimed our lost face with your wise and courageous action.
The butchers and merchants helped him get the white-faced yellow bull down on the ground; in order to keep it from getting up again and hurting anyone, one of the butchers ran home, rabbit-fast, to fetch a knife, which he offered to the now pale-faced Lao Lan, but Lao Lan took a step backward and waved the man off, turning the task over to someone else. The butcher looked from side to side, knife in hand: "Who'll do it? Nobody? Well, then, I guess it's up to me." He rolled up his sleeves, wiped the blade against the sole of his shoe, then hunkered down and closed one eye, like a carpenter with a plumb line. Taking aim at the slight indentation in the bull's chest, he plunged the knife in, and, when he pulled it out, blood spurted, and painted my father red.
Now that the bull was dead, everyone climbed down; blackish-red blood continued to flow from the wound, bubbling like water from a fountain and releasing a heated odor into the crisp morning air. The men stood around like deflated balloons, shrivelled and diminished somehow. There was so much they wanted to say, but no one said a word. Except my father, who tucked his head down low between his shoulders, opened his mouth to reveal a set of strong but yellow teeth, and said, "Old man in the sky, I was so scared!"
At that, everyone turned to look at Lao Lan, who clearly wished he could crawl into a hole. He tried to cover his embarrassment by looking down at the bull, whose legs were stretched out straight, the meaty parts of its thighs still twitching. One of its blue eyes remained open, as if to release the hatred inside. "Damn you!" Lao Lan said as he kicked the dead animal. "You spend your whole life hunting wild geese, only to nearly have your eye pecked out by a gosling." He looked up at my father. "I owe you one, Luo Tong, but you and I aren't finished."
"Finished with what?" my father asked. "There's nothing between you and me."
"Don't you touch her!" Lao Lan hissed.
"I never wanted to touch her—she wanted me to," my father said, with a proud little laugh. "She called you a dog, and she'll never let you touch her again."
At the time, I had no idea what this was all about, though later, of course, I figured out that they were talking about Wild Mule.
But when I asked, "Dieh, what are you talking about?," he said, "Nothing a child needs to know."
"Son," Lao Lan said, "didn't you say you wanted to be a member of the Lan family? Then why did you call him Dieh just now?"
"You're nothing but a pile of stinky dog shit!" I said.
"Son," he said, "you go home and tell your mother that your father found his way into Wild Mule's cave and can't get out."
That made my father as angry as the bull had been; he lowered his head and charged at Lao Lan. They weren't at each other's throats for more than a moment before others rushed over to pull them apart. But, in that brief moment, Lao Lan had managed to break my father's little finger and my father had bitten off half of Lao Lan's ear. Spitting it out angrily, he said, "How dare you say things like that in front of my son, you dog bastard!" ♦
(Translated, from the Chinese, by Howard Goldblatt.)


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ATLANTA PITTSBURGH BALTIMORE HASKINS & S E L LS PORTLAND BIRMINGHAM BOSTON PROVIDENCE SAINT LOUIS BROOKLYN SALT LAKE CITY BUFFALO CHARLOTTE CERTIFIED PUBLIC ACCOUNTANTS SAN DIEGO SAN FRANCISCO CHICAGO SEATTLE CINCINNATI TULSA CLEVELAND WATERTOWN DALLAS BULLETIN DENVER DETROIT JACKSONVILLE BERLIN LONDON MANILA PARIS SHANGHAI KANSAS CITY LOS ANGELES MINNEAPOLIS NEWARK E X E C U T I V E O F F I C ES NEW ORLEANS 30 BROAD STREET, NEW YORK HAVANA NEW YORK MEXICO CITY PHILADELPHIA MONTREAL VOL. X NEW YORK, JANUARY, 1927 No. 1 What an Investing Shareholder Should Know THE typical stockholder, in whose be-half the sentimental agitators are waging such vigorous warfare, probably is the one least worried over the possible tendency to disenfranchise him. Practically, he is concerned with the extent and regularity of dividends, with the safety of his investment, with the exchange value of his stock, and with its marketability. Given these, he cares little whether or not he votes. He will avoid it if possible, responding usually to the second request for proxies sent out by the corporation officials. The atypical stockholder sends proxies to no one. He attends the meetings in person. He makes speeches and protests often over some insignificant or unimportant matter. He is heard respectfully, his protest may be recorded, but judging from outward appearances he might as well have saved his time and breath. These illustrations do not apply to cases wherein the shares are closely held. The use of shares in such cases is confined generally to gaining advantage in personal squabbles which develop between factions. No public spirited champions of democracy are needed in the premises. The attorneys usually look after the legal rights of the parties. The typical shareholder whose interests are being so zealously conserved is the individual who owns ten shares of "Strumo." A sorry spectacle he would make of attempting to exercise effectively the proprietary right of voice in the management with which theoretically he becomes vested by reason of stock ownership. In modern corporation procedure, theory and practice often clash; practice usually wins. The wrong of non-voting stock, as the matter is viewed by the average citizen, lies in the fact that any possibility of organizing a minority group to the point of making its voice heard is irretrievably removed. Natural human pride which might cause an individual to resent being denied the right to vote, perhaps would be conversely affected if the right were to be extended even though there might be no practical way of making the right effective. These ruminations, however, lead to no solution of the problem. If there is anything in the idea that shareholders should have the right to vote, a new form of stock might be devised which, while non-voting, ordinarily would become endowed with that power automatically under certain conditions. Thus, failure to declare dividends, or to maintain dividend rates already established, failure to maintain a satisfactory financial
Object Description
What an investing shareholder should know
Stockholders -- Attitudes
Haskins & Sells Bulletin, Vol. 10, no. 01 (1927 January), p. 1-2
|Originally published by: Haskins & Sells
|Deloitte Digital Collection
|Digital Publisher
|University of Mississippi Libraries. Accounting Collection
|Date-Digitally Created
|HS Bulletin 10-p1

subset: commoncrawl


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Maria Creech necesitaba un nuevo diseño de tema de wordpress y lanzó un concurso de diseño en 99designs.
Un ganador ha sido elegido entre 99 diseños de 13 diseñadores freelance.
Maria Duncan Photography
I specialize in commercial photography. I feature artistic, interesting and smart photographs. I am detailed in my work, thinking of how a picture might print and frame while still making a shot interesting. I like to come up with new fresh ideas for business wanting to feature their services.
I want to target two main audiences:
1. Commercial accounts - basically any business that needs pictures taken for any reason. I've shot rooms, equipment, doctors, real estate, and sports.
I really enjoy this and would like it to be my main emphasis.
2. Weddings - I enjoy shooting weddings and would like to feature some of that work with my new site.
I don't really enjoy family photography and over charge so that people will not hire me so I really don't want that highlighted.
I have a logo design that I love but I haven't really settled on a color scheme. I have tried a few things but am still unsure.
I would like to see examples using my photos: http://mduncanphotography.blogspot.com
I want a professional looking site that will highlight my photography portfolio.
I to have tabs for: commercial, weddings, travel, printing, pricing, about me
I want to have a call to action on just about every page where a prospective client can request a call or email from me regarding my services.
I need a layered PSD file for coding.
My brand is fresh, new, smart, and unusual photography. I want a site that is fresh, new, smart and unusual!
Good luck!


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I remember back in the day spotting a Porsche on the road was to be celebrated. A slack jaw, some drool, that pang of jealousy... the odd erection or two.
Now I see them all the time. But not the kinds of Porsches that garner the above actions. Panameras. Cayennes. More Panameras.
For the love of all that's holy, I was between TWO Panameras at a stoplight today. In sub-zero temperatures. With fresh snow blowing across the roads. In my beater Camry.
I was behind the black one for quite awhile, then a tan one that I could not capture on my dashcam snuck up behind us at a light, and got into the left turn lane as the black one was on my right. I was in a Panamera sandwich. (Is there a German equivalent of a sandwich? DAS HOAGIE? I dunno)
Don't you people have winter beaters?
*sees "Panamaera 4" badge*
Well it's still not fair.
I want to see REAL Porsches. 911s. Caymans. Boxsters. Even the off 924/944/928/914 would be appreciated more than these bloated hunks of normality.
Seriously. Two, in one day, AT THE SAME INTERSECTION?
Funny license plate though.


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Deadline Extended--WPA-GO Travel Awards Call Now 2/13Submitted by HeatherJStone on February 6, 2015 - 00:35
Good news! We are now able to accept submissions for the WPA-GO Travel Grants for CCCC until next Friday, February 13th. The deadline has been extended from the original date of February 6th. If you are a graduate student presenting at CCCC or any of the related forums, please submit a proposal to WPA-GO. We are making several awards, and the process is pretty straightforward so there is still time. Details are below. Advisors--please alert your student advisees.


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Fans lose grace with Star Wars MMO
Access code worrier
Star Wars: The Old Republic fans are getting hot under the collar after it emerged that they may not be able to continue playing the game with pre-release "Early Access" code once the title hits shop shelves.
That might not matter so much if developer Bioware hadn't said such a so-called "grace period" would be in force.
Hold up... what did you say?
Last week, publisher EA said that those who pre-ordered and were subsequently given access to the early play programme, will be unable to continue playing after launch until they key in a registration code included with each copy of the game.
Bioware had previously pledged otherwise, saying gamers who pre-order Star Wars: The Old Republic will get play continuity,
"There will be a period after launch day in which those who have pre-ordered [the game] will be able to continue playing before entering their Game Code. More information on this will be made available closer to launch," the developer said.
And Bioware's automated Customer Service e-mails still claim there will be a grace period as well:
"It is common practice for MMOs to allow for a Grace Period, and Star Wars: The Old Republic will be no different in that respect. When the game is released, you will have a five day post-launch grace period to purchase a full copy of the game and redeem your Game Code if you wish to continue playing the game without interruption."
But Stephen Reid, Community Manager for EA/Bioware, this week confirmed: "There will be no 'grace period' post launch in which those who are in Early Game Access will be able to continue to play the game."
"In order to continue playing past the Early Game Access period, you will need to enter a valid launch game code and payment method. Please read our FAQ for more information. We apologize for any previous messaging which may have led you to believe otherwise."
EA's revelation suggests that won't happen – unless your pre-ordered physical copy arrives before launch day.
No wonder that fans are unsurprisingly seething, especially those who pre-ordered in countries such as Australia, where an official launch date has yet to be set.
When it comes to MMO titles, turning up at the party a month late can be highly detrimental to one's geekdom aspirations. Not cool, guys, not cool. Bet you wish you went digital now.
Star Wars: The Old Republic flies onto UK shelves tomorrow, 15 December. Each copy comes with 30-days access, thereafter customers must pay either £9 every month, £25 every three, or £46 for half a year. ®
Thanks to reader Paul McDermott for the tip.
Sponsored: Beyond the Data Frontier


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Tournament completed! Post an announcement to share updates to your community.
With the kind support of OSC and Matcherino, Proxy Tempest is proud to present the Big Christmas Rumble to round up a successful and long year of tournaments!
Top 4 of each qualifier will proceed to play in the main event. This event does NOT provide a prizepool for the winner, as top 4 will qualify! You can, however, support the event by going to its Matcherino page: https://matcherino.com/tournaments/12831/contribute and using the code "PTXMAS" to add $1 to the prizepool to no monetary cost to yourself! Or have a look at the other rewards listed on the page!
Stream: www.twitch.tv/proxy_tempest
Channel: Proxy Tempest (EU server), players MUST be in the ingame chat channel to guarantee a smooth tournament. (type /join Proxy Tempest into the chat bar!)
Prize pool for Main event:
1st: $300 + 300 OSC points
2nd: $200 + 200 OSC points
3rd/4th: $50 + 100 OSC points each
5-8th: $25 + 40 OSC points each
9-16th: $12.5 +15 OSC points each
plus participation and bounty bonusses, too!
Current OSC World Ranking: http://sc2online.com/osc-world-rankings
OSC Bounties:http://sc2online.com/bounties/
OSC Team Championship: https://www.teamliquid.net/forum/sc2-tournaments/533426-osc-2018-team-championship
Tournament format
All games in winners bracket are Bo3, games in losers bracket Bo1, except for the qualifying matches which are Bo3
Mappool: Current Map Pool
- Maps and map orders are determined by the following rules:
3 vetoes for each player in Bo1: A B A B A B C with A being the upper player in the bracket
2 vetoes for each player in Bo3: A B A B with A being the upper player in the bracket
Then picking the map order starting with player A: A B C
Have fun!!!
Players races cannot be changed throughout a series. A player may chose to pick another race after a finished series. The desired race MUST be announced clearly to the opponent before the veto for a series starts. Random counts as race.
- Default waiting time is 15 minutes if a match is ready to play, unless both opponents agree on something else. If that is the case, it must be made known to the admin via /whisper ingame, on Discord or in the stream chat. However, if the bracket is being delayed for an unreasonable amount of time, it is in the admins discretion to revoke that agreement to guarantee a smooth tournament.
Default server is the EU server. If both opponents agree to play on a different server, this decision MUST be made known on Discord OR via ingame PM to either LadyAzylis or a tournament admin. You do not have to wait for approval, we just want to know in case we are looking for players.
- Players cannot deny the Proxy Tempest staff and the broadcasters listed in the Approved streamers list from observing their games.
Semi finals and finals are casted, so even if you are ready to play, please wait for the caster(s).
This rule does not apply if the tournament lasts an extended period of time.
Make sure your privacy settings allow others to contact you.
Please use Discord or the stream chat to bring up any concerns or questions during the games.
Third party software that provides any sort of advantage for the player using it (such as maphacks, production tab hacks and so on) is not allowed. Using that sort of cheat will result in immediate ban from the current event and all future events held by Proxy Tempest.
- To have fun, sportsmanlike behaviour is expected from all participants towards each other, the admins and the caster(s). Excessive bad mannered behaviour will result in either a disqualification from the current event, a temporary ban, or a lifetime ban from Proxy Tempest events, depending on the severity of misbehaviour. It is in the discretion of the tournament admin to determine what actions are to be taken. To report a player for unsportsmanlike behaviour, please provide proof in form of screenshots and/or replays containing the reported manners.
- In the event of a disconnect players must restart from replay three second from when the disconnect occurred!
The stream has a delay of 3 minutes to prevent stream cheating, however, players are asked to leave the channel while their matches are casted.
- Prize money is paid out via Matcherino and always minus Matcherino fees.
Final Results
|Supreme Champion:
|Worthy Adversary:
|Maybe Next Time:


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Beaumont/Port Arthur
For folks that are going to be out and about and drinking over Spring Break in Jefferson County, they need to find a designated driver for their safety and for everyone else out on the roadways.
And it's not just a safety issue either, because the Jefferson County Sheriff's Office will be adding extra deputies to patrol Jefferson County roads starting Saturday, March 12 through Saturday, March 19thas part of an increased effort to find impaired drivers and get them off the road during Spring Break week.
While we harbor no disrespect for the Wall Street Journal who called us "that scrappy little paper from Southeast Texas," we prefer to think of ourselves as simple seekers of the truth. We're of the opinion that headlines and sound bites never tell the whole story. Our readers demand all the facts, facets and flavors of every story or event. And, they expect to be informed, educated and stirred to action.
For this week's New York Times crossword puzzle, pick up a copy of this week's The Examiner on newsstands now.


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Couple re-enacts 'Breaking Bad' for engagement photos
Forget the stuffy pictures. This local couple channels their inner Walter White.
What do meth and engagements have in common? Rocks, of course. So it was a no-brainer for one Houston-area couple to take Breaking Bad-themed engagement photos.
"We're really big Breaking Bad fans," said Hannah Schuster, of The Woodlands.
By the looks of her engagement photos, we'd say that's an understatement. Hannah and her fiancé, Mackey Macaluso, are now Internet sensations after their photographer, who is also Schuster's best friend, posted the photos on Reddit.
The RV, which is camped out near a gas station in Spring, looks similar to the one featured in Breaking Bad. So when it came time to pose for pictures, Schuster put two and two together.
"It was all my idea," said Schuster. "(Macaluso)was like 'this is going to be so much fun.'"
But when it came time for the photo shoot, Schuster got camera shy.
"People were driving by and we were wearing the suits in the field. I thought, 'this is so ridiculous,'" Schuster said.
Ridiculous? Maybe. Ridiculously awesome? Absolutely. And it seems that the majority of the Internet agrees. Schuster is taking her new-found internet fame in stride.
"It's just, I don't know, I think it's funny," Schuster laughs." I think it's cool."
Though, being internet famous has its down side.
"There were a lot of people writing a lot of negative comments, saying that we were promoting drug usage, which we're not," said Schuster. "There were more positive [comments] than there were negative."
We have to ask Schuster: what did you think of the Breaking Bad finale?
"I loved it. I'm shocked," she said. "I wish his wife would have given him a kiss before he walked out. After all he's been though, I thought 'oh my God, he needs a hug or something."
Spoken like a true bride-to-be.


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On to the Postseason
(Sorry, couldn't post yesterday because of computer difficulties. I'm helpless in that world….plus a lot of other worlds. Intend to blog daily throughout the postseason.)
Following no formal workout Thursday, the Phillies will take to the field at 1 this afternoon (open to media only). Cardinals' workout follows. Between the two workouts, Doc and the St. Louis starter will be in the media room.
Yesterday, Ruben and his staff and Charlie and his staff, met with scouts who have been following other NL playoff contenders–Charley Kerfeld, Del Unser, Jim Fregosi Jr., Dave Hollins, Danny Wright, Howie Freiling and Craig Colbert. Some of them will be dispatched to follow the four A. L. teams in the playoffs.
Citizens Bank Park was buzzing yesterday and today. NLDS logo has been painted on the field; merchandise tents are being stocked with Phillies postseason gear; truck loads of food and beverages are arriving; the Majestic Clubhouse Store is busier by the hour; accommodations for 300 members of the media have been completed and the stage for the 2 p.m. pre-game rally on Citizens Bank Way has been constructed.
Dallas Green, Pat Gillick, Greg Luzinski, Dave Cash and Tommy Greene will be participate in the rally. At noon today, a Phillies Rally Trolley visited center city to hand out rally towels.
Rally towels for Game 1 are courtesy of Comcast's XFINITY.
Game will be televised by TBS, Dick Stockton and Bob Brenly. Phillies fans can tune in on radio to hear the Phillies announcers, Franzke, LA, Wheels, Sarge and T-Mac. Jim Jackson's pre-game show will expand to hour prior to first pitch.
Delivering the first ball to the mound will be a 9-year-old Phillies fan from Bucks County, Ryan White, who was in San Francisco to watch a Phillies game in August. Following the game he was injured in a hit-and-run accident. Several Phillies visited him in the San Francisco hospital and, at that time, his prognosis was not good.. After being transferred to Children's Hospital in Philadelphia last month, Ryan is improving daily. Joining Ryan will be his brother Kevin.
Then, throwing out the first ball is a three-time All-Star second baseman with the Phillies who coined the phrase "Yes We Can" back in 1974, Dave Cash. His 213 hits in 1975 led the majors and are the most for a Phillies player in the last 53 seasons.
Record Year
This record-setting season ended fittingly with another win Wednesday that produced yet more Phillies records.
The Phillies set a new club record with their 102nd win. As September approached, breaking the old record of 101 (1976 and 1977) was a foregone conclusion. Then, a downsizing came along, losing eight in a row. To break the record, the Phillies had to sweep in Atlanta. They did.
The win was the 646th for Charlie as the Phillies manager, which broke Gene Mauch's record. So, Charlie has won more games than any other Phillies manager and he'll continue to add to that record, assuring that it will be a long time before someone passes him.
The Phillies finished the season with the fewest errors and lowest ERA in the NL, something they've never done before.
Now, it comes down to needing 11 more wins for another parade. The fun starts on Saturday but it won't be an easy and relaxing October hay ride. Anything worthwhile doesn't come easy. This bunch has proven that numerous times over the last five seasons, including the last three games.
Another Record Season
How long will the record 102 wins last? No one knows.
At the opposite end of the world, the Phillies record for losses came exactly 70 years ago when they finished 43-111, a whopping 57 games out of first place. Attendance for the season was 231,401, which averages out to 3,454 fans per game at Shibe Park.
Wild Card Talk
MLB is talking about adding a second wild card team in the near future. So, two wild card teams would then face off in a one-and-done game.
There's no better argument against this thinking than this week.
If there were two wild card teams, there would have been no drama in the final three days. St. Louis and Atlanta would have been in as wild cards. St. Louis won Wednesday night and the Braves lost, which settled their seasons. Imagine if they would have to play one game playoff, which is being proposed.
Same scenario existed in the American League. Try telling Tampa Bay, hey you finished ahead of Boston but now you have to play the Red Sox in a playoff game. In one person's opinion, it doesn't make sense but cents is what is driving the thinking.
Teams play 162 games in a grueling marathon of a season. It means something to have only one wild card team.
Coming Attractions
*Alumni Postseason Memories: a series of memories of the postseason from Phillies Alumni.
*This Date in Phillies Postseason History.
Hope you will enjoy these two new features.
Answering E-Mails
Season ticket holder asked if they will have an opportunity to purchase tickets for the NHL Winter Classic. That's to be determined.
Legends Are Born In October.
Play ball!


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The O2 Arena is coming under pressure from ticketholders for tonight's Justin Beiber gig after the star's late arrival on stage at last night's concert caused anger amongst fans and parents.
Justin Bieber appeared on stage at 10.23pm last night, nearly two hours after the advertised time of 8.30pm. His perfomance finished at midnight, reportedly breaking the venue's noise curfew, and causing transport problems for the 20,000 fans who had paid more than £57.50 for a ticket.
No official explanation behind Bieber's late arrival has been released by the venue or promoters as yet. Bieber is also performing at the O2 on Thursday and Friday this week.


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An elderly Georgia missionary claims he shot a young man approaching his house this weekend because he feared a home invasion, but the victim's friends say he was looking to pick up a pal to go skating and his GPS device took him to the wrong driveway.
"This was an unfortunate, tragic event and our department is in the process of investigating the incident," Lilburn Police Chief Bruce Hedley told ABCNews.com.
Phillip Sailors, 69, has been charged with murder and is being held in jail without bond.
Police responded to a Lilburn, Ga., home on Saturday night around 10:15 p.m. where shots had been fired and there was shouting.
Officer Matthew Price wrote in a police report that when he arrived he saw a red Mitsubishi with "a Hispanic male subject, slumped over in the driver's seat, blood covering his face and top of his head. The subject had labored breathing and was unresponsive."
The man was later identified as Rodrigo Diaz, 22.
A girl with blood on her jeans, arms and hands was "screaming frantically that her boyfriend had been shot."
Two other male passengers were in the driveway as well as Sailors.
"The guy [Sailors] came out. He went in again and he came out with a gun in his hand and he shot into the air," passenger Yeson Jimenez, 15, told ABC News' Atlanta affiliate WSB-TV.
He told WSB-TV that they were going to pick up a girl who lived in the area to go ice skating when their GPS system took them to the wrong house.
The friends said that Sailors shot at the car when they were trying to leave.
Sailors' attorney Mike Puglise said that two of the people from the car had approached the house where Sailors and his wife were inside.
"This particular area has a pretty high crime rate, a lot of home invasions, drug trafficking, just not pleasant activity in the area," Puglise told ABCNews.com. "What he processed was that this was for all practical purposes a home invasion, an attack on his property and his life and unfortunately it resulted in a loss of life while he was defending his home."
Puglise said that the house next door to Sailors' had been broken into in the past two weeks.
He said his client did not have a conversation with the people and that "everything happened very, very quickly."
Sailors saw two people running by his car and "assumed they were up to no good," Puglise said. He went outside and fired a warning shot into the air. He says the people were back in the car and the car moved in his direction, which is when he shot, according to Puglise.
The shot hit Diaz in the head, causing "severe damage to the brain and bones in the skull," according to the police report.
Diaz was taken to a hospital where surgery was performed, but he died in the ICU, according to police.
Diaz's brother David Diaz-Valencia told ABCNews.com that the family was not ready to talk about their loss and that they were letting the police handle the situation.
Puglise said that Sailors and his family are "distraught" over the death.
"The family's heart goes out to the family of the young man that was lost and it's an unfortunate situation," he said. "Mr. Sailors has cooperated 100 percent with the investigation and he will continue to cooperate."
Puglise described Sailors as an honorably discharged military veteran, a Christian missionary active in his church and a bus driver with no criminal history.
There is a preliminary hearing scheduled for Sailors on Thursday.


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WASHINGTON, August 9, 2012— Agriculture Under Secretary Kevin Concannon today announced a broad range of additional strategies to further improve program integrity in USDA's Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program and hold those misusing benefits accountable. The measures include tougher financial sanctions for the small number of retailers that defraud the program and new requirements and tools for States to ensure benefits go solely to eligible individuals.
"USDA has a zero tolerance policy for SNAP fraud," said Concannon. "These additional measures reaffirm our ongoing commitment to ensuring these dollars are spent as intended–helping millions of people in need get back on solid economic footing."
The retailer sanctions proposal allows USDA to not only permanently disqualify a retailer who traffics, but also assess a monetary penalty in addition to the disqualification. Financial penalties would be proportional to the amount of SNAP business the store is conducting, which will help ensure that the financial punishment more closely fits the crime. Currently, when a retailer is found guilty of fraud or abuse, USDA can either disqualify the retailer from participating in SNAP, or issue a financial penalty, but not both.
Today's announcement includes new requirements for States to take specific actions that would catch fraud and abuse on the front end and ensure that ineligible people do not participate in the program. The new standards strengthen integrity by giving States an additional tool to identify cases that may require further investigation and review when an applicant or recipient is found in a Federal database.
"These requirements will make us better at identifying potential fraud and abuse before it occurs, as well as help us hold bad actors even more accountable than in the past and discourage them from abusing the public's trust," said Concannon.
Concannon also today released third quarter, fiscal year 2012 results of USDA work in fighting fraudulent activity in SNAP retail stores, tallying final actions to sanction or disqualify retailers violating program rules. In that quarter, USDA staff took final actions to:
- Impose sanctions, through fines or temporary disqualifications, on more than 574 stores found violating program rules; and
- Permanently disqualify 1,016 stores for trafficking SNAP benefits (i.e. exchanging SNAP benefits for cash) or falsifying an application.
These announcements are part of the Obama Administration's ongoing Campaign to Cut Waste designed to fight fraud and abuse in Federal programs. For more information about USDA efforts to combat fraud, visit the Stop SNAP fraud website at http://www.fns.usda.gov/program-integrity.
USDA continues to work with local, state and federal partners to root out fraud, waste and abuse in SNAP and ensure the integrity of our nation's most important food assistance program. Recent actions include:
- Sending letters to the CEOs of Craigslist, Ebay, Facebook and Twitter to reiterate the need to help prevent the illegal sale or purchase of SNAP benefits online;
- Proposing a rule to provide States the option to require recipients to make contact with the state when there have been an excessive number of requests for EBT card replacements;
- Increasing documentation required for high-risk stores applying to redeem SNAP benefits;
- Continuing to notify state social service agencies and federal agency partners about violators to better protect our public programs. This includes information on program recipients with suspicious transactions at stores that have been sanctioned for trafficking so that the recipients can be further investigated by States.
Reducing childhood obesity and improving the nutrition of all Americans are vital to achieve a healthy future for America. That's why the Obama administration and USDA are committed to promoting healthy eating and active lifestyles and to ensuring that all Americans have access to safe, nutritious, and balanced meals.
SNAP–the nation's first line of defense against hunger–helps put food on the table for millions of low income families and individuals every month. The largest of USDA's 15 nutrition assistance programs, it has never been more urgently needed than it is today. SNAP is a vital supplement to the monthly food budget of more than 46 million low-income individuals. Nearly half of SNAP participants are children and more than 40 percent of recipients live in households with earnings.
USDA's Food and Nutrition Service (FNS) oversees the administration of 15 nutrition assistance programs, including school meals programs, that touch the lives of one in four Americans over the course of a year. These programs work in concert to form a national safety net against hunger.


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Drop in The Wild in Citrine & Gold
Drop in The Wild in Citrine & Gold
Select your size Size Guide
Available in store
Individually hand crafted in our studio in Dublin and hallmarked in Ireland's historic Dublin Castle.
18k gold plated over sterling silver twig ring
Our jewellery is designed to be worn and loved. These simple tips will help keep your Chupi piece looking its very best.
A gentle clean with a soft 100% cotton cloth is ideal for maintaining your jewellery's shine.
Try to not wear your jewellery in the shower or pool as the chlorine will tarnish it.
Apply any perfume, body lotion or creams and let dry before you put on your jewellery.
For the best care, store your jewellery in a little airtight bag in the box it came in when not being worn to minimise tarnish.
To clean your jewellery grab a small bowl, pour in hot water, some gentle soap and stir. Place your jewellery in the solution for 1 minute, rinse with clean water, then polish with a soft 100% cotton cloth and pat completely dry.
Sterling silver pieces can be cleaned using any of the commercially available solutions, we prefer the non chemical ones.
Gold fill refers to a process in which gold is mechanically bonded to a base metal, producing a thicker layer than even the heaviest gold plating. Our chain, clasps & ear hooks are all gold filled.
Our gold plated pieces are heavily plated in 18k gold over solid sterling silver. The gold layer will eventually wear off. When it does, it can be re-plated at a nominal cost through any jewellers or we would be happy to do it for you.
The band width is 2mm-3mm wide
- Tracked delivery to home or work, direct from the designer.
- Customs fees may apply for international delivery - see FAQs for details.
- Free returns within 14 days, collection arranged by us.
- Price match guarantee
- If you find an item cheaper elsewhere we will match the price*.
- See FAQs or Contact Us for full details.
- Wolf & Badger acts as agent to the brand only - you, the customer, are purchasing any item directly from the brand
Meet The Designer
Chupi is a multi-award winning jewelry brand founded by former Topshop designer Chupi Sweetman. Irresistibly drawn to "wild and natural things" Chupi's aesthetic is influenced by the imperfect natural beauty of feathers, twigs and leaves complemented by the sparkliest of gemstones. Our signature piece is the I Can Fly Swan Feather Ring cast in solid sterling silver and plated in 18k gold from a delicate swan feather found along the banks of Dublin's Royal Canal. We create a delicate jewelry collection made for your inner magpie, with fans around the world from London to Tokyo. Each piece is designed, manufactured and finished in Ireland.


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This is an Amish green broadcloth. It is light-weight, permanent press, preshrunk and color fast. The thread count is 68 X 68. A quantity of one gets you one doubled and rolled bolt. Each bolt is 20 yards long. The price is $4.75 per yard.
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Results 71 to 73 of 73
Thread: African Canadian Heritage Trail
Re: African Canadian Heritage Trail
Tropicana, I haven't followed all the links provided; I just opened this thread for the first time, but my family is one of the "Canadian pioneers". This link provides a short history of John Ware whose wife Mildred was my grandfather's sister. Dinosaur National Park My grandfather's name was Daniel Vant Lewis, and he is mentioned in the last sentence in the article.
A book written about John Ware: John Ware's Cow Country It's kind of corny, but tells a lot about John Ware's personal history.
My mom at John Ware's log cabin in Dinosaur National Park. log cabin picture
I have lots of pictures at the site in my signature. queenb's homepage
Another personal site: more family photosWatch your thoughts; they become words. Watch your words; they become actions. Watch your actions; they become habits. Watch your habits; they become character. Watch your character; it will become your destiny.~~Lao Tzu~~
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- Mar 2002
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- My body may be stuck here.... but my heart is in Jamaica.
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Re: African Canadian Heritage Trail
Thank you queenb. Those are GREAT links. Reminds us that the history of Black people in Canada has MANY chapters that aren't told in our schools. There are the Blacks who settled in South Western Ontario, the descendants of slaves who came to Canada with the United Empire Loyalists, the successive waves of West Indian immigration, the Blacks who lived in Nova Scotia, the Jamaican Maroons who were re-settled in Nova Scotia (some were moved on to Sierra Leone, others stayed), and the whole Quebec connection including the slave girl who burned down a good chunk of Montreal after she was abused by her master. Let's not wait until Black History month next year to explore these chapters.
Moderators. Now that Black History month is over, please archive this thread and hopefully new ones will spring up to explore each of the chapters in the history of Black Canada that I have listed and may even some of which I am unaware.
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Seeit deh.


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Beta Build: 220.127.116.1142
Spoiler Types:
– New features
– Low level class abilities or traits
– General impression of starting areas (no specific lore)
With my beta key firmly in hand, and the client downloaded and installed (after 38 hours), a lot of my leveling now is done in the beta rather than the live, and it's most likely going to stay that way. I don't want to leave the blog hanging or go off in another direction with it, so I'm going to keep right on blogging about leveling, just with a Cataclysm touch in mind instead.
I'm going to stay away from spoilers as far as the game itself goes, but I am going to talk about new abilities, where you get them, how you get them, and so on and so forth. There will be some small spoilers in relation to those topics, so if you don't even want to know what abilities are changing and such, then you'll probably want to ignore me for a couple more months until it comes out live. I've said it since Cataclysm was revealed to us in BlizzCon 2009, that it will launch in November and I still believe that that is true.
Each post that I make in relation to Cataclysm prior to its actual launch will have a disclaimer at the top noting which type of spoilers (if any) you'll find in the post, along with the beta build number associated with the information in the post.
For this post I'm going to talk about leveling for all of the races and classes up to level 10, just to give you an idea of how they're going to feel coming right out of the box.
Turn the page to find out more…


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InterCity Queenstown
Get bus fares from just $1 (plus booking fee) on New Zealand's largest transport network. InterCity operates a fleet of modern comfortable air-conditioned buses with daily services nationwide.
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- $1.00 - $300.00
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- $1.00 - $200.00
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InterCity operates one of New Zealand's lowest cost transport networks, with bus fares from just $1 (plus booking fee). Over 100 daily services connect more than 600 towns, cities and communities nationwide.
With our fleet of modern and comfortable air-conditioned buses, InterCity operates scheduled daily departures to most destinations across the North and South Islands.
InterCity also offers a range of economical pass products including InterCity FlexiPass and InterCity TravelPass. Each allows you total freedom to explore the national network at discounted rates and includes tour and ferry options.
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Physical address
InterCity Queenstown, 30 Shotover Street, Queenstown Central , Central Queenstown, Queenstown, 9300, New Zealand.
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- All months of the year
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- 8km from Queenstown airport
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- We depart from all main regional coach stops
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- Located in the central city
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|$1.00 - $300.00
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Department of Revenue News Release
February 14, 2012New Agent Selected for Ste. Genevieve License Office
JEFFERSON CITY - The Ste. Genevieve License Office will soon have a new management team.
Bollinger County Abstract & Title Co. of Marble Hill, MO, will be the new agent for the license office. The company was chosen as part of a competitive bidding process that is used for all of Missouri's 182 local license offices.
The company has previous experience running a license office, as it has been the agent of the Marble Hill License Office since April of 2011. The company's winning bid for the Ste. Genevieve License Office was one of two submitted. The office will stay at its current location at 207 Plaza Dr., Suite B.
According to figures from Fiscal Year 2011, there were 26,064 transactions conducted at the office, and it generated $88,111 in agent processing fees.
Bidders have the option of returning part of the office revenues to the state. The company's winning bid includes a return to state that will increase to 2 percent ($1,762) by the end of the contract period.
All local license offices provide services that are overseen by the Department of Revenue, but each office is operated by an independent agent.
The Missouri Department of Revenue is now on Twitter! To follow the Department on Twitter, go to http://twitter.com/MoRevenue.


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Saving the best post for laugh. No, this is not a typo In Part 1 of this "Inspiring Life" series we discussed 3 Steps to an Inspiring Life, and in Part 2 we covered how we coach ourselves utilizing our Internal Coaching System (ICS). In this last part we dive into what it means to Fill your Daily Laugh Quotient. Science proves that in many instances laughter IS the best medicine. According to Web MD and healthguide.org laughter has been proven to reduce your stress, lower your blood pressure, boost your immune system, improve brain function and protect your heart. The business benefits of laughter are huge as well. It helps connect us to others, such as our clients, co-workers and helps reduce sales resistance.
Most of us understand this concept and often need to be reminded. I have been asked how did I get so funny and I usually reply, I dont know, it just came along with my amazing good looks. Truthfully, I have made it a point over the past many years to consciously follow my own personal 3 step process to bring more laughter in my life and I am happy to share my wisdom with you. These steps comprise what I like to call my Daily Laugh Quotient Checklist and it works like a charm. Follow these steps and you will be well on your way to a inspiring life everyday.
1) Schedule Laughter Pretty amazing first tip, huh? You are probably taking out your notepad and writing this one down But, no matter who you are it is always a good idea to find time to laugh. The best times I found to be sure you get some good laughs in are first thing in the morning when you wake up and some time before you go to bed. Book ending your day with some joy and laughter can really create positive momentum in your days and youll pleasantly find yourself laughing much more often during the day as a result. Hint: Listening to babies laughing is almost guaranteed to cause joy and laughter.
2) Lose Your Cool Card We all have a metaphorical cool card and some of us take ourselves so seriously that our cards are enormous. So of us have been card carrying members of Too Cool for School University since puberty. Individuals who live an inspiring life are gifted at taking what they do seriously, but NOT taking themselves seriously. Life is funny and it is important that we consciously look for the funny moments in all the seriousness of the day. Make it a goal to find at least one funny, hilarious or joyful experience in your day.
3) Spend Time with Other FUNny People If it is true that you become like those you surround yourself with most of the time, then many of you may need to find some new friends. They dont all have to be comedians, but they do have to have an uplifting view about life. Look for those people who can find laughter and even joy in the mundane or challenging experiences in everyday life. Those are the kind of individuals I love to be around.
I am so grateful for the many years of laughter that has been created by just spending time in the company of some of the funnest and funniest people in my life.
I hope you find joy and laughter in the day to day activities of life, because if you can do that then you will most definitely be on your way to an inspiring life!


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THE ATTAck on sent RY HILL REDouBT
THE SIEGE of PIPIRIKI
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afterwards Arawa Armed Constabulary attack Bay of Plenty body bullet bush camp canoe Captain Mair Captain Preece captured carbine chief Coast Colonel Whitmore column command crossed district enemy engaged escaped expedition feet fern fight fire flank force forest garrison Gilbert Mair gorge Government guns Hauhaus Hawera Hawke's Bay hill hundred Island Kepa Kereopa killed Kooti lake land Lieut.-Colonel Lieutenant Mair's Major Maori marched McDonnell miles Military Settlers Mohaka Napier Native Contingent Ngatapa Ngati Ngati-Porou Ngutu-o-te-manu night Onepoto Opotiki Pai-marire pakeha palisade parapet Parihaka party Patea Pipiriki Poverty Bay prisoners Rangers Rangitaiki rear redoubt retreat rifles River Ropata Rotorua round Ruatahuna scouts sent Sergeant settlement shot side skirmishing soldiers stockade Tamaikowha Taranaki Taupo Tauranga Te Kooti Te Teko Titokowaru tomahawk took track trench tribes troops Urewera Country valley village Wai-ngongoro Waihi Waikare-moana Waikato Waimana Wairoa Waitotara Wanganui war-party warriors Whakatane whare Whitmore's wounded yards Zealand


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Allentown, Pa. – Aaron Wilmer ran for one touchdown, threw for another and made the game-clinching run as the Delaware Valley football team defeated Muhlenberg, 24-21, in the ECAC South Atlantic Bowl. Both teams finish the season at 8-3.
Wilmer rushed for 138 yards on only 14 carries and passed for 106 yards, earning Most Outstanding Player honors. He ran 38 yards for a score on the Aggies' third play from scrimmage to give the visiting team a 7-0 lead, and he passed 5 yards to Danny Fierro on the first play of the fourth quarter to make it 24-14.
After the Mules closed to within a touchdown on Isaiah Vaughn's third touchdown of the game, a 40-yard reception, they recovered an onside kick near midfield. On the first play from scrimmage, however, Joe Carlucci was intercepted by Terrance Osborne, who was jostling with Vaughn for positioning near the goal line.
Delaware Valley took over at its own 4 with 3:09 left and faced a second-and-9 after a Muhlenberg timeout when Wilmer ran right on a keeper and broke into the clear for a 72-yard run to the Mule 23. The Aggies ran twice for a first down, then ran out the clock.
Vaughn had a sensational day for Muhlenberg, totaling 218 all-purpose yards on only five touches. He followed Wilmer's early touchdown by returning the ensuing kickoff 96 yards for a score. It was the second play of at least 95 yards of his career. Vaughn also caught a 57-yard touchdown pass from Carlucci with 8:07 left in the first half, giving the Mules their first lead at 14-10.
Delaware Valley went ahead for good on a 12-yard run by Kyle Schuberth with 7:07 left in the third. Fierro's touchdown reception, which provided what proved to be the winning points, came on an 11-play, 30-yard drive that followed a failed fake punt and included two fourth-down conversions.
The Aggies outgained the Mules, 431-229, and had an overwhelming advantage in time of possession, holding the ball for 40:26. In the second half, Delaware Valley held the ball for more than 23 of the 30 minutes; Muhlenberg's only three second-half first downs came on its final touchdown drive.
Schuberth rushed for 126 yards to go over 1,000 for his career. Alquann Jones added 64 to the Aggies' total of 325 rushing yards. Dwayne Shaw led the DelVal defense with seven tackles, including a sack, and a pass breakup.
For Muhlenberg, Carlucci finished 10-of-24 for 180 yards with two touchdowns and two interceptions. Ian Gimbar made a game-high 13 tackles, including three for loss and 1½ sacks, finishing the season with a school-record total of 14½ sacks.


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If you live in NYC, anywhere near it, have visited, watch the news or have orbited earth from a space shuttle, chances are you've seen the two, extraordinary beams of blue light cast in remembrance of the September 11 attacks.
I was here that day in 2001 and watched from the roof of my apartment building as the Trade Centers fell. I remember vividly my feelings of sadness, fear and confusion. I also remember how, in the following days and months, New Yorkers came together like nothing I'd experienced previously. It was a different place in so many ways.
It's funny how the little things have ingrained themselves in my memory. There was an eerie silence as cars no longer honked their horns. Instead of walking quickly on the streets, head down, you looked others in the eye and said hello. It was okay to smile silently at a stranger as you both searched a wall filled with pictures of the missing. People said thank you and please. And everyone helped others in any way they could to find normalcy again, in such a trying time. Thinking back, as I do every year, makes me proud of New York City and the people who live here.
And that leads me to these blue lights.
Not that I ever forget, but the Tribute in Light helps inform me that it's time again to remember and reflect. I thought it would be fitting for Guess the Lighting to reveal how the installation was designed, using 88 lights.
Lighting: The art installation, produced annually by the Municipal Art Society of New York, uses 88 search lights to create the two, vertical columns of light. The beams reach more than 4 miles into the sky. This was originally supposed to be a temporary exhibit but has continued on. There are two, high-intensity light squares incorporating 44 search lights in each. Since 2008, the Tribute of Light has been powered by generators running on biodiesel fuel made from recycled cooking oil.
Comments: The intensity of the lights has been a problem with thousands of migrating birds. Many of them become trapped in the beams and will not fly out. To ensure the birds' safety, the lights are switched off for twenty minute periods, allowing them to escape.


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Having been held to a goalless draw by CAF Africa Cup of Nations rookies Cape Verde in their opening Group A game, hosts South Africa are under pressure to deliver the goods against Angola in their second match. Despite the pressure, FIFA.com looks at some of the reasons why Bafana Bafana are full of hope ahead of the game.
First, the team benefited by the result of the second group game on Saturday, which saw the Angolans play to a 0-0 against Morocco, a result that leaves all teams in the group equal on goals and points. Second for the AFCON hosts is that they will be based in the Moses Mabhida Stadium in Durban for the rest of the group stage, and it is a city that has been good to the team.
South Africa's first international after re-admittance to international football was a friendly against Cameroon's Indomitable Lions in the Kings Park Stadium in Durban in July 1992, and a Doctor Khumalo penalty eight minutes before the end gave Bafana a winning start. Since then, the team has played a further ten games in the south coastal city, winning five and drawing four. The only defeat came in 2003 against a David Beckham-led England with goals from Gareth Southgate and Emile Heskey giving the visitors a 2-1 victory.
Getting into the minds of the players
So, some home comfort should help Bafana Bafana, but their coach, Gordon Igesund, admitted that he was very disappointed with his side's performance in the goalless draw against Cape Verde. "But we now have a chance to rectify what we did not achieve in the first game. We want to be in a position to have our fate in our own hands and the result of the second game can ensure that that is the case."
The coach, who has won the South African league championship a record-breaking four times with four different clubs, said that after the draw against the Blue Sharks he tried to get into the minds of the players. "I could see that it was a very nervous performance, the players were not themselves. But having said that, it makes no sense to dwell too much on the past. The game is finished and we now have to look forward to our next match."
Igesund echoed the feeling of the team in admitting they were happy to be in Durban. "There has been a lot of pressure on the players and some of this pressure should not be there. It has been created. I believe that in Durban there will be less pressure on the players, but of course the players also have to do their bit. We can't have a performance like that again."
He said that he fully understood that the fans were disappointed with Bafana Bafana's performance against Cape Verde. "Our fans are very passionate about the game and about the team, and it is understandable that they were just as disappointed as we were. I am confident though that they will get behind the team in the Moses Mabhida Stadium. I am very positive ahead of the game. I believe that we will qualify for the next round and we could then quite easily go all the way to the final, which we could also win. I am not saying we will win the competition, but we can win the competition."
Experience and expectation
Igesund said that the players were similarly confident. "In fact, when SAFA approached the players to negotiate the bonus payments for the first round, they said that they do not want individual match bonuses because a victory or a draw would mean nothing unless the side progressed. Never before have the players by themselves turned down an offer to receive money. I think this shows their commitment, but also the belief in themselves.
"But football is a funny game. Strange things can happen. If we can get the momentum going we can do anything. Anything is possible. It is not always the best team that wins. Sometimes a team that wants to win the most wins. I think previous tournaments have shown that underdogs can also win, it is not only the favourites."
Similarly, the president of the South African Football Association, Kirsten Nematandani, urged the players to regroup and focus on the task ahead. "You have to deliver on behalf of the nation," he said. "There will be a sold-out stadium and you need to be at your best. We have achieved good results in Durban so far and we have to continue along this path. We have a squad with a lot of experience and the experienced players have to give guidance to the younger players."
It is a reminder for Igesund and his squad that there is plenty to play for as well as plenty of expectation. Not only are they trying to emulate the 1996 team that won the competition the last time it was staged in South Africa, but they know that the winner of the event will also qualify for this year's FIFA Confederations Cup, which will be held in Brazil and is eagerly awaiting its final participant in the eight-team field.