text:
Mean Street
Fiction, Group Sex, Males / Female, Non-consensual sex, Rape, Violence
Author's infos
Gender: Male Age: 55 Location: UK- SE corner!
Posted: 2011-01-21
Is rape always rape if the participant is willing but the perpetraitors don't know that? Is this a successful way to deal with loss and the pain of separation?
For a few moments after she woke things were normal- then the pain flooded in on her. It had been months since
had left her and the initial sharp pain had dulled. It hung about her like a lead weight. It suffused her life and suffocated her soul. Nothing really mattered,
had gone and things were not like they once had been. She rose and washed, brushing her teeth mechanically, rinse spit, rinse spit. Get dressed, pants then tights, blouse then top, each thing in order, one thing at a time, one foot after the other, one step at a time. Breakfast was tasteless, but in between toast and coffee the idea came to her- a thought she had played with before- perhaps now becoming more than a thought? A brief flash of enthusiasm- -excitement stirring where none had stirred for such a long time- yes she knew what to do. She changed, selecting a short slightly shorter than her usual work choice, something that might pass for evening as well as day wear.
She set off for work, one city girl on the tube amongst the many, well dressed; well groomed they fluttered like birds along the city pavements. If anyone saw that she was different, they didn't remark on it. Perhaps the dullness that lay inside of her was simply invisible? One thing she knew, she wouldn't last much longer like this, she couldn't - she wouldn't go on like this.
Work was a distraction, interaction with others, speech, activity. Only in the quieter moments did her thoughts return to her loneliness and threaten to overwhelm her once more. Then she remembered her resolution over that morning's cigarette, a brief flare, of excitement, a tingle in her loins, yes- yes she would!
The rest of the day passed by in minor occupation, all thoughts banished from her minds by routine. She glanced up, 5:25, 5:30! The passage of the minute hand sent tingles again though her sex, frissons of excitement. Could she? Would she?
She left work hurriedly, but instead of heading immediately for the tube like the other lemmings she lingered in a bar, her mind perhaps not yet fully made up. The suggestion was there, an idea, an imagined scenario- not yet solid enough to be a plan or an intention. Just an idea to play with, a thought to mull over in her head. One vodka and tomato juice, warm feeling in her gut. Another- then another. Inhibition was fading; possibility moving to certainty, doubt towards conviction and fear towards resolution.
It was later now, past 10:00. She got up from her stool and paid her bill. She moved to the door, surprised at just how unsteady she felt on her feet. The tingling between her legs was still there, if anything stronger. Steely determination resided in her breast. She grinned, to herself; a slight stagger should help her ends.
She made her way to the tube station and took a train to the fringes of Camden. The centre was a trendy part of town, but the bars and clubs sat cheek by jowl with depressing concrete-jungle housing estates. Run-down streets that formed the skeleton of the less affluent city in which drugs, prostitution and gangland interests ruled. Her fellow passengers looked different now. Gone were the bright city girls in their coordinated GAP outfits. These were duller people in disheveled cheaper clothing, a tapestry in greys and browns. They watched her with a vacancy in their eyes. If they wondered what she was doing in this part of town they didn't show it. She was nervous but every time she thought of it, came that tingling sensation between her thighs. Stronger now, making her feel almost weak at the knees.
The train slowed for the station, crawling to the platform's end before stopping with a jerk that shook her from her reverie; it was now or never. Feeling surprisingly scared and worried her legs wouldn't support her, she stepped from the train. The platform was almost deserted, she made for the exit. Once at ground level she looked around, it was not a part of London she knew-
had been here only once before. To her left she could see the neon signs of restaurants and pubs, to her right the street ran more into darkness. Menace loomed large that way. The last time she had been here she had been with
, and
had walked to the left, she hanging on
arm and laughing. For just a moment she remembered, and the memory made her hesitate, but then she turned her back on the lights and started walking away from the people, away from the light and away from those bitter-sweet memories. The clip of her high heels made sharp stiletto taps on the pavement. As she moved away from the lights she began to pick out the details of the street. It was mean, run-down shops in dilapidated Victorian terraces. They were closed now, perhaps permanently. There were closed doorways and alleys running beside them, running away into the darkness. She hitched her skirt up around her waist, raising the hem to a tarty height and continued.
She was well into unfamiliar territory now. A flare of light and movement caught her eye. Over to her right-on the far side of the street a group of youths was gathered in shop doorway, their conversation low and indistinct. One had lit a smoke. Now or never. She stopped suddenly, stamping her foot as if recovering from a stumble, sending a sharp scraping tap from her heel into the night air. She stopped for a moment, twisting her hip upwards to raise her hem, pretending to check for a ladder in the thigh of the tights she wasn't wearing. Then she moved off once more, just a little unsteadily on her feet.
The mumbled conversation across the road had stopped, she had been noticed. She walked on, the tingle starting again and reaching almost uncontrollable levels. Were her knees actually shaking? –No that must be imagination. Behind her she heard footsteps crossing the road, she checked ahead, no one around. The danger of her situation suddenly became clear to her and for a moment she fought against panic. Then the vodka-fuelled resolve re-established itself. Walking on more steadily she was aware that the footsteps behind were keeping pace with her. She had provided them a target, they had taken the bait and the motive she knew they would supply themselves; all she needed now was to give them opportunity. Just ahead she saw what she needed, an alley that turned off the street and ran alongside a disused warehouse or factory. She turned left and started up the passage. Walls closed in around her. The footsteps behind seemed closer now, quickening their pace, closing the distance. Her emotions became confused, fear rose to the back of her throat, and almost made her run, but it was mingled with a deep thrilling excitement only partly sexual in nature, and that tingling in her loins was stronger, almost overwhelming.
Then they were upon her, she had hardly noticed their final approach. Strong arms grasped her and wrestled her to the ground, a hand clamped around her mouth to stifle a scream she was not about to utter. An explosion of adrenalin suffused her body, she couldn't stop herself from an automatic struggle, but arms restrained her, overpowering her own muscles, stilling her body and preventing the flight she was not attempting to make. She was held tightly, immobile; but electricity was crackling through her body and strangely she felt free; for the first time in months she felt alive. She struggled a little, simply to feel the grip on her tighten and to test their resolve. They held her steady, their muscles easily overcoming hers; she was trapped, held fast.
Mumbled conversation amongst her captors, she couldn't understand it their accents were too thick but she could tell the excitement in their voices. A moment's delay and then they seemed to have a plan and she was lifted bodily from the ground and half carried, half dragged along the alley. A few turns to the left, to the right then left again. Once her hip was jammed into a wall and the pain seared through her. Doubts rose again on the wings of the pain and she struggled some more- only to be restrained once again. It was too late for second thoughts now. Then she was lifted bodily from the ground and carried up some steps, two, no three flights and they emerged onto the roof of the abandoned factory. It was black, black shapes loomed out of the gloom at her, ventilation ducts, fan housings and fume pipes. It was quiet up there, deserted. The youths bundled her over to one of the fan housings and thrust her onto the felted roof beside it. The roof was rough, covered in chippings that scratched her back and smelled of bitumen.
She felt the hand over her mouth move only to be replaced by another and then hands started to explore her body. She felt hands grasp her breasts through her top whilst others pulled her blouse from her waistband and ran over the smoothness of the skin. She felt her legs being separated as her ankles were dragged apart- panic again, a moment's terror. She fought it down. More hands up, under her skirt, following the smooth contours of her legs. The swelling of her thigh was groped pulled and pinched making her buck and flinch.
"Hold her" barked a voice, mistaking her convulsion for struggle.
Her skirt was pulled roughly above her waist, the blouse ripped off exposing her bra-clad torso to the night air. She gasped with the cold. For a moment the hands seemed content to feel her breasts, mauling them though the cups of her bra, but then the garment was pulled up, freeing her breasts which flopped out into the night air. For just a moment there was a pause, a sharp intake of breath as the nipple crowned mounds were shaken free of their lacey casings. Perhaps a moment's awe and admiration before her naked breasts were gripped, mauled and twisted. Sharp pains shot through her body, and then a mouth found her left breast and clamped down on the nipple. It sucked greedily at the yielding mound, sucking slurping feeding, biting the softness, demanding flavour from her. The nipple had hardened, she felt the breast begin to give and whatever meager secretion she had to offer she surrendered. The mouth sucked harder, a groan of appreciation for her offering. Another mouth clamped on her right breast, this one was more urgent; she winced as the nipple was bitten and chewed.
Between her legs hands had reached her thighs, those sucking her breasts must have been in the way because the hands on her thighs left her to shift the weight of the immobile bodies upon her. A few muttered complaints but they moved to her sides and continued to maul and suck her from there. The hands returned to her thighs forcing them further apart. A nail scratched her skin which jumped and twitched under the pain. Fingers were running up the smooth curve of her inner thigh. They reached her cleft and burrowed under the gusset of her panties. They pulled down; some of her hairs were trapped between the fingers and the fabric of her panties. They tore out as the hand pulled down on her gusset, ripping the delicate fabric and exposing her cunt. She shook with the shock. The excitement was intense, she was sure she must be wet, but her attackers didn't notice, they never suspected her complicity and drove their fingers into her furrow, oblivious to the fluids she had produced to aid them in her penetration. She wasn't sure how many at of them there actually were, certainly someone held her mouth- he was getting impatient, twitchy, more and more frustrated at his role which kept him at a distance from her femininity. There was one attacker fastened onto each breast and at least two hands were burrowing into her moistened depths, stretching her further than she had been stretched before. The guy at her head finally grew tired of his role; she was moved suddenly, violently. She felt an explosion of pain in her head, stars flared and died before her eyes. Once more and then a third time he banged her head on the roof, quieting a victim that had no intention of screaming. At the third blow she lost consciousness.
She was not out for long, and then she started to struggle back to reality, swimming back up to the world like a diver striking out for the water's surface after her dive. She broke through into the coldness of the night. Pain, pain in her head, but something else too. She became aware of weight on top of her, of rhythmic compressions that crushed her and ground her back into the chipping covered roof, and finally at last, of the delicious thrusting of the penis inside her. She almost wept with gratitude, her cunt opened before the thrusting organ, moisture poured from her and unbidden, her vagina grasped the intruder of its own accord. If her rapist noticed he didn't show it. He continued bucking into her, scraping her body over the gravelly bitumen roof with each thrust. This was not how it had been before, she was disappointed. There was no tenderness here, no consideration, simply an animal quest to for satisfaction at her expense. She thought she had made a terrible mistake, tears rose to her eyes. But then, at last, her rapist tensed, his body became rigid on top of her just as
had done. The penis inside her jumped, twitched and pulsed, just as
had done. She felt it delivering its load of semen deep into her and she welcomed it as she had welcomed
. This is what she had sought, the tenseness of the body on top of her, the guttural moans of satisfaction and the fluttering of his sperm's release into her body. She was surprised and delighted that her body could still provide such pleasure.
The rapist rolled off her without a word. Instantly he was replaced, the new occupant smelled more of sweat and bad breath. The stink revolted her. The pleasure that the last rapist had taken in her had restored some of her confidence. Perhaps that was enough? She didn't want this filthy bastard in her. She panicked as she realized she had no choice, even had she wanted to refuse struggling was useless. She grimaced in distaste at her rapist but his prick found its way into her without difficulty. The combination of moistures eased its passage through her lips and into her body. The sensation of her penetration seemed to overwhelm her disgust at the man taking her and to her surprise her vagina grasped him in welcome once more. She relaxed a little and pretended to be unconscious whilst this new prick, larger and firmer than the last, eased itself into position and then pummeled the inside of her pussy in its own search for release. Each stroke rubbed the helmet the full length of her tube, from cervix to labia whilst its girth stretched the tube of her cunt tightly around the shaft. The grip was so tight that it seemed as if he would drag her insides out of her each time he withdrew, only to force them back into place with each inward stroke. The pressure was intense for her and she was sure she must be providing her violator with an intensity of sensation that could not fail to bring him to climax soon. She wasn't wrong, all too soon the body on to of her also tensed, groaned and then trembled. Despite her distaste for the individual abusing her, his climax too- the tensing, the trembling and groaning was like it had been before, like it had been with him and she was grateful for his discharge into her body, her cunt accepting each gushing spurt of the emission.
Once again there was no pause, a new prick took the place of the last even before she had gotten used to being empty again. This one was slender and long, she was, she knew, usually a tight fit but this one penetrated easily and even allowed some room for sperm to pass. She became aware that his repeated thrusts were pumping the earlier deposits out of her and she felt the gooey fluid seeping stickily into the crack between her bum cheeks. The rapist inside her was inexperienced, he was bucking crazily on top of her, thrusting in and out of her like there was no tomorrow- And then, suddenly he too was done, he gasped and then lay still on top of her, tense but trembling. The length of his prick allowed her to feel the jumping of his cock head quite distinctly as his seed was disgorged into her waiting body. He pulled out of her giggling; releasing a rivulet of semen once she was uncorked.
The fourth seemed to have different ideas. She felt her legs lifted again and folded over her chest, raising her bottom from the roofing felt and forcing the air out of her lungs. She had never been taken in the arse before, the idea both thrilled and revolted her at the same time. She struggled involuntarily but there was nothing she could do to influence the situation now. She was entirely in their power. She felt the prickhead present itself at her puckered entrance and then press on. She tried to relax, after all her sphincter must open to a very similar size at least once a day; she must be able to take it?
Fortunately the dribbled fluid had already seeped that way and helped ease his passage into her virgin bum. She felt the sphincter give and tried hard to open but the pain was still intense. She realized that even when open all her muscles are trained to work together in expulsion, not to admit intrusion. It hurt; she took a sharp intake of breath- [prepared perhaps to scream but then whack! Her head was knocked on the roof again. This time she did not pass out, but the scream was stillborn. Emerging only as a quiet whimper. Her rapist buggered her unsympathetically; he neither knew nor cared for her pain. He relished her warm, moist tightness, seeking only his own pleasure within her most secret depths. Another thrust and he was embedded deep inside her rectum. The shaft in her guts eased in and out, in and out. Each time sending a searing pain through her body. She struggled but was held fast, she screamed but it was quelled in her throat. She was held fast and simply had to receive the invasion. Her face was contorted, her forehead sweating profusely. Please let this be over soon- please she prayed silently to herself. Then to her amazement the pain began to lessen, a dull numbness spread across her anus and from that slowly grew an intensity of sensation she had never know before. She could feel every inch of the prick within her bum, a clarity that she had never experienced in vaginal penetration. His shaft was thankfully on the small side but to her, feeling him tightly within her guts it seemed enormous. She could feel each ripple on its firm surface; she could tell that its tip was swelling as he approached his climax. She heard him groan with the approach of orgasm and she took pride in knowing that her arse had provided such satisfaction. Then he seemed to explode within her and she felt each quivering jump of his penis inside her and each of the five blurts of semen that he sent to bathe her intestines that he spurted into her with an intensity she had not thought possible. He subsided onto her body and withdrew. To her surprise she felt strangely empty. Her arsehole was torn and sore, although the warm gush of semen that flowed from her was soothing and comforting.
She was almost delirious as the last of them took her. He plunged again into her vagina, and made rapid superficial thrusts hardly penetrating past the helmet of his prick. The sensation was distinctly disappointing after her last experience but at least it didn't last long. The guy groaned and shot into her after a surprisingly short time, his semen entering her only to a shallow depth.
She felt all the guys release her and get to their feet. There was the sound of clothing being adjusted, zippers and belts fastened. She feigned unconsciousness again and hoped they would leave her. There was some mumbled conversation and then all five took off leaving her alone on the roof.
She waited until all sounds had gone, then she waited some more. Finally she opened her eyes and sat up. Their combined milt had pooled between her thighs where it had seeped from her, and as she sat up more poured gloopily from her cunt. She felt the need to push with her bowels and as she did so few drops of brown-stained sperm farted from inside her. She took a deep breath, that had been intense, a feeling she hadn't felt since he had left. Sitting alone, on a rooftop, half naked and covered in sperm in a strange part of London her vulnerability suddenly came back to her and a wave of fear swept over her. . Her clothes were not so much ripped as scattered and so she started hastily gathering them together. She put on what was still wearable and struggled to her feet. Standing was painful, walking even more so. Her head hurt and she put a hand to the back of her head. Dried blood had matted her hair but it was no longer sticky and she hoped she didn't look too bad. She didn't want a fuss now.
She walked to the side of the roof and looked over. In the distance the lights of Crystal Palace transmitter winked back at her. In the shadow of that mast she knew was the churchyard where
had left her, where
still lay. She choked back the tears,
had gone, but at least, as she now knew,
was alive.
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Porny Hayes
first time sissy bitch
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24 comments
Anonymous reader
2014-01-22 05:45:59
This Made Me Soo Horny
anonymous reader
2013-07-14 14:54:20
I want 2 guys to fuck me. I'm a virgin and a curvy blonde. Kik me at b1onde with the word "threesome" or "gang bang" if you're interested in taking over and fucking the shit out of a cute, curvy girl.
2013-05-07 22:00:22
Very interesting writing. : )
anonymous reader
2012-11-01 20:16:23
Hot now I'm turned on
anonymous reader
2012-04-08 21:41:30
What is really refreshing about this is your writing is actually good. Really good. You could publish this stuff.
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ZOMG, Just Like In Back To The Future!: Modify Your Car To Run On Garbage
Remember how Doc Brown had modded the Delorean in Back To The Future II to run on garbage? Well now you can do the same -- and you don't even need a Delorean (although that would help with style points, see picture above)! All you need is to throw a gasifier up in your whip.
Gasification is the use of heat to transform solid biomass, or other carbonaceous solids, into a synthetic "natural gas like" flammable fuel. Through gasification, we can convert nearly any solid dry organic matter into a clean burning, carbon neutral, gaseous fuel. Whether starting with wood chips or walnut shells, construction debris or agricultural waste, the end product is a flexible gaseous fuel you can burn in your internal combustion engine, cooking stove, furnace or flamethrower.
ZOMG, it works for flamethrowers too!?! *HONK HONK -- WHOOSH!* Best commute ever! Unfortunately, I found out the hard way the unit DOES NOT operate on trailer trash. They stole my spinning hubcaps :(
Add a Mr. Fusion to your car to let it run on garbage [dvice]
The Gaon Street Lamp was designed by Haneum Lee to turn trash into treasure. If light is treasure, which it's not. So I have no idea why I said that. Besides I'm awesome and I meant it. the Gaon street light/wastebasket concept composts biodegradable waste and uses the meth... / Continue →
This is a $1,000,000 highly modded 1995 Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit MKIV recently spotted in London. It was customized by Indian firm DC Designs and is rumored to belong to the Sultan of Brunei's family. I guess it looks okay, and I like the way the doors open (see pictures af... / Continue →
Because when you know you're going down you might as well do it in a big pile of flaming pink shit, Dodge has decided to make 'Furious Fuscia' Challengers and market them to men. Chrysler Group is trying to better define its various brands and products as it attempts to claw b... / Continue →

subset: commoncrawl


text: It's like the bar code on a security. You need long hairy numbers to be assigned to each security to prevent confusion. Many stocks have multiple flavors - some have higher voting rights or other non-economic interests attached to them. Others have ADRs or non-US elements. For many bonds, there are a dozen or more series, many of which have barely discernable differences in terms and having a unique CUSIP allows for the securities to be individually identified so when you thought you were buying a cow, you actually got a cow and not a bunch of magic beans.


text: ChapelDaily chapel is a Northwestern distinctive. The 40-minute services held in Maranatha Hall Monday through Friday give the Northwestern community the opportunity for praise and worship together. Students are encouraged and challenged by distinguished speakers, scholars, missionaries, professors, campus staff and more. Regular attendance is required of all traditional undergraduate students. Chapel supports the mission of the college by offering biblically-based teaching and opportunity for worship of God through fellowship, praise and the proclamation of His word. Check out the chapel schedule for spring 2014!Chapel snapshotsGet a glimpse of what some of students' favorite speakers have shared with us: Eugene Cho, Founder of One Day's Wages: Eugene is the founding and lead pastor of Quest Church and the executive director of Q Cafe. He's also the founder of One Day's Wages, a non-profit organization focused on global poverty. Laurie (LeGree'89) Bolthouse, UNW alum and Producer: We connected with Laurie to learn more about what it took to produce her feature film, Trade of Innocents, and actions students can take to combat human trafficking. Shaun Groves, Singer/Songwriter and Compassion International Rep: "The word 'worship' has been translated from many words and none of them mean music... Everything in life is manna—God provides it all." Chapel Experience"Having the whole campus together to worship God is what makes Northwestern stand out among other private colleges. It's a great experience to be able to grow in your faith with all your fellow students and to be able to share the same experiences in chapel." Dana – Ramsey, Minnesota Off the Cuff...with Jon AcuffJon Acuff, author of Quitter and Stuff Christians Like, spoke in chapel Nov. 27 & 28, 2012. Watch the video for a bonus Q&A…answering students' questions from Twitter: |


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To the Editor:
Secularism is changing our country.�It�always has been present with us. Today, it's bolder than ever. Perception and personal feelings are replacing�truth and reality. Calling the killings of innocent unborn life "pro choice" doesn't make it right. Who started�referring to�marriage�as "traditional marriage?" It most likely wasn't a plumber. Just because something becomes a law doesn't make it right.
Referring to the events that led to four Americans losing their lives in Libya, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said, "What difference does it make" if�wrong�information was�presented to us just prior to an important presidential election? What difference does it make what our president, Barrack Obama, knew and what he did or didn't do�about this tragedy�or "Fast and Furious?"
This is why he is constantly campaigning with a host of supporters applauding everything he says. The play continues with great reviews from the media. Our president is delighted. His agenda moves on. The lies, the cover-ups, and his secular, anti-American beliefs either are ignored or cheered by his followers. They believe his rhetoric of promises to remove all their consequences at the expense of others.
Ephesians 4:18 reminds us of what man's capacity is without a relationship with Him, "having their understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God, because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart."�Could it be that we are trying to fix the symptoms rather than the cause for the mess we're in?
Jim Doll


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1961 Triumph TR3 '61 Triumph TR3, light blue with brown interior, comes with soft top and side curtains, solid car with lots of potential, excellent... More
Barn find 1960 triumph TR3A. The chrome has just been polished, wet sand and buff the body, and installed a brand new interior. Great... More
1971 Triumph Stag V6, automatic, convertible with upgraded 16" progressive wheels. (original ones go with car). Power steering, brakes, etc. No visible rust, upgraded exhaust... More


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Heinz Ansbacher Age: 101professor of psychology, whose books—cowritten with his wife, Rowena—explained and commented on the works of Alfred Adler, who developed the theory of the inferiority complex. Their work was instrumental in disseminating and advancing Adlerian theory. Died: Burlington, Vt., June 22, 2006Information Please® Database, © 2007 Pearson Education, Inc. All rights reserved.
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Explore Chemistry Tutoring , Grade 11 Math


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Report dead links. Email Kathy |
I wished the text was a little easier to read but when it was scanned this was the please do not hesitate to ask. Deckerville Yearbook - Eclipse 1925 Some of the names were very hard to read so if I have made any mistakes on the names please email at firstname.lastname@example.com Top Row Starting on the Left: Frances West, Elinor Daue, Helen Howard Middle Row: Gladys Cowan, Ardis Morden, Elton Thornton, Bottom Row: Ethel Davidson, Philip Cowan, Helen Jeckell |


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, , Ventura.
- September 30, 2010
- 8:34 a.m.
- Suggest removal
- Reply to this post
bigblueoceanwhalesfree (Inactive) writes:
over priced place that sells junk. Psychic readers that charge way to much for there reading. Owner?
Well, you will see when you go there. Its an over priced junk store.
Don't waste your time there, visit another store or go on line you will see how much you save and how much this owner marks up her prices so her daughters can do well we all know that is?
Its been in the paper and that is why the prices are so high.
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Three planets in your sign this month will motivate you to connect with others, get organized, and take control of your life. Venus will bring charm and an interest in improving your image. Mercury will help you communicate. Saturn may bring limitations, but you'll feel efficient and capable. Mars and Pluto in Capricorn will inspire you to transform situations when you're working with relatives or neighbors. You'll take the lead and have some great ideas for improvement whether you're planning a party, working on a community project, or raising money for charity.
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text:
Hotel Palomar
(866) 373-4941
- Business Center
- Fitness Center
- Restaurant
- Room Service
- Free Hi Speed Internet
- Data Ports
- TV In Room
- Hair Dryer
- Air Conditioning
- Voicemail
- In-House Bar
- Meeting Rooms
- Clothing Iron
- In-House Dining
- Wake Up Service
- Family Rooms
- Safe
- Mini Bar In Room
- Show more
Tribes: Who likes this place?
What the scores mean:
These scores tell you how well-liked a place is in each Tribe. Gogobot Tribes are groups who share a certain travel style, like Family Travelers or History Buffs.
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- 98%Business Travelers
- 76%Luxury Travelers
- 51%Trendsters
- 51%Local Culture
- 51%Art & Design Lovers
- 51%Nightlife Lovers
- 51%Outdoor Enthusiasts
- 51%Wellness
Member Reviews (13)
- Hotel PalomarYulree Chun "@GogobotLA"Member ofGreen TravelersLocal CultureOutdoor Enthusiasts+ 12
- Green Travelers
- Local Culture
- Outdoor Enthusiasts
- Budget Travelers
- Business Travelers
- Foodies
- Wellness
- Vegetarian
- Backpackers
- History Buffs
- Adventure Travelers
- Nightlife Lovers
- Spiritual Seekers
- Trendsters
- Art & Design Lovers
Nov 21, 2013I stayed here twice for work, and both times were wonderful. Here are the many reasons why:
1) Location - very close to Union Square, one block away from a BART station and plenty of other public transportation nearby.
2) Free wine - hosted evening wine hour with nibbles. Fancy time!
3) Rooms - fairly big for a metropolitan city; love the deep bath tubs!
4) Service - consistent, accommodating and professional.
- Hotel PalomarConnie PistilliMember ofLocal CultureOutdoor EnthusiastsFoodies+ 5
- Local Culture
- Outdoor Enthusiasts
- Foodies
- Luxury Travelers
- Adventure Travelers
- Nightlife Lovers
- Trendsters
- Art & Design Lovers
Aug 17, 2013As with all Kimpton properties, this is a very pet friendly hotel. Located conveniently in Union Square near Yerba Buena gardens.
Recommended for:Business Travelers - Hotel PalomarCommunity ManagerKeaneMember ofLocal CultureFoodiesBackpackers+ 4
- Local Culture
- Foodies
- Backpackers
- History Buffs
- Nightlife Lovers
- Trendsters
- Art & Design Lovers
Aug 09, 2013I love the Palomar. Everything from the decor to the service to the hotel's location exudes class. Even the restaurant on premises, The Fifth Floor, is one of the best in the city. I've dined there once, and it was one of the best dining experiences I've ever had.
Located on the same block as the Westfield San Francisco Centre (the largest shopping complex in San Francisco) and a few steps from BART and the MUNI Metro, the location is extremely convenient. The Powell Cable Car turnaround is just a block away.
What I love is the charm. They take great strides in providing great service, offering a box of elegant chocolates to each guest. The rooms are all very comfortable, with nice appointments and spacious bathrooms. There's even a room that incorporates pieces of the Golden Gate Bridge. That's pure San Francisco!
- Hotel PalomarBetty N.Member ofLocal CultureOutdoor EnthusiastsFoodies+ 5
- Local Culture
- Outdoor Enthusiasts
- Foodies
- Luxury Travelers
- History Buffs
- Nightlife Lovers
- Trendsters
- Art & Design Lovers
Jun 12, 2013**DOG FRIENDLY AND MODERN FRIENDLY**
We paid $160 a night for a King Bed Deluxe Room.
Wonderfully located at 4th and Market, near thriving (SOMA) district, the Financial District, and Union Square.
Clean, modern, and basic. Nothing spectacular but good customer service at the front desk.
*Good bed
*Hosted evening wine hour
*100% non-smoking hotel
*Dog friendly
*Onsite Fifth Floor Restaurant and Lounge
*Free wi-fi
*Onsite 24 hour fitness center
*Full service concierge
*Complimentary overnight shoe shine
*Laundry and valet services
*24-hour room serviceDISLIKES:
*$45 a night for parking
*Not really fancy, just basic with amenities and toiletries
*Small Deluxe RoomRECOMMEND.
- Hotel PalomarGeng WangAug 25, 2012
Don't let the outside of Hotel Palomar fool you with its older looking exterior...the inside looks very modern with their design. I'm told that the theme of the hotel is art+motion.
The rooms are all really modern and brightly colored, with all the interior rooms having a view of The Container Store below, where you can see people...shopping. I personally thought that was a pretty interesting view, but I understand if some people think it's a little weird. Also, fun little detail, the bathrobes are all cheetah/zebra print, kind of a fun deviation from the usual white robes.
Hotel Palomar is also home to the famous 5th Floor restaurant, which is not surprisingly on the 5th floor of the establishment. Really pricey, but an amazing meal.
The fitness room they have here is one of the best ones I've seen for boutique hotels. It literally just got new machines and there is actual sunlight flooding into the room unlike many other gyms. You can run to a view of the zen garden that the chefs at the 5th floor restaurant use to grow their herbs.
- Hotel PalomaralicefeliciaJul 25, 2012
located in the heart of union sq. san francisco, tucked away between 4th and market street stands the pawsome hotel that treats dog more than a guest! upon check-in barrington was welcomed into the room with a doggie pet bed, a kimpton hotel placemat, 2 bowls for water and kibbles, doggy waste pick-up bags, and a bottle of water at no additional pet charge. palomar hotel accepts any number of dogs at any sizes of dog from wittle chihuahua to gorillas, wait, i meant saint bernards. if this isn't the ultimate doggy treatment we don't know what is.
before you arrive make sure you complete the pet registration form on the website to let them know your royal paws are arriving. you can also request the hotel to help you arrange for dog sitting, day care, walking, and grooming services. ooh-lala, concierge service for dogs, fancy schmancy! - Hotel PalomarAlly WuMember ofLocal CultureOutdoor EnthusiastsBudget Travelers+ 2
- Local Culture
- Outdoor Enthusiasts
- Budget Travelers
- Wellness
- Luxury Travelers
Jul 05, 2012A wonderful hotel. I used to stay there when I come over for work. Spacious room, comfy bed and good breakfast. The location is great, right near all the shopping and just a short walk away from the Union Square.
- Hotel PalomarCraig KellarJul 04, 2012
Absolutely love this hotel. Great service, nice rooms, and fairly quiet. The restaurant here (the 5th Floor) has had some great chefs over the years. It's on 4th, just south of Mission, so it's not exactly a beautiful neighborhood, but it's very convenient to Union Square and/or the Westfield Shopping Center.
This place can get pricy, but they usually offer good AAA discounts, and if they have plenty of rooms open you can sometimes find rooms for the mid-100s.


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This week the New York Abortion Access Fund dipped below $1000, less than our average weekly grant total. To replenish the fund and keep our services operating, we are calling an emergency fundraiser for this Thursday, September 16th. Please join us from 6-9pm at Destination Bar for an evening of discounted cocktails, a raffle and silent auction in support of the New York Abortion Access Fund. I'll be there, and so should you. Please spread the word!
Suggested donation: $20 (or more if you can afford it).
Drink specials! Raffle! Silent Auction!
Abortion should be safe, legal and FUNDED! Pass it on!
More information (and a donate button if you can't make it) is here.
Similar Posts (automatically generated):
- TONIGHT: Come support the New York Abortion Access Fund by Jill September 16, 2010
- National Day of Appreciation for Abortion Providers by Cara March 10, 2010
- Last Chance: Bowling for Abortion Access by Jill April 26, 2010
- Join Feministe in Bowling for Abortion Access by Jill April 15, 2010
- Live in Illinois? Read on… by Rachel March 20, 2009


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Overall customer review score:
Return to Bell MX-2 Helmet 2014 Product Page
Reviews by real power sport enthusiasts...your opinion counts to us and fellow riders! Make the best purchasing decision by getting the latest reviews.
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Comments On Jan 02, 2014:I have the Large size and wear that size across other brands; I do not wear a neck brace. This Bell fits nicely at my brow and above cheek; at cheek level the shell feels like a size too small -ie skirt of shell seems shorter than other brands. Possibly better at preventing collar bone injuries, but I would rather have more shrouding around my chin.
Cons: cheek pads are far too soft and need more support. strap webbing is wrong material - too slick! (and far too long). Bell should re-evaluate that material as it slides out of the buckle and does not stay secure.
Pros: visor, lightweight, SNELL rated, breathes just fine, goggle fitment.
Overall, I like it and chose it over several others, but I will try a different model/brand next time.
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Comments On Oct 09, 2013:Out of the box it I pretty, put it on and it's is even better. Fits well
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Comments On Aug 22, 2013:This is a great helmet, great styling etc. I am replacing a BELL MX 1 which is the predecessor of this MX 2. I have a Bell MX 1 in size Large that fits perfectly the size in it says 59-60cm. The sizing chart on here is also says that the MX 2 large would be 59-60-cm. Problem is when I rec'd the helmet Bell has changed the sizing slightly, the large is now 58-59cm. I cannot exchange the helmet as I'm in Canada and the shipping there and back would cost me more then the helmet did. I understand the reasons for the return issue and Rocky Mountain were great when I called but it's just the way it is. The helmet is top notch with fit and finish and I would buy another Bell in a second this is just a warning that this MX 2 version tends to fit a little different then past Bell offerings, Measure twice order once!!!
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Comments On May 29, 2013:Love the way the helmet was designed and shaped! I always had bell helmets growing up and always protected me from tumbles. I would would recomend this to many people just because it's a great helmet and many designs by 'Bell'.
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Comments On Nov 07, 2012:I was an HJC fan for years, but their graphics have been boring lately. This Bell MX2 helmet fits me perfectly. The check pads are thick but just the right amount of cushy. I have a big/tall head and this is the best fitting helmet I've tried on (I've visited a lot of bike shops and tried on a lot of different brands). And the Bell graphics are great!
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text:
Pleasure Express
Infos sur la scène
Pleasure Express : Kristof Junas, Erich Tauber
- Mis à jour le : 2010-07-01 |
- Longueur : 00:00 min |
- Taille : 234 MB |
- Images : 1 |
- Visites : 813 |
En vedette
Kristof Junas, Erich Tauber
Rating : 10 out of 10
Kristof Junas comes on hard to Erich Tauber in the mail cabin. Once Kristof shows off his dick, Erich is quickly down on his knees. Soon Kristof decides he wants give head too. Alexander Straus comes upon this suck swapping scene and is invited to join. Kristof really has his work cut out for him sucking both of these guys. His mouth needs a break, so Alexander feeds his hole while he continues to suck Erich.


text:
Roaming Media
After you start Icecast, the server configuration should be complete. At
this point, start MPD as well. It should hook itself up to the Icecast port,
and the logs should be free of errors. Next, an MPD client is needed in
order to set up playlists on the server. I use MPDroid for this, an
Android variant I use to control playlists from my phone, but there are
clients for a wide variety of platforms available via your package manager
or from http://mpd.wikia.com/wiki/Clients. Fire up a client, and add a few
songs to a playlist for a test and tell it to play. The Icecast access log
(not the MPD logs) should show that a SOURCE
has connected, and it
should show a 200
return. For example:
127.0.0.1 - - [20/Jul/2011:01:15:03 -0700] "SOURCE /
This shows the incoming connection from MPD on the local box, the current date and time and the fact that this is a SOURCE request as opposed to a player request. It shows the directory accessed "/", the protocol used and the return code "200". This is a great source of verification that the connection between MPD and Icecast is up and working properly, though it does not tell you that any data actually is being passed. For that, you'll need to test it end to end.
To test it, you need a music player that supports Ogg format (or MP3 if
you've gone that route). I've chosen Rhythmbox for this example,
because it supports Ogg, is popular across a wide range of distributions
and has a command-line control system that you can use to start and stop the
music as well as set the server URI. Install and launch Rhythmbox (or fire
up your favorite player with these features) and set it to play from the
Icecast URI. For example, mine is at http://templar:8000/. If you have
changed the mount
directive in the MPD configuration
file to "/music.ogg"
, the URI would then be
Either way, when the music player is pointed at this URI, the Icecast
access.log file should show something like this:
mj-12 - - [01/Aug/2011:15:28:52 -0700] "GET /
The format for this line is very similar to the one above. The only real difference is that this is a GET request instead of a SOURCE request. Seeing this line in the access logs without a corresponding error in the error log shows you that the media player is requesting the music stream from the Icecast server properly.
If you don't hear music at this time, go back over the setup and check the log files. Check the volume level within MPD, and make sure that the MPD client says a song is playing. Many MPD clients also let you stream music directly, so you can verify that it's working as well.
The next step is to set up your Bluetooth token. In my case, this is my Android phone, but pretty much any Bluetooth device will work. Ranges vary, so placement of the Bluetooth receivers is important to avoid overlap or gaps in the area you're trying to cover.
The Linux package for Bluetooth support is called Bluez. It is widely available and comes as part of most distributions. Install this package if it is not installed on your system already. You don't need to make any configuration changes, because all you need to do is identify that the Bluetooth device is in range. You don't need to pair with it or transfer data between devices. After installing the Bluez package, start the software. Your logs should show that the software started correctly and that it identified your Bluetooth hardware properly.
In order to find the Bluetooth token, it needs to be put into discoverable mode temporarily. Turn that on, and run the following scan command from the command line:
mike@templar:~$ hcitool scan
Scanning ...
D4:E9:C0:37:00:0D eris
Make a note of the Bluetooth ID, and be sure that the name field is not blank. It can be anything, but it has to be something. After this step, you can turn off the discoverable mode on the Bluetooth device for increased security. You now have all the information that you need.
The following script checks whether the Bluetooth device is in range and stops
or starts the music player based on the result. Replace the
variable with your MPD/Icecast server and the BTADDR variable
with your device's Bluetooth ID (this ID comes from the hcitool
command above):
DBUSADDR=`grep -z DBUS_SESSION_BUS_ADDRESS /proc/*/environ 2>
sed 's/DBUS/\nDBUS/g' | tail -n 1`
if [ "x$DBUSADDR" != "x" ]; then
export $DBUSADDR
echo "Cannot find DBUS Session for Rhythmbox. Please
be sure the application is running"
exit 1
NAME=`hcitool name $BTADDR`
if [ -z "$NAME" ] ; then
`rhythmbox-client --pause`
`rhythmbox-client --play-uri=$SERVER_URI`
Save this script as /usr/local/bin/musiccontrol.sh. Next, add the script as a crontab entry that runs every minute. This entry must be run as the same user as the user that owns the Rhythmbox process.
Edit the crontab from the correct user:
mike@templar:~$ crontab -e
Add the following line, and then save and exit:
* * * * * /usr/local/bin/musiccontrol.sh
Now, turn on the Bluetooth device (it does not need to be discoverable this time because you already have the address). At the turn of the next minute, the cron script will see the Bluetooth device and then tell Rhythmbox to start playing the music from the MPD/Icecast server. If you move the Bluetooth device out of range, the cron script will no longer see the Bluetooth device and will stop the music.
Rhythmbox, Bluetooth and this cron script must be set up on every machine that you intend to play music for you. If you do it on only one box, only that box will start and stop music as you enter or leave range. If you set up the system on multiple pieces of hardware, it will transition the music for you. When moving out of the range of one server and into the range of another, the music automatically will stop in the room you were in before and start in the room you are in now.
This is just a simple setup for moving media around automatically. Multiple Bluetooth devices could be set up for different members of the house, and a priority system could be put in place. Motion detection using the "motion" package could be set up to differentiate areas of your home further with overlapping Bluetooth. You even could use facial recognition with help from the OpenCV Project. There are many places you can go from here.
Headphones image via Shutterstock.com.
roaming media
At heart, you think that music would not be restricted to headphones?
I and thousands of people hate Guando we conduct a public one and comes with a rude caxinha music without earphone oudido. Nobody is obliged to hear what he hears, then he would have to be educated to use their own handset oara substencia. But his lesson is well guarded and let's see if we can adopt it.
I thank the great audience that this site has and ask administrators the opportunity to leave my site where you realize the work of research and dissemination. My goal is not to create spam, but I publicize my work. Thank you cadeira universitaria
music play
I agree with you grade and gender roxelly. Music in public place is to listen with headphones adestramento de cães
How does the off-the-shelf open-source programs? You disagree in part to talk about in-room-room. I really liked the article and I will look further. I leave my site Primeira Página do Google
Very interesting
I will try to use MPD as for your directives.
Thanks for the little tutorial.
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Reviews, reviews, reviews...
FreakScore is a weighted average of all aggregated professional and user review scores. Read more
This product has a FreakScore of 8.7* out of 10 based on 4 scores.
*Score is uncertain and deviates toward category average due to low number of scores.
The MD 441 is acknowledged as the most accurate and versatile dy Read more
Great Deal: $899.95


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WIFR Mobile Site
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Local Man Hospitalized After Being Hit By Car
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Local Man Hospitalized After Being Hit By Car
Posted: 4:26 PM Feb 2, 2013
ROCKFORD (WIFR) -- A local man is in the hospital after police say he was hit by a car on the city's east side. The driver says the snow and ice made it so hard to stop the victim was pulled several feet.
The accident happened as the snow was coming down at around eleven last night on East State Street and Alpine Road. Police say the 41-year-old victim stepped in front of the car before he was hit. He was pulled several feet until the driver was able to stop. Investigators tell 23 News the man is in serious condition at a local a hospital .He is expected to be ok.
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text:
Website: http://www.thetask.org/cic
More than 30 teams of students will travel to locations throughout China. Each team will be sharing the true meaning of Christmas as they teach English, share drama and music, etc...with Chinese college students.
Students may apply directly to the IMB by using our online application at www.thetask.org/students/apply


text:
911 calls show anguish and tension in Conn. school
Thursday - 12/5/2013, 9:40am  ET
Associated Press
HARTFORD, Conn. (AP) -- As gunfire boomed over and over in the background, a janitor begged a 911 dispatcher to send help, saying, "There's still shooting going on! Please!" A woman breathlessly reported seeing a gunman run down a hall. And a teacher said she was holed up in her classroom with her children but hadn't yet locked the door.
Recordings of 911 calls from last year's Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting were released Wednesday, and they not only paint a picture of anguish and tension inside the building, they also show Newtown dispatchers mobilizing help, reassuring callers and urging them to take cover.
"Keep everybody calm. Keep everybody down. Get everybody away from windows, OK?" one dispatcher told the frightened teacher who reported hearing shots in the hall.
The calls were made public under a court order after a lengthy effort by The Associated Press. Prosecutors had argued that releasing the recordings would only cause more anguish for the victims' families.
The gunman, 20-year-old Adam Lanza, shot his way through a plate-glass window at the front of the school on Dec. 14. The office staff saw the shooter, who was wearing a hat and sunglasses, as he entered the building with a rifle and began firing down a hallway.
One of the first callers to Newtown police was a woman who said in a trembling, out-of-breath voice: "I think there's somebody shooting in here at Sandy Hook school."
Asked what made her think so, she said: "Because somebody's got a gun. I caught a glimpse of somebody. They're running down the hallway. Oh, they're still running. They're still shooting. Sandy Hook school, please."
Another woman, who was shot in the foot, calmly reported that she was in a classroom with children and two other adults, but that there was no way to safely lock the door. The dispatcher told her to apply pressure to the wound.
"OK, are you OK right now?" the dispatcher asked.
The woman answered: "For now, hopefully."
Another call came from a custodian, Rick Thorne, who said that a window at the front of the school was shattered and that he kept hearing shooting.
While on the line with Thorne, the dispatcher told somebody else: "Get everyone you can going down there."
Thorne remained on the phone for several minutes.
"There's still shooting going on! Please!" the custodian pleaded as six or seven shots could be heard in the background. "Still, it's still going on!"
Within 11 minutes of entering the school, Lanza had fatally shot 20 children and six educators with a semi-automatic rifle. Lanza also killed his mother in their Newtown home before driving to the school. He committed suicide as police closed in.
Newtown police officers arrived at the school within four minutes of the first 911 call, but nearly six more minutes passed before they entered the building while they sorted out concerns over a possible second shooter, according to a prosecutor's report issued last week.
It's not clear whether the delay made a difference because Lanza killed himself one minute after the first officer arrived on the scene, according to the report.
In one of the recordings released Wednesday, dispatchers were heard making three calls to Connecticut state police that apparently rang unanswered.
But state police had already been dispatched to the school by the time those calls were made, according to a timeline and call log supplied by Newtown officials.
In all, seven recordings of landline calls from inside the school to Newtown police were posted Wednesday. Calls that were routed to state police are the subject of a separate, pending freedom of information request by the AP.
"We all understand why some people have strong feelings about the release of these tapes. This was a horrible crime," said Kathleen Carroll, AP executive editor and senior vice president.
"It's important to remember, though, that 911 tapes, like other police documents, are public records. Reviewing them is a part of normal newsgathering in a responsible news organization."
Christina Hassinger, the daughter of slain Sandy Hook principal Dawn Hochsprung, praised the efforts of Thorne and the teachers who protected their students.
"The ability of the Sandy Hook teachers to keep calm in order to reassure their students during the most frightening time of their young lives was amazing. My mom would be proud," Hassinger said.
Teresa Rousseau, whose daughter Lauren was among the six educators killed, said she hadn't listened to the tapes: "The way we keep our sanity is to start ignoring this stuff."


text:
hey my name is spencer i am currently live in Bremerton, wa which is in Kitsap county i do fishing for Salmon for past 5 mos and i love it alot. Want to fish for something cause i have been laid off from work and i dont want to stay home all day and watch tv or doing nothing. I dont have boat. I have been to Illahee state park, Kitsap lake, Port Orchard marina, Silverdale waterfront. Also Been to Columbia River fishing for Sturgeon in July 2008 at Ilwaco, WA.
Anybody who live near Kitsap County or around Kitsap?? willing to meet up for some fishing day
Welcome to the BB. I live on the other side of the water, but make trips over there for doc appointments because thats where the Naval Hosp is. All I can suggest is hit up the mom and pop tackle stores or Sportsmans wharehouse. Ask what, where and hows. I am sure they will be more than happy to help you out. I will be switching over to C-n-R, with barbless hook next month. They will be stocking the lakes with in the next 4-5 weeks. They are 8 to 10 inch bows. You can go to http://wdfw.wa.gov/fish/plants/inde...nbsp;there is last years stocking to give you an idea as to what was put in the waters around you. They stock it around the same time frame every year.


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Blowing snow blocks visibility in front of the SUNY Canton entrance Tuesday on Route 68, Canton. (Kimbler-Lago photo)
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Breckenridge Information Resources
Breckenridge Resort Chamber
P.O. Box 1909, Breckenridge, CO 80424
Breckenridge's quaint main street could be a painting of the mountain resort of your dreams. The oldest and largest town in Colorado's famous Summit County started out, like many, as a mining town, and locals aren't about to forget it — the 250-plus buildings on the National Historic Register attest to that.
P.O. Box 1909, Breckenridge, CO 80424
Take one of the 12-block downtown walking tours or check out the 1875 Edwin Carter Museum, thought to be the oldest museum in the state. Also take time to stop by the church built by "Father" Dyer, an itinerant Methodist minister who visited town frequently, often using snowshoes to get around.
Four mountain peaks make up the resort, providing 2,358 acres of amazing skiing and enough variety to suit even the most seasoned skier. Nordic centers cater to cross-country skiers and snowshoers, as well. In summer, you can ride the ski lift up to hiking trails with unparalleled views. For outdoor pleasure there's also cycling and golf. There are even Jeep tours that take you to area ghost towns. Summit County sports a challenging paved bike trail system, connecting Breck with other nearby towns.
Diners will find a mix of cuisine, from seafood to Mexican and Italian to continental, as well as a range of places to stop in for a quick bite or sit and savor several courses. Lodgings range from romantic bed-and-breakfast inns to luxe ski resort hotels. There are also many budget-friendly options available for families.
Festivals punctuate the annual calendar, from the Ullr Fest (celebrating the Nordic god of snow) and the Budweiser International Snow Sculpture Championships in winter, to the annual summer music festival in the newly renovated Riverwalk Center.
Whether you go for the masses of wildflowers in summer or the snow sports of winter, be sure to walk down the quaint Main Street, do some window shopping and admire the well-preserved architecture.
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Up to 25% off lodging†* for the month-long mountain festival Save up to 25% on event lodging for Breckenridge Spring Fever. The annual end-of-season


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2 hrs ago | WSFA-TV Montgomery
Tips to improve your brain power and memory
By Lynn Langway From Life & Beauty Weekly If your keys keep playing hide-and-seek and you can't recall the name of your daughter's latest BFF, what should you do? Occasional memory blips are "extremely normal", especially for busy moms, according to Barry Gordon, M.D., PhD, professor of neurology and cognitive science at Johns Hopkins School of ... (more)
Trending on the Topix Network
6 hrs ago | Buffalo.com
Nutrition's new norm: Hail the kale Caesar - PHOTOS
It is all we hear about these days. Eating kale = a healthy person. Or so that is what we read.
10 hrs ago | Proctor Journal
Getting older can be a challenge. Staying on top of your health and fitness goals often becomes more difficult as you try to find enough time in the day to balance the schedules of work and life, and taking care of others.
Are Calorie Counts on Nutrition Labels Making Us Fat?
For the first time in two decades, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration has proposed sweeping changes to the familiar nutrition labels on food packages.
Quinn on Nutrition: Readers' questions
Thanks to my friend Roy, who knocked on my door this weekend to gently remind me to finish pruning my grape vines.
SFA: Nutrition labeling will 'expose' snacks but we remain confident
The SFA has concerns about the proposal to review serving size based upon what the 'normal' consumer eats, says its CEO Nutrition labeling will expose snacks for what they are, but we're committed to being transparent and confident US consumers will remain a snacking nation, says the CEO of the Snack Food Association .
Allergy rates surprisingly similar across the U.S.
Wherever you live in the United States, allergy rates are mostly the same, but young children in southern states are more likely to suffer allergies than their peers in other places.
Say, a oeyesa to better Nutrition Facts
In an effort to help Americans in their efforts to follow more healthy diets, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration is proposing an update to the Nutrition Facts labels on food packaging.
UK professor connects nutrition to heredity
People really are what they eat, according to epigenetics professor Randy Jirtle of the University of Bedfordshire, Bedford, U.K. At the 2014 Jean Andrews Lecture Series on Thursday, Jirtle discussed how nutrition affects a person's epigenome, an organism's record of heritable changes in gene function that do not affect the sequence of the DNA.
Eating Right: March is National Nutrition Month
The month of March is National Nutrition Month. The Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics is available to guide you in making informed choices on healthy food and fitness habits.
A diet heavy on meat and cheese may be shortening your life
Husbands beware: Wives now have another reason to want you to work longer and harder.
Can you consume only 5% of calories from sugar?
Added sugar intake should be less than 10% of your total calories a day, and consuming less than 5% of total calories from added sugars provides additional health benefits, according to new draft guidelines from the World Health Organization.
Tobacco, alcohol, junk food heavily promoted by community markets in Los Angeles County
The neat and tidy Euclid Market in Boyle Heights proudly promotes fresh bananas, pineapples and all sorts of leafy greens.
Health expert says nutrition should be part of every meal
That's because March is National Nutrition Month, and with spring coming soon and summer not too far off, now is as good a time as any to start some new eating habits.
Can you eat only 6 teaspoons of sugar a day? The WHO wants you to try
In a new guideline on sugar consumption, the United Nations' health agency reiterates its 2002 recommendation that no more than 10 percent of daily calories come in the form of sugar.
Hummus is hot, and American chickpea farmers are reaping the rewards
Flansburg, who farms 1,900 acres amid the rolling hills of southeastern Washington, has been increasing the amount of the chickpeas used to make hummus by about one-third each year to take advantage of good prices and demand.
Study: Alzheimer's-related deaths far higher than previously thought
Boys, but not girls, tend to suffer more from depression and conduct disorder after moving from a poor neighborhood to a better one, a new study says.
Batley Foyer took over Dewsbury's Longcauseway Church on Monday to encourage young people to learn more about nutrition, mental health and exercise.
WHO: Only 5% of calories should be from sugar
After a review of about 9,000 studies, WHO's expert panel says dropping sugar intake to that level will combat obesity and cavities.
Sugar intake should be halved: WHO
People should cut the amount of sugar in their diet by half if they want to improve their health, the World Health Organisation has said.


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Twice a week, Anne Wallace drives from her Towson home to Baltimore's Penn Station, and catches the MARC train No. 513 to Washington, D.C.—one of 20,000 commuters who ride the MARC every day. That's roughly the same number of people helped over the past four years by the nonprofit D.C.-based Identity Theft Assistance Center (ITAC), where Wallace has served for four years as executive director—and now has been named president. ITAC leads the fight against identity theft through victim assistance, research, and law
enforcement partnerships.
According to the 2007 Identity Fraud Report, 8.4 million Americans were victims of identity fraud in 2006, equaling $49.3 billion in consumer losses (the average victim lost $587). While these figures are staggering, they're nothing new.
"Criminals trying to separate consumers from their money is as old as the Bible," says Wallace, sitting at her home office in Towson. "Jacob and Esau was the original identity theft."
With the number of stolen credit cards, spam scams, and unauthorized ATM withdrawals a multi-billion-dollar problem, 47 of the nation's largest financial institutions—Bank of America, GMAC, and Wachovia, among others—came together to create ITAC in 2004. And Wallace, former assistant director with the Federal Reserve Board, has been at the helm since Day One. Four years later, ITAC has helped more than 25,000 identity theft victims, and dozens of additional banks and other companies have since joined the cause as members.
For now, ITAC is a free service available only to customers of its member banks and other financial companies. But in Wallace's crystal ball, the institution will eventually morph into a government-funded umbrella protecting all identity-theft victims.
A graduate of Boston University Law School, Wallace, who lives with her husband Don Hooker, a semi-retired, former Alex. Brown financial consultant, says running ITAC "was a natural outgrowth" of her background in privacy law. But she's quick to point out that connecting identity theft to cyber-bandits is a misconception.
"Many times, the culprit is a member of the family or an in-home caretaker," she explains. Has Wallace been the victim of identity theft? "I think we've all gotten that call from the credit card company asking, 'Were you in Panama yesterday?'"


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This DVD recorder is bursting with supported formats -- only DVD+RW is missing -- and it offers an incredibly intuitive recording system as well as the world's best remote. But 80GB is a tad stingy for a hard drive recorder and there's no Freeview tuner or FireWire support Read more
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Stroller chassis, 3 seats, 3 hoods
Primo Viaggio SIP 30-30 car seat
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Marguerite Scurry, or Richie, began working at the Claremont Institute in its earliest days. She was already then an older woman. She lived alone in a trailer near our office, and she had a little typesetting business operating there. She worked for us for many years, and eventually we became her closest connection to the outside world.
As she aged, and her powers began to fail, she moved into a retirement home in LaVerne, California. There several members of the staff, especially Daniel Palm, Phyllis Martin, and Nancy Padilla, took care of her for several years. She was a woman of remarkable ability. Several of us remember her below.
Larry P. Arnn
President, The Claremont Institute
* * *
One can see some lessons in the life of Marguerite Scurry. They are the sort to give one hope.
First of all, one should admit the difficult things about her life. Richie lived alone for almost her entire existence. Through long years and to a ripe old age she made her bed in a dwelling without others. Like people who marry too late and then find they annoy each other, she formed just her own habits. Things went in a certain place, where she would use them, and not where they would be put if others might need the space too. Like Chris Flannery, who also worked with her closely, she loved late nights and coffee shops.
Interruptions were few in her life, and partly for that reason mostly welcome as a relief to the inevitable loneliness. She had I think a naturally meticulous character. This helped to make her personal habits idiosyncratic, even cranky, and she was known at her retirement home as a woman with a temper. This surely is one of the costs of living one's life without close and loving companionship.
Richie was a small lady, undistinguished in appearance. In general she did not work to adorn herself. For this reason she did not make a strong impression upon people when first she met them. This probably helped to seal her off. Of course there is a little bit of tragedy in that. I am confessedly describing so far a partly unhappy and unfortunate life. This surely is part of the truth. It is right to face this fact about Richie, because the real and larger story becomes more hopeful and more happy in light of it.
Doug Jeffrey has written very well about the deeper character and quality of Richie. When we first met her, she ran a small typesetting business. We went to her because she could supply something very useful, even necessary to our purposes, and that at a moderate cost. So the relationship began upon the level of utility, and it continued on that level right to the end. But not only on that level.
Richie was just about the best proofreader that I ever met. Apart from her, the best I have met is Sir Martin Gilbert, the Churchill biographer. This is a serious sort of praise to give her, because it was for three years my duty to try to be as good at this task as Sir Martin, and I failed. I lacked the intense concentration upon the most minute details. I could not quite make myself pull away from the sense of the words and focus upon their accuracy. I had not the ability--or, more likely, I had not the will--to reach the highest standard. It was not of course that the task was beneath me. The great scholar, Sir Martin, could do it, and did it with real determination and satisfaction. And Richie could do it too.
But of course this says something about her character. After a while, one noticed some things about her, especially in her eyes. She was determined, full of goodwill, and insightful. There was ever a giggle lurking in there. She loved to laugh, and she would look at one with real gratitude after she was made to laugh. And of course she could return the favor readily. Above all she always knew what one was saying, quickly, and often she would accept it with a cynical air. Those who have heard her say the word "OK" with just a certain lilt know very well what I mean.
Richie achieved very much in her life. In her way, she achieved as much as anyone has ever achieved. In her field of work, she consistently achieved superior performance. Upon every occasion that I worked with her, her work was excellent. Over many long years, and through dramatic changes in technology, she ran a successful business and provided for herself. She stored up savings that sustained her right to the end of her life, and she was never financially dependent upon anyone.
For a little old lady, this is a remarkable record. We today are very quick to think that people with the least disability cannot care for themselves, and we often do them little good by removing that opportunity from them. In Richie, there is a lesson about the dignity of life that can be achieved by a persistent character.
I will confess freely that my own fondness for Richie began with a perception of her serviceability. She could perform. She could get the job done. She could be relied upon every time. And so of course one went back to her.
But of course the story does not and could not end there. Her serviceability did not proceed from some accident. Like the rest of us, Richie was not a machine. Something made her perform as she performed. And soon enough one noticed what it was. It was the thing in each of us that makes us able to do what we do, when we do it well. It was love.
Richie felt the charm of high and good things. She had faith in God, and this faith filtered right down to a faith in things and people, a faith in work, a faith in ends. Once in a while she would take issue with something we had written ("Do you really think that this is so"--an expression I have heard from my mother-in-law, who like Richie has the art of disagreeing kindly). It was always because something she loved seemed in opposition. More often she would comment that something we had done was "pretty good." Understated, but the look in her eye would tell you she admired truly and with understanding.
For these reasons those of us who worked in the first days of the Claremont Institute were drawn to Richie. It was not kindness for an old lady. Some of the people in this room are much more readily capable of that than we. We came not to pity but to admire Richie, to look upon her as a peer, or a better. We argued grammar with her and lost. She found our mistakes and fixed them. She made us better, and then a little like a grandmother she took pride at the improvement in us.
In a poor way, we tried therefore to do our duty by Richie. I did not do my own so well as the rest of you here. But I am here for the same reason that each of you is here. We loved and admired Richie. She helped to make us better. And whatever we achieve in our lives is owing partly to her. And so we will not quite ever get the debt paid.
But like Richie, we should be persistent in the effort.
Larry P. Arnn
President, The Claremont Institute
* * *
A little bit of the Claremont Institute died when Richie Scurry passed away.
To look at her and talk to her one would believe she was 75 and had been 75 since time immemorial. It doesn't quite seem possible that she is gone.
My first day at the Institute I met Richie hunched over a computer transcribing Larry's dictation. There was a brief hello and she was back to her work. That was Richie's way.
She was efficient and of good cheer. Well I suppose it was good cheer. Richie smiled and didn't often speak. It was as if she had just heard a joke but wasn't going to tell you what it was.
There was also a time when she was of less than good cheer.
Back in 1991 the men of the Institute, always fond of cigars, took to smoking them in the office. Why, I don't exactly know. The Institute had survived for many years without cigar smoking, or at least not much of it. But that year Doug, Dan, and I started smoking about four of five cigars a day.
Larry, sensing unease among the female staff, took to only chewing on his cigars when in the office. Priscilla Gordon, a smoker and the senior woman on staff, decided that the level of smoke in the office was getting out of hand.
First she bought air purifiers. Although this did some good it was still not enough to stem the growing discontent among the other women in the office. Finally she did the only thing that could have curtailed our smoking. Priscilla played the "Richie" card.
Richie, who had been only mildly annoyed by the cigar smoking, took to coughing and walking around the office with air freshener. It was then reported to the men in the office that Richie had asthma. When we asked Richie about this she didn't say she did, but did ask if that would be sufficient for us to stop smoking. She appeared as if she was willing to contract asthma if we would cease and desist. Immediately the cigar craze ended.
Others no doubt will praise all of Richie's talents in the office. This praise is well deserved. Richie was a dedicated and loyal employee. She was truly part of the Claremont family.
Brian T. Kennedy
Vice-President, The Claremont Institute
* * *
I first got to know Richie well when we pulled an all-nighter in 1986 in order to put together the first desk-top-published issue of the Claremont Review of Books. Previously Richie had typeset the Review. This new method, I assured her, would be faster and easier. But we were computer novices, and instead of wrapping it up in eight hours as expected, it took us 26.
I spent a good deal of the latter part of this marathon throwing tantrums, to which Richie would respond by cackling. (I think that's a fair description of her laugh, even though it was not unpleasant.) I discerned two reasons for this cackling:
One, although Richie already looked ancient, she had more energy and good- nature than I, and she found my fatigue and ill-humor amusing. Two, she had told me in advance that it would be faster and easier if I let her typeset the Review in the time-honored fashion, and she was taking joy in the conviction that my misery was well-deserved.
I learned that night that Richie was a loyal and diligent worker, and also that she was a pill. Over the next eight years we became buddies. Most of our business revolved around her uncanny proofreading abilities: she was the only person at the Claremont Institute whose proofreading I never double-checked.
But her keen eye discerned more than grammatical errors and misspelled words. It was often that she would appear in my office shaking a document at me and insisting, "You can't print this." Invariably the problem turned out to be that she had found a passage that was at odds with her understanding of Scripture.
Occasionally she was right: sometimes we would be publishing an article by a liberal social scientist whose views were indeed anti-Biblical, not to mention unpatriotic. In these cases I could assure Richie that we were disseminating their views only to contrast them (and demolish them) with our own. Other cases were more difficult.
The fact was, Richie was not always at ease theologically with the law of nature or law of reason that the Claremont Institute champions, and now and then would question one of our expressions of that law. I would spend a few minutes on these occasions to explain to her why we were not being impious, and she always went away appeased, although usually with a shake of her head, as if we were over-educated children. Our writings that Richie most appreciated, I might mention, were our commentaries on foreign policy, particularly on events in the former Soviet Union and Middle East, which she often interpreted as signals of the end time.
In these years I came to know Richie as a good woman, our trusting friend, and a lover of God.
Doug Jeffrey
Senior Fellow, The Claremont Institute
* * *
Richie Scurry was a marvelous servant of good causes, a patient overseer of flawed people. She was an angel, and I trust and pray she now rejoices with them.
Ken Masugi
Senior Fellow, The Claremont Institute
* * *
I did not know Richie. After Larry and Penny met with me to discuss this memorial service, I recalled a discovery made during one visit to a church outside of Oxford, England. Given how Larry and Penny described Richie, and what has been said this evening, it seems appropriate to this occasion.
I remember seeing a memorial plaque in a small parish church in England which bore a rather unusual inscription. It was in memory of a woman of the parish, and the inscription read, quite simply, "She did what she could." One gets no hint from the words whether the woman was a generous benefactor of the parish or a woman who scrubbed the floors and dusted the pews. Whoever she was, whatever she did, as the memorial plaque testifies, "She did what she could."
From what has been shared, Richie was a woman who clearly did what she could. And she did it well and with her particular style of grace. And what Richie did and the way in which she did it clearly touched others.
As Christians we believe that death is not final, that there is a larger life in a place where we can delight in the presence of God forever.
Some have described that place as a city with gates of pearl and streets of gold; for some that sounds a bit gaudy and overdone. Some have described it as the pure, eternal contemplation of God; for some that sounds a bit too formal for mere mortals. Our forebears on the frontier sang of themselves as poor wayfaring strangers who were waiting to cross Jordan to see again their beloved dead. My grandfather described it as a great family reunion with fried chicken and luscious watermelon.
I don't know how Richie would have described heaven. It doesn't matter how we describe it: what matters is that Richie is there and someday we, too, will join her.
Richie will be remembered because she was and always will be Richie. She will also be remembered because she did what she could, which is what God calls all of us to do--nothing less, nothing more--simply what we can.
No other epitaph is necessary or required. To those who loved her and cared, nothing more needs to be said or done, except to bless God for gracing our lives with her companionship.
God be blessed and praised for her and God take care of her for us.
Thomas McCart
Rector, St. Mark's Episcopal Church


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Although not a sportsman, killer, or paranoid myself (well, perhaps . . .), I consider myself a second amendment man. At least so long as we live in this tyrannous, kleptomaniacal, natty oligarchy of ours, I find it awfully hard to sympathize with the crowd that thinks the government, of all entitites, ought to control my access to mah nine. Fainter hearts might, and the uniform fetishizers of left and right surely will, quail at this impolitic thought: when Joe O'SWAT-Team comes not-a-knockin', claiming my flush toilet or off-kilter screen door or purchase of cold medicine as evidence and probable cause of my Noriegatude, I feel that as an American citizen as much as any vice president I have an inalienable right to shoot the motherfucker in his face.
The broader gun-rights claim, for which I've always had sympathy, is that only an armed people can resist tyranny when it truly arrives. It used to be that my more liberal friends would sigh when I said this and give me a familiar song and dance: "Do you really believe that a bunch of guys with guns and grenades can resist the military of the United States?" Thanks to Iraq (and who ever thought I'd write such a phrase), I wouldn't hesitate to answer without pause if asked again: "Yes, I buh-leeve!" Of course, your average American, denuded of any identity worth defending other than that of a passive consumer, a person whose only contributive economic activity is the opposite of production, will take just about anything so long as they don't cut off his cable. But a man can dream . . .
All that aside, however, this has got to be some of the craziest bullshit I've ever read, and I do include everything else that Eugene Volokh has ever written in that estimation just to show how serious I am. Is this really the sort of public policy for which Volokh is going to advocate: allowing our nation's educators to go out in a blaze of glory on those off-chancey days when a well-armed lunatic strides through the schoolhouse doors? Why not simply fill the halls with trip-wired plastique and instruct the children to watch their step? In my own high school days, I had plenty of teachers about one multiple-choice failure away from going full-on Rambo themselves, so let's not kid ourselves that conceal-and-carry is the way to go with the put-upon crowd of educators in our post-educated times. I suppose Volokh would say that he's not arguing that we explicitly arm teachers as a matter of policy, but rather that we let them choose to bring a sidearm to school, though I wonder what then would be his excuse for denying the same right to a trained-and-licensed sixteen-year-old. I have no other point here, except to ask that the universe save us from the dim and well-intentioned.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Shooting Gallery
4 comments:
- la Rana said...
I for one plan to lock myself in an impenitrable big black-boxey type thing from the airplanes and have my food teleported in. With that much security, I'll be the freest freedom-loving free man in the whole free world.
- Highlander said...
I... well... I've read RED PLANET by Heinlein.
Yessir. The newer, UNEDITED version they put out after RAH(gh) was safely dead.
So I know all about yer tyrants trying to pry my howitzer out o' me cold dead fingers. YesSIR.
I had a post on one of my previous blogs proposing a novel solution to the whole deal -- anyone can own any gun they want, but all guns have to be individually insured, just like cars. That way, when Dilly McBlam-Blam loses his mind over whist one night, whips out his Walther and unloads into the gentle schoolmarm acrost the table from him, well, the insurance fuckers will have to pay.
Wait. I'm supposed to come up with SOLUTIONS? Jesus, I thought I was doing stand up here. Sorry. - 6:34 PM
- Anonymous said...
Isn't it about time some democrat got up and blamed the Bushies for not providing teachers with the equipment they need to win the War Against School Violence Doers?
And then some Republican (maybe Cheney while scowling at the camera) could get up and say that the Democrats don't really want to win the War To Ensure The Safety of Schoolchildren, or as he/she like to call it, "The Long War."
At which point, some egghead will point out that its more likely that Joe Blow-Some-Shit-Up's kid will get into a good college than they get shot going to high school.
As rebuttal to the egghead, FOX will have Rev. Fallwell on to say Jesus would've shot the fucker! - 8:05 PM
- Anonymous said...
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