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Stories from Asimov's have won 53 Hugos and 28 Nebula Awards, and our editors have received 20 Hugo Awards for Best Editor.
The Stars Do Not Lie
Jay Lake
Jay Lake lives in Portland, Oregon, where he works on numerous writing and editing projects. His 2012/2013 books are Kalimpura (Tor) and Love in the Time of Metal and Flesh (Prime). His short fiction appears regularly in literary and genre markets worldwide. Jay is a past winner of the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and a multiple nominee for the Hugo and World Fantasy Awards. The author can be reached through his blog at jlake.com. Jay's first story for us since October/ November 2005 treats us to a far-future tale of intrigue, daring acts of defiance, and the sudden revelation that . . .
In the beginnings, the Increate did reach down into the world and where They laid Their hand was all life touched and blossomed and brought forth from water, fire, earth and air. In eight gardens were the Increate's children raised, each to have dominion over one of the eight points of the Earth. The Increate gave to men Their will, Their word, and Their love. These we Their children have carried forward into the opening of the world down all the years of men since those first days.
—Librum Vita, Beginnings 1:1-4;
being the Book of Life and word entire of the Increate
Morgan Abutti; B.Sc. Bio.; M.Sc. Arch.; Ph.D. Astr. & Nat, Sci.; 4th degree Thalassocrete; Member, Planetary Society; and Associate Fellow of the New Garaden Institute, stared at the map that covered the interior wall of his tiny office in the Institute's substantial brownstone in downtown Highpassage. The new electricks were still being installed by brawny, nimble-fingered men of crafty purpose who often smelled a bit of smoke and burnt cloth. Thus his view was dominated by a flickering quality of light that would have done justice to a smoldering hearth, or a wandering planet low in the pre-dawn sky. The gaslamp men were complaining of the innovations, demonstrating under Lateran banners each morning down by the Thalassojustity Palace in their unruly droves.
He despised the rudeness of the laboring classes. Almost to a man, they were pale-faced fools who expected something for nothing, as if simply picking up a wrench could grant a man worth.
Turning his attentions away from the larger issues of political economy and surplus value, he focused once more on history.
Or religion.
Honestly, Morgan was never quite certain of the difference any more.
Judging from the notes and diagrams limned up and down the side of the wide rosewood panel in their charmingly archaic style, the map had been painted about a century earlier for some long-dead theohistoriographer. The Eight Gardens of the Increate were called out in tiny citrons that somehow had survived the intervening years without being looted by hungry servants or thirsty undergraduates. Morgan traced his hand over the map, fingers sliding across the pitted patina of varnish and oil soap marking the attentions of generations of charwomen.
The homes of man. Archaeological science was clear enough. Thanks to the work of natural scientists of the past century, so was the ethnography. The Increate had placed the human race upon this Earth. That was absolutely clear. Just as the priests of the Lateran had always taught, nothing of humanity was older than the villages of the Gardens of the Increate.
Sick at heart, Morgan turned back to his photographic plates, their silver salts bearing indubitable evidence of the ephemeral nature of such faith in the Increate.
The stars do not lie.
* * *
"Gentlemen of the Planetary Society . . ." Morgan Abutti let his voice trail off a moment. His next words, once uttered, could never be taken back. Not before this august assemblage of the greatest scientific minds of the modern era. He drew in a deep breath and plunged recklessly onward. "On examination of considerable evidence from fields as varied as paleontology, archaeology, and astronomy, I have been compelled to confront the distinct likelihood that we, the human race, are not of this world."
He paused to give the audience a moment to consider the proposition. The racket of the city of Highpassage echoed from outside the Society's Plenary Hall—steam whistles, horses, motorcars, the grumble of the new diesel engines powering the latest generations of airships. The seven hundred faces staring at him included a scattering of the paler-skinned northern folk, who were finally entering academe and the sciences thanks to the same progressive policies that had helped pave Morgan's own way to the exclusive University of Highpassage. That women had been allowed to study a generation earlier had cracked open the door that later admitted the traditionally inferior white race.
The world was growing more open-minded by the decade in spite of itself. Were his colleagues in the Planetary Society ready for this, his grand conclusion?
What he'd thought to be shocked silence degraded into murmuring, muttering, even outright laughter in a few corners. Some delegates rose from their seats, ready to move onward to more fruitful pursuits. Others struck up conversations with their seatmates, or commenced making notes, in some cases with deliberate ostentation.
Morgan had lost the audience, waiting for their reaction to his news.
"I have . . . have assembled a précis of the evidence . . ." he began, but his voice trailed off. A moment later Doctor Professor the Revered Lucan Matroit, Secretary-General of the Planetary Society, plucked at Morgan's sleeve.
"My deepest regrets, ah . . . Doctor Abutti," Lucan said quietly, his tone as formal and disinterested as if the two of them had never met before. "The Society thanks you for your contributions." He quite effectively twisted Morgan's arm and propelled him toward the heavy maroon velvet curtains marking stage left.
"Dear ones," Lucan called out to the audience, which immediately stilled its unrest at his piercing voice. "Let us now offer praise to the Increate, as redress to Them for the caprice and irresponsibilities of free will . . ."
Morgan did not hear the rest of the invocative prayer. Two of the Society's burly porters—like most of their fellows, former Thalassojustity Marines—seized him by the upper arms, shoved his despatch case into his hands, jammed his bowler hat upon his head, and escorted him to a service entrance from which he was summarily ejected into a dung-spattered alley under the doleful gaze of a brace of hinnies hitched to a rag man's cart.
At least they had not thrown him bodily into the muck. No, even that embarrassment had been trumped with a few mere words from Lucan Matroit.
Gathering the shreds of his dignity, Morgan resolved to retreat to the shelter of his office at the New Garaden Institute. The Avenida Tram line ran past the Plenary Hall, and would deposit him within two blocks of his destination.
Waiting for the next street car to arrive, Morgan noticed one of the porters watching him. The man leaned on a pillar of the rococo façade of the Plenary Hall, smoking a fat cigar and making no effort to hide himself or pretend interest in anything but Morgan. After adjusting his collar tabs and fussing with his shirt front, Morgan held his leather case to his chest as if it could armor him, and waited among the ladies' maids and bankers' daughters for the tram.
Riding among a crowd consisting mostly of servants summoned memories that Morgan had expended some effort setting aside. The human odor of painfully starched cleanliness and faint malnutrition within the tram was far too reminiscent of his own childhood. He stared out at the streets of Highpassage, ignoring the people around him with their muted gossip, and wondered what he'd been about.
Seeking truth, science, had been his path out of ungenteel poverty. That the good universities admitted scholarship boys at all was still a strange novelty when Morgan had first enrolled. He'd studied beyond reason to qualify, understanding perfectly clearly he would have to do twice as well to be thought half as good as someone of monied birth and good family.
Even now, with his doctorate and his post at the New Garaden Institute, far too few listened with ears of reason. People only saw and heard what they wished. If he'd been a titled scion of some ancient house, Matroit would not have been able to rush him out of the Planetary Society.
The most important discovery of the modern age was being crushed by pettiness. No different from the rough back alley games of his youth. The strongest ones, the ones with the most friends, always prevailed.
Head pressed against the glass, feeling the shudder of the tracks through the tram's iron wheels, Morgan almost wept to realize the world's unfairness had no end. He could never be good enough, never have possession of enough facts, to surpass that barrier.
The New Garaden Institute's offices occupied the majority of an elegant building that had been designed and constructed during the height of the Neoclassical Revival at the beginning of the previous century. It had been one of the first structures in Highpassage built with the intention of being gas lit and centrally heated. Plumbing stacks, gas valve closets, ventilation shafts for the introduction of fresh air to the innermost precincts of the structure—the building had been a truly visionary project from the century's most famous architect, Kingdom Obasa. A brilliant Iberiard educated outside the top-ranked university system, Obasa had very much gone his own way in both engineering and aesthetics. As a result, for all of its brownstone glory, the New Garaden Institute nonetheless resembled nothing so much as a cathedral that had been partially melted.
The recent addition of an array of rooftop electrickal signaling devices for the propagation and reception of radio waves had done nothing to alleviate the building's strangeness.
Stung, embittered, saddened by his setback, but firmly in command of himself once more, Morgan stumbled through the vestibule into the receiving parlor only to find the Desk Porter in close consultation with a pair of on-duty Thalassojustity Marines. His view of the wide expanse of maroon carpet, delicate settees, and brass rails telescoped into a horrified vision of another ejection from his barely attained positions of privilege. The Marines' formal red tunics contrasted oddly with the firearms borne by both of the large men. While Morgan had little familiarity with weapons, even he could see that these were not the long-barreled, wooden-stocked rifles carried on parade, but rather short, snub-nosed bits of machined steel slung tight on well-worn leather straps. Businesslike tools of violence, in other words.
"Ah, Dr. Abutti," one of the Marines said, even before he'd turned from the Desk Porter's podium. The man's purple-blue eyes were like grapes squeezed into the unnaturally pale, ruddy flesh of his face.
Morgan was impressed for about three beats, until he realized the Marine had seen his reflection in the glassed-over painting of the Battle of Mino Harbor behind the podium.
"Indeed. I do not believe we have been introduced." Morgan glanced pointedly at the Desk Porter. The Desk Porter—was his name Philas? Phelps?—just as pointedly failed to meet Morgan's eye.
"No need, sir. You're to come with us. Thalassojustity business. You're being called before the Lesser Bench, sir." The Marine favored Morgan with a warm smile that did not meet the eyes. His fellow favored Morgan with the blank stare of a gun barrel casually swung to bear.
"Now?" Morgan asked with an involuntary swallow.
"Now." And after a moment too long, "Sir."
"I may be some time," Morgan told the Desk Porter.
"I'll make a note, Doctor." This time he did raise his eyes with a faint flash of malice.
When first they hanged the pirate Black upon the beach
Little did the captains trow what they set upon the sea
Neither haunt nor hollow, down the long years between
Justice for the open waves, and a fire upon the deep
—Lords of the Horizon, Ebenstone (trad. attrib.)
By sharp contrast with the New Garaden Institute, the Thalassojustity Palace was arguably the oldest building in Highpassage. It was certainly the oldest building still in regular use. The legal and sovereign relationship between the Thalassojustity and its host city was ambiguous, strained by two millennia and more of precedent, treaty, and occasional open warfare.
In other words, arguably not in Highpassage proper. The Increate, as always, manifested Their power on the side of the big battalions.
Morgan Abutti was treated to a close view of the Pirate's Steps, the ancient risers that led to the formal portico. A temple of the sea, the palace had been looking out across the Attik Main for over a third of recorded history. He knew the building well—impossible not to, as a fourth-degree Thalassocrete. The initiation ceremonies stressed history above all else.
Normally he used a discreet side door for the alternate Thursday lodge meetings. Only criminals and heads of state paraded up the Pirate's Steps. He knew which he wasn't.
"What have I done?" he asked of the two Marines for at least the sixth time. For at least the sixth time, they gave him no answer. Even the false smiles had vanished, to be replaced by a firm grip on each arm and the banging of one Marine's firearm against Morgan's hip.
At the top of the steps, he was hoisted around and faced outward, so that he stared at the bottle-green waters of the Attik Main. Shipping crowded the waves, as always at Highpassage, one of the busiest ports in the world. Great iron steamers from the yards at Urartu far to the east passed above dish-prowed fishing boats whose lines had not changed in a thousand years of beachfront ship building. A white-hulled Thalassojustity cutter cruised past barges and scows waiting for their dock pilots. Overhead, a pair of the new Iberiard dirigibles beat hard against the wind, engines straining as they slung urgent deck cargo to landfall from a vessel waiting too long for a slip.
Highpassage, crossroads of the world.
But the message wasn't that, Morgan knew. He'd sat through too many initiations not to see the point the Marines were making. The hanging tree, the ultimate symbol of both justice and power across the world's maritime extents, stood on the beach below him, memorialized as a granite monument to the largely legendary death of the largely legendary pirate Black. That angry court of captains and bosuns had met on a firelit beach in the teeth of a rising storm over two thousand years past to take justice in their own hands after the King of Highpassage had declined to act. The sailors had broken Black, so the story ran, and unintentionally founded a line of power that controlled the high seas to this day, serving as a pragmatic secular counterbalance to the widespread spiritual and temporal influence of the Lateran Church.
Drawing on that tradition to this day, justice, as untempered by mercy as the sea itself, was the purpose of the Thalassocretes.
"You're a man of keen wit and insight," said the pale Marine in a surprisingly soft tone, to Morgan's surprise.
"I am likely blind to much in this life." He felt as if he were uttering his last words. "Science is both my mistress and my muse. But even I can still see history."
Like estranged lovers met on a sidewalk, the moment swiftly passed. A rough adversity resumed. Morgan found himself pushed within, toward the upper halls and the quiet, incense-reeking rooms of the Lesser and Greater Benches of the Thalassojustity.
The Most Revered Bilious F. Quinx; B.Th. Rhet.; M.Th. Hist. & Rit.; Th.D. Hist. & Rit.; 32nd degree Thalassocrete; and master of the Increate's Consistitory Office for Preservation of the Faith Against Error and Heresy, watched carefully as His Holiness Lamboine XXII paged through one of the prohibitora from the Consistitory's most confidential library.
The two of them were alone—unusually so, given His Holiness' nigh everpresent retinue—in the aerie of the Matachin Tower of the Lateran Palace. This room was Quinx' private study and retreat, and also where his most confidential meetings were held. The latter was due to the architecture of the tower walls that rendered the usual methods of ecclesiastical eavesdropping futile.
Quinx, in both his official capacity and from his well-developed personal sense of curiosity, worried about the possibility of spying via the new electricks. For that reason, he had thus far forbidden any lights or wires to be installed in the Matachin Tower. He preferred instead to rely on traditional oil lamps tended by traditional acolytes who damned well knew to keep their ears shut. And besides which who wore nubble-soled slippers so they could not sneak.
Privacy was both a commodity and a precious resource within these walls of the Increate's highest house. Quinx made it his business to control the available privacy as much as possible.
Still, having His Holiness leaf so casually through a prohibitorum was enough to give a thoughtful man a galloping case of the hives.
Lamboine—who had once been called Ion when they were boys together in a mountain village plentifully far away from the Holy Precincts—raised his eyes from the page. "There is nothing in this world I am not entitled to know, Bili."
"You understand me perfectly as always."
Those words summoned a small, sad smile, one that Quinx also remembered far too well from a youth lost six decades past. "That is why I am the Gatekeeper and you are my hound," Lamboine replied. As ever, his voice was preternaturally patient. "I have always wondered why our friends among the Thalassocretes have never sought to place a man on the Footstool of the Increate."
Ion was one of the few remaining alive who could provoke Quinx to unthinking response. "Do you honestly suppose they never have done so? I am numbered among their rolls, after all."
"They think you their spy in the house of the Increate." Another small smile. "In any event, I should think I would know if one of them had ever held my throne. My opinion is that they have never felt a need to. Truth is a strange commodity."
"Much like privacy," Quinx almost whispered, echoing his own, earlier thoughts.
The Gatekeeper shook his head. "Privacy is just a special case of truth, or its withholding. This . . ." His hand, palsied with the infirmity of age that had yet to overcome Quinx, swept over the open book. "This is truth of a different sort."
"No, Your Holiness. It is not. It is only the Thalassocretes' story. We have the Increate and the evidence on our side."
"What makes you think there are sides, Bili?"
In that moment, Quinx saw Lamboine's death. Flesh stretched tight and luminous across his face, the deep, natural brown of his skin paling to the color of milk in coffee, his eyes brittle as cracked opals. The man's fires were guttering. "There are always sides, Ion. That has been my role these long years here, preserving and defending your side." He paused a moment, then added: "Our side."
The Gatekeeper waited several measures of silence too long for comfort before replying. "I am glad you did not claim a side for the Increate. They are all, and They are everything."
"Of course." Quinx bowed his head.
A trembling hand descended in surprising blessing. Quinx had not even realized that the Gatekeeper had set the book down. "Do not rely too much on evidence, my oldest friend. It has a way of turning against you in time. Proof can change with circumstance. Faith is the rock upon which we must always build."
Quinx remained bowed until the Gatekeeper had departed, shuffling far enough down the spiral stairs to summon his attendants, who bore him away on a wave of soft whispers and perfume. After a time, he rose and set some incense alight before kneeling on a bolster with a small ricepaper copy of Librum Vita in his grip. It had been made in distant Sind, something of a curiosity, copied out in a firm hand by a man wielding a brush comprised of only a single hair. Act of faith? Dedication to art?
It did not matter. The Increate's words fit in the palm of Quinx' hands. From there, he drew comfort as surely as he had from his mother's grasp once so long ago.
Or Ion's.
The relief of prayer drew him in then, toward the dim inner light that always filled Bilious Quinx when he sought the Increate in honest, faithful silence with open heart and empty thoughts.
Much later he trimmed the wicks in his office and lit the night lamp. Darkness had descended outside, the evening breeze bearing the itching scent of pollen and spring chill off the mountains to the east and south. Quinx opened his windows, their red glazing parted to let the tepid lamplight spill out and compete with the distant stars.
The Lateran Palace had its own observatories, of course. Someone must demarcate the lines of the world. Even the almighty Thalassojustity had in the past been willing to leave the skies to the Church. The irony of that was not lost on Quinx in these late days. He was certain it was no less lost on the Thalassocretes in Highpassage and elsewhere.
No matter his own initiation into their ranks; the Thalassojustity had always known who and what Quinx was, and whose creature he had been, body and soul. That Ion was dying now changed nothing of Quinx' loyalties.
He considered the prohibitorum, lying so carelessly open where the Gatekeeper had left it on one of the round room's several curve-backed writing desks. The book was open to a map of the Garden of Ganj, annotated only as the heretics of the Thalassojustity would bother to do. This particular volume was a first printing of the Revised Standard Survey, Th. 1907. Almost a hundred years old, and their color plates a century past were as good as anything the Lateran presses could manage even today.
Ion had left a scrap tucked in the center crease. Quinx plucked it out, his own hand trembling. It was a short note that must have been written before the Gatekeeper had come up to see him, in Ion's lifelong careful copperplate hand, rendered edgy and strange by the exigencies of age.
Do not let them elect you to the Gatekeeper's throne after me. And do not be afraid of what may be proven. Farewell. I regret that I must go before.
Always yours.
So he had seen truly into the Gatekeeper's face. And Dearest. They had not used that word between them in over five decades. Quinx carefully burned the note, then stirred the ashes. After that he trimmed his night lamp back to darkness, closed and sealed the prohibitorum with a black ribbon, and took a chair by one of the open casements to watch the stars wheel slowly until just after midnight when the Lateran tower bells began to ring their death knells.
When the great, iron bell of the Algeficic Tower tolled last and slowest of all, his tears finally flowed.
Love is the sin that will not be denied.
—Librum Vita, Wisdoms 7:23;
being the Book of Life and word entire of the
The funerary rites for His Holiness Lamboine XXII began at Matins as the first flickering sweep of dawn glowed like coals in the eastern sky. In his role as Preserver of the Faith, and therefore fourth-ranking priest in the Lateran hierarchy, Quinx could have insisted on being the celebrant. The two men above him were already closeted deep in the electoral politics of the Primacy, those same delegates from around the world having received the Gatekeeper's death notice by telelocutor for the first time in Church history.
Quinx had a sick feeling that he would soon grow very weary of that last thought: the first time in history.
Instead of celebrating, he chose to attend as a congregant, a man, a priest, a mourner. The Deacon of the Lateran High Chapel led the first round of services. He was a young man with a perpetually surprised expression, now properly dressed in a sweeping black cassock embroidered in gold and silver thread, though he'd begun the services in a nightshirt before being rescued by an acolyte with the right set of chamber keys.
Incense, again, and the familiar tones of the chimes indicating the order of service. As the deacon struck them in turn, Quinx tried to put the memory of the tower bells away. Not to forget, for nothing could be forgotten by a man in his office, but to be set aside.
Prayer was a valve opened to the comfort of the Increate, from Whom all things sprang and to Whom all things flowed. There were times when he could understand the attraction of the Aquatist Heresies, for all that their pernicious metaphors had nearly fatally tangled the Lateran Church in its own liturgies. There were times when he wondered what the Increate truly intended, as if They would speak directly to him in response. There were times when quiet refuge was the greatest gift They could give him. Quinx let the deacon's droning voice lead him from grief to some other place where his cares could wait on the attentions of his heart.
Somewhere in memory, two young men on a hillside scattered with sheep, goats, and bright blue flowers laughed under a summer sky and spoke together of all things great and small.
When fingers touched his shoulder, Quinx was briefly startled. He'd gone so far into meditation that he'd lost himself in the well-worn rituals of the service. Become the liturgy, as they used to say in seminary.
He looked around. Brother Kurts, his lead investigator, stood as always just a bit too close.
"Sir," the monk growled. A big man, one of those pale northerners who somehow never seemed to advance far in the Church hierarchy, Kurts carried far more than his own weight. The man was a boulder in a snowfield. Here, in the midst of service, his blocky frame and the dark brown rough-spun habit of his Sibellian Order made him a brutal shout against the soaring of the silk-robed choir who must have filed in to the loft while Quinx had been meditating.
"You must come, sir. We have an urgent dispatch from Highpassage. By air."
"By air?" Briefly, Quinx felt stupid—an unusual sensation for him. Of late, matters of great urgency were transmitted via telelocutor. His own office had approved such innovation only three years earlier, well after the undersea cable had been laid between Highpassage and the Lateran, crossing beneath the Attik Main. Matters of great secrecy were handled quite differently, and always with utmost discretion.
Sending an airship across the sea the night of His Holiness' death was tantamount to lighting a flare.
"By air, sir," Kurts confirmed. "Matroit dispatched the messenger."
Matroit. The man was the very model of probity, and no more likely to panic than he was to fly to the moon. But the timing of the thing . . . It stank of politics. Quinx felt briefly ill. "Was the vessel a Thalassojustity airship?"
The monk shook his head. "A racing yacht. I understand it was put about to have been sent on a dare by some of the young wastrels of the city."
Not an utterly unreasonable cover story, Quinx had to admit, for all that such defiance of the Thalassojustity was outrageous. Outrageous served as the stock in trade of a certain set in Highpassage. He set aside for later consideration the issue of how Lucan Matroit was connected to that set in the first place. For now, a dispatch this urgent would be a distraction to his grieving heart.
How welcome or unwelcome remained to be seen.
He did not bother to ask if Kurts had read it. The man would not have done so. In his entire life, Quinx had only ever trusted two men utterly. The first of those had passed on into the hands of the Increate last night. The other was here before him. Whatever Kurts' many flaws, the monk was loyal to the bone. Blood and vows, vows and blood, as they used to say.
Quinx gathered the skirts of his cassock and rose from the prayer bench. He gave an approving nod to the deacon, now well into the third iteration of the funerary mass and looking distinctly tired, before withdrawing from the High Chapel in the wake of his man.
They closeted themselves in a tiny dining room from which Quinx had by virtue of his office ruthlessly evicted four hungry priests. Plates of plain eggs and blackbread toast still steamed. He considered the contents of the envelope presented by Kurts. The seal had been genuine enough, to the best of Quinx' rather well sharpened ability to determine. For something that had come rushing over hundreds of miles of open water, the letter within was sufficiently sparse as to seem laughable. A single sheet of crème-colored Planetary Society paper, with that slick finish favored by the very wealthy, though it would take few inks. A rushed hand, script rather than copperplate, the pigments a curious green that was one of Matroit's affectations. And only a very few words indeed.
But such dangerous ones.
It was dated the previous day though no time was given. He realized on reflection that this missive must have been written before Ion's death could have been known, just by judging the miles the message had flown even at the speed of the fastest air-racing yacht.
The Externalist heresy was proclaimed again today in the Plenary Hall. To my surprise, the Thalassocretes have taken custody of the young man in question, but I have secured his work for the nonce. There is a possibility of empirical evidence.
Had Ion known last night this letter was coming, known as he was dying? Or was it simply that now happened to be the world's time for such trials? The cloying smell of cooling eggs provided no answer.
Still, Quinx felt a swift trip to Highpassage would be in order. With their profound challenge to the roots of Lateran doctrine, Externalists were a far more troublesome heresy than the dissenters such as the Machinists or the Originalists. Putting paid to this renewed outbreak of Externalism before it had a chance to establish and multiply was an utmost priority. And that errand in turn would keep him safely away from the deliberations of the Assemblage of Primates, who would surely be meeting in camera the moment the Gatekeeper's body had been sufficiently blessed. Death was an unfortunate pause in events, but politics continued forever.
There was a young man to see, and a Thalassojustity to face down. Again.
Why people insisted on resisting the obvious and holy truths of the Increate was one of those mysteries of free will that a priest could spend his lifetime contemplating without any success. If all the saints of ancient days could not answer such a question, surely Bilious Quinx would be no wiser.
Questions he could not answer, but problems he could solve.
"Brother Kurts . . ."
"Does the airship pilot perhaps await our pleasure?"
There was the briefest pause, then the slightest tone of satisfaction in the monk's reply. "I have already made certain of it, sir."
The advantages of the reflecting telescope over the refracting telescope cannot be overstated, and should be obvious to any thinking man. While the great refractors of the past century have multiplied our understanding of the Increate's work amidst the heavens, the practical exigencies of glass-making, gravity, and the engineering arts limit the refracting mirrors to less than fifty inches of diameter. Advances in the philosophy of the reflecting telescope have produced designs by such luminaries as Kingdom Obasa's son and successor, Brunel, for mirrors of a hundred inches or greater! Even now, the Planetary Society raises a subscription for such a heavenly monster to be placed upon Mount Sysiphe north of Highpassage, that we might enumerate the craters of the moon and count the colors of the stars to better understand the glories of Creation. A true union of Science and Faith can only prosper from such noble endeavors.
—Editorial in the Highpassage Argus-Intelligencer,
November 2nd, H.3123, Th.1997, L.6011
"Lesser Bench" was a misnomer. Morgan knew that. Everybody knew that. The Greater Bench met only in solemn conclave on the beach to hear capital cases, and certain classes of piracy accusations. Everything else that transpired in the Thalassojustity took place under the purview of the Lesser Bench.
The question was which of those benches.
The two Marines dragged Morgan into the interior of the Thalassojustity Palace. The main nave soared to the roof, some eighty feet above, and was lined with enormous statues of sea captains and Thalassocretes through the ages. The joke ran that the bodies remained the same and the heads were switched from time to time. Whatever the truth, the sculpture represented one of the greatest troves of Classical art in the world, with continuous provenance stretching back well before the onset of consistent recordkeeping.
Glorious, strange, and too large for the world—that was the majesty of the Thalassojustity, encapsulated in the dialectic of art. . . .
.Copyright © 2012 Jay Lake
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subset: commoncrawl


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included special editions on informal science learning, and the journal Science Education added an informal learning section. New journals, such as Public Understanding of Science and Science Communication, have arisen as well. Furthermore, research and evaluations of informal science learning environments have become more available through websites, such as informalscience.org; research agenda-setting events have transpired in an attempt to explore and coordinate the research and evaluations (Royal Society, 1985; Irwin and Wynne, 1996); and NSF has published a framework for assessing their impact (Friedman, 2008).
With the growth of interest in science learning in informal environments and the diversification of venues, practitioners, and researchers, the literature has developed in a fractured and uneven manner. Several factors appear to contribute to the divergent trajectories of the research. First, the relationship between schools and informal environments for science learning has been unclear and contested, serving as an impediment to integration of what is understood about learning across these settings. In other words, research on schools rarely builds on findings from research in informal settings and vice versa.
Second, the goals of informal environments for science learning are multiple. Designed environments have historically focused on what attracts an audience and keeps it engaged, but experiences are not often framed in terms of learning (Commission on Museums for a New Century, 1984; Rockman Et Al, 2007). After-school programs were traditionally designed with goals that often focused on providing a safe and healthy environment for young children during the hours after school. The goals of these programs have been driven by the institutions that have traditionally supported them, and only recently has large support come from sources that are increasingly concerned with learning outcomes.
Third, since many fields of inquiry are invested in this work, the research base reflects a diversity of interests, questions, and methods from several loosely related fields. Historical sociological studies of the relationship between science and the public have largely focused on institutional issues, again without attention to learning. Anthropology and psychology tend to explore learning, but not educational design. Much of the empirical evidence on museums, zoos, libraries, media, and programs has emerged from visitor studies and may include learning outcomes, demographic profiles, and analysis of visitor behavior. Evaluations typically illustrate how a specific program, broadcast, or exhibit supports learning. The theoretical underpinnings of this work may not be explicit, and general implications for informal science education are often hard to discern. In addition educators, researchers, and policy makers who are accustomed to research on classroom settings may tend to rely on measures of learning that are not appropriate for informal


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LSI offers a wide range of silicon and software to address critical challenges in
datacenters, mobile networks and client computing.
LSI flash accelerators and storage connectivity solutions help maximize server speed
and uptime, providing the foundational technologies that make hyperscale datacenters
Enterprises of all sizes use LSI flash storage and software-defined networking solutions
to help meet the demands of today's line-of-business executives.
LSI solutions provide performance, data protection, reliability and scalability
– at an affordable price point.
LSI mobile network solutions help carriers meet bandwidth and coverage needs and
provide a quality user experience.
The broadest line of storage and acceleration solutions for datacenters, mobile
networks and client computing
The broadest portfolio of highly reliable server storage products in the industry
offers the connectivity, performance and protection to support critical applications
and user needs.
Demand for storage capacity continues to grow rapidly, requiring hard disk drive
(HDD) manufacturers to build higher-capacity hard drives. TrueStore® hard disk drive
components let HDD manufacturers tackle the data deluge.
From base stations to backhaul, mobile networks are growing rapidly to satisfy user
demands for ever-faster mobile broadband.
Traffic inside enterprises and datacenters continues to grow, driven by bandwidth-intensive
applications such as video, social media and big data.
SERVER DESIGN SUMMIT, SANTA CLARA, Calif., November 27, 2012 –LSI Corporation (NYSE: LSI) today announced that Gary Smerdon, senior vice president and general manager, LSI Accelerated Solutions Division, will keynote today at Server Design Summit 2012 at the Santa Clara Marriott.
Mr. Smerdon's presentation, titled "How Flash Storage Is Revolutionizing The Datacenter," will focus on the impact of explosive data growth on datacenters and cloud environments and how flash storage solutions hold the key to eliminating the I/O bottlenecks of traditional storage architectures to more effectively and economically contend with unrelenting data growth.
What: Keynote: How Flash Storage Is Revolutionizing The Datacenter
When: November 27, 2012, 11:30 a.m.-12:00 p.m.
Steve Fingerhut, vice president of marketing for LSI's Accelerated Solutions Division, is also presenting at the Summit in a panel session titled "Increasing Storage Performance." Mr. Fingerhut's presentation will examine the different ways to deploy server-side flash storage technology to accelerate application performance and reduce total cost of ownership without disrupting existing infrastructure.
What: Session B-101: Increasing Storage Performance
When: November 27, 2012, 8:30-9:45 a.m.
More information on Server Design Summit 2012 is available at www.serverdesignsummit.com. For more information on LSI and the company's products, visit www.lsi.com. Connect with LSI on Facebook, Twitter and YouTube.
LSI Corporation (NYSE: LSI) designs semiconductors and software that accelerate storage and networking in datacenters, mobile networks and client computing. Our technology is the intelligence critical to enhanced application performance, and is applied in solutions created in collaboration with our partners. More information is available at www.lsi.com.
LSI, the LSI & Design logo and the Storage.Networking.Accelerated. tagline are trademarks or registered trademarks of LSI Corporation.
All other brand or product names may be trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective companies.


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|Dental Implants & Prosthodontics
No teeth, no problem, with teeth in an hour! This allows people to trade a toothless grin for a brand new set of permanent pearly whites.
ADC is moving forward with fast results and minimal discomfort. So please turn your clock back 20 years, replacing lost teeth with permanent implants.
As a Diplomat and Fellow of the ICOI and Board Eligible Prosthodontics, Dr. Alvaro Gracia offers the following services:
Cosmetic Periodontal Surgery
Latest State-of-the-Art Surgical and Prosthetic techniques are available including:
Immediate Provisional Implants - eliminates wearing transitional complete dentures during permanent implant healing.
Click here to view before and after patient photos.
Click here to download the All-On-4 Dental Implants brochure.
Call or email us for more information about Dental Implants and Prosthodontics.
Services we provide:


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Guidecraft Big 4 Sided Library Book Display
Special Offer:
12 Issues of Sunset Magazine
Included with purchase ($20 value).
Guidecraft Big 4 Sided Library Book Display
Additional Documents
Weights & Dimensions
|Product Type: Book display
|Frame Color: Natural
|Primary Material: Wood
|Number of Items Included: 1
|Folding: No
|Stackable: No
|Double Sided: Yes
|Toddler Size: Yes
|Compartments Included: No
|Shelves Included: Yes
|Cabinets Included: No
|Doors Included: No
|Casters Included: No
|Rotating: Yes
|Commercial Use: Yes
|Product Care: Wipe with a damp cloth
|Country of Manufacture: China
|Assembly Required: Yes
|Installation Required: No
|Additional Parts Required: No
|Product Warranty: 1 Year
|CPSIA Compliant: Yes
|General Conformity Certificate: Yes
About the ManufacturerGuidecraft produced ten items when it was first started in 1964 in a small woodshop. Jason Fein purchased the company from his father in 1995 and has continued to develop the line, which now includes over 580 educational toys and furnishings. The company's size has changed, but its mission remains the same: stay true to the tradition of smart, beautifully crafted wood products that allow children's minds and imaginations to grow. As Guidecraft turns 45, it is obvious that its best contributions lie in a commitment to continue doing what the company does best. The company always gives its loyal customers what they have come to expect: expert quality, excellent service and an ever-growing collection of creativity-inspiring products for children. Guidecraft's playful furniture is an exciting new extension to their product line. Guidecraft is committed to promoting the learning and excitement of children everywhere, and is working hard to earn and maintain your loyalty.
Guidecraft Big 4 Sided Library Book Display
Still have questions about this product? We're here to help
Customer Reviews
|5 star
|4 star
|3 star
|2 star
|1 star
Perfect size
Marie from Belle Harbor, NY – Verified Buyer
The one bookcase that actually holds all of our books. Pros: Large enough to hold a lot of books Cons: doesnt spin easily
Well made.
Xuemei from Bothell, WA – Verified Buyer
It's well made and easy to put together. It can holds lots books too.
Great product - holds many many books
Helena from Knoxville, TN – Verified Buyer
The item arrived 2 days after the purchase and so far we have been very happy with it.
Great Shelf
Amanda from Springfield, PA – Verified Buyer
This is great for storing lots of books. The best part is the display area. I wish it was able to turn like a turn table instead of the wheels (it does get heavy).
My 4 year loves this bookcase
KAWANDA from livingston, NJ – Verified Buyer
My daughter absolutely loves it. She feels so grown up searching for her books.
LOVE it!
LB from Florida – Verified Buyer
I purchased this bookshelf for my classroom. It is definitely a space saver compared to long wall units. 2 sides have 3 decent sized shelves and the other 2 sides have display racks. This is by far one of the best purchases I've ever made for my classroom!
Very Functional!
Adelle from Highland, MI – Verified Buyer
I like this product very much. It is definitely larger in size than I expected but I love it! It is easy for my toddler to get books on/off the shelves and it provides more organization to our reading sessions vs. the books being thrown in a basket.
Perfect for you children's reading nook
Katie from Huntingtown, MD – Verified Buyer
My husband and I purchased this bookcase for our one and two year old boys for Christmas for their reading corner. We are very pleased with this product. I love how you can display books on each end. My husband was able to put it together quickly on Christmas morning and he is not a handy man. Very well built, sturdy. We are happy with this product and the boys seem to love it too. If I could just keep them from pulling all their books off the shelves. You will not regret buying this bookcase!
Great for children to use books
Anita the book collector from Houston, TX
I use it to hold reading books, reference material for kids, baby books (I have a 3 yr old), etc. The sides are good for big books that are always hard to shelve. The only thing that troubles us are the wheels. I wish they would move better when the bookcase is loaded. I don't know if the rubber type would be better.
Great for Home Library
Jackie the organizer of books for 3 from Alberta, Canada
This is a very well made bookcase. I like how it has wheels so it can be easily moved for vacuuming, etc. It has loads of room for books and I like the display shelves too. It is a bit bigger than I expected but it is perfect for our reading corner, along with the Guidecraft red rocker chair set.
OUR SKU # EZ1234Big 4 Sided Library Book Display is also sometimes listed under the following manufacturer numbers: G97012


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Jos — The Plateau State Government said it is ready to dialogue with labour to end the current strike in the state and has offered to pay striking local government workers three months salaries out of the seven months they have been on strike.
Director of Research and Documentation, Government House, Jos Mr. Chris Kwaja, who briefed journalists said government was desirous of an amicable solution to the dispute in a manner that there would be neither winner nor loser.
He said although government's position on the strike was guided by the law, it was nonetheless ready for continued dialogue with the workers to demonstrate the administration's commitment to their welfare.
He said government was concerned about the violent dimension the action by workers was taking, noting that it was being hijacked by hoodlums and urged local government workers to return to work and participate in the biometric verification exercise meant to ascertain the actual workforce of the local governments.
Kwaja appealed to the National Working Committee of Nigeria Labour Congress, NLC, to reconsider the planned nationwide strike in solidarity with the striking workers in the state
The NLC has threatened to mobilise workers across the country to join the strike in solidarity with the workers in Plateau State, if the state government failed to resolve the dispute.


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This full record display is using an old version of our collections database until it has been reconfigured to work with our new Collections Explorer.
In the meantime, if the record has been edited recently, the version you see here may contain out of date information. To be sure of finding the most up-to-date records please run the search again in Collections Explorer. This is a temporary measure, in place only whilst the new system is being developed, and we apologise for any inconvenience. If you have any questions about the data in this record please contact the Documentation Office
Click on image(s) for larger view
Unknown (potter)
fritware (stonepaste)
bowl fragment
Fritware with white and blue glaze, painted in lustre
Pale buff fritware fragment, probably wheel thrown, with white and blue slightly crazed glazes painted in yellow-brown lustre. Shape: two joining roughly semi-circular fragments form base of dish or bowl sitting on a low foot ring. Interior: seated figure painted in reserve against a lustred background decorated with scrolling vines and contained within a concentric circle. The figure wears a hat and robe the latter decorated with groups of three dots. A small dot of blue is splashed on the figure's head. Exterior: coated with a blue glaze which runs unevenly over the lower body towards the foot ring.
Production Place
Iran (potter) (country) ()
Iranian (potter) (nationality) ()
Technique Description
Pale buff fritware fragment, probably wheel thrown, with white and blue slightly crazed glazes painted in yellow-brown lustre
height: (whole): 2.8
late 12th Century
circa 1179 to 1198
bequeathed: Reitlinger, Henry Scipio 1950 (Filtered for: Applied Arts collection)Henry Scipio Reitlinger (d. 1950); Reitlinger Trust, Maidenhead
H. S. Reitlinger Bequest 1950; transferred from the Reitlinger Trust, 1991
Other Notes
Accession Number
C.439-1991 (Applied Arts)
Related Image/s


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The primary purpose of Civilian Guns is to help reduce gun violence in all communities, globally.Users of the app sign up and can invite their friends and family members. Once sign up is complete, users are connected to other users that are within a close community radius to each other.
A good example would be a school in session , where if a teacher were to witness an armed individual outside and approaching the facility she or he could select the app and press the "gun alert" button which would then immediately alert every user within the school system radius of the gun threat by sending the "Gun Alert" signal to their cell phones, the app would also immediately notify law enforcement within the area. In life threatening situations twenty seconds can change twenty years.


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The plane's second-in-command, who was not carrying a weapon, reportedly took control of the plane when the pilot left the cockpit to use the toilet.
After landing, he left the aircraft through a cockpit window using a rope, without harming passengers or crew.
Police spokesman Pierre Grangean said: "Just after landing, the co-pilot came out of the cockpit and ran to the police and said, 'I'm the hijacker'. He said he is not safe in his own country and wants asylum."
As passengers left the plane, which was parked near the end of the runway, they were checked by police.
Opposition groups and human rights campaigners in Ethiopia accuse the government of stifling dissent and torturing political detainees.
However, it is rare for government officials and employees - Ethiopian Airlines is run by the state - to seek asylum. The last senior official to do so fled to the US in 2009.
Flight ET702 had left the Ethiopian capital Addis Ababa on Sunday evening and was bound for Rome. The plane was hijacked while over northern Italy.
There were 193 passengers on board the Boeing aircraft, including 140 Italians.


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5K Kilt Run
The race we ran Saturday is put on by the fire department and the weather is always unpredictable for this time of year. Last year my mom, dad, my husband, and I ran and it was super humid. This year they were calling for freezing rain, and thankfully it didn't, but it was still a little too cold. And yes, one of my sisters ran in a skirt...she's always hot. Here are some pictures my mom sent me...enjoy :)
7 comments:
Love the pictures!! :)ReplyDelete
Loving the pictures and that you do it as a family!! You and your sisters are beautifulReplyDelete
You and your sisters look sooo much alike! OMG!!! SO cute!ReplyDelete
I second Julie- you all look so much alike! Hope you had a great time. And love the pic your husband sent you, that looks awesome!ReplyDelete
How Cute!!! I love races, they are so fun!!!!ReplyDelete
I nominated you for the liebster award!ReplyDelete
Hi! I'm Janelle, and I found your blog while searching for military spouse blogs. I am marrying my Airman next year, and I'm really glad I found your blog! I can't wait to read more! Consider me your newest follower! :)ReplyDelete
Janelle ( http://janelle-and-dan.blogspot.com/ )
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)


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Without question, the combination of LED lighting and network based controls offers businesses the greatest opportunity to maximize energy efficiency in their lighting.
In terms of energy conservation, traditional on/off lighting is a thing of the past. To reduce wasted energy and save on energy costs, the combination of dimmable LED fixtures and programmable software based controls enables businesses to control the levers of savings.
This advance in lighting hardware and software makes it possible, easy in fact, to adjust lighting levels to match the use and occupancy within a space. Consider a typical warehouse or large office environment for example. There is no sense in lighting 10,000 square feet of space with 100% power when the majority of tasks are concentrated within in a few hundred square feet at any given time.
LED lighting gives you virtually unlimited control over light levels. Sophisticated occupancy sensors can increase light levels if a space is occupied and dim again when the occupants leave. This is invaluable when staff are picking orders from various shelves throughout the warehouse, or moving in and out of offices and conference rooms.
Devices can also be programmed to reach specified levels throughout the day tied to shift schedules. For example, early morning programming can be set to provide sufficient light levels in egress and travel areas , full brightness in targeted offices can be set to accommodate the early arrivers, brightening as more staff arrive, dimming as natural light increases through the morning and so on.
And there's no need to have staff flipping switches in a control panel since these software based functions can all be automated and fine tuned through any network connected device.
The future of smart lighting is here and so are the savings opportunities that come with it.
Contact Energy Source to discuss a network based lighting solution that could be right for you.


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Turn Key Engine Supply
As the name might suggest, Turn Key Engine Supply supplies turnkey engine packages for any vehicle you can imagine. Whether it's a 350hp aluminum 5.3L, a 530hp blown LS1, or a 630hp LS7, you should be able to find exactly the engine you're looking for on the company's Web site (www.turnkeyenginesupply.com). Then it's up to you to drop it into the ride of your choice.


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It's been almost 2 years since I last posted, but I've been around. It's not that I haven't had anything to say, it's just that there are others saying the same things I would have and perhaps better. What has one more to add? What have I to say?
As it's said, some things change and some things stay the same. Life isn't static. Two years isn't very long in the grand scheme of life, but it's enough to realize some of life's nuances. Change happens. It's true, life is what happens when you're making other plans. One plan was that of going to Jackson Hole. I've wanted to travel there for over 25 years. Never had been able to afford it, what with jobs, or the lack thereof, or family responsibilities. God willing, in less than 24 hours, life and planning will meet. Perhaps that is motivation to write these lines. My something to say. My views of Jackson, WY have been limited to webcam shots, such as the one above. So while there has been no one around to update this, there have been trees falling in the forest.
Many years have I spent time being part of what I thought was church. Now I realize the misconception, and that discovery came about through some anguish, disappointment and even betrayal. Church has become an institution, with some similarities with another kind. There is no going to church, only being. More could I say, but for now it would be better left unsaid.
And so for now I live and move and have my being in Christ.
Thursday, September 23
It's been awhile...
It's been almost 2 years since I last posted, but I've been around. It's not that I haven't had anything to say, it's just that there are others saying the same things I would have and perhaps better. What has one more to add? What have I to say?
Thursday, November 27
Alice's Restaurant Massacre
That's pronounced "mass-a-cree" by Arlo Guthrie, if you happen not to be old enough to remember this schtick from the 60's. Seeing as how this is Thanksgiving I thought it appropriate. Enjoy...
This song is called Alice's Restaurant, and it's about Alice, and the restaurant, but Alice's Restaurant is not the name of the restaurant, that's just the name of the song, and that's why I called the song Alice's Restaurant.
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant
Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, was on - two years ago on Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the restaurant, but Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the church nearby the restaurant, in the bell-tower, with her husband Ray and Fasha the dog. And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of room downstairs where the pews used to be in. Havin' all that room, seein' as how they took out all the pews, they decided that they didn't have to take out their garbage for a long time.
We got up there, we found all the garbage in there, and we decided it'd be a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump. So we took the half a ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red VW microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the city dump.
Well we got there and there was a big sign and a chain across across the dump saying, "Closed on Thanksgiving." And we had never heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in our eyes we drove off into the sunset looking for another place to put the garbage.
We didn't find one. Until we came to a side road, and off the side of the side road there was another fifteen foot cliff and at the bottom of the cliff there was another pile of garbage. And we decided that one big pile is better than two little piles, and rather than bring that one up we decided to throw our's down.
That's what we did, and drove back to the church, had a thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie. He said, "Kid, we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it." And I said, "Yes, sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie, I put that envelope under that garbage."
After speaking to Obie for about fourty-five minutes on the telephone we finally arrived at the truth of the matter and said that we had to go down and pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at the police officer's station. So we got in the red VW microbus with the shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and headed on toward the police officer's station.
Now friends, there was only one or two things that Obie coulda done at the police station, and the first was he could have given us a medal for being so brave and honest on the telephone, which wasn't very likely, and we didn't expect it, and the other thing was he could have bawled us out and told us never to be see driving garbage around the vicinity again, which is what we expected, but when we got to the police officer's station there was a third possibility that we hadn't even counted upon, and we was both immediately arrested. Handcuffed. And I said "Obie, I don't think I can pick up the garbage with these handcuffs on." He said, "Shut up, kid.
Get in the back of the patrol car."
And that's what we did, sat in the back of the patrol car and drove to the quote Scene of the Crime unquote. I want tell you about the town of Stockbridge, Massachusets, where this happened here, they got three stop signs, two police officers, and one police car, but when we got to the Scene of the Crime there was five police officers and three police cars, being the biggest crime of the last fifty years, and everybody wanted to get in the newspaper story about it. And they was using up all kinds of cop equipment that they had hanging around the police officer's station. They was taking plaster tire tracks, foot prints, dog smelling prints, and they took twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy photographs with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. Took pictures of the approach, the getaway, the northwest corner the southwest corner and that's not to mention the aerial photography.
After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was going to put us in the cell. Said, "Kid, I'm going to put you in the cell, I want your wallet and your belt." And I said, "Obie, I can understand you wanting my wallet so I don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you want my belt for?" And he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangings." I said, "Obie, did you think I was going to hang myself for littering?" Obie said he was making sure, and friends Obie was, cause he took out the toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head and drown, and he took out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend the bars roll out the - roll the toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and have an escape. Obie was making sure, and it was about four or five hours later that Alice (remember Alice? It's a song about Alice), Alice came by and with a few nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and we went back to the church, had a another thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, and didn't get up until the next morning, when we all had to go to court.
We walked in, sat down, Obie came in with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, sat down. Man came in said, "All rise." We all stood up, and Obie stood up with the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures, and the judge walked in sat down with a seeing eye dog, and he sat down, we sat down. Obie looked at the seeing eye dog, and then at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, and looked at the seeing eye dog.
And then at twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one and began to cry, 'cause Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case of American blind justice, and there wasn't nothing he could do about it, and the judge wasn't going to look at the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what each one was to be used as evidence against us. And we was fined $50 and had to pick up the garbage in the snow, but thats not
what I came to tell you about.
Came to talk about the draft.
They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street, where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected. I went down to get my physical examination one day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning. `Cause I wanted to look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York, and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604."
And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill, KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me, sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy."
Didn't feel too good about it.
Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections, detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no part untouched. Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there, and I walked up and said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only got one question. Have you ever been arrested?"
And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre, with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever go to court?"
And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!"
And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly 'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?" I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay $50 and pick up the garbage." He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?"
And I said, "Littering." And they all moved away from me on the bench there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I said, "And creating a nuisance." And they all came back, shook my hand, and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing, father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the bench. And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it up and said.
"Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna-now-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting-officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there, and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the following words:
I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench 'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women, kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug." He looked at me and said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints off to Washington."
And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a study in black and white of my fingerprints. And the only reason I'm singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.". And walk out. You know, if one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and they won't take him. And if two people, two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them. And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an organization. And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day, I said fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and
walking out. And friends they may thinks it's a movement.
And that's what it is, the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the guitar.
With feeling. So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and sing it when it does. Here it comes.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
That was horrible. If you want to end war and stuff you got to sing loud. I've been singing this song now for twenty five minutes. I could sing it for another twenty five minutes. I'm not proud... or tired.
So we'll wait till it comes around again, and this time with four part harmony and feeling.
We're just waitin' for it to come around is what we're doing.
All right now.
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Excepting Alice
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Walk right in it's around the back
Just a half a mile from the railroad track
You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant
Da da da da da da da dum
At Alice's Restaurant
Wednesday, November 19
What are the chances...
The California Supreme Court on Wednesday accepted three lawsuits seeking to overturn Proposition 8. The amendment passed this month with 52 percent of the vote....that the SCOCA will allow the voters of California to decide this issue?
It ain't too good.
Thursday, November 13
Saturday, November 8
coComments added
Let's just try this and see how it works.
Seems like most of the bugs/fixes have been ironed out...
Friday, November 7
The "magic" has descended
I don't ever remember a new president-elect giving a press conference standing behind a podium with a sign reading "Office of the PRESIDENT-elect", and I've been through Nixon to Carter to Reagan to Bush to Clinton to Bush. It seems I'm not the only one who notices this bit of narcissism. His flair for the dramatic, combined with his mellifluous speeches, melts the hearts of the faithful. It's all part of Obama's transition website.
H.L. Mencken considered the cynic right nine times out of ten. Color me a skeptic.
A future and a hope
Of all the things I've read and heard since the election of Tuesday, this is by far the most important and significant statement anyone's made...
Since it's now far too late to salvage the USA in its present form, the important thing is to build for the future. If there's one thing certain about dysfunctional societies, it is that they are doomed to collapse. Therefore it is much more important to focus on building a foundation for future freedom than to chase after yesterday's vanished liberties. Having children and teaching them well is the single most significant and revolutionary act any individual can reasonably hope to achieve at this time.
After a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, there is no doubt in my mind that in that one sentence Vox Day has encapsulated the only lasting hope of a free society. We neglect our progeny to our own peril.
The statement he makes following is also significant...
The short-term battle is over and the USSA is upon us. But it will be a short-lived entity by virtue of the Invisible Hand's iron fist; the only real question is if its successor will be the North American Union or a collection of rump-states of widely varying social structures. Five years ago, I would have assumed the former, but now, given the increasing devolution in Europe and chaos in Mexico, the latter is looking rather less improbable than before.He's right. Geopolitical boundaries aren't set in stone. The changes (Oh, how tired I am of hearing that word.) coming will make the U.S. completely unrecognizable to our parents.
Wednesday, November 5
Polling numbers
Polling totals, 98% precincts reporting:
Obama 62,945,914 52%
McCain 55,753,790 46%
Nader 646,933 1%
Barr 483,973 1%
Baldwin 172,635 0%
McKinney 140,749 0%
Keyes 34,498 0%
Paul 19,285 0%
Georgia unofficial polling, 96% precincts reporting
Obama (D)1,803,920
Barr(Lib) 28,414
Totals 3,852,074


text:
Suomen Lähikauppa´s strategic focus for the next few years will be to improve and modernise its shops and update its image. A core idea is to be close to consumers via a widespread network of shops, emphasising the availability of different types of products in different outlets, even under the same brand of outlets. The idea is to meet varying customer demands in different parts of the country.
Our Local Company Profiles are a concise set of briefings detailing the strategic direction taken by a company. Discover key contact details, the company background and their competitive positioning through this collection of snapshot company profiles.
Product coverage: Non-Store Retailing, Store-based Retailing.
Data coverage: market sizes (historic and forecasts), company shares, brand shares and distribution
Author:Mike Kinge-mailWeb: www.companiesandmarkets.comPhone: London: +44 (0) 203 086 8600


text:
Omar Majeed
Occupation: Filmmaker, Eye Steel Film
Schooling: York University, International Academy of Design for video editing
In a few weeks Omar Majeed will be road-tripping across America guerrilla-style shooting his latest film project, Taqwacore, a low-budget indie doc about Muslim punks. "After 9/11, I started to become interested in my own thoughts, feelings and confusions about Islamic issues – all the things I think most Muslims went through in the West," says Majeed.
For the award-winning director (he already has a Gemini under his belt), formerly a CityTV producer, financing this latest film is still an uphill battle. Majeed works days with local indie company Eye Steel Film doing post-production on documentaries.
What were your formative experiences? Even before I started falling in love with cinema, it was more the technology and tools I gravitated towards. My dad always had to have the best new technologies, and when we were kids, my brother and me would make silly little films, parodies with his cameras. I think one of our better ones involved a guy with secret powers who could make things disappear, including his family.
How did you come to be doing what you do? I dropped out of York film school after three years. I learned how to edit on Avid at the International Academy of Design. Eventually I worked at CityTV in Toronto. That was really my film school. When I got to Montreal I worked with the NFB through the Reel Diversity program, which is how I started working on the early stages of my latest documentary. Then I hooked up with Eye Steel Film.
Why do you love it? The truthful answer is I don't really know – 95 per cent of it is ulcer inducing. But I guess it's never routine. Making a film is like hanging out with the crazy friend in screwball comedies who takes you to places you wouldn't expect to go. I'm not the kind of guy in my normal life who would find himself in Harlem at 3 a.m. in the morning with a bunch of Muslim punks! But because of this project it forces me out of my shell and into these situations.


text: Snow & Ice If you're living and working in a four-season climate and you're not already offering snow and ice removal, chances are you've wondered about it. There's no doubt that cleaning up after winter weather is big business in this country. Companies that do the job well can make substantial profits in short order. More


text:
Calf's liver with mashed potato and savoy cabbageMobile version Email a friend Print
On TV Tonight
- 21:00 - MasterChef - MasterChef
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- Prep time:
- 40 min
- Cook time:
- 40 min
- Serves:
- 4
Melting calf's liver, creamy mashed potato and buttery cabbage make a tempting trio in this sensational supper dish from Anthony Worral Thompson
1. Set the oven to 180°C/gas 4. Arrange the tomatoes in a small roasting pan and drizzle over the olive oil. Season generously and roast for 5-10 minutes until lightly charred.
2. For the mash, cook the potatoes in salted boiling water for 12-15 minutes, until tender. Heat the butter and cream together until the butter is thoroughly melted. Mash the potatoes, and then add the butter and cream. Stir thoroughly until you have a smooth paste and season. Set aside and keep warm.
3. Place the flour on a flat plate and season generously, then use to dust the calf's liver until well coated. Heat a frying pan and add the butter. Add the calf's liver to the pan and quickly fry for 2-3 minutes on each side, until golden brown. The liver should be pink in the centre, but if you prefer it well done cook for slightly longer. Remove the liver from the pan, place on a plate and keep warm.
4. To make the gravy, pour a splash of stock, red wine and balsamic vinegar into the same pan, scraping the bottom to release any of the bits that have stuck. Cook for a minute, season to taste, and then return the liver to the pan and just warm through.
5. Meanwhile, prepare the cabbage. Melt the butter in a frying pan and cook the pancetta cubes and shallots, until the shallots have softened. Add the cabbage and fennel seeds and fry until slightly wilted.
6. To serve, arrange the liver on serving plates with the roasted tomatoes. Drizzle around a little of the gravy, garnish with the chives and a knob of butter, and serve with the ultimate mashed potato and bacony Savoy cabbage.
For the tomatoes
- 4 bunches cherry tomatoes, on the vine (each with about 5 tomatoes)
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1 pinches black pepper
For the mashed potato
- 6 medium Maris Piper potatoes, peeled and cut into large chunks
- 75 g butter
- 150 ml double cream
For the liver
- 1 tbsp plain flour
- 4 calves' liver, slices, each 175g
- 20 g unsalted butter
- 120 ml beef stock
- 120 ml red wine
- 2 tbsp balsamic vinegar
- 1 tbsp chives, chopped, to garnish
For the cabbage
- 35 g butter
- 120 g pancetta, cubes
- 2 shallots, finely chopped
- 1 Savoy cabbage, shredded
- 0.5 tsp fennel seeds


text:
Infiniti Repair in Mid Florida
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Welcome to Aventura Auto Specialist!
Quality, convenience, and trusted service is what you will find at Aventura Auto Specialist. We're a complete automotive repair facility that services both foreign and domestic cars and trucks, and offer same day service on most repairs. We are a family-owned and operated auto care center located in Aventura, Florida. Our technicians have assisted clients with all types of auto service, from the simplest oil change to the most complex engine repair. Our Certified Technicians have over 15 years of experience. Aventura Auto Specialist strives to keep all clients on the road without putting a dent in your wallet. We offer everything from oil change to engine overhaul including but not limited to engine services, transmission repairs, starter replacement, bodywork and other preventative maintenance service.
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Welcome to Automotive to Truck Repairs, a full-service preventive maintenance and automotive repair center. We perform high quality, guaranteed service you can trust at a fair price. We repair domestic and foreign vehicles and strive to be your best choice for scheduled maintenance of your car, SUV, or truck.
Automotive to Truck Repairs is family owned and operated and we use the latest diagnostic equipment to guarantee your vehicle is serviced correctly while maintaining your manufacturer's warranty. We only use quality replacement parts, and our technicians are ASE-certified.
Our experienced technicians will repair your vehicle properly and quickly the first time.
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Transmissions Unlimited is family owned and operated and has been servicing all transmission types since 1987. We offer our services through several locations conveniently located around the Miami area.
Our entire staff is dedicated to offering the most comprehensive and technically advanced transmission services to you, our customers. We welcome you to come to us with all of your questions regarding the many services we provide.
Although our specialty is providing affordable transmission service to high-end vehicle owners, we proudly offer the same top-quality service for all vehicle types.
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text:
A Showcase of Kustoms, Kulture and all things Old Skool!!
The festival will be re-ignited in 2015 at the historic Carrington Hotel in the Blue Mountains.
Friday 16th January 2015
By Night
7pm classic film screening of the 1960's 'A Bucket of Blood'.
This film will be played on the original 16mm film and projector in The Ballroom, includes FREE POPCORN!!! Gold coin entry fee, money is donated to The Black Dog Institute.
9pm Burlesque Show in the Baroque Room
We have enhanced our burlesque show this year and we will have Kerry Ann Doll, Frankie Faux and Christopher Hawkins to give you a show you will not forget! If that wasn't enough, to really kick off the night we have the amazing Belle Jar, Miss Death and MC Jay Katz. So pull out that sexy little number and show those Katz what you've got!
Tickets $30
Why not make your hair appointment for just $15 to really top off your outfit, with Mouna Stone. Hair Appointments in the Baroque Room (7pm-9pm). Please contact Candie directly to book-
Saturday the 17th January 2015
By Day
There will be a FREE EVENT located in a massive marquee on the hotel grounds. This will be a great excuse for anyone with a love of Kustom Kulture and anything Old Skool – this includes rockabillies and car lovers alike - a great excuse to bring the car out of the garage!
12pm-6pm Music performances
There will be loads of tunes to get you jiving on the floating dance floor.
Performances include; The Two Timin Playboys, The Twilight Rhythm Boys, Danny & The Cosmic Tremors, Pat Capocci, Miss Death and MC Jay Katz.
12:30pm Burlesque dance workshop
Reserve your spot now in the 'Kelly Ann Doll' burlesque workshop.
Tickets $25, includes a glass of bubbles on arrival.
"Show N Shine"
Hot rods, rat rods and classic cars will be on display in Katoomba Street. It's only $5.00 entry fee for cars and 100% of the proceeds will go directly the local fire brigade.
3:00pm Sydney Swing Katz free show and dance lessons
The Sydney Swing Katz will be performing a live show and providing a free dance lesson.
A mobile bar will keep the adults refreshed and kids jumping castle, face painting are also planned for the day to keep everyone of all ages entertained.
By Night
7pm-2am Party Time
The Lady Luck Festival will shine with a ticketed cocktail party, including an on arrival cocktail and canapés in The Grand Dining Room, The Carrington Hotel. This is going to be huge!!!
Featuring, Miss Death and MC Jay Katz, you won't want to miss this. Dance show done by the amazing Sydney Swing Katz. Later in the evening, Fire Down Below, Jordan C. Thomas and Detonators will be back to showcase more performances!! There will also be best dressed prizes, so start working on your outfit. Let your hair down and have a night to remember! Tickets $50
We will also be making a $2 donation for every ticket sold to the Black Dog Foundation, focusing on the awareness of mood disorders in our support of men's health.
Tickets, accommodation packages, and more information can be obtained from the www.ladyluckfestival.com.au website, or The Carrington Hotel direct – phone (02) 4782 1111 and www.oztix.com.au


text:
The leadership of the opposition Congress for Democratic Change (CDC) sympathizes with the bereaved families for the tragic loss of Grand Bassa County Senator and Secretary General of the National Patriotic Party, John Francis Whitefield, who untimely encountered death on 17th January 2013 at the Saint Joseph's Catholic Hospital in Monrovia.
In a press release, the CDC says it is distressed over news of this hapless national misfortune, which is said to have struck as the Senator began preparations to perform trusted patriotic duties at the Liberian Senate last Thursday morning. The loss of this eminent statesman and character of change in the Liberian Senate has created irremediable blankness in the nation's struggle for good governance and democracy.
The leadership of the CDC reflects the mutual collaborative partnership with its sisterly political institution, the NPP during the conduct of the 2011 presidential and legislative elections; which gave rise to the election of the deceased, Senator John Francis Whitefield, a vibrant uninfringeable voice that set ablaze the inextinguishable torch of compelling democratic debates that shaped the foundations of our nurturing political experiments.
"While we mourn this great loss, the CDC holds to the unequivocal truth that the legacy of the fallen statesman secures for him a place in the illustrious hall of great achievers in our democratic history. He was to the CDC, a friend and partner in the struggle for change, a relationship that adds vigor to the party's burning willpower to work with the government and people of Liberia to console his immediate family, The Senate, the National Patriotic party and the loving people of Grand Bassa County for the loss of their son, father, brother and renowned partisan."
"Therefore, during these trying moments, the CDC reminds all Liberians of the common pledge interconnecting all irrespective of political divide, and calls for a solemn spirit of peace; and to set aside personal political differences and work to bring relief to the country, especially the good people of Bassa for the irreplaceable loss of Senator John Francis Whitefield, a great citizen of this country and official of the National Patriotic Party," the CDC concluded in the press release.


text:
BRYAN - Since 1971 Viking Stadium has been the home of the Bryan Vikings. Friday night the stadium will host its 37th season of Viking football as the Big Blue host Cy Falls. During a special halftime ceremony the stadium will be renamed Merrill Green Stadium in honor of the school's longtime head coach Merrill Green.
Green coached the Vikings for 20 years starting in 1972 and advanced to the playoffs 8 times, twice making it to regionals.
When the Bryan Independent School District decided to open a second high school recently, Superintendent Mike Cargill knew it wouldn't be right for the Rudder Rangers to play at Viking Stadium. Cargill presented the idea to the school board to rename Viking Stadium without Green's knowledge.
It was quite a secret for the group to keep considering Merrill Green is the district's School Board President.
There are a number of football stadiums across the state that are named in honor of a school's football coach. Friday Night Merrill Green will receive that same honor when Bryan, Texas, becomes the home of Merrill Green Stadium.
Green came to Bryan High in 1972 after 7 seasons at Abilene Cooper. He took over a Cougar program in 1965 that had lost 18 consecutive games and within 2 years had them playing for a state championship.
During his 7 season in Abilene the Cougars made a total of 4 post season appearances.
Now Green jokes that he had no knowledge of Bryan other than the fact that he thought they played Odessa Permian well when he came across a scout film of that game in 1971. Little did he know that making that comment would bring him to Bryan just over a year later.
Merrill's career coaching record is 197-82-9. He made a total of 12 trips to the playoffs during his 27 seasons on the sidelines and took two different programs to the regional round of the playoffs.
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text:
Pulse2013 Interview- Rodney Foreman w/ Thomas Bak, F...
Recorded live 851 days ago on ibmsoftware
Recorded live 851 days ago on ibmsoftware
The official IBM Software channel. Managed by Delaney Turner and Tiffany Winman following the IBM Social Computing Guidelines. Click on the links below to find more on IBM Software:


text:
Imagine getting a call from the utility company saying you've qualified to win a brand
new car. What about a call threatening to cut off your power if you don't divulge personal information? It sounds pretty far-fetched, but Huntsville Utilities customers say several customers have reported getting bogus calls like these.
Someone is phishing for credit card information, according to Huntsville Utilities spokesperson Joe Gehrdes.
"This is the second time this year we've had a possible scam call, it's a situation where the customer will be contacted, and that's not something we do," said Gehrdes.
For many people, not giving out personal information over the phone is common sense. However, you might be a little more trusting if you thought the person on the other end of the line was a legitimate business person.
Wednesday, Huntsville Utilities say two customers called them to report they had received phone calls from someone saying their utility service would be disconnected by 5 p.m. if they didn't supply the caller with their Social Security Number, date of birth and credit card number to pay the bill.
If that doesn't sound bogus enough, Gehrdes says a similar scam surfaced in February. In that one, someone promised cash and prizes in exchange for personal information.
"Previously this year someone was contacted saying because of their good history with us they were winning a car and a cash prize," said Gehrdes. "Not only is that something we don't do, that we can't do that because of our not-for-profit public status."
Luckily, no one has taken the bait, but consumers could easily be swindled by someone posing under the guise of a reputable company. Don't fall for it.
"That should be a red flag to any customer, if somebody claiming to represent Huntsville Utilities is asking them for that information by contacting them, they can know that won't be us because we don't do that," said Gehrdes.
If you receive one of these bogus calls, try to get as much information as possible and contact the utility office. Your tip could help police track down the person responsible.
Most businesses like banks or credit card companies will never contact you to ask for personal information over the phone. The business usually already has this information on file.
If you're pressured over the phone for personal information, ask for credentials and don't hang up until you ask the caller's name.


text:
Digital manipulation using the Gimp. Moderately tedious, but it's a good meditation.
Monthly Archives: May 2008
Playing around with prints
Second woodcut
For this one, I decided to try cutting out areas to leave a raised line, instead of gouging out the lines of the design as before. It's harder work, but a lot of fun, and I can see it gives more opportunity to use the wood's nature.
Printmaking – woodblock experiment 1
Lessons learned from this one – firstly, that printing from wood really isn't the same as printing from lino. Having a solid block rather than a flexible piece of lino to work on is good, but it also leaves me open to edge effects. I also need to use quite a bit more ink than […]
Relief printing with linocut – first attempt
I've been playing a little with relief printing, and I'm enjoying it immensely so far. This is my first piece. It's actually the second impression I took off the first block I made, but since it's my favourite of the edition (of three) this is what I chose to upload. The paper is Velin Arches, […]
Blood on Paper at the V&A
The V&A exists specifically to own interesting stuff, and to explain why it's interesting. They're generally very, very good at it. So when I saw on a visit there that they would be putting on an exhibition on the Art of the Book, I was really keen to go and see it. I failed to […]