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And in this corner....the FZ6.
Note: If anyone wants high-def versions of any of these images PM me your email and I will email you the image file.
There are some truly spectacular rides people on this forum go on. I hope this humble addition to the fray represents the FZ6 in good stead. I may be blinded by "first bike syndrome" but I am exceptionally fond of this bike. Right, it's time to get on with it.
ALRIGHT. Finally. I tried to keep this chronologically accurate but I'm apparently retarded so some of it is an approximation. Pretty close though.
Ok. So I find some time to start putting this thing together. I wanted to delay going back through the trips pictures until there came a time winter was really grinding my gears and I wanted to relive the trip, mile by mile. I will try to put this together as best as I can, and I will try to keep the emotional masturbation to a minimum. Most of the people reading this have probably done a lot of riding trips as well, so I dont need to tell you about the joys of riding in painstaking detail.
For me, this was my second trip that lasted longer than a couple days. My other trip was a ride through BC. There was a lot about that trip that opened my eyes to how epic riding trips really are. After I got back from it, going on longer and more epic trips became a bit of a focus for me. The day I got back from the BC trip I started planning the trip I went on this past August. The motivation behind it was just to go as far and ride as hard as I could until I had to come home again. 17 days was the time period I had to work with. I drew up a general and random route that was really pretty optimistic.
When I put it together initially I went through google maps and just tried to hit every single road I thought Id be able to. My goal was to do 900km a day for four days then having 1-2 days off then repeat. As the time for the trip got closer I re-routed my trip with a bit more practicality and room for casual riding days. In the end it was vaguely close to what I had initially wanted to do so I was happy with the scope.
In the months leading up to the riding trip, a lot went wrong. I picked up a knee injury from football, and a couple things happened mechanically with the bike that cost quite a bit to fix. My budget was getting stretched and I hadnt even left yet. My knee healed up to the 80-85% mark when the time for trip came and that was good enough for me. I threw a bunch of supplies together in the last couple days, loaded the FZ up like a mule, and hit the road.
My plan was primarily to avoid primary highways. If I could avoid them as much as possible, I would be satisfied with my route. Lessons would be learned, I figured, about each area I passed through to help me plan better routes in the future.
The first day was completely anti-climactic. A lot of planning and anticipation for a couple months was followed by big delays on the first day of the trip. I made it to High River just south of Calgary.
But whatever, I figured. Id get an early start the next day and the trip would start in earnest. Forward progress was being made and thats all that mattered. I also decided to pick up a large jerry can and strap it to my luggage to extend my range. This would allow me to stop worrying so much about distance to gas stations and would ease my ability to include roads I wanted to take without hurting the schedule too much diverting to gas stations.
Oh, and just FYI, I had ridiculously good luck with weather on the way down. I only got rained on for like a day or so in total, and the vast majority of the time there was nothing but bright blue skies and puffy white clouds. It was picture perfect every single day. I couldnt believe my luck.
Day two: Decompression.
That is the word that has lingered in my mind since then. Decompression. That is the best way to describe the start to one of these trips imo. The anticipation has reached its climax and the first few days are just getting the hell away from home and forgetting everything about where youre coming from and you think only about the road ahead. The tarmac stretches on and on ahead of you, and all the tension of life in general and sorting your **** out to be able to make this trip in the first place fades away. You decompress. Your brain is emptied of everything and filled with the drone of your engine and the subtle but overwhelming feeling of complete freedom. The bright blue prairie skies, the mountains in the distance, the tarmac ahead, the air rushing past you, and the entirety of the world within reach freedom. Epic, spectacular .freedom.
You should keep in mind for the rest of this write-up that I have a fuzzy memory now of where I started and ended on the various days or even where the hell I went. I really just sort of had a general direction of South West and the destination of ultimately meeting up with friends in Southern Cali. Everything in between in either direction was just sort of deciding where I wanted to go at food stops, gas stops, and sometimes just when I saw something shiny down a side road.
But on this, my second day of riding, I did hit the US border and cross into Montana. I ended the days ride in Missoula. On the way there, I detoured through what seemed like my own private road. For a couple hours I worked my through a gravel road that was a secondary highway on the map. It looked like it went through some interesting terrain, so I went with it. Im glad I did. It was a brilliant way to spend the second day. I only saw one other motorist the entire time I was on it, and it was a fellow on a V-Strom that caught up to me and passed by me while I was stopped having some water. I made a mental note that I really have to commit to buying an adventure-touring mount. All I could think of down this road was how badly I wanted to just say to hell with it and just turn off the road and get straight at all the scenery that made up the backdrop of the landscape.
I made it through the US border without incident. I had been paranoid about this but it was all for nothing. The American border guards were friendly and welcoming. They get painted to be power-mad assholes so often I just sort of assumed theyd give me a bit of a headache.
I was behind schedule, but decided I wouldnt care too much about that. Glacier National Park was accessible so I rode it. The roads were decent and there were some decently fun stretches. But the scenery was brilliant as was to be expected. I was very pleased I made the detour.
Day 3-4: Riding Montana/Wyoming/Idaho
I am not entirely sure where the hell I went looking back at a map now, but I did make it into each of these three states at one point. Montana was mostly an endless series of high speed sweepers. The riding was very relaxing and punctuated by changes of landscape between streams/rivers/rocky hills/forest.
One thing that struck me was the deforestation. Ive always said one of the great things about riding is how it puts you in touch with the land youre passing through in a pretty special way. You start to develop an appreciation for the view Native Americans had of the land. It just sort of .is. It has always been there, and as a civilization we have really not made that much of an impression on it yet. But we will. You see the scale of deforestation and you know that in the future, someone riding the same path will not have the same serene beauty to enjoy. Already there were stretches of road in Montana where you just see a lot of miles of the sides of hills with what looks like toothpicks sticking out of the ground where trees once stood. It definitely stood out from the rest of the area.
Anyway, Ill get back on topic. Idaho/Wyoming were interesting because I decided to throw away the map most of the time and just sort of follow my nose and gradually work my way south. I allowed myself to meander east a bit though because I did want to hit the Grand Canyon before I passed through Vegas into L.A.. At one point, in my quest to be hardcore adventure rider (haha, yeah, I know hardly) I took a detour off the secondary highways and onto roads that didnt show up on the map. They were pretty unmaintained at got pretty rocky. It went from gravel, to just big ass rocks and ruts in the sand at one point. I made a mental note to try to get a skid-plate welded somehow to the bike if I did this in the future. But for now, there was fun to be had and I just tried to be a bit careful about it.
The corkscrew!!!
Don't overshoot...lol
Man, was I glad I picked that road. It was great. I didnt see anyone on the road and it really did feel like I was in a cozy little corner of Wyoming. I was a bit cautious working my way through here since I knew the possibility existed that someone would come blasting through there in a Jeep or something. But in the end it was just me. When I made it out the other side, I flagged down a local rider and got directions back to a main road.
I was still behind schedule and my schedule already was just haul ass to the Grand Canyon before you rest. So I kept pushing on. Days 2, 3, and 4, were some pretty long days.
At another point during this stretch (I think it was actually before all of that above this timeframe is blurry), I finally hit rain. And I hit it at the worst time too. I arrived in a sleepy town of a decent size at the 8pm mark. I figured I would definitely be able to get a room since I didnt feel like camping. Well, there was a boat show in town so everything was filled right up. I decided to push onto the next sizeable town which was like 4 hours away. Poor planning screwed me over again. As it got dark it started to piss rain. The road was a twisty out of the way highway which had been brilliant fun during the day, but at night it was something else entirely. Another part of the poor planning which was hurting me was how tired I was getting. I was exhausted.
So, it was pitch black, it was pissing rain, and I was so tired I had to make a mental effort to stay sharp especially as it got closer to midnight. The thing that really made it tough was I had forgot to pack my Rain-X and couldnt see a thing through my visor. So, here I am barreling down an unknown and windy road, blind and exhausted. It was a bit nerve-racking, but kinda awesome at the same time. Then out of nowhere a group of local Harley riders came blasting out of nowhere and I let them pass me. That was strangely inspirational. I found a new resolve to haul ass and used their pace and direction to gauge my own pace and direction. I followed them until they turned off 20 or so miles before my stop for the night. I was very thankful for their catching up to me. I could offer them a bunch of praise here, but suffice it to say cruiser riders in general earned a ton of respect in my eyes after that night. They may not pursue the art of riding the way sport riders do, but they do plow through endless miles and there is a lot to be said for that. Hats off to the cruiser riders.
Day 5: Vegas or bust.
Lava Hot Springs in Idaho to Las Vegas Nevada in a day. It doesnt sound so bad. But it wasnt the plan initially. I really wanted to see the Grand Canyon and one of the things I was really looking forward to in planning this trip was to camp in the Grand Canyon and wake up to a sunrise there. But as I got closer, I was feeling the pressure of time. I had wasted a chunk of the day aimlessly riding around. Now, I had planned on riding the fun roads up to the Canyon and had been looking forward to it. But seeing where I was, where I wanted to be, and how long it would take to get there, I wouldnt make it until it was the dead of night. And riding through that area under complete darkness was not overly appealing. And even if I did go for it, I would be exhausted and then have to find a place to camp, and set up camp all in the middle of the night. Poor planning? Yup. Thats a big lesson I learned on this trip more than once. Adventure and some amount of planning are not mutually exclusive. Randomness is fun, but complete randomness will mean you dont get to do some of the things you want and you will find yourself in the situation I did on this day. There was a grueling ride coming up to make Vegas.
But before I get into the ride to Vegas, I did want to talk about the chunk of the day I had wasted. I was coming down an interesting highway and having a good time when I eventually got bored of it.
I caught a glimpse of a turn-off with an information board posted. I turned back a few minutes later and decided that I would forego the Grand Canyon and get my jollies in here. There was a road that led into and up to the tops of the hills I had been passing through. I went for it. I had a full tank of gas and a Jerry can and I figured I would ride through it no matter how far it went since it seemed it would take me in the approximate right direction. And even if it took me out of the way a little bit, whatever, no big deal.
I made a friend (or an enemy....I'll never know).
But this about sums up the Battlax tires' offroad performance...
Another reason I decided to go for it was because one thing that really bugs me when I ride is seeing the tops of mountains and hills. I really want to get up there somehow. It just looks like it would be so awesome. So when I saw the chance to get to the tops of the big hills I had been passing through, I decided to go for it. And besides, if I cancelled on the Grand Canyon it would put me back on target for Southern California and I could do this stretch of road and be the hardcore adventurer haha. So I decided Id see the Grand Canyon another trip.
I finally got to the top and then immediately regretted not bringing food.
Camping up there would have been epic. I made a mental note to pack some food the next time I ate so that if I found another road like this I could camp whenever it suited me. As I got deeper in I decided that not knowing where the hell this road went could end badly. I could end up really hungry and having to double back on myself and ride back the same way but hungry and displeased. So I turned around and got back on the road I was on before I turned off.
I stopped for some sandwiches at this place called Atomic something or other. The food was awesome. Thats one thing that struck me about the States. The reason everyones so fat is because their food is so damned good. The little burger and sandwich shops make killer meals. Its greasy, but awesome. Well, anyway, before I left I packed away a ham and cheese sandwich in my luggage and got going again.
At this point I still did really want to see the Grand Canyon and was trying to find a way to include it in the plan. I stopped for food at a Dennys somewhere north of Salt Lake City. I think I was in Ogden. Sitting there going over the map and seeing the clock telling me it was already evening-time, I decided the Grand Canyon was out of the picture officially. I then also decided that I had spent WAY too much time dicking around and needed to put in some hard miles and slab it until I was actually ahead of schedule. If I could get into Vegas ahead of schedule then I could have the nice and easy trip through California that I wanted.
And thus began the grueling ride to Vegas. This was one of two times on the riding trip I was genuinely concerned for my well-being. I didnt get started until the early evening time, and had to plow through Salt Lake City at the tail end of its rush hour traffic before I could even get started. I figured between my extra fuel and packed sandwiches, I could just put on miles and not have to think about anything except just getting to Vegas.
By about 9pm it was apparent that it was going to start getting dark soon. I decided to rip through one tank of gas as quickly as situation would allow and then settle into an easy pace until Vegas. Well, it turns out as quickly as the situation would allow on a fairly empty primary highway in the middle of the desert is pretty quick. I got through that tank pretty quickly and filled up and topped up my Jerry can too. I figured I couldnt possibly be that far away now. When I saw the next sign of miles to Vegas I shook my head. I was still like 198 miles away. I then settled into the gradual grind to Vegas in the dark. It was now completely dark and I was more tired than I had been at any point previously on this trip. The miles droned on, and I tried to keep a watchful eye for whatever desert creatures could potentially cross the road. The road wasnt twisty but it did bend back and forth. The heat, the long days, and the boring miles really started to take its toll. It got to the point where I sincerely did not think I would make to Vegas. Vegas is out of your reach I thought, but I decided to go for it. I would stop whenever I got too tired and stretch and walk around a little bit and drink a ton of fluids.
For the last bit I was stopping every 10-15 miles I was seriously that tired. And another thing that sticks out in my memory is this eerie glow in the sky. It was so bizarre. I was mentally completely out of it and this eerie glow combined with the drone of the engine made for a really wonky bit of time.
I stop to recharge and eat my sandwich.....
Oh god...
The desert heat + cheese and meat =
When I finally turned a corner and made a visual on Vegas and saw the sign that said like 14 miles to Vegas all around the same bend, I was so thrilled.
I finally pulled into my hotel which I found pretty easily around the 2:30am mark. I opened the door to my hotel room and was met with a big dude in the shower, and clothes and underwear literally scattered over every surface in the room. I was like, WTF, the hotel people screwed up and gave someone else my room by mistake. Then he hollered out and I figured out it was my buddy from out east who had ridden down and was like two days ahead of schedule. He had put on a similar number of miles in recent days since he was also pretty far from home.
I showered. I ate. I slept. Best food and nights sleep ever.
Vegas baby.
Next couple days: To L.A.
Over the next couple days I met up with another buddy from Vegas and we rode around and in general took it easy. We then made our way to L.A. and Kenny (Vegas buddy) showed us some pretty sweet roads on the way there. Before we got there, though, we had to make it through the face-melting ride through desert at high noon in the height of summer. It is seriously like having someone hold a blow dryer in your face at the max setting. People with lighter skin should make note to bring a ton of sun-tan lotion. I have heard of people getting NASTY sun burn on their faces riding through the desert.
Dirk and Kenny! (I'm on left then Kenny then Dirk)
Kenny gets us some epic food.
Loved this eatery though. Had a nice feel to it. Music was downtempo jazz.
The craziest FJR known to man. Continent crosser.
That's a fuel cell. And supplies to do oil changes on the road because that's how far he travels every couple days...we ended up chatting with him and his buddy. Great guys.
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I actually think the DL has come along since early in the season. With Ngata and McPhee getting healthy and Jones coming a long, the DL isn't as bad as they looked before. Our problem is in the middle. Kemo is old and slow. And Cody needs a lot of work.
On the OL, I actually think we've got all the pieces except a LT. The right side of the line is set and Geno had a nice audition at C. LT is a definite need. LG you have to see what happens with Reid, or see if Oher or Osemele could be better at G, with the other playing RT.

subset: commoncrawl


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Gear Review
Red Stallion
Good transition board
Ive always ridden true camber boards. I decided I wanted something a little different, and have never really been into full rockers. I decided to give the hybrid a try and absolutely love it. The rocker zone of the T. Rice is smaller, so it doesn't ride as loose as a full rocker. I don't know if its the swing weight or the magnatraction, but it is extremely responsive, similar to a full camber board. The T. Rice has a lot of power and great pop, too. I've ridden it on hard pack, ice, and in spring like conditions and it has performed very well. I haven't had the chance to take it out in any snow deeper than a couple inches, but I'm sure it will live up to the hype in pow too. The only downside thus far is that it can be a little catchy at higher speeds on hard pack because of the magnatraction. A small price to pay for a great board.
As a side note, be sure to keep an eye on your board or lock it up when you step inside for lunch. I had my T. Rice stolen the first night I took it out after only about two hours of riding. (I ride my boards pretty hard and they are always beat up and in no condition that would incline someone to steal them, so I didnt think twice about leaving it off to the side out of view... wont make that mistake again.) Long story short, I liked the board enough from the two hours of riding to buy another one (and a cheap lock)!
View More Details on Lib Technologies T.Rice Pro Model C2-BTX Blunt Snowboard


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Bradley Manning trial judge increased press security "because of repeat violations of the rules of court"
Huffington Post reporter Matt Sledge read my Boing Boing post earlier today about reports from the Bradley Manning trial of dramatically-increased security measures for press. Those measures including armed military police standing behind journalists at their laptops, snooping on their screens.
He reports that the new, oppressive security measures were ordered directly by the judge because reporters were violating court rules (which no one can find a copy of), and carrying "prohibited electronics." For this, the government needs armed military police standing right behind reporters as they type, in the media room.


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After a great tour in February we are returning to Italy this summer for six nights of surreal cabaret alchemies in:
16/07 @ FLORENCE - Deposito Bagali
23/07 @ NICASTRO - Off, Lamezia Terme
24/07 @ AGRIGENTO - Mojo
29/07 @ AMANTEA - Pecora Nera
02/08 @ SAN MARIANO - Med Festival
04/08 @ CARPI MO - Coccobello Festival
Click here for more info on our Italian tour dates for Summer 2015 and if you are around come see us live.
Italy here we come (again)!
The music video of our song "The Genius of the Crowd" is finally ready!
"The Genius of the Crowd" is one of our favourite Bukowski poems, a very unsettling, harsh and ironic depiction of the way society works to silence, corrupt and destroy anything and anyone that does not comply to its own narrow standards.
And who would be a better artist to sing this song along with us, than Martyn Jacques - the founder, frontman and songwritter of the utterly unique, deeply provocative and totally uncategorizable Tiger Lillies?
The Genius of the Crowd ft. Martyn Jacques (Official Video)
The song is part of our second album "BUKOWSKI: Poems of a Dirty Old Man", so if you like what you see check out the whole album on our Soundcloud Page.
Our second album "Bukowski: Poems of a Dirty Old Man" is finally out and about!
Inspired by the work of Charles Bukowski and featuring Blues legend Louisiana Red and The Tiger Lillies eccentric frontman Martyn Jacques.
Check it out, download it for free & watch our music videos:
After a long, terrific (and at times terrifying) tour of Italy, its about time we headed back home.
And what a nice surprise to be invited back at Faust for 4 shows in March.
So Athens here we come for four Mondays only: March 9th, 16th, 23rd and 30th.
You'd better hurry up and BOOK YOUR SEATS !


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Everyone knows that actors don't get to keep the clothes they wear on the set. But when it comes to super-fancy high-fashion shows like Gossip Girl, even thinking about taking racks home is impossible. Unless you're Blair Waldorf, of course. "At the end of the first thirteen episodes, they gave me some stuff, which was wonderful, but mostly not," Leighton Meester told us at the Versace Menswear launch at Barneys last night. "Mostly, it's just too priceless. A lot of the stuff is loaned, and we have a lot of stuff from archives, old stuff that people have used, like, years ago."
Meester, who prefers to spend her paycheck at Opening Ceremony, says her clothes are a wee bit more affordable than Blair's. "You can dial it down it a little bit for real life. I still take a lot of her style into my own." So no baby-doll lingerie, white tights, and fur mufflers? "She's high fashion, so I take some cues from that, but I don't go overboard. I feel like I can do it with a little bit less expense. Not everything on the outfit has to be priceless designer."
The actress says she doesn't really mind that she can't keep the contents of Blair's closet. "Really, a lot of the stuff you wear a few days in a row, and you never want to wear it again, anyway." We don't know that feeling, but we'll take your word for it. —Fiona Byrne


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CUMBERLAND --ŌĆō Players like Rodney Bustillo and Elijiah Wiggins donŌĆÖt need an entire game to make a difference.
Just give them a little time to start heating up.
The Tolman High seniors got sizzling hot in the second half of TuesdayŌĆÖs opener with Cumberland in the annual Cumberland/Lincoln Boys & Girls Club Holiday Tournament and turned a 38-all tie at the break into a runaway 80-61 rout at the Wellness Center.
Wiggins finished with a game-high 21 points and Bustillo chipped in 16. But it was their work in the second half - aided by some help from their teammates - that changed the complexion of the game and earned the Tigers their third straight victory.
Wiggins and Bustillo combined for 28 points in the latter half. Utilizing his 6-foot-4 frame, Wiggins scored most of his points inside with an occasional outside jumper. The 5-6 Bustillo dished out a number of assists to Wiggins and also was strong defensively and from the outside.
ŌĆ£RodneyŌĆÖs speed on defense has been immense,ŌĆØ said Tolman coach Mike Kayata. ŌĆ£He is really digging in on the defensive side of the ball. Elijiah has become a force in the paint and he is starting to get a lot more confidence in his jumper. Once heŌĆÖs facing up to the rim, he has a knock-down jumper from the high post and heŌĆÖs got a baseline jumper and heŌĆÖs also got post moves down lowŌĆ"HeŌĆÖs got all the moves itŌĆÖs just a matter of time before he starts showing it.ŌĆØ
Cumberland coach Gary Reedy was well aware of the lethal combo before his team took to the floor. But he didnŌĆÖt expect the Tigers accuracy from behind the arc.
ŌĆ£We tried to identify them straight up,ŌĆØ he said. ŌĆ£We actually came out with a triangle and two to play those two guys (Bustillo and Wiggins) and then all of a sudden their other guy (Juniel Ortiz, eight points) hits two threes, who I donŌĆÖt think has taken two threes all year. That was pretty much the difference in the game.ŌĆØ
With the Clippers relying primarily on their inside game and the Tigers scoring a bulk of their points from the outside, the two Division II rivals played a back-and-forth first half. Tolman held the biggest lead in the half when it rattled off six unanswered points, capped by a 3-pointer from Bustillo, to take an 18-12 advantage with 8:31 remaining.
Trailing by a score of 20-16, Cumberland regained the lead with six straight points of its own that featured a layup from Ben Proctor (eight points), a 3-pointer by Andrew Baglini (10 points) and a running layup by Tom Lazaras (four points). Lazaras was the beneficiary of a Baglini steal and a perfect no-look pass underneath by the senior guard.
After the Tigers responded with six straight points, Cumberland came back with an 8-1 run, including a dunk from Mike Joubert (11 points), for a 31-28 advantage. The Tigers knotted the score at 33 on a 3-pointer from Ortiz and then at 36 with Coughlin hitting one from beyond the arc.
In all, the Tigers hit five 3-pointers in the initial half.
ŌĆ£I thought the first half we ran our sets very well,ŌĆØ Reedy said. ŌĆ£We turned the ball over a little bit here and there. But the first half I thought we played good, clean basketball. I really did. The first half they had (15) points on three-pointers. They were just hitting the threes today, and our hands werenŌĆÖt up on defense. The hands have to be up. But they were on fire anyways.ŌĆØ
ŌĆ£We were unconscious shooting-wise (in the first half),ŌĆØ Kayata admitted. ŌĆ£I saw guys hit shots they never hit before. I mean, Kevin Coughlin hit a three from the baseline that I have never seen him get that shot. We got a good offensive team. If teams are going to leave us alone, we are going to put up some points.ŌĆØ
Bustillo, who had 11 of his points after the break, provided the spark at the start of the second half, scoring the first six in a 1:34 span, bookended by a 3-pointer. Those half-dozen points fueled a 15-4 run to start the second half.
ŌĆ£The key at halftime is we needed to play better defense and to run the plays on offense,ŌĆØ Kayata said. ŌĆ£ThatŌĆÖs exactly what happened. We came out in the second half and executed on offense and we had more ball pressure on defense and Bustillo just kept coming. Rodney had a whale of a game. But IŌĆÖm not going to single anyone out because everyone played well.ŌĆØ
Wiggins created one of several highlights for the Tigers in the second half with his first-ever dunk near the midway point to give his teammates a 59-45 lead.
With the win, Tolman will now face Lincoln in tonightŌĆÖs championship game at 7:30. The Lions defeated Woonsocket, 68-52, in the first game of the night.
In a Div. II-Central matchup on Dec. 20, Tolman beat Lincoln, 48-37.
ŌĆ£We just got by Lincoln in a hard-fought game. ItŌĆÖs going to be tough,ŌĆØ Kayata said. ŌĆ£This is part of their tournament and they are going to come out like gang-busters tomorrow night trying to get back at us to avenge that other loss.
Cumberland, which was led by 18 points from Ben Bradley, faces Woonsocket in the consolation game at 6 p.m.
TOLMAN (80) ŌĆōJuan Velez 5 2-5 12, Troy Sawyer 0 1-2 1, Rodney Bustillo 6 1-3 16, Kevin Coughlin 2 0-0 5, Juniel Ortiz3 0-0 8, Jeremy Garcia 2 2-2 7, Justin Zetina 0 0-0 0, Nkosi Scott 2 0-0 6, Elijiah Wiggins 10 1-2 21, Ja-Quan Seldon 1 0-0 2, Aloune Cissoko 1 0-0 2, Roberto Contreras 0 0-0 0. Totals ŌĆō 32 7-14 80
CUMBERLAND (61) ŌĆō Ben Bradley 6 5-8 18, Patrick Burns 1 0-1 2, Andrew Baglini 3 3-6 10, John Andrade 2 0-0 4, Matt Lazaras 0 0-0 0, Joseph Travers 0 0-1 0, Thomas Lazaras 2 0-0 4, Ben Proctor 3 2-9 8. Totals ŌĆō 23 13-31 61
Halftime ŌĆō 38-38. 3-point goals ŌĆō T (9): Bustillo 3, Kevin Coughlin, Juniel Ortiz 2, Graca, Scott 2. C (2): Bradley, Baglini.


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Who has the rbz mygig
Anyone have the rbz mygig in my neck of the woods>?
I did some magic and found one, Thanks
OUCH, That is my competitors name. We have a product called allgig,
But the rbz is a brand new version of the ren mygig and our allgig is having some trouble understanding the radio codes. I found one yesterday and we will be testing it today.
Ouch, I appologize profusely! You can beat me later if it'd make you feel better. Had my super magical powered friend disappear that mistake. Let us know how it works, and i'll know better in the future...allgig...allgig...allgig...
lol. Very funny. I could have erased it myself too. Thanks for doing it!
Thats right on the zzzzzzzz forums we are all on team ALLGIG! Spread the word and don't forget I offer 10% off to any forumz member if they purchase with me directly.
So I got the radio in today for testing with my 07 Jeep (hs)
Everything works fine with our allgig, the customer just
didn't have the allgig features turned on correctly. He
hooked it up to the usb, changed it to ren (same as rbz) and
viola.......It works perfectly.
I've got a RBZ and the factory backup camera on a 09 Ram. Will this turn on the camera in reverse as wired per the factory or do you have to wire thru the Allgig harness? My issue is that the dealer can't turn it on due to the radio not being in the list of radios to choose from since it is the new 2010 model. Yeah it's pretty stupid but true. I really don't want to change the wiring.
So you have the rbz and the factory camera? I can't see why they would charge you for a feature you cant use. You can use our allgig and rewire the camera to view at all times. You can also use the allgig and add another camera that would work in reverse. I would imagine you would need to disconnect the factory cam.
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Does anyone here knows how to check which device is running an app in windows 8?
Preferably the Directx + Xaml version .
When we developed Windows 8 we intentionally made it so that "tablet" and "PC" are one in the same. If you look at the new generation of hardware (UltraBooks that un-dock to become tablets, ARM-based laptops, etc) you'll see why it wouldn't be possible to guarantee to the app developer that a device is either a "tablet" or a "PC". You could string together a number of capabilities checks to take a guess but you run the risk of inadvertently causing a bad user experience for an unexpected use case.
Anticipating the "But Apple..." replies: This is different for the Apple ecosystem because their PC hardware runs a completely different OS than their tablet and their platform is only available on a small number known Apple devices. It's also different when you compare phones to tablets because a smartphone is essentially a tablet with a smaller screen. The intent of Windows is to run on a wide variety of devices from a wide variety of hardware makers. There are pluses and minuses with both scenarios.


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Critical Essay by Barry Ulanov
SOURCE: "The Ordeal of Evelyn Waugh," in The Vision Obscured: Perceptions of Some Twentieth-Century Catholic Novelists, edited by Melvin J. Friedman, New York: Fordham University Press, 1970, pp. 79-93.
Ulanov is an American writer, educator, and editor. In the following essay, he analyzes the "underlying structure" of the world-view that infused Waugh's novels and gave meaning to his allegorical writings.
It is all but a fixed convention in the critical presentation of the work of Evelyn Waugh to date his decline, in mid-career, with the appearance of Brideshead Revisited in 1945. The novels written before it are comic masterpieces. Those that come after, with the possible exception of The Loved One (1948), are blighted by the disease of Brideshead, an egregious inclination to take religion seriously, accompanied by a marked distaste for the world that does not share that inclination—the modern world.
Waugh was immediately taken to task, on the appearance of Brideshead Revisited, for his shocking display of religious sentiment and his apparent loss of the satiric spirit. He answered his American critics as publicly as he could in the pages of a journal not generally thought of as literary—Life magazine. Modern novelists, Waugh explained,
try to represent the whole human mind and soul and yet omit its determining character—that of being God's creature with a defined purpose. So in my future books there will be two things to make them unpopular: a preoccupation with style and the attempt to represent man more fully, which to me means only one thing, man in his relation to God.
The work that followed Brideshead Revisited, two years later, was a corrosive political satire, a novella called Scott-King's Modern Europe. It is the tale of the misadventures of the Classical Master of a second-rate English public school in Neutralia. He has been invited to this "typical modern state, governed by a single party, acclaiming a dominant Marshal, supporting a vast ill-paid bureaucracy whose work is tempered and humanised by corruption," because of his celebration in an essay in a learned journal of the qualities of Neutralia's Latin poet Bellorius. Bellorius is about to suffer—along with Scott-King and the reader—the tercentenary of his death. With the heaviest possible irony, Waugh describes his narrative as "the story of a summer holiday; a light tale." It is not a light tale; it is a ponderous satire which brings Scott-King back to his public school by way of "No. 64, Jewish Illicit Immigrants' Camp, Palestine." The headmaster suggests that Scott-King think about teaching another subject alongside Classics—"History, for example, preferably economic history." After all, parents no longer send their boys to school to become "'the complete man.'… They want to qualify their boys for jobs in the modern world. You can hardly blame them, can you?" Scott-King's answer is direct: "Oh yes," he says. "I can and do." The last bits of dialogue permit Scott-King to put the modern world in its place.
"But, you know, there may be something of a crisis ahead."
"Yes, headmaster."
"Then what do you intend to do?"
"If you approve, headmaster, I will stay as I am here as long as any boy wants to read the classics. I think it would be very wicked indeed to do anything to fit a boy for the modern world."
"It's a short-sighted view, Scott-King."
"There, headmaster, with all respect, I differ from you profoundly. I think it the most long-sighted view it is possible to take."
Waugh did not need the cumbersome apparatus of Scott-King's Modern Europe to make clear his disenchantment with the modern world. Nor did he need the pages of Life magazine to make public pronouncements about his "preoccupation" with style and the relation of man to God. He had been making such pronouncements for almost two decades before Brideshead Revisited, but obliquely, in variously light and heavy explorations of the allegory of irony. Waugh was not finished with allegorical devices, nor did he relinquish the ironic pose after Brideshead; but the indirections of satire were no longer all. It was as though his presentation of "The Sacred and Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder" had evoked in him the spirit of the confessional. Like the most unconscious character in Chekhov, he seemed determined now to reveal his working purposes. In some curious way, his two creeds, as writer and as Christian, would be made to coincide. In The Loved One, he mocked the happy hunting-grounds of the American ways of death, human and animal, which sought certainties where none were to be found. In Helena (1950), he praised the simple faith of the woman who was canonized by tradition for her perseverance in seeking the wood of the True Cross, a woman of a time "Once, very long ago, before ever the flowers were named," the mother of the Roman Emperor Constantine, and, in Waugh's version of sacred history, a Briton and the daughter of Old King Coel.
In-between the clammy humors of California Gothic and the dry atmosphere of Celtic-Roman hagiology, Waugh followed the confessional urge where it led—to the opening pages of a collection of stories of conversion to Catholicism by well-known figures of the late 1940s. Waugh's piece was called "Come Inside." In five short pages he moved across the bare facts of his religious life, from beginnings in the Church of England and a "family tree" which "burgeons on every twig with Anglican clergymen," and an early intention of becoming a clergyman himself:
The enthusiasm which my little school-fellows devoted to birds' eggs and model trains I turned to church affairs and spoke glibly of chasubles and Erastianism. I was accordingly sent to the school which was reputed to have the strongest ecclesiastical bent. At the age of sixteen I formally notified the school chaplain that there was no God. At the age of twenty-six I was received into the Catholic Church to which all subsequent experience has served to confirm my loyalty.
Waugh's little piece is savage in its rejection of his own attempts to deal with the brambles of the higher criticism, as uncovered by a skeptical Oxford theologian ("now a bishop"), and the thickets of metaphysics, as presented in Pope's Essay on Man and in Leibniz, to whom he was sent by the notes in his edition of Pope.
I advanced far enough to be thoroughly muddled about the nature of cognition. It seemed simplest to abandon the quest and assume that man was incapable of knowing anything. I have no doubt I was a prig and a bore but I think that if I had been a Catholic boy at a Catholic school I should have found among its teaching orders someone patient enough to examine with me my callow presumption. Also, if I had been fortified by the sacraments, I should have valued my faith too highly to abandon it so capriciously.
What Waugh found in the Church was tradition, the Catholic structure omnipresent in European life, customs, ceremonies, and disciplines of learning. Americans may lack this; their world certainly does. Europe in general and England in particular may not look upon the Church as simply one of a series of splendid sects. The Church underlies everything in Waugh's world. It is his inheritance. After being admitted into the Church, he tells us in carefully weighed words, his "life has been an endless delighted tour of discovery in the huge territory of which I was made free." What he does not tell us in this 1949 piece, but does confess in the novels, the stories, the occasional pieces, the columns of liturgical controversy—in nearly everything that followed upon it—is that more and more he became a furious partisan, fighting for the survival of ancient values, ancient worlds, ancient rituals. He moved with sour obstinacy against the new liturgy produced by the Second Vatican Council. He was made sick with something like shame by the translation of the words of the Mass into the English vernacular. In this vulgate tongue, they clearly lacked unction. They were not in the ancient style. They were not in any style that he could respect. They lacked that universality and coherence that made the terrors of modernity, if not tolerable, at least endurable as a preface to a world of endless grace. He had extended his invitation to the non-Catholic to follow him inside the Church:
You cannot know what the Church is like from outside. However learned you are in theology, nothing you know amounts to anything in comparison with the knowledge of the simplest actual member of the Communion of Saints.
Could one still believe this, still feel this, after the depredations of Vatican II?
Waugh mocks the "shallowness" of his "early piety," clearly demonstrated "by the ease with which I abandoned it." To his interest in "chasubles and Erastianism" he attributes a depth comparable to the devotion to birds' eggs and model trains of his contemporaries at school. But there is something quite different in kind about his penchant, at the age of eleven, for Anglican churchmanship, the intense curiosity he describes in his autobiography: "about church decorations and the degrees of anglicanism—'Prot, Mod, High, Spiky'—which they represented" [A Little Learning]. The pursuit of grace at eleven may have been confined to a shrine he constructed for the night-nursery, complete with plaster saints, an art nouveau edition of Newman's Dream of Gerontius, and his own attempt at the subject of Newman's long poem, Purgatory—an effort "in the metre of Hiawatha" which he calls "long and tedious" in one place, "deplorable" in another. But it was grace he pursued, tediously perhaps, certainly at length. The comings and goings of his faith, now Anglican, now atheist, finally Roman, were surely never as inconsequential to him or for him as his ironic autobiographical narratives suggest. He was always a ceremonialist, always caught up in some ritual or other, as feckless student and schoolmaster, or as despairing socialite. It is ritual that fascinates him in his several worlds, even when it is altogether fatuous. It is ritual he gathers so entertainingly into his early satires. When the satire wears thin and the end in view ceases to be entertainment, the ritual remains. Only now it is no longer quite so fatuous. There is faith in it. The pursuit of grace has become, like the explorations of the allegory of irony, far less oblique.
If one sees the pursuit of grace in the work of Evelyn Waugh, sees it in the inverted and perverted rituals of Decline and Fall (1928), Vile Bodies (1930), Black Mischief (1932), Scoop (1938), and Put Out More Flags (1942) as much as in the open courtings of the supernatural in Brideshead Revisited, Helena, and Sword of Honour, one is not so easily put off or surprised by the sentimentality of the later work. One sees Waugh constantly soliciting a deeper coherence than the ceremonies of the social life or the customs of international politics are likely to reveal. One sees Waugh's meticulous notation of custom and ceremony as being in the service of grace, and not at all lacking in meaning because it deals with people who have little or no meaning and are determined to do everything to escape meaning. One sees Waugh's narratives, from the beginning, as severely moralized—though not (in the beginning at least) very clear in their moral purpose. One sees an allegorist sharpening his instruments, perfecting his ironic moral tone, so that when the pursuit of grace can be made more open, when grace can emerge from the chilling shadows of a world that holds it in contempt, there will be a machinery skillful enough to deal with it and to make it recognizable.
Nowhere is this honing of the tools so evident as in A Handful of Dust (1934). There all that Waugh had learned in his early tales of the rituals of the fatuous is displayed with an ironic detachment that can easily be interpreted as with-drawal from the moral lists—or worse, as accidie. The world of the aristocracy has collapsed. Tony Last—a name at least as roundly allegorical in intent as any in the novels of Henry Fielding—brings that world to its inexorable end, condemned to spend his final days—and they are clearly to be many—reading Dickens aloud to a madman in a South American jungle. While this allegory of attrition is worked out, Tony Last's wife, Brenda, works out her salvation in the service of a personification of nullity, John Beaver, whose name spells nothing but an industrious boredom. The book takes its title from The Waste Land, and perhaps some of its hauteur as well. But where Eliot communicates his distaste for the modern world in fragments, Waugh polishes his periods in an elegantly sustained continuity, with every detail fitted firmly into place. Disaster leads to disaster in an orderly succession of horrors which everybody can accept, for the disasters and horrors follow so faithfully the ordinations of high society and never lose the approved tones. Thus the ironic echoes of Proust in two chapter titles: "Du Côté de Chez Beaver" and "Du Côté de Chez Todd"—memorializing in these cases no elegant or gifted men, but a middle-class bore and an illiterate son of a missionary with a savage devotion to the works of Charles Dickens.
The part played by Dickens in the allegorical structure of A Handful of Dust is particularly engaging to the reader of Waugh who has gone so far as to search out his occasional reviews. In 1953, examining Edgar Johnson's two-volume biography of Dickens for The Spectator, he confesses that
We all have our moods when Dickens sickens us. In a lighter, looser and perhaps higher mood we fall victim to his "magnetism."… It is this constantly changing mood of appreciation that makes everyone's fingers itch for the pen at the mention of his name.
Waugh gratified the itch in this review in such a way that one understands perfectly the particular irony of Todd's fixation upon Dickens:
—the pity of it—the more we know of Dickens, the less we like him. His conduct to his wife and particularly his announcement of the separation were deplorable. His treatment in middle age of Maria Beadnell was even worse. His benefactions to his family were grudging and ungracious. Faults which would be excusable in other men become odious in the light of Dicken's writing. He frequented the demi-monde with Wilkie Collins. He probably seduced and certainly kept the young actress Ellen Teman, to whom he left £1,000 in his will, thereby putting her name in disrepute while at the same time leaving her miserably provided. All this is very ugly in the creator of Little Emily and Martha. He claimed a spurious pedigree and used an illicit crest—a simple weakness in anyone except himself who vehemently denounced the importance attached to gentle birth. In success he was intolerably boastful, in the smallest reverse abject with self-pity. He was domineering and dishonourable in his treatment of his publishers. He was, in fact, a thumping cad [Waugh, "Apotheosis of an Unhappy Hypocrite," The Spectator, October 2, 1953].
Clearly a model for Waugh's grotesque tale, this reading of Dickens is allegorical of all the large hypocrisy and emotional emptiness that masquerades in A Handful of Dust under the small pieties of upper-class social life. What better writer could Waugh have found with whom to torment Tony Last—and the gullible reader who has been incautious enough to look for some deliverance for Tony or anyone else in this allegory of a world without grace and thus without any chance of fulfillment?
The landscape of A Handful of Dust is perfectly pieced together, as an allegorical landscape must be. The surfaces of buildings, as of people, are described with a splendid and an unmistakable precision. The rooms within, like the interior dispositions of the people, are carefully decorated. Waugh is following the example of his tutors in the allegory of irony—Henry Fielding and Laurence Sterne. He has left behind at this point the epicene shallows of Ronald Firbank, an earlier guide in the tones and textures of irony. The depths in which he finds and leaves his allegorical figures are those of Hieronymus Bosch and the elder Pieter Brueghel, not perhaps because he has sought those depths but because they have sought him. This world of a pettiness so acute that it has become an almost diabolical kind of hallucination was the world which sat for its portrait in Waugh's studio. This world of evasions, of shadows in retreat and of shadows in pursuit, this world that Eliot prepared for burial in The Waste Land—"I will show you fear in a handful of dust"—Waugh drew from its winding sheets and stood end to end in its native flats and country houses. This world of the living dead Waugh painted as Bosch and Cranach and Brueghel did—in allegorical precision. This was the world without grace, its rituals superbly ordered inversions of Christianity, its instruments so perfectly tuned that one could hardly hear the difference. One had to look very closely indeed to see that the laughter bared too much gum and popped the eyes too much to be the laughter of entertainment.
For some readers, the entertainment dropped out of Waugh's novels after A Handful of Dust, never to return. He simply did not get the facts of Mussolini's invasion of Ethiopia straight in Scoop, and to the hollow humors of his novel of the cold war, Put Out More Flags, he added an embarrassing tinge of patriotism. Real heroism, even if inadvertent, seemed to be popping up beneath the mock heroics. The sounds of the indecorous war that had brought Vile Bodies to its conclusion had given way to noisier exchanges in a war that shattered more than mere decorum. The comic-opera struggles for power in the African kingdoms of Black Mischief and Scoop did not amuse any longer; they had been replaced by a deadly warfare in the desert in which men Waugh loved and admired were losing their lives. The terms of the allegory were irremediably changed. The deadly sins were still there—lust, gluttony, greed, and especially sloth, of which Waugh had appointed himself the patron devil. But now there were, of all things, virtues to be dealt with. Grace hovered overhead, even appeared now and then in the lives of the Halberdiers of Waugh's trilogy about the war: Men at Arms (1952), Officers and Gentlemen (1955), and Unconditional Surrender (1961; The End of the Battle in its American edition). In fact, some of Waugh's fictional regiment seemed to be positively maddened by grace, not the least of them that improbable hero of the trilogy, Guy Crouchback, who seems dedicated to moral ambiguity—that is to say, dedicated to the contradictory textures of the human condition, the only textures in which grace can comfortably appear.
The leading figures of Waugh's suddenly uprighted world are not very different from those of the inverted one. They have gone to the public school of Decline and Fall, to the parties of Vile Bodies, to the hunts of A Handful of Dust; they have served their own mad little comers of the cold war bureaucracy of Put Out More Flags, and scratched their way to the top—or the bottom—of African kingdoms. Even in their weaker moments, they have more often achieved the look of lechery and the manners of sin than the matter. Their moral failures have been most frequently failures to be immoral, which in the old days could be shrugged off in the giggling manner of Vile Bodies—
"What I always wonder, Kitty dear, is what they actually do at these parties of theirs. I mean, do they …?"
"My dear, from all I hear, I think they do."
"Oh, to be young again, Kitty. When I think, my dear, of all the trouble and exertion which we had to go through to be even moderately bad … those passages in the early morning and mama sleeping next door."
"And yet, my dear, I doubt very much whether they really appreciate it all as we should … young people take things so much for granted."
"Si la jeunesse savait, Kitty …"
"Si la vieillesse pouvait."
In the new days, the days of Brideshead and the Halberdiers, some sense is made of all this patchwork of immorality wished-for and morality achieved in spite of one's dearest hopes. The coherent patterns of a moral theology supervene. The revels, achieved or postponed, are permanently interrupted. The great romance of Brideshead, for example, into which the reader, following Waugh's sentimental lead, has poured so much expectant feeling, is dashed on the rocks of canon law. Julia Mottram must accept the terms of her marriage, as set forth in the positive legislation of the Church. She and Charles Ryder must separate. She must say goodbye. Ryder asks what she will do. She will not, she explains, lead a life of lies, on one side or the other:
"Just go on—alone. How can I tell what I shall do? You know the whole of me. You know I'm not one for a life of mourning. I've always been bad. Probably I shall be bad again, punished again. But the worse I am the more I need God. I can't shut myself out from His mercy. That is what it would mean; starting a life with you, without Him. One can only hope to see one step ahead. But I saw today there was one thing unforgivable—like things in the schoolroom, so bad they are unpunishable, that only Mummy could deal with-the bad thing I was on the point of doing, that I'm not quite bad enough to do; to set up a rival good to God's. Why should I be allowed to understand that, and not you, Charles? It may be because of Mummy, Nanny, Cordelia, Sebastian—perhaps Bridey and Mrs. Muspratt—keeping my name in their prayers; or it may be a private bargain between me and God, that if I give up this one thing I want so much, however bad I am, He won't quite despair of me in the end.
"Now we shall both be alone, and I shall have no way of making you understand."
Non-Catholic readers can surely be forgiven their revulsion at the seeming smugness of this dismissal of love. The set speech comes so easily from the rhetoric of the rectory. God has made the laws, down to their last canon, and we who have been initiated into His great legal fraternity, we understand. Pity we cannot make others understand.
Was Waugh trying to make others understand when he constructed his canonist's copybook adultery? Had he given up irony for apologetics? The same question can be asked about the sterile marriage which haunts Guy Crouchback, made twice as barren by the unyielding law of the Church which prevents any satisfaction to Guy in the relationship. His attempt to seduce his former wife is ruined when he informs her that the seduction is entirely licit since their marriage had never been dissolved by the Church; she runs, appalled, from his arms. He can only remarry her, to make legitimate her child by a brother officer, a malingerer and moral neutral with the precisely allegorical name of Trimmer, who has become a hero malgré lui, in a series of events typical of the activity of grace in the Sword of Honour trilogy. Grace pursues its victims in the Crouchback novels in the ancient manner, makes heroes of trimmers and withholds the trappings of honor from those who have performed with virtue. Grace achieves the textures of irony in these books. When it lands on a hero's head, it dents his skull; it marks him a fool. If Waugh has turned to apologetics, he has not relinquished the allegory of irony to do so. He has discovered, like the Flemish painters before him, where that allegory leads.
Irony, now that it is to be employed in the precincts of grace, must make chivalry seem gauche, a hopeless anachronism; charity, the always underlying virtue in these quarters, must appear the refuge of fools. Guy Crouchback forms himself, as best he can, in the image and after the likeness of a medieval knight, Roger of Waybrooke, and grace confounds him, after having long confused him, by supporting his insane sentimentalization of the past. He finds his appropriate roles, is splendidly victimized in war and peace, and ends up, mirabile dictu, with a marriage that works, after his first wife has died. The original, British-edition title of the last of the Crouchback novels, Unconditional Surrender, is the final irony in the saga: everyone, everything concedes; grace settles on Guy's head with all the sweet finality of happy events at the end of a novel by Charles Dickens. Guy, it is clear, is a thumping saint. To the consternation of the conventional hagiologist, he is a saint rewarded on earth, although not exactly with public honors and a grand justification of his follies. His rewards come in retirement from the battles, to the family estate which is as much his inheritance as are the motions of chivalry. His life in retirement opens before him in the manner of the last years of the medieval knight. The moves are classical. Guy is, as his name makes abundantly clear, a throwback, a minor aristocrat in the annals of the blood, a major aristocrat in the annals of the spirit. One has to look twice to find him, in either set of records, crouched, like a self-conscious gargoyle, hiding beneath the benches, not of royalty or the first families of the realm, but of the quieter and less heralded families at the periphery. But one finds him—or rather grace does. And we respond—or rather grace permits us to, if we accept the terms of Waugh's allegory—in spite of all our inherited distaste for religious sentiment and the coincidences and inadvertencies which it keeps stirring up.
It is silly to reproach Waugh with the coincidences and inadvertencies of his books, whether they are the contrivances of a late religious romanticism or those of an early dyspeptic expressionism; almost as silly as the accusation that his figures are without objective reality. An allegorist's figures, like his landscapes, are deliberately contrived. Events in an allegorist's world are chained together by coincidence and inadvertences which are quite without spontaneity. Causal connections are made by the logic of the imagination and tied firmly together by the webs of dogma—whether of art or of religion or of both. Waugh's allegories take root in the real world, but they flower in no world that ever was, no matter how close their world may seem at times to the world we know. Their reality is a spiritual one, which is not to say a rational one or one that seeks the balance it does not have. The reality of the spirit may be a deranged reality or a supremely sane one. Who is to say whether the world of Brideshead and the Crouchbacks and the Halberdiers is more or less deranged than that of Tony and Brenda Last or the public-school and party-going folk of the early satires—such as Captain Grimes, Agatha Runcible, Ambrose Silk, Basil Seal, Margot Metroland, and Mrs. Ape? From beginning to end, it is the reality of the spirit that concerns Waugh. He is relentless in his efforts to get at it and ruthless with the devices of fictional realism. His novel is the novel of the eighteenth century. His techniques of characterization and narration are those of the originators of the English novel. And so in his novels, right to the end, we live with personifications and placards—Lord Outrage and Lady Circumference and Lord Tangent, Miss Tin and Miles Plastic, Mr. Joyboy and Aimée Thanatogenos, Trimmer and Major Hound. Like the titles of his books, the names of his characters signify much in the construction of his allegories. He is never shy about extending meanings beyond the uncertainties of chance and the imprecisions of the laws of probability.
In reading Waugh, one does well to meditate, for a few moments at least, on his contrivances. They are not schoolboy jokes, as they may at first appear, nor are they allegorical commonplaces. They are lines into a world of moral speculation in which every image is a potential icon and every proper noun a likely emblem. They begin as counters in a game of great comic gusto. They end as the blazons of a devout and complex heraldry.
It would be a great mistake to overestimate the depth of Waugh's allegories, to see either in the comic counters or in the heraldic clutterings a profound insight into the human condition. It would be a distortion of these materials to find anything entirely fresh or novel in them, and from Waugh's point of view an impertinence. His allegories are of an ancient kind and their content as far outside the philosophy, psychology, and sociology of this century as his devices could make it and as a vocabulary intelligible to modern readers would permit. To find more than a passing joke or a lingering sentimentality in Waugh, one must surrender to his world of the spirit and the style in which it is encased. One must, in a sense, accept and undergo the ordeal of Evelyn Waugh as a kind of spiritual exercise. For that, surely, is what Waugh's performance amounts to, looked at as an entity. It does represent a complete oeuvre, I believe, a unity not always sought but somehow usually found. Working with the materials of a dying society, a society in which such values as could be discovered were inevitably blurred and sometimes impossibly opaque. Waugh found coherences and even more—an underlying structure: the "Catholic structure [that] still lies lightly buried beneath every phase of English life; history, topography, law, archaeology everywhere reveal Catholic origins." That revelation of coherence and structure, and of underlying design and purpose, led to another revelation for Waugh: it was possible to give the history and topography of his novels an unmistakable coherence, structure, design, and purpose, and not simply to allow those qualities to appear as the functions of a rigorously measured prose style. An irony that accidentally produced an allegory of sorts gave way to an allegory of irony dedicated to the exploration and even, sometimes, to the explication of Christian values. A covert regard for the ridiculous people with whom he lived out his public-school and college and party-going youth became an open sentiment of support for the soldiers who survived the opening ceremonies of World War II long enough to fight with style—in whatever task, fatuous or glorious, they were assigned—for Christian values, whether or not they understood or even professed those values.
Waugh had discovered some years before he died that, as he explained in the introductory note to The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold (1957), "Hallucination is far removed from loss of reason." He was explaining that he himself had undergone "a brief bout of hallucination" very much like that described in the novel. "The reason works with enhanced power," he went on, "while the materials for it to work on, presented by the senses, are delusions. A story-teller naturally tries to find a plot into which his observations can be fitted." That, it seems to me, is the point of Waugh's work, a point made with more and more clarity and precision as his life wore on, and with more and more warmth that sometimes settled into sentimentality. Hallucinations and all the other demonstrations of human fallibility, Waugh's fables tell us, and tell us with particular strength of conviction at the end, are also opportunities for a show of reason. That is his faith. It makes, finally, even the modern world endurable for him.
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The value of the goods shipped between the U.S. and Canada dropped 12.5 percent in April, thanks to low oil prices, a strong U.S. dollar and a shrinking Canadian economy.
Press Releases
Minister Raitt meets with the Federation of Canadian Municipalities on improving railway transportation
CN extends EcoConnexions From the Ground Up program for three more years to green public properties across Canada
25 Jun 2015
The purchase of ReTrans, an intermodal and truck freight brokerage with more than $500 million in annual revenue, extends the reach of Kuehne + Nagel, the second-largest global 3PL, far beyond U.S. ports and into the nation's industrial heartland.
25 Jun 2015
The Canadian General Freight Index declined slightly in April, but year-over-year base trucking rates were up nearly 7 percent, the index revealed. In a surprise turn, truckload costs for Canadian shippers dropped in April, while domestic and cross-border less-than-truckload rates climbed.
18 Jun 2015
U.S. importers are rapidly moving more containers through Port Metro Vancouver and to Chicago and the upper Midwest, dealing another blow to the ports of Seattle and Tacoma.
11 Jun 2015
The Port of Prince Rupert had another big month in May with total container volume increasing 45.6 percent over May 2014.
10 Jun 2015
A continent-wide roadside truck inspection program may have inadvertently pushed up spot market truck rates last week, when the number of loads far outstripped the number of tractor-trailers available. Many truckers reportedly take time off during the annual inspection blitz.
09 Jun 2015
Alberta manufacturers and retailers can improve their cash flow by getting their factories and distribution centers designated within two newly-establish free trade zones.
09 Jun 2015
Acquisition of Hayward, California-based Haas strengthens Lynden's home delivery and specialized delivery capabilities.
03 Jun 2015
Heavy trucks orders in the US and Canada dropped for the fifth straight month in May, falling 11 percent from April, as the truck market recovered from a sharp surge in sales in 2014, FTR said.
01 Jun 2015
Canadian National Railway is buying more refrigerated intermodal equipment as the prospect of tighter regulation of food supply chains poses a challenge for shippers.
29 May 2015
For companies interested in oil field transportation, now is the time to buy. Low oil prices are encouraging acquisitions across the energy sector, including trucking. Canada's Aveda Transportation and Energy plans to bolster its U.S. expansion by acquiring Hodges Trucking in Oklahoma.


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You can now invite anyone to meet at your favorite Starbucks.
Limited-time feature
38 year old woman | Fort Lauderdale, FL, USA | Seeking women 25-46 within 100 miles
keeping it simple keeps it right
Something about me... Sometimes finding the words or pharses that best describe oneself can be elusive. However, the words of Ralph Marston could not have described me any better. Let the beauty within you unfold into this day. Feel how it is to be alive, in ways you have never experienced before. Imagine what you would do if you could do whatever you imagine. Then let go of your fears and mistaken thoughts of limitation, and live the best of what you imagine. Stop worrying and complaining about what you cannot do. Focus on the miraculous possibilities of what you can do. Let yourself be filled with joy just because you can be. Let yourself feel life's innate goodness in every moment and every experience. Remind yourself how rich you are. Feel the true immensity of your good fortune, and you won't be able to feel any worry or fear. Let your life on the outside be a faithful reflection of the limitless nature of your inner spirit. Live like you truly are, and know how very good and rich it is. ---- Ralph Marston Its real simple. Its real time. Its real life.
Alumni connections , Book club , Movies/Videos , Museums and art , Travel/Sightseeing , Wine tasting
Basketball, Billiards / Pool, Bowling, Football, Tennis / Racquet sports, Walking / Hiking
I exercise 3-4 times per week.
Any place that has a kicking live band, if it's Jazz even better. Love Key West, Vegas and Mexico.
I'm open minded to most things. I enjoy music and movies. Big Star Wars and James Bond Fan. If I really like a movie I will/can watch it over and over. I do believe that everything is most enjoyable if you have someone to share it with.
In my free time I'm open to do almost anything. I can go with the flow. However, I like to read, play raquetball, golf, watch a classic b/w movie, going to cultural exhibits & art festivals.
My last read was "The twelve tribes of Hattie" ; "Hunted"; "NYPD RED"
Z{{Cta}} {{#if HasMoreInfo}} ?{{CtaSecondary}} {{/if}}
|What she is looking for
|5'3" (160cms)
|5'4" (162cms) to 5'7" (170cms)
|Body type:
|About average
|About average
|No preference
|Light brown
|No preference
|No Way
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text:
I'm considering taking a trip with my family to Chincoteague but was told they get tons of mosquitos. Is this true? Is it worse there than in the surrounding areas?
Chincoteague & Assateague Islands are both surrounded by salt marshes - ideal breeding grounds for mosquitoes. That said, there are seldom mosquitoes on the beach and if you use bug repellant when you go into the wooded areas, you should be fine. I haven't noticed many at all this summer so far - knock wood!
My dad always kidded that they were changing the mosquito to the state bird. Their not as bad this year but in a wooded area they'll drive you nuts.
We have a vacation home here....we joke that we should buy stock in Chincoteague Cologne (aka OFF)
Not a problem this year with the lack of rain as they usually hatch perhaps a week after a good rain in marshy areas. If you're concerned, try to rent a vacation home either away from marshy areas or close to the water with it's breezes, and with boardwalks so you do not have to walk or grill in the grass. Screened porches are a must.
This very dry summer was great = very few bugs.
Depends on the where you are and whether there's been some rain in the last week or 10 days as then the eggs can hatch and time of day .... dusk can be problem.
If you stay away from swampy areas, enjoy screened porches, or sit on raised balconies, or stay near the water as was suggested, there's not usually a problem.
Enjoy your visit!
I just returned from a trip over Labor Day weekend with my girlfriends for a girls weekend getaway. I thought I'd bring back my family back (I have 3 young kids) if we liked it. The bugs were awful, so probably will not be taking them there. Mosquitos were everywhere and extremely agressive. We stayed in the Sunset Bay villas (the condo we stayed at was absolutely wonderful) just off of the Main street in Chincoteague. Mosquitos were awful and bothering us just unloading and loading the car right outside the condo--even used bugspray for this. They were also aggressive in following/attacking/biting us on our hike through the Assateague Island trails. Based on other reviews and knowing the area is a marshland, we expected them there and had all sprayed bugspray (with 30% deet) and they were still awful. So much so that we were unable to enjoy the hikes and didn't feel like we could look for the wildlife on the refuge--we were too busy trying to swat away the bugs. Mosquitoes did not seem to be present on the beach area; however, the biting flies were a constant nuisance. I found that being outside was not enjoyable on our trip. Was planning on spending some time relaxing at the beach and the condo's outdoor pool, but did not. Each of my girlfriends came away from the trip with multiple mosquito bites. Therefore, although it is a beautiful place, I would not recommend as a family vacation because of the bugs.
It's too bad that the previous poster came the ONE week that we did have bad, swarming mosquitoes! All summer, really, all summer, there were none. It rained the entire week before Labor Day, including many deluges over the weekend. On Labor Day Monday, I went out to weed my garden (after spraying myself & my clothing) and was unable to stand it for more than 5 minutes. They were awful. After 2 days of the locals begging the town, we heard the welcome, early morning sound of the skeeter plane. After 2 doses and some cooling breezes, they are gone. My entire garden is weeded and I don't have any bites = didn't even have to spray. Sorry Crackzola - timing is every thing and this is the truly the nicest weather ever. You just missed it by one week!
We had our first, and likely last, vacation there from August 5-12, 2012. Mosquitoes were very much worse than we expected. They weren't a problem on the beach, but unfortunately, most of our week was spent off the beach at our rental house. There, we had to fight them off from the moment we opened our car doors. A spray truck came through at one point, and this chased them away for a few hours. But it certainly detracted from what would otherwise have been a good vacation week.
Very strange to hear that, since everyone I have spoken to on the island agrees that there were no skeeters at all this summer until Labor Day weekend. Then it was awful. I guess they just like you Bongo Bass!


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a fast, simple app framework prone to violent crashes
Like every other Rails dev teaching themselves node I decided my first project would be to write my own app framework. Since it took me a day longer to discover express than it should have I actually got it working and then unwisely built some other stuff on on top of it, so now I'm releasing it a poor attempt to justify abusing NPM as my personal code repository/dependency manager. You're welcome to use it for any purpose you see fit, but I really can't recommend that you do, it's not stable, well-tested, well-thought-out, nor, well, well-anything. About the only redeemable features of bobsled are that it has very few dependencies and it uses the the awesomely fast doT.js template library, but even that it perverts with ASP style delimiters (<% %>) instead of mustache.
npm install bobsled
git clone http://github.com/femto113/node-bobsled.git
cd node-bobsled
npm link
var Bobsled = require("./bobsled").Bobsled;
var bobsled = new Bobsled();
bobsled.routes.GET["/helloworld"] = {
"*": function (pathinfo, request, response) {
response.writeHead(200, {"content-type": "text/plain"});


text:
Easy Cheesy Chili Relleno Casserole
|Canned whole green chili peppers
|12 Ounce, drained (Three 4 Ounce Cans)
|Evaporated skim milk
|1 Cup (16 tbs)
|Egg whites
|All purpose flour
|1⁄3 Cup (5.33 tbs)
|Shredded reduced fat monterey jack cheese
|8 Ounce (2 Cups)
|Shredded reduced fat sharp cheddar cheese
|8 Ounce (2 Cups)
|Tomato sauce
|8 Ounce (1 Can)
Preheat the oven to 350°.
Lightly spray a 1 1/2-quart casserole with no-stick spray and set aside.
Wearing disposable gloves or plastic bags over your hands, slit the chili peppers in half lengthwise.
Remove and discard the seeds from the peppers.
Rinse and drain the peppers on paper towels.
In a medium bowl, beat together the milk, egg whites and flour until smooth; set aside.
In another bowl, combine the Monterey Jack and cheddar cheeses.
Set 1/2 cup of the cheese mixture aside for the topping.
To assemble the casserole, layer half each of the chili peppers, the cheese mixture and egg mixture.
Repeat the layers with the remaining chili peppers, cheese mixture and egg mixture.
Pour the tomato sauce over the top, then bake for 30 minutes.
Sprinkle with the reserved 1/2 cup cheese mixture and bake about 20 minutes more or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean.


text:
It's 1979 and twelve year old Miranda, while helping her mother prepare for a stint on The $20,000 Pyramid, is thinking of all the events that happened the previous fall. If it was up to her, she'd probably not think about them. But then there are the notes asking her to do just that, to write down everything that happened last fall. Notes telling her that someone is coming to save both a friend and their own lives. Notes from a time traveler.
''When You Reach Me'' is a 2009 novel by Rebecca Stead with allusions to ''AWrinkleInTime''. Despite its time traveling elements and mystery, the book is at heart a ComingOfAge novel that subtly deals with social issues, racism, and the quiet dangers of late seventies New York. It won numerous awards, including the NewberyMedal.
!!This story provides examples of:
* BerserkButton: A childhood, non-violent version when Julia goes off on Miranda after Annemarie has a seizure at school. She calls Miranda an idiot about seven times in the course of a minute.
* BittersweetEnding: Even Miranda understands the terrible burden [[spoiler: Marcus]] will feel when he reads her letter and learns that [[spoiler: he watched his own death]] making a tragedy even worse for him.
* CantTakeAnythingWithYou: One of the later notes hints at this, saying "A man can only hold so much paper in his mouth."
* ChekhovsGunman: The [[spoiler: laughing man]] and his inexplicable actions suddenly make sense when you find out that he was [[spoiler: Marcus, traveling back in time from the future in order to save Sal's life]].
* ChildProdigy: Marcus. He reads Einstein's General relativity for fun at age 11. He also debated temporal paradoxes from the book ''Literature/{{A Wrinkle in Time}}'' with his second grade teacher.
* {{Cloudcuckoolander}}: Marcus on occasion. He doesn't always notice people around him or where he is.
* CrazyHomelessPeople: The Laughing Man, though how much is an act and how much is real is in question. This makes a nice ShoutOut to ''AWrinkleInTime,'' where Mrs. Whatsit is described as looking, in day-to-day life, like a homeless tramp.
* DeathByNewberyMedal
* DisappearedDad: Neither Miranda nor Sal has a father. Miranda even comments that because she never have a father, she doesn't feel the need for one.
* FantasyForbiddingFather: Julia's parents pick out her bedroom decor and will not let her decorate her room in her preferred space posters.
* FirstKiss: Knock, knock. Oh, it's you. Kiss.
* FridgeLogic: an InUniverse example, discussed in regards to ''Literature/AWrinkleInTime.'' The three Mrs. W's promise Meg and the boys that they should be back "five minutes before you left." But as Marcus points out, if this is true then Meg should have seen herself returning, because Meg&co. landed in the garden, which in plain sight from wall, where they left. Marcus is arguing a StableTimeLoop is in effect, while Miranda (very defensive of her favorite author) maintains that the future hadn't happened yet, so of course they wouldn't be seen.
** There is a simpler explanation, which no one InUniverse notices: Mrs. Whatsit says they'll be back five minutes before they left, ''unless'' "something goes terribly wrong." And something does indeed go terribly wrong.
* HowWeGotHere: The story starts in the present (and told in the present tense). The story is Miranda narrating the story that she would tell from Sal getting punched to the fateful chase and death as that was the story she was tasked to write down.
* [[IdiosyncraticEpisodeNaming Idiosyncratic Chapter Naming]]: Most chapters are references to the $20,000 Pyramid with "Things that.." or "...Things". The few chapters that aren't references deal with the notes.
* InformedRealLifeFame: In an in-universe example, Miranda experiences this at work while watching a taping of the $20,000 ''{{Pyramid}}''. ("The celebrities take the stage. I've never heard of either one of them.")
* InvisibleParents: While Annemarie's father is prominent in the few scenes he is in, her mother is only referred to in one scene. Julia's father is never seen while her mother is in the closet (her meditation room) when Miranda is at Julia's house one day.
* IJustWantToHaveFriends: Sal was a Tybe B. Ironically, he gave up his one friendship in order to get more friends.
* IHatePastMe
* OOCIsSeriousBusiness: Wheelie, the school secretary knows all of the students, what class they are in, and even who is absent. But when the police come looking for Marcus, Miranda realizes just how bad the situation is when Wheelie asks them to repeat his name and ask what grade he is in.
* PottyEmergency: Alice Evans. She waits too long to ask to go to the point she does the {{Potty Dance}}. Implied that she has encountered {{Potty Failure}} as she is the only sixth grader with a change of clothes at school. Classmates love to keep her talking with them when she has to go just to watch her suffer.
* SetRightWhatOnceWentWrong or StableTimeLoop: It all depends on how you believe the "Save your friend's life and my own" statement was fulfilled.
* TitleDrop: The fist note has the phrase "I will not be myself when I reach you".
* TwoGirlsAndAGuy: Miranda, Annemarie, Colin. Is there a {{Love Triangle}}? In Miranda's mind, yes. In reality, who knows?
* UnfortunateNames: Miranda hates that she was named after a criminal. Her mother was in law school in 1967, when Miranda was born.
* UnnamedParent: Miranda's mother. Surprising as two close friends of the mother are also frequent characters.
** While we find out Annemarie's father's name is Jerry, her mother goes unnamed.
* WritersCannotDoMath: The Tuesday after Thanksgiving is referred to as the first cold day in December. This takes place in 1978 and Thanksgiving was oN November 23, meaning that Tuesday would be on Nov. 28. Marcus exacerbates this by telling Miranda to imagine she went to the movies the previous week, "December whatever". While he is a Cloudcuckoolander, Miranda does not correct him, which she is known to do.


text:
For over 30 years NHBS has successfully worked with business owners, their attorneys, and business buyers to simplify the complexities of selling a business. From New Hampshire's southern border to its northern mountains, we broker business sales in a diverse array of business types including manufacturing, retail, service, and hospitality as well as commercial real estate. We have a Division called Business Transition Strategies, where we assist companies to prepare for either exit strategies or growth strategies. This division is also where we handle mid-level M&A transactions. Check our web site for further description.
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