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Thomas Cecil Gray, anaesthetist: born Liverpool 11 March 1913; Demonstrator in Anaesthesia, Liverpool University 1942, 1944-46, Reader in Anaesthesia, and Head of Department of Anaesthesia 1947-59, Professor of Anaesthesia 1959-76 (Emeritus), Dean of Postgraduate Medical Studies 1966-70, Dean of the Faculty of Medicine 1970-76; Editor, British Journal of Anaesthesia 1948-64; President, Anaesthesia Section, Royal Society of Medicine 1955-56; President, Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland 1957-59; Dean of the Faculty of Anaesthetists, Royal College of Surgeons of England 1964-67; CBE 1976; married 1937 Marjorie Hely (died 1978; one son, one daughter), 1979 Pamela Corning (one son); died Formby, Merseyside 5 January 2008.
T. Cecil Gray, Professor of Anaesthesia at Liverpool University from 1959 to 1976, was one of the most influential and charismatic pioneers of this budding medical specialty in post-war Britain and abroad. Among his many achievements was the introduction of the muscle relaxant d-tubocurarine chloride, derived from the South American arrow poison curare, into general anaesthesia. It opened a vast scope of new options and possibilities for the rapid and dramatic development of surgery.
This advance was based on years of research into the effects and safety of a class of drugs that are still in use today to relax the abdominal and thoracic muscles – essential for the performance of major surgery. Before the introduction of these drugs, relaxation of the muscles had to be provided by very deep anaesthesia with vapours such as ether, which caused a dangerously prolonged and unpleasant recovery. Mortality after anaesthesia was high.
Gray was not the first to use relaxants in anaesthesia, but previously they had been used somewhat reluctantly, as mere supplements to the standard anaesthetic agents to provide increased relaxation of muscles as and when required by surgeons. The dose of relaxant had been very much limited by the fear that in depressing the action of the muscles of respiration, breathing would be adversely affected.
However, Gray knew that anaesthetists had for several years been supporting respiration by inflating the lungs. He was able to show that by using larger doses of relaxants which completely stopped the breathing and by replacing spontaneous respiration with "manual ventilation of the lungs" the amount of drugs needed to provide sleep and freedom from the effects of reflex reaction to surgery could be greatly reduced.
Patients were markedly safer during surgery and woke up almost immediately after the relaxant was reversed and the anaesthetic stopped. This turned out to be a paradigm shift and Gray's methods came to be recognised worldwide as the "Liverpool Technique". It took a decade or more of careful research, however, and the publication of several classic papers to convince anaesthetists of the advantages and safety of the new methods.
Equally pioneering was Cecil Gray's contribution to postgraduate education in anaesthesia, in particular, the organisation of the first "day-release" course in Britain for junior anaesthetists preparing for their examinations. Gray's course attracted trainees to Merseyside from all over the UK, Europe, the Far East, the Middle East, Australia, Africa and India.
Born in Liverpool in 1913, the only son of Thomas Gray and his wife Ethel (*ée Unwin), Thomas Cecil Gray was educated at the Benedictine college of Ampleforth in Yorkshire. On leaving school, thinking he might have a vocation, he joined the Ampleforth community as a novice monk. However, within two months, as he has recorded with characteristic good humour, it became clear to all but himself that, if he had a vocation, it was not as a man of the cloth. Thus he returned home to Liverpool, to the quiet disappointment of his mother and the unmistakable joy of his father.
His education at Ampleforth having had a scientific slant, Gray then applied to read Medicine at Liverpool University. After graduating in 1937 – and engaged to be married – he joined a general practice as an assistant doctor. Early in 1939, encouraged and supported by his father, he purchased a practice in Wallasey. At that time anaesthesia in most hospitals was administered by general practitioners who, although the remuneration was minimal, welcomed the occasional part-time association with the hospitals and their personnel.
Gray, quickly fascinated by anaesthesia, soon came under the influence of R.J. Minnitt, another GP, but one with an established anaesthetic practice at the Liverpool Northern Hospital. Minnitt, seemingly recognising promise and commitment, suggested that Gray should work with him for two half-days a week and thus accumulate the 500 anaesthetics – 250 for major surgery and 250 for minor surgery – required for the Diploma in Anaesthetics (DA).
With the outbreak of the Second World War, Gray was rejected for service on account of the asthma which had blighted his life since childhood. On obtaining the DA in 1941, he sold his practice and became, like Minnitt, one of the few full-time anaesthetists in Liverpool. At the same time, he accepted an appointment as part-time Demonstrator in Anaesthesia at Liverpool University.
However, in November 1942, feeling fit enough for service, he volunteered for another medical and within a short time was on his way by troopship to join a mobile neurosurgical unit in North Africa. In 1944 he became critically ill with bronchopneumonia and, having been treated and saved by injections of what he described as "trial samples" of crystalline penicillin, he was invalided out of active service and sent home to England. After a short convalescence, he resumed his hospital and university practice.
Another hospital anaesthetist at that time, John Halton (1903-68), was on friendly terms with the officers at the American Air Force base at Burtonwood, a few miles outside Liverpool. Both he and Gray had heard of the use of the muscle relaxant curare by Harold Griffiths and others in Canada and the United States, and he persuaded his American friends to procure some for him and Gray with which to experiment. The curare was forthcoming and the eventual result of their research was the joint paper "A Milestone in Anaesthesia" presented to the Section of Anaesthesia of the Royal Society of Medicine in May 1946.
In 1947, Gray was appointed full-time Reader in Anaesthesia at Liverpool and, within a few years, he had created one of the leading anaesthetic departments in the country such that, in 1959, the university rewarded him with a personal chair. Under Gray and the talented team he had enticed into the department, Liverpool attracted anaesthetists from around the world who came to learn and practice the Liverpool Technique. Many returned home to establish their own departments of anaesthesia based on the Liverpool model.
Gray was elected a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons of England and the Royal College of Physicians as well as the Colleges of Anaesthesia of Australia and New Zealand and the Faculty of Anaesthetists of the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland. He received the Gold Medal of the Royal Society of Medicine in London and awards from numerous societies including several in the US. He edited several textbooks which went to many editions and was Editor in Chief of the British Journal of Anaesthesia from 1948 to 1964.
In 1966, in recognition of his commitment to and concern for postgraduate education, Gray was appointed Postgraduate Dean of the Faculty of Medicine at Liverpool University, the first occupant of this post in Merseyside. He closed a distinguished academic career as Dean of the Faculty of Medicine, 1970-76.
Cecil Gray was a strong, independent and open-minded character, a proud Liverpudlian and a devout Catholic. An enthusiastic host and an entertaining guest, he had a passion for music and opera and possessed a library of books that reflected his wide, eclectic tastes. He was also an accomplished pianist. In retirement he took an active part in university affairs, regularly attended the University Court until a few years ago. He continued writing well into his eighties and in 2003 published Dr Richard Formby, a biography of the founder of the Liverpool Medical School.
Martin Leuwer, Raymond Ahearn and Tony Gilbertson
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Did you know THIS about Joan Rivers?
Joan Rivers is being remembered by friends and fans as a comedy legend and a pioneer for women in show business, but a charity that the late comedian worked with is remembering her for the love and compassion she showed to the people she helped.
Rivers worked closely with God's Love We Deliver which aims to improve the nutritional well-being of people living with serious illnesses. She volunteered with group for 25 years, delivering meals and serving on its Board of Directors. Following the news of her death, the organization released a statement saying, "Joan brought love, compassion and humor to every delivery she made and every event she supported. Joan's impact on God's Love will be felt always by our clients, volunteers, staff and community. Rest in peace, Joan. You will forever be in our hearts." The organization also announced that it is naming a bakery after her.
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The group is introducing some songs from his new album.
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The group is introducing some songs from their new album.
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There are two reasons you should take a good look at today's 75% discount on Saint's Row: The Third. First, it's genuinely a fantastic game with sharp graphics, tight controls, …Continue reading →
S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Call of Pripyat
- RATING: M - Mature
- DEVELOPER(S): GSC Game World
- PUBLISHER: Viva Media LLC
- RELEASE DATE: Feb 2, 2010
The events of S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Call of Pripyat unfold shortly after the end of S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Shadow of Chernobyl. Having discovered about the open path to the Zone center, the government decides to hold a large-scale military "Fairway" operation aimed to take the CNPP under control. According to the operation's plan, the first military group is to conduct an air scouting of the territory to map out the detailed layouts of anomalous fields location. Thereafter, making use of the maps, the main military forces are to be dispatched. Despite thorough preparations, the operation fails. Most of the avant-garde helicopters crash. In order to collect information on reasons behind the operation failure, Ukraine's Security Service send their agent into the Zone center. From now on everything depends on the player.


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DC x Stupid Magazine Raglan T-Shirt Black White
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An amazing collaberation with the now defunct Big Brother Magazine.
Founded in 1992 by Steve Rocco the mag will be forever fondly remembered in the skateboard world.
Classic crewneck 3/4 sleeved Raglan t-shirt.
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Beijing Huiqiao Hotel puts you within a 10-minute drive of Beijing International Convention Center and Ditan Park. Guests indulge in massages, then grab a bite to eat at the restaurant. Also, Lama Temple and Beijing National Stadium are within a short drive.


text: Algerian asylum seeker Amine Ahnini, now 19, tells how he feared for his life when he was pinned to the ground, grabbed around the neck and restrained by five people after stealing a sandwich in a Sainsbury's supermarket in Canterbury. CCTV footage captures the incident for which Ahnini was convicted of assault. He is appealing against the conviction


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Have a go at diving in the safety of a pool
Learn to dive at a local club, at a pace that suits you
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Already a diver or instructor? Just cross over!
SAA diver training provides you with both the theoretical knowledge and the practical experience to take you all the way from a trainee diver up to the highest possible diving qualification.
An Elementary Diver Trainee will complete their pool and classroom training with qualified SAA instructors, before progressing to open water. The open water training will be carried out by a qualified SAA Open water diving instructor (or above) to a maximum depth of 10m.
An Open Water Diver has attained the Elementary Diver qualification, and gained additional practical diving experience within the safety of their club. They can now dive under the supervision of a Dive leader or above, to depths up to 20m.
A Club Diver is qualified to dive in open water and may dive with others certified to Club Diver or higher. A Club Diver may dive to a maximum depth of 35m.
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CR ENGLAND4701 W 2100 SALT LAKE CITY, Utah U.S.A.
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#1 UPDATE EX-employee responds
SUBMITTED: Thursday, December 23, 2010POSTED: Thursday, December 23, 2010
kevin, I also worked for CRE, I leased a truck threw them they also promised me more miles. I was running teams. Me and my second seat signed the lease when my second seat decided to get off the truck truck for personal reasons they wouldn't take him off my lease they told me in order for them to take him off the lease I would have to quiet as well. So I did. I lived in Arkansas at the time I called my DM and asked where I could take my truck he told me to take it to the nearest termal or to a dealer ship so I took the truck to a dealer ship cause it was closer than going all the way to texas. They put truck abandment on me as well.. I went to work for Centeral Refrigeration which is a family company they also screwed me over they gave me a truck that was falling apart I had no power stearing, the U-joint was going out and the drive shaft was falling out and I had a major air leak. I left Texas and went down to Alanta Georiga where they shut me down cause of me not having any power steering. Then I got sent to slc termal they put my truck out of comishen cause of the rest of the stuff that was wrong with my truck. They put me in another truck and sent me on my way into a ice storm I shut my truck down cause of black ice. The night dispatch told me that was fine to call my dm the next day so I did he told me that he wanted my butt back on the road he didn't care what the road conditions was that the load had to be delivered so I took a chance and I started driving when I made it close to my house I cleaned out my truck and took the truck to a dealer ship and centeral refrigeration put abandment on my dac as well as cre did. So I know have 2 abandments on me as well as 2 preventables. Then preventables are cause my dm told me move my truck and I slid into a fuel pump. and the other one was because I got stuck in a lot where centeral sent me. Now I cant find a driving job cause of the preventables and abandments that are on my dac. The trucking companies keeps telling that the insurance says im a to high of a risk... all because of the cre and centeral refrigeration.
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Mike's PartyMature
The road was dark yet shiny and, as the figure walked through the mizzle and over the crest of the hill, the clouds seemed to whirl mere inches above his head. This area was called the Four Winds, and the roads and houses huddled high above the rest of the city, while the slightest breeze grew strong and sharp this close to the sky. The air sliced through the clouds, forming a million dusky patterns typically ignored when the sun had set. Dark backlighting dark. Shade washing through shade. Hypnotic.
Joining dramatic sky to damp asphalt, and walking quickly, Paul Millar added his washed out, more grey than black, denim jeans and scuffed leather jacket to the patterns above as he descended down the avenue. He strode with casual purpose towards Mike's parent's small bungalow, nestled between rows of uniform houses, with uniform curtains, uniform gardens and uniform families. The light from dozens of television screens scraped through the windows and Venetian blinds to caress his long hair, highlighting the anticipation on his face. The party had probably started already.
Paul was a young man, almost 19, and was enjoying his last summer before University. This was a time of experimentation, with the pressure of school and exams finally just a dim memory, and a time to find a place in society. Somewhere to belong, with people he cared for, and who cared about him. His regular visits to Mike's house had become the central focus of his summer, and each long walk ended in an evening where belonging seemed a possibility, even a reality. The small set of rooms upstairs in the bungalow was becoming an island for him, in an otherwise changing and increasingly empty world. The feeling of being dissociated from the rest of humanity which had been trickling into his mind over the last year was becoming a well of discontent within him. Life had really only begun for Paul, but he could not dislodge the fear that what lay beyond this summer was 50 years of uncertainty and day upon day without direction. He recalled the words spoken to him just the night before, as he was accosted by a drunk at his local bar.
"I remember when I was young, about your age my boy..." The unshaven man leaned uncomfortably close to Paul as he stood waiting for service at the bar. There was a disturbing smell surrounding Sam. It was earthy and moist, but not in the pleasant way of forests or freshly turned soil. He smelled of old, sweaty peat. His skin, wrinkled far beyond his years – he was born in the '50s – added to this effect, and looked like a scale model of a fetid bog. Every crevice and fold on his neck was accentuated by the dark shadows of dirt trapped within, and thick stubble burst from the cracks like strange, alien crops. For Sam, water was useful only for the distillation of rum, and liquid was plainly something you poured down your throat rather than wiping across your skin. A sudden smile crashed across his face, revealing a filthy glint in his eye and teeth that would frighten a shark.
"Oh yes, Paul my boy. I remember when I was your age!" He cackled, his laugh making Sid James sound like a choirboy, before dissolving into a rack of phlegm-fuelled coughing. His smile remained throughout, growing wilder by the second.
"I'm sure you do, Sam… Sure you're still young!" Paul was convinced that the strange patina of dirt encasing Sam's skin was about to detach and leap through the air to smother him. He tried again to catch the eye of the barman. Behind the dusty bottles that no-one drank, just above the obligatory Jameson's whiskey mirror, Paul noticed a photograph of a proud-looking racing pigeon. Rounded and smug, the bizarre picture seemed oddly appropriate given his current company. Sam started to laugh again, and those sitting in the more comfortable seats around the bar glanced with nervous anxiety towards him, perched on his barstool like a sooty gargoyle wearing a worn tweed coat.
"Oh, Paul… I'm not through yet… but I'm not young like you anymore!" He clutched Paul's wrist, too quickly for Paul to pull away. His hands were strong like thick claws, and his nails looked like he'd just clambered up from his grave for a swift half.
"Great to see you by the way. You're a lovely man!" Paul smiled whilst his skin crawled, and Sam tried to look sincere. He was not convincing. Paul managed to attract the barman.
"Another pint there?" Paul nodded patiently, whilst Sam released him to root through his jacket pocket for something. The claw produced a handful of coins that would probably need autoclaved before he could legally spend them. He dumped them onto the counter, conveniently into a puddle of beer which at least made them shine, before ordering dark rum.
"No… I remember being young." Conversation with Sam was quite a Zen experience. Given time and patience, enlightenment would be reached. If not enlightenment, there was at least the hope of the end of a sentence.
"I was about 20, oh yes. Your age. I thought that the world was full of opportunity." He gazed over the counter thoughtfully, perhaps looking for the reflection of a younger, cleaner Sam. "All I had to do was do my best – understand?" Paul nodded, and took a sip of his beer. "You're a lovely man, by the way! It's great to see you again." A cool breeze swept hopefully past them as the pub door was opened, and Paul glanced behind him to see a tiny, middle-aged man enter lugging a large speaker at least as tall as himself. This was ominous – The Homestead had been suffering an infestation of dire musicians calmly murdering songs with the help of backing tracks and dodgy microphones. However, the real investment was in the amplifiers, merely so no corner of the pub would be safe from 'Born to be Wild' in the style of Daniel O'Donnell. Paul sensed the need to leave after this pint.
"No… your best. That's what everyone said!" Sam was oblivious to the draught and, to be honest, probably looked forward to the music. He could cackle at each missed high note without annoying others, and he'd been known to spend whole evenings confusing serious singers with hilarious comedians. Paul had, in fact, often wondered why Sam wasn't barred for life. Apart from being the biggest income for The Homestead, it was likely that Sam was physically attached to the stool. Paul nodded his agreement.
"Yeah… that's what they tell me. Do your best!" Sam smiled as Paul agreed with him, sipped his rum and rasped out an amused laugh. The claw reattached to Paul's arm, and Sam leaned forward conspiratorially.
"Anyway." Eye contact. "That's all rubbish."
Serious glance dissolved into another crazy laugh, as though Sam had remembered a particularly funny joke. "There's nothing out there for you, my boy." He laughed again. "Great to see you, though. You're a lovely man! No, nothing out there at all. No-one gives a shit if you do your best or not." He lifted his glass again, the surface of the sticky rum seemingly waiting for an unfortunate sabre-tooth or mammoth to wander by. "I tried so hard when I was your age… Worked my arse off, and got nowhere. Worked so hard I ended up in the madhouse for three months. Kicked out of work, and my wife left me." His laugh died a little, and the light caught the corner of his eye as though a tear was forming. "Said I'd had a nervous breakdown… Me… nervous breakdown!" The moisture in his eye suddenly dried as though any self-respecting tear wouldn't be seen dead on Sam's crusty cheek, and the face split open in yellow grin. The dry, mad laugh escaped again. "Nervous breakdown!"
Nervous breakdown my ass, thought Paul. Maybe schizophrenia.
"But I'm alright now… oh yes. Fine now! Got my house, my diggers and my rum!" He released Paul's arm and looked away, chuckling darkly to himself. A discordant, computerised 'bossa' beat started from the corner of the room, and Paul drained his pint. "You're a lovely man… great to talk with you again!" Sam smiled and lit a possibly recycled cigarette butt.
"You too, Sam… see you again." Paul decided to leave before the "history of bad music" lesson started in earnest, and he patted Sam on the shoulder as he walked to the door. "Take care."
The words "lovely man" followed Paul into the cool, dark evening, leaving this strange philosopher to his rum.
As he walked towards Mike's door, with the electric bell dangling from wires through the letterbox, he thought of crazy Sam. It struck a chord, albeit a chord struck on a un-tuned £10 electric guitar clattering through a cheap stereo using spaghetti for leads. He had been feeling increasingly alone in the world since he finished school, and the euphoria of passing his exams only lasted for a few moments. He'd spent fourteen years in formal education merely to receive a slightly torn strip of paper, with his grades detailed in faded dot matrix print. He felt cheated by it all. They were just letters. "B" standing for "not as Bored as I could've been". "C" for "Crap revision". "D" for "Didn't really care that much." Measures of how bothered he was when revision couldn't be avoided anymore. Ways of avoiding parental disappointment. Means to make mum and dad smile. Tick a box. Answer a question to get a plastic piece of pie, "I'll take Science and Technology", please. Figure out "10 across" in the Sixth Form centre. The Independent, of course, because you are. Aren't you?
Am I?
The work. The exams. The boring evenings trying to suck dull facts into an unwilling brain. They seemed to be a waste. He'd got his place in University because of them, and that was probably something to look forward to, but beyond this he felt that his ties to most of his life were cut by a single, grotty sheet of paper. "Thanks for your time… here you go. Close the door on the way out." Anticlimax. 'A' grade anticlimax, although a couple of 'A' grades might have lessened the blow a little. Paul recalled endless afternoons the previous May, drinking coffee, watching crap TV, and experimenting with the sandwich maker. Each evening brought the exams closer, and every evening seemed too early to worry.
So much potential. The chance to get top marks. So much good bad TV. The chance to see what ham and strawberry tasted like. So many detailed revision notes. Such opportunities to do medicine or veterinary studies.
Paul simply couldn't be bothered.
He gingerly lifted the bellpush, always aware of Mike's younger brother. The comic explosives expert. He recalled the previous week, when he and others had been rushed into the avenue by Mike's brother to witness… well, a small lego house. It was a simple bungalow model, with a short, pretty chimney, several lego trees which had only come onto the market – previously you had to build your own trees from green bricks, a few of the rare and precious 2x2 blocks, and a lot of LSD to see them as plant life – and two lonely lego figures outside the front door. Paul sat on the wall next to the garden, while Ross fiddled with a few bits and bobs around the chimney before lighting a match cautiously. He then grinned disturbingly and ran back into the driveway. The others watched as Ross jumped over, then behind, the wall and said shortly "you're probably too close." Mike and Paul smiled at Ross before an enormous "boom" erupted from the lego house. What had been a lego house. Paul remembered picking pieces of plastic out of his hair, as he pressed the buzzer again.
Somewhere in the bungalow an electric bell buzzed.
So much stress, and such an anticlimax. Paul needed a party.
Mike's brother opened the front door, and grunted in a disinterested way. Down the hall Paul saw the weird, watery lights coming from Ross's room. Filled with aquaria, and a variety of homemade bomb-making equipment for blowing up cakes, lego houses or Mike's friends, Ross wasn't part of the upstairs collective. Paul walked through the house and along the extension corridor that led to Mike's rooms.
The first thing one notices as you climb the narrow stairs to Mike's room is the smell. A musty, oriental scent tumbles over the stairs from the incense burning above. The light is subdued, and voices can be heard above the music beyond the door. Paul opened it and entered, passing from the damp, cold world outside, through the airlock of normal household life, into the warmth and sensual assault of Mike's room. The party was already in full swing, although Mike's parties never swung. They immersed.
Candles, scattered randomly to illuminate some areas with a bright yellow flicker, and others with the gentlest of coloured tints, lighted the room. Tiny specks of red fire indicated the incense sticks, with smoke coiling from their tips and drifting toward the dusky ceiling. Furniture, old and used, appeared to grow from areas in the room –organically becoming part of the atmosphere. Ornaments were everywhere – not the pristine, well-dusted variety found in the neat rooms downstairs – rather an assortment of jaded baubles, their poor condition adding the beauty of experience to their appeal. Others had handled them, enjoyed them, yet annoyed them with dusters and polish. Now they were home. Gathered over several years from second hand shops, auctions, and skips, Mike had an obsession about such items. Each reflected a facet of him, and they were rich in number and variety.
Then there were the people. A huddle of girls, sitting on the mattress that served as Mike's bed, acknowledged Paul with a smile as he entered and looked for a spot to rest. Clad in flowing, delicate skirts and tops, made all the more special by the rich, dark patterns of the cloth, these were the 'hippy chicks' – the permanent additions to these parties. Unlike most, these girls were proud to be intelligent, interested, artistic, and each was the more beautiful for it. No sexes at Mike's place. People were just that; people. There was sex, from time to time, and relationships blossomed occasionally, growing out of the spiced incense into the real world. But if the romance didn't continue, bitterness would be stifled by the peace in this room. People were like that here. You could leave things be, and enjoy even sad memories. The girls were eating toast.
Paul reflected momentarily on how remarkable this was, before taking in the remainder of the large room. Lounging around, either on the floor, on soft pillows or beanbags, were others. Young men, with long, shabby hair, each dressed uniquely, which was the only uniform code for the group, sat listening to the music, talking quietly, or reading as Paul took a seat next to the bookshelf by the window. On hot summer days folk would climb through onto the flat extension roof, and play guitars or just rest in the arms of the warm sun. Paul, Mike and Wig once played a short gig for a group of pigeons.
It was well received.
In the middle of the room, slightly to one side, sat Mike, reading through an LP cover with another girl. A wave and a smile towards Paul. He was a man with an electric spirit – a magnetic personality that drew all to him, notwithstanding his gentle demeanour and soft smile. He was the core of the collective, more than a friend, and intimate with everyone. Mike made 'people persons' look antisocial. When someone entered his sphere of reality, Mike's gravity did the rest. Within minutes deep bonds would be forged, and life before Mike was almost forgotten.
If Mike sparked flames in those
around him on his own, when everyone was together in his presence firestorms of
belonging burst into being. This was the essence of Mike's parties, and this
was why Paul felt so drawn towards them. They shone brightly in the bleak
emptiness and anticlimax of life, and detached souls arrived and became
addicted. Young, filled with passion, but trapped in a straitjacket world.
Mike's parties made you free.


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Wage war against cold chills with this super warm and comfortable Flint Shredder tech fleece from Neff. A thick bonded fleece lining in a water-resistant color blocked grey, black, and red tech fleece shell provides bear hugging warmth and protection in a comfortable yet mobile Neff Shred fit.
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Haulin' takes the series back to its truck simulation roots. Do you have the juice to go from gearjammer to boss man in the trucking business?Description:
Do you have the juice to go from gearjammer to boss man in the trucking business? Climb in the can and find out! You're steering the whole operation, from choosing the trucks and trailers to hiring the drivers in your fleet. Life on the road is filled with obstacles. Avoid the hazards and you'll be haulin' it in. But, make too many wrong turns along the way and it could be a lost cause. That fire in your belly is gonna take you straight to the top. Take risks, cash in and upgrade your rig. Work hard and you might end up driving the whole show!18 Wheels of Steel: Haulin' takes the series back to its truck simulation roots. With a much higher emphasis on the trucking business side of the game, the player's driving skills as well as business instincts are constantly challenged.
|18 Wheels Of Steel Haulin, Truck Game, Truck Sim, Truck Simulation, Driving, Racing
|WinME , 2000 , 95/98 , Win98 , Windows2000 , XP , WinXP
|CPU 1.4 GHz, DirectX 9.0c, 256 MB RAM, 560 MB HD space, 3D Accelerator 64MB
Drive your truck across a realistic depiction of Europe, visit its beautiful cities, pick up a variety of cargos, and deliver them on time!
Put your driving skills to the ultimate test with truck maneuvering challenges that serve as a practical exam as you strive to gain your licence. Explore a large open city in the free roaming section and complete a great selection.
Travel across Europe as king of the road, a trucker who delivers important cargo across impressive distances! If you've got what it takes to be part of an elite trucking force, get behind the wheel and prove it!
Put your driving skills to the ultimate test with over 50 individual truck driving challenges. Choose from 7 available trucks, work with a wide variety of cargo.
OceanDive is a unique combination of a 3D marine life screensaver and a scuba diving exploration game. Behold the amazing undersea world of the living ocean! OceanDive takes you on a journey through the eyes of a scuba-diver.
Drive your truck across the UK! 7 types of trucks, over 60 types of cargo, 18 major cities connected by motorways as well as small roads.
In Bus Driver PC driving game, your job is to transport passengers around an attractive and realistic city. You must drive to a timetable on a planned route, whilst obeying traffic rules and taking care not to upset or injure your passengers.
MBA Course Software Strategy Framework Model, Strategic Management, MBA models and frameworks, business
First ASP.NET server control that creates Visual Studio style docking panels. Can auto-hide/slide-open/maximize/pin tabbed-panels. Appearance customizable via CSS&Themes. Works with MS ASP.NET AJAX. Supports all major browsers, quirks/strict modes.
3D motorcycle racing game. It's time to become the best motorcycle racer!
Access worldwide offline maps with navigation & driving directions! Travel easy!
The game Need For Extreme presents a breathtaking variety of arcade races. You drive a racing car and your task is to finish first. Thirst for speed and danger makes the game more captivating. Join your counterparts from all over the world!
3d taxi racing game. Taxis are designed for a comfortable ride from one side of town to another. But the owners of these cars have decided to arrange taxis to race through the night city! Take part in a crazy taxi race.
The very basic of a java 3D car driving game, freely expandable including a built-in basic 3D object editor and a more complex road+objects editor. Source code available,no OpenGL.
3D quad bike racing game. It's time to accept the challenge and to win these crazy races. These four-wheeled monsters can overcome a track of any difficulty. A variety of game modes, several kinds of ATVs and incredible levels will surprise the most
3D racing sandbox game. There is a city with lots of cars and different tasks at your disposal. Take part in illegal races around the city, go away from the police and make money for new cars.
Game collection with 10 free racing games: "Alex Trax", "Diesel and Death", "Dirt Bike", "Grand Prix Challenge 2", "Knugg Rally", "Monster Truck Trials", "Shadow Factory", "Stunt Dirt Bike", "Turbo Spirit", "VS Racing". No Setup Requirements!
3D truck racing game. These trucks are designed specifically to overcome the rugged trails. Nothing can stop them to take part in this night race. Come to the finish line first to unlock all 12 trucks and levels.
3D monster truck racing game. Take part in races of two types: Sprint and Capture the Flag. Earn points and upgrade your monster truck. Take first place in the top list of the best monster truck drivers!
MBA Course Software Strategy Framework Model, Strategic Management, MBA models and frameworks, business
First ASP.NET server control that creates Visual Studio style docking panels. Can auto-hide/slide-open/maximize/pin tabbed-panels. Appearance customizable via CSS&Themes. Works with MS ASP.NET AJAX. Supports all major browsers, quirks/strict modes.
© 2000-2015 Xentrik.Net hui na obed


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Trudy Halla Named a Top Woman in FinancePrint PDFShare
MINNEAPOLIS, MINN. – Trudy J. Halla has been named to the 2007 "Top Women in Finance" list by Finance and Commerce. To read her feature profile in the publication's special "Top Women in Finance" insert, click here .
Halla was selected on the basis of her overall impact at Briggs and Morgan, significant accomplishments within the firm and financial industry, community involvement, and how she carries out Briggs' values.
A snapshot of Trudy Halla, the attorney:
- More than 28 years of public finance experience;
- 2006 transactions totaled more than $1 billion;
- In practice, has represented nearly 100 municipalities (including four of the state's five largest cities), and many port authorities, lenders, investment banking firms, nonprofits and corporations;
- Work has involved financing transactions in 24 states, including Minnesotaand the Upper Midwest.
Halla is also a celebrated leader and mentor. She has served in a management capacity at Briggs and Morgan for more than 15 years. In the legal community, she remains active with the Hennepin County Bar Association, Minnesota State Bar Association, Minnesota Women Lawyers, National Association of Bond Lawyers, American Bar Association, National Conference of Bar Presidents, and the National Conference of Women's Bar Associations.
As for community impact, Halla has touched organizations such as the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, Junior League of Saint Paul, Minneapolis YWCA along with a number of others.
Among her other accolades, Halla is a fellow of the American College of Bond Counsel. She also recently accepted Minnesota Women Lawyer's Myra Bradwell Award. Her recognition for community involvement, professionalism and dedication to the legal field greatly reflect the values of Briggs and Morgan: excellence in service and standards.


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Extension > Youth Development > Our staff> Kate Walker
Kate Walker
Associate Extension professor and Extension specialist, youth work practice, and editor of the Journal of Youth Development
Current work, research and interests
Kate provides leadership to the understanding and development of youth work practice. She leads and consults on applied research efforts and professional development programs aimed at enhancing the effectiveness of youth work practice. Her work centers on understanding, informing and improving youth work practice. She is particularly interested in practitioner expertise, workforce development, program quality and ethics.
Kate's research explores the dilemmas that practitioners face in their everyday work with youth and their strategies for addressing these challenges. Recently she was principal investigator on the Pathways Project (Proyecto Caminos), a five-year study of the development of self-direction in youth-program-family interaction systems among Latino and non-Latino adolescents (with Reed Larson and Marcella Raffaelli, funded by the W.T. Grant Foundation).
Kate has over 15 years of experience conducting applied research and evaluation with youth programs. Before returning to her native Minnesota, she worked and studied at the University of Illinois, where she served as project director for The Youth Development Experience (TYDE), a qualitative study of the developmental processes that occur in youth programs. Prior to that, Kate provided evaluation support, training and technical assistance to community-based organizations.
Academic degrees and experience
- Ph.D., educational psychology, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 2005.
- M.A., educational policy and administration, University of Minnesota, 1998.
- B.A., psychology and French, Gustavus Adolphus College, 1993.
Selected publications
Walker, K. & Weiss, T.G. (2016). Ethical dilemmas experienced by youth workers: Implications for practice and professional development. In K. Pozzoboni & B. Kirschner. (Eds.)., The Changing Landscape of Youth Work: Theory and Practice for an Evolving Field. Information Age Press.
Ross, L., Capra, S., Carpenter, L., Hubbell, J., & Walker, K. (2015). Dilemmas in Youth Work and Youth Development Practice. New York: Routledge.
Larson, R., Walker, K., Rusk, N., & Diaz, L.B. (2015). Understanding youth development from the practitioner's point of view: A call for research on effective practice. Applied Developmental Science, 19(2), 74-86.
Walker, K. & Larson, R. (2012). Youth worker reasoning about dilemmas encountered in practice: Expert-novice differences. Journal of Youth Development, 7(1).
Walker, K. (2011). The multiple roles that youth development program leaders adopt with youth. Youth & Society, 43(2), 635-655.
Walker, K. & Saito, R. (2011). You^th are here: Promoting youth spaces through community mapping. Afterschool Matters, 14(30-39).
Larson, R. & Walker, K. (2010). Dilemmas of practice: Challenges to program quality encountered by youth program leaders. American Journal of Community Psychology, 45(3), 338-349.
Walker, K. (2007). Youth empowerment evaluation: Learning voice. American Journal of Evaluation, 28(3), 321-326.
University of Minnesota Twin Cities campus


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MAC Cinderella, Toledo & Bao Bao Wan First Impressions Review & TutorialFebruary 21, 2015 | Mabel
Hi there! I recorded a first impressions review and video of some of the upcoming MAC collections.
Detailed review, swatches and photos of the MAC Cinderella collection can be found here.
More detailed reviews of the MAC Toledo and Bao … Read More


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"They said they would put a bomb in my car," says Professor Zimmerman, head of German studies at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, who received police protection because of the threats. "One of the leaders of the settlers - the mayor of Kiryat Arba - threatened me openly on television."
Coming six months before the murder of the Israeli Prime Minister, Yitzhak Rabin, the violence of the reaction foreshadowed the growing intolerance of the Israeli right which, Leah Rabin says, set the stage for her husband's assassination.
Nor was the response confined to settlers in the occupied territories. At the Hebrew University itself no less than 79 professors and lecturers took a large advertisement in the press demanding that Professor Zimmerman be fired "for the honour of the Jewish people and for the honour of the university".
Since Mr Rabin's murder the constitutional right has been trying to rebut charges that it tolerated comparisons between the Prime Minister and Nazi leaders. In a notorious poster displayed at a right-wing rally in Jerusalem, his face is superimposed on a picture of Himmler, the author of the Final Solution.
Unsurprisingly, drawing parallels with Hitler's Germany carries an extreme emotional charge in Israel, but it is not unheard of. Ultra-Orthodox Jews in the Me'a She'arim district of Jerusalem used to paint swastikas over the Star of David without creating much comment. Israeli politicians liken people to Nazis as a term of general abuse.
In the interview which started the so-called Zimmerman affair last April, the professor was more specific in his charges. He said: "There is an entire sector of the Jewish public which I unhesitatingly define as a copy of the German Nazis." He says he made his comments on the Hitler Youth after hearing a "radio interview with the children of settlers from Hebron on the first anniversary of the murder of 29 people in a mosque by Baruch Goldstein. The kids said: 'Goldstein is our hero.' "
"These children are trained like the Hitler Jugend to think ideologically without criticism," says Professor Zimmerman. "They are led to believe in racist views of themselves as the master race superior to the Arabs. They even have a song about Ami Popper, an Israeli who killed seven Palestinians four years ago. It goes: 'Ami Popper, Ami Popper, there is nobody like you.' "
Children from Hebron are now one of the three parties taking legal action against the professor, along with Rehavam Ze'evi, the leader of the right- wing Moledet party, and two reserve soldiers serving in a settlement. Somewhat taken aback, the historian says some of his comments were oversimplified - notably an apparent comparison between Israeli soldiers volunteering to serve in the occupied territories and German soldiers volunteering for the SS. Overall, however, he strongly defends his position, saying: "I'm not prepared to duck because several idiots filed charges against me."
Two months before Mr Rabin's death, Professor Zimmerman had also published an article comparing the political situation in Israel with that of the Weimar Republic in Germany in the 1920s. He drew particular attention to the murder in 1922 of Walter Rathenau, the Jewish foreign minister and industrialist, by three young men with links to the army who believed he was betraying the country.
When the Prime Minister was gunned down on 4 November, after addressing a 100,000-strong peace rally in Tel Aviv, Leah Rabin accused the main right-wing party, Likud, of creating an atmosphere of verbal violence. She had not wanted to shake hands with the party's leader Binyamin Netanyahu at her husband's funeral, she said. And she asked where the supporters of peace with the PLO were when its opponents demonised Mr Rabin.
Will the trauma of the assassination change the political atmosphere in Israel? Professor Zimmerman is doubtful. He says none of those who agreed or disagreed with him before the murder have changed their opinions since. National soul-searching about the death has turned out to be Israel's largest spectator sport: everybody is prepared to watch somebody else search their soul. The leader of one right-wing organisation - the Women in Green - has demanded Mrs Rabin apologise for her accusations.
The problem, Professor Zimmerman says, is that "there is a large segment within Israel which legitimises the murder of people, the murder of Arabs by Baruch Goldstein, and even the murder of Jews". They react explosively if compared to the Nazis, but were prepared to tolerate posters identifying Rabin with Himmler. And by that logic, "the death warrant against Rabin was justified".Reuse content


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One of the top ten Drum and Bugle Corps in the nation is coming to Pella Wednesday night.
Keywords: Central Iowa Color Guard Camp, Drum and Bugle Corps, pella, Pella Community High School, The Cadets
Only 30% of women and 15% of men regularly use sunscreen. Do you?
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call: (641) 842-3161 | (641) 628-8672


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5K Registration Fees
5K Fees
All registrants receive entry into the race, custom finisher medal, entry into the Health & Wellness Expo, entry into the post race party, a custom race shirt, live entertainment on course, and an Epic Finish in Arm and Hammer Trenton Thunder Waterfront Park.
(Online registration will close at midnight on October 25, however, this date is subject to change)
© 2016 Trenton Half Marathon. All Rights Reserved.


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Mohamed A. El-Erian had it made. As a the CEO of PIMCO, a global investment firm, El-Erian's position gave him power and prestige.
And one disappointed daughter.
A small encounter with his daughter let El-Erian know that regardless of his successes in the boardroom, he was failing his child. So he quit.
It started when El-Erian asked his daughter to brush her teeth and she ignored him.
"I reminded her that it was not so long ago that she would have immediately responded ... She would have known from the tone of my voice that I was serious," El-Erian wrote on worth.com.
"She asked me to wait a minute, went to her room and came back with a piece of paper. It was a list that she had compiled of her important events and activities that I had missed due to work commitments."
What a gut punch. The brave little girl's list included milestones you don't just get back: her first day at school, her first soccer game and so on.
Realizing his work-life balance was completely out of whack, El-Erian left the CEO position. He does still work part-time, a move that gives him much more family time.
El-Erian isn't just a great dad, he's also a realist. Not everyone has the means to downgrade their job like this, he acknowledged. But that's the point, and something companies should think about, he argued.
"... As companies give more attention to the importance of work-life balance, more and more people will be in a better position to decide and act more holistically on what's important to them."
That's a boardroom victory we all could use.


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Lawyers for the company have asked U.S. District Court Judge Marsha Pechman to decertify the class action so that people would have to sue it individually and dismiss this particular case.
"The evidence refutes Plaintiffs' claims that Windows Vista Home Basic cannot 'fairly' be called Windows Vista," Microsoft said.
"Windows Vista Home Basic has nearly all of the same computer code as the rest of the Windows Vista family, and ... Microsoft never publicly defined Windows Vista in a way that would exclude Windows Vista Home Basic."
The case was bought after Microsoft delayed the launch of Vista until after the crucial Christmas sales period and so came up with a to let consumers know what PCs were Vista Capable or Vista Ready.
Some people who bought Vista Capable machines found they could only run Vista Home Basic, which the case contends offers very little difference to Windows XP, and sued.
As part of the background for the case emails have been found that show deep disquiet about the campaign, both from and with external partners.
Microsoft moves to end Vista Capable case
By Iain Thomson on Nov 22, 2008 1:43PM


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Lucy: ''I couldn't fight I was powerless.''Mature
I went upstairs in Gary's house to find somewhere to lie down for a while I walked into one of the dark bedrooms and lay on the bed and sighed. I felt breathing on my neck and felt my self feeling weight leave my body. I kept my eyes closed and started feeling pressure on my body and heard moaning they were coming from me, I had to open my eyes and when I did I saw him ontop of me, Byron was having sex with me he was sweating and moaning, I tried to scream for help but I was out of energy my body was numb.
I let myself be raped by the guy I had fancied for so long and I couldnt fight I was powerless. He got off me and then a while later the door shut and it was just me left in the room.
I slept in that room for the rest of the night. When morning came I woke up with the worst feeling ever the knowlage that I let my body get violated and could do nothing to help myself. Gary came in the room where I lay naked and dirty.
''Lucy? what are you doing in here? My parents are going to be back soon you need to leave.''
''Ga..I was Ra...sorry....I will go.'' I couldn't tell him he was nothing to me so I wasn't about to pour my dark secrets out to a stranger. At that point I didn't remeber who it was that had taken my soul away. I put my clothes on and left his house stumberling and lifeless.
The monday following was nerve wrecking, everyone that had been at the party saw me out of control and doing things that I wish I could take back.
''Did you have a good night on saturday? you looked like you had a good time when I saw you in my parents room the next day.'' It was Gary that had spoke to me, he only saw me naked thinking I had sex at my own will and not against it.
''Hey Gary I don't really rememeber it that well I don't know how I ended up in you're parents bed I'm sorry you caught me in there.''
''It's fine you're not the only one that sneaked in there on saturday I think I saw Ellie and Byron sneak in before you.'' He smiled at me.
''Wait what? did you say Byron?''
''Yeah he and Ellie must've hooked up it's about time too he has been on about shagging her for years.''
Ellie is the slag of my year she has always been out to get me for some reason I have no idea why I've done nothing to her and she has just disliked me, but she had sex with the one guy I had always dreamed about being with and I guess that night happened to both of us.
''So Lucy I was wandering do you want to hang out with me sometime? I mean we could go see a film or something.'' Gary asked me shyly.
''You're asking me out?'' I asked shocked this was news to me that he was even interested in someone like me.
''Yeah you're really funny and your good to be around, you don't have to I mean if you are going out with someone you were with last night then thats fine I guess.''
''I would love to go out with you.'' I smiled at him he smiled back we agreed to meet at his house that night and decide what to do then.


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Britain's Olympic champion Chris Boardman lies eighth, 18 seconds behind the leader Laurent Jalabert, after four stages of the Midi Libre event in France. Cedric Vasseur won yesterday's stage, a 96-mile circuit race around Marvejols.
MIDI LIBRE RACE (Marvejols, Fr, 155km/96.3m circuit) Fourth stage leading placings: 1 C Vasseur (Fr) 3hr 47min 27sec; 2 R Menegotto (It) same time; 3 A Tchmil (Ukr) +6sec; 4 M Van Heeswijk (Neth); 5 F Simon (Fr); 6 P Chanteur(Fr) all s/t.
TOUR OF ITALY (Crotone to Catanzaro, 179km/111miles) Sixth stage leading placings: 1 P Herve (Fr) Festina 4 hr 29min 45sec; 2 R Petito (It) Saeco +4sec; 3 F Casagrande (It) Saeco +12; 4 D Rebellin (It) Polti; 5 L Piepoli (It) Refin; 6 E Berzin (Rus) Gewiss. Leading overall standings: 1 Herve +28hrs 40min 37sec; 2 Fabrizio Guidi (It) Scrigno +6sec; 3 Petito +8; 4 Fabrizio Bontempi (It) Brescialat +17; 5 Casagrande +20; 6 Vergnani +24.
BCF NATIONAL TRACK CHAMPIONSHIPS (Manchester): Open 40km points race (25km heats): Heat one: 1 P West (Middridge CRT) 21pts; 2 R Williams (Team Ambrosia) 15; 3 H Pritchard (Harlow CC) 14. Time: 31min 35.139sec. Heat two: 1 R Hayles (Team Ambrosia) 25; 2 A Worthington (VC St Raphael) 14; 3 J Hargreaves (Stretford Wh) 12. Time: 31:23.779. Open kilometre TT Final: 1 S Wallace (Harlow CC) 1min 05.627sec (championship record); 2 J Queally (CC Lancashire) 1:05.959; 3 C MacLean (City of Edinburgh RC) 1:06.269.Reuse content


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Homeeasykitchen.com is a 1 year old domain, situated in United States. The domain is linked to the IP address 18.104.22.168 which is provided by the hosting company Go Daddy.
It was registered by Paul Miarowski . The site is owned by Home Easy Kitchen. Registration details show that it was registered on 07 Jan 2016 through Go Daddy and will expire on 07 Jan 2018.
The site returns a status code of 200. The site is being served through Microsoft-IIS/7.5.


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Everdeane Chapter 3 - "The Dark Clouds"
He woke, gasping, sitting up in an alien landscape, where the lizards might kill him and the coyotes would wait until he was weak. Where the bloated moon loomed, and the bruise-colored sky rested above all. He felt his cheeks and wiped away tears, ashamed.
"You sleep troubled, Shadrach."
Indigo was standing some distance off, making water. He adjusted and turned. "You spoke of someone named Paz. You told her to stay." He leaned his head to one side, again looking more animal than man. "Forgive my intrusion. You talk as much in your sleep as you do awake."
Shadrach cleared his throat and shuffled out of the blankets. He needed to pee. "Yes, well," was all he could manage to say, and he walked a distance. In the midst of his shame, he felt blessed relief as he urinated upon the dusty ground.
"Who is Paz?"
"Who's bleating like a woman now?" Shadrach grumped. He glared at the amber-eyed man, who was gathering up his belongings. Our belongings, Shadrach reminded himself. He still has my gun and knife.
Indigo chuckled. "You speak a name in your sleep. I am merely curious."
Shadrach harrumphed. He began gathering up what remained his belongings. "How long did we sleep? It's still dark. It doesn't feel like it was that long."
"It was long enough. Remember, we're being followed."
"No," Shadrach interjected. "You're being followed. I'm just lost."
Indigo spread his hands. "By all means, travel alone. See how long you last, especially when they find someone that doesn't know his way." His amber eyes flickered maliciously. "Or, come with me, and live a bit longer. Perhaps."
Shadrach scowled.
Daybreak came some hours later, and Shadrach looked at the horizon before them in wonder. The clouds loomed together, the color of steel. There was no telling how far away that squall was, but it was evident that it was going to be brutal. He glanced at Indigo, who said nothing, only moved ahead. He smelled it, Shadrach thought bitterly. I'd be meat out here without him. He loathed the dependency.
They rested briefly in the early afternoon. The trees were growing more frequent, though still spread apart. There were leaves here, and the ground showed random bursts of greenery. Indigo acknowledged they were reaching the edge of what he called "the Burning Ground." Shadrach felt elation; he was sure as they left the badlands there would be people, maybe cities, and in a land where they knew of Migration he might be able to find a way out.
"There's leagues to go," Indigo responded, but he sounded uncertain. "And even out of these wastes, we will still be pursued."
"Yes, but if I can cross over, we will be safe. They won't know how." He cleared his throat, realizing he'd spoken out of turn. "That is, if you would come with me. You know: Migrate."
Indigo looked ahead at the looming clouds. "My path might take me with yours, but I won't know until we get there. I still have promises to keep." And of this, he said no more.
They kept ahead. The sun began setting, and the thunderheads didn't seem to grow any closer. Shadrach wondered if the storm was moving perpendicular to them, but Indigo admonished him. "Storms go as they will, but smell the air. It approaches as it will, but above all else, it approaches." Even Shadrach could now detect the metallic scent in the air, and while it seemed refreshing, it frightened him as well.
Greenery continued its perpetual emergence as they moved. The badlands were behind them, doubtless, but the storm was ahead.
Night loomed dangerous around them. The more sparse symphony of the previous night was a distant memory, replaced by catcalls, howls, and far more mysterious cacophony, swelling around them and threatening to smother them. Shadrach jumped frequently. Indigo worked silently, undeterred by the restless beasts surrounding them. He cleaned the chambers of his guns (our guns, Shadrach thought furiously), sharpened his blades (our blades), and, occasionally, raised his head the direction of the opaque clouds before them.
They were randomly visible, only when the jagged shards of lightning glowed within the roiling clouds. Shadrach jumped at this, too. It was angry lightning, the sort that didn't mean to simply glow the sky but rather strike forcefully and violently, destroying all that dared to dwell beneath. Thunder rolled in the distance, many seconds after the flashes. Still far away, Shadrach assured himself, but in so many ways, those clouds, shrouded in the darkness of night, frightened him far more than the beasts that lurked and crooned.
Indigo agreed with him. "Storms like that don't just bring the wet, they bring suffering. If we are stranded in that squall…" He said nothing else, allowing Shadrach's overeager imagination to take control. Drowned in a flash flood. Crisped by a hungry thunderbolt. Swallowed up by a cyclone and pitched miles across the landscape. He noticed that Indigo was no longer honing his weapons, instead watching him and smiling. He grunted furiously, and shook as a coyote bayed what sounded like only meters away.
"We'll have more pressing issues to face before we come near that storm," Indigo said. "Someone approaches, and quickly." He laid his weapons carefully before him. "They might not arrive until morning, perhaps later if they are wise enough to consider I have already sensed them. If you wish to live, and I see that you do, then you will need to heed me until it is done. Those chasing me aren't going to be soft. They will kill you if it keeps them from me." He took Shadrach's knife and pistol, giving them brief consideration, and offered them back to him. "I trust you enough to have these. You will need them."
Shadrach gave him a sideways look. "I don't want them if you're just going to jump on me again."
Indigo shook his head. "I trust you enough, now." He offered a small smirk as Shadrach took back his weapons, holding them carefully, as if hot.
"By morning?" Shadrach looked back they way they had come, which was barely visible in the on-and-off glow of the moon. "How can you be sure? I don't see anything. What I am missing?"
Indigo aimed callused fingers at his eyes. Tapped his nose briefly. Gestured to his ears. And then, with one of his wry smiles, tapped the side of his head. "I'm not saying you are a stupid man, either. Just that you don't know what I know. They'll be here by morning. You'll need to be ready." He drew his pale, mysterious sword, looking upon it briefly, considering something. "You'll need to be ready, but not to run, as a coward runs." The amber eyes flickered away from the blade, and shined on Shadrach, and the thought of tigers again sprang forward. "You'll need to be ready to kill. Can you be ready to kill?"
And despite the fact that Shadrach was never more uncertain of such a question, that he doubted his heart could muster the courage to do such a thing, he nodded his head. His fear of answering Indigo incorrectly far outweighed his desire to tell the truth.


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Sweat Sessions: Pump Up Workout Playlist
If there is ever a time a pump-up playlist is absolutely necessary, it is when your energy is zapped and you're on the elliptical machine or running long distance and you need that perfect song to get you through to the proverbial finish line. The right song at the right second can work wonders to fill you with a burst of energy and help you finish your workout strong. Here is an undeniable mix of energizing songs to help you complete your fitness goals and have a great time doing it!
1. The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition
2. Kanye West - Stronger
3. Robyn - Fembot
4. La Roux - Bulletproof
5. Against Me! - Transgender Dysphoria Blues
6. Alabama Shakes - Hold On
7. Eurythmics - Love is a Stranger
8. Beyonce - Blow
9. Haim - The Wire
10. DJ Earworm Mashup - United States of Pop 2015
11. Disclosure - Latch
12. Missy Elliot - WTF ft. Pharrell
13. Calvin Harris & Disciples - How Deep is Your Love
14. Kaskade - Never Sleep Alone
15. Kendrick Lamar - King Kunta


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Armenian armed units cut ceasefire 86 times within the day in various directions along the contact line, using 60mm- and 82mm-caliber mortar launchers and large-caliber machine guns.
Armenian armed forces fired on the positions of Azerbaijani units located in Talish, Tapgaragoyunlu, and Gulustan villages of Goranboy, Chilaburt, Yarimja, Goyarkh, Qiziloba village of Terter, Shikhlar, Shuraabad, Sarijaly, Javahirli, Merzili, Yusifjanly, Kengerli, Shirvanly, Nemirli, Garagashly villages of Aghdam, Kuropatkino village of Khojavand, Garakhanbeyli, Horadiz, Ashaghy Seyidahmedli, Gorgan villages of Fuzuli, Mehdili village of Jabrayil, and in the unnamed highlands of the Goygol, Goranboy, Khojavand , Fuzuli, and Jabrayil districts.
The enemy was silenced by retaliatory fire.


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Stocks ended higher Monday after paring earlier 1% gains, as investors remained skittish ahead of this week's Federal Reserve meeting.
The Nasdaq trimmed a 1.3% gain to 0.8%. The Dow Jones industrial average and the S&P 500 climbed 0.7% and 0.8%, respectively. Volume was higher, rising 5% on the NYSE and 11% on the Nasdaq compared with Friday, according to preliminary data.
In the stock market today, Restoration Hardware (RH) jumped 4% to a new high in huge trade. On Friday, the high-end home furnishings store gapped up 16% on a much better-than-expected quarterly earnings report. The stock is extended from a rebound off its 10-week line. It's now risen for five straight sessions, including four in heavy volume.
Oil and gas transporter EQT Midstream Partners (EQM) climbed 3% in double its average daily volume after RBC Capital Markets initiated coverage of the stock with an outperform rating. The stock is extended after its first test of the 10-week line following its breakout above a 40.84 buy point.
EQT's Relative Strength line is at a new high. It has more than doubled since going public a year ago at 21.
Meanwhile, casino operator Wynn Resorts (WYNN) rose 2% in strong trade, rebounding off support at its 50-day line.
Most IBD 50 stocks moved in weak volume Monday. Ambarella (AMBA) showed the strongest action, climbing 4% to a new high in volume that was running about 60% above normal. The designer of chips used in cameras and other devices is 12% above a 16.10 buy point.
On the downside, Myriad Genetics (MYGN) had yet another tough day. It dropped 4% and breached its 200-day moving average. On Thursday, Myriad staged a monster bearish reversal after the Supreme Court offered the company a mixed ruling.
Earlier Monday, the National Association of Home Builders/Wells Fargo Housing Market Index jumped to a seven-year high. Also, the New York Federal Reserve's Empire State Manufacturing index rose more than expected this month, but most of the survey's other components were down, including the closely watched six-month outlook.


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Graphics and Everything
Golf Drills For Swing Tips
By Kickntrue on 6/13/07
I found a great site via my buddy Sean over at DeepRough.com. The "guru" offers swing tips and drills for all your golfing struggles. There is a wealth of info- though it does get a little technical. Sometimes I have a had time reading it all- I'd rather see it. That said- it' good. (GolfDrillGuru)
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The seven students rushed through the narrow archway to find a slavering best towering over Sierra. As Tara pulled the smaller girl to her feet, she retched; the smell of rotting flesh almost overpowered her.
"It's a hellhound," said Hayden, pulling a long, thing knife from his right boot. "Knives won't do much," he said, glancing at the others, who had by this point withdrawn knives of their own.
"And none of us have a gun," muttered Pharos.
The hellhound was circling them in, its huge from blocking their exit. Its three tails lashed wildly around flinging an acidic slime over the courtyard. It appeared confused by the sudden presence of seven more small, unpredictable humans.
"'Toryia, get help," said Cayla, springing into action. Within seconds the tall blonde girl had run off for help and the other members of her squad circled the creature. A ring of satchels surrounded the creature haphazardly; nobody cared that their things were strewn around the courtyard. The misshapen creature was alternating between an awkward, two-legged gait and the more graceful movements of a quadruped as it tried to keep all of them in its field of vision.
"Tara, Hayden, go," said Pharos, taking advantage of the creature's bipedal state and ducking underneath the creature's exposed belly with his knife. The sharp implement barely pierced its hide and served only to enrage it further – to disastrous effect.
With the beast's head turned, Sierra was free to leap onto its back. Cayla signalled to the other members of her team. The huge, hulking form of Gareth Conway rammed into the hellhound just as Tara delivered a jump kick to its other side. From his place underneath the hound, Pharos heard its ribs cracking and drove his knife through the weak points. The creature squealed and threw Sierra from its back. She rolled out of the fall and nodded to Cayla.
"Pharos, move," Cayla yelled, reaching into her satchel and pulling out a small incendiary device. Before he could comply, the hellhound knocked him out from underneath. He bowled Tara over and the two of them ended up tangled on the floor.
On top of the beast, Sierra closed her eyes tightly and clung onto its thick fur. Cayla launched the smokebomb. Smoke billowed out of the small device as thin, sharp pieces of metal went everywhere – including the hellhound's thick hide.
Still clinging to its back, Sierra took advantage of the creature's confusion and plunged her knife deep into its neck. The knife broke off inside the thick, plated neck and she let go.
"Hayden! Get the tails!" she shouted, rolling out of the fall. Reacting instantly to her command, Hayden sprung forward and grasped the flailing creature's tails and put his knife to them.
Before he cut them off, the hellhound secreted a foul-smelling slime that spread all over Hayden's arms. Allister rushed forward and grabbed him before he fell and passed him to Gareth Conway. As he was placed carefully on the ground, he vomited over himself. About three feet away, the hellhound fell to the floor with a crash, landing on top of Pharos and Tara, its severed tails lashing wildly several feet away.
Silence fell over the courtyard, broken periodically by the panting of the students. Moments later, Viktoryia reappeared with Squads II and XI following her, Elle Kilgaran at their head. They were armed to to teeth, carrying the newest and most efficient Vanderklass S-1 pistols. They appeared somewhat disappointed when they spotted the hellhound's corpse.
"Leavesden, Hughes, take Cross to the infirmary. The rest of you see to the clean-up," said Elle sternly and quickly. She turned her attention to the exhausted students.
"Get yourselves to the infirmary to get rid of the filth," she said, "and then report to me for debriefing."
The tall, stony-faced woman turned on her heel and walked briskly from the scene. The two active squads went about their duties, with the short, squat form of Camilla Leavesden and the broad-shouldered Anselm Hughes carrying Hayden's unconscious, prone body to the infirmary.
The battered and tired adolescents collected themselves from the ground and followed Leavesden and Hughes toward the infirmary. Tara was nursing her left arm and Pharos was limping. Squad XVI fared little better, with Gareth Conway sporting what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder and Cayla Lodge bits of metal stuck in her torso.
The infirmary was on the grand palace's ground floor and occupied a space once used as a grand reception room. Several markers of its past remained – the cornicing around the base of the never-used and rather neglected chandeliers along with tall, narrow windows. The ceiling was painted over by a mural popular during the fifteen hundreds, though the walls had been painted over in a crisp white emulsion.
A wide space in the middle served as the walkway, with beds and partitions occupying the sides of the room. Save Hayden, who was promptly carted off to a bed, all eight of the students were instantly pushed into separate decontamination chambers.
More of a small room than a 'chamber,' they consisted of three shower heads pointing from different directions, with one from above and two from the side. They were washed off with a strong soap and given scrubs to wear; their uniforms would be burned, as well as their satchels and the contents inside. New ones would be provided.
A stocky, hard-faced nurse corralled them into a small partition room for their own treatment while they waited for Hayden's treatment to be over. As the nurse saw each of their injuries, Sierra sat apart from the others, her face an expression of melancholy. Tara leaned in closer to Pharos.
"Something's wrong," she murmured. Pharos nodded slightly and almost imperceptibly.
I think I know what's wrong, he answered, projecting his thoughts directly into Tara's head. It's difficult because I'm unable to hear her thoughts. We'll talk later.
Tara nodded and dropped it. They sat in an awkward silence as they waited for one of the other nurses to come and tell them Hayden was ready for release. He was released nearly a half hour later, and the two squads made their way to Director Kilgaran's office in two close but distinct groups. Hayden's arms had been bandaged and Tara was fretting over him in much the same manner that Viktoryia was hovering around Cayla.
They were admitted to the somewhat claustrophobic office of the school's Director in two groups, with Squad XVI entering first. Director Kilgaran kept them inside for what seemed like a very long time, during which Sierra paced almost constantly. Worse still, her voice was so low and calm that nothing could be heard from outside, and Pharos had never been able to hear her thoughts, so they were in the dark as to her reaction to their antics.
The reappearance of Squad XVI did nothing to mollify Squad XVII as every single squad member had a stoic, impossible to read look on his or her face. Squad XVII was called in just moments after the other team had left.
They entered the office and stood in a perfect line before the carefully manicured Elle Kilgaran. She sat before them with an air of complete authority, her eyes hard and unyielding. Her face was set and impassive as she looked at them.
"After hearing Squad XVI's interpretation of events, I would like to hear your own. Proceed, Ward," she said, looking the tall boy directly in the eyes.
Pharos shifted his feet slightly before talking, but remained with his hands clasped behind his back and in a fully upright stance.
"As a result of the confrontation between Cadet Hansel and Cadet Firefly during the demonology lesson, it was decided that a non-violent way of settling the matter would be for the two girls to race. Cadet Hansel won. After the race, Cadet Firefly left before her squad. We followed and saw that she was the subject of an attack by a hellhound. Along with Squad XVI, we intervened and dispatched the freak," said the tall boy quietly. "Ma'am," he added.
Director Kilgaran considered this for a moment.
"The race track within school grounds would have been a suitable test, would it not?" questioned Kilgaran, peering intently at Sierra.
"It was felt that the forest would be a better test of whose reflexes were better, Ma'am," said Sierra. "It was not our intention for a situation such as this to arise."
"But it did," murmured Kilgaran, slightly too quiet for them to hear. "A suitable punishment for your actions today will be giving Squad XVII the responsibility of caring for our firearms. You will replace Cadet Bearwood's squad."
Kilgaran got up from her seat and began pacing around them.
"It would be remiss of me to downplay your accomplishment this day," she mused, passing in front of the students. "Hellhounds are level five freaks, although this particular specimen was old and diseased. Both yourselves and Squad XVI escaped with minimal injury; Cadet Cross will heal quickly. Such a display of skill must not go unrewarded. As such, your Championship Score will be reset to zero – I am told that it is currently negative five." She turned to look at the assembled cadets. Her face was a picture of sincerity. "That I am pleased with your achievement by no means lessens the severity of your transgression, however. You will all remain on probation until further notice. You are dismissed."
As the four tired and battleworn students left the room, Kilgaran called Sierra back. She closed the door behind Hayden and stood before Director Kilgaran's desk, behind which the tall, confident woman was sat.
"Yes, Director?" said Sierra cautiously. The small girl was on the defensive, with her body primed for escape.
"Permission to speak freely," added Elle, relaxing. "From the testimony of Lodge I felt that there was more to the incident than a lost race." Sierra nodded.
"Yes. It is a matter with which my mother is more comfortable than I," said Sierra quietly. "She can explain it better."
"You may leave," said Elle, rubbing her temple. The young woman curtsied and left the room, and Elle saw in Sierra the vision of her mother. It was clear that Sierra was Siaran Firefly's daughter, she thought. There was no question.
With a sigh, she looked down at her desk. Still open was a letter, penned in a small, curving script, from her cousin, the queen of Spyr Darr. Elle was loathe to comply to her demands, but her organisation existed solely because of her good will. Without her approval the palace would be appropriated by Parliament and all her work would go to nothing.
She pushed the letter to one side, knowing that Siaran would have a better idea than she could come up with. Thinking of her friend and deputy Director, Elle's eyes flicked toward an antique timepiece sitting on the wall opposite her. Within moments Siaran was scheduled for a meeting, which would give them ample time to discuss events.
Not longer after, there was a sharp rap on her door and Siaran Firefly, the buxom deputy Director, walked into her office. Her somewhat fly-away bun and her odd robes indicated that she had been underneath the school working on her patterns.
"Apologies for my lateness," said Siaran, slipping into the chair opposite the desk. She took a few moments to tidy her hair as Elle smiled indulgently.
"Read this," said Elle, pushing the letter across the desk. The busty blonde woman read it silently, and frowned upon finishing.
"Dear Luisa wants five squads," said Siaran incredulously. "Five. We only have eleven, and one of them is new! This is an outrage."
"I thought you would see it that way. It puts us in a rather precarious position, as I'm sure you know." replied Elle, leaning forward to take the letter back. "I have a familial obligation as well as the one you and I share with Her Majesty."
"Give her two squads," said Siaran quietly, playing with one of her long necklaces. "Say it's all we can spare, and then send Squads I, II and V out on a mission. That leaves us with six active squads here. Squads IV and XI are to be sent overseas to classify whether the aberrants there are freaks or demonic in nature anyway. Three active squads would allow us to deal with any situation that may arise. We can not be denied this – it is our purpose."
"Yes, yes," said Elle, "That may very well work. Squads I, II and V will be given access to Tashraq for their mission. A pack of therianthropes should keep them occupied and prove a good test of their abilities."
"Oh? Is it a pack? I was under the impression it was a lone pair." replied Siaran, her curiosity piqued.
"Yes," said Elle grimly. "Level six alpha with two level five females. Our sources suggest a some level two pups."
"Werewolves?" guessed Siaran. Elle shrugged.
"Does it matter?" she replied, to which Siaran shook her head.
"No, no, of course not. Still, it would be nice to get a living specimen..." She coughed. "But yes. That is what we must do. We would be paid for our services, yes?"
Elle frowned and shrugged. As Siaran had read for herself, the letter stated nothing about payment.
"We could specify it in the terms of the agreement," said Siaran. "Send three squads instead of two and request a Captain's pay for each squad member. We struggle to find funds as it is. Perhaps you could suggest that we would be unable to continue providing our services without funding."
"I'm wary of our squads becoming akin to mercenaries," admitted Elle. "Already we have rendered services to governments that have nothing to do with our mission statement."
"A necessary evil," said Siaran, dismissing her concerns. "We have done a lot of good since our first five squads graduated. This will be our second year with active squads," she said, "and we have eleven now, not five."
"Nine years and only eleven squads," said Elle, and then she sighed. "It seems a waste of time."
"Never a waste," said Siaran. "We protect people from the deepest, darkest horrors our world can offer. It takes six years to train an exceptional squad adequately and seven for the others. The Championship weeds out the exceptional from the good. This is why it exists. I will handle this," said Siaran.
"Your court," said Elle, handing over the problem to her friend. "I wanted to ask about Sierra. Is she still having those ..." she trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Episodes?" asked Siaran. "No, not often. Why do you ask?"
"There was an incident today," said Elle, and as soon as the words left her mouth Siaran's face fell, and then tightened anxiously. "No, no, you misunderstand! Nothing happened, everything is fine. I just … It isn't anything," she said. "Forget I said anything." Siaran nodded.
The two women sat in Elle's office, no longer talking about official business but chatting. They remained there until each woman had to excuse herself due to teaching commitments.


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A couple of events in Irish politics recently made me wish I lived in a country where political integrity and courage existed much.
With honorable exceptions, they don't.
On one hand we recently had Lucinda Creighton announcing the formation of a new political party. That's all fine, but she's still a sitting TD in a seat that she won as a Fine Gael candidate. And thus was supported by Fine Gael money, Fine Gael voters, and Fine Gael party workers. Worse, she was even supported by my money which Fine Gael gets from the taxpayer as a big party. And there's absolutely no pressure within politics or from the Irish media for her to resign the seat and re-win it (or not) as either an independent or as a leader of a new party. Meantime she has the pay and public visibility of a sitting TD and the uncritical attention of much of the Irish media. And when challenged on the topic Ms Creighton makes it clear that she feels no obligation to go back to the electorate. None. Regards it as a stupid question.
So in her mind it's OK to be elected with money, votes and effort from one set of people, leave those people behind and continue to sit in her seat as a TD. Let's say I think that's lacking political integrity. In the UK even Tories defecting to the much-maligned UKIP have all stood for re-election. But not in Ireland.