text:
Watch Your Mouth: A Novelby Daniel Handler
Tolstoy wrote that happy families are alike and that each unhappy family is unhappy in a different way.In Watch Your Mouth, Daniel Handler takes "different" to a whole new level....
Tolstoy wrote that happy families are alike and that each unhappy family is unhappy in a different way.In Watch Your Mouth, Daniel Handler takes "different" to a whole new level....
Editorial Reviews
Product Details
- 9780060938178
- Publisher:
- HarperCollins Publishers
- Publication date:
- 02/28/2002
- Series:
- Harper Perennial Series
- Edition description:
- 1st Perennial Edition
- Pages:
- 240
- Sales rank:
- 747,330
- Product dimensions:
- 5.31(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.54(d)
Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
THERE'S NEVER BEEN an opera about me, never in my entire life. Normally this wouldn't bother me. There hasn't been one about you, either, and besides, I'm still young. If my life were a play, this would be the last few minutes before the lights lowered and everything began. The audience would be milling aroundthe older couples in formal, non-funky suits with pearls hanging around the women's necks like drops of semen, and the younger people in black shirts and jeans because the formality of theater is an elitist tyrannical paradigm and lots of people in the clothes they wore to work because, frankly, by the time they got home and jumped into the shower and changed their clothes they'd either be late, which they hate, or they'd be on time but so stressed out that they couldn't really enjoy it, and frankly, if you're going to pay that much for tickets what's the use if you're not going to enjoy it, so what they do is just wear some slightly dressier work clothes to work and then go right to the theater, locking the briefcase in the trunk and sometimes even having time for a cocktail or something, but not for dinner because they hate wolfing down dinner and rushing to the theater, it's so stressful, they might as well go home and shower and change if they want to be stressed out before the show even starts.
This is some snatch of lobby-talk that Stan, the manager of the Pittsburgh Opera, overheard and never forgot. And never forgot to repeat. "That's our audience, Joseph," he said to me. "Just regular working folk. We have to create opera for them that's not justinteresting but fascinating, mesmerizing. So that they transcend all the stress about whether to change or where to have dinner or parking or whatever, and really hear the music. That's what opera's for. Do you have any more of those candies?"
Because this is, you know, an opera. Fiction, like all operas: a lie, but a lie is sort of a myth, and a myth is sort of a truth. All summer long I was watching things happen with Cynthia Glass and her family that were melodramatic, heart-wrenching, and absurdlytrulytragic. Dire consequences lurked around their house like the growl of cellos when the jealous fiancé, or the enraged father, or the Old Spirit of the Mountains descends on the lovers, flushed with horniness and the effort of singing over a fifty-piece orchestra La Forza Dei Glasses. Le Nozze Di Incest. Cyn. They were an opera and now the lights are lowering and here we are, reader or readers. No need to stress. An opera in book form is more convenient than the real thing, because you can eat when you want and wear whatever pleases you. Nothing, maybe. Read it alone in bed, the sheets lingering on your bare belly, your hips. Read it when no one's watching. Go ahead.
I know there are some operas that start right up, but this isn't one of them. Like Beethoven, whose only opera clears its throat with not one but four possible overtures, I've written a bunch of openings, all introducing the subject matters and what surrounds them. As somebody said in a book I've since lost, all behavior exists within a social and cultural context, so I hope these overtures will not exactly influence you, but tap you on the shoulder to get you looking in the right direction. Their purpose is similar to those hyphened taxonomies you can find clinging to the back of the title page like mold on a shower curtain, infecting your naked and vulnerable skin. You know the words I mean. I know that deep down you know what I'm talking about. Those Library of Congress things:
Pittsburgh, PennsylvaniaFiction
Our story begins in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where, the guidebooks would have it, "geography demanded a city." As if rich river-soaked land wanted nothing better than a bunch of greyed-out buildings dumped on it. The Ohio River is born where the Allegheny and the Monongahela meet in a wet intersection of sludgy vowels. As in all American cities, the areas are named after what was destroyed to put the houses there, and most of Pittsburgh is named after Indian things: tribes, land, activities. Cyn's neighborhood was between Shadyside, where all the trees had been trimmed to regulation width, and Squirrel Hill, where the only woodland creatures to be found were iron-cast and holding bagels in front of the upscale Jewish market. Johnny Appleseed is from Pittsburgh.
Say you spent an erotically scarring summer in Pittsburgh and later find yourself in an opera about it. If you want to appreciate an opera you read some background material, so you phone up the Pittsburgh Chamber of Commerce. The volunteers who answer the phone will be aghast at your interest. Nobody wants to go there. Nevertheless, they'll brush the dust off the full-color gloss and send you beckoning brochures.
The brochures refer to Pittsburgh as the Emerald City because it's surrounded by green hills. The city of Pittsburgh is crazy about color, having sprinkled the primaries all over the city in the form of Color-Coded Wayfinder signs. Like the curved stripes of the rainbow, the appropriate roads encircle the city, keeping you lost but at least monochromatic. Whenever I drove around trying to use the Wayfinders I could always, say, find all the Blue things I wanted but could never figure out how to skip to the next rung on the spectrum. But all this fascination with color is more than inappropriate; it's wrong. The color of Pittsburgh is a bitter black. Racially too. The great lumbering steel industry has left a dark powder on a brick that once photogenically matched the color of the people driven out of Duquesne Incline and Monongahela Heights.
It's a wonder, beneath all the smokestack sky, that the city can host "one of the nation's most spectacular collections of live birds," twittering away in the North Side. A regular field trip for campers at Camp Shalom, a Jewish day camp in the area. Also of note is the Benedrum Center for the Performing Arts, which seemed to me named onomatopoetically; as I drafted all this in the Center's library I could hear the Pittsburgh Opera Orchestra sounding it out: Be-ne-drum, Be-ne-drum. Across the street is a smaller music hall named for a ketchup company founded in Pittsburgh which celebrated an anniversary in the early '60s with a robot shaped like a ketchup bottle. The tririvered city would never see anything like it again until the third month of this tangled summer when an unearthly figure, cooked up in Mrs. Glass's basement laboratory, rose out of the Ohio and lumbered across the prestigious Old Jewish Cemetery. The brochure describes what goes on in August as "hot fun": "Grab your suit and sandals and head for the water. Summer in the Emerald City is hot fun. Make sure you take some loose cottons for the riverfront scene after dark, where there are plenty of deserted crannies for fucking Cyn. Average highs in the low 80s."
The trouble with marking poisonous medicines with a skull and crossbones is that cabinet-curious youngsters associate the symbol with pirates. This was the problem studied by a special committee at the Pittsburgh Children's Hospital, which is one of the sites of renown here in town. And of course the bridges. Cyn was considering an American History major, the seed planted, so to speak, by a high-school teacher obsessed with local history. Here George Washington rallied the troops, set up a fort demanded by geography. Two forts. Routed the British. The bridges were spun like strands of a web: Veteran's, Smithfield Street, Liberty, 16th, 9th, 6th, 7th, Duquesne, Pitt. Forts meant injuries and injuries meant hospitals, one of which drew up Mr. Yech, the new non-buccaneer warning of poison. Mr. Yech had few features but a big mouth which, it was clear, had just swallowed something that little kids did not want to swallow. As the frontier was tamed the Jews felt safe enough to settle in the only city in America able to compose an internationally-recognized face of distaste. They needed somewhere to send their little Jews and Jewettes during the schoolless months and thus Camp Shalom was founded, and that's how Cyn and I ended up living in her parents' house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania during the summer before my senior year at Mather College. The curtain rises.
Laundry Roomslove affairs begun inFiction
Our story begins with a clothes dryer. Cyn and I met in the laundry room just as she was discovering the Dryer of Eternity. Heedless of the coin slot, it kept spinning and spinning and dried everything, every time. That made it the direct opposite of all the other dryers. She was just peering into the empty, spinning machine when I rounded the corner. My chin was weighing down the pile of clothing in my laundry basket, making me feel sheepish and decapitated. She smiled and I told her about the Dryer of Eternity, and for the rest of our cycles we made small talk while around us the laundry room lurched in erotic rhythm. Inside the machines all of our clothing was getting wet and being tossed around.
The rest of it went like one of those pornographic magazines where people write in about their true experiences: "Let me help you with that," I said, taking her wet clothes out of the machine and catching a glimpse of her heaving tits under her tight shirt. I accidentally brushed against her and her eyes widened as she felt the size of my bulge. "Only if I can help you with that," she said, dropping to her knees and unzipping me. She opened her mouth wide to accommodate my nine inches of man-meat as I lifted her T-shirt over her head and pinched her bullet-hard nipples. She tried to swallow all my creamy love juice but I pumped out too much and she gagged, taking her mouth away and letting the rest of my cum spray all over her like pearls around an operagoer's neck. "We're not done," she panted, as she eased her shorts off and guided my fingers to her wet, gaping hole.
Actually we went to dinner first, several dinners, after running into each other at parties about as accidentally as our lothario and his bulge-brushing. And don't you love how he can lift a T-shirt over the head of a woman giving him fellatio? Oral sex is a Möbius strip, porn boy. Truth of the matter is that in Locust, Pennsylvania, there is precious little territory to pioneer any sort of relationship. It's about as big as its buggy little namesake and because it's a college town the three restaurants are packed with everyone you know: "Hey! Are you two, um?" It's not a good place for dating. For peace and quiet we went to each other's roomswell, we both went to one of our roomsand yes, it wasn't too long before Cyn eased her shorts off and guided my fingers to her wet, gaping hole.
Incessant. All year long. We'd miss classes. The dining hall would ring its last-chance bell while we probed each other across campus. We'd forget about people who were stopping by to return books until they knocked and we'd greet them, rumpled and impatient for them to leave. We got clumsy, bumping into end tables until the vase tipped and dumped the wilting flowers I'd bought at the Campus Center onto my bare back, the grimy greenish water onto her wriggling chest. We broke two lamps. We were falling in love like falling down drunk, like falling down stairs.
By midterms we didn't need to talk much, we understood each other so well. One afternoon while driving somewhere, I broke a long silence by admitting I'd never had sex in the back of an automobile; she pulled over and we went at it as the sweaty ghosts of her high-school lovers watched over us. Before she'd met me she'd barely ever had sex not in the back of an automobile, and it was the same automobile. She'd driven it to Locust, Pennsylvania, with duffels of clothes and graduation presents (unabridged dictionary, popcorn popper, coffee maker, unabridged dictionary) stacked in the backseat where she'd made them all come: the soccer-playing redhead, the pimply actor who got her in trouble with Dr. and Mrs. Glass for leaving cigarettes in her car and the tall one who played drums in a band and coaxed panting polyrhythms out of Cyn with stick-calluoused hands. It was like the car was some mad scientist invention that ran on bodily fluids instead of petroleum. She kept in touch with the actor, talking to him on the phone while I reached under the old shirt of mine she slept in. He was offering her a summer job at Camp Shalom. She accepted as she squirmed on the bed, covering the phone receiver to moan at me, and when he said he needed one more staff member she didn't have to look further than her own tongue and that's how Cyn and I ended up living in her parents' house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, during the summer before my senior year at Mather College. The curtain rises.
Postal System, United StatesmistakesFiction
Our story begins with a lost box. Each year, more than eighty trillion pieces of mail go through the United States Postal Service and more than fourteen percent of them are lost. Actually, I made up those statistics, but the person on the twenty-four- hour help line probably made up his, too. I could hear his pimples on the phone, pulsing like bubbles in lava as he told me all about my lost box in the tone of voice you use when some guy calls you about his lost package and you're getting off work in a half hour to go home and watch some rented porn.
I had an incomplete in a class it now seems too ridiculous to even mention. As the Mather College Undergraduate Student Handbook reads, "A grade of 'incomplete' can be designated for any credit class for a number of reasons. A major paper or exam hinging upon research that cannot be completed during the traditional boundaries of the semester would be suitable grounds, as would a true personal or medical emergency. Requesting an incomplete because of an overextravagance of sexual activity, Joseph, is really pushing it. Unless the completion of the course requires research to be done elsewhere, it is expected that a student will remain in the Locust area."
Well, that wasn't going to happen. In the summertime, any questions on the origin of Locust, Pennsylvania's name are resolved in a cloud of gnats. Plus, I had been offered a job in Pittsburgh. Cyn, who licked my stamps, kept in touch with an ex-boyfriend of hers, an actor. I had seen pictures; he was a pimply little thing who'd gotten Cyn in trouble for leaving his cigarettes in the family car after she'd get extravagant on him. Even after all those hand jobs, he was still looking for a stiff member. "Shut up, Joseph. I said a staff member." Two, in fact: Cyn and me. She was going to teach singing and I was going to run the Arts & Crafts Shack, spreading thick white glue out for children to play with. I couldn't possibly stay in Locust.
All this was fine with my laid-back professor, Ted Steel, a large, oversensitive man the likes of which make political conservatives rant and rave about the leftist dogma passing for academia nowadays. Although Mather was named for a Puritan, nobody read him there, and the permissive climate had torn the pedagogy apart like a hymen. Did you catch that odd phrase in the Handbook, the one that didn't belong? "The traditional bounds of the semester"? That's how Professor Steel talked. I let him think I was sleeping with my first man and he agreed to mark me "incomplete."
Cyn and I were taking her family car to Pittsburgh for the summer, but we couldn't fit everything in the trunk and we wanted to leave the backseat free because it was a six-hour drive with plenty of deserted side roads. Steel had signed off on special library privileges so I could write my final paper while exploring my gay identity in Pittsburgh. I wasn't sure what I was going to write my paper on, so I withdrew the maximum amount of books and shoved them into a big box at Mathermail, where every September wide-eyed freshmen retrieved heavy trunks filled with clothes and graduation presents (unabridged dictionary, popcorn popper, coffee maker, unabridged dictionary). Some sullen high-school part-timer, probably saving up for a car so she could tug orgasms out of pimply actors in relative privacy, took my money and said the box would arrive in Pittsburgh. It never did. Every so often I still get letters from Mather's Library informing me of approximately three hundred thousand dollars in overdue fines.
I called and called. I called everybody even remotely connected with the postal service. They all had pimples, lied about statistics, and couldn't locate my box, and that's how Cyn and I ended up living in her parents' house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, during the summer before my senior year at Mather College. The curtain rises.
Waspscircumstances as the result of attacks byFiction
Our story begins with wasps. Like the head of a grandmother, a grey and wrinkled nest was perched high in the corner of the Arts & Crafts Shack of Camp Shalom, a Jewish day camp in the Pittsburgh area. It was pretty much Shalom's inactive volcanoabout eight years back somebody got stung but nobody else, and eight years back it was a kid nobody liked. So went the rumor.
But the Stock twins, Abby and Pinchas Stock, were readying the Arts & Crafts Shack for the onslaught of little Jews and Jewettes. They were scheduled to be counselors and were earning some extra money cleaning up the camp, a job which nobody but the Stock twins thought was anything but lounging around the grounds, taking a dip in the lake, and shooing gnats away from the nightly barbecue. The Stock twins took their job with a rabbinical seriousness. The Stock twins thought that they should clean up the camp, and when they saw what first looked like Grandma Stock, decapitated at last, they figured they'd better get that wasps' nest down before it hurt somebody.
For the camp-wide barbecues, the fat and friendly lesbians who worked as cooks used the mausoleum-sized brick barbecues by the side of the lake, but for counselors-only get-togethers there was a bright blue kettle on wheels. Abby Stock wheeled it over to the Shack while Pinchas found a stepladder and a broom with whiskers so dusty that the act of sweeping with it was a textbook example of dramatic irony. Having gleaned from somewhere that smoke was the thing that one did to wasps, the twins got a fire going in the bright blue kettle and threw some construction paper on the grill. A thin pillar of smokePinchas, something of a Torah nerd, made a Moses jokewafted its way toward the nest whose wrinkles suddenly seemed to be wincing in distaste. The Stock twins thought about two handfuls of paper should do it. The Stock twins thought that the few wasps hummingbirding around the nest were probably the last couple of survivors. Pinchas went up the ladder.
Angry wasps clouded the air in strict arrow-shaped formations more like angry wasps in cartoons on television than you'd think. The arrow pointed first at Pinchas, who fell from the ladder and led the wasps to his partner in crime. Both of them were so covered in stings that their faces looked like seed cakes. Plus the failing ladder broke Abby's leg. The wasps made a quick lap around the Shack before returning to the nest, so that by the time the lounging counselors arrived on the scene it looked like pain had just descended on the Stock twins, out of nowhere.
Pittsburgh Bug-B-Gone, who rid Temple Ner Tamid ("Eternal Light") of the cockroach problem spoiling their kosher catering facilities, took care of the nest, but the problem of finding two more counselors at such short notice fell to the Head of Staff, a theater student who hadn't been accepted into any summer stock programs and so was spending the summer exiled in his hometown. Chastened, he was living in the sweaty bedroom of his youth and after dark would stroke himself remembering a girl from high school who would pull over halfway home from cast parties to bring him to a shuddering ovation in the backseat of her family's throbbing car. So when the Stock twins were peppered he didn't have to look further than his own sticky body. He was buzzing with panting reunion fantasies when he called Cyn, but he had to put his acting skills to use when he said of course she could bring her boyfriend Joseph, and that's how Cyn and I ended up living in her parents' house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, during the summer before my senior year at Mather College. The curtain rises.
Golemrevenge through attacks bylegends concerningFiction
Our story begins with a golem, a figure in Jewish mythsort of a Jewish lie, sort of a Jewish truth. Just as God, breathing into clay, created something that was in the shape of, but not as good as, Himself, man can breathe into clay and make something man-shaped but not man. Or in this case, not woman.
The trick, of course, is the ritual. The mythology of the golem sprung up in the sixteenth century in Worms, Germany, when a beleaguered rabbi, exhausted by the usual government evil, created a new ritual and with it a seven-foot-tall man made of clay. In many ways Pittsburgh is a perfect place for what was surely the first American golem, because although stories of the ritual differ, they usually say that river mud is the best flesh.
The sixteenth-century Worms fad in Jew-hating was a fairly common one in those days: the blood libel. Jews were accused of killing Christian babies and using their blood to make unleavened bread for Passover, a charge that's particularly laughable if you've ever had even a bite of dry, tasteless matzah. This is a reason why the Glass home is also a perfect locale for a golem revival, because Mrs. Glass cooked her delicious meals using mysterious ingredients obtained at dawn at the downtown market. Who knows what was in that sauce, or what creature previously owned those bulbous objects, rendered unreadable by carmelization?
According to the records, some Christians would kill their own babies, break into rabbis' homes and place the baby-bodies in the basement, returning the next morning with a mob. Now that's anti-semitism. Rabbis set up patrols to block this baby-planting, but all the Christians would have to do was toss the infant corpses directly into the rabbis' arms and return the next morning with a mob. The ghetto-hood watch wasn't working; the congregation wanted a better guardian.
The clay is laid out in the shape of a man and the creator is dressed in white. Candles are lit and the body is circled a number of times argued over extensively in horrifically dull texts on Jewish mysticism. The prayers are of course also in dispute, but my favorite is an alphabetical one sung by a hopelessly Gentile tenor in Golem, one of the productions that summer at the Pittsburgh Opera: "Ah, By Clay Destroy Evil Forces, Golem, Help Israel: Justice!" This brought the clay to an obedient, powerful and creepy life.
The fact it's the alphabet is worth noting. The golem, like so many aspects of Judaism, is inundated with the power of the Word. God's name is a secretabbreviated "Ha Shem," or "The Name," most of the time. In the beginning, of course, was the Word. It's generally agreed that a short prayer, inscribed on a scroll of paper, should be placed in the golem's mouth; if he ever speaks, the Word of God tumbles out and the golem turns back into clay. Pretend you're an evil Christian, sneaking through the ghettos of Worms with a dead baby, when a seven-foot silent figure of clay steps out of the shadows. No way are you returning the next morning with a mob. That's the power of the Word. The name of the beleaguered rabbi was Rabbi Liva. The name of the river from which the flesh was taken was the Moldau River. The name of the first golem was Joseph. The name of the story where all this is told is The Wondrous Tale That Was Widely Known As The Sorrows Of A Daughter.
Cyn had not the slightest interest in her religious heritage, but one time we were caught in a freak thunderstorm while walking around the campus cemetery, one of those picturesque old ones where people are always doing rubbings. We huddled underneath a tree, getting damp, then soaked, then horny: we did a rubbing. Cyn always preferred being on top and I always submitted, even when that meant my bare body pressed into mud and her hair and face dripping on me like a wet tree. Even when she shifted her position and moved her hands from the mud to my chest, leaving a thick handprint of clay on each shoulder, I didn't mind. As she constricted around me I felt like I was coming to life, obedient to her will. She stuck a clay-stained finger into my mouth and though the taste was bitter I was afraid to say anything and ruin it. The rain stopped but we didn't; I was afraid that somebody might see us, stepping out of the shadows on their way somewhere. But I didn't speak. I'd do anything for her.
And that's how Cyn and I ended up living in her parents' house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, during the summer before my senior year at Mather. The curtain rises.
Meet the Author
Daniel Handler has written three novels under his own name, including The Basic Eight, Watch Your Mouth, and Adverbs, and many books under the name Lemony Snicket, including All the Wrong Questions, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and the picture book 13 Words.
Customer Reviews
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I have read Basic 8 by Daniel Handler which is how I ended up with this book. He is quirky and dark and hilarious. This book is definately not for the easily offended or for someone who's sensitive to disturbing subject matter. The characters seem okay on the outside but once you see how they interact with each other it's slightly uncomfortable. There is murder and incest and jealousy and inappropriate behavior. I loved every sentence of this book and have since re-read it twice. The story grabs you from the beginning and you can't stop reading even if you want to. I just had to find out how it was going to end.
While I thought this book was great, I always think twice before recommending it to friends. The subject matter isn't for everyone. But I've been haunted by these characters and this story since I read it years ago, and I love having it in my collection. Just don't hand it to your kid immediately after they outgrow Snicket.
no,i didnt enjoy watch your mouth nearly as much as i did the basic eight however,handlers wonderful.witty writing and the unforgettable characters make this book a great read recomended
this is a difficult book to write about, and to read for that matter. Handler's writing has a very dark edge that is not so much lessend by his wit as it is enhanced. the terrible events of what happen during his summer with the Glasses is only made more terrible as we are made to laugh at them. I cannot strongly recomend this book to everyone, it's operatic style alone will turn off some readers, but to those of you out there who are always up for something different you may want to give this a look.
this book was ok. i didn't like it as much as his series of unfortunate events (his other name is Lemony SNicket) but it was good. he is certainly capibable of better though


text:
Love Will Turn You Around lyrics - Kenny Rogers
Love Will Turn You Around Song Lyrics
You can run you can hide
never let it inside
Keep livin' your life in the dark
But sooner or later
that gentle persuader
Is gonna catch up with your heart
Make you a dreamer, believer
Believin' in love
Right when a man's
doin' all that he can
And he thinks he got
just what he needs
Life will deliver
a shock that will shiver
And drivin' him down to his knees
Make him start givin'
livin', livin' again
Well it's your mind
that tricks you in to
leavin' every time
Love will turn you around
turn you around
Well it's your heart
that talks you in to
stayin' where you are
Love will turn you around
turn you around
Out of the blue
she reaches for you
And you tell her
you don't have the time
So you move away fast
but you know it won't last
Cause you can't get her
off of your mind
Thoughts are burnin', turnin'
they're turning around
How do you know
when to stay or to go?
And how do you know
when it's real?
You don't need a sign
to make up your mind
When you got your heart
at the wheel
You wanna start sharin'
carin', carin' again
Love will turn you around, turn you around
Love will turn you around, turn you around
Turn you around
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
Expellers for cold pressed oil production
We press oil ourselves and have been doing so for years, this is our own brand here. If you want to see a press running then get in touch and we'll let you know when we are pressing next, or read on and view one of the videos. Keep scrolling down - we supply many types of press from a very small press that you can use in the kitchen through to presses that will give hundreds of litres of oil per hour. Find a quick guide here. Find a detailed press brochure here.
Kern Kraft make presses that will press from 8kg of seed per hour up to 500kg of seed per hour.
We are an authorised dealer for Kern Kraft presses and can therefore offer full backup. The presses perform very well and are easy to dismantle and clean making them ideal for culinary oil production. These machines can confidently be left running unattended (for months on end if required). Very little seed pulp (known as foots) comes through with the oil making filtering easier. Many producers have started with one press and later increased their capacity by installing more of these compact press units - this gives a greater throughput while maintaining a good clean oil output, something that is difficult to achieve with very large presses. There are installations with racks of many KK40s running continuously. Cake is expelled as a pellet (for example with rapeseed the pellet diameter is 6mm to 8mm). See a video of the KK40 pressing rapeseed HERE. and a short video of how the KK20 and KK40 type presses are assembled and run HERE. More information can be found by clicking on the 'useful links' button.
- Industrial unit capable of running all day long for months on end.
- Max throughput 40kg seed per hour (e.g.max 14 litres of rapeseed oil per hour)
- 3.0kW motor (three phase or single phase) with variable speed control.
- Cake output as pellets.
- Easy to take apart and clean. Many nozzel sizes available. Can be configured to press most oil bearing seeds and nuts. Can be left running continuously.
- PRICE: equivalent of 6,400Euro delivered + VAT delivered to UK address
- ~ single barrel version of the KK40
- Can be left running 24/7
- Max throughput 20kg seed per hour (e.g.max 7 litres of rapeseed oil per hour)
- 2.0kW motor (three phase or single phase) with variable speed control.
- Cake output as pellets.
- Easy to take apart and clean. Many nozzel sizes available. Can be configured to press most oil bearing seeds and nuts. Can be left running continuously.
- PRICE: equivalent of 4,800Euro + VAT delivered to UK address
- This is a budget version of the KK20
- Lighter and smaller than the KK20 - (cheaper to ship overseas)
- Exactly the same press screw and barrel as the KK20 but using an off the shelf gearbox
- Perfect for pressing a few tons a month.
- PRICE: equivalent of 3,400 Euro + VAT delivered to UK address
- High quality German machine can be left running 24/7
- 80kg per hour (2 tons per day)
- Cake as flakes OR pellets
- Very adjustable and great for 'difficult seeds'
- PRICE: equivalent 13,650Euro + VAT delivered.
Here is a little domestic oil press, ideal as a demonstrator to show how the process of oil extraction works, running taste tests or some oil now and again for yourself and friends. It is based on a juicer and is a heavy duty solid feeling unit. 700ml of rapeseed oil in an hour - not fast by any means but whirs away nicely. Works fine for most small seeds like rape, linseed, hemp etc. Can not be used for large seeds like sunflower or nuts since the screw is very small. You'll get all the fruit and vegetable juicer parts too with this oil press.
PRICE: 'Kitchen' oil press - £250.00 + VAT + £18 postage


text:
It only takes a minute to get started. Fill out our uncomplicated sign up form and login to the site.
This step is elective but will dramatically raise your chances of getting interest from other members on the website. Write a little something about yourself, your hobbies and upload any nice photographs of yourself.
Utilise our website's advanced search to spot members who meet your requirements. Or just leaf through listings and spot folks that interest you.
Discovered someone who ticks all the boxes? Send a letter to them or just a wink and let it develop from there. With a little luck you'll be on your way to true love.
It's quick and easy


text:
A man was accused of robbing a bank with a bomb – except he told police it wasn't actually a bomb, it, was a dildo with some wires and duct tape.
The bomb squad were called after police pulled over 35 year old Aaron Stein. He had held up a PNC bank branch by walking in and telling the cashier that he had a bomb, showing her the wires hanging from him, and demanded $15,000.
He made off with the money, until police eventually caught up with him. He confessed to the robbery, and also admitted that the 'bomb' was in fact a dildo.
The police didn't trust him,and so had to take precautions.
They closed off a major road, as they weren't sure at this point if the man had an explosive or not, and the bomb squad was deployed. They used a robot to destroy a briefcase, and another item that they deemed suspicious. No explosives were found.


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She also thinks President Obama is not a true christian in that he's issued a GLBT Pride Proclamation for June, 2009 yet didn't make a big fuss over the National Day of Prayer back in early May, 2009. Only Sally Kern is the heavenly hostess.
The other son, Jesse, has merely gone forth to Iowa and kept his seed to himself, declaring himself in a Tulsa WORLD interview to be chaste for his god.
"First of all, no one's sexuality is anyone's business. It is not even my mother's business," he said. "I practice celibacy to give to my God," he said. (http://tinyurl.com/39kpsq)
It would seem that indeed, Jesse Kern IS keeping his sexuality to himself, not even his own mother knows for sure. But that worries me.
If, and this is a big IF, Sally Kern has a gay family member, and she truly loves her own progeny as she has said in public interviews, and she is truly practicing christian values, wouldn't you think she'd be a tad warmer and fuzzier than to say homosexuality should be "exposed and attacked"?
I have no beef with any grown man or woman who chooses to be very private about their sexual orientation, regardless of their last name and who has no public power or position.
But I do have a difference of opinion with a ranting, gnashing, and foaming parent with an elected, tax-payed position who chooses to advocate and reference with violent verbs actions against my civil rights as an equal citizen of America.
With every additional pronouncement from Sally Kern, who is always willing to talk about her discomfort with diversity, I think she's finally found the bottom of her soul, but apparently Kern's soul is infinitely deep.


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Current Faculty
Attias, Bernardo A.
(1994) Professor of Communication Studies. B.S. 1988, Northwestern University; Ph.D. 1997, University of Iowa.
Ballard, James D.
(2002) Professor of Sociology. B.S. 1991, M.A. 1992, Jacksonville State University; Ph.D. 2000, University of Nevada.
Becker, Lawrence
(2002) Eugene C. Price Professor of Political Science. B.A. 1991, University of California, San Diego; M.A. 1996, Ph.D. 2001, University of Massachusetts.
Cahn, Matthew A.
(1991) Associate Dean, College of Social and Behavioral Sciences; Professor of Political Science. B.A. 1986, University of California, Berkeley; M.A. 1988, Ph.D. 1991, University of Southern California.
Hogen-Esch, Tom J.
(2002) Professor of Political Science. B.A. 1991, Ph.D. 2001, University of Southern California.
Kent, Robert B.
(2008) Professor of Urban Studies and Planning. B.A. 1973, M.A. 1976, University of California, Davis; Ph.D. 1983, Syracuse University.
McDonald, Lauren
(2008) Associate Professor of Sociology. B.S. 1993, St. Joseph's University; M.A. 1996, University of Massachusetts, Boston; Ph.D. 2008, Graduate Center of City University of New York.
Minassians, Henrik P.
(2008) Associate Professor of Urban Studies and Planning. B.A. 1994, M.A. 1996, California State University, Northridge; Ph.D. 2002, University of Albany State of New York.
Morgaine, Karen
(2008) Associate Professor of Sociology. B.S., 1987, State University of New York; M.A. 1989, Antioch University; Ph.D., 2007, Portland State University.
Ricks, Boris E.
(2008) Associate Professor of Political Science. B.S. 1989, Mississippi Valley State College; M.P.A. 1991 University of Mississippi; M.A. 1996, Ph.D. 2003, University of Southern California.
Saiz, Martin R.
(2000) Professor of Political Science. B.A. 1978, Arizona State University; M.P.C.D. 1981, University of Colorado, Denver; Ph.D. 1991, University of Colorado, Boulder.
Shaw, Victor
(1997) Professor of Sociology. B.S. 1983, M.A. 1986, Wuhan University; M.A. 1993, Ph.D. 1994, University of Hawaii.
Thomas, Ward
(2003) Associate Professor of Urban Studies and Planning. B.A. 1985, University of Oregon; M.P.A. 1988, San Francisco State University; Ph.D. 1997, University of California, Los Angeles.
Toker, Zeynep
(2006) Professor of Urban Studies and Planning. B.A. 1998, M.A. 2000, Middle East Technical University, Turkey; Ph.D. 2004, North Carolina State University.
Krivonos, Paul D.
(1975) Professor emeritus of Communication Studies. A.B. 1967, M.A. 1969, University of California, Davis; Ph.D. 1975, Purdue University.


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John Mariano
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John Mariano (born August 5, 1960) is an American actor who has worked in a number of films and television series. He is known for playing tough guys with a comic edge.
Looney Tunes Role(s)
He is the voice of Bobby Goodfeather in Animaniacs.


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Sage's Study of Ancient K'Lorn Magic
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Notes Edit
- The recipes to this spell can only be purchased from the merchant near Soul Eater Falls in Nektulos Forest after you have completed the Bloodline Chronicles Timeline (for which you need to own the Bloodline Chronicles Adventure Pack). The recipe is, however, tradeable.


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The Golden Rule (5 of 6) by Dennis Marquardt
This content is part of a series.The Golden Rule (5 of 6)
Series: Rules for the Redeemed
Dennis Marquardt
Matthew 7:12; 24-27
INTRO: The so-called "GOLDEN RULE" is not unique to Christianity! But there is something very unique about this golden rule as Jesus stated it, and this makes Christianity's version of it above all others.
This Golden rule is found in many religions around the world, and from many points in history. For instance, this golden rule is found in Rabbinic Judaism and also in Hinduism, Buddhism and Confucianism; also there is a form of this golden rule in Greek and Roman ethical teachings! What's the difference then between Jesus' version and the others? In all the others this "golden rule" is stated in the negative instead of the positive as Jesus stated it.
This difference might seem on the surface to be insignificant, but it is a MAJOR difference!
A. The negative form is the appeal of LAW for CONTROL!
B. The positive form is the appeal of LOVE for GROWTH!
ILLUS: This can be seen in the Bible also. Notice in the OLD TESTAMENT the Law of Moses, what we call the 10 commandments; they are stated mostly in the negative: "THOU SHALL NOT..." They appealed to control the run-away nature of fallen man, to keep human civilization from total corruption ... there were tough penalties for break¬ing those laws. HOWEVER, notice that when Jesus came He promises a new covenant of grace, when He states the law under the new covenant of grace He does so in the positive rather than the negative, "Thou shall love the Lord your God will all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself - this fulfills the law."
How does this difference come about? By faith in Jesus Christ who changes the heart and soul of man so that it is possible in grace to do what we could not do under the law!
PROP. SENT: Jesus' teaching on the "Golden Rule" goes far beyond any other religion's teaching on the same subject because instead of trying to control negative behavior it en¬courages beha ...
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ED Magedson – Founder
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The Design of a Multilayer Planar Transformer for DC/DC Converter with a Resonant Inverter - new
M. Puskarczyk[1], R. Jez [1]
[1]ABB Corporate Research Center, Krakow, Poland
Multilayer planar transformers are widely implemented in power electronic applications. The design process of these elements is complicated due to the complexity of a magnetic circuit and high frequency interactions between windings. Additionally, an analytical approach to the analysis (based on mathematical formulas) can be uncertain. The applied FEM method of the analysis can be a solution to ...
Modeling of Ultrasonic Transducers and Ultrasonic Wave Propagation for Commercial Applications Using Finite Elements with Experimental Visualization of Waves for Validation - new
D. R. Andrews[1]
[1]Cambridge Ultrasonics, Over, UK
Finite element (FE) modelling of ultrasonic propagation using COMSOL Multiphysics® simulations can be used to create images of waves. Unfortunately, in time-stepping solutions, it is possible for numerical instabilities to grow large and dominate the solution adversely. Any design of transducer that is based upon poorly-configured FE models is unlikely to perform as expected and will almost ...
Exploratory FEM-Based Multiphysics Oxygen Transport and Cell Viability Models for Isolated Pancreatic Islets
P. Buchwald
Diabetes Research Institute and the Department of Molecular and Cellular Pharmacology, University of Miami, Miller School of Medicine, Miami, FL, USA
Cellular-level oxygen consumption and cell viability models incorporating physiologically realistic assumptions and fully scaled 2D/3D geometries have been implemented in COMSOL Multiphysics for isolated pancreatic islets. Oxygen consumption was assumed to follow Michaelis-Menten–type kinetics and to cease when local concentrations fell below a critical threshold. Results are in good agreement ...
Models of Simple Iron Cored Electromagnets - new
J. Mammadov[1]
[1]University of Manchester, Manchester, UK
This report mainly discusses the implementation and results of a project proposal, "Modelling using Finite Element Methods". The report is devoted to implementation, which is a model of an electromagnet. The software tool that is used to model the electromagnet is COMSOL Multiphysics®, a commercial FEA package provided by the University of Manchester, Computer Science School. Additionally, the ...
CVD Graphene Growth Mechanism on Nickel Thin Films - new
K. Al-Shurman[1], H. Naseem[2]
[1]The Institute for Nanoscience & Engineering, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR, USA
[2]Department of Electrical Engineering, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, AR, USA
Chemical vapor deposition is considered a promising method for synthesis of graphene films on different types of substrate utilizing transition metals such as Ni. However, synthesizing a single-layer graphene and controlling the quality of the graphene CVD film on Ni are very challenging due to the multiplicity of the CVD growth conditions. COMSOL Multiphysics® software is used to investigate ...
Analysis of Heat, Mass Transport, and Momentum Transport Effects in Complex Catalyst Shapes for Gas-Phase Heterogeneous Reactions Using COMSOL Multiphysics
A. Nagaraj[1], and P. Mills[2]
[1]Department of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, Texas A&M University, Kingsville, TX, USA
[2]Department of Chemical and Natural Gas Engineering, Texas A&M University, Kingsville, TX, USA
The global demand for sulfuric acid has been forecast to grow at an average of 2.6% per year from 2005 – 2010. The primary objective of this work is to analyze the performance of various heterogeneous catalyst shapes that have been proposed for the oxidation of SO2 to SO3 used in the manufacture of sulfuric acid. COMSOL Multiphysics provides a powerful numerical platform for simulation of ...
Lamb Waves and Dispersion Curves in Plates and It's Applications in NDE Experiences Using Comsol Multiphysics
P. Gómez, J. P. Fernandez, and P. D. García
Hydro-Geophysics & NDE Modeling Unit
University of Oviedo
Mieres, Spain
In this paper, a model for numerically obtaining lamb wave modes and dispersion curves in plates is presented. It is shown that COMSOL Multiphysics can be employed to simulate the behavior of guided waves in dispersive plates, which is useful for NDE applications. A two dimensional steel plate (4x0.1 meters) is excited with a space-time impact point source. To model the point source, we use ...
Simulation of Current Density for Electroplating on Silicon Using a Hull Cell
F. Lima[1], U. Mescheder[1], H. Reinecke[3]
[1]Hochschule Furtwangen University, Furtwangen, Baden-Wuerttemberg, Germany
[3]Institut für Mikrosystemtechnik, Freiburg im Breisgau, Baden-Wuerttemberg, Germany
Electrodeposition has a major advantage over other methods of thin film deposition. It allows deposition at atmospheric pressure and room temperature, requiring inexpensive equipment. However, there are several parameters which can influence an electroplated metal layer quality. The current density distribution is taken into consideration. The Hull cell is an electrodeposition tank with a ...
Tunable MEMS Capacitor for RF Applications
H. S. Shriram[1], T. Nimje[1], D. Vakharia[1]
[1]BITS Pilani, Rajasthan, India
Radio Frequency MEMS devices have emerged to overcome the problem of high losses associated with semiconductors at high frequencies. A tunable MEMS capacitor is a micrometre-scale electronic device whose capacitance is controlled through different actuation mechanisms which govern the moving parts. It can have electrostatic or electrothermal actuators depending on the functional complexity and ...
Simulation of PTFE Billet Sintering using COMSOL
A. Roday, and P. Nicosia
Garlock Sealing Technologies
Palmyra, NY
Sintering is an important step in the manufacturing of polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE) billets. The challenge in heating large billets stems from the inherent low thermal conductivity of PTFE. Existing literature suggests determining maximum heating rate experimentally using recommended guidelines. This paper uses COMSOL to aid in optimizing the temperature profile required for a particular ...


text:
Rhode Island Hospital/Brown University Alpert Medical School, Providence, RI
Copyright 2016, American College of Chest Physicians. All Rights Reserved.
SESSION TITLE: Ultrasound in the ICU
SESSION TYPE: Original Investigation Slide
PRESENTED ON: Monday, October 24, 2016 at 04:30 PM - 05:30 PM
PURPOSE: The aim of this study was to determine if ultrasound measures of diaphragm thickness during inspiration (delta tdi) decreases time on mechanical ventilation when compared to usual care (UC). Additionally, the study examined the acceptability of incorporating measures of delta tdi in decision making of intensivists.
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Hunter S Thompson shot himself two years ago, aged 67. Presumably the man who invented gonzo journalism figured he'd told us enough.
Thompson's best works - Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas and The Great Shark Hunt - are still deeply loved for their freewheeling yet perceptive form of investigative journalism.
Before he died, the author was working on a kind of companion piece: a book of the memorabilia he had collected compulsively for four decades, through road trips, presidential campaigns and other wild rides along the precipice.
The book is now out in limited edition, and these photographs, which were a central part of that hoarding process, are on display as a stand-alone exhibition.
That Thompson turned out to be an excellent photographer is as unsurprising as his choice of subject matter.
The man as famed for his testerone and drug-fuelled lifestyle as for his actual writing rarely did anything he didn't want to do, and probably never anything he was likely to do badly, which is how he managed to throw himself into writing, travelling, boozing and even campaigning (for the wrongly imprisoned and, memorably but unsuccessfully, for sheriff).
Besides, Thompson always liked shooting things. Just check out the photo here of Hunter and friend fishing with guns. The method is simple - point gun at water and shoot. Although you wonder whether they ever managed to catch anything.
His camera shots were more successful. There are terrific colour-saturated pictures of Sixties Hell's Angels in this exhibition, acting as naturally as bearded motorcycle men only do in the absence of outsiders: two are even kissing.
There's delectable Sandy Conklin, who became Thompson's first wife, and a gruesome shot of a splayed naked woman in a Nixon mask (Thompson, never a man to keep the world in ignorance of his opinions, loathed the architect of Watergate: Nixon and what he represented was the inspiration, if that is the word, for the phrase Fear And Loathing).
Most intriguing, though, are the monochrome self-portraits: testament to a style that was less about observing the world than about placing oneself at the centre of it and observing others' reactions to that self.
Thompson typing overlooking Big Sur or scribbling and sunbathing in Puerto Rico, scary in Louisville or wary in the seat of his famed White Whale convertible is the essence of gonzo: he's the subject and the artist, with the rest of creation there merely to provide decoration.
No wonder he made life difficult for his long-time collaborator, the cartoonist Ralph Steadman (although he made life difficult for everybody): the best illustrator of Thompson's work was always going to be Thompson. At least as far as he was concerned.
Until 10 Mar, 3 Jubilee Pl SW3 (020 7352 3649, michaelhoppengallery.com), Tue-Fri 12-6pm, Sat 10.30am-4pm, free. Tube: Sloane Sq
Michael Hoppen Gallery
Jubilee Place, SW3 3TD


text:
A Happy Ending... Perhaps
Luckily, Emily started gaining consciousness after about twenty minutes. When she came round, she seemed slightly confused, but then the recent occurrences caught up with her, and she found her head starting to throb.
She held a hand up to him, to stop him from saying what he was going to say, clutching her head in her free hand, and trudged across the grass in the pouring rain to the medical room where her emergency insulin was kept.
She laid down on the sick-bed with her hair like snakes, dripping wet.
She hated having to have the injections, but she'd rather have them than pass out.
When the school nurse walked out of the room, she was flicking through a magazine; she noticed some words in it that applied to Michael: mysterious, caring, strange, unreal, mind-reader, fallen… Then suddenly it hit her. Michael was a fallen angel.
All of a sudden, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, and upper arm, and it slowly spread across her shoulder blades until it was across the top of her back, and then eventually, across her chest.
She found it hard to breathe, and from being a first-aider, knew immediately that she was having a heart attack. Sure, yes, what's the worst that could happen? This is what happens when you say those fateful words.
She noticed the bright light again, though nobody around her batted an eyelid, and found herself rising, leaving her body behind. These were no Martians. They were beautiful, blonde, winged creatures, and Emily knew where she was going. She was going to visit her Mother.
When she stopped rising, she noticed that her lovely brunette hair had turned blonde, and that her clothes had changed colour: white. She was stood just outside some pearly gates, where an old man was there with a scroll and quill.
"Name?" He grumbled.
"Emily Smith." She mumbled, but he seemed to have heard her.
"Ah yes, we had your Mother a few days ago." He chuckled.
She then proceeded on to some angels that were waiting for her; the ones that had brought her up.
"Turn around." They commanded simultaneously, and she did so.
"Now, this might hurt, just a little bit." The taller angel smiled, spitefully. Yes, that's very heavenly behaviour.
"What are you-" Emily began, but then was cut off by a sharp stabbing pain to her back, not unlike when she had the heart attack, and then weight, that made her stagger forwards.
"Wings," the chubbier angel explained. "And don't forget to wax them once a month."
She found a hut with her name tag on that looked identical to her room at home, apart from the fact that her wardrobe, or rather the contents of it, were white.
She took a look in the long mirror, and saw that her wings were very long, and feathered.
She took out the dressmaking scissors from her drawer, and cut her wings until they were just little stubs (obviously not able to feel pain; you couldn't feel anything in this new body), and then everything disappeared. And she was falling through the open air, until she landed with a thud, on the leaf-covered ground, in her non-white school uniform next to Michael. She had two scars on her back, and someone she could now call her twin, of course nobody else would understand their little joke, unless of course, they happen to have been to heaven.
Emily knew, now, what Michael had meant by her being the 'chosen one'. She had been ordained to die from the second she was born. She had always been destined to visit The Pearly Gates.