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TALLINN, Estonia (AP) Estonia's foreign minister on Sunday accused the Russian media of spreading lies to provoke unrest during the removal of a Soviet war memorial and grave from downtown Tallinn last week.
Russian officials dismissed the accusations as groundless, saying Moscow had nothing to do with the explosion of violence in the ex-Soviet Baltic republic.
Estonia's decision to relocate the war memorial sparked three nights of rioting in the country and largely ethnic Russian towns that left one person dead, 156 injured and more than 1,000 detained. It was the worst violence since Estonia won independence from the Soviet Union in 1991, and raised concerns throughout the European Union.
Estonian Foreign Minister Urmas Paet blamed the Russian media for fueling the unrest by printing what he said was misinformation, including rumors that the memorial was sawed into pieces and that hundreds of ethnic Russians on Estonia's police force had resigned. "It's a complete lie," he said.
Paet also criticized Russia for not adequately protecting the Estonian embassy in Moscow from attacks by large crowds of demonstrators, some wearing Red Army uniforms.
"The embassy is attacked with rocks and paint. The access of Estonian citizens to the embassy has also been blocked," he was quoted by the Baltic News Service as saying.
Konstantin Kosachyov, chairman of Russia's parliamentary committee on international affairs, called the accusations "unfitting."
"We have no relation to the reaction of civil society that was seen on the streets of Estonian cities," he said.
Members of a pro-Kremlin youth group held a candlelight vigil at the Estonian embassy in Moscow Sunday night to protest the ethnic Russian killed during the rioting. They held a banner reading: "You will be held responsible for a Russian hero!"
A fence had been constructed around the embassy for extra protection.
Some 50,000 Soviet soldiers were killed by Nazi troops on Estonian territory during World War II. Estonia's Russians — less than one-third of the country's 1.3 million people — regard the monument as a shrine to the war effort, but ethnic Estonians consider it a painful reminder of hardships during the half-century of Soviet rule.
Despite the harsh words, a group of Russian lawmakers was expected to visit Tallinn on Monday to assess the progress on moving the memorial to a military cemetery.
Estonian Defense Minister Jaak Aaviksoo said the statue would be erected in the cemetery outside Tallinn by May 8, a day before Russians celebrate the Allied victory over Nazi Germany.
"The Bronze Soldier is in good shape and unharmed," he said Sunday, adding the government would organize a ceremony once the statue is in place.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
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Boral makes concrete flattering
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Vogue concrete roof tiles achieve a 20 degree roof pitch with the use of sarking, which Boral always recommends for superior heat reflection and weather-proofing performance.
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Boral Roof Tiles supplies concrete and terracotta roof tiles. The tiles are naturally coloured, and shaped or flat.Learn more

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ODJE (acronym for Open DJ Elements) is a multi-platform (Windows and Linux) modular interface for creating DJ setups (based on Decks, Crossfaders, Sliders and effects) for parties. It is based on FMOD (audio) and QT (GUI). Supports Icecast streaming. Ico
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Just a little over a week ago, I was awoken at seven in the morning by a startling phone call from my mother. She informed me that her sister had just passed away in the hospital. For three years my aunt was battling leukemia to little avail, and although I was distraught to hear of her death, I'd known that it was imminent.
My mom told me that the funeral was to be set a week later in their hometown of Heppner, Oregon, a rural little place that she claimed to be quaint. Unfortunately, most of my family couldn't afford the airline tickets, and the drive would be much too far, so they simply apologized and sent their condolences.
I began to take great pity upon my mother—if I didn't attend the funeral then she would have to go alone. I pictured her in front of a headstone, more inconsolable than she sounded on the phone. I knew I had to go or I would regret it.
Later that day my mom called again. Through sobs, I managed to hear her say that I was to stay a week with her in Heppner, beginning tomorrow, if at all possible. She was currently living in her deceased parents' home that they had left my aunt in their will; she had moved in six months ago to be with my aunt for her last moments on Earth.
Their parents had passed away about a decade ago, within months of each other. I couldn't let my mother toil away in the home where all her loved ones kept dying, so I made a vow to her that I would see her early the following morning. I could almost sense her smile at the sound of my words, and she said, "Do hurry," dreamily. Then the crying resumed. I assured her that I'd be there before she knew it and that I loved her before hanging up.
I then gathered a bag of clothes and toiletries and proceeded to call the nearest airline, auspiciously snagging one of the last available spaces for the five AM departure. I groggily awoke the next morning long before I usually did on an average day. I grabbed my lone bag and drove down to the airport. As you'd assume, it was hectic there, even at four in the morning. I went through the basic procedures like the security check, and then I reluctantly left my personal belongings with utter strangers who I had no reason to rely on. Paranoid, I know, but I've always been at least a tad wary of everyone other than close friends and relatives; you can't trust everyone in this world.
At last I was on the plane. I took a vacant seat with a view—not that I'd need it. I used every minute of that two hour flight to try and catch up on sleep. The flight wasn't as bad as I'd envisioned it to be, in spite of my contorted sleeping position. There were no delays, and I was in Heppner around eight AM, just as I had planned. I got a rental car and phoned my mother for directions. She was still barely audible through the tears. I thought that I had better do something to uplift her mood, so I decided to pick her up a nice bouquet on the way there. Thankfully, such a store was provided not even a mile from the rental car building. See, that's the convenience of little towns like Heppner.
I arrived at my grandparents' old house about twenty minutes later. I got out of the car with the flowers and was immediately appalled. Saying that the house was dilapidated would be an understatement; I would have guessed it to be condemned if I was just driving by. The fading yellow paint was beyond chipping—it was completely missing in some spots. Two windows were boarded up with a horrifying greenish wood. The grass was overgrown, the fence had fallen over, the roof had few shingles left—I could go on for days, but I just shook my head and started up the staircase to the door, which was missing two out of the three stairs, by the way. I tapped on the door and stood there for a moment, not sure what to do with myself. I checked myself in a nearby window to make sure I appeared decently composed because it had been at least six months since I had last seen my mother.
I peered down at my watch. Five minutes had passed. I was showered with tiny paint chips as I started to rap on the door. I stiffly presented myself in front of the door, feeling as if it would open at any second. I decided that I could retreat to the car to grab my cell phone, hoping that maybe she would answer the door if I called. I reached in my pocket for the keys to unlock the car, but the door suddenly rattled open almost violently, like my mother had waited until the last possible moment, almost as if she had to have been watching me.
I was immediately taken aback by my mother's appearance. I hated thinking this, but she was in worse shape than the house. As she flung her arms around me, I saw sharp, deep wrinkles outlining her face. They were the oddest wrinkles I'd ever seen—in some areas they were stretched tight, close to baring bone, but in other areas her skin drooped, perhaps lower than natural, and the wrinkles hung very loosely. I'd never seen her with such terrible skin; it was as if she had some sort of botched surgery. And her complexion, far from the sun-kissed beauty I'd seen in fading photographs, was sickly. She was covered in pinkish-translucent flesh that had numerous collapsed veins apparent. It was so heartbreaking to see my mother in this state—she was even missing great sections of hair.
But I acted as though I had taken no recognition of her appearance, handed her the flowers, and said how much I had missed her. She invited me inside and gestured for me to take a seat on the couch while she prepared some tea. The living room was cave-like. Dark drapes prevented any hopeful ray of light coming in. Not only was the floor covered in a spectrum of dark stains on the worn chestnut wood, but the dirt on top of it formed a layer of… Earth, almost. The old-fashioned furniture was adorned with plastic covers, all except the couch I sat on, whose plastic cover laid haphazardly on the floor. It was as though they weren't in use at all, which was anomalous to me. I don't intend to come off as disrespectful at all, but my mother simply did not live like this. She always kept the house pristine and I'd known her to be this way my entire life. I'd normally expect a mere image of a place like this to blind my mother if not horrify her into unrelenting oblivion. If she had been living here for six months, why was the house in such a bad condition?
Giving my best attempt to set everything aside, I suddenly felt the presence of something horrendous. It was a terrible smell, a combination of rotting and… burning. I was just... confounded. None of this made sense. I went to look for the source of the smell, flipping the couch cushions, looking under the coffee table, then I—
"Tea is ready, Evan!" my mother called from the kitchen.
Slightly bemused, I followed the sound of her voice, having never been in the house before. The awful smell subsided in the kitchen, but only to a degree. My tenuous mother, hands trembling, handed me a dirty teacup, and I had nothing to do but politely accept.
"Thanks for the flowers, they're gorgeous," she gushed.
"Oh no problem, I really wanted to get them for you," I replied.
In response, she smiled, and drank a sip from her tea cup.
"So, mom," I began, somewhat apprehensive, "I noticed that it's a little dirty around here. I know you've been stressed, so I could clean if you want me to."
She gave me a blank look. "Now, there's no need for that."
She then rose from her seat and went to the sink, now facing away from me. Her weak hands clumsily shuffled an assortment of random bottles and cups.
"Uh, are you sure? I really don't mind at all and—"
She turned to me. "I insist, there's just no need!" she stubbornly said with wide eyes, dropping one of the bottles she held.
It rolled towards me and the cap fell off. Immediately, a sweet smelling bright-green liquid drenched the floor. I picked up the bottle for her and went to hand it to her, catching a glimpse of the label.
"Engine coolant… mom, why's there anti-freeze in your kitchen?" I asked, increasingly perplexed by the moment.
She took the still-dripping bottle. "Bought it for the car, of course, but I haven't gotten around to using it. If you really want to help, you could do that for me." She placed it next to a blue container that I assumed to be motor oil from the design of the label. The other containers either didn't have a label or were facing the opposite way.
"Ah, sure…" I said, retracing my memory to any other times before that my mother had acted so…eccentric. Nothing memorable came to mind.
"Well, thanks. How is your tea, Evan? I admit, it's probably not the best this time around, I had to use a different brand of tea bags."
My eyes darted down at the untouched cup. Little particles—of which I assumed to be flakes of tea leaves from a split bag—were floating around. I took a tiny sip and felt the gritty substance against my tongue.
"No, mom, it's actually really good, I like it." I pretended to take another sip but I actually just spit my first sip back into the cup.
"Hmm, well that's good," she responded very vaguely.
"So when exactly is the funeral?" I asked, trying to sound offhanded yet sympathetic.
"Six days from today," she said a bit shortly.
"Oh. Okay, mom."
My intuition told me that my mother was about to tear up, but oddly, she didn't. Maybe she was just trying to hold it together now that she was in front of me, but all I could hope was that she would be back to a healthier state as soon as she could be.
"Hey, mom, would you mind if I took a shower? I'm sorry, but somehow I forgot to get one before the flight."
"Oh sure, go ahead," she said, and pointed upwards.
I presumed that she was referring to the staircase, but she could not be any more ambiguous. I went back into the living room and found a staircase a few feet away from the unfortunately aromatic couch I had just sat on. As I climbed the stairs I felt as though the wood was about to give way because it was just so flexible. At the top of the stairs I was immersed in total darkness. I scanned the narrow hallway for a light switch. As soon as I found one, a dim light bulb close by flickered.
The walls around me were covered wholly in hand-prints of blood that coated prominent scratch marks everywhere I looked. The deep indentations wore away the paneling, going inches and inches into the wood. I took a step back, stunned, but this sight could almost be disregarded and forgotten after what I saw at the end of the hallway. It was the most unnerving thing I had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. One could say it resembled a human, although its flesh was ripped off obscenely, crimson muscles baring and practically pounding in what seemed to be the worst, agonizing pain. With the little skin that still clung to it, there were cuts everywhere that seemed to be from a sharp-clawed animal.
The marks on the creature left inflamed wounds far, far into the muscle, revealing bone at some angles. Its hair appeared to be yanked out, which left purplish scars behind. What was most disturbing were its eyes. It rubbed at its eyes, despite the fact that they had already been hollowed out. A bizarre thought struck me; I thought that the creature had to have clawed its own eyes out. It had to have, after seeing its own hideous, gruesomely disfigured body, as if the sight alone brought unhinging agony.
All of my thoughts seemed to happen at once. My heart felt like it was struggling to escape my body, as if it was trying to stop the utterly traumatized feeling I had. But I believe, moments later, my heart realized it simply couldn't do it, so I fell to the floor.
A few minutes later, entirely dazed, I stood. There in front of me was a broken mirror, my plain reflection showing, aside from the tiny beads of sweat all over. It was just a mirror. What the hell I had seen, I don't know. I was astounded at this vision I'd just had. Nothing was making any fucking sense. I could only conclude that my high anxiety was fabricating things out of thin air, that I wasn't in the right state of mind. Gathering myself back together, I spun around as the lights gave a feeble flicker lasting a millisecond, but the walls no longer bore the scratches or blood. In fact, there were no signs of the walls having any indentations or stains at all. I took in the old paneling for a good moment, assuring myself that this is reality.
I forced myself to shrug it off. I had a panic attack due to stress. Plus, I had barely slept. Going back to my original motive, to take a shower, I saw three doors in the hallway. I took a wild guess and grabbed the rusted doorknob of the middle door. I had guessed right. It was the bathroom, which was also ill-maintained. I could tell that it had once been a sterile-looking white room. There wasn't a single window, but it was eerily bright, almost fluorescent. The white tiles on the floors and walls were tracked in dried mud. The small mirror over the sink was so grimy that I saw no reflection — and I was partially grateful for this. Unceasingly bewildered, I moved to the shower, which had no curtain. I quickly undressed and left my clothes in a bundle on top of the tile with the least amount of mud. I adjusted the rusty hot and cold knobs on the shower, attempting to find a nice balance, but no matter what I did, it was always a scalding hot.
While in the shower, I tried to sort out my mother's unusual behaviors and why she lived in this savage-like house. I accounted it to her stress — surely she was in no condition to clean, and of course the death of another beloved family member would alter someone emotionally. I actually wondered if my aunt's death had triggered my mother to become senile, but I promptly dismissed that thought. I knew that age was very cruel, leaving you to watch everyone you had ever known fall to the hand of death. She was just reacting the best she could to the situation, albeit that she needed more help than she could admit to.
As I switched off the water, I could have sworn that I saw an odd glimpse in the corner of my eye. It was a person, crouched and shaking madly. It caused a stitch in my heart once again, but I looked around in every direction to see mud. I knew I had not let my guard down yet from having that mini panic attack in the hallway, no matter how hard I was trying. The thoughts wouldn't leave my head and the images were now ingrained in my mind. I was a bundle of nerves, one half of my brain descending into hell while the other half did all it could to placate me.
I jumped at a knock on the door but I eased up when I heard that it was just my mother. Of course it was just my mother.
"Shit," I mumbled to myself, acknowledging that I really needed to relax.
"Evan, I just realized that there weren't any towels in there!" she called.
I opened the door just wide enough to grab the towel she held out. As she passed it to me I noticed that her nails were manicured, long and a bit pointed at the edges. I hadn't seen her with her nails done in years. It struck me as strange that she would have the time to get a manicure or take the care to do one herself but had abandoned maintaining the house, something she had always took pride in. Shouldn't taking care of yourself coincide with taking care of where you live? I knew it was such a simple detail, but I didn't get it.
"Thanks, mom," I called back as the door closed.
I looked down at the towel in my hand. It was a vibrant red; it was really refreshing to see at least one thing this clean and bright in the house. As I dried myself off, I saw a small corner of the towel that was white. It kinda looked like a bit of bleach, but wasn't really orange.
I wrapped the towel around me and picked up my crumpled suit, going back into the hallway. I was yet again caught off guard when I saw my mother. Hadn't she left when she gave me the towel a few moments ago?
"You almost gave me a heart attack," I gave a weak laugh.
"That's your room right there," she pointed to the door that was nearest to the stairs and to the left of the bathroom.
I focused my attention back on her. Her gaze on me did not falter; then she said, "Please don't go in my room, honey. An old lady such as myself needs a nap every here and then."
I gave her a faint smile. "Oh stop," I said as we each went off to our separate rooms.
I opened the door to my room, which was cleaner than the rest of the house, although quite bland. Thick brown drapes yet again hid all the daylight from this room. I pushed them aside, and, to my dismay, saw an even more basic, torpid street below, the street to the left of the house. There was nothing — no cars, no people, no clouds, not even a leaf blowing in the wind. Absolutely nothing. Nothing hopeful or reminiscent of daily, ordinary life to relieve me of my gut-wrenching, anxiety-addled feelings.
I sat down on the brown bedspread that smelled of moth balls. At least it didn't reek of whatever was downstairs. I looked down at the floor and saw my bag. I was happy that my mother was considerate enough to bring them in for me — how nice of her to do that. Finally one positive thing from this day. I lay down on the bed and yawned. I was more tired than I realized and attributed my strange thoughts to this. Sleep deprivation is definitely nothing to fuck with. I closed my eyes. Perhaps I could use a nice nap, too. I could awake well-rested and spend some actual time with my mother. I thought of taking her out to dinner, away from this atrocity of a house. I drifted off further and further, emptying all thoughts from my mind, but one had managed to float back: I left the rental car keys in my suit pocket, which had been with me the whole time.
I awoke in the middle of the night. I got up as soon as I caught sight of a faded, dark flash. I squinted, and in the very back corner I saw a wrinkled face with beady eyes, her long fingernails outstretched towards me.
My mother advanced towards me, taking small steps, but each one thudded against the floor and reverberated against the wall. It mimicked a heartbeat. I closed my eyes, shaking in a cold sweat. The heartbeat she simulated was becoming slower and slower, but at last she had reached her destination. She leaned down next me and stared intently into my eyes. Her thick, long claws tore into my cheek, scraping the bone. This was so surreal, my mother couldn't have done this to me, never…
And so I thought again when I awoke a second time — or was this my first time waking up? It wasn't dark. It was a bright day, according to the gap between the curtains. I suppose I had just dreamed that it was night. I wondered how long I was asleep for, intermingling thoughts of my anxiety induced nightmare. I didn't feel any pain in my face that would accompany such a vividly imagined gash. Once more a wave of shame came over me as I had again let my paranoia get the best of me. Cursing myself, I knew I should've tried much harder to shake my feelings before I fell asleep.
Maybe I'm acting crazy, I thought. Maybe I'm making something out of nothing and taking this way out of proportion. No need to worry. There was just absolutely no reason to worry. I let go of the dream and got dressed. I felt guilty for being so self-absorbed when I should be most concerned about my mother at this time... I realized that I should be directing all of my thoughts towards her and the time we had together for this visit. Yes, I should definitely convince her to go out to dinner tonight, I told myself. She needed someone to treat her, to take her away from the stress for even a brief time.
I stumbled down the rickety staircase and down into the living room. Unfortunately, the atmosphere of the living room somehow seemed so much more sullen than the previous day. I tried to shake it but the smell of burning — and some sort of rotting I couldn't discern - was omnipresent. It was so strong that I could barely breathe; the tainted air was now strangling me out of nowhere. It took a hold of me before I had sufficient time to react... and I was suffocating...
The room was getting progressively darker and I began to fall as my mother tapped me.
"Evan, dinner is done."
My surroundings immediately came back. I was standing near the bottom of the staircase. The wretched odor had significantly diminished and was now just unpleasant rather than noxious. There was nothing to prove what had just happened other than what I could retrieve from hazy memory and the overall fogginess in my mind that I was left with. It was hard to tell, but I was certain my reaction time was curbed as well... I suddenly felt an irritating, burning sensation across my cheek. Dazed, I lifted my arm up to feel a rough, fresh gash. The pain intensified as my fingers ran past the wound. Why had I not felt this when I woke up? Why hadn't I touched my cheek before... my disoriented thoughts floated around as I noticed that my mother was still in front of me.
"I don't want whatever the fuck you're making, lady." I was stunned that I just said this.
My mother looked at me as if I hadn't said anything that would possibly affront her.
"Are you all right? You were sleeping for a very long time, dear. I didn't want to bug you." Her face twisted into a concerned frown. I looked into the eyes of my mother, the very woman responsible for my life, and although I couldn't explain what was happening, I couldn't blame these strange occurrences on her... I was at such a loss... I was losing it... but I wanted to cling to the remainder of my sanity for her...I needed to keep myself together for her sake... I needed to force myself to focus...
"Oh my gosh," I instantly felt remorse, "I'm so sorry, mom. You're right. I have been a bit off... I don't really know, though, I was tired yesterday, but not that tired. I just feel so weird,"
"It's okay, Evan. I bet you just had a long, tiresome flight," she said. "So," she continued, "I've been kind of tired myself, so I just made light salad, I hope you don't mind."
I shook my head. No, I guess I didn't mind. I sat down at the table and my mom presented me with a full plate and a glass of water. I hadn't eaten since breakfast but I was much more ravenous than I expected myself to be. I ate the entire plate within five minutes and found myself asking if she had any extra. Gradually I was overtaken with the feeling that I might pass out again.
"I don't... feel quite right," I mumbled, swaying in my seat.
My vision was dimming and everything sounded like I had a cup to my ears. I felt very distant with my surroundings, a slight sensation at first that soon became overwhelming. I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't piece anything together. I was fading out of it... a dark film overlapped my vision, growing and growing... I had lost all control.
My vision became distorted; it was all just a crude blur. I was being tormented. The ugly, disheveled room was vanishing rapidly. All that was left was my unstable thoughts and the feeling of hands on me, which sent an abnormal pulse through me, steaming and frigid all at once. It was like my body couldn't process it, it had failed me again, leaving me immersed once again into obscurity.
Some odd hours later, I came back into a groggy consciousness. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes; every time I did, they just left me with less time on my hands and more questions than answers. My brain told me, not yet, just a few more moments, and then you should open your eyes. I felt so betrayed by my own body, so why should I value its opinion anymore? I decided to open my eyes.
It was very dark but I could tell that I was in a very small room. I reached out to utilize my other senses; maybe it would finally shed me some light. I felt something — or, many things — hanging. In some areas, it was soft and smooth, but other areas... they were rough, coarse, and had jagged edges. No matter what the texture, it was freezing. Whatever this was, it was so familiar, I knew what it was; it was just that my hazy brain couldn't form a connection.
I continued feeling this material, hoping to eventually figure out what it was. It was hanging everywhere. I couldn't move my hand an inch without grazing it. I reached further up to feel two even slits. Mystified, I continued to navigate my hand over the material. Further down I touched a bit of the material dangling from the side. There were five pieces, each a different size, the one in the middle being the longest. It was thin and smooth, and seemed to have tiny little hairs... hairs…
In my hand I grasped another. The only difference was that this hand was de-boned. No muscle, no flesh, no nails. No bones. No. All around me was skin, touching me, lying next to me, hanging above me. I was enclosed in a room of skin, lying in here for hours… I trembled and shook, and it took me a few additional moments to recognize that the room became lighter — maybe because I was finally thrown back into my malicious reality. I was surrounded by skinned people, all cut brutally, the folds sagging inanimately... but only for a moment.
They detached themselves from the hook as I began to howl, heart thumping unbearably. The holes where their mouths once had been were hanging in a gap of horror, their eyebrows raised in alarm. A wave of heat washed over me. I was breathing so heavily, shaking so aggressively. Then the skinned people grabbed me. It was so surreal, almost impossible to visually comprehend. They weren't strong; in actuality, they were delicate and frail. It didn't feel like I was being touched — I could sense them, but their layer of skin was so thin that I hardly felt them at all. The skinned people opened the door of what I now knew was a closet. I shook uncontrollably and shrieked hysterically. I was so uncertain of what was real and what was not at this point.
I saw my mother in the distance, giving a flashy smirk as her skin began to peel off of her. She even tore portions of it off herself, all while holding her gleaming grin. I thought that the skins were carrying me away, but now they simply lay on the floor next to me, immobilized. They were now powerless, just as I was. I couldn't get up. I tried repeatedly to launch myself in the air and flee, but I couldn't. I was being held back by a relentless force. The last layer she pulled off was that of her face. She continued to smirk at me, now with her widened eyes that ridiculed my existence in but one stare. Her flesh appeared to be deeply, immeasurably irritated. It almost sizzled.
This was not my mother. This — thing — had lured my mother, just as it has lured me, and stolen her... this repugnant creature was never meant to live. I was filled with the merciless urge to strike it, to do anything I could to hurt it, to set it aflame and let it burn forever... but it seemed to already be doing that... and coping perfectly fine.
"This skin," it spoke dreadfully in the voice of my mother, "is unfitting. I need new pieces."
With its long demonic talons, it grabbed one of the folds on the floor beside me and draped it over its revolting flesh. "Too worn," it groaned. Then it swooped down, inches from me, and grazed my face with the tip of the pointed nail that had slashed me. I truly felt where it had marked me now... it was no longer simply irritating but boundlessly grueling. It was deeper than I had thought. The creature leered at me, not blinking. The skin didn't cling to it. It was like a terrible Halloween costume where the eyes showed too much, but instead of revealing the innocent eyes of a child, enormous singed-looking eyes bore through me while the skin hung off its face. I felt an excruciating sinking. My heart was in ice and I wanted nothing more but for this to stop.
I had no time to react when a quick slash cut down my body like a giant razor. The creature carried me into the hall and threw me down the stairs while keeping a firm grip on my skin, latching onto it from head to toe effortlessly with the giant, outstretched claws. I couldn't even scream as I felt myself unravel from my ripped skin. I burned and ached everywhere as I lay at the bottom of the staircase near the couch. The creature took my skin and sprawled it over itself. It was sadistically pinching my skin to singe it together, happening so fast that it reminded me of a crude zipper. I saw myself leap down the stairs... the creature had transmogrified its bone structure to mine... how did it do that...
I was grabbed by my own mirror image. At its touch I was set ablaze — although I saw no fire. The creature wearing my skin lifted up the couch and threw me under next to four other bodies.
Well, to say the least, I think my complexion will never be as good as it used to be.


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Hour & Location
11am - 9pm
Tel: (617)-945-2822
201 Alewife Brook Pkwy, Cambridge, MA 02138
Follow us on Twitter at @bonmeALE
Pickup Orders
We ask that you refrain from ordering more than 5 entree items at a time during peak hours (11am-1pm). If you have a larger order, please call our Catering Manager at 617-470-7545 and we will try our best to accommodate you. Thanks!


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The silhouette of the shelf goes along the wall like a thin sharp line.
The back of solid oak allows an easy and secure fixing on the wall. Putting together the thin metal with solid oak makes a high quality and durable product. The invisible fixing on the wall makes the shelf appear airy.
UP's philosophy is design democratization through contemporary, multifunctional and European made furniture.


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What is JotForm?
JotForm is a free online form builder which helps you create online forms without writing a single line of code. No sign-up required.
At JotForm, we want to make sure that you're getting the online form builder help that you need. Our friendly customer support team is available 24/7.
We believe that if one user has a question, there could be more users who may have the same question. This is why many of our support forum threads are public and available to be searched and viewed. If you'd like help immediately, feel free to search for a similar question, or submit your question or concern.
Remove space between the asterick and checkbox field.Asked by montsho on May 06, 2014 at 08:48 PM
Is there a way to remove the space between the asterick (for required field) and he actual check box?
JotForm Support
Hi, what can be done to get asterick closer to the checkbox, is to type something in the label:
Then inject this CSS code in the form to make the text color as the background of the form, so it will hide:
This is how it loooks:
Hope this helps you, if you have another question non-related to this one, please open a new thread, we will be glad to assist you.


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PreCure Communes the form that Kopple, Lilin, Roop and Blatt take, when Akemi, Hoshi, Kohana and Mimi have to transform into Pretty Cure. They are very similar to the communes from the original Series Futari wa Pretty Cure, Max Heart, Splash Star and Doki Doki! Pretty Cure. Like in Pretty Cure Max Heart and Splash Star, Kopple, Lilin and Roop have special Cards provide them with food, health and sleep.
The girls need them to transform into Pretty Cure by saying Pretty Cure Colorful Chance!


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So, after watching Big Time Audition for the billionth time and actually analyzing some parts...and then having many discussions about it with XChemicalXFallXPanicX (go read her stuff, you'll fall in love, I swear) we came to the conclusion that what we all believed to be canon...could not possibly be. XD And after much deliberation, I decided to write my own little ficlet/drabble-ish thing that makes me feel better about my new canon. Heehee.
He hoisted his backpack onto one shoulder, the rest of the bag hanging casually at his side. The exact way he liked it...the way his mother said would ruin his posture.
But posture was the last thing on his mind at this point. He wanted to look cool, needed to actually. He had a rep to maintain now, considering his coach just informed the school that he was the new captain of the Freshman hockey team.
His cool, confident exterior came across as almost cocky as he swaggered into his next class. He winked at Jenny Tinkler in the front row as he walked past. She giggled, and he bit back a self-loathing cringe. Oh, if only he swung that way.
"There's the man of the hour!" Kendall smirked at his two best friends, bumping knuckles with both James and Carlos before taking his seat in the desk right in front of James.
"Yeah! Congrats, man!" Carlos threw him a grin, his arms folded over his helmet that rested on the desktop.
Kendall only managed a small "heh" in response before the late bell rang and their teacher closed the door. He was riding on his self-esteem high, the grin never leaving his face as he tried paying attention.
Mr. Morris was in the middle of a sentence when the door was opened as quietly as one could with the metal grinding together in an annoying squeak. Every head swiveled in the direction of the obnoxious noise as a boy walked in, his face obviously buried in a schedule where only the top of his dark head was visible.
And then he looked up to scan the room, meeting peers' eyes at random.
Kendall felt his breath catch as those chocolatey eyes met his. It was like he had been hit by a bolt of lightning that electrocuted his heart into beating double-time.
And one word flashed across his mind as he watched the new boy converse with the teacher briefly before making his way towards Kendall to sit in the desk directly next to him.
One word that explained the searing heat that engulfed his very being as Mr. Morris introduced him as Logan Mitchell.
One word that made Kendall's whole world just click into place and make perfect sense.
Aaaaand done. Wow, that was shorter than I thought it would be! Let me know what you think! LOVES!


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|Message view
|« Date » · « Thread »
|« Date » · « Thread »
|"Earwin Burrfoot (JIRA)" <j...@apache.org>
|[jira] Commented: (LUCENE-2339) Allow Directory.copy() to accept a collection of file names to be copied
|Tue, 23 Mar 2010 09:34:27 GMT
[ https://issues.apache.org/jira/browse/LUCENE-2339?page=com.atlassian.jira.plugin.system.issuetabpanels:comment-tabpanel&focusedCommentId=12848634#action_12848634 ] Earwin Burrfoot commented on LUCENE-2339: ----------------------------------------- bq. So unless LUCENE-1482 springs back to life again, what do you suggest we do? Suppressing the exceptions seems wrong to me. bq. But can we change it to throw the first exception it encounters? That's exactly what most of lucene is doing when closing something. If you can't log, you either suppress, or mask the previous exception. Let's mask it? That way the user may get the wrong exception, but he's not getting a situation when something failed but looks okay on the surface. bq. I love CloseSafely! We do that in a number of places and should simply call it, instead. I did this for readers in my reopen patch, except new utility method does decRef. bq. I also prefer Arrays.asList to be explicit ok :/ > Allow Directory.copy() to accept a collection of file names to be copied > ------------------------------------------------------------------------ > > Key: LUCENE-2339 > URL: https://issues.apache.org/jira/browse/LUCENE-2339 > Project: Lucene - Java > Issue Type: Improvement > Reporter: Earwin Burrfoot > Assignee: Michael McCandless > Attachments: LUCENE-2339.patch, LUCENE-2339.patch, LUCENE-2339.patch > > > Par example, I want to copy files pertaining to a certain commit, and not everything there is in a Directory. -- This message is automatically generated by JIRA. - You can reply to this email to add a comment to the issue online. --------------------------------------------------------------------- To unsubscribe, e-mail: email@example.com For additional commands, e-mail: email@example.com
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Not Accepting Guests
- Last login about 6 hours ago
Join Couchsurfing to see LASOENNES's full profile. It's free!
About Me
The conquest of the world, of course!
I quit my web-development job in France and started to wander the world for a while! I've been to many countries for short trips, but now I plan to experience places I'll go more deeply. No rush. I'm often interested in discovering new things/activities when they come up, and in meeting nice, funny, interesting or weird people (yeah, two out of four would do!).
Depending of personalities in front of me, I can be pretty quiet or on the contrary totally talkative, but in any case trying to be as respectful as I can to their habbits/way of life. In the end, I won't be able to hide long that I'm deeply crazy - but keep cool, in a good way -, more likely if we get along well. I like to talk about various subjects, watch movies, make stupid jokes, and discover unusual places. Anyway, see you around!
Each experience is worth living.
The point in life is to try to see the good things in anything that could happen.
Why I'm on Couchsurfing
I started CS experiences in mid-2012 during my long trip. So far, I participated in helping in various activities (hiking, camping, and stuff), and in teaching people how to play the god-forsaken game of Mahjong (Richi version).
I had 3 hosted experiences in Japan and Australia, and a lot of CS activities in New Caledonia and New Zealand, such as few days trip in NC smaller islands, hiking, camps, parties, and so on.
Movies & music (see below)
Shows (concerts, theatre)
Games: role playing games, board games (including chess and mahjong!) & video games
Cocktails: mixing
Dreams (especially lucid dreams)
- arts
- concerts
- cocktails
- meditation
- movies
- video games
- board games
- chess
- music
- hiking
- camping
- martial arts
- massage
Music, Movies, and Books
Movies: Memento, Fight Club, Donnie Darko, Metropolis(2001), Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Watchmen, Les Derniers Jours du Monde, Vanilly Sky, Mr. Nobody, Cashback, Thank you for smoking, and so many
Music: ELO, Queen, Deftones, The Hoosiers, The Cranberries, Breaking Benjamin, Infected Mushroom, Emancipator, Elsiane, Tyron Taylor, Gojira and many electro/metal bands (well, basically rock, metal, electro, or any kind of music really, as soon as it stays *melodic*!)
One Amazing Thing I've Done
Experienced few hours in suborbit space...
No, just kidding... but that would really make my life!
Among other things, let's pick this one: to see the gates open on the Taj Mahal in the morning's mist... Breathtaking!
And... FF7. Of course. ; )
Teach, Learn, Share
Special skills: cocktail-maker
Could be interested in learning: martial arts, meditation techniques, body energy manipulation, playing music, and more I can't think of right now.
Countries I've Visited
Australia, Austria, Estonia, Fiji, India, Italy, Lithuania, Mauritius, New Caledonia, New Zealand, Russian Federation, Réunion, Spain, Switzerland, Thailand, United Kingdom, United States
Countries I've Lived In
Australia, France, Japan, New Caledonia, New Zealand


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Hide WordPress Toolbar for a specific page template
For a project I was working on recently I was using a simplified version of the single page template in order to load specific pieces of content into iframes within a plugin page in the WordPress Admin. This was so I could preview the arrangement of the content in the page layout using a custom layout tool I created.
One of the first things I usually do when creating an account in WordPress is to disable the Toolbar in my user profile so that it doesn't get in the way when trying to work on the layout of the site. So on this current site the page content I was loading into the iframes looked fine, however, whilst previewing it on someone else's WordPress account which did not have the Toolbar disabled I realised that each one of my iframes had the toolbar showing and was then pushing the iframe content down.
Whilst I knew it was possible to disable the toolbar programmatically in this case I only wanted it hidden for the template used for these specific iframes but left available if other WordPress users wanted to use it. The first part of the puzzle was the code to disable the toolbar:
add_filter('show_admin_bar', '__return_false');
Adding this filter via either an appropriate action such as 'after_setup_theme' would generally do the trick, but for my use I needed to be able to trigger it only for the page template loading into the iframe. Conveniently in my use I was actually using a custom URL parameter to trigger the simplified single page template, I had a function in my plugin which checks for this URL parameter and then displays my simplified page template (single-basic.php instead of the regular single.php page) so this gave me a good place to disable the toolbar, so I added the 'add_filter...' line above into this function:
function my_basic_template($template) { global $wp; // get url parameter from page query, // i.e. mysite.com/mypage/?basic_template=true if ($wp->query_vars['basic_template']) { // Disable Toolbar add_filter('show_admin_bar', '__return_false'); // Get rid of the 32px whitespace remove_action('wp_head', '_admin_bar_bump_cb'); return get_template_directory() . '/single-basic.php'; } else { return $template; } } add_filter('single_template', 'my_basic_template');
After adding the 'add_filter...' line to my code it did indeed disable the toolbar for those pages but unfortunately it left a 32px white band at the top where the toolbar would have been displayed, however a quick bit of googling came up with the following 'remove_action' function which gets rid of that whitespace:
remove_action('wp_head', '_admin_bar_bump_cb');
So, with that all in place I now had iframes with content in them and no toolbar in sight! Adding the same two lines in other contexts should also work, either in an 'after_setup_theme' action or other appropriate WordPress hook. It could also be done based on other options such as custom post type etc.
Tags: wordpress,toolbar,web development
Originally published on 2015-02-05 18:17:45 by Rick Curran
Last edited on 2015-02-05 18:20:40 by Rick Curran
Permalink: http://suburbia.org.uk/blog/2015/02/05/181745.html
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Know more about this business than we do? Cool! Please submit any corrections or missing details you may have.Help us make it right
Be the first MLive.com user to add photos or videos of Mercy Home Health Care Llc
Mercy Home Health Care LLC is located at 32500 Concord Dr Ste 343, Madison Heights, MI. This business specializes in Home Health Care.
Contact us in Hyattsville, Maryland, for our professional home health care and nursing services


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An alias is an alternate name for an entity. They typically contain common mispellings or variations of the name and are also used to improve search results. View the alias documentation for more details.
Jayn Hanna has no aliases.
Artist credits
This is a list of all the different ways Jayn Hanna is credited in the database. View the artist credit documentation for more details.
|Evolution feat. Jayn Hanna
|Evolution feat. Jayn Hanna
|Jayn Hanna


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|Message view
|« Date » · « Thread »
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|Jukka Zitting <jukka.zitt...@gmail.com>
|Jackrabbit management API
|Thu, 03 Sep 2009 14:00:55 GMT
Hi, Let's branch some of the more general discussion from JCR-1865 to here on dev@. The issue is about repository management operations like starting and stopping the repository, changing repository configuration, etc. that are typically only available to administrators. It would be nice if these operations could be accessed through mechanisms like JMX for easy integration with various network and server management and monitoring tools. The question is, should such an API be implemented by extending the existing JCR Repository and Session interfaces for easy access over layers like JCR-RMI and SPI, or should it be a separate interface that is only exposed to selected clients? The former approach requires some extra administrator-level access controls and might be more difficult to integrate with JMX, while the latter approach requires extra configuration and won't benefit from our existing remoting mechanisms. It might also be possible to merge these approaches somehow, for example with a method like JackrabbitRepository.getRepositoryManager(Credentials). A related consideration is what we are going to do with OSGi. The OSGi bundle lifecycle and configuration mechanisms offer much of the same functionality as proposed above, and there are already things like JMX integration for OSGi. BR, Jukka Zitting
|View raw message


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WSTS projects semiconductor industry growth to peak in 2008:
World Semiconductor Trade Statistics [WSTS] projects the global semiconductor industry will continue to grow in 2007 and peak in 2008, said WSTS Asia-Pacific president Tony Huang. Huang said the global semiconductor industry should enjoy mild growth in 2007 at 8.6%, up further from this year's projected 8.5%. Memory IC production value growth should grow at 8.9% while logic IC will reach 8.8% in 2007. The entire industry growth should peak in 2008 with an on-year growth rate of 12% to a production value of US$314.4 billion.
That's it? What happened to the 40% year/year growth rates seen as recently as 2004?
And more importantly, when are they going to fill all of the excess capacity they are adding?


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Colombo: Indian team has every reason to feel better after their clinical approach against Bangladesh. After their defeat against Sri Lanka, I was not sure whether skipper Sourav Ganguly was more concerned about the rustiness of the top order batsmen or the penetration of the bowlers. But once Ganguly won the toss and opted to field, it was quite clear that he was more concerned about bowling. Sending Bangladesh to bat first was a conscious decision to get the bowling combination right before the all-important game against Pakistan on Sunday. The team think-tank decided to go even further to rest Anil Kumble and give both Harbhajan Singh and Ashish Nehra a good run. Fitness factor Even if Zaheer Khan is declared fit by physio Andrew Liepus, the team cannot afford to take the risk of playing him in such crucial encounters. Although, Bangladesh is considered minnows, the performance of Ashish and Harbhajan has furthermore given the captain a good measure about their form and fitness. With Anil coming back into the side, the game against Pakistan will be a toss up between the third seamer and a second spinner, much depending on the nature of the strip. For some strange reasons, the extras have been playing havoc in this tournament. It's not only the Indians, even the Pakistani bowlers are equally at fault. Indians gave away a staggering number of 37 extras out of which 23 were wides and four no balls. That happens to be the second highest score in the Bangladesh scorecard. Equally baffling were in the manner the Pakistan bowlers conceded 17 wides and four no balls. The Indians will have to get better in this area. After all, in tight contests, discipline makes a major difference. Cautious Sachin Sachin's cautious approach was quite understandable since it is always important for the batsman to spend time in the middle. Still a keen student of the sport, Sachin plays the game according to the merit of cricket. He, perhaps, showed maximum respect to weak Bangladesh attack to derive the best for his batting. The mind and the body co-ordination are so important in this game that even an ounce of arrogance and recklessness can bring down the greatest of batsmen. It was a lesson for the youngsters to learn from the way Sachin went about building his innings. Ganguly followed the same pursuit to be among the runs. Dismal Pak Pakistan's dismal show has once again exposed their brittle batting line up. Their lack of experience is very much evident in recent games. The argument to induce fresh blood into the team does not necessarily always bring victories. The truth is that not much importance is given to the fact of blending youth with experience. The problem is that too many youngsters in the side automatically lead to the delay in maturing at the international level. Pakistan s idea of having a foreign coach is a benign departure from conventional routine, which has failed more often than not. Bob Woolmer at the helm of affairs certainly has a far better grasp of things. He transformed the South African team into a good side and proved that one need not be a great international player to be a good coach. (PTI)
Topics : Cricket
Get the latest ICC Women's World Cup 2017 news, check ICC Women's World Cup 2017 schedule, WWC live score & WWC Points Table. Like us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter for more ICC Champions Trophy updates. You can also download the NDTV Cricket app for Android or iOS
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Australia can learn from UK's drinking problem.. campaigner
As British authorities pursue a new strategy to tackle problem drinking, such as pricing measures, a leading campaigner for reform says Australia can learn from the UK's experience. He's warned the Federal Government can't afford to let market forces regulate the industry, amid fears children are being targeted by social media marketing.
Source: AM | Duration: 4min 6sec
Topics: alcohol-education, alcohol, australia, united-kingdom
TONY EASTLEY: A UK expert on alcohol addiction says that the control of alcohol cannot be left to the free market.
Professor Sir Ian Gilmore is the Royal College of Physicians' special advisor on alcohol and chair of the United Kingdom's Alcohol Health Alliance. He's in Australia to deliver a series of talks on alcohol reform.
Professor Gilmore says excessive drinking is the cause for more than one-million alcohol-related hospital admissions in the UK each year.
He told reporter Rebecca Brice there are lessons for Australia from the British experience.
IAN GILMORE: Well there's no single magic bullet but the evidence is most strong around price, availability, and marketing.
And one area where the UK is being innovative is looking at a minimum floor price. That's where you can't sell a standard drink below a certain amount. And in the UK we're talking about something that will be equivalent to about 60 or 70 cents.
The great strength of that policy is that it won't affect the price of a drink in a bar or a restaurant but it will tackle the very cheap supermarket drink that's being sold literally at pocket money prices - beer and cider sometimes cheaper than bottled water.
The alcohol strategy that the UK government is developing isn't as strong as we'd like in some other areas, particularly it's not strong in marketing. Kids are starting to drink younger than they used to. We're seeing cases of cirrhosis of the liver, which takes maybe 10 years to develop in heavy drinkers, we're seeing that in women sometimes in their early 20s.
REBECCA BRICE: Specifically on this issue of social media marketing to children and young people, how big a concern is that?
IAN GILMORE: We know from the evidence that children who are exposed to alcohol advertising both start drinking at a younger age and when they start drinking they drink more. It's very hard to put numbers and figures on that.
When we talk about marketing now, it isn't just about advertisements on billboards or even on television. It's talking about social media, it's talking about the internet. There are many subtle and insidious ways.
I think Australian doesn't have as severe problems as part of the UK yet but I think it just has to look carefully at what's happening in other parts of the world to see what happens if you follow a more market driven and liberal approach.
REBECCA BRICE: We've long had a culture of drinking here though in Australia. Couldn't it be argued that this is really an extension of that, a growth of that drinking culture?
IAN GILMORE: Yes certainly there's been a culture of drinking in Australia, as there has been in the UK but that isn't necessarily a good thing. There's hardly a family that hasn't been touched in some way.
REBECCA BRICE: What proof do we have then that it's social media and it's marketing to people that's the problem and not simply an evolution of that drinking culture?
IAN GILMORE: There's no doubt at all that there's been a cultural shift in the last decade or two and I think there is very good evidence that major contributors to that cultural shift have been the cheap availability of alcohol and the way it's being marketed 24/7.
REBECCA BRICE: The industry claims that there is a robust system of regulatory controls in Australia to oversee alcohol advertising, including on social media, and there are age gates to many social media sites and there's a parental responsibility here as well.
IAN GILMORE: In terms of regulation of advertising, Australia is particularly weak. The system in place in Australia is voluntary. Things like age gates are just relying on what the individual puts in there.
So yes there is parental responsibility but it's a tough job if young people are being bombarded by the media on a regular basis. There is a very weak self-regulation of advertising and many, many examples where there are flagrant breaches of those codes of practice.
TONY EASTLEY: Professor Sir Ian Gilmore speaking to AM's Rebecca Brice.


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Commissioner Don Garber will make the case that the decade-old league is still viable, and its newest franchise — Real Salt Lake — deserves the new arena, when he meets with Gov. Jon Huntsman Wednesday.
Garber, however, won't lobby the governor to veto a recent legislative measure that eliminates a major source of funding for the proposed RSL venue, team CEO Dean Howes said.
The bill forbids cities from using Redevelopment Agency money for sports stadiums, probably will be discussed if the governor brings it up. Howes said Monday that the team "would love to have the time to prove the viability of a stadium."
Huntsman spokeswoman Tammy Kikuchi said the governor is reviewing the bill. Salt Lake Mayor Rocky Anderson wants him to veto it since the measure makes it more difficult for the city to compete against Murray — also being considered as a possible venue for the stadium.
The bill hurts Salt Lake's chances because the $20 million price tag for the block at 600 South and Main Street would require RDA money. Unless the city can buy the land for the stadium or pay for infrastructure, it risks losing the bid to house the 22,000-seat stadium.
Murray's prospects aren't affected because land near the 4500 South TRAX stop is cheaper and the city can use a different pot of money for its contribution. RSL also is open to other sites and other cities.
Additionally, the team is attempting to pursuade Salt Lake County voters to pass a $30 million bond to help build the $60 million venue. The team would pay the other half. Garber will meet with county Mayor Peter Corroon and County Council Chairman Michael Jensen during his visit to the state.
He also will meet with Sen. Curtis Bramble, R-Provo, who sponsored the legislation. Bramble, who wants the team to obtain public money through alternative means, has said he isn't anti-soccer but wants to protect education funding.
A week ago, Bramble's Provo home was defaced with chalk messages that said he "hates fans" and had "declared war." The messages were signed "RSL", but the team denies involvement and Bramble does not believe RSL was involved.
Information from: The Salt Lake Tribune, http://www.sltrib.com


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It only takes a minute to get started. Fill out our simple sign up form and login to the website.
This step is voluntary but will greatly raise your chances of getting noticed by other people on the website. Write a little about yourself, your hobbies and attach any nice photographs of yourself.
Utilise our website's advanced search to uncover members who are up to your requirements. Or just leaf through listings and uncover singles that interest you.
Discovered someone who appeals to you? Send them a few words or just a wink and find out if they're interested in you. With a little luck you'll be on your way to true love.
It doesn't take long


text:
Open Studios At Parsons!
Have you ever wondered what goes on in the School of Fashion? See for yourself! Some of our AAS, BFA Sophomore, and BFA Junior studios are having open studio sessions. See below for a full schedule of classes, times, and room numbers:
Related Posts by School of Fashion.


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No Free Rides and Other Episodes is a fan-fiction VHS/DVD Release featuring one Danny Phantom episode, one All Grown Up episode, one Pokemon episode, one 101 Dalmatians: The Series episode, one SpongeBob SquarePants episode, one Hey Arnold episode, one Thomas and Friends episode and one Zoboomafoo episode.
- Attack of The Killer Garage Sale (Danny Phantom)
- Fools Rush In (All Grown Up)
- Ariados, Amigos (Pokemon)
- Love Em and Flea Em (101 Dalmatians: The Series)
- No Free Rides (SpongeBob SquarePants)
- Deconstructing Arnold (Hey Arnold)
- Old Iron (Thomas and Friends)
- Flying Buddies (Zoboomafoo)
- Distributed by USA Home Entertainment.
- Release Date: March 1, 2005.
- The Danny Phantom intro, nameplate sequence (Thomas version, 1996-1998) and the Zoboomafoo outro are used together.
- Old Iron is taken from the "Thomas and His Friends Get Along" 1998 VHS.
VHS/DVD Artwork
Front Cover (USA Home Entertainment version)
- Top: SpongeBob (happy) and Mrs. Puff (angry)
- Bottom: Edward and James (both tired) from "Old Iron"
Back Cover (USA Home Entertainment version)
- Misty (panicked) from "Ariados, Amigos"
- Tommy (angry) from "Fools Rush In"
Front Cover (Strand VCI/Strand Home Video/Video Treasures versions)
- Mrs. Puff (angry) from "Doing Time"
Back Cover (Strand VCI/Strand Home Video/Video Treasures versions)
- Brock and Aya from "Ariados, Amigos"


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We changed position and assisted the 51st in repulsing the attack.
Puymirol had now abandoned all idea of repulsing the stranger.
After repulsing four desperate assaults his ammunition unfortunately gave out.
Both were as serious as could be, repulsing everyone who wanted to separate them.
I tell you plainly that I shall use strong measures with you if you persist in repulsing gentle ones.
What is the use of my reproaching him, or repulsing him with angry words?
The heretics proved valiant fighters and after several bloody wars succeeded in repulsing the enemy and even invaded Germany.
On the whole, in spite of the repulsing hand, he took it that he had advanced his cause.
We had not, however, done with the enemy by repulsing him at one point.
Evans was even momentarily successful in repulsing the troops of Burnside's brigade, which he pursued for a short distance.
1530s, from Latin repulsa "refusal, denial," noun use of fem. past participle of repellere (see repel).


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IT was in the United States that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X fought their battles for civil rights; yet thanks to the power of American media and popular culture, they also became symbols of liberation for people of African descent around the world. In contrast, the heroes of Africa's own decolonization movement have largely been forgotten, their early idealism long since buried in a bitter legacy of dictatorship, violence and poverty.
One such hero was Patrice Lumumba, a strong nationalist who became the Congo's first elected prime minister after it won its independence from Belgium in June 1960. Within months, however, vilified in the West as a Communist, he was murdered with the collusion of the United States and Belgium. For some years, Moscow kept alive his memory as an icon of anti-imperialism. Today, Lumumba survives principally as a street name in many third world cities.
In that sense, Raoul Peck's new movie, ''Lumumba,'' which opens at the Film Forum in Manhattan on Wednesday (and nationally throughout the summer), is almost inevitably an exercise in historical reclamation. Yet it is neither a straightforward biopic nor a period film. By portraying the tragic events that engulfed the Congo four decades ago through the eyes of one of the vanquished, the film also holds up a mirror to Africa today. Then as now, it seems, the Congo is too rich in resources to be left to the Congolese.
''People say, 'Look at the Africans killing each other,' without considering the responsibility of the West,'' said Mr. Peck, 47, a Haitian-born director who has had ample experience of despotism and misery in his own country. ''For me, the world is not divided: our histories are interwoven. The end of the cold war makes things clearer because the problems are still there and we can see they are not the result of the East-West conflict.''
That said, ''Lumumba'' is not a political tract. Rather, Mr. Peck said, his aim was to make a political thriller that throws light on how power works behind the scenes, whether in the Congo, in Haiti (where he served as culture minister in the mid-1990's) or anywhere else. For that, he said, it was important to show Lumumba more as a human being than as a political symbol. ''He became a martyr because in a sense that was the only course left to him so as not to disappear from history,'' Mr. Peck said over coffee in a restaurant near his home in eastern Paris.Continue reading the main story
After seeing the film at last year's Toronto Film Festival, Elvis Mitchell wrote in The New York Times that it contains ''a breathtaking amount of information, rolling through history swiftly and boldly yet conveying an epic investment in characterization as Lumumba's power and comrades inexorably fade, victims of the conflict in the Congo.'' Eriq Ebouaney's ''contained fury'' in the role of Lumumba, Mr. Mitchell said, ''ranks with the sinewy complication of Denzel Washington's workout as Malcolm X.''
Mr. Peck picks up the tall charismatic Lumumba as a sales representative for a Belgian beer company who was also emerging as a popular leader of the Congolese National Movement. Spotted as a dangerous radical, the Belgian authorities threw him into jail but were then forced to allow him to participate in negotiations in Brussels preparing the Congo's independence. Lumumba's party won the country's first free elections and, at 35, he became prime minister on Independence Day, June 30, 1960.
But within days, the Congo slid into chaos. Army mutinies were followed by a Belgian military intervention, the secession of the minerals-rich province of Katanga and the arrival of United Nations troops. Suddenly, the Congo was at the center of world attention. And while Lumumba tried to prevent the country's breakup, his enemies multiplied. In September 1960, with the United States already planning Lumumba's murder through poisoning, President Joseph Kasavubu dismissed him, and the army commander, Joseph Mobutu, moved to arrest him.
Lumumba managed to escape from Léopoldville (today Kinshasa) and tried to join his followers in the provinces, but he was arrested on Dec. 2. By then, both the United States and Belgium had decided that even out of power, Lumumba posed an unacceptable threat. On Jan. 17, he was delivered to his enemies in Katanga, where he and two aides were murdered that evening in the presence of Belgian army officers. The following day, two Belgian soldiers dug up the three bodies, cut them in pieces and burned all traces of them.
THE movie ends with Lumumba's incineration, but the ''history of glory and dignity'' that he prophesied did not ensue. Instead, the Congo was to face more than 30 years of dictatorship under Mobutu Sese Seko, followed by a new civil war won in 1997 by Laurent Kabila, who was in turn murdered this January and succeeded by his son, Joseph. Indeed, ''Lumumba'' was filmed in Zimbabwe and Mozambique because in 1999 the Congo was again engulfed in war.
It is a country that Mr. Peck knows well because his agronomist father, forced to flee the Duvalier dictatorship in Haiti, found work with the United Nations in the Congo in the early 1960's. Mr. Peck himself studied in France and Germany, but he returned frequently to the Congo on vacation. It was the Congo, however, of Mobuto, a land -- renamed Zaire for a time -- where Lumumba was officially a fallen hero but in practice never mentioned.
After Mr. Peck made his first film, ''Haitian Corner,'' in 1988, he was approached by a Swiss producer with a screenplay about a Swiss doctor's descent into Conradian hell in Africa. Mr. Peck was not interested, but instead it reawakened his interest in the Congo. Suddenly, the figure of Lumumba emerged and, in 1991, Mr. Peck made a well-received documentary, ''Lumumba: Death of a Prophet.'' In 1993, he explored Haiti's Duvalier dictatorship in ''The Man on the Shore,'' but the idea of a full-length feature film about Lumumba stayed with him. ''It took me a long time to understand the tragic side to his personality,'' Mr. Peck said. ''He was an idealist because he had the option of being an opportunist like so many around him and he chose not to be.
''But he was difficult to pin down,'' Mr. Peck said. ''He would switch from charm to anger in a second; he did foolish things. Psychologically, it took time for me to like him. I'd call the film a modest rehabilitation.''
For Mr. Ebouaney, 33, a French-born actor of Cameroon extraction, playing the role of Lumumba involved a different kind of discovery.
''I didn't know much about him,'' he said. ''I did most of my schooling in France, and there'd be three lines about him in our history books. I knew more about Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, partly because of the 'Malcolm X' film, but also because we learn more about American heroes than about the history of decolonization. I read what I could about Lumumba, but Raoul knew exactly what he wanted. My job was to find the human being in Lumumba.''
Once the film was completed, a high point for both Mr. Peck and Mr. Ebouaney was to attend openings of the movie in several West African countries.
''People had heard of Lumumba without knowing much about his life or his death,'' Mr. Ebouaney said. ''I felt a very warm response, as if we were opening a door to what Africa might have been if Africans themselves had decided to take charge of their destiny. What I find sad is that things haven't changed. We still have a form of neocolonialism. The actors change but the situations remain the same.''
Mr. Peck, who earlier this month received the Diamond Lifetime Achievement Award at the Human Rights Watch International Film Festival at Lincoln Center, said he was specially struck by the way many Africans interpret the film through their own history. ''In Algeria, there was a debate after the screening,'' he said. ''After a while, it was a heated debate about Algeria between Algerians. That's the problem. Young Haitians or Congolese have never seen a mainstream film that shows their history, that shows personalities with whom they can identify. In making this film, that was one of my essential objectives.''
Indeed, while ''Lumumba'' has not yet been released in the Congo, Mr. Peck seemed delighted that a pirated tape has already been shown four times on local television.
''We'll have an official opening one of these days,'' he added, ''but the important thing is that it's being debated.''Continue reading the main story


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By Deirdre Donahue, USA TODAY
Just when you think you've reached the celebrity saturation point, along comes a memoir that offers a fresh look at our star constellations, from Madonna to Bono to Mel Gibson.
Journalist Jancee Dunn has written a funny memoir called But Enough About Me ... A Jersey Girl's Unlikely Adventures Among the Absurdly Famous. A writer for Rolling Stone and other publications, Dunn also worked as an MTV VJ and was a Good Morning America correspondent.
STARS SHINE ON DUNN: Read an excerpt.
Enough is not tabloid territory or an updated Hollywood Babylon. Dunn brings a fan's enthusiasm to her showbiz profiles. She charmingly weaves in stories about her own family members in New Jersey. Many readers might well find them more compelling than the bold-faced folk such as Brad Pitt (who played an air guitar while listening to Soundgarden with Dunn), or Ben Affleck (who pretended that Dunn was his girlfriend to torment the paparazzi).
But for the fame-hungry, here is a sampling of Enough's anecdotes:
• Dunn says she is obsessed with Madonna, studying any photo of her "with the zeal of a Talmudic scholar." But Dunn believed Madonna when the star claimed she feels insecure "every five minutes."
• On tour, Ron Wood of the Rolling Stones washed out his socks and hung them in the hotel bathroom "like an old British pensioner! This is a man who could have paid someone to lick them clean."
• Dolly Parton sliced a big chunk of Velveeta for Dunn as a snack while traveling. (Dunn keeps it in her freezer, a treasured memento from a great interview.) Parton also told her: "I have to have bacon grease in all of my houses."
• Kid Rock doesn't just have a home studio and a basement bar. He also has an actual stripper pole. With lights.
Dunn's affection for the old rather than new stars is clear. And who can blame her? She writes how she interviewed Justin Timberlake and Grace Slick in the same week. The former blandly droned on about how "it's not about the fame, it's about the work, and his appreciation of his fans."
By contrast, Slick explained how she couldn't enjoy an orgy at the Jefferson Airplane office in San Francisco because "she wasn't good at multitasking, added unapologetically that her lungs were 'two black bags' from smoking, and mused that her only regret in life was that she never nailed Jimi Hendrix or Peter O'Toole."


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About Us
We are a small family owned business and our aim is to keep fishing affordable. We have been making soft plastic lures for many years and our frustration with the availability and cost of lure making products led to the launching of U-Make-Em Soft Plastics.
Making your own fishing tackle is a great way to be more involved in your favourite pastime and save money. All of our liquid soft plastic is recyclable which is great for the environment and kind to the hip pocket.
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We offer many U-Make-Em Starter Kits for making your own soft plastic lures both using Silicone Moulds and Injection Moulds so you are only limited by your imagination when making your own lures.


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RV & Motorhome Blinds and Shades
- Consider privacy, light control and operability
- Cellular shades insulate in changing climates
- Hold down brackets key for spaces on the move
- Go cordless to avoid tangles and small space clutter
- Best of both worlds privacy with top down/bottom up
When deciding on RV blinds consider your light and privacy preferences. Blinds have tiltable slats that allow precise light control during the day, but can allow for some light seepage when closed. Shades give more privacy and are available in blackout fabrics, however, to allow full sunlight they will need to be raised. The top down bottom up feature on shades allows for light control while still protecting privacy. Consider adding hold down brackets to your blinds they ensure that while your RV is moving, your blinds won't be.
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Unique 6th At Riviera
By Kickntrue on 2/5/10
The Riviera Country Club's unique 6th hole is host to this week's PGA Tour stop. Well- the whole course is hosting the event, but the 6rh hole is by far the most interesting. I have to admit- I don't watch much early season tv coverage- so maybe this is oft-discussed, but I haven't heard or read anything about it; the 6th hole at Riviera has a bunker in the middle of the green.
/just did a Google Search... realized it's pretty famous...
Anyone know the story? What do you do if you hit a wayward shot that lands on the opposite side of the bunker as the pin? I guess you just get your wedge out on the green and chip over it?
Go to your favorite mapping site (I used Google Maps) and type in this latitude and longitude: 34.040478,-118.507655. Make sure to zoom in as far as you can for extra fun (and switch to Satellite view).
Google Maps
View Larger Map
[ comments ]
mjaber says:
We've been talking about something similar in the forums.
Check it out here www.oobgolf.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=1687
My understanding is that, yes, if you happen to be on the wrong side of the bunker, you pull out your wedge and have a go at it. There was a short instructional clip the golf channel ran once about it, too. I don't remember when they ran it, though.
mjaber says:
I'm more enjoying the 10th, though. I love drivable par4s, especially one as penalizing as the 10th @ Riviera.
woobwoob says:
There is a replica of the 6th at Tour18 here in TX (www.tour18-dallas.com). No chipping is allowed once on the green, so you better get on the same side of the green as the flag, otherwise you better prepare for a 3 putt because the green is fairly flat, no hills to ride in order to make the ball curve.
sigmapete1 says:
No chipping allowed at that one in TX that someone mentioned? Not that its a big deal to me, but are local rules that dictate what club someone can use on a part of the course allowed by the USGA? Sounds more like mini-golf stuff. I guess its necessary thought for all the people that would take a 3ft divot on a chip. Oh well!
mjaber says:
How's this for coincidence... Dustin Johnson aced this very hole today. Watched the video on pgatour.com. Front hole location. Rain. He got it a little past the hole and it spun back, right into the hole. He even repaired his ball mark.
dad-2-3 says:
Phil Mickelson's chip over the bunker....
dpoimboeuf says:
I played the Tour 18 version in Dallas. It seems like the starter told me that if you needed to chip, you could move your ball to the nearest fringe, not closer to the hole. I elected to putt and 3 putt I did. That's a fun course btw... The closing holes are Amen Corner, and they are uncannily precise replicas. For less than $100 you can play Amen Corner, the 6th from Riveria, 17 at TPC Sawgrass, The first hole from Cherry Hills, etc... It was pretty cool, if a little cheezy. But the courese was in great shape when I played it. Well worth the greens fee.
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The other day we shared how to make ice marbles. We most recently used them to paint, but there are so many other fun ways you can play with ice marbles this Summer.
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Ice marbles are easy to make, and there are so many fun ways for kids to play with them.
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I am sure there are tons more fun ways to play with these easy to make ice marbles, too. If you have any ideas to share, I would love to hear them. Join our play community on facebook and start sharing and finding kid activity inspiration today!
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Tags: 8GB, Apple, business, iOS, iPhone 5C, low cost, mobile, Offers And Deals, Phone, Smartphone, smartphones.
Posted 03/18/2014 at 10:05 AM
Posted 3 years ago
Apple has released a low cost, 8GB iPhone 5C.
The smartphone, not yet available in the United States, is being offered in China, the United Kingdom, and Australia.
Overall, people seem to prefer the iPhone 5C, regardless, Apple CEO Tim Cook having expressed the intention of releasing a lower cost version of the 5C, has seemingly done so.
Check out further details here.
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Keg Request
Reserve a Revolution keg for Your Party!
You can pickup your reserved Revolution keg within 14 days from when your order is placed. Beers listed are subject to change based on our current availability. Our keg inventory is not directly linked to this request, which can affect keg availability if your order is placed within 24 hours of your selected pick up date. Kegs that have not been picked up on the day they were requested will be released from their reserved status for others to enjoy.
1/2 barrel kegs may be available upon request given one week lead time. Please make use of the Questions and Comments section for 1/2 barrel requests.
Available Kegs
Request a Keg
Thank You
Thank you for your order. Your keg request has been processed. If there is an issue with your request someone will contact you immediately.
If you have received this response and have not received a phone call within 24 hours, your keg(s) are available for pick up at the Kedzie Production Brewery (3340 N. Kedzie) on the date you requested (Wed-Thurs 2-10pm, Fri 2-11pm, Sat Noon-11pm or Sun Noon-8pm). If you'd like help loading your keg, please pull up to our front door.


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Auto enthusiasts know that a variety of features and options is built into each Toyota, and understand that only the highest quality replacement Sienna parts will suffice when your car or truck needs fixing. While it may not be difficult to find replacement parts for Toyota vehicles, these days only the absolute best are required to maintain your car or truck. It's not every day that you realize that you have to buy a replacement Heater Core to repair your vehicle. Make no mistake, you bought your Sienna because you knew that you wanted long-lasting quality and a brand you can trust both rolled up into one car, truck, or SUV.
Before cars and trucks were built with the ability to cool their interiors, they had the ability to heat them. The engine of your Toyota Sienna constantly pumps and turns a mixture of water and ethylene glycol through the engine block in order to absorb the heat it generates, and sends this liquid to the heater core (a small radiator) through a heater supply hose when you want to warm your vehicle's cabin. If you've ever wondered why there are two hoses leading to the passenger side of your firewall, that's where the heater core is located. Essentially, your Toyota Sienna heater core acts like a radiator; in that it uses the engine coolant to emit heat for the blower motor to propel into the inside of the car.
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Morley Town Hall Queen Street Morley LS27 9DY
Email: email@example.com
Local transport information: The centre is on the local bus routes. Please use West Yorkshire Metro for up to date information http://www.wymetro.com/
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For information on similar venues across Leeds visit the One Stop Centres and Community Hubs pages.
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Which software to define the geometry ?
I am a beginner with Fluent and I need to modelize a microchannel made of two parts. One is made of glass and the other is silicon. They are linked together by ion etching. A gas flow is going through.
On the computer I am using Abaqus, ICEM CFD and so Fluent (ansys 12.0) are installed.
Do I have to use first Abaqus to define the geometry or it looks you feasible to do this with ICEM ?
I am a little bit lost, any help could be greatly appreciated !
Thank you for your help,
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