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Graduation Assignment
|1-6 months
|6-12 months
|Unpaid Graduation Assignment
|Paid Graduation Assignment
Includes: Placement, housing support, visa support, helpdesk prior to and during your program, insurance support
Excludes: J-1 visa fees and airfare
Monthly compensation for a paid internship up to 6 months: $300 up to $900 per month
Monthly compensation for a paid internship of 12 months: $1500 - $2500 per month
Payment Schedule
- Intake: Both the registration and the intake with a representative of Stage-USA are without obligation and completely free of charge. The first payment is a deposit of € 350, -. This occurs only after you agree to continue with Stage-USA after the intake interview.
- Mediation: Once Stage-USA has found a suitable program which you approve, the remaining amount of the placement fee will be charged and the deposit will be deducted from that amount.
- J-1 Visa: When we have received the approval for your DS-2019 form, the first visa costs are charged. The costs may vary based on the period and the exchange rate.
Stage-USA assists you in finding accommodation for your graduation assignment period. In some cities you will be able to live in student housing, in others an apartment or studio may be more suitable. Prices may vary but bear in mind the following guidelines:
- Student housing: $400 per month
- Studio: $800 per month
- Apartment: $1100 per month (bedroom/living room/bathroom)
- Hostel: $15 - $40 per night
Account Management - New York
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subset: commoncrawl


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Question about Kenmore Washing Machines
Posted by ericaltodd on
PF error means power failure which is generally caused when the control board inside the unit goes bad. You can try unplugging the unit for 15-30 minutes, if the issue returns then the control board needs replacement. Please get back to me if you have any other questions.
Posted on Nov 09, 2010
SOURCE: I have freestanding Series 8 dishwasher. Lately during the filling cycle water hammer is occurring. How can this be resolved
Hi there,
Save hours of searching online or wasting money on unnecessary repairs by talking to a 6YA Expert who can help you resolve this issue over the phone in a minute or two.
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Posted on Jan 02, 2017
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Australia's potential last-16 clash with Croatia would be a fitting occasion given several of the Socceroos players' heritage, striker Tomi Juric said on Sunday.
After a defeat and a draw in their first two World Cup games, Australia need to win against Peru in Sochi and hope France do them a favour by defeating Denmark, who go into the contest second.
Peru are already out of the competition and have only pride to play for after losing both of their first two games.
Should Australia succeed in reaching the last 16, Croatia appear their most likely opponents.
And it would be a popular tie in the Australia camp considering Mile Jedinak, Daniel Vukovic, Matthew Jurman and Juric all have Croatian roots, as many Australian people do.
"It would be a nice occasion," said the forward, who started his professional career in Croatia.
Tomi Juric wasn't hiding from the fact it'd be "a nice occasion" for #AUS to play #CRO in the next round, what with many #AUS players' heritage. Jedinak hopes he can give fans another chance to sing the Jedinak song against #PER on Tuesday. #WorldCup @OmnisportNews pic.twitter.com/uUEmuqCnrW— Ryan Benson (@RyanRyanBenson) June 24, 2018
"At this point in the stage we can't talk about it as it's quite far away from us with this game in front of us. That's the next important game and the result is crucial for us."
But given this is Peru's first World Cup since 1982, Jedinak is expecting them to want to go out on a high, with the captain predicting the encounter will be even tougher than their France and Denmark fixtures.
"I've no doubt they'll give it a go," Jedinak told reporters at Australia's Kazan base on Sunday.
"They've not been on this stage for a long time. To think they won't care or be disillusioned I think is wrong.
"We expect a tough game and it's one they'll want to win. We'll need to be focused, maybe more so than in the last games. We'll need a big effort to get the job done against them."
Although there remains a significant final step for Australia to take, Jedinak cannot help but think about what would be a "huge achievement" in reaching the knockout phase.
"It'd be a huge achievement for us and this team, this group of players," he said.
"Everyone knows the journey we've been on over the last four years to get to this point and how we've grown, matured as a group.
"We've brought some players through, had some ups and downs, and everyone has come out of it for the better, as you can see in the performances of late.
"We've got to try everything we can to get there and we'll need a little luck."
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|I´ll show Mourinho I´m ready, says United´s Pereira
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Focus: Will synergies lift Ahold Delhaize in US?
The merger between European retailers Ahold and Delhaize is significant because it will allow the group's to scale up in the key US market, where the majority of revenue is generated. Announcing the deal, the companies said EUR500m (US$560m) in annual synergies are on the table. But these, as and of themselves, will do little to raise the combined group's lacklustre US growth trajectory. Katy Askew looks at the impact the merger will have in the US - and whether Ahold Delhaize will deliver on their promise to drive consumer-led innovation.
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More Camp Bacon Biscuits n Gravy - Made my favorite biscuit breakfast while camping recently. These are pretty easy to put together after a late night of lightening bug chasing, star gazing ...
2 weeks ago
How come your leftovers look so much better than our leftovers?? Did you get snow, it's coming down here in NW Arkansas!
trick photography? (g) we were supposed to get 8-12" snow, but temps hovered around 32* the whole time, so we got freezing rain and ice last night and some snow today - about 3" is all. coulda been a lot worse it's all over now - should all melt tomorrow.


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The fantastic images below are part of this article which falls into Design
category and Published on September 04th, 2015 by Sofie.
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The Saga Of The Ingrown Toenail
The Best Is Yet To Come
From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas Boycott NFL
I Was Only Following Orders
Get Your Biscuits In The Oven
From The Mind of a Dumb Ole Biker From Alvin, Texas License
Judge Not!
I'll admit, I've gotten a lot better about this over the years. Which is only to say that I used to be a horrible person.
Yesterday, I stopped by the local grocery store on the way to church so I could get the ice cream (Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla) I promised to bring for the apple pie someone else was bringing for after church hang time.
I hate being late for church. Almost to the point that I will let it ruin my day. Yah. That makes sense doesn't it. Anyway…..I obviously wanted a close parking space so I could get in, get the half gallon of tasty goodness that only Brenham's finest and most content cows produce, and get out as quick as possible. That's when I encountered something else I severely dislike. A car sitting in the middle of the aisle waiting for the people in front of him to finish loading their car so he could have the space closest to the store.
Now I don't mind people doing that, but if you see another car coming, then move out of the way please. Well, he didn't. On the left side of him, there was an open space that was maybe 15 feet further away. So I whipped my car around his and jumped into that space so I could get get in the store while he was waiting for that most sacred of parking spaces.
I jumped out of my car and headed straight in. But…..not before giving him a look that might scare most people. And I'm sure it's scarier because of the fact that I open carry too.
Well, I got in. Got the ice cream. And headed straight for the self checkout so I could get going and still possibly make it to church on time. And then it happened. A bearded gentleman whose probably seen more combat than I ever hoped to see came up to me. He said "Hey man, I'm really sorry I held you up in the parking lot. I have a prosthetic leg so it's hard for me to walk far and I really needed that close parking space". He was genuinely apologetic.
Man was I a jerk. Immediately, I had a tear in my eye. And I knew I was a horrible man for acting so childish. I did my best to apologize to him for being such an ass. I might as well had been reduced to a pile of ashes right then and there. He was very nice about it. He shook my hand and accepted my apology. The drive to church was quite solemn for me. All that for a half gallon of ice cream.
Hide these words in your heart today. And don't forget to consider that someone else might be worse off than you.
Matthew 7: 18 says these "bad fruits" tell us a lot about the "tree," but that doesn't give us the right to judge. We must remember that no one is perfect—each of us is a work in progress. While it may be wise not to be too closely associated with such people, we must be careful that we don't judge them according to our standards and beliefs. We must pray for them and keep a godly attitude. Part of being a loving, caring Christian is to realize that people may not see things in this life exactly as we do. We are not all at the same level of Christian maturity, but we can be sure that God knows everything about each one of us. We must leave any judging to the only righteous judge—Jesus Christ.
James writes: "[ My] brethren, do not speak evil about or accuse one another. He that maligns a brother or judges his brother is maligning and criticizing the Law and judging the Law. But if you judge the Law, you are not a practicer of the Law but a censor and judge [of it]. One only is the Lawgiver and Judge Who is able to save and to destroy [the one Who has the absolute power of life and death]. [But you] who are you that [you presume to] pass judgment on your neighbor?" (James 4: 11-12).
Paul asks, "Who are you to pass judgment on and censure another's household servant? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he shall stand and be upheld, for the Master (the Lord) is mighty to support him and make him stand" (Romans 14: 4).
May THE LORD bless you and keep you today. Go bless someone today.
The Trump Train Choo Choos Right On Down The Track
The Last Picture Show Update
I do this now and then. As you may or may not know I'm writing yet another book, "The Last Picture Show" which is a loose autobiography. I'm taking it slow and easy but it's coming along. Included another chapter today and in true form I'm running it up for review. Now, before everyone turns into a critic be advised that this is a DRAFT! Very raw. It takes as much or more time to edit a book as it does to write it.
That having been said, it IS mildly entertaining, a bit politically incorrect and a reflection of time gone by. I didn't hold anything back so if you're looking for all "phobics" homo or otherwise, they're there for you.
It shows the simple, direct society I grew up with. People were more close knit. And I mean street by street. My world in Shreveport was Milton Street. If I wandered to Youree Drive I may as well have been in Wisconsin.
Don't Ever Date A Colored Girl Chapter 1
"Don't ever date a colored girl. They's all got the clap. They get it from they mamas." My grandmother's sage advice to me at five years old.
In spite of all the glamour shots of Spanish moss, and cypress trees, Louisiana is about as shit out of luck as one can get when it comes to being from somewhere. It's hot, muggy, racist, and nobody's family tree has a fork in it. Mine was no exception. My grandparents were first cousins, and I guess that's why we all look alike, have every health condition known to America and some third world countries, Louisiana being among that group in spite of it being positioned at the asshole of the Mississippi River.
Long about the time I was three years old God decided it was time to kill me so I contradicted polio and something called the "sleeping sickness." I lived, no thanks to the medical care of the day, and the following year they gave me a polio vaccination. You can't make this stuff up folks. So at five I was deaf in one ear, which still rings till this day, blind in one eye and walking like a duck, but by golly I was white and that counted for something I guess.
Being white in a Klan based state had its perks, the main one being there was a whole race somewhere just a below white trash, which is what I was. What that amounted to was we could vote without getting lynched. Now we couldn't marry a girl with all her teeth because that meant she'd been to a dentist and obviously was a blue blood, not capable of sexual satisfaction 'cept niggers raped her. Then, of course then there's the hanging, and Scarlet grows a new hymen just perfect for her fiancé Buddha Montgomery, heir to the gas station and thirty second degree Mason to boot.
All of this meant nothing to a kid growing up in a shotgun shack, living on liver gravy and bread with a flea bitten dog and a yard full of chickens, even in town. The difference between our "neighborhood" and "Nigger town" was the distance between the shacks. Theirs were closer. My most vivid memory was my uncle and dad "gigging" frogs and butchering them in the kitchen sink. All they'd eat were the legs, but they had to cut their heads off anyway, I suppose for the entertainment factor, and I'd watch them eat the frog legs while the heads blinked at them from the counter. They'd actually position the heads so they could see that. And poor old Martin Luther King tried singling "We Shall Overcome" to these guys. He's lucky he wasn't blinking from a sink.
I really did end up in a hospital when I had polio, but for minor ailments like nails in the foot, cut throats or pneumonia, you'd get taken to some camp in the swamp where a voodoo woman would blow smoke up your ass (literally) or put a penny on the wound so the spirit of Mr. Lincoln could draw out the poison, I crappith thee not!
I went to an all white school, but let me clarify. There's white, then there's white. The whitest kids had clean clothes and smelled good. I had neither. I usually wore a flannel shirt, and blue jeans with iron on patches. Iron on patches were the rage of the age. We was proud of iron on patches. I'd sit by the ironing board and watch in snake amazement as the patch cleaved to the fabric as if by magic. I really didn't understand the social structure in school, only the fact that certain kids could hit me anytime they wanted to. There was this spoiled brat, Vance, I still remember him, who'd seek me out and beat me up during every recess. One day, in a moment of clarity, I hit him back and he fell, crying, so I hit him again. The teachers had to pull me off, but I think that was possibly the most memorable day of my life, that is until Velma Prigmore took off her blouse under the football stand years later, but I'll save that for later.
We were surrounded by family but none of us liked each other. I remember that every time there was a get together it ended up in a drunken fight with the kids all screaming, followed by that wild ride back to Shreveport across the Red River bridge with the car bouncing off the rails. The only good thing was at that age when you life flashes before your eyes it doesn't take long. I know because every time I got my ass beat my life flashed before my eyes. Usually involving blinking frog's heads.
My life flashed before my eyes when my grandmother got a hold of me once. I think I was five. We had this fat little dog named Maybelline. One day I had to pee, and couldn't make it so I peed on the wall in the hall. My grandmother came along, saw the pee, then me, then the dog, picked up a stick and beat puppy shit out of Maybelleline. Wow! Remember, this was the days before internet. Next day, pee a little higher, bigger thrashing for Maybelline. Finally, I decided to kill the dog. I peed about two feet ABOVE my head. Now Maybelline was about the size of a fat possum. I have to give my grandmother credit. She did everything she could to match that dog's ass with that pee before my life flashed before MY eyes!
Louisiana people will eat just about anything, steak, road kill, all manner of guts, small negroes, you name it. After the frogs I realized my dad was crazy and I generally stuck to liver gravy at home. Wonder Bread was safe. Rice. Beyond that was pot luck. Crawfish. Oh my LIVING God! Etched into my still developing mind was the image of huddles of inbreds sucking crawfish asses. Now, I'm not saying that's wrong, some of you might suck crawfish asses, just not me. And Boudin sausage. I think there might be an FDA warning on that now. For those of you who do t know what that tastes like, take a dirty sock, piss on it, wring it out and stuff it in your mouth. There you go. Don't forget to wash it down with some of dat good ol' Jax beer.
And Jesus? God DAMN did they have Jesus. My grandmother on my mother's side, you know, the one who married her cousin, well, when we was living on Laurel Street, she would drag me down the the Baptist church and sit me right up there in the amen pew while this crazy old man screamed that me, and practically everyone else there was going to "hayell" and there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it except put something in that plate he had passed around. Jesus scared the piss out of me until I was twenty-eight years old! I was just glad I wasn't Catholic, and double glad I wasn't black, or God forbid a black Catholic. Hell, if I turned out to be one of those I'd have just jumped into the Red River and been done with it.
I was told, when we lived Kaywood Apartments in Bossier City, to never go near the river. Now this is how much common sense we had at that age, and survival skills. With God, mosquitoes, teachers, the Klan and your parents all trying to kill you, you knew damn well not to go surfing on the Red River. This factor wore off by the time you got to high school because they were forever fishing teens out from under logs where the gators had stuffed them for seasoning. Oh yeah, we had those too. See the contrast; kids these days don't know any better than to eat a dishwasher tablet and we used to play among the gators. We knew better than to eat a dishwasher tablet, one, because there weren't any, and two, if there had been we'd have ended up down on the bayou with some old black lady blowing smoke up our ass. That's called preventive medicine.
Not all things were bad. School lunches were a bitch. Till this day I have a prejudice. You see, all the school cooks were big, fat black women, and the result was whatever they come up with. Liver and onions, fried chicken, chicken and rice and courtesy of Huey Long you could eat all you wanted. They all had them Aunt Jemima wraps on their heads, a big smile, and even bigger spoons. They would throw mashed potatoes on the plate and it would drip over the side. Even today I have a hard time eating white woman cooking to the point of giving it to the dog when she looks away. Then you'd come home on the Good Ship Reality and find your uncle and dad in the kitchen with a case of Jax beer and a croak sack full of unfortunate frogs.
Louisiana weather sucks like a French whore, and I know something about French whores because Louisiana is full of them. You can't see the tornadoes for the trees. I still remember the alert coming on the TV, the one you had to slap on the top to get reception from the station five miles away, and a very serious voice saying, "This is a severe tornado alert!" As opposed to the more mundane kind I suppose. Now, you didn't know where it was, couldn't see it, I'm told you could hear it, but that's hard from under the bed. If you lived you'd stay up all night anyway just in case it had babies on the way through. Then the next day, in school, you have a bomb drill because everyone just knew the Russians were gonna bomb Barksdale Air Force Base at any given moment. All of this and the grown ups were worried about the blacks drinking out of the wrong water fountain. But . . . they all had Jesus!
Long about '56 or '57 or so my dad took a job in Lake Charles. I think I was still an only child, in fact I, sure of it because I was alone in the back yard. My sister was born later back in Kaywood Apartments. I don't really remember when my brother came along. On Milton Street I just looked up one day and he was there. Anyway, I remember everyone spoke French. It was muggy, and there was this guy called Uncle Adam who had a new car. There wasn't any air conditioning and that made the ride to school hell. Hurricane Audrey had come roaring through, and dad was a roofer. Seeing as most of the roofs were now out in the Gulf of Mexico there seemed to be a pot of money to be made so we moved down there. The one thing I remember was driving along the coast where the hurricane came in. You could smell the dead people, and some of them, or parts thereof were stuck on barbed wire fences with crabs crawling on them. Took me forty years to eat crab after that and still only eat Alaskan crabs. I figure they have more moral fiber than Louisiana crabs.
By the time we moved to Texas I was ten years old, and pretty much bat-shit crazy. Had a permanent ringing in my ears, constantly looking over my shoulder for bombs, blacks, and bloody crosses, and the scary part is I left an entire state behind that thought just like me, and they're still THERE! Well, the ones the gators didn't get. Texas was a whole new deal, and I had to work it, which has only taken me fifty-five years, six wives, ten houses and three fortunes.
The Last Picture Show Chapter 2
There was a movie back in the seventies, I think, The Last Picture Show. It was in black and white. A lot of people thought that was for effect, but the truth of the matter is that format exemplified the Texas that I grew up in. Our lives were black and white, both politically and physically. Color movies were rare, and rainbow life was even harder to find.
We had the old pickups, piss warm beer, skinny, smelly girls, and, of course there was one hottie. Ours was Sharon. Sharon even looked like the blonde in the movie, and she had breasts, a bonus for white chicks because uually only Mexican girls had a set of those. She even ended up on the cover of Playboy years later as part of a spread called, "The Girls of Texas." I never did get to first base with her because I was scared of girls, but she had a horse! I'm not kidding. Right there in the middle of town in her back yard.
Anyway, I digress. I wasn't born in Texas, but I got there as quick as I could which was the morning I woke up, at ten years old, in Texas, and the first thing I noticed was that it was flat. I was in central Texas. This place is like five states, and about the only thing they all agree on is they don't like Yankees i.e. anyone outside of Texas! You can be a wetback and you'll fare better than a New Yorker down here. It's a little better now with the interstate and all, but there's still some lingering resentment to people who talk too fast and and wear sneakers. All but Austin, they wear sneakers there but we have to accept that because we can't move the capitol.
So here I was, in September, looking out of a motel window at hotter than hell Texas! Texas is hotter than chicken grease. Now, bear in mind that most of the population had to go to a movie to sit in air conditioning. Water coolers were the norm. Your state of the art water cooler had a hose keeping the pan filled, with this toilette bobber turning it on and off, and this little pump thingy pushing the water up, sprinkling the hay filters on the four sides, yeah, you heard me right, hay, and at least in theory that would cool a house. Well, that was a crock of shit, and it smelled like shit. Horse shit! Well, nobody had one of those! What they had was no hose, no pump, second hand, rusting gadget with several tow-headed kids running out with a pan pouring water over moldy hay when granny started wheezing.
It would cool you if you sat right in front of it. Consequently everyone drank beer. Dad drank beer, Mom drank beer, the kids snuck beer, the dog drank beer, EVERYONE drank beer. You could drink beer all day, with sweet tea, tons of water, and never piss. I missed Shreveport.
I had to get into school. Killeen had so few schools we went a half a day. It was totally integrated because there were no schools so I saw my first black kid in school. Didn't affect me. No, I mean it. Made me no difference at all. It was so damn hot nobody cared. We were all just trying to live. There was another tribe there, too. Mexicans. There were aspects to that phenomenon I appreciated.
Back in Louisiana the physical education was recess, maybe a little baseball IF you were up to it, and it wasn't very challenging because we were all white. But TEXAS! You ran until you puked, played baseball with Willie Mays third cousin and then took a shower with some kid named Santos, who SHAVED! By the way, this was the same Santos who slept with your wife years later when you were in the county jail. You'd be in there, and some guy would say, "Hey man! Santos is crawling up on your wife right now!" Well! I went to school with Santos.
In short order I was in Junior High. I was dumber than a box of rocks. I was eating a little better than back in the states , but the heat cancelled that out. Had to walk to school. There were guidelines. If you, say, lived in the next county you'd get a bus, any closer than that, and you were on your own.
In Shreveport if you misbehaved you'd get a stern talking to with a note home. Of course, I was always stupid enough to take the note to my mom, and she'd chew on me, quoting the note, emphasizing the wording as she went, but TEXAS! They got around all that crap, just dragged you out in the hall and beat your ass. Every morning sounded like rifle shots from a firing squad. I must admit it was entertaining when you got a "crier," and if you got a begger, oh my GOD! We'd hang out the door to see that, and if it was Santos, well, my heart would actually skip a beat.
Now, education. Let me gauge the quality. I didn't learn a God Damn thing in all my years of Texas public schooling except typing, lunch, and how to avoid getting my ass beat. They were actually stupid enough to put a clock in every room so we all learned "clock" real good! Long about the ninth grade I discovered girls. Oh, they were always there it's just that they all had to wear dresses below their knees and looked like Olive Oyle. I fell in love with a girl named Grace Barnes. She looked like Olive Oyle, too, but she had a cute face. It wasn't a torrid romance. She gave me her cake at lunch once, but then I came upon these new creatures we didn't have in Louisiana. MEXICAN GIRLS! When you consider the separation of the races in Louisiana you must understand that Hispanics were not the issue. Everything was black and white. That, and I never saw a Mexican before I came to Texas, except on the John Wayne version of the "Alamo." But, Texas was completely different. And Mexican GIRLS? Viva Zapata!
For the record, Mexican girls are born fully grown. Just thought you needed to know that. They had to wear the same dresses as the other girls but I'd trade one Mexican calf, even half a calf, for a butt naked Anglo girl any day, all except Sharon, of course, but they all have a brother named Santos.
I didn't excel in high school except one time. We had this fountain in the commons. Kids threw coins in it. Ok, do the math; fountain full of change, poor white trash, yeah, you get the drift. Anyway, me, Joe Leeth and some other numbnut came up with a plan. I mean there was a lot of money in there, just sitting. So, Joe was gonna hold my belt and I'd brace my feet against the edge of the fountain. The plan was to ease me down and once I was close enough I'd just reach in and scoop up the loot.
We should have paid more attention in physics class and we would've understood the laws of Leverage better. At about forty five degrees my weight increased exponentially, combined with the chickenshit that was holding my belt, and in I went.
I made a perfect human shape in the green slime on the bottom of the fountain. Didn't get a dime. Came up, and as the water drained out of my ears the laughter rolled in. Well, we all got taken to the office. Of course you know they had to beat all our asses, my wet ass being first. Then they marched us out to the football locker room, because that's where the clothes dryer was, and they beat our asses, then back to class. Life was so much simpler back then. I'm just glad I didn't have hemorrhoids.
I began writing in high school. Don't know what drove me to it, I hated school, and everything that had anything to do with it, but for some reason I could string a story. Beginning in the tenth grade I'd buy a two hundred page spiral notebook and jump right in. When the notebook was full, the book was finished. The first was a collection of short stories. I got my ideas from dreams. Now in old time Texas you dreamed a lot because we had those old timey gas space heaters. They were free standing with no outlet to the outside, just this hot box at the center of the main room. I guess that constituted central heat. Anyway it beat freezing, however, it did put out a fair amount of carbon monoxide, but them old timers weren't worried about that shit. You got thirteen kids what's one, more or less. So, during the school year in your sleep, hovering between heaven and hell, you'd dream, and I wrote it all down.
My first book was a hit. Now this was the sixties and my stories were right up there with the Beatles. Next year I wrote a gangster story, but my best seller was in my senior year. I came up with a plot about this pissed off little nerd (it was autobiographical) who planned to bomb the school cafeteria. God, it was good. It went hour by hour as the bomb ticked away, kids milling around, teachers watching, then BOOM! First responders, last kisses, and lots of drama.
I passed it to my school mates, and all went well until someone gave it to Miss Hornbuckle, who never had a date in her fifty-six years, and she gave it to the principle, Mr. Patterson! From there I went to the office. Patterson had read it, and, of course, first things first, he beat my ass, but then he called the cops. There was an issue with my book. Uh, the bomb was functional. You see, I'd spent the first ten years of my life in Shreveport, Louisiana, with oil drills, dynamite, blasting caps, stuff like that, and it wasn't very hard to run two wires from the bell and striker of an old alarm clock, throw in a lantern battery, run the two wires down to a blasting cap that was tucked inside six sticks of dynamite, alarm goes off, striker hits the bell, sends sparks to the blasting cap, lunch is over. It was a good bomb, too. Blew my ass up!
Well, there I was rubbing my ass in Mr. Patterson's office when the cars rolled up, the boys got out, and the room filled up with laws. Now, to be a cop in 1960s Texas you had to own a gun, and and your training was not pull it on folks like Bonnie and Clyde. But, a kid with a Big Chief notebook and a bruised butt? Shut the front door. You gotta remember, Killeen was a boring town. In the sixties we couldn't even muster a race riot. I must admit that Mr. Patterson was a tad bit smarter than the cops. They didn't have a clue so he clued them in. Old bastard! Well, to make a long story short, got my ass busted, missed lunch, and they kept my book as "evidence." Oh, and Miss Hornbuckle told me I'd never be able to communicate in the English language. What did she know about English? She taught school in Texas!
The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas Chapter 3
What do you do when your whiny son gets cleaned out by a domineering ex-wife, loses his ass, hat, and all his cattle, ends up sitting around crying all the time? Well, my mother got me a job in a whorehouse. My first wife, Charsha was half Navaho, half bitch, and I was one hundred percent stupid. Uh, she was also my first, if you know what I mean.
I'd been injured in a car wreck, and a settlement was looming on the horizon so she fell in love, well for two years at least, then cleaned me out, took my settlement, and ran off with her sister's husband. Ever see a set of Legos fall apart? Well, that was me.
I went to work in a pool hall. Hey, it's Texas, ok. What did you expect, a nuclear plant? By and by mom got me a job working for Finis Patrick Anderson. Now Pat wasn't, like, Mafia, or anything like that, but he had his ways, ok? He made me the door man in a dance club. It was called the My O My Club, derived from Memorial Yoke of Military Youth. Young soldiers, Vietnam, naked women and beer, yeah, you get used to it. The women were real, but the beer wasn't. Killeen didn't allow bars back then so the GIs were served a beer called Metbrew, which was near beer. The girls would chide the kids into buying them "cocktails" which were five dollars a pop, and were a lot of Seven Up with a shot of Coke, giving the illusion of champagne. These bitches would gulp down the fake cocktails until they peed their pants, or the soldier ran out of money, and then they'd move to the next table. For the uninformed this was a rip off.
And there were dancers. Now they couldn't go totally nude, but topless was cool. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, YEAH. Dollars in the G String, the whole nine yards. Mom figured this would sober me up but wanna know how stupid I was? Never got laid! I was a good employee. I worked the door for about six months and ended up being a bag man.
There was a division manager who came up from Austin to make deposits at about three in he morning, and my job was to carry a shotgun under a long coat and shoot anyone who approached him. I crappeth Thee NOT! Never got to shoot anybody, but it was nice to think I could. From there Pat moved me over to his "Head Shop" which sold all paraphernalia required to service the expanding mind. I ran a cash register and carried a Colt Peacemaker under my sport coat, which was my real job. In addition to that I was a driver bringing booze up from Burnet into Killeen for the City Council to enjoy and that got us a free pass for the completely obvious speak easy adjacent to the head shop that Pat provided for the well heeled of Killeen society. Long about then I couldn't remember my ex's friggin' NAME!
Long about this time I fell in love with a sixteen year old girl, ran off to Mexico, married her and it took Pat to save me from hanging. My son, Wilbur came along a year after that, and one of my bonuses was cases of baby formula so you can say that Master Chief Wilbur Witt began life on payoff from the mob.
Now, just because I was moved to a new job didn't mean I could neglect my previous ones. On a typical day I'd count opening cash at the My O My, open the bar, run to Burnet, come back with a load, work the store, and end up dropping the combined deposits at night. The up side was I worked for Pat and if I walked into the Blue Bonnet Café and there was no seating someone decided they were done, pay their check and leave. You know, thinking back, I had a good life. Sometime after this I decided to go to school. I must have been out of my mind.
Killeen was a Wild West Show in the seventies. There was a shooting gallery in the space between two buildings where there were .22 rifles using "shorts" for target shooting, and naturally the soldiers would line up to demonstrate their skill only to be out done by a pimp using a personal .25 automatic. I considered automatics to be for queers so my peacemaker was a single action .357 magnum, and brothers and sisters, I could use it! My stripes never really changed. After owning several autos from cheap 9's to Smith and Wesson 40's, I settled back on the same old 1880's revolver I carried in 1974. I've heard all the "firepower" arguments, and seen cops shoot some guy five hundred and seventy times for having an expired driver license, and my advice is learn to shoot, bitch!
I learned from the best, pimps, bagmen, contractors, whores and an occasional cop who knew what he was doing. The cops knew we were all packing, but there were very few shootouts. An armed society is a polite society.
Got arrested one time for running the speak easy. The cops had to bust our balls every now and then to please the electorate, and convince everyone that the police chief was honest, which he wasn't, he was gay and Pat owned him, but I got busted. Ended up in a holding tank, and the company lawyer, the right honorable Joe Barron showed up drunk in his Dingo boots and got out in the cell with me. His partner had to spring us both. Eventually he whole thing was dropped for lack of evidence. Joe represented me in my divorce and showed up in a pair of Bahama Shorts and a straw hat and Judge Black made him stand in the corner for ten minutes for contempt of court. You can't make this stuff up, folks.
Wives, Ex-Wives, and a few Bitches I'd like to forget Chapter 4
I ain't even gonna lie to you, I've been married six times with divorces between them . . . mostly. I never did figure women out, that's why I quit getting married. I hate winter divorces. The days are longer in the summer, and them nights don't close in on you near as bad. Only married one Texas girl, Charsha. She was half Apache, half black, and all bitch. I was in love. Like a told you, she was my first. Had to try twice before I got it right, but after doing the deed I considered that if I could pull this off everything was gonna be alright.
Charsha was a cheat. She screwed everybody but the milkman, and the only reason she missed him is because we didn't have one. She was tough as a boot, thin as a rail, and she could step to the Cotton Eyed Joe. I think she still had her baby teeth because they were still falling out. She let me have sex with her on Tuesdays and Fridays because those were her bowling nights, and that meant something, I guess. I think she had an orgasm with me, but she may have been faking that night. I was snake amazed when she left me, and she really packed it in my butt. I came home, and she calmly told me, "I'm leaving you in twenty days." That was on December 5th, 1973. She timed it so as to leave me on Christmas.
I took it well. I cried like a little bitch. Oh, I mean I cried! Got a nose bleed over it. Of course she zipped the panties up. I didn't expect that. So each day I'd get an update. She tell me she was leaving me in nineteen, eighteen, seventeen days, and so on, I'd bawl like a baby, and she'd laugh in my face. Millions of gay men can't be WRONG! Finally I snapped, and pitched her out the front door, regretting it almost immediately as she laughed at me through my own teeth, the ones I'd bought her, stripped my house of everything including the Christmas Tree, took the dog and left.
So, there I was single. I was totally lost. I was never cool, but even less cool without any balls, yeah, she took those too. I moped around the house for about two months. Considered suicide, but Charsha took my gun. She left the pet chicken, Henrietta for some morbid reason, and I'd cry on the bird's shoulder every night. I'd talk to Henrietta, she'd say, "Buck buck," and shit on the floor. Hey, it's Texas, ok?
As luck would have it I met Sandra. Sandra was from the same neighborhood, and by that I mean literally born a block away. She had her own teeth, and could cook. We hooked up. Unfortunately I was seeing Brenda at the same time. Well, Brenda ran away from home, HEY, she was almost of age, and came over, hence Sandra and I were a thing of the past, but she DID leave her blue jeans as a reminder.
Like I said, Brenda wasn't exactly street legal, but it was Texas, and Mexico was just around the corner so . . . We took off to Mexico and got married. I think I'd divorced Charsha by this time, no, I'm sure of it because she married one of the guys she was seeing when we were married. I called Joe Barron, my lawyer and told him what I'd done, and he said he could cut me a deal. With taking an underage girl across an international border, changing my citizenship, and getting married, if I'd turn myself in he could probably fix it to where I'd could be buried somewhere that they wouldn't desecrate my grave. I took the deal.
I didn't understand why Brenda's father didn't kill me, indeed fronted a Texas marriage, but seven years later I saw it clearly. Now, I'm not going to run Brenda down because she died, leaving me two sons, but I will say that during this time I partnered up with Ted, we went in with his grandfather on a trailer park (hey, it's Texas) and after brief instructions from Ted on various ways to collect rent in a white trash trailer park we screwed everything that didn't have a husband on top of it. To say my marriage was strained would be putting it lightly. Enter Mary!
Mary was a whore. What's more, she was a New York whore, and that's about the whoriest whore you can get. Still, she had her ways. I was in love! God DAMN was I in love. I was plumb stupid I was so in love. Plane trip to New York, eight hundred dollar phone bills, you name it. I decided to go see her in New York. Brenda waited, packed my bags, saw me off at the airport, and then left the SHIT out of me! Bye bye wife, bye bye kids, bye bye dog.
Now I was upset, but not at losing Brenda. Upon returning to Texas, Mary hooked up with some guy from Long Island and put the wood to me too. I drove my truck as far into the woods as I could, walked about a mile, and sat down to die. I might need to see a doctor about that part of my personality, but anyway, after an hour or so, I went back to town, moved into a double wide (hey, it's Texas,) and shacked up with three dancers, or rather, three dancers and a short fat dyke who was madly in love with all three. It was then I began to believe in polygamy.
I must say we had a beautiful relationship(s). They weren't the least bit jealous so long as the rent was paid, there was food in the fridge and the air conditioner was forever on. My only problem was that Brenda slammed me with child support, and Judge Black didn't see eye to eye with my lifestyle. When I told him I could barely afford a place to live he assured me that the following Monday I'd have three hundred dollars or he would find me a place to live. I really didn't like his tone so I split for Mexico.
Eventually I had Joe strike me a deal so I could pay support weekly. As luck would have it my ex, Brenda, fell on hard times and my sons came to live with me. As luck would have it I was allowed to gain custody, BUT I had to be married, so, I married Barbara, an old barfly, (hey, it's Texas.) Barbara wasn't too bad. She took care of the boys, and cooked quite well. She had this jailhouse tattoo of an octopus with its tentacles extending up her inner arms and down her inner thighs. I decided to become celebrate. This was also the time I picked up my drinking habit that I nourish to this day.
After two years I met Pam. We were roughly the same age, had two boys each, she liked to cook, and we became friends. Oh, I ran Barbara down the road. I was getting schooled at this by now and we both took it well. She was happy to be rid of my boys, and I was happy for her to move on.
Pam was my last. We raised our boys, had careers, bought houses, wrote books, lived on a golf course, two actually, and she left me in 2010. Hey, it's Texas!
Once Upon A Trailer Park Chapter 5
Once upon a time I bought part interest in a trailer park in Texas. Now, if that's not a lead in to a joke, I'm not a white boy from Austin! Somewhere along the lines of, "Two Jews walked into a bar." In 1979 I had been working at Central Texas College for three years. I'd done good. Worked my way up to Plant Management, where I set up the first computerized inventory system the college ever had. System 2000! My job was to identify, and categorize all items the college owned from chairs down to the lifelike mannequin in the nursing school that was used to teach nursing students about the birthing process. Oh, it WAS lifelike, friends and neighbors. So lifelike that one of my jobs was to go and give it a douche when the frat boys slipped in and partied with it. Seeing what it was designed to teach, it had this look of perpetual pain on its face, legs up in the stirrups, which I supposed enhanced the event. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, a Texas trailer park.
I'd like to say for all the things you've ever heard about Texas Trailer Trash, well, they're all true. I'd become involved with this particular park doing bookkeeping Work on the side for Mr Dorrill. I'd been inducted into the Outstanding Young Men Of The Year, and Mr Dorrill read about it in the papers so he hired me to cook his books, and screw his in laws out of their share of the park. He'd screwed the city out of the land it sat on some years before when he served as the city tax comptroller. But, that's the kinds of things you do when you're the most interesting man in the world. I might add that Mr Dorrill taught me all I know about business.
The park was top shelf. No, I'm not kidding. There was no propane, free cable and water for tenants, and a swimming pool with a clubhouse. Mr Dorrill had employed a cost saving measure during the construction of the place. He dug one ditch, and put gas, water, and sewer lines in the same dig. Back in them days the sewer was something called terra-cotta, which was kinda like baked clay invented by the Romans, and the water lines were galvanized metal with an ample supply of lead for the joints. This assured that many of the tenants had this yellow glow about them. The gas lines leaked so bad that when the creek flooded the water would bubble giving the park the appearance of a thirteen acre 7UP! We never had any problem with the city because Mr Dorrill had been in local politics for a LONG time, and had all the city fathers most intimate secrets in a safe deposit box down at the bank, and the good public servants didn't mind a few shortcuts in park operation so long as those skeletons remained in the closet.
The old man installed me as the office manager. His grandson, my writing partner, Ted, was the comptroller. I'd do the numbers, and Ted made sure they never saw the light of day. Now, I was a bookkeeping nerd, and Ted, well, he was not! By the time I arrived on the scene Ted had Globe Mobile City pretty well scoped out. I burned the midnight oil trying to make the numbers add up, and Ted did his best to educate me that the numbers were not SUPPOSED to add up! The old man had designed it that way.
I said I'd bought interest in the park, and I did, but there was some "phinangaling." Don't check my spelling on that, it's a Texas Word. The definition thereof is, "Systemic screwing of your inlaws out of their interest in a trailer park." Under the corporate by-laws of Globe Mobile City, only members of the Dorrill and Parten Family could own any part of the business or property included. I couldn't own any of that. Well, the old man set up "Globe Management Associates," and independent management company, and being the lifetime CEO of Globe Mobile City, he hired Globe Management Associates (Mr Dorrill, Ted, and Me) to take over all operations of the park! Ever see the movie "Casino?" Great background study for this article.
Mr Dorrill had become a widower some years before, and married one Willie Mae Parten. She was a fairly respectable Texas lady. Had accumulated some wealth after her husband passed away. She invented a flower, the "WillieMina." Switched a cow to the slaughter house in Waco, and used the money to build security for her family. The Partens had kids who all married East Texas white trash. See, Texas is really five states. West, The Valley, Central (where I live), North, but, if you wanna see a Texan look down, and spit on the ground just say, "East Texas!" There's things out there in them woods that'd make a strong man die with fright! These folks were NOT good, upstanding Americans.
So, the old man talked these people into coming in with him in this trailer park venture, and he'd been robbing them ever since! Hadn't paid them in ten years (they don't teach math in East Texas.) THAT'S what he needed ME for! After all that time, the family was getting suspicious. Didn't tell you these people were quick. I sat in an AirStream RV for MONTHS, balancing the books for the last ten years so the old man could do a "State of The Trailer Park" to this bunch of hillbillies during a board meeting. When the great day came, Mr Dorrill presented them with a bill of one hundred and fifty two thousand dollars, announced that he was hiring Globe Management Associates to run the park, and walked out of the room, leaving them holding the bill, and drooling on their shirts!
In a word, the Partens were incensed! Their Patriarch, WA, just couldn't get his mind around the numbers, which was understandable, because under the watchful eye of the old man I'd cooked those books to very well done. So, WA formed his own independent company, and put his son in law, James, in charge with his brother's son in law, Jimbo (yeah, that's his real name) as the maintenance man. They only had one problem. They had nineteen trailers out of one hundred and four, and Globe Management had a lock on the park. You can't just pack up nineteen trailers and go! In short order James and Jimbo were having to sell copper wire just to buy beer and cigarettes!
Remember I told you Ted was trying to educate me about the real purpose of Globe Mobile City? Well, the very reason the final accounting at that catastrophic board meeting was so skewed was the old man had designed the park itself to perpetually lose money, while the owners of the trailers raked in the profit from rents. What the inlaw investors didn't see was after the ten year accumulation of debt, the money they owed to the parent corporation far outweighed any hope on any return for investment after ten years. They assumed the money owed the company would just go away. Not so! That was the old man's money. He STOLE it!
The song remained the same. WAP International (WA's company) could play house all it wanted, but we still owned the bank. WA was a Texas school teacher. He "cypered" with a pencil, and a Big Chief tablet. The old man just bought a computer. Big one. It was called a "personal computer," but back in 1979 it was the size of a desk. I couldn't make it work so I called the company in New York, but one Mary Ellen got in touch with a friend of hers in New Mexico named Bill, and he sent me a book on BASIC, a programming code. Remember that I'd designed the college system? Well, that was on an IBM mainframe computer, and I'd gone to the college library, checked out a book, and learned Fortran. I could figure out BASIC!
I actually set up an accounting, and work order application that was great. Even flew to New York to pick up a third floppy drive, a real one, eight inch, back when floppy disks really flopped, and in no time at all Globe Management Associates moved into the computer age! All accounts receivable and payable, and work orders were accounted for automatically, with the tenants getting a bill in their mailbox every month. A modern system coded into the computer by myself, under the accounting principles of Mr Dorrill. Mr Dorrill, Ted and I laughed all the way to the bank, and WA was very confused. There was a pain in Grog's head he could not understand! Under Ted's creative accounting, I even included a subroutine that accounted for the unique way Army wives paid the rent when their husbands were in the field.
Before his death, the old man broke WAP International, and Jimbo and James wound up in prison. I went on to form Rent Rangers, bought three mansions, and Ted became a psychologist with more degrees than a thermometer! We always maintained our business relationship, that's why when we showed up in Utah to fight the CPS there was a pain in THEIR head they could not understand!
Weird Wilbur Rides Again Chapter 6
Weird Wilbur Rides Again was an album I put out in Nashville back in '93. It was a real set. Real studio, real studio cats, real tuna fish sandwiches and beer. The session was "on the house." I didn't have no money, but hell, nobody else did either so I didn't hold any special honors. The Grand Ol' Opry didn't pay much, and was referred to on Music Square as the "Grand Ol Orgasm!"
I'd been doing lounge shows at Pennington's, across from the Opry on Friday and Saturday nights. You didn't get paid for that. You had to come up with "concession." That's where you set up a table and sell your records to the crowd. I didn't really have any records worth a hoot, quality wise. Only the "Anthem" and if that football player ever heard MY anthem he'd REALLY take a knee. Back then Texans thought a racist was someone who got into NASCAR, but I digress.
Pennington's was a trip. It was a moderate sized bar. Maybe fifty people. The upside was people who played the Opry would filter over after the show, and if you were playing you'd have a chance to expose your wares to some really "happening"people. Soon I was known around Music Square. Now, I wasn't "somebody," but my clumsy attempts at recording began to pop up on tour busses. I'd dragged a couple cassette efforts up from Austin I'd done at Lone Star Studios that weren't much. Made for Texans in pickups with no air conditioner.
I had to learn the ins and outs of Nashville. I even had a manager, Michael. Of all the people I met there, Michael was my mentor. I was very wet behind the ears. He taught me "presence." With a lounge filled with tourists, worn out from taking the kids around Opry Land in the sun all day, if you were the show in the lounge you simply MUST be a star! Once, when Mike had to fill in for one of his Opry contacts, he told me that I had to carry the whole show at Pennington's. Normally I'd do a set or two, and Mike would carry the load with standards such as "MargaritaVille." The thought of doing a four hour gig was, to put it lightly, a bit perturbing! Mike told me Hank never died, he does shows all over Nashville every weekend. I did a standard country and western show, and the public received it well.
Mike taught me about Nashville etiquette too. One time the venue was filled with college cheerleaders in town for some kind of national "jump off." Yeah, yeah, yeah, they were drinking and most likely a few of them were under twenty-one. And, they were easy on the eye, if you get my drift. So anyway, during a break I went to the bar for a beer and two of these kids homed in on me. They wanted to know if I was in the music business? Well DUH! Did I know where a real studio was? I LIVED in one. Each morning I had to write, record, duplicate several cassettes, and hand carry them to various record companies around Music Square. People trying to shoot material at Nashville from OUTSIDE don't get that. If you mailed a cassette, without local representation, the girl who checks the mail would just throw it away. Wouldn't even open the envelope! You had to BE there, drink their coffee, eat their donuts, (which you REALLY needed) give your stuff to her, and it would get a listen. Wouldn't get recorded. There's about a one in one hundred chance of that, but they'd listen. That's why you had to do it every day. All novices dream of crafting that one monster hit. Nashville isn't interested in that. They want to see if you can do it every day! Can you do it on command? Does it "cook?" Mike's training for me was to take one of my songs, copy each line separately on sheets of paper, and I had to come up with sixteen or so new songs that he'd do the came thing with. I also had to take a pencil and a Big Chief tablet and write the words to a hit song so I'd know what it "felt like" for a hit to come off a pencil. I "cooked" over three thousand songs using the very same formula I'm using to write this very article you are reading right now. Verse, verse, chorus, lead, verse, chorus and out! Don't forget the "hook." In an article they call it a "focus" word. That simply means the part that sticks in your head. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, the two chicks.
So, there I am with these two girls, starry-eyed, and half drunk, wanting to see a real studio after the show. I ain't even gonna lie to you. By this time I'd forgotten all about Jesus, family and mom's apple pie. They were in town for the "Jump Off, " and I felt it my civic duty to give them something to Jump ON, " and take a memory back to the old Alma Mater! To this day when I give speeches in Austin, and UT co-eds talk with me I remember the song, "Don't Stand So Close To Me." Before I began my next set I told Mike that these young ladies would like to accompany us back to Music Square and party. He cast his eyes toward a rather masculine woman stirring at a table in the corner. She had a freaking CREW CUT! "See that woman, Bill?" I nodded. "Well, that's a Bull Dyke, and her job is to make sure those two cheerleaders get safely back to their room tonight. I'm not getting my ass whipped in the elevator!"
At some point Mike decided I needed a real concession. Something state of the art, on CD, not cassette, that people to buy for around ten bucks. Now my stuff was different. You had to balance plates on a stick to even get the term "Gosh Darn" past Roy Acuff and achieve distribution. I cussed every breath! If I couldn't figure it out, I was about to press up a bunch of skeet targets. Without going through the long, boring tale, Steve Jobs fixed all that. Oh, and Roy died.
So, we all met on Good Friday, 1993 at Berry Hill Studios just outside of Nashville. I had HUNDREDS of gag songs. Some good, some not so good, but they all "cooked!" Jackie's dad, John set the whole thing up and little three year old Jackie sat on my lap through a lot of sets. When she was twenty-one she remastered the tracks, achieved copyright, and you can buy the album on iTunes today thanks to her. CPS said she was mentally challenged. Yeah, RIGHT!
We recorded Friday and Saturday. Recording twelve tracks is no nine to five kinda deal. It starts just before "can see," and goes just past "can't see."Then you go and do your regular show at Pennington's, return, crash on a studio couch, get up the next day, and do it all over again! The only thing I missed that weekend was my cassette deliveries to Music Square.
On Sunday you "mix." We mixed on Easter, which added a special factor of blasphemy to the whole thing. The final mix only took eighteen years. You're dealing originally with a recording tape, two inches wide, with thirty-two individual tracks on it. Name dropping is the unpardonable sin in Nashville, so I won't do it, but you'd be amazed who helped on those tracks named, "You'd Better Not Tell Anyone I Was Here!"
The album was called "Weird Wilbur Rides Again." You can purchase it today on iTunes, and God knows where else. I was actually formally published, and I think on iTunes alone there are about five knock offs. I won't say how much money it made, uh, makes, but I will say the IRS hates me because none of my copyrights are in my name. I kept up with all this with little food, sleep, drunk, and certainly no company of cheerleaders. There! Now you have the formula to be a star. You don't have to be crazy to try that, but it sure helps!


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Samsung has started to rollout February security update for the Galaxy Note 4 smartphone. With version N910FXXS1DQB4, the Samsung Galaxy Note 4 has started to hit for customers based in Europe. You should note that the latest release is a security update, which provides Android bug fixes for the month of February. The update is available for the Galaxy Club smartphone with model number SM-N910F with Android 6.0.1 Marshmallow.
With the increase in filing of bug reports, smartphone manufacturers have adopted a strategy to push monthly updates instead of once in five months. This will considerably reduce the download time and also protect your valuable handset from viruses and malware.
However, the February security update is to be seen with a different mindset. The main reason is attributed to the size of the update, which is around 380MB. Hence, you can infer that the update also brings in improvements to certain apps and features.
Like in the case of the previous releases, the latest February security update for the Samsung Galaxy Note 4 handset will be available in the form of OTA rollouts. Hence, it will take few days for the update message notification to appear on your phone. Alternatively, you can also manually verify the presence of the update by navigating to the Settings menu.
On the specifications front, the Samsung Galaxy Note 4 features a 5.7-inch Super AMOLED Corning Gorilla Glass 4 display with a pixel density of 518PPI, Snapdragon 805 processor, Adreno 420 graphics, 3GB RAM, 32GB expandable internal storage loaded with Android KitKat upgradeable to Android Marshmallow.
While the rear camera is equipped with a 16MP sensor with f/2.2 aperture, the front-facing shooter offers a 3.7MP sensor alongside f/1.9 aperture. Powered by a 3220mAh battery, the fast battery charging is capable of charging 60 percent in 30 minutes. The phone is also available in Exynos processor and graphics variant.
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I suppose it depends on your personality. If she can see that YOU are what is important in raduometric relationship, not what you or she believes, ya'll have a chance.
It can burn, and it can burn you hardcore. Nor was there a lack of compassion or respect. I love this post and this perspective.


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12320 North 32nd Street, Suite 1
Phoenix, AZ 85032
At Dameron and Team we offer a range of treatment options for sleep apnea. If snoring or obstructed breathing is a problem, call Dr. Dameron today to learn how we can help you breathe easier.
Left untreated, sleep apnea can cause serious health problems, so contact us now to schedule an examination.
If you're looking for dentures that look great and last, look no further than Dameron and Team located in the Phoenix, AZ area. Brett Dameron, D.D.S. will assess your needs and fit you with durable, comfortable, natural-looking dentures - at a price you can afford.
Brett Dameron, D.D.S., in the Phoenix area accepts Cigna Dental® insurance. Our friendly team will be happy to file your insurance paperwork for you.
We know affordable dental treatment is important to you. At Dameron and Team, your long term oral health is our top concern.
Brett Dameron, D.D.S., in the Phoenix area accepts Aetna Dental® insurance. At Dameron and Team, our friendly team will be happy to file your insurance claim for you.
We want to make your dental treatment as affordable for you as possible. Your long term oral health is our primary concern.
A negative self image can be detrimental to many facets of your life. Phoenix area dentist Dr. Brett Dameron understands the positive life-changing power that a healthy and beautiful smile can bring to you. Here at Dameron and Team, we don't want you to be embarrassed any longer. Why not take your smile - and even your life - to a new level of self-confidence and beauty?
3618 W. Anthem Way, D-132
Anthem, AZ 85086
If you are missing one or more teeth, you'll want to talk with Anthem area dental implant dentist Dr. Darren Flowers about replacements that look and feel as natural as your own teeth. If dentures are causing you problems, you may consider dental implants. Unlike dentures, which can be removed, Dr. Flowers offers dental implants that are permanently anchored into the jaw itself.
For comfortable dental hygiene treatment in the Anthem, Arizona area, Dr. Darren Flowers is known for having a gentle touch. The friendly team at Darren L. Flowers, DMD provides teeth cleaning for a whiter smile.
Maintaining good dental hygiene is the foundation for healthy teeth and gums. We're committed to helping you have a lifetime of oral health.
If you're looking for denture repair in the Anthem area, our team at Darren L. Flowers, DMD offers friendly service. Dr. Flowers understands the importance of reliable dentures that fit properly.
We'll get your repairs done professionally and quickly. You'll be able to eat and smile again with confidence as soon as possible.
For a quality porcelain crown in the Anthem, AZ area, Dr. Darren Flowers is known for natural-looking results. At Darren L. Flowers, DMD, we use quality materials to restore your smile.
Your new tooth colored crown will blend in with the rest of your teeth. Our state-of-the-art techniques will make your smile look healthy and natural again.
Anthem area dentist Dr. Darren Flowers offers dental payment plans so you can afford the treatment you need. Just talk with our friendly team about your needs.
We'll be happy to work with you to find the solution that fits your situation. We're committed to making your oral health a reality.
4235 N. 32nd. Street Suite C
Phoenix, AZ 85018
Dr. Beth Hamann, practicing in the Phoenix, AZ area, can provide you with the highest quality dental crowns available, and restore your smile. Using state-of-the-art materials and cutting-edge techniques, Dr. Hamann can make your smile look healthy and natural again.
Agave Dental is a trusted Phoenix area dental implants practice providing natural-looking, comfortable tooth replacement. We make it our mission to use a gentle touch during the process.
We hold ourselves to the highest standards to replace missing teeth and provide you with natural-looking results. Our goal is to restore your confidence and your bright, healthy smile.
The friendly, caring staff of Agave Dental in the Phoenix, Arizona area strive to make you feel comfortable and well-cared for at your dentist appointment. Beth Hamann, D.D.S. is committed to serving you and your family's dental needs, year after year. Come and see what we have to offer in a professional setting where top-notch customer service still matters.
A beautiful smile can brighten your life! If you are continuously hiding your chipped, stained, or cracked teeth from others, it's time for a change! Beth Hamann, D.D.S., a trusted Phoenix area dentist, can fix chips, cracks, and stains to reveal a great new smile - and a new you. You'll look so good you'll wonder why you waited so long!
If you're interested in natural-looking bridges and dentures, look no further than Beth Hamann, D.D.S. who practices in the Phoenix, Arizona area. Using modern materials and techniques, Dr. Hamann can achieve the natural look you seek. You will be very pleased with the comfortable, long-lasting results.
Oscar M Pena Pc
1605 E River Rd # 151
Tucson, AZ, 85718-5974
Christopherson, Brian D.D.S.
1635 N Greenfield Rd # 119
Mesa, AZ, 85205-4010
Church, Justin D.D.S.
550 W 16th St
Yuma, AZ, 85364-4632
Melde, Michael J D.D.S.
2152 Mcculloch Blvd N # C
Lake Havasu City, AZ, 86403-6805
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The technology and treatment options for consumers of dental care have greatly improved over the last 20 years. The new dentistry now provides you with the opportunity of maintaining your natural teeth throughout your life. One of the ways this is accomplished is by referral to a dental specialist to treat specific dental problems.
When dentists refer you to a specialist, your understanding of the problem and decision for treatment is vital in determining a specialized dental plan. The plan for your dental health and your general dentist's overall goals often depend on these specialized resources.
When you are referred to a dental specialist, he or she becomes a part of your dental team. Although your specialist will give you information about the reasons for the referral and the treatment, there are also some active steps you can take to increase your participation in the dentistry treatment and healing process.
A query of dental specialists indicates that there are some questions that they would like you to ask to enhance the treatment outcomes they seek as a result of your dental plan. Answers to the following questions will often augment the information provided by your general dentist and enable you to clarify any further questions you may have about the specialized treatment you are receiving.
These four questions will help you gain insight into the disease process that led to the need for dental care treatment and the prevention and self-care measures you can incorporate into your life to avoid future problems. With this information, you can also work with your general dentist and the dental team to maintain your dental health plan.
Specialized dental care for your dental needs is one of the ways the new dentistry has brought innovations in diagnosis and treatment to benefit consumers.
By Brian DesRoches, PhD
The new dentistry brings together a unique complement of skills, knowledge, and capabilities with one primary focus: ensuring your dental health. Working as a team, your dentist and the dental team he or she has assembled wants to recruit you to join them in making sure this focus is maintained. The dental team has two major parts that you may hear referenced during your visits: the "back" and the "front." These terms refer to two very specific functions of your dental team. The front office handles all the administration, scheduling, and financial details, and the back office provides the treatment.
Your front office team makes sure you know about scheduling opportunities, handles finances, and keeps the administrative details under control to provide you efficient services and support. The back office team is thus free to do what they do best: provide the best care and service for you. You'll find the dentist, dental hygienist, and dental assistant ready to assist you during your appointments.
The key component for success of any team is each member's commitment to do their part. As a consumer and team member, your commitment involves three things:
You can maximize the benefits of the skills and expertise of your dental team by deciding for yourself what kind of relationship you want with your dentist and the dental team and how they can help you achieve a positive outcome for your dental future.
Bad breath, or halitosis, is a signal that something is not right inside your mouth. It may be as simple as the need to pay more attention to your daily dental hygiene, or it may indicate tooth decay, gum disease, or another medical problem. Whichever it is, bad breath is a red flag: take another look at your mouth!
Bad breath is a social problem; if you have bad breath, you may notice that people actually back away as you talk to them. Mouth odors are embarrassing, and they tell other people that you aren't taking care of yourself. Sometimes people are not aware that their breath smells bad; be alert to how other people react when they're close to you, and be grateful if a friend or family member lets you know about the problem.
Commercial products claim they will make your breath fresher, but the only way to make sure your breath permanently fresh is to practice good oral hygiene. In fact, too many breath mints and hard candies with sugar will lead to tooth decay. If you are constantly using breath mints, breath sprays, or mouth rinses in an effort to cover up your bad breath, realize that you may have a dental or medical problem that needs addressing.
There are a number of reasons you may experience a bad taste in your mouth, and even be able to smell your own breath. Food may be lodged between your teeth if you are not brushing at least twice daily and flossing regularly. Food particles can be very tiny and can wedge themselves between teeth and below the gum line; brushing after meals is important and flossing is imperative to get at the particles that the brush can't reach. Brush your tongue or use a tongue scraper. As odd as it will feel at first, bacteria collects on the tongue and can contribute to bad breath. If you wear removable dentures, take them out at night and clean them thoroughly before you wear them again.
If you neglect your daily dental hygiene over time, bad breath can become a symptom of more serious dental problems. Teeth that are not cleaned properly become a place for bacteria to reside as food particles stay in your mouth and decay. Bacteria attack your teeth and gums and cause cavities and gum disease. If this is happening, gum disease will cause an unpleasant odor.
Perhaps you believe that you are brushing and flossing on a regular basis, but are still experiencing bad breath. If you have teeth that are crooked or crowded, it may be hard for you to clean between them. If you wear dentures that are not fit properly, they may be trapping food or irritating your mouth. Or perhaps your bad breath is caused by another medical problem: drainage from your sinuses, gastrointestinal problems, kidney or liver problems, or other medical conditions.
Here's what you can do to "investigate" on your own. Write down what you're eating and notice whether your breath smells bad because of certain foods. Garlic and onions actually cause odor, but the odor is coming from your lungs as you breathe, not from your mouth itself. The odor from these foods is temporary, and will be gone once the food is out of your bloodstream.
Are you dieting? Hunger can contribute to bad breath, because of the chemical changes as your body turns fat and protein into the energy it needs. Taking prescription or over-the-counter medications? Add these to the record of what you're eating to see whether there's a relationship between your medications and your bad breath. And don't forget to tell your dentist if there's been a change in your overall health since your last visit.
Suffering from dry mouth? Saliva provides constant rinsing in our mouths and washes away food particles. Your dentist may recommend more liquids, sugarless candy to stimulate natural saliva, and perhaps some of the commercial products that are available to combat dry mouth.
If bad breath continues after you have done your best job of regular brushing and flossing, start with your dentist. He or she can tell you whether the odor is caused by an oral problem; if it is not, then your dentist will suggest you see your doctor for a physical check-up.
Regular dental check-ups will help keep your mouth healthy and working well. Your dentist can spot problems before they cause trouble, including problems that cause bad breath.
By Brian DesRoches, PhD