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Friday, September 30CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('08-'10) - #1.
#1 - 'Lost Friday - Season 6.'
(Originally published 2/5-5/28/10.)
(Note: For the five years I wrote it, Lost Friday made the CDP significantly more popular than any of my personal essays, and I've begrudgingly accepted that. It was a lot of fun, and I hope you enjoyed it.)
The final Lost Friday is upon us.
There are two big things I want to mention before I dig into the final recap. First and foremost, I want to sincerely thank everyone who has followed along with Lost Friday for the last five years. Since 2004, the CDP has earned a reputation for personal essays, pop culture nostalgia and Mix-Tape trades, and amongst all of that, we still had time to recap about 100 episodes of my favorite television show, and the fact that you all came along for the ride has been a lot of fun.
Lost Friday was a labor of love, but it was also a lot of work. I'd estimate that I've lost about 1000 hours of much-needed sleep since my first recap, and the cost of my massive Photobucket account runs me about $80 a year. Hundreds of Photoshopped and uploaded images. Thousands of jokes. Millions of words. Some days were harder than others, but I've sincerely enjoyed every minute of it. At the end of every season, I tried to quit, only to receive dozens of e-mails and comments telling me to come back for one more year. That's a really nice thing to do for a guy, and I've always appreciated every nice thing said about Lost Friday. Nothing makes me happier than when someone tells me how funny they thought something I wrote was; the fact that I got to be obsessive over Lost, mercilessly mock it and get people laughing to boot? Bliss.
For those of you who visit the CDP solely for Lost Friday, let me remind you that Lost Friday only constituted less than 10% of what the CDP has to offer. I'm a published author currently working on Book #2, and I strongly encourage you to dig around and stay awhile. Subsequently, for those of you who are CDP fans that never cared for Lost, then I can imagine this is a good day for you. You'll once again have me all to yourself starting in June.
So once again, thank you. I hope you enjoyed Lost Friday.
The second thing I wanted to mention was the finale of Lost itself. You would think that for an Atheist that focuses on the minutiae of...well...everything, the finale would have been a supreme letdown for me. What about the significance of the Numbers? What about Walt? Why did Dharma keep getting food drops in 2004?
However, once I realized the main theme of the show (characters, redemption and faith), the superficial stuff just didn't matter anymore. Had I gotten a scientific conclusion over a spiritual one, I doubt I would have been half as fulfilled, even if I got twice the answers. I loved the final act of the show, I loved the final act on the Island, and I thought it was as perfect a finale as we could have asked for. We've seen some spectacular episodes, and we've seen some trash (not much, but some), and I feel that 'The End' is arguably as good as the series ever was.
Jack Shephard was never my favorite character; not even in my Top 5, quite frankly. However, this show was centered around him, and thus the finale was centered around him, and boy did they deliver. By the end of the series, Matthew Fox was holding his own with some of the best actors and actresses on television, and in the final scenes of 'The End,' it was impossible to not be proud of the guy for what he'd done. You want to talk about redemption.
So yes, I liked the finale. Loved it, even. There wasn't a dry eye in the house.
Enough grandstanding and pansy talk, let's start recapping the Series Finale with the final Thick & Meaty...ever!
Flash-Sideways Timeline: Outside The Church
While Kate waits in Hurley's Camaro, Desmond claims ownership for the body of Christian Shephard, as UPS will give up even corpses to the first person possessing hands with which to sign off. When Kate asks Desmond why he sprung her out of jail in order to attend a concert, he replies that 'nobody can tell you why you're here,' and what he really wants is 'to leave.'
This sounds very emotional and deep in hindsight, until you realize that he was merely referring to the fact that he wanted to eat lunch at the Olive Garden two towns over. Say what you want, those breadsticks are mind-blowing.
At The Flightline Motel
Hurley arrives at the Flightline with Sayid, on a mission to get an absurdly-inebriated Charlie to perform at the concert. Hurley tries to sway Charlie by telling him that 'it's the most important thing he'll ever do,' and considering that he never got to sleep with Claire, he's essentially correct. When Charlie gets distracted by a cloud that looks like a bottle of Jameson, Hurley shoots him with a tranquilizer gun and tosses him into the back of his Hummer.
This is the exact same way my wife got me to go to Dubuque with her last Spring.
At The Benefit Concert
Hurley and Sayid arrive at the concert. Miles, who has also just arrived, spots Sayid and calls Sawyer to tell him he's escaped from jail. Miles asks him to check on Sun at the hospital, to see that she's okay.
It is at this time that I would like to remind everyone that Yunjin Kim is following me on Twitter, thus completing Phase 1 of the 28-Phase process that culminates on our wedding day. Not many people realize that the name 'Ji Yeon' is Korean for 'Son of Pale Norweigan.' Now you know.
At St. Sebastian Hospital
Juliet shows up to give Sun an ultrasound, which triggers Sun's 'Realization Moment,' flashing back to when Juliet gave Sun an ultrasound on the Island. As Jin and Sun always seemed to function in tandem, this also works as Jin's Realization Moment as well. Never underestimate the dimension-obliterating power of a radioactive wand, Astroglide and a taut, Korean tummy.
They also start speaking English as well, because they remember now. Apparently, they use Rosetta Stone software in the Afterlife.
Over in a significantly less sexy hospital room, Jack is prepping Locke for his surgery. Jack jokingly tells Locke that there's a chance he could kill him, thus making 10 million Easter Egg nerds simultaneously moisten themselves with glee.
Jack and Juliet pass in the hallway, where it's finally revealed that they were once married. This goes down as the second worst-kept secret in Lost history, just behind 'Does Island Claire smell like pennies and black olives?'
(Answer: Yes.)
Outside A Bar
Sayid and Hurley observe a fistfight between Boone and an unnamed asshole who pushed Shannon to the ground. Sayid rushed to her aid, giving them both their Realization Moment, via tongue-to-tongue contact.
Nadia who? Never mind the years of International travel, longing and occasional torture; Sayid's heart lies with the woman he had a relationship with for 15 days back in 2004.
At The Benefit Concert
Juliet is paged by the hospital, David enters with Claire, Charlotte wakes up a drunken Charlie, and Kate recognizes Claire from several days earlier. On stage, Drive Shaft will be accompanying Mr. Daniel Widmore and his Cavalcade of Stuttering, Violently-Frustrating Whimsy.
Charlie looks so sexy on stage that Claire goes into labor. Meanwhile, Eloise pleads with Desmond not to get everyone to 'move on,' which prompts Desmond to tell her that he won't be taking Daniel. Not with him, at least. I enjoyed this conversation, as it reminds us that, just because everyone that we knew wasn't in the final scene, that there aren't other churches, other groups and other Realization Moments. Don't get hung up on the small stuff, or I'll put my thumb through your neck.
As Kate helps Claire with her labor backstage, they both have their respective Realization Moments. Later, Charlie shows up and has one as well, no doubt triggered by Aaron's mystical placental goo. Desmond saunters in, fist-pumps on a job well done, and pours himself a tall glass of whole milk.
Back At St. Sebastian Hospital
Locke is brought out of surgery, where he's coming around and recovering at an Afterlife pace. The wiggling of his toes gives him his Realization Moment, followed by the pissing of his hospital gown. Jack resists anything remotely resembling a Flashback, saying that he needs to leave to see his son. Locke correctly (but dickily) reminds him that he doesn't have a son.
Back in Room Number Gorgeous, Sawyer catches up with Jin and Sun. Sawyer is intent on arresting Sayid, but they're having none of it after seeing the light. Even in Purgatory, you can still get gutshot and potentially miscarry a newborn. Heaven sounds extremely terrifying.
At the candy machine, Sawyer's struggling to get an Apollo bar. Juliet shows up and tells him that if he unplugs the machine and plugs it back in again, the candy will drop down, adding that 'it's technically legal.' Once again, continuity nerds simultaneously drop clumps of 'Cool Ranch' Doritos down their shirt with excitement. As they both reach for the candy bar, Sawyer and Juliet have their respective Realization Moments, before they come back around and continue fighting over sole possession of said candy.
Back At The Benefit Concert
Jack shows up and runs into Kate. Kate attempts to get him to remember the past, but he continues to resist. Kate then clubs the dumb oaf with a canoe paddle, as this is the only way for this lunkhead to understand anything.
Back At The Church
Locke shows up and meets Ben. Ben apologizes for what he did to him, adding that he was 'selfish, jealous, and wanted everything that (Locke) had.' Locke forgives him, but Ben still has some things to work out before he decides to enter the church. For Ben, a guy that seemingly had everything he could have ever dreamed of on the Island, to want the life of a paralyzed loner working a temp job at a box factory, he should have probably aimed a squinch higher.
Hurley also runs into Ben. Hurley reminds Ben that he was a 'great Number Two,' to which Ben replies that Hurley was a 'great Number One.' This leads into my theory that their Island code names for each other were 'Poop' and 'Pee.'
Jack and Kate arrive. Kate tells him that she brought him here 'because this is where you were going to have your father's funeral.' She says that 'they' will be waiting for him to come in, once he's ready 'to leave.' Kate then inexplicably changes outfits, in what is either a Purgatory thing, or the single most glaring continuity error in Lost history. Perhaps Kate just didn't want to enter Heaven wearing such a slutty dress.
Jack enters the back of the church, finding the coffin of Christian. When he touches it, he has his Realization Moment, culminating with his father entering the room. After a brief exchange, Jack realizes that he himself has died, and he embraces with his father, both absolutely reeking with embalming fluid.
When Jack (and the viewing audience) expresses confusion, Christian explains that Jack's life and the people in the church are very real, yet they are all now dead. 'Some died before you, some after you,' Christian explains. He further elaborates that the church and this world was a place they all made together to find each other, because the most important part of Jack's life was the time spent with these people. It was created so they could all 'find each other, remember and move on.'
Meanwhile, out in the church, Miles realizes that he's an Atheist and immediately poofs out of existence. Bad time for an existential breakdown, dude.
Jack enters the heart of the church where he is greeted by many of his old friends from the Island (Kate, Hurley, Libby, Sawyer, Juliet, Desmond, Penny, Sun, Jin, Charlie, Claire, Aaron, Sayid, Boone, Shannon, Locke, Rose and Bernard). They all share embraces and enjoy their reunion, which is all a little more than my black little heart can handle (the look of satisfaction on Locke's face when he hugs Jack just might be my favorite moment of the entire series).
After awhile, they all sit down in the pews as Christian walks out the back of the church, bathing everyone in attendance in a glowing, white light. Jack and Kate exchange a smile, as the room is engulfed.
Excuse me, I think I have something in my eye. Yup, it was a cat whisker. I hate those things.
Original Timeline: At The River
Sawyer heads off to get Desmond out of the well before Locke can, while Jack, Kate and Hurley head to the Source (ie: Butthole) of the Island.
At The Well
Desmond has already been saved from the well before Locke or Sawyer can get there. Locke is initially going to kill everyone, but will settle for just Jack now that he's the new Jacob.
He's still sinking this bitch, though. Make no mistake of that.
At Rose And Bernard's Camp
Turns out that Rose and Bernard saved Desmond from the well, but he best be moving on soon, as they like to function as an isolationist society. Locke shows up and snatches Desmond away.
Vincent urinates on Rose's leg. Bernard urinates on Vincent.
In The Outrigger
Miles and Richard (who's now mortal), stumble across Frank in the water. Initially wanting to blow up the Ajira plane, Frank puts an end to that nonsense, reminding him that he's a pilot and will get them off of the Island. Realizing just how cuckoo-bananas insane their original idea was, they decide to trust Lapidus instead.
On The Way To The Source
Locke's group and Jack's group meet. There's a ton of chest-bumping and shit talk about murder, but it's pretty obvious that nobody has a plan. It's quite adorable, actually.
At The Source
Only Jack, Locke and Desmond approach the Source. Jack and Locke tie a rope around Desmond and lower him in. Desmond reaches the bottom and sees the 'cork' that's more or less keeping all evil from breaking loose. As he's immune to electromagnetic energy, Desmond hops into the pit and yanks the cork out, unleashing what seems to be the brewings of Hell upon the Island.
So this explains Sex In The City 2.
Jack chases Locke out of the cave in a fit of fury, punching him in the mouth and causing him to bleed. This is when they both realize that by pulling out the cork, both Jack and the Man In Black are mortal men. They tussle for a bit, but Locke nails Jack with a rock and scampers off.
When I was a little kid, I heaved a rock at a kid named BJ. I thought I had killed him; I was really scared and sad for awhile. Turns out he was okay, and we became friends in high school.
At Hydra Island Beach
Miles, via walkie-talkie, tells everyone to get their asses in gear before the plane takes off. Claire's not coming with, because she's nuttier than a box of Clusters.
At The Cliffs
Locke has a boat waiting for him. Jack shows up just in time for a kick-ass final showdown. Locke stabs Jack in the abdomen and pierces his neck, but before he can finish the job, Kate shows up and shoots the Man In Black. Jack kicks him over the cliff, killing him and ending what may be the worst and most ill-fated Island mutiny attempt ever.
Sawyer and Kate rush off to catch up with the plane, but not before sharing a tearful goodbye with Jack. Ben and Hurley stick around to help Jack finish what he started.
At The Ajira Landing Strip
Frank is having trouble with the hydraulics on the plane, so he sends Richard back to look at it. Yeah, if I have a mechanical failure with my airplane, I want the guy from the 16th Century to fix it for me.
Kate and Sawyer are catching up with the plane, when they run into Claire. Kate offers to help her raise Aaron, which changes her mind. Everyone gets on board as they begin their takeoff.
Frank Lapidus is the greatest pilot in the history of aviation. Or perhaps the plane exploded into pieces two seconds after the episode ended; who really knows?
At The Source
Jack's going back into the Source to clog up the butthole and save the Island (may I suggest sharp cheddar cheese?). He knows he's not going to survive, and turns over Island ownership to a tearful Hurley. Desmond wants to help, but Jack says that he's done enough, and he should go back home to his wife and son.
Jack finds the plug and drops it into the Source (hey BP, you want that oil leak taken care of?). The light begins to return, as Hurley and Ben pull an exhausted Desmond back to the surface. Below, Jack sobs with relief as he is engulfed in the light. It's warm and smells like cinnamon.
Hurley asks Ben if he could help him protect the Island, which Ben graciously accepts. They start by coming up with a way that Desmond can leave the Island, and also by adding a miniature golf course to the Barracks.
At The Bamboo Grove
Jack wakes up in a creek outside of the Source. Aware of his eventual demise, he finds his way back to the bamboo grove, to the same spot where he awoke after the crash of Flight 815. He hears a dog barking and turns to see Vincent running towards him. Jack smiles as Vincent lies down next to him, so he doesn't 'die alone.'
Looking towards the sky, he sees the Ajira plane fly over him, knowing that he has saved his friends as well as the Island. His eyes close.
Now, don't you go getting sad on me; we're not done yet. Let's Break It Down!
1 - The last line of the series is "We've been waiting for you," spoken by John Locke after Jack enters the church. This is in stark contrast to what I thought was going to be the final line of the series, "We're all out of dip."
2 - Desmond, Penny and Juliet are the only non-815 survivors in the church, which makes perfect sense, unless you're a dolt who continues to argue the logic of the final scene.
3 - From Lostpedia: "Boone's observation that he had difficulty getting Shannon back from Sydney is likely an in-joke at the difficulty in scheduling Maggie Grace to return for the final season, having had to already write her out of 'LA X.'" That's funny stuff, right there.
4 - Kate is the only original cast member to land on the Island, leave, return and leave again.
By comparison, Locke is the only original cast member to land on the Island, re-learn to walk, get teleported off of the Island, die, get shipped back to the Island, get reincarnated by evil incarnate, only to be killed once more. What are the odds?
5 - Sawyer and Claire are the only characters to arrive on the Island for the first time in the first episode, and leave the Island for the first time in the last episode. Really? I'll be damned!
6 - 'The End' was the longest episode in Lost history, clocking in at a massive 105:45 minutes. So, to anyone complaining, you got 106 minutes of Lost, so cork your bitchhole.
7 - ABC estimates that nearly 21 million people watched 'The End,' while TorrentFreak.com states that 'The End' was the most pirated television episode in history based on statistics. Congruently, According To Jim is statistically the least-pirated show in history.
8 - From Lostpedia: "The scene where Locke stabs Jack involved swapping out a real knife for a collapsible one. During one take, the swap was not made properly and Matthew Fox was stabbed by the real knife, which was stopped by a Kevlar pad that Fox wore under his shirt. Matthew Fox tried out various protection pads for that scene, and it just so happened that when the accident happened he was wearing the Kevlar pad, the others of which were not stab proof. It was even suggested that he not bother using a pad at all before the incident happened."
That would have been bad to say the least. "Um, sorry everyone. We can't finish the series because we...um...stabbed our main character to death on set."
9 - The penultimate scene with Jack and Christian the back room of the Church was withheld from shooting scripts. When the scene was filmed, the set operated with a high level of security and was off-limits to everyone with the exception of Matthew Fox, John Terry, and a few select members of crew. Even other cast members were not allowed near the set when the scene was taking place.
Frank Lapidus was there, though, because that sonofabitch can do whatever he wants.
10 - Shannon (Maggie Grace) makes her first appearance since 'Expose',' an absence of 59 episodes in a row. Not surprisingly, Lost hasn't aired a terrible episode since then. I'm not a Shannon fan.
Well folks, I hate to tell you this, but we're all done here. Once again, thank you for reading Lost Friday over the years; please stick around and allow me to entertain you with all of the other stuff I do here on the CDP. Sound off in the comments section, enjoy your weekend and stay nostalgic by checking out links to nearly every Lost Friday ever written (including some episodes of the Pop Crunch show, penned by yours truly).
Thank you very much.
Hey...waaaaait a minute, here. Where are the captions? I mean, this is the last Lost Friday ever, and there's not even one photo caption to speak of? Seriously?
("Was it good for you, Vincent?")
There we go. Now we can leave happy.
Season 6 - Episode 1/2.
Season 6 - Episode 3.
Season 6 - Episode 4.
Season 6 - Episode 5.
Season 6 - Episode 6.
Season 6 - Episode 7.
Season 6 - Episode 8.
Season 6 - Episode 9.
Season 6 - Episode 10.
Season 6 - Episode 11.
Season 6 - Episode 12.
Season 6 - Episode 13.
Season 6 - Episode 14.
Season 6 - Episode 15.
Season 6 - Episode 16.
Thursday, September 29CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('08-'10) - #2.
#2 - 'Aerating The Mashed Potatoes.'
(Originally published 11/23/10.)
(Note: There are a lot of bloggers that want to be published authors, but probably less than .5% ever get to realize that dream. Thanks to you, I got to do it twice. When the CDP ends in February, my writing career will not, and that's due to the last 7.5 years of support, friendship and motivation you've given me. Thank you.)
Aerating The Mashed Potatoes is available for purchase RIGHT NOW!
The book is available everywhere right here, but I have a limited stock of 100 copies that I'm selling personally. I did this because I wanted to do something special for the ravenous, awesome folks that simply want a personalized, autographed copy of what could be the Greatest Book Ever Written. Here's how to order.
Send $21 (cash, check or money order) to:
The CDP.
PO Box 865
Sun Prairie, WI
Your $21 gets you an autographed, hand-numbered copy of Aerating The Mashed Potatoes, a rad piece of CDP merch and Priority shipping (2-3 days). Provide a mailing address (and a name if you want it personalized). I'll ship the book as soon as the order comes in.
Cost is $16 if I don't have to ship it. Keep that in mind, folks in the Madison area. Let's meet up.
These books will sell out, and I can't promise that I can save you one. Once they're gone, they're gone, so order your one-of-a-kind advance copy right now!
One last thing before you run off to your checkbooks. This is a DIY venture. I have no agents, no publicists and certainly no marketing. If you'd like, it wouldn't take much to help me out by Tweeting about this. Posting this link to your Facebook wall. Mentioning it on your own blog. Any (and every) little thing counts. I normally don't ask for this, but it's going to make a big difference, I'm sure of it.
I thank you so much in advance; you guys are the reason why I get to do stuff like this, and it means more to me than I can say. Have a great day; buy my new book!
Wednesday, September 28CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('08-'10) - #3.
#3 - 'To Here Knows When.'
(Originally published 2/16/09.)
Three Sundays ago, me and the Missus were on our way out of the Alliant Energy Center, having just witnessed the brain-melting awesomeness that is the Mad Rollin' Dolls Roller Derby. The day was beautiful; an unseasonably warm morning brought Madison out of its cocoon of Winter jackets and unfashionable hats. The day was also made beautiful by the fact that it was my quiet, uneventful and arrest-free 27th birthday. I felt good, I felt young, and I was looking forward to heading home in time to catch the Super Bowl and gorge on various dips, beers and cheeses.
The Missus offered to drive my car home, and as we pulled onto the street, we instantly recognized that something was wrong. Not wrong in a "Life is a series of random, unrelated events that means nothing and ends when you die" sort of way, but wrong as in "I think the car may have exploded a second ago." The whirring sound of rubber tire meeting non-rubber metal in an unholy alliance of black smoke and dangerous maneuvering got us back off of the road in a heartbeat. Pulling back into the parking lot, we saw that the left rear tire was flat and shredded into oblivion.
"Happy Birthday!" shouted my friends in unison from the backseat. Assknobs.
As I was twisting the jack, loosening the nuts, blackening my hands and dirtying my favorite jeans, it struck me as quite the coincidence that this was not only my second flat tire in six months, but in the same exact wheel well, too. I chalked it up to bad luck and got us back on the road in less than five minutes; a new personal record.
Driving on a 55MPH donut is an anxious experience to say the least. Not only are you trusting what amounts to nothing more than a pretend wheel on a Big Boy car, but you have to trust that you did everything right when changing the tire in the first place. If it should, I don't know, sproing completely off of the axle and launch itself into Lake Mendota whilst navigating the beltline, you'd have nobody to blame but yourself when receiving your blood transfusion back at the hospital of your health insurance provider's choosing.
Stupid birthday. Stupid Super Bowl.
The next day, I took Monday morning off of work and slowly rolled my way over to Broadway Tire on the opposite side of the city. For me, Broadway Tire represents a necessary evil, as they're the closest game in town whenever I have a vehicular emergency. However, they're rude, yell at you like you somehow damaged your only mode of transportation on purpose, and pretty much leave you at their greasy mercy.
"Hi. I have a flat tire."
"(already angry) What happened?"
"Well, I don't really know. The tire was flat in the parking lot."
"(angrier still) How far did you drive on it?"
"Um, not really far at all. Maybe 100 yards or so."
"(angry and incredulous) Well, how did you get here, then?"
"What? I put the spare on...(muttering to myself)…you freaking moron."
"Alright, pull it in; we'll take a look at it."
"Will do. Say, I just got that tire here less than six months ago, and…"
"(reading verbatim from sign behind counter) 30 warranty on all tires!"
"(wide-eyed)…I see."
"Jesus, what in the hell did you do to this tire? It's shredded!"
"Nothing. I mean, I don't know; that's how I found it."
"You're telling me that you didn't drive on this?"
"For the last time, dude, I stopped driving as soon as I noticed it."
We then exchanged accusatory glances until the phone rang and startled him.
A 30 day warranty on tires sounds nothing short of worthless, but nonetheless, I had nowhere else to go. They slapped a used tire into the left rear wheel well, charged me a respectable 36 bucks, and I was back at work by 10am.
Done and done, correct?
Bzzzrtt; wrong answer.
On Wednesday afternoon, the Missus came home from work, and while still in the garage, began to inquire about the mystery tire they had applied to the Wild Stallion v4.0.
"Honey? Are you sure that they put the right size tire on your car?"
"What? Why?"
"Well, your car is all…crooked."
"Oh, God. Hang on, I'll be right out."
Sure enough, my entire car was now slanted downwards toward the left rear axle, indicative that the belligerent, rude and inattentive folks at Broadway just up and put the wrong size tire on to spite me. However, the measurements were correct and the tire was legit; the whole works were just crooked for some strange reason. The mysteries were starting to pile up, but I didn't want to think about it, so quite frankly, I ignored them. If I should ever get diabetes, you can bet that I'll deny the symptoms right up to the point where they start sawing my foot off.
Friday morning was freezing, probably five below zero when I left the house at 7am. I got about a mile away from my house when I once again heard the sound of rubber flapping off-balance. I turned down My Bloody Valentine and gave a listen.
"This seriously cannot be happening."
Seconds later, I began to lose control of the car, and quickly turned into the parking lot of the new Target that they're in the process of building right next to CDP Headquarters (I'm pumped at this prospect for a number of reasons). As I got out of the car, I couldn't believe what I saw.
Flat, shredded tire. Left rear wheel.
For the second time in five days (and the third time in six months), I was once again on my hands and knees, changing the same tire in the same wheel well. I called up the Missus to let her know what was going on, and she told me she would drop by the parking lot on her way to work, just to make sure that the jack didn't snap and mush my body flat underneath the car. I also called my boss and took a personal day, because I was all set to limp back into Broadway Tire and tear each and every one of them a brand-spanking-new butthole for my troubles.
The ranting came fast and furious when the Missus showed up. It was so cold outside that I had to wear a stocking cap that I keep in the trunk for emergencies, which caused my still-wet hair to meld and freeze into the most embarrassing shape possible (think A Flock Of Seagulls meets the Unibomber). "I can't believe this! Those jerks sold me a lemon tire! They owe me! I'm sick of changing tires! This sucks! My life sucks! Morrissey was right! Aaaugh!"
It was at this point where I took the newly-shredded tire off of the axle, and made the discovery that solved all of the looming mysteries in a big hurry. A jagged, glistening, razor-sharp hunk of shrapnel sticking straight out of the wheel well, right where my rear coil springs had apparently snapped and broken.
Allow me to slingshot you back through time, and recap what exactly happened to my car. I had been more or less driving in a deathtrap that was secretly gearing up to end my life in the stupidest possible way.
Six months ago, my rear coil springs unknowingly snapped while driving through a construction site, initially flattening my tire, which was replaced, chalked up to accident and forgotten about. At some point during the week of the Super Bowl, the broken springs had somehow shifted, sending a chunk of twisted metal just enough into the path of the left rear tire to rub against it for hundreds of miles, slowly wearing it to pieces until it just came apart…like, say, in the parking lot of the Alliant Energy Center after a roller derby. When the Broadway guys replaced the tire, they never bothered to notice the spring problem, but did seem shocked that what looked like a typically-flat tire could be so mangled. The snapped springs continued to be ignored, leaving my car to look crooked and tipped sideways, just like the Missus noticed on Wednesday. The broken coil then worked its magic on the new tire, until finally striking oil on Friday morning, once again shredding it during my morning commute.
Mystery solved. I felt like an automotive Dr. House. I also knew that I was about to write a very, very large check to a mechanic.
So, for the second time in a week, I attached the donut to the Wild Stallion, this time driving to Capitol Ford for a long day of repairs and complimentary popcorn. New springs? Check. New struts? Check. New tire and alignment? Check and mate.
Total cost? $900.
To keep myself from committing suicide, which was my initial solution for this problem, I'm left to focus on the positives. For one, I didn't get killed, which is always a reality when it comes to car problems. Secondly, nothing had to be towed or shuttled anywhere (except for my carless ass), which is always a tremendous pain in the wenis area. Thirdly, I had just begun an Emergency Savings account for situations like this no less than days before the explosion, and most of what I had in there covered the overall costs.
Could have been worse, I suppose; it could have happened on my birthday.
Hey, wait a minute…
Tuesday, September 27CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('08-'10) - #4.
#4 - 'Shop 'Till You Drop (Or Stab Someone).'
(Originally published 9/8/08.)
CDP Headquarters experienced an emergency last week, as we nearly ran out of Mojitos on a Friday night. This would have proven to be disastrous, as it's prohibited by law to head into the weekend sober if you happen to be spending the evening at my house. Like a flash of alcoholic lightning, the Missus, myself, Benjamin and Sherry hopped into the car and drove to the supermarket to get the many ingredients necessary to create this delicious and unbelievably complicated Summertime drink (seriously, it takes like, three months to make).
The Copp's Food Center down the street had almost everything we needed, but had just run out of mint shortly before we arrived (perhaps everyone in Wyndham Hills had the same idea as us). This left us with one of two options:
1. No Mojitos (unacceptable by any means necessary).
2. Travel to the...other...supermarket across town.
You know the kind of supermarket I'm talking about. The one with the fluorescent lighting that makes you slit your wrists with a cat food lid as soon as you walk in. The one where everyone seems to get gutshot in the parking lot. The one where every checkout girl is 10 months pregnant with a baby that's already 4 months pregnant. The one where Peter Cetera never seems to stop singing. Yeah, the trip to the belly of Hell was about to be made for the good of the timeless Rum Highball.
"I've never been to this grocery store before," said a wide-eyed and naive Benjamin.
"Well, settle in. You're in for a treat," I quipped back, before checking my eyebrows in the rearview mirror and taking my pocket knife out of the glove compartment.
When we stepped into the Sentry Foods, I was instantly reminded of all the sadness and suffering in the world. It seemed to be in a constant state of unkempt renovation, as were the patrons. "Let's just get this stupid mint and get the hell out of here," I said. I'm typically always on the verge of a panic attack if you see me out in public, and this was certainly no exception.
As we meandered around the aisles, looking for a proverbial mint-flavored needle in a crap-flavored haystack, the Missus darted off in the correct direction while I was distracted. As I tried to catch up, I attempted to crack my friends up by doing my signature 'Power Walk.' If you're unfamiliar with the 'Power Walk,' I suggest checking out Mr. McMahon's WWE entrance. I do this in public all the time, because I think it's hilarious and it leads people to believe that I have something wrong with me.
As you can probably surmise, it's the funniest thing that has ever happened in America. That entrance song is also my ringtone. Let's move on.
As I power-walked around the corner and caught up with the Missus (who found the mint), I noticed a random shopper that was looking at me. He was short and chubby, tan-skinned, slightly feminine, backwards cap and dressed like a frat boy douchebag. We'd never get along, even if he was a Red Sox fan.
As the four of us crowded around the mint and determined just how many metric tons of the stuff we'd need, this guy managed to walk right up next to me and stare me down. He was sweating and appeared to be either severely intoxicated or under the influence of some narcotic. Weirder still, he had no groceries and wasn't even carrying a basket. I was ready for anything.
"You wearing an iPod?" He asked me, which ranked at approximately #998,603 on the list of the One Million Things I'd Expect To Be Asked By A Stranger At A Grocery Store, wedged right between "I'd like to eat Michael Dukakis' shoes!" and "Do you know what year it is, Neil Armstrong?"
My friends looked confused as I made the regrettable decision to respond to this sweaty mass of unbalanced humanity. "No," I said. "Why?"
He then proceeded to mock my amazing Power Walk, all while boasting a please-punch-me-in-the-knob grin. Dude had approached me for the sole purpose of making fun of the way that I pretend-walked.
Now, this shouldn't be a big deal to anyone with greater mental facilities than myself. Just laugh it off and move on, right? Well, not exactly. This guy had caught me at the wrong time; a time where I wanted to get confrontational and remind him that it's not nice to insult people. Who knows; maybe that's how I really walk? Maybe I got hit by a bus as a child and my legs didn't heal correctly. Maybe I was that guy in the POW camp with John McCain. Maybe I'm retarded and like to embarrass myself in public.
My friends looked at me as if to say, "Please, just walk away from this drunk idiot." Instead, I came slightly unglued.
"What the hell is wrong with you, man? Do you just approach strangers at random and make fun of the way they walk? Get outta here."
Dude didn't really know what to say, so we just sort of walked around him and made our way to the checkout. I was expecting more than that; perhaps I got off lucky. Hell, perhaps he did.
I'm an unassuming-looking guy. Medium build. Nerd glasses and a hipster attire. However, I was raised in one of the most rural parts of Wisconsin, worked at a dairy farm, redneck bar and hardware store, all before the age of 18. I will be more than happy to hand you your ass if the situation should present itself. I have a dangerous problem with male authority and bullying, and any guy that thinks it might be funny to tease or belittle me will be met with the sort of retaliation that can only come from a tiny man that was raised by bipolar women his entire life.
It ain't worth it, Cowboy.
But the moment had passed, and as we continued around the barren supermarket, my friends were giving me their usual schtick about what I did wrong; which is typically everything.
"Why didn't you just laugh and walk away?"
"Because that's a sign of weakness!"
"Why do you have to be such a jerk?"
"He deserved it!"
"Why does this stuff always happen to you?"
"I hit a leprechaun with my car when I was 16; happy?"
As the conversation continued towards the checkout line, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. It was the dude, sauntering back over to my general vicinity. I tried to act like I didn't see him, but if he was about to slash my throat with a poorly-concealed razorblade, I should at least make eye contact beforehand.
Was this guy insane? Was he asking for an ass-kicking? My theories were only heightened as he walked slowly past me, slo-mo power-walking the entire way and looking at me with the same douchebag grin. Bastard was egging me on.
Oh, that's it. Nobody gets between me and my mojitos.
I clutched the knife that was nestled in my pocket; this guy's eye was about to get carved out of its booze-soaked socket. Then, if I felt like it, I was going to go to his mom's house and Power Walk on her fresh corpse. The only person allowed to make fun of me is me, especially if this whole thing started due to me already making fun of myself. He was a dead man. A dead, ignorant man who doesn't understand humor and is now about to get stabbed because of it.
For about the millionth time in my life, I took a split second to fully understand the hilarious ridiculousness of the moment. Through a series of seemingly random and borderline-silly circumstances (jonesing for mojitos, out of mint, cross-town travel, power-walking in front of random passerby), I was about to beat the living hell out of a complete stranger that barely deserved it (I wasn't really going to stab him; I was just going to...you know...cut him a little).
Only the restraint of the Missus kept the situation from reaching a violent head, as the only thing I was able to do was say "I think you're done; get the hell out of here." He put up his hands in a defeated fashion and disappeared, once he realized that I did not find his brand of observational insult humor worthwhile in the least.
You'd think that my friends would praise me as a hero. Someone that stood in the face of annoying opposition and emerged victorious. Perhaps they would even gain some sort of masculine respect or attraction towards me, in that I wasn't some weak pushover that would take crap from people, regardless of if I might have deserved it for prancing around the supermarket like a gazelle in heat. Maybe they'd feel that I was someone who could protect them should something truly serious go down.
You'd be wrong. As is always the case, this entire situation was my fault. If you think that my 'I can't do anything right' act has worn thin, I can assure you that nobody is more sick of it than I am.
"What did I tell you about this place?" I said to the trio, clucking with disapproval. "Can we please go home and play Rock Band now?"
Thy will be done. And you know what? It was worth it.
Monday, September 26CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('08-'10) - #5.
#5 - 'Why I Will Never Be The Host Of This Old House.'
(Originally published 12/12/08.)
On Monday afternoon, I arrived home from work just after the freezing rain had begun. I made a point to leave the office early that day, as a snowstorm of apocalyptic (ie: typically Midwestern) proportions was on deck to ravage and pummel the county with its fluffy payload. Also, as a preemptive strike, I took the next day off as well, because I'm allergic to snow and have no interest in knowing what it feels like to die in a car accident.
As I stepped into my house and tossed my keys into the Key Bowl (every house should have one), I took a deep breath and relaxed, feeling relieved that I had nothing more to do during the first big snowstorm of the season than to sit in my flannel pajamas, sip hot chocolate, watch The Price Is Right and take a nine-hour nap.
I exhaled just as quickly, you see, for my house smelled disgusting.
I tilted my head in a futile attempt to understand why my home smelled so…gamey. It was as if a grizzly bear had, for whatever reason, picked the lock and wandered in hours earlier, rubbing himself on my furniture and pawing through my carefully-straightened stack of Rolling Stone magazines, only to show himself out just before I had arrived. Usually, my place would waft forth the aroma of a scented candle, or one of the many homemade breads that the Missus makes for absolutely no reason. Not today.
Naturally, I blamed the cats. They can be particularly foul beasts at times, and on occasion, their litter box funk tends to seep up through the basement and out the vents, bathing the condo with the all-too-familiar scent of feline feces until we clean it out. I silently chastised them and continued on with my upcoming Afternoon of Relaxation, with no intention whatsoever of changing the litter boxes on such a joyous and peaceful day.
For about, I don't know, an hour or so, I ignored the fact that my house smelled like a State Fair, until I first heard the sump pump fire up. The freezing rain outside was getting bad, and it wasn't until I heard the whoosh of the pump downstairs that I began to make the connection that I should probably check to see if my storage bins were floating around down there. I bounded down the steps, peeked around the corner and saw nothing but a dry floor and clean litter boxes. I was perplexed, as the full force of the musty scent hit my nostrils like a racist joke, instantly reminding me of our old apartment, which suffered from mold and flooding issues on a bi-weekly basis.
Now that we live up in an elevated region of the county (the Hills, bitch!), our basement is bone dry. We've never had a problem with flooding or leaking, so the unmistakable smell of dankness had me scratching my head in confusion. It doesn't take much, but I was fairly stumped. This Snipe Hunt was cutting into my afternoon Talk Show block, however, so I gave up the search and went back upstairs. My Swiss Miss and Rachel Ray were calling to me.
It was about 10 minutes before the Missus came home when I heard the dishwasher start up. I found this to be quite perplexing, as I didn't start the dishwasher, nor do we have a dishwasher that runs on a set timer, for those do no exist on this planet. "Hmmm," I thought to myself, "Is this what happens every afternoon at my house? Phantom flooding and dish washing? I'd better make a note to never take a day off ever again; this place is starting to freak me out."
Then, much like the Urban Legend about the babysitter, I realized that the sound of spraying and sloshing water wasn't coming from the dishwasher, but from the basement. "The calls are coming from inside the house!"
I ran back down into the basement, this time actually turning on lights and walking around and whatnot. I saw the sump pump, sitting idly and unassuming, surrounded by walls, carpet and a lifetime of possessions that were completed saturated and soaked with water. When I turned my back on the pump, it probably gave me the finger, too.
By this point, the Missus was home, who I instructed to bring down as many towels as possible while I pulled back the carpet and got everything away from the sump pump. We sopped up all of the water, cranked the dehumidifier next to the wet carpet and stared into the pit of the pump, wondering just what was going on while we were away.
"I think we have a loose pipe or something," I said. "Look, there's water all over the walls and everything; I wonder how that happened."
I then had the brilliant idea to trip the sump pump into working, so I could see exactly what was going on. Fishing out a golf club (7 iron, methinks), I stuck it into the pit and pulled up on the tanker ball, springing the pump into violent action.
Instantly, a six-foot geyser of water exploded from all directions inside the pit, drenching not only myself, but everything within a hefty radius from the corner of the basement. The Missus screamed, the cats scattered and I watched in soaked horror as gallons of water cascaded onto the walls, floor, ceiling and most notably, directly onto the outlet in which the sump pump was plugged in.
As I'm sure you've figured out by now, the pipe outside of the house had frozen due to the freezing rain, clogging the sump pump tube and preventing it from shooting the water outside of the house. Because of this, the built up pressure blew the pipes apart, creating the Fountain Show and subsequently eventual electrical fire in the basement of CDP Headquarters.
So we tightened the pipe, cleaned up the pool of water (again), and I began to suit myself up for a trip outside of the house and under my deck, to disconnect the frozen pipe and save my home from destruction. Some day off this turned out to be.
We live in a chain of condos, so walking around to the back of the house requires a trip more or less down the street and around the corner, and amidst one of the worst snowstorms of the last three years, it was not something I was looking forward to. I blindly stumbled through the pitch-black backyards of the Wyndham Hills subdivision, sinking into two-foot drifts at random intervals and trying to remember which deck was ours. Dogs barked at me; I wasn't happy.
I dropped to my knees and dug the sump pump tube out from under a foot of snow, and it was indeed frozen solid. The landscaping crews must have decided that it was getting in their way this Summer, and they coiled it up under the deck instead of unfurling it like, you know, a functioning tube that directs water away from your home should. After about 15 minutes of unscrewing, twisting, grunting, falling over and swearing, I had the tube disconnected from the house and ready to bring back to the garage for a full night's thawing.
Before that, however, we needed to make sure that the sump pump was now functioning properly and the pipes had been adequately tightened by my girlish hands and debatable wrist strength. So I yelled to the Missus to run down to the basement and plug the sump pump back in (we unplugged it so the house wouldn't burn down). As the sump pump had been running for hours, trying feverishly to dispel the clog for the bulk of the day, the pit was full of steaming, vibrating, near-boiling water.
Much like a scene directly from The 3 Stooges, I happened to be outside and looking directly into the eye of the sump pump hole at the exact moment she plugged it back in, spraying me down with three gallons of two hundred-degree water in a sub-zero snowstorm. I fell back, lost my screwdriver in the snow (I'll retrieve it in June) and clutched the length of frozen tubing with equal parts anger, confusion and sadness.
"It's fixed!" I yelled to the Missus. "Call an ambulance!"
Afterwards, we surveyed the damage, which amounted to nothing more than a slightly wet basement. You'd think that my pride would have been the only major casualty, what with the pipes exploding all over me due to sheer ignorance, or the embarrassing scene out in the snow on my hands and knees. However, I felt good. As far as Home Ownership 101 is concerned, this seemed like a Level 1 issue, and I (eventually) handled it with a certain amount of poise and grace (and wet pants and frozen hands). Maybe because of this, I'll be more prepared when a Level 2 issue decides to show up. I always thought that buying a condo gave you a happy medium between responsible financial equity and not having to fix things when they break, but when the pipes explode in your basement during a blinding snowstorm, you're pretty much on your own, regardless of how inept you are at fixing stuff.
Sunday, September 25CDP Top 30 Of All-Time ('08-'10) - #6.
#6 - 'Play Don't.'
(Originally published 6/14/10.)
When I was around the age of 10, my mother grew exhausted with our almost-daily screaming matches and took us both to see a therapist. Although I never asked her the exact reason for this, my assumption was that she chose therapy in an attempt for us to learn a little more about each other on a deeper level, and try to form some sort of alternate connection, instead of engaging in a constant battle of manipulation and passive-aggressive superiority. All I knew for sure was that I got the day off of school, so I was in without objection.
There was one moment from that day that sticks out more prominently than anything else; a memory I may never forget. The therapist gave me and my mother each a can of Play-Doh (she got a blue can, I got a red one), told us to sculpt something that reminded us of the other person, and explain our reasons why. This seemed like a decent way to open up and share feelings that were currently buried under a pile of baggage and clever wordplay. A chance to complement each other without feeling like we were somehow conceding victory in our Cold War.
Mom went first; she molded an adorable Teddy Bear. Round little ears. Bulbous nose. Hemispherical mitts. It looked like a fluffy, blue Teddy Graham. She then went on about how much she loved and treasured me as a son, how she'd do anything for me, and so on and so forth. She broke into tears expressing just how much she cared about me; it was a very touching and heartfelt moment.
Then it was my turn. I produced a cherry-red, foot-long, coiled snake.
"Could you tell us why you made a snake?" the therapist gently inquired, quite certain that she had stumbled upon a demon seed.
"Well…" I stammered for a moment while I crafted my story. "Well…whenever me and mom fight, it's…it's like…um, THIS!"
I then proceeded to mimic the snake obliterating my mom's Teddy Bear representation of me. I had the snake bite off the round ears. I made it tear apart the hemispherical mitts. I coiled it around the bear's midsection and squeezed the entire works together in my hands, forming a wad of mutilated, blue-red hamburger. I then slapped the entire works back onto the therapist's desk and pounded it flat with my fists.
The therapist's pencil holder and picture frames vibrated across her glass desk like an air hockey table as I put the exclamation point on my impromptu production. It was quite the performance. It was also the first and last time I ever saw a therapist with my mother. She has never once brought it up.
I know what you're thinking. That was a frightening, worrisome and heartbreaking tale about a mother desperately attempting to establish a bond with her vile, degenerate, cursed son. I completely understand where you're coming from, but please listen, as I have a confession to make. A confession for the you, the reader, but mainly a confession for my mother.
I've never been artistically inclined, and the logical fact of the matter was that I didn't know how to make anything but a snake with Play-Doh. It was all I could construct. At the time, I was too embarrassed and insecure to admit this creative lapse to the therapist or my mother, so I just made the only thing I could and bluffed my way through the rest of the session. I didn't mean a word of it, I was just too superficial and petty to admit that I sucked at Art.
And so it goes. It took me a long time to realize that my lifelong struggles with anger and emotional manipulation were never even close to the lifelong struggles I've had with vanity, ego and constant attempts to ward off public humiliation. While my mom and the therapist saw an angry kid pummeling the living shit out of a wad of modeling compound (and incorrectly affirming their theories about me), I had my own personal revelation concerning my deepest fears of embarrassment and pride, flaws that nobody knew I had. I learned something important about myself that day; unfortunately, everyone else in the room merely thought I was destined to become a serial killer.
In short, I'm really, really sorry, mom. I never thought you were a snake. I just didn't know how to make anything out of Play-Doh that showed how much I love you.


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08.05. 2016
Senta Vasariste
International Shearer and Sheep-Stew Cooking Contest was first organized in 2001, and is held every year in April in order to preserve and present the values of the countrylife and traditional stock-raising. Among the programs are sheep-shearing – both manual and mechanical -, cooking traditional sheep-dishes and equestrian performances. Arts and crafts and various cultural programs are also important part of the contest.

subset: commoncrawl


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Bitcoin / Bitcoin.com / Crypto-Anarchy / Cryptocurrency / Fintech / freedom / Steemfest / Sterlin Lujan / Web Summit
Bitcoin and Anarchism are Still Niche Anomalies in the Tech Industry
I just returned to the United States from Lisbon, Portugal. I am a bit jet lagged. My ear is pressurized from being in the sky for 12 hours. The trip …Read More


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The World-Friend Adi Da wrote Not-Two Is Peace out of concern for humanity's current plight. It contains His "radical" argument for transcending egoity along with His urgent call to found the Global Cooperative Forum—a new type of human order. This forum will allow humankind to become conscious of itself as one great coherent force—the only force capable of requiring and implementing systemic changes the world needs.
This third edition is essential study for anyone concerned about the state of global affairs.
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Final Word, added just before going to press, was spoken by Adi Da hours before He suddenly departed from the body, on November 27, 2008.
Part One, new to this edition, contains seven sets of "Principles," or summary points, formulated by Adi Da. These Principles are Adi Da's summary of many crucial points regarding the current state of the world and the characteristics of the Global Cooperative Forum He describes.
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text:
Hi guys! Right now we're having our own mini winter wonderland in Alabama, which doesn't happen very often. There's still snow EVERYWHERE from yesterday, so schools let out yesterday at noon and they're closed today and tomorrow! Fingers crossed for Friday! I had the flu Saturday, so I was out Monday and Tuesday as well, so it's like a week off! Since it stopped snowing today and the cold eased up a tiny bit, me and my family went for a walk in the woods behind our house.
I wore my favorite winter jacket. Amazingly, I've never actually posted it before, which is crazy because it's my go-to jacket that I wear every day. It's a white North Face jacket that's really furry inside and out. It isn't specifically made for warmth, but on most days it keeps me pretty toasty. It's still a little light for snow so I wore a sweatshirt underneath. This jacket is perfect when the weather is in the 40-60 degree range.
I wore this with my combat boots. I think these have gradually become my favorite pair of boots now. Combat boots have really made a fashion comeback recently and I expect them to be really big in the coming year. They're also great for walking in the snow which made them a perfect choice for today!
Lastly is my beanie! This is from American Eagle and I love it. The colors and pattern are so cute and wintery and it keeps my ears warm in this freezing weather.
My snow week has been a lot of sitting at home not able to go anywhere because of the icy roads, so I've had time to come up with some great post ideas for you guys. They'll be coming out in the next couple of days, so keep your eyes peeled!


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Hello friends! I have to say, it took some time for my eye to catch onto this detail. Here's how my thoughts unraveled:
Oh look, they added a new symbol for the disabled… Strange how it overlaps the surveillance sign – what poor design.
They're usually so good about design, why would they do that?
It must be an important sign.
What is it?
Oh, I see…!
This is apparently done by a street artist here in Vienna after a young couple were caught copulating on the subway. Crude. You can google the video yourself if you're interested.
Hope you're all having a lovely week so far! See you soon!


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A Prayer for the Dying
Death and the American Civil War
By Drew Gilpin Faust
Knopf. 346 pp. $27.95
Professional military men of the late 19th century were generally unimpressed by America's Civil War. "A contest in which huge armed rabbles chased each other around a vast wilderness," Prussian Field Marshal Helmuth von Moltke contemptuously sniffed, concluding there was nothing for the world's armies to learn from such an unmilitary spectacle that had so little to do with the established art of war.
But in 1901 a young member of the British Parliament accurately read the war's central and overwhelming implication -- one that would be borne out all too well in the bloody century of industrialized slaughter to come. "The wars of peoples," warned the 26-year-old Winston Churchill, "will be more terrible than those of kings."
The American Civil War was the first "war of peoples," and as Drew Gilpin Faust vividly demonstrates, the unprecedented carnage of this first modern war overwhelmed society's traditional ways of dealing with death. The customs, religion, rhetoric, logistics -- even statistical methods -- of mid-19th century America were unequal to slaughter on such a scale. How American society attempted to come to terms with death that broke all the rules about dying, and how the nation ultimately did -- and did not -- face up to this new reality of war are Faust's haunting and powerful themes. If nothing else, this finely written book is a powerful corrective to all the romantic claptrap that still envelops a war that took as many American lives, 620,000, as all other wars from the Revolution to Korea combined.
The extent to which the Civil War found America unprepared to deal with its carnage at the most basic levels is fascinatingly horrifying. "As late as Second Bull Run, in August 1862, a Union division took the field without a single ambulance available for removal of casualties," Faust writes. "Burying the dead after a Civil War battle seemed always to be an act of improvisation." Two and a half weeks after Antietam, unfathomable numbers of corpses lay unburied, stacked in rows a thousand long or still scattered about the field. Coffins were practically unheard of; no provision of any kind had been made by military authorities. A Union surgeon who took upon himself responsibility for burying "those he could not save" after Gettysburg had to send out a foraging party to locate a shovel.
Nor had provision been made for notifying families of the deaths of husbands, sons, brothers. The chaotic record-keeping led to many heartrending incidents of survivors of battles erroneously reported dead, or vice versa. "I read my own obituary," recalled a Confederate soldier. Union private Henry Struble, misidentified as a soldier killed and buried at Antietam, laid flowers on the grave of the unknown soldier occupying his place every year afterward on Memorial Day.
Charitable organizations attempted to fill the information void but were overwhelmed by the task. After the bloody battles in Virginia in the spring of 1864, the Washington "Directory Office" of the volunteer Sanitary Commission was besieged day after day by distraught families and friends seeking to learn the fate and whereabouts of loved ones.
The increasingly helpless efforts of comrades, chaplains, families and compassionate onlookers to maintain the customary forms of solace and dignified treatment of the dead are the poignant backdrop to Faust's exploration of the byways of death in wartime. "I insisted upon attending every dead soldier to the grave and reading over him a part of the burial service," wrote a Confederate nurse, Fannie Beers, in the fall of 1862. "But it had now become impossible. The dead were past help; the living always needed succor."
Soldiers and families alike tried hard to cling to the Victorian notion of the "Good Death," so much so, observes Faust, that "letters describing soldiers' last moments on Earth are so similar it is as if their authors had a checklist in mind." In the mid-19th century, a dying person was expected to pass away surrounded by family, conscious of and at peace with his impending fate, reconciled to his Maker, leaving inspiring last words to be remembered by. War, especially modern war, shattered all those assumptions. Death was often unpredictable, excruciatingly painful, absurd and squalid, the dying departing full of fury and agony. It came far from home; and when delivered by explosive artillery shell, it sometimes did not even leave any identifiable remains. A man could be literally "blown to atoms," wrote a Union chaplain at Gettysburg -- a fate, Faust observes, that civilians found incomprehensible.
Faust shows how American institutions adapted to the staggering burden of this new kind of war and wholesale death with a blend of can-do humanitarianism, pragmatic improvisation, mawkish sentimentality, political cant, commercial hucksterism and downright fraud. Freelance embalmers flocked to battlefields in the aftermath of the fighting. "Bodies taken from Antietam Battle Field and delivered to Cars or Express Office at short notice and low rates," read the business card of one entrepreneur. "Bodies Embalmed by us NEVER TURN BLACK! But retain their natural color and appearance," boasted another. In 1863, a Washington undertaker was imprisoned on charges of making a practice of recovering and embalming dead soldiers without permission and then extorting payment from families that wanted the bodies returned.
Faust convincingly demonstrates that the trauma of the Civil War revolutionized the American military's approach to caring for the dead and notifying families. After the war, a massive and superbly organized effort by the War Department to recover, identify and rebury Union dead in newly established national cemeteries was an act of atonement for the nation's failings during the war itself.
Faust is less convincing in making a case that the war's confrontation with death produced a permanent transformation in American belief, politics, character, habits of mind and modes of expression -- something that Paul Fussell did so insightfully for World War I in The Great War and Modern Memory. She notes, for example, Ambrose Bierce's bitingly ironic humor, which grew very directly out of his war experience, but it would be interesting and important to learn how this brand of cynicism went over with most people. She suggests that the war's unprecedented suffering posed a challenge to religious faith, but beyond offering a series of interesting anecdotes she never really presents a clear argument that the war, in the end, had a lasting effect one way or another on American religiousness.
But the real lesson may be the remarkable human capacity to forget and gloss over even the ugliest realities. Walt Whitman, who visited tens of thousands of wounded soldiers during the war and came to know its death and terrible suffering firsthand, wrote (in a speech he never delivered) the famous words, "The real war will never get in the books." But he then added, "I say will never be written -- perhaps must not and should not be." Those who read Faust's powerful account of "the real war" will almost surely beg to differ. *
Stephen Budiansky is the author of "The Bloody Shirt: Terror After Appomattox."


text: Structure and Dynamics of Solutions Author: H. Ohtaki Publisher: Elsevier ISBN: 9781483291420 Release Date: 2013-10-22 Genre: Science Download Recent advances in the study of structural and dynamic properties of solutions have provided a molecular picture of solute-solvent interactions. Although the study of thermodynamic as well as electronic properties of solutions have played a role in the development of research on the rate and mechanism of chemical reactions, such macroscopic and microscopic properties are insufficient for a deeper understanding of fast chemical and biological reactions. In order to fill the gap between the two extremes, it is necessary to know how molecules are arranged in solution and how they change their positions in both the short and long range. This book has been designed to meet these criteria. It is possible to develop a sound microscopic picture for reaction dynamics in solution without molecular-level knowledge of how reacting ionic or neutral species are solvated and how rapidly the molecular environment is changing with time. A variety of actual examples is given as to how and when modern molecular approaches can be used to solve specific solution problems. The following tools are discussed: x-ray and neutron diffraction, EXAFS, and XANES, molecular dynamics and Monte Carlo computer simulations, Raman, infrared, NMR, fluorescence, and photoelectron emission spectroscopic methods, conductance and viscosity measurements, high pressure techniques, and statistical mechanics methods. Static and dynamic properties of ionic solvation, molecular solvation, ion-pair formation, ligand exchange reactions, and typical organic solvents are useful for bridging the gap between classical thermodynamic studies and modern single-molecule studies in the gas phase. The book will be of interest to solution, physical, inorganic, analytical and structural chemists as well as to chemical kineticists.


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198 Kingsbridge Rd Se, Airdrie
MLS® # C4239492 - 3 Beds, 3 Baths, 1,383 Sf
New Show Home by Homes by Avi features full front porch, open concept main floor, knock down ceilings, modern style rear kitchen with tons of storage and counter space. The kitchen features beautiful quartz counter tops, upgraded backsplash, 42" upper cabinetry, pots and pans drawers and stainless steel appliances.
The main floor features 9' ceilings, wide plank laminate and tile flooring throughout, and a cozy 3-way gas fireplace! All the bathrooms have tile flooring, including the upper floor laundry, which comes with a front load washer and dryer! Also comes with air conditioning, and built-in ceiling speakers. The master bedroom has an extended walk-in closet and an ensuite with a large vanity and medicine cabinet. Large windows throughout the home make all the rooms bright and even come with blinds installed! To top it off, the rear deck comes with a privacy wall and gas line for BBQ.NO CONDO FEES! This home is near by green space that features ice skating rink, soccer field, and lots of trees. It is also close to a pond with over 5 kms of pathways.
View more real estate listings in Kings Heights, Airdrie
Air Conditioning-Central, Ceiling 9 ft., Deck, Hot Water Tank - Energy Star, Porch, Programmable Thermostat, Vacuum System-Roughed-In, Vinyl Windows
Parking Pad Cement or Paved, Rear Drive Access
Back Lane, Golf Nearby, Level Land, Park/Reserve, Playground Nearby, Schools, Shopping Nearby
View More Kings Heights Starter Homes for Sale in Airdrie
MLS® # C4239492 - 3 Beds, 3 Baths, 1,383 Sf
MLS® # C4238084 - 3 Beds, 3 Baths, 1,361 Sf
MLS® # C4229381 - 3 Beds, 3 Baths, 1,390 Sf
Disclaimer: Information herein deemed reliable but not guaranteed by CREB®.
Listing information last updated on May 27th, 2019 at 3:30am MDT.


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serving up tradition
the ultimate dining experience
Located on the premises of the legendary Ingleside Inn, Melvyn's is elegantly upbeat and the home of authentic Hollywood glamour. The Casablanca Lounge at Melvyn's is known for its nightly entertainment and the popular Sunday Night Jam featuring guest musicians and singers with front-man Mikael Healey.
Dining Room Dress Code:
We request that gentleman wear a collared shirt, or one will be provided. Jackets are encouraged. No shorts, flip-flops, or baseball caps are permitted in the dining room.
Dining Room Hours:
Lunch Monday – Friday 11:30am – 2:00pm
Dinner Sunday – Thursday 6:00pm – 9:00pm
Friday & Saturday until 6:00pm – 10:00pm
Brunch Saturday & Sunday 11:30am – 2:00pm
Bar Hours:
Sunday – Thursday 11:00am – 11:00pm
Friday & Saturday 11:00am – Midnight
Dancing Wednesday – Saturday at 8:00pm nightly
Sunday Jam Session 3:30pm – 7:30pm
Reservations strongly recommended, call 760.325.2323 or click below.


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HTC One M8 running on Windows OS spotted
In a recent report or leak as you might say WP central has spotted a HTC M8 running on Windows OS which is 8.1 version mostly. HTC One M8 comes with similar specifications simialr to the Android version of the device.
The Windows version of HTC M8 comes with a 5 inch Full HD LCD 3 display having a 2.3 GHz Quad core Snapdragon 801 processor and 2 GB or RAM the device has a rear camera which is 4 UltaPixel along with a 5 megapixel front camera . The device runs on a 2600mAh battery and the device has an inbuilt memory of 32GB which can be further extended to 128GB which is huge and seeing that there are 128GB microSD cards available now in the market it is a great feature to help solve the memory problems faced in today's App generation.
There are rumours that the HTC One M8 will also include features like Cortana which is a great feature in Windows 8.1 OS. The official specification can be known on August 19th which is when the device will be launched officially in a event which HTC is organizing and the invites have also been sent is what we have heard.
The first look at the Windows running HTC One M8 was on a Netherlands retail website which shows the device running on windows without any specifications which was later removed but people noticed an circulated it before it was taken down.
And recently a week age the device was spotted on Verizon's page suggesting that it will be the carried for the device which will be running windows 8.1.
HTC have been producing devices with both Windows and Android and are a popular brand but could not get the impact which Samsung has got with its flagship devices which can be because of many reasons. So lets hope that this windows operated device can get some attention for HTC.


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I'm getting excited for the new movie installation of Twilight Saga: New Moon.
Check the posters below:
I'm not really a fab of Bella and these people are the reason why I'm excited for the movie.Love Robert and I also love Taylor, too..mwaah
As a fanatic of Robert Pattinson, which started from his appearance on the Harry Potter movie 4 down to the twilight movie, I always take time to read and browse the net for news about him for he do have a great talent especially in his new flick( a sort of mini-indie or whatever), How to Be. He played the character of Art, a struggling musician who got dumped by his girlfriend and decided to move back with his "not-so-loving-and-caring parents". The movie is really funny especially on the part that he got "hooked" on a particular book to help him out of his problem especially on dealing with his neglectful parents that he even invited the author of such book to live with him(for the meantime) and with his parents.This movie is about Art trying to make his life normal in any possible means and his journey towards friendship and life.
And if you are a certified Robert Pattinson fanatic, better watch this out… He's really good and hilarious…
Robert Pattinson can be yours, i mean his look a like dolls. According to a source, a toy company is making twilight dolls but it will be release maybe next year..
I'm excited to have one…
And it also has Bella Swan dolls…
I should never think
What's in your heart
What's in our home
So I won't
You'll learn to hate me
But still call me baby
Oh love
So call me by my name
And save your soul
Save your soul
Before you're too far gone
Before nothing can be done
I'll try to decide when
She'll lie in the end
I ain't got no fight in me
In this whole damn world
Tell you to hold off
You choose to hold on
It's the one thing that I've known
Once I put my coat on
I'm coming out in this all wrong
She's standing outside holding me
Saying oh please
I'm in love
I'm in love
Girl save your soul
Go on save your soul
Before it's too far gone
And before nothing can be done
'Cause without me
You got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Without me you got it all
So hold on
Hold on


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Private Antitrust Damages Directive 2014
Copyright by: LAYTONS LLP
The EU has approved a new EU Directive on private damages for infringements of competition law (the Directive). It entered into force on 27 December 2014 and Member States will have until 27 December 2016 to implement its provisions into national law.
The Directive is designed to ensure that 'anyone who has suffered harm caused by an infringement of competition law can effectively exercise the right to claim full compensation'. The aim of the Directive is to improve and harmonise private enforcement of competition law damages claims in Member States and to establish minimum standards and approaches in the procedural rules.
The Directive seeks to strike a balance between the interests of claimants and defendants. On the one hand it provides some measures attractive to claimants including a presumption that a cartel causes harm, standard disclosure rules across the Member States, confirmation that indirect purchasers may bring claims against cartelists and recognition that co-cartelists (with the exception of leniency applicants) are jointly and severally liable for the full loss caused by the cartel.
On the other hand, the Directive provides some safeguards for defendants, to ensure that the leniency regime is not undermined and claimants are discouraged in making unmerited claims.
Up until now there has been enormous diversity in national laws within the EU in respect to damages actions for breach of competition law. The hurdles that potential claimants face in trying to bring a private antitrust action include: access to evidence, the requirement to prove fault, different approaches to quantification and the amount of damages, the 'passing on' defence, the standing of indirect purchasers, the undeveloped nature of collective actions, the shortness of limitation periods and the overall costs of litigation. The Directive seeks to overcome these difficulties.
The main provisions in the Directive
The Directive covers claims for damages in respect of infringements of EU and national competition law. It does not extend to national laws that impose criminal liability on individuals except where those sanctions are a means of enforcing competition law against companies. The Directive does not, therefore, establish a right to claim damages against an individual who has been found guilty of the UK criminal cartel offence under section 188 of the Enterprise Act 2002.
Presumption of harm
The Directive introduces a rebuttable presumption that cartel activity causes harm to occur, which is likely to assist claimants. National courts will be able to estimate the loss where it is established that the claimant suffered loss but it is difficult to quantify the loss. In practice parties to such disputes are likely to submit, economic evidence on the amount of damages suffered and the causation of loss.
However, the presumption of loss sits uneasily with those cases where an infringement of Article 101(1) Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (TFEU) may be established on the basis of 'object' and where there is no need to prove an effect on the market.
In all other anticompetitive restrictions and abuse cases the claimants will have to prove the existence and the amount of the harm caused, in accordance with the relevant national rules.
Passing on and the standing of indirect purchasers
Allowing a defendant to maintain that the claimant has sustained no loss because any overcharge has been passed on to its customers presents a further complicating factor in private antitrust actions and can operate as a disincentive on claimants in bringing a claim. At the same time, if indirect purchasers are unable to bring a claim against the participants to the cartel where they do not have a direct contractual relationship with them can mean that they are unable to obtain full compensation for their loss.
The Directive affirms that indirect purchasers may claim directly against an infringer even if they have no direct contractual relationship with that party.
The Directive also introduces a presumption that the overcharge to a supplier or direct purchaser was passed on to their purchaser and that the direct purchaser did not absorb the overcharge.
The interplay between these provisions means that the defendant will be able to escape liability if it can establish that the claimant passed on the overcharge to its purchasers and did not absorb it itself.
Member States must ensure that there is no double-recovery where there are multiple claimants across the supply chain.
The position differs from that in the US where the approaches of certain states to the passing on defence and the standing of indirect purchasers have not always been consistent.
Precedent effect of national decisions
It is well established that Articles 101 and 102 TFEU are directly applicable and have direct effects. Therefore, in principle, the national courts have long been able to enforce EU competition law in private antitrust cases.
Further, Article 6 of Regulation 1//2003 removes the previous handicap where only the Commission had the power to apply Article 101(3) TFEU. The power of national courts to rule on exemptions within was intended to contribute to the role of the national courts in enforcing competition law.
In line with the Court of Justice's judgment in Masterfoods Limited v HB Ice Cream Limited, it has long been possible to bring a follow-on action in a national court against a company that has been found by the Commission to have infringed Articles 101 or 102 TFEU. Some Member States, such as the UK, make similar provision for the decisions of the national competition authority to be binding in private litigation in the national court.
The result is that in a follow-on claim the claimant may rely on the decision of the competition authority in order to establish liability for an infringement, although proving loss and causation remains an issue.
The Directive establishes that an infringement decision of a national competition authority of an EU Member State is deemed to be irrefutable evidence for the purposes of an action for damages before their national courts under Article 101/102 TFEU or national competition law.
A final decision of a national competition authority given in one Member State may be presented as evidence of infringement before proceedings in a court of another Member State. This represents a retreat from the Commission's original proposal that decisions of national competition authorities would be binding evidence before all the national courts.
This outcome is hardly surprising in view of the wide range of approaches that prevail in the Member States. For example, while in the UK and Germany decisions of their respective national competition authority are binding in the national court, in Spain they are only of persuasive authority.
It remains to be seen how much of a difference this nuance will make in practice and whether it represents a change from the status quo. It may be that, for the foreseeable future, decisions of certain national authorities continue to be treated as de facto binding evidence. In any event, decisions of the Commission are already binding before the national courts and as confirmed in Article 16 of Regulation 1/2003.
Joint and several liabilities
The Directive requires Member States to establish rules that co-cartelists are jointly and severally liable for the entire loss that is caused by the cartel. The practical effect is that a claimant will be able to recover the full amount of their loss from a single defendant, subject to the exception for leniency applicants as discussed below. This provision reflects the position in the UK which has contributed to making it a convenient venue for bringing private claims.
A company that has been granted leniency in the form of a 100% reduction in the fine will only be liable for the loss that is caused by them. This exception to the position on joint and several liability is motivated to avoid dis-incentivising potential leniency applicants and also contributes to the incentives of parties to seek leniency. Leniency applicants will have admitted their participation in the cartel which makes them a prime target for private suits and they cannot usually delay claims against them by bringing an appeal against the authority's decision. However, a leniency recipient may incur joint and several liability in respect of its direct and indirect purchasers and where full compensation cannot be obtained from the other undertakings that were involved in the same breach of competition law (under Article 11(4) of the Directive). This could potentially still leave the immunity applicant exposed to a wider liability than just on its own sales.
Further, the rules may be modified in the case of small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) except where the enterprise was a coercer or has previously been found to have infringed competition law.
Contribution rules do exist in the UK and in a number of other Member States such as Germany but will need to be modified following the rules in the Directive on SMEs and leniency recipients.
Although the approach in the Directive has a laudable aim it may give rise to some cumbersome interpretations as leniency recipients try to determine and argue about their proportionate share of the loss.
A defendant who settles a claim will enjoy protection from claims for contribution brought by non-settling defendants. This provision will increase the incentives on defendants to enter into early settlements because they will be able to limit their liability to their proportionate share of the loss caused by the cartel.
Disclosure of evidence
General issues
A claimant in a competition case will typically need to establish a detailed and broad set of facts. It may find that the necessary evidence is inaccessible because it is contained in the competition authority's file. Member State disclosure rules may limit the rights of claimants to access evidence. Where oral examination is limited or unavailable this may operate as a further impediment to bringing a private claim.
The Directive, therefore, seeks to establish minimum rules on disclosure across the Member States.
The overall approach is to assist claimants in obtaining access to evidence, while seeking to ensure that leniency applicants and settlement parties are not prejudiced as a result of their cooperation with the administrative procedure.
Where a claimant presents a 'reasoned justification' for a claim for damages the national court may order the defendants or third parties to disclose relevant evidence. This is a considerable change from the rules in some Member States. Disclosure must be proportionate based on a balancing of certain factors including the evidence to support the claim, the cost of disclosure and the protection of confidential information.
The interest of undertakings in avoiding actions for damages following an infringement of competition law is not an interest that warrants protection.
The Directive permits Member States to adopt more liberal rules on disclosure and, indeed, the UK rules already exceed these requirements. This is subject to certain specific safeguards in relation to material on the file of the competition authority (see below).
Evidence on the file of the competition authority
One of the most hotly contested areas of the Directive relates to access to material contained on the file of a competition authority. During the debate on the draft Directive before it was adopted, the various categories of evidence were referred to as the 'black list', 'grey list' and 'white list' depending on the degree of protection from disclosure that was accorded. Although these terms are not used in the Directive these groupings provide convenient labels for the categories of evidence and how they are to be treated for disclosure purposes.
|Black list
|Leniency corporate statements Settlement submissions
|May never be disclosed
|Grey list
|Information prepared by a natural or legal person for the proceedings of a competition authority (eg Statement of Objections, responses to Statement of Objections, responses to information requests, settlement submissions that have been withdrawn)
|May be disclosed after a competition authority has closed its proceedings by adopting a decision or otherwise
|White list
|All other evidence
|May be disclosed at any time
The court may request disclosure direct from the competition authority where a third party is not in a position to provide it. The authority may make representations to the court in this regard.
The authority must be in a position to impose penalties in the event of a breach of the disclosure rules and a court may draw adverse inferences.
The Directive, therefore, accords greater protection to evidence on the authority's file than is conferred by the Pfleiderer AG v Bundeskartellamt judgment of the Court of Justice which contemplated a balancing approach even in relation to leniency documents. This approach was confirmed by the Court of Justice in Donau Chemie.
The absolute protection from disclosure enjoyed by leniency statements and settlement submissions is intended to preserve the attractiveness of the public enforcement system which, it is argued, would be compromised if whistle-blowers and parties settling their case with the competition authority would be exposed to a heightened and accelerated risk of private damages claims.
The key principle is 'compensation' in the sense of full compensation for actual loss, loss of profit, and interest. The Directive therefore steers away from overcompensation whether in the form of multiple damages or US-style treble damages.
The burden and standard of proof must not make it excessively difficult or practically impossible to quantify damages. The Directive does not provide for a specific level of overcharge.
Short limitation periods would likely operate as a barrier to bringing private antitrust actions, accordingly under the Directive, Member States must set a limitation period of at least five years which must not start until the infringement has terminated and the claimant knows or can reasonably be expected to know of the behaviour and the fact that it constitutes an infringement of competition law, the fact that it caused harm and the identity of the defendant.
Limitation periods are to be suspended during an investigation by a competition authority. The limitation period must continue for a period of at least a year after the infringement decision has become final (i.e. after an appeal against the decision has been determined) or the proceedings are otherwise terminated.
In practice, limitation periods are unlikely to start until after the investigation by a competition authority has concluded. This system is likely to lengthen the potential exposure of a defendant to damages claims.
Consensual dispute resolution
The Directive contains measures to promote consensual dispute resolution.
Member States must ensure that the limitation period for bringing a damages action is suspended for the duration of the consensual dispute resolution process.
Any compensation that is paid as a result of processes such as settlement negotiation; arbitration and prior to an infringement decision of a national competition authority may be a mitigating factor in setting the fine.
What will be the impact in practice?
Private damages actions are already increasingly common in a number of Member States, for example the UK, Germany and the Netherlands have been the more attractive venues for bringing private claims. Once implemented the Directive will have a considerable impact on the laws in Member States where the system for private enforcement is less developed. It should also be recognised that Member States will have the ability to adopt additional and enhanced national measures provided that these are not inconsistent with the Directive.
Despite the framework for common EU-wide approaches, it is likely to remain the case for some years at least that some jurisdictions will provide a more attractive venue for bringing a private damages claim. The UK's own reforms in this area and, particularly, the introduction of a new 'opt out' regime subject to certification by the Competition Appeal Tribunal (CAT) will no doubt fuel this momentum. Much will depend on how the CAT applies its certification powers. See Opting in to new opt out collective actions.
The Commission's infringement decisions will likely remain a key document for potential claimants seeking to mount a private action. Recent years have seen more detailed public decisions, although the President of the UK CAT has recently urged the Commission to be more transparent and prompt in its published decisions so as to facilitate private actions.
It should be recognised that the Directive does not establish minimum standards regarding collective actions across the Member States. However, the Commission has issued a recommendation to the Member States to encourage the facilitation of collective redress. Some Member States—notably the UK and France—have introduced measures to foster such actions. In the coming years this is likely to be one of the areas of greatest disparity in the rules at Member State level and which will therefore require careful consideration as to the appropriate forum for bringing a private action.
The Directive is inevitably a compromise position reached after years of debate. It represents a significant milestone in the development of private actions in EU antitrust cases. Although its success must be measured in years and not months it is clear that it has injected a further impetus to multinational companies to consider bringing antitrust claims in Europe. Potential defendants are also accepting the heightened enforcement environment and planning their global antitrust management strategy with the new rules in mind.


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In the month since I last posted anything, I have encountered a lot of interesting personalities, most recently the individual who damaged my car while it was in its parking space. But as a writer I must go beyond observing personalities and look for techniques to create convincing characters in fiction. In the July/August 2011 issue of Writers' Digest is a worthwhile article on this subject by Stephen James, entitled "Raise Your Characters Above the Status Quo."
I will not spoil this article by telling all that is in it, except to say that it suggests ways in which a writer can depict interactions between two individuals in which each is striving for the upper hand. James mentions specific behaviours and descriptive words that demonstrate the power and status (or lack of power and status) of a given character. For instance, if a character "stomps" and "struts" is indicates lower status than if he "strides." I recommend this article.
Friday, July 15, 2011
a good article on characterization
Posted by Ruth Latta at 2:06 PM
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Meet the Experientialists: Chobani's Ted Sabarese Proves Yogurt Doesn't Have to Be Boring
This is the third in a series of profiles on notable players in the world of experiential marketing. Read about Vitro's Marc Wilson and Converse VP-General Manager, Brand and Segments Geoff Cottrill, and tune in tomorrow for insight from Adam Joseph, co-founder of experiential and multiplatform production studio Legs.
Ted Sabarese took a circuitous path to yogurt. Earlier in his career, he served as an advertising creative at McCann Erickson, followed by years as a photographer shooting campaigns for marketers such as Royal Caribbean, Hasbro, Microsoft, Verizon. It was then that he realized the impact of a personalized approach to building an audience.
To promote his photography business, he launched a blog, "Guess the Lighting," which gained popularity among his peers and illustrated his take on how famous ad and editorial images were lit. "That's when I realized the potential of doing things differently," said Mr. Sabarese, 45. After getting an in through a friend working at Chobani a year ago, he carved out a new career trying to do for the yogurt what he did for his own brand.
Under his watch, Chobani has gotten a lot more daring. It set a gargantuan animatronic bear loose on the streets of New York following the brand's appearance at the Super Bowl. The burly star appeared in an online video toppling Manhattan's ubiquitous food carts -- because for him, hot dogs, churros and pretzels don't cut it. Like the bear in the Big Game spot, created by Droga5 New York, this grizzly preferred foods with only natural ingredients, like Chobani.
For the Winter Olympics, Chobani set out to give a select group of everyday athletes what Mr. Sabarese called "the workout of their lives" and enlisted them to exhaust their yogurt-fueled quads to power a spectacular light projection celebrating this year's Olympians. Both efforts aimed to bring the brand, and the message of its above-the-line campaign, a little closer to consumers.
Mr. Sabarese reports to Director of Shopper and Experiential Marketing Mike Messersmith and said experiential marketing has taken a big seat at Chobani for a number of reasons. "It's the one-two punch that helps link the online and offline world," he said. "We're firm believers in actual physical and emotional experiences. The goal is to get consumers to become unprompted evangelists of our brand."
Mr. Sabarese said Chobani is just getting started with its experiential exploits, yet such efforts decidedly don't -- and won't -- command the larger budgets of a traditional campaign. "From a financial perspective, if we can do a great experience that touches consumers, we can achieve comparable results to other types of advertising at a fraction of the cost," he said. "If you can create an experience that people are dying to be part of or dying to see, you're going to get a big bang for your buck."


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[ pleed ]
/ plid /
verb (used without object), plead·ed or pled, plead·ing.
to appeal or entreat earnestly: to plead for time.
to use arguments or persuasions, as with a person, for or against something: She pleaded with him not to take the job.
to afford an argument or appeal: His youth pleads for him.
- to make any allegation or plea in an action at law.
- to put forward an answer on the part of a defendant to a legal declaration or charge.
- to address a court as an advocate.
- Obsolete.to prosecute a suit or action at law.
verb (used with object), plead·ed or pled, plead·ing.
to allege or urge in defense, justification, or excuse: to plead ignorance.
- to maintain (a cause) by argument before a court.
- to allege or set forth (something) formally in an action at law.
- to allege or cite in legal defense: to plead a statute of limitations.
Nearby words
- plea,
- plea bargain,
- plea bargaining,
- plea-bargain,
- pleach,
- pleadable,
- pleader,
- pleading,
- pleadingly,
- pleadings
Origin of plead
1200–50; Middle English plaiden < Old French plaid(i)er to go to law, plead < early Medieval Latin placitāre to litigate, derivative of Latin placitum opinion. See plea
SYNONYMS FOR plead
1. beg, supplicate. 2. reason. 5. claim.
Dictionary.com Unabridged Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2019
/ (pliːd) /
verb pleads, pleading, pleaded, plead (plɛd) or esp US and Scot pled (plɛd)
(when intr, often foll by with) to appeal earnestly or humbly (to)
(tr; may take a clause as object) to give as an excuse; offer in justification or extenuationto plead ignorance; he pleaded that he was insane
(intr often foll by for) to provide an argument or appeal (for)her beauty pleads for her
law to declare oneself to be (guilty or not guilty) in answer to the charge
law to advocate (a case) in a court of law
(intr) law
- to file pleadings
- to address a court as an advocate
Word Origin for plead
C13: from Old French plaidier, from Medieval Latin placitāre to have a lawsuit, from Latin placēre to please; see plea
Collins English Dictionary - Complete & Unabridged 2012 Digital Edition © William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd. 1979, 1986 © HarperCollins Publishers 1998, 2000, 2003, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2009, 2012
mid-13c., "make a plea in court," from Anglo-French pleder, Old French plaidier, "plead at court" (11c.), from Medieval Latin placitare, from Late Latin placitum (see plea). Sense of "request, beg" first recorded late 14c. Related: Pleaded; pleading; pleadingly.
Online Etymology Dictionary, © 2010 Douglas Harper