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Authors, Enterprise Radio, EPN News
Rebel Against Business Norms to Build Employee Engagement
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Glenn Elliott, Founder of UK-based Reward Gateway, a world leader in integrated employee engagement technology with more than 1,800 clients worldwide and the co author of: Build it: The Rebel Playbook for World-Class Employee Engagement joins Enterprise Radio.
This episode of Enterprise Radio is working in association with the Author Channel.
Listen to host Eric Dye & guest Glenn Elliott discuss the following:
- What led you to develop the Engagement Bridge?
- Why do organizations need to rebel against standard HR and legal departments to create better employee-employer relationships?
- What role have Millennials played in changing expectations around organizational leaders?
- What exemplifies a rebellious CEO?
- How does compensation factor into employee engagement?
Glenn Elliott is Founder and Debra Corey is Group Reward Director of Reward Gateway, a world leader in integrated employee engagement technology with more than 1,800 clients worldwide. Elliott and Corey's new book, Build it: The Rebel Playbook for World-Class Employee Engagement (Wiley, Feb. 27, 2018), highlights practical improvements that organizations can make to build a highly engaged company culture.
Website: www.RebelPlaybook.com
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*Last Updated : March 2019
On March 7, 2019, Otsuka Kagu, Ltd. reached the 50th anniversary of our foundation. Please allow me to express my heartfelt gratitude for your support and patronage, without which this achievement would not have been possible.
Since our foundation in 1969, as an integrated interior provider, our goal has been to offer richer living spaces to customers. In order to achieve this, we has upheld the quality standards for durable consumer goods that are not seen as "disposable", as well as our vision of being a service provider that offers solutions for realizing high-quality lifestyles, while promoting a revolution in Japanese distribution. Furthermore, since the 1990s, we have worked on revolutionizing the distribution of Western imported furniture, and have also focused on supplying outstanding products in collaboration with manufacturers around the world at reasonable prices and with excellent customer service.
We are undergoing rapid changes to our management environment, including a shrinking housing market and growing internet use. Under these circumstances, this year we will be continuing to accelerate policies built on the "four pillars" set out under the management vision we announced in 2017, as we seek to rebuild our business model to respond to these changes. At the same time, we will seek to improve our results by building alliances with external partners and actively making investments.
As we seek to build next-generation store networks, in addition to optimizing floor space, which is one of the policies set out under our management vision, through a business tie-up with TKP Corporation we have been utilizing redundant areas by outsourcing their operation as event spaces or letting them out as meeting rooms.
Second, we have many interior professionals and we work hard to commercialize our service business. Amid in an increase in the number of requests we receive for interior planning to create more comfortable living spaces, and repairs that will allow customers to continue using their furniture in the long term, we will provide a carefully-tailored service to meet the needs of each and every customer, based on our reliable technology. In addition, we recently announced a business alliance with YAMADA DENKI CO., LTD. As one of the initiatives for sharing know-how with each other, we have launched a trial through which we have dispatched our professionals to the "Kaden Sumairu Kan" furnishing and interior departments of Yamada Denki's stores.
Third, as a measure aimed at strengthening our e-commerce business to respond to changes in consumer behavior as a result of the spread of the internet, we have worked to improve the usability of our EC site by improving key features of its product information and layout, developing the content of case studies, and strengthening the mutual links between the EC site and our corporate website. Furthermore, by increasing the number of customers on external EC sites we have significantly out-performed last year's e-commerce sales figures.
In February 2019, we concluded a business and capital alliance with High-Lines Co., Ltd. In cooperation with High-Lines, we will launch new cross-border e-commerce business and promote our participation in the Chinese market.
Fourth, in our RE-WORTH (previously called "reused") business, we will seek to incorporate potential replacement demand by promoting trade-ins and purchases, while continuing to create new markets with the aim of helping to realize a genuine recycling society where "good items continue being used".
In the current fiscal year, we will strengthen our efforts to incorporate corporate demand by rebuilding sales partnerships with housing companies. Alongside our cross-border e-commerce business, we will promote the opening of new business through Easyhome Co., Ltd., which is a leading Chinese furniture sales company. In doing so, we will accelerate the speed with which our results recover by trying to capture overseas sales channels.
We will continue to fully utilize the strengths of our company, in terms of both our high-quality furniture and outstanding concierge service, while working harder than ever to contribute to richer lives for our customers as we help them to tackle the challenges faced in their lives.
As we move forward, your ongoing support and patronage will be more important to us than ever.
- Disclaimer
This web site is managed by OTSUKA KAGU, LTD.
Information contained in this web site may include forward-looking statements with respect to the financial condition, management strategies, estimates and results of operations and businesses of OTSUKA KAGU, LTD. These forward-looking statements reflect certain risks and uncertainties resulting from, among other things, changes in the economy or market trends, and will not necessarily reflect the actual performance or results in the future. This web site is not made for the purpose of soliciting investments.
This web site has been compiled in good faith by OTSUKA KAGU, LTD. However, no representation is made as to the completeness or accuracy of the information it contains. OTSUKA KAGU, LTD. undertakes no obligation to update or revise any information in any material or generally to any extent, and reserves the right to add, modify or delete any information on this web site at any time. Use/unuse of or reliance on the information in this material is at your own risk. All information provided on this web site, including references to products or services, are provided "as-is" without any warranty or implied term of any kind.

subset: commoncrawl


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A U.S.-based global energy company employee with privileged user access was enticed by a foreign company to steal source code and other intellectual property from his employer. As a result of his theft, the company lost three quarters of its revenue, half of its workforce, and more than $1 billion in market value.
This incident caused such extensive damage one might consider it to be an anomaly, but it is not; it is an all too common example of one of the costliest risks companies face daily, that of privileged user abuse. According to a national fraud survey, $348 billion a year in corporate losses can be tied directly to privileged user fraud.
Chief information officers across the country are keenly aware of the threat not only to their intellectual property, but ultimately to their bottom line. The risk of intellectual property theft isn't limited to a certain industry, it happens across the board from the financial sector to energy and health care to the federal government. In fact, the federal government is so acutely aware of this risk they recently issued a memo renewing their efforts to thwart privileged user abuse.


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In a recent interview with Top Gear UK, Dany Bahar has finally revealed the details on what went down during his tenure at Lotus, the surprise DRB-Hicom takeover of Proton and the somewhat overly ambitious plan involving five new Lotus models at the 2010 Paris motor show.
Bahar joined Lotus as its CEO back in 2009, not before being personally selected by outgoing Ferrari chairman, Luca di Montezemolo, to helm several new initiatives to propel the brand forward. Prior to Ferrari, he had helped Red Bull, in 2002, diversify the brand's presence into NASCAR and football with several team acquisitions.
On his plans for Lotus when he joined, Bahar had stated that he saw similarities between the brand and Ferrari as Lotus possessed a heritage that held vast potential – from "the 007 Esprit. The Ayrton Senna connection. The JPS cars. Seven F1 world championships…All there."
Left; Lotus Elite. Right; Lotus Esprit
With that mind frame in set, Bahar unveiled his most ambitious plan for Lotus when it chose to unveil five new models – Esprit, Eterne, Elise, Elan and Elite. Bahar himself told Top Gear UK that turning up at the Paris motor show with one car was "not earth-shattering" enough, thus going in with ambitions to make "four, five cars", with people's reaction being "positive, [and] some negative."
Bahar's intentions for the five-model plan was clear from the beginning. He wanted to drum up as much attention as possible with a plan like that in order to "make a lot of noise and demonstrate real intent, because nobody would have cared otherwise." It certainly worked because, according to him, "big-name automotive suppliers weren't interested in working with us…[but it] all changed when they saw the plan."
When asked about the criticism that was levelled at him about his plans, Bahar countered, stating that even back in the days of Colin Chapman, it was already a known fact that Lotus would not be able to survive selling small, affordable sports cars. Bahar wasn't interested in ruining Lotus' heritage by expanding its lineup for Chapman himself was already working on more expensive cars at the end of his era.
On arriving at Lotus, Bahar says that plans to move Lotus upmarket with new models were already in the works by Proton long before he was drafted on board. Talks between him and Proton began during a meeting at a motor show in which the company expressed interest in his plans – "I guess they liked my approach – it was new and fresh."
Everything seemed to be panning out for Bahar and his team at Lotus until circumstances went awry. While most would be quick to point the finger at Proton and its management of the Lotus brand, Bahar says that the "Proton relationship was fantastic. The key people supported us, and got the vision." What exactly went wrong with the relationship, then?
"DRB-Hicom bought Proton. It came as a total surprise. Proton didn't even know it was coming." Unfortunate news, considering that the Esprit was delayed for six months but it was already on course for 2014. "We were weeks away from the first prototype hitting the road. I believe it would have changed the economics at Lotus completely."
What made the situation that bit more difficult to swallow was the fact that Bahar was quoted as saying that the "engine [in the Esprit] is fantastic, there's some amazing technology there, but they didn't even look at it. They simply cancelled everything." Bahar wasn't even concerned with the limelight of success when he said that "I don't even care if someone else takes the credit…but at least take the car and make it a success."
When the dust had settled on the mess, Bahar claims that all is behind him and that he has moved on from the Lotus saga. "My reputation isn't my number-one concern; it never was…I'm happy, I've moved on already." What had really affected him was the damage it did to his team who had placed their trust in him and were disappointed. "I was emotional about that," said Bahar.
With that chapter closed, what's the next step for Dany Bahar? Ares. According to him, Ares "is a new kind of automotive atelier created specifically to cater for people who need a car that's unique, hand-crafted and extraordinary." Think of it as Bahar's interpretation of Ferrari's Atelier programme. Ares positions itself as an independent atelier, responding to individual needs for custom sports cars, SUVs, the whole nine yards.
For now, at least, the future appears relatively bright for Bahar and company as they undertake a completely new project. With the Lotus episode behind him, it is rather surprising that Bahar hasn't considered jumping industries entirely. We will be looking forward to hearing more from the Bahar camp in the near future.


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Zombie Commando Costume
A good member of ZZI - Central Zombiekiller InstituteA new, secret, American organization, the ZZI, has the goal of finally killing all the zombies in the world. With our Zombie Commando costume you can also become a brave soldier who is not afraid of cruel zombies. But do not panic, on Halloween parties you will only meet harmless zombies, or not. , , ?
The Zombie Commando Costume consists of six costume pieces: a jumpsuit, a vest, a belt with a holster, a knee-pad, a hat and a mask. The overalls of the zombie hunter costume are made of gray fabric and have long sleeves and trouser legs. On this zombie killer overall the black vest, the belt and the knee pads are worn. The zombie killer vest was decorated with the white "Zombie Task Force" lettering and a crosshairs. Finally, your zombiejumper outfit is completed by the matching black cap and the white skull mask. So you have enough weapons for the big battle from head to toe, you need one more Inflatable Machine Gun and a Submachine gun MP 40 replica !
- Delivery: 1x Zombie Commando costume (consisting of jumpsuit, vest, belt, knee pad, hat and mask)
- Colour: Black / Gray
- Size: Unit size - approx. Up to 182 cm and 91 kg
- Material: 100% polyester


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Refinancing Your Mortgage Has Many Benefits
First Origin has many refinance products to help every home owner. Regardless of the value of your home, or the amount of your current loan. Let us evaluate your loan scenario and see if we can save you up to hundreds off your current payment!
There are many reasons to refinance your home. Saving money is just one of them. Our refinance products help borrowers that not only have equity, but those that might be under water as well. Along with the standard Conventional and FHA products, we specialize in HARP and FHA Streamline loans.
Cash Out on Your Equity: Need to remodel? Consolidate credit cards? Or, simply want to hold some reserves for a rainy day? We offer a wide array of products that let you do just that.
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Call us today and let us help!


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Gary Hunt: A man at the height of his powers
You walk forward. Stop. You close your eyes. Take a deep breath. And another. Visualise. Another breath. Your mind a whirlwind of thought. Go. Jump. Do it.
You do it, you jump, from twenty seven metres in the air, down into the dark blue abyss below. Squeezing three perfectly executed flips and four twists in the three seconds in between.
As a man who can barely swim a width of a swimming pool, the thought is terrifying, but for Gary Hunt it's just business. He's made a career out of it, and a pretty good one too.
The Brit has taken the cliff diving world by storm since the inaugural Red Bull Cliff Diving World Series in 2009, winning seven of the ten titles up for grabs in that time, and not missing a single event in the process.
Not bad for a man who has just the day before an event to try out his dives:
"We just have one day of practice, we arrive on Thursday, then Friday is the first practice day. I do what I need to do, I practice my difficult dives and my intermediary dives," the native Londoner says.
"We have to split the dives into several parts, because I only have access to maximum ten metres. You just practice each dive in individual parts. It's only when we come to the event that we put everything together. It's one of the very few sports where we don't really have a training ground."Embed from Getty Images
Not that the daredevil isn't putting in the hard yards in the off-season, as well as between events. He has set the bar – for himself and the rest of the field – as high as the board he jumps off.
"For a few years it didn't feel that important to be strong because my dives were easier to make from 27m I had a lot of time, but now my dives are a lot more difficult. I'm no spring chicken anymore, I have to be careful that I don't grow old and grow slow, so every year I have to put a bit more work in to make sure I'm improving."
Ten metres may be high enough for most, but Hunt wanted more. A fledgling career on the highest rung of the indoor diving ladder wasn't enough, and the emergence of a certain Thomas Daley on the scene paved the way for a change of scene.
"I've just always been curious, I've always liked learning new dives, up on the ten metre I had a good career, but I could feel a plateau coming on. So when I got the opportunity to try high diving I took the opportunity with no questions asked,I loved it instantly and I knew it was the sport for me."
So you're twenty seven metres in the air, everyone's eyes are on you, in the Philippines, Italy, Bosnia, wherever the series goes, their eyes are on you, the star of the show. That moment before you jump, take the plunge, so to speak, what would be going through your mind?
"It's difficult to say what you think about, you're obviously thinking about the dive you're going to do. I would say I try to think as little as possible, because its very easily to think negatively about what can go wrong.
"Once you start thinking like that it can only go downhill, you're only going to worry yourself and make it harder for yourself. I try to block all those bad thoughts out. When I'm on the platform I get my feet in the right position, I take one deep breathe and go."
After ten years, and multiple titles, it would be easy to think Hunt is unflappable. Jumping from such height is just normal to him these days right? Wrong. As the opening round of this year's series begins in Palawan this weekend, Saturday's jump could be the hardest of the lot.
"The first competition of the year is always tough. I remember, in 2012, there was a long off season and when I finally got back on the platform again, my legs were just shaking. I wanted to jump, I wanted to go, but I couldn't control the muscles in my legs. I had to stand back from the edge of the platform and compose myself and eventually I just had to go. I felt it was easier to jump off the platform."
With the ocean down below, jumping off may well be the easy option, but for Hunt, the urge to jump never goes away, wherever he is. Ever felt the urge to throw your phone of a high building, or steer your car into oncoming traffic? L'appel du vide, they call it, the call of the void, this means Hunt gets the urge to jump more than most.
"Because of my career, now when I'm on a balcony, I cant help but imagine what it would feel like to jump off the edge. I have that feeling much more now since I've made a career out of jumping off a platform. Now I don't feel comfortable if I'm on a high edge and there's no water underneath.
"If I'm standing up there I can't stop myself imagining what it would feel like to jump. So I prefer staying on low ground, and not spending too much time on high balconies. Even if there's no water there I can't get out the habit."
After a poor start to the 2018 campaign, where he finished eighth and tenth in the opening two rounds, rumours were that Hunt was finished, washed up, if you will. Four consecutive wins to end the year saw him wrap up the title on the last dive of the competition. Another year, another series title in the bag, which begs the question, where does he go from here? Will complacency kick in?
"It really depends on how my body holds out. My dream is that high diving becomes an Olympic sport. We have a chance to be included in the 2024 Olympic games, and by that time I would be 40 years old. The perfect scenario for me would be to have a good performance at the Olympic Games and then pursue a different direction in life after that."
With a lack of divers from Africa and Asia in the current crop of talent, acceptance to the Olympic Games is not as straightforward as it seems. As much as the Red Bull events are increasing in popularity, global participation is yet to take off.
But even to be considered is a major turning point, and if one man has raised the profile of cliff diving more than anyone, it's the somersaulting, twisting, all round maverick that is Gary Hunt.
Featured Photograph/RedBull


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Volume 3, Issue 2, December 2019, Page: 43-51
Common External Tariffs and Trade Efficiency: Lessons for Cross-listed Firms in the East African Community
Abwao Geofrey Magani, Department of Commerce and Economics, School of Business, Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture & Technology, Nairobi, Kenya
Received: Jul. 1, 2019; Accepted: Aug. 7, 2019; Published: Sep. 4, 2019
DOI: 10.11648/j.ipa.20190302.12 View 593 Downloads 110
The East African Community's trading bloc has attracted a lot of investment from the member countries yet it has not lived to its expectations. Some of the region's members have fallen out in the past and even re-considered their membership in EAC. Among other areas of focus on the region's integration is the implementation of common external tariffs and protection of the region's members in regional and global market spheres. However, trade efficiency still lags behind in the region compared to global benchmarks. There exists flimsy evidence in literature on whether the implementation of common external tariffs revitalizes trade efficiency in the region. This paper, therefore, propounds the relationship between the implementation of common external tariffs and cross-border trade efficiency within the EAC considering experiences from other regional blocs and the implications for cross-listed Kenyan firms. The paper analyzes secondary data for Kenyan imports and exports from World Integrated Trade Solution (WITS) and the Observatory of Economic Complexity (OEC) as well as Economic review reports from the World Bank, the African Development Bank (AfDB) and EAC. The analysis covering the financial years: 1995 to 2017 shows a number of factors, other than tariffs, that drive trade and trade efficiency. The study also reveals non-tariff barriers, inward-looking trade policies, protectionist policies, redundant trading rules across border, increasing cost of trading among other shortcomings to regional trade that arise from implementation of common external tariffs. Statistical evidence also indicate that trade efficiency is independent of the implementation of common external tariffs. In addition, empirical evidence shows prolonged trade deficit not only in the developed countries, but in the developing world as well. The study concludes that tariffs are good for trade regulation to the detriment cross-border trading even beyond the regional bloc. However, besides macroeconomic correlates, factors other than common external tariffs influence regional and cross-border trade efficiency. This calls for comprehensive in-region trade policy review, revitalization and commitment by the member states even as individual trading entities pursue advanced competitiveness in the regional and global markets.
Common External Tariffs, Cross-Listing, Cross-Border Trading Efficiency
To cite this article
Abwao Geofrey Magani, Common External Tariffs and Trade Efficiency: Lessons for Cross-listed Firms in the East African Community, International and Public Affairs. Vol. 3, No. 2, 2019, pp. 43-51. doi: 10.11648/j.ipa.20190302.12
Copyright © 2019 Authors retain the copyright of this article.
This article is an open access article distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/) which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited.
This article is an open access article distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/) which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited.
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3 Key Mistakes To Avoid When Hiring Tennessee Mesothelioma Lawyers
As we know, mesothelioma is a type of lung cancer, which is rapidly spreading across the globe due to excessive use of asbestos in construction materials.
More and more people are contacting the cancer and dying because of it every year. Although, the legal ban on the use of asbestos in all kinds of construction products provided some relief and mitigated the amount of cases, there are still numerous cases regarding mesothelioma that are liked in courthouses.
It is significant for the patients to hire proper Tennessee Mesothelioma lawyers, especially if they reside in Tennessee.
However, there are a few mistakes people often make, which causes them to lose an easy case. Here are 3 key mistakes you should avoid while employing Tennessee mesothelioma lawyers.
Not Asking Questions
Even if the law firm advertises 50 years of experience and 100% success rate, you should not believe them unless the data says otherwise.
The first thing to do while hiring Tennessee mesothelioma lawyers is to perform a background check and thoroughly investigate their credit ability.
Not asking questions about the lawyer who might potentially represent you in the court is the worst mistake you can make.
Getting Lured by Cheap Rates
Since most mesothelioma patients are construction workers, they are far from being rich, which means money and legal fees plays an important part while they look for appropriate Tennessee mesothelioma lawyers.
Cheap rates and free consultations might sound appealing to such people however, if the lawyer is not charging you properly for his services, beware of something fishing. Either the lawyer is not skilled or has a bad reputation.
Hiring Inexperienced Attorneys
Cheap rates and elaborated claims of success are also a sign of inexperience. Always make sure to ask your Tennessee mesothelioma lawyers about their legal history and number of previous cases.
If the attorney dodges the question or make excuses, run out of the office immediately because inexperienced lawyers have low chances of winning your mesothelioma case.


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CG Product Images for Dorel Industries:
Top-Notch Visual Marketing of the Canadian Manufacturing Company
Top-Notch Visual Marketing of the Canadian Manufacturing Company
No successful marketing campaign is possible without jaw-dropping visuals. Look at how one of the leading Canadian Manufacturers, Dorel Industries Inc., increases its sales with the help of the outstanding visual content!
The Montreal company gets a variety of furniture product images on monochrome backgrounds or atmospheric lifestyles. Moreover, high-quality 3D modeling and rendering allow Dorel Industries to present its home furnishings to prospects on different marketing channels — e-commerce websites, catalogs, social media, etc.


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International Paper acquires Temple-Inland
The US Department of Justice approved the $4.5 billion acquisition of Temple-Inland Inc. by International Paper Co. subject to the divestiture of three mills. CRA economists advised International Paper and its counsel, WilmerHale, throughout the proceedings before the DOJ. CRA's work in the matter addressed concerns about whether the merger would lessen competition in the production and sale of containerboard in North America. CRA carried out extensive modeling and econometric studies showing that the merged firm would not find it profitable to close capacity with the intent of raising the market price of containerboard. CRA's studies included analyses based on recent methodologies proposed and implemented by DOJ staff to evaluate competitive effects in related industries.


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CBS Mag 3.04 | ¡A bailar!
¡Feliz Año Nuevo! We're starting a new year of Coffee Break Spanish with episode 4 of our third season of the Magazine, and the topic for this week is salsa. Not the kind of salsa you put on your fajitas, but the dance which is popular all over the world. There's a question from listener Namrata about combining infinitives, and Sofía shares a fantastic Spanish tongue twister which will get you practising your pronunciation.
In each episode of this 10-lesson season for intermediate learners you can build your vocabulary, increase your understanding of grammar and learn to use the Spanish language in a more natural way. This series is aimed at intermediate Spanish learners. If you have a question for the show, call our voicemail lines: UK - +44 (0) 141 416 6880; US (347) 474 6880; Australia (08) 7200 6880, or visit coffeebreakquestions.com and leave us your message.
There will be a total of 10 episodes of Season 1 of the Coffee Break Spanish Magazine. If you'd like to benefit from lesson notes, transcripts, vocabulary. lists and exercises, you can access the premium version of the Magazine on the Coffee Break Academy.
Don't forget to follow Coffee Break Spanish on Facebook where we post language activities, cultural points and review materials to help you practise your Spanish. Remember - a few minutes a day can help you build your confidence in the language. Access the Coffee Break Spanish Facebook page here.
If you'd like to find out what goes on behind the scenes here at Coffee Break Languages, and access regular language challenges, follow @coffeebreaklanguages on Instagram.
For all information on Coffee Break Spanish, visit https://radiolingua.com
See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.


text: M2-Stuck Cartridge Removal Last updated Save as PDF Suggested Method To Remove A Stuck Cartridge The Use Of The Cartridge Puller To Remove Stuck Cartridge: Make sure both water supplies are turned OFF. Disassemble the faucet and remove cartridge retainer clip. Pull out the cartridge stem to the full open position. Unscrew the knurled screw until it backs out of the recess in the puller, as show. The hex out should be unscrewed so that at least one thread is visible at the bottom. Set the tool on the cartridge. Fit the ears on the tool between the ears of the cartridge. By hand, screw the knurled screw down into the cartridge stem. Turn it until it stops. Screw the hex nut down until it stops on the valve. Twist handle by hand. Try to turn and rotate the cartridge in the body. If it still will not pull, then proceed as in Step 10. Hold the tee handle from turning and tighten the hex nut with a wrench for two full turns. The cartridge can now be pulled out of the valve body. Directions To Remove Cartridge Shell With Stem Completely Removed: Screw a 1/2"-13 (N.C) or 1/2"-20 (N.F.) tap into the inside of the cartridge shell. During this operation the tap will cut threads on the inside of the shell. Remove the tap. Cut a 3/8" hardwood dowel 1-3/4" long and drop it into the cartridge shell. Re-thread the tap into the shell. It will bottom on the end of the hardwood dowel. Keep screwing the tap against the dowel and the cartridge shell will be forced out. It may be necessary to hold the ears of the cartridge shell against rotation by using the ends of the cartridge clip or a small screwdriver blade as shown above. The dowel can be flushed out. Do not use metal since its removal would be a problem.


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"Whatever you do, do it well." Walt Disney
Episode #18
Entertainment at Disney's California Adventure
There are a lot of things to choose from! Shows, groups, bands, singers, dancers, special effects, etc! You'll never be bored at DCA! :)
Frozen - Live at the Hyperion
This is at the Hyperion Theater at the end of Hollywood Boulevard, next to Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout! Great show! Don't miss it!
World of Color!
It is currently closed, but when it reopens (at some point!) definitely don't miss this one! It's AMAZING!!!!!
It's on the water by Pixar Pier, in front of The Little Mermaid ride.
DJ's Dance n' Drive
This is in Carsland - it's a dance party with this cool car!
Red Car Trolley New Boys
They ride the trolley from the Guardians of the Galaxy ride, down Hollywood Boulevard to the hub - in front of the fountain at the intersection of Buena Vista Street and Hollywood Boulevard.
The show is about 25 minutes - and it is so cute!
|Mickey comes to help them tell the story!
"A Suitcase and a Dream!"
Best song ever! :)
Then they ride the trolley back to the stop by the Guardians of the Galaxy ride.
And Mickey rides back with them!
Five and DimeWith special guest: Goofy in the Zoot Suit!
(It all makes sense now!!!) :)
|In between the maps is the list of showtimes!
This is the paper we talk about.
Every Thursday we'll have a new episode!
Subscribe and leave us a review!
We would really appreciate it!
Questions? Email us at: email@example.com
Follow us on Instagram: @ourdisneyadventurespodcast
Find Our Disney Adventures Podcast on iTunes, Spotify, Google Play and Podbean.


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United Economy Plus Subscription Gift
Ah legroom. It is the one thing that is almost always in short supply when flying. Sure, if you always fly up front then legroom tends not to be an issue (except with US Airways legacy first class), but for most fliers legroom is important. Of course the taller you are (I am 6'2") the more important it becomes. This is why most carriers have extra legroom seats for extra money.
United calls their extra legroom seating Economy Plus. They also offer yearly subscriptions which allow for unlimited Economy Plus upgrades. These subscriptions start at $499 for travel within the U.S. and go up from there depending on if you want to add a region and if you want to be able to upgrade companions flying with you.
To be honest, I had forgotten about United's subscription to Economy Plus until I received the following email yesterday:
We'd love for you to experience all the great things we are changing here at United®, on the ground and in the air. That's why we're giving you a complimentary Economy Plus® subscription, valid until January 31, 2017.
Now you can enjoy a new level of comfort on our flights, including seats with extra legroom and room for your bag. Just reserve your Economy Plus seat when you book your trip.
Offer Terms
Here are the terms of the offer:
- Only the original recipient of this offer has received the complimentary Economy Plus® subscription.
- The Economy Plus subscription can be used only on flights operated by United® and United Express® in the 48 contiguous U.S. states (excluding Alaska and Hawaii).
- The Economy Plus subscription is complimentary, and will not result in the subscriber earning Premier® qualifying dollars. The subscription is neither changeable nor transferable.
- The Economy Plus subscription is valid through January 31, 2017, and can be used to request an Economy Plus seat at no cost on flights between May 10, 2016, and January 31, 2017. Any flights taken after January 31, 2017, will not qualify under the Economy Plus subscription.
- Economy Plus seats on qualifying flights can be selected on united.com at booking, after booking before check-in, during check-in or at a check-in kiosk in the airport. Economy Plus seat assignments are not guaranteed.
- The subscriber's MileagePlus® number must be included in the reservation in order to receive the subscription benefits.
- Offer is subject to change without notice. Other restrictions may apply.
Why Me?
I am truly baffled as to why I would be targeted. I flew on a total of 1 United revenue flight last year (SFO-LAS) and I have never been a huge United flyer. I did have an issue on an award flight last year with a falling roof panel and United's response, so perhaps that put me into the system for something like this. Before you guess that I got this because I am a blogger, I doubt it. The email seems very polished and "for the masses". Marketing doesn't usually go all out in that manner for the press. I do suppose it is possible, but I doubt it.
My Thoughts on the Gift & Subscription
As a top-tier American Airlines elite, I often choose to fly that airline since I know I can choose extra legroom seats ahead of time and I also get upgraded quite often as well. While I'm not sure why United targeted me for this subscription, it may actually work. Since I know I can confirm better seats ahead of time, I might be tempted to fly with them if it makes more sense financially. Unfortunately since I get 1.6 cents per ThankYou point booking American with my Prestige that rarely happens.
I also wonder who the main audience is for this subscription. It seems to me that the people who would be flying enough to justify the cost, would probably already be elites and thus would get this for free. I suppose if you were just starting out then maybe you would want this, but you would become an elite soon enough and get it for free. It definitely is a niche product.
Check your emails for a subject of, "Congratulations on your Economy Plus subscription, our special way to thank you." I almost missed it and perhaps you did too. I wonder if this is a widely targeted promotion or was just sent to an extremely limited number of accounts. Were you given an Economy Plus subscription and/or something else from United? Let me know in the comments!


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Amazon Prime continues developing author Larry Niven's award-winning 'Known Space' novels "Ringworld" (1970) and "The Ringworld Engineers", for new dramatic series:
"...in 2850 AD on Earth. 'Louis Gridley Wu' is celebrating his 200th birthday. Despite his age, Louis is in perfect physical condition, due to the longevity drug 'boosterspice'.
"But he has, once again, become bored with human society and is thinking about taking one of his periodic sabbaticals, alone in a spaceship far away from other people.
"Louis is recruited by a two-headed alien named 'Nessus' to join him, a catlike warrior alien named 'Speaker' and the ' human 'Teela Brown' to explore an alien artifact.
"They find a 'Ringworld', a ribbon millions of miles long built around a distant sun..."
Click the images to enlarge....


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5 things to know when building on IOTA
The full article was originally published by Phani on Medium. Read the full article here.
Here are a few lessons learned while working on IOTA for the past 4 months.
1. Attaching addresses to Tangle
A new address can be generated using getNewAddress API method. The libraries/API do not attach the address to the Tangle automatically for you. You can always successfully send IOTAs to non-attached addresses but it is recommended to attach an address before using it.
You can attach it by sending a zero-value transaction.
Wait a minute! Then what would be the source address?
Good question, in IOTA, a zero-value transaction bundle does not have (or need) a source address. So, your source address will be the destination address you want to attach.
2. Javascript vs Java IOTA(JIOTA) client lib
The IOTA javascript library is simple to use. The Java library has almost the same inbuilt function names. Minor heads up, "optional" parameters in Javascript are to be replaced by empty (equivalent to the argument type) in Java. Always good to check the Java documentation before making an assumption.
Also, there can be few caveats with optional parameter assumption. The optional parameter is not an empty string but an equivalent null. Below is a simple prepareTransfers method:
List <String> trytes = jiota.prepareTransfers(seed, security, transfers, remainderAddress, inputs, tips, validateInputs);
Here remainderAddress is an optional param. When
String remainderAddress = "";
remainderAddress is an empty string, it would work fine for 0 value transactions but would fail for any > 0i value transactions. The correct way to make it optional is setting to null.
String remainderAddress = null;
3. Promoting vs Reattaching
When the transaction is pending for a long time, it is unlikely to be accepted because the tip selection algorithm favors newer transactions. Users that are in a hurry to see their transaction confirmed are thus likely to rebroadcast it.
Rebroadcasting can be done by "promote" or "reattaching". In practice "promoting", which involves the creation of a zero value transaction, appears to be more effective.
The difference is promoting will create a zero value transaction and is now the top of Tangle and is more likely to get confirmed by other transactions, whereas, reattaching we create a new transaction with the same signed bundle as the original.
Not all transactions can be promoted. In IOTA.js, there is a handy method isPromotable that tells you if a tail transaction can be promoted or not.


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If you are looking for a great online casino, today could be your lucky day and 32Red could be your lucky number, if not on the roulette table itself, at 32Red Casino! In an industry saturated with gambling sites of greatly varying size and quality, if you simply pick one at random or because it has a clever name or inviting home page, you are taking a big chance. It makes a lot more sense to take the guesswork out of the equation and go with a casino that has a proven track record-a casino like 32Red.
Any online casino that can stay in business for a decade or longer has to be trustworthy, and 32Red, established in 2002, certainly qualifies. But 32Red has much more going for it: highly regarded, technologically advanced Microgaming Viper software, eCogra certification, fast and secure banking, a Welcome Bonus and loyalty rewards program everyone can benefit from, Club Rouge for high end players, and a choice of more than 500 games. No wonder CasinoMeister pronounced Casino Red in 2010 "Casino of the Decade."
32Red Casino is owned by the British company 32Red Plc and licensed by the Government of Gibraltar. Unfortunately, no one from the U.S. is permitted to play. But if you reside in one of the many countries worldwide where players are accepted at 32Red, what are you waiting for?
32Red is one online casino where security and fairness are a given every time you play. Along with the ample assurance you get from the Gibraltar licensing, Microgaming software, and 32Red's long established track record, 32Red has the eCogra seal of approval. This organization has independently tested all of the games and found them to be fair and random.
Players can review the latest information regarding fair gaming by visiting 32Red. The most recent one available to this reviewer reveals a 96.5% for all casino games at 32Red.
Banking at 32Red online casino is fast, secure, and convenient. No matter what type of financial transaction product you decide to employ from the many available, all of your personal and financial information is completely protected by the site's various high-tech, state-of-the-art security tools.
All in all, 32Red Casino remains the flagship name on the Microgaming network. It is considered the best online casino since 2003 and it won multiple awards that further drive this point home. With hundreds of games, secure financial transactions and a customer support team that can solve every problem in a short period of time, the casino seems to have everything players would need.
Even the welcome bonus is much bigger than what most casinos are offering but the way it is awarded can be a bit tricky. We encourage you to read the details on the offer to make sure that you get the most out of it from the correct payment. There are also a lot of big promotions running at any time so keep an eye on the new ones as well. Before all of that however, just go to the site and register to see what a premium online casino is like.
Is 32Red Casino not quite making the cut? Check out even more online casino reviews.
Our Casino Experts - Over 30 Years Combined Experience
To ensure we bring you the hottest casino information, we have built a team of experts who spend their days at online (and offline) casinos, racking up experience and building their bankrolls. This team brings you the benefit of their years of experience by sharing their tips, strategies and recommended online casino sites with you.
Who are they? Let's meet your casino guides:
David Sheldon
David has been playing casino games for over 10 years. His speciality is blackjack and baccarat and, although he has never had the success that the MIT Blackjack team had, he does enjoy passing on his accumulated wisdom regarding strategy and odds.
Katie Barlowe
Katie is our resident slot machines guru. If you don't know what a payline, bonus game, free spin or a scatter symbol is - Katie is the girl to ask. She can often be found spinning the reels of her favorite games, testing out new machines, and keeping a close eye on the progressive jackpot meters.
Kevin Horridge
Kevin has probably forgotten more about odds and statistics than many people ever know. He is always the man to ask about which game to play in a casino (and why). Kevin is also a history buff and can tell you all about the obscure origins of many of the games you can find in an online casino.
Samantha Beckett
Samantha is our go to girl when we want to know what goes on behind the scenes in a casino. A self confessed tech geek, she can explain the inner workings of random number generators, as well as cast a critical eye on the software an online casino uses.


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When progressive slots become lotteries
The lottery has a unique allure that keeps people trying to hit the jackpot on a regular basis. The idea of being able to wager a relatively small amount and still have the potential to win a large stack of cash is every gamblers dream. Progressive slots offer a similar experience, the main difference being that they are accessible in casino settings. Many of these slots actually offer jackpots that can literally turn a player's life around. It is, therefore, not strange for people to refer to them as the lotteries of the casino.
Why such large jackpots?
Progressive slots are basically a group of linked online slot machines. A certain percentage of all the money spent on each machine is pooled together to create a major jackpot. Any player who manages to hit the winning symbols walks away with the winnings. This is, essentially, the same way offline lotteries have operated for a long time. The jackpots in both cases are fed by such a large pool of players that the collective winnings are often massive. The jackpots also multiply incrementally as more and more people play, making the prize money more lucrative.
The odds
The chance of hitting the jackpot for most progressive slots averages at about 40 million to 1. However, some top progressive slots like Major Millions and Mega Moola do not openly give information regarding the odds that are said to average about the same as similar games.
Although the chances of winning are quite slim there is a certain thrill that comes with the experience. Players' increase their odds by maximizing their playing time and bankroll. Of course, this does not guarantee the jackpot but it slightly increases the chances of winning.
The odds are similarly arduous for offline lotteries but this does not seem to deter individuals from trying their luck. After all, it's all a game of chances and lady luck may just be smiling down, you never know.
Make it fun
Individuals have varied reasons for engaging in gambling but, ideally, it should be an interesting pastime that you engage in during your leisure time. It is advisable to allocate a fun bankroll when playing progressive slots. The cash should be an amount that will not dent your budget. Just in the same way that you would decide to purchase lottery tickets at your local corner store after buying essential items.
Jackpot comparison
The biggest jackpot ever to be won by an online progressive slot player was in January 2013 when an anonymous resident of Finland won over $17 million playing Mega Fortune slot game on the Paf casino platform. Many individuals have become instant millionaires playing games like Mega Moolah Mega, Hall of Gods, Mega and Arabian Nights.
Offline lotteries have also recorded major jackpot winners and the biggest recorded haul was witnessed in the United States when 3 ticket holders shared a massive $327 million jackpot. This happened in January 2016 and is, to date, the biggest lottery jackpot in history.
The Bottom line
Progressive slots and lotteries have plenty of similarities that make them attractive to gambling enthusiasts. The low input high return concept gives players access to collection jackpots that run into the millions. So, whether you prefer to play online or purchase a lottery ticket at a store, you will still enjoy the thrill of potentially striking it rich playing a game of chance.


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The Weather
"Mom," I whisper, not wanting to disturb her. I look down at my hands, fingernails falling off, flaking, like a candle struck by a fork. Skin, soft skin, nail, falling off piece by piece.
"I think something is wrong, mom." I ease my way into the den. Soft steps sneak carefully past the dark mahogany dining table covered in stacks and stacks of old magazines and newspapers. My body leaves a trail of feathery finger flakes along the way.
"Mom, my hands," I start, louder this time. They're peeling away to the knuckles, bone and all. Her face doesn't turn away from the small antenna TV.
"Can't you see I'm trying to watch the news, boy?" She doesn't look at me, she never did. My wrists are nubs now. I try to trace my fingers across my cheek. The pile of skin flecks begins to mount an offensive, rising up into the shape of a rodent, an abomination gnawing angrily at my feet.
I had this dream a lot when I was younger.
Car Accident Leaves Child Dead, Teachers Mute
Seven years later, it happened for the first time.
He was a year older than I was, and we had never spoken. They said that he was in a car, passenger's seat, when his brother veered off of the road and smashed into a tree. The car was found wrapped around the wooden trunk, hugging the base with both arms. I imagined that he never saw it coming. I always thought you weren't supposed to know when you died. I wasn't sure if that was better or not.
The teachers gave handouts to all of the students the following morning. None of them spoke about it, they just handed out the pale-blue sheets like flyers. A robin's egg, the earth from outer space. We had an extra long moment of silence that day.
The Interview
"Mom." I walked into her room the very next day. "I think I'm depressed." The words came out, rehearsed in a mirror.
Her walls were made of moth wings, her bed frame constructed from petrified sand harvested off of a crowded beach.
She opened her eyes, hazelnuts in a sea of almond butter.
"Oh, sweetie." She rubbed her eyes as she spoke. "Me too." She turned over into the covers, an envelope of silt. I hadn't expected the words to bounce back at me like they had earlier off of the mirror in the cramped and messy bathroom.
"Talk to me when you've got real problems."
Local Hero Drowns in River, Saves No One
The next time wasn't so bad, either. He was in my world history class, I think, and he never ever showed up. Classmates called him lazy and stupid. He seemed totally useless, until he fell into the river and was carried downstream.
This time, he must have known. He must have felt what it was like to be carried by the water, the immediate loss of control. He had to feel the water trickling into his lungs, sloshing around, a half-empty jug of milk. He knew that he was going to die.
They put notes and flowers at the empty desk that had always been empty anyway.
I still don't understand how people change when they die. It seems to me that everyone is someone, but also, another.
I never learned how to swim. You would think that I'd try.
New Barbie Worries Consumers, Investors
This one was different. We started talking in English class. I sat behind her every day and her hair would flow down the back of her neck and onto my desk. It lay there, and I would some day muster up the courage to touch it. When I finally did, something changed inside me. She lit a candle in a dark crawlspace, and the air became thick with smoke and heat. You couldn't stay in there long, but when you did, it was warm, and it was bright.
The next year we switched, and she sat behind me. She traced her fingers down my spine and giggled while she drew hieroglyphics between the margins of my shoulder blades. Her nails were more precise than any stylus. Her illustrations were, if not on the desk of Da Vinci, then surely in his top drawer.
She had taught me the value of art and, more importantly, the importance of using art to impress women. Each day I read a little closer. I started to write poems, not to her, but for her. I read every line of every book as if she was watching.
The final year had arrived, and I decided that I was going to talk to her. "I'm coming over," I said as we walked out of class, the first of the year. "I'm coming over today."
I kissed her neck while she played piano. I wondered if she was using art for the same purpose that I was. I wondered if maybe she'd had a crush, another boy, who loved the sound of music. When I asked her, she said it was she who loved the melodies, and it was herself whom she was trying to convince of love.
Breaking News!
"When was the last time you talked to her?"
She had been crushed by a box truck while merging onto the interstate, her soon to be father-in-law in the passenger seat. We had been long past our romance, and she had just gotten engaged to the down-to-earth guy from Kansas that she had told me about at our last supper in the shopping strip Mexican restaurant.
"Well, did you hear the news?" Clearly, I had not heard the news. I wished, in that moment, that I could cancel the news, permanently. But the news does not stop because you ask it to. So I spent my first spring break home from college at the wake, but not the funeral, and not the burial. I didn't own any black ties.
They talked about how she hadn't felt any pain, that she was at peace now. I stood up amidst the pews and tried to change the channel.
Local Woman Missing, Police Apathetic
I searched for her along the sides of railroad tracks late at night, walking along an infinite path carved by the power of industry so many years ago. I searched for her in drywall, and on the other side of mirrors, and on the inside of the skin on my knuckles. Red and white marble, shiny with ink.
I checked on the inside of cigarettes, hundreds of them. I checked inside the mouths of a dozen pretty girls with short hair and long stories.
I pushed my fingers, one by one, between the caverns of my ribcage. I tore open my chest like a nectarine and sucked all of the juices that came out. Afterwards, I pushed the sides back together and wrapped myself in shoestring.
Commercial Break
I laid in bed, completely still, and tried to feel the 1,000 mile-per-hour rotation of the earth on its axis.
The Interview, Pt. 2
"College gets easier." My mother informed me of this on during on of our ever-nurturing phone calls. I could feel my teeth wriggling loose inside my head. "These are the best years of your life, so you shut up and enjoy it. I tried to pull one out.
A brown recluse stuck in his own web, I haven't left bed in weeks.
"Just get something to eat. I'll send you some money for groceries." I'll just drink some orange juice, I think. That will stop the dreams.
This was the ninth day in a row that I'd decided not to rise from my tomb of pillows and blankets.
0-9, I thought to myself.
Investors Delusional, Market Despondent
Eventually, winters started getting easier. I decided I was happy that I never went to see that doctor, no matter what the pre-screenings said.
I went home to spend more than just Christmas day with my family. My grandfather was sitting on the couch, sunken, a crab in the sand. I even sat down and watched TV with him.
My mom came in and sat down next to me and stared ahead silently. My mother was the extraordinary type of person who never really listened to anything at all. I imagined her death would come slowly, but that it would still catch her by surprise.
Special Report
"Did you hear the news?" The waitress spoke, standing above my table at the restaurant. I laid the words out on the tablecloth and read them over and over again.
"No," I said. "I didn't hear anything."
He was another from the English class, a friend. Somebody I didn't mind doing group projects with. He played the trumpet every day, until one day he faded, like a resonant tonic whose performer simply ran out of power.
She told me he leapt from a bridge that towered over the interstate. Falling, a star into an ocean of endless black.
She asked me if I was going to the funeral. I told her no, I wasn't. She scoffed and dropped off another lemonade.
Public-Access Television
I got up and walked over to the television, pulled off the antenna, and tried to snap it in half. The rod bent, twisted, but wouldn't break. I took my teeth to it, they ripped themselves out in bunches, handfuls. I took my nails to it, clawed at it. They broke off like bottle caps, my skin rubbed raw against the metal exterior.
The news does not stop because you ask it to.
High off a combination of gas station wine and cheap weed, Cayden and I parked peacefully on an empty hillside, glassy eyes facing west through a haze of smoke and steam. I held the skinny brown joint between my fingers, tapping off the ash with rose-painted fingertips. Staring out into the cotton candy sunset, we smoked and kissed, smoked and kissed, puffing, puffing, passing.
"This one's my favorite," she said. "Look, it's exactly the color of your eyes."
It was Arbor Day, April 29th, and she had just gotten me a small wooden box, the interior of which was lined with a handful of colorful Venezuelan bills. The notes came in a variety of shades, each more vibrant than the last. Cayden didn't believe in holidays, at least not the way most people do, and she decided when we started dating that we would get each other presents only on the lesser-known celebrations, and that they had to be surprises.
She handed me a bill of the Venezuelan money and pointed to the bottom where a deep shade of teal bolstered the majestic head of a woman I'd never seen before.
"My eyes aren't that blue," I said.
"Yeah they are." She grabbed my chin and turned my face towards hers. "Let me see."
I looked back at her face, a galaxy of freckles orbiting freely around two bright stars. Her eyes were rich emeralds woven through a stream of soft, dark sepia. Mint chocolate chip, that's what I called them when we first started dating.
Cayden leaned across the gearshift and kissed me. I could feel the smile on her lips as they pressed against mine.
"Pretty girl," she said as our lips parted. "It's called a Bolivar Fuerte," Cayden said, trying her best to accurately portray the currency's native accent. She picked up the box. "And look, Ell, she's beautiful."
The woman on the bill, who we later found out was Josefa Camejo, a brave Columbian revolutionary, stared out and over towards the same vibrant terrain that we did. She looked to be full of hope. Not a hope that was built upon wishes, but a hope of which she'd had a direct responsibility for. She was proud of a future that she knew she might not get to see.
"A beautiful woman," I said.
"Not as beautiful as mine, though." She reached across the center console and grabbed my hand, our fingers dancing around one another for some time before finally landing comfortably interwoven. She pulled her hand away slowly before grabbing the box and throwing it into the glove compartment.
I followed her pale, slender fingers with my eyes as they made their way up my thigh and into the polka-dotted sundress that hung loosely on my skin. She took her other hand off of the glove box, pulled a dandelion out of her auburn locks, and pushed it into the hair over my ear.
We made love there with the windows open, our fingers following the rich smell of pine as it showered over our bodies. The sunset massaged our glowing skin.
* * * * *
The first time my parents moved, I remember saying goodbye to everything in the house. The tall lamps that bent at the neck, lurching over you as you walked in through the foyer; the mismatch assortment of furniture, my favorite of which was a bright yellow love seat whose fabric changed colors with each caress of your hand; the faux-mahogany blinds that only seemed to direct the sun's rays towards your eyes as you watched cartoons each morning before school. There was no one thing that I would miss more than the others.
By the fourth move, the farewells were replaced instead with shy eye contact at most, the way that you pass by an ex-boyfriend in the hallway. Eyes forward, head straight, without even giving them a glance. I had the immense feeling, the knowledge that fills you with heat from the inside, that things would never stick to me the way that they once did.
It was in that last house, planted in the middle of acres and acres of rich Virginia farmland, that my mother died. The cancer seemed to eat away at her very being, piece by piece, until there was hardly anything left to put inside the casket.
My father spoke dry-eyed at the wake, and his steady hands patted my mother's picture at the burial. I resent him for it to this day. It is this, the strangest facet of masculinity that does not allow boys to feel, to truly understand sadness, that eventually lead me to a resentment of all men.
Two months later, I met Cayden in the back alley of an all-day breakfast diner, smoking weed out of an apple.
* * * * *
It was May 22nd, Harvey Milk Day, when I first started to notice that something was wrong.
I had just bought Cayden a set of jigsaw puzzles based on vintage horror movie posters. If there was anyone else in the world that Cayden may have been in love with, it was Boris Karloff. We sat down on the floor of her living room and started working on Stevenson's "The Body Snatcher," but when Cayden went to put the final jigsaw in to complete Boris' left eyeball, she missed by about two inches.
We both laughed, but as she went to pick the piece up and try again, she missed, her hand careening into the small portion of the puzzle that we had already completed. She sat there in astonishment for a moment before squeezing her eyes shut and placing her hand on her head.
"Cay?" I said. "What is it?"
"It's fine, this happens sometimes." She began massaging the side of her temple. "Shit, it hurts, Ellie."
"How long has this been going on?"
She slid her arm along the ground, pushing the puzzle pieces aside as she eased down into my lap.
"A few weeks, I think. It isn't always this bad, though." I could see tears start to fall down her freckled cheek.
Three weeks later, I finally got Cayden to go see a doctor. The date was June 11th, Kamehameha Day, and I asked for my present to be a visit to an eye specialist.
"They're supposed to be surprises," she said. Cay was never the type to ask for help, and doctor visits were no different.
"Fine, consider it my gift to you. Surprise, you're seeing a doctor!" She ran her fingers through my hair before ruffling it playfully.
She took a moment, staring back at me, and looked as though she was trying to focus on something but couldn't.
"Fine," she said. "Only for you, pretty girl."
Later that day, we sat hand in hand in the waiting room flipping through pages and pages of healthcare brochures for what felt like an eternity.
Eventually, nurse came out through the swinging door that leads to the back of the practice. She stepped into the waiting room. Her face was soft, her thin lips ever-so parted. She had eyes that receded deep within their sockets. Her pupils were almonds hidden in a pocket of bronze. I smiled at her as I walked by.
"It's called open-angle glaucoma. Basically, the internal fluid behind your eyes isn't draining properly, creating intense pressure on the inside of your eye and damaging your optic nerves."
The doctor spoke to us both in the examination room. An older man, his words were as soft as his wrinkled cheeks. Once he finished speaking, the doctor stood there for a moment, leaning heavily on the pristine examination room counter.
"Okay, so treatment, right? There's treatment for this kind of thing." I spoke for Cay who sat there silently. A very rare occasion.
"Well, yes, but only to a point. Plenty of people have some level of glaucoma for a very long time without ever seeing symptoms." Cayden's hands rushed to her temple while the doctor spoke. "And Cayden here has been showing physical symptoms for some time now. Her vision has diminished significantly since her last appointment, which according to our records was nearly five years ago. We have medication that we can use to try to reduce the blockage, but much of the nerve damage is already done. It may only be a matter of time before you begin to notice even more substantial vision impairment. It's likely that you will lose your vision completely."
I looked back at the doctor and wondered what he must have looked like when he was younger. I thought again about the male nurse who escorted us from the waiting room. Cayden's hand clenched my own and would not let go. I imagined that it was hers.
It was the summer solstice, June 20th. There were no gifts on this day, only the curse of seemingly endless daylight.
Cayden took a long hit from a freshly rolled joint, letting the smoke roll out of her lips in billows before quickly inhaling it back in through her nose.
"Isn't this stuff supposed to be good for you?" she asked, her words restricted as she held back a breath.
"What, the weed?"
"Yeah," she said. "This is like, prescription medication for glaucoma. I should be able to see through walls by now." Cayden passed the joint as she exhaled contentedly.
I pursed my lips, pressing them against the butt of the joint. Cayden was right, I thought as the smoke filled the inside of my mouth. It seemed appropriate that my girlfriend would be a medical anomaly. I thought about what I had been doing to self-medicate, and how it probably wouldn't matter in the end either.
"You mean you can't see through walls," I asked. She brought her mouth towards mine, motioning for me to shotgun the smoke into her own mouth. She pressed our lips together before looking me up and down.
"I promise that I would only use my x-ray vision for good," she said. I couldn't help but notice the irony of Cayden losing even her not-so-super powers, and still yearning for something greater. That was just like her, and that was once a reason that I loved her. Now, it simply felt like a reminder of the injustice of it all. I let the smoke roll out between my lips just like Cayden had and tried to inhale it into my nose. Sadly, I only ended up blowing it into my eyes, burning them.
"What is it like?" I asked her.
"Well, it's a lot like normal vision, except for when you focus really hard, you can see behind stuff."
"You know what I mean." Her humor started to have less and less charm.
"I don't really know how to describe it," Cayden said. "It's kind of like when your foot falls asleep, and you don't really notice it until you try to move it. You almost forget that it's happening, until you try to do something that used to be so easy and you realize that you can't."
On July 24th, Pioneer Day, we stepped flat-footed along the shore of a filthy, polluted river, our bikini-clad bodies reflecting the sun's light out onto the waterway of grey. The water ebbed with very little enthusiasm. Its only decoration was a myriad of plastic bags and mostly empty beer cans.
Cayden had just gotten me a skimpy black bikini covered in pink polka dots.
"I don't know how much longer I'll be able to see, but I want to enjoy the view while I'm here," she said to me as I opened the thin white cardboard box that morning. She began to joke more and more about her loss of vision, even describing her walking cane as "kinky" when she bought it in the pharmacy section of the supermarket.
Cayden had read in a magazine from that same pharmacy that the best way to spice up your sex life was to incentivize it. So, for the past two weeks, we've been playing strip-trivia with fun facts about ourselves to see how well we know each other. I am always the one who ends up naked.
On the beach, she walked with her fingers wrapped around my arm and I guided her, the water covering our ankles as we strolled along the riverside.
"The beach, it smells yellow," Cayden said. "It's a yellow sort of day."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"It's called synesthesia. Apparently some people can take impressions from one sense, say, smell, and use it to stimulate another sense, like sight." She kissed me gently on the shoulder and inhaled deeply as she did.
"See, you smell blue right now. I'm trying to do it with colors."
"You're trying to smell colors?" I said. "Isn't that the kind of thing that people are just born with?"
"Well usually, I think, yeah. But maybe if I practice hard enough…I know it won't replace my vision, but it will be nice to still see something." Her head leaned over against my arm and her hands grabbed my bicep tighter.
With her eyes shut, her face was no longer a galaxy; It was one planet riddled with craters and stains. The splotches seemed newly still, docile. Suddenly, the spark of realization caught flame deep inside my belly.
"This is bullshit," I said. She stopped in her tracks and her eyes shot open, staring forward, empty and hollow.
"What do you mean, Ell?"
"How are we even going to do this?" I ripped my arm out from her hands, her fingers hung there like they were nothing but bones, devoid of flesh or blood.
"What are you talking about? Are you trying to make this about you?" She took a step back, nearly stumbling over her own feet.
"No." I paused. "I'm sorry."
But I was making it about me, and I didn't know how to stop.
I wondered how people could feel more sad for others than they did for themselves. I wondered if that was why my father never cried, and why I hadn't cried since the funeral. I wanted to hold Cayden's hand and, with the little vision that she had left, say goodbye to all of the things in this world that she would never see again. I wanted to say goodbye to all the parts of her that I would never see again. But instead, I just kept walking past, eyes forward, head straight, and didn't even give them a glance.
By October, Cayden had lost her vision completely. Over the past few months, I would sit for hours with her and help her "practice" her synesthesia. For Yom Kippur, I bought her a box of colored fruits: blood oranges, yellow apples, those tiny green bananas. We sat parked on the side of a hill with me in the driver's seat while I tested her abilities.
"Here, try this one," I said, handing her a corner piece of a yellow watermelon. She inhaled the fruit deeply, keeping her eyes open as she did.
"This is a watermelon," she said.
"Okay, but what color is it?" She took a series of small sniffs, working her way around the rind before biting a large chunk out of it.
"Well, it's delicious," she said.
"Hey, that's cheating!" We laughed as she tried to shove the rest of the piece into her mouth. I watched the amber juices flow down her chin.
"Are you afraid?" I asked. She shut her eyes.
"Sometimes I'm afraid that I'll forget." I looked back at her while she talked, her bubblegum lips moving only slightly with each word.
"I don't think that you ever forget the things worth remembering." She opened her eyes when I finished speaking. Once my favorite flavor of ice cream, they stared emptily past me, out and over the horizon. Cayden looked on towards a future that she would absolutely never see. I wondered if I was really the one who would forget. She leaned in to kiss me.
"Pretty girl," she said as our lips came apart.
"There are so many things about you to remember," she answered after a moment. "What happens if I lose one?" A trickle of tears flowed down her face, each another drop of melting mint and chocolate.
I closed my eyes and tried my best to feel the colors on the inside, the way that Cayden did. I leaned into her, pressed my lips against her cheek, and inhaled deeply, waiting for a wash of hues to roll over me the way that I could feel the pine trees and the sunset when we first made love, high, parked hillside.
But they never did, and I knew that one by one, piece by piece, I would lose those colors just as Cayden did.
Since before we moved houses, that old polaroid has been sitting there, beside my mother's bed, for as long as I can remember. I try not to look at it when I walk into her room, the walls yellow with cigarette smoke. And even after she has shown it to me, I can never seem to remember his face.
It's blurred out, censored as if he had never signed the consent to release form. A waiver, which I have to assume, was completely ignored, as my father wanted to keep his identity a mystery. This mystery, one that I was completely disinterested in ever attempting to solve, was one whose answers were not arrived at through games of "Guess Who" that were played at the tables of the bargain-basement daycare with the mean kids that played street hockey.
But I know it is not my memory that's failed me. Because I remember in vivid remark that day, the last time that I saw my father, in the barbershop parking lot. I recall with grave distinction the look on his face before he dragged my mother out of the car by her hair, pounding her jaw against the hood of the white Ford Explorer. I remember when the ambulance came, and the beautiful EMT worker told me that my mother just had "a little booboo, like that one," as she pointed to a mark on my arm that was, distinctly, not a booboo. I've been told that I couldn't look at my mother for months, scarred, stitched, and flattened into an oblong disfigurement. My heart, like her jaw, was completely broken. And I could never look at my father again.
So, I censor it in my mind, like explicit language in a made-for-television movie, because it does not belong there. And after fifteen years, when my mother asks me where that old polaroid that's been sitting beside her bed since before we moved houses has gone, I tell her that I do not know.
"For the record, I think this is a terrible idea." My mother spoke, leaning up against one of the posts that held up our white wraparound porch. My mother was, just as the porch suggests, a self-sufficient woman. Her lessons were fairly direct; stand up straight when you walk, always look another man in the eye. She tried her best to fill the void of things that a boy is "supposed" to learn from his father. Naturally, there were still some holes, even all these years later.
"Yeah, I do what I want now, Ma. I'm a grown man!" I said, jokingly. She put up fisticuffs to my response and pretended to box with me as I walked up the two stairs of the front porch and grabbed my last duffle bag.
"Pay some goddamn bills then, you're such a grown man."
"I do everything else around here," I replied. "You've got to do something to hold your weight." She full on tackled me against the car door before giving me a big mom-hug.
"You be safe," she said, opening the door to my sun-faded 1998 sedan. "And don't let that bastard scam you out of any of my money!"
"Hey, I resent that terminology," I said. I put the car in reverse, and made my way out of the driveway. I could see the flood of tears start streaming down her face as I shifted into drive, changing gears into the sudden realization that one way or another, I was not coming back the same.
* * * *
So, when you get your name changed, you have to write a letter of intent. They ask you what it is that has lead to this change, and if you're positive that you'd like to permanently alter your identity. You know, heavy stuff.
It wasn't that I needed his approval, or anything like that. I had done pretty well without it so far. It was just that sharing the same last name (and that stupid middle name) may have actually meant something to him at one time, even if for just a small moment. On the other hand, maybe it never meant anything. But either way, it was worth finding out.
So, on October 17th, the day after my eighteenth birthday, I decided that I would make the incredibly flat, mostly uninteresting drive up the coast of the mid-Atlantic from the suburban haven of northern Florida to the slums of southern New Jersey where, in some overcrowded city hospital I had been born to my unmarried parents and named Samuel Rovert Cash, and tell my father that I would no longer be keeping his namesake.
"Thou, nature, art my goddess," I recited the speech aloud, memorizing it for my literature class. "To thy law my services are bound."
Come the Georgia border, I had already resorted to performing Shakespeare for entertainment. I think that I was hoping for some type of spiritual awakening, but instead I found myself very much having to pee without a single sign of civilization on southern country roads.
"Now gods, stand up for bastards."
The autumn leaves at the apex of falling created a swirling portal through which my front windshield was hurled. I told my mom before I left that I would pull over whenever I was going to call her; once when I got past the Florida state line, and once when I was halfway to my destination. This would likely be somewhere near the border of the southern half of the colonial mid-Atlantic, some place where they maintain polished bronze statues erected to commemorate American Civil War heroes. You know, the "State-Sponsored Racism" belt.
She told me that getting through Georgia would take the longest, that the Carolinas would have the prettiest highways, that Virginia has more cops than it does exit signs, and that the rest was just tolls and skinny states with tall cities that smell like smoke and sweat. She also told me before I left that we had been fine without my father so far, so I should never feel like I owed him anything.
She was right about almost all of it.
I knew from just as early as I could understand anything that it wasn't my mother's fault that she couldn't fill that void. It was something that was impossible, a game set up with no way for her to win. There would always be holes, gaping and hollow, through which the wind would pass and remind me that I was not a traditional child and I had not come from a traditional family. Instances would slip through these holes, like how to change a tire, or how to shoot a basketball, and they would echo around in my brain for as long as they deemed appropriate. At a certain point, you grow numb to all the noise.
* * * * *
"Do you know fast you were going, son?" I had been pulled over for going eight miles-per-hour over the speed limit on the interstate. I was, perhaps, the only person to ever get a speeding ticket while in cruise control.
"Don't call me son," I muttered under my breath as I reached to grab my wallet.
"What was that?" the officer asked.
"Oh, I said, yes, sir. I believe I was going about 78. I was in cruise control, I'm not in a rush." I spoke with some anxiety, having never once been pulled over before.
"Well, I clocked you going a bit more like 80. Now, I don't know what the laws are down in Florida, but in Virginia anything over 80 gets you a reckless ticket and an additional fine." The officer spoke with both hands on his belt, presumably to hold his pants up from the weight of extra ego that was left in his pockets.
He wrote me a ticket, and clocked me at 79 miles per hour. Turns out I had to be more worried about the state of Virginia taking my mom's money that I had to be about my father doing it.
At 10 o clock that night, I reached the underwhelming city of Woodbury, New Jersey. I would stay with my grandfather that night, the father of my mother, and come morning I would take the remaining 25-minute trek to where, at least to our collective knowledge, my father still lived.
"Sam," my grandpa yelled from behind the rusted screen door. "Park in the road. I've got work early."
My grandfather was not a subtle man, and I expected nothing less out of his welcome. Working his entire life, he had recently reached the ripe old age of 75, a prime age to finally go ahead and retire. Unfortunately, my grandfather lived alone now, and never quite seemed to figure out how not to work. So, after the construction company had given him a forced retirement, he tried (and failed) at a handful of odd jobs to keep himself busy. Most recently, after falling asleep last month behind the wheel of a Philadelphia city transit bus and crashing into a parked Volkswagen, he decided that he would at least take work that didn't put the lives of civilians directly into his dark and wrinkled hands.
"Unlike some people in this family, grandpa still works," he mumbled under his breath as he turned away, leaving the screen door unlocked.
The house was very much different than I recalled. After my father left, we were forced to move in with my grandfather. As I walked through the foyers and unused dining rooms, I felt the eerie death of childhood memories. The creaky floorboards that I had once toddled on still sounded. The ceiling of my old bedroom, paint still torn and chipped away, didn't make any of the same imaginative shapes that I observed as a child, concocting stories from them when I couldn't sleep.
I walked back down the stairs to see grandpa on the couch watching a basketball game and drinking non-alcoholic beer. He had given up real drinking a long time ago, after his second wife left.
"How are the Sixers looking this year?" I asked as I sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
"Shit." My grandpa spoke as he finished sipping his beer. "What do you expect when we won't drop any cash on free agency."
There was a long pause before my grandpa took another sip of beer. We weren't close, admittedly, but it was somewhat discomforting that after nearly five years between visits, all that we could manage to talk about was sports. It left me with the thought that meeting with my father could only be even more awkward, and equally as meaningful. Before finishing the next sip, he took a longer drink, finishing off the can before speaking.
"I ain't seen him in a long time, Sam." His eyes didn't turn from the game. "I know I've made my mistakes, and I'm not the wisest man, but if you ask me, Trevor was, and will always be, a lowlife and a leech."
"You're probably right," I replied after a moment.
"I remember when you were younger, real young. I'm sure you don't remember this, but me and your dad took you to the circus. Your ma had begged him and begged him, because she was working and he wasn't. She gave him the money for the tickets and snacks. She knew how he was, so she asked me to go with you guys." He sat up, his elbows on his knees, and his head turned down towards the dark wood floors.
"We got there and, man, you would do this thing when you were little, you would say 'I'm done.' whenever you were over something. You didn't know a lot of words, but you knew those two." He laughed. "You always knew what you wanted. And I mean, it was calm. It was very matter of fact. But your dad took none of that, none whatsoever. He got so angry. It was like he didn't understand, you were a child, you can't reason with a little kid. So when you pulled that out there, at the circus, he stood up and he left. He took whatever money was left that your ma had given him and he walked right out. And he used that money and he drove all the way out to where, as far as I know, he's still at to this very day."
For the first time since I had arrived, my grandpa put his beer down and looked over at me across the couch.
"Just don't have no expectations," he said.
* * * * *
I arrived at the address my mother had given me right around noon. I couldn't help but imagine that my father would probably be out, perhaps for lunch, perhaps with some gorgeous super model, or, more likely, some sugar mama with whom he had been responsible for the release of an entire flock of eclectic younglings which I would soon feel obligated to call "siblings."
Upon my arrival to the shanty, my stomach began to twist itself in knots. Rope wrapped around my innards, looping itself around twice, thrice, before aptly knotting into a throbbing cluster of "screw it, I should just bail."
Before I could even attempt to make good on the idea, out walked a man, stocky, and about five foot eight in height. He was wearing khakis, the universal symbol of business-casual, and a blue button down shirt. The man started to put on a pea coat (it was much colder in New Jersey than it had been in Florida) and was walking towards his car.
"Da-," I stopped myself. "Trevor?" The word fell out my lips like an extra kernel falls out of an overstuffed popcorn bag.
He turned his head to look at me. He squinted his eyes, adjusting his glasses. "Sam?" he said finally, walking over to me.
"Holy sh-," his hands dropped to his side. We stood there, the both of us, silently for quite some time. This man, I thought, is half of me. This man in front of me is a part of my creation, an equal fraction of my genesis.
He walked up to me, wrapped his arms around me, and squeezed.
"She let you come up here? All by yourself?" My dad spoke as he drank black coffee out of a beige mug. He decided that he would stay home from work today. Work, which was apparently as a security guard at the Philadelphia International Airport. He worked odd shifts, he said. I was lucky that I caught him.
"Yeah, I mean, she wasn't the happiest about it," I replied. "Neither was grandpa."
"Ron and I never did see eye to eye." My father spoke, a bit of laughter behind his voice. However, his jovial nature didn't last long.
"Look, Sam, I'm just happy you're here. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions. But I just want to say first that I love your mother, I always did. I've been calling Michelle for years, on Christmas, on your birthday. She won't ever pick up. And when she does, she damn sure won't let me talk to you."
I pushed the eggs around my plate with a fork. There's something about that rare place that serves all-day breakfast that makes you feel obligated to get it, even if it isn't the appropriate time for it.
"I never knew that," I said.
"I didn't expect that she would tell you. It was…" He paused for a moment, putting more salt on his hash browns. "It was hard. Michelle and I, we tried, we really did. I wanted to be there, I wanted to." He stopped.
"Then why did you leave?" This time, it was less like popcorn and more like Skittles that you can't open, so you pull, and you pull, and eventually it tears and there are little colorful hard-shell candies scattered everywhere.
"It's not that simple, Sam." He spoke now with more resolve, more intention in his voice. "It never has been. I had my reasons. Your mother isn't the easiest person to deal with. And her parents, they always hated me." He stopped for a moment, noticing the over-poured syrup that now drenched his single remaining hotcake. He put down his fork and took a deep breath.
"Look, it was just too hard." He took a moment to clear his throat. "It was too hard not working, and seeing your mom work like that just to raise you, to support you, and knowing that I had nothing to offer. It was too hard to think that you would grow up, and you would see me, a waste, a parasite, and think that was what a man should be. So I left. And I said that I wouldn't come back until I was able to stand on my own, and to love myself, and to think enough of myself that I was able to raise a child. And here we are now, 15 years later."
The tears began to run down my father's cheeks. And for the first time in my life, I felt sorry for him.
"I don't know what to say," I replied.
"You don't have to say anything. I just want to help you understand." He answered, grabbing my hand with his and offering me the only thing that I wasn't able to get for over 15 years: a smile.
"Look, dad. There's something that I have to tell you," I said as we walked outside of the restaurant and back into our respective cars. I had followed him to the diner, his favorite in an area with no shortage of 24-hour eateries.
"I'm changing my name," I started, without looking at his face, "I'm changing my last name to Mom's. I'm eighteen now. I decided a while ago."
"Is that what you came here to tell me?" he said, grabbing my arm.
"Yeah," I said. "I think so."
"Well a name is just a name, Sam. If you want to change, you do it. Don't let me or anybody else stop you." He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it firmly. "I've been trying to change for years. Don't let anything stop you from being exactly what you want to be.
I stopped by my grandfather's house to stay the night before I left for home the next morning.
"So how is the bastard?" My grandpa asked as he opened the ragged screen door.
"Hey!" I couldn't help but laugh as he spoke.
I followed my grandpa into the kitchen where he pulled two non-alcoholic beers out of the fridge and handed one to me. I told him about the trip, and about what my father told me.
"Well, as long as you're doing okay, Sam." Grandpa spoke as he took a long drink. I opened the can and tried to copy him, regrettably, and almost choked. It tasted like dirty water and seltzer. "Resentment is a bitch."
I knew that I needed to call mom, but I decided to wait so that I could be alone with my thoughts for a few hundred miles. As I headed south down I-95, I couldn't help but notice the technicolor leaves falling all around me. I couldn't help but feel like autumn had just begun.


text:
So, new week, new posts.
As I said last week, I want to post at least one thing each day – I'm hoping this counts as my one thing for the day. It's not an actual entry, I'll admit that upfront. It's more an appetizer, a menu of the entries that will be posted this week.
First up, tomorrow I'll be posting my thoughts on the brand new Nintendo DSi. After giving one to Nadia for her birthday, I had to get one for myself. Was it worth it? Is it worth replacing a DS Phat/Lite with one of these? Find out my thoughts tomorrow!
Wednesday, a rant on the scourge of the English language- How "you know" has seemingly replaced "um" in most peoples spoken vocabulary.
Thursday, I'll drop my thoughts on the Fallout 3 expansion "Broken Steel" – does the new "ending" fit the game better, and is the new content worth the ten bucks?
And, finally, Friday will be a nice review of the new Star Trek movie. I'll be seeing the movie – along with Nadia, Rosenberg, Tabby and (maybe) Bighead and my Dad – so I'll include a wide array of viewpoints on the movie. Everyone from the die-hard Trekkie to new-comers will be represented in this no-holds barred discussion on what is my most anticipated movie of the summer.
So, stick around this week – as you can see, there's loads of stuff worth reading headed your way.