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Announcement: Forums Closed on August 22, 2016
After 13 years, Internet Texas Holdem has decided to close its forum due to inactivity. Since its launch, over 11,000 members found a friendly place to talk about poker on ITH, creating over 600,000 posts and 80,000 threads. We sincerely appreciate the effort of our moderators and every member of the community, who truly made ITH a home for those who love poker.
The ITH forums will remain up as an archive, but will be locked for any further posts. Online poker across the U.S. is down right now, partly because of legal uncertainty. Our hope is that the situation improves in the future such that we can re-open these forums.
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subset: commoncrawl


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A chat with director Robert Luketic ("Paranoia")
Director Robert Luketic has worked with some of the most well-known actresses of our era, from Jennifer Lopez to Jane Fonda, and has directed them to box office gold. However, the Australian director known for rom-coms such as "The Ugly Truth" and "Legally Blonde" has his sights on taking over other genres. In the tech thriller "Paranoia," Liam Hemsworth faces serious ethical questions while engaging in corporate espionage. The outspoken director sat down to discuss his journey in making the film, as well as his future career plans.
BE: One of the most mysterious characters in the film is Dr. Judith Bolton played by Embeth Davidtz. How'd you come across her?
ROBERT LUKETIC: She's a friend of the producer, Alexander Milchan. I remember seeing Embeth in "Schindler's List." She's just a nice, classic, kind of WASP-y woman. It's very much what the character is based on. I wanted someone who could be icy and evil, but not tip the hand too much. I wouldn't want a person that we really couldn't read. I met her for tea in Beverly Hills. When I walked in… you know when you read something and that you imagine in your mind? I said, "You actually look like Judith." I called her Judith from that day on.
BE: You've done films like "Legally Blonde," but you've also done films like "21." As a director, is it hard to switch genres?
ROBERT LUKETIC: I started out in film school making dark, thriller kind of stuff. Finally, I made a musical comedy and that sort of branded me, which is what this town does. The next 15 years, it became all light and fluff and screaming girls and wedding dresses and stuff, which really isn't me. I've been fighting for many years to break that and get out of that. It's a challenge. It's like they don't think of my name when a studio gets a new script and goes, "We've got to get Robert Luketic for this thriller. Yeah, the 'Legally Blonde' guy. We've got to get him." (LAUGHS)
BE: What kind of movies would you like to make?
ROBERT LUKETIC: I want to see what it's like to make those movies that those big budget guys get. The ones where there are no limits. Those people that get unlimited resources, like whatever they have here they can put up there. That would be such an incredible experience because my movies have been generally on the smaller side in terms of budgets. What you find is that it's constantly compromising. Everything is a compromise. Every goddamn thing is a compromise and that hurts, ya know? That gets you after a few years. I'd love to know what it's like to do an "Avengers" or "Dr. No" or something.
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Posted in: Entertainment, Movies
Tags: Paranoia interview, Robert Luketic, Robert Luketic interview


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The search found 10 results in 0.009 seconds.
Winter 2017 Vol. 16 No. 1
Features include "Chump Change", "Living on the Fringe in Post-apartheid Cape Town", "Love Wins", "Could There Be a Silver Lining to Zika?", and "'Straight Girls Kissing' Beyond the Elite College Campus."
Fall 2016 Vol. 15 No. 4
Features include "Financial Foreclosures," "Fat Eggs or Fit Bodies," "God's Case for Sex," "Revisiting the Rationing of Medical Degrees in the United States," and "Activating Politics with Poetry and Spoken Word."
Summer 2016 Vol. 15 No. 3
Spring 2015 Vol. 14 No. 2
Examining boundaries and unstable states, from the liminal lives of the undiagnosed to those of Palestinians living in Israeli settlements, this issue considers lines drawn on maps and within hearts.
Fall 2015 Vol. 14 No. 4
The social and political entanglements of science, from climate change and medical marijuana to the origins of modern American sociology.
Winter 2016 Vol. 15 No. 1
Evidence is important. Even the most skeptical rely on tested and re-tested scientific certainty every day. And good sociologists hold scientific evidence suspect even as we use the best we have to make the decisions we must.
Fall 2017 Vol. 16 No. 4
Feature articles include "Virginia is for Lovers", "Marijuana's Moral Entrepreneurs, Then and Now", "Commuter Spouses and the Changing American Family", "The Queer Work of Militarized Prides", "Accountability after Genocide", and "Race, Class, and the Framing of Drug Epidemics."
Spring 2017, Vol. 16, No. 2
Features include "Whitewashing the Working Class", "Forced and Coerced Cesarean Sections in the United States", "Desperation and Service in the Bail Industry", "Marketing Manhood in a "Post-Feminist" Age, and "Durkheim's "Suicide" in the Zombie Apocalypse."
Features include "Why Sociology needs Science Fiction", "The Struggle to Save Abortion Care", "Invisible Inequality "Wounded Warriors", "When the Personal is Political - and Infectious", and "Global Capitalism in the Age of Trump."


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A's All-Star Balfour is last but not least
Closer's late-game success paves way for late selection
NEW YORK -- He is the late Grant Balfour, alive and well and living -- for a two nights anyway -- in New York City. He routinely enters baseball games late -- in the ninth inning or thereafter. He earned the job as closer for the A's relatively late in his career -- he's 35, despite his erroneous claim of 36 -- and has been closing regularly only since the middle of last season. He learned late he would represent the A's at the All-Star Game, and he arrived late -- or early, depending on perspective -- for the second day of the festivities.
And, all that aside, he characterizes himself as -- what else? -- "a late bloomer." Any questions.
You'd never ask him to start, lead off or speak first. He's unfamiliar with appetizers and cocktail hours. He's a "last call" kind of guy (alcohol not included). He prefers brunch to breakfast and lunch to brunch. "In the beginning" is not in his lexicon. He knows only surnames, reads the index first and believes the last four digits of his credit card are the only four digits. His last name ought to be Zimmer, Zimmerman, Zimmermann, Zisk, Zito, Zobrist or Zuverink. And his favored piece of punctuation is a period. Period.
And truth be told, he was born on the 364th day of a non leap year. Honest Australian.
That Balfour can be found in the bullpen of the first-place team in the American League West is a mostly meaningless inconsistency. Not everyone can be last -- or even late -- all the time.
That he could be found at Citi Field in Queens Monday afternoon is mostly meaningful circumstance for the lone A's representative set to play in this summer break extravaganza. He didn't come by it easily, which is consistent with many of his ventures in the game.
To become an All-Star, Balfour had to wait for Bartolo Colon, the A's other All-Star, to throw a pitch Sunday. The pitch was thrown, and the nod was given to the veteran right-handed reliever
Understand that the man Balfour has replaced on the American League roster is the least-likely All-Star, selected because of his 12-3 record, 2.73 ERA and recycled velocity and despite his 40 years and the fact that he was an All-Star 15 and eight years ago.
But it doesn't matter how the vacancy developed.
Balfour had a sense he'd be making the cross-country flight before the needs of the A's made Colon less than ideally suited for Tuesday night duty in the Big Citi. Still, flying a red-eye with his wife and two daughters -- 2 years old and eight months old -- after pitching a clean, three-strikeout ninth against the Red Sox on Sunday might have taken some of the polish off his trip to the Big Apple.
The Balfours landed at 8:15 a.m. ET Monday, reached their hotel room at 9:15 and were changing diapers until 9:45. Chances are Yankees closer Mariano Rivera's trip -- White Plains to Flushing -- wasn't quite so taxing. But Balfour is here and quite pleased to be.
"Every year, I set my goals," he said. "They're never numbers. It just say things like, 'I want to be in the World Series.' 'I want to be an All-Star.' This year, I can scratch that off my list. It's great to get the chance. I'm glad it worked.
"I've been an underdog in my career. I grew up an underdog," a reference to the mostly perfunctory scouting big league clubs do in Australia and that he has played for mostly small market teams, the Twins, Rays and A's. "I've been under the radar a lot. So I'm like a sneak attack being here."
Not that his numbers are in anyway lacking. He has produced a 1.63 ERA, 25 saves in 25 opportunities; he has 41 strikeouts and 40 baserunners in 38 1/3 innings. His 43 consecutive conversions of save opportunities over two seasons eclipsed the franchise record set by Hall of Famer Dennis Eckersley.
Balfour isn't last in that arena either.
And now he will share a bullpen with the great Mariano, a highly anticipated experience he expects to be surreal. Balfour is the A's last line of defense for about a year now. He has the last words. But Mo Rivera has been the "Amen" for 600-plus Yankees victories.
There's a difference.
The final phase of All-Star Game voting will again have fans participating in the official voting for the Ted Williams All-Star Game Most Valuable Player Award presented by Chevrolet. During the Midsummer Classic, fans will vote exclusively online at MLB.com via the 2013 All-Star Game MLB.com MVP Vote, and their voice will represent 20 percent of the official vote determining the recipient of the Arch Ward Trophy.
The 2013 All-Star Game will be played at Citi Field on Tuesday. Come to MLB.com for extensive online coverage of the All-Star Week festivities.
The 84th All-Star Game will be televised nationally by FOX Sports, in Canada by Rogers Sportsnet and RDS, and worldwide by partners in more than 200 countries via MLB International's independent feed. ESPN Radio and ESPN Radio Deportes will provide national radio coverage of the All-Star Game. MLB Network and SiriusXM also will also provide comprehensive All-Star Week coverage. For more information, please visit allstargame.com.


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Collmenter uses reading to shape philosophy
An avid reader, D-backs righty can usually be found with a book in clubhouse
PHOENIX -- Walk into the Arizona Diamondbacks' clubhouse when they're on the road and you'll likely find Josh Collmenter sitting in front of his locker reading a book.
"There's plenty of time in the clubhouse," the right-hander said. "Some guys will play cards or play on their phone. I try to not be on that as much as possible, and [I] try to get something somewhat productive done."
Collmenter will often visit a bookstore on the road and browse until he finds something that catches his eye.
Recently Collmenter finished "Siddhartha," a novel by Hermann Hesse. Written in 1922, the story takes place in ancient India and deals with the teachings of Buddha.
Currently he's working his way through "Essentials of Philsophy: The Basic Concepts of the World's Greatest Thinkers."
"It's great, because that way I'm able to get a little bit of everyone's philosophy and I don't have to go and read Plato's 'Republic' and get all of Nietzsche's stuff," Collmenter said. "It just boils everything down to the main points."
Political speeches are also big for Collmenter. He's read numerous inaugural addresses and is a big fan of Abraham Lincoln's speeches.
Oh, and there was also "Einstein's Dreams," which Collmenter read not too long ago.
"It was about a guy who had these dreams where it was different space and time relationships," he said. "One time, the higher you got in the sky, the more time slowed down. So people were constantly trying to build higher buildings just to save more time, whereas they were wasting all their time trying to get there to try and slow down time. The people on the ground were just going to work and living their lives. It was about what people will do to get more time, whereas a lot of times you have enough time -- it's just a matter of managing it and taking advantage of certain things."
Collmenter has taken all that reading and used it to stitch together his own philosophy and way of looking at the world.
"He handles every situation with the right attitude," catcher Miguel Montero said. "He's always even-keeled and upbeat. He's fun to have as a teammate, because he has a good outlook and a different sense of humor."
From his big league debut in 2011, Collmenter has impressed the organization's hierarchy as well as his teammates with his ability to handle any and all situations.
With the D-backs desperate for a win down 2-0 in the 2011 National League Division Series, it was Collmenter who came through with a clutch start in Game 3.
Shifted to the bullpen a year later, Collmenter learned to not just accept, but embrace a role that he had never done before. And when the team needed him back in the rotation a couple of weeks ago, well, he welcomed that as well.
It's part of his philosophy that Collmenter calls the "Blank Canvas" approach.
"It's kind of a concept that I've thought about for a while," he said. "So many times -- and I think we're all guilty of this -- we go into things with some kind of preconceived notion, or you've already formed something in your mind. And you miss out on either gaining something or understanding someone else's perspective, because you're already looking at it through your own narrow lens.
"Each day I've tried to look at it like a blank canvas -- let's see what happens, let's see what fills it, let's see what comes up. That way you're not judging either people, or things, or situations, you're just living in the present and in the moment and trying to enjoy everything you can."
For instance, when manager Kirk Gibson invited a guest speaker in to address the team this spring, Collmenter's first reaction was to think, "Oh, not another one." But he caught himself and decided to approach it with an open mind.
"And it turned out to be a blast," Collmenter said. "So if you can go into something without preconceived notions, then I think you're going to get more out of life. You'll be able to fully realize what there is here and what different people have to offer and what different circumstances have to offer. And you're not going to judge people, or places, or things that happen in your life, because you're going to see how it is and then just react to it."


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Moore playing catch, working toward side session
PHOENIX -- Matt Moore was placed on the disabled list with left-elbow soreness on July 31. On Tuesday, the Rays left-hander reported that he is continuing to make progress.
Moore said he had an off-day from throwing on Monday, but he threw on Tuesday.
"Today we threw about 70 feet," Moore said. "I felt like it was coming out pretty good. We probably threw just north of 40 throws maybe.
"I played catch with David [Price] and he was throwing the ball pretty firm to me. So it kind of came natural just to play catch and let it go. And we were all good. So kind of trying to not find a way to make it hurt. Just trying to keep it where it's at right now, which is progressing every day."
Moore said he will play catch again Wednesday.
"We're still going to try and take it easy," Moore said. "We'll take [Thursday's off-day] off from throwing and then we'll come back Friday and play another game of catch. And if everything goes well with that game, I'm sure Saturday or Sunday will be a day for a little side work."
Said side work could include getting on a mound to throw, which Moore said would be a big step.
"We're not going to test anything as far as getting off the mound too early if I'm not good with my game of catch," Moore said. "So we're going to make sure the next two times that I play catch that they go like they did today."


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Part of me loves this clip because that little kid is way cute and listening to Vin Scully talk about anything is always a good time, but another part of me hates it deeply.
It's cold as shit in New York right now, and we're getting another snowstorm this weekend because this goddamn winter is never going to end. So I'm extremely jealous of this little kid and the fact that he spent his day rolling around in soft, warm grass. I don't even remember what that feels like anymore. I hate this kid.


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Hiring Cycle: Yampa River posts openings mid-February. Projected summer job start dates are April - May.
Please Note: Applications submitted during the off-season will be kept on file and you will be contacted during the next the next hiring cycle.
Annually We Hire: Park Entrance Attendants, Campground Attendants, Certified Lifeguards, Aquatic Invasive Species (ANS) Inspectors, Interpretive Naturalists, Maintenance Workers, Limited-Commissioned Law Enforcement Personnel
Please fill out an application for an open job listing below. If no jobs are open, or you are interested in a job that isn't currently listed, sign up for job alerts or you may submit a temporary employment application to be considered at a later date.
To see all available CPW parks positions, visit the Parks and Wildlife Jobs page along with descriptions of typical full-time and seasonal positions regularly hired by Colorado Parks and Wildlife.


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Next: ax_prog_javah, Previous: ax_prog_javac_works, Up: The Macros
AX_PROG_JAVADOC tests for an existing javadoc generator. It uses the environment variable JAVADOC then tests in sequence various common javadoc generator.
If you want to force a specific compiler:
- at the configure.in level, set JAVADOC=yourgenerator before calling AX_PROG_JAVADOC
- at the configure level, setenv JAVADOC
You can use the JAVADOC variable in your Makefile.in, with @JAVADOC@.
Note: This macro depends on the autoconf M4 macros for Java programs. It is VERY IMPORTANT that you download that whole set, some macros depend on other. Unfortunately, the autoconf archive does not support the concept of set of macros, so I had to break it for submission.
The general documentation of those macros, as well as the sample configure.in, is included in the AX_PROG_JAVA macro.
Download the latest version of ax_prog_javadoc.m4 or browse the macro's revision history.
Copyright © 2008 Egon Willighagen firstname.lastname@example.com
Copying and distribution of this file, with or without modification, are permitted in any medium without royalty provided the copyright notice and this notice are preserved. This file is offered as-is, without any warranty.


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This week I'd like to explore two related topics that tend to create a bunch of confusion – the duty to act and the good Samaritan law. If you want to see a room full of EMTs argue with each other, ask a question like, "So, when does an EMT have a legal duty to act?" or "To whom does the good sam law really apply?" These are subjects where myth and confusion are more common than fact so lets jump in to these two, often confusing, legal tenants.
Today we'll look at the duty to act and on Thursday we'll dive in to the good samaritan law.
On duty or off duty, paid or volunteer, in or out of uniform, when do you, as a professional rescuer really have a legal duty to act? Once you have a duty to act, what does that mean for your care and your liability? The true meaning of the duty to act can be confusing.
One of the things that make legal definitions like the duty to act so hard to nail down is the fact that they are not elements of federal law. They can't be applied universally to caregivers around the nation. If they were we could say, "Here in the United States the duty to act is defined as … This is different from Canada and Great Britain where …" But it isn't that simple. Depending on which country, state or territory you live in, the duty to act can mean very different things.
For the professional rescuer the duty to act is generally inherent to employment. If you are a trained medical professional and you are acting with an expectation of compensation you have a duty to act appropriately and within the scope of your training when called to assist with an emergency situation.
Let's put that in plain English. If your are on the clock and receiving pay for your service, you have a duty to respond to emergencies and provide appropriate rescue and care. The rescue and care you provide has to be in accordance with your training. It also has to be reasonable and within your scope of practice.
Here are some common situational questions:
What if I'm a volunteer working for an ambulance company or a fire service? Volunteer are not generally recognized as having a duty to act. If you aren't receiving pay or benefits for your service (remuneration) then your acts remain a voluntary choice and not a legal obligation.
What if I'm not on the clock but I am in uniform? While your failure to act in an emergency may reflect poorly on your organization and stir some public outrage, there is no legal tenant that links your attire to your duty to act. The law could basically care less what your wearing, they care if your being compensated.
What if I receive some compensation other than money for my service? This is where the law gets fuzzy. What does or does not meet the definition of remuneration or compensation (depending on the wording of the code) may ultimately need to be determined by the court.
Some common forms of compensation are occasionally addressed in the actual legal text. For instance here in Colorado (USA), Ski resort volunteers who receive ski passes for compensation, but not money, are still protected under good samaritan protection and do not have a duty to act.
Does this mean that I can't be sued for not providing care if I'm not on duty? No. This is a common misconception. You can be sued for just about anything. This means that you are unlikely to be found guilty of a crime if you are sued.
Other interesting facts about the duty to act:
Some untrained citizens fall under "duty to act" or "duty to rescue" laws. For instance, in most industrialized nations, spouses have a duty to attempt to rescue each other – including all fifty states of the U.S. Travel industry personnel have a duty to assist their patrons in emergencies. Parents also have a duty to rescue and assist minor children including "in loco parentis" caregivers like school teachers and babysitters.
U.S. common law dictates that there is no general duty to act in an emergency, however, at least eight states have enacted laws requiring citizens to assist strangers in peril. These states include Florida, Ohio, Massachusetts, Rode Island and Vermont. You can be charged with a misdemeanor for not responding to someone in danger. Citizens are never required to place themselves in peril. This allows for so much subjectivity that the laws are generally ignored by law makers and citizens.
In opposition to citizen duty to act laws, Texas has a statute stating that no citizen has a duty to assist another against their voluntary will.
The TV show Sienfeld used the citizen duty to act law as the premise for the series final show in 1998.
European countries tend to have more strongly worded citizen duty to act laws stating that anyone who reasonably capable is responsible for rendering aid to another in peril so long as it does not place them in harms way.
What about when you don't have a duty to act? If you're off duty and not receiving compensation are their any protections for you if you attempt to render aid? On Thursday we'll discuss the good samaritan law.


text: Red-Carpet War Stories: Two Decades of Battling Through Awards Season Mayhem 12:16 PM PDT 3/19/2012 by Merle Ginsberg FACEBOOK TWITTER EMAIL ME Illustration: Brett Affrunti THR senior writer Merle Ginsberg on slapping cameramen, taming surly actors and how Hollywood's runway evolved from a style disaster zone to a global-branding gold mine. THR senior writer Merle Ginsberg on slapping cameramen, taming surly actors and how Hollywood's runway evolved from a style disaster zone to a global-branding gold mine. This story originally appeared in the March 23 issue of The Hollywood Reporter. War correspondents toil in the trenches, fashion reporters in trench coats -- preferably Lanvin or Burberry. But that's not where the comparison ends. People assume reporting on red-carpet fashion is glitzy at best, frivolous at least -- but these people remain blissfully unaware that awards-show fashion is a battlefield. Outfits get crushed. Egos get bruised. And brains and brawn actually are required to stay in the game. Of course, a good wardrobe never hurt. PHOTOS: THR's Top 25 Stylists of 2012 - The Best Awards Season Looks At my first Oscars in 1992, when I worked for Women's Wear Daily, I was the lone fashion reporter on the Shrine Auditorium's red carpet, and I was constantly amused by how many journalists didn't know how to spell "Armani," let alone "Giorgio." Mine was the single voice ringing out amid the din of fans, screaming, "WHAT ARE YOU WEARING????" I remember calling Julia Roberts' publicist to ask what the Pretty Woman star might be showing up in (before this info became as well guarded as Catherine Zeta-Jones' age). "WHAT?" she screamed back. "WHY would you want to know THAT???" Hollywood publicists resented fashion. They'd gotten used to actresses procuring outfits for themselves. And outside of Barbra Streisand's 1969 see-through Scaasi bell-bottoms and Audrey Hepburn's Givenchy sheaths, nobody cared. Which is how every red-carpet disaster we now bemoan occurred between the '60s (end of the Studio System) and the '90s (beginning of the Stylist System), including Cher's Bob Mackie, complete with headdress, in 1988 and Geena Davis' Bo Peep dress in 1992. The red carpet then was truly a different animal; fashionwise, it was prehistoric. The Globes were completely backwoods: In 1992, the checkout line at the Beverly Hilton snaked right through arrivals. When Sarah Jessica Parker was cut off by a family with broken suitcases checking in, discount vouchers in hand, it didn't faze her. Whoopi Goldberg wandered into the press room barefoot, carrying a bottle of champagne. It was the wild, wild Globes. STORY: Hollywood Reporter Names 25 Most Powerful Stylists List Then, before anyone even knew to mourn them, fabulous Oscar and Globes fashion disasters like Demi Moore's bike shorts went the way of the dino. A couture breeze blowing in from Europe suddenly turned tornado. Madonna wore Jean Paul Gaultier's cone bra on her 1990 Blond Ambition tour, Giorgio Armani hired a Hollywood team and Gianni Versace made inroads into the pop music world before the job of "stylist" even existed. Not long after, stylists such as Jessica Paster, Deborah Waknin and Phillip Bloch started putting Valentino and Alexander McQueen on their clients. When Uma Thurman showed up in violet Prada in 1995, followed by Nicole Kidman in chartreuse satin Dior couture in 1997, we fashion writers were in Hollywood heaven. Male Oscar nominees were dragged into the red-carpet style system kicking and screaming. When Ralph Fiennes was nominated for The English Patient in 1997, the blase Brit's response to, "What are you wearing?" was, "My underwear -- want to see the label?" (His jacket was Gucci; I actually peeked at the inside.) When Daniel Day-Lewis arrived in a frock coat and I asked who made it, he spat back, "Wrong question." My response: "Wrong event for questions about Stanislavski." There were a few icy seconds -- then abundant laughter. Being on the red carpet then was Hollywood fashion ground zero, like being at Yahoo in 1999 (without the stock options). As red-carpet fashion earned cred in New York and Europe, awards-show coverage went off the charts. That's when the carpet morphed into a better-dressed battlefield. I remember arriving at the Shrine by noon for the 1997 Oscars. All pros know you get to the Globes or Oscars three hours before the carpet opens. You snooze, you lose -- your designated space will be inhabited by four other people. A conundrum, I know, but somehow a law of red-carpet physics. Another weird law: If you get there first, you get shoved less. STORY: Inside THR and Jimmy Choo's Inaugural Top 25 Stylists Luncheon But at 2:15 p.m., I had to do a TV interview off site. I kept looking at my watch, panicked, as the interview ran long, knowing that when the carpet proceedings begin, it might as well be Fort Knox. Scampering back, I found the worst had occurred: Celebrities had begun snaking down the red expanse, and there was no way to get through the sardine-like tangle of crews, photographers and print press. But no quotes equals no job, so I embarked on the inevitable: I crawled. Under many legs and feet, in a white cocktail dress too tight to even walk in. The scars that left on my legs -- and dress -- remained all the way to the Emmys. But lo and behold, when I popped up in my spot, there was Chloe Sevigny waiting -- wearing Alber Elbaz for YSL, no less. It had all been for good cause. The following year, I got smarter and wore a black dress. But years of experience had taught me: If you stand out, actresses are more responsive -- so I added a white leather jacket by Richard Tyler. Sigh, such a great jacket. I should wear it again … if I ever can get the ink marks off it from all the conjoined reporters scribbling next to me. They'd mistaken it for a notebook, I think. The next year, I unearthed a size 2 Chanel gown made for a minus-2 rib cage, but I was determined to wear it, even if it meant going to Cher's rib-cage specialist. I never got there, and my ribs nearly broke from the strain. Of course, I should have known better. The year before, I had borrowed shoes that were too small. Needless to say, the Vanity Fair party is a minefield of Jimmy Choos; going barefoot is not an option. Besides, you never want your feet bleeding in a rented limo. None of this apparel is job-friendly -- but even less so for the scuffles. I've had more fistfights on the red carpet than commentators for the WWE could ever hope to face. It's just fallout from the job, part and parcel. VIDEO: THR's 25 Most Powerful Stylists: Behind the Scenes One year, photographer Art Streiber was my shutterbug partner in crime for W. The next year, he was shooting for a competing publication, Vanity Fair. When Art, who also now shoots for The Hollywood Reporter, tried to crowd into my better-placed spot, things got ugly. Verbal abuse between former colleagues is not so becoming in public. The next year, a TV cameraman hit me in the head with his constant craning down the carpet -- until I hauled off and smacked him. In 2011, a cameraman for Extra tried to horn in on my arrivals interview with a star. That kind of hijacking goes on all the time. But then he grabbed my hand out of what he thought was his shot, and I slapped him in the face. Kevin Spacey, a producer on The Social Network and my interviewee, dropped his jaw and said: "I've never seen a girl hit anyone that hard. Buddy, if I were you, I'd back off." This year, covering for THR and THR.com, I finally got it: I wore a comfortable Donna Karan jersey gown -- with no Spanx. (They make for one surly evening -- just ask Melissa McCarthy.) I wore flats. And I got lucky and was squashed in with three female reporters, all size 4 at best. When my pen got caught in WWD bureau chief Marcy Medina's hair and nearly tore out a chunk, instead of bickering, we laughed. We'd all been on that carpet for more years than we could remember. And the cameraman from Extra stayed far, far away from me. Smart man. PHOTOS: Hollywood Reporter and Jimmy Choo Host THR's Top 25 Stylists Luncheon AWARDS-SHOW PHENOMS: 7 Designers Who Stole the Spotlight What a difference a year makes -- a red-carpet year, that is. For a fashion label, one successful awards season can equal 10 years of climbing the retail ladder. These front-and-center designers -- some well known before this season, some not -- will enjoy a surge in sales and name recognition David Meister: The NYC-based eveningwear designer can be found from Bergdorf to Nordstrom, but this season put him over the top: He dressed Diane Lane for the SAGs, Janet McTeer for the Oscars and Sofia Vergara for the Globes. "People used to look to fashion magazines for what to buy," he says."Now they look to actresses in weekly magazines." Tadashi Shoji: The Japanese designer toggles between N.Y. and Shanghai and sells to Neiman and Saks but didn't have a red-carpet profile until Octavia Spencer. She wore him exclusively from the Globes through the Oscars. "Her Oscar dress was lost until the day before," he says. "I sent it UPS from Shanghai. They had a fire in their New Jersey office, and the computers shut down." PHOTOS: TOP TEN Oscars Marchesa: The glam label was particularly prominent this season, dressing Vergara, Viola Davis, Lea Michele and, most notably, Stacy Keibler in a gold strapless and Sandra Bullock in a white-and-black column for the Oscars. "It's our commitment to our relationships with actresses and stylists," says co-designer Georgina Chapman. Jenny Packham: The London designer's client list (Emily Blunt, Kate Winslet) grew after hiring a Hollywood PR firm a few years ago. But when Angelina Jolie turned up in a black halter Packham gown at the SAG Awards, the designer became even more golden. "Angelina looked amazing in that," she says. "But I knew nothing about it until it happened." Victoria Beckham: Please don't call the former pop singer an "entertainer" -- she's all designer now. Michelle Williams wore her posh looks proudly at the BAFTA Tea Party and the Oscar nominees lunch, and Viola Davis showed off her curves in a tight white sheath at the Essence Awards. It's so rare for one celebrity to wear another's styles that you know VB means business. Elie Saab: For this Paris-based Lebanese designer, it started at the 2002 Oscars when Halle Berry introduced him to the world. Since then, Beyonce and Katy Perry keep turning up in his chiffon wonders, as did a stunning Milla Jovovich on this year's Oscar red carpet. But Rose Byrne in his beaded jumpsuit at the SAGs was the hip piece de resistance. PHOTOS: Oscars 2012 The Red Carpet Arrivals Louis Vuitton: At his eponymous label, Marc Jacobs is no stranger to stars. But he's also head designer at Louis Vuitton, known more for day and cocktail dresses than gowns. That changed with his coral lace confection for Michelle Williams, considered one of the top 2012 Oscar looks. She also wore a gamine LV suit the day before at the Spirit Awards. FACEBOOK TWITTER EMAIL ME Merle Ginsberg email@example.com @thr


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This isn't the first time the concept of color-changing electronic skins has been tossed around, but Philips is a big name, and they have big plans that extend beyond your portable gadgets.
Electronic paper (e-paper) looks like conventional paper and the bright wash of color it generates uses the ambient light for rendition, just like conventional paint, so no backlight is needed. Which means that the vividness of the color is maintained, even in bright outdoor conditions. Philips' technology allows different colors of ink to be built into one layer with each color controlled separately. This means the layer can be transparent, the same color as any one of the inks or even a mixture of multiple colors. Moreover, the saturation of each individual color can be controlled accurately – so any shade can be produced. Recently, Philips successfully realized a simplified, yet advanced version of its e-paper technology: e-skin. Since it is less complicated and less expensive to realize, it enables new applications. And because e-skin makes use of the ambient light, it is an inherently energy-efficient system, making it particularly suitable for application in portable devices as well.
While portable devices might be the focus in the short-term, this sort of technology could also be used for larger equipment and even wallpaper in your home. In other words, it might not be long before we can change the color and the entire ambiance of a room with the push of a button. [Philips via Pocket-Lint]


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Osmosis Jones
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|Combo of animation and live-action concerns a slob named Frank (Murray) who's suffering from an evil virus (Fishburne) that's taking over his body. To the rescue are white blood cell Osmosis Jones (Rock) and cold tablet Drix (Pierce). The Farrellys once again push the envelope of gross-out humor, but this time it's a PG envelope, and the live-action sequences suffer for it, especially when compared to the funny, clever, and high-energy animated sequences. Luckily, the animation comprises about two-thirds of the movie. Kids will enjoy the lively animation and the gross stuff, while the adults should have a good enough time picking out the puns and references to other movies. Murray goes to heroic lengths to portray Frank's devotion to self-degradation.
|Directed by:
|Bobby Farrelly, Peter Farrelly, Piet Kroon, Tom Sito
|Bradley Thomas, Bobby Farrelly, Peter Farrelly, Zak Penn, Dennis Edwards, Conundrum Entertainment, Warner Bros.
|Bill Murray, Molly Shannon, Chris Elliott, Elena FranklinVOICE(S) BY: Chris Rock, Laurence "Larry" Fishburne, David Hyde Pierce, Brandy Norwood, William Shatner, Ron Howard


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Get Free Reports
March 22nd Aries Decan 1
The Fire element of Aries brings assertive I energy. This is a flaming drive and the desire to do something! The Aries will is full of tension and passion; the I brings a need for
independence. Aries coincides with spring time, when seeds germinate in an outpouring of
energy and growth. This sign as has an instinctive identity, early extroversion, spontaneity, and a very direct approach. Fire can rage out of control. Aries' cardinal-sign assertiveness can become too willful. Then we have wild spring weather -- a storming nature and a passion for power. Spontaneity can become impulsive
The Positive Side of Aries: The Arien has many positive points to his character. People born under this first sign of the Zodiac are often quite strong and enthusiastic. On the whole, they are forward-looking people who are not easily discouraged by temporary setbacks. They know what they want out of life and they go out after it. Their personalities are strong. Others are usually quite impressed by the Arien's way of doing things. Quite often they are sources of inspiration for others traveling the same route. Aries men and women have a special zest for life that is often contagious; for others, they are often the example for how life should be lived. The Aries person usually has a quick and active mind. He is imaginative and inventive. He enjoys keeping busy and active. He generally gets along well with all kinds of people. He is interested in mankind, as a whole. He likes to be challenged. Some would say he thrives on opposition, for it is when he is set against that he often does his best. Getting over or around obstacles is a challenge he generally enjoys. He likes to keep abreast of new things that are happening in the world. Ariens are often fond of speed. They like things to be done quickly and this sometimes aggravates their slower colleagues and associates. The Aries man or woman always seems to remain young. Their whole approach to life is youthful and optimistic. They never say die, no matter what the odds, They may have an occasional setback, but it is not long before they are back on their feet again
The Negative Side of Aries: Everybody has his less positive qualities-and Aries is no exception. Sometimes the Aries man or woman is not very tactful in communication with others; in his hurry to get things done he is apt to be a little callous or inconsiderate. Sensitive people are likely to find him somewhat sharptongued in some situations. Often in his eagerness to achieve his aims, he misses the mark altogether . At times the Arien is too impulsive. He can occasionally be stubborn and refuse to listen to reason. If things do not move quickly enough to suit the Aries man or woman, he is apt to become rather nervous or irritable. The uncultivated Arien is not unfamiliar with moments of doubt and fear. He is capable of being destructive if he does not get his way. He can overcome some of his emotional problems by steadily trying to express himself as he really is, but this requires effort.
Cardinality and fire have a lot in common. They are both decisive and ambitious, for example. So the cardinal sign that also happens to be a fire sign, Aries, will naturally be the most cardinal of the four cardinal signs. Aries is very ambitious, more than any other sign even any other cardinal sign. It is extremely decisive and loves movement to new territory and new heights, like fire moving quickly to in a straight line to consume new fuel. This sign hates distraction the most: commitment and indecisiveness are like balls and chains around the ankles of Aries.


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Daniels: PED issue complicates player evaluation
ANAHEIM -- One of the real challenges for Major League executives in acquiring talent is evaluating the possible use of performance-enhancing drugs by players of interest. Rangers general manager Jon Daniels said that is a struggle for everybody.
"That's one of the real challenges in player evaluation," Daniels said. "How do you know ... your own players, in the Draft and Latin America or free agents or trades? I don't think we can truly know. There is so much money involved, the science behind it and the testing, the avoidance of testing -- obviously not just baseball, but all sports. That's a very challenging piece for us to make player evaluations. The reality is some of us really don't know."
The Rangers lost Nelson Cruz on Monday when he accepted a 50-game suspension from Major League Baseball for violation of the Basic Agreement and the Joint Drug Prevention and Treatment program. Cruz is a free agent after the season, and Daniels said the Rangers have left "open" the possibility of re-signing him, but that's a decision that will be made later.
But there is also a question of how this will impact Cruz, who otherwise might have been able to command a significant multiyear contract as one of the premier free-agent power hitters on the market.
"It's hard to say," Daniels said. "I give it a lot of thought. You wonder how you would handle it if you were in that position. I don't think there's an easy answer. It's like with any free agent. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and how each club values players. Melky Cabrera got a two-year deal last year.
"I don't think you can really predict it. It's all a function of individual club situations and circumstances and how a player handles it and how that player is perceived by his peers, etc. Nellie made the best decision he could for himself given the situation. It's really hard to speculate on how it would have turned out."


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AB de Villiers bids adieu to international cricket with immediate effect
23 May 2018 08:36 PM
AB de Villiers bids adieu to international cricket with immediate effect
AB De Villiers bids adieu to international cricket with immediate effect
In a shocking move, South Africa's swashbuckling batsman AB de Villiers on Wednesday bid adieu to all forms of international cricket with immediate effect, thus putting an end to his 14-year illustrious career.
Announcing the news, the 34-year-old posted a video of himself on his Twitter handle and said though it was quiet a tough decision, he believes it is the right time for other talented players to take over.
"I have decided to retire from all forms of international cricket with immediate effect. After 114 Test matches, 228 ODI's and 78 T20 Internationals, it is time for others to take over. I have had my turn, and to be honest, I am tired," De Villiers said.
De Villiers further revealed that he always wanted to retire while playing decent cricket and, therefore, he felt that it was a right time to bid adieu to international cricket following impressive series win against India and Australia.
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French President Emmanuel Macron pledged to restore the Notre Dame Cathedral in just five years after flames ravaged the iconic church in the heart of Paris, France. Over one billion dollars has been pledged by people all over the world to aid in the restoration effort which will include replacing the 300-foot spire which collapsed in the fire.
On Wednesday (April 17) French Prime Minister Edouard Philippe announced that there will be an international competition to decide who will get the design the reconstructed spire and what it will look like when it is rebuilt.
"Should we reconstruct an arrow? The same? Adapted to the techniques and challenges of our time? An international architecture competition for the reconstruction of the cathedral spire will be organized," Philippe wrote on Twitter.
The spire was not part of the original cathedral, which took over 200 years to build. The spire was added during a restoration project in the 19th-century.
"The international competition will allow us to ask the question of whether we should even recreate the spire as it was conceived by Viollet-le-Duc," Philippe told reporters. "Or, as is often the case in the evolution of heritage, whether we should endow Notre Dame with a new spire. This is obviously a huge challenge, a historic responsibility."
The historic cathedral was undergoing a $170 million renovation when the fire broke out. Officials have not determined the exact cause of the blaze but do believe it was an accident. Firefighters were able to save almost all of the artwork and historical artifacts and managed to keep the building's frame mostly intact.
Photo: Getty Images


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"Viveka is an exceptionally knowledgeable LinkedIn and social media trainer."
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VivekavonRosen is author of "LinkedIn Marketing: An Hour a Day" and "LinkedIn Security: Who's Watching You". She is a contributing "expert" toLinkedIn's official "Sophisticated Marketer's Guide" and Forbes' "The Millennial Game Plan" and Mitch Meyerson's "Success Secrets of the Online Marketing Super Stars." She is known internationally as the "LinkedIn Expert".
Viveka is the Founder of Linked Into Business and she also hosts the biggest LinkedIn chat on Twitter.
Viveka has 32,000+ followers and a network of over 38 million people on LinkedIn, and 81,000+ followers on Twitter. Her seminars, webinars and workshops have taught and trained well over 90,000 people. She has personally worked with executives at Sony, MGM, Turner, Disney, The New York Times, The Daily Beast, Bloomberg, Adaptive Insights, AON and several other Fortune 500 Companies. She is regularly asked to speak at conferences and events for thought leading Social companies like the Hubspot, Social Media Examiner and Marketing Profs.
Forbes listed her as a top social media Influencer for 4 years in a row, and she has been cited in Entrepreneur, Business, Money Magazine, Simple Living, Ragan, CNN, Forbes, Mashable, The Miami Herald, Social Media Today and The Social Media Examiner.
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Underrated Billy Joel Classic . . . Zanzibar
Underrated Billy Joel Classic . . . Zanzibar
Eddie could never afford to live that kind of life . . .
Catholic girls start much too late
Studio version:
Last edited by Sirius Roadkill; 05-13-2011 at 07:38 PM.
Great thread SRK. I have a whole list of favorite Billy Joel but because this is my first successful link I'll start with Piano Man.
I may be back with more. Who knows I may get the hang of this yet!
Nope, got too cocky, (excuse the expression) tried a second one, didn't work. Good one too.
Just the Way You Are.
Back to the drawing board.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ounJsqomcv8
Eureka! I did it!!!
Last edited by SiriMonkey; 05-13-2011 at 11:25 PM.


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ENGS 91: Numerical Methods in Computation
Identical to COSC 071
Can be used to satisfy graduate degree requirements
A study and analysis of important numerical and computational methods for solving engineering and scientific problems. The course will include methods for solving linear and nonlinear equations, doing polynomial interpolation, evaluating integrals, solving ordinary differential equations, and determining eigenvalues and eigenvectors of matrices. The student will be required to write and run computer programs. ENGS 91 may not be used by mathematics or computer science majors in partial satisfaction of the distributive requirement.


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|Institution Type:
|Private not-for-profit
|Campus Setting:
|Plains Small city
|Highest Degree Offered:
|Bachelor's degree
|Level of Institution:
|Four or more years
All together it school is an amazing place to get your education. The teacher hosting my program of interest is not the best teacher for the job. I would although…
The faculty is approachable and cares for the students. Everyone is very helpful even my fellow students. I am from another country and they were accommodating.…
Southest Missouri Hospital College of Nursing and Health Sciences has a challenging ciriculum but I feel that when I earn my degree I will be very prepared to get through…
The mission of Southeast Missouri Hospital College of Nursing and Health Sciences is responding to the health care educational needs of the region by preparing qualified health care professionals.
The Southeast Missouri Hospital College of Nursing and Health Sciences is a private not-for-profit institution of higher learning that specializes in the preparation of individuals for health care careers. The primary mission of the college is to respond to the needs of the community and region through the development of programs designed to prepare qualified health care professionals in continuing and high demand fields. The College is committed to providing an environment supportive of student learning and instilling a belief that learning is a life long process. Upon completion of their education, students will demonstrate the ability to think critically, communicate effectively, accept human diversity, and deliver health care safely.
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Facebook launches reusable gift cards
- 31 January, 2013 20:57
Facebook launched a new service today that allows users to give other members gift cards to stores and restaurants.
The social network said users can buy gift cards to Jamba Juice, Olive Garden, Sephora and Target.
A user, for example, could buy a gift card for a former college roommate. The roommate would be notified immediately and would receive a Facebook Card in the mail.
The cards are reusable so when someone receives a Facebook Card, the gifted amount is added to the existing card. The service will be gradually rolled out across the U.S.
"Your card can hold multiple gift balances, and each balance is dedicated to the retailer associated with the gift," wrote Facebook in a blog post. "For example, you might have gift balances of $100 at Sephora, $75 at Target, $50 at Olive Garden, and $8.25 at Jamba Juice."
Gift card recipients can review their balances in their Facebook account settings. Card balance changes can be messaged to users' phones.
Ezra Gottheil, an analyst with Technology Business Research, said the service is a smart move for the social network that could be a good money maker someday.
"I think it's innovative," said Gottheil. "Facebook is leveraging its key asset, the one-to-one relationships between people, to nibble at the edges of the retail economy... Real revenue at very little cost. And revenue has always been Facebook's challenge."
While the number of participating retailers is limited, if the program succeeds, Facebook could easily expand that list.
"I think this could be very lucrative for Facebook," said Gottheil. "Think about it. Facebook is where you see the people whose birthdays you forgot until the last minute. Now you just send them a card."
Sharon Gaudin covers the Internet and Web 2.0, emerging technologies, and desktop and laptop chips for Computerworld. Follow Sharon on Twitter at @sgaudin, on Google+ or subscribe to Sharon's RSS feed. Her email address is firstname.lastname@example.com.
See more by Sharon Gaudin on Computerworld.com.
Read more about social media in Computerworld's Social Media Topic Center.


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We are excited to write to you with an encouraging proclamation, that these are the days of the restoration of all things! The true pattern of all giving all is being lived out once again on the earth!
When the Son of God was asked which was the greatest commandment, He responded by saying it is to love God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. In order to truly keep this commandment (the greatest of all) you must really consider what you are investing your life into. Whatever you consider most valuable is where your heart's energy goes. The widow Yahshua noticed gave all she had. Have you given all?
We are sincere believers who have responded to the call to lay down our lives for our friends (1 John 3:16), so now we are bonded together with them as we strive to keep all of our Savior's commandments. Many of us used to hop from church to church trying to find a way to truly be pleasing to our Creator. Now we can serve Him every day by submitting to one another in the fear of Messiah (Ephesians 5:21).
We have come to see that the Gospel is a call for all to give all, and that cannot be done alone. The Bible says that all who believed lived together, and they shared all things in common (Acts 2:44). Our Bible-believing communities are places where all are needed (Ephesians 4:16) and all speak (1 Corinthians 14:24) when we gather together to share from our hearts. This daily encouragement gives all of us vision and strength to press on (Hebrews 3:13).
If you truly desire to do God's will and be pleasing to Him, then you are just like us who write this invitation. We have published this paper in hopes of finding other God-fearing men and women who are looking for the place where they can serve God with all their heart, soul, and strength.
In the back of this paper is a list of the addresses and phone numbers of our many communities all over the world. In each place we live and work together, and gather every morning and evening to thank and praise our God. You can call or visit at any time. Come for a day or to stay!
The Twelve Tribes is a confederation of twelve self-governing tribes, composed of self-governing communities. We are disciples of the Son of God whose name in Hebrew is Yahshua. We follow the pattern of the early church in Acts 2:44 and 4:32, truly believing everything that is written in the Old and New Covenants of the Bible, and sharing all things in common.
E-mail us
Or call the phone number of your nearest community.


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Burgeoning Bigras
Well, the NHL lockout is upon us. But that doesn't mean hockey's on ice - there is plenty of action going on right now in Europe, plus the beginning of the major junior regular season. So let's take a look at some of the players we're excited to see in the NHL one day. And remember: The Hot List is only for prospects yet to skate in an NHL game.
Chris Bigras, D – Owen Sound Attack (OHL)
Fresh off a gold medal with Canada at the Ivan Hlinka tournament, Bigras is ready to step into a big role with the Attack, one of the more promising teams in the Ontario League. While repping his country overseas, the 6-foot-1, 189-pounder played with the Soo Greyhounds' Darnell Nurse to form a shutdown pairing and had a blast wearing the red maple leaf.
"It was awesome to experience the cohesiveness of all 22 guys and how we came together in such a short amount of time," he said. "It was great playing with the best players from my age group."
Bigras (pronounced Bee-Graw - his dad is a French-Canadian from Sudbury, Ont.) had 19 points in 49 games for the Attack last year and tries to play a blended game modelled after the patron saint of defenders, Nick Lidstrom.
"I'm a defenseman that likes to jump into the play, but I take care of my own end first," he said. "Whenever I get the chance I try to make a good first pass and then jump in."
Despite already sporting NHL size, Bigras knows he'll have to continue to build muscle in order to make the pros in the future.
"Being stronger in front of the net and in the corners is something I'm working on," he said.
With the opportunities he'll receive in Owen Sound, it's looking like a big year for Bigras. Draft eligible in 2013.
Brandon Gormley, D – Portland Pirates (AHL)
Like a lot of young stars, Gormley may have been headed to the American League instead of the NHL regardless, but the two-way blueliner would have challenged for a spot for sure. Instead, he'll team up with Oliver Ekman-Larsson and David Rundblad to give the Pirates a potent puckmoving D-corps. Drafted 13th overall by Phoenix in 2010.
Joel Armia, RW – Assat Pori (Fin.)
With two goals and four points in his first two games of the season, Armia has come out strong over in Finland - and it will be interesting to see if the league gets more competitive with fleeing NHLers soon. The powerful winger's 6-foot-3 frame has filled out admirably, while the hands are still lightning. Drafted 16th overall by Buffalo in 2011.
Evan Cowley, G – Wichita Falls Wildcats (NAHL)
The North American League's annual showcase tourney brought out a ton of scouts and talent observers, including Justin Goldman of The Goalie Guild, who was raving about Cowley. The 6-foot-4 netminder reportedly brings a lot of stylistic similarities to Carey Price, from the big frame to the calm attitude and positioning in net. Draft eligible in 2013.
Lucas Wallmark, C – Skelleftea (Swe.)
Known for his vision, Wallmark studies at the School of Henrik Sedin and has obviously been doing his homework. Through three games at the under-20 level, he has four assists and five points for undefeated Skelleftea. Draft eligible in 2013.
Trevor Carrick, D – Mississauga Steelheads (OHL)
Though the defensive side of his game still needs honing, there's no denying what a weapon Carrick can be when he has the puck. In a pre-season tilt against Owen Sound, the smart blueliner executed a perfect fake-slapshot pass for a goal, giving the Steelheads a great 1-2 punch from the point alongside Toronto pick Stuart Percy. Drafted 115th overall by Carolina in 2012.
Viktor Crus Rydberg, C – Linkoping (Swe.)
A demon in the faceoff circle, Crus Rydberg has gotten off to a nice start in junior action with two points in his first two games. The mid-sized pivot has already played for Sweden internationally and has always put up points when he does. Draft eligible in 2013.
Hampus Lindholm, D – Norfolk Admirals (AHL)
Even though his Swedish team, Rogle BK, is slated for Elite League action, Lindholm has been assigned to the American League, yet another sign the Ducks are jacked to have him under their banner. The two-way defender has been on a steady arc of improvement for a long time now and AHL competition will be a good litmus test. Drafted sixth overall by Anaheim in 2012.
Karson Kuhlman, C – Cloquet-Esko-Carlton Lumberjacks (Minn. HS)
A high-scoring forward who played for Team USA's Ivan Hlinka team, Kuhlman just committed to the University of Minnesota-Duluth, where he'll bring his offensive acumen to the Bulldogs in the future. Kuhlman, who also saw time in the USHL with Dubuque last year, has a goal and five points through six games in the Upper Midwest Elite League this season. Draft eligible in 2014.
Stanislav Galiev, RW – Hershey Bears (AHL)
It was a sad Tweet – Galiev showing off a picture of his Washington Caps gear, which he won't be wearing just yet. But Hershey's a great destination if you're in the AHL and the Bears will give the talented Russian a nice place to develop his pro game after an exemplary junior career in Saint John. Drafted 86th overall by Washington in 2010.
The Hot List, a roundup of minor league, junior, college and high school players we're excited to one day see in the NHL, appears every Tuesday only on thehockeynews.com. A player is eligible for The Hot List until they play their first NHL game.
For more great prospect profiles and news and views from the world of hockey, subscribe to The Hockey News magazine.


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War entered my childhood world not with the blasts of rockets and bombs but with my father's footsteps as he walked through the hallway, passing my bedroom toward his. I heard the door open and shut with a soft click. I slid off my bed, careful not to wake Radana in her crib, and snuck out of my room. I pressed my ear to the door and listened.
"Are you all right?" Mama sounded concerned.
Each day before dawn, Papa would go out for a solitary stroll, and returning an hour or so later, he would bring back with him the sights and sounds of the city, from which would emerge the poems he read aloud to me. This morning, though, it seemed he came back as soon as he'd stepped out, for dawn had just arrived and the feel of night had yet to dissipate. Silence trailed his every step like the remnant of a dream long after waking. I imagined him lying next to Mama now, his eyes closed as he listened to her voice, the comfort it gave him amidst the clamor of his own thoughts.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, darling," Papa said.
"What is it?" she persisted.
A deep, long sigh, then finally he said, "The streets are filled with people, Aana. Homeless, hungry, desperate . . ." He paused, the bed creaked, and I imagined him turning to face her, their cheeks on the same long pillow, as I'd often seen. "The miseries—"
"No matter what awfulness is out there," Mama cut in gently, "I know you will take care of us."
A breathless silence. I imagined her lips pressed against his. I blushed.
"There!" she exclaimed, the insouciant ring and chime of her voice returning. Then came the sound of slatted shutters being opened, like wooden birds released, suddenly taking flight. "The sun is brilliant!" she enthused, and with these easy words chased away the morning's gravity, threw "Nothing" back out the gates like a stray cat that had clawed its way onto Papa's shoulder.
A shaft of light fell on the front of the house and spilled into the open hallway from the balcony. I imagined it a celestial carpet thrown from the heavens by a carelesstevoda—an angel. I ran toward it, my steps unencumbered by the metal brace and shoes I normally wore to correct the limp in my right leg.
Outside, the sun rose through the luxuriant green foliage of the courtyard. It yawned and stretched, like an infant deity poking its long multiple arms through the leaves and branches. It was April, the tail end of the dry season, and it was only a matter of time before the monsoon arrived, bringing with it rains and relief from the heat and humidity. Meanwhile the whole house was hot and stuffy, like the inside of a balloon. I was slick with sweat. Still, New Year was coming, and after all the waiting and wondering, we'd finally have a celebration!
"Up, up, up!" came a cry from the cooking pavilion. It was Om Bao, her voice as voluminous as her ample figure, which resembled an overstuffed burlap rice sack.
"Pick up your lazy heads!" she clucked urgently. "Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
I ran around the balcony to the side of the house and saw her roll back and forth between the women's lower house and the cooking pavilion, her sandals smacking the dirt with impatience. "Wash your faces, brush your teeth!" she ordered, clapping as she chased a row of sleepy servant girls to the clay vats lining the wall outside the cooking pavilion. "Oey, oey, oey,the sun has risen and so should your behinds!" She whacked one of the girls on the bottom. "You'll miss the Tiger's last roar and the Rabbit's first hop!"
The Tiger and the Rabbit were lunar years, one ending and the other beginning. Khmer New Year is always celebrated in April, and this year—1975—it was to fall on the seventeenth, just a few days away. In our house, preparations would customarily begin long in advance for all the Buddhist ceremonies and garden parties thrown during the celebration. This year, because of the fighting, Papa didn't want us to celebrate. New Year was a time of cleansing, he reminded us, a time of renewal. And as long as there was fighting in the countryside, driving refugees into our city streets, it would be wrong for us to be celebrating anything. Fortunately, Mama disagreed. If there was a time to celebrate, she argued, it was now. A New Year's party would chase away all that was bad and usher in all that was good.
I turned and caught a glimpse of Mama standing in the corner of the balcony just outside her bedroom, lifting her hair to cool the nape of her neck. Slowly she let the strands fall in gossamer layers down the length of her back.A butterfly preening herself.A line from one of Papa's poems. I blinked. She vanished.
I rushed to the broom closet at the back of the house, where I'd hidden my brace and shoes the day before, pretending I'd lost track of them so I wouldn't have to suffer them in this heat. Mama must've suspected, for she said,Tomorrow then. First thing in the morning you must put them on. I'm sure you'll find them by then.I pulled them out of the closet, strapped on the brace as quickly as possible, and slipped on the shoes, the right one slightly higher than the left to make my legs equal in length.
"Raami, you crazy child!" a voice called out to me as I clomped past the half-open balcony door of my bedroom. It was Milk Mother, my nanny. "Come back inside this minute!"
I froze, expecting her to come out and yank me back into the room, but she didn't. I resumed my journey, circling the balcony that wrapped itself around the house.Where is she? Where's Mama?I ran past my parents' room. The slatted balcony doors were wide open, and I saw Papa now sitting in his rattan chair by one of the windows, notebook and pen in hand, eyes lowered in concentration, impervious to his surroundings.A god waxing lyrical out of the silence. . . Another line from another of his poems, which I always thought described him perfectly. When Papa wrote, not even an earthquake could disturb him. At present, he certainly took no notice of me.
There was no sign of Mama. I looked up and down the stairway, over the balcony railings, through the open doorway of the citrus garden. She was nowhere to be seen. It was as I'd suspected all along—Mama was a ghost! A spirit that floated in and out of the house. A firefly that glowed and glimmered, here one second, gone the next. And now she'd vanished into thin air!Zrup!Just like that.
"Do you hear me, Raami?"
Sometimes I wished Milk Mother would just disappear. But, unlike Mama, she was always around, constantly watching over me, like one of those geckos that scaled the walls, chiming,Tikkaer, tikkaer!I felt her, heard her from every corner of the house. "I said come back!" she bellowed, rattling the morning peace.
I made a sharp right, ran down the long hallway through the middle of the house, and finally ended up back at the spot on the balcony in the front where I had started. Still no Mama. Hide-and-seek, I thought, huffing and puffing in the heat. Hide-and-seek with a spirit was no easy game.
Pchkhooo!An explosion sounded in the distance. My heart thumped a bit faster.
"Where are you, you crazy child?" again came Milk Mother's voice.
I pretended not to hear her, resting my chin on the carved railing of the balcony. A tiny pale pink butterfly, with wings as delicate as bougainvillea petals, flew up from the gardens below and landed on the railing, near my face. I stilled myself. It heaved as if exhausted from its long flight, its wings opening and closing, like a pair of fans waving away the morning heat.Mama?In one of her guises? No, it was what it appeared to be—a baby butterfly. So delicate it seemed to have just emerged from a chrysalis. Maybe it was looking for its mother, I thought, just as I was for mine. "Don't worry," I whispered. "She's here somewhere." I moved my hand to pet it, to reassure it, but it flew away at my touch.
In the courtyard something stirred. I peered down and saw Old Boy come out to water the gardens. He walked like a shadow; his steps made no sound. He picked up the hose and filled the lotus pond until the water flowed over the rim. He sprayed the gardenias and orchids. He sprinkled the jasmines. He trimmed the torch gingers and gathered their red flame-like blossoms into a bouquet, which he tied with a piece of vine and then set aside, as he continued working. Butterflies of all colors hovered around him, as if he were a tree stalk and his straw hat a giant yellow blossom. Om Bao suddenly appeared among them, coquettish and coy, acting not at all like our middle-aged cook but a young girl in the full bloom of youth. Old Boy broke a stem of red frangipani blossoms, brushed it against her cheek, and handed it to her.
"Answer me!" Milk Mother thundered.
Om Bao scurried away. Old Boy looked up, saw me, and blushed. But finding his bearings right away, he took off his hat and, bowing at the waist, offered me asampeah,palms together like a lotus in front of his face, a traditional Cambodian greeting. He bowed because he was the servant and I his master, even though he was ancient and I was, as Milk Mother put it, "just a spit past seven." I returned Old Boy'ssampeah,and, unable to help myself, bowed also. He flashed me his gappy grin, perhaps sensing his secret would be safe.
Someone was coming. Old Boy turned in the direction of the footsteps.
She made her way toward him, her steps serene, unhurried.A rainbow gliding through a field of flowers. . . Again a line fluttered through my mind. Though I was no poet, I was the daughter of one and often saw the world through my father's words.
"Good morning, my lady," Old Boy said, gaze lowered, hat held against his chest.
She returned his greeting and, looking at the lotuses, said, "It is so hot and now they've closed again." She sighed. Lotuses were her favorite blossoms, and even though they were flowers for the gods, Mama always asked for an offering to herself every morning. "I was hoping to have at least one open bloom."
"And you shall, my lady," Old Boy reassured. "I cut some before dawn and placed them in iced water so that the petals stay open. I shall bring up the vase to your room when His Highness finishes composing."
"I can always count on you." She beamed at him. "Also, would you make a bouquet of the closed buds for me to take to the temple?"
"As you wish, my lady."
"Thank you."
Again, Old Boy bowed, keeping his gaze lowered until she'd floated past him. She ascended the stairs, her right hand pressed on the flap of her silksampotto keep her steps small and modest. At the top, she stopped and smiled at me. "Oh good, you found your brace and shoes!"
"I've practiced walking slowly in them!"
She laughed. "Have you?"
"One day I want to walk like you!"
Mama's face went still. She glided over to me and, bending down to my level, said, "I don't care how you walk, darling."
It wasn't the pinch of the brace or the squeeze of the shoes, or even what I saw when I looked in the mirror that pained me the most. It was the sadness in Mama's eyes when I mentioned my leg. For this reason, I rarely brought it up.
"No, I don't . . . I'm grateful you can walk at all."
She smiled, her radiance returning.
I stood still and held my breath, thinking if I so much as breathed, she'd disappear. She bent down again and kissed the top of my head, her hair spilling over me like monsoon rain. I took my chance and breathed in her fragrance—this mystery she wore like perfume. "It's good to see that someone is enjoying this stifling air," she said, laughing, as if my oddness was as much an enigma to her as her loveliness was to me. I blinked. She glided away, her entire being porous as sunlight.
Poetry is like that, Papa said. It can come to you in an intake of breath, vanish again in the blink of an eye, and first all you'll have is
A line weaving through your mind
Like the tail of a child's kite
Unfettered by reason or rhyme.
Then, he said, comes the rest—the kite, the story itself. A complete entity.
"Oey, oey, oey,there's not a minute to waste!" Om Bao rattled on from below. "The floor must be mopped and waxed, the carpets dusted and sunned, the china arranged, the silver polished, the silk smoothed and perfumed.Oey, oey, oey,so much to do, so much to do!"
The branches of the banyan tree in the middle of the courtyard stirred and the leaves danced. Some of the branches were so long they reached all the way to the balcony, the shadows of their leaves covering my body like patches of silk. I twirled, arms stretched out, mumbling an incantation to myself, calling forth thetevodas,"Skinny One, Plump One . . ."
"And just what are you doing?"
I swung around. There was Milk Mother in the doorway with Radana on her hip. Radana squirmed down to the floor and immediately started stomping on the shadows with her chubby feet, the tiny, diamond-studded bells on her anklets jingling chaotically. It was normal for Cambodian children to be covered with expensive jewelry, and my much-adored toddling sister was bedecked in the most extravagant way, with a platinum necklace and a tiny pair of hoop earrings to match her anklets. This was not a child, I thought. She was a night bazaar!
As she toddled around, I pretended she had polio and a limp like me. I knew I shouldn't wish it on her, but sometimes I couldn't help it. Despite her bumbling and babyness, you could already tell Radana would grow up to look just like Mama.
"Eeei!" she squealed, catching a glimpse of Mama floating through one of the doorways and, before Milk Mother could stop her, she ran jingling through the hallway, calling out, "Mhum mhum mhum. . ."
Milk Mother turned back to me and asked again, with obvious annoyance, "Justwhatare you doing?"
"Summoning thetevodas," I told her, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yes, I'd like to meet them this year."
No one ever met thetevodas,of course. They were spirits and, as with all things spectral, they lived in our imaginations. Milk Mother'stevodas—at least as she'd described them to me—sounded suspiciously familiar. With names like Skinny One, Plump One, and Dark One, I'd say she was describing herself, Om Bao, and Old Boy. By contrast, mytevodaslooked nothing like me, but were as lovely as court dancers, wearing their finest silk and diadems with spires reaching all the way to the sky.
Milk Mother wasn't listening to me, her ear tuned to a different kind of noise.Pchkooo!Again, the tremor of an explosion. She strained to hear, her head tilted in the direction of the din.
The explosions worsened.Pchkooo pchkooo pchkooo!A series of them now, just as I'd heard in the night.
Turning to me, Milk Mother said, "Darling, I don't think you should put too much hope on thetevodascoming this year."
"Why not?"
She took a deep breath, seemed about to explain, but then said, "Did you wash yet?"
"No—but I was about to!"
She shot me a disapproving look and, nodding in the direction of the bath pavilion, said impatiently, "Go on then."
"No arguing. Grandmother Queen will join the family for breakfast, and you, my bug, cannot be late."
"Oh no, Grandmother Queen! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"I was trying to, but you kept running away."
"But I didn't know! You should've told me!"
"Well, that's why I called and called—totellyou." She heaved, exasperated. "Enough lingering. Go. Get ready. Try to look and behave like the princess that you are."
I took a step, then turned back. "Milk Mother?"
"Doyoubelieve intevodas?"
She didn't answer right away, just stood there and looked at me. Then finally she said, "What can you believe in if not thetevodas?"
I went down the front steps. That was all I needed to hear. The rest was easy to figure out. They were things I could see and touch—lotuses opening their petals, spiders weaving tiny silvery hammocks on wispy branches, slugs slipping through watered green grass . . .
"Raami." Looking up, I saw Milk Mother leaning over the balcony railing. "Why are you still dawdling?"
I placed one foot in front of the other, swaying my hips slightly. "I'mpracticingmy walk."
"For what—an earthworm contest?"
"To be alady—like Mama!"
I broke a sprig of jasmine blossoms from a nearby bush and tucked it behind my ear, imagining myself as pretty as Mama. Radana appeared out of nowhere and stood in front of me. She cooed, transfixed for a second or two, and then, as if deciding I didn't look anything like Mama, bounced off.Where are you?I heard Mama sing.I'm going to get you. . . Radana shrieked. They were playing hide-and-seek. I had polio when I was one and couldn't walk until I was three. I was certain Mama and I didn't play hide-and-seek when I was a baby.
From above, Milk Mother let out an exasperated sigh: "For heaven's sake, enough lingering!"
• • •
Later that morning, in an array of brightly colored silks that almost outshone the surrounding birds and butterflies, we gathered in the dining pavilion, an open teak house with a hardwood floor and pagoda-like roof, which stood in the middle of the courtyard among the fruit and flower trees. Again, Mama had transformed herself, this time from a butterfly to a garden. Her entire being budded with blossoms. She had changed into a white lace blouse and a sapphirephamuongskirt, dotted with tiny white flowers. Her tresses, no longer loose, were now pulled back in a chignon tied with a ring of jasmine. A champak blossom, slender as a child's pinkie, dangled on a single silk thread down the nape of her neck; when she moved to adjust herself or to reach for this or that, the blossom slid and rolled, smooth as ivory on her skin.
Beside her, in my metal brace and clunky shoes and a ruffled blue dress, I felt ungainly and stilted, like a sewing dummy on a steel post, hastily swathed in fabric. As if this wasn't humiliating enough already, my stomach wouldn't stop rumbling. How much longer would we have to wait?
At last, Grandmother Queen—"Sdechya," as we called her in Khmer—appeared on the balcony, leaning heavily on Papa's arm. She slowly descended the stairs, and we all rushed to greet her, queuing on bended knees in order of importance, heads bowed, palms joined in front of our chests, fingertips grazing our chins. She paused near the bottom and, one by one, we each scooted forward and touched our forehead to her feet. Then we trailed her to the dining pavilion and claimed our appropriate seats.
Before us was an array of food—lotus seed porridge sweetened with palm sugar, sticky rice with roasted sesame and shredded coconut, beef noodle soup topped with coriander leaves and anise stars, mushroom omelets, and slices of baguette—a dish to suit everyone's morning taste. At the center of the table sat a silver platter of mangoes and papayas, which Old Boy had picked from the trees behind our house, and rambutans and mangosteens, which Om Bao had brought from her early morning trip to the market. Breakfast was always an extravagant affair when Grandmother Queen decided to join us. She was a high princess, as everyone constantly reminded me so that I would remember how to behave around my own grandmother.
I waited for Grandmother Queen to take her first bite before I lifted the cover off my soup bowl; when I did, steam rose like a hundred fingers tickling my nose. Tentatively, I brought a spoonful of hot broth to my lips.
"Be careful," Mama said from across the table as she unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. "You don't want to burn your tongue." She smiled.
I stared at her, mesmerized. Maybe I had seen a New Year'stevodaafter all.
"I thought I'd visit the temple in Toul Tumpong after breakfast," she said. "My sister will send her chauffeur. I'll go with her, so our car is free if you'd like to venture out." She was speaking to Papa.
But he was reading the newspaper, his head slightly cocked to one side. In his usual muted attire of brown wraparound pants and beigeacharshirt, Papa was as solemn as Mama was radiant. He reached for the cup in front of him and began to sip the hot coffee mixed with condensed milk. Already he'd forgotten the rest of his breakfast as he immersed himself in the news. He hadn't heard Mama at all.
She sighed, letting it go, determined to be in a good mood.
At one end of the table, Tata offered, "It'll be nice for you to get out a bit." Tata was Papa's elder sister—half sister actually, from Grandmother Queen's first marriage to a Norodom prince. "Tata" was not her real name, but apparently when I was a baby, I came to identify her as my "tata." The name stuck and now everyone called her this, even Grandmother Queen, who, at the moment, reigned at the other end of the table, blissfully ensconced in old age and dementia. I'd come to believe that because she was a high princess—Preah Ang Mechas Ksatrey—Grandmother Queen was more difficult to grasp than thetevodas.As a "queen" who ruled this family, she was certainly unreachable most of the time.
"I shouldn't be long," Mama said. "Just a prayer and I'll be back. It doesn't seem right to start the New Year without offering a prayer first."
Tata nodded. "The party is a very good idea, Aana." She looked around, seeming pleased with the start of the day, noting the preparations being made for the celebration to take place on New Year's Day.
In the cooking pavilion, Om Bao had started steaming the first batch of the traditional New Year'snum ansom,sticky rice cakes wrapped in banana leaves. These we would give out to friends and neighbors during the coming days as each batch was made. On the balcony of the master house, the servant girls worked on their hands and knees waxing the floor and railings. They dripped beeswax from burning candles and rubbed it into the teakwood. Below them Old Boy was sweeping the ground. He had dusted and wiped the spirit house so that now it stood sparkling on its golden pedestal under the banyan tree like a miniature Buddhist temple. Several long strands of jasmine adorned its tiny pillars and the spire on its roof, and in front of its entrance, a clay pot filled with raw rice grains held three sticks of incense, an offering to the three pillars of protection—the ancestors, thetevodas,and the guardian spirits. They were all there, watching over us, keeping us out of harm's way. We had nothing to fear, Milk Mother always said. As long as we remained within these walls, the war could not touch us.
"I couldn't sleep a wink." Again Tata spoke, spooning brown sugar from a small bowl and sprinkling it on her sticky rice. "The heat was awful last night and the shelling was the worst it's ever been."
Mama put down her fork gently, trying not to show her exasperation. I knew, though, what she was thinking—Couldn't we talk about something else?But being the sister-in-law, and a commoner among royals, she couldn't speak out of turn, tell Tata what to say or not to say, choose the topic of a conversation. No, that would be graceless.Our family, Raami, is like a bouquet, each stem and blossom perfectly arranged,she'd tell me, as if to convey that how we carried ourselves was not simply a game or ritual but a form of art.
Tata turned to Grandmother Queen sitting at the other end of the table. "Don't you think so, Mechas Mae?" she asked, speaking the royal language.
Grandmother Queen, half deaf and half daydreaming, said, "Eh?"
"The shelling!" Tata repeated, almost shouting. "Didn't you think it was awful?"
"What shelling?"
I suppressed a giggle. Talking with Grandmother Queen was like talking through a tunnel. No matter what you said, all you could hear were your own words echoing back.
Papa looked up from his newspaper and was about to say something when Om Bao stepped into the dining pavilion, bearing a silver tray with glasses of the chilled basil-seed drink she made for us every morning. She placed a glass before each of us. Resting the tip of my nose on the glass, I inhaled the sweet ambrosia. Om Bao called her drink—a mixture of soaked basil seeds and cane sugar in ice-cold water, scented with jasmine flowers—"little girls hunting for eggs." When Old Boy picked the blossoms earlier they had been tightly closed, but now they opened up like the skirts of little girls with their heads dipped in water—hunting for eggs! It hadn't occurred to me before, but the basil seeds did look like transparent fish eggs. I beamed into the glass, delighted by my discovery.
"Sit up straight," Mama ordered, no longer offering me a smile.
I sat up straight, pulling my nose back. Papa glanced at me, mouthing his sympathy. He took a small sip from his glass and, looking up in surprise, exclaimed, "Om Bao! Have you lost your sweet touch?"
"I'm terribly sorry, Your Highness . . ." She looked nervously from Papa to Mama. "I've been trying to cut down on the cane sugar. We don't have much left, and it is so hard to find at the market these days." She shook her head in distress. "Your servant humbly regrets it's not so sweet, Your Highness." When nervous, Om Bao tended to be overly formal and loquacious. "Your servant humbly regrets" sounded even more stilted, when across the table from His Highness, I was lapping up my soup like a puppy. "Would Your Highness—"
"No, this is just right." Papa drank it up. "Delicious!"
Om Bao smiled, her cheeks expanding like the rice cakes steaming away in the kitchen. She bowed, and bowed again, her bulbous behind bobbing, as she walked backward until she reached a respectful distance before turning around. At the steps of the cooking pavilion, Old Boy relieved her of the emptied tray, quick as always to help her with any task. At the moment he seemed unusually agitated. Perhaps he was worried that I'd revealed his and Om Bao's morning canoodling to Grandmother Queen, who forbade such displays of affection. Om Bao patted his arm reassuringly.No, no, don't worry,she seemed to say. He turned toward me, obviously relieved. I winked. And for the second time this morning, he offered me his gappy grin.
Papa had resumed reading. He flipped the newspaper back and forth, making soft snapping noises with the pages. I tilted my head to read the headline on the front page: "Khmer Krahom Encircle City."
Khmer Krahom? Red Khmers? Who had ever heard of that? We wereallCambodians—or "Khmers," as we called ourselves. I imagined people, with their bodies painted bright red, invading the city, scurrying about the streets like throngs of stinging red ants. I laughed out loud, almost choking on my basil-seed drink.
Mama gave me another warning look, her annoyance now easily piqued. It seemed the morning hadn't gone in the direction she wanted. All anyone wanted to talk about was the war. Even Om Bao had alluded to it when she mentioned how hard it was to find cane sugar at the market.
I hid my face behind the glass, hiding my thoughts behind the little floating jasmine skirts.Red Khmers, Red Khmers,the words sang in my head. I wondered what color Khmer I was. I glanced at Papa and decided whatever he was, I was too.
"Papa, are you a Red Khmer?" It came out of me like an unexpected burp.
Tata set her glass down with a bang. The whole courtyard fell silent. Even the air seemed to have stopped moving. Mama glared at me, and when atevodaglared at you like that, you'd better hide or risk burning.
I wished I could dip my head in the basil-seed drink and look for fish eggs.
• • •
The afternoon arrived, and it was too hot to do anything. All preparations for New Year came to a halt. The servant girls had stopped cleaning and were now combing and braiding one another's hair on the steps of the cooking pavilion. Seated on the long, expansive teak settee under the banyan tree, Grandmother Queen leaned against the giant trunk, her eyes partly closed as she waved a round palm fan in front of her face. At her feet, Milk Mother sat swinging Radana in a hammock lowered from the branches of the tree. She pushed the hammock with one hand and scratched my back with the other as I rested my head on her lap. Alone in the dining pavilion, Papa sat on the floor writing in the leather pocket notebook he always carried with him, his back against one of the carved pillars. Beside him the radio was playing the classicalpinpeatmusic. Milk Mother began to doze off as she listened to the chiming melodies. But I wasn't sleepy, and neither was Radana. She kept sticking her face out of the hammock, wanting me to play with her. "Fly!" she squealed, reaching out for my hand. "I fly!" When I tried to grab her wrist, she pulled it back, giggling and clapping. Milk Mother opened her eyes, slapped my hand away, and gave Radana her pacifier. Radana lay back down in the hammock, sucking the pacifier like a piece of candy. Grandmother Queen clucked her tongue in encouragement, perhaps wishing she too had something to suck on.
Soon all three were asleep. Grandmother Queen's fan stopped waving, Milk Mother's hand rested on my back, and Radana's right leg hung out of the hammock, fat and still, like a bamboo shoot, the bells on her anklet soundless.
Mama appeared in the courtyard, having returned from her trip to the temple, which took longer than she'd planned. Quietly, so as not to wake us, she climbed the few short steps to the dining pavilion and sat down next to Papa, resting her arm on his thigh. Papa put down his notebook and turned to her. "She didn't mean it, you know. It was an innocent question."
He was talking about me. I lowered my eyelids, just enough to make them believe I was asleep.
Papa continued, "Les Khmers Rouges,Communists, Marxists. . .Whatever we adults call them, they're just words, funny sounds to a child, that's all. She doesn't know who they are or what these words mean."
I tried repeating the names in my head—Les Khmers Rouges . . . Communists. . . They sounded so fancy and elliptical, like the names of mythical characters in the tales of theReamkerI never tired of reading, thedevarajas,who were descendants of the gods, or the demonrakshasas,who fought them and fed on fat children.
"Once you shared their aspirations," Mama said, head resting on Papa's shoulder. "Once you believed in them."
I wondered what kind of race they were.
"No, not them. Not the men, but the ideals. Decency, justice, integrity . . . I believed in these and always will. Not only for myself but for our children. All this"—he looked around the courtyard—"will come and go, Aana. Privileges, wealth, our titles and names are transient. But these ideals are timeless, the core of our humanity. I want our girls to grow up in a world that allows them, if nothing else,these. A world without such ideals is madness."
"What aboutthismadness?"
"I hoped so much it wouldn't come to this." He sighed and went on. "Others abandoned us long ago at the first sign of trouble. And now so have the Americans. Alas, democracy is defeated. And our friends will not stay for its execution. They left while it was still possible, and who could blame them?"
"What about us?" Mama asked. "What will happen to our family?"
Papa was silent. Then, after what seemed like a long time, he said, "It's extremely difficult at this juncture, but I can still arrange to send you and the family to France."
"Me and the family?What aboutyou?"
"I will stay. As bad as it looks, there's still hope."
"I will not leave without you."
He looked at her, then, leaning over, kissed the nape of her neck, his lips lingering for a moment, drinking her skin. One by one he began to remove the flowers from her hair, loosening it and letting it spread across her shoulders. I held my breath, trying to make myself invisible. Without saying more, they stood up, walked toward the front stairway, climbed the newly polished steps, and disappeared into the house.
I looked around the teak settee. Everyone was still asleep. I heard droning in the distance. The drone grew louder, until it became deafening. My heart pounded, and my ears throbbed. I looked up, squinting past the red tile roof of the master house, past the top of the banyan tree, past a row of tall skinny palms lining the front gate. Then I saw it! Way up in the sky, like a large black dragonfly, its blade slicing the air,tuktuktuktuktuk. . .
The helicopter started to descend, drowning out all other sounds. I stood up on the teak settee to better see it. All of a sudden it swooped back up and went the other way. I stretched my neck, trying to see past the gate. But it was gone.Zrup!Vanished completely, as if it had only been a thought, an imagined dot in the sky.
The ground shook under me.


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When we wrote up Bill Caswell's exploits as the $500 Craigslist rally driver we never expected it to be one of the year's biggest stories. Bill's still got the E30, but he's since upgraded his shop crew.
Have we created a monster? Since first appearing on these pages he's been to Baja, on ESPN and in Forza. He's everywhere.
And while we don't begrudge him hiring a crew to help get his car ready for this year's Rally Mexico (your average phone conversation with Bill involves him, standing in his mom's garage, swearing about welding problems. He can use the help.), we don't think this bodes well for his current relationship.
"Yeah, she hasn't seen the new crew yet," Caswell told us from Mexico. "Wedding is kind of on hold anyway till I get my act together and get a job and stop racing."
May that day never come. Follow Bill's progress here and check out the full set from above here.
Photos by: Jeremy Cliff, courtesy of Caswell Motorsports