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The new year is upon us. After their victory today, Detroit is now on pace to go 162-0 in the 2015 season. I have no reason to doubt this.
Go Tigers. Happy New Year.
Somehow, someway, we're at the end.
Just recently I sent an email to all of the students I've had since 2012. I was surprised to see that the number was in the hundreds by this point. Of that pool, a handful wrote back with some very nice things to say. Surprisingly, though, a trend emerged that I hadn't quite expected: several, independent of one another, thanked me for being so open in the classroom. They noted how their other teachers never seemed as comfortable and as free to talk about themselves and admit their own flaws.
I guess it surprised me for a number of reasons, the first being that the word "comfortable" is one I'd never use to describe myself at any point in my life. It's not even in my vocabulary. But second, these notes presumed that it was a conscious decision, as if I could have done it any other way.
It reminds me that I've heard that insecure people who are scared of letting people in tend to be the people that talk the most about themselves. Lots of people mistake it for arrogance or narcissism, but it's really a defense mechanism: by preempting the conversation you can control it in some small way. You may also wear the you-as-conversation out before others have a chance to jump in.
That about sums it up for me, I think.
But these email compliments also overlook that teaching, at its best, is a kind of performance. In many ways my teaching is raw and overly personal; I take literally everything to heart (sometimes too much so). But at the same time, it's not really me. It's a version of me that I've created in the classroom and that I turn on each morning and turn off on my way home. I've often said that I'm who I truly want to be when I'm in front of a class, but I also think that's because I'm playing the part that I'm the most comfortable slipping in and out of.
Which is all to say that this annual list, and these annual entries are public, confessional, and a bit performative, too. I honestly don't know if they're me at my most essential, or me dolled up expecting an audience. Maybe it's both, or one or the other when I'm feeling more or less vulnerable. I dunno.
But it's been fun. And I think it demonstrates, for me at least, how closely aligned writing and music are, how little space sits between fact and fiction, how privacy is a fantasy that I don't allow myself to indulge in for at least one time each year.
And how like me I am.
Maybe in writing all of this and putting it out there you can see that you are too.
Like you, that is.
There are memories. And there are things you'll remember. Deep inside you always knew there was a difference. Even if you didn't care. Even if you didn't notice. You knew there was a difference.
Memories include your acupuncture place. The double storefront in the Western Addition that you found so unassuming you weren't sure if it was quaint or shady. But on second appointment you knew it was the best thing you'd ever experienced in San Francisco. Just $20 to nap openly with strangers in mismatched reclining chairs. You always picked the corners, the ones that faced up to the violet-leafed tree out front that shook in the wind and filtered the morning light to the rest of the room.
Your memories included the white noise machines, like low fans, playing over the looped recordings of wind chimes and waterfalls. They include how the acupuncturists always asked you, "How long?" and you always said "One hour…give or take" although you were always up before then, needles erect as you lay partially exposed under blue felt blankets.
In your memory the place is more Berkeley than San Francisco, more 1990s than 2000s, but just as gentle. Just as sweet. And for only $20. Can that be right? Just that to take a nap in the middle of the day in the middle of the city and have someone wake you up at an appointed time, see yourself out.
But next to that are the things you remember.
Like seeing Damien Rice in Oakland with her. Taking BART back to 16th and Mission and for some reason waiting with her outside the McDonald's as her roommate (who you secretly hated) came to take her away. You remember it being a near magical night. The kind of night where you were yourself but didn't fuck it up for once. You remember it going so quickly, including her being led away–in your memory, different, as if she was being physically pulled away.
And you remember her looking back. A goodbye like an invitation.
And here what you remember becomes your memory. As if they were different. As if it could be any other way. You always knew it would end this way.
So you picture yourself alone and relaxed, reclined and in a room full of strangers. Everyone's eyes closed. The thin glass barrier between the calm you feel and the world outside. And you look at the clock and see it's only been 50 minutes. You have time still. There's still time. And gently, gently you remember the words:
And we can't take back
What is done, what is past
So fellas, lay down your fears
'Cause we can't take back
What is done, what is past
So let us start from here…
It becomes your memory. What you take with you when you're tapped on the shoulder and the needles are taken out and she says "Did you rest?" and you say "Yes. Thank you." You slowly put on your shoes before looking around, realizing you won't be back but won't forget. Letting yourself out.
With a goodbye like an invitation.
Well, at least I'm consistently inconsistent. For the past five years I've put my year-end lists on indefinite hiatus as I've ended one (school) year, started another, and tried to find a new job at the same time. Last year I pre-empted the whole thing by not writing a single post. So why should this year be any different?
But then I do suppose I owe some sort of explanation. However ladies don't kiss and tell so I'll simply say that I've been all over the country, including a week out of the country, served on a pointless committee, taught classes that deserved so much more than I gave them, been a better Dad on the weekends than I've ever been, been a better husband at times, been a worse husband at times, been a fairly decent son, ditto for friend, and–let's face it–let myself go physically. I mean, seriously, would it kill me to exercise at least once a week?
Still, I don't give up that easy, and so here I am to finish out the final three songs. Granted I've completely forgotten what I was gonna write for each, and my worldview has been supplanted with excitement and disappointment in the early parts of the new year, but I'm still committed to what I started (despite what those bastards said in my supposed Senior Predictions in HS; I've never forgiven them for that by the way.)
So here we go. For better or worse. Just two more. Hang with me.
It's an awful feeling: the travel, the sacrifice, the pressure, the awkwardness, the expectation, the hopes, the waiting, the news, the disappointment, the guilt. And it's become an annual tradition.
Last year I flew to Chicago in the middle of the infamous Polar Vortex. Interviewed with one school in a cramped hotel room, my chair, mismatched, placed in front of the hallway in which I came. I thought it went well. I really did. I didn't. A few days later, back in San Francisco, I received the news and literally thought my life was ending. I had no hope. No future.
This year, just this week, I repeated the same process in a new place: Vancouver, different school, chair in the corner this time. Though I didn't think it went well. The people, well, it just didn't feel right. I couldn't tell if it was ignorance or arrogance that had someone from a different field currently doing the job they'd want me to do. I kinda knew. But I didn't. But then I did. My daughter was on my lap as I opened the message on my laptop.
But this year felt a bit different. No immediate loss of hope. No immediate sense of doom or a lack of future. Maybe the drugs help. Maybe I've matured to realize it's not the end. Or maybe I'm just used to it.
What's most striking about this process during this time of year is that it's a new year with new classes. Optimism should reign, and instead I have to fake it. And it's cold. And the sun comes down in slanted rays. Last year we introduced our daughter to a new nanny, her first. This year a new nanny, with my same mix of guilt and anxiety and fear. Last year I drove around listening to The Tragically Hip's "Nautical Disaster" on repeat. It sorta helped. This year I'm just gonna keep reading, and playing, and moving forward. As I've said in a past post: what other choice do I have?
Almost exactly one year ago I also penned this poem. It's gone unrevised so it's not in the best of shape. But the sentiment is there. I think that's worth something.
"January Triptych"
for this time of year
the temperatures so cold
well, that,
and the wind-
chill (to say nothing of the blowing snow)
they cancelled school
and work and special events
It's only the first week
of the new year, not even,
and the snow has surpassed
last year's totals
No one went out
and no one was happy
At just over 5"
it was the driest year
on record in San Francisco
and this time of year
the street corners look
like Christmas tree lots, or
miniature manicured forests
Some you pass and you
get the scent of sweet sap
Some you pass and they
just look dead, not even dying
I took ours to the corner
in broad daylight
which may be against some code
I abandoned it, didn't
look back
When I got home there was
a hole where it used to be
and pine needles
I tried to forget it
did errands
throughout the neighborhood
but each time I circled
our block I'd see it
standing alone still
with its familiar shape
and spaces
where we hung our memories
I walked home crying
in broad daylight
breaking some unwritten code
of how men should act
We'd been together
for over six months
some days
every waking hour, literally,
and when my disappointments came
as they tend to do
this time of year
she made it not matter
even though
I knew it mattered more
for her
than me
eventually, but I gave her away
left before the goodbyes
because I knew I couldn't take it
Took a picture of her
and Shannon walking
down the street
like some first day of school
like a happy time
like we all agreed to this
When I got home
I wiped my eyes and read
an email notifying me of another
rejection, no explanation
as if the entire world
and all those within it
are telling me something
telling me the same thing
about how what I'm doing
isn't working
Tomorrow I teach again
and hide my eyes
I filled up the car
saw our tree
hoping expecting that maybe
someone would take it home
so it would no longer be
my problem my guilt
Scanning then I hear
the worst song about missing someone
"I ain't missing you"
or something like that
the song that dawned on me
years after first hearing it
as a child
that he did miss her, it was ironic
but there's nothing metaphoric
about a line
"like a telegraph to your soul"
and still I keep listening
like in that first time
suddenly ashamed that I
let it speak to me
so obvious
so literal
such arbitrary breaks
Of course
this is not my story
but it was
and no one
not anything
is working today
except this stupid song
When we travel, it's not that we become who we truly are. Instead, we become who we truly want to be. Short trips are better.
We're still hungover from last night. We poured on the compliments, made eye contact, struck up conversations with strangers because we knew we'd never see them again. The bartender gave us free drinks, talked to us between serving other less-inviting customers. We felt the charm, the confidence in saying, "We're not from here…We're from California."
We stayed out late, stumbled like we were in college. The fog hung low to the cobblestones of this city, Vancouver, like some gentile vision of the future. Like a dream inside a cloud. We briefly debated what a donair was before buying one. We spent all morning regretting it, wishing the cleaning ladies would take out the trash to erase the smell of humus and cold french fries.
So we decide it's best to walk around Stanley Park: literally. Take the seawall around the perimeter and watch as the mist and fog climbs over the top of mystical cedars like the visual echo of bonfires. All around us we see fathers and children. One father pushes his small daughter, no more than a year old, in an umbrella stroller. She's sleeping, with her little head to the side and a calm, if bored, look on her tiny face. We know she's safe. Her entire world is being taken care of for her. Her dad is so lovely.
It all makes us very sentimental, and sad. All we want to do is hug our children. At times we're alone on the path, and in those moments we feel triumphantly independent. But yet we have the urge under us at all times to call the people we love, to tell them we miss them, to tell them we want them. We know that if they were actually there the magic of solitude would evaporate. And so, again, on the shaded eastern side, with snow-capped peaks in the distance to the north, we feel suddenly very sentimental and very sad.
And we wonder if we forgot to take our meds, because it was before our meds that we always felt sentimental and sad, and things that make most people happy make us sad, like looking at old photographs or thinking of family trips when we were young, and we try to recall if we popped that pill bottle open last night after the donair, whatever that is, and whether just missing one night can account for feeling so out of control with emotions, emotions that, no doubt, are pure and real, but nonetheless feel like they can push us over the edge, don't get too close to the seawall now.
When we notice a memorial bench, with a brief, almost laughable nameplate: SoandSo: He made people happy. Just that. He made people happy. And for the first time in our lives we realize that maybe it really is as simple as trying to make others happy. That in a somewhat unselfish way we had always thought it was about making ourselves happy. But this guy made others happy, and someone thought enough of that to memorialize it here. What a revelation.
But the revelation passes as we realize the inherent fallacy in such a summation. That we can't always make people happy. That sometimes we have to make people unhappy. That our daughters can't always get what they want. That sometimes we need to be alone to be better lovers. That sometimes telling people they're wrong or bad is the only thing we can do. And everyone's unhappy for a time. And maybe they're happy again in the future and it's never clear if it's a causal relationship or what.
And the scale of it all makes us think about God, and how God maybe faces the same dilemmas. Except that she understands the scale. Or we hope she does. Has an understanding of the infinite expanse of compassion and love that we can only glimpse in pockets, at most, if we're lucky, once or twice a day. Sometimes we don't see it at all.
But today, in Stanley Park, we do, and we continue walking, slowly turning counterclockwise back to the city, wondering if tonight we should treat ourselves to the cute bistro down the block, and how the coffeehouse inside the art gallery is open till 6 and we can make it if we speed up a bit. And then all the emotion is gone. All the introspection. It's been a while. It's cold. We're tired. We suddenly feel that our inner-thighs are cold and chafing to our stiff jeans.
We just want to go home. We were who we were, and we allowed ourselves to be selfish. Just as we think this we pass Siwash Rock, which was supposedly a person (being?) rewarded for his unselfishness. He was rewarded for being unselfish by being turned into a large rock structure next to the island. Later we try to confirm this on Wikipedia and read a different story. We're confused. We don't know who to believe.
There's a day left in this trip and we're already checking our flight times. We're already ready to be ourselves again. We're already ready. But till then we just think about the people we love. And we make sure to take our meds. Because that's important, too.
All I wanted was to be left alone. Alone to read. Alone to prepare. Alone to be alone. I try to explain that it's hard-wired in me, but it never comes out clearly. Saying without hurting, "I just want to be alone."
And then I was. Flying across the country alone. Back home. Stepping out into the 60 degree California night en route to a dark, cold house. Alone. But then I got into the shuttle, just a short trip between SFO and my car. And there I was face to face with 20-somethings. Beautiful. Big diamond rings on the women's hands. Smart clothes on the men. Tanned. Actual surfboards taking up the luggage rack. My overpacked suitcase between my legs, I looked down at my winter coat, now covered with cat hair and dry skin from a week away and a day of travel. I wondered if it was all worth it.
Immediately, though, I thought about this actual draft I composed before the trip, while I was still surrounded. Not alone. Not home. You can tell why I saved it as a draft, but never planned to publish it in this form:
There's something quietly humbling about being here. In small town, rural Minnesota in the depth of winter. I live most of my life feeling insecure and out of place: knowing that I don't make enough, that I'm not good looking enough, that my future isn't as bright as I once hoped it would be. I'm convinced that my shoulders have grown hunched to reflect my inner feelings of inadequacy.
And then I come here, from sunny, futuristic San Francisco, teaching at Stanford, with several degrees to my name, seemingly a world away and so much to feel confident about. And here it means nothing. Instead I'm surrounded by men who built their own houses, women who sacrificed their careers to take care of their children and parents, and a historic downtown that keeps bumping along, unwilling to give in to the economic decline and drain of recent generations.
But here it's different. It's not inadequacy or insecurity. Here it's a mutual admiration; that we live our separate lives in our separate ways
No one is at a loss for me not continuing in that vein. But the sentiment was at least partly right: at home I feel undervalued, and away I feel, well, perhaps just a bit full of myself.
But what does that say about being alone? The urge to be alone in the latter, the consequential loneliness I feel alone in the former?
I arrived home, as expected, to a house that had been locked up for a week. It was dark, and cold. I put things in order without music or sounds. I drank a beer by the light of Christmas bulbs we hadn't taken down before leaving. I got into bed and never felt warm. And this, for what it's worth, is pure coincidence, but today (the day after) I listened to Chet Faker's "Cigarettes & Loneliness" on repeat at least a dozen times. I'm not feeling particularly lonely, but it still felt like the right song for the right time. It still does.
This song may just be my favorite song off of my favorite album of 2014. Against a lot of odds perhaps since I had never heard of him until my friend Christian dropped his name. Even then I didn't get around to listening to the LP until CBC Radio 2's The Signal started adding "Gold" to their rotation. And even then I was more dialed in to the R&B that anchors the front of the album more than the introspective, DIY nature of the back-end. In fact, this song really only came to my immediate attention when I fell asleep one night on the train back home. As we were pulling into 4th and King this song was humming in my headphones. I awoke, startled to be into the city already. I restarted the song, rediscovering it for the first time. Listening to it on repeat for what ended up being the way home.
And because Christian thinks that 1998 and C&L go together (they're back to back on the album) here's a live version, which–it should be noted–should probably be played first, before the video above.
In honor of this song's entry, I'll share what I believe to be the cheapest, quickest way to roast quality coffee at home. Ever since I started roasting my own several years ago, I haven't bought any beans from stores or other roasters. You won't either once you perfect your own personal roasts and blends.
What you'll need:
Where to get the stuff:
There are many places to buy green coffee online. It's a bit more difficult, however, to find places that are high in quality, consistent, and low in prices. My favorite is Sweet Maria's, a really reputable importer out of Oakland, CA. Their website has beautiful descriptions and flavor profiles, and their selection is typically can't-go-wrong quality.
Beans, like anything, are cheaper when you buy them in bulk. However, I typically buy between 2-5lbs when I'm trying a new bean; you don't want to get stuck with a bean you don't care for. I love fruity, rich beans from Ethiopia (and sometimes amp up the berry profile by getting dry-process beans; though that's a bit controversial in some parts.) However, I also love dark, caramelly beans that coat your mouth with a rich cup. So I also buy beans from Java and Sumatra. To make a really balanced blend, I combine them both, typically at a 2:1 ratio of Java:Ethiopia. But you can play around.
I bought my hot air popper off of Craigslist years ago for $10, but you can find good ones new online for $25 or under. The best ones have air vents on the side of the chamber, and not the bottom (I'll explain why later.) They also have an on/off switch. Mine doesn't, which means I have to unplug the machine every time I want to stir. The plastic upper part doesn't matter; you'll remove that and throw it out anyway.
The basic process:
1. Pour your beans into the popper
The less beans you roast per roast the easier it is to control, but obviously the longer it takes to accrue any significant amount. As a result, I typically roast about a cup per roast.
2. Set up bowl under popper to catch chaff
Beans have several layers of skin that they shed during a roast. The popper will blow them out into a waiting bowl that you can dispose of later.
3. Cover the top of the popper
Like popcorn, the beans will fly around when you turn the popper on. I cover the top of mine with a vegetable steamer. Just make sure whatever you use has vents to let the hot air escape.
4. Turn it on
The beauty of this method is that it's a one-step process. Incredibly easy. The nuance (and dare I say, skill) comes in how long you leave the beans roasting.
5. After a few minutes, turn off popper and stir beans
This is where side vents have an advantage over a bottom vent. Side vents will blow the beans around in a circle, typically resulting in a more even roast and less required stirring. However, in a bottom vent popper (like mine) you need to stop and stir so that some beans don't get stuck at the bottom and burn while others pop free and stay green. You'll need to gauge for yourself (and your popper) how many times to repeat this step, but I typically only do it once per batch.
6. Listen for the cracks
This process largely involves judging beans' roast level by the sounds they emit. There are three basic stages of cracks that correspond to beans' doneness:
7. Turn off popper and pour beans into strainer
After the first crack your beans are ready to take off. However, depending on the flavor profile even these "done" beans may not taste like much. Getting closer to the second crack gets closer to a medium roast, or what most people are used to. Again, though, it depends on your beans. Some beans take really well to a dark roast, but be ready if you push it that far, the beans will continue to roast for a while after you dump them, and you may get a strainer full of burnt, undrinkable beans. It obviously depends, but I typically go to the second crack (which, admittedly, I often can only barely hear) before taking off most beans.
8. Pass beans between strainers, preferably outside
Again, beans will continue to roast even once removed from the popper. By passing them from strainer to strainer you're helping them to cool down quicker. By doing it outside (or, in my case, out a 2nd floor window) you're not only cooling them down, but helping to remove extra chaff. After a few minutes they'll be good to go.
9. Store in an air-tight container for at least a day
A lot of coffee roasting guides will say you can drink coffee at this stage, but I generally don't agree. Put them in an air-tight container like a jar (if you put them in a plastic container they'll be fine, but the emitting gas will probably blow the cover) for at least 24hrs. When you next open the jar up you'll not only be ready to drink your first home-roasted coffee, you'll also be treated to a nose-full of the freshest coffee you've ever enjoyed.
That's it. Cheap: about $6/lb. Quick: about 4-8min. Simple: just the steps above. Experiment. Don't be afraid: it's just coffee.


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- Infowars - http://www.infowars.com -
Report: Al Qaeda Planning to Bomb US Plane in Run-Up to Olympics
Posted By Adan On July 1, 2012 @ 3:00 pm In Old Infowars Posts Style,Tile,War on Terror | Comments Disabled
NY Post
July 1, 2012
Intelligence officials have uncovered a new al Qaeda plot to bomb a US passenger jet in the run-up to the London Olympics, according to a new report.
Al Qaeda's Yemen-based terror cell, the same organization behind the 2009 attempted underwear bombing and a similar terror plot uncovered by a CIA informant less than two months ago, is believed to be behind this latest planned attack, according to the Sunday Times of London.
The plan is not specifically targeted to the Olympics, intelligence officials told the paper, and instead should be seen as another attempt by al Qaeda's Yemen affiliate to blow up a US plane.
Article printed from Infowars: http://www.infowars.com
URL to article: http://www.infowars.com/al-qaeda-planning-to-bomb-us-plane-in-run-up-to-olympics/
Click here to print.
Copyright © 2015 Infowars. All rights reserved.

subset: commoncrawl


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Massively covers many different angles of the MMO universe - it's not all just World of Warcraft. This week's round up will try to give you a look at the best WoW-related content on the site from the last week. You can click on the links below or subscribe to a special WoW-only Massively feed.
|Could Blizzard be shipping Lich King without the polish it needs?
By pushing Lich King out the door on November 13th, is Blizzard giving short shrift to their legendary dedication to polish?
|MMOGology: WoW on easy mode
My buddy Rob and I play World of Warcraft frequently, but between the two of us he's got the most /played time. He's got a few 70s on a PvP server and a few 70s on the PvE server where we're spending most of our time. He's also an alt-a-holic and has tons of mid-level characters. He's played every class in the game; most of them thoroughly. After spending so much time leveling so many characters he recently resolved not to level another character until the release of Wrath of the Lich King.
|Mark Jacobs makes the case for playing WAR instead of WoW
Tracey John over on the MTV multiplayer blog recently caught up with Mark Jacobs, General Manager of EA Mythic and lead Warhammer Online designer. Some of the questions posed have already been covered, and we've been busy giving out all the information we can get our eager little hands on, but possibly the most loaded of them all has been left until the day of WAR's launch: why should a World of Warcraft player come over and play WAR?
|The allegedly incontestable momentum of World of Warcraft
We relish informed opinion pieces here at Massively. That's what the professional site gamesindustry.biz is serving up for us, in the form of an editorial by site founder Rob Fahey. He tackles a subject we've looked at ourselves fairly often in the last few weeks: the nature of World of Warcraft's dominion, how long it can last, and whether challenging WoW is even worthwhile.
|The Best of Massively: Our ten most important interviews
We have exciting news, dear readers. In just over a month, Massively will be one year old! We're very proud of how far we've come since last November, and we'd like to thank you for sticking with us through all these months. To celebrate our first birthday we're looking back at the most interesting stuff we've experienced so far!
|Behind the Curtain: MMOre Morality
So, it seems like Knights of the Old Republic Online is a definite thing now. I've actually been trying not to think to hard about that – I normally end up having to change my pants afterwards – it hasn't worked though, so my washing machine's been taking a serious beating recently.
|What is the potential lifespan of an MMO?
"All online games have a lifespan." True, there's no denying that everything has a lifespan (except maybe plastic), but we all know what he's saying here.
|Raptr tracks you and your friends' WoW progress, plus more
If you're the type of person who loves to watch (re: stalk) their friends and Twitter just isn't doing it for you, then check out the Raptr beta. This nifty social networking site focuses on gaming and will track your activity over a plethora of platforms and games such as Steam, Xbox Live, Spore and of course World of Warcraft.
|An MMO showdown: City of Heroes vs. WoW vs. EVE
For some gamers born and bred with traditional first person shooters and console games, MMOs are a daunting prospect, with an appeal that's not fully understood. The stereotypes (which are sometimes true) that persist are that "MMOs are boring, MMOs are too slow, all it is is kill quests, item gathering, stat-gazing and crafting -- and all those things are boring, boring, boring."
|The Best of Massively: Our most helpful guides
In just over one month, Massively will celebrate its first birthday! Last week we started a countdown to the event by kicking off a series of features highlighting the best stuff from the site so far. We started with our ten most important interviews. Today, we're continuing the weekly countdown by listing some of your (and our) favorite guides!
|Player Consequences: Are MMOs finished with forums?
The creation of the Internet has made communication affordable, fast, and almost completely reliable. It's no wonder that almost every facet of our lives has been affected by it, especially our entertainment. Mainstream entertainment like mp3s and streaming television have only recently found their way online.
|Anti-Aliased: PvPissed
It's in the nature of every MMO player to snap at change -- it's what we do. When the patch notes reveal that Class X got a decrease in DPS to make them of a "more balanced power", you can expect all players of Class X to lead a revolt across the forums with pitchforks and torches. This behavior has become so commonplace that we tend to just ignore it after a while.
|One Shots: If you thought Fel Reavers were bad
Today we'd like to introduce you to the Northrend's bigger, badder version of the Fel Reaver, courtesy of this awesome screenshot sent in to us by Deadend, who is playing on the Northrend server in the Wrath of the Lich King beta.


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Looking for cruise-in photos from last night?
We're trying something new this year by posting photos from our cruise nights to Twitter and Facebook rather than here on the blog. That way, if you have photos of your own from our cruise nights that you'd like to share, you can either post them to Twitter with the #cruisein2011 hashtag or to our Facebook wall.
8 Comments - Leave a Reply
8 Responses to "Looking for cruise-in photos from last night?"
oh well. I don't use Twitter or Facebook.
Last year I brought a 1969 AMX unrestored with 4400 miles on it and the Hemmiings staff didn't seem interested in it. If I bring it back this year and use sticks to prop the hood up,will you look at it?
You need to find VINTAGE sticks to prop up your hood !!!!! LOL
I agree with previous poster about the props holding up the hood! What the hell was up with that? Even the '48 Ford on its right had the ability to hold its own hood up.
You folks have probably noticed this already, the photo on page 47 of the Nov. '11 issue of HMN in the lower right corner is NOT the Favorite Dodge. It is the 2nd. Favorite Dodge of Kevin Kopacz.


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Jack Eaton, 81
Jack Eaton
of Olalla
April 30, 1927 to Sept. 13, 2008
Jack Eaton, 81, of Olalla, WA, died Sept 13, 2008, of cancer at his home. He is the last of 10 children.
He was born April 30, 1927, in Malden, WA, to Frank and Mary Alta (Mackey) Eaton.
He served as a PFC in the 511th Parachute Infantry in the U.S. Army from 1945 to 1947 being awarded the Victory Medal.
He married Beverly Mobley on Aug. 30, 1947, in Olalla. Jack worked for 29 years as a machinist at Boeing. He also loved fishing.
Survivors include his wife, Beverly, of Olalla; sons, George (Robin) Eaton of WA and Robert (Dee) Eaton of SC; daughters, Mary (Cecil) Pullins, of Olalla, Betty (Gene) Seichter, of MN, and Alice (Steve) Knutson, of Port Orchard, WA; 16 grandchildren; 29 great-grandchildren; and 9 great-great-grandchildren.
Graveside service will be Friday, Sept 19, 1 p.m. at Fraola Cemetery in Port Orchard. A special thank you to Hospice of Kitsap County. Arrangements by Rill's Life Tribute Center. Please view and sign the online memorial at www.rill.com.
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Slacker & Steve's Blog
Who Stole Your Thunder?
by Slacker And Steve
posted Jul 16 2013 3:33PM
You can't steal someone's thunder any more than Gabourey Sidibe did to Jimmy Kimmel! She showed up to his wedding in a wedding dress! "Precious" actress Gabourey Sidibe showed up wearing a wedding dress and veil to the Ojai, Calif. Ceremony as a joke. The Daily Mail reported Monday that Sidibe later changed into a red dress and that she and Kimmel laughed and hugged at the reception.
A guest confirmed to HuffPost Weddings that Sidibe walked down the aisle at the beginning of the wedding -- and that McNeary orchestrated the prank! Kimmel and McNearey began dating in 2009 and got engaged in August 2012. Their star-studded wedding was held at the Ojai Valley Inn & Spa.
Slacker reminisces to when he was 19 and working at a record store. It was the time of year where they announced the manager of the year. Every year the same guy won, but this time Slacker's name was called at the award ceremony. As he was walking on stage to accept his award, the guy who has won in years passed collapsed onto one knee and started having a heart attack! Slacker hasn't forgiven him since.
Lil D once went to a wedding where one of the guys proposed to his girlfriend...at his own brothers wedding!
Has someone ever stolen your thunder?
My mom got married about a year ago and everyone expected me to act out in some way at the wedding. I of course wouldn't do such a thing, but with all the pressure, I fainted instead…woops!
With Love,
Intern Elana
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ABERDEEN, Miss. — The collections of at least two major estates will head to auction this month, including a set of pieces culled from the historic "Daybreak" mansion of Montclair, N.J.
The auction, set for Feb. 15 and 16 and hosted by Stevens Auction Company, will feature of a wide range of collectables and artwork, antique clocks, furniture, porcelains, vases, urns and smalls.
In addition to the "Daybreak" pieces, also headlining the event will be the lifetime collection of antique clocks from Mr. and Mrs. Steve Johnson. The first day of the auction will be almost entirely devoted to the Johnson collection.
Mr. Johnson collected, repaired and restored clocks, and he owned examples by many of the world's most prominent makers, such as Eli Terry, Seth Thomas and Ansonia. In all, about 90 clocks will change hands. Porcelains and smalls, also from the Johnsons, will be sold.
"This promises to be the highest concentration of quality items we have sold in years," said Dwight Stevens of Stevens Auction.
A number of pieces by 19th-century American furniture makers will also cross the block. These will include a scarce rosewood recamier by John H. Belter in the Fountain Elms pattern (circa 1850) and a rosewood marble-top dresser with pierced carved mirror frame and crown signed Thomas Brooks (circa 1870).
Other highlights include a rosewood rococo marble center table with detailed carved fruit basket attributed to Alexander Roux (circa 1855), which is one of several Roux lots in the sale. Also offered will be a rare set of six heavily carved walnut Victorian dining chairs and a rococo banquet dining table with claw feet that will stretch to 14 feet 6 inches.
One of the more curious items available for bid is a late 19th- and early 20th-century vampire-killing kit, which includes a cross, wood mallet, candles, mirror, rosary, black gun powder, Bible and wood stakes.
A two-day open house will be held on Thursday and Friday, Feb. 14 and 15, from 10 a.m. to 7 p.m. both days. The sale will begin on Feb. 15 at 4 p.m. Internet bidding will be hosted by LiveAuctioneers.com.
For more information, visit Stevens Auction Company's website.


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The girl in the White Gown
Dear reader
I've come to share an event that has occurred between two people, both related in blood, yet it seems that family connections have nothing to do with said event. It starts with my friend's grandfather, Jacob, who now spends his days in a mental institution due to dementia, and a very severe form of insanity. If you were to visit him at this moment, you would find him in a fetal position. rocking back and forth, repeating the phrase "Do not read the journal". The journal, was actually written by Jacob himself, filled with experiences and events in his life that were worth mentioning, acting almost as a diary, except this particular journal, cannot be destroyed, by any means. Many have observed, as two people, Jacob and his son, Gregory, have fallen into this Journal's curse, and nobody has even attempted to touch the Journal.
Until now.
A few minutes ago, I thoroughly read through Jacob's Journal, and, to this point, I am not suffering any effects. I came to come upon reading this Journal, purely out of curiosity, and it now rests to the left of me, face up. It has an odd appearance, a light leather cover with the title written in ink, and the paper is rough and old. It appears very dusty, but no matter how many times I wipe it with a cloth, the book retains its ancient look. I recall the first time I came in contact with the book, as soon as my fingers touched the leather cover, I felt overcome with a dark presence, I figured it was just my imagination, but I could never be too sure. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm sharing this information with you. If the assumptions of the book are true, then I surely will follow under the spell and go mad, but I know that you reading this right now, won't be affected as you, never came in contact with the Journal. As a note, Gregory also kept a Journal that he wrote in regularly. I read most of it, but there is a note at the back of the book, I'll save it for later. I will now list Journal entries from Jacob's Journal.
December 5th, 1959
It's very late out, but I still had to take my Labrador out for a walk. It gets very eerie out at this time of night, especially considering the fact that I live in a clearing between two forests, that get very dark at night, and almost gives off an ominous glow. Adding to the fact, that I'm the only one who resides here, and my nearest neighbor is about seven miles away, it gets very lonely. But I like the loneliness. It gives me comfort knowing that I don't have to be bothered by the problems of the common people, or not having to compete in a neighborly feud, to make one of our lawns look better than the other, I like it here. The walk is quick and I return home to sleep.
December 6th 1959
I had to drive into town this morning, all out of dog food, and I could use some groceries myself. I bring my journal with me. After I parked in the lot, I started to walk toward the supermarket, and I accidentally bump into an elderly woman, about eighty years old. Before I could apologize, she rips my journal from my hand, and gazes into it. I attempted to take it back, but before that, she mutters something in a foreign language I can't quite make out, then tosses it back into my hands. I think nothing of the incident and continue on my way to the supermarket.
The strangest thing happened tonight. While I was walking my dog in the clearing, I saw a little girl, maybe no older than 10, staring at the ground. She had jet black hair, and wore a very dirty white gown. Her skin was as pale as the night was dark, and the odd thing was, my dog took no notice to her. My dog, who frequently explodes at the sight of a moving leaf, doesn't take notice in the little girl before me. Strange. I look down, and notices that she isn't wearing shoes, or socks even. I asked her if she was lost, and if she needed help, but she didn't give a single response. She didn't even move. She just stood there, as still as a rock. I decided to turn back, because I was certain that she would be gone in the morning.


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Professionals and superintendents save incalculable hours and money by identifying these subsurface targets while avoiding undue damage to surrounding areas. GPR provides an added safety net to job sites, by helping to avoid injuries, damage to utilities, and hazardous spills. By having the fore knowledge of where subsurface objects lie, earth can be moved safely and efficiently. In addition to the ability to mark targets in real time, the data captured in the field can be subsequently processed by TeaCo technicians to create a permanent map of the location of subsurface targets. If requested by the client, TeaCo can simultaneously implement a DGPS into the data string in order to create the ability to have a permanently georeferenced map of the area investigated. The ability to produce 3-D maps is also available. The information provided by these processes can be invaluable when attempting to mitigate or analyze areas of concern for any given project.
"One of the best features of GPR is that it provides a real time, interpretable cross sectional view of the subsurface. Despite many mapping and 3-D visualization developments and advances, some professionals think that it is the only way to display GPR data. Going the next step of generating plan map images from data collected in grids greatly enhances the ability to understand and interpret GPR survey data. Displaying GPR data as a series of plan maps slicing deeper into the subsurface allows users to see spatial correlation of targets. Important targets can be differentiated from targets of non interest. For example, responses from utilities will produce linear targets while rocks will produce point targets." Sensors & Software Subsurface Views July 2008.
GPR services offered by TeaCo have potential applications in multiple industries with little to no adverse effects to the environment or to the health of workers that may be present during the execution of the survey. For instance, on many occasions it is common for concrete to be x-rayed and it is required that those areas be evacuated due to the potentially harmful gamma radiation emitted during imaging.
GPR can be used in a variety of media to include rock, soil, ice, fresh water, concrete, pavements, bridge decking, and structures. It is capable of detecting changes in materials, cracks, voids, and buried objects. TeaCo Geophysical, a SDVOSB (Service Disabled Veteran Owned Small Business) company based in Mississippi, is positioned and capable to satisfy this niche in the engineering, geotechnical, scientific, and environmental disciplines in the southeast. Please contact our professional staff today for more information regarding your specific project needs and requirements.


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Natalie Dylan: Brilliant Capitalist or Expensive Skank Ho?
The Virgin scooped me on this (you little bastard), but it's worth blogging about at the Honeyandlance Ranch, where we sell virgins cheap.
Natalie Dylan (not real name), a graduate student at Sacramento State University, is auctioning off her virginity for the cool price of $250,000. According to her, the money is going to pay off college loans and will create a lot of "financial stability" in her life. Well, no fucking shit sister, a quarter mil would create financial stability for pretty much any person ever. Also, last time I checked, grad school at Sac State didn't cost $250k.
The Bunny Ranch in Nevada is brokering the transaction. You can see Natalie's flyer here.
Predicably, there's plenty of negative reaction to her stunt. See here, where Linda Fiori says:
Thanks for lowering the status and respectability of women and college students everywhere. Women have made so many strides toward independence and gender equality in recent years, it was about time someone took us a few steps back.
I actually like Natalie Dylan's ploy for the following reasons:
1. There's a market for the virginity of hot chicks, and Dylan is capitalizing on that. Sex and money, that's the American Dream, baby.
2. The money, if invested properly, could set her up for life.
3. The notoriety, if leveraged properly, could be worth millions. Book deals and speaking engagements, anyone?
4. Since she's a college girl, she could either a) lose her vcard to some douchebag at a frat party, or b) pick a carefully screened and interviewed partner that she knows everything about. This would maximize the experience. I would go further and say that the guy she picks will be nice to her before, during, and after the "date." That's more than you can hope for from a random college player.
The major problem I have with this whole escapade is…how do I put this delicately…attempting to articulate…Dylan isn't hot enough to buy at that price!! I mean, at best, she's an 8, and that's one expensive lay.
Check out the WalletPop blog for an overview of the story.
Ladies and gents, would you sell off your vcard for $250,000?


text: Brendan Hoffman, Getty Images Former NYC Mayor Ed Koch Dies at 88 By Daniel J. Cassavaugh February 1, 2013 | CNY News Former New York City Mayor Ed Koch died early Friday morning at the age of 88 after spending the last several months in and out of hospitals. Read More|Comment Category: Articles Tags: ed koch, mayor, new york state Send to a friend! Share on Facebook Share on Twitter Pin it! Reddit This! Share on Tumblr!


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German Shepherd Training Guide
Shepherd dog training would be the many enjoyment you've ever endured! Since you've got yourself your own GSD dog begin teaching immediately and don't spend any moment.
Shepherd puppy puppies are as they develop they become faithful canine pals and very wise. Nevertheless, it's your work educate and to effectively socialize them.
Should you are scanning this it is because you're: 1- preparing for 2 or your puppy – dealing with problems and the delights of possessing your own German Shepherd puppy-dog!
Do not despair, if you have no idea how to proceed…read-along and are feeling confused having a hair ball jumping with unlimited power. Here-you will discover that which you should do of dog-hood to avoid conduct issues later on, in addition to instruction ideas to create your lifetime only a little simpler in those times of time.
You'll also discover action-by- step lessons begin your dog in his prolonged learning journey and to show fundamental instructions.
German Shepherd dog training: socialization! When you only begin training a puppy shepherd, memorize 6 basic orders it needs to know. They are: how to sit, stop walking, stop barking at others, walk in and out and be alert. All widely used German shepherd commands are also available in German. They are concise and very strict. Go to wucc2010.com to read more info about it. Socialization implies that you have to supply your child German Shepherd with good and fascinating relationships. During months 8 through 12 of his existence, that are probably his first months along with you, puppies discover what isn't secure and is. Should you make sure your puppy it has an optimistic and satisfying experience, and interacts, with as folks, pets, creatures, looks, items, places and encounters, you'll increase a trusted and comfortable pet.
Shepherd dogs could are likely to become concerned with visitors and are faithful. Socialization may make sure a powerful relationship along with you develops without creating a difficult over-protectiveness.
German Shepherd dog training socialization guidelines:
Never individual a dog from litter mates and his mom prior to 7-8 weeks' era. During this period, mother shows her puppies your dog world's guidelines. Among the guidelines that are most significant is body gestures conversation.
Once you go to the vet and get your baby Shepherd, start socialization IMMEDIATELY! Sadly several veterans may let you know to not consider your pup from the home till they've had their shots all. This certainly will have excessively poor effects that will become obvious only if your dog becomes a grownup and is old-school thinking. With no complete group of pictures, your pup is susceptible to contagious illnesses, nevertheless getting your puppy to early socialization classes where other pets are also immunized decreases the chance for getting ill and certainly will create your German Shepherd a comfortable, well-adjusted and friendlier dog. Modern vets completely motivate it and understand that socialization is of vital significance.
Consider socialization in your hands. Invest the very first four weeks keeping events your own house! What???? Yes, events! Ask family for Karaoke and all of your friends, activities watching etc. keep these things provide their children also! And always be certain socialization is approximately relationships that are good. If the children or people create your pup only a little frightened, merely take away and let other activities are explored by the dog.


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Mike Davis: Middletown school resource officer was face of police department to generation of kids
'Officer D' dies at 65
MIDDLETOWN, Ohio – The kids called him, respectfully and affectionately, "Officer Davis" or "Officer D." And Mike Davis, a school resource officer in the Middletown City Schools for 26 years, called each one of them by name.
It didn't matter if he met them 10 minutes ago or 10 years ago.
Maj. Rodney Muterspaw, who worked with Davis in the DARE program in the mid-1990s, said Davis' ability to remember names — even years after students graduated from the program — "struck a chord with the kids," the Journal-News reported.
Davis turned a school bus tragedy – he called it the "worst day" of his career when a second-grader was run over and killed in 1989 – into a Safety Town program that taught school bus safety to every new kindergartner every year.
And he made that program fun, with lessons that kids never forgot.
Some 10 years later, Justin Anderson, now a Middletown High School student, still remembered this verse:
"Seat on seat, back on back, feet on floor, hands in lap," Anderson recalled Thursday.
Anderson had just heard the bad news: Davis died Wednesday at the age of 65.
Davis, who served 44 years on the Middletown force, fought heart disease and prostate cancer after retiring in January 2011, according to the Journal-News.
"There are not many great people still around and he was one of them, for sure," Anderson said.
Middletown police chief David VanArsdale said Davis had been a narcotics detective in the 1970s, making drug busts on the city streets.
Davis was tough, slick and sharp, but with a soft side – and with good looks – like David Soul's character, Hutch, in the 70s TV crime show, "Starsky and Hutch."
When Harvey Poff, a longtime school resource officer, left the Middletown police department, he recommended Davis, the Journal-News reported. Poff trained Davis for about one week and Davis "gravitated right to it."
"He was so good with young people," Poff said.
Muterspaw called Davis' death "a tremendous loss" for the city because he went above and beyond the work of a police officer. He visited troubled kids at home, and counseled them whenever it was needed, Muterspaw said.
"He was just so passionate," Muterspaw said.
At Middletown High School, students who met Davis a decade ago remembered him fondly Thursday.
"Every kid has a story about him," said teacher Juley Lawson. "You can ask anyone one in this whole school."
Matt Muterspaw's story was not unusual. "I was just going into kindergarten" when he met Davis, Muterspaw said.
They met again years later.
"He said, 'How is seventh grade going?' I was like, 'It's going good.'
"I was like, 'Wow.' "
One of Davis' close friends, Ann Mort, said Davis became "the best friend to our kids all over town." He knew the kids, their parents and pets, she said. That made him "a very good tool" for the police department, she said.
Greg Schwarber, Middletown's police chief when Davis retired, said Davis single-handedly influenced the lives of thousands of children.
He called Davis "the face and the name" of the police department.
"He left a legacy that few of us can lay claim to," Schwarber said. "He left his mark on this community.
"The Middletown community has lost an icon."
Davis is survived by his wife, Beverly, children, Tracy (Ron Cantrell) Wells, Danny Zimmerman, Mark (Jessica) Zimmerman, and Jason Castleman; 10 grandchildren, and many family members and special friends.
Visitation will take place from 4 to 9 p.m. Friday at Towne Boulevard First Church of God. The funeral is at 2 p.m. Saturday, with burial to follow at Woodside Cemetery. The Middletown Police Honor Guard will participate.
Baker-Stevens-Parramore Funeral Home is handling the arrangement.
See the Journal-News story and read more remembrances of Officer Davis at http://www.journal-news.com/news/news/police-officers-death-means-city-has-lost-an-icon/nbrcH/
See Davis' obituary at http://www.bakerstevensparramore.com/obituaries/Paul-Michael-Davis2142226742/#!/Obituary


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Watching movies and playing video games tends to be easier when you can see the picture. Don't let the lights go out on your home entertainment or business presentation on account of a failed projector lamp. This Optoma Replacement Lamp for EzPro 731 provides 150W of power, 1100 ANSI lumens, and 2000 hours of lamp life for all your viewing needs, delivering clear, vibrant images. From a quiet night on the couch to a crowded get-together, nothing brings people together like great visuals and the thrill of quality home entertainment.
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Elvating ALT
May 1, 2010
Hi,I am a HBV carrier with HBe Ag negative, But the within a spate of three weeks the ALT level in my blood rose from 71 to 85. It was 46 when l was first diagnosed of the desease in November 2008.My doctor says commencing therapy now is not the best idea but I have all the symtoms of liver injury except Jaundice.
Response from Dr. McGovern
I don't know if you need treatment because you have not indicated whether you have detectable HBV DNA.
Secondly your LFT changes are modest at best. There is no urgent need to act now until you have more information.
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