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In Arabic, tahrir means "liberation," and Tahrir Square acquired its name after the coup of 1952, which ousted King Farouk and realigned power across the Arab world. It is a vast teardrop of open space adjacent to dusty, crowded streets and the tight mass of alleys of downtown Cairo—a once grand central district that has since been left to rot as most of the élite moved out to the suburbs.
Around Tahrir are several imposing buildings, which seem almost to form a diagram of Egyptian life. At the northern end of the square is the Egyptian Museum, containing Pharaonic treasure spanning millennia. To its west is the modern slab of the National Democratic Party headquarters. South of that is the home of the Arab League, which once enshrined the hopes of the Pan-Arabist movement but is now largely considered a moribund talking shop. On the eastern side of the square is the elegant former campus of the American University in Cairo, converted in part from a palace built for a nineteenth-century Ottoman pasha. At the southern end is the Omar Makram mosque, where state funerals often occur, and the Mogamma, a dour edifice built, in the early fifties, as a gift from the Soviet Union. The Mogamma houses a vast bureaucracy—tax-evasion-investigation offices, the passport office, departments issuing drivers' licenses and marriage licenses—whose labyrinthine tangles are notorious among Egypt's citizenry. A block from the square, in a side street, is the American Embassy, one of the largest United States foreign missions, and a reminder of the two billion dollars of American aid, including $1.3 billion in military assistance, that flows into the country each year. Three large hotels—the Ramses Hilton, the Nile Hilton, and the Semiramis Intercontinental—surround the square, catering to some of the twelve million tourists who contribute a significant proportion to Egypt's economy.
The concierge who showed me to my room at the Semiramis joked, "I've worked here for twenty years and it's the first time anyone has asked for a city view. Always people are desperately wanting a room on the Nile." For several days, the square had been full of crowds demanding an end to the rule of President Hosni Mubarak. From the hotel, it was possible to see smoke rising from the blackened husk of the N.D.P. headquarters, which protesters had burned on January 28th, the Friday of Rage. The building continued to smolder for two days.
On the square, there were workers from the slums with broken shoes; university professors; ex-Army officers; trendy upper-middle-class girls with long black hair and Fendi sunglasses; imams and Coptic priests; National Democratic Party members. Everyone wanted to be heard. "Please, foreign journalist?" they said, politely stopping me. "I have something to say!" I talked to one activist who worked for Vodafone. "There is a collective consciousness," he said. "Even after the phones went off"—the regime shut down cell-phone and Internet service for several days—"there was a kind of national telepathy of where to go." Day by day, they gathered the momentum of revolution, awed by their own defiance and wary of the tanks that had taken up residence around the perimeter of the square.__
On January 30th, I watched a column of tanks advance into the square. Protesters blocked their way while two F-16 fighter jets buzzed, loud and intimidating, overhead. "The people and the Army are one hand!" the crowd chanted, climbing on top of the tanks, scrawling "Mubarak Must Go!" on their flanks, and engaging the soldiers.
"We are your brothers," people said.
"We will not harm you," one soldier said.
"Will you shoot at us?" people asked. "You will shoot at us if you are given the order."
"No," a soldier replied. "I will never do that. Not even if I am given the order."
In the standoff between the regime and the protesters, the Army was bound to be crucial. The Egyptian Army commands enormous respect among civilians. The military establishment has long been the most powerful institution in the country and controls not just security and defense but also a huge economic sphere, including factories and road building and housing projects. As the days passed, and the crowds on Tahrir grew and Mubarak prevaricated, I tried to make sense of the Army's role.
There was something surreal about the tanks on the square. Few armies enjoy being sent to the streets to restore civil order, and the tanks were not accompanied by any infantry. I spoke to George Ishak, the head of the opposition movement Kefaya (the name means "enough"), who said, "I believe the military will protect us. We trust in our military a lot because we don't have anyone else to trust." He also wondered why the Army had not contained the protesters more effectively. "I don't know why," he said, "but they are a little soft—delicate." He rubbed his finger and thumb together, as if feeling a piece of cloth. "They face people in a very gentle way." He also said, "The military is a black box, and no one knows what happens inside."
The following day, I overheard a conversation between members of the crowd and a lieutenant colonel standing next to a tank that was blocking the entrance road leading to the Ministry of Interior.
"How long will you be here?" they asked him
"Until you guys calm down," he replied. He seemed a little frustrated by his deployment. "You guys are taking it too far. You've been silent for thirty years and for them that means that you were happy. Now you have demonstrated. You have delivered the message, but now you are going to rip the country apart."
The soldier was upset. Perhaps he saw, as the regime was telling people on state-TV channels, a foreign and Islamist conspiracy. Someone from the crowd offered him a bottle of water.
"I want to know where all this stuff is coming from," he said. "Where is the money coming from? In whose interest is all this?" He swept his arm toward the huge crowds in the square.
The most violent phase of the Tahrir revolution came on February 2nd, when protesters decisively held the square against crowds loyal to the regime. In the afternoon, a pro-Mubarak crowd several thousand strong pushed its way onto the square, at one point charging on horses and camels. Through the afternoon, the protesters beat the pro-Mubarak crowd back to the perimeter by running at them and hurling stones. At dusk, I saw soldiers stationed at an entrance to the square by Qasr al Nil Bridge crawl inside their tanks, which were parked between the protesters and a large pro-Mubarak crowd, and secure the hatches. The tanks formed a front line as the pro-Mubarak crowd taunted the protesters. Suddenly, stones started flying back and forth. There are nine roads and numerous alleys that lead into Tahrir Square, and almost every point of access was under siege: it seemed an impossible space to defend. Yet, over the next several hours, I watched as the protesters held the square that they had fought to occupy five days before.
The protesters quarried paving stones from the square and ripped sections of metal fencing from around a construction site, for use as shields. At times, the battle became entirely obscured in dust, and one could hear only the sound of stones plinking against the parked tanks. Burning wads of garbage skidded across the tarmac, leaving trails of flames, which the protesters tried to stamp out. At around eight o'clock, the protesters launched a thick volley of stones as covering fire for a vanguard that rushed out and chased the pro-Mubarak group around the curve of an access road and onto the street directly beneath my balcony. The pro-Mubarak group scattered, some taking cover in the entrance to a derelict building, emerging to lob burning missiles at the advancing protesters. During the next few hours, the pro-Mubarak group leaked away into the dark. The protesters quickly erected a barricade out of street signs and bits of metal fencing. Whenever a pro-Mubarak group came forward, the protesters banged on metal, to summon reinforcements from the heart of the square.
At daybreak the next morning, the square was subdued, as if people were in disbelief at what had happened. I walked onto the square past the tanks, their paint chipped where the stones had hit them. An officer, tired and unshaven, was leaning out of the top hatch, reading the morning paper and talking on his cell phone. I asked one of the soldiers why they had not intervened the night before.
"What could we do?" he said. "We're not going to fire on people, after all. They were throwing Molotov cocktails at each other. One just happened to land on us."
He pointed at a scorch mark.
"And what will happen today?" I asked him.
"I hope it will be quieter, peaceful," he said, as every soldier everywhere hopes each morning. "It's our country and we should fear for it."
Around us, men were filling burlap sacks with paving chunks and ferrying them to the barricades, in case of new attacks. Others slept, curled up in flower beds and gutters. Many had bandaged heads or taped-up noses and were hobbling along or gingerly cradling arms held in slings. People had tied pieces of cardboard to their heads with string and were using polystyrene boxes or plastic paint buckets as helmets. At the north end of the square, by the Egyptian Museum, the battle had lasted all night and was still raging. I could see an arc of rocks rising beyond a barricade made of scrap metal and overturned burned cars.
A knot of protesters came past, jostling and shouting; an officer in the security forces had been found. "Don't hand him over! We should keep him!" one protester shouted. "No!" someone yelled back. "We'll tie him to the fence!" The man was hurried along, and I noticed that the protesters were careful to shield him from the beating that others in the crowd wanted to give him.
I started talking to a pharmacist who had been among the front-line medics tending to the wounded. (Pharmacists receive first-aid medical training as part of their studies.) His name was Sherif Omar and he was thirty years old, with the soft eyes and dark wavy hair of a matinée idol. His white coat was bloodstained. "I look like a butcher!" he said, and laughed. He had manned a mobile field station through the night, moving back and forth as the fighting ebbed and flowed. I asked him about numbers of wounded from the battle. "There are no statistics," he said. "Hundreds, I can tell you. At around four or four-fifteen, our guys went on top of that bridge to get them off." He pointed to the overpass behind the museum, which had been the last stronghold of the pro-Mubarak group. He had treated burns from Molotov cocktails and held in his arms two people who were killed by live ammunition.
As we talked, a platoon of soldiers marched past. The crowd chanted, "The people and the Army are one hand!" The slogan had become an important tenet of the revolution. The protesters seemed to be trying to chant their way out of a paradox that threatened their efforts: they were calling for the overthrow of a regime that, since its beginnings, in 1952, had been dominated by the military establishment.
As the soldiers passed by, Sherif was holding out a charred tear-gas cannister for me to see. He viewed it as evidence that many of the pro-Mubarak people were connected to the security services and had been drafted by the regime. He called them mercenaries, and said that some of those he had treated in his field hospital turned out to have police I.D.s and crisp Egyptian hundred-pound notes in their pockets.
At that moment, General Hassan al-Roweny, the commander of the Army in Cairo, marched through the barricade surrounded by soldiers and military police in scarlet berets. He came over and began to upbraid Sherif, brusquely waving his hands. He said that the protesters should leave the square, and that all this chaos was the work of foreign forces conspiring to destabilize Egypt. Sherif scoffed at this idea, and Roweny went up to a wounded protester and ripped a bandage from his head, crying, "Look, it's just a bruise!" I saw a patch of dried blood near the man's hairline. Roweny moved on to another man, who had a wad of cotton bandaged to a wound on his scalp, and gave another sharp tug, but the bandage would not come off, because it was stuck with dried blood. Then something strange happened. Roweny caught the man in a strangling hug and kissed him forcefully on the forehead, as if the man were a recalcitrant son whom he simultaneously loved and despaired of. Afterward, Sherif wondered, "Why was he ripping off people's bandages? We had to put them back on again!"
I met Sherif often on the square. He told me that he was from Alexandria, and that seven or eight years ago, when he was still in college, he had decided to ignore politics. He had picked up a copy of Time and saw headlines on the Iraq War—President Bush, Israel and Palestine, terrorism. Then he realized that the magazine was from 1991. "I thought to myself, It's the same news, it's the same politics. It's not going to change." Now, sitting by a tent in the square, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people demanding an end to Mubarak's regime, he smiled ruefully at his former apathy. "Now I have an opinion. Now I am talking about politics."
For Sherif, the turning point had come on the Friday of Rage, when people marching to the square encountered riot police wielding batons and firing rubber bullets and tear gas. It was the first anti-regime demonstration he had been to. "Actually, I wasn't for Mubarak leaving but for a correction of the system. I thought, Why are people being so radical?" But the police brutality that day convinced him that the regime had to go. "Everyone was gasping for air, and simultaneously they turned on the water hoses and beat us with batons. They were beating the shit out of people without even giving them a chance to retreat." Sherif suffers from asthma, and he was choking. "I had been in the midst of tear gas for three or four hours. At some point, I couldn't breathe or see where I was going. There was a guy in front of me who was in the same condition, and he said, 'I think we're going to die here today.' I think everyone felt like that."
In the days after the battle for the square, the Army deployed more soldiers, and secured several entrances to the square with concertina wire. It felt as if Cairo had been divided into two realities: inside the square and outside. Outside, the threat of beatings from pro-Mubarak bands lingered. News and rumors circulated that the security services had arrested several human-rights lawyers, and that activists and journalists were being detained, and having their equipment impounded, by the Army and security elements. Many people, including my translator, Mohamed El Dahshan, a journalist and dedicated Twitterer, were assaulted by vigilante groups. The groups had formed to guard their local streets at night when the police vanished after the Friday of Rage, and some of them now seemed to accept the government line that the crisis was the fault of foreign forces and people with laptops.
Inside was the Republic of Tahrir, where the protesters had established a kind of revolutionary utopia. As you came through the barricades by the Qasr al Nil Bridge, a funnel of protesters cheered and clapped and chanted, "Welcome! Welcome to the free, who have joined the revolutionaries!" The scene was indescribably moving. There was no hierarchy or formal organization on the square, and yet lines of protesters guarded the barricades while others swept the garbage into neat piles and manned the checkpoints to search people for weapons. People brought food and water and medicine into the square and gave it out for free. "We are queuing up!" one activist who had named his tent the Freedom Motel told me, incredulous at the number of people flowing into the square. "When was the last time you saw an Egyptian queuing up?" I asked one young female volunteer in a floral head scarf if she was with any particular organization. "I am with no one," she replied simply. "I am with the people."__
"It's getting more complicated by the hour," Sherif told me at one point. "The solutions we required a week ago are no longer valid. The ceiling of democracy is getting higher." The more the regime resisted the demands of the protesters, the bolder the demands grew. After three days of protest, Mubarak had addressed the nation, and appointed Omar Suleiman, the national-intelligence chief, as Vice-President. In a second address, Mubarak promised that he would not seek reëlection in the September Presidential elections. Several people told me that they thought his concession was adequate; they had waited thirty years, they could wait another six months or so. But the violence of February 2nd, which everyone assumed was state-sponsored, destroyed people's trust in Presidential proclamations.
Nabil Fahmy, the Egyptian Ambassador to Washington until 2008, could scarcely conceal his anger when he spoke of the mobs attacking protesters. I asked him if he could be certain that the violence had been organized. He snorted: perhaps there had been genuine Mubarak supporters among them, but he was dismayed by the all-too-convenient absence of any state intervention to stop the violence. Like many Egyptians, he seemed to be struggling to make sense of the speed of events that had shaken the assumptions of the country's élite, and he worried that national values had been eroded. "It made me question what our generation and the older generation had done," he said. He also told me about the moment when he had realized the strength and the resolution of the young activists who initiated the protests. Early in the protests, when the regime imposed a curfew, his son and a group of friends had been on the square all day and had come back to his apartment building, just two blocks away, to rest. He had invited them all to sleep there, but they were determined to go back to the square. He reminded them that there was a curfew. "They said, 'Who applies this curfew?' They said this very simply and confidently, and it struck me that these kids now finally believe in the ownership of their country."
In the square, behind a rectangle of white tarpaulin that was hung against an apartment building to make a video screen, a travel agency had been given over to opposition-party officials who came in and out of the square. Various politicians addressed the crowd—including Ayman Noor, who ran against Mubarak in the Presidential race of 2005 and was then jailed for three years—but their speeches were bland and made little impact. Most people I talked to on the square said they did not support any party.
At Friday prayer, ranks of men laid out improvised prayer mats: kaffiyehs, newspapers, an Egyptian flag, slogan placards. They wiped their hands in the dust of the destroyed paving stones, to clean them, because the Koran says that if there is no water and you are in the desert you can use sand to clean your hands before you pray. When they touched the ground with their foreheads, a little disk of dusty grit formed, stuck there by sweat. Many Egyptians are devout, but people in Tahrir tended to speculate that electoral support for the Muslim Brotherhood, the officially banned but semi-tolerated Islamist party, would be only between ten and twenty per cent.
The Muslim Brotherhood had a strong, but certainly not a majority, presence on the square. "Our strategy was going to the event but not leading it," said Dr. Essam El-Erian, a member of the Guidance Council of the Brotherhood, when I met him in the Brotherhood's shabby headquarters, on the third floor of a nondescript apartment building. He explained that the Brotherhood had taken a passive position so that the government could not use the movement's involvement as an excuse to crack down. Nevertheless, he and thirty-three other Muslim Brothers were arrested two days into the protests. El-Erian has been arrested several times during his career, and once spent eight years in jail. He laughed and said that this was his shortest-ever detention. On the night of Sunday, January 30th, as the Interior Ministry appeared to cease functioning, the prison gates were left open and he walked free.
For decades, politics in the Middle East has been depicted as a choice between dictators and Islamists, and El-Erian was naturally at pains to dispel this assumption. He said that the Brotherhood would not field a candidate in the next Presidential election or contest every constituency in the parliamentary election, and spoke in vague terms of a hope that Egypt might show to the world a different style of democracy—"another moderate, tolerant model." The Muslim Brothers I met on the square conveyed a similar message, but it was hard to know what this party—banned for more than half a century in Egypt and demonized abroad—might do if it had power. The Muslim Brotherhood has "a long-term vision of society, and it has been very consistent," a Western diplomat told me. "Politics is just part of it."
As the standoff continued, the protesters became entrenched and emboldened. People made a tent city out of concrete reinforcing rods and plastic sheeting; venders set up braziers for tea and hooked up yards of electrical cable to charge dozens of cell phones at a time; people rearranged the stockpiled stones to spell out anti-Mubarak slogans; new blankets were passed out. There was an abundance of homemade placards. Egyptians have a fine satirical sense; a man held up a sign that said "Leave Already, My Arms Are Tired." But, after decades of political repression, some protesters seemed to have no idea of the sort of message most suited to being on a placard. Alongside catchy slogans were placards bearing long, bullet-pointed tracts, painstakingly written out—interminable manifestos of grievance and demands.
"There is a psychological barrier of fear in revolution," the novelist Alaa Al Aswany told me, adding that once the barrier is broken the process is "irreversible." Aswany, like many on the square, had suffered police harassment. Despite an international literary reputation, he has never been published by the state publishing houses or allowed on Egyptian state television, and the owner of a café where he met with young writers each week had been threatened by state security. Aswany is also a practicing dentist, and I spoke with him in his surgery, close to Tahrir Square. "The regime can't understand that people who were fearful and scared for thirty years are no longer fearful," he said. He told me that protesters had been teasing him about the title of one of his books, "Why the Egyptian People Do Not Revolt," saying that he should write a sequel and call it "How the Egyptian People Revolted." He had addressed the crowds several times. "As a writer, I have written many, many times the words 'the people,' but it was for the first time in my life I felt what was the meaning of 'the people.' " He told me that he had been very impressed. "They are very organized, very courageous, very civilized, very caring. We eat in the demonstration every day and no one knows exactly who has brought the food. It's like a big family. I threw a packet of cigarettes on the ground, and a seventy-year-old lady picked it up and said, 'Dr. Alaa, please take this and go and put it in the garbage, because we are building a new country and everything should be clean.' "
I met an activist friend of Sherif's named Ramy Shaath. Half Palestinian and half Egyptian, Shaath had studied war strategy at King's College, London, and spent time in demonstrations in Lebanon and Palestine during the second intifada. His day job is as a management consultant, but he has amassed experience dealing with barricades and tear gas. "It's a hobby," he said, smiling. Shaath's hobby had made him well known to the authorities. He told me that, on the Friday of Rage, when the police were overwhelmed, he had been tempted to run into the Mogamma and retrieve the security file with his name on it. "I even know which room it's in—second floor, last on the left!"
On the Internet, Shaath and other activists gathered ideas for countering riot police. He enumerated a few improvised tactics: "How to use vinegar and onions against tear gas. Things like, Don't use water, use Coke to wipe your eyes." Referring to the protests in Tunisia which had recently succeeded in deposing the President there, he added, "We got a lot of ideas from Tunisia because a lot of Tunisians were contributing to the blogs." For the first week of the protests, he had stayed at a different place every night and continually changed his cell-phone numbers. "A few days ago, I stopped," he told me. He spread his hands out in victorious amusement at such a turn of events. "End of story. Game over. The fear is over!"
I went to see Amre Moussa, the secretary-general of the Arab League and a former foreign minister of Egypt. Together with Nabil Fahmy and other notables, he had joined an informal committee of "wise men" who wanted to help bring the demands of the youth and the people on the square to Vice-President Suleiman. Seventy-four years old, Moussa is vigorous, erudite, and charming. On the square, I had often heard him mentioned as a good man to lead the country. People respected him as an independent elder statesman. Moussa told me, "The square became a place that if you don't go you have missed a historical moment." He believed that the regime had initially tried to ride out the storm: "Perhaps some thought that those demonstrators would get tired and fade day after day, week after week, but everyone saw that yesterday there were more people than ever since it began." Now their efforts at reform were no longer a luxury but had become a "question of necessity."
In the days after the clashes, the Army tried to exert control. General Roweny could be seen striding up the road toward the Egyptian Museum, behind which the Army had made an impromptu headquarters. Sherif told me that the day after Roweny was tearing off bandages he returned with an Egyptian news crew and again confronted Sherif and his band of medics. He told them to go home and "end this silly business." Sherif replied, "You call the blood of Egyptians silly business!" Roweny told Sherif that the Army was resolved to clear the square, because it wanted to resume normal traffic circulation the next day. "We can't use violence, but we can be very tough with people," he warned. Sherif asked what he meant by tough. "Like from a father to a child," Roweny replied, smiling and answering questions in front of the TV cameras. Afterward, he addressed the crowds in the square, telling them, "You all have the right to express yourselves, but please save what is left of Egypt." The crowd, cheering, responded that Hosni Mubarak should leave. Roweny abandoned his speech, saying, "I will not speak amid such chants."
At one point, the Army tried to push a line of tanks farther into the square, near the Egyptian Museum. But the protesters staged a sit-in under the tanks. I sat down among them and talked to a man whose body was scaly with psoriasis. He came from a small village not far from Cairo and worked in a lowly capacity for the local municipality. He said that his salary of seven hundred Egyptian pounds (around a hundred and twenty dollars) was not enough to feed his family and pay for treatment for his skin complaint. He tried to explain the situation: "The Army is trying to tighten the space and get people farther into the square." When I returned the next day, the protesters had settled in, storing sandwiches and blankets in the niches between the tank wheels and tracks, sleeping under the turrets, and praying five times a day in neat rows. When the tanks had first arrived, the protesters had eyed them like mysterious beasts; they now seemed tamed. Parents would stand their children on top of them and take photographs. The soldiers pretended not to mind this domestication.
The Army, though ostensibly neutral, was obviously invested in the status quo. After Mubarak fired most of his Cabinet, in the first days of the protests, the military establishment found itself in control of the key posts of government. Suleiman, the former head of military intelligence, was Vice-President, and Ahmed Shafik, a former head of the Air Force (as Mubarak himself was), became the new Prime Minister. Meanwhile, Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi remained in the position he had held for almost twenty years, Minister of Defense and Military Production. Initially, this triumvirate seemed to form a Praetorian guard around the regime; they were all military men, all in or nearing their seventies, and all close to Mubarak. At the time, the Western diplomat told me that there were no significant differences between Suleiman and his President; that the regime thought it could ride the protests out; and that Mubarak would hold fast to the idea that the protests were the work of foreign machination—"a rock-solid point of view that we have seen from him for many years." Tantawi, the diplomat hoped, would continue to cleave to the Army's policy of nonviolence: "Yes, he's a product of the regime and he's perfectly happy to arrest people, but he's not going to shoot them."
It now seems likely that there were always differences between the military establishment and the most loyal elements of the regime—Mubarak's inner circle, the Interior Ministry and the police, N.D.P. strongmen, and the domestic security services. It is perhaps for this reason that, in the days that followed, the pronouncements of the military triumvirate, like the mercurial behavior of General Roweny on the square, seemed to veer between conciliation and impatient threats. After the clashes with pro-Mubarak crowds, Prime Minister Shafik apologized for the violence on national TV, and there was an effort at dialogue between the Vice-President and some of the opposition groups. But, only a few days later, Suleiman seemed to threaten a martial crackdown. At the time, it was hard to see where the balance of power lay between the regime and the security and military establishments, but throughout the protests in Cairo there were two constants that proved decisive: the Army never fired on the protesters, and it never prevented people from coming onto the square.
The military establishment had never liked Mubarak's son Gamal, widely despised as being at the center of a group of cronies who cashed in on liberal economic reforms of the past decade. In recent years, senior officers had expressed discomfort with his implicit anointment as heir. When Mubarak appointed Suleiman as Vice-President, traditionally the position occupied by a successor, they may have been satisfied. But the crowds on the square were not, and, in the days that followed, they managed, through their numbers, and by continually reiterating their trust in the Army, to coöpt the military as a reluctant revolutionary partner.
In the second week of protests, beyond the square, Cairo returned to work. Banks reopened, and the roads resumed their customary state of honking gridlock. And yet the numbers on the square continued to grow. At lunchtime and after work, people streamed in to take part in this phenomenon of freedom. It seemed that everyone I talked to insisted that they had been there since the first day. "People are trying to join the circus," one activist said, laughing.
Sherif went back to work, too, but returned each afternoon to his friends on the square. After his first day back in the "real world," as he described it—wondering what the real world was anymore—he admitted that he had been "very down. It has started to settle in, all the bloodshed." But being among his new friends—none of the volunteer medics on Tahrir had known one another before the protests—had cheered him up. "It's amazing how peaceful it is here, and outside is all the hustle and bustle. I walked through the square, and it gives you hope, that this is not all for nothing, that something is going to happen." He was beginning to go to activist meetings, groups of young people who had met on the square or who knew one another through the blogosphere, to discuss how to go forward. "The lack of leadership is a positive and a negative," he had said at one point, "but it shows that this really is a revolution of the people."
We discussed possible leaders. None of the opposition parties had been able to garner any significant support among the protesters. Most seemed well-meaning but amateurish, and were headed by an older generation. I mentioned Mohamed ElBaradei, the Nobel Peace Prize laureate, who had returned to Egypt from Vienna, where he lives, and quickly became associated with the protests. Sherif, like many on the square, was unimpressed: "Baradei? Where is he? He came to the square for four or five minutes and then left. My sister says he's on the news channels every five minutes, saying, I did this and I did that and I said all that and I predicted that. But he's been in Vienna this whole time."
Without a clear leader or a dominant ideology, the square had become a kind of speakers' corner. A veiled woman told of her dream of the Prophet Muhammad circling the square; a psychiatrist held a small crowd spellbound with his theory that Mubarak was a psychopath. People pressed photocopied manifestos into my hands and asked me why President Obama was equivocating. Everyone had become an expert on the Egyptian constitution and the clauses that set the criteria for Presidential and parliamentary candidates. They talked about the Turkey model, with the military as the guarantor of the state. Sherif remarked that the square had become like a university of political science—"the rate of learning is incredible for everyone." He wanted to be involved. "We can't let the blood of the martyrs and the injured go to waste. They were killed for a cause, and we have to go through with it. I can't go back to my normal life as if nothing had happened."
Against this background of expectant fervor, on February 10th everyone—the C.I.A., CNN, the head of the N.D.P., the Egyptian Prime Minister, Barack Obama, and even the bandage-pulling General Roweny, who told the crowds, "All your demands will be met today"—believed that Mubarak would announce that he was stepping down. There was a rainstorm at lunchtime, a sign of good luck in a desert country, and afterward a rainbow came out and was tweeted all over the world.
At 10:45 P.M., Mubarak began to speak, and the crowd went quiet. Mohamed, my translator, had gone home, to attend his brother's engagement party, and so I understood the speech largely through the crowd's reaction to it. Mubarak's voice echoed amid loudspeakers on the square—scratchy, low, stentorian, and occasionally inflected with a twang of feedback. People listened on cell phones, and in the tents at the center of the square dozens of heads were bent over the glow of a laptop screen. Gradually, the faces of those around me grew stony as people realized that they had heard this speech before. About halfway through, a hissing exhalation of disbelief rose up. I later found that this was at the moment when Mubarak patronizingly reminded his listeners that he had once been young himself. From then on, people stopped listening. They cradled their heads in their hands, silent with shock and despair. One by one, they held up their shoes in the air in contempt. And, when Mubarak finished speaking, there was a great roaring, defiant chant of "Leave! Leave! Leave!" They punched the air in fury. One man behind me screamed and collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. Someone standing next to me told me that his brother had been killed in the protests. People tried to console him, but he suddenly went berserk, screaming and kicking. Four or five people tried to hold him down but could not control his rage. Behind him, a man prayed with his palms made into fists.
I found Sherif by the field clinic next to the barricade. He was wearing an Egyptian-flag bandanna around his head. His expression was uncomprehending and blankly exhausted. "I'm not sure if he gets it," he said. He was trying to fathom Mubarak's gargantuan level of denial. "We were already celebrating and now"—he cut the air with his hand—"no one knows what's happening." There was a hardness in his face which I had not seen before. He advised me to stay in the hotel tomorrow. "Will it be bad?" I asked. "It's possible, it's possible," he said. "I don't know what this idiot is going to pull out of his hat." Sherif decided to spend the night on the square.
Mubarak never actually resigned, and it was left to Omar Suleiman to announce his departure, the next day. On the square, the news was greeted with a wall of whistling cheer and a blur of flags. It was an exultant, unified joy. The traffic lights were showing all their colors simultaneously, like disco gels. Fire flares, apparently made by ignited cans of air freshener, burst in the crowd. There were no sentences, just a word—"amazing"—repeated over and over. Protesters hugged the soldiers, who climbed out of their tanks and took off their helmets to join the party. I watched someone shake the hand of an officer and proudly take a picture of his small son with the man.
Sherif was not on the square for the announcement and missed the extraordinary scenes, but he saw something ultimately more revealing. That day, crowds had marched peacefully toward the Presidential Palace, at Heliopolis, northeast of Tahrir, and Sherif decided to go there, too. At around four o'clock, a couple of hours before Suleiman's speech, he was outside the palace, dressing a few wounds. Several tanks were stationed there, their cannons pointing in the direction of the crowd, but, as Sherif watched, the tanks turned their turrets—it seemed, he said, to happen in slow motion—so that the cannons were pointing at the palace. Then the soldiers started waving Egyptian flags and chanting with the crowd, "Egypt! Egypt! The Army and the people are one hand!"
The next morning, I sat in a café on the square, talking over the events. Everyone was reading the newspapers, and across the room I saw a news photograph of General Roweny reaching to shake the hand of another officer, against a background of the Tahrir crowd. The man with the paper said it was an old picture, from the times when the Army had first come to the square.
"Is he good?" I asked about Roweny.
"Now, yes!" the man said.
"What about before?"
He waggled his hand in equivocation and grimaced. "Who knows?"
Alaa Al Aswany had told me that he thought the Egyptian revolution would fundamentally change the Middle East paradigm of an apathetic populace oppressed by dictators and retreating into Islam. "We are seeing now the end of the post-independence dictatorships in the Arab world," he said. "What we see now is the end of this era. Western analysts are totally confused, because it goes far beyond Mr. Mubarak. The political analysts in the West are going to have to throw away their old books."
That afternoon, I met Mahmoud Zaher, a retired general in Egypt's military-intelligence apparatus who now fulfilled a role whose contours he was hesitant to define. When I arrived at his home, next to a mosque in a pleasant neighborhood on the left bank of the Nile, he was praying. He was a gracious host, sitting very upright while his son, who, he told me, had been many days on the square, brought glasses of fresh orange juice and cups of Turkish coffee. When I asked questions, his answers tended to skirt specifics, forming themselves into disquisitions on theoretical matters of national history and character. A wry smile would pull in the corners of his mustache, as if he were saying, "Yes, well, of course that's the obvious question, and I know very well what the answer is, but how can I put it?"
He was no defender of Mubarak, who he felt had "become a corrupt influence for Egypt and the reputation of the military establishment." He was certain that until the end Mubarak had wanted to use the forces of violence and chaos—possibly by deploying the Republican Guard, which is loyal to the President rather than to the nation—in order to make a crackdown look justified. I asked him if someone in the military had "put him on a helicopter"—if the mechanics of what had occurred added up to a coup. He demurred for a moment before replying, "There is a big difference in what can be said and what must be done." He paused. "What happened is that the very strong and legitimate desire of the people of the revolution of Egypt in this moment became inherent to the military institution." He said that if a person "reaches a point of insensitivity and is incapable of realizing the right decision at the right time, others need to take his hand."
He spoke of the Army as "the servant to the people and popular desire," but he emphasized that the role of the Army in Egypt was not confined to the military sphere, that it was "politically influential and politically involved and politically distinct." It did not seem that he wanted or expected the situation to change, and he spoke about the possibility that there might in the future be "limitations" to the Egyptian political system "which may cause some outsiders to say that our democracy is different from their democracy." He expressed the view that whoever became President should have a military background.
On the square, throngs of people were out with brooms, jubilantly cleaning up their country. They carted away loose chunks of paving and piled up the scrap-metal frames of their tents. I saw one man carrying a black garbage bag with a sign across his chest: "Yesterday I was a demonstrator. Today I build Egypt." I met a couple of young students from the American University in Cairo, carrying brooms. One said that she had been discussing this new community spirit with her father. "We thought people didn't care," she said, "and just threw their garbage on the street, but now we see that they just thought it was hopeless—why bother when it's so dirty. Why not be corrupt when everything is corrupted. But now things have changed, and it's a different mood overtaking. Even I can't stop smiling myself."
I caught up with Sherif and asked him about his group of political activists. They had decided that they would continue to meet and discuss ways in which they could help the country but wouldn't form a political party. I asked him if he was worried that the Army might take control entirely. He said that there was bound to be chaos in the future and that friends of his had expressed concern. "But I was saying, 'Guys, look what we have done already. There's no impossible.' " Many people celebrating said that there could never be another dictator now that the public had found its political voice. "We know the way to Tahrir Square," one told me. ♦


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As this year's rookies make their debuts in T-shirt-and-shorts workouts throughout the NFL, few have stories as compelling as Colts offensive lineman Hugh Thornton.
Thornton, a third-round pick from Illinois, was living in Jamaica nine years ago when his mother and sister were murdered.
"I was 12. It was January 2, 2004. I was sleeping down stairs," Thornton recently said, via KTVB.com. "My mom and my sister were upstairs. I heard my aunt scream. I went to see what had happened and I walked in the room and my mom was tied to the bed and had been murdered and my sister was on the floor."
"It was an ex-boyfriend of my moms and they had split. He went back to propose, she said no and the situation was he was kind of living off of my mom — didn't work a job or anything like that. So, once all that was taken away when they split, he kind of had resentment and came back with vengeance and the intent to kill."
Amazingly, the charges against the man eventually were dropped.
"They tried him and it went to trial, but because the way the Jamaica government works, it's very lenient towards Jamaican nationals in cases against non-Jamaica nationals," Thornton said. "It's a little bit corrupt in that sense."
This weekend, Thornton officially began his NFL journey.
"It was awesome," Thornton said of his rookie minicamp, in comments distributed by the team. "I had a lot of fun out there, learned a lot of stuff. That's one thing you realize, the change from college to the pros playbook is deep. There are a lot of things that go into it. You have a lot of checks. It's been interesting. It's been fun. I'm excited to meet the veterans and go from there."
Thornton, a versatile player in college, is expected to play right guard for the Colts.
"If you start moving those guys around, you aren't going to see the process if you move them from right to left," coach Chuck Pagano said. "I know he's played a bunch of spots and can play outside, but we are going to let him settle in there and get comfortable, learn everything and then go from there. He had a good camp, did a nice job."
We hope he continues to do a nice job, and more, for the Colts.

subset: commoncrawl


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The Big 12 Podcast is one of several methods the Conference utilizes in order to publicize various sports and events. Hosted by Big12Sports.com Correspondent Wendell Barnhouse, the Podcasts are audio interviews posted to Conference web site.
In the latest show, Barnhouse chats with Kendall Rogers, Colleges Editor for PerfectGame.org to discuss and break down the Big 12's three teams (TCU, Texas and Texas Tech) that will open play this weekend in the College World Series.


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Jindal's ALEC Fetish sends his Poll Numbers SouthPosted: February 13, 2013 Filed under: just because | Tags: Banana Republicans, Bobby Jindal, Red State Governors, Regressive Tax Policies 27 Comments
I've been writing about my governor frequently because the experience of the state of Louisiana with Jindal and his ALEX cronies should be a cautionary tale to the rest of the country. Bobby Jindal is currently working on a tax overhaul that will punish any one that has to buy stuff–and conversely sell stuff–in the state so he can reward his rich friends and corporate donor base. Similar tax plans are being bandied about in Kansas and other states with Republican governors who have no idea what it takes to get a state into the economically healthy column. Their plans are basically to turn their states into Mississippi if their not near there already. These plans will essentially un-develop the states. Banana Republicans–like my governor–appear to be more interested in their memes and donors than in actually governing their states to prosperity. It's a race to the bottom.
The GOP has plans for a comeback. But it may cost you a lot. The idea is to capitalize on recent Republican state takeovers to conduct an austerity experiment known as the new "red-state model" and prove that faulty policies can be turned into gold.
There will be smoke. There will be mirrors. And there will be a lot of ordinary people suffering needlessly in the wake of this ideological train wreck.
We already have a red-state model, and it's called Mississippi. Or Texas. Or any number of states characterized by low public investment, worker abuse, environmental degradation, educational backwardness, high rates of unwanted pregnancy, poor health, and so on.
Now the GOP is determined to bring that horrible model to the rest of America.
In Kansas, the Wall Street Journal reports that Governor Sam Brownback is aiming to up his profile "by turning Kansas into what he calls Exhibit A for how sharp cuts in taxes and government spending can generate jobs, wean residents off public aid and spur economic growth." In remarks quoted in the same article, Brownback announced that "My focus is to create a red-state model that allows the Republican ticket to say, 'See, we've got a different way, and it works.' "
Brownback's economic inspiration is Reagan-era supply-side economist Arthur Laffer and the folks at Americans for Prosperity, the conservative outfit backed by the deep coffers of the Koch brothers.
This new austerity talk focused on "fiscal innovations" is emboldening Republicans in other states that have been gerrymandered into submission to the GOP, including Indiana, Louisiana, Nebraska, Ohio, Oklahoma, and alas, my home state of North Carolina.
The Jindal plan has disaster written all over it. It also has ALEC's cloven hoofprints all over it. Louisiana is already a low tax state with high sales taxes and fees. There's no real reason to make things worse other than help Bobby get through a 2016 Republican Presidential Primary.
Gov. Bobby Jindal's impending tax overhaul will hurt low and middle-income households in Louisiana, liberal think tank the Center for Budget and Policy Priorities said this week. The CBPP added a DC-based conservative group, the American Legislative Exchange Council, was seeking to "move to remake Louisiana," starting by influencing state tax policy.
"There are some states that really stand out in terms of ALEC's footprint," Doug Clopp of the liberal non-profit advocacy group Common Cause said during a Wednesday conference call on ALEC's economic agenda. He added there is currently "a raft" of ALEC bills in the Louisiana Legislature.
ALEC, a 501(c)(3) organization chaired by Indiana Republican Rep. David Frizzell, provides a forum where state lawmakers and corporate representatives collaborate to create an annual list of "model legislation" for which the organization then lobbies.
According to the CBPP, Gov. Jindal's impending tax overhaul, for which few details are currently public, very clearly mirrors "ALEC agenda" items on tax policy. At its most basic, the plan would involve doing away with income and corporate taxes in favor of a higher sales tax.
Today, PPP has confirmed exactly how impopular Jindal and his remaking of Louisiana has become in Louisiana. Dig these nasty poll numbers! It appears his political career in Louisiana is well-over.
When PPP last polled Louisiana in 2010, Bobby Jindal was one of the most popular Governors in the country. 58% of voters approved of the job he was doing to just 34% who disapproved. Over the last two and a half years though there's been a massive downward shift in Jindal's popularity, and he is now one of the most unpopular Governors in the country. Just 37% of voters now think he's doing a good job to 57% who are unhappy with him.
The decline in Jindal's popularity cuts across party lines. Where he was at 81/13 with Republicans in August 2010, now it's 59/35. Where he was at 67/22 with independents back then, now he's at 41/54. And what was a higher than normal amount of crossover support from Democrats at 33/58 is now 15/78. There was a time when Jindal probably would have been seen as a slam dunk candidate for Republicans against Mary Landrieu in 2014. But now he actually trails Landrieu 49/41 in a hypothetical match up.
Jindal's ambitions lie within the District Beltway. However, he's not doing very well on that account either.
A 57 percent majority of Louisiana voters now disapprove of their Republican governor's performance, compared to 37 percent who approve, according to PPP. In August 2010, those numbers were nearly reversed, with 58 percent approving and 34 percent disapproving.
Jindal lost favor both inside and outside his party, according to the survey. His approval rating fell by 22 points among Republicans, by 26 points among independents and by 18 points among Democrats.
The poll surveyed 603 Louisiana voters between Feb. 8 and 12, using automated phone calls.
Jindal, who is considered a possible contender for the next presidential election, easily won reelection as governor in 2011, taking 66 percent of the vote against a field of nine rivals. His term lasts until 2015, when state law will prevent him from seeking a third consecutive term.
PPP's most recent national poll found Jindal running behind former Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee, Kentucky Sen. Rand Paul, Florida Sen. Marco Rubio and Wisconsin Rep. Paul Ryan in a hypothetical GOP primary.
Jindal has been trying for the last three years to grab a political podium on the national stage. He bombed his first opportunity by doing a miserable job of rebutting Obama's 2009 SOTU.
The 2009 Republican response to the State of the Union was supposed to be Bobby Jindal's coming out. The Republicans were in dire need of a fresh, young leader, and Jindal was a governor aspiring to Washington. Who better to redefine the party than a son of immigrants who was living proof of the American Dream? It was a match made in heaven.
There was just one problem: Jindal's speech fell flat. It fell so flat that the only person who defended it, among both liberals and conservatives, was Rush Limbaugh. Instead of kick-starting his national career, Jindal's speech prematurely ended it and confined him to the state sphere instead.
Jindal's prime time Republican convention speech was cancelled due to Hurricane Issac. He was never really a contender for the Romney VP nod which would've probably been the ultimate kiss-of-death any way. He's been playing the ultimate sour grape since Romney's loss for both Romney and the party of stupid. (I prefer Hillary Clinton's characterization of the current Republican party as the Party of Evidence-Denial.) Jindal also has a habit of backing real losers in elections.
Louisiana Gov. Bobby Jindal (R) issued one of the more pointed post-election public criticisms of Mitt Romney's presidential campaign Tuesday, saying that the Republican nominee did too little to set out an inspiring vision for governance.
"Mitt Romney is an honorable man. He's a good honest man. He deserves our respect, and our gratitude," Jindal told The Huffington Post in a phone interview. "The reality of it, the campaign was too much about biography. It wasn't enough about a vision of where they wanted to take our country, and how they would do it."
"The reality is people are not being inspired by a biography," Jindal said. "We have got to offer that vision."
Jindal made the comments as he talked about the need for Republicans to detail their policy ideas. He said that the Romney campaign's focus on marketing its candidate as a businessman who could fix a stalled economy, rather than running on a bold presentation of conservative principles, was, "one of the reasons this got obscured."
Those of us that have lived under Jindal's Banana Republican approach to governance know him best and, it seems, the more you know him, the more you can't stand him.
Since his national debut, Jindal has made an overwhelming number of decisions in Louisiana that sparked heated response from concerned observers. Host Melissa Harris-Perry addressed these decisions in an open letter to Jindal in November, which coined the hashtag, "#FBJ": Forget Bobby Jindal. As we fast-forward to 2013, the governor is still in the news for his questionable policy changes.
Harris-Perry discussed with her panel the motives behind Jindal's actions.
On Jan. 29, Gov. Jindal sent a note to the president via the Washington Post requesting a meeting about Medicaid to "give states more flexibility" in deciding the future of the program. This op-ed was published just as Jindal's new Medicaid cuts went into effect in his own state. "Over the last five years, governor Jindal has cut Medicaid every year," said Louisiana senator Karen Carter Peterson to the panel. She described the low eligibility rates in the state–one of the lowest in the country–and how this, in addition to Jindal's other political ideaologies, is "to the detriment of our citizens."
Being Different author Rajiv Malhotra believes that all of the governor's actions are to propel him to the forefront of 2016 ballot, whether or not they benefit the residents of Louisiana. Thus far, Jindal has willingly transformed into whatever the GOP needed him to be. "[Bobby Jindal] became as white as he could except for his skin color," said Malhotra. "He's uncomfortable being an Indian-American; he's rejected that…except when it comes to fundraising." Malhotra noted that Jindal was easily able to reject his ethnicity, until recently when the Republican party realized they needed to be "less white" in order to win the masses.
"The Republican Party actually does have more minorities and governorships than the democratic party does," clarified Patrick Millsaps, former chief of staff for Newt Gingrich in 2012. Although opposed to some of Jindal's proposals, he explained the inaccuracy of attributing the governor's faults to race relations and identity versus the real issue: budget decisions. However, Jindal's polictical decisions are called into question when his authenticity is challenged.
Democratic strategist John Rowley expanded on Millsaps stance and mentioned the problems Jindal will face in this "era of authenticity." He listed several instances in which Jindal put himself at a disadvantage. " [He] changed his religion, he changed his name…he's changed some of his policy positions–he's even changed his campaign tactics," said Rowley.
Jindal, a 41-year-old, second-term governor, was initially considered a possible vice presidential pick for Romney, despite the fact that Jindal endorsed Texas Gov. Rick Perry in the Republican primary. But Jindal and Romney lacked personal chemistry, according to multiple sources, and Jindal had a limited presence for Romney on the campaign trail.
I know that I have a handful of Louisiana Readers for this blog who really care about the nuts and bolts of Jindal's miserable policies and even worse results. His educational policy blunders alone could fill an entire blog and then some. I guess I keep bringing this up because Jindal's had the audacity and the ability–given the nature of the Louisiana Legislature–to turn our our state into an ALEC crockpot. He's probably done more drastic things than the governors of Florida and Wisconsin. He's also attacked our public unions–what little is left of them–and our schools and public welfare and health programs. His recent role in the Republican Governor's association has brought them into the light. For this, I'm thankful. It's probably way too late to help my state but maybe we can stop him from going national. I hope that I let you know what to expect if you're in one of those states where ALEC is running amok with a Banana Republican enabler.
Again, Jindal's vision for the future only contains paths to Jindal's personal advancement. Hurricane Katrina's impact on the Democratic Party allowed him to get much further in the state that he would have under more normal conditions. The majority of the state has been a little slow to realize this but they sure know it now. However, Jindal's policies are not unique nor or they just custom-made for Louisiana. So, as Cassandra of the Swamp, I'd just like to tell you to watch out for anything associated with my governor. It will do no one any good but Jindal, his cronies, and and his donor base.
27 Comments on "Jindal's ALEC Fetish sends his Poll Numbers South"
Give em' Hell Dak. You and Melissa Harris-Perry are wearing Jindal out. She loathes him on a scale comparable to yours. I loathe him because he's like every GOP/TP Pol in my State of Bumfuckerville. We have a regressive tax system here and we're paying almost 10% (when combined with our local sales tax) on all purchases except Prescription meds. Oh yes, we in Bumfuckerville have the distinction of having the highest combined consumption tax of all 50 states.
FYI….Just heard that Marco Rubio laughed off his GULP moment during his SOTU rebuttal by saying he couldn't help it "he was thirsty". I'm sure glad he didn't have to pee.


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Educator Resources for French RevolutionIt was the best of times, it was the worst of times--and Tim and Moby will tell you how it got started! In this BrainPOP movie on the French Revolution, you'll learn exactly how and why the people of France overthrew their monarchy. You'll find out about the three "estates" that the country was divided into, and how the so-called "third estate" managed to grow in power and influence. You'll hear about some of the thinkers of the Enlightenment, and the influence they had on the people of their time. Plus, Tim and Moby will teach you how the promise of freedom, equality, and brotherhood devolved into a violent battle between rival factions. So hoist that tricolor, sing the "Marseillaise," and get ready to learn!
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Setúbal is a city in the Lisbon Region of Portugal, in the Setubal Peninsula subregion.
Setúbal is a coastal town, known for its fishing activities, traditions and industrial area. It's the capital of the Setúbal district. You might also want to check out Serra da Arrábida, for the nature part of Setúbal.
Get in
By plane
By Taxi
The ride from Lisbon airport to the center of Setubal costs around 60 Euros. Watch out for taxi ripp-offs. You can do a booking in advance thru National Taxi Dispatch Service (contacts on the website). This way you can assure you pay just the fair amount.
By train
You can access Setúbal by trains from Lisbon, and most towns in the surrounding area. You also have lots of trains from anywhere to Lisbon, if there is not a direct train to Setúbal, you might want to consider getting one to Lisbon, and then to Setúbal.
By car
It shouldn't be a problem to find your way, Setubal is a major town in the area, so, if you are around, you will have signs to point out your way. It's 55 km away from Lisbon Airport.
By bus
There are buses that serve from Lisbon to Setúbal everyday and almost every hour a day, if you're in the capital it won't be a problem. There are also buses that serve the surrounding area towns.
By boat
The troia is a peninsula near Setúbal, and that is probably the only way to commercially reach Setúbal by boat. You can reach Setubal (from Troia) by ferryboat or catamaran. You can check schedules here.
Get around
Buses serve the whole town and are generally OK on schedules and quality.
The city of Setubal is a modern busy city of 120,000 people with a major port (Portugal's 3rd largest) and a fairly large industrial sector. The main attraction for the tourist is the lack of foreign tourists: the city (and the Tróia peninsula to the South) is attracting more visitors from Lisbon, other parts of Portugal and even Spain. The central Avenida Luísa Todi is a handsome tree-lined boulevard with a pretty fountain in the centre and coffee shops dotted here and there along its length. The covered market halfway along Luisa Todi is a joy: a large, clean and thriving commercial centre with fruit and vegetable, bread and cakes and fish stalls carefully laid-out within. Prices are rock-bottom and quality is high. Off Luisa Todi is the fine Bocage Square, with a splendid statue in its centre celebrating Setubal's renowned poet and a number of cafes and restuarants living the sides. Running off the square in several directions are a labyrinth of small streets with boutiques, shops and small cafes; here and there the streets open up to squares with a small church or monument. Following these old town streets eastwards the visitor climbs towards the high-point overlooking the Troia car ferry and culminating in the excellent Work Museum, celebrating the city's long industrial heritage. At the western end of the old town, west of Bocage Square sits the Jesus Church, a unique architectural structure with superb entwined colums inside holding up a horizontally-aligned sanctuary. To the rear sit the cloisters of the convent and beyond them one of the surprises of the town - a collection of 16th century local art, mostly biblical paintings, some of which formed an altar surround for the church. They are of very high quality and deserve a visit. At night, Setubal's streets fill with the aromas of char-grilled fish. The best restaurants are said to lie on the seafront near the fishing port at the western end of town. Local delicacies include Choco Frito (fried cuttlefish) and grilled Salmonette, a pink river-fish highly prized by the locals. Prices are remarkably low; around 20-30euros per person including wine is normal. There is a lot to admire in the surrounding areas: the Castle of Palmela, the Tróia Peninsula (quite adorable beach and architecture with the new luxury resorts), Serra da Arrábida (combining mountain areas, picnic spaces and the beach), the beautiful beaches and traditional fishing places in Sesimbra, the ancient but modern big cities of Almada and Seixal (closer to Lisbon) overlooking the Tejo (Tagus river), are all quite nice & lovely. Sesimbra has been developed somewhat in recent years and has suffered in the process: large-scale developments have robbed the town of its small-scale feel and the promenade has declined as a result, with ugly tourist shops and a slightly soul-less feel has developed.
Setubal is a pleasant city to wander around in, visit shops and admire the very scenic small old streets in the old part of town. The fishing port is picturesque and colourful. From the bus station, links operate to Sesimbra, Almeda, Lisbon and other local destinations. A roofless bus operates to Figueiras, a pleasant beach some 4-5km west of Sesimbra. The trip takes the traveller through the edges of the National Park and winds round a river and through a cement factory before arriving at Figueiras. Tidal patterns are slightly hazardous off this part of the coast and lifeguards are zealous in applying local rules about where to swim. The other beach options lie to the south, over the Sado estuary on the Tróia peninsula. In the high season a half-hourly catamaran service operates, taking some 10 minutes to ply the route to the newly-completed harbour and marina on the tip of the Troia peninsula. Here, after passing in front of Troia's upmarket flats, restaurants and casino, the visitor is led onto a stilted walkway which winds its way to the beaches facing west onto the Atlantic. The water is therefore bracing rather than welcoming. There are one or two companies offering trips to view the local dolphins; many of these book up quite early, so it is wise to book in advance.
There are several schools in Setúbal, and recently opened a Polytechnic Institute that is becoming nationwide famous for its quality. It offers courses on the most varied areas ranging from Sports to Business Administration, Nursing or Mechanical Engineering.
There are many shops spread around the city, as normal. In the Luisa Todi area you will find many small shops and bigger clothing shops mostly. For bigger commercial areas, theres the Aranguês Mall, which is well, not very big, but has a nice selection of stores. Theres the De Borla/Aqua park, where you can find some big and good appliances and eletronics shops. And theres the supermarket Jumbo, for your bigger needs, with a few shops outside too.
There are many typical restaurants where you can eat good grilled fish and typical food. There's also a good deal of fast-food shops and pizza places. You can also find Indian and Japanese food.
There's a nice selection of bars in Setúbal downtown.
Taifa Cafe Bar is a new space on Avenida Luisa Todi 558. It offers free wi-fi, a wide range of drinks, snacks and tapas, relaxed atmosphere and good music. [[8]]
The most hotels and accommodation you can find are probably downtown (once again, Luisa Tody venue) and there's also an hotel near the Bonfim, which is near the bus station.
In the heart of the Alentejo region, 30 km from Alcácer do Sal and over the Vale do Gaio dam, stands the beautiful Pousada of Torrão, Vale do Gaio.
This nature hotel has a beautiful chapel and it is encircled in a magnificent landscape crossed by a refreshing river, terraced gardens and a swimming pool are located where the former watering reservoir used to be.
São Filipe's historical Pousada is installed in a fort from the late XVII century. This historic luxury hotel has a breathtaking view over the River Sado estuary from its terrace.
This historic luxury hotel is located on top of an imposing hill, and it is one of the best architectural fortresses in Portugal, specially known for its location and the magnificent views that it has to offer.
The Pousada de Alcácer do Sal, D. Afonso II, is a luxury hotel situated in the thousand year old Alcácer castle that overlooks the river Sado, which runs through a vast green valley.
Stay safe
Setúbal is considered a generally safe area but it has some of the major problematic neighbourhoods in the country. There are some parts of the city you might want to avoid, but the shabbiness will warn you of that. By day even in those parts you shouldn't have any problems, however, be cautious. Take the usual precautions, mostly at night in Setúbal downtown, but usually you won't have a problem. Avoid being alone but if you find yourself in that situation just walk in very well lit places and with many people around or call/grab a taxi to take you to your destination.
Get out


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View Historical Bandwidth Usage On FortiGate 200A Including Amount Of Bandwidth Per Protocol
A company asked me to analyze some of their network traffic to verify some of the projects they are working on to cut costs won't impact their business. One of the projects includes removing a 100 Mbps fiber connection to their colocation and replacing it with a cable modem that is asynchronous with 50 Mbps download and 5 Mbps upload. Unfortunately they do not have any solid historical network data capture software such as Cacti so before setting up such a service I had to provide initial data via what was available. One of the tools I was able to use was the dashboard data that lives in memory on their FortiGate 200A. Below is information on where to find this information in the FortiGate 200A dashboard.


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About Proxyfire
Proxyfire is a powerful proxy server hunter and checker, which can not only support HTTP, SOCKS4, SOCKS5, Tunnel, SSL SMTP (E-Mail) proxies checking, but also classify them into SOCKS proxy, High Anonymous proxy, Anonymous proxy, Transparent proxy and Gateway proxy. It's a strong and multifunctional tool, including Forums Proxy Leecher, Search Engines Proxy Leecher, Proxy Scan, IP to Country Query, Proxy Filter, RBL Filter, Dangerous IP Filter, Hostname Filter etc. You can get thousands of fresh proxies per day by using Proxyfire.


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West Indies 86 for 3 (Hetmeyer 10*, Ashwin 1-7) v India
playWalsh: Powell needs to be more selective with his shotsThe former West Indies captain says he was disappointed with the way Powell got out
Despite losing the toss, despite losing their debutant fast bowler to injury, and with the other fast bowler struggling for rhythm, with hardly any turn or seam movement available, India still managed to strike three big blows before lunch. Once again, West Indies swung madly between ultra-aggressive and ultra-defensive batting as opposed to just playing, to just let their natural batting take over in good batting conditions.
The day began positively for West Indies. Jason Holder was back, he called correct at the toss, Kraigg Brathwaite got two gifts on the pads in the first over, and then Shardul Thakur walked off with a groin injury in only his second over. It is worth noting Thakur came back from the Asia Cup with a groin injury, which should raise more questions about India's handling of injuries.
The rest of India's session, though, put these uncomfortable thoughts behind. R Ashwin and Kuldeep Yadav controlled the scoring and were rewarded with a wicket each. Kieran Powell continued his extremely attacking approach, stepping out to Ashwin and hitting him over mid-on second ball. Eventually played a shot too many, and chipped Ashwin to extra-cover for 22 off 30 balls. Despite that early boundary, Ashwin only conceded seven runs off his 10.2 overs.
At the other end, despite scoring eight runs in the first over, Brathwaite couldn't even get singles away. By the time Kuldeep trapped him lbw - wrong'un followed by the stock delivery coming back into him - Brathwaite had added 6 off 62 balls to his first-over eight.
With a slightly older ball, Umesh Yadav found his rhythm, bowling accurately and getting inward movement. There was one explosion off the pitch too. Eventually, with what turned out to be the last ball before lunch, the only West Indian batting at a natural pace, Shai Hope, was trapped lbw.


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This week I took my daughter and a friend hers to the Maroon 5 concert. In the Virginia of my childhood, concerts were raucous and druggy affairs; you could get a contact high taking a deep breath at a Doobie Brothers show (before Michael McDonald joined, anyway). Here, things are different. When we reached the HP Pavilion, the entrance was cordoned off; instead of walking right in, we had to go through a long barricade that diverted us away from the door, only to dissolve back into chaos once we got up to the entrance.
"Typical crappy HP interface," someone behind me said.
Welcome to a rock concert in Silicon Valley, where you can overhead offhand UX slams.
For those of you who have never heard them: take the pop sensibility of any single-named star, sonic elements of disco, Motown, and 1980s pop, contagiously singable hooks and some wonderfully unexpected bridges and transition, and you have Maroon 5. (Check out "Makes Me Wonder" as a perfectly-crafted song illustrating all of the above.)
As for the lyrics, well, they're not Shakespeare. Most of their songs are about sex, and the rest sound like it. Adam Levine, like Amy Winehouse, is one of those singers who could make "pass the salt please" sound like a double entendre; fortunately his lyrical sensibilities are much closer to Cole Porter than Dr. Dre, so I'm more sanguine about my kids listening to them.
Part of their charm is that even their songs about heartbreak aren't sad: the melodies and rhythms are as peppy as their songs about seduction and sex. If Taylor Swift sounds like she's always surprised and hurt when a relationship fails, Adam Levine treats it as just another phase; he's not at all cavalier or callous, but in songs like "Misery" and the fantastic "This Love" the downsides of relationships are– not to be enjoyed, exactly, but as much a part of romance as the good parts. You can be as passionate about the "she's driving me crazy" or "I'm driving myself crazy because I drove her away by being so thoughtless" phase as the rest of it.
Maybe that's why a significant proportion of the crowd on Wednesday night was, as my daughter noted, recently-divorced middle-aged women: this is music that takes an easy attitude to the consequences of poor judgment, while also tapping into middle school memories of listening to their older sisters' copies of Off the Wall and Songs in the Key of Life.
I'm glad I got to take my daughter and her friend. It suggests that maybe as we get older it isn't inevitable that I become completely alienated from them.
And as you can tell from the pictures, the show was awesome. Just incredible. And the only thing smoking was the dry ice.


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Kibo Ventures, the fund backed by Spanish telecoms giant Telefónica, has invested in online production services marketplace Visualnet.com.
The startup industry directory provides production services to the film and TV & video industries. The funding will enable it to expand its technology and engage with future rounds of investment partners in the US.
"Visualnet's marketplace helps producers find all the resources they need in a more efficient way," said founder and CEO Enrique Irazoqui. "Our bidding system delivers this and is our differentiatior for the global production industry."
"Kibo, our first institutional investor, is an ideal funding partner for Visualnet," added Irazoqui. "With their support and commitment to our brand's growth in serving the global entertainment and production industries, we are confident in our future success."
"Enrique and the Visualnet team have built a much-needed technology and are bringing significant innovation to a rapidly expanding global industry," said Kibo Ventures managing partner Javier Torremocha. "We believe that they understand the need for innovation in the global production ecosystem and our investment supports this."
Visualnet.com has more than 70,000 vendors, 20,000 producers and 20,000 crew and service professionals in its directory.


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Published Jul 25, 2017
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Fun in the sun can be overrated. Who makes you look naturally radiant? see the Top 5 →
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When the hardest choice is sweet or savory, you know you're in for a treat... see the Top 5 →
Whether you take a Bloody Mary or coffee with your eggs benedict, we know... see the Top 5 →
The 2017 Sacramento A-List awards are based on more than 84,000 votes from local Sacramento-area experts.


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I am not always full of rage, sometimes I feel hopeful. So for the sake of not sounding like I am always a bitch, I would like to share something sweet my husband has dedicated to me. I won't even point out that his girlfriend used to find songs for him all the time and now he's all about finding meaningful songs for me (eeerrr). ;-)
So yes, he has dedicated the song Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars to me. Listen to it:
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Cheating Husband's Song for Me
I am not always full of rage, sometimes I feel hopeful. So for the sake of not sounding like I am always a bitch, I would like to share something sweet my husband has dedicated to me. I won't even point out that his girlfriend used to find songs for him all the time and now he's all about finding meaningful songs for me (eeerrr). ;-)
7 comments:
Oh my goodness... what is withthese men and their whore? My husband and his OW were obsessed with love songs. She would make him cd's and he would either tell her or text her different songs that relate to them etc... gag gag gag! as a result, I can hardly listen to the darn radio becuase nearly every song is a love song and send me into a trigger... grrr!ReplyDelete
Hi Donna,ReplyDelete
I am just like you. I can't listen to anything in the top 20 because I know that they listened to many of those songs together since I know what radio station my husband listens to. I know have changed my taste in music just so I don't have to think "I wonder if they listened to this together and smiled at each other and danced to it...etc. etc." It's so ridiculous isn't it? Those songs should have been shared with us...
The last day any husband is thrown out is the final number of husbands that were cheating.ReplyDelete
Good point! Thanks for your comment. :)ReplyDelete
- AnonymousMarch 15, 2012 at 9:02 AM
OMG I HATE love songs now! The ones that used to make me think of my husband now infuriate me!! I can now listen to SOME radio, though, 9 months out... I wonder if I will ever have that loving feeling for him again...ReplyDelete
- AnonymousMarch 15, 2012 at 9:05 AM
Oh I know... I've been contemplating the same exact thing lately. Sometimes things just can't be fixed...or they will take a long long time.ReplyDelete
MY HEART IS FULL OF JOY I GIVE THANKS TO DR ANU WHO WIPE AWAY MY TEARS. I AM JASMINE FROM U.S COUNTRY OVER 6 MONTHS MY HUSBAND DROVE ME OUT OF HIS HOUSE/ I GOT MARRIED FOR 11 YEARS LIVING HAPPILY WITH MY HUSBAND, WITH 2KIDS BUT OF RESENT MY HUSBAND BEHAVIOR WAS CHANGE DOING WHAT I DO NOT UNDERSTAND ALL MY THOUGHT WAS BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE MALE CHILD FOR HIM, WAS MAKING HIM TO BE PERFORMING STRANGE BEHAVIOR BECAUSE WE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT LONG TIME AGO, HE DROVE ME OUT OF HIS HOUSE SAYING THAT I CAN`T LIVE WITH HIM ANY MORE OVER 6 MONTHS . NOT KNOWING THAT THERE WAS A SPIRITUAL PROBLEM CAME UP IN MY MATRIMONIAL HOME THE SAME SPIRITUAL PROBLEM MAKE ME NOT TO HAVE A MALE CHILD FOR MY HUSBAND AND WANTED TO DESTROY MY FAMILY. ON A VERY FAITHFUL DAY I WAS READING ON BLOGGER AND I SAW A LOT OF TESTIMONY ABOUT DR ANU ON HOW HE WIPE OUT SPIRITUAL PROBLEMS AND RESTORE BROKEN MARRIAGE. AND I COPY THE EMAIL ON INTERNET AND EMAIL HIM HE ONLY ASK ME & MY HUSBAND DETAILS AFTER THAT ALL HE PROMISE WAS, MY HUSBAND WILL CALL ME BACK HOME. 2DAYS AFTER ALL DR SAID CAME TO PASS MY HUSBAND CALL ME BACK HOME WITH SMILING FACE I WAS SO SURPRISE, NOW MY HEART IS FULL OF JOY DR ANU RESTORE MY FAMILY NOW! WILL LOVE EACH OTHER MORE THAN EVER BEFORE. YOU OUT THERE YOU MITE ALSO NEED A HELP OR YOU ARE IN SERIOUS TROUBLE IN YOUR MATRIMONIAL HOME ALSO GET TO CONTACT HIM HIS EMAIL. firstname.lastname@example.com


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Well, it's time for another installment of Thriller Thursday – an on-going blogging prompt suggested by members of Geneabloggers. Today I have the story of my 3x's great-aunt, Emeline Newman Moyer Hallman.
Emeline Newman was born in December of 1852. She and her twin sister Rebecca were the youngest children of Abraham and Rebecca (Derr) Newman. For many years Abraham operated a stage coach between Norristown and Pottstown, Pennsylvania. By 1860, however, the family had taken up residence in Limerick, PA, (near Pottstown) where Abraham eventually followed the occupation of farming.
About 1871 Emma married a neighborhood boy, Charles K. Moyer. He was the son of Henry Moyer and Esther Krause. Charles and Emma had two daughters, Ella and Ida. Charles died in 1906, leaving Emma a widow. In April of 1910 Emma married John G. Hallman. John was a blacksmith. He was also widowed, his first wife Catherine Umstead having died in 1906 as well.
On the morning on September 12, 1910, Emma and her new husband were having their breakfast. The time was about 7 o'clock in the morning. As they were eating they heard a commotion. They looked outside and discovered a chicken hawk among their fowl. John got up and went to the sitting room to get his gun. As he walked back into the kitchen he tripped. The gun bumped against the door frame and discharged. Through a bizarre twist of fate, the bullet hit Emma in the back. She was actually still seated at the breakfast table when it happened. Although a physician was summoned, it was to no avail. Emma unfortunately died within a few minutes.
Emma was 56 years old and the mother of two grown daughters. She was buried in the Limerick Church Cemetery next to her first husband Charles K. Moyer. In addition to her daughters, she was survived by sisters Matilda Linderman, Mary Evans (my great-great-grandmother) and Rebecca Lightcap.
As a post script to this story, I also happen to be related to John G. Hallman. He was the son of John Hallman and Hannah Grimley and was my (half) third cousin, 4x's removed. His first wife Catherine Umstead, was the daughter of Nathan Umstead and Eliza Shaner, and was my 2nd cousin, 4x's removed. After the death of Emma Newman, John apparently married a third time. In 1920 he was enumerated with a wife named Mary Elizabeth. She died prior to 1930 and he died in 1937. (In case you are wondering, I have no information on the cause of death for the first or third wives.)


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Papers from Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society, fro
- Type:
- Other > Other
- Files:
- 24
- Size:
- 32.48 GiB (34874868471 Bytes)
- Tag(s):
- JSTOR Philosophical Transactions of science research journals papers Public Domain
- Uploaded:
- By:
- gmaxwell_
- Seeders:
- 6
- Leechers:
- 0
- Comments
- 69
- Info Hash: 577D58AA66BEACEB71518EC417AB3764965024A9
(Problems with magnets links are fixed by upgrading your torrent client!)
-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Hash: SHA1 This archive contains 18,592 scientific publications totaling 33GiB, all from Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society and which should be available to everyone at no cost, but most have previously only been made available at high prices through paywall gatekeepers like JSTOR. Limited access to the documents here is typically sold for $19 USD per article, though some of the older ones are available as cheaply as $8. Purchasing access to this collection one article at a time would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Also included is the basic factual metadata allowing you to locate works by title, author, or publication date, and a checksum file to allow you to check for corruption. ef8c02959e947d7f4e4699f399ade838431692d972661f145b782c2fa3ebcc6a sha256sum.txt I've had these files for a long time, but I've been afraid that if I published them I would be subject to unjust legal harassment by those who profit from controlling access to these works. I now feel that I've been making the wrong decision. On July 19th 2011, Aaron Swartz was criminally charged by the US Attorney General's office for, effectively, downloading too many academic papers from JSTOR. Academic publishing is an odd system—the authors are not paid for their writing, nor are the peer reviewers (they're just more unpaid academics), and in some fields even the journal editors are unpaid. Sometimes the authors must even pay the publishers. And yet scientific publications are some of the most outrageously expensive pieces of literature you can buy. In the past, the high access fees supported the costly mechanical reproduction of niche paper journals, but online distribution has mostly made this function obsolete. As far as I can tell, the money paid for access today serves little significant purpose except to perpetuate dead business models. The "publish or perish" pressure in academia gives the authors an impossibly weak negotiating position, and the existing system has enormous inertia. Those with the most power to change the system--the long-tenured luminary scholars whose works give legitimacy and prestige to the journals, rather than the other way around--are the least impacted by its failures. They are supported by institutions who invisibly provide access to all of the resources they need. And as the journals depend on them, they may ask for alterations to the standard contract without risking their career on the loss of a publication offer. Many don't even realize the extent to which academic work is inaccessible to the general public, nor do they realize what sort of work is being done outside universities that would benefit by it. Large publishers are now able to purchase the political clout needed to abuse the narrow commercial scope of copyright protection, extending it to completely inapplicable areas: slavish reproductions of historic documents and art, for example, and exploiting the labors of unpaid scientists. They're even able to make the taxpayers pay for their attacks on free society by pursuing criminal prosecution (copyright has classically been a civil matter) and by burdening public institutions with outrageous subscription fees. Copyright is a legal fiction representing a narrow compromise: we give up some of our natural right to exchange information in exchange for creating an economic incentive to author, so that we may all enjoy more works. When publishers abuse the system to prop up their existence, when they misrepresent the extent of copyright coverage, when they use threats of frivolous litigation to suppress the dissemination of publicly owned works, they are stealing from everyone else. Several years ago I came into possession, through rather boring and lawful means, of a large collection of JSTOR documents. These particular documents are the historic back archives of the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society—a prestigious scientific journal with a history extending back to the 1600s. The portion of the collection included in this archive, ones published prior to 1923 and therefore obviously in the public domain, total some 18,592 papers and 33 gigabytes of data. The documents are part of the shared heritage of all mankind, and are rightfully in the public domain, but they are not available freely. Instead the articles are available at $19 each--for one month's viewing, by one person, on one computer. It's a steal. From you. When I received these documents I had grand plans of uploading them to Wikipedia's sister site for reference works, Wikisource— where they could be tightly interlinked with Wikipedia, providing interesting historical context to the encyclopedia articles. For example, Uranus was discovered in 1781 by William Herschel; why not take a look at the paper where he originally disclosed his discovery? (Or one of the several follow on publications about its satellites, or the dozens of other papers he authored?) But I soon found the reality of the situation to be less than appealing: publishing the documents freely was likely to bring frivolous litigation from the publishers. As in many other cases, I could expect them to claim that their slavish reproduction—scanning the documents— created a new copyright interest. Or that distributing the documents complete with the trivial watermarks they added constituted unlawful copying of that mark. They might even pursue strawman criminal charges claiming that whoever obtained the files must have violated some kind of anti-hacking laws. In my discreet inquiry, I was unable to find anyone willing to cover the potentially unbounded legal costs I risked, even though the only unlawful action here is the fraudulent misuse of copyright by JSTOR and the Royal Society to withhold access from the public to that which is legally and morally everyone's property. In the meantime, and to great fanfare as part of their 350th anniversary, the RSOL opened up "free" access to their historic archives—but "free" only meant "with many odious terms", and access was limited to about 100 articles. All too often journals, galleries, and museums are becoming not disseminators of knowledge—as their lofty mission statements suggest—but censors of knowledge, because censoring is the one thing they do better than the Internet does. Stewardship and curation are valuable functions, but their value is negative when there is only one steward and one curator, whose judgment reigns supreme as the final word on what everyone else sees and knows. If their recommendations have value they can be heeded without the coercive abuse of copyright to silence competition. The liberal dissemination of knowledge is essential to scientific inquiry. More than in any other area, the application of restrictive copyright is inappropriate for academic works: there is no sticky question of how to pay authors or reviewers, as the publishers are already not paying them. And unlike 'mere' works of entertainment, liberal access to scientific work impacts the well-being of all mankind. Our continued survival may even depend on it. If I can remove even one dollar of ill-gained income from a poisonous industry which acts to suppress scientific and historic understanding, then whatever personal cost I suffer will be justified—it will be one less dollar spent in the war against knowledge. One less dollar spent lobbying for laws that make downloading too many scientific papers a crime. I had considered releasing this collection anonymously, but others pointed out that the obviously overzealous prosecutors of Aaron Swartz would probably accuse him of it and add it to their growing list of ridiculous charges. This didn't sit well with my conscience, and I generally believe that anything worth doing is worth attaching your name to. I'm interested in hearing about any enjoyable discoveries or even useful applications which come of this archive. - ---- Greg Maxwell - July 20th 2011 firstname.lastname@example.com Bitcoin: 14csFEJHk3SYbkBmajyJ3ktpsd2TmwDEBb -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: GnuPG v1.4.11 (GNU/Linux) iEYEARECAAYFAk4nlfwACgkQrIWTYrBBO/pK4QCfV/voN6IdZRU36Vy3xAedUMfz rJcAoNF4/QTdxYscvF2nklJdMzXFDwtF =YlVR -----END PGP SIGNATURE-----
Hello, I just Downloaded this and was wondering what everyone is Using to expand this Files>??? Thanks in advance to everyone!!!
Hello once more, i forgot to mention that I have a Mac comp and there's no default settings for unarchiving this Documents and would like a little on doing so. Thank you in advance.
@sazoman79 here you go
for more options you can go here
for more options you can go here
ENORMOUS upload. Literally AND figuratively. As a newbie in the field of science I can only bow before this effort.
Hi, Thanks to all you that made this available.
Any one knows how to use the Metadata? I want to be able to run searches. Is it necessary any software?
Any one knows how to use the Metadata? I want to be able to run searches. Is it necessary any software?
I am certainly glad John Young (Cryptome) follows the Tor* mailing lists, or else i would probably never have come across this! (http://cryptome.org/2012/06/anon-pub-dead.htm)
I would like to know though if the file numbering scheme was a 'mistake' and there never was a "10.7z or there is a 10.7z but it is 'missing'
Cheers and thank Greg!
I would like to know though if the file numbering scheme was a 'mistake' and there never was a "10.7z or there is a 10.7z but it is 'missing'
Cheers and thank Greg!
heh, I got here via cryptome as well. good stuff.
RIP Aaron. You are fucking hero
RIP Aaron.
also, cheers for UL.
the new generation stand upon the shoulders of giants.
yet, dwindled our wealth to riches of the whored.
the new generation stand upon the shoulders of giants.
yet, dwindled our wealth to riches of the whored.
Brilliant upload and thoughtful rationale. Many thanks for this. For those who care, a fair amount of the non-PD portions of these journals can be found on rutracker; search for Royal Society.
I do not know what is contained but I believe that information in all its forms should be free. So I will d/l and seed until people have had their fill.
If someone had access to JSTOR, what would a systematic way to continue this archive?
Someone AIM at me.
Someone AIM at me.
And me
I got this from you in July 2011 (TYVM). When I learned of Aaron's death, I searched for JSTOR and got no hits -- so I thought the torrent had died, and I reupped it. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the moment. I had no intention to steal your work. Sorry.
Someone was asking how to contribute PD JSTOR docs ... here's an answer: http://aaronsw.archiveteam.org/
good lord he has near 30,000 in bitcoins, untouched.
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