 earn.
NO ZOMBIES AT TVA meetings? Well, there goes half the TVA employees and most of the board of directors.
IS THERE ANYTHING at all to the right of Karl Marx that Clay Bennett doesn't hate?
BULLYING ON THE playground is illegal. Guess there's no such law in Congress!
ATLANTA, THE CITY too busy to hate but ample time to cheat its children and taxpayers.
WHY DO OUR kids do so well in schools? Could it be because principals are more interested in getting a "coach" than a dedicated teacher?
WOULDN'T BE IT wise to first try Amtrak service to and from Atlanta before committing to high-speed rail?
OPENING AN IHOP on Gunbarrel Road isn't going to make that big a difference. It's already a traffic nightmare. What's one more restaurant?This is a very personal view and obviously kinda generalizing, so don't take it as a fact how all swiss people are. It might just be my experience. But to me it feels like there's no diversity. People all have very narrow interests and are caught up in their little local thing and aren't open for anything different, or new. They are polite all the time but it's not real. It's just "how it's supposed to be", and you've got that with everything. Everything has to be like it always has been. Swiss people tend to be very conservative, even if our country is quite modern. Changes often lag behind other western countries. And in how much smaller the world got with technology nowadays, the whole "no we're our own thing we don't wanna have anything to do with you guys" deal is getting annoying. But really the main thing is, everything feels so shallow and closed off to new things and experiences. Even with young people. Different = bad. And I don't mean that in some edgy teenager way. I find it incredibly boring.I paused on the trail and looked for a snow-free spot where I might sit. The December snows had fallen hard this year, covering near all of God's creation, and I would have to stand. Opening my coat, I whispered a silent thanks to the valley wind for being gentle in the twilight hours. Digging into my coat pocket rewarded me with my pipe case. It wasn't much, but a little caramel-colored tobacco would help me fight the cold. With the pipe case now sitting on a waist-height stump, I opened it and pulled the meerschaum rose bowl out, taking my gloves off to fit the stem. Tamp, tamp, tamp, light.  I packed up my things, put on my gloves, and resumed my plodding pace into the woods, leaving a trail of smoke behind me, a human locomotive. 

Thoughts of the warm cabin poked at my mind. I could see my cup, waiting for tea, and the dog by the fire, waiting for me. And yet, here I was, in the cold, wandering with any purpose other than the weariness of having sat in my armchair too long, my books abandoned. The frustration of my brandy-fueled drowsiness had left me finding myself in front of my wardrobe, dressing before I understood what my hands were doing. Shifting in my boots, I was certain, based on the textures that I felt, that I'd put on two different socks. Still I plodded on, away from the house, away from my cloudy mind, and towards the cool clarity of the December ice hanging off the tree limbs.

My pace slowed as I sensed something different about the woods ahead. Despite the lateness of the night and the blackness penetrated only by the quarter moon's light, there was an unnatural glow ahead of me on the path so bright that felt compelled to investigate. Closer, there was a smell on the air, of something not unlike spiced wine, but earthier. There was a mound of boulders just off the path, where the light appeared to emanate from the strongest. 

My slow progress devolved to a stop as I contemplated. What was the source of the light? Of the smell? I should, in theory, have been left completely undisturbed for days, if not weeks, as I was far from the reaches of other men, and was not expecting company for some time. My journey north, had, if anything, been a deliberate exercise in solitude. Might someone have come unannounced? Thrusting my gloved hand into my outer coat pocket, I felt the grip of my Colt New Service. It wasn't much, as I'd first brought it thinking of any wolves emboldened by the night, but now, the thought of wolves took a quiet step to the back burner. 

Curiosity overcame the hesitation of fear, and with my hand on the revolver in my coat pocket, I rounded the corner with tender steps. A wild shriek pierced my eardrums and I jumped back, heart pounding, ready to run. A girl, no, a woman, stood in front of me, shivering in the snow. Her skirt, ludicrously short, did little to warm her, and her jacket was also undersized, having been cut too high. The paint on her face had streaked with tears, some still fresh. On the ground at her feet, melting the snow, was a white cup leaking the strangely-scented coffee that I had mistaken for spiced wine. She clutched a metal sheet to her chest. Light was coming out of the sheet. 

Trying to regain my composure and comfort the distraught girl, I held a hand out. "Ma'am, are you alright?" I asked. She sniffled and stared at my outstretched hand.

"I guess so," she said. "Where am I?"

"You're pretty far from home, I'd say. How'd you get here?"

A frown crossed her face. "I dunno. I had just bought a cup of coffee and was on my way back to the parking garage, and I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, since I was looking at my tablet, but this is ridiculous!" She waved the flat metal sheet wildly in her gestures, the white light pouring out of a glass surface, acting as a lantern. "I tried calling for help, but I can't get any signal out here."

"I'm not sure that I understand," I confessed. I had no idea what she was talking about. "What's a parking garage?"

My question was reciprocated with a blank stare. "Very funny. Do you have a phone that I can borrow?"

"I don't own a phone." In fact, I didn't even know where one would find a phone out here. The closest phone would probably be in town, which was maybe two days' walk away, barring the intervention of a friend with a spare horse that could navigate the roads where an automobile couldn't. "I can take you to a phone, but it has to wait until daylight. There is little chance that I'm going to try and make the trek at night."

Bewilderment crossed her face.  Not even a landline?"

"What is a landline?"

Another blank stare. "Do you at least know a place where I can get out of the cold and see if I can find a signal?"

I never took part in the railroad industry, so I knew that I wouldn't have a signal, even if she needed one. Why she would need a signal, I did not understand, but at the first least I could empathize with her on needing to get out of the cold. "Come this way. I've got a cabin about a mile out of the woods. It's a bit of a walk," I said, pausing to look at her odd canvas shoes, "but at least you're outfitted acceptably." 

I trudged back towards my warm cabin and my loyal dog, and the strange girl with the metal light-sheet followed.[Q]: Näkemyksenne muun muassa kansallisten AKT-parlamenttien lujittamisesta, kansainvälisistä rikostuomioistuimista ja muista ihmisoikeuskysymyksistä ovat vahvistaneet neuvotteluasemaamme.

Translate this to English?
[A]: Just to name some of them: your position on strengthening national ACP parliaments, on the International Criminal Court and on other human rights issues confirmed our negotiation position.
Question:
On AKT-maiden oma asia päättää muutoksen nopeudesta ja tätä muutosta koskevista kriteereistä.

Could you please translate this to English?
Answer:
It is up to the ACP countries themselves to decide on the speed of change and their criteria for that change.
test: Yksityiskohtainen seurantakertomus, jonka kollegio hyväksyi tänä aamuna, on komission pitkän ja tunnollisen työn tulos. Komissio on valvonut ja tukenut ehdokasmaiden valmisteluja vuosien ajan.
English?

translation: The Comprehensive Monitoring Report adopted by the College this morning is the fruit of lengthy, painstaking efforts by the Commission, which has been monitoring and supporting the acceding countries' preparations for years.
Thessalonikissa hyväksymämme ohjel