of punk. It's interesting that the English word 'punk' has no other meaning and the Chinese word is a lot deeper."

O'Dell also helped organize the first punk festivals called "Punks Not Dead" in 1996, whose audience became the second generation of punks.

"The original lead singer and the guitarist of Brain Failure were in the crowd that day. They were inspired to start their own band. There was a trend that the audience became the next generation. And that happens in almost every music community, in England and New York, too."

O'Dell was only meant to be in Beijing for a semester, but he ended up staying for eight years, until 2003, when he had to return home to care for his sick mother. He later decided to stay onwith his family after his mother died.

The torch was passed on, and Beijing was holding its ninth punk festival when O'Dell visited.

"It's certainly easier to do punk rock here now. It's much more accepted. There is a young generation that has a little bit of money to go to a punk-rock show. It's kind of fashionable now."

The music has also grown more varied due to influences from all kinds of digital music available on the Internet.

"I think the sound just changed a little bit. There is more electronic influence now. The music is a lot more varied. I don't think it's possible that you can pick anything that is unique punk anymore. It's all alternative."

While the punk-rock scene is more established, it is also more difficult for young


MV Hallaig

MV Hallaig is a pioneering Diesel Electric Hybrid ferry built for the Caledonian MacBrayne service between Skye and Raasay.

History
Hallaig was launched in December 2012 at Ferguson Shipbuilders in Port Glasgow by Deputy First Minister Nicola Sturgeon. The name comes from a poem, written by Sorley MacLean, itself named after an abandoned township on Raasay. Hallaig was the first commercial ship to be fully built and delivered on the Clyde in over five years. The Scottish Government invested more than £20 million in the project.

Layout
Hallaig is the first of three roll-on roll-off hybrid-powered ferries. She has a low-carbon system of diesel electric and lithium ion battery power.

The 135-ton vessel is  long and accommodates 150 passengers and 23 cars or two HGVs.

Service
Hallaig  was built for the serviceNorth Bergen man charged with masturbating in Hoboken park: cops

A 30-year-old North Bergen man was caught masturbating in public in a Hoboken park near 801 Sinatra Drive on Saturday, Nov. 16.Google Maps

A 30-year-old North Bergen man has been charged with masturbating twice at a Hoboken park where children were playing, Hoboken police said.

A Staten Island woman was jogging in Skate Park on Sinatra Drive near Second Street Saturday when she saw a man later identified as Francisco E. Peraza-Morales, masturbating in the passenger's seat of his car, with his sweat pants pulled down to his knees, a police report said.

The woman called police, who arrived at the park just as Peraza-Morales was leaving the parking lot, the report stated.

An officer pulled his police cruiser in front of the


British actor Ed Skrien has dropped out of the upcoming Hellboy reboot following a backlash over his role.

Skrien was cast as Major Ben Daimio, a character described as Japanese-American in the source material.

The Deadpool star said he did not know the race of the character when he accepted the part, and was stepping down so "the role can be cast appropriately".

News of his casting prompted accusations of "whitewashing" in Hollywood after similar rows over films such as The Ghost in the Shell and Marvel/Netflix show Iron Fist.

In a statement posted on Twitter, Skrien said that there had been "intense conversation and understandable upset" over his role.

"It is clear that representing this character in a culturally accurate way holds significance for people, and that to neglect this responsibility wouldRegina Franklin." "26-year-old prostitute and meth addict." "She was originally from Tampa but moved to Baltimore after she dropped out of her senior year of high school." "The M.E. found 37 stab wounds to her genitalia and lower abdomen," "10 to the throat." "But Yates is usually more surgical than that." "Why so sloppy?" "Good catch." "We think it's because he gave us his exact location, he had to move fast because he knew we were coming." "She had defensive wounds." "Yes." "The M.E. believes that she tried to fight back at some point, probably when he first grabbed her." "She also had someone else's blood on her, enough to run a sample through CODIS and we were able to confirm that it belongs to Yates." "Excuse me."


Our office was in desperate need of organization. After we’d tried the services of many other companies and self-proclaimed IT professionals, it was Voree who was able to complete the tasks in two short visits, which would otherwise have taken years for others to accomplish.

First, Voree came in and organized our network of computers, printers, and other devices. The "spaghetti bowl" of wires that cluttered the office disappeared, and a neat network of wires emerged. The problems of having computers with different operating systems and a multitude of different devices and servers were eliminated. On the second visit, Voree quickly installed new computers in place of old and outdated stations and connected our office to our company headquarters. In a few short hours, we went from barely beingTwo new portraits this morning from one of my favorite artists Kumi Yamashita (previously). The first one is part of her Constellation series titled Mana #2. The portrait is made from a single unbroken sewing thread wrapped through a dense network of galvanized nails, a process that takes several months. The second artwork, Mother #2, is part of her ongoing Warp and Weft series where Yamashita works with a panel of black denim and then meticulously cuts threads from the fabric to form an image. If you happen to be in California, both works will be in a group show from April 20th through June 1st, 2013 at Scott White Contemporary Art in La Jolla. You can also now follow the artist over on Facebook.

Do stories and artists


Key West Book Review Summary

Detailed plot synopsis reviews of Key West

Sonnie Giacano lost everything one fateful night. She's lost her husband, her unborn child and the portion of her memory that would tell her why. She knows that missing piece of memory can explain the flashbacks, voices and nightmares that are tormenting her. She returns to Key West, the scene of the accident, to root out the truth. Sonnie is set up with ex-cop Chris Talon who is in Key West to escape his own bad memories. Chris wants nothing to do with Sonnie's case. He believes she could be crazy, but he is drawn to her, to help her and protect her.

The review of this Book prepared by Tiffany

What did you like or hate about this book:

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Anti-Spamin the assault Saturday by some 12 to 15 al-Shabab militants wielding grenades and firing on civilians inside the mall, which includes shops for such retail giants as Nike, Adidas and Bose and is popular with foreigners and wealthy Kenyans.

The militants specifically targeted non-Muslims, and at least 18 foreigners were among the dead, including six Britons, as well as citizens from France, Canada, the Netherlands, Australia, Peru, India, Ghana, South Africa and China. Nearly 200 people were wounded, including five Americans.

Fighters from an array of nations participated in the assault, according to Kenya Chief of Defense forces Gen. Julius Karangi. “We have an idea who these people are and they are clearly a multinational collection from all over the world,” he said.

In the United States, the FBI was


looking into whether Americans were involved in the attack, said FBI spokesman Paul Bresson.

Al-Shabab, whose name means “The Youth” in Arabic, said the mall attack was in retribution for Kenyan forces’ 2011 push into neighboring Somalia. It was the deadliest terrorist attack in Kenya since the 1998 al-Qaida truck bombing of the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi, which killed more than 200 people.

An extremist Islamic terrorist force that grew out of the anarchy that crippled Somalia after warlords ousted a longtime dictator in 1991, al-Shabab is estimated to have several thousand fighters, including a few hundred foreigners, among them militants from the Middle East with experience in the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts. Others are young, raw recruits from Somali communities in the United States and Europe.

Somali President Hassan Sheikhtraditional union contracts in the fast food industry.) Henry said the group is supporting candidates like Whitmer and Evers because they’ve called for more collective bargaining.

Republican leaders in Michigan and Wisconsin passed right-to-work laws in 2012 and 2015, respectively. Such laws give workers who are covered by a union contract the option to not pay any union fees, often driving down union membership. The laws can also have long-lasting political effects, hurting union finances and, less directly, progressive causes. Unions have traditionally been a large funder of Democratic campaigns.

When Wisconsin narrowly went for Trump in 2016, anti-tax crusader Grover Norquist attributed the GOP victory to Walker, who gutted public-sector unions through the law known as Act 10 in 2010. Membership in Wisconsin government unions has dropped sharply since


CHARLOTTE, N.C. – Carolina Panthers quarterback Cam Newton is closing in on fulfilling a promise to his mom and completing his degree at Auburn.

Newton is back on the campus of the school he led to the 2010 national championship for the spring semester. He is in line to graduate with a degree in sociology in May.

Here are some Tweets and pictures documenting his return, including one sleepy moment in class:

When you're a pro football player but you still gotta go to class pic.twitter.com/SHQ3YkzDr7 — Ryan Daly (@ryandaly23) February 6, 2015

WDE RT @MrThane14 Cam Newton and I just hanging out it's casual @ The Grilled Cheezy http://t.co/AIYXOQgLiM pic.twitter.com/kJ6JHYQvJP — AUFAMILY (@AUFAMILY) February 6, 2015

A high point in my life meeting and talking to my all time favorite athlete @CameronNewtonI was lucky enough to be commissioned by DeviantArt for Blizzard, to contribute to the 21 days of Overwatch.Having to draw the last deviation to be revealed and seeing all the great artists to be involved was definitely was a bit daunting.I got to illustrate Torbjörn, who is more defensive weaponsmith character, building up lines of turrets to aid his team. From his role in the game he´s probably not the type of character I´d choose first when playing, but I liked his look from the outset. I mean, he´s a badass looking space dwarf with robotic claw and a flame-spewing forge on his back, what´s not to like?. I thought portraying him in the midst of a raging battle, manning the barricades would fit his character well


Monday, 29 June 2015

Brentwood has become the latest diocese to announce dramatic restructuring proposals due to budget shortfalls.The present language of deficits and devolution abounds in the announcement from the diocese, including the news of a number of redundancies resulting from the process.

Localism seems to be another in vogue concept with Brentwood diocese, with many of the functions previously undertaken by diocesan commissions now to be devolved to parish level. The Commissions are to be replaced by three vicariates for education, formation and evangelisation.

It is strange that in an organisation that professes to be so concerned with humanity that it is people that always seem to be the first casualties of these restructuring processes.

The Church has to face it is an institution in decline in Britain and mostbuildings should be fully insulated, using renewable energy via solar and PV panels. Gardens with crops being grown – where space permits. Interlinking with local environmental initiatives such as those to save bees and recycle. There could be environmental audits to ensure that changes toward sustainable living were being achieved. The parish and schools must become integral parts of the local environmentalecology architecture.

Some of these principles are encaptured in the live simply parish awards but more needs to be done to promote such schemes.

At national level, the encyclical demands the Church intervenes on matters of environmental significance. This would mean, for example, making representations on the recently announced move by government to stop subsidies to onshore wind turbines from next April. The encyclical is far reaching so would


require intervention across the board from biodiversity to the world of work.

The Church interventions should be given the same weight of resource and effort as is seen on matters such as abortion and euthanasia. In order for this to happen, the Church would have to build up its environmental resources. The Anglican Church has environmental expertise in every diocese, working to address climate change. The Catholic Church has virtually nothing, indeed, it seemed to be struggling with providing individuals to talk in the media on this encyclical. What is clear is that the lack of resource thus far devoted to the environment by the Catholic Church in England and Wales is testimony to the lack of priority given to the subject generally. Pope Francis’s eloquent clarion call inassets (ie the panels on the schools) would still
be there raising revenue.
All went well for the first months of the bond, interest was paid on the
quarter, there was even an early bird payment. There were, though, some
concerns among investors that the company were not paying on the payment date
but utilising the clause that allowed them to pay within 15 business days of
that date.

The alarm bells though really started ringing last January, when the fourth
interest payment was not made. There was no response to emails sent to the St
Albans based company, the phone line was dead. A call to Capita, which dealt with
the interest payments, confirmed that interest payments had been suspended.

A bit more digging round the internet revealed that the Australian parent
company, CBD Energy, had gone into administration


with the well publicised case of Jeffrey Spector, a man terminally ill with cancer, who went to the Dignitas in Switzerland to end his own life.

One of the problems with the debate over assisted dying at the moment is that it seems to be guided by one sensational media story after another. Emotions run high whille cold hard logic comes in a long way behind.
The Spector case raised many of the classic issues — a man with a terminal condition, who stood just to see his life deteriorate and suffer over a number of months if not years before the final release of death. He took the decision not to run that gauntlet of suffering, go to Dignitas and end it all.
The debate here has been about whya starting point from which the criteria for termination would be expanded.
One of the problems with the debate over assisted dying at the moment is that it seems to be being guided by one sensational media story after another. Emotions run high while cold hard logic runs a long way behind.
My own position on assisted dying has changed over recent years. I witnessed my mother go through years of physical suffering, declaring almost every day she wished she was dead. I remember regularly arguing that there were people worse off than her. My Mum’s mind was excellent right up to the end, when it came, a couple of years ago. However, since her death I have had time to reflect.
Mum underwent a steady physical deterioration over a number


on that day that
began the process that led to the book.

The
unique element of the book is in exposing institutional corruption in such a
broad span of public life. So it starts with an examination of neo-liberalism.
This exposes how the private sector has virtually taken over the public, with a
revolving door operating between the two. A whole new moral compass being
established that judges everything according to the market.

Police
corruption is the next area examined. So there is the exposure of the gross
corruption that involved the likes of the West Midlands Police, which had
already been mired in controversy over its handling of the Birmingham pub
bombings in the 1970s, somehow finishing up playing a major role in covering up
the corruption of the South Yorkshire police in relation to what happened at
Hillsborough in 1989.

Thereis
exposure of the totally ineffectual nature of bodies like the Independent
Police Complaints Commission, largely staffed with former and serving police officers
in bringing about any justice. The separate chapters written by different
writers move from Hillsborough to the murder of Stephen Lawrence and finally
the death of Mark Duggan – shot by police in 2011.

There is
then a section of four chapters on the corruption of government and institutions,
encompassing the role played by the British state in torture in Northern
Ireland and beyond, institutional child abuse and the operation of the Private
Finance Initiative.

The final
section deals with corruption in finance and the corporate sector, looking at how
the banks have got away with huge corruption both in the UK and through the tax
haven networks. The different chapters are well written, punctuated with facts that
bring you


the BBC if it is not there.

Wednesday, 3 June 2015

The West Ham season can be season
up as what might of beens. Fourth at Christmas , the club then entered into
faltering run that saw just three wins secured on the way to a final 12th
place in the Premership.

Manager Sam Allardyce paid the
price, with virtually instant dismissal on the whistle of the final game
against Newcastle. The rumours had been growing over the months that Allardyce
was for the chop, so when it came the news was a bit of an anti-climax.

The manager had effectively been
on probation since last August, when the club grudgingly gave him another one
year contract, the conditionality being that he secure a top 10 finish playing
attractive football.

Top players were provided: Aaron
Cresswell from Ipswich, Cheikou Kouyate from Anderlecht, EnnerValencia from Mexican
club Pachuca and Diafra Sakho from Metz. Alex Song, Carl Jenkinson and Morgan Amalfitano
were taken on loan for the season. All went well up to Christmas. Song was
pulling the strings, Sakho scoring the goals in an exciting new partnership up
front with Valencia. Stewart Downing was rejuvenated in a new freer role to
roam at the head of the diamond formation. At the back Cresswell and Jenkinson
were a revelation, attacking down the flanks whenever possible.

After Christmas though it all
fell apart. There had been high hopes of an FA Cup run but this crashed to a
halt at West Brom in the fifth round. League form was no better, with just
three wins after New Years Day.

Allardyce became particularly
frustrated at his side’s consistent ability to grab defeat from the jaws of
victory.


Post match, he repeatedly cited the games at home to Manchester United
and Everton and away to Spurs and Leicester, when the team were undone by goals
in the last couple of minutes. He put this down to inexperience of some playing
in their first season of the Premier League. Maybe so but the uncertainty
around his own position can hardly have helped matters.

The constant speculation must
have effected team morale and results. Without the speculation, could West Ham
have finished two or three positions higher?

What does seem clear is that
there were those who wanted Allardyce out whatever, maybe only securing
Champions League football would have saved his job, what is for sure is that 12th
wouldn’t.

Now, it is a new era, the
speculation has begun over who will replace Allardyce, with former player
Slavan Bilic a hotwith whom he’s familiar. After the culture wars of last season, with some Jim Caldwell holdovers slow to adapt to the new order of things, Patricia wants guys he knows will fit his coaching style. And while Thomas has never personally worked with Patricia, he is familiar with this administration.

Thomas played quarterback at Virginia Tech and gave the position a go his first two-plus seasons in the league. But after failed stints with the Cardinals, Giants and Dolphins, he decided to give tight end a try. He has the size for it, at 6-foot-6 and 250 pounds, and ran the 40-yard dash in 4.61 seconds at the combine in 2014. That would have placed third among the tight ends at this year’s combine.

And the Lions were the first


Lazaro Arbos

Lazaro Reinaldo Arbos Andraca (born December 27, 1990), known professionally as Lazaro Arbos, is a Cuban American singer, who came in sixth place on the twelfth season of American Idol.

Personal background
Arbos was born in Cuba to parents Gizela Andraca and Reinaldo Arbos. The family moved to Naples, Florida, when he was 10 years old. He graduated from Gulf Coast High School in 2009.

Arbos speaks with a significant stutter, which developed at age six. When he sings, the stutter disappears. While he has participated in speech and language therapy, the stutter still remains prominent while speaking. Prior to American Idol, he worked as a scooper at Rita's Italian Ice; he said it was "the only job I can get where I don't have to do 'smart people' stufflike talking".

American Idol

Overview
Arbos auditioned for the twelfth season of American Idol in Chicago with the song "Bridge over Troubled Water". He surprised the judges when, after speaking to them with a significant stutter, he did not stutter when he began to sing. In the semifinals, he performed "Feeling Good" by Cy Grant. On March 7, 2013, Arbos was voted into the finals. In the Top 7 round, his performance of "We Are the Champions" by Queen earned him enough votes to place him among the top three contestants. Arbos was voted off on the April 11, 2013, episode, finishing in sixth place. He was the last male contestant to be eliminated, leaving an all-female Top 5 for the first time in the show's history, and ending the show's


and Prevention Act has been used in such overtly political circumstances. If we have learned anything from the modern mass Black incarceration regime that has been in place since the early Seventies, it is that every law that can be abused for political purposes will be disproportionately deployed against Black people. The Georgia gang statute was designed to circumscribe the movements and constitutional liberties of Black and brown youth, as are similar statutes and gang injunction laws in effect all across the country. It was conceived as an anti-Black law, and its one-time use against racist whites does not change the nature of the law as an instrument of mass Black incarceration. The gang statutes are throwbacks to the Black Codes imposed on ex-slaves after the Civil War,Alan York, Biodynamic Pioneer, Has Passed Away

Alan York, a leading consultant for biodynamic viniculture, has passed away at 62. He worked extensively with Mike Benziger at Benzinger Family Winery, and other wineries around the world. Fellow grape grower Phil Coturri had this to say:

“Alan was a horticulturist at heart. Loved plants, gardens and the teachings of Steiner. His passion and understanding of biodynamics helped spread the word internationally. I will always cherish the time I spent with him walking vineyards, talking about balance. Talking about healing the earth by understanding our soils and the environment in which our plants grow. Celebrating balance in life, wines and earth.”

Benziger Winery sent us the following about Alan’s life:

￼Alan Lynn York was born January 18, 1952 in Whitehouse, Texas and grew up


in Morgan City, Louisiana. He told vivid stories of pirogue trips into the swamps and marshes nearby. He loved visits to Granny York, Aunt Willie and Uncle Lloyd on their farm in the pine forests of East Texas. Alan hated school and ran away to California at age 16. He returned home, finished high school, then moved permanently to Santa Barbara, California where he met his first love: horticulture.

Alan never willingly read anything until he began to garden. Then he read voraciously, first on organic gardening, then everything from Liberty Hyde Bailey to Rudolf Steiner, from soil management to orcharding, viticulture and landscape design. His first quest was “How can I grow the best plants without poisons and other chemical inputs?” After some years of gardening, landscaping, andfun in Santa Barbara, he met Alan Chadwick, a charismatic English gardener, actor, and teacher, well known for his amazing gardens at UC-Santa Cruz.

Chadwick relocated to Covelo, California where very dedicated apprentices joined him to create a garden project to demonstrate Chadwick’s French Intensive methods and his approach to biodynamics. Alan York served his apprenticeship, then joined the staff and finally was Head Gardener. After three years at Covelo, he departed and Chadwick said of him, “That young man has an enormous store of practical knowledge.” He threw himself into learning every practical thing he could, endlessly practicing each technique of propagating, fertilizing, irrigating, and cultivating every kind of plant in the garden. And he began to devote himself unstintingly to the spirit of the earth, to opening


his heart to the heart of the earth. To observe his work was to see a perfect marriage of technique raised to art.

Two sides of Alan existed the remainder of his life. The easily visible part was the marriage of his ever-growing practical skills and landscape design capacities with his keen study of academic horticulture. He amassed quite a library. The less visible part was his devotion to the spirit, which he pursued through meditation each morning upon arising, and his form of karma yoga: serving the earth and its inhabitants through work.

Alan went to Detroit where he co-directed the horticultural education and gardens of the Waldorf Institute of Mercy College-Detroit. Then to Missouri where he directed the American Farm Institute, and finally back to his true home—California.Alan spent his ￼remaining 21 years establishing an intensive apple orchard in Boonville, a large vineyard near Ukiah, very extensive work at Benziger Family Winery—now the leading biodynamic vineyard in California, and an ever-expanding international vineyard consultancy that took him to Chile, Argentina, South Africa, Italy, Israel, and France. He served as president of the Biodynamic Association for seven years and also edited the “Biodynamics” quarterly journal.

He will be remembered by his many friends, co-workers, and clients for his astounding sense of humor, infectiously deep laughter, keen wit and intellect, and devotion to his art and craft. In later years he could describe the difficult concepts of biodynamics with a warmth and clarity that few have achieved. Had he lived a few more years he would have achieved


great international renown. Alan York is survived by his devoted soul-mate and wife, Rose Ann, his son, August, his mother Joyce Williams and his sister, Jan Flowers. Alan departed this life on February 3 , 2013.mercantilist legislation of the British Parliament that prohibited their cabotage, just as much earlier the Portuguese had sunk Arab ships with which they could not compete in the India trade."In the new era of geo-economics, however, there is no superior modality: Both the causes and the instruments of conflict can be economic. When commercial disagreements do lead to international political clashes, the disputes must be resolved with the weapons of commerce.

The "Weapons" of geoeconomics
States engage in geo-economic competition through both through assisting or directing domestic private entities, or through direct action opposing foreign commercial interests:

 States assist private entities through supporting high-risk research and development, initiating overseas market-penetrating investments, and through production over-investment for market-share forcing.
 More directly, states impose taxes and quotas on foreign products, bolster


1981 c g
 Botocudo japonicus (Hidaka, T., 1959) c g
 Botocudo longicornis (Barber, H.G., 1958) c g
 Botocudo marginatus Zheng, L.Y. & H.G. Zou, 1981 c g
 Botocudo marianensis (Usinger, 1946) i c g
 Botocudo modestus (Barber, 1948) i c g b
 Botocudo neomodesta Slater, J.A. & H. Brailovsky, 1994 c g
 Botocudo noualhieri (Bergroth, E., 1895) c g
 Botocudo ornatulus (Bergroth, E., 1895) c g
 Botocudo patricius Distant, W.L., 1904 c g
 Botocudo picticollis (Bergroth, E., 1895) c g
 Botocudo picturatus (Distant, W.L., 1893) c g
 Botocudo polhemusi Slater, J.A. & Polhemus, 1987 c g
 Botocudo pronotalis Slater, J.A., 1979 c g
 Botocudo pusio (Stal, C., 1858) c g
 Botocudo rennellensis (Scudder, G.G.E., 1958) c g
 Botocudo scudderi Slater, J.A., 1979 c g
 Botocudo signanda (Distant, W.L.,proposed legislation envisaged a significant reduction in the powers of the Senate, the upper house of the Italian parliament. Under Italy’s 1948 constitution, both chambers of parliament, the Chamber of Deputies and the Senate, have equal importance in the adoption of any legislation. Before a bill can be made into law, it has to be passed by both chambers.

Italy’s current legislative system was devised in the years after WWII. The wartime years also saw the toppling of fascist dictator Benito Mussolini. The new Constitution, introduced in 1948, granted the two chambers of parliament equal powers, aiming to prevent dictatorships from taking over in the future.

READ MORE: Italy divided as voters take part in key constitutional referendum on parliamentary powers

However, the system has not been functioning smoothly, as the


it to get your chapters!)

A huge thanks goes out to my seriously awesome beta - now if only she had an account here... I'm wearing her down though, and to a friend of mine, KomeKozzy425 for all her late night brainstorming sessions with me where I just text her 19 times in a row with ideas and she doesn't yell at me for being annoying. She also named this story, by the by.

Anyway! Enjoy. Don't forget to review.

Prologue

Hermione stood perfectly still while looking out of her grimy bedroom window on the third floor of Grimmauld place; her reflection staring back at her with sad eyes as she tried to see past them to witness the thunderstorm that was raging outside the glass. She had been doing some seriousthinking and knew without a doubt that she was going to defect. She was tired of this damned house and its horrible occupants, tired of being treated horribly and kept indoors, and so fucking tired of being screamed at by people she used to consider her friends for no damned good reason.

Hermione had developed a dirty feeling deep within her soul; a dirty feeling formed slowly over time as she witnessed the real way that the Order of the Phoenix dealt with things that they found unpleasant and unsatisfactory – it was nothing like she had expected when she was still a school-girl. She'd been misled and mistreated on more than one occasion, but it hadn't become totally clear to her until she'd gotten into a huge fight


with Harry a few evenings before. Hermione realized only a few short months in to serving the Order of the Phoenix after Hogwarts that she had been misled – a few months of sitting alone in the house while everyone else attended raids and did reconnaissance missions. She had been banned from leaving the property, no, the house, the moment she stepped inside it. She didn't quite realize how far downhill her treatment had gone until she'd stood on the opposite side of the scrubbed kitchen table from Harry. The tendons in his neck were straining and a large vein in his forehead was looking close to destruction as his eyes blazed while he screamed at her. Screamed, in front of the entire fucking order because she'd usedher words stupidly about a matter that had been bothering her conscience since she'd first heard of it.

She thought someone had to bring up the treatment of their prisoners, the way that Senior members of the Order killed first and asked questions later, and the way none of them could even fucking see that they were losing themselves wholly to the evil they were supposedly trying to fight.

She was sick of it. Sick. She was tired of being trapped in this goddamn hell-hole of a house and tired of being treated like some sort of servant. After she thought about it she realized it was incredibly reminiscent of her school days. It had been her responsibility to go over Harry and Ron's school work to ensure they passed,


and now it was her responsibility to go over their horrific battle plans to ensure they won. At least in school she felt appreciated for the effort she put into keeping them safe, alive, and passing. Now she got screamed at if something didn't turn out perfectly, even though she wasn't even allowed to join the stupid fucking missions, so it's not like it was even remotely her fault if something didn't go as planned.

She was twenty years old and hadn't left the house in over two years – she was an unwilling captor of the light and she wanted out, out, out! She had come to that startling conclusion the weekend before, and once it burrowed itself into her mind she was unable to get rid ofthe thought.

Yes. She wanted out.

Hermione Granger wasn't staring blankly out the window of her tiny bedroom in Grimmauld Place – no – Hermione Granger was planning her escape. The house had blood wards and so many protection spells once she left she'd never be able to get back inside unless she had help, but that wasn't a worry – she was never fucking coming back to this house once she was gone.

She wasn't surprised that the thoughts running through her head nearly paralyzed her with fear, but she knew, without a doubt, that she couldn't stay in Grimmauld place one day longer. She was done, so fucking done with these people and their ways. She was done living under Harry bleeding Potter's thumb!

She was Hermione Granger, the brightest


fucking witch of her age, and she was done letting people decide her life and fate for her!

If the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't make her feel wanted, needed or let her fight – let her out of the goddamned house, even?

She'd find someone who would.

Hermione had been living the last two years in captivity because Harry and Ron didn't want to 'risk' her being out in the open when there were Death Eaters at every turn. Hermione wasn't sure if she completely believed that the Death Eaters were out in such forces, but she had no proof otherwise and Harry and Ron seemed incredibly sincere while trying to convince her of the danger when they had first arrived at headquarters.

In the beginning she had fought her twofriends tooth and nail to be let out of the house. She had done everything in her power to ensure them that she was powerful and would be fine, that she needed to fight to feel as though she were contributing, that she could fight – and could do it a hell of a lot better than one Ronald fucking Weasley. She probably knew and could perfectly execute more spells than that moron could even fucking dream about, but somehow she was the one forced to stay inside, stagnating, while the red-headed wonder was out doing missions far too dangerous for him.

She'd fight them, but then Harry would turn to her with his emerald eyes downcast and mournful, his lips pulled down into a pout that, when he


little as sitting in the square across the street.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

The things her so-called friends did while they were raiding had slowly made her decide she didn't want any part in their "raids". They were insane and barbaric, especially one Ronald Weasley. She had come to the terms with the fact that he enjoyed destroying people, guilty or not, in a way that did make the Unforgiveable curses look like child's play.

She'd heard them speaking about it on more than one occasion, often enough to understand that her once gentle and somewhat clumsy friend had crossed the line completely and had teetered into the realm of sadistic.

"Good job out there, Ron," Seamus Finnegan said admiringly as everyone who had been part of the raid thatnight tromped into the kitchen. Hermione could tell they'd all already been tended to by the Healers on the first floor judging by the scent of potions in the air, the funky coloured substances smeared on some of the men, and the bandages covering some of their heads, arms, and shoulders. Harry had limped in last, being held upright by Neville Longbottom, and Hermione couldn't even fucking bring herself to ask what had happened. She truly just didn't want to know.

Seamus made his way to the large cooler in the corner of the room and started passing out muggle beer to all the men who had joined him in the kitchen. The Order had been getting groceries in muggle London for over a year – it was much


safer than trying to buy anything in the Wizarding World since the Death Eaters had taken over Diagon Alley.

"Did you see it, Harry?" Ron asked, his face glowing with pride as he casually held onto the neck of the bottle of beer between his index and middle fingers. Hermione jammed herself in the corner of the room, reluctant to be there and even more so to be seen by that fucking psychopath. The look on his face bordered on deranged, his eyes wide - somewhat shiny, and his lips split into a grin that could only be described as eerie.

He looked around the room and his eyes landed on Hermione, causing her to squirm somewhat and cross her arms tightly across her chest in a defensive gesture. Ronwatched her too closely most of the time and it made her nervous; she didn't want to attract his attention in any way, shape, or form, and whenever he did look at her he'd lick his lips unconsciously and watch her movements with narrowed eyes.

"No," Harry said, lifting his leg tenderly and resting it on a chair opposite, a look of pain tightening his features for a moment before he sighed in relief and turned his full attention to his ginger haired friend. Ron's eyes skittered away from Hermione and he met Harry's gaze as the raven-haired wizard asked, "What happened?"

"It was so awesome," Ron started, excitement making his voice come out an octave higher than usual. "A huge Death Eater was coming straight for me, grinning madly


as he brandished his wand. I knew he was going to hex me with something truly evil– it only took me a split second to decide what spell to use. His mask fell off when he shot his spell, but I dodged it, and judging by the colour it would have been truly horrific. Anyway, as I dodged I screamed my curse and watched as it hit him square in the chest – he dropped like a sack of shit and I couldn't even hold in my laugh at the look of shock and fear on his face. I walked right up to him, not scared at all, and looked in his face, watched his eyes until the full effect of the curse hit him. His eyes widenedalmost comically and then he exploded, his entrails shooting out everywhere and barely missing me. It was great."

Ron laughed and smiled for his entire story, and at the end he released a sigh, almost like he was reminiscing about time spent with a fucking lover, or something pleasant instead of watching someone explode. Hermione felt sick.

"Who was it?" Harry asked, and Hermione knew it wasn't because he felt even the slightest sliver of remorse – no, he wanted to know who's name he could cross off the fucking pathetic list they had of known Death Eaters and who got the kill. They'd even gone as far as to colour code it – each man was a specific colour and whenever they'd killed a known Death Eater they'd highlight


his name in the proper hue.

It was truly disgusting.

"No idea, Mate," Ron answered, so flippantly that Hermione wanted to scream and scream and scream.

She'd always thought that the point of the Order was to capture as many Death Eaters as possible, but keep them alive and put them away in jail. Not murder. This was not what she'd signed up for.

"This wasn't supposed to be a raid." Hermione said seriously, jumping to her feet so quickly that the bench she was sharing with a few other members slid across the floor loudly, scraping across the stone and jostling the other members sitting upon it.

"We did what we had to do, Hermione!" Harry snapped at her, rolling his eyes at her like she was some sort of insufferable girlwho just didn't understand what was going on in the real world. Dumbledore sat on Harry's right, his expression looking somewhat smug, in her opinion – almost like he knew what was going to occur before the fight had even started.

"Did they even have a chance? What did you fucking do, Harry?! Knock on the goddamned door and blow them away when they answered it, completely unawares what was happening?!"

"They were Death Eaters!" Harry screamed suddenly, losing control of his already unchecked emotions. He'd been slowly losing discipline over himself over the last two years, but Hermione knew when she saw the vein in his forehead start to throb that he was really going around the bend.

"They were Pureblood!" Hermione corrected angrily, slamming her hands down on the


table in front of her. She was so fucking tired of hearing this from Harry, and if no one else was going to stand up for what she, they all, felt was right, then she'd do it herself.

"It's the same fucking thing!" Harry screamed, spittle flying from his twisting lips and landing on the table in front of him. His emerald eyes were blazing at her with pure hate, hate for daring to contradict him – the head of the stupid Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had 'relinquished' his title to his young protégé, but everyone knew he was still pulling the strings in the background. Harry went to him for everything, questioned him about everything and ran every-fucking-thing by the old man before any decisions were made.

"ItVoldemort!"

She knew the second the words left her lips that she had crossed a line. Each member sitting at the table sucked in a harsh breath as Harry's face turned red and splotchy, his lightning bolt scar seemed whiter than usual and he seemed to be expanding with his anger. Her eyes skittered away from his and once again tried to meet with other members' gazes at the table, and this time she was somewhat surprised to see the glares being leveled at her. Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Bill and Fleur were all watching her with narrowed eyes and pursed lips – their jaws clenched tightly. They'd been against Hermione for months now. Actually, she thought she'd slowly started falling out of their fucking favour only a few


short months after arriving. Ginny wasn't ill toward her, but she wasn't supportive either. It wasn't just the Weasley family glowering at her, though, every Senior member of the Order were looking completely unimpressed with her.

"How dare you!?" Harry exploded, his hands waving around in the air as a testament to how out of control he was. "How dare you compare me to that complete bastard?! He killed my mum, Hermione, and my dad, and if your parents weren't obliviated and sent to Australia they would probably be dead, too! Look around you, you ungrateful bitch, and see how many people are in hiding because they're beyond terrified of that half-blooded fool out there, the man who kills and terrorizes just for thrills. He's out for Muggleborns becauseto hear the satisfaction in their voices when they told her about it.

"Oh," She said, she didn't want to hear the details and wasn't going to encourage them by asking any questions.

"He was just walking down a lane that we happened to be standing in. It wasn't planned or anything and he wasn't expecting a thing. It looked like he'd been buying potion supplies… shit, Ron! Why didn't we steal them?!"

Hermione had known for a while she wanted to leave, but she hadn't had any sort of plans until the night after the disastrous meeting. She'd been in the library, looking for the book that she knew had been in there at some point about Healing, but couldn't find it. She'd knocked down a stack of papers and


let her at least go into the yard, that's all I'm saying," Ginny answered crossly, and Hermione could just imagine her standing there with her arms wound tightly underneath her breasts, her dark eyes glaring.

"Ginny," Harry snarled, and Hermione peeked around the sofa to see that Harry had the red-haired girl's bicep gripped tightly in his hand, Ron was watching on with a disturbing look on his face. It made Hermione feel like Harry had been physical with Ginny on more than one occasion and that Ron would stand by and watch. "I've explained this to you time and time again! They've been looking for Hermione since the moment we graduated and they aren't looking to kill her. If she goes outside they'll be able to trace herwith her wand, but she's inside the wards here and untraceable. I don't understand why you don't seem to get it!"

"I don't understand why they want her, Harry! Let me go!"

Hermione watched as Harry's hand gripped Ginny's arm even tighter, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He shoved his face forward so it was only an inch from Ginny's, and Hermione had to give the girl credit – she didn't back away or even flinch, but glared at the dark-haired boy with pure hate.

Hermione never expected the two of them to have a falling out. As far as she was concerned Ginny would follow Harry blindly into whatever he was doing, would follow him off the edge of a fucking cliff or into the burning fires of


Military Museum Does Not Want Saddam’s Toilet

Saddam Hussein’s prison cell toilet has been packed up by the departing U.S. military along with other artifacts of the Iraqi war, but the museum that was expected to receive the commode has decided it does not want the memento.

The U.S. Army Military Police Museum at Ft. Wood in Missouri will accept Saddam’s heavy cell door, steel signs from the Victory Base Complex, the largest U.S. Military base in Iraq, and some official documents .

The door weighs 500 pounds and was the entrance to the cell where Saddam was kept for two years before his execution in 2006. Saddam’s cell, cell door – and toilet – were hidden within a dilapidated villa on the base and guarded by military personnel.

Lt. Col. JerryDish

Lupe's, Inside the Loop
What is it about that west Houston neighborhood phenomenon, Lupe's Tortillas (318 Stafford Street, [281] 496-7580), that has won so many devotees over the years? I can't think of many Houston eateries whose customers regularly and gladly endure hour-plus waits for elementary Tex-Mex dining, but the denizens of affluent nearby subdivisions such as Barker's Landing and Memorial Thicket seem happy to populate Lupe's porch rockers every night of the week.

Perhaps the appeal is the welcome excuse to just sit, rock and sip Lupe's potent, fresh lime margaritas; or maybe it's the kid-friendly techniques Lupe's employs to entertain the rug rats of frazzled two-income families. There's a sandbox filled with real beach sand in the summer, and sometimes shaved ice "snow" in the winter, and even


a special kids' bar stocked with sweet cold drinks.

Whatever it is, those who dwell inside the Loop will soon get a chance to judge for themselves: Lupe's Tortillas plans to open a second location at Kirby and U.S. 59. The demographics augur well for the site, conveniently close to the similarly affluent, child-rearing epicenters of West University, Southhampton and Bellaire, and smack in the middle of the Kirby mesquite strip.

The manager-to-be of the new location, Nick Incrapera, promises to duplicate the good-clean-fun ambiance of the original Lupe's as much as possible, right down to the tin roof, metal folding chairs and, of course, the sandbox. The new space will be a smallish 5,000 square feet, seating maybe 175 people both indoors and on the outside deck, so linesat this door, too, are practically assured.

As for food, "We're gonna stick to the basics," Incrapera says. Although Lupe's reputation is built on its unpretentious enchiladas and burritos, this response may be a bit disingenuous: Incrapera, a born-and-raised Houstonian, is a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America in New York. That's where he met Judson Holt, the son of Lupe's owner, Stan Holt. (All the Holt children practically grew up in Lupe's kitchen.) Four months ago, Incrapera caved in to the younger Holt's none-too-subtle pressure to join the Tortilla team, and the rest, he hopes, will be history.

As of this writing, the Lupe's site, between Scottsdale's and Academy, is still under construction, but Incrapera hopes to finish in time for a mid-July opening. The end of July


business wasn't what she wanted out of life, but even after she changed courses and pursued a different direction in life, she still tried her best to maintain contact with the man she knew as Iceheart. She wasn't really sure why at the time, but she was somehow drawn to him.

Initially their relationship was tense and rocky, but after Ruby proved that there was a reason she had graduated high school two years early, things improved. She was incredibly gifted for a young sixteen-year old, and it quickly showed. She was going to college purely on scholarship money after all, and they didn't give that many to just anyone.

Iceheart27: I can't believe he gave us a perfect score.

rosesarered: yeah... I mean that one was all you.

Iceheart27: Believe itwas a puzzle, and Ruby loved puzzles. She loved figuring things out, finding out what made them tick, and her strange online chat partner was the biggest puzzle of them all. Besides, she had her own apartment, worked her own job - part-time as a server at a nice restaurant - the works. And all in Colorado Springs, Colorado too. Housing there wasn't exactly the cheapest in the country. She could take care of herself.

They talked about work and school at first, even if Iceheart was notoriously closeted about his personal life. But it turned out that once you got to know him, he wasn't as cold and demanding as one would think. He had a strange fascination with the color white, he did fencing in his spare


the mousepad, the cursor settled somewhere between "answer" and "answer with voice only."

If she declined the video part of the call... she could just fake technical problems. Her webcam was broken, the internet connection was all screwed up, something like that.

But at the same time... a part of her wanted to know what Iceheart looked like. That same insatiable curiosity that had helped her get to where she was today, a seventeen year old sophomore in college with all A's, was telling her to click "accept."

And so, she did.

And as the screen went black, and then the video connected, her deepest, darkest nightmare came true.

Iceheart wasn't a man.

Iceheart was a young woman, with piercing blue eyes, long white hair that angels probably used as a pillow, and atentative smile that made Ruby's heart flutter.

"So my name is Weiss," she said. And even her voice was attractive. High-pitched and lilted, but not annoyingly so.

And all Ruby could think was: "Oh crap, she's hot!"

After that skype call, things were different. Ruby – now that she knew Weiss wasn't a creepy stalker – started texting and skyping her as much as she could. She knew that it was a slippery slope, because she had no idea if Weiss was into girls, and even if she was, they might as well have been in different parts of the world. Ruby lived and studied in Colorado, and Alaska – where Weiss later revealed her father was the head of an oil company – seemed a million miles away.

But even with


the distance between, they somehow grew closer. A year passed, then two, and they skyped eachother at least once every other day. They talked about everything, from clothes, to school, to their families – or Ruby's lack of one – and cute animals. Especially cute animals. Ruby loved replaying the moment in her head of when she had shown Weiss her new German Shepard puppy.

"Soooo I got something today," Ruby started.

On the screen, Weiss plopped down into her usual leather chair with a mug of steaming coffee and a smirk. Her cream sweater and sparkling sapphire earrings were doing this wonderful thing to her ice-blue eyes that, quite frankly, made it hard for Ruby to concentrate. On anything.

"Oh yeah?" Weiss replied. "What did your irrational impulses compel youeyebrow in skepticism, and a wry grin creeped onto her pale face. And damn if it wasn't the most incredibly attractive facial expression Ruby had ever seen. She actually had to struggle with her words for a few seconds.

"Bu.. because uh... oh, because this idea is cute, and small, and fluffy."

"Did you say fluffy?" Weiss deadpanned.

Ruby held up the bundle of fur that had been snuggling in her lap, a small four-month old German Shepard puppy. "Weiss, meet Einz."

The oil company heiress' reply was a squeal that lasted for nearly half a minute.

Another year passed, and Ruby was about to finish her degree in English Literature. But that was only to get a small publishing job, she wasn't done with college yet. After a lot more math classes,


and some photography and programming on the side, she would finally start working on getting the credentials to be an astronomer. Maybe she was simply going through a "space phase," but she hoped it wasn't just that.

Weiss, on the other hand, was halfway along towards finishing up her Master's in Business Administration. She fully planned on taking over her father's company, once he grew old enough and passed it on to her. According to Weiss he hadn't always been the best father, but they got along well enough nowadays, and she knew he loved her. So that was enough for her.

They still talked at least once a day, if not by skype then by text or phone call when one or the other was particularly busy. But Rubywas finding it harder and harder to talk to her best friend.

Because now, Ruby was hopelessly, irrevocably in love. In love with her best friend, a girl - which still didn't look too great in 2014, and an heiress to an oil company. Who also might as well live on the other side of the world, as far as Ruby's wallet was concerned. Plane tickets to Alaska – if Weiss would even consider such a thing – didn't exactly fit in her very modest budget. And even if they managed to meet, she thought to herself, what would be the point? If she had trouble talking to Weiss now, over the phone and the computer, how would she even be able to function if she met her in


like a robot as she walked through the crowds that stood between her and Weiss' arrival gate. The white roof stretched overhead, a strange and fluted design that some architect fresh out of grad school had probably thought was the greatest work of the generation. She stopped in the arrivals concourse, a large open plaza with a second story that ringed the first in a series of balconies. It made Ruby feel like she was in an arena for some reason, like everyone up on the second floor was watching her and waiting for her to screw up and do something stupid.

There was a large fountain in the center of the plaza, surrounded by some bushes and flowering plants. She took a seat on one of the benchesnear it, so that she could watch the two escalators that descended from the second floor. The escalators that Weiss would be coming down, sometime in the next thirty to forty-five minutes.

She glanced at a large screen to her left, that listed off flight numbers, the carrying airlines, and whether they were delayed or not. And there it was, Atlas Air flight 271 out of Anchorage, Alaska, with no delays. Scheduled to arrive in a half-hour.

She took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing heart.

And then she made the mistake of looking down, at her clothes, and immediately started worrying again.

"Crap, I knew cargo pants were a bad idea. What is this, 2002? Nobody wears those anymore. And a hoodie, really?" she thought, picking at the


whatever random stranger she had somehow managed to offend on the tip of her tongue.

And then it died.

Because Weiss was one that had tapped her on the shoulder.

The girl had her hair in a side ponytail, and was wearing a gorgeous white trench-coat with black buttons and a pair of high-heeled boots. And a pair of earrings, that were like bars of silver that highlighted her face and made it hard for Ruby to breathe and oh crap she was staring and ohmygod why couldn't she say anything-

"Hi," Weiss said. And she smiled. She actually smiled, and that wasn't something she did often.

"H-hey," Ruby managed. She was still staring. She knew she should stop, but she couldn't.

"Are those... are those for me?" Weiss said, pointing at something onthe bench next to Ruby.

The brunette glanced down, her eyes wide with shock. The roses. How had she forgotten about the roses?!

A part of her – a part that hadn't been paralyzed with fear when she was driving to the airport – had apparently convinced the rest of her that greeting Weiss with flowers would be a sure way to win her heart.

That part of her had promptly been beaten into submission by the rest of her psyche, but it was too late. She had meant to get rid of the flowers before Weiss had arrived but now... now it was too late. So she did the only thing she could think of, which was lying her ass off.

"Um, no! I mean, uh yes, but, like, they were


forward, into Weiss, and accidentally tackled her to the floor.

And now she was on the floor, her hands on either side of Weiss' head, who had this weird blush and this faraway look in her eyes and this strange sound that was her breathing through her nose far more quickly than normal. Far more quickly than she should have been.

And then she made of the mistake of looking at Weiss' lips, which were covered in this beautiful ruby lipstick and looked so soft and amazing and-

And they felt as soft as they looked, they were warm, and tender, and felt fantastic and-

And she froze, as she realized what she had just done.

She had never stood up so quickly in her entire life, nearly flying backwards with the effortas she tried to ignore the stares of the people around her. She looked down at Weiss, at the girl she had just kissed, who was covering her mouth with the back of her hand and staring at the floor.

"She hates me. Holy shit I couldn't have screwed this up any more than this. I'm an idiot. I'm hopeless, how did I manage to fuck this up this badly? Is it even possible to be as clumsy and stupid as I am?" was all Ruby could think.

And then Weiss glanced up at her, and Ruby realized that the oil company heiress was still on the floor, in an airport, with crowds of people walking around them. So she held out her hand, and Weiss hesitantly took it, and


Ruby pulled her to her feet.

The brunette sighed, wringing her hands together and trying to not look like she had just fucked up her only chance with the girl she was in love with.

"We'll um, we'll go to my car, okay? It's in the parking garage," Ruby managed to say.

Weiss simply nodded, staring straight ahead. She didn't meet her gaze or make any kind of reaction at all, and it broke her heart.

The brunette fought down hot tears of pain, and shame, and absolute fury at herself for screwing this up so badly, and walked to her car.

And Weiss followed slightly behind, eyes wide and face blank.

Ruby glanced to her right, again, like she had been doing roughly every fifteen seconds for the past forty-five minutes.

And Weiss wasdoing the exact same thing she had been doing for those past forty-five minutes. Staring straight ahead at the road, and not saying a word. Not saying a single fucking word.

It was dark now, and the orange glow of streetlamps sped past them as they drove on in silence. Ruby didn't even have the courage to turn on any music. At this point, she just wanted to make it to her apartment, show Weiss the bed she had set up for her in the living room – or offer the heiress her own bed, probably that actually – and then sleep for the next five hundred years. Or forever, both would be fine.

But as she merged onto the exit that led to her house, Weiss laid a hand


stopping her heart, and they were even worse in person. She was having trouble breathing, looking into those pools of ice-water that shimmered in the darkness of the car's interior.

Ruby had had enough at that point, enough deflecting, enough making excuses, enough torturing herself. So she simply shrugged and said: "Yeap."

The heiress nodded, then returned to staring at the road. And biting her thumb. Why was she biting her thumb?

And then Weiss muttered something, something she didn't hear, and Ruby asked her to repeat it.

"I said I didn't hate it, okay?" Weiss mumbled.

And Ruby's heart stopped.

"Can I... can I have another?" the heiress asked.

And Ruby's heart restarted in overdrive, and pounded and raced and probably exploded.

She rushed forward without thinking, pushing Weiss back into the seat and capturingExploring the Crossroads of Art, Craft, Reading, and Creative Writing with Alisa Golden

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Words As Water: Ang Lee

Water plays an important role in director Ang Lee's new film (Life of Pi). I remember gazing at the ocean when I was sixteen and wanting to paint the waves, so I understand his impulse to render the sea on screen in 3D. It's a mystery why we desire to take nature and recreate it. Perhaps, as Lee discussed when he was interviewed on October 15, 2012by KQED Forum host (andSFSU English professor) Michael Krasny, we try to capture our awe of things that are larger than us. The filmmaking process, like other artistic processes, explores that interpreting of one medium to another: nature to art, words to images.Adapting


from California College of Arts and Crafts (now CCA), and an MFA in creative writing from San Francisco State University. Her stories, poems, and art have been published widely, and she founded and edits the online and print magazine, Star 82 Review.

Golden is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to amazon.com. Earned fees are recycled back into books reviewed for blog posts.Women in combat

The United States officially ended its ban on women in combat Thursday, with joint a announcement by Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Army Gen. Martin E. Dempsey. As both men said, it was less a ground-breaking policy as a recognition of the facts that have existed on the ground for some time.

Panetta said of men and women in the military, “They’re fighting and dying together, and the time has come for our policies to reflect that reality.”

That is a healthy change, one good for the country, the military and for American women. If women wish to serve in armed forces – and the country does need their talent and energy – they should be afforded the same


Dempsey said, he asked the driver about “who he was and where he was from, and I slapped the turret gunner on the leg and I said, ‘Who are you?’ And she leaned down and said, ‘I’m Amanda.’”

To say that gunner named Amanda was not in a combat role is ridiculous and demeaning. It is a fiction well put behind us. That she may now have the same chance at rank and advancement as her fellow soldiers is only fair.China has rejected speculations that it is planning to establish a military base in Gwadar.Briefing the reporters in Beijing, Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson Lu Kang termed the media reports in this connection as unnecessary speculations, Radio Pakistan reports.He said building of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) is an important part of the One Belt and One Road Initiative.Lu Kang further said China and Pakistan are also making efforts to build the CPEC which is in the common interests of the countries along the route.The Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesperson said he doesn't think it is necessary for the outside world to make too much guesses in this regard.Earlier in July, 2017 Beijing dismissed an annual US Defense Department report as 'irresponsible' that predicted China would expand its global military


The preview may consist of an outline or summary of the calculated route. The outline or summary may include the names of the roads in the calculated route as well as a limited amount of other information. The route preview may be displayed or otherwise provided to the end user as text or graphically. The route preview does not include detailed maneuvering instructions for driving the route.
The route preview is presented to the end user just after the route has been calculated by the navigation system but before the end user has traveled far along the route. A preview of the calculated route affords the end user an opportunity to become familiar with the route in general before embarking on traveling the route. Some navigation systems may afford'Supergirl' soars with women as well as men

Gary Levin | USA TODAY

Supergirl has girl power.

Maybe it's the title. Maybe it's that female viewers are hungering for female superheroes.

But the latest comics-inspired TV series has an audience that's nearly evenly split between men and women. That's a rarity in the male-dominated superhero genre. By contrast, 60% of the adult TV audience for CW's The Flash is male, as are 57% of viewers for Fox's Gotham, which airs opposite Supergirl (Mondays, 8 p.m. ET/PT).

The only other comic-book series to have nearly equal numbers of men and women is the last to feature a female lead: Marvel's Agent Carter, which aired last winter on ABC and returns early 2016. A third, Marvel's Jessica Jones, arrives Nov. 20 on Netflix, but the


than many of its counterparts, is aimed at everyone.

"It really is our goal to make a show where there is something for everyone, so it's nice to see against some strong competition that there are all kinds of people checking it out," says executive producer Greg Berlanti, who's also behind CW's Arrow and The Flash. "Obviously, it's our hope they keep doing that and tell their friends and family. My favorite emails and tweets I get are still the ones where different generations from the same family are watching and enjoying it together."

Supergirl, which stars Melissa Benoist in the title role, premiered Oct. 26 with 13 million viewers, but fell about 30% last week, when it no longer followed TV's top comedy, The Big Bang Theory. But itis provided. Referring to FIG. 2, in a semiconductor device 20, a terminal chip 25 is put between the first semiconductor chip 11 and the second semiconductor chip 18. Eight bonding pads 26 are formed in the terminal chip 25. In addition, four metal wirings 27 each connecting two bonding pads 26 are provided in the terminal chip 25. For example, one connected pair of the bonding pads 26 is connected to the bonding pad 12 of the second semiconductor chip 18 via the first bonding wire 24, the bonding pad 9 of the first semiconductor chip 11 via the first bonding wire 28, and the bonding pad 19 of the lead frame via the third bonding wire 29. Under this structure, the terminal chip 25 relays through


'Varsity needs own transport'

Students at the University of Limpopo have demanded that the institution's management "prioritise" the purchasing of minibuses this financial year - following the death of a student on Friday.

Their plea was sparked by the deadly assault on a student on a minibus on Friday. The student was coming from Pretoria to protest against fee increases.

The students also demand that the university move a female student - who was shot during a protest at the university last year - from a public to a private hospital.

The Student Representative Council has also demanded that the institution take care of all the costs incurred during her stay in the hospital until she recovers fully - and grant her a pass because she was unable to sit for examsbecause she was too ill.

The student body has given the university seven working days to respond to its demands.

SRC chairman Lucas Maboga said the need for university transport comes after a student at the university was killed on a minibus belonging to a private company.

"Had the university been using its own vehicles, the student would still be alive. He was allegedly assaulted and killed."

Maboga said that the university should ensure that it plays a role in making sure that the health of the female student who was shot during a campus protest last year improves.

"The student was shot by police on campus. It should be the responsibility of the university to make sure that she fully recovers."


Sunday, February 15, 2009

McKinney's worth a closer look...

McKinney's downtown square and surrounding blocks reflect a rich mix of the town's past. Here are a few "detail" pictures from decades gone by.I first thought this was an old "Hamms" beer sign, but on closer inspection I found this to be the former home of "Hamm's Home Glazed Hams" specializing in Beef, Pork, and Cheese.

This detail,from a building located on the corner of Virginia St. and Kentucky St., appears to be from the art deco period of the 1930's and has a Precolumbiam look.

The Pope building located on the SE corner of the square also shows its Art Deco heritage. Built in 1935, it has the same look of some of the buildings at the fair grounds in Dallas whichThe Associated Press

Nathan Eovaldi pitched five shutout innings and struck out seven, and the Miami Marlins stumbled in their playoff run with a 5-3 loss to the Boston Red Sox on Thursday. Rafael Devers had a three-run homer, Kevin Plawecki hit a two-run single and Alex Verdugo had three hits for the Red Sox. Seeking its first postseason appearance since winning the 2003 World Series, Miami is second in the NL East .


Exclusive: Why Scott Campbell Lit His Art on Fire

An e-mail recently surfaced on Purple Diary's Tumblr that was sent from New York-based artist Scott Campbell to Purple Magazine's founder, Olivier Zahm. The e-mail simply read that Scott had some problems with his concerns being taken seriously by the gallery owner at his recent sold-out show at Mexico City's Vice Gallery (an edition of the Canadian magazine of the same name)—so he pulled his work on the sidewalk in front of the gallery and lit it on fire. The post revealed something about Campbell's state of mind—"It felt amazing," Campbell wrote—but raised a lot of questions.

We caught up with Scott at his Brooklyn home, where he explained to us exactly what went down.

KRISTINA BENNS: How did you first getinvolved with working in Mexico?

SCOTT CAMPBELL: I was in Mexico City doing a documenting project, going into a big prison down there, Santa Marta prison. I really just wanted to document what they were getting tattooed. I got really close with some of the prisoners and spent two weeks in the prison, making crazy Frankenstein tattoo machines out of electric razors and guitar strings and toothbrushes, and tattooing a lot of these guys on the inside with them.

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When I went to Mexico City last week, I went back to the prison to follow with the prisoners. It's crazy how fast shit changes. Of the three people I worked with, one had killed a guy. He was supposed to get out at the end of the year. I went


The first sign that something was awry came when Brent Burns turned the corner of his San Jose community and spotted something strange hanging from his fence.

As he drove closer to his house, he got a better look. It was a 40-foot banner that read, "Sick! First NHL Hat Trick!"

"The paint was still wet," Burns said, laughing.

He turned into his driveway and found that just like the Shark Tank a few hours earlier, it was full of hats.

"It was pretty cool," Burns said of the welcome-home reception he received from neighborhood kids after potting three goals and an assist nine days ago in a 6-3 win over St. Louis. Burns was flooded with so many texts and tweets that night, he didn't get a wink of sleep becausehe was so "wired."

San Jose’s Brent Burns (88) is a forward now, and he has eight goals and 15 points in 16 games this season.

It was a special afternoon for Burns, the former Wild forward-turned-defenseman who since has been turned back into a forward with the Sharks, who visit Minnesota on Sunday.

The Sharks play so many late games that Burns' children — 3 ½ — year-old Peyton and 2 ½ — year-old Jagger — rarely get to go. But on this day, their mom, Susan, brought the kiddos to the game.

Jagger wore his Sharks jersey with the nameplate "Daddy" and No. 88 on the back.

"He's a total nightmare," Burns said, laughing. "He won't take it off. I've given him a Team Canada jersey, Wild jersey, and All-Star jersey.


thing. They never screw a drill up. I do. I try not to, but I screw drills up. That's just who I am, I think. You've just got to accept it."

This is Burns' third season with San Jose after the June 2011 trade that sent him and a second-round pick to the Sharks for Devin Setoguchi, Charlie Coyle and a first-round pick that became Zack Phillips. In parts of two seasons, Burns was inconsistent as a defenseman.

At the same time last season, the Sharks were trying to transition from being too slow up front to quicker with more of an attack mentality. During the final six games of Burns' rookie year with Minnesota, Jacques Lemaire moved him to the back end.

During the 2004-05 lockout, then-Houston Aeros coach Toddpoints in 16 games this season. He missed 13 games with the after-effects of being high-sticked by Ottawa Senators goalie Robin Lehner on Oct. 12.

Burns still believes "I can be a top D-man in this league, but I love playing both. I'm having fun with it. I just love to play."

Brent Burns team mugshots with the Wild; left is from September 2003, center from 2007 and right from 2009.

Wilson won't commit that Burns' transition to stud power forward is a permanent move. Remember, Dustin Byfuglien went from defenseman to Cup-winning impact forward with Chicago back to defenseman with Atlanta and Winnipeg.

"But he's willing to do anything to help the team, which tells you a lot about Burnzie," Wilson said. "Who knows where he'll be in future years, but


For the Milwaukee Bucks to have any chance against the Chicago Bulls in their first-round series, the Bucks' offense was going to have to step up and support their swarming defense. Unfortunately for Milwaukee, the offense has only had brief glimpses of competency mixed in with droughts featuring too many contested jumpers and botched layups in the first two games.

The Bucks shot just over 39 percent in the 103-91 Game 1 loss on Saturday, playing right into the Bulls' hands by taking nearly 42 percent of their shots from the mid-range area. Tom Thibodeau's Bulls teams have always done a good job forcing teams into those mid-range attempts and taking away the three-point line. That was a key factor in that Game 1 victory.

Bucks youngsters Michael Carter-Williams andeven bigger culprit. He made just 1-of-7 shots at the rim on Monday, with several missed bunnies that were inexcusable. He made just one of his other four shots, which all came on twos from outside the paint. He's really having a rough go of it thus far in his first playoff series.

The combination of Antetokounmpo and Carter-Williams together is killing the Bucks' offense. Through these first two games of the series, Carter-Williams has shot 9-of-25 from the field, while Antetokounmpo is 6-of-24. The duo has only attempted two three-pointers between them, and not surprisingly, both missed. Spacing is a major issue with these two on the court together because nobody respects their outside shooting:

Out of the top five most-used lineups featuring both Carter-Williams and Antetokounmpo on the


and put your member into her.

MANNER THE SEVENTH--Place the woman on her side, and squat between her thighs, with one of her legs on your shoulder and the other between your thighs, while she remains lying on her side. Then you enter her vagina, and make her move by drawing her towards your chest by means of your hands, with which you hold her embraced.

MANNER THE EIGHTH--Let her stretch herself upon the ground, on her back, with her legs crossed; then mount her like a cavalier on horseback, being on your knees, while her legs are placed under her thighs, and put your member into her vagina.

MANNER THE NINTH--Place the woman so that she leans with her front, or, if you prefer it, her back upon a moderatethe back

Et keurchi

, belly to belly

Et kebachi

, ram-fashion

Dok el outed

, driving the peg home

Sebek el heub

, love's fusion

Tred ech chate

, sheep-fashion

Kalen el miche

, interchange in coition

Rekeud el aïr

, the race of the member

El modakheli

, the fitter-in

El khouariki

, the one who stops in the house

Nik el haddadi

, the smith's coition

El moheundi

, the seducer

FIRST MANNER--Et asemeud (the stopperage). Place the woman on her back, with a cushion under her buttocks, then get between her legs, resting the points of your feet against the ground; bend her two thighs against her chest as far as you can; place your hands under her arms so as to enfold her or cramp her shoulders. Then introduce your member, and at the moment of ejaculation draw her towards you. This position is painful for


the bed.

SEVENTH MANNER--El kelouci (the somersault). The woman must wear a pair of pantaloons, which she lets drop upon her heels; then she stoops, placing her head between her feet, so that her neck is in the opening of her pantaloons. At that moment, the man, seizing her legs, turns her upon her back, making her perform a summersault; then with his legs curved under him he brings his member right against her vulva and, slipping it between her legs, inserts it.

It is alleged that there are women who, while lying on their back, can place their feet behind their head without the help of pantaloons or hands.

EIGHTH MANNER--Hachou en nekanok (the tail of the ostrich). The woman lying on her back along the bed, the man kneelsin front of her, lifting up her legs until her head and shoulders only are resting on the bed; his member having penetrated into her vagina, he seizes and sets into motion the buttocks of the woman who, on her part, twines her legs around his neck.

NINTH MANNER--Lebeuss el djoureb (fitting on of the sock). The woman lies on her back. You sit down between her legs and place your member between the lips of her vulva, which you fit over it with your thumb and first finger; then you move so as to procure for your member, as far as it is in contact with the woman, a lively rubbing, which action you continue until her vulva gets moistened with the liquid emitted from your verge. When


she is thus amply prepared for enjoyment by the alternate coming and going of your weapon in her scabbard, put it into her in full length.

TENTH MANNER--Kechef el astine (reciprocal sight of the posteriors). The man lying stretched out on his back, the woman sits down upon his member with her back to the man's face, who presses her sides between his thighs and legs, whilst she places her hands upon the bed as a support for her movements and, lowering her head, her eyes are turned towards the buttocks of the man.

ELEVENTH MANNER--Nezâ el kouss (the rainbow arch). The woman is lying on her side; the man also on his side, with his face towards her back, pushes in between her legs and introduces his member, withhis hands lying on the upper part of her back. As to the woman, she then gets hold of the man's feet, which she lifts up as far as she can, drawing him close to her; thus she forms with the body of the man an arch, of which she is the rise.

TWELFTH MANNER--Nesedj el kheuzz (the alternate movement of piercing). The man in sitting attitude places the soles of his feet together, and lowering his thighs, draws his feet nearer to his member; the woman sits down upon his feet, which he takes care to keep firm together. In this position the two thighs of the woman are pressed against the man's flanks, and she puts her arms round his neck. Then the man clasps the woman's


ankles, and drawing his feet nearer to his body, brings the woman, who is sitting on them, within range of his member, which then enters her vagina. By moving his feet he sends her back and brings her forward again, without ever withdrawing his member entirely.

The woman makes herself as light as possible, and assists as well as she can in this come-and-go movement; her co-operation is, in fact, indispensable for it. If the man apprehends that his member may come out entirely, he takes her round the waist, and she receives no other impulse than that which is imparted to her by the feet of the man upon which she is sitting.

THIRTEENTH MANNER--Dok el arz (pounding on the spot). The man sits down with his legs stretchedout; the woman then places herself astride on his thighs, crossing her legs behind the back of the man, and places her vulva opposite his member, which latter she guides into her vagina; she then places her arms round his neck, and he embraces her sides and waist, and helps her to rise and descend upon his verge. She must assist in his work.

FOURTEENTH MANNER--Nik el kohoul (coitus from the back). The woman lies down on her stomach and raises her buttocks by help of a cushion; the man approaches from behind, stretches himself on her back and inserts his tool, while the woman twines her arms round the man's elbows. This is the easiest of all methods.

FIFTEENTH MANNER--El keurchi (belly to belly). The man and the woman


are standing upright, face to face; she opens her thighs; the man then brings his feet forward between those of the woman, who also advances hers a little. In this position the man must have one of his feet somewhat in advance of the other. Each of the two has the arms round the other's hips; the man introduces his verge, and the two move thus intertwined after a manner called Neza el dela, which I shall explain later, if it please God the Almighty. [See FIRST MOVEMENT]

SIXTEENTH MANNER--El kebachi (after the fashion of the ram). The woman is on her knees, with her forearms on the ground; the man approaches from behind, kneels down, and lets his member penetrate into her vagina, which she presses out asmuch as possible; he will do well in placing his hands on the woman's shoulders.

SEVENTEENTH MANNER--Dok el outed (driving the peg home). The woman enlaces with her legs the waist of the man, who is standing, with her arms passed round his neck, steadying herself by leaning against the wall. Whilst she is thus suspended the man insinuates his pin into her vulva.

EIGHTEENTH MANNER--Sebek el heub (love's fusion). While the woman is lying on her right side, extend yourself on your left side; your left leg remains extended, and you raise your right one till it is up to her flank, when you lay her upper leg upon your side. Thus her uppermost leg serves the woman as a support for her back. After having introduced your member


you move as you please, and she responds to your action as she pleases.

NINETEENTH MANNER--Tred ech chate (coitus of the sheep). The woman is on her hands and knees; the man, behind her, lifts her thighs till her vulva is on a level with his member, which he then inserts. In this position she ought to place her head between her arms.

TWENTIETH MANNER--Kalen el miche (interchange in coition). The man lies on his back. The woman, gliding in between his legs, places herself upon him with her toe-nails against the ground; she lifts up the man's thighs, turning them against his own body, so that his virile member faces her vulva, into which she guides it; she then places her hands upon the bed by the sides ofthe man. It is, however, indispensable that the woman's feet rest upon a cushion to enable her to keep her vulva in concordance with his member.

In this position the parts are exchanged, the woman fulfilling that of the man, and vice-versa.

There is a variation to this manner. The man stretches himself out upon his back, while the woman kneels with her legs under her, but between his legs. The remainder conforms exactly to what has been said above.

TWENTY-FIRST MANNER--Rekeud el aïr (the race of the member). The man, on his back, supports himself with a cushion under his shoulders, but his posterior must retain contact with the bed. Thus placed, he draws up his thighs until his knees are on a level with his face; then the woman


sits down, impaling herself on his member; she must not lie down, but keep seated as if on horseback, the saddle being represented by the knees and the stomach of the man. In that position she can, by the play of her knees, work up and down and down and up. She can also place her knees on the bed, in which case the man accentuates the movement by plying his thighs, whilst she holds with her left hand on to his right shoulder.

TWENTY-SECOND MANNER--El modakheli (the fitter-in). The woman is seated on her coccyx, with only the points of her buttocks touching the ground; the man takes the same position, her vulva facing his member. Then the woman puts her right thigh over the left thigh ofthe man, whilst he on his part puts his right thigh over her left one.

The woman, seizing with her hands her partner's arms, gets his member into her vulva; and each of them leaning alternately a little back, and holding each other by the upper part of the arms, they initiate a swaying movement, moving with little concussions, and keeping their movements in exact rhythm by the assistance of their heels. which are resting on the ground.

TWENTY-THIRD MANNER--El khouariki (the one who stops at home). he woman being couched on her back, the man lies down upon her, with cushions held in his hands.

After his member is in, the woman raises her buttocks as high as she can off the bed, the man following her up with his


member well inside; then the woman lowers herself again upon the bed, giving some short shocks, and although they do not embrace, the man must stick like glue to her. This movement they continue, but the man must make himself light and must not be ponderous, and the bed must be soft; in default of which the exercise cannot be kept up without break

TWENTY-FOURTH MANNER--Nik el haddadi (the coition of the blacksmith). The woman lies on her back with a cushion under her buttocks, and her knees raised as far as possible towards her chest, so that her vulva stands out as a target; she then guides her partner's member in.

The man executes for some time the usual action of coition, then draws his tool out of thevulva, and glides it for a moment between the thighs of the woman, as the smith withdraws the glowing iron from the furnace in order to plunge it into cold water. This manner is called sferdgeli, position of the quince.

TWENTY-FIFTH MANNER--El moheundi (the seducer). The woman lying on her back, the man sits between her legs, with his croupe on his feet; then he raises and separates the women's thighs, placing her legs under his arms, or over his shoulders; he then takes her round the waist, or seizes her shoulders.

The preceding descriptions furnish a large number of procedures, that cannot well be all put to the proof; but with such a variety to choose from, the man who finds one of them difficult to practise, can easily


find plenty of others more to his convenience.

I have not made mention of positions which it appeared to me impossible to realize, and if there be anybody who thinks that those which I have described are not exhaustive, he has only to look for new ones.

It cannot be gainsaid that the Indians have surmounted the greatest difficulties in respect to coition. As a grand exploit, originating with them, the following may be cited:

The woman being stretched out on her back, the man sits down on her chest, with his back turned to her face, his knees turned forward and his nails gripping the ground; he then raises her hips, arching her back until he has brought her vulva face to face with his member, which he then inserts,woman, and the different postures they may assume for the act, assuming the woman to be lying down, and being turned successively over on her four sides.

If the man wants to work her sideways he takes the thigh of the woman which is uppermost, and raises it as high as possible on his flank, so that it rests over his waist; he employs her undermost arm as a pillow for the support of his head, and he takes care to place a stout cushion beneath his undermost hip, so as to elevate his member to the necessary height, which is indispensable on account of the thickness of the woman's thighs.

But if the woman has an enormous abdomen, projecting by reason of its obesity over her thighs and flanks,


it will be best to lay her on her hack, and to lift up her thighs towards her belly; the man kneels between them, having hold of her waist with his hands, and drawing her towards him; and if he cannot manage her in consequence of the obesity of her belly and thighs, he must with his two arms encircle her buttocks, But it is thus impossible for him to work her conveniently, owing to the want of mobility of her thighs, which are impeded by her belly. He may, however, support them with his hands, but let him take care not to place them over his own thighs, as, owing to their weight, he would not have the power nor the facility to move. As the poethas said:

If you have to explore her, lift up her buttocks,
In order to work like the rope thrown to a drowning man.
You will then seem between her thighs
Like a rower seated at the end of the boat.

The man can likewise couch the woman on her side, with the innermost leg in front; then he sits down on the thigh of that leg, his member being opposite her vulva, and lets her raise the upper leg, which she must bend at the knee. Then, with his hands seizing her legs bind thighs, he introduces his member, with his body lying between her legs, his knees bent, and the points of his feet against the ground, so that he can elevate his posterior, and prevent her thighs from impeding the


entrance. In this attitude they can enter into action.

If the woman's belly is enlarged by reason of her being with child, the man lets her lie down on one side; then placing one of her thighs over the other, he raises them both towards the stomach, without their touching the latter; he then lies down behind her on the same side, and can thus fit his member in. In this way he can thrust his tool in entirely, particularly by raising his foot, which is under the woman's leg, to the height of her thigh. The same may be done with a barren woman; but It is particularly to be recommended for the woman who is enceinte, as the above position offers the advantage of procuring her thepleasure she desires, without exposing her to any danger.

In the case of the man being obese, with a very pronounced rotundity of stomach, and the woman being thin, the best course to follow is to let the woman take the active part. To this end, the man lies down on his back with his thighs close together, and the woman lowers herself upon his member, astride of him; she rests her hands upon the bed, and he seizes her arms with his hands. If she knows how to move, she can thus, in turn, rise and sink upon his member; if she is not adroit enough for that movement, the man imparts a movement to her buttocks by the play of one of his thighs behind them. But


if the man assumes this position, it may sometimes become prejudicial to him, inasmuch as some of the female sperm may penetrate into his urethra, and grave malady may ensue therefrom. It may also happen--and that is just as bad--that the man's sperm cannot pass out, and returns into the urethra.

If the man prefers that the woman should lie on her back, he places himself, with his legs folded under him, between her legs, which she parts only moderately. Thus, his buttocks are between the woman's legs, with his heels touching them. In performing this way he will, however, feel fatigue, owing to the position of his stomach resting upon the woman's, and the inconvenience resulting therefrom; and, besides, he will not be able to get his wholemember in the vulva.

It will be similar when both he on their sides, as mentioned above in the case of pregnant women.

When both man and woman are fat, and wish to unite in coition, they cannot contrive to do it without trouble, particularly when both have prominent stomachs. In these circumstances the best way to go about it is for the woman to be on her knees with her hands on the ground, so that her posterior is elevated; then the man separates her legs, leaving the points of the feet close together and the heels parted asunder; he then attacks her from behind, kneeling and holding up his stomach with his hand, and so introduces his member. Resting his stomach upon her buttocks during the act he


generation and their mouths can meet at the same time. To gain this end the woman had best lie on her back; the man places himself on his side near her, passes one of his hands under her neck, and with the other raises her thighs till he can put his member against her vulva from behind, the woman remaining still on her back. In this position he holds her up with his hands by the neck and the thighs. He can then enter her body, while the woman on her part puts her arms round his neck, and approaches her lips to his.

If the man wishes the woman to lie on her side, he gets between her legs, and, placing her thighs so that they are 'incontact with his sides, one above and one under, he glides in between them till his member is lacing her vulva from behind; he then presses his thighs against her buttocks, which he seizes with one hand in order to impart movement to them; the other hand he has round her neck. If the man then likes, he can get his thighs over those of the woman, and press her towards him; this will make it easier for him to move.

As regards the copulation of a very small man and a tall woman, the two actors cannot kiss each other while in action unless they take one of the three following positions, and even then they will become fatigued.

FIRST POSITION--The woman lies on her back, with a thick


cushion under her buttocks, and a similar one under her head; she then draws up her thighs as far as possible towards her chest. The man lies down upon her, introduces his member, and takes hold of her shoulders, drawing himself up towards them. The woman winds her arms and legs round his back, whilst he holds on to her shoulders, or, if he can, to her neck.

SECOND POSITION--Man and woman lie both on their side, face to face; the woman slips her undermost thigh under the man's flank, drawing it at the same time higher up; she does the like with her other thigh over his; then she arches her stomach out, while his member is penetrating into her. Both should have hold of the other's neck,and the woman, crossing her legs over his back, should draw the man towards her.

THIRD POSITION--The man lies on his back, with his legs stretched out; the woman sits on his member, and, stretching herself down over him, draws up her knees to the height of her stomach; then, laying her hands over his shoulders, she draws herself up, and presses her lips to his.

All these postures are more or less fatiguing for both; people can, however, choose any other position they like; but they must be able to Kiss each other during the act.

I will now speak to you of those who are little, in consequence of being humpbacked. Of these there are several kinds.

First, there is the man who is crookbacked, but whose spine and neck


the shoulder, to hold them up, and fill the place which is left vacant.

In the case of a man whose malformation affects only his neck, so as to press his chin towards his chest, but who is otherwise straight, he can take any position he likes for doing the business, and give himself up to any embraces and caresses, always excepting kisses on the mouth. If the woman is lying on her back, he will appear in action as if he were butting at her like a ram. If the woman has her neck deformed in similar manner, their coition will resemble the mutual attack of two horned beasts with their heads. The most convenient position fur them will be that the woman should stoop down, and heattack her from behind. The man whose hump appears on his back in the shape of only the half of a jar is not so much disfigured as the one of whom the poet has said:

Lying on his back he is a dish;
Turn him over, and you have a dish-cover

In his case coition can take place as with any other man who is small in stature and straight; he cannot, however, easily lie on his back.

If a little woman is lying on her back, with a humpbacked man upon her belly, he will look like the cover over a vase. If, on the contrary, the woman is large-sized, he will have the appearance of a carpenter's plane in action. I have made the following verses on this subject:

The


the man, they may take any of the various positions for coition, always observing that if one of them lies on the back, the hump must be environed with cushion, as with a turban, thus having a nest to lie in, which guards its top, which is very tender. In this way they can embrace closely.

If the man is humped both on back and chest he must renounce the embrace and the clinging, but can otherwise take any position he likes for coition. Yet generally speaking, the action must always be troublesome for himself and the woman. I have written on this subject:

The humpback engaged in the act of coition Is like a vase provided with two handles. If he is burning fur a woman, she will tellnear each other, and all inconvenience is avoided.

The same is the case if the woman stoops down with her head, with her croup in the air, after the manner of el kouri, which position will suit both of them, if they have the chest malformed, but not the back. One of them then performs the action of come-and-go.

But the most curious and amusing description which I have ever met in this respect, is contained in these verses:

Their two extremities are close together, And nature made a laughing stock of them; Foreshortened he appears as if cut off; He looks like someone bending to escape a blow, Or like a man who has received a blow And shrivels down so as to miss a second.

If a man's spine is