text:
It could be Melbourne's best kept secret: about 15 MCG's worth of open space in the heart of inner suburbia.
Most people wouldn't even know they could stroll right in – past the Caulfield Racecourse gates and into a public reserve set aside more than a century ago for the community's benefit, not just for the city's racing elite.
But the fact that many don't know is almost deliberate: the consequence of decisions made by a secretive group of trustees heavily influenced by one of Victoria's most powerful sporting bodies – the Melbourne Racing Club – which manages the site predominantly to serve its own interests.
"It's a tragic waste of space," says Don Dunstan, the past president of the Glen Eira Residents' Association, who lives nearby.
"There's a lake, a boardwalk, but the only people who know about it are the local people who have been around long enough to know that the gates open at a marked time. The reserve has been there for 150 years but the way it's run has been a mess ever since."
Situated in a municipality that happens to have the least open space in Melbourne, the Caulfield Racecourse Reserve was originally gazetted for three purposes: parkland, public recreation and horseracing.
However, management of the site has been so skewed that the Andrews government has been forced to intervene by setting up a working group to look at "options" for its future management – and it won't rule out disbanding the trustees if longstanding problems can't be resolved.
Much of those problems stem from the composition of the Caulfield Racecourse Reserve Trust, which is made up 15 members: including Melbourne Racing Club chair Mike Symons and vice chair Peter Le Grand; former ALP national president Greg Sword; federal court judge Shane Marshall; and Ethnic Communities Council deputy chair Marion Lau.
The issue is that the Trust is the landlord of the reserve and the Melbourne Racing Club is its tenant, but six of the Trustees also happen to be MRC nominees (a further six are nominated by the government and three others represent the Glen Eira council).
As a result, the personal and professional interests of members tend to clash with their obligations as Crown land managers and decisions on how the area could best be utilised are often left unresolved or in dispute.
As one well-placed source put it last week: "You've got six MRC guys in the group who just need to convince two others to vote with them, and once that happens, you've got the trustees effectively run by the Club. It's obvious that the current structure doesn't work."
Such problems were highlighted in a scathing Auditor-General's report released in September 2014 which found "significant deficiencies" in the management of the reserve, conflicts of interest, lack of accountability, and minimal oversight by the state government.
"There is no doubt that the reserve is a significant public asset and one of Australia's premier racing tracks, hosting high-profile races such as the Caulfield Cup and bringing in significant revenue for the state," the Auditor-General wrote, "however, it is not clear that the needs of the community have been appropriately balanced against the needs of racing."
According to that report, 37 out of the reserve's 54 hectares was being used by the MRC for racing and training "without clear legal entitlement or transparent arrangements in place that recognise the financial benefit to the club."
A further 11 hectares was leased to the MRC – including the grandstand, and the Neerim Road and Western stables. But only six hectares was identified as space the public could potentially use – if they managed to navigate their way past the poor signage and unwelcoming access points.
With Melbourne's population booming, the need for more open space is acute, particularly in a densely populated area such as the City of Glen Eira, which has more than 144,000 residents.
"There were about 400 kids last winter who didn't play sport in Glen Eira because we couldn't find a space for them to play," says councillor Jim Magee, a former Trustee who wants the government to dismiss the current group in favour of a more accountable structure, and to give greater management authority to the council.
North Caulfield Maccabi Junior Football Club Kevin Milstein says he would like the centre of the racecourse turned into a multi-sportsfield that local clubs could share. His club, for instance, has about 550 kids who usually play at Caulfield Park during football season, but teams have to travel to Kingston Heath or Albert Park for training in the off-season because "there's absolutely nowhere in Glen Eira that we can go."
To utilise parkland inside the racecourse involves knowing that the gates will automatically unlock at 9.30am (once training has ended) and then walking through an uninviting tunnel and across the tracks that have hosted some of racing's biggest events: the Caulfield Cup; the Blue Diamond Stakes; the Caulfield Guineas.
Local Liberal MP David Southwick, who has been calling on the government to act for months, says the solution to solving Glen Eira's "open space headache" is a no-brainer for Daniel Andrews: simply open up the racecourse and establish a number of sporting grounds to give the community a reason to be there.
But adding to the reserve's woes was an ongoing dispute between the landlord and tenant. For more than 20 years, MRC has paid an annual rent of around $95,000, which is adjusted for inflation. However, hostilities erupted when the club – which last year posted earnings of $21 million before tax – reportedly sought to reduce its rent to $100 a year, insisting that was a fair amount when you took into account the cost of maintaining the reserve.
Image, source and more: http://www.theage.com.au/


text:
CANCUN CITY, MEXICO — I awaken on the grass near the fountain at kilometer zero, the intersection of Coba and Bonampak that leads into the hotel zone. The gray mist is still cool and the light is silvery on the fountain, where strange Mayan crocodile figures rise from the water. I've been sleeping next to the Korean's tent, at the vigil they set up near the spot where their companero, Kyoung Hae Lee, stabbed himself to death yesterday in protest of the WTO.
The night of the 10th, we join the vigil after our full-moon ritual in the park next to the convergence center. About 40 of us gather, make a circle, invoke the elements, and do a spiral under the full moon. Some of the punks join us, and a few of the local people who have been at the cultural events in the Parque de Palapas nearby. The mood is somber, because of Lee's death — but as we circle, looking at the parade of faces, the different shapes and colors and ancestors looking through our eyes, the energy builds to a beautiful peak. Then we scatter to join the wake at the auditorium at the Casa de la Cultura, where the campesinos have been camping.
The service is a truly syncretic mixture of cultures. The campesinos have set out an ofrenda, an altar, of flowers and candles and pictures of Lee, arranged in the shape of a giant cross. They are on the microphone, offering traditional prayers in Mayan and and songs and prayers to the father, son, and holy ghost. The Koreans move forward, bow to the altar in a Buddhist salute. For Koreans, yesterday was a day to honor the ancestors. Because they could not be home to perform the rites, they had brought a casket with them, which they burned at the barricade so that the ancestors could open the way. Then Lee stabbed himself, becoming an offering.
When the Koreans march out, Brush and I march with them, along with about a hundred other people. Some of our group follows in cars, or goes back to the house to get stuff. The streets are dark and empty, the police hang back, and the crowd grows as we reach the circle where two canopies have been set up on the grass circle surrounding the fountain.
There is a line of cops behind the barricade, and soon they are reinforced by Federal and judicial police and a group in white coveralls who goosestep in chanting in unison. A group of students run forward, link hands and stand in front of the police, a visual symbol of our intention to protect the Koreans, who are being threatened with deportation by the government. For a while, the situation seems tense, but then it settles into calm. The students relax and pull back, and we all stroll around greeting and talking to each other. We establish little groupings on the grass. Some people fall asleep, while a few stroll up to the police lines. I see three young Mexican men, all with that tough, masculine body language, approach the police lines and talk with them. "We are students," they are saying. "We are human beings, just like you. The WTO is the enemy of all of us."
I finally lie down on the grass, and fall immediately asleep. When I wake up, the fence is gone, moved an eighth of a mile into the hotel zone. Everyone is waking up together, a beautiful mix of campesinos, Koreans, students, internationals, as if all the separate groupings are now mixing up together.
I run home to shower and then to the Casa, to get some final pictures of the eco-village while the campesinos are still there. Most are leaving today, and those who aren't are moving the camp down to kilometer zero to support the Korean vigil. We have a quick Green Bloc meeting, decide to move the information and a few of the washing basins down to what we are now, on September 11, beginning to call Ground Zero. But the overall installation is too big and complex to move without more planning and design time.
In any case, it has done its work. Erik tells us the story of the little 5-year-old campesino girl who approached him as he was washing his hands. She explained the entire system to him, piece by piece, as he just nods and smiles. Some piece of knowledge has been transferred through the example of this system, with its cheerful orange funnels for sink and its pump and tubes and plastic casks, some understanding of how things can be integrated, can work together, support each other, and form the basis of a different world. In its own way, our little handwashing station is indeed a model of the world we are striving for, and the reason we are pushing ourselves so hard and risking so much is so that she may be one of the builders.
I lie down on the grass at Ground Zero and fall deeply asleep for an hour or so. Then I help rig tarps against sun and rain, and go off to buy rope with Andy and Sophie. While the young man in the hardware store is winding cord into loops and weighing them, the storm rolls in and a drenching rain begins. As we head back, the streets are blocked by cops and floods, and we circle around and around before we succeed in finding our way back to the circle past the police. By then the rain has stopped, so we are relatively dry as we head back to the Parque de Palapas for the cacerolazo.
A cacerolazo (think 'casserole-azo" is a Latin American tradition used by both the left and the right of beating pots and pans throughout the streets of the city and marching to express opposition to a government or policy. We meet this cacerolazo coming down Tulum, led by the Infernal Noise Brigade. None of us visitors has pots and pans, but some of the students have appropriated metal garbage cans or bucket drums and the noise is powerful. A few have lit torches, and as we sweep through the streets at a fast pace, a wild, magic procession, purifying the city with fire and noise, driving out the evil spirits of greed.
As we come down the slight hill toward Ground Zero, I see the red flame of the torches like a river of fire, and below, a circle of cool, white lights, the flames of the candles the Koreans hold as they circle the fountain. The moon has come to earth in a circle of light, and we stop the drums and fall into a powerful silence in respect. We stand, silent, fists raised, torches burning, and the lights circle below. Everardo, in the front, cries out:
"PRESENTE!" we thunder back in response,
And the roll call of the dead goes on. Dead, but presente, present, still here. The chant becomes as well an affirmation of the living, of what survives:
Zapata lives, the struggle goes on.
The Koreans have been having a memorial for Lee, and duck up front as the march waits. They have set out an altar with flowers and banners on the spot where he died. Different groups and organizations have placed banners, as at home they might have sent wreaths. The most touching, to me, is a small, black-and-orange banner, inscribed with a circle A, that says "Respect." A tribute from the black bloc.
I am thinking about death rites. I was in Palestine when Rachel Corrie was killed by an Israeli soldier who crushed her with a bulldozer. I went down to Rafah to support the team that was with her. They were trying to design her poster, the color photo and tribute that are the due of every shaheed, every martyr. In the hospital, Alice said, the nurses wouldn't let them wash the body. A shaheed's blood is sacred, not to be touched. They have their own traditions, their own way to respond to death, as here the Koreans and the campesinos have their own ways, their rituals.
I honor Lee, and the sacrifice he made, but my heart right now is with the students, pulsing with life. I hope we don't make a cult of the dead. I remember one phase of my involvement with feminism when it seemed that all our heroines were suicides. Maybe we needed to know that oppression hurts, and Lee reminded us that the policies of the WTO are deadly. But honoring the dead should be to say say that a life is worth something, that life is what we are fighting for.
The march resumes as soon as the service is done and circles the fountain before it heads back to Palapas. I am following at the back, chatting with a friend I haven't seen in a long time. As the march turns back into the pedestrian street that leads into the park, a small group breaks away, runs upstairs into a Pizza Hut, breaks windows and then runs back into the march. Those ahead are unaware of what has happened; those of us behind hear the burglar alarm shrieking.
Inside the park, the students gather under the big tent in front of the stage. They are drumming and dancing, wild and ecstatic, the carnival unleashed at last. I stand for a moment, watching from above a seething cauldron of youth jumping and shrieking in unison, the energy building as it reaches the center, a boiling blast furnace of power, the power of life itself raging and pulsing and demanding to be heard, a power that can bring down empires. Creation and destruction, love and rage, no aspect of it singular but always light and dark, life and death, the juggler and the sacrifice, a mix of dualities, like the Gods/Goddesses of this land. Part of me wants to jump into the center, but I'm in another phase of life right now, my life fires not burning with quite such heat. I prefer the edge, where I can bask in the warmth of the blaze.
A group of my friends has gathered at Tacos Arabe, sitting outside on the patio drinking beer and eating tacos while youth thunders beside us. On the TV behind the grill, scenes of 9-11 play — the people running in panic from the burning towers. They take their place, too, in the roll call of the dead.
The night is full of false alarms. We hear the riot cops are moving in on the students — but they pull back. The students hear that the police are water cannoning the Koreans, but all is peaceful.
I try to attend a meeting in the rain at the fountain, but my feet hurt and I can't concentrate on the Spanish, and I don't really need to be there. I try to attend a midnight meeting at the convergence center, but fall asleep sitting up. I have surrendered to Mexico, stopped trying to organize and orchestrate and make things happen, started to trust that there is a deeper, self-organizing flow. Tomorrow is a big day of action, we hope. We don't know what will happen, but we will try to be in the right place at the right time, with the energy, courage, and luck to do the work.
Copyright © 2003 by Starhawk. All rights reserved. This copyright protects Starhawk's right to future publication of her work. Nonprofit, activist, and educational groups may circulate this essay (forward it, reprint it, translate it, post it, or reproduce it) for nonprofit uses. Please do not change any part of it.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
On July 1, 1916, Britain, a nation used to relying on its naval muscle and its native pluck, entered the age of modern warfare on the green fields of the Somme. Peter Hart's study not only is heartrending and definitive but also makes some sense of this senseless disaster.
Next Of Time and the City


text:
I suddenly ran out of words to say. Let me start, my Davao food adventure with FoodPrints brought me to write a story about the Malagos Farmhouse artisanal cheese. It was a very hectic morning in Davao and inside the van, at 5:30 AM, I had cold feet. Not to mention the late night taping at a chicken and rib joint prior to this assignment. I've never met anyone at Vault, but I was told that editor-in-chief Mr. David Celdran was asking me to write a cheese story for Vault, adjudged Best New Magazine by the Asian Publishing Awards in 2012. Published by ABS-CBN Publishing Inc, Vault is a luxury magazine for the sophisticated man. I wanted to say no, but how can I say no to a great opportunity to be working with super creative people? I personally love the sharp stylin' look of Vault. My husband is a classic vintage fanatic and I learned to love his taste, so Vault, definitely, is something to collect. On top of that, I'm the incurable cheese lover.
Superthanks to so many people — Mr. David Celdran, Karl Castro, Barry Viloria, Julio Silvestre, the entire Vault editorial team, the Puentespina family, Olive and Bo, my FoodPrints family, Jennie Celdran, Melanie de Leon, Iggy Bilbao, our wonderful tour guide Ruben Neri, the van driver, Davao DOT, Ms. Vanessa, the Apo View Hotel, my husband, and Ericke, who acts as my personal editor sometimes.
My Vault 2014 No. 4 finally arrives.
Check out major bookstores for the latest issue dedicated to craftsmanship. It should also be ready for download at Zinio right now.
It can fit into my purse. The size is so convenient — one of the things I love about Vault
My photo of Olive Puentespina the cheesemaker. I had the wonderful privilege of writing a Q&A with her. I'm so amazed at her drive and intense passion to make cheesemaking real in a country like ours.
Dr. Bo Puentespina takes care of the herd and makes sure Olive's milk is delivered to her in impeccable condition.
One of the best breakfasts we had in Davao was at the Puentespina vacation house hosted by a lady who inspires with her many advocacies, no other than Mrs. Charita Puentespina, who I'm soon featuring here in the blog. The flowers are grown in the farm.
A slice of kesong puti with bignay jam, made from bignay berries from the Malagos Farm.
At Leon's Lounge, the tasting room of the Malagos Farmhouse Cheeses.
Photographed by Blauearth © Blauearth™ All Rights Reserved 2009-2014


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David Ochoa vs Ben Rubin
Shortly after Round 3 finished, I was speaking to David Ochoa, who had taken a "free win" when his opponent missed enough land drops that he more or less got to goldfish his way through the game, meeting no real resistance. For Round 4, he would have a matchup which seemed optimistic to treat as a free win. Ben Rubin, one of many Hall of Fame players in attendance, sat down to the table ready for what could be a tough control mirror match.David Ochoa vs Ben Rubin
Game 1
Both players led with early copies of Preordain, but while Ochoa had a quick Crumbling Necropolis to signal his colours, Rubin was able to perhaps mask his deck choice by starting on Creeping Tar Pit, and following up with a second. The Pit would be good against Jace, the Mind Sculptor, on top of its obvious help with complicated mana.
Neither Ochoa nor Rubin was quick to commit much to the board, each amassing lands and little else for the first seven turns. The life totals were 18 apiece, with only Scalding Tarn as a damage source for the match.David Ochoa, a.k.a. 'The Ocho.'
In a control mirror, having more land is one of the swing factors, and that the first missed land drop was on turn eight, from Ochoa, meant that things were pretty evenly matched. Rubin tried to get ahead with a Coalition Relic but saw a Cryptic Command from Ochoa, that drew him a card. He still had more land though, and passed with six mana available.
Ochoa tried for Jace, the Mind Sculptor, with seven cards left over in his hand, and four mana to spare. This brought the Cryptic Command from Rubin. Ochoa shot back with Mana Leak. Rubin couldn't quite afford to pay three mana, but he could afford to pay two ... for his own Mana Leak, letting him successfully draw a card and stop Ochoa's planeswalker with Cryptic Command. Ochoa cast a Preordain, and found the land that, had he naturally drawn it for his turn, would have paid for that Mana Leak.
Now that Ochoa was tapped out, Rubin went for it with Cruel Ultimatum. This drew him three cards, stripped a Lightning Bolt and a pair of copies of Mana Leak from Ochoa's as well as helping skew life totals. The game had hit a new phase, as each player started dropping haymakers. Ochoa's was Grave Titan, who brought a pair of Zombie tokens to the party. Rubin cast Preordain, looking for answers, and had one in Damnation.
Ochoa was down on cards, but worked to redress the balance with a second stab at resolving Jace, the Mind Sculptor. This time Rubin said no with a big Logic Knot. Ochoa responded to a Cruel Ultimatum from Rubin with a pair of copies of Lightning Bolt, rather than simply discarding them to the big spell that cleared out his hand. A pair of copies of Lightning Bolt were rather more effective, dropping Ochoa to 2.
The game was not over yet, though. A freshly drawn Cruel Ultimatum from Ochoa resolved, getting his life total to a healthier state, stripping three cards (Teferi, Mage of Zhalfir, Punishing Fire and Preordain) out of Rubin's hand, and pulling Grave Titan back into Ochoa's hand, all while netting him three fresh cards from the top.
Ochoa used Extirpate to snag the Punishing Fire after Rubin had drawn, successfully stopping the pesky burn spell from becoming an issue later, and seeing that Rubin's hand of four cards was a powerful Jace, the Mind Sculptor, Grave Titan, Cryptic Command and Mana Leak. Rubin cast the Titan and passed. Ochoa cast his, and it resolved.
Even after Cruel Ultimatum, Ochoa was still on just 7 life, and Rubin used Cryptic Command to tap down Ochoa's team and attacked. When Mana Leak stopped a Terminate on Grave Titan, it was on to Game 2.
Rubin 1, Ochoa 0
Game 1 had not been fast, and with 25 minutes left on the round, both Rubin and Ochoa must have been thinking about the one draw they had each already garnered as they moved to their sideboards.
Game 2
Game 2 saw a swift Relic of Progenitus from Rubin, which would provide a little insurance against Cruel Ultimatum getting full value, or simply give the opportunity to draw another card. Rubin went for the card drawing option, and followed with a Preordain. All the while, Ochoa just built up mana.
A Thoughtseize from Rubin hit Negate from Ochoa, prompting Rubin to fire off a second, which met the same response. In this second game, Ochoa was a little stuck on mana, watching on behind four lands, as Rubin got up to six. Ochoa had a Cryptic Command for Jace, the Mind Sculptor, but the extra mana from Rubin meant that he could Mana Leak back.Ben Rubin is surprisingly lifelike, but the patented Data tilt of the head betrays his android heritage.
Rubin used Jace to fateseal himself, pumping the planeswalker's loyalty out of range of an attack from Creeping Tar Pit. Ochoa had the answer on his turn with a Jace of his own.
Rubin was characteristically un-flustered, casting a Grave Titan. Ochoa used Cryptic Command to bounce it, and then a Thoughtseize to strip it from Rubin's hand. The two Zombie tokens Grave Titan had produced still got stuck in, and soon Ochoa was at 14. When Ochoa tried for a Teferi, Rubin was ready with Cryptic Command. Ochoa, now on 10, cast a Coalition Relic followed by Punishing Fire to off a Zombie. A Grove of the Burnwillows allowed him to get the Punishing Fire back, and ensure the board was empty.
Rubin shrugged and cast Cruel Ultimatum. The life totals became 25 to 5, Ochoa lost his hand, and perhaps a little hope as Rubin drew up to a full hand. Between Creeping Tar Pit and Punishing Fire, Rubin was able to finish things off.
Rubin 2, Ochoa 0


text:
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
30% Off in my Etsy Store.
8 comments:
Yipee!!! Going to check that out right now! Hope you are having a blissful creative day dear girl. Love d. xoxReplyDelete
Hi Kylie! So wonderful to find you and your incredible creative space. Thankyou for finding me and becoming a follower! :)ReplyDelete
I have to say your portraits are absolutely stunning....love the smiling mischief in your mum's eyes..and wow..your self portrait is AMAZING!! So beautiful.
Looking forward to seeing many more fab works of art :)x
- AnonymousDecember 8, 2011 at 1:20 AM
aw! how darling....I'll have to go over and take a peek!ReplyDelete
I think it's exciting when an artist clears away the old to bring in the next, new exciting inspirations....I do the same thing!
have fun.....
ciao bella
Great prints in the shop. :) I wish you lots of sales!ReplyDelete
@danielle daniel Thanks for stopping by Dan. xoReplyDelete
@Jenny Blair Hi Jenny, Thanks for your wonderful comments. You've made my day. Sorry for the late reply. The silly season is upon us.ReplyDelete
I do hope to see you here again.
Kyles =D
@**CREATIVE CARMELINA** Hello Crreative Carmelina. Thanks for popping in. I am busy creating originals to put into my store in the new year. Just have to find some more time.....he he At this time of year finding time is a little hard. =DReplyDelete
@NatashaMay Hey there lovely Nat. Thanks. I wish you the same. Thanks for stopping by.ReplyDelete
Kyles xo


text: There's still a bit of a pandemic going round, so my sparring days are pretty limited at the moment. But during the brief respite Finnish contamination statistics offered during the summer, I managed to roll with a game plan. Or a limited repertoire of techniques, depending on how you look at it.


text:
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text:
Bluetooth Stereo Audio Driver Download
Bluetooth Stereo Audio Driver Details:
Bluetooth Stereo Audio File Name: bluetooth_stereo_audio.zip
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Bluetooth Stereo Audio ZIP Size: 122.kb
Manufacturer: Bluetooth
Scan Status: OK
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Driver Download Score84/100
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1. Direct DownloadSelect your OS and press "Download".
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text:
WASHINGTON (AP) — The official sign-up season for President Barack Obama's health care law may be over, but leading congressional Democrats say millions of Americans facing new tax penalties deserve a second chance.
Three senior House members told The Associated Press that they plan to strongly urge the administration to grant a special sign-up opportunity for uninsured taxpayers who will be facing fines under the law for the first time this year.
The three are Michigan's Sander Levin, the ranking Democrat on the Ways and Means Committee, and Democratic Reps. Jim McDermott of Washington, and Lloyd Doggett of Texas. All worked to help steer Obama's law through rancorous congressional debates from 2009-2010.
WASHINGTON (AP) — The official sign-up season for President Barack Obama's health care law may be over, but leading congressional Democrats say millions of Americans facing new tax penalties deserve a second chance.
Janice Riddle got a nasty surprise when she filled out her tax return this year.
The Los Angeles resident had applied for Obamacare in late 2013, when she was unemployed. She qualified for a hefty subsidy of $470 a month, leaving her with a monthly premium of $1 for the cheapest plan available.
Riddle landed a job in early 2014 at a life insurance agency, but since her new employer didn't offer health benefits, she kept her Obamacare plan. However, she didn't update her income with the California exchange, which she acknowledges was her mistake.Details
Approaching ObamaCare With Humility
Washington can't get out of Its own way on health care. Give states a chance.
President Obama spoke frequently of humility during last week's prayer breakfast. Congressional Republicans could use a healthy measure of that virtue should the Supreme Court rule that ObamaCare subsidies are not available in the 37 states with federally-facilitated exchanges.
ObamaCare is the product of a yawning humility deficit. Its core conceit is that a group of very smart and ideologically like-minded people could reorganize the financing of a $3 trillion industry that touches the lives of 320 million Americans.
Its architects boast that more people have "selected a plan" this time around than during the program's disastrous initial open season.
By Tom Miller and Grace-Marie Turner
One of the mechanisms through which the Affordable Care Act (ACA) expands access to health insurance is through tax subsidies provided to individuals to help offset the cost of health insurance. These subsidies are only available if people purchase highly-regulated and -mandated policies that are sold only through government-run insurance exchanges.
The law's formula for determining the amount of these premium subsidies specifies that people are eligible for them if they are enrolled in qualified plans offered in "an Exchange established by the State under [section] 1311 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act." However, only 13 states are operating state-based exchanges this year. The rest are relying on exchanges created by the federal government.Details
It takes a journalist to clear the fog about Republican health policy alternatives. (Yes, they do have alternative plans.) In his new book, Overcoming ObamaCare, Philip Klein, who is the commentary editor of the Washington Examiner, presents a timely and accessible review of the three primary approaches that Republican officials and policy analysts are offering.
Klein acknowledges that Republicans failed to implement serious health reforms when they had control of the White House and of Congress during the George W.Details
Indiana Governor Mike Pence has won approval from the Obama administration for a Medicaid waiver that begins the transformation of the program toward a consumer-directed model.
Gov. Pence is building on the popular and successful Healthy Indiana Plan (HIP) created by former Governor Mitch Daniels in 2007.
Both of them pushed the envelope with Health and Human Services officials who were determined to perpetuate a hide-bound program that is ill-serving tens of millions of recipients while gobbling up state revenues. Gov. Pence and his staff worked directly with White House officials to overcome this inertia and set down some new markers for future reform.
Gov. Pence announced today that the administration has approved Healthy Indiana 2.0 that will require contributions from all able-bodied Hoosiers participating in the program.Details
Millions of Americans who received subsidized health insurance under ObamaCare will find a new wave of frustration this tax season.
After losing their health insurance because it was not ObamaCare compliant…after slogging through the healthcare.gov website to get enrolled in a new policy…after losing their doctors…after learning that they must pay thousands of dollars in deductibles before they can get medical care…now they must face the IRS.
By the end of the month, they should receive a form 1095-A that shows they had health insurance through federal or state exchanges. They will use the form to fill out an astonishingly complex Form 8962 to reconcile the subsidies they received with the income they earned in 2014.
If they received too much, they will have to pay back some or all of the subsidy. That could mean they receive a smaller – or no – tax refund.Details
The Galen Institute today released an updated version of its list of significant changes made to the Affordable Care Act by the Obama administration, the Congress, and the U.S. Supreme Court since the law was passed in March of 2010. Today's list includes four additional changes made by the Obama administration, most of them contrary to statutory language. By our count, more than 46 significant changes have been made to the law: at least 28 that the administration has made unilaterally, 16 that Congress has passed and the president has signed, and 2 by the Supreme Court. Here are the latest additions:
•Bay State Bailout: More than 300,000 people in Massachusetts gained temporary Medicaid coverage in 2014 without any verification of their eligibility, with the Obama and Patrick administrations using a taxpayer-funded bailout to mask the failure of the commonwealth's disastrously malfunctioning website.
Thirty-six states that rely on private managed care programs to provide medical services to all or some of their Medicaid recipients are facing an added ObamaCare tax.
According to a report by Milliman consulting actuaries, states that contract with Medicaid managed care plans face up to $15 billion in added costs over 10 years for their share of the law's tax on private health insurance.
States will pay even if they strongly oppose ObamaCare and are refusing to establish health insurance exchanges or expand Medicaid.
The health law imposes an annual tax on private health insurance plans – a tax designed to recoup what some call their "windfall" from the millions of new customers they could gain because of the law. The tax on health insurers was expected to raise a total of $8 billion in 2014 and as much as $150 billion over the next 10 years.Details
By Tom Miller & Grace-Marie Turner
Tax subsidies are one of the mechanisms through which the Affordable Care Act expands access to health insurance. These subsidies are available only to those who purchase highly regulated policies through government-run exchanges, and are allocated on a monthly basis to insurance companies to offset the costs of premiums and sometimes out-of-pocket costs.
The law's formula for determining the amount of these premium subsidies specifies that people are eligible for them if they are enrolled in qualified plans offered in "an Exchange established by the State under [section] 1311 of the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act." Only 13 states are operating such exchanges this year. The rest are relying on exchanges created by the federal government. But in 2012, the IRS wrote a rule that allows the subsidies to flow through the federal exchanges as well.Details


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First Look: Lucky Duck Roughneck Predator Call
First Look: Browning Huntsman Chair
Browning Camping & Hunting Blinds developed the all-terrain Huntsman Chair to deliver the comfort necessary for a long sit.
Alps OutdoorZ Introduces Floating Gun Case
Ideal for float-trip hunters, duck hunters, or anyone who transports their firearms on or around water, the Floating Gun Case calls on high-density floatation foam to prevent firearms from submerging if dropped in deep water.
Antler King's Fall/Winter/Spring Food Plot Blend Offers All-Season Forage
Fall/Winter/Spring Food Plot Blend from Antler King provides a food source throughout hunting season and beyond, with the protein and energy deer need to stay healthy and grow trophy racks.
Primary Arms Optics Releases SLx 1-10x28mm SFP Rifle Scope
Primary Arms Optics has released its first 1X-10X scope, the SLx 1-10x28mm SFP Rifle Scope, which comes with a choice of two ACSS reticles.
Best Bullets for Black Bear
Ruger Reintroduces the Marlin Model 1895 Guide Gun
Ruger has announced the reintroduction of the Marlin Model 1895 Guide Gun. Formerly known as an "1895 GBL" (Guide Big Loop), this model is Ruger's first reintroduction in the Guide Gun family of rifles and Ruger's first introduction of an alloy steel Marlin rifle with a blued finish.


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Gabovich, Mikhail
Gabovich, Mikhail Markovich
Born Nov. 24 (Dec. 7), 1905, in the village of Velikie Guliaki, now in Fastov Raion, Kiev Oblast; died July 12, 1965, in Moscow. Soviet ballet dancer. People's Artist of the RSFSR (1951). Member of the CPSU from 1936. Student of the balletmaster A. A. Gorskii.
Upon graduating from the Moscow Ballet School in 1924, Gabovich was accepted into the Bolshoi Theater's troupe. A dancer of principal roles in classical ballets, Gabovich was the first performer at the Bolshoi Theater of such leading roles in ballets by Soviet composers as Vatslav in Asaf ev's The Fountain of Bakhchisarai, Romeo in Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, Evgenii in Gliere's The Bronze Horseman, the Prince in Prokofiev's Cinderella (State Prize of the USSR, 1946), and Ma Li-chen in Gliere's The Red Poppy (State Prize of the USSR, 1950). In 1954 he began teaching at the Moscow Choreographic School, where he was also artistic director from 1954 to 1958. He also worked out theoretical problems in the art of ballet. Gabovich was awarded two orders and various medals.


text: High5EM is hosting the Inaugural Sweets N' Sweats 5K Run or Walk to benefit the Amesbury Youth Recreation Dept. What better way to spend a fall October morning post race, than in cozy sweatpants munching on something sweet and savory? Sweets N' Sweats will provide an opportunity to participate in a non-competitive, family style event, with a focus on FUN! Upon finishing the race, you'll choose from a variety of mouthwatering sweets to indulge in from an array of participating sponsors providing chocolates, popcorn, cookies, cupcakes, and ice-cream. There will be cotton candy making, kid's candy necklace making and more.


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Merry Christmas! And as a present from Salute, here is the first picture of the 2012 Salute figure.
It has been sculpted by the very talented Jacques-Alexandre Gillois of Miniature Studio, and it's themed on the end of the 13th B'ak'tun of the Mayan Long Count Calendar.
And you know what - I am really excited about seeing a few painted examples in 2012 - I think this is going to be a real painters' dream!
Sunday, 25 December 2011
The 2012 Salute figure
Posted by Colin Hagreen at 05:28 2 comments:
Labels: Salute 2012, Salute figure
Sunday, 18 December 2011
December Painting Competition
Every 3 months the Warlords hold a painting competion - usually with a Fantasy/Sci Fi section, an Historical section, and an Open section. The winner of each section defines the theme for the figures in that section in the next competition 3 months later.
The Sci-Fi/Fantasy theme was Femme Fatale.....
The Sci-Fi/Fantasy theme was Femme Fatale.....
Winner - Lady Justice - A redhead you wouldn't want to tangle with:
2nd - Caprica 6.... Lady in Red with a difference
3rd - She Who Must Be Obeyed
But lets not forget......
The adept señoritas of the Adepta Sororitas
Can I keep it, please Mummy?
The Historical Theme was "1939 - 1945", sadly everyone saw it as AD, not BC....
Winner - Tanks for the Memories
2nd - Cap (ahem - historical, what?)
3rd - Baby Bear
And the "Open" Theme was "A Unit you have painted since October"
Winner - The Nazgul
2nd - Sharpe Practice
3rd - Squat Katyushka
One thing worth mentioning is that nearly all of these figures appear in our armies and games, this is not art for art's sake - though we are struggling to find the stats for Cap in Flames of War....
Posted by freecloud at 19:02 No comments:
Saturday, 17 December 2011
WAMP Awards 2011
We here at the South London Warlords would like to thank WAMP (the Wargames and Miniatures Forum) for voting Salute the best event of 2011. It's fantastic that such a great bunch of painters have seen fit to honour us like this, and we hope that we see you at Salute 2012. When you look at the shortlist, there are some fantastic shows there, and we're extremely chuffed here at the club. Thank you!
Posted by Colin Hagreen at 19:09 No comments:
Labels: prizes, Salute 2011
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Xmas eve is just around the corner! Here in Germany that means more Glühwein & more Xmas markets, the celebrations here extend to December 26th so tonight is going to be a more relaxed Xmas eve that what we are used to in the American Continent while still having all the festive spirit with shopping & fun deco with the added benefit of the Weihnachtsmarkt in the bigger cities such as Hamburg, where my husband's Family is from.
The plan for today, a relax family breakfast and then off to theWeihnachtsmarkt to drink all the Glühwein and eat all the fuerwurst! And just rejoice in the lovely, jolly and cosy atmosphere of thäe German Xmas Markets! And then another relaxed family dinner. We decided to only give gifts to my second nephew? and focus on the little one! On Dec 26th we will have the formal family lunch with Oma & Opa and the whole family!
Now, About my last Adventkalendar's gift: today I got a parfum. I am not a huge fan of trying new fragances so this was a bit of a buzzkiller for the last present but that being said, I remembered what I wrote yesterday about unexpected items and got excited again about trying something I would not have otherwise. Once I test it I will let you know how it went but for now here is a picture of this cute little parfum bottle, that if I like will last me for quite sometime as it seems to be a full size product.
I must admit it was a difficult challenge to write about something everyday, I missed day 2, but it was also fun and rewarding.
I am a huge fan of Neil Gaiman and he recommends to write a story everyday if you want to be a writer and I can see why; it forces you to think creatively, to look for clever ideas and more importantly to create a sense of duty & responsability towards the job at hand, in this case blogging about my 1st Xmas in Germany as a resident of this awesome country since April 2016. I have been visiting Germany since 2009 and moving here was the best decision I made in 2015, snd saying yes to my then german boyfriend was the best decision of 2014! I could keep going back in time but I will stop there and have my eyes set on the future and my goals fixed on making it a bright happy future in my new home country! Prost! Frohe weihnachten!


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Obesity, type 2 diabetes mellitus and its management Obesity, type 2 diabetes mellitus and its management
  Obesity is a clinical condition characterized by increased body mass index beyond 30 kg /m2 that measures  the distribution of body fat components more precisely,  recent consideration on body fatty tissue index is waist circumference that exactly meters bodily adipocyte status which seems responsible to release various cytokines, the anticipated  culprits contributing  to  development of insulin resistance and thus act as triggering factor  to exacerbate type- 2 diabetes mellitus.
This review focuses on  the  obesity- linked  type- 2 diabetes, conventional management and newly discovered remedial measures to control  the  obesity and diabetes as a whole.
Keywords: Obesity, adipokines, Â insulin resistance, type- 2 diabetes mellitus


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Bruins goalie Thomas doesn't start day after missing team's White House visitNHL.com @NHLdotcom
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WASHINGTON - Boston Bruins goalie Tim Thomas is not in the starting lineup a day after skipping the White House ceremony honouring the team for its 2011 Stanley Cup Championship.
Tuukka Rask started for the Bruins in the Tuesday night game against the Washington Capitals.
Thomas caused a controversy Monday when he didn't accompany the team to the White House. He said in a statement that he stayed away because he believes the federal government "has grown out of control."


text: Are you unsure what you want to do after high school? Do people keep asking you if you're going to college and what you're studying? Are you scared you won't be successful in the future? Come join us Tuesday nights at Cognitive Behavior Institute and put these worries… Read More


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To get the longest working life out of a linear bearing you must keep it clean and well lubricated but in the real world of round-the-clock, high-cycle manufacturing operations, bearings do get dirty and dry. And when either of these conditions happens, linear bearings will wear prematurely. In the worst case scenarios, contamination and inadequate lubrication can create metal-on-metal contact between the bearing's rolling elements and raceway. This can cause excessive wear in the form of denting, pitting or galling results. This warning about contaminants and the importance of lubrication will not come as news to anyone who has designed or worked around industrial machines. When using linear guides on medical, food, packaging, semiconductor or other sensitive equipment, machine builders often take extraordinary measures to keep the contaminants out and the oil in. They may add expensive bellows to cover the guides, or they may opt for a pricey automatic greasing system. Yet in their zeal to keep linear motion systems running smoothly, machine builders can overlook less expensive design solutions to contamination and lubrication issues.
Contamination comes in many forms, some more aggressive than others. Metal chips from machining operations, for example, qualify as one of the biggest offenders from a wear perspective. Silicon dust produced during semiconductor manufacturing can also be tough on linear bearing surfaces. Modern manufacturing processes can throw off a long list of other abrasive, wearinducing contaminants. Less aggressive contaminants can pose problems too. Even soft contaminants such as those found in food processing can gum up linear bearings. This kind of debris is not necessarily a wear issue, but it can keep the linear motion systems from functioning smoothly. Consequently this can have a negative impact on positioning accuracy and product quality. If a linear bearing gets gummed up to the point it stops working, then there are also potential maintenance and downtime costs. Keep in mind, too, that contamination is a two-way street. In addition to worrying about contamination from the product interfering with the linear motion system, machine builders also worry about stray lubrication or particulate from the linear bearing contaminating the product. This type of machine-to-product contamination is a cause for concern in contamination-sensitive industries such as medical, semiconductor and electronics. To combat contamination, machine builders will often supplement the linear bearing's built-in seals with bellows or other types of covers. Though these can substantially add cost to a machine and add to the maintenance burden, they do have their place. Some clean-room environments, for example, may require some physical barrier between the product and the machine elements. And inside machining centers, it is crucial to physically protect any motion systems from metal chips. But there are many less severe contamination scenarios. And in these cases, machine builders should consider bearing styles that are less affected by contamination and less prone to generate any of their own. Bearings with large, sealed rolling elements fall into this category.
With conventional linear guides, the tiny recirculating balls in a raceway have very little clearance. So even a relatively small pieces of debris can interfere with the balls. Bearings based on larger diameter rollers, by contrast, can roll right over even relatively large contaminants. Rollon's Compact Rail system, for example, is built around rollers that are from 14 to 50 millimeters in diameter. These linear bearings can roll over all kinds of contaminants that can stop smaller rolling elements dead in their tracks including metal chips, plastic particulate, paper dust and more. Large rollers are also more damage tolerant than smaller rolling elements. Even if a contaminant does happen to mar the roller or the rail surfaces, the large rolling element can usually keep on running.
Lubrication problems are often described in terms of not enough grease or oil. And sometimes that is the case as lubrication leaches out or is squeezed out of linear bearings, leaving them susceptible to metal-on-metal wear. There is a flip side to the lubrication issue too. Maintenance workers, with grease guns in hand, often over-lubricate linear bearings, potentially blowing out seals and introducing oil into environment. And keep in mind that lubrication also qualifies as a contaminant. So over-lubed bearings can also worsen contamination problem or force machine builders to opt for bellows or physical covers. Getting just the right amount of lube into a linear bearing at the right interval can be tricky because it depends on application-specific factors such as the type of bearing and the duty cycle.
The application's sensitivity to oil contamination comes into play too with sensitive industries demanding lighter lubrication schedules. There are ways to make sure linear bearings stay properly lubricated throughout with little intervention on the part of maintenance workers. On the expensive end of the system are expensive automatic greasing systems. These systems are a legacy of the linear way systems used in the machine tool industry. The auto-greaser was crucial for maintaining the film of oil that separate a linear way's bearing surfaces. Some of these expensive auto-lubrication systems have made their way into applications that employ more modern linear guides, and they can be a valid way to get the lube levels right while reducing the maintenance burden. But aside from their cost, auto-greasing systems can introduce unacceptable levels of contaminant into the factory environment which, again, will create problems is an issue in clean-room and other sensitive manufacturing operations. A lower-cost, cleaner alternative to automated lubrication exists in the form of self-lubricating wipers that integrate into the linear bearing's carriage. Rollon, for example, has an optional self-lubricating wipers on its Compact Rail system.
These provide lubrication for 2 million cycles before they need to be refreshed, and they cost a fraction of what PLC-controlled auto-greasing systems cost. The very idea automatic lubrication is the only way to achieve optimal lubrication is somewhat outdated. Some linear guides, such as those based on recirculating balls, do require regular lubrication in all applications. But bearings based on sealed rolling elements may not need much, or any, external lubrication at all in many applications. With Compact Rail, the roller acts as a true sealed bearing. Its ball bearings, raceway, and their lubricant are contained inside the outside housing of the roller. The need to add lubricant between the roller and the profiled rail thus becomes less important or even unnecessary in light duty applications. This capability makes a big difference in contamination-sensitive applications industries that would normally resort to expensive bellows or covers to keep stray oil off their shop floors, out of their air and off their products.


text: It's now easier to learn to write your own computer software than it has ever been before. Now everyone can learn to write programs for themselves--no previous experience is necessary. Chris Pine takes a thorough, but light-hearted approach that teaches you how to program with a minimum of fuss or bother. Starting with small, simple one-line programs to calculate your age in seconds, you'll see how to have your webpage send you email, to shuffle your music more intelligently, to rename your photos from your digital camera, and more. You'll learn the same technology used to drive modern dynamic websites and large, professional applications.


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COLUMBUS, Ohio– On Wednesday, with dignity and uncertainty, the workers of Lordstown Assembly Plant assembled their last vehicle. The plant will still make certain parts but the Chevy Cruze, which had been produced and assembled at the plant since 2011, will no longer be produced in Ohio.
As previously reported, in November of last year General Motors, the plant's current operators, announced that five plants across America would be permanently shut down, or, as they referred to it in their public statement:"unallocated." The plan was met with immediate backlash. President Donald Trump personally decried the decision, demanding that GM find a way to keep these plants open.
After months of failed negotiations between GM, the federal government, the Ohio state government, labor leaders, national unions, and other car manufacturers, GM officially began their mass layoffs on February 5. Wednesday, Lordstown became the first of the five plants to cease operations. Almost all of the 1,700 employees have been, or will be, laid off.
GM maintains that the plant will remain in a "state of readiness" should they find cause to reopen it for a new operator. However, this remains unlikely. GM has made it clear that its future with the plant is over. The Lordstown plant workers are currently represented by UAW Local 1112, which means that any potential buyer would have to agree to the demands of the union. At least one major auto manufacturer may have been scared off due to these ties. With no buyer in place, concerns abound about the local town's future.
Since its opening in 1966, Lordstown, Ohio has been the backbone of the local economy. Providing plentiful high-paying jobs, working at the plant ensured, at a minimum, a direct entree to the middle-class regardless of education level. Thousands of workers were employed by the plant at its peak. Over time those numbers dropped to below 2,000.
Debate rages on what exactly is killing plants like Lordstown. Many individuals point to automation and workers being replaced by robots. Should this be the case, there was little any worker could do to keep the plant going. However, this argument is belied by the fact that the Chevy Cruze will still be produced, just not in America. GM manufacturing in China, Mexico, and other overseas locations was not affected by the layoffs. In fact, some overseas plants will be growing.
There are still ongoing negotiations and some hold out hope that the plant can still be saved in some form, but most employees will be forced to move on. When the last vehicle was being assembled, all the workers present signed a section of the interior. When it rolled off the line, it was draped in an American flag that, for many, felt hauntingly reminiscent of a funeral.
– – –
Andrew Shirley is a reporter at Battleground State News and The Ohio Star. Send tips to [email protected].
Photo "Lordstown Complex" by Lordstown Assembly.


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"The Deported" by Vox Day
Stupefying Stories, October 2011
Now available in THE ALTAR OF HATE.
It was the fourth day of our summer holiday in Vernazza, a little fishing village in the Cinque Terre. We had spent the morning on a charming hike through the hills, lunched in Monterosso al Mare, then enjoyed a languid afternoon in the sun on the beach there. After hiking back and taking a brief but restorative nap, the six of us had reconvened for the evening on the terrace overlooking the sea. We were well into our second bottle of prosecco as Francois attempted to convince Bertrand's wife, Michèle, that one could not genuinely claim to be an atheist and yet still believe in ghosts.
"There is more to a term than its etymology, ma cherie," he declared, punctuating his words with an authoritative jab of his cigarette. "When we reject the possibility of existence of gods, we are necessarily rejecting with it the very idea of the supernatural. If one cannot see it, or touch it, or experience it in any material manner, then it is entirely apparent that it simply does not exist."
"But what about love?" Michèle protested. She was an intelligent, educated woman, without a religious bone in her slender body, but she did harbor a lamentable affection for crystals, feng shui, and any number of fashionable absurdities. "What about hate?"
I reached out to place my glass on the side table when I noticed a smile on the face of the young German man sitting to our left. I had seen him before. He arrived in Vernazza the day after us, but apparently alone, for we had not seen him in the company of anyone other than the occasional waiter since then. He nodded to me, which I found to be a little surprising, as we had, of course, been speaking French. The German, for such I naturally assumed him to be, was a big, beefy fellow, with a sun-reddened face and the sort of fine blond hair that is all too liable to disappear before a man's fortieth year.
"Pardon me, monsieur, I merely happened to overhear the conversation," he said in fluent, if provincial, French. "It reminded me of something."
"Ghosts or gods?" I asked him. The others, surprised to hear the German speaking our language, stopped talking and turned to listen to us.
"Perhaps both. Perhaps neither. Who can say?" He gave a shrug that was almost Gallic in its fatalism. "I only know there are things in this world that neither priest nor scientist can explain to my satisfaction. Things I have seen with my own eyes."
"Do you believe in God?" Bertrand leaned over and asked in an aggressive tone. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends, but at times, he can be a trial. He lost his beloved father at the age of seven in an automobile accident and has been demanding answers of God and anyone who is foolish enough to admit to believing in God ever since.
But the blond man only chuckled at his vehemence and raised his glass of red wine in an ironic salute. "I am Swiss. Of course I believe in God. Do we not worship Mammon?"
"Don't we all," Michèle said theatrically. Everyone laughed except Bertrand.
The Swiss's name was Beat Kistler. He was, he explained, from an old family in the canton of Zurich, but his mother was Vaudoise and he was awarded a criminology degree by the University of Lausanne. After graduation, he joined the Geneva police force and in his third year was reassigned to a task force assisting the Swiss Federal Migration Office in processing immigrants who were seeking asylum. And it was there, in the detention center, that he had seen something that he found inexplicable, even now. We were all interested to hear his mysterious story, for it was eminently clear that he was an educated and level-headed man. He told us his tale without resort to drama, in a calm and relaxed manner.
"The first thing you must understand," he said, "is that most of the asylum seekers we see in the federal system are Africans. Nigerians are the most common. They're economic migrants, of course, but somewhere along the way, word gets around the community that if they can present themselves as political victims, there is a chance they will be able to receive a residence permit and stay in the country. We can't allow most of them to remain, you understand, because they have no skills, they have no means of supporting themselves, and they simply cannot afford to live in such an expensive country. The franc is very high, you know. And, in any event, we have no room for them; there literally isn't anywhere for them to live. The city of Lagos alone has more people than we have in all of Switzerland.
"The Migration Office reviews about fifteen thousand applicants per year. About a third of them can be sent immediately to other European states, because the Dublin accord requires them to apply for asylum in the state that served as their port of entry. So we send them to Italy, Spain, or in some cases, to you, in France. Another third leave on their own once we explain to them that they will not, under any circumstances, be permitted to remain. But the remainder—ah, well, that is where things occasionally get out of order.
"You should hear the lies they tell. Many times, they are most amusing. The sort of young men who are adventurous enough to make it all the way to Switzerland from Africa seldom have much in the way of education and so it's not uncommon for them to fail to properly understand what their legal advisers are telling them to say. So we hear men claiming they are facing female genital mutilation should they be forced to return home, or telling us their entire family was killed in a massacre even though we already have the rejected applications from three of their brothers in our files. Occasionally a story will check out and permission will be granted, but only in the most extreme cases. Out of the two thousand Nigerians who applied last year, I think perhaps one or two were given residence. The rest, we must somehow transport back to their home country."
"Only one or two?" my wife protested. "Out of thousands? Surely you could take more!"
Beat smiled and shook his head. "A fifth of our residents are already foreigners as it is. And recall, none of these people are being oppressed or tortured in any way, in which case we would have a moral duty to help them. They simply want to live off the Swiss people. It's not possible."
"Enough about the Africans, what about the ghosts!" Bertrand was getting impatient.
"Before you can understand the significance of this, my friends, you must first accept the context of the situation. But I see that you have grasped the general idea, therefore I shall move on to the specific case of which I speak.
"Two years ago, I met a Nigerian man who did not fit the description of the sort of asylum seekers we are accustomed to see every day. He was older, in his fifties, and instead of giving his religion as either Christian or Muslim, his file showed that he was classified as an animist. The traditional religions are officially recognized in Nigeria, and in fact many of those who call themselves Christians or Muslims still pay due regard to their tribal gods and ancestral spirits.
"I was tasked to accompany the social worker who was assigned to interview him for his appeal hearing. This was necessary because both the asylum seekers and the deportees are held in detainment facilities, and, like prisoners everywhere, they sometimes get unruly. It's mostly those who have already been sentenced to deportation, since they have little to lose if they behave badly, but sometimes the asylum seekers forget themselves and get out of hand as well.
"The contrast between the facilities and the inhabitants is stark. It is literally black and white. Most of the facilities are very new, all squares and fluorescent lighting, with undecorated walls painted white and the ceilings and floors covered with white tile. You cannot imagine a more lifeless and sterile environment. The Nigerians, on the other hand, are very dark-skinned and full of life. When they are happy, they sing and smile, and some of them play a sort of rhythmic music with their hands on the walls to which the others dance. Of course, some of them, particularly the less intelligent, are demoralized by their incarceration. In such cases, their behavior at times borders on the bestial. They glare and they snarl, they beg and they plead, at times they offer their bodies for pleasure, other times they spit at anyone who walks past their cells.
"This man was not one of the ones who act like animals. He had a dignity to him, and his file showed he had been a man of some substance in Lagos. His brother, now deceased, was a senior official in the Ministry of Finance, but he was closely tied to the progressive opposition party, which accounted for his emigration from the country after the corrupt election of 2007 that was essentially stolen by the party in power today.
"He spoke English; better English than I do. When the social worker interviewed him, he explained in a very lucid and coherent manner that to return to Nigeria meant death, not only for him, but for everyone around him. The reason he gave was that he had been cursed by an Igbo shaman in the employ of the new finance minister, the same man who was responsible for his brother's death. He told us he was a shaman himself, but his ancestral spirits had been defeated by the shaman's spirits during the conflict that surrounded the election in 2007."
Michèle and I laughed. Bertrand snorted. "How did the immigration judge view that?"
"The social worker tried several times to explain to him that his appeal would be rejected, as ancestral spirits are not listed among the potential justifications for asylum accepted by the foreign office, but the Nigerian was absolutely insistent. He said he would not lie and he was absolutely convinced that his return would prove fatal, because the Igbo spirits would not permit it. As I said, he was a serious, dignified man, and if his claim hadn't been so clearly impossible, one might have almost found it to be persuasive.
"I don't know if the social worker actually cited the spirits or how things went at the hearing, all I know is that the appeal was unsuccessful, which of course was hardly surprising. The whole incident was very strange, but at the time I thought nothing more of it until two months later, when my entire unit was summoned in the middle of the night to help the Securitas guards deal with a riot that had broken out at that very facility. We were sent in wearing full riot gear, although we were only armed with mace and batons. We left our shields in the bus they used to bring us there, since they would only get in the way."
"You must have been very frightened," interjected Aurélie, Francois's partner of the last five years.
"No, for the most part we were annoyed at being dragged from the comfort of our beds. A few of the more aggressive lads, they were bragging about how they were going to break heads and so forth, you know the type. But mostly we just wanted to go in, get the job done, and hopefully return in time to get a few hours of sleep before the sun came up. I'd been on duty since the morning at the federal court in Bern, so my main feeling was one of exhaustion.
"Once we entered, we quickly realized it wasn't a riot. All the lights were out, but the facility technicians said there was no loss of power, which was confusing. Our helmets have flashlights, so we switched them on and entered. There was screaming, but they were screams of terror, not the wordless roaring you hear when a crowd is out of control, and they were coming from somewhere deep inside the building. The asylum seekers were still in their cells, but most of the deportees were gathered in the cafeteria and out of their heads with fear. They weren't rioting; they'd broken out of their cells because they were all scared to death of something. They greeted us with hugs and tears, as if we were their saviors. Right about then, the screams stopped. I think the sudden silence, more than anything else, started to make us feel nervous.
"Our captain talked one of them, a big man with a shaved head, into leading us towards the deportee cells from where the screams had been coming. Most of the cells were empty, but then we came upon a cell with a closed door. The captain had the keys, so he unlocked it and discovered two dead Nigerians inside. Their eyes were open, but they were dead and there wasn't a mark on them. The deportee who was acting as our guide was shaking a little, but he said he was a Jesus man and 'the shadow that kill' couldn't touch him. We passed two more locked cells and found a pair of dead Nigerians inside both of them, and again, the dead men were unmarked.
"Now remember, it was pitch black down there, except for our helmet lights, which aren't as powerful as they should be. I thought I heard something, so I took my baton out, shook it out to its full length, and went to investigate. I looked in a cell on the other side of the hall, and first things I saw were two eyes; big, round, white eyes, almost like when your automobile catches a fox's eyes along the side of the road. Then I saw the rest of it…
"I must have shouted because there were eight or nine lights shining into the cell almost right away."
"The old man, the shaman—," breathed Francois.
"Precisely," nodded the Swiss. "He was crouched over the body of his cellmate, eating his heart! It was him we had heard screaming earlier; the cellmate, because the shaman had painted all sorts of evil-looking symbols on the walls of their cell in his blood, before finally taking his heart and killing him. He must have been doing it for an hour or more, because the floor was completely covered in blood. When they counted later, there were more than one hundred separate symbols on the walls."
"What did the symbols mean?"
"The psychologists asked him that later. We didn't ask questions then, you see, we just unlocked the cell, threw open the door, maced him and put him in shackles. There wasn't anything we could do for the cellmate, of course. But the symbols… that's the intriguing thing. He told the psychologists they were to summon the spirits of the Igbo ancestors and offer them the lives of the men in the cells around him as an attempt to appease them. He said the six men who died in the other cells meant that his offering had been accepted, but it was all to no avail since we had interrupted him before he could finish the ritual. His cellmate was Igbo, so that's why he had to eat his heart; to sort of make himself Igbo, in a way, so the spirits would see him as one of theirs and leave him alone when he returned to Lagos."
"That sounds rather heartless of the man," Bertrand commented wryly.
"Bertrand!" Michèle protested. "But didn't you say you had to unlock his cell when you found him?"
"It was definitely locked. So were the other cells. But the other men were definitely dead as well and the times of their deaths were consistent with the time that the lights went out and the riot started."
"Interesting," mused Bertrand. "Of course, these other Nigerians were uneducated, superstitious, and more or less animists for the most part. Therefore, it is safe to assume they were highly susceptible to suggestion. You said that even the Christian man was terrified. So, if they knew he was a shaman and became aware of what he intended, it's entirely possible that they were quite literally frightened to death!"
"But that doesn't explain the lights," I pointed out.
"That might have merely been an unfortunate coincidence."
"The lights came on a few minutes after we maced the shaman," the Swiss explained. "But that's not the end of my story. Three months after the riot, my friend Walther and I were assigned to the squad that accompanies the deportation flight to Lagos. When we reviewed the deportee list, I recognized one of the names as belonging to the man I'd last seen devouring his companion's heart. I will not lie; at that moment I felt such a fear as I have never known before. I heard no voice, but suddenly I understood the message, as clearly as you hear me speak to you now, that I should not, under any circumstances, board that flight. The ancestral spirits had been strong enough to kill six healthy young men a continent away—and the ritual to appease them was a failure.
"I made some excuse to my captain, told him I was unwell or something, I don't recall. To my shame, I did not do more than make a half-hearted attempt to convince Walther to avoid the flight as well. I arranged to have lunch with him, but when I mentioned my fears, he laughed at me for being an irrational, superstitious fool and I was too embarrassed to argue the point with him. I bitterly regretted that a week later, when I received a telephone call from my captain. He told me that the Swiss flight from Zurich to Lagos had gone down not long after entering Nigerian airspace. There were no survivors."
"Oh my God," breathed Michèle.
"How awful for you," said my wife.
The Swiss only smiled ruefully and lit a cigarette. He inhaled thoughtfully, and tapped out the small amount of ash on the tip. "Rather more awful for Walther and the others, I should think."
"What caused the crash?" I asked. "I can't imagine the aviation authorities attributed it to angry ancestral spirits."
"After the black box was analyzed, the experts concluded that the co-pilot had fallen asleep and the pilot had a heart attack. But to my mind, that sounds like an attempt to explain away the inexplicable. There was no mechanical failure; no signs of distress from the cockpit. Unfortunately the plane burned, so conjecture was all that was left to them, in the absence of anything conclusive from the black box."
He looked at Bertrand. "So, have you an explanation for me, other than an unfortunate string of unlikely coincidences?"
Bertrand, to his credit, wasn't inclined to bluster. "I fear you have anticipated me, monsieur. Of course, I am hardly an expert on aviation."
We were all quick to protest the idea that Bertrand might be anything less than expert on everything. It was an old joke among us. Amidst the laughter, the Swiss extinguished his cigarette and rose from his chair.
"Ladies, gentlemen, I bid you une bonne soirée and a pleasant remainder to your vacation. And I hope my little tale has not disturbed you."
Bertrand and I hastened to assure him that it was impossible, as we had enjoyed it immensely. Were we not all français, hailing from that most rational of nations? We bade him farewell, and the last we saw of him was his broad back, as he returned to the bar inside.
But later that evening, as my wife slept by my side, there was a soft knock on my door. It was Bertrand, and he was holding his iPad. "Come outside and look at this," he whispered.
I followed him out to the patio where we had been drinking earlier that evening. We could hear the sound of the sea below us, but where there had been a broad expanse of clear blue water only a few hours before, there was now nothing but a vast black emptiness, devoid of reflections from the shore or even the pinpricks of starlight that animated the night sky above. The glow of the tablet screen was so bright against the darkness that it was almost painful to my eyes. And what had been unthinkable under the warm glow of the Italian sun suddenly seemed all too possible, when standing above the inky abyss of the Mediterranean at midnight.
"I looked it up. A flight from Zurich to Lagos that was carrying twenty deportees, eight police, and the two pilots went down about eighteen months ago."
"So that much was true, anyhow."
We stared out at the black depths of the sea. It was a quiet evening and the Moon was obscured by clouds that had crept in under the cover of darkness. The waves lapped at the rocky shoreline hundreds of meters below us, indifferent, mindless, uncaring, exactly as they had one thousand, two thousand, three thousand years ago.
"This doesn't prove anything about the existence of ghosts, much less God," Bertrand suddenly declared.
"Of course not," I said. "But still…."
"But still," he agreed.
More short stories by Vox Day can be found in THE ALTAR OF HATE, an eclectic, esoteric collection of science fiction and dark fantasy.


text:
Friday, 1:41 pm
San Francisco, CA
"Please, please, please…" (James Brown, of course)
Quick little diatribe today, on the main stark difference between folks who get stuff done in life…
… and their buddies who never seem to get any traction on reaching goals. (If they even have any goals in the first place.)
This is one of those "duh!" lessons you think is obvious… until you realize just how many of your fellow humans are completely oblivious of it. O. Blivious. No clue whatsoever what's up, or how it's affecting their life.
For me, this lesson literally rolled me out of bed. Or off the couch I was sleeping on at a buddy's house in San Diego, which was the closest thing to a "home" I had at that point. I was living out of my car, having lost my job, girlfriend and place to live all in one hellacious month-long period of chaos… and I hit the road, with zero clue where I'd end up when I ran out of gas.
The thing was, I had one of those blinding epiphanies that abruptly change your future forever. I'd lived my entire life, up to that point, basically as a slacker — knocked about by forces that seemed beyond my control, taking jobs that landed in my lap, bouncing around the coast hoping something — anything at all — would trick, convince or force me to settle down "and start my life for realz".
I was like flotsam on the surface of the ocean, buffeted about by tide, wind and waves… rudderless, aimless, clueless.
At some point in my adult years, I just assumed you settled down and began living in earnest. Nobody teaches this shit in school, which isn't surprising. But the startling fact that nobody teaches this in real life, either, is disturbing.
I'm sure you, or people around you, have labored under similar burdens of dumb-ass beliefs. I've been to many of my high school reunions (it's kind of an ongoing science experiment), and the most common refrain I hear (now that we're bumping up against number 45) is: "What the hell was that all about?" Folks have little or no idea how they got married, held the same job for decades, and never got around to knocking off any of their Bucket List items.
Which is fine for most people. Life is confusing, wonderful, terrifying and glorious in most instances, if you make it to geezerhood without dying or landing in the hoosegow for an extended stay. Raising some decent kids, enjoying the fruits of modern civilization, and adapting to the shocks and bad news inherent in life is often enough.
For some folks, anyway. Maybe most.
But if you lust for more… however you define "more"… you won't be happy letting life shuffle you around like that. You can tell you're part of the "need something more" minority if you have a real goal. Not a vague, hazy goal… but one or more well-defined, easy to visualize goals that make your heart beat faster.
What happened to me, on that lumpy couch (with my twenties in the rear view mirror, and no idea what lay ahead), was the realization that there would be no outside intervention in my life. Nothing would "happen" that delivered me into "real life", or that would help me easily decide on where to live and what to do and how to do it well.
Nope. If anything was going to change in my life… it was totally up to me. Nobody else. No goals would arrive in the mail, stapled to plans on achieving them. The rest of my life could either be more of the same slacker-city clueless wandering…
… or, I could start considering what I actually wanted. And go get it.
That alone was enough of a realization to change me forever. I'd never understood what a real goal was. The concept that I could actually want something… just go ahead and lust for it, desire it and admit I needed it…
… and then make a plan to go GET it…
… and then — ta-DA! — put that plan into action, so the goal would soon become real…
… just blew my little slacker mind.
It's fundamentally the difference between being "reactive" and "proactive". Look those words up, if you're at all unclear on the meanings. Here's the way I'm using them:
Decision-making style #1: Being reactive means you act only in response to an action taken toward, against or around you. A job offer appears. Do you want to be an office worker in that biz? Is the salary something you can use to make your life better? Are you gonna take that job regardless, because you don't know if another offer is coming from somewhere else? Are you gonna marry the first person you kiss, because you don't know if anyone else might come along? Did you buy your last car because your old one died and had to be hauled off? Are you eating at MacDonald's again because you're hungry and there it is, all full of greasy, fatty burgers and fries?
Reactive people essentially are standing on the path of life, waiting for something to jostle them off their spot. They dodge opportunity, and duck when decisions need to be made. Others make decisions for them. They go where they're told to go.
Decision-making style #2: Being proactive means you look at the options you have… all of them… and keep your ear actively attuned to more opportunities, all the time. A job offer appears, and so what? There are lots of careers out there, including creating your own biz and being the boss. Or defining your "job" however you like, and demanding staggering compensation your client (or boss) never considered before. You figure out what you bring to the table, keep adjusting and filling in the gaps (of info, skills and experience) so you become more valuable in the world every single day.
And you buy the car you want, when you want it, at deals you easily negotiate because you've learned the inside game. You eat well, respecting your body and knowing how your appetite works (so you're never surprised by being famished, forced to eat crap in a panic).
And you marry or don't marry based on deep understanding of the consequences, joys and commitment requirements of doing it right, with the "right" person. You don't settle. You don't operate out of fear, because you know the world is a place of abundance, and if one option vanishes, others will appear pretty damned quick.
IF you're proactive about it.
Proactive people are moving rapidly along their chosen path in life, always monitoring progress and satisfaction. They want something, they make a plan to get it, and then put that plan into action. If they later change their minds (common experience of veteran goal-seekers), no problem — you really can change horses in the middle of a stream, IF you know how to do it.
The choice is pretty stark: You either allow others to decide how you're going to live your life…
… or you take over the responsibility for it.
That scares the living bejesus out of most folks. Being told what to do absolves you of responsibility for consequences. Hey, shit happens, right? Not my fault, I'm just following orders.
And that's fine, if it's the way you wanna roll. The world needs grunts.
But if you want to forge your own path, and go after loftier things in life… then you need to get your ass in motion.
Movement solves problems. Disinfect that wound, sew it up, and rip off the bandage when it's healed. That right there is a good metaphor for breaking free of the half-asleep mob around you — learn the next step, and the next, and the next of any decision… and get it done. No matter how painful it may seem or be. When you've finished, move along to the next goal.
Achieved goals pile up quickly when you take control.
I still fondly remember the first goal I met, back when I started my career as a freelance copywriter. It was a mild hope that I could get 3 months ahead in the rent. I'd never had that kind of cash in a bank account before. When I realized one day (around 6 months into my adventure) that I'd done it, something shifted deep inside me. I'd done it all by my lonesome, figuring it out, putting my ass on the line, finding clients, fulfilling the jobs, making the gig happen.
All subsequent goals were much, much easier to nail. Because I'd broken the code on the process.
It was all vastly simpler than I'd ever dreamed. All I'd lacked was a clue — the concept that I could desire something, make a plan to get it, and then put that plan into action.
Proactive vs. reactive remains the biggest dividing line between the movers 'n shakers in life, and the "go along to get along" dodgers and duckers.
I still have loads of both types in my life, as friends and colleagues and family. Love 'em all, regardless of their primary mode of operating. I don't judge, and don't care to try changing anyone.
But I will lay out the lesson, whenever it's relevant.
When you're ready, you'll figure it out.
Stay frosty,
"11 Really Stupid Blunders You're Making With Your Biz & Career Right Now."
Creepy, just did a lecture on this yesterday. And was just looking up a domain connected with this right now. Then I saw you FB post. 🙂
"Proactive vs. reactive remains the biggest dividing line between the movers 'n shakers in life, and the "go along to get along" dodgers and duckers.
I still have loads of both types in my life, as friends and colleagues and family. Love 'em all, regardless of their primary mode of operating. I don't judge, and don't care to try changing anyone.
But I will lay out the lesson, whenever it's relevant."
I feel you. 🙂
I've noticed that trusting yourself, carrying out a choice (a decision), and taking responsibility for it, is like a dieing art…
Sorry about the *dying typo (if possible please edit it, thank you) 😀
"If they even have any goals in the first place."
Some people think I'm rude when I repeat the advice that I gave my kids:
There is a special word in the English language for people who don't set goals and make plans. We call them "losers". That would be 95% of the people you meet, based on the observation that only about 5% of people are successful.
I have learned that goals can seem out of reach, and the initial plan to get there can be really thin, and if it's something I really want, I'll get there.
Some good advice sir.Time to keep moving forward.
Hey John, thanks for the incredibly valuable advice once again.
Did I mention I'm getting close to getting paid a sweet sum of cash for a product launch I'm going to be helming soon?
Wouldn't have gotten anywhere in my life without your grizzled veteran advice.
Thanks once again, though I've said it way too many times…
Several posts here that say "what a coincidence."
No, there are no coincidences… things happen for a reason. Not always easy to figure out…but in my case, I know exactly why I read your email.
Thanks, J.C.
That is comforting and timely advice. I was just saying to myself this morning to stick to the plan and have faith. It is a good plan and will create the life i have always wanted as long as I don't quit.
Excellent post, JC.
I attribute it to fear.
Mostly, fear of
… making a mistake
… or looking foolish, or
… (God forbid)… failing..
Being proactive involves one major risk:
No matter what you do, you just don't know
for sure what's going to happen.
Once you get over that, and realize, hey, no
matter what happens, you can always do something
next, and eventually get (at least) where you want
to go… it gets easier…
Your email arrived just in time. I'm on the road, and that's the time for me to think about my life. But it looks more like acting now.
Dear John, thank you & blessings from San Diego.
Boots, made for walkin', but feet do the work.
With each step, doors open on this chosen path.
Thanks for your inspiration & help.
To be proactive most definitely requires, as Mr. Garfinkel suggests, a willingness to be the fool or at least be considered as one.
As I just finished reading "Mastery" by George Leonard, your post John for me was perfectly timed.
Totally agree, John. "You either allow others to decide how you're going to live your life… or you take over the responsibility for it."
Unless you live in some war zone or undemocratic country, no one is holding a gun to your head to make you do things you don't want to do or stop you from doing what you love.
And, IMO, today there are even fewer excuses NOT to be proactive than ever. There was a time when it was a lot harder to access information. Because of the internet, we can find out how to do things and there are answers to every question.
So listen to Papa John, folks. You can either walk around in a state of unconsciousness all your life and spend a lot of time in fear and resentment (or oblivion – yawn), or you can get a real life.
"No goals would arrive in the mail, stapled to plans on achieving them."
Jeez Louise, that right there is the kicker.
Choosing your goals is hard, but once you've chosen them it's far easier to figure out how to get there. Reminds me of Peter Griffin rolling up to his high school reunion as a cowboy/astronaut/millionaire.
Wicked post John
As usual, great post John. I started out in the world of business pretty young and I remember setting goals and writing things down on paper for embarrassingly enough about 3 years and achieving nearly NONE of those things.
As time went on I got better and more disciplined about not only writing them down, but making the plans, and then more importantly EXECUTING. What changed?
I'm not a highly disciplined person at all and was never organized by any means. For me, it was about FOCUSING on the goal that day… Then getting into the habit of sitting back at the end of the week and evaluating my progress. If I Fu*ked up that week I would adjust course and improve. Did this week after week, then started doing monthly evaluations etc.
It took me a long time to get into the habit of this, but I believe this made the difference. The habit done over nd over again becomes automatic and suddenly you are operating like a "disciplined" person.
I guess my point is, FOCUS on nailing your daily goals for say 30 to 60 days without fail. Most people's view towards getting important things DONE will change over that short period of time.
Another thing I screwed up on (looking back now) was I was always fixated on the BIG GOALS. My HUGE annual goals always occupied my mind so I was basically always in this day dream imagining my life having achieved the BIG goals. What I should have been doing instead back then is FOCUSING on the here and now goals and spending MOST of my time thinking about and executing on those small weekly goals. If I had laser focused on those and occupied my mind on those I would have achieved things a lot faster.
When I focus on and NAIL the small goals effectively, the BIG ones seem to take care of themselves. I have no idea why it took me so long to realize that, but hey I am still a tad over 30 so I have some time to go out and take down those lofty ambitious goals. 🙂
Your point about focusing on the daily goals – the little things that build up over time to create the big stuff – coupled with John's excellent post have really hit the nail on the head.
Thank you for sharing John and thank's Blake for your added insight. Possibly the most powerful thing I have (re)-learnt in a long time.
Great article — and I second your comment to Randy Berg above. It often happens that we set goals for ourselves and then a version of we\'re looking for appears to us and we take it…this slightly resembles being \'reactive\' and taking what comes to us, though I think the fundamental difference between the two is being proactive involves taking a risk and going out of your comfort zone. Thoughts?
I needed to read this right now. It kind of goes against the "forget setting goals, focus on habits instead" school of thought, so it does make me wonder sometimes: should I set goals or not?
Some folks swear by goals, while others prefer to focus on habits and incremental progress. Both camps make sense, and there are intelligent and successful people in both.
Personally, I achieved my biggest "goals" without having set any. (if that makes sense)
And I failed to achieve a bunch of goals that I had set for myself. Does it mean that I lost faith in goals? Not really. It means I need to focus on shorter term goals that are more closely connected to daily routines, discipline, and measurable results. Maybe goals are like fitness and nutrition – one needs to find out what works best for himself and work with that. And realize that we don't have a lot of time left to figure all that out. No pressure.
Anyway, thanks for the valuable lesson John.
Great article! I was thinking about how many older people in my family are so passive and NEVER take the bulls by the horn and make things happen. Sometimes I wonder, however I don't judge, still LOVE them. I just don't like when they complain about stuff that I know and they know they could easily change very quickly.
Thanks John.
My first goal right now is…
… to become as good a copywriter as you. 🙂
My second goal after that is…
… to become an even better copywriter than you. :O
I think I should start with goals that are actually achievable first. LOL.
But putting that aside, what if someone's goal is to be super reactive all their life. And be content and filled with awe at whatever random thing life throws their way?
[…] Moving & Shaking vs. Dodging & Ducking […]
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