2 Joints Quotes

Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger's touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-cheeked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body. But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says "I am," and forms the core of personality. In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And "I am" grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh. The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves. In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until "I am" is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber.

Break ups aren't fair. Why does only one person have power? We both agreed to start dating. Why do you get to make the decision to end it? Shouldn't it be a joint decision too? Relationships aren't a democracy. Not everyone gets an equal vote.

I worked, and I was excited about the next time the five of us had a joint class. When that time came, Silvia started by asking us what we were passionate about. I scribbled down my family, music, and then, as if the word demanded to be written, justice.

Because love stands above Darkness and Light. Because love is not sex or a shared faith, or "the joint maintenance of a household and the upbringing of children." Because love is also Power. And Light and Darkness, people and Others, morality and law, the Ten Commandments and the Great Treaty have damn all to do with it.

Swell. Isn’t there some kinda ghost primer in this joint: Reading, Writing, ’Rithmetic, Ridding Yourself of Soul-Stealing Demons for Fun and Profit? Why isn’t there ever anything useful around here?” Mabel handed Sam a watercress sandwich. “Thanks, Mabes.

Things must be done, life must go on. Life would go on, even if every breath she took hurt, even if her joints ached when she moved. Sorry and loneliness were an insidious evil, for they lived in the mind. One could not take a tonic and see them dissipate.

Distractions are one of Satan's biggest weapons against the Christian. As Children of God and joint heirs with Christ, Satan does not have any power over us. He can only distract us from seeing our authority and talk us out of our heritage, just as he did with Adam and Eve.

Ten Best Song to Strip 1. Any hip-swiveling R&B fuckjam. This category includes The Greatest Stripping Song of All Time: "Remix to Ignition" by R. Kelly. 2. "Purple Rain" by Prince, but you have to be really theatrical about it. Arch your back like Prince himself is daubing body glitter on your abdomen. Most effective in nearly empty, pathos-ridden juice bars. 3. "Honky Tonk Woman" by the Rolling Stones. Insta-attitude. Makes even the clumsiest troglodyte strut like Anita Pallenberg. (However, the Troggs will make you look like even more of a troglodyte, so avoid if possible.) 4. "Pour Some Sugar on Me" by Def Leppard. The Lep's shouted choruses and relentless programmed drums prove ideal for chicks who can really stomp. (Coincidence: I once saw a stripper who, like Rick Allen, had only one arm.) 5. "Amber" by 311. This fluid stoner anthem is a favorite of midnight tokers at strip joints everywhere. Mellow enough that even the most shitfaced dancer can make it through the song and back to her Graffix bong without breaking a sweat. Pass the Fritos Scoops, dude. 6. "Miserable" by Lit, but mostly because Pamela Anderson is in the video, and she's like Jesus for strippers (blonde, plastic, capable of parlaying a broken nail into a domestic battery charge, damaged liver). Alos, you can't go wrong stripping to a song that opens with the line "You make me come." 7. "Back Door Man" by The Doors. Almost too easy. The mere implication that you like it in the ass will thrill the average strip-club patron. Just get on all fours and crawl your way toward the down payment on that condo in Cozumel. (Unless, like most strippers, you'd rather blow your nest egg on tacky pimped-out SUVs and Coach purses.) 8. Back in Black" by AC/DC. Producer Mutt Lange wants you to strip. He does. He told me. 9. "I Touch Myself" by the Devinyls. Strip to this, and that guy at the tip rail with the bitch tits and the shop teacher glasses will actually believe that he alone has inspired you to masturbate. Take his money, then go masturbate and think about someone else. 10. "Hash Pipe" by Weezer. Sure, it smells of nerd. But River Cuomo is obsessed with Asian chicks and nose candy, and that's just the spirit you want to evoke in a strip club. I recommend busting out your most crunk pole tricks during this one.

OPENING VERSES by PASTOR THIEME HEB 4:12 The word of God is alive and powerful and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing even to the dividing asunder of the soul and the spirit, of the joints and marrow, and is a critic of the thoughts and intents of the heart. 2TI 3:16-17 All Scripture is God breathed and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness; that the man of God may be mature, thoroughly furnished unto all good works. 2TI 2:15 Study to show yourself approved unto God as a workman who need not be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.

Piss!" shouted Kosta, hoisting his tumbler toward Cosetta, who nearly came apart at the joints with the resulting fit of giggles. "Thank you, Ravelle, for this gift of a daughter who will now be up all night repeating that word...

Kai’s attention fell from the pictures and snagged on the small metal foot that sat on the corner of his desk, its joints caked with grease. Like a revolving wheel, his thoughts came full circle yet again.

Associated with this weight gain are increased risks in adulthood for joint problems, angina, high blood pressure, heart attacks, strokes, type 2 diabetes and, ultimately, premature death. Outside of the human costs, health experts estimate that treating adult obesity-related ailments will cost the American economy nearly $150 billion in 2009.

She'd almost forgotten how it felt to squeeze into a space too cramped to contain her comfortably. She'd almost forgotten the specific pain of attempting to make herself as small as possible, contorting her arms and legs in a way that hurt her joints and made relaxation impossible. She'd almost forgotten the reality of her life.

Teams bring together a broader mix of skills that exceed those of any single individual. 2. Teams jointly develop and strive toward clear goals. 3. Teams can adjust with greater speed and effectiveness. 4. Trust and confidence are more easily built in teams.

The sun persists in rising, so I make myself stand. All my joints complain and my left leg has been asleep for so long that it takes several minutes of pacing to bring the feeling back into it.

Artists are terminally dissatisfied. With life. With love. With their work. You like being tortured, don’t you, little Luna? Sadness has a bittersweet aftertaste. Keeps us going.” He lit up his joint. “Being an artist is a miserable job. You’re pregnant with your work, only to give the baby away. An entire year of careful strokes of a brush, just to have someone else buy the painting.

Wait,' Della said 'Let me see if I understand... you want me to tell her this?' Sarcasm spilled out with her words. 'Yeah,' he said as if he didn't understand her issue. 'Why don't you tell her?' Della slipped a hand on her hip. He made a face. 'Shes's your ghost.' 'My ghost? Why the hell is she my ghost?' 'Because she's closer to you.' 'Says who?' He opened his mouth and nothing came out right away. Then words spurted out of his lips. 'Because...Because...' His eyes widened as if he figured something out. 'Because she gave you the picture of Natasha. And Natasha has some connection to your family.' His reasoning made sense, perfect sense, but Della didn't want to see it that way. Refused to see it that way. She didn't want to be alone with some dead person. Sharing it with him wasn't the ideal situation, but she hadn't come up with this plan. 'That doesn't make her mine,' Della insisted 'She talks to both of us. We've got joint custody here, buddy. You should have thought about this before you bonded with me And don't try to skip out of your responsibility.' 'It's a ghost,' he said 'Not a baby.

Consider the following sequence of cases, which we shall call the Tale of the Slave, and imagine it is about you. 1. There is a slave completely at the mercy of his brutal master’s whims. He is often cruelly beaten, called out in the middle of the night, and so on. 2. The master is kindlier and beats the slave only for stated infractions of his rules (not fulling the work quota, and so on). He gives the slave some free time. 3. The master has a group of slave, and he decides how things are to be allocated among them on nice grounds, taking into account their needs, merit, and so on. 4. The master allows the slave four days on their own and requires them to work only three days a week on his land. The rest of the time is their own. 5. The master allows his slaves to go off and work in the city (or anywhere they wish) for wages. He also retains the power to recall them to the plantation if some emergency threatens his land; and to raise or lower the three-sevenths amount required to be turned over to him. He further retains the right to restrict the slaves from participating in certain dangerous activities that threaten his financial return, for example, mountain climbing, cigarette smoking. 6. The master allows all of his 10,000 slaves, except you, to vote, and the joint decision is made by all of them. There is open discussion, and so forth, among them, and they have the power to determine to what use to put whatever percentage of your (and their) earnings they decide to take; what activities legitimately may be forbidden to you, and so on. 7. Though still not having the vote, you are at liberty (and are given the right) to enter into discussion of the 10,000, to try to persuade them to adopt various policies and to treat you and themselves in a certain way. They then go off to vote to decide upon policies covering the vast range of their powers. 8. In appreciation of your useful contributions to discussion, the 10,000 allow you to vote if they are deadlocked; they commit themselve3s to this procedure. After the discussion you mark your vote on a slip of paper, and they go off and vote. In the eventuality that they divide evenly on some issue, 5,000 for and 5,000 against, they look at your ballot and count it in. This has never yet happened; they have never yet had occasion to open your ballot. (A single master may also might commit himself to letting his slave decide any issue concerning him about which he, the master, was absolutely indifferent.) 9. They throw your vote in with theirs. If they are exactly tied your vote carries the issue. Otherwise it makes no difference to the electoral outcome. The question is: which transition from case 1 to case 9 made it no longer the tale of the slave?

When Stephen comes into a room, the furnishings shrink from him. Chairs scuttle backwards. Joint-stools flatten themselves like pissing bitches. The woollen Bible figures in the king’s tapestries lift their hands to cover their ears.

What man leaves a girl he just dragged to a strip joint to get interrogated by my dad?” “A smart and still living one.” There wasn’t an ounce of repentance in his reply or grin. “You are a bad cat.” “The baddest, honey. Feel free to punish me anytime.

This entire country is selfish. People are selfish. The provinces have always been so fucking parochial, unable to see past their own narrow interests to pursue any kind of joint action. You heard those idiots in there. I let you watch for a reason. I can’t work with those Warlords. Those fools don’t listen.

Across the road from my cabin was a huge clear-cut--hundreds of acres of massive spruce stumps interspersed with tiny Douglas firs--products of what they call "Reforestation," which I guess makes the spindly firs en masse a "Reforest," which makes an individual spindly fir a "Refir," which means you could say that Weyerhauser, who owns the joint, has Refir Madness, since they think that sawing down 200-foot-tall spruces and replacing them with puling 2-foot Refirs is no different from farming beans or corn or alfalfa. They even call the towering spires they wipe from the Earth's face forever a "crop"--as if they'd planted the virgin forest! But I'm just a fisherman and may be missing some deeper significance in their nomenclature and stranger treatment of primordial trees.

He offers a sheepish grin. “Remember that girl I was dating last year? Sheena? Well, she texted me a picture of her tits. Said I had to return the favor.” Dean’s jaw falls open. “Dick for tits? Dude, you got played. No way are those even remotely comparable.” “What’s the equivalent of tits then?” Hollis asks curiously. “Balls,” Dean declares, before taking a deep pull of the joint. He blows out a ring of smoke as everyone laughs at his remark. “You just said women don’t want to see balls,” Hollis points out. “They don’t. But any idiot knows that a dick pic requires a full frontal shot in return.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s common sense.

What is wrong with you?” I say in lieu of greeting. “You went to Morris’s dorm and declared your intentions?” He offers a faint smile. “Of course. It was the noble thing to do. I can’t be chasing after another guy’s girl without his knowledge.” “I’m not his girl,” I snap. “We went on one date! And now I’m never going to be his girl, because he doesn’t want to go out with me again.” “What the hell?” Logan looks startled. “I’m disappointed in him. I thought he had more of a competitive spirit than that.” “Seriously? You’re going to pretend to be surprised? He won’t see me again because your jackass self told him he couldn’t.” Astonishment fills his eyes. “No, I didn’t.” “Yes, you did.” “Is that what he told you?” Logan demands. “Not in so many words.” “I see. Well, what words did he actually use?” I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. “He said he’s backing off because he doesn’t want to get in the middle of something so complicated. I pointed out that there’s nothing complicated about it, seeing as you and I are not together.” My aggravation heightens. “And then he insisted that I need to give you a chance, because you’re a—” I angrily air-quote Morris’s words “—‘stand-up guy who deserves another shot.’” Logan breaks out in a grin. I stab the air with my finger. “Don’t you dare smile. Obviously you put those words in his mouth. And what the hell was he jabbering about when he told me you and him were ‘family’?” All the disbelief I’d felt during my talk with Morris comes spiraling back, making me pace the bedroom in hurried strides. “What did you say to him, Logan? Did you brainwash him or something? How are you guys family? You don’t even know each other!” Strangled laughter sounds from Logan’s direction. I spin around and level a dark glower at him. “He’s talking about the joint family we created in Mob Boss. It’s this role-playing game where you’re the Don of a mob family and you’re fighting a bunch of other mafia bosses for territory and rackets and stuff. We played it when I went over there, and I ended up staying until four in the morning. Seriously, it was intense.” He shrugs. “We’re the Lorris crime syndicate.” I’m dumbfounded. Oh my God. Lorris? As in Logan and Morris? They fucking Brangelina’d themselves? “What is happening?” I burst out. “You guys are best friends now?” “He’s a cool guy. Actually, he’s even cooler in my book now for stepping down like that. I didn’t ask him to, but clearly he grasps what you refuse to see.” “Yeah, and what’s that?” I mutter. “That you and I are perfect for each other.” No words. There are no words to accurately convey what I’m feeling right now. Horror maybe? Absolute insanity? I mean, it’s not like I’m madly in love with Morris or anything, but if I’d known that kissing Logan at the party would lead to…this, I would have strapped on a frickin’ chastity gag.

Sleep is something not to be taken lightly, especially if you are over forty. So many things can disrupt it. Aching muscles and joints. The need to pee. Bad dreams. Hot flashes. Dry mouth. A raging werewolf.

Until then, I would pretend my ankle was made of steel, like some kind of bionic joint, and that I could feel no pain. I was superhuman. I could do anything. But I'd take some Tylenol, just in case. Lots of Tylenol.

I’ve never skydived, bungee-jumped, or parasailed. As I remove the headset, I try to calculate the fall and can’t. Maybe my brain is protecting me from myself and what I’m about to do. I’m not sure of the exact numbers, but I’ve heard hitting the water from such-and-such height feels like hitting concrete at such-and-such miles per hour. In other words, it’s a bone-shattering experience. I seriously doubt those calculations are based on the Syrena bone structure though. In fact, I’m counting on it. “No lower, okay?” Dan says, looking out his window to the water below. “Oh, you see sharks! Wow, it looks like a feeding frenzy down there. Hey, don’t touch that!” I grip the handle harder, but the door won’t budge. Leaning back, I get in the mule-kick position. “Emma, don’t!” Toraf yells. “Those are sharks, Emma!” I take a deep breath. “Wait until I have them under control before you jump.” A joint effort from two half-Syrena legs sends the door flying to a watery grave. “They want proof?” I grumble to myself as I lean into the wind, “I’ll show them proof.” Right before I hit the water, I can still hear Toraf screaming.

Cash I made it on the bevel. 1. There is more surface for the nails to grip. 2. There is twice the gripping-surface to each seam. 3. The water will have to seep into it on a slant. Water moves easiest up and down or straight across. 4. In a house people are upright two thirds of the time. So the seams and joints are made up-and-down. Because the stress is up-and-down. 5. In a bed where people lie down all the time, the joints and seams are made sideways, because the stress is sideways. 6. Except. 7. A body is not square like a crosstie. 8. Animal magnetism. 9. The animal magnetism of a dead body makes the stress come slanting, so the seams and joints of a coffin are made on the bevel. 10. You can see by an old grave that the earth sinks down on the bevel. 11. While in a natural hole it sinks by the center, the stress being up-and- down. 12. So I made it on the bevel. 13. It makes a neater job.

*jerk\’jrk\n 1 an ex-wife or ex-husband who continually annoys you with stupid, irrational, and immature behavior 2 one whose values differ so dramatically from yours that you wonder how you will ever make it through your child’s lifetime

Her mouth dried, but she opened it anyway. “How often do we get to go on walks in this joint? I didn’t get the full rundown on pet protocol when you guys gave me the super warm introductory meeting. Do we get extra treats if we perform tricks?

Instead, I reach out and run my hand over his wings. He closes his eyes, like he’s savoring the sensation. Getting up, I circle behind him, studying the silvery skin of them as my hand passes over each talon and joint. Beneath my touch, I feel him shiver. His wings stretch in response, the fine veins of them clearly visible even here in the dim lighting. “I always assumed that fairies had butterfly wings,” I admit. “You’re not wrong,” Des says, his back still to me. “Mine are particularly rare.

Okay," Adam began, "Now concentrate! This was a real person. White suit!" "Colonel Sanders!" Lily replied quickly. "Colonel Sanders? I said it was a real person, not a logo for a chicken joint!" "He was a real person! If you don't believe me look it up!" "Whatever! Not Colonel Sanders though. Humor!" he said urgently. "Steve Martin!" She clapped her hands with joy, obviously believing that they had finally gotten one right. "No, uh..." He searched for another clue. "Wait! White suit and humor but not Steve Martin?" She looked crushed. "I just said no!" He yelled! "Hannibal!" "Um, uh, Dumbo..." she said with a deeply pensive expression. "Dumbo?! What the fuck?!" "Hannibal! Elephants! And before you say it he was real, too, you schmuck!" "Guess again goddamnit!" "Anthony Hopkins!" Adam threw down the card and looked like he was going to cry. "Halley's Comet!" he growled. "Halley's Comet?! What in the hell do you mean Halley's Comet!" "Time!" Braden informed them gleefully, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes. "Mark Twain! You're an author Christ's sake!" Adam bit out. "Oh, right! He was from Hannibal, Missouri! What in the hell did Halley's Comet have to do with Mark Twain?!" "It appeared on the day he was born and the day he died! Duh huh!" Adam said. "This isn't Trivial fucking Pursuit!" Lily shot back. "Why didn't you say Mississippi or riverboat or frog jumping contest or something besides Halley's Motherfucking Comet?!" "Because they're all forbidden motherfucking words! Miss 'like a human'!" he yelled.

Faced with such an extremely serious and dangerous situation, and being unable to convince the government officials of the so-called western democracies to conclude a joint anti-fascist alliance, Stalin considered it appropriate to work so that war against the Soviet Union was postponed, in order to gain time to further strengthen its defences. To this end, he signed the non-aggression pact with Germany. This pact was to serve as a modus vivendi to stave off the danger temporarily, because Stalin saw the Hitlerite aggressiveness, and had made and was continuing to make preparations against it.

Nash’s equilibrium, when it exists, is that point where neither player can do any better, or have no regrets, given what the opponent has done. Neither can have regrets because of how the other person played the game. It may not be the best option for either player, but it’s the best under the circumstances. There isn’t always an equilibrium in a game, or a Nash equilibrium in a game theory matrix. However, if it exists, in many cases the Nash equilibrium is a far better outcome for both players than the von Neumann saddle point. In the Kelley apartment cleaning game-theory matrices above, the Nash equilibrium is for them both to clean. Consider his payoffs. He does much better if he cleans no matter what she decides to do (because 5.7 is much greater than -2.2). Now consider her payoffs. She also does better if she cleans no matter what he does (because 8.5 is much greater than -6.6). So they have a stable Nash equilibrium at the joint strategy = (Male Cleans, Female Cleans). Then neither of them can have regrets about that choice because with that choice neither of them can do any better, regardless of what the partner does. With the Nash equilibrium their strategy is to maximize one’s own gains even if it means maximizing the partner’s gains (as well as one’s own).

We’re only asking for a nursery,” said Anne to the policeman. “But we’ve been told it has to be done jointly by local authorities and factory managers. They won’t even meet with us. No one seems to want to know.” “And the Ministries of Health and Labour have to say yes before anything happens,” I added. “These women just want to be able to work.

He was shaking his head as he read some of the words that were written in the pie sections of the wheel; Meat Snatch, Gash and Stitch, Jaws of Life, Tongue Twister, Enema of Horror, Nailed, Dissection, Musical Hair Patches, Eye Deflation, Intestinal Jump Rope, Cooked Until Dripping, Spoon of Pain, Needle Works, Ball Squats, Cut and Rip, Two Headed Cock, Bone Collector, Joint Screws, Fused, Human Tesla Coil, Barbed Wired, Shit Faced, Root and Rod, Colon Blow, Skin Deep, Boiling Nuts, Sewn, Muscle Stimulator, Urethra Tug-o-war, Crack a Cap, Tendon Rubber Bands, Weenie Roast, Musical Extremities, Root Canal, Needle Mania, Tattooed Wall Art, Rod and Prod, Slice and Dice, Sex Change and Torched Beyond Recognition. I

In 1970 I realized that the Sixties were passing me by. I had never even smoked a joint, or slept with anyone besides my husband. A year later I had left Nicky, changed my name from Ellen to Rain, and moved to a radical lesbian commune in California named Red Moon Rising, where I was playing the Ten of Hearts in an outdoor production of Alice in Wonderland when two FBI agents arrived to arrest the Red Queen .

The team had the hardest time hacking into the server of the J-2, the Joint Staff’s intelligence directorate. Finally, one of the team members simply called the J-2’s office and said that he was with the Pentagon’s IT department, that there were some technical problems, and that he needed to reset all the passwords. The person answering the phone gave him the existing password without hesitating. The Red Team broke in.

...hear the language, this English, double-jointed as Bedivere's limbs. It only sounds awkward. In its ability to join one concept to another as with pegs, its dependent clauses, figures of speech and cadenced alliteration, a man can say one thing five ways and yet imply a sixth; can change meaning with an inflection, a pause or a deliberate misuse of a word, can mock, scorn and flay an opponent without uttering one overt insult.

What?" Istvhan's teeth chattered and he clenched his jaw to stop it. "What is it?" "Hrrwuff!" Her joints weren't set up to gesture to her back. She tried to sink down farther. Fortunately Istvhan was quick on the uptake. "Um. You...uh...want me to ride you?" "Wufff!" She nodded. He looked at her. Blessed St. Ursa, what was he waiting for? "It's just...uh..." "Wuff." "This feels like some kind of weird sex thing," muttered Istvhan.

A little writer's block can be a good thing. Your inner-literary critic's way of gently letting you know you're really stinking up the joint. You're off track. Lost in the weeds. Need to go back and rethink things. Sometimes it's simply a matter of temporarily writing yourself out. Yesterday's slow 'n' steady 3 hour, 600 word quota turned into a 5 hour, 2,000 word marathon. The tank's suddenly dry. Take a breather. Let your subconscious work its magic. The words will come.

How To Detoxify Using Apple Cider Vinegar ACV detox Drink Always try and use organic apple cider vinegar that is raw, unprocessed and unfiltered. Use of any other types of apple cider vinegar like the processed and unfiltered ones is likely to be less effective. You can start the detoxification process by drinking two tablespoons of apple cider vinegar dissolved in water daily. ACV Tea Detox Drink Ingredients 1 tbsp of apple cider vinegar 2 tbsp of lemon juice 1 tsp of cinnamon 12 ounces of filtered water Honey to taste Dash of cayenne pepper Instructions Combine all the ingredients and consume immediately. For best results, drink three times a day. In case you feel that you have taken too much of apple cider vinegar and want a break from all that, you can also detoxify by soaking in a bath. ACV Detox Bath Add one cup of Apple cider vinegar and 1 cup of Epsom salts in your bath. Soak for twenty to thirty minutes to draw out toxins through your skin. This will relieve joints, aching and heal eczema and acne.

The device had a segmented central spine that appeared to stretch from a wearer’s forehead to the nape of their neck, with a row of ten C-shaped metal bands attached to it. Each band was comprised of jointed, retractable segments, and each segment had a row of circular sensor pads on its underside. This made the whole sensor array adjustable, so that it could fit around heads of all shapes and sizes. A long fiber-optic cable stretched from the base of the headset, with a standard OASIS console plug at the end of it.

MAKES: 2 quarts COOKING METHOD: stove COOKING TIME: 20 minutes This is an all-purpose barbecue sauce, with a distinct garlic and tomato flavor. We have used this recipe to rave reviews at the James Beard Foundation and the American Institute of Wine and Food’s “Best Ribs in America” competition. Use it as a finishing glaze or serve it on the side as a dip for any type of barbecue. 2 TABLESPOONS OLIVE OIL ¼ CUP CHOPPED ONION 1 TEASPOON FRESH MINCED GARLIC 4 CUPS KETCHUP 1⅓ CUPS DARK BROWN SUGAR 1 CUP VINEGAR 1 CUP APPLE JUICE ¼ CUP HONEY 1½ TABLESPOONS WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE 1½ TABLESPOONS LIQUID SMOKE 1 TEASPOON SALT 1 TEASPOON BLACK PEPPER 1 TEASPOON CAYENNE PEPPER 1 TEASPOON CELERY SEED Heat the olive oil in a large nonreactive saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and lightly sauté. Stir in the remaining ingredients and heat until the sauce bubbles and starts to steam. Remove from the heat and cool to room temperature. Transfer to a tightly covered jar or plastic container and store refrigerated for up to 2 weeks.

Max and Shane passed the joint back and forth as they sat in the crow’s nest, their sniper rifles resting across their laps. “Gets ya right there,” Max said, pounding his chest, his eyes on Kinsey below. “No shit, bro,” Shane replied after a long drag. “Those two, man. Too much love, too much pride.” “That’s why we never argue,” Max said. “I hate you and have zero pride in myself.” “Me too,” Shane said. “You are the bane of my existence.” He held up the joint. “And I try to cover my own self-loathing in a haze of the pot.

He twisted back to the slaver, who was clearly at a loss for who posed more of a threat: Aeduan or the mountain bat. To Aeduan, the answer was obvious. “You should run now,” he warned the man. “Or I will kill you.” The man’s lips curled back. “Seven of us and only one of you.” He grabbed Aeduan’s shirt. “Exactly,” Aeduan said. “Which is why you should be running.” Then, with a speed that no man could match, he clutched the man’s hand to his chest, and punched up. His fist connected just above the elbow, breaking the joint and snapping the humerus in two. Bone tore through flesh; the man screamed. This was only the beginning. With the man’s arm angled in a way it was never meant to be, Aeduan thrust the limp elbow toward the man’s neck. The jagged tip of bone that had erupted outward now pierced soft throat. The man’s beard was instantly red, and with a soft flick of his wrists, Aeduan pushed the body over. After that, everything was a blur of shaking earth and screams and blood. Of terror that expanded in men’s pupils when they realized that they were going to die.

In the first year, I would glimpse my share of death. I sometimes saw it while peeking around corners, other times while feeling embarrassed to be caught in the same room. Here were a few of the people I saw die: 1. An alcoholic, his blood no longer able to clot, who bled to death into his joints and under his skin. Before he became delirious, he looked up at me and said "It's not fair - I've been diluting my drinks with water." 2. A pathologist, dying of pneumonia, wheezing her death rattle before heading down to be autopsied - her final trip to the pathology lab.

He watched as Miss Turner lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips with agonizing slowness. He stared, fascinated, as her lips parted, revealing the tip of her tongue… “I say, Miss Turner-“ Wiggins again. Her spook paused in mid-air. Gray crashed his fist on the table. “Christ, man! Can’t you see the lady is trying to eat?” Crossing his arms, he slumped back in his chair. Its wooden joints creaked in protest. And now everyone put down their spoons. Gray felt their eyes on him. He kicked the table leg, frustrated with himself, with her, with his goddamned boots. They still pinched his feet.

It was still raw and cold, but every now and then there would be a day, or an hour, or a moment, when the sun came out, and there was something different in the air: a sort of glimpsed fragrance, like when the kitchen door is opened for a second while the birthday cake is being baked. It was a smell of promise. The little brook bellowed hoarsely; there was a swelling at the joints of the twigs, and the first skunk cabbages appeared, brown cowls beside the brook. And at night, tinkling, jingling, gurgling, with high silvery notes, came the voices of the peepers. The dark was spangled with their voices.

Her lips curved up then, as if she liked his answer. “Are you working tomorrow?” Dax nodded. “Yeah. Training stuff.” He was running weapons-training exercises with three of his guys and a small team of DEA agents. They liked to do joint operations, especially in Miami, where there was a smorgasbord of government agencies. But he couldn’t tell her that. “When do you get off?” The way she said “get off” brought up all sorts of images. Hannah must have read his expression, because she shook her head. “Pervert,” she muttered. He grinned, liking the camaraderie between them, as if part of that wall she’d erected had been knocked down.

Academician Amosov’s ‘1000 Moves’ Morning ‘Recharge’ Complex 1. Squat –100 repetitions 2. Side bends –100 repetitions 3. Pushups on the floor –50 repetitions 4. Forward bends –100 repetitions 5. Straight arm lateral raises overhead –100 repetitions 6. Torso turns –50 repetitions 7. Roman chair situps –100 repetitions 8. One legged jumps in place –100 repetitions per leg 9. Bringing the elbows back –100 repetitions 10. ‘The birch tree’ –hold for the count of 100 11. Leg and hip raises. Lie on your back and bring your feet behind your head while keeping your legs reasonably straight. –100 repetitions 12. Sucking in the stomach –50 repetitions

The dying light above rippled on the thing’s carapace, cascaded down across curving breastplate to steel thorns there, shimmering on finger-blades and scalpels rising from every joint. Sol hugged Rachel to his chest and stared into the multifaceted red furnaces that passed for the Shrike’s eyes. The sunset faded into the blood-red glow of Sol’s recurrent dream. The Shrike’s head turned slightly, swiveling without friction, rotating ninety degrees right, ninety degrees left, as if the creature were surveying its domain. The Shrike took three steps forward, stopping less than two meters from Sol. The thing’s four arms twisted and rose, fingerblades uncurling.

Hallmarks of Wife Abandonment Syndrome 1 Prior to the separation, the husband had seemed to be an attentive, emotionally engaged spouse, looked upon by his wife as honest and trustworthy. 2 The husband had never said that he was unhappy or thinking of leaving the marriage, and the wife believed herself to be in a secure relationship. 3 The husband typically blurts out the news that the marriage is over out-of-the-blue in the middle of a mundane domestic conversation. 4 Reasons given for his decision are nonsensical, exaggerated, trivial or fraudulent. 5 By the time the husband reveals his intentions to his wife, the end of the marriage is already a fait accompli, and he often moves out quickly. 6 The husband’s behavior changes radically, so much so that it seems to his wife that he has become a cruel and vindictive stranger. 7 The husband shows no remorse; rather, he blames his wife and may describe himself as the victim. 8 In almost all cases, the husband had been having an affair. He typically moves in with his girlfriend. 9 The husband makes no attempt to help his wife, either financially or emotionally, as if all positive regard for her has been suddenly extinguished. 10 Systematically devaluing his wife and the marriage, the husband denies what he had previously described as positive aspects of the couple’s joint history.

I’m having a permanent out-of-body experience. When it’s finally done, I lie flat on my back. Glare up at the greenish, star-pricked night sky. I try not to think about what I must look like, black and bony out here on the bank of this pond. My body is all sharp angles—nothing to hold it together but armored joints and a knobby curved spine. I’m a holy fucking terror, I imagine. A walking weapon. After a while, I dig my elbow joints into the mud and sit up. My body can really move now, no longer hauling rotted bone and flesh but streamlined with these thin limbs made of light titanium. I feel like an obsidian skeleton out here. A devil dancing in the dark. I feel free.

I will argue that five features are present in a wide range of genres, Western and non-Western, past and present, and that they jointly contribute to a sense of tonality: 1. Conjunct melodic motion. Melodies tend to move by short distances from note to note. 2. Acoustic consonance. Consonant harmonies are preferred to dissonant harmonies, and tend to be used at points of musical stability. 3. Harmonic consistency. The harmonies in a passage of music, whatever they may be, tend to be structurally similar to one another. 4. Limited macroharmony. I use the term “macroharmony” to refer to the total collection of notes heard over moderate spans of musical time. Tonal music tends to use relatively small

Lord Stannis had rewarded Davos with choice lands on Cape Wrath, a small keep, and a knight’s honors … but he had also decreed that he lose a joint of each finger on his left hand, to pay for all his years of smuggling. Davos had submitted, on the condition that Stannis wield the knife himself; he would accept no punishment from lesser hands. The lord had used a butcher’s cleaver, the better to cut clean and true. Afterwards, Davos had chosen the name Seaworth for his new-made house, and he took for his banner a black ship on a pale grey field—with an onion on its sails. The one-time smuggler was fond of saying that Lord Stannis had done him a boon, by giving him four less fingernails to clean and trim.

The goal of Combined Intelligence Objectives Subcommittee was to investigate all things related to German science. Target types ran the gamut: radar, missiles, aircraft, medicine, bombs and fuses, chemical and biological weapons labs. And while CIOS remained an official joint venture, there were other groups in the mix, with competing interests at hand. Running parallel to CIOS operations were dozens of secret intelligence-gathering operations, mostly American. The Pentagon’s Special Mission V-2 was but one example. By late March 1945, Colonel Trichel, chief of U.S. Army Ordnance, Rocket Branch, had dispatched his team to Europe. Likewise, U.S. Naval Technical Intelligence had officers in Paris preparing for its own highly classified hunt for any intelligence regarding the Henschel Hs 293, a guided missile developed by the Nazis and designed to sink or damage enemy ships. The U.S. Army Air Forces (AAF) were still heavily engaged in strategic bombing campaigns, but a small group from Wright Field, near Dayton, Ohio, was laying plans to locate and capture Luftwaffe equipment and engineers. Spearheading Top Secret missions for British intelligence was a group of commandos called 30 Assault Unit, led by Ian Fleming, the personal assistant to the director of British naval intelligence and future author of the James Bond novels. Sometimes, the members of these parallel missions worked in consort with CIOS officers in the field.

At last, we arrived home. Indian Vale. The house my father had built that had become mine and that one day would be my daughter’s, if she chose to stay in the area. She wouldn’t, though. Why should she? The young people here moved somewhere else as fast as they could, and the old folks withered away and died. The factories vanished and the mines and mills sank into the ground, and in their places were erected fast food joints and furniture rental places and pawnshops. Sometimes I hear places like where I live called “Real America,” and I know it rankles some folks—city folks, mostly—something awful, and I wish I could tell them it’s only done out of politeness. That it’s only people saying nice things about the dying.

Speaking before a joint session of Congress, President Johnson said: “This generation has altered the composition of the atmosphere on a global scale through . . . a steady increase in carbon dioxide from the burning of fossil fuels.” It’s remarkable to note that, more than fifty years ago, an American president was already aware of, and acknowledging, human-created climate change. Johnson had been briefed on the dangers of CO 2 increases by the famous climate scientists Charles Keeling and Roger Revelle, among others. So, not only was Johnson aware of the issue, but he was already concerned enough to raise it before Congress. That single sentence in his address gives the lie to the claims of so many climate-change deniers that global warming is some kind of recent hoax.

• With equal pleasure I have as often taken notice, that Providence has been pleased to give this one connected country, to one united people; a people descended from the same ancestors, speaking the same language, professing the same religion, attached to the same principles of government, very similar in their manners and customs, and who, by their joint counsels, arms and efforts, fighting side by side throughout a long and bloody war, have nobly established their general Liberty and Independence. • This country and this people seem to have been made for each other, and it appears as if it was the design of Providence, that an inheritance so proper and convenient for a band of brethren, united to each other by the strongest ties, should never be split into a number of unsocial, jealous, and alien sovereignties.

You can sit,” Maggot said in a small, shy voice. Mia did as she was bid, holding her throbbing hand to her chest. Maggot toddled across the room, fishing about in a series of chests. She returned with a handful of wooden splints and a ball of woven brown cotton. “Hold out your hand,” the girl commanded. Mia’s shadow swelled, Mister Kindly drinking her fear at the thought of what was to come. Maggot looked her digits over, stroking her chin. And gentle as falling leaves, she took hold of Mia’s smallest finger. “It won’t hurt,” she promised. “I’m very good at this.” “All riiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAGHH!” Mia howled as Maggot popped her finger back into place, quick as silver. She rose from the slab and bent double, clutching her hand. “That HURT!” she yelled. Maggot gave a solemn nod. “Yes.” “You promised it wouldn’t!” “And you believed me.” The girl smiled sweet as sugarfloss. “I told you, I’m very good at this.” She motioned to the slab again. “Sit back down.” Mia blinked back hot tears, hand throbbing in agony. But looking at her finger, she could see Maggot had worked it right, popping the dislocated joint back into place neat as could be. Breathing deep, she sat back down and dutifully proffered her hand. The little girl took hold of Mia’s ring finger, looked up at her with big, dark eyes. “I’m going to count three,” she said. “All riiiiiaaaaaaaaaaaaFUCK!” Mia roared as Maggot snapped the joint back into place. She rose and half-danced, half-hopped about the room, wounded hand between her legs. “Shit cock twat fucking fuckitall!” “You swear an awful lot,” Maggot frowned. “You said you were going to count three!” Maggot nodded sadly. “You believed me again, didn’t you?” Mia winced, teeth gritted, looking the girl up and down. “ . . . You are very good at this,” she realized. Maggot smiled, patted the bench. “Last one.” Sighing, Mia sat back down, hand shaking with pain as Maggot gently took hold of her middle finger. She looked at Mia solemnly. “Now this one is really going to hurt,” she warned. “Wa—” The Blade flinched as Maggot popped the finger back in. Mia blinked. “Ow?” she said. “All done,” Maggot smiled. “But that was the easiest of the lot?” Mia protested. “I know,” Maggot replied. “I’m—” “—very good at this,” they both finished. Maggot began splinting Mia’s fingers, binding them tight to limit their movement. The three circles branded into the little girl’s cheek weren’t so much of a mystery anymore . . .

Yet Alice Manfred swore she heard a complicated anger in it; something hostile that disguised itself as flourish and roaring seduction. But the part she hated most was its appetite. Its longing for the bash, the slit; a kind of careless hunger for a fight or a red ruby stickpin for a tie--either would do. It faked happiness, faked welcome, but it did not make her feel generous, this juke joint, barrel hooch, tonk house, music. It made her hold her hand in the pocket of her apron to keep from smashing it through the glass pane to snatch the world in her fist and squeeze the life out of it for doing what it did and did to her and everybody else she knew or knew about. Better to close the windows and the shutters, sweat in the summer heat of a silent Clifton Place apartment than to risk a broken window or a yelping that might not know how or where to stop.

My own heartbeat was slowing under my hand, under the deep rose silk, the color of a baby’s sleep-flushed cheek. When you hold a child to your breast to nurse, the curve of the little head echoes exactly the curve of the breast it suckles, as though this new person truly mirrors the flesh from which it sprang. Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger’s touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-checked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body. But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says “I am,” and forms the core of personality. In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And “I am” grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh. The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves. In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until “I am” is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber.

It was the biggest joint summoning that I’d been involved in since the great days of Prague. Forty djinn materializing more or less at once, in a vast chamber built for that purpose in the bowels of Whitehall. As with all such things, it was a messy business, despite the best efforts of the magicians. They were all lined up in tidy rows of identical pentacles, wearing the same dark suits and speaking their incantations quietly, while the officiating clerks scribbled their names down at tables to the sides. We djinn, of course, were less concerned with regimental decorum: we arrived in forty very different guises, trumpeting our individuality with horns, tails, iridescent flanges, spikes, and tentacles; with colors ranging from obsidian-black to delicate dandelion-yellow; with a menagerie full of hollerings and chitter; with a magnificent range of sulfurous guffs and stenches.

You’re as beautiful as you were the night we made our son,” she whispered, bending to kiss him tenderly. His fingers traced her dark eyebrows, her cheeks, her mouth. “I wish we could have another baby,” he said heavily. “So do I. But I’m too old,” she said sadly. She lay her cheek against his broad, damp chest and stroked the silver-tipped hair that covered it. “We’ll have to hope for grandchildren, if he ever forgives us.” He held her tightly, as if by holding her he could keep her safe. What he felt for her was ferociously protective. She misunderstood the tightening of his arms. She smiled and sighed. “We can’t, again. Cecily will think we’ve deserted her.” His hand smoothed her long hair. “She probably knows exactly what we’re doing,” he said on a chuckle. “She loves you.” “She likes you. Maybe we could adopt her.” “Better if our son marries her.” She grinned. “We can hope.” She sat up and stretched, liking the way he watched her still-firm breasts. “The last time I felt like this was thirty-six years ago,” she confided. “The same is true for me,” he replied. She searched his eyes, already facing her departure. She would have to go back to the reservation, home. He could still read her better than she knew. He drew her hand to his mouth. “It’s too late, but I want to marry you. This week. As soon as possible.” She was surprised. She didn’t know what to say. “I love you,” he said. “I never stopped. Forgive me and say yes.” She considered the enormity of what she would be agreeing to do. Be his hostess. Meet his friends. Go to fund-raising events. Wear fancy clothes. Act sophisticated. “Your life is so different from mine,” she began. “Don’t you start,” he murmured. “I’ve seen what it did to Cecily when Tate used that same argument with her about all the differences. It won’t work with me. We love each other too much to worry about trivial things. Say yes. We’ll work out all the details later.” “There will be parties, benefits…” He pulled her down into his arms and kissed her tenderly. “I don’t know much about etiquette,” she tried again. He rolled her over, pinning her gently. One long leg inserted itself between both of hers as he kissed her. “Oh, what the hell,” she murmured, and wrapped her legs around his, groaning as the joints protested. “Arthritis?” he asked. “Osteoarthritis.” “Me, too.” He shifted, groaning a little himself as he eased down. “We’ll work on new positions one day. But it’s…too late…now. Leta…!” he gasped. She didn’t have enough breath to answer him. He didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t. Bad joints notwithstanding, they managed to do quite a few things that weren’t recommended for people their ages. And some that weren’t in the book at all.

Gregory is a good boy, though all the Latin he has learned, all the sonorous periods of the great authors, have rolled through his head and out again, like stones. Still, you think of Thomas More’s boy: offspring of a scholar all Europe admired, and poor young John can barely stumble through his Pater Noster. Gregory is a fine archer, a fine horseman, a shining star in the tilt yard, and his manners cannot be faulted. He speaks reverently to his superiors, not scuffling his feet or standing on one leg, and he is mild and polite with those below him. He knows how to bow to foreign diplomats in the manner of their own countries, sits at table without fidgeting or feeding spaniels, can neatly carve and joint any fowl if requested to serve his elders. He doesn’t slouch around with his jacket off one shoulder, or look in windows to admire himself, or stare around in church, or interrupt old men, or finish their stories for them. If anyone sneezes, he says, ‘Christ help you!

One of our greatest epidemics today is obesity. It is estimated that more than 500 million people suffer from obesity worldwide today, and that it kills more than three million people each year. In comparison, about 55,000 people are killed in war each year, which of course in no way suggests that we are overestimating the horror and seriousness of war – how could we? – but the little attention we give to obesity in comparison does suggest, however, that we are not taking the “war” we should be waging against obesity seriously. It seems that we overlook what a merciless killer and cause of pain that obesity and the overeating that leads to it really is: it increases the risk of heart disease (the most common cause of death worldwide), many kinds of cancer, type 2 diabetes, degenerative joint disease and mental problems such as depression and low self-esteem.[27] Fortunately, a lot seems to imply that we have a powerful and peaceful weapon at our hands that can help us overcome obesity: a vegan diet.

Severin scowled. "Miss, I have to object-" "Dr. Gibson," she said crisply. "Dr. Gibson," he said, with an emphasis on the "Dr." that sounded distinctly insulting. "This is Mr. Winterborne. The one with the department store. He needs to be treated by a real physician with experience and proper training, not to mention-" "A penis?" she suggested acidly. "I'm afraid I don't have one of those. Nor is it a requirement for a medical degree. I am a real physician, and the sooner I treat Mr. Winterborne's shoulder, the better it will go for him." At Severin's continued hesitation, she said, "The limited external rotation of the shoulder, impaired elevation of the arm, and the prominence of the coracoid process all indicate posterior dislocation. Therefore, the joint must be relocated without delay if we are to prevent further damage to the neurovascular status of the upper extremity." Had Rhys not been in such acute discomfort, he would have relished Severin's stunned expression. "I'll help you move him," Severin muttered.

That’s what it was supposed to be, but then we started meeting up for morning workouts, which led to a joint trip to the GNC, and then we discovered we both play chess, which led to inviting him over for a game night, and then I quoted Mallrats but he didn’t get it, which led to a movie enlightenment mission and several movie-at-home nights…” I trail off, leaving the “etcetera etcetera” unspoken. Huffing out an exasperated sigh, I explain, “The more we hung out together, the more couple-y we got, and before I knew it we were buying extra toothbrushes to keep at our apartments and doing silly shit like giving each other keys. Add in the most amazing porn star sex ever, and it’s apparently enough for me to want to have his puppy.” “You mean baby.” “God, no. You know better than that. I’m not the nurturing type.” “Yeah, well, you also used to say you weren’t the falling in love type, either.” I narrow my eyes at her. “No one likes a wise-ass, Janey.” “Maybe not, but sometimes a hard-ass like you needs a wise-ass like me.

1. Oral Involvement 2. Laryngeal Involvement 3. Cardiovascular Involvement 4. Skin: rashes, vitiligo, Raynaud’s 5. Constitutional symptoms: including fever, fatigue, and muscle wasting (cachexia), infections 6. Rheumatoid vasculitis and blood vessel disease 7. Lung Involvement 8. Kidney involvement 9. Eye involvement 10. Other organs: including spleen, liver, lymph system, gut KEY POINTS 1. Some symptoms and antibodies can precede diagnosis over 10 years. 2. Many studies indicate RD begins in the lungs, before joint symptoms are diagnosable. 3. RD is often called an “invisible”illness because symptoms are not obvious to casual observers. 4. Doctors must be more aware that systemic symptoms like fatigue may indicate serious problems. 5. Extra-articular disease has been proven to affect most PRD, but is still not widely recognized. 6. Acknowledging rheumatoid disease that exists beyond and before joint inflammation (arthritis) could bring a) Improved care for lower mortality b) Improved research for better treatments c) Improved diagnosis for increased remissions

Despite international calls for Chernobyl to be decommissioned at once, it endured a very gradual demise. On October 11th, 1991, just five years after the Unit 4 explosion, there was a third major accident at the plant, this time at Unit 2. Prior to the event, the Unit had been taken offline following another accident - this time a fire in its section of the turbine hall, which had broken out during minor turbogenerator repair work. After extinguishing the blaze, the generator had been isolated and its turbine coasted down to about 150 rpm when a faulty breaker switch closed, reconnecting it to the grid. The turbine rapidly sped up to 3000 rpm in under 30 seconds, then, according to a 1993 report by the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission, “the influx of current to TG-4 overheated the conductor elements and caused a rapid degradation of the mechanical end joints of the rotor and excitation windings. A centrifugal imbalance developed and damaged generator bearings 10 through 14 and the seal oil system, allowing hydrogen gas and seal oil to leak from the generator enclosure. Electrical arcing and frictional heat ignited the leaking hydrogen and seal oil creating hydrogen flames 8 meters high, and dense smoke which obstructed the visibility of plant personnel. When the burning oil reached the busbar of the generator it caused a three-phase 120,000-amp short circuit.”265

A lineate is a Magnitude more then long. A New forme of doctrine hath forced our Authour to use oft times new words, especially in dividing, that the logicall lawes and rules of more perfect division by a dichotomy, that is into two kindes, might bee held and observed. Therefore a Magnitude was divided into two kindes, to witt into a Line and a Lineate: And a Lineate is made the genus of a surface and a Body. Hitherto a Line, which of all bignesses is the first and most simple, hath been described: Now followeth a Lineate, the other kinde of magnitude opposed as you see to a line, followeth next in order. Lineatum therefore a Lineate, or Lineamentum, a Lineament, (as by the authority of our Authour himselfe, the learned Bernhard Salignacus, who was his Scholler, hath corrected it) is that Magnitude in which there are lines: Or which is made of lines, or as our Authour here, which is more then long: Therefore lines may be drawne in a surface, which is the proper soile or plots of lines; They may also be drawne in a body, as the Diameter in a Prisma: the axis in a spheare; and generally all lines falling from aloft: And therfore Proclus maketh some plaine, other solid lines. So Conicall lines, as the Ellipsis, Hyperbole, and Parabole, are called solid lines because they do arise from the cutting of a body. 2. To a Lineate belongeth an Angle and a Figure. The common affections of a Magnitude were to be bounded, cutt, jointly measured, and adscribed: Then of a line to be right, crooked, touch'd,

Add your typical shower and claw feet Owners claw foot tub, consider incorporating the most traditional sense of joy in the ease and comfort revolutionary shower, governments are mainly engaged in the race just to check in early for power within very ready. Clawfoot tubs wear’s now includes a shower; there are many strategies to use the shower in the bathroom now. Even if a person must be determined in those particular individual hairs, can be costly and impractical. Although the site has a separate shower grow, keep in mind that you want the products and save more modern maintenance. Value management easier and more efficient to add a shower curtain and bath address. The information is not expensive, there are some ideas that you can include in the acquired shower. Contractor or plumber can provide ideas and even to make for you. The original can take water heater shower bath in the direction of the feet and the creation of a rod with an en suite shower room, and when the curtain. Shower curtains apartment surrounded significantly reduces splash of water leaks. Another option would be surplus tiles on the long term, the use of H2O "enemy" and shower rod and curtain also furnished, "L" of the aspects described in determining the bath. What will be more expensive and bathroom alone for a long time, some people are afraid of this option. On the way to the drain in the shower, you could be the cables hidden in the bathroom near the wall. The second course in the HVAC responsible for pre-tube immediately describes the bath to the option in the direction of the traditional classical appearance. There are several different types of decorative lighting and lids which are made in such a way that appears to choose in the hoses pin and presented a lot of good taste on the market. For those who are willing to deal with their own tasks, traders improving the registered owner of the Depot and Lowe's contain a number of "do it yourself" kits are unique measurements. Such kits are barrels and other containers, as defined above use’s shower built for joint legs. Everything requires a few simple policies and lower resistance to the purchase is detected. This kind of "precursors" of the water, you can judge for yourself in the shower longitudinal shower, shower curtains and thoughts. If you take even more concerned that the easiest only independent bathroom each provider in the health of office workers only in the direction of the support of others and crank implementing rules. Have a good friend or spouse and children of a member who keep an eye on your health, as it is commonly known. No need for the resolution, that the decision to migrate to an item in the shower of his classic bathroom was somewhat effortlessly came to rise. It goes in the direction of maximizing claw foot tub, or take an impressive ease of use aerosol own desire. Many decisions wonderful shower curtain in the direction of the changes the rest of the room was coming towards a holistic view of their cosmetics, and a lot of fun to drive in the direction of your claw foot tub.

For all the bachelors out there tonight, yeah for anybody who's never whistled this song. Maybe you whistled it but you lost the sheet music. Um...this is um...well actually I don't mind going to weddings or anything, as long as there not my own I show up. But I've always kinda been partial to calling myself up on the phone and asking myself out, you know? Oh yeah, you call yourself up too huh? Yeah, well one thing about it, your always around. Yeah I know, yeah you ask yourself out, you know, some class joint somewhere. The Buretto King or something, you know. Well I ain't cheap you know. Take yourself out for a couple of drinks maybe. Then there'd be some provocative conversation on the way home. Park in front of the house you know. Oh yeah, you smoothly put a little nice music on, maybe you put on like uh, you know, like shopping music, something thats not too interruptive you know and then uh slide over real nice and say 'Oh I think you have something in your eye'. Well maybe it's not that romantic with you but Christ I don't know, you know I get into it you know. Take myself up to the porch, take myself inside or maybe uh, or may get a little something, a brandy snifter or something. 'Would like you like to listen to some of my back records? I got something here' Uh Well usually about 2.30 in the morning you've ended up taking advantage of yourself. There ain't no way around that you know. Yeah, making a scene with a magazine, there ain't no way around. I'll confess you know, I'm no different you know. I'm not weird about it or anything, I don't tie myself up first. I just kinda spend a little time with myself

Body of Christ EPHESIANS 4 I therefore,  ma prisoner for the Lord, urge you to  nwalk in a manner worthy of  othe calling to which you have been called, 2with all  phumility and  qgentleness, with  rpatience,  sbearing with one another in love, 3eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in  tthe bond of peace. 4There is  uone body and  vone Spirit—just as you were called to the one  whope that belongs to your call— 5 xone Lord,  yone faith,  zone baptism, 6 aone God and Father of all,  bwho is over all and through all and in all. 7But  cgrace was given  dto each one of us  eaccording to the measure of Christ’s gift. 8Therefore it says, f“When he ascended on high  ghe led a host of captives, and he gave gifts to men.” [1] 9( hIn saying, “He ascended,” what does it mean but that he had also descended into  ithe lower regions, the earth? [2] 10He who descended is the one who also  jascended  kfar above all the heavens, that he might  lfill all things.) 11And  mhe gave the  napostles, the prophets, the  oevangelists, the  pshepherds [3] and teachers, [4] 12 qto equip the saints for the work of ministry, for  rbuilding up  sthe body of Christ, 13until we all attain to  tthe unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God,  uto mature manhood, [5] to the measure of the stature of  vthe fullness of Christ, 14so that we may no longer be children,  wtossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in  xdeceitful schemes. 15Rather,  yspeaking the truth in love, we are to  zgrow up in every way into him who is  athe head, into Christ, 16 bfrom whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped,  cwhen each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.

Broadway lit up just as crazy as ever, and the crowd thick as molasses. Just fling yourself into it like an ant and let yourself get pushed along. Everybody doing it, some for a good reason, and some for no reason at all. All this push and movement representing action, success, get ahead. Stop and look at shoes, or fancy shirts. The new fall overcoat, wedding rings at 98 cents a piece. Every other joint a food emporium. Everytime I hit that runway toward dinner hour, a fever of expectancy seized me. It's only a stretch of a few blocks from Time Square to 50th street, and when one says 'Broadway', that's all that's really meant. And it's really nothing, just a chicken run, and a lousy one at that. But at 7 in the evening, when everybody's rushing for a table, there is a sort of electrical crackle in the air. And your hair stands on end like antennae, and if you're receptive, you not only get every flash and flicker, but you get the statistical itch. The quid pro quo of the interactive, interstitial, ectoplasmatic quantum of bodies jostling in space like the stars which compose the Milky Way. Only, this is the gay white way. The top of the world with no roof above and not even a crack or a hole under your feet to fall through and say it's a lie. The absolute impersonality of it brings you to a pitch of warm human delirium, which makes you run forward like a blind nag, and wag your delirious ears. Everyone is so utterly, confoundedly not himself, that you become automatically the personification of the whole human race. Shaking hands with a thousand human hands, cackling with a thousand different human tongues, cursing, applauding, whistling, crooning, soliloquizing, orating, gesticulating, urinating, fecundating, wheedling, cajoling, whimpering, bartering, pimping, caterwauling, and so on and so forth. You are all the men who ever lived up until Moses, and beyond that, you are a woman buying a bird cage, or just a mouse trap.

Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.” —Mark 1:35 2. Have an honest heart. “Call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”—Jeremiah 29:12-13 3. Open your Bible. “The word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” —Hebrews 4:12 4. Have a genuine friend. “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but let us encourage one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”—Hebrews 10:24-25 God has not meant for our lives to be empty. His plan is for us to live full and abundant lives (see John 10:10). As Rick Warren explains in his book The Purpose-Driven Life, “The purpose of your life is far greater than your own personal fulfillment, your peace of mind, or even your happiness. It’s far greater than your family, your career, or even your wildest dreams and ambitions. If you want to know why you were placed on this planet, you must begin with God. You were born by his purpose and for his purpose.”8 God did not make you to be empty. Walk with and in the purpose He has planned for you. Prayer: Father God, lift me out of a life of emptiness. You didn’t make me to be there, and that’s not where I will remain. With Your Spirit and power I will rise above this phase of emptiness and live an abundant life. Thank You for giving me a gentle whisper. Amen.   Action: If you find yourself in an empty stage of life, put into action this week the four steps that are given.   Today’s Wisdom: Blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. —JEREMIAH 17:7-8

Bored with Pisit today, I switch to our public radio channel, where the renowned and deeply reverend Phra Titapika is lecturing on Dependent Origination. Not everyone’s cup of chocolate, I agree (this is not the most popular show in Thailand), but the doctrine is at the heart of Buddhism. You see, dear reader (speaking frankly, without any intention to offend), you are a ramshackle collection of coincidences held together by a desperate and irrational clinging, there is no center at all, everything depends on everything else, your body depends on the environment, your thoughts depend on whatever junk floats in from the media, your emotions are largely from the reptilian end of your DNA, your intellect is a chemical computer that can’t add up a zillionth as fast as a pocket calculator, and even your best side is a superficial piece of social programming that will fall apart just as soon as your spouse leaves with the kids and the money in the joint account, or the economy starts to fail and you get the sack, or you get conscripted into some idiot’s war, or they give you the news about your brain tumor. To name this amorphous morass of self-pity, vanity, and despair self is not only the height of hubris, it is also proof (if any were needed) that we are above all a delusional species. (We are in a trance from birth to death.) Prick the balloon, and what do you get? Emptiness. It’s not only us-this radical doctrine applies to the whole of the sentient world. In a bumper sticker: The fear of letting go prevents you from letting go of the fear of letting go. Here’s the good Phra in fine fettle today: “Take a snail, for example. Consider what brooding overweening self-centered passion got it into that state. Can you see the rage of a snail? The frustration of a cockroach? The ego of an ant? If you can, then you are close to enlightenment.” Like I say, not everyone’s cup of miso. Come to think of it, I do believe I prefer Pisit, but the Phra does have a point: take two steps in the divine art of Buddhist meditation, and you will find yourself on a planet you no longer recognize. Those needs and fears you thought were the very bones of your being turn out to be no more than bugs in your software. (Even the certainty of death gets nuanced.) You’ll find no meaning there. So where?

Gandhian nonviolence as interpreted in Næss: 1. The character of the means used in a group struggle determines the character of the results. 2. In a group struggle you can keep the goal-directed motivation and the ability to work effectively for the realization of the goal stronger than the destructive, violent tendencies, and the tendencies to passivity, despondency, or destruction, only by making a constructive program part of your campaign and by giving all phases of your struggle, as far as possible a positive character. 3. Short-term violence contradicts long-term universal reduction of violence. 4. You can give a struggle a constructive character only if you conceive of it and carry it out as a struggle in favour of living beings and certain values, thus eventually fighting antagonisms, not antagonists. 5. It increases your understanding of the conflict, of the participants, and of your own motivation, to live together with the participants, especially with those for whom you primarily fight. The most adequate form for living together is that of jointly doing constructive work. 6. If you live together with those for whom you primarily struggle and do constructive work with them, this will create a natural basis for trust and confidence in you. 7. All human (and non-human) beings have long-term interests in common. 8. Cooperation on common goals reduces the chance that the actions and attitudes of the participants in the conflict will become violent. 9. You invite violence from your opponent by humiliating or provoking him. 10. Thorough understanding of the relevant facts and factors increases the chance of a nonviolent realization of the goals of your campaign. 11. Incompleteness and distortion in your description of your case and the plans for your struggle reduce the chance of a nonviolent realization of your goals 12. Secrecy reduce the chance of a nonviolent realization of your goals. 13. You are less likely to take a violent attitude, the better you make clear to yourself the essential points in your cause and your struggle. 14. Your opponent is less likely to use violent means the better he understands your conduct and your case. 15. There is a strong disposition in every opponent such that wholehearted, intelligent, strong, and persistent appeal in favour of a good cause is able ultimately to convince him. 16. Mistrust stems from misjudgement, especially of the disposition of your opponent to answer trust with trust, mistrust with mistrust. 17. The tendency to misjudge and misunderstand your opponent and his case in an unfavourable direction increases his and your tendency to resort to violence. 18. You win conclusively when you turn your opponent into a believer and supporter of your case.

When I pull my hand away, my fingertips are not stained red, but silver. I stare at my nails, trying to make sense of what I see when out of the formless gloom, a monster emerges. I do scream when a pair of blue-white eyes appear, a pinprick of black in their center. Slowly, a shape coalesces into being- a long, elegant face, whorls of inky shadows swirling over moon-pale skin, ram's horns curling around pointed, elfin ears. He is more terrifying and more real than the vision I experienced in the labyrinth. But worst of all are the hands, gnarled and curled and with one too many joints in each finger. With a silver ring around the base of one. A wolf's-head ring, with two gems of blue and green for eyes. My ring. His ring. The symbol of our promise I had returned to the Goblin King back in the Goblin Grove. Mein Herr? For a brief moment, those blue-white eyes regain some color, the only color in this gray world. Blue and green, like the gems on the ring about his finger. Mismatched eyes. Human eyes. The eyes of my immortal beloved. Elisabeth, he says, and his lips move painfully around a mouth full of sharpened teeth, like the fangs of some horrifying beast. Despite the fear knifing my veins, my heart grows soft with pity. With tenderness. I reach for my Goblin King, longing to touch him, to hold his face in my hands the way I had done when I was his bride. Mein Herr. My hands lift to stroke his cheek, but he shakes his head, batting my fingers away. I am not he, he says, and an ominous growl laces his words as his eyes return to that eerie blue-white. He that you love is gone. Then who are you? I ask. His nostrils flare and shadows deepen around us, giving shape to the world. He swirls a cloak about him as a dark forest comes into view, growing from the mist. I am the Lord of Mischief and the Ruler Underground. His lips stretch thin over that dangerous mouth in a leering smile. I am death and doom and Der Erlkönig. No! I cry, reading for him again. No, you are he that I love, a king with music in his soul and a prayer in his heart. You are a scholar, a philosopher, and my own austere young man. Is that so? The corrupted Goblin King runs a tongue over his gleaming teeth, those pale eyes devouring me as though I were a sumptuous treat to be savored. Then prove it. Call him by name. A jolt sings through me- guilt and fear and desire altogether. His name, a name, the only link my austere young man has to the world above, the one thing he could not give me. Der Erlkönig throws his head back in a laugh. You do not even know your beloved's name, maiden? How can you possibly call it love when you walked away, when you abandoned him and all that he fought for? I shall find it, I say fiercely. I shall call him by name and bring him home. Malice lights those otherworldly eyes, and despite the monstrous markings and horns and fangs and fur that claim the Goblin King's comely form, he turns seductive, sly. Come, brave maiden, he purrs. Come, join me and be my bride once more, for it was not your austere young man who showed you the dark delights of the Underground and the flesh. It was I.

If YOUR free READ it calmly. This to all my FOLKS and MYSELF our expectations, our needs, our dreams, our destiny, our life style, Our likes and dislikes. we always RUN around so many things without even THINKING. Have a look on our SATISFACTION list # new gadget or a mobile for example fun for 2 months? # New bike fun for "2 months" . # New car for "3"? # Getting into a relationship wantedly as we are alone max 3/4 months? # Revenge ? A weak? Month? # flirting ? 2/3 months # sex ? Few mins # boozing, joint or a fag? Few hours? # addicting to something leaving behind everything? One year? # your example of anything repeatedly done for satisfaction? Max? Get a number yourself! ¦¦¦ Even though we satisfy our soul by all the above. Passing day by day. Years passed. Yet left with the same IRRITATING feeling to satisfy our needs. ONE after ANOTHER . ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ Some day we realize it was " pure SELFISH satisfaction " and left with a "GUILT " and EMPTINESS . questioning LIFE ! ¦¦¦ "In the RAMPAGE of getting everything we wished. We might not realize what we MISSED . Being CARELESS of our surrounding." "Feelings left hurt and hearts broken. Family friends and people we cares and who cares us. PRIORITIES made by ourself to be satisfied even here." If LIFE was just to satisfy what ever we WISHED for. Was it A life worth lived? May be! Yes. But it's SURE you end up questioning life with BLACKNESS ! # So many questions unanswered. Our EXISTENCE ? Our DESTINY ? To question the existence of God and HEAVEN .? At Last questioning the existence of UNIVERSE itself? The whole system CRACKS a nerve! Why spoil our LIFE when we are the creators of our LIFE ! When we are capable of finding an answer to does questions by our self Finding that true meaning of LIFE beyond all the mess we live by daily. which is Going to satisfy us. We need to realize by now our Every action should lead to Happiness and satisfaction of the people around us. It's the real paradise feeling we all wish for. The real deal. We disrupt our LIFE in the rampage of getting everything we need which can automatically be provided by LIFE . When we start sacrificing our LIFE in a positive way being busy fulfilling the needs of our dears ones. They indeed be busy trying to fulfill our needs and wishes. It's giving some things and getting something back. With less expectations. Rather than grabbing. A SECRET for a PERFECT LIFE which we FAIL to live by. Starting from FORGIVING everyone who tumbles in our path trying to steal away our positive life and happiness. Because as we all are tamed to do MISTAKE at some point. There is not much TIME left to waste by hating and cursing LIFE when we can start LIVING right now. "A REMINDER just to make sure we try to be SELFLESS and find that UNMATCHED HAPPINESS and SATISFACTION ." ~~¦¦ LIFE is complex to understand yet so SIMPLE ¦¦ ¶¶ Never be in a hurry on GETTING on to something you might be left with NOTHING ¶¶ << Being SELFISH makes us a HEALTHY human but being SELFLESS makes you A HUMAN >> «« LIFE is meaningful when we forget about our THIRST and QUENCH the thirst of OTHERS .»» RETHINK AND REDEFINE LIFE ¶¶ ~ Sharath kumar G .

My speed and strength were still good. Endurance likewise. Recovery times weren’t what they once were, but a steady diet of liquid amino acids for the muscles, glucosamine for the joints, and Cognamine for the reflexes all seemed to help.

Mothers of Invention: Women of the Slaveholding South in the American Civil War (Drew Gilpin Faust) - Your Highlight on Location 51-51 | Added on Sunday, August 24, 2014 1:56:40 PM I confronted the paradox of being both a southerner and an American at an early age. ========== Mothers of Invention: Women of the Slaveholding South in the American Civil War (Drew Gilpin Faust) - Your Highlight on Location 125-126 | Added on Tuesday, August 26, 2014 2:28:54 PM "The surface of society, like a great ocean, is upheaved, and all the relations of life are disturbed and out of joint." ========== Mothers of Invention: Women of the Slaveholding South in the American Civil War (Drew Gilpin Faust) - Your Highlight on Location 170-170 | Added on Friday, August 29, 2014 1:59:28 PM "Necessity," Confederate women repeatedly intoned, "is the mother of invention.

What Makes It Work-A Review of the Research Literature Describing Factors Which Influence the Success of Collaboration. They describe collaboration as a mutually beneficial and well-defined relationship entered into by two or more organizations to achieve common goals. The relationship includes a commitment to: (1) a shared vision and mutual goals; (2) a jointly developed structure, shared responsibility, and agreed-upon methods of communication; (3) mutual authority and accountability for success; and (4) sharing of resources and rewards.

There are two major patterns of bleeding: 1. Mucosal bleeding Reduced number or function of platelets (e.g. bone marrow failure or aspirin) or von Willebrand factor (e.g. von Willebrand disease) • Skin: petechiae, bruises, post-surgical bleeding • Gum and mucous membrane bleeding • Fundal haemorrhage 2. Coagulation factor deficiency (e.g. haemophilia or warfarin) • Bleeding into joints (haemarthrosis) or muscles • Bleeding into soft tissues • Intracranial haemorrhage • Post-surgical bleeding

t o improve the physical capacity of the horse, a trainer must learn to value its qualities and to compensate for its flaws. Physical training of an athlete, particularly a human athlete, requires a deep understanding of the sporting discipline in question. It is in this same spirit that the chapters in this book describing the biomechanics and physical training of the horse as an athlete have been developed. The presentation of these concepts begins with a series of simplified and educational reminders on the biomechanics of the muscles underlying overall movement. The primary body system involved in active physical exercise is the muscular system and the first three chapters focus on the muscular groups and actions of the forelimb, the hindlimb and the neck and trunk, and this leads to a chapter discussing the biomechanics of lowering of the neck. To evaluate the usefulness of an exercise and to understand its mode of action, including its advantages and disadvantages, it is essential to have a basic understanding of musculotendinous functional anatomy. An understanding of these fundamental ideas is directly applicable to the later chapters, which focus on training and the core exercises for a horse. Training a horse for every discipline brings together two specific but complementary areas, which are often worked on at the same time: conditioning and strengthening. The aim of conditioning is to develop respiratory capacity and to improve cardiovascular function. This results in a greater ability to perform with prolonged effort, while also improving the recovery time after this effort. Strengthening of the horse has two main goals: (1) to improve the flexibility of joints secondary to the action of ligaments and muscles (these structures have an intrinsic role in the control and stability of joints) and (2) to develop effective muscular contraction and coordination, making movements more fluid, lighter and confident (1, 2).

Osteoarthritis, the most common form of arthritis, involves a wearing away of the tough, lubricated cartilage that normally cushions the ends of the bones in your joints.

Love your enemies! Do good to them. Lend to them without expecting to be repaid. Then your reward from heaven will be very great, and you will truly be acting as children of the Most High, for he is kind to those who are unthankful and wicked.” —Luke 6:35 (NLT) The late-night call to the hospital twisted my stomach into a hard knot. Danny, a strong, passionate college student studying for ministry, had been in an accident. He lay in a medically induced coma, survival uncertain. I was one of his teachers. I rushed to the hospital and joined his friends. Danny’s parents had not yet arrived; they faced an agonizing four-hour drive. As we waited, we pieced together the tragic story. Danny had seen a homeless man begging on the side of the road. He sensed God’s whisper to feed him; the fast-food gift certificates he had in his pocket would be perfect. While turning his car around, he was T-boned by a pickup truck. His girlfriend suffered minor injuries; the other driver wasn’t hurt, but Danny now fought for his life. We waited and prayed and tried to comfort his parents when they arrived. The waiting stretched into days. Danny’s father, however, was not content with waiting. He had a mission. The day after the accident, he drove to the fast-food joint, loaded up with food, drove to that fateful place, and finished the task his son had begun. While his son lay in a coma, Danny’s father fed that same homeless man who would never fathom the cost of his meal; God’s boundless compassion, disguised as fast food. Danny’s recovery was slow but strong. I saw him recently, working on campus. He waved. He'd just gotten married. Danny, by his life and through his family, has become my teacher. Heavenly Father, grant me grace to press through my heartaches to a place of total forgiveness, supernatural love, and abundant life. —Bill Giovannetti Digging Deeper: Jn 15:4; Eph 4:32; Jas 2:8

JANUARY 31 YOU ARE A JOINT HEIR WITH MY SON, JESUS CHRIST I AM THE One who breaks open the way, and I will go up before you; you will break through the gates that try to hold you, and you will go out. You will be a fruitful vine, planted near a spring, and your branches will climb over any wall that attempts to hold you in. My eyes will be open to your supplication, and I will listen whenever you call to Me. Rejoice, for I will not cast off My people, nor will I forsake My inheritance. If you fear that your foot will slip, My mercy will hold you up. When you are filled with anxieties within, My comfort will delight your soul. I will be your defense and the rock of your refuge. I have sealed you with My Holy Spirit of promise, who is the guarantee of your inheritance. PSALMS 2:7–8; 94:18–19; EPHESIANS 1:13–14 Prayer Declaration I am a joint heir with Jesus Christ. Give me the heathen for my inheritance and the uttermost part of the earth for my possession. Let my line go through all the earth, and my words to the end of the world. Let me grow in grace and in the knowledge of Jesus Christ. I will flourish like a palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon.

An added bonus—if you need to climb a wall real quick, the bodyweight stuff sure helps in a pinch.

Nothing built by man has ever improved on the ancient classic fingertip pushup

Your fingers want to be strong. They weren’t designed to tap at a keyboard or text bulls*** on a stupid cell phone. They were meant to be dangerous weapons on the hands of a caveman!

Whether you want to strengthen your fingers or jack up the belly of your forearms, forget grip-pers or wrist curls. Work your forearms the way they evolved to work—by hanging your bodyweight.

Getting your ass away from the gym is probably the number one thing you can do to start kicking your gains up a notch.

You’re still young. Give it time. Wait for the first effects of winter to settle in your joints. Feel the first flutter of your heart, the numbness in your fingertips, the growing chill deep in your stomach as the horseman gallops closer. And he is coming. At a gallop, as you’ll learn. Youth is an illusion, Chase. We are none of us young. We are born old. If a century seems like a long time to someone like you, let me assure you that the annual round of seasons and holidays becomes a blur as the years pass.

4/20, CANNABIS DAY, APRIL 20 420 FARMERS’ MARKET RISOTTO Recipe from Chef Herb Celebrate the bounty of a new growing season with a dish that’s perfectly in season on April 20. Better known as 4/20, the once unremarkable date has slowly evolved into a new high holiday, set aside by stoners of all stripes to celebrate the herb among like-minded friends. The celebration’s origins are humble in nature: It was simply the time of day when four friends (dubbed “The Waldos”) met to share a joint each day in San Rafael, California. Little did they know that they were beginning a new ceremony that would unite potheads worldwide! Every day at 4:20 p.m., you can light up a joint in solidarity with other pot-lovers in your time zone. It’s a tradition that has caught on, and today, there are huge 4/20 parties and festivals in many cities, including famous gatherings of students in Boulder and Santa Cruz. An Italian rice stew, risotto is dense, rich, and intensely satisfying—perfect cannabis comfort cuisine. This risotto uses the freshest spring ingredients for a variation in texture and bright colors that stimulate the senses. Visit your local farmers’ market around April 20, when the bounty of tender new vegetables is beginning to be harvested after the long, dreary winter. As for tracking down the secret ingredient, you’ll have to find another kind of farmer entirely. STONES 4 4 tablespoons THC olive oil (see recipe) 1 medium leek, white part only, cleaned and finely chopped ½ cup sliced mushrooms 1 small carrot, grated ½ cup sugar snap peas, ends trimmed ½ cup asparagus spears, woody ends removed, cut into 1-inch-long pieces Freshly ground pepper 3½ cups low-sodium chicken broth ¼ cup California dry white wine Olive oil cooking spray 1 cup arborio rice 1 tablespoon minced fresh flat-leaf parsley ¼ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese Salt 1. In a nonstick skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of the THC olive oil over medium-low heat. Add leek and sauté until wilted, about 5 minutes. Stir in mushrooms and continue to cook, stirring, for 2 minutes. Add carrot, sugar snap peas, and asparagus. Continue to cook, stirring, for another minute. Remove from heat, season with pepper, and set aside. 2. In a medium saucepan over high heat, bring broth and wine to a boil. Reduce heat and keep broth mixture at a slow simmer. 3. In a large pot that has been lightly coated with cooking spray, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons THC olive oil over medium heat. Add rice and stir well until all the grains of rice are coated. Pour in ½ cup of the hot broth and stir, using a wooden spoon, until all liquid is absorbed. Continue adding the broth ½ cup at a time, making sure the rice has absorbed the broth before adding more, reserving ¼ cup of broth for the vegetables. 4. Combine ¼ cup of the broth with the reserved vegetables. Once all broth has been added to the risotto and absorbed, add the vegetable mixture and continue to cook over low heat for 2 minutes. Rice should have a very creamy consistency. Remove from heat and stir in parsley, Parmesan, and salt to taste. Stir well to combine.

If a tight, powerful midsection is what you’re looking for, strict hanging leg raises will get the job done.

He 4:12 For the 1aword of God is bliving and operative and sharper than any two-edged csword, and piercing even to the dividing of 2dsoul and espirit and of joints and marrow, and able to discern the 3thoughts and intentions of the heart.

I turned my eyes away from the young warrior, he pounced on me, exactly as I’d known he would. A second knife was in his hand and he swiped it up toward me. I dodged aside, kicked out his knee, and smashed his face into the wooden table before locking his elbow at the joint until he released the blade. “Are you satisfied now?” the chief asked the young man. “Your behavior was rash and stupid. A superior warrior handled you as if you were a baby. You will apologize, and then you will leave my sight until I summon you for whatever punishment I deem necessary.” Chief Blacktail looked up at me. “You may release my son.” Well, that was a shock, but I did as I was asked and moved away just enough to ensure that any further ideas of retribution would require him to step toward me. I really hoped he wasn’t that foolish. Was I that stupid when I was young? Probably.

different from 3.5. However, it is different from larger values, such as 4.0 (t = 2.89, df = 9, p = .019). Another example of this is provided in the Box 12.2. Finally, note that the one-sample t-test is identical to the paired-samples t-test for testing whether the mean D = 0. Indeed, the one-sample t-test for D = 0 produces the same results (t = 2.43, df = 9, p = .038). In Greater Depth … Box 12.2 Use of the T-Test in Performance Management: An Example Performance benchmarking is an increasingly popular tool in performance management. Public and nonprofit officials compare the performance of their agencies with performance benchmarks and draw lessons from the comparison. Let us say that a city government requires its fire and medical response unit to maintain an average response time of 360 seconds (6 minutes) to emergency requests. The city manager has suspected that the growth in population and demands for the services have slowed down the responses recently. He draws a sample of 10 response times in the most recent month: 230, 450, 378, 430, 270, 470, 390, 300, 470, and 530 seconds, for a sample mean of 392 seconds. He performs a one-sample t-test to compare the mean of this sample with the performance benchmark of 360 seconds. The null hypothesis of this test is that the sample mean is equal to 360 seconds, and the alternate hypothesis is that they are different. The result (t = 1.030, df = 9, p = .330) shows a failure to reject the null hypothesis at the 5 percent level, which means that we don’t have sufficient evidence to say that the average response time is different from the benchmark 360 seconds. We cannot say that current performance of 392 seconds is significantly different from the 360-second benchmark. Perhaps more data (samples) are needed to reach such a conclusion, or perhaps too much variability exists for such a conclusion to be reached. NONPARAMETRIC ALTERNATIVES TO T-TESTS The tests described in the preceding sections have nonparametric alternatives. The chief advantage of these tests is that they do not require continuous variables to be normally distributed. The chief disadvantage is that they are less likely to reject the null hypothesis. A further, minor disadvantage is that these tests do not provide descriptive information about variable means; separate analysis is required for that. Nonparametric alternatives to the independent-samples test are the Mann-Whitney and Wilcoxon tests. The Mann-Whitney and Wilcoxon tests are equivalent and are thus discussed jointly. Both are simplifications of the more general Kruskal-Wallis’ H test, discussed in Chapter 11.19 The Mann-Whitney and Wilcoxon tests assign ranks to the testing variable in the exact manner shown in Table 12.4. The sum of the ranks of each group is computed, shown in the table. Then a test is performed to determine the statistical significance of the difference between the sums, 22.5 and 32.5. Although the Mann-Whitney U and Wilcoxon W test statistics are calculated differently, they both have the same level of statistical significance: p = .295. Technically, this is not a test of different means but of different distributions; the lack of significance implies that groups 1 and 2 can be regarded as coming from the same population.20 Table 12.4 Rankings of