Auto Ins Quotes

They’re off, and the big excitement this match is the Firebolt that Harry Potter is flying for Gryffindor. According to Which Broomstick, the Firebolt’s going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year’s World Championship —” “Jordan, would you mind telling us what’s going on in the match?” interrupted Professor McGonagall’s voice. “Right you are, Professor — just giving a bit of background information — the Firebolt, incidentally, has a built-in auto-brake and —” “Jordan!” “Okay, okay, Gryffindor in possession, Katie Bell of Gryffindor heading for goal …

The idea that hunting is one against one is ludicrous. It's one animal versus the hunter, the manufacturer of the rifle, the bullet maker, the designer and manufacturer of the telescopic sight, the auto manufacturer who made the car the hunter got to the edge of the wild in, the maker of his waterproof shoes, the various manufacturers of his mittens, glasses, overcoat--and that's only the beginning of the list. The "sportsman" who shoots an animal should then make a speech, like the actor who wins an Oscar does, thanking the multitudes behind the scenes who made this "victory" possible.

Gold winked at his wrist as he pressed his choice for two coffees on the AutoChef built into the side panel. "Cream?" "Black." "A woman after my own heart." Moments later, he opened the protective door and offered her a china cup in a delicate saucer. "We have more of a selection on the plane," he said, then settled back with his coffee. "I bet." The steam rising from her cup smelled like heaven. Eve took a tentative sip -- and nearly moaned. It was real. No simulation made from vegetable concentrate so usual since the depletion of the rain forests in the late twentieth. This was the real thing, ground from rich Columbian beans, singing with caffeine. She sipped again, and could have wept. "Problem?" He enjoyed her reaction immensely, the flutter of the lashes, the faint flush, the darkening of the eyes -- a similar response, he noted, to a woman purring under a man's hands. "Do you know how long it's been since I had real coffee?" He smiled. "No." "Neither do I." Unashamed, she closed her eyes as she lifted the cup again. "You'll have to excuse me, this is a private moment. We'll talk on the plane.

I want to know which is worse, to be ravished a hundred times by negro pirates, to have a buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an auto-da-fé, to be dissected, to row in the galleys—in short, to go through all the miseries we have undergone, or to stay here and have nothing to do?

Looking through the camera of life, you are waiting for the perfect shot... trying to adjust its settings... trying to get your desired things in focus and other things out of focus. Take a step back... a step inward. Instead of looking through the camera, look at the camera. There is Auto mode called “awareness” which always takes good pictures.

Peabody, why don't I have any damn coffee?" "I don't know, sir, but I will rectify that immediately." Peabody popped up, was actually humming under her breath as she programmed the AutoChef. And there was a bright look in her eyes when she carried the coffee to Eve. "Eat any good pizza lately?" Eve muttered, and the light in Peabody's eyes turned instantly to embarrassed guilt. "Maybe. Just a slice ... or two." Eve leaned in. "Ate the whole damn pie, didn't you?" "It was really good pizza. I sort of, you know, missed the taste of it." "No more humming on duty." Peabody squared her shoulders. "No, sir. All humming will cease immediately." "And no sparkly-eye crap either," Eve added and yanked open the door to look for Louise. "You can look pretty sparkly-eyed after really good pizza, too," Peabody muttered, then decided not to press her luck when Eve snarled.

She went to the AutoChef, programmed a vitamin smoothie. And was shocked when that’s exactly what she got.

Mein erster Gedanke, als ich eine Woche später das Auto auf dem Parkplatz eines unscheinbaren Eventhauses abstelle, ist Arwa. Einfach Arwa, nicht etwas Bestimmtes an ihr, sondern ihr Name, der wie ein Blatt von den Bäumen runtersegelt und vor meinen Füßen zum Liegen kommt. Es knirscht, als ich den Gedanken an ihr zertrete und den Ort betrete, an dem die Hennafeier stattfindet.

Maar een trein vergeef je veel. Want de trein is een wonder waarover met grotere gebaren kan worden verteld dan over enig ander voertuig. De naam Stephenson galmde door alle klaslokalen, en misschien galmt hij zelfs in het klasje waar ik achteraan in de klas zat en van mijn stotterende buurman luizen kreeg nog altijd na. Wij hebben heldenverhalen gehoord over de eerste trein en niet over de eerste auto, wij weten dat België het dichtste spoorwegennet ter wereld heeft, dat de eerste Europese passagierslijn tussen Brussel en Mechelen liep en dat de koeien zodanig flipten op het voorbij denderen van die eerste trein dwars door hun ooit zo rustige wei dat de hele bevolking wel drie weken lang zure melk moest drinken waarop een vel lag van zo'n zeven duimen dik. Overdrijf ik? Een beetje, maar toch niet veel. Meester Buyle hief zijn armen ten hemel, zijn hoofd zwol op tot de foto van koning Boudewijn in de schaduw van zijn kaken stond wanneer hij oreerde over een tijd waarin België nog iets betekende op wereldvlak, over vooruitgang, over stationsgebouwen die werden opgetrokken als gotische kathedralen, en dat al die welvaart te maken had met de komst van de trein en de schitterende organisatie van onze spoorwegen. Ik ben er zeker van dat meester Buyle niet de enige leraar was die zich ooit op deze wijze voor het bord heeft aangesteld.

I'd like to know which is worse: to be raped a hundred times by Negro pirates, to have one buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet in the Bulgar army, to be whipped and hanged in an auto-da-fé, to be dissected, to be a galley slave—in short, to suffer all the miseries we've all gone through—or to stay here doing nothing.” “That's a hard question,” said Candide. These remarks gave rise to new reflections. Martin concluded that man was born to live in either the convulsions of distress or the lethargy of boredom. Candide did not agree, but

Minutes after Eve stepped into her office to coordinate her next move, Peabody rushed in. “I’ve got the initial sweeper’s report on the room the Lombards vacated—nothing,” Peabody said hurriedly. “Canvassing cops found the bar—one block east, two south of the hotel. Door was unlocked. Zana’s purse was inside on the floor. I have a team heading there now.” “You’ve been busy,” Eve said. “How did you manage to fit in sex?” “Sex? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I bet you want coffee.” She darted to the AutoChef, then whirled back. “How do you know I had sex? Do you have sex radar?” “Your shirt’s not buttoned right, and you’ve got a fresh hickey on your neck.” “Damn it.” Peabody slapped a hand to the side of her neck. “How bad is it? Why don’t you have a mirror in here?” “Because, let’s see, could it be because it’s an office?

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MT: The arrival of Christ disturbs the sacrificial order, the cycle of little false periods of temporary peace following sacrifices? RG: The story of the “demons of Gerasa” in the synoptic Gospels, and notably in Mark, shows this well. To free himself from the crowd that surrounds him, Christ gets on a boat, crosses Lake Tiberias, and comes to shore in non-Jewish territory, in the land of the Gerasenes. It's the only time the Gospels venture among a people who don't read the Bible or acknowledge Mosaic law. As Jesus is getting off the boat, a possessed man blocks his way, like the Sphinx blocking Oedipus. “The man lived in the tombs and no one could secure him anymore, even with a chain. All night and all day, among the tombs and in the mountains, he would howl and gash himself with stones.” Christ asks him his name, and he replies: “My name is Legion, for there are many of us.” The man then asks, or rather the demons who speak through him ask Christ not to send them out of the area—a telling detail—and to let them enter a herd of swine that happen to be passing by. And the swine hurl themselves off the edge of the cliff into the lake. It's not the victim who throws himself off the cliff, it's the crowd. The expulsion of the violent crowd is substituted for the expulsion of the single victim. The possessed man is healed and wants to follow Christ, but Christ tells him to stay put. And the Gerasenes come en masse to beg Jesus to leave immediately. They're pagans who function thanks to their expelled victims, and Christ is subverting their system, spreading confusion that recalls the unrest in today's world. They're basically telling him: “We'd rather continue with our exorcists, because you, you're obviously a true revolutionary. Instead of reorganizing the demoniac, rearranging it a bit, like a psychoanalyst, you do away with it entirely. If you stayed, you would deprive us of the sacrificial crutches that make it possible for us to get around.” That's when Jesus says to the man he's just liberated from his demons: “You're going to explain it to them.” It's actually quite a bit like the conversion of Paul. Who's to say that historical Christianity isn't a system that, for a long time, has tempered the message and made it possible to wait for two thousand years? Of course this text is dated because of its primitive demonological framework, but it contains the capital idea that, in the sacrificial universe that is the norm for mankind, Christ always comes too early. More precisely, Christ must come when it's time, and not before. In Cana he says: “My hour has not come yet.” This theme is linked to the sacrificial crisis: Christ intervenes at the moment the sacrificial system is complete. This possessed man who keeps gashing himself with stones, as Jean Starobinski has revealed, is a victim of “auto-lapidation.” It's the crowd's role to throw stones. So, it's the demons of the crowd that are in him. That's why he's called Legion—in a way he's the embodiment of the crowd. It's the crowd that comes out of him and goes and throws itself off of the cliff. We're witnessing the birth of an individual capable of escaping the fatal destiny of collective violence. MT

Jenna is acting strange. Weeping, moping, even remarks tending toward belittlement Melmoth might tolerate (although he cannot think why; she is not his wife and even in human females PMS is a plague of the past) but when he caught her lying about Raquel—udderly wonderful, indeed—he knew the problem was serious. After sex, Melmoth powers her down. He retrieves her capsule from underground storage, a little abashed to be riding up with the oblong vessel in a lobby elevator where anyone might see. Locked vertical for easy transport, the capsule on its castors and titanium carriage stands higher than Melmoth is tall. He cannot help feeling that its translucent pink upper half and tapered conical roundness make it look like an erect penis. Arriving at penthouse level, he wheels it into his apartment. Once inside his private quarters, he positions it beside the hoverbed and enters a six-character alphanumeric open-sesame to spring the lid. On an interior panel, Melmoth touches a sensor for AutoRenew. Gold wands deploy from opposite ends and set up a zero-gravity field that levitates Jenna from the topsheet. As if by magic—to Melmoth it is magic—the inert form of his personal android companion floats four feet laterally and gentles to rest in a polymer cradle contoured to her default figure. Jenna is only a SmartBot. She does not breathe, blood does not run in her arteries and veins. She has no arteries or veins, nor a heart, nor anything in the way of organic tissue. She can be replaced in a day—she can be replaced right now. If Melmoth touches “Upgrade,” the capsule lid will seal and lock, all VirtuLinks to Jenna will break, and a courier from GlobalDigital will collect the unit from a cargo bay of Melmoth’s high-rise after delivering a new model to Melmoth himself. It distresses him, how easy replacement would be, as if Jenna were no more abiding than an oldentime car he might decide one morning to trade-in. Seeing her in the capsule is bad enough; the poor thing looks as if she is lying in her coffin. Melmoth does not select “Power Down” on his cerebral menu any more often than he must. Only to update her software does Melmoth resort to pulling Jenna’s plug. Updating, too, disturbs him. In authorizing it, he cannot pretend she is human. [pp. 90-91]

Another woman catches sight of Fischerle's hump on the ground and runs screaming into the street: 'Murder! Murder!' She takes the hump for a corpse. Further details - she knows none. The murderer is very thin, a poor sap, how he came to do it, you shouldn't have thought it of him. Shot may be, someone suggests. Of course, everyone heard the shot. Three streets off, the shot had been heard. Not a bit of it, that was a motor tyre. No, it was a shot! The crowd won't be done out of its shot. A threatening attitude is assumed towards the doubters. Don't let him go. An accessory. Trying to confuse the trail! Out of the building comes more news. The woman's statements are revised. The thin man has been murdered. And the corpse on the floor? It's alive. It's the murderer, he had hidden himself. He was tring to creep away between the corpse's legs when he was caught. The more recent information is more detailed. The little man is a dwarf. What do you expect, a cripple! The blow was actually struck by another. A redheaded man. Ah, those redheads. The dwarf put him up to it. Lynch him! The woman gave the alarm. Cheers for the woman! She screamed and screamed. A Woman! Doesn't know what fear is. The murderer had threatened her. The redhead. It's always the Reds. He tore her collar off. No shooting. Of course not. What did he say? Someone must have invented the shot. The dwarf. Where is he? Inside. Rush the doors! No one else can get in. It's full up. What a murder! The woman had a plateful. Thrashed her every day. Half dead, she was. What did she marry a dwarf for? I wouldn't marry a dwarf. And you with a big man to yourself. All she could find. Too few men, that's what it is. The war! Young people to-day...Quite young he was too. Not eighteen. And a dwarf already. Clever! He was born that way. I know that. I've seen him. Went in there. Couldn't stand it. Too much blood. That's why he's so thin. An hour ago he was a great, fat man. Loss of blood, horrible! I tell you corpses swell. That's drowned ones. What do you know about corpses? Took all the jewellery off the corpse he did. Did it for the jewellery. Just outside the jewellery department it was. A pearl necklace. A baroness. He was her footman. No, the baron. Ten thousand pounds. Twenty thousand! A peer of the realm! Handsome too. Why did she send him? Should he have let his wife? It's for her to let him. Ah, men. She's alive though. He's the corpse. Fancy dying like that! A peer of the realm too Serve him right. The unemployed are starving. What's he want with a pearl necklace. String 'em up I say! Mean it too. The whole lot of them. And the Theresianum too. Burn it! Make a nice blaze.

Auto-Zoomar. Talbert knelt in the a tergo posture, his palms touching the wing-like shoulder blades of the young woman. A conceptual flight. At ten-second intervals the Polaroid projected a photograph on to the screen beside the bed. He watched the auto-zoom close in on the union of their thighs and hips. Details of the face and body of the film actress appeared on the screen, mimetized elements of the planetarium they had visited that morning. Soon the parallax would close, establishing the equivalent geometry of the sexual act with the junctions of this wall and ceiling. ‘Not in the Literal Sense.’Conscious of Catherine Austin’s nervous hips as she stood beside him, Dr Nathan studied the photograph of the young woman. ‘Karen Novotny,’ he read off the caption. ‘Dr Austin, may I assure you that the prognosis is hardly favourable for Miss Novotny. As far as Talbert is concerned the young woman is a mere modulus in his union with the film actress.’ With kindly eyes he looked up at Catherine Austin. ‘Surely it’s self-evident - Talbert’s intention is to have intercourse with Miss Taylor, though needless to say not in the literal sense of that term.’ Action Sequence. Hiding among the traffic in the near-side lane, Koester followed the white Pontiac along the highway. When they turned into the studio entrance he left his car among the pines and climbed through the perimeter fence. In the shooting stage Talbert was staring through a series of colour transparencies. Karen Novotny waited passively beside him, her hands held like limp birds. As they grappled he could feel the exploding musculature of Talbert’s shoulders. A flurry of heavy blows beat him to the floor. Vomiting through his bloodied lips, he saw Talbert run after the young woman as she darted towards the car. The Sex Kit.‘In a sense,’ Dr Nathan explained to Koester, ‘one may regard this as a kit, which Talbert has devised, entitled “Karen Novotny” - it might even be feasible to market it commercially. It contains the following items: (1) Pad of pubic hair, (2) a latex face mask, (3) six detachable mouths, (4) a set of smiles, (5) a pair of breasts, left nipple marked by a small ulcer, (6) a set of non-chafe orifices, (7) photo cut-outs of a number of narrative situations - the girl doing this and that, (8) a list of dialogue samples, of inane chatter, (9) a set of noise levels, (10) descriptive techniques for a variety of sex acts, (11) a torn anal detrusor muscle, (12) a glossary of idioms and catch phrases, (13) an analysis of odour traces (from various vents), mostly purines, etc., (14) a chart of body temperatures (axillary, buccal, rectal), (15) slides of vaginal smears, chiefly Ortho-Gynol jelly, (16) a set of blood pressures, systolic 120, diastolic 70 rising to 200/150 at onset of orgasm . . . ’ Deferring to Koester, Dr Nathan put down the typescript. ‘There are one or two other bits and pieces, but together the inventory is an adequate picture of a woman, who could easily be reconstituted from it. In fact, such a list may well be more stimulating than the real thing. Now that sex is becoming more and more a conceptual act, an intellectualization divorced from affect and physiology alike, one has to bear in mind the positive merits of the sexual perversions. Talbert’s library of cheap photo-pornography is in fact a vital literature, a kindling of the few taste buds left in the jaded palates of our so-called sexuality.

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There was little the mainstream auto industry could do to slow Tesla down. But that didn’t stop executives from trying to be difficult whenever possible. Tesla, for example, wanted to call its third-generation car the Model E, so that its lineup of vehicles would be the Model S, E, and X—another playful Musk gag. But Ford’s then CEO, Alan Mulally, blocked Tesla from using Model E, with the threat of a lawsuit. “So I call up Mulally and I was like, ‘Alan, are you just fucking with us or are you really going to do a Model E?’” Musk said. “And I’m not sure which is worse. You know? Like it would actually make more sense if they’re just fucking with us because if they actually come out with a Model E at this point, and we’ve got the Model S and the X and Ford comes out with the Model E, it’s going to look ridiculous. So even though Ford did the Model T a hundred years ago, nobody thinks of ‘Model’ as being a Ford thing anymore. So it would just feel like they stole it. Like why did you go steal Tesla’s E? Like you’re some sort of fascist army marching across the alphabet, some sort of Sesame Street robber. And he was like, ‘No, no, we’re definitely going to use it.’ And I was like, ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea because people are going to be confused because it’s not going to make sense. People aren’t used to Ford having Model something these days. It’s usually called like the Ford Fusion.’ And he was like, no, his guys really want to use that. That’s terrible.” After that, Tesla registered the trademark for Model Y as another joke. “In fact, Ford called us up deadpan and said, ‘We see you’ve registered Model Y. Is that what you’re going to use instead of the Model E?’” Musk said. “I’m like, ‘No, it’s a joke. S-E-X-Y. What does that spell?’ But trademark law is a dry profession it turns out.

the autonomous-driving side of things, Alphabet (formerly Google), which has logged several million self-driving-car test miles, continues to lead the pack. At the end of 2016, it created a new business division, called Waymo, for its autonomous driving technology. In May 2017, Waymo and Lyft announced that they would work together on developing the technology, and later in the year, Alphabet invested $1 billion in the start-up. Others, like Cruise Automation (which GM acquired for $1 billion) and Comma.ai, which offers open-source autonomous driving technology in the same vein as Google’s Android mobile operating system, are chasing hard. Baidu, China’s leading Internet search company, has an autonomous-driving research center in Sunnyvale. Byton—backed by China’s Tencent, Foxconn, and the China Harmony New Energy auto retailer group—has an office in Mountain View, as does Didi Chuxing, the Chinese ride-sharing company in which Apple invested $1 billion. Many of these companies have taken not just inspiration but also talent from Tesla. Part of the value of an innovation cluster like Silicon Valley lies in the dispersal of intellectual labor from one node to the next. For instance, PayPal is well known in the Valley for producing a number of high performers who left the company to start, join, or invest in others. The so-called PayPal Mafia includes Reid Hoffman, who founded LinkedIn; Max Levchin, whose most recent of several start-ups is the financial services company Affirm; Peter Thiel, a Facebook board member and President Trump–supporting venture capitalist who cofounded “big data” company Palantir; Jeremy Stoppelman, who started reviews site Yelp; Keith Rabois, who was chief operating officer at Square and then joined Khosla Ventures; David Sacks, who sold Yammer to Microsoft for $1.2 billion and later became CEO at Zenefits; Jawed Karim, who cofounded YouTube; and one Elon Musk.

they could come in, change the business model, create connected electric cars, change the sales process, and change the way cars were manufactured. “That’s also bollocks,” Palmer concluded, steadily holding my gaze. “Complete bollocks.” “Why?” I asked. “Well, you can’t ignore a hundred and twenty-five years of history. The auto industry didn’t not learn anything.” When you put together a car, most of it is mechanical, and most of it is done by people who have spent a career working out how to do a suspension system, or a door lock, or a steering wheel, Palmer said. “And you can’t ignore that. So you’ve got to buy it. And you either buy it through a consultancy, or you buy it through recruitment, or you buy it through collaboration.” This spelled trouble for the newcomers. “The majority of those start-ups will fail because they’ll be too slow to recognize that they can’t just trash the auto industry, that there’s something relevant that they need.” So why was Jia Yueting different?

his peers have expressed considerably more skepticism. “There is nothing Tesla [can] do that we cannot also do,” Fiat Chrysler CEO Sergio Marchionne said in June 2016. Two years earlier, he had asked customers not to buy the Fiat 500e electric car, because the company lost $14,000 on the sale of each one. Fiat would sell the minimum number of electric cars needed to meet government mandates and “not one more,” he said. In April 2016, Marchionne continued that theme in an interview on the sidelines of his company’s annual meeting, this time responding to the price of the Model 3. If Musk could show him that the car would be profitable at the $35,000 price tag, Marchionne said, “I will copy the formula, add the Italian design flair, and get it to the market within twelve months.” The German automakers have been even more dismissive. In November 2015, Edzard Reuter, the former CEO of Daimler, called Tesla a “joke” and Musk a “pretender,” suggesting in an interview with a German newspaper that Tesla didn’t stand up to serious comparison with “the great car companies of Germany.” Daimler, BMW, and Volkswagen were slow to accept that Tesla could one day challenge their market dominance. “German carmakers have been in denial that electric vehicles can create an emotional appeal to customers,” Arndt Ellinghorst, an automotive analyst at Evercore ISI, told the Los Angeles Times in April 2016. “Many still believe that Tesla is a sideshow catering to a niche product to some tree-hugging Californians and eccentric US hedge fund managers.” GM wasn’t quite so blasé. In 2013, then CEO Dan Akerson established a team within the company to study Tesla, based on the belief that it could be a big disrupter. GM’s Chevrolet Volt, a hybrid sedan that could drive about forty miles in full electric mode, had won Motor Trend’s 2011 Car of the Year, but GM was looking further into the future. At the 2015 Detroit auto show, it unveiled a concept of the Chevy Bolt, a two-hundred-mile electric car that would retail for $30,000 (after a $7,500 rebate from the US government). It was seen as a direct response to Tesla and new CEO Mary Barra’s biggest risk since she took over in 2014. Wired magazine celebrated the Bolt’s impending arrival with a February 2016 cover story about how GM had beaten Tesla “in the race to build a true electric car for the masses

Buck was no fan of Hispanics, but he couldn't bear listening to Blister berate the driver. When Buck was a boy, he'd overheard his father speak to a Puerto Rican auto mechanic the same way, and he remembered feeling uneasy and possibly ashamed. True, he and his brothers had grown up to be racist dickheads like their old man, but they weren't in-your-face racist dickheads.

Here in Alpha City, we have a common saying: “What we call ‘sky’ is merely a figment of our narrative.” The most dreamy-eyed among us seem to adorn themselves and their aspirations in that proverb and you’ll see it everywhere: in advertisements on the sides of streetcars and auto-rickshaws, spelled out in studs and rhinestones on designer jackets, emblazoned in the intricate designs of facial tattoos—even painted on city walls by putrid vandals and inspiring street artists. There is something glorious about kneading out into the doughy firmament the depth and breadth of one’s own universe, in rendering the contours of a sky whose limits are predicated only upon the bounds of one’s own imagination. The fact of the matter is that we cannot see the natural sky at all here. It is something like a theoretical mathematical expression: like the square-root of ‘negative one’—certainly it could be said to have a purpose for existing, but to cast eyes upon it, in its natural quantity, would be something akin to casting one’s eyes upon the raw elements comprising our everyday sustenance. How many of us have even borne close witness to the minute chemical compounds that react to lend battery power to our portable electronics? The sky is indeed such a concealed fixture now. It is fair to say that we have purged our memories of its true face and so we can only approximate a canvas and project our desires upon it to our heart’s dearest fancy. The most cynical among us would ostensibly declare it an unavoidable tragedy, but perhaps even these hardened individuals could not remember the naked sky well enough to know if what they were missing was something worthwhile. Perhaps, it’s cynical of me to say so! In any case, we have our searchlights pointed upwards and crisscrossing that expanse of heavens as though to make some sensational and profane joke of ourselves to the surrounding universe. We beam already video images of beauty pageants and dancing contests with smiling mannequins who look like buffoons. And so, the face of space cloaks itself behind our light pollution—in this respect, our mirrored sidewalks and lustrous streets do little to help our cause—and that face remains hidden from us in its jeering ridicule, its mocking laughter at this inexorable farce of human existence.

Hi.” Sarah says and lifts her hand to wiggle her fingers. She’s grinning, the goofy grin of a woman on some serious painkillers. “Aww, you came to see me.” I can’t move yet. I’m paralyzed with overwhelming relief and love and fear. “They said you were shot.” “Well, I was grazed, really,” Sarah says with a giggle. “It’s just a flesh wound.” “Whatever, Monty Python." I’m left with the woman of my dreams. And she’s whole and healthy and she’s going to be okay. “Hi there, handsome,” she says with that goofy smile. “Hi.” I sit on the bed at her hip and drag my fingers down her flawless cheek. “You just took about ten years off my life.” “It’s only a flesh wound,” she says again in that horrible British accent, making me smile at her. “God, baby,” I inhale deeply and bury my face in her neck, breathing her in. “God, if it had been two inches to the right—” “I know,” she assures me and plunges her fingers in my hair, holding on tight. “I know. But it wasn’t. And I’m okay.” She shifts on the bed and hisses in pain. “But it burns like a mother ducker.” I pull back and grin. “Ducker?” “Auto correct of the mouth. I have to have it turned on because I have a five-year-old.” She smirks. “You’re hot.” “You’re drunk.” “Really good drugs for this flesh wound.” “Your British accent is horrible.” “There’s no need to insult me,” she says with a frown. “I’ve been shot for godsake. You’re supposed to baby me and pamper me and bend to my will.” “I’ve been bending to your will since day one.” “As if.” She rolls her eyes, then closes them and moans softly. “Do you need more medicine?” “Nah.” She smiles, but her eyes are still closed. “I’m just sleepy.” “Sweetheart, I need you to stay awake for a minute, okay?” “Okay.” But she doesn’t open her eyes. I lean in and kiss her forehead, her cheek, her lips. “Wake up, baby.” “Okay,” she repeats and forces her eyes open. “There you are.” “Here I am.” I swallow and look at her perfect lips, then into her amazing eyes. Why have I been such a stubborn ass? Why couldn’t I admit before how much I love her? God, I almost lost her. “I love you, Sarah.” “Wow. These drugs are good. I just dreamed that you said you love me.” I grin again and kiss her cheek. “I did. I love you so much. For those few moments that I thought I might lose you…it was agony, Sarah. I didn’t want another minute to go by without telling you that I love you because I realize how short life can be, and we shouldn’t waste it.” “This is a very serious conversation for someone on hard narcotics,” she says, but she cups my face in her hands and looks deeply into my eyes. “But I love you too, handsome. I love you so much that it hurts, and let me tell you, that’s a lot.” “It sounds like a lot,” I reply and lean my forehead on hers. “Don’t ever scare me like this again.” “Scared me too,” she admits softly. “I just found you.” “You’re stuck with me, baby.” “Good. I love you, too. Both of you.” “Both of us?” “There are two of you right now.” She giggles softly. “And I think I’m going to pass out.” “Go ahead. I have you, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.

The Quiet Revolution Detroit, 1979. U.S. auto companies were being threatened by foreign competition, and the Motor City became a symbol of American industrial decline. Chrysler would be subjected to its first (but not last) government bailout; the Ford Motor Co. was about to lose $1 billion for that fiscal year, and at least as much again in 1980; and GM’s profits were expected to plunge by a breathtaking $2.5 billion. Meanwhile, Japanese automakers were gaining market share; Toyota would soon surpass GM as the world’s largest car company. (A similar scenario played out in other industries too, especially consumer electronics and the copier industry.) Then, as now, the convenient scapegoat was the rank-and-file employees—in Detroit’s case, the unionized workers whose relatively high wages and ostensibly poor work ethic were initially blamed for the automakers’ problems. Only as Japanese wage rates reached parity with those in the United States and Japanese automakers began hiring American workers for their U.S. plants did some Detroit auto executives begin rethinking the narrative of blue-collar failure.

There was little the mainstream auto industry could do to slow Tesla down. But that didn't stop executives from trying to be difficult whenever possible. Tesla, for example, wanted to call its third-generation car the Model E, so that its lineup of vehicles would be the Model S, E and X - another playful Musk gag. But Ford's then CEO, Alan Mulally, blocked Tesla from using Model E, with the threat of a lawsuit. "So I call up Mulally and I was like, 'Alan, are you just fucking with us or are you really going to do a Model E?'" Musk said. "And I'm not sure which is worse. You know? Like it would actually make more sense if they're just fucking with us because if they actually come out with a Model E at this point, and we've got the Model S and the X and Ford comes out with a Model E, it's going to look ridiculous. So even though Ford did the Model T a hundred years ago, nobody thinks of 'Model' as being a Ford thing anymore. So it would just feel like they stole it. Like why did you going stealing Tesla's E? Like you're some sort of fascist army marching across the alphabet, some sort of Sesame Street robber. And he was like, 'No, no, we're definitely going to use it.' And I was like, 'Oh, I don't think that's such a good idea because people are going to be confused because it's not gong to make sense. People aren't used to Ford having Model something these days. It's usually called like the Ford Fusion.' And he was like, no, his guys really want to use that. That's terrible." After that, Tesla registered the trademark for Model Y as another joke. "In fact, Ford called us up deadpan and said, 'We see you've registered Model Y. Is that what you're gong to use instead of the Model E?'" Musk said. "I'm like, 'No, it's a joke. S-E-X-Y. What does that spell?' But trademark law is a dry profession it turns out.

Being (in the sense of "God is Being, from whom all creation takes its being") is an auto-kenetic crystalline active power unfolding within itself unceasingly. The key concept is that of intrinsic cyclic motion, power to act. Existence is a verb, an action, a doing. "Action springs forth" (from "to be") as the "Word leapt.

NRS proposed using technology in the online version of Scotland's 2022 census that would predict and auto-populate a response option for people who started typing in text for the write-in box for questions on sexual orientation, religion, nationality and ethnicity.

A quick way to check to see if the company has taken on too much debt is to compare its net income to its total debt. If it would take twenty years to repay this debt (a situation many airline companies and auto manufacturers are often in), it would not be a good sign. However, if the company could pay it off in less than five years, then the debt level would probably not be a concern.

One might argue that technical deficiency is the sole condition which would allow genuine choice to exist. It is only in a world where crude tools are not good enough to accomplish tasks without the aid of a skilled human labourer that a free subject can shoulder the burden of making real choices rather than just submit to a fate already decided in advance by an autonomous technical apparatus. Only if a minimal gap holds between an imperfect tool and a completed task (in which a skilled labourer must intervene) can the subject exist, since the subject’s realm of existence is in this space between. A machine running fully on auto-pilot destroys subjectivity by collapsing this space between tool and task into nothingness. Being qua Being transforms according to a new standard which bears no room for a thinking subject to achieve real existence.

Cadillac it was, then. A chassis was ordered and all the protective paraphernalia. Coachcraft, the auto bodybuilder over on Melrose Avenue in West Hollywood, were engaged to make it bulletproof. One of the Coachcraft partners, Burt Chalmers, set up a private area to keep the engineering work under wraps. ‘It was the goddamnedest thing you’d ever seen,’ reported Cohen. ‘The bottom of the car was flat – bombproof. It felt like a tank. The glass was made so you could shoot out, but killers could be standing by the windscreen blasting you and nothing would come in.’ Coachcraft ran endless tests on the car’s protective shield, including having it fired on by California Highway Patrol high-powered rifles. They didn’t penetrate. The Cadillac went on to be ‘test driven’ by everything but a bazooka and survived intact. Cohen spent the equivalent of $250,000 on his personal tank.

Schon war der gestreifte, heruntergelassene Schlagbaum zu erkennen, der pilzförmige Unterstand daneben und weiter rechts Stacheldraht, weiße Isolatorenzapfen, vergitterte Wachtürme mit Scheinwerfern. Der Lastwagen hielt an. Alle betrachteten den Grenzer, der mit gekreuzten Beinen, den Karabiner umgehängt, im Unterstand döste. Zwischen seinen Lippen stak eine erloschene Zigarette, und der Boden war mit Zigarettenkippen übersät. Neben dem Schlagbaum ragte ein Pfahl empor mit aufgenagelten Warnschildern: "ACHTUNG! WALD!" " AUSWEISE AUFGESCHLAGEN VORWEISEN!" "KEINE SEUCHEN EINSCHLEPPEN!". Der Fahrer hupte diskret. Der Grenzer öffnete die Augen und starrte trübsinnig vor sich hin. Dann kam er aus dem Unterstand hervor und ging um das Auto herum. "Ein bißchen viele seid ihr", sagte er heiser. "Holt ihr euer Geld ab?" "Genau das", sagte der ehemalige Vorsitzende diensteifrig. "Das lobe ich mir. Recht so", sagte der Grenzer. Er kam um den Lastwagen herum, stellte sich auf das Trittbrett und blickte auf die Ladefläche. "Mensch, seid ihr viel", sagte er vorwurfsvoll. "Und die Hände? Habt ihr die sauber?" "Jawoll!", sagten die Mitarbeiter im Chor. Einige zeigten ihre Handflächen. "Sind sie alle sauber?" "Jawoll!" "Gut", sagte der Grenzer und beugte sich mit seinem ganzen Oberkörper ins Fahrerhaus. Von dort ertönte es: "Wer ist der Dienstälteste? Sie? Wieviele fährst du denn? Aha... Lügst du nicht? Wie ist dein Zuname? Kim? Passen Sie auf, Kim, ich schreibe mir deinen Familiennamen auf... Respekt, Woldemar! Du fährst immer noch?... Und ich bewache noch immer die Grenze. Zeig mal die Bestätigung... Na-na, jetzt mach keinen Krach, komm, her damit... In Ordnung... sonst hätte ich dich... Wie kommst du dazu, auf die Bestätigung Telefonnummern zu schreiben? Wart mal... Was für eine Charlotte ist das? Ah ja, ich erinnere mich. Warte, das muß ich mir aufschreiben. Gut, danke. Fahrt los. Ihr könnt fahren." Er sprang vom Trittbrett, und seine Stiefel wirbelten eine Staubwolke auf. Er ging zum Schlagbaum und ließ sich auf das Gegengewicht fallen. Der Schlagbaum hob sich langsam, die auf ihm aufgehängten Unterhosen fielen in den Staub. Der Lastwagen fuhr an.

Philipp Töller 31. März um 17:32 · 29.03.2016 23:36:39: PHI: Die bewiesene Glückseligkeit. Du willst Freude spüren? Lies. Ein Professor sagte zu einem Sheikh: "Wir haben herausgefunden, dass es eine Art von Menschen gibt, die von jeglicher Art von Sucht geschützt werden - ob es eine gewöhnliche Sucht ist oder eine Verhaltenssucht. Keine Sucht der Begierden, keine Spielsucht, Einkaufssucht oder Esssucht. Wer sind diese Menschen, O Sheikh? Was denkst du, wer sind diese Menschen? Laut unseren Studien haben wir herausgefunden, dass diese Menschen einen großen Anteil an Dopamin (Glückshormonen) haben, welche natürlichweise im Gehirn freigesetzt werden und den Anteil der Sucht, die im Gehirn freigesetzt werden übertreffen." Der Sheikh fragte: "Das Dopamin ist natürlicherweise vorteilhaft, richtig?" Der Professor antwortete: "Ja, du lebst mit Freude und Vergnügen. Wer sind diese Menschen? Allah hat die Menschen in einer bestimmten Physiologie erschaffen. Es sind die Menschen, die sich dem Helfen anderer Menschen gewidmet haben." Der Sheikh sagte: "Die am meisten geliebten Menschen bei Allah sind jene, die anderen am nützlichsten sind." Der Professor spricht weiter: "Diese Menschen so wie Sheikh Abdurrahman as Sumaiti, der - drei Jahrzehnte (!) - in Afrika verbrachte und 11 Millionen Menschen zum Islam brachte. Abdurrahman as Sumaiti war ein Arzt und er schob sein Auto mit seiner Frau voran, da sie in einem holprigen Land (Afrika) waren. Seine Frau fragte ihn: "O Abdurrahman, werden wir auch so glücklich in Jannah sein, so wie wir es hier sind?", während sie das Auto voran geschoben haben! Ja, schaue auf diese Frau und vergleiche sie mit einer Frau in der arabischen Welt. Vielleicht wäre sie (die Frau in der arab. Welt) gar deprimiert, wenn ihre Freundin eine LV Tasche kauft und sie es nicht kaufen kann." Der Sheikh sagt: "Ich habe viele Beispiele solcher Geschichten." Der Professor fährt fort: "Mein Punkt ist.. wenn wir eine Sucht behandeln möchten, dann müssen wir uns durch die Schwierigkeiten durchbrechen. Und wie? Allah sagt: "Doch er bezwang das Hindernis nicht. Und was lehrt dich wissen, was das Hindernis ist? (Es sind:) das Befreien eines Sklaven (Gefangenen); oder an einem Tage während der Hungersnot das Speisen, einer nahverwandten Waise oder eines Armen, der sich im Staube wälzt." [90:11-16]" Der Professor sagt weiter: "Durch die Schwierigkeit durchbrechen ist hier (in dem Fall), dass wir uns selbst vergessen und an die anderen Menschen denken (ihnen helfen). Dann wirst du Glückseligkeit, Frieden und Zufriedenheit verspüren. Wahre Glückseligkeit, die nie enden wird." Gefällt mirWeitere Reaktionen anzeigenKommentierenTeilen 5Daffeh Amo, Siham Idrissi und 3 weitere Personen Kommentare Hannah Porat Hannah Porat The joy of being of service in the Higher Truth. Gefällt mir nicht mehr · Antworten · 1 · 17 Std. Philipp Töller Schreibe einen Kommentar ...

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Moments later, Sona Kilroy, heading for the open doorway, stepped over the sergeant’s body. With an old auto-rifle in his left hand and his favorite sword in the other, and the sharp melodic din of bolts and bullets ringing in his ears, ‘the Hammer’ grinned an evil grin to himself, well pleased. He wished he could’ve seen the look on the face of Indomitable’s captain when he realized the tables had just been turned on him! The thought amused him. It was bloody hilarious. He cackled, reveling in this complete reversal of fortune. Then he stalked onward with conviction, a grim smile on his lips – intent on taking the ship for himself. * * *

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I think I might be the very first person who initiated the AutoQuotery (as in, AutoBiography) practice!

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Mujica, un marziano a Genova “Non si fa politica per soldi” L’ex presidente dell’Uruguay in Liguria sulle tracce degli antenati “I migranti che arrivano in Europa le fanno un favore: la svecchiano” Patrizia Albanese | 827 parole Scorte e lampeggianti? Ma quando mai. Arrivano quasi alla chetichella, in una giornata uggiosa. Non fosse per l’auto dell’ambasciata, che dal porto di Genova ieri mattina li ha discretamente portati fin quassù in Val Fontanabuona, sembrerebbero due turisti normali. Perdipiù con poco bagaglio. Già perché a José Alberto Mujica Cordano e a sua moglie Lucia Topolansky - sposata nel 2005 - non serve poi molto. Sebbene lui, figlio di emigranti liguri, fino al primo marzo fosse l’amatissimo presidente dell’Uruguay, del quale è tutt’ora senatore, al pari della moglie. Che non porta manco un gioiello, neppure la fede dopo le nozze. Pure quelle anomale. In stile col personaggio. Racconta, Lucia, sua compagna da quarant’anni: «Non mi ha fatto una dichiarazione, ha fatto un annuncio. In televisione, un giorno, ha comunicato che si sarebbe sposato. Io stavo ascoltando in cucina e l’ho saputo così…». Pausa. «Era sicuro che gli avrei detto sì». Sempre al suo fianco. Carcere compreso. Esperienza, che «Pepe» ricorda tranquillo perché gli «ha insegnato tanto» spiega puntandoti addosso gli occhi nerissimi e scintillanti. Sempre con un diktat: «Essere al servizio degli altri, questo è il significato della politica». Servizio alla società In Italia, veramente, mica tanto… Tra indagati e corrotti, la politica non appassiona. «Ah, no? È molto triste. E in cosa crede la gente?- domanda stupefatto - Se non si crede nel futuro non c’è niente. L’uomo è un animale politico. Diceva Aristotele, che non può vivere da solo, ma nella società. Tu come faresti senza penna e taccuino? Ci vuole qualcuno che li faccia. E che faccia vestiti, auto... Dipendiamo tutti dalla società. La politica è occuparsi della società e dei diritti». Lei da presidente ogni mese dei suoi 8.900 euro, ne devolveva 8.100 agli uruguaiani. Qui non va proprio così. Sospira: «La gente che ama troppo i soldi non deve entrare in politica. Che è servizio. È questa la felicità: servire la gente che ha bisogno. La bara non ha tasche per portarsi via i soldi». Lei e Lucia non avete mai abitato il palazzo presidenziale. «È un museo» scandisce mulinando il braccio verso il soffitto in legno dell’Osteria Fonte Bona, tre camere in tutto - e servizi al piano - dove l’ex presidente ha prenotato quindici giorni fa: online. E tanto per capire che in questa vallata è planato un marziano – anzi due – basti dire che il proprietario, Giovanni Bottino, dopo aver preparato il pranzo «a base di affettati, ravioli col tocco e vino “tinto”», ha lasciato amabilmente riposare «Pepe e Lucia». L’ex presidente è sbarcato «in cerca delle radici», della casa dei nonni materni, dopo una sosta a Muxyka, nei Paesi Baschi, terra paterna. Un viaggio-regalo, che dopo la Val Fontanabuona e Genova, porterà la coppia a Roma, dal Papa. I due mondi «Vedrò Francesco il 28. È il secondo incontro, con quest’uomo che si è spogliato di tutto». Credente? «No – replica divertito sotto i baffi alla Marquez – Ateo. Per il Cristianesimo la vita è una valle di lacrime. Non sono d’accordo: è bellissima. E il Paradiso è qua, è questa vita. Però, la religione aiuta a morire bene. Voglio parlare al Papa di molte cose. Principalmente della difficoltà d’integrazione tra tutti i Paesi dell’America Latina». Europa e Italia sono alle prese con i migranti e la strage dei barconi. «L’Europa diventerà caffelatte. Una miscela di razze – commenta placido – La soluzione non è combattere, ma andare in Africa ad aiutarli. L’Europa avrebbe dovuto farlo da tempo. Quanta ricchezza s’è presa dalle colonie? Poi li ha mollati… Non è giusto». Abbattere Saddam e Gheddafi? «Un errore enorme. La democraz

Rather than trust her reflexes, she programmed for auto. And hoped the jokers down in Maintenance hadn’t played any pranks with the mechanism. Still, she was too tired to care if she ended up in Hoboken.

Op deze dingen hadden we geen greep. We konden denken dat onze wereld alles omvatte, we konden druk bezig zijn met onze eigen dingen hier beneden aan de oever, rondrijden met onze auto's, elkaar opbellen en met elkaar praten, bij elkaar op bezoek gaan, eten en drinken, binnenzitten en ons laten overspoelen door opvattingen en meningen en de lotgevallen van hen die op het tv-scherm verschijnen, in die wonderlijke halfkunstmatige symbiose waarin we leefden, en ons steeds dieper, jaar in jaar uit dieper in slaap laten sussen met het idee dat dat alles was, maar als we dan onze blik naar boven richtten en dit zagen, was de enige mogelijke gedachte die van ongrijpbaarheid en onmacht, want hoe klein en beperkt was dat waarin we ons in slaap lieten sussen eigenlijk niet? O, zeker, de drama's die we zagen waren groots, de beelden die we in ons opnamen subliem en soms zelf apocalyptisch, alleen, kom nou toch, slaven, welk aandeel hadden we daar eigenlijk in? Geen. Maar de sterren blinken boven ons, de zon schijnt, het gras groeit en de aarde, ja, de aarde, die slokt alle leven op en wist alle sporen, spuwt nieuw leven uit in een cascade aan ledematen en ogen, bladeren en nagels, strootjes en staarten, wangen en bont, schors en ingewanden om het vervolgens weer op te slokken. En wat we nooit helemaal begrijpen of niet willen begrijpen, is dat dit buiten ons om gebeurt, dat we daar zelf geen deel aan hebben, dat wij slechts datgene zijn wat groeit en sterft, blind als de golven in de zee.

a hundred times by negro pirates, to have a buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an auto-da-fé, to be dissected, to row in the galleys—in short, to go through all the miseries we have undergone, or to stay here and have nothing to do?" "It is a great question," said Candide. This discourse gave rise to new reflections, and Martin especially concluded that man was born to live either in a state of distracting inquietude or of lethargic disgust.

I want to know which is worse, to be ravished a hundred times by negro pirates, to have a buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an auto-da-fé, to be dissected, to row in the galleys—in short, to go through all the miseries we have undergone, or to stay here and have nothing to do?" "It is a great question," said Candide. This discourse gave rise to new reflections, and Martin especially concluded that man was born to live either in a state of distracting inquietude or of lethargic disgust.

senses. Rather than trust her reflexes, she programmed for auto. And

Among the most prominent under-the-tree drinkers were a pair of characters named Red and Clarence. They were two of the biggest drinking carousers around, but when the spirit hit them, they could get very religious. Once Red had decided he had received the “gift of tongues,” a common practice in our Pentecostal church. He went to church a few times and would, on impulse, stand up and go into seemingly meaningless strings of syllables, to which the believers would respond with “Bless him, Lord.” The story is that one day Red and Clarence were downtown in a truck belonging to one of them, and Red looked out the window and was reading a sign, somewhat haltingly. “E-CON-O-MY-AU-TO-SUP-PLY, Economy Auto Supply,” Red sputtered, to which Clarence, assuming his friend had gone into “tongues,” quickly came back with, “Bless him, Lord.” That story circulated through the ranks of the church membership and was the source of great laughter for a time around the Parton household. It became something of a running joke that would crop up whenever anybody said anything that could be mistaken for “tongues.” Sunday morning, getting ready for church, a brother would say, “Come tie my bow tie,” and some smart-aleck sibling would shout, “Bless him, Lord,” and the rest of us would join in, all pretending to be caught up in the spirit.

Er is een ruim tweepersoonsbed dat mijn hele herinnering beslaat. Buiten, in de diepte, is het stil, op het geluid van een enkele passerende auto na. Een auto, zo laat nog, een veeg in de nacht. Ik lig op mijn linkerzij, met mijn hand omklem ik de metalen rand. Ik druk mijn wang tegen het koele metaal. Wie op zijn linkerzij slaapt belast zijn hart, zegt mijn moeder. Vanuit mijn positie aan de rand van het bed kijk ik recht de zwarte hemel in. De nacht is veraf en dichtbij. Het matras deint op en neer als een vlot op de oceaan. Ik ben achttien, ik heb niets tegen de nacht. Maar déze, terwijl ik er nog middenin ben, zou ik nu al uit mijn leven willen schrappen.

By the first day of January, 19.., I will have in my possession $50, 000, which will come to me in various amounts from time to time during the interim. “In return for this money I will give the most efficient service of which I am capable, rendering the fullest possible quantity, and the best possible quality of service in the capacity of salesman of . . . . . . . . . . . (describe the service or merchandise you intend to sell). “I believe that I will have this money in my possession. My faith is so strong that I can now see this money before my eyes. I can touch it with my hands. It is now awaiting transfer to me at the time, and in the proportion that I deliver the service I intend to render in return for it. I am awaiting a plan by which to accumulate this money, and I will follow that plan, when it is received.” Second. Repeat this program night and morning until you can see, (in your imagination) the money you intend to accumulate. Third. Place a written copy of your statement where you can see it night and morning, and read it just before retiring, and upon arising until it has been memorized. Remember, as you carry out these instructions, that you are applying the principle of auto-suggestion, for the purpose of giving orders to your subconscious mind. Remember, also, that your subconscious mind will act ONLY upon instructions which are emotionalized, and handed over to it with “feeling.” FAITH is the strongest, and most productive of the emotions. Follow the instructions given in the chapter on FAITH.

Or better yet, identify yourself as a person who works for the Property Manager. This powerful, stuck-in-the-middle position allows you a boatload of flexibility to dodge all kinds of bullets. These two words give you an easy out to avoid making rash “shoot from the hip” decisions that may be emotionally charged or you may regret later.

Sometimes we’d go into the local saloons and challenge the house. When that didn’t work, we’d challenge each other. Those saloons were friendly places, as long as we stayed away from guys who were on a bender and those involved in poker games. The men, while drinking, sang, and Johnny and I joined in whenever we could. I still remember the words from a song we were all fond of singing—in our flat, off-key voices. Judging from the words, I’d say it was composed before its time. “If I was a millionaire and had a lot of coin, I would plant a row of coke plantations, and grow Heroyn, I would have Camel cigarettes growin’ on my trees, I’d build a castle of morphine and live there at my ease. I would have forty thousand hop layouts, each one inlaid with pearls. I’d invite each old time fighter to bring along his girl. And everyone who had a habit, I’d have them leaping like a rabbit, Down at the fighters’ jubilee! Down at the fighters’ jubilee! Down on the Isle of H. M. and C. H. stands for heroyn, M. stands for morph, C. for cokoloro—to blow your head off. Autos and airships and big sirloin steaks, Each old time fighter would own his own lake. We’ll build castles in the air, And all feel like millionaires, Down at the fighters’ jubilee!” We had laughs singing that song in unison. In later years, however, just thinking about it filled me with a tremendous sadness, since the tragedy of hard drugs eventually destroyed my younger brother Johnny.

Mark and toss a treat for: ● auto check-ins: Whenever your dog looks back at you ● staying near you ● waiting instead of running off ● staying on the path ● keeping a loose leash ●     showing various calming signals, such as sniffing the ground, shaking off stress, yawning, blinking, lip licking etc.

Hospital leaves us more malnourished than before we enter the corridors. Not many nutrients enter our systems while we are in-patients.

Un ospite che fa self check-in a un chiosco non è solo il consumatore del servizio, ma ne è anche l’erogante. Se, e quando l’auto check-in diventerà la regola in hotel, la responsabilità del servizio si trasferirà in toto dall’operatore al front office all’ospite stesso (e, per proprietà transitiva, alla tecnologia utilizzata).

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Here's how to go paperless and all digital: Gmail Google Voice and texts ACR – cell phone app – All Call Recording Interactive website with fill-in-the-blank forms

Yeah I'm one broken mofo. I still care for myself tho. Keep it tidy. Still fit. No one does blip for me. I still eat and mingle with nature. Still recovering. Depression is a bear. It doesn't help that my ever best friend spits bullets. I asked one innocent thing. I begged to drop g's no strings attached. I knew we'd hit it off, maybe for life. I ached for it. Your gift, my trampoline. A hug. Some fun. Some delightful brain food. A happy that would last ages. It's a catch-22 scenario. I begin in the negative to someday find happiness, but I need happiness to get me out of the negative. What am I supposed to do? Take drugs? I teemed for 24 hours anticipating you. That was quite a drug. You call it a conversation? Nah, we be flingin. It's something; a dash of hope. You guesser, judge, jury, executioner. Thinkin I'm some monster by default. Guesser of what I meant. Guessed wrong. It's a choice. You could help pull out the knife or stick it in deeper and twist it around. You do what you enjoy killa. For years I was the only one with a stable income. They told me I was too stupid for school. Instead, I worked to support my family. I worked near 24/7. Then wham, catastrophe. Eugenics at play. Without a support system or tools to defend, you're tossed. I had a lawsuit but I failed to act in time. From zero and stranded in the sticks, I failed lots, threw away lots, I managed to make some money with my skills. Eventually I helped get a house in a decent neighborhood. They let a drug addicted hooker in. I fought the drug fiends. I paid the mortgage debt, several months behind, to save the place, but in the end, I couldn't win. They insisted on moving here. I was the only one with money. I came with to battle the new crisis and to recoup my losses until I figured out what to do next. Couldn't just abandon the kids. Over time the situation improved. Drugs were defeated. I didn't intend to stay. This place got to me. I am ashamed and battered by it all. No, I don't mess with drugs. I found the landscape of my field where most of the jobs are at has changed extensively over the years. I wasn't concentrated on that area. I'm obsolete. Without a degree, you're auto discarded. Still ways in, but I need to be on my A-game. Not going anywhere without exuding confidence. I'm all twisted up inside. Loneliness eating at me. Cold cruel world. My best friend dodgin me. All work, all alone, as it's always been. Can't do it all alone. In the end, what do I get? A hostile mob? Walked in for a chat. What I got was wacked.

Joseph A. Schumpeter, the Harvard economist who in 1943 published the iconic Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy. The seventh chapter of that work, entitled “The Process of Creative Destruction,” is for many academics a sacred text. “The process of creative destruction,” Schumpeter writes, “is the essential fact about capitalism. It is what capitalism consists in and what every capitalist concern has got to live in.” Creative destruction is an elegantly simple idea describing the industrial mutation of old structures into new ones. The department store evolves from and “creatively destructs” the country store; the auto industry evolves from and replaces the horse and buggy business, automation makes many factory and farm jobs obsolete but creates new jobs in information technology, engineering, healthcare, and biotech.

Je zou de huurprijzen kunnen limiteren. We zijn het enige land in Europa waar de immobiliënprijzen stijgen. De huurprijs zou maar zo hoog mogen zijn als wat dat huis op een spaarboekje opbrengt. Mensen die in een appartement van 100.000 euro leven, betalen dan maar 170 euro huur per maand. Zo schiet er meer geld over om te consumeren en begint de bal te rollen. Voor je het weet zal de economische groei terug toenemen. Het is zo klaar als pompwater, maar toch voert de regering liever enorme belastingen in. Ze bedelven de mensen onder een massa onzekerheden: de mensen weten niet meer tot hoe lang ze moeten werken, welk pensioen ze zullen trekken, wat ze voor een huis zullen moeten betalen. Allemaal om die 16 miljard bijeen te krijgen. En voor wat is dat geld nodig, denk je? Ah, om aan de banken te geven, mijnheer! Dezelfde banken die aan de basis liggen van onze crisis door hun ziekelijke hebzucht. Het klinkt paradoxaal, maar hoe scherper de crisis, hoe meer de banken profiteren. Ik heb de cijfers opgezocht. Tijdens de petroleumcrisis in de jaren ’80 verhoogden de banken hun winsten hebben met tien procent! Vandaag zegt de man in de straat: ‘Een nieuwe salon kopen? Neen hoor, ’t zijn slechte tijden. Ik wacht wel tot het beter gaat.’ Terwijl eigenlijk de omgekeerde beweging moet ingezet worden. In plaats van te jammeren, geef uw geld uit! Koop die frigo en die auto nu! Mocht iedereen leven zoals Van Rossem zou er geen crisis zijn, want ik geef meer uit dan ik heb.

in the hands of a few; any meaningful distinction between private and public sectors had disappeared; captains of commerce lived in a ceaseless anxiety that drove them to expand their empires ruthlessly; ordinary citizens lived in ceaseless fear of being fired and ceaseless confusion about which powerful private interest owned which formerly public institution on any given day; and the economy was fueled largely by the elite’s insatiable demand for luxury. (In Vilnius, by November of that dismal autumn, five criminal oligarchs were responsible for employing thousands of carpenters, bricklayers, craftsmen, cooks, prostitutes, barkeeps, auto mechanics, and bodyguards.) The main difference between America and Lithuania, as far as Chip could see, was that in America the wealthy few subdued the unwealthy many by means of mind-numbing and soul-killing entertainments and gadgetry and pharmaceuticals, whereas in Lithuania the powerful few subdued the unpowerful many by threatening violence.

that God can use you to model true faith and advance his kingdom. After losing that client, you gather your colleagues and announce the bad news while confirming your commitment to integrity and fair play. Your four-year-old sees that you do not curse your burned cupcakes. That’s a win right there. When you go pick up your car from the auto pound, you treat the agent with dignity and respect. That probably doesn’t happen too often. Remember. All good things and only good things come from God. That’s true even if our meager human minds don’t understand it. This conversation wouldn’t be complete unless we opened our Bibles to Romans 8:28: “In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” If I read that right, God uses good things for good. He uses mild discomfort for good. And he uses tragedy for good. That sounds like an unbelievable promise and incredibly good news.

The myth of the lone hacker perpetuates the fantasy that the asymmetrical relation of individual to network can be creatively played to the former's advantage. In actuality there is an imposed and inescapable uniformity to our compulsory labor of self-management. The illusion of choice and autonomy is one of the foundations of this global system of auto-regulation. In many places one still encounters the assertion that contemporary technological arrangements are essentially a neutral set of tools that can be used in many different ways, including in the service of an emancipatory politics. The philosopher Giorgio Agamben asn refuted such claims, countering that 'today there is not even a single instant in which the life of the individuals is not modeled, contaminated, or controlled by some apparatus.' He contends convincingly that 'it is impossible for the subject of an apparatus to use it 'in the right way.

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By this time (in mid-2012) the country had been without a functioning government for more than twenty years, and the city was a byword for chaos, lawlessness, corruption, and violence. But this wasn’t the Mogadishu we saw. Far from it: on the surface, the city was a picture of prosperity. Many shops and houses were freshly painted, and signs on many street corners advertised auto parts, courses in business and English, banks, money changers and remittance services, cellphones, processed food, powdered milk, cigarettes, drinks, clothes, and shoes. The Bakara market in the center of town had a monetary exchange, where the Somali shilling—a currency that has survived without a state or a central bank for more than twenty years—floated freely on market rates that were set and updated twice daily. There were restaurants, hotels, and a gelato shop, and many intersections had busy produce markets. The coffee shops were crowded with men watching soccer on satellite television and good-naturedly arguing about scores and penalties. Traffic flowed freely, with occasional blue-uniformed, unarmed Somali National Police officers (male and female) controlling intersections. Besides motorcycles, scooters, and cars, there were horse-drawn carts sharing the roads with trucks loaded above the gunwales with bananas, charcoal, or firewood. Offshore, fishing boats and coastal freighters moved about the harbor, and near the docks several flocks of goats and sheep were awaiting export to cities around the Red Sea and farther afield. Power lines festooned telegraph poles along the roads, many with complex nests of telephone wires connecting them to surrounding buildings. Most Somalis on the street seemed to prefer cellphones, though, and many traders kept up a constant chatter on their mobiles. Mogadishu was a fully functioning city.

In 2018, there were 867 cars for every thousand people in the United States, 520 in the European Union. Compare that to the 339 in Russia, the 208 in Brazil, the 160 in China—and just 37 in India. In other words, the world’s auto population will grow substantially as incomes rise and the number of people increases from today’s 7.8 billion to 9.5 or 10 billion. In “Rivalry,” IHS Markit’s planning scenario, the world’s auto fleet grows from its current level of just over 1.4 billion to over 2 billion by 2050. Of that 2 billion, about 610 million are electric vehicles—almost a third of the total. The fleet simply does not turn over quickly. Annual new-car sales represent only about 6–7 percent of the total fleet. Most of the fleet is composed of vehicles that have been purchased over the preceding dozen years—in the United States, cars on average remain on the road for 11.8 years. But EVs catch up. By 2050, in this scenario, some 51 percent of total new car sales are EVs.

The Combat Perspex The historical past of the Perspex Sheet is entrancing. The story backtracks to 1843 when the primary acrylic harsh corrosive was made. Nonetheless, it wasn't until 1933 that the German physicist Otto Rohm patented and enlisted the model identify plexiglas. That is important on the grounds that what is usually considered Plexiglas has gotten to be such a household unit word, as an illustration Kleenex, that it might have been missed that Plexiglas was previously a patented name. From that time acrylic glass was utilized for submarine periscopes and firearm turrets for planes. Since that point acrylic glass has became a household merchandise. There's a extensive blended bag of employments for Perspex Sheets. A mix of home windows perspex sheet is produced out of them materials incorporating flying machine windows, police home windows, and race auto home windows. Utilizing Perspex sheets inside race autos will assist make them lighter - and speedier than utilizing glass. Advertising and store signs are incessantly produced out of colored and clear acrylic and really material materials are created out of acrylic sheets, as the thermoplastic may very well be folded. Furthermore, Perspex Sheet are utilized as specialists mediums and additionally use for surrounding. Perspex sheets can likewise be made into furnishings. Perspex Sheets have such a wide mixture of employments. Another one of many uses of Perspex is on sun beds and different places where UV rays are required. Perspex is also availed in UV grade which is mainly a type of Perspex that enables transmission of UV rays. It's mostly used in locations where UV rays are required to penetrate.In case you have an thought of how Perspex appears like, you might need a really arduous time trying to image someone sporting a garment constituted of it. That is where the coloured Perspex comes into play. It is not solely used to make clothes but in addition shoes and baggage. There are actually two sorts of plastics.Thermoset that's a plastic which is structured right into a perpetual form,plus thermoplastic that is versatile and may very well be reshaped. Poly methyl methacrylate is a thermoplastic that is clear. PMMA is blandly reputed to be a glass acrylic. Several brand names are Plexiglas, Lucite and Perspex. PMMA is as a better price elective to polycarbonate (LAPTOP). An alternate profit which P.M.M.A possess over PC is the unfortunate deficiency of conceivably hurtful bisphenol A sub-units current in polycarbonate.

Apple introduces CarPlay for iPhone use in vehicles The CarPlay technology will be available in vehicles as early as this year. Photo: Bloomberg By Tom Lavell | 209 words Frankfurt: Apple Inc. on Monday said their new CarPlay technology will enable drivers use iPhone with voice commands or steering-wheel buttons, and will be available in vehicles as early as this year. Fiat SpA's Ferrari supercar division, Daimler AG's Mercedes-Benz luxury unit and Volvo Car Corp. will show customers the CarPlay system this week, with other auto producers introducing it later, Cupertino, California-based Apple said in a statement. CarPlay will be available as an update to the iOS 7 mobile software on iPhones, and works with the Siri voice-recognition feature. In-vehicle technology is the top selling point for 39% of car buyers, more than twice the 14% who cited traditional performance measures such as power and speed as their first consideration, consulting company Accenture Plc said in a study published in December. The US senate commerce committee chairman Jay Rockefeller, a West Virginia Democrat, vowed in February to pursue rules for in-vehicle use of mobile phones and Internet-linked entertainment systems unless carmakers and suppliers do more to limit disruptions to drivers' focus. "CarPlay lets drivers use their iPhone in the car with minimized distraction," Greg Joswiak, Apple's marketing vice president for the mobile device, said in Monday's statement, released in advance of the technology's debut at the Geneva International Motor Show this week. Bloomberg

was little, his uncle would always buy him frog stuff every Christmas—because “every boy should have some sort of collection.” He whimsically told me this after I had insisted we only talk about schoolwork. The rule had made him playfully go on and on about his frog collection—since he was dissecting a frog in his biology class—a subject I wasn’t even tutoring him in: Biology. When I had given him a wary look about it, he had said playfully, “What? It’s schoolwork talk—frogs. I’m just trying to let you get to know me, while staying on school-talk.” Then he went on to talk about his first kiss, since his auto class was teaching about heat-combustion. He smiles at my frog humidifier now, seeming rather delighted. “You had acted like you weren’t listening.” True, I’d acted like that. But his cute little stories had been adorable—and his first

So, too, did Motown begin its exit from the city that gave it its name, a mission accomplished in 1972 when its headquarters officially moved from Detroit to Los Angeles. As with the auto industry, Motown left many workers behind, including the Funk Brothers. Most of the Motown records of this period, including Stevie Wonder's classics Music of My Mind, Talking Book, and Innervisions, featured freelance studio musicians recording at outsourced facilities in New York or LA (in addition to Wonder's multi-instrumental talents). The exception

Benefits of Outsourcing to Architectural Rendering Companies The demand for high-quality visuals has never been greater. Whether it’s showcasing a futuristic skyscraper or visualizing a cozy residential home, architectural renderings have become an essential tool for architects, developers, and interior designers. Let’s explore the key benefits of outsourcing architectural rendering services, and how it can enhance efficiency, creativity, and business growth. 1. Access to Expertise and Advanced Tools Professional architectural rendering companies employ experienced designers, architects, and visual artists who specialize in creating high-quality renderings. They bring a level of expertise that may not always be available in-house, ensuring that every project benefits from top-tier skills and creativity. Additionally, these companies use the latest software and technology for architectural 3D modeling and rendering, including tools like AutoCAD, SketchUp, and V-Ray. Outsourcing gives businesses access to these cutting-edge resources without the need for expensive investments in software or training. 2. Cost Efficiency Building an in-house rendering team can be costly. It requires hiring skilled professionals, purchasing software licenses, and maintaining powerful hardware for rendering tasks. By outsourcing to architectural rendering services, businesses can save significantly on overhead costs. Instead of managing full-time staff, companies pay only for the services they need, whether it’s a single project or ongoing support. This flexibility allows firms to allocate resources more effectively while still delivering high-quality visuals to clients. 3. Faster Turnaround Times Time is often a critical factor in architectural and real estate projects. Meeting tight deadlines can be challenging when handling rendering tasks internally. Architectural rendering companies are equipped to manage large workloads efficiently, ensuring timely delivery of projects without compromising on quality. Their streamlined workflows and dedicated teams allow businesses to focus on core activities like design and client engagement, while the rendering experts handle the technical aspects. 4. Enhanced Creativity and Innovation Collaborating with specialized 3D architectural visualization services brings fresh perspectives to your projects. These companies often work with diverse clients across various industries, which helps them stay updated on the latest trends and techniques. Outsourcing allows firms to benefit from this creative expertise, resulting in visually stunning and innovative renderings that captivate clients and stakeholders. Whether it’s experimenting with unique lighting effects or creating immersive virtual reality experiences, the possibilities are endless. 5. Scalability for Projects of All Sizes The flexibility of outsourcing makes it ideal for businesses that handle projects of varying scales. Whether you need renderings for a single-family home or a multi-story commercial complex, architectural rendering services can adapt to your requirements. Outsourcing also allows firms to scale their rendering capacity based on demand. For instance, during peak periods or large-scale projects, outsourcing ensures that deadlines are met without overburdening in-house teams. 6. Improved Client Communication Visual presentations play a crucial role in architectural projects. By outsourcing to architectural rendering companies, firms can deliver photorealistic visuals that help clients understand and engage with the design. Detailed renderings and architectural 3D modeling make it easier to explain concepts, showcase material choices, and demonstrate spatial layouts. This clarity fosters better communication, reduces misunderstandings, and builds trust with clients.

Warum ist denn das alles so ernst? Wenn sich so Erwachsenwerden anfühlt, dann will ich lieber auf dem Rücksitz des Autos meiner Eltern einschlafen und dann zuhause ins Bett getragen werden.