Room 101 Quotes

You asked me once,' said O'Brien, 'what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world.

So for Magic Problem-Solving 101, we headed to the training room and blew stuff up.

Room 101,’ he said.

Room 101" said the officer. The man's face, already very pale, turned a color Winston would not have believed possible. It was definitely, unmistakably, a shade of green. "Do anything to me!" he yelled. "You've been starving me for weeks. Finish it off and let me die. Shoot me. Hang me. Sentence me to twenty-five years. Is there somebody else you want me to give away? Just say who it is and I'll tell you anything you want. I don't care who it is or what you do to them. I've got a wife and three children. The biggest of them isn't six years old. You can take the whole lot of them and cut their throats in front of my eyes, and I'll stand by and watch it. But not room 101!" "Room 101" said the officer.

A little boy and his friends are being called bastards and bitches by bullies at school. The boy goes home and asks, "Dad, what are bastards and bitches?" And his dad replies, "Bitches are ladies and bastards are gentlemen." Then the boy goes upstairs to see his mom. As he enters the room, he accidentally drops a perfume bottle, and his mom says, "Shit!" "Mom, what is shit?" and she says, "Perfume." So he goes to see his dad (who is carving a chicken), and his dad cuts himself and yells, "Fuck!" The boy asks, "Dad, what does fuck mean?" and dad says "preparing." Then he follows his dad upstairs. A few minutes later his mom and dad are about to have sex when his dad says, "Where are the condoms?" The little boy asks, "What are condoms?" and his father says, "Condoms are coats and jackets." The following night his father invites over some important business clients. The boy opens the door for them and says, "Hello! Please come in, Bastards and bitches. Hang your condoms up here, my mom is upstairs rubbing shit on her face and my dad is downstairs fucking the chicken.

A small boy asks his Dad, "Daddy, what is politics?" Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the breadwinner of the family, so let's call me Capitalism. Your mom, she's the administrator of the money, so we'll call her the Government. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the People. The nanny, we'll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we'll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense." So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said. Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. The little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father having sex with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now." The father says, "Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about." The little boy replies, "Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in Deep Shit." ♦◊♦◊♦◊♦

(In Austria after VE Day) Sergeant Mercier...dressed in a full German officer's uniform, topped off with a monocle for his right eye. Someone got the bright idea to march him over to the company orderly room and turn him in at rifle point to Captain Speirs. Someone got word to Speirs before Mercier showed up. When troopers brought Mercier up to Speirs's desk, prodding him with bayonets, Speirs did not look up. One of the troopers snapped a salute and declared, "Sir, we have captured this German officer. What should we do with him?" "Take him out and shoot him," Speirs replied, not looking up. "Sir," Mercier called out, "sir, please, sir, it's me, Sergeant Mercier." "Mercier, get out of that silly uniform," Speirs ordered.

The furnished room received its latest guest with a first glow of pseudo-hospitality, a hectic, haggard, perfunctory welcome like the specious smile of a demirep.

There is room in the halls of pleasure For a long and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Saltwater Basics 101. Westlake Building. Prof. Junior.  Room 307.

Major Trapp was never there. Instead he remained in Jozefow because he allegedly could not bear the sight. We men were upset about that and said we couldn't bear the sight either." Indeed, Trapp's distress was a secret to no one. At the marketplace one policeman remembered hearing Trapp say, "Oh God, why did I have to be given these orders," as he put his hand on his heart. Another policeman witnessed him at the schoolhouse. "Today, I can still see exactly before my eyes Major Trapp there in the room pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. He said something like, 'Man, ... such jobs don't suit me. But orders are orders.' " Another man remembered vividly "how Trapp, finally alone in our room, sat on a stool and wept bitterly. The tears really flowed." Another also witnessed Trapp at his headquarters. "Major Trapp ran around excitedly and then suddenly stopped dead in front of me, stared and asked if I agreed with this. I looked him straight in the eye and said 'No, Herr Major!' He then began to run around again and wept like a child." The doctor's aide encountered Trapp weeping on the path from the marketplace to the forest and asked if he could help. "He answered me only to the effect that everything was very terrible." Concerning Jozefow, Trapp later confined to his driver, "If this Jewish business is ever avenged on earth, then have mercy on us Germans.

There are lots of girls out there, Joshy. You’ll probably date a bunch of them. Or maybe you’ll only date a few. But one day, you’ll find the one.” He’d given Josh an all-knowing smile and wiped his hands on a napkin. “It will probably knock you over when you least expect it. At least that’s what happened with me. Your mother walked into my Biology 101 lab in college and there was something about her that made me take notice. We were lab partners and I could hardly focus on what we needed to do. I asked her out before we left the room. We were engaged a year later, but I knew right away I’d marry her someday. And every day I spent with her only made me more certain. She’d look at me in this special way…and my heart would melt. I wanted to make all her dreams come true and you know what? I’ve spent my life trying. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love your mother and I never will.” And with that, his father had picked up another slice of pizza. “Someday you’ll find the one. And I can’t wait to meet her once you do.

Smart girl 101: Never let a stranger follow you to your hotel room.

Mutual masturbation can be a terrific precursor to intercourse, or it can be a main event all on its own. I’m a big proponent of mutual masturbation for couples looking to reestablish intimacy in their relationship. Masturbating each other or in front of each other can build anticipation, tease each other, and serve as foreplay. There’s so much room to explore.

When I first began teaching Religion 101, students would sometimes tell me they were scared to study other religions for fear of losing their own faith. It was an odd concern, on the face of it. Would studying Spanish make them lose their English? Would traveling to Turkey cost them their US passport? I had a stock response to their concern: engaging the faith of others is the best way to grow your own. Now, years down the road, I have greater respect for their unease. To discover that your faith is one among many - that there are hundreds of others that have sustained millions of people for thousands of years, and that some of them make a great deal of sense - that can rock your boat, especially if you thought yours was the only one on the sea. If your faith depends on being God's only child, then the discovery that there are others can lead you to decide that someone must be wrong - or that everybody belongs, which means that no religion, including yours, is the entire ocean. The next time I teach the course I will try to be more honest. 'Engaging the faith of others will almost certainly cause you to lose faith in the old box you kept God in,' I will say. 'The truths you glimpse in other religions are going to crowd up against some of your own. Holy envy may lead you to borrow some things, and you will need a place to put them. You may find spiritual guides outside your box whom you want to make room for, or some neighbors from other faith who have stopped by for a visit. However it happens, your old box will turn out to be too small for who you have become. You will need a bigger one with more windows in it - something more like a home than a box, perhaps - where you can open the door to all kinds of people without fearing their faith will cancel yours out if you let them in. If things go well, they may invite you to visit them in their homes as well, so that your children can make friends.

The furniture was chipped and bruised; the couch, distorted by bursting springs, seemed a horrible monster that had been slain during the stress of some grotesque convulsion. Some more potent upheaval had cloven a great slice from the marble mantel. Each plank in the floor owned its particular cant and shriek as from a separate and individual agony. It seemed incredible that all this malice and injury had been wrought upon the room by those who had called it for a time their home; and yet it may have been the cheated home instinct surviving blindly, the resentful rage at false household gods that had kindled their wrath. A hut that is our own we can sweep and adorn and cherish.

Bartender 101? Find the alpha. “Girl Scouts again? Fuck off.” The bald one looks back at the street, checking he has the right house. The young guy grins. The old one purses his lips. There he is. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m Darcy. Tom’s nude right now, but he’ll be right with you.” “I’m not nude,” Tom snaps in irritation, striding into the room.

The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the surrogate father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife and said, "I'm off. The man should be here soon" Half an hour later, just by chance a door-to-door baby photographer rang the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, madam. I've come to...." "Oh, no need to explain. I've been expecting you," Mrs. Smith cut in. "Really?" the photographer asked. "Well, good. I've made a specialty of babies" "That's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat" After a moment, she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch and perhaps a couple on the bed. Sometimes the living room floor is fun too; you can really spread out!" "Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work for Harry and me" "Well, madam, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But, if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven different angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results" "My, that's a lot of....." gasped Mrs. Smith. "Madam, in my line of work, a man must take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but you'd be disappointed with that, I'm sure"  "Don't I know it," Mrs. Smith said quietly. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus in downtown London" "Oh my God!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, tugging at her handkerchief. "And these twins turned out exceptionally well, when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with" "She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smith. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to Hyde Park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep, pushing to get a good look" "Four and five deep?" asked Mrs. Smith, eyes widened in amazement. "Yes," the photographer said, "And for more than three hours too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling. I could hardly concentrate. Then darkness approached and I began to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just packed it all in." Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "You mean squirrels actually chewed on your, um......equipment?" "That's right. Well, madam, if you're ready, I'll set up my tripod so we  can get to work." "Tripod?????" "Oh yes, I have to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big for me to hold for very long. Madam? Madam? ....... Good Lord, she's fainted!!

Before I walked into the door, the room got shades darker as a cloud did a summersault in front of the sun. I turned my head up to the sky and saw Gauss in the glass smirking down at me. In that moment I was reminded of a story about Gauss. 
 When he was in the fifth grade, his teacher wanted some quiet, so he asked his class to add up all the numbers from 1-100. Thinking he had plenty of time to relax, he was shocked that within minutes Gauss had an answer. Gauss had cleverly noticed that the numbers 1 and 100 added up to 101, and 2 and 99 also added up to 101 and on down until you hit 50 and 51. So there are 50 pairs of 101, and a simple multiplication problem by Gauss left his teacher perplexed.
 The recollection of this story reminded me about my own fifth grade experience. Thor was the volunteer at my school for the “Math Superstar” program. After each assignment, stars of various colors signifying degrees of excellence were stuck on all the papers handed in. Like the Olympics, gold was the highest honor. 
 Wendy, the girl who sat next to me, was baffled that no matter how many wrong answers I got (usually all of them), I consistently had gold stars on my papers. She thought Thor was showing a personal bias towards me, but the truth is that I knew where he kept his boxes of stars, so I simply awarded myself what I thought I deserved. Hey, Gauss, how’s that for clever?

So, about your classes,” said Doug. “I put in the requirements already. History of Woodsmen and Pirates, Safety Rules for the Internet, and”—he cleared his throat—“Remedial Goodness 101.” “Let me guess...” said Mal. She popped a piece of candy into her mouth. “New class?” Doug nodded sheepishly. “Come on, guys,” Mal said, dropping the wrapper on the floor. “Let’s go find our dorms.” She started up a flight of stairs. Carlos, Jay, and Evie followed her. “Oh! Uh, yeah, your dorms are that way, guys,” said Doug, pointing in the opposite direction. As Mal and her friends came back down the stairs and headed in the direction he indicated, Doug hung back, counting through the dwarves again. “Dopey, Doc, Bashful, Happy, Grumpy, Sleepy, and...” “Sneezy,” said Carlos, passing him and ascending the opposite staircase. Doug sighed and looked at the ceiling. Upstairs, Mal and Evie opened the door to their dorm room. It was light and airy and dappled in sunlight. The white canopy beds were covered with pink pillows, and flowery curtains fluttered gently in the fresh breeze from the open windows. Evie’s eyes widened with delight as Mal’s narrowed in horror. “Wow,” said Evie. “This place is so amazing—” “Gross,” said Mal. “I know, right?” said Evie, changing her tune. “Amazingly gross. Ew!” When Mal wasn’t looking, Evie couldn’t help giving a silent gasp of joy at her new crib. “I am going to need some serious sunscreen,” said Mal, arms crossed. “Yeah,” said Evie. “E,” said Mal, pointing to the windows. She closed the curtains as Evie moved to other windows in the room and did the same, plunging the dorm into darkness. “Whoa!” said Mal. “That is much better.

What's the matter with you?' was his wife's first remark...'Nothing'....Teresa sighed. He always turned up in the kitchen when he would be most in her way, and in all the years they had been married she had never given up trying to throw him out. The kitchen wasn't especially big and he took up a lot of room. However, the years had taught her that if he got out of uniform and showered before presenting himself, he was looking for a hug and a chance to sniff and taste whatever was cooking for supper. The black, silent form she saw looming out of the corner of her eye meant trouble...'Do get out of my way, Salva.' He shifted a few centimetres and stuck again. 'Why don't you go watch the news?' No answer. 'We're having spaghetti alla mollica'... 'Where are the boys?'... He stood drinking in the comforting sound of her voice and felt better. 'Now where are you going?' 'I thought I'd watch the news. What's for supper?'pg 100-101

What will it mean in practice for me to put God first? This much, at least. All the 101 things I have to do each day, and the 101 demands on me which I know I must try to meet, will all be approached as ventures of loving service to him, and I shall do the best I can in everything for his sake—which attitude, as George Herbert quaintly said, “makes drudgery divine; who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and th’ action fine.” And then I shall find that, through the secret work of the Spirit which is known by its effects, my very purpose of pleasing God gives me new energy for all these tasks and relationships, energy which otherwise I could not have had. “I could not love thee, dear, so much loved I not honor more,” said the poet. Put “God” for “honor,” and you have the deepest truth about the Christian’s love of his neighbor. Self-absorbed resentments dissolve, and zest for life, happiness in doing things, and love for others all grow great when God comes first. So

Orwellian Room 101

Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure For a long and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.

Investing (and deciding where to work): Value flows from choosing the right sector, team, and product, in that order. Sector: Embrace risk. Be contrarian, and look for disruptive, not incremental, improvements. Team: At our firm, and at our portfolio companies, it is all about the talent. “A” leaders hire A+ talent; “B” leaders hire C talent. Judge people by the team they build. If you are the smartest person in the room, and remain so for more than a few months, start to worry. Product: The tried-and-true way to judge a product’s value is by the customer’s second purchase. Many products are over-engineered, some are too incremental to displace legacy products, and others solve too narrow a problem. The best solutions offer value through simplicity and target the highest priority needs of buyers. In

Gen. Hermann Balck, an army group commander and veteran of both world wars, stated that “Generally the German higher commander rarely or never reproached their subordinate unless they made a terrible blunder. They were fostering individual initiative. They left him room for initiative, and did not reprimand him unless he did something very wrong.”[101] The army, however, did not concur with General Balck in 1980. For most of the Cold War, the US Army moved closer to centralized command than decentralized command due to the influence of Gen. William DePuy.

Many of those who refer to Orwell seem not to have read much more than Animal Farm and Nineteen-Eighty-Four, if those. The millions who have heard of Big Brother and Room 101 know nothing of their progenitor.

He felt suddenly like Winston Smith in Room 101 of the Ministry of Love.

Man, you should write a book.’ ‘I know. You couldn’t make this stuff up, could you?

She could picture herself now in the cool water with the sun on her face, totally alone and at peace with the stunning Greek scenery all around her. She hadn’t even been here for a full day yet, but she was desperate to feel that she was away from her usual surroundings and all her responsibilities and become a different - liberated - woman, even if it was only for a week.

100. Collecting Silverfish If you find a spawner and treasure room underground, be sure to punch all of the walls.  If one starts breaking faster than the others, it's a Monster Egg - use a silk touch pickaxe to harvest it.  You can use these to trick other players, since they will spawn a silverfish when destroyed.

Actually there are,” the President said, after a moment’s reflection. “The problem is that they never come here to work. You know who I learned that from? Cathy,” Jack told him. “She fucks up, somebody goes blind, but she can’t run away from making the call, can she? Imagine, you fuck up, and somebody loses his sight forever—or dies. The guys who work the emergency room are really on the ragged edge, like when Cathy and Sally went into Shock-Trauma. You blow the call, and somebody is gone forever. Big deal, George, bigger than trading equities like we used to do. Same thing with cops. Same thing with soldiers. You have to make the call, right now, or something really bad happens. But those kinds of people don’t come here to Washington, do they? And mainly that sort of guy goes to the place he—or she—has to be, where the real action is,” Ryan said, almost wistfully. “The really good ones go where they’re needed, and they always seem to know where that is.” “But the really good ones don’t like the bullshit. So they don’t come here?” Winston asked, getting his own course in Government 101, and finding Ryan a teacher of note. “Some do. Adler at State. Another guy over there I’ve discovered, name of Vasco. But those are the ones who buck the system. The system works against them. Those are the ones we have to identify and protect. Mostly little ones, but what they do isn’t little. They keep the system running, and mainly they go unnoticed because they don’t care much about being noticed. They care about getting it done, serving the people out there. You know what I’d really like to do?” Ryan asked, for the first time revealing something from the depths of his soul. He hadn’t even had the guts to say this to Arnie.

Depreciation gets special IRS attention, and requires Form 4562. To fill out this form (whether you’re doing it with DIY software or providing info to your accountant), you’ll need to know the basis of your rental property. The basis for depreciation is different than the overall basis because land does not get depreciated, and may change over time if you make improvements to the property. To get started you’ll need to know: • The original purchase price of the property • The list of closing costs (most closing costs get added to the basis) • Land value, which you can find on the most recent property tax assessment paperwork • Additions or improvements you made that will add value for more than one year (think replaced roof, not repainted rooms) • The date the property was “placed in service,” meaning made available for rent The

Not Room 101!

You know what is in Room 101, Winston. Everyone knows what is in Room 101.

Being rich is having money; being wealthy is having time. ~ Margaret Bonnano

was the Jesus way. He further explained that in John 14:6, the Bible says: Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. Jesus didn’t say “I am a way, a truth, and a life.” He claimed to be the way, the truth, and the life. Jesus left no room for other means of salvation. John 10:1 says: He that entereth not by the door into the sheepfold, but climbeth up some other way, the same is a thief and a robber.

A large family were going to have Thanksgiving dinner together. The two grandmas of the family were sick of people eating the pudding the night before, so they hatched a plan: They put BB-gun pellets in the pudding so they could see who ate it. The next morning, Little Johnny came down from his room and said, "Grannie, Grannie, there were BB-bun pellets in my pee pee last night." Then Little Sally came down and said, "Grandma, there were BB-gun pellets in my pee last night." Then Big Tom came down yelling, "Help! Help! I just shot my girlfriend in the mouth. She went down fine but came up with a hole going right through her tongue and out the side of her mouth!

A little boy and his friends are being called bastards and bitches by bullies at school. The boy goes home and asks, "Dad, what are bastards and bitches?" And his dad replies, "Bitches are ladies and bastards are gentlemen." Then the boy goes upstairs to see his mom. As he enters the room, he accidentally drops a perfume bottle, and his mom says, "Shit!" "Mom, what is shit?" and she says, "Perfume." So he goes to see

A little boy caught his mom and dad having sex. After, he asked, "What were you and daddy doing?" The mom said, "We were baking a cake." A few days later, the little boy asked his mom, "Were you and daddy baking a cake in the living room?" She said yes, and asked him how he knew. He answered, "Because I licked the frosting off the couch! It was sweet!

Frittatas are one of those dishes that are perfect for any meal—we make them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, or serve them thinly sliced as an appetizer when entertaining. They taste just as good at room temperature as they do hot out of the oven. They are so easy to prepare—you need just one skillet, and the filling options are endless. Most important tip: For the filling, stick to ingredients that are already cooked—too much moisture will make the frittata soggy.

Me Time Zone It’s okay to be a “me-time mom.” ~Author Unknown The day has ended yet only just begun for I have two lives — one that hides behind the sun You may not see my secret life — the one lurking in the dark, the one that eagerly awaits its time to spark Daytime me puts the other me aside Daytime me doesn’t get to hide Daytime me washes all the clothes Daytime me kisses the injured toes I am a teacher, a maid and a cook I hand out the cuddles and the disconcerting looks I referee the arguments, the teasing and the fights I fasten the helmets to go ride the bikes Nighttime me relaxes in the chair Nighttime me reads books without a care Nighttime me watches comedy shows Nighttime me eats the treats that I chose I sometimes wonder whether I used to be bored when I had just one life and hardly any chores I want to do all the things that I did before but how do I fit them in now there’s so much more? I read books, played piano and swam I cycled and socialised and ran I wrote poetry, played video games and went to bars I knew popular culture and all the famous stars Now my me time has become so small sometimes I feel it’s hardly there at all When the children will not settle but the sun has gone away I throw my arms in the air, for daytime me has to stay. I count to ten and breathe in deep Why oh why won’t they go to sleep? Me time is a ship that has sailed past How could I be so foolish to think that it would last I tuck their hair behind their ears and then I begin to feel the tears Am I crying for my me time? That seems a little mad Surely it’s something else that’s making me sad Crying for my me time does seem a little daft As I leave the children’s room I begin to laugh. I’m trying to put me time into a time slot I precariously balance it on the top. But I realise my me time comes in different forms to be enjoyed even while daytime storms I read a book whilst I make the tea I play ukulele whilst the children dance with me I swim in the sea with the children under my wings I run around the park between pushing them on swings And there are famous stars that I know, even if they come from the children’s favourite show Yes the ultimate me time is when I’m on my own but me time can also be enjoyed when you’re not alone My me time is a state of mind When I’m in the me time zone who knows what I’ll find? — Anneliese Rose Beeson —

Welcome!” the speaker announced as people continued to file into the room. “Come on in, everybody. Welcome to Black Magic Training 101.” My eyes lit up. I raised my hand. “Yes, sir. What’s your question?” “Um,” I said. “I’m in the wrong class. Do you know where McClellan Clown Training’s classroom is held?” “Down the hall. Have you enrolled with them yet?” “No. I was going to sign up when I got there.” “Excellent. Ladies and gentlemen… future witches and warlocks… we’re going to start with a more advanced topic this evening: How to perform a proper human sacrifice.

The show also gave me the opportunity to sing its theme song, “Follow Me,” which was cowritten by my sister. I recently produced and recorded a modern version of the song. In an effort to assuage the fans, I asked many of my original castmates to shoot a video for the song’s reboot. It was tricky because we did a one-day shoot complicated by the protocols of COVID-19. The shooting schedule for that day was insane, with temperature checks and sanitation requirements. Once we all got back into a room together, the years apart vanished. We arrived as adults but performing brought us back to 2004. The release of the song and video spurred new rumors about a Zoey 101 reunion show. I am excited at the prospect of working on another Zoey 101 project, whether that be a long-format movie or series. The cast is eager to reunite and bring the characters into the present. We have been in talks to reinvent the series. Producers and writers have shared some concepts that sound intriguing. Hopefully, a modern-day version will go into production soon.

We hesitate to look in the mirror because we are afraid to see the reflection that stares back with disappointment. This mirror can be in your living room or your mind, but if the reflection is not what you want, look again. Close your eyes, open your mind, and take another look. The reflection you see is only a reflection today. When you decide to change how you live every day, this reflection will soon transform into affection for the person staring back.

Room 101,

Pvt. David Webster of the 101st spoke directly to it. On February 15, a buddy had died a particularly gruesome death. Webster wrote, “He wasn’t twenty years old. He hadn’t begun to live. Shrieking and moaning, he gave up his life on a stretcher. Back in America the standard of living continued to rise. Back in America the race tracks were booming, the night clubs were making record profits , Miami Beach was so crowded you couldn’t get a room anywhere. Few people seemed to care. Hell, this was a boom, this was prosperity , this was the way to fight a war. We wondered if the people would ever know what it cost the soldiers in terror, bloodshed, and hideous, agonizing deaths to win the war.” 48

And when she turned to me and handed me the keys (the garçon was hauling up the boxes) and said: “Monsieur Duquette will show you your rooms”—I had a longing to tap Dick on the arm with a key and say, very confidentially: “Look here, old chap. As a friend of mine I’ll be only too willing to make a slight reduction…” Up and up we climbed. Round and round. Past an occasional pair of boots (why is it one never sees an attractive pair of boots outside a door?). Higher and higher.

You know what is in Room 101, Winston. Everyone knows what is in Room 101.

SPINACH-ARTICHOKE HUMMUS Creamy texture, pretty green color, and assertive taste—this dip has it all! SERVES 8 | ¼ cup per serving 2 ounces spinach (about 2 cups) 1 cup canned no-salt-added chickpeas, rinsed and drained 4 medium canned artichoke hearts, rinsed, squeezed dry, and quartered ¼ cup Chicken Broth or commercial fat-free, low-sodium chicken broth 2 tablespoons shredded or grated Parmesan cheese ½ teaspoon grated lemon zest 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 2 tablespoons tahini 1 to 2 medium garlic cloves, minced ¼ teaspoon pepper In a food processor or blender, process all the ingredients until the desired consistency. Serve at room temperature or cover and refrigerate until needed. COOK’S TIP ON TAHINI Tahini is a thick paste made from ground sesame seeds. Add small amounts to enhance salad dressings, marinades, soups, stuffings, and other dips and spreads. Look for tahini in the condiment or ethnic sections in the grocery store. PER SERVING calories 101 total fat 3.5 g saturated 0.5 g trans 0.0 g polyunsaturated 1.5 g monounsaturated 1.5 g cholesterol 1 mg sodium 89 mg carbohydrates 13 g fiber 4 g sugars 2 g protein 5 g calcium 40 mg potassium 188 mg dietary exchanges 1 starch ½ lean meat

Give yourself the chance to change, room to grow, and acknowledge your feelings without judgement.

Nina had always been comfortable with the fact that she was not gregarious. Not every interaction needed to be a party, right? Her Room 101, for those Orwell fans among you, would simply contain a couple of people whose names she couldn't remember. Walking into a room full of strangers was about as comfortable for her as putting on a hat full of wasps and tugging it down firmly. But in she went.

PS: Does room 101 contain your worst fear?

Grilled Tuna, Three Ways The only trick to this dish is to grill the tuna quickly over high heat, so it’s seared outside and rare within. 4 6–8-ounce tuna steaks 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 tablespoon dark rum Salt and freshly ground black pepper 1. Combine marinade ingredients and rub into both sides of tuna. Cover and let tuna sit about 10 minutes at room temperature. 2. Meanwhile, preheat barbecue. 3. Grill tuna over high heat about 2 minutes per side for rare, brushing occasionally with remaining marinade. Serve hot or cold one of the following ways. • Grilled Tuna with Wasabi: Mix 2 tablespoons wasabi powder (Japanese green horseradish powder) with enough water to form a paste and allow to stand 5 minutes for flavor to develop. • Grilled Tuna with Mango Salsa (see page 101). • Chilled Tuna with Lemon-Dill or Lime-Cilantro Mayonnaise: Combine 1⁄2 cup mayonnaise with 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice and 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh dill; or 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice and 1 tablespoon finely chopped cilantro. Refrigerate briefly to allow flavors to blend.

dominant people are not loud; they are grave. Very often they speak slow and use a deep resonant voice to control you; to get you in the pace they want. Subservient people, on the other hand would try to blend in and use a voice that matched the general tone of the room. If face to face with a dominating personality, they would speak less and in a calming and soothing voice.

What does a sub have to do with cancer? This book—Prayers and Po-Boys: A Cancer Survivor's Journey through Chemotherapy and Beyond by Larry Singleton—【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】was yet another that my instinct “told” me to choose from a “lineup.” I went a step further and decided to include it in my Goodreads blog. This time, it wasn’t the cover that piqued my curiosity, even though I found myself trying to make out what looked like a photo of… was that a sandwich or a submarine? Whichever it was, I wondered: what did a sub have to do with cancer? The format I chose was an ebook, so with the cover on a thumbnail, I couldn’t know for sure【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. It was the visual disconnect, or rather, the inappropriateness of the image vis-a-vis the topic of the book that prompted my selection. It didn’t help that the cover looked like a movie poster for a comedy. Ah, maybe it’s a satire【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. As I perused the pages, it became apparent that the cover visual was apropos after all. My earlier misgivings about the image was influenced by what I assumed the term “po-boy” was. I thought it was a diminutive for “poor boys.” In a different context, I was correct. However, the po-boy Larry Singleton, the author, referred to was a specialty sandwich that originated from Louisiana during the Great Depression—1929, to be exact. The filling of the traditional kind was roast beef, but could also be ham or fried seafood. This was encased in French bread with its fluffy interior and crispy crust—a byproduct of New Orleans’ low humidity level. Apparently, there was a union strike that year and ex-streetcar conductors, who owned a local sandwich store, served the striking union workers subs. Those were the original po-boys【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. A slice of history. Wow! Although that came from my own research and not from the book. So that’s one observation I had initially. It would have been better if the author defined the po-boy somewhere: possibly in the intro, chapter one, or a glossary. Not everyone is from New Orleans and would instantly know what it is, regardless of the screaming visual in front of the book. Either that, or it was a tactic by the author to reel in unsuspecting readers. Hook them until the reveal. The latter may well be the truth—a testament to the charming personality of the author, who came across as a Miss Marple/Angela Lansbury-type. (Minus the sleuth background【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】.) A delightful aspect of this book is the author’s propensity for funny quips and comebacks. I think his sense of humor was the main reason 【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】(apart from faith and gastronomy he was able to survive his ordeal so well. For instance, when the chaplain remarked that he didn’t see many people eat during a chemo session after seeing the author munch on a sandwich, Larry explained, “I’m trying to be the exception to that rule【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】.” And when the same guy asked one day why Larry wasn’t clutching a po-boy while receiving a chemo infusion, the author replied, “I go off the reservation sometimes, but I always come back.” The author spoke of dark clouds too. I expected those. One harked back to Room 5, the venue of the dreaded chemotherapy session. It was the equivalent of my Room 101, a metaphor for my psychological torment, which I discussed in my techno-thriller, The Invisible Cyber Bully: What it's like to be watched 24/7. It was a reference to the torture chamber in George Orwell’s dystopian novel, 1984. Orwell’s version was a red zone where the antagonists subjected dissidents to their worst phobias and nightmares to break their resolve until they could no longer think for themselves, paving the way for the government to control their minds【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】.).

Bill Hearn's Blog: Knight of the Flip-Phone - A Ukraine Carol +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. And when the same guy asked one day why Larry wasn’t clutching a po-boy while receiving a chemo infusion, the author replied, “I go off the reservation sometimes, but I always come back.” The author spoke of dark clouds too. I expected those. One harked back to Room 5, the venue of the dreaded chemotherapy session. It was the equivalent of my Room 101, a metaphor for my psychological torment, which I discussed in my techno-thriller, The Invisible Cyber Bully: What it's like to be watched 24/7. It was a reference to the torture chamber in George Orwell’s dystopian novel, 1984. Orwell’s version was a red zone where the antagonists subjected dissidents to their worst phobias and nightmares to break their resolve until they could no longer think for themselves, paving the way for the government to control their minds. In a way, cancer patients going into Room 5 to receive their chemo infusion was like being sent to Room 101 to be tortured. There was a chapter where the chemo room held a different number, but for the most part, it remained the same throughout the book. It was in chapter two that the reason for the cover image became apparent. (Or at least, during the first mention of the word “po-boy.”) I’ve decided to hold off on that reveal, so the next readers could discover it for themselves【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. My second observation—and this is the peeve that knocked down a star from my rating: the author did not sufficiently portray his suffering as a cancer patient. Sure, he was a survivor and one of the fortunate folks who experienced the least amount of symptoms from the disease and its nasty treatment modality. He was also spared the agony of extreme nausea that typically prevented patients undergoing chemotherapy from eating. However, what (I assume) cancer patients would have expected from Larry’s book is the conveyance of the darkest hours of his suffering… sort of like a testament with which they could relate【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. Also, there were a lot of unnecessary conversations. Like the hellos and good mornings exchanged with the staff. It was a waste of literary real estate+1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. . One instance would have been enough. What would have given this book more oomph was if Larry revealed the meatier parts of those heart-to-hearts+1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. . He said that these people (and many others) had helped him a lot during his ordeal, yet he only conveyed the mundane pleasantries. I thought he would be detailing his in-depth, soul-wrenching conversations with them, but there was none of the sort—not even the ones he had with Chaplain Peavy, the hospital pastor.

Bill Hearn's Blog: Knight of the Flip-Phone - A Ukraine CarolBill Hearn's Blog: Knight of the Flip-Phone - A Ukraine Carol +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. And when the same guy asked one day why Larry wasn’t clutching a po-boy while receiving a chemo infusion, the author replied, “I go off the reservation sometimes, but I always come back.” The author spoke of dark clouds too. I expected those. One harked back to Room 5, the venue of the dreaded chemotherapy session. It was the equivalent of my Room 101, a metaphor for my psychological torment, which I discussed in my techno-thriller, The Invisible Cyber Bully: What it's like to be watched 24/7. It was a reference to the torture chamber in George Orwell’s dystopian novel, 1984. Orwell’s version was a red zone where the antagonists subjected dissidents to their worst phobias and nightmares to break their resolve until they could no longer think for themselves, paving the way for the government to control their minds. In a way, cancer patients going into Room 5 to receive their chemo infusion was like being sent to Room 101 to be tortured. There was a chapter where the chemo room held a different number, but for the most part, it remained the same throughout the book. It was in chapter two that the reason for the cover image became apparent. (Or at least, during the first mention of the word “po-boy.”) I’ve decided to hold off on that reveal, so the next readers could discover it for themselves【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. My second observation—and this is the peeve that knocked down a star from my rating: the author did not sufficiently portray his suffering as a cancer patient. Sure, he was a survivor and one of the fortunate folks who experienced the least amount of symptoms from the disease and its nasty treatment modality. He was also spared the agony of extreme nausea that typically prevented patients undergoing chemotherapy from eating. However, what (I assume) cancer patients would have expected from Larry’s book is the conveyance of the darkest hours of his suffering… sort of like a testament with which they could relate【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. He said that these people (and many others) had helped him a lot during his ordeal, yet he only conveyed the mundane pleasantries. I thought he would be detailing his in-depth, soul-wrenching conversations with them, but there was none of the sort—not even the ones he had with Chaplain Peavy, the hospital pastor. Disappointing elements: 1. The author glossed over his experiences. The book seemed like it was generalized. A publication about cancer may denote that it’s a “doom-and-gloom” retelling, but readers who pick it up are 【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】interested to know what it's like to have the disease... not because they're being morbid but because they have a genuine, even urgent interest. It will also help to elicit empathy... not that all cancer patients are expecting such. He could have gone into detail about what happens on a daily basis. He described the pain in one sentence, but that was it. The reader should be given a wider window as to what it's really like to suffer from a debilitating disease【+１||８ 00|| 211|| 5032 ]】. 2. +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. The chemo session visits were the same all throughout. Of course, there’s a routine. But it would have been more interesting if there was more detail in the events at the hospital. 3. +1⇄800⇄211⇄5032. He started explaining some medical stuff in the beginning of the book but didn't follow through. For instance, at the end of the book (page 63), he mentioned this scenario but did not explain further: “Ms. Theresa inserted the needle a