text:
Smash all the Windows
My Counterfeit Self
An Unknown Woman
Second Chapter: The Box Set
An Unchoreographed Life
A Funeral for an Owl
These Fragile Things
I Stopped Time
Half-truths and White Lies
Excerpts and Extras
An Interview with Jane
Do Something Amazing: Support Authors for Grenfell
No one in the UK can be unaware of the tragedy at Grenfell Tower, earlier this month, but many of my readers are from further afield. Fire broke out at a high rise residential tower block in West London, home to between 400 and 600 people. So far 79 people have been declared dead, but many hundreds more have been displaced or are missing.
I could not ignore the fact that in 2013 I wrote a book about a woman who suffers an identity crisis after losing everything she owns in a fire. That book was An Unknown Woman. The tag line is 'If we are what we own, who are we when we own nothing.'
I thought long and hard about whether or not it might appear that I am trying to cash in on someone else's tragedy. I decided to get over myself. I intend to donate this month's profits (£1 per eBook, 70p for any paperback bought via Amazon or £4 from any paperback purchased from me directly) to British Red Cross London Fire Relief Fund.
Shortly after making this announcement on social media, I learned about the fantastic Authors for Grenfell online auction initiative and decided to join forces with other authors and publishing professionals.
You may want to add your bid to ensure that a character in Philip Pullman's next novel is named after schoolgirl victim
Things have really rocketed this week. Over on the AuthorsforGrenfell online auction, Philip Pullman offered readers the chance to have a character named after them. Bids were upping steadily when teacher James Clement bid £1,500 to name the character after his student, a young girl name Nur Hada al Wahabi, who died in the fire. From that moment, everyone has bid to add to James's bid. It now stands at over £18,000.
Also on offer:
A signed book and named character from Matt Haig
Claridges afternoon tea and a book reading with David Walliams
A bespoke children's book by Piers Torday starring your child
Whilst nobody but those who were present can understand the sheer horror or scale of the fire, during the writing of An Unknown Woman (working title: The Things That We Lost in the Fire), the issues I was writing about became very real. My sister and her husband lost their home and everything they owned, not to fire, but to flooding. While they encouraged me to finish the book, they had no idea that they would have three years in limbo before they were back in a home of their own, or of the strain they would suffer.
Believe me when I say that, while arguments rage about who was responsible, about flawed planning regulations, use of combustible cladding, a fire alarm system that couldn't be heard inside flats, and journalists demand that arrests be made, the victims must find a way to start to rebuild their lives, and this long and painful process will continue for months and even years after headlines disappear.
Read CHAPTER ONE of An Unknown Woman right now…
"What's that noise?" Anita sat upright in bed, blinking blindly in the dark.
Ed rolled onto his side, dragging the duvet with him and groaning, "What noise?"
"That banging." She reached for the light switch.
"I can't hear anything," Ed insisted. "Go back to sleep."
But Anita knew she hadn't imagined it. She willed it to come again.
"There!" She grabbed at it, her lungs so tight with fear that she could barely breathe. "Someone's trying to break in!"
"No." All attention now, Ed was up on his elbows, staring at the ceiling. "It's coming from the loft."
Then a shrieking sound pierced the silence, relentless, heart-stopping, almost paralysing. The sideways leap from burglar to what else this might mean was almost too much to take on board. In disbelief, Anita asked, "Is that -?"
"It's the smoke alarm." Already on his feet, Ed commanded, "Get up!" His hands were fists. Perhaps he imagined an intruder might have set the alarm off, intending to draw them downstairs.
She saw a drift of air, cloudy and powder-grey, nothing so substantial that it fitted the description of smoke. Anita followed Ed out onto the landing. The door to the spare room was edged with a reddish glow. Before she could yell "Stop!" Ed had reached for the doorknob. He yanked his hand away – "Fuck!" – shaking it violently. Just as he hid it in the opposite armpit, the door swung inwards on its hinges. Slapped in the face by a fierce concentration of heat, they stepped back. The sight of flames devouring the wall was mesmerising, the sounds of snapping and popping surreal. A lungful of toxic black smoke escaped, then the door sucked closed. There was a moment when all she could do was blink, then Anita found herself being pushed in front of Ed, ordered downstairs.
"Passports and birth certificates," Ed shouted above the din.
"I'll get those."
It seemed so urgent, the need to make the right decisions about what to save. At the foot of the staircase Anita grabbed her handbag from the banister, shrugged on her coat. Venturing into the dining room, she checked that her route to the French windows was clear. Her laptop lay on the table. She had worked late into the evening, until her eyes protested. Anita ripped out the lead, ready to pick up on her way out. About to pull out the plug, she stopped short. An inch more and she would have been touching live electrics. The alarm was meant to induce panic. It was doing its job.
Calm down.
How long did she have? A minute, perhaps. She checked over her shoulder: Ed was going between the front room and the hall, throwing things out of the front door.
"Shut the door!" she yelled at him.
"Oxygen feeds fire." Didn't everybody know that? "Go out the front and shut the door behind you."
On hearing a slam, she bent over the oriental chest. In it, household documents were stored in manila folders, their edges torn from regular use. Ed thought her filing system obsessive, but they never had to search for passports. She found them quickly.
"Anita! Anita! You need to get out!"
Christ, Ed was still inside! Where, a minute ago, there'd been a doorway, she saw a wall of thick black smoke. "So do you. I'll go out the back!"
"I can't hear you! Where are you?"
Important documents stowed in her handbag, she clutched her laptop under one arm. "I said, I'll go out the back!" She instinctively covered her nostrils and mouth and skirted the table. Black smoke rolled the length of the ceiling, determined to ambush her. Memory urged: crouch low.
Moments later she was standing on the patio, relieved to find herself breathing untainted air, marvelling at the miracle that was the night sky. It would have been a good night for star-gazing. Ed pointing and spouting facts about distant constellations whose names Anita would forget; trying to explain that they were seeing light from stars that no longer existed. "How can we see something that doesn't exist?" Anita protested against a concept so mind-bending, though she enjoyed Ed's enthusiasm, seeing his eyes light up. But tonight there was no time. "You need to keep moving," she scolded herself.
Anita's shoulders jerked violently at the sound of a heavy thud against the French windows. Ed must still be inside! "Christ!" Thank God the stars had held her attention for a moment. There was an orange glow in the dining room now. She pulled a coat sleeve down over one hand and tugged at the handle. Another thud and the door flew open. Ed staggered out, one hand reaching, the other clutched to his chest. His face was smudged black. "Why didn't you go out the front?" Anita demanded, angry that he'd been so stupid.
"I thought you were trapped…" He doubled over, hands on his knees, winded. "Give me a minute to catch my breath."
"We don't have a minute." She made him straighten up, trying to offer support. He snatched his burnt hand away and returned it to the safety of his armpit.
"Anyway," he rasped, his head angled towards her, "what were you doing, standing there?"
"Looking at the light from all the dead stars."
"You were listening!"
"Just because I can't get my head around what you're telling me, doesn't mean I'm not listening. Come on!" she insisted.
They stood in the road watching as flames billowed from an upstairs window. Even in the darkness, the air shimmered. Lit from below, a swell of dense black smoke obscured the crescent moon. The night was alive with ungodly sounds: sharp shouts, the rise and fall of screaming sirens, a sickening crackling. To Anita's right, there was a violent explosion of glass. Theirs had been an incredibly narrow escape.
Thick, acrid-tasting air turned her throat to charcoal. Her lungs protested. The fire harnessed hypnotic power. With her gaze welded to the spectacle, Anita was only vaguely aware of the neighbours who had drifted out of silent homes. They were knotting belts of dressing gowns, hoisting up waistbands of tracksuit bottoms, looking for the cause of this unwelcome disturbance. Entranced, they grabbed the arms of partners, joined the vigil. Seeing the fire's merciless progress, some went in search of assurance that their loved ones, houses and possessions – "Christ, has anyone seen the cat?" – were safe. As liquid flames licked the eaves, lips silently thanked lucky stars – or whatever god they believed dwelled in the heavens. This was someone else's misfortune.
Ed pulled Anita closer as another volley of coughs wracked through her chest. Flames shot out of the letterbox, dulling the sheen of recently polished brass. She made no complaint. Pain felt like an appropriate response. Watching the paintwork blister, it was easy to think of the house as having a skin.
"Is there anyone inside the building?" a fireman demanded.
As Ed appointed himself spokesperson – "No, just the two of us live there" – Anita pressed the laptop she had been clutching to his chest like a shield, moved forwards onto the path and began to pick up stray cushions that were strewn around the garden. They were damp and muddied, and she doubted they could be salvaged, but she stowed them in the boot of their Mini – the only place that seemed safe from the hosepipes.
The discussion continued behind her. "No pets?"
More firemen pounded up the path – kept on running, it seemed – armed with axes and sledgehammers. She returned to Ed's side. In Anita's initial flush of relief, it had felt comforting to hand responsibility to someone else. But now, though logic told her that the firemen were risking their lives, Anita tensed at the sight of them breaking down her front door, hacking it into splinters. She had painted the door twice, first British Racing Green and then, after fitting new brass locks, a glossy black. What had seemed substantial proved flimsy. Shifting her feet, Anita felt cold wet grit press into her soles. There'd been no time for shoes. She was dressed in what she had been wearing in bed – pyjamas would be a generous description for her tired yoga pants and camisole – topped with her winter coat. Her mother insisted on calling it her 'good winter coat', but it was Anita's only coat and she was glad of it. Despite the waves of intense dry heat that stretched the skin taut over her cheekbones, cold rose up through Anita's bare feet, into her marrow.
The smoke was blacker than she had thought possible; the flames redder, wrapping themselves around the guttering, licking the darkness, crawling on the concrete roof tiles Ed had always wanted to replace with terracotta, but Anita hadn't minded terribly much. Her mind conjured shapes within the writhing flames. Hellish beings with forked tongues. Demonic shadows. She saw a silhouette that looked remarkably like hers standing at an upstairs window.
Another sudden explosion of glass. Anita's breath caught. She tore her focus away from her ghost. Debris was falling now. Flaming things hit the ground and burnt themselves out. She watched the leaves of a rosebush turn from glossy green to black and then disintegrate, dropping away to nothing.
In spite of its ferocious heat, the fire was magnetic.
"We need to get back," Ed encouraged in an altered voice.
Anita pulled away from his embrace. "Shouldn't we move the car?" Her feet shifted of their own accord. The drive was awash with a soup of water and soot.
"For Christ's sake, Anita! It's too late!"
"But we haven't finished paying for it…"
"It's just a bloody car." Fingers handcuffed her wrist. Hauled backwards, she was encircled and rocked. Ed's frantic tone took her aback. "None of this stuff matters. Not compared with having you safe."
Anita knew he was trying to say the right things. He unbuttoned her coat, lending her his body heat. She settled against his chest, numbed by impotence, but knowing how wrong he was. Contained within those four walls was their fifteen-year history. Every Sunday morning lie-in they'd shared. Cosy evenings. Conversations shaped. Baths run. Culinary triumphs – and disasters. Every history book she'd ever read. Every Christmas, every birthday. That terrible party they'd held in celebration of their tenth anniversary, when friends and family had clearly expected an engagement announcement. The results of every hour of every trip to every flea market or antiques fair.
Ed was asking, "Aren't you going to put them on?" Paired next to her feet were some wellington boots, cheerful things with a floral design.
This small kindness made Anita tearful. "Where did they come from?"
"Someone from up the far end, I think. I didn't recognise her."
Anita swiped grit from her feet, grabbing Ed's arm for support before stepping unsteadily into the boots. They were a poor fit, no good for walking in, but at least her feet were no longer bare. "How will I get them back to her?" Anita scanned the cul-de-sac for a sign of recognition, but the scattering of neighbours seemed determined to look anywhere other than at her.
"She didn't seem terribly worried."
Anita returned her attention to the house. Fingers of orange, liquid like lava. Prometheus was said to have stolen fire from the gods. They appeared to have been angered again. Anita couldn't decide which was more persistent: the flames or the jets of water firemen aimed at their home. It was a battle from which no victor would emerge. Everything they possessed would be destroyed by one element or the other. A fireman was standing in her flowerbeds, crushing the plants that she had watered and pruned under the soles of his rubber boots. It was impossible to voice an objection while flames lit the night sky like an erupting volcano, but Anita's splayed fingers objected; her fingertips objected.
"I've always hated those roof tiles." Ed returned to a favourite theme, but Anita didn't want pretence that there was a silver lining. From the cathedral of flames and the great chutes of water, the skeleton of their home emerged. It had always worn its timber beams – its bones – on the outside. Anita watched one of the timbers in the porch as it was overcome by flames, and thought of Joan of Arc. The firemen would sacrifice their home in an attempt to save the houses on either side. Ed had always complained that the house to the immediate left had been built too close, its tall chimney perching territorially at the very edge of the roof.
A man with a microphone. She clutched Ed's arm asking silent questions: Who was he? And when had he arrived?
"It looks as if he's from the local radio station," Ed said, following her gaze, almost as if they should expect someone to show up and record the destruction of their home.
She could hear the manager of the fire station saying, "Upon arrival, my crew was faced with a severe fire in the back bedroom of the detached property. It had already spread to the roof space. Firefighters wearing breathing apparatus are tackling the blaze with three hose reels and one main jet. The room that the fire started in has been completely gutted, together with much of the rest of the property."
"And the cause?"
"Impossible to tell at this stage."
"But if you had to hazard a guess?" The microphone thrust forwards once again.
"That's our house they're talking about!" Anita said.
Ed cradled her head to his shoulder. "They're just doing their jobs."
She delved into her handbag for her phone – an automatic reaction.
"What are you doing?" Ed asked, incredulous.
"I should give Roz a ring. Let her know I won't be in first thing." Her throat burned with the effort of speaking.
"Work is the last thing you should be worrying about!"
"I have to be there. It's the opening of the new exhibition. I'm introducing the speaker."
"Not dressed like that!"
Looking down at herself, Anita confronted an indisputable fact. She would walk away with only the clothes she was dressed in and what she carried, nothing more.
Underneath the fire's perpetual roar was a second layer of sound, a steady clap, like applause at a cricket match. The firemen were struggling to make their shouts heard, but somewhere beneath the chaos, a third layer emerged – a place of stillness – and it was there Anita sought refuge. The calm of knowing that nothing would be salvaged, nothing would remain. But even braving this inevitability, Anita wasn't aware of the full extent of what she was losing. News reports and insurance settlements wouldn't reveal the whole picture. It would be some months before the true tally of what she had lost in the fire finally emerged.
Don't forget to get your copy of Writing Magazine's Self-Published Book of the Year 2016 here.
Written on June 27, 2017 at 11:41 am, by Jane Davis
Categories: Homepage, Other bits	| Tags: An Unknown Woman, Authors for Grenfell, Books By Jane Davis, contemporary fiction, Fire, Grenfell Tower, Identity Crisis, Jane Davis, Online Auction, women's fiction, Writing Magazine's Self-Published Book of the Year
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Q: How to deal with Roundabouts in PgRouting Can anybody guide me to to deal with roundabouts in pgrouting?? I have some roundabouts in my road network and when i try to make route from one point to another, it gives me wrong direction where it finds the shortest path because length on road is my cost.
In the picture below, blue cross is my starting point and other side is mt destination.

I am using simple pgr_dijkstra function and i am not considering any direction. boolean parameter for direction is set false. And there is no information about direction in my data. I just want to know what should I do if I want correct routing on my roundabouts.
thanks in advance

A: There are 2 possibilities, what could be wrong.
(1) You missed to make use of one-way street information as Uffe answered already.
In pgRouting this means, that you need to use reverse_cost and then have different cost values for each direction.
See the documentation of Dijkstra algorithm for example, and especially look at the "with reverse_cost" example.
(2) Your data does not contain information about one-way directions.
In this case pgRouting can't really help and you need to fix your data.

A: You have to add information about oneway streets (direction). Which is what a round-about basically is.

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


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German Editor Reveals US/CIA Control of German Media — Then Dies
France: Marine Le Pen to Face Trial for "Inciting Racial Hatred"
Russia: Novosibirsk Bans Migrants from Many Jobs
NSA Spies Reveal Congress/Jewish Lobby Link
Deep State Democrats
Parts of New Jersey, New York, a Pressure Cooker as Hasidic Jews Take Over
America's Real Enemies
Who We Are #6 — The Lost Civilization of Old Europe
Is There Intelligent Life on Earth? (part 8)
Rosemary W. Pennington 2019-05-06
Rosemary W. Pennington · 6 May, 2019
by Revilo P. Oliver
Ain't Science Wonderful?
UNFORTUNATELY, for our race (I am not interested in others) common sense is not enough. Despite, our race's characteristic recognition of the supreme authority of ascertained facts, it has a psychic need to escape now and then from the trammels of reality into a world of the imagination, where we may find the beauty, the romance, and the perfection that the real world denies us. This world is so grievously defective by every aesthetic and moral standard to which we give instinctive allegiance! The "creation scientists" are routed by the need to postulate a Creator so incompetent or malicious that he made this sorry scheme of things entire. This terrible universe would be unbearable, could we not, now and then, remould it nearer to our heart's desire. Rational men satisfy the soul's need rationally, with debauches of poetry or fantastic fiction, from which they sober up before confronting reality again.
It may be that a recent change of fashion in fantastic fiction has had grave consequences. Until recently, men satisfied their craving for transmundane beauty and ideality with the lovely mythology of Greece and with selected and racially acceptable elements of Christianity (e.g., the Chansons de geste, Ariosto, and Tennyson in poetry, and in prose, innumerable tales of magic and theurgy). Now all of these beautiful or stirring excursions into fantasy are in themselves innocuous. No man expects to ride a hippogriff, meet a mermaid, or marry an Undine.
There are, of course, many forms of literature which merely gild some aspects of quotidian life, but it will suffice here to observe that the traditional form of fantasy is always religious and depends on belief (while one is reading) in the praeternatural and supernatural. In our literature, the religious assumptions underlying the narratives are usually of the type made familiar by Western Christianity, that is to say, the doctrines of early Christianity as modified to make them acceptable to our race. Recent writers of some excellence in this kind of writing avoid overt use of specifically Christian myths, but they retain the basic ideological structure, as may be seen, for example, from the short stories of H. P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and Robert E. Howard, whose tales, about Conan and Atlantis now enjoy a great vogue and are instructive in this connection, for although their principal charm lies in the human heroism that our race instinctively admires, they do not dispense with the supernatural.
Consider, for example, the great masterpiece of J. R. R. Tolkien, whose trilogy, The Lord of the Rings, is certainly one of the most widely read works of contemporary literature, and forms part of a pentalogy, completed by the Silmarillion, that is really a grandiose religion, markedly superior to all religions now practiced, and could, if it survives the new Dark Ages that may be ahead of us, become the holy book of a new Faith, more humane than any of its predecessors in mankind's yearning for superhuman masters. It is now, of course, only a majestic fantasy, recognized as imaginative literature, the fictitious history of a world created by Tolkien. Attentive readers will not have failed to notice that the underlying structure is familiar to us: in the beginning, there was a cosmic god, who is even called Ilúvater (cf. Alfađir!), and history is really begun by the revolt of one of his own creations, Melkor, later known as Morgoth, the counterpart of Lucifer. The underlying structure is obviously that common to a fairly large number of religions, including the various kinds of Christianity, which were viable cults until their priests killed off Satan and his spiritual legions.
The supernatural world, however imagined, oddly but inevitably has natural laws of its own. From the earliest tribes that can be called human to the present, the shamans always accumulate a body of lore about supernatural forces and the ways to placate or coerce them, and in literate societies, this becomes an enormous aggregation of theological erudition that can be managed only by a form of scholarship. If 'science' means, as it still does in French, any body of systematized knowledge, then theology, together with such subdivisions as soterology, angelology, demonology, and necromancy, are 'sciences.' And this supposition naturally underlies literary fantasies. One has to draw the right pentacle (misnamed, for it is usually the Jewish Solomon's Seal, also called the Star of David) to summon spirits from the vasty deep, and one has to know the secret names and esoteric rites that will compel archangels or the princes of Hell to do one's bidding. There is a magic power in words: if you incautiously read aloud the words written on some musty parchment you have chanced to find, they may be an arcane incantation, and anything may happen.20 There was a time when rational men could actually believe that the visible world was full of unseen spirits of good or evil, and by "poetic suspension of doubt" we can recapture their awe while we read fantasies that enable us to escape for an hour from the horrible reality in which we must live.
If we consider the broad spectrum of Mediaeval superstitions, we can (as men of the Middle Ages could not) see a clear dichotomy between theology and its theurgic subdivisions on the one hand and, on the other, alchemy, which was a spurious precursor of chemistry, and astrology, which, at that time, was not irrational and was even as valid a scientific hypothesis then as is today the commonly accepted "Big Bang" theory of tire origin of the universe.21
The great flaw of superstition was that it never worked when you wanted something beyond the power of sleight-of-hand artists to produce. No matter how earnestly you implored Jesus to keep the Vikings from your coasts (a furore Normanorum libera nos, Domine!), they kept right on coming, and theologians had to invent an explanation for Jesus's sloth. No matter how carefully you constructed your pentacle and used the formulae of invocation when you, like Théophile and Faust, wanted to put your soul on the market, the demons spumed the bargain you offered them and never came to shop. But the gradually accumulating body of knowledge about the real world made possible actual achievements that began to rival some of the work that the imaginary spirits failed to perform. First made apparent by ingenious mechanical contrivances, the real power gradually detached itself from the suppositious ones.22 In the Eighteenth Century, the dichotomy between what was real and what was illusory became evident to all but the most ignorant men of our race.
This was certain to affect, sooner or later, the practice of literary fantasy. To simplify matters, we may credit the innovation to Mary Wollstonecraft (Godwin) Shelley. She imagined and vividly portrayed a Frankenstein who created a monster, not by some potent spell or theurgic miracle, but by a magic that was explained (vaguely) as scientific, based on the elaboration of known principles of physiology and relevant subjects by scientific research. Her explanation was crude, even for 1818, but at least the imaginary marvels that the progress of scientific knowledge might make possible some day replaced the imaginary marvels of religion, which, even if they had once taken place in some remote place and time, had become impossible in the modern world. There was a loss of some aesthetic and poetic power, but Frankenstein was more convincing than the famous work of her contemporary and friend, Matthew Gregory Lewis.23
The new type of fantasy was cultivated by a few writers thereafter, most of whom are now forgotten. Jules Verne wrote tales about marvels of engineering in a style that fascinates boys. No real talent appeared until H. G. Wells, who has to his credit many pseudo-scientific fantasies written with great verisimilitude, and a brilliant parable, The Island of Dr. Moreau. In the Edwardian period he had quite a few imitators,24 but the traditional type of fantasy continued to attract the most literarily accomplished writers. When the center of gravity shifted, it happened rather suddenly.
When I was a lad of twelve or so, I subscribed to a monthly periodical, the Electric Experimenter, of which the editor, a Hugo Gernsback, soon sought to increase circulation by cramming the pages with pictures and diagrams and changing the name to Science & Invention. Gernsback published in each issue of his magazine a short story of the pseudo-scientific type; I remember a reprinting of H. G. Wells's The Star and one or two others, a few original tales worth reading (I remember some by a man named England), and a great deal of tedious trash25 — presumably Gernsback could buy nothing better. He announced, however, an intention to found a monthly magazine that would be entirely devoted to fiction of that type. I subscribed at once, and after six or eight months my money was returned with an explanation that Gernsback had found there was so little interest in such fiction that it would not be feasible to try to promote a magazine devoted to it.
Something happened suddenly. A few years later magazines and books of "science fiction" began to multiply as rapidly as niggers on "Welfare." By the end of the 1920s, it was crowding the traditional type of fantasy out of the market. Some revolution in readers' interests had taken place within a very few years. One can form conjectures about the cause, but I abstain from them here. Some talented professional writers turned to the new market, and there are pseudo-scientific fantasies that are worthy of comparison with the best of the traditional type. But the new fashion was cursed from its early vogue with a blight, the itch to make subversive propaganda. Tons of paper were dirtied with silly stories about "Inter-Galactic Federations," the old "one world" writ large, socialistic propaganda of the kind with which H. G. Wells spoiled many of his stories, and monotonously refurbished episodes in which multigalactic "democracy" was rescued from wicked "Fascists." Ray Bradbury and Robert A. Heinlein and a writer named Hamilton became sufficiently well established to sell some stories with reasonable political implications, but the mass of pot-boiling tripe published as "science fiction" is even worse than the mass of low-grade tales of the supernatural that were spewed out in the Nineteenth Century in cheap magazines and chapbooks ("penny dreadfuls").26
Much of the boom in "science fiction" (I cannot bring myself to use that catachrestic term without quotation marks) was probably a belated effect of the exciting conjecture that was first fully exploited by H. G. Wells in The War of the Worlds (1898).27 Two eminent astronomers, Giovanni Schiaparelli (in 1877) and Percival Lowell (c. 1895), believed that the relatively straight lines visible on the surface of Mars through the best telescopes were in fact rectilinear; they must therefore be artificial, and were most readily explained as canals that distributed water from what seemed to be a polar ice cap. Since men were still incapable of engineering works of such magnitude, that indicated the existence of an "advanced civilization" on a relatively near planet which, like Venus, was apparently similar to the earth, so that it was a reasonable inference that there were three planets in the solar system, Venus, Earth, and Mars, that were capable of developing and supporting organic life and hence human life. It was easy to imagine that the superior minds in the "more advanced civilization" on one or both of our planetary neighbors had now reached the stage at which they could produce machines capable of traversing the comparatively short distances of interplanetary space (26,000,000 miles from Venus at an inferior conjunction, and 35,000,000 miles from Mars when it is in opposition near its perihelion). Alternatively, one could imagine an advance in terrestrial science that would permit a visit to one of our planetary neighbors.
I shall not try to guess how many ambitious authors cudgeled their brains to invent ships suited to interplanetary voyages and to adorn with new wonders the civilizations that flourished on Mars and Venus. Until recently there was nothing demonstrably impossible or even implausible in a supposition that the two planets were as infested with organic life as the earth and could have produced intelligent life superior to ours (which should not have been hard to do). Hence all the dreams and hopes of communicating with the inhabitants of other worlds, which have now become absurd, but which sentimentalists and purveyors of marvels to the proletariat are reluctant to abandon.28
After the Suicide of Europe in 1945, the dream of fraternization with Martians and Venusians became more poignant and inspired the great vogue of "flying saucers," which were later called Unidentified Flying Objects with some loss of plausibility.29 There was an epidemic of reported sightings of such wonderful machines, many of them caused by glimpses of planets, bright stars, sounding balloons, the navigational lights of aircraft, or, just possibly, rare atmospheric phenomena not yet adequately explained,30 magnified by excited imaginations that had been stimulated by "science fiction." And as soon as journalists, who are in the business of sensationalism, made the mystery fashionable, the excitement was augmented, as anyone could have predicted with absolute certainty, by persons whose overheated imaginations reached the fervor of autohypnosis and by the usual proliferation of liars, usually obscure individuals eager to attract attention. The Skeptical Inquirer reports that we now have approximately two hundred men and women who swear that they were kidnapped by marvellous beings from outer space and taken for jaunts on marvellous space-machines. An analysis of their reports of their experiences would doubtless permit identification of the "science fiction" on which each individual had nurtured his or her imagination, and a psychological investigation would yield highly important scientific data, showing the relative importance of hallucination and mendacity as causes of such claims.31
Now that we know that there are no Martians or Venusians and that there can be no visitors from other orbs, persons who cannot bear the terror of finding ourselves (for all practical purposes, at least) alone, utterly alone in the cosmos, find their escape-hatch already opened for them by the professional story-tellers. Of course, the desired visitors from "advanced civilizations" reach us by passing through a "time-warp" or dropping through the points at which three-dimensional space is bent back upon itself according to the seductive analogy of a two-dimensional world imagined by expounders of Relativity and popularized by E. A. Abbott's Flatland. There are other wonders of the "hyperspace" invented by ingenious mathematicians, but if one is really desperate, one can at least hope for results from the research that is now actually being carried on at enormous expense by persons with scientific training who yearn to hear radio signals from distant stars or galaxies. After all, one can not only read "science fiction" until one's eyes refuse to go on, but one can pep up a flagging imagination with such absurd cinemas as Star Wars, which Hollywood grinds out as readily as it manufactures "documentaries" to support the Jews' great Holohoax.
There is a crucial difference between the traditional type of fantasy and the new model. Readers of poetry have always known what they were reading, and no one ever supposed that the events narrated by, e.g., Dante or Ariosto, had ever occurred or could occur. And when fantastic tales in prose became common, readers capable of discrimination (which, of course, is "un-American") were never taken in. In the Eighteenth Century, no one who read, e.g., Defoe's Gulliver's Travels or Walpole's Castle of Otranto believed in the possibility of Lilliputians or of gigantic apparitions in sable armor; and today, no reader of Tolkien's masterpiece believes that elves, wizards, "seeing stones," and the like ever existed or could exist. Readers of such fantasies know well that they are indulging a psychic need, as inherent in us as the need for sexual satisfaction, and that they are temporarily indulging in what Walpole described as the "wisdom of exchanging what is called the realities of life for dreams." Readers of adroitly written "science fiction," on the other hand, seem to believe that any marvel that can be described in pseudo-scientific terms is quite possible and will probably be realized in a few years — if not sooner. And I am constantly amazed when I discover that the favorite reading of many scientists today is "science fiction" and that they seem to be almost as strongly influenced by it as the uneducated. In further witness whereof, note the frequency with which uninhibited men of standing in their own field of science communicate to the press the wildest speculations.32
To a generation raised on a diet of "science fiction," anything is possible, if it is called scientific. No one is impressed when an amateur bends spoons without appearing to touch them as a parlor trick, but call it "psychokinesis" and the suckers will get a faith induced by their yearning to believe in "scientific" wonders.33
There was recently published a best-selling gob of hokum entitled Algeny, by one Jeremy Rifkin, whose typewriter had hysterics over the very moderate success of laboratory experiments in recombining nucleotides in strands of deoxyribonucleic acid to reproduce some cellular organisms, and foresaw the imminent 'cloning' of human beings, manufactured with the uniformity and rapidity of castings turned out by a high-speed stamping machine. Such encroachment on the perquisites of a god (presumably the Yahweh with whom Rifkin may have an hereditary relationship) excited apocalyptic horrors in readers (including some men of standing in a science) who apprehended either divine tantrums, such as are described in the Bible, or the social peril of a society that could dispense with misfits and degenerates. Actually, of course, the 'cloning' of human beings is about as likely as the coming of visitors who have dropped in through a hole in time or space. The New Scientist (16 June 1983) had an editorial explanation of the credulity that is so profitable to Rifkin and his publishers: "The public that eats up Algeny has been raised on science fiction." True, but the editors could have said more than that. I remember having seen, some years ago, two wonder-stories in which human beings were 'cloned' and manufactured on a production line by the ingenious members of an "advanced civilization" that blooms somewhere far out in outer space, but, unfortunately, I did not think it worthwhile to make a note of the authorship and publication of such dizzy fantasies.34But I'll bet that Rifkin read those tales or imitations of them.
Source: Liberty Bell publications; transcribed by Racial Idealism
Why the Germans are Hated
The Final Secret of Pearl Harbor
The Antecedents of the Zündel Trial
Black, White and Mestizo Children Have Different Food Allergen Profiles
The Alien Ant Farm
NOAA: Carbon Dioxide Increase Hits Record
How Christianity Conquered the White Conquerors
Tags:IntelligenceLiberty Bell MagazineLifeRevilo P. OliverScienceScience FictionSuperstition
New DNA Analysis: Ancient Minoans Were Europeans
Combining the Copernican and Anthropic Principles
pj dooner on MLK 2020: Courage Is Contagious
$13Billion aircraft carrier to be named after black Navy cook who shot at Japane…

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


Nestled along the equator in the northwest corner of South America, Ecuador is home to Pacific beaches, historic mountain cities, pristine rainforests, and ancient Incan history. In this land where the number of hours of sunlight per day is nearly constant throughout the year, much of this tropical country is still remote and undeveloped. Ecuador's urban centers are rich in culture, and the country's natural landscape is among the most diverse on the planet thanks to the Andes Mountains, the Pacific coast, and the famed Galápagos Islands just a 600 mile leap to the west.
The World Endeavors Intern in Ecuador program is located in Quito, the thriving capital city situated high among the Andean foothills.
The World Endeavors Study in Ecuador program is located in the coastal city of Guayaquil, the country's largest city and business center.
The World Endeavors Volunteer in Ecuador program is located in Quito, the country's capital city.


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Surveillance Division
Motor Fraud and Theft Division
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Best Insurance Investigation Firm 2016 – Wealth & Finance Magazine Announces the 2016 Finance Awards Winners
December 21, 2016 /in Company News /by Gill Prior
United Kingdom, December 2016 – The Brownsword Group has been awarded Best Insurance Investigation Firm 2016.
These awards highlight the truly top performing businesses, individuals and departments on today's financial landscape, and our expert teams have worked tirelessly throughout the process to ensure that only the most deserving receive one of our prestigious awards.
The 2016 Finance Awards are dedicated to supporting and recognising talented and dedicated firms, individuals and departments. Now in its 3rd year, the Finance awards are a prestigious program, and winning one is no mean feat. It is a badge of honour, a stamp of excellence, and all of our award winners are part of an exclusive and illustrious group comprising of some of the most influential names in the market.
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Missouri's Democrat Senator Claire McCaskill, for instance, has rebuffed offers to hold a town hall in a state that went for Donald Trump by 18 points last year.
"Seems to me that all these members of Congress are afraid to face their constituents," Hillary Shields, a member of Kansas City Indivisible, said after the senator turned down its invitation.
West Virginia Democrat Joe Manchin has also decided to bag a town hall event for his voters. Manchin has been one of the leading Democrats to give Trump and Republicans some measure of support, and it is not too surprising to see Manchin throwing in with Republicans on some issues. After all, West Virginia voted Trump with a lopsided 68.7 percent to Hillary Clinton's low 26.5 percent. But Manchin clearly understands that he is vulnerable to being challenged by a Republican in a state turning red.
As to others, the AP noted that Ohio's Sherrod Brown has only held phone conference calls that do not lend themselves to mass protests. Also, Pennsylvania's Bob Casey promised to hold a town hall but has not scheduled any yet, and Montana Senator Jon Tester's office noted he has already held several appearances, though none of them were town hall-styled events.
Senator Cotton was barely allowed to get a word in edgewise as bussed-in liberal protesters screamed at him, chanted at him, and berated him for the Trump administration's agenda.


Simulation games should be no stranger to you especially when there are many good games in the recent years like Cities: Skylines, Goat Simulator or Train Simulator – the train driving simulation game that has been quite well received on PC.
Though Train Simulator Free 2018 is not a direct mobile version of the mentioned Train Simulator game on PC but you can enjoy it just as much.
In order to complete a level in the game, you have to successfully drive the train safely from the starting station to the end station. While driving the train you can turn left, right, accelerate, decelerate, brake. Like in real life, there a quite many things to pay attention to to avoid accidents.
If you let your train collide with another train, or do not make a turn in time to change railroad track as instructed and so on, a notification will pop up to inform you that your train has "Crashed!". You then will have to replay the level.
Upon completing a level, a new level will unlock for you to put your train driving skills at test more. Each level spans a certain amount of time (around 3-5 minutes), has a specific amount of stops and gives a specific amount of XP and Prize (in-game cash). You can double the awards from a by watching a video ad.
You can unlock all levels to play right from the beginning by purchasing the game's microtransaction not by completing one after another to casually play any level you want.
There is also a similar option to unlock all trains. Of course you can save up cash in-game to buy the train you want to drive, base on its outlook or stats. Due to the fact that each train has its own unique stats which affect its movement, speed and control difficulty, you might want to try different trains until you find the one that suits you the most.
Almost everything you may have seen, experienced while traveling by train is on Train Simulator Free 2018. From opening/closing doors, waiting for passengers to board to controlling the train's speed, making it go slow – medium – fast, turning/changing railroad track and using the brake when you need to make emergency stop.
There are always signboards or traffic lights to warn you beforehand, some maybe a bit late to make it more difficult for you to handle in some levels.
Train Simulator Free 2018 is a decent casual game, even if you don't know how to drive a real train you can do just that by basing on common sense or maybe you can play it like a Trial-and-error game and learn during that process. But generally the game is easy to learn, so do not worry much about being stuck on a level or losing one so many times.


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Lockheed Martin Team Enhances Command and Control for Ballistic Missile Defense
Advanced Engage on Remote Capability Delivered to Combatant Commands
Lockheed Martin C2BMC
PARIS, June 18, 2019 /PRNewswire/ -- Through ongoing modernization to the command, control, battle management and communications (C2BMC) system, Lockheed Martin's (NYSE: LMT) team has significantly enhanced the Missile Defense Agency's Ballistic Missile Defense System. Part of this C2BMC modernization is an engage on remote capability that enables the Aegis Weapon System to engage threats based on information provided entirely from C2BMC remote sensor and track data.
Operationally fielded in 2004, C2BMC enables warfighters at all levels to systematically plan ballistic missile defense operations, collectively see the battle develop and dynamically manage designated networked sensors and weapons.
Fielded in fiscal year 2019 to the U.S. European and U.S. Central Commands, C2BMC's engage on remote capability supports the European Phased Adaptive Approach Phase III milestone, which is designed to protect U.S. deployed forces and NATO allies in Europe from ballistic missile attacks.
"Engage on remote provides an additional layer of defense by providing more time to react to threats," said Steve Froelich, director of Missile Defense Solutions at Lockheed Martin. "It is through C2BMC, and its connection to the many elements of the Ballistic Missile Defense System, that we provide our forces with an advanced, truly integrated missile defense capability."
Preceding its deployment to the combatant commands, C2BMC's engage on remote capability was successfully demonstrated as part of a Missile Defense Agency flight test in December 2018, where the Aegis Weapon System utilized remote sensor data provided by C2BMC to plan, launch and engage a missile without detecting the target with the organic Aegis radar.
Using its ground, air and space-based command and control architecture, C2BMC detected the threat, tracked the missile through its connection to ballistic missile defense radars, locked onto the target, then relayed the target location to the Aegis system. By enabling Aegis interceptors to conduct operations based entirely on off-board radar information, C2BMC greatly expands the range of the Aegis systems.
Of the successful test, former MDA director Lt. Gen. Sam Greaves said, "FTI-03 demonstrated the effectiveness of the European Phased Adaptive Approach Phase III architecture. It also showcased the significance of C2BMC to the future of integrated multi-domain missile defense operations."
For additional information, visit our website: https://www.lockheedmartin.com/en-us/capabilities/c4isr/case-study-command-and-control-supports-european-missile-defense.html.
Headquartered in Bethesda, Maryland, Lockheed Martin is a global security and aerospace company that employs approximately 105,000 people worldwide and is principally engaged in the research, design, development, manufacture, integration and sustainment of advanced technology systems, products and services.
For further information: Suzanne Smith, +1-303-932-5230; suzanne.m.smith@lmco.com


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Please Provide Sid token of premium account of twilio in settings, this is all you need to know before creating and operating IVR.
Uploading images instead of music, it is prompted music category default by browse popup, but if you chooses to upload a picture or none-music format, then i'll probably can't assist you with this.
Don't Break The Sequence, if you want to delete a day, like you have three days, and you deleted 2nd day, then you are breaking the sequence, IVR will run like, Call #1 Working, Call#2 Not Working, Call#3 Working..
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The primary function of a phlebotomist is blood collection; however, they may assist the health care team in the accurate, safe, and reliable collection and transportation of various specimens other that blood for clinical laboratory analyses. These specimens may include arterial blood, urine, tissues, sputum, etc.
While Richland does not offer a certificate or degree in Phlebotomy, it does offer a one-semester course in Phlebotomy (HLTH 130).
High school diploma or its equivalent is required. Students must show eligibility for MATH 091 and ENGL 101 either through the college's placement examinations, completed developmental coursework, or valid ACT scores.
This course is one semester in length and includes classroom, laboratory, and clinical experiences. After successful completion of the course and meeting the required number of blood draws, a student is provided a Certificate of Completion from the instructor. Along with required work experience, the student may be eligible to apply for national certification at a later time.
Employment opportunities are available in hospital settings, ambulatory outpatient settings, various types of clinics, home health agencies, outreach lab services, free-standing surgical centers, and insurance companies. Most employers seek a certified phlebotomist.
Registration for classes, including HLTH 130, takes place at scheduled times before the beginning of each semester. Class schedules, including a list of all courses offered and registration dates are available online before the start of the term. Students may register for HLTH 130 in the Student Success Center(N127).
Due to clinical and instructor availability, HLTH 130 is restricted to 12 students. Students who are not the first 12 students to register will be placed on a waitlist. In the event that a seat in the course becomes available, the Health Professions Office will call the first person on the waitlist. Students have 48 hours to respond to the offer until the week before classes when it decreases to 24 hours. Failure to respond within the given time frame will result in removal from the waitlist and the next person being contacted.
Placement on the waitlist is determined by the date and time the student attempted to register for the course. Placement on the waitlist does not guarantee enrollment in subsequent semesters nor does the waitlist rollover. Students must attempt to register for the course during the following registration period.
For questions regarding the phlebotomy program, please contact the Health Professions office at (217) 875-7211, ext. 6750.


Not much left, but still have many things to do. First, Sziget is approaching. This is one of the biggest festivals in Europe. This year, again, I'm going to be the chief FOH engineer at the main stage. As you might know, this is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I have the chance to meet very talented mixers and see/hear many great shows. On the other hand a festival this big requires a lot of preparation and tedious paperwork, huge amount of Excel sheets, emails, meetings, etc. I'm a more simple guy who truly enjoy mixing and helping fellow engineers, but I'm not the big organiser guy who just effortlessly ploughing through hundreds of emails while conducting prep meetings.
After the usual rider checking, we ended up with almost the same console setup as before: Yamaha PM5D in monitors and Avid Profile in FOH. These are the most requested consoles in riders. Even if someone would prefer something other, these are accepted as well.
My biggest headache is still compatibility, or to be more precise, the lack of it. In my experience the Avid live system is still the only one which is able to effortlessly convert and use session files made on different surface with some other software version.
To be fair, they probably borrowed this knowledge from their Pro Tools experience. We had serious problems with DiGiCos and Midas digital consoles. Many times the FOH guy had to rebuild the show from scratch because his/her file was incompatible with the consoles firmware or software version. While digital offers so much flexibility on paper, it seems to me that in a live environment this is still in its infancy.
Few of you asked about an average day at a festival like this. Well, it can be very gruelling to be honest. Obviously the more problem you have at a given day, the more worn out you're going to be at the end of the day.
Check if the incoming power is fine. You don't want to blow any power supplies! If it's good, then you need to connect the console to the power source. Our tested and proved preference is to have to lines from the source power. One goes through a UPS so in the case of a power failure we still have time to save and shut down the consoles properly to avoid any data or equipment damage. The other is the direct, without any further protection. These days, every console has redundant power supplies so you can always use this safety system.
After you connected all the necessary cables, switch on the console. At this point I like to do a quick fader/button/led test if possible to make sure that everything is fine. These live consoles are being used in very demanding circumstances, therefore they need to be checked regularly. It's much better to identify a problem now instead of trying to find it later, during the soundcheck. If the test is ok, then load the session.
Check if the session is fine. Most of the times they are fine, however a quick check wouldn't hurt, you might spot some errors, and again, if there is some, this is the right time to solve it. If the session is ok, we're almost ready.
If possible, we always prefer to have AES, but we're prepared for analogue feeds as well.
At this point the system tech would ask the guest engineer to send noise (pink noise) to him in order to check the patch. When everything seems fine, the guest console is ready for the sound check.
During the soundcheck you want to solve any upcoming problems. At this point you still have a little time to investigate things. It is mandatory to understand and able to operate, know the whole system to the tiniest bits. Anything, really, anything happens you'll be the one who has to correct it, within a very short time frame. Even if it's not your job at the first place, as the FOH guy, you'll be alone with the guest engineers at the time of the sound checks, and remember, they are guests, you are the guy who must provide the solution to their problems.
Between the sound checks we can have lunch, preferably at table, but as schedules are very tight, usually we just have lunch in the FOH position during a soundcheck. After all the line and sound checks, little time left for a coffee before the first band start its show.
During the shows it's mandatory to have at least one person at the FOH position. One who can solve problems, can alert the rest of the team, so who can really help the guests. Never, never ever leave the guest alone! This is very important. Anything can happen and you're the one who should provide help.
After all the shows are over, there's some tasks left before we can go to bed. Main stage usually stops at 11p.m. or 1a.m. here. After the last show we need to cover everything in order to protect the equipment against the weather. One friendly advice: never trust the weather forecast. They might say that there's absolutely zero chance for rain, but it is your responsibility to protect the equipment. Obviously consoles don't like water, so don't forget to securely cover them, unplug the power, switch off the breakers, and re-check everything. One sudden storm can ruin any very expensive equipment.
And that's it, depending on the running order (whether you finished at 11 or 1) you can go to bed around 1–3 a.m. Have a good night sleep because the next day starts just in a few hours, around 8 a.m. with the load-ins again. Good night.


Mike's innate ability to develop relationships and help businesses expand became apparent when working for several global financial firms for nearly 15 years. In that time his success in sales and passion for real estate led him to the title industry. Combining his Wall Street experience with being a real estate investor himself, he acquired the skills and knowledge to become a reputable resource for his clients. With his solution oriented mindset he truly takes pride in always looking out for his customers' best interests while performing at the highest level on each and every deal.
Mike holds a Bachelor of Arts in Economics and Administration of Justice (double major) from Rutgers University.


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Kim Heung-gook (; born April 11, 1959) is a South Korean singer. He is the chairman of Korea Singers Association. His daughter, Jenny Kim Ju-hyun (; born June 29, 2001, in USA) participated in Idol School in 2017.

Career
Kim was born in Seoul on April 11, 1959. He graduated from Seorabul High School and enlisted in the Marine Corps. He formed a full-fledged rock band, "Daejangseong." He was a drummer and worked mainly as a singer. After Kim left his band, he made his debut in 1985 with the song "Pale Flower Petals" and turned to solo.

After debuting on February 15, 1988, MBC appeared in the role of a young man in the middle of a junior high school girl who was afflicted with a terminal illness in a program called "Human Era - Junga's Winter Diary". I used to sing the song "Jung-ah" in the program to introduce KBS new singer by using that atmosphere. At that time, he impressed viewers with a mustache, but he was only a singer without a hit song.

However, in 1989, he began to work with the song "HORNABI", which was written and composed by Lee Hye-min. It was widely known to the public by introducing a staggering dance that mimicked the appearance of a butterfly on stage. It was the best time to win the 4th Golden Disk Popular Artist Award, the MBC Top 10 Singer Award, and other awards. After 1990, he showed much interest in developing the Dooley dance by showing <Wobbling> and <Scratching>, and he appeared as a guest of MBC arts program "Sunday, Sunday night" that year, I do not know. "He played a big role in broadcasting. On October 30, 1990, when he was in a busy time, he married Yoon Tae-young and had one male and one female. In April, 1991, she appeared as the first guest in MBC entertainment program "Night-Sneaking Camera", which was performed by Lee Kyung-gyu, and gave a lot of laughter to viewers. He was usually a Buddhist, so she was selected as president of the Buddhist singer. Kim Hyeong-guk, who has been active in the broadcasting program since then, made a trot song in 1991 when he announced <Wang Sang-ri> in 1989 and became Kim Hyun-guk's second hit song. In the early '90s, the reggae party, which was produced in 1994 as a subgenre when reggae music such as Doctor Reggae, Joyce Obi, and Lula took on a sensational fashion, did not get much response in the beginning, but gotten considerable popularity afterwards. Particularly comical, he played great in entertainments and was once more a funny singer than a comedian. Kim was awarded the Excellence Prize for the MBC Acting Radio Award in 1996 with his ingenious dedication, and also acted as a radio host. In 1997, MBC Radio "Limited Operation", which was conducted with Park Mi-sun, gained much popularity.

Kim is also known as a representative entertainment enthusiast of the entertainment industry. In 1996, he made 2-2 times for 5 hours to invite Korea to the 2002 World Cup in Seoul. He also made a World Cup host, made a World Cup homepage, Unfolded. On June 26, 2010, when the South Korean soccer team made a promise to cut off a mustache when they made it to the Round of 16 in the South Africa World Cup, when they really advanced to the Round of 16, they promised "I am not a politician" [1] He proceeded with MBC radio "Kim Heung-guk, Kim Kyung-sik's Dusk," from 2010 to 2011, but in June 2011, he was exiled from MBC and held a one-man protest because he supported the Grand National Party's general election in June 2011. [2] After that, he resigned from the board of directors of the agency of the agency and took over as chairman of the Kim Young-guk Scholarship Foundation. Since then, he has actively participated in demonstrations against North Korean refugees in front of the Chinese embassy in Hyoja, on March 8, 2012. [3] Currently, Kim is actively engaged in various fields that are recognized as a comedian rather than a singer for the next generation. Especially, he is called "entertainer chetki" and "

Ambassadorship
 Vice President of the Central Marine Corps Association of the Republic of Korea (2022)

References

1959 births
Living people
Trot singers
South Korean male singers
South Korean male film actors
South Korean male television actors
South Korean television personalities
South Korean radio presenters
Singers from Seoul
Korea National Open University alumni
Dongguk University alumni
Republic of Korea Marine Corps personnel

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
Guy Pearce as Terrance Walker
Name: Terrance Walker
Faction: Brotherhood
Codename: Silencer
Position: Member, Mercenary
Hometown: Kimberley, WA, Australia
Partner(s): Muriel (divorced) Height: 6'0"
Father: NA Weight: 210lbs
Mother: NA Hair Color: Brown
Siblings: NA Eye Color: Brown
Children: Emily (daughter)
Born in the mid-twenties, Terry Walker came from a rather dysfunctional family that lived in Kimberly, Western Australia. 'Normal' for him didn't appear that different from 'normal' for anyone else. His father was a former soldier, injured in the line of duty (WW2), and then went from one job to another; his mother worked day and night, and Terry continually got into fights at school.
His was not the only family with such issues. Anyone who grew up during the depression — not to mention the war — knew exactly the same hardship.
When his abilities first revealed themselves, it made life much more complicated. Terry began absorbing sound-waves at random, rendering himself deaf and mute. His parents couldn't find the right kind of treatment for him (they didn't know he was a mutant, at first), and even lessons in sign-language and lip-reading were expensive. Terry's situation went from bad to worse when the latter half of his powers — telekinesis — manifested uncontrollably, and he did damage to his primary school (elementary). Thus, when representatives of the government came calling — doctors and scientists with impressive titles and apparently an understanding of Terry's 'illness'…
Mum and Dad said 'yes'.
Of course the organisation was military-funded.
After intensive training, Walker was assigned missions across the country, and even internationally. His primary objective was to root out Communist threats against the country, while at the same time looking for other powered individuals for study. Walker: A.K.A. 'Silencer' now, proved very good at his job.
On leave in America, he fell quickly in love with — and married — a woman named Muriel. The marriage only lasted weeks, but that was plenty of time for Muriel to become pregnant with a child. She didn't tell Terry; he did not find out he was a father until some years later. Also while in America he made contact with other people like him — mutants, but those who had managed to make a living without a government or military official 'holding the leash', so to speak.
He quit the military. Deserted. Sick of being told what to do, he left.
He was caught. Terry, now a man in his early thirties, spent the next few years in a prison — heavily drugged, in a soundproof room to diminish his powers as much as possible. He could never recall much about his time there, thanks to the drugs, only that he wanted to see his baby girl — Emily — again… and see what life was like for those who threw off their shackles.
When he eventually did escape, he left for the United States and sought out the 'brotherhood' — of mutants, just as he — to join. There is plenty of work for a skilled mercenary, and the Brotherhood has an agenda he actually likes. He is no idealist — or at least does not think of himself as such — or extremist. A man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do.
Might as well make a dent.
Anechoic Field
Terry Walker manipulates an anechoic field, which absorbs soundwaves from any source around him, whether to merely 'steal someone's voice', soundproof a conversation or blanket a stadium in silence. There are limits. He can keep low-level sounds muted for days without trouble (consequently, he seldom makes any noise as he does things). Constant, very loud noises are harder to keep silent (i.e. he could mute a jet engine for a few minutes at most, and the same goes for effecting larger areas — like a stadium).
Walker's precision with this ability is extremely accurate. He does not have to render everything around him mute (e.g. he could allow people to still talk, while silencing everything else, or merely affect one person and no other). Affecting players would require consent.
Walker's psionic abilities are tied directly to his anechoic field. All the sonic energy he aborbs is immediately converted into telekinesis, allowing him to perform feats with his mind. Since the field is always active (to a minor degree, like muting his footsteps), Walker always some minimal telekinetic powers at his command (moving small objects at close range etc).
Magnitude - In order to move anything big (such as lifting/throwing a car — at most, depending on the car), Walker would have to blanket an area in silence, or take the sound from one, typically loud source. Generally, he could knock a door in, or bludgeon someone with the energy taken from a single conversation (i.e. "I can kill you with your own voice." As he once told someone).
Louder the Better - Walker likes the city; there is always plenty of noise for him to absorb and use. Sticking him in a very quiet place would limit his abilities. He does have somewhat enhanced hearing, but mainly from training, rather than super-powers.
Walker is a trained soldier, and spent several years in the Australian armed forces before finally turning to mercenary work. While he has formal training and experience in mixed martial arts, his fighting style is completely unique: it incorporates his powers. He is a skilled marksman with either pistol or rifle, and specialises in black ops.
When Walker first manifested his powers, he could not control the anechoic field, and so he absorbed all the sound he made — rendering himself both deaf and mute. He was taught to both sign, and lip-read, and put both these skills (especially the latter) to good use in the military.
The armed forces put Walker to good use in the field. He is skilled in stealth, intrusion, extraction, assassination… due in no small part to his mutant abilities. If he doesn't want to be seen… he can generally manage it. If he doesn't want to be heard… he won't be. At all.
Walker is skilled behind the wheel of a car, or on a motorcycle, although he is no 'stunt-driver' as such. This training covers military vehicles (mainly Australian), and the use of small boats (motor, not sail).
A hobby picked up in the field, Walker enjoys carving small items — figurines, etc — out of wood. It is also good practice for his telekinetic abilities. His skill is decent, and improving, and it makes him happy.
As a member of the group, Walker has access to allies and resources, depending on what is needed, and why. He is not on his own anymore. He is not running. He is fighting back.
Walker has to use the energy he absorbs, somehow. If he soundproofs a speeding car for a while, he will develop headaches, nosebleeds if he does not do something telekinetic with the stored energy. He has learned to expel the excess energy carefully, which is why he prefers to keep to smaller, less 'showy' displays of power.
Unknown to most, Walker has a young daughter named Emily, living with her mother (Walker's ex, Muriel), in New York. Muriel has no idea — for now — that Walker is in New York. Walker's rivals, enemies etc have no idea he even has a daughter. If they did… they'd have easy leverage.
Walker was arrested and imprisoned in Australia for desertion, as well as other crimes. He is less known in the United States, but is still a wanted criminal. There are people in the Australian military who know all about Walker's abilities; they likely have their own reason for keeping quiet at the moment…
A 'tell' is a giveaway, usually a micro-expression or mannerism that indicates when someone is lying. In Walker's case, substantial uses of his powers (i.e. taking the background noise of a shopping mall in order to blast in a wall with telekinesis) are always preceded by…
Quiet.
It might be instantaneous. It might be gradual — the careful, 'turning down of the volume', so to speak. Either way, things will get quieter before he 'does something'. Most people will not know this, but when they catch on… it becomes possible to anticipate Walker's actions.
Walker has been used by 'the powers that be' before, and he has seen how messed up the world is — and he's sick of it. He joined the Brotherhood of Mutants as a personal act of 'social defiance' as well as to build up a modest power-base of his own, in case the authorities come calling for him. He does not see himself as evil; he is not 'unreachable' or 'irredeemable'. These days it's just about 'the job', and getting a little payback.
1964-03-02 - Big Bad Frat Party (log: hope silencer social)
1963-11-28 - Aussies and Omelettes (log: brotherhood lynette silencer social)
1963-11-27 - We Are the Brotherhood (log: brotherhood josh lynette plot raven remy-lebeau silencer)
1963-11-20 - Operation Needlepoint (log: brotherhood cain domino fred josh moe plot raven remy-lebeau silencer)
1963-11-20 - A Girl and Her Books (log: rosemarie silencer social)
1963-11-16 - The Sisterhood of Mutants (log: brotherhood cain plot raven silencer them)
1963-11-15 - Up To No Good (log: brotherhood raven silencer social)
1963-11-14 - Corny Lines and Violence (log: marc silencer social)
1963-11-03 - Coffee, Lies, and Spies (log: barney jennifer silencer social)
1963-10-31 - Unblocking the Past (log: domino silencer social)
_characterssilencer_unavailable


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ATP, WTA DRAINING PRO TENNIS IN THE U.S.?: Last week, San Diego Union-Tribune tennis writer Jerry Magee noted that when the WTA Tour San Diego event went up for sale last year, and Indian Wells organizers attempted to buy it, they were told there would be no bidding process as the WTA was going to buy it and move the tournament to Beijing. Now the ATP's intentions have been announced where they want to move the Tennis Channel Open in Las Vegas to South Africa? If you thought American pro players were struggling now to reach the upper echelon (currently there are only four American men, and three American women (the 30+ Lindsay Davenport and the Williams sisters) in the Top 50 rankings), then just wait until all the smaller tournament opportunities have been exported to Asia, Europe and the Middle East.
A COMEBACK DATE: According to Japanese media, former No. 4-ranked player Kimiko Date will this week announce her return to competitive tennis at the age of 37. Date reached the No. 4 rank in 1995 before retiring the following year. Date was inspired to return to the tour after a recent Asian exhibition where she beat retired former No. 1s Steffi Graf and Martina Navratilova.
U.S. DAVIS CUP LINE-UP RECORD: When the U.S. Davis Cup team hosts France in April it will be the 10th consecutive time that captain Patrick McEnroe goes with Andy Roddick and James Blake in singles, and the Bryan brothers in doubles. Mardy Fish will be the reserve player/practice partner for the U.S. during the tie.
RODDICK, BLAKE LINE UP FOR FISH: Andy Roddick and James Blake will be groomsmen when Mardy Fish marries Stacey Gardner, who holds the No. 2 briefcase on NBC's "Deal or No Deal" game show, in September in Los Angeles.
ATP PARTNERS WITH ITS OWN ENEL-GIZER BUNNY: Enel, Italy's largest power company and Europe's second-largest "utility for installed capacity," has become an official ATP sponsor. Their three-year agreement with make Enel prominent at eight ATP events. Enel serves approximately 50 million power and gas customers in 21 countries.
TENNIS PUTTING GAMBLING CLAMP-DOWN ON JOURNALISTS: The tennis tours let the top players skip out on major events without fines and accept 'doctor's notes' whenever a players wants to feign injury to take a rest — but watch out gamblers! Tennis will flex it's muscles when it comes to fining low-ranked Italian players and kicking out fans talking on mobile phones at tournaments. Or making Nikolay Davydenko's life a living hell without producing any results. In the latest installment of 'Pro Tennis: Tough on Gambling!', rumor has it that the ATP, WTA, tournaments, or all of the above will require journalists to sign a waver saying they won't engage in gambling activities on-site or during events. And if the journalist won't sign the waver? Then no access to the players. Stay tuned.
TEACH ME THAT MOONBALL FOREHAND: Alex Corretja will reportedly coach Andy Murray through the claycourt season.
14 Comments for Tennis-X Notes: Euros Sick of U.S.; Gambling Journalists?
Why did he say the biggest clay court tournament in the world is Barcelona?
Well, you just can't keep a good man down. Roddick made headlines for his ump rant and raves and was dubbed the "Ugly American", but his dark cloud will soon have a silver lining. He'll be smiling all the way to the bank. Life is a bowl of cherries for A-Rod! A+ for originality!
It is essentially the "Spanish Open" and very important to the Spaniards.
who cares about clay season?
Anyone over 40 with bad knees loves the clay court season. One of the great things about tennis is the different surfaces. It is the only sport that comes to mind where to be great one has to adapt to these different venues because of the historic tradition of the sport.
I find the comments of RV concerning the sale of events to interests outside of the U.S. important on two fronts. Firstly, we have to recognize that many sports have international appeal. American football has played games abroad as has baseball. Ever been in Singapore when the NBA is in town?
Secondly, we should not be so surprised by this given what we read in the financial press. The growing investments of Sovereign Wealth funds into the U.S. is a manifestation of the movement of wealth globally. It is no longer the U.S. investor who dominates. Similarly, we ought to expect these parallel interests to want their sports nearer to home. Beijing is tennis mad; see the previous Masters event there. There are people who employ full time tennis coaches to play with.
The credit crisis is changing everything.
That is me, over 40 with bad knees and a sissy and loving clay (even after watching my approach shots sit up and getting passed).
Richard – never feel obligated to respond to I like tennis bullies not tennis sissies…he's a bit of a buffoon.
Real tennis fans embrace the change of surface, and I agree with Rafa that Indian Wells and Miami make little sense based on the calendar of slams.
In the abstract, they ought to play them before the Australian Open, and before the smaller Pacific Rim hard court tournaments. Dubai should also come before the Australian and the Australian should move to March/April, but that will never happen.
Instead, they will eventually entirely lose their appeal and be dropped from the schedule in favor of a couple of Masters level events in Asia schedule with a smaller move to February for the Australian Open.
You make absolutely good sense about moving those events. Weather-wise it would be perfect if Dubai were moved to the 3rd week of January and the IW and Miami tournaments were to be moved up to the 3rd week of February, with a two-week interval, followed by the AO. The clay season can begin shortly thereafter. All around the climate would be most favorable to the athletes' performance and would allow for better scheduling of the clay tournaments. The variety would be a great boon for the athletes' mentally. But, there have been complaints from some of the top 10 players in the past, that the season begins too early in the year, as it is. A catch-22 situation, indeed.
If the ATP really wanted to do something worthwhile they should begin by rescheduling some of the MS tourneys and also overhauling the calendar. However, it's all a matter of how much importance they place on the athletes' health and the success of the tournaments. It seems that their actions revolve around the amount of money they can save and make, and as long as the tournamnets are well-attended and a huge profit realized, well, who cares. A classic case of supply v. demand. Whichever way we look at it, something needs to be done and soon.
Ref: Dr. Death's comments on global economy v. American economy – very true. There is no longer an American monopoly/oligopoly, and whether we like it or not, the global markets are now wielding big axes and they are great sources of untapped wealth. The American businesses overseas are the ones making up the greater part of the profits, and as such, are keeping the American based businesses afloat, stock prices/market, etc. "That it should come to this!".
You have completey taken Rafa's comments out of contxt. You have ( for some reason) cut out the "college Basketball" part of his comment. and it is not fair and not ethical at all.
His protest was not to the long run here ( berdych's was). Rafa's complain was about the fact that because the final of College Basketball ahs been pushed back one week, the ATP also pushed back the IW and Miami final a week, so that CBS can braodcast both finals in the same weekend. That resutled in eleimination of one week between Barcelona and Rome. Barcelona is the most important clay tournament ( a goleden series). Now the players have to playe 3 master series in a month plus Barcelona ( 4) . That's brutal on their body and that's what Rafa was complaining about.
Q. A lot of the European players tell us that this part of the calendar is very hard for them. They get tired being in the United States for a month or over five weeks. You seem to play well in these tournaments. Are you comfortable here in the United States for that long of time? And if so, why is that?
RAFAEL NADAL: I'm very comfortable in United States, but not for this time. It's not fair have one month, two tournaments, and after go back to Europe and we have to play three Masters Series on clay.
We only have three Masters Series on clay during all the season, and we have three Masters Series in four weeks. So for us it's terrible, that.
And three Masters Series in the middle of the biggest tournament on clay in the world: Barcelona. So if you see the calendar, that is unbelievable.
Everybody can say about the Olympics. Is not for the Olympics. This year we have that. It's because these two tournaments are one week later, because you have university or something like this, college basketball. I respect 100% the college basketball. I think it's very important.
I know here it's very important, the college basketball, because I saw always the American players and the mens in the locker room watching always this.
But, well, we can't have the calendar thinking about the college basketball, no? So we are 100% disappointed about this decision of the ATP.
Finally the European players are, well, I don't know, very angry about these decisions, no? For me it's terrible. You know, I'm a clay player, but I can play very well on all surface. But play four weeks it's impossible if you are playing well, no?
Gotta agree with your man on this one. Don't know about the previous year, but as for 2006, I certainly remember there were 2 weeks between Monte Carlo and Rome (with one of these 2 weeks belonging to the Barcelona tourney, of course). Now it is MC + Barcelona + Rome + Hamburg, all in 4 weeks… That's pretty ridiculous!
I think there was always one week between Barcelona and Rome . Even that was hard. ( Having 3 master series in 5 weeks!). Now they wou't even get time to pack up for the next tournament if they reach the final. And RAfa defends huge points in all of the.