principles of macroeconomics 5th canadian edition answers published by Nelson and has a total of 237 pages in the book. Mon, 17 Dec 2018 19:45:00 GMT Study... download principles of macroeconomics 5th canadian edition answers Macroeconomics (from the Greek prefix makro-meaning "large" + economics) is a branch of economics dealing with the performance, structure, behavior, and decision-making of an economy as a whole.
Buy or sell Study Guide for Principles of Macroeconomics 5th Canadian Edition (9780176622954) by N. Gregory Mankiw.


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COVER DESIGN AWARD!
Congratulations to Biserka Design, the awesome team behind this cover. They've been awarded a gold star, one of four runners up to the April winner out of 96 entries, by Joel Friedlander of The Book Designer. See for yourself here!
Here's our entry and the judge's commentary:
Stephanie Sorensen submitted Toru: Wayfarer Returns designed by Biserka Design. "The design also credits Phelan Davion and Michael Lars for the samurai image used and adapted by the designer. Biserka Design has a Facebook page. No plot summaries, but the designers nailed the genre (steampunk set in Japan) and the heart of the brief–samurai with dirigibles!"
JF: Samurai with dirigibles, what's not to love? This cover has it all, with great atmosphere, the mystery of that looming airship, and the seriousness of the samurai at the center.
For the photo used by the designers, check out Phelan Davis's site.
Now check out the cover one last time, big enough to see and savor!
Posted on May 26, 2016 August 24, 2016 Categories News and AwardsLeave a comment on COVER DESIGN AWARD!
SALVATION'S DAWN
A worthy addition to the epic fantasy canon by Joe Jackson.
446 pages, Kindle and paperback
"If it so pleases you, we will fire dance in his honor."
This story is a treasure, a work of art, a labor of love and a magical artifact. Weighing in at 446 pages and something near 200,000 words, Joe Jackson's first foray in epic fantasy nails both epic and fantasy. Featuring the rare strong female lead, who is not human but demon-hunter, black and winged, but simultaneously all female and all warrior, Jackson's world and heroine are fresh and unique.
First, to the naysayers. Yes, the story starts slow. For the world-building is intricate, detailed, lovingly crafted and real. I know Kari's world, for I have now smelt it, tasted it, heard it, learned of its gods and demons. I call this not fault but beautiful slow-building power and solidity, a concreteness and reality that make Jackson's world as real to me as Tolkien's or Le Guin's or Salvatore's worlds. Is there too much explanation and back story and arcane detail? Possibly. But if you are a reader who is looking for your next great fantasy world and characters to fall in love with and pursue through hundreds of rich and glorious pages, you will not mind the slow pace of the first half or the detailed descriptions of races and lands and history but rather will revel in them.
For gamers, of both the dice or digital tribes, you will instantly know the distinctions between rogues and wizards, healers and tanks. If you, of those tribes, enjoy the RPG part of MMORPGs, you will love this book. And if you are a dice-throwing D&D fanatic, you will have found your ancestral home. If you have no idea what I am talking about, this beautiful rich world and its gloriously complex and detailed heroine may not move you, and so you should pass by, and read something simpler and less demanding. But if you are of either of those tribes, then you must make this journey, alongside Kari, demon-hunter.
I do not want to give away details of the plot, or Kari's relationships with her fellows the Silver Blades, or her fascinating back story, for these are pleasures due the worthy reader. But any book that begins with a bath and a double god-hammer and ends with a fire dance promises a strenuous and adventurous journey, slow though its start may be. The fighting is rare but physical and visceral, with a Special Forces concreteness that makes the moments memorable. The sex is loving and based in relationship. The conversations are between real and distinctive characters, with individual motivations and agendas.
Jackson has fashioned an amazing world and a brilliant heroine. I look forward to the next installment in the Eve of Redemption series and highly recommend this work to fans of epic, gargantuan fantasy.
Posted on May 3, 2016 May 4, 2016 Categories Epic fantasy, Fantasy, Goodreads review, Reviews, UncategorizedLeave a comment on SALVATION'S DAWN
NO NET
Author: Noah Nichols, musician and writer
392 pages, paperback and Kindle
This absurdist, surreal, adult black comedic satire starts off with a bang, or more precisely, a violent and ultimately fatal series of head butts and only accelerates from there. In a completely wacky world where the internet suddenly vanishes leaving behind befuddled consumers and, oddly, the ability to text, a memorable mayhem-loving set of characters confront their new reality and come to terms with the gaping hole in their lives left by the missing internet. I don't recommend this book to the faint of heart, or anyone who gets his or her panties in a twist over, oh, lessee…racism, misogyny, graphic violence, casual murder, profanity or domestic violence. Wait, I may be unfair, or at any rate unbalanced, on the misogyny charge, as male characters also receive the ultimate in male suffering by way of strategic kicks and knee strikes.
But having offered fair warning to the faint of heart and panty-twist-prone, freely admitting I was…horrified (one searches for a more neutral word, and fails, honesty being the key value here) …as I read, and noting that I received this book free in exchange for a fair and honest review, I have to say this mad twisted tale summoned from me solid admiration for craft and artistry. My favorite read this year? Nope. Something I can recommend to anyone I personally hang out with? Probably not, but then I am an old fuddy-duddy and quite comfortably so. But is this a humdinger of a ride, conducted by a skilled and mad writer? Most definitely. Will it find an audience? Is this writer worth reading? Yes and yes, I believe so, with some admitted fear and trepidation for the fate of civilization as we know it.
Without spoiling the experience for future readers by sharing specific moments from the book, allow me to share some observations from my own personal journey through shock and awe.
I'm a quiet reader. Sedate, well-behaved. I don't snort and laugh out loud, grimace and moan when reading. My husband had to send me into a different room while reading this because I was shrieking, laughing, snorting and going "no, no, no, noooooooo…you can't do that!" Mostly cries of horror and offense, yes, but any writer that can rip me out of my solemn ways like that gets points, even if I am terribly offended, which I was.
Points must also be given for a timely exploration of our society's device addiction. To the critics who do not feel this was the most realistic exploration of what would happen if the internet vanished, I can only reply that they are absolutely correct, but I*don't* think realism is what Mr. Nichols was going for in this work.
I was struck by echoes of Quentin Tarantino movies like "Pulp Fiction," "Kill Bill" and "Inglourious Basterds;" or Frank Miller's "Sin City;" or the shoot-'em-up balletic violence scenes from the Wachowski brothers' (or are they sisters now? they were brothers when they made it, so how does one manage this courteously and correctly, gah!) "The Matrix;" or even, stretching a bit here–and not wanting to besmirch the more-heart-less-violent Coen brothers–but some of the speeches in Coen brothers' movies like "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?" Words are weirdly twisted, turned inside out, used gloriously (?inglouriously?) wrong, but deftly, with rhythm, with a beat, and not just on the hip hop and rap passages. I found myself reading passages aloud because they had a delightfully dance-y beat to them.
Mr. Nichols also used story structure in an intricate and pleasing way, with short chapter-vignettes, at first seemingly unrelated, introducing a dizzying array of characters all confronting the No Net disaster. Eventually the characters and their stories interlock in interesting and unexpected ways, often with a small jolt of very real and tender human feeling, made all the more moving because of all the violence and offense and mayhem that had preceded such moments.
And the hand-drawn line art work—naïve, but intricate and illuminating, by artist James King. Very odd, to be sure, but of a piece with the writing and structure. I have to give points for the flamboyant and fiery out-there-ness of the writing and the art.
So, how do I grade this thing with stars as I am required? It's a stumper, folks, so I will think out loud for you so you can make your own decision. I can easily defend a one-star score, just to scare off the many people who will be terrified and spontaneously combust if they attempt to read this. This needs to come with some kind of "don't let the children or delicate adults read this" warning sticker. But I can also completely agree with the folks who give it five stars for the over-the-top and knowing writing style and moments of completely beautiful heart-felt humanity mixed into the mad stew that is this book. Be a waffle with a three-star review? That feels cowardly and wimpy, and three is kind of my go-to score for something that either lacked punch or had distracting craft flaws in spite of otherwise great story-telling, which doesn't fit on either score. This book packs a whole platoon of punches! The book is well-edited, engaging, comes with weird original art and wacky but deliberate, knowing and original word choices, is brilliantly structured and tells a clear enough story with cartoon-y but vividly memorable characters. I cannot give that a three. I also cannot give something that upset me so much a five. (Noah, dude, watermelons, really?!?) So…Mr. Nichols, a four it is, but a very well-earned four, star-dusted with shattered fragments of a five, with my apologies as a newly hatched reviewer for not being able to bring myself to overcome my own reading preferences enough to bestow the mighty five star.
Posted on May 3, 2016 May 3, 2016 Categories UncategorizedLeave a comment on NO NET
BRIDGE THROUGH TIME
A campy romp through space, time and family by Canadian fantasy and YA novelist Scott Spotson.
In this sequel to YA and fantasy author Spotson's science fiction debut ("Life II"), the eldest son born in the "wrong" time stream to time traveler Max Thorning must set things right and restore the universe to its rightful order.
Burdened with an excessively high IQ and severe ADHD, along with frequent night terrors and a nagging sense he doesn't belong "here," Kyle Thorning nonetheless overcomes his father's depression, his parents' divorce and his personal limitations to become a world-famous PhD in physics and land a position at CERN, the famous particle physics lab in Switzerland. He even scores a hot physicist girlfriend and seems poised for success and happiness. But events beyond his control have been growing alongside his stellar career, namely the stealthy global takeover of the entire planet by four-legged, four-armed, multi-colored aliens called the "Darsians." One things leads to another, and eventually Kyle realizes the magnitude of the destruction his father Max Thorning caused by going back in time and creating a second time stream, one overrun by Darsians slowly tightening their grip on his planet by addicting humanity to super strong cidda coffee and enthralling them with integram virtual lives. Can Kyle save humanity–and his father's life–by finding the means to go back in time and set things right before it's too late?
Buckle up for a campy ride. Spotson's writing is fast-paced and clear, well-formatted and cleanly copy-edited. The story starts a bit slow, giving needed space to catching up readers who may have missed the first book, but shifts into a trot by mid-book and gallops to an exciting finish by the end. Spotson "helicopter parents" his verbs with generous doses of adverbs for extra oomph, quite never trusting them to carry the weight of the action unaccompanied. Characters, male and female, spend a good deal of time with tears rolling down their faces, drawn in cartoon-y over-the-top ways, melodramatically nervous, terrified, enraged, grieving or otherwise discombobulated much of the time. I wondered if I had wandered into a middle-grade story, with all the exaggerated emotion and adverbs, but the occasional bouts of romance (committed relationship, discreet, "off screen"), the moments of parental worry about the impact of divorce on children and the physics duel at CERN tugged me back up into a YA-to-adult targeting. To be clear, his writing style drove me nuts, but I found myself unable to put the story down. I had to find out whether Kyle succeeded or failed, and how it all went down. And if that isn't the definition of engaging, dear reader, I do not know what is.
On what to rate this time travel tale, I am honestly flummoxed. I have to assume the adverb-and-hysterical characters thing is a consciously chosen style, since the world-building is intelligent, the story-telling robust, the copy-editing excellent, and the occasional bursts of physics quite fun. You have to give the man extra points for coming up with not one but two separate ways to travel through time, after all, while working neutralinos, anti-Higgs bosons, Casimir effects and slit experiments gone rogue into the story. I happen to have a minor in physics, and his physics are nonsensical hand waving, but exuberantly delivered with Trumpian compelling effect. The aliens, while central to the plot and eventually revealed in all their glorious villainy, seem almost an afterthought in this family-centric tale of a son's quest to save his father and the universe. Five seems too high for a book with this many adverbs, histrionic characters and weeping spells; three stars too low for something this well copy-edited and exuberantly over-the-top campy fun. I can see the B-movie version, shot for a skinny budget, of this noble tale of courage and sacrifice in the war against the aliens. Four stars, recommended for precocious children with ADHD who like physics and time travel stories and for adults looking to discover the next campy cult favorite.
Posted on May 3, 2016 May 3, 2016 Categories Reviews, Science Fiction, Time TravelLeave a comment on BRIDGE THROUGH TIME
THE DRAGON'S CASTLE
A fresh and engaging take on the making of a wizard, this second book in the Apprentice Series by prolific and award-winning fantasy, science fiction, YA and spirituality writer James Cardona shows his fantasy and YA background.
604 pages, $4.99 Kindle, $24.99 paperback
Bel, a new graduate of Lasaat, the elite school for wizards, now serves as apprentice to forest archmage Nes'egrinon. Before he can even recover from wounds suffered in the quest to win his mage staff, Bel and his master must answer an urgent summons and rush to the capital to help King Thrashel save his throne and his realm. Bel and Nes'egrinon are soon plunged into a cascade of challenges: succession battles, wizardly corruption, multiple hostile armies and the much-reviled foreign avian wizards, not to mention mighty creatures bent on humanity's destruction. Bel must also face his own greatest personal challenge, his love for Shireen, the woman he can never have if he is to achieve his full potential as a wizard.
Written for a young adult audience, this second book in multiple-award-winning author James Cardona's Apprentice Series covers familiar ground—the training of a wizard—in fresh and engaging ways. Older and more mature than Harry Potter and his friends at Hogwarts, Bel and Shireen must together grapple with the terrible trade-off at the heart of their quest to become wizards, the requirement that they abandon all hopes of love and marriage, even as their love rekindles and grows ever deeper and more passionate. More earnest, dutiful and altruistic than the edgy, cool, pot-smoking, alcohol-guzzling magician college students of Lev Grossman's "The Magicians" series, Bel and Shireen must make life-changing decisions while learning their wizardly powers, dodging various enemies and watching their elders grapple with the consequences of their own youthful decisions. Less formidably confident than Mother of Dragons Khaleesi from G.R.R. Martin's "The Game of Thrones" series, these young apprentices are approachable, fallible and engaging heroes, their interactions with each other and their masters leavened with a gentle humor as they struggle, fail and rise to try again and make wise decisions without half the knowledge and wisdom they need.
Uniquely wonderful is the author's ability to take the reader into the minds of the young apprentices as they struggle to learn their craft, whether it be sensing the forest and the life force of all the creatures it contains, sending oneself out into the world or peering into another's mind. Even more thrilling are the moments when the reader gets to experience the same skills now masterfully exercised through the viewpoint of their experienced masters at the fullest extent of their powers. Author Cardona exercises a rich and vivid imagination, taking the reader on an exciting, well-paced and always surprising journey through a complex and concrete world. Whether it be political maneuvering, pitched battles, magical fights or courtly marriage ceremonies, Cardona tells his tale in memorable detail.
I admire the complexity and depth Cardona brings to this young adult tale and the respect he has for his readers. He does not insult his young readers with over-simplification and a dumbed-down vocabulary. Relish with me "the fetor of death," for example. Or the speech of the Tundric officers, with their echoes of the poems of the Icelandic Viking sagas like "game of iron" or "swords covered in the dew of men's blood." His political setting of warring realms under outside threat carries echoes of the warring but inter-related Anglo-Saxon realms on the eve of the Viking invasions that eventually unified England. He explores the ancient and persistent trade-off between a spiritual vocation and an ordinary layman's life through both his young apprentices, standing on the precipice of their decisions, and through the lives of their old masters, who have had to live with their decisions. While his heroes are moral and generous, they are also prey to selfish urges, lapses into cowardice and thoughtlessness. In short, they are very human and real. And oh! He does marvelous things with the great creatures awakened in his story.
Definitely a worthwhile and engaging read, but a few problems bear mentioning. Typographical slips and jarring word choices and repetitions occasionally marred my experience of this magical adventure. Language choices veered from courtly formality ("My good king!") to contemporary informality ("you know," "neurotic kook"). I was unsure whether these were attempts at humor or just sloppy style. I hate sounding pedantic about such details when the story, world and characters are so well imagined and engaging, but I believe it hurts the cause of indie publishing when self-published authors release work that does not meet traditional professional editing standards.
In spite of my gripes about these small flaws, I would strongly recommend this series to young fantasy fans for its unique and memorable spin on the path of the wizard and the vividly imagined experience of being a wizard.
Posted on May 3, 2016 May 3, 2016 Categories Fantasy, Goodreads review, ReviewsLeave a comment on THE DRAGON'S CASTLE
MILLION DOLLAR STAIRCASE
276 pages $4.99 on Kindle
Author: David Crosby. Mr. Crosby is an award-winning photo-journalist making his novelist debut with this book, first in his Will Harper mystery series.
Former journalist Will Harper struck it lucky when Aunt Dotty kicked the bucket and left him enough to kiss his job goodbye and buy a boat. Then his luck runs even hotter when the attractive French-speaking owner of the run-down marina where he parks his boat gets romantic. But they've got trouble with a capital "T" because evil developers want the city fathers to wield the weapon of eminent domain to bulldoze her marina and put up a million dollar staircase, ADA-compliant, of course, in the middle of their new development. With the help of a hotshot lawyer who owes him a favor and armed with his journalistic sleuthing skills, fearless and generous Will swings into action to help his new lady friend.
First, the fun. It's a sun-drenched Florida coastal setting, with ramshackle bait shacks, live aboard boats, lazy boozy meals, flowered shirts, greedy developers, corrupt local politicians and scary tattooed "muscle." My apologies for bringing current events into a review, but I write this review in the heat of the 2016 presidential campaign, where it's the Donald and his eminent domain wielded against little old ladies so he can build a casino parking lot vs. Bernie fighting for the revolution of the little guy against Big Money. Mr. Crosby has written a timely book, and built a fictional world around a real and current issue. He's definitely fighting for the little guy, or in this case, the lovely Sandy of the French accent who is in danger of losing her marina to the evil developers. The author demonstrates a good grasp of the legalities of eminent domain and the strategies of evil developers and does a solid job of helping the reader understand them as well. He also knows his way around journalism and boats.
Somewhat confusingly, the book is marketed as a mystery. It is not a mystery, or at least it is not mysterious. The villains are introduced straight off as villains, rather selfish and ham-handed villains in fact, and the only mystery is how and when they will receive their come-uppance for being so villainous and dastardly. "Million Dollar Staircase" is not so much a mystery as it is the introductory pilot for what looks to be a private detective series built around the dashing, justice-minded, generous, brave, gentlemanly, independently affluent and conveniently skilled Will Harper. Think of it as an extended character sketch with some fun action sequences as the bad guys are foiled and brought low.
I like Will, although I question his judgment at times…in ways I cannot detail without spilling plot beans. He makes some very strange decisions. Let's just say I found myself chanting "Call the police!! Call the police!!" several times. I guess hard-boiled detectives-to-be don't instinctively do that when confronted by awkward corpses. He's a nice guy, a gentleman, smooth enough with the ladies and treats them well, which is also appealing, but he lacks a certain cluefulness about the fair and mysterious sex. I liked him enough to want to pull him aside a couple of times and just tell him, "Dude, she's just not that into you…" His difficulties with love form a kind of subplot as a backdrop to all the legal proceedings and action sequences.
Mr. Crosby is a good storyteller, although I'm not sure he's demonstrated his mystery chops with this book. (Need more…mystery.) I would also quibble with his dialogue style, which is naturalistic to the point of being too real—greetings and small talk–and not as effective as it could be in showing character and pushing the plot along. Minor typos and formatting issues distracted slightly. He's a great world-builder. I could feel the Florida mugginess and taste the seafood. I enjoyed his little guys and gals vs. the Big Bad Money Boys plot. His characters are colorful and memorable enough if not particularly complex. The story is conveyed with a warm, earnest upbeat feel, gliding calmly over the occasional murders and kidnappings and difficulties in romance with a gentle humor.
Mystery fans looking for a new series should check out Will Harper, perfectly positioned at the end of Book 1 to start solving crimes and mysteries, although Mr. Crosby's ability to create mystery and tension remains, in this first pilot book, as yet unproven.
Posted on May 3, 2016 May 3, 2016 Categories Goodreads review, Mystery, ReviewsLeave a comment on MILLION DOLLAR STAIRCASE
THE HOARDER'S WIDOW
Author: Allie Cresswell . This is Ms. Cresswell's 5th novel.
We meet our protagonist Maisie at the moment of her transformation from wife to widow as her husband Clifford Wilde makes what can only be described as a spectacular exit from his role as husband, protector and, as the title gives away, hoarder. Author Allie Cresswell's language delights throughout from the fiery first page, as she swiftly, concretely and vividly dispatches poor Clifford, allowing him a brief moment to explain himself before launching into the main adventure, Maisie's long-delayed blossoming into the person she was meant to be.
Long confined and nearly entombed by her husband's towering piles of broken treasures, we meet Maisie as she must deal with the logistics and shock of widowhood. I did not expect such a delightful journey from such a sad and soggy beginning. Though the rains fall often in this tale set in a lonely house at the end of a lane in the English countryside, Maisie's personal journey and the friendships, knowledge and family she gains along the way are as warm and bright and comforting as a shiny copper kettle calling the reader to tea. The story is infused with a deep empathy and tenderness for the flawed and difficult personalities struggling with their challenges, whether it be Maisie coming to grips with what she has lost during her years with Clifford and the secrets she must face, or her hen party of new friends squabbling, or her limited and awkward grown children fluttering around her, casualties as much as she was of their father's odd tendencies.
I do not wish to rob readers of the pleasures of meeting the emerging Maisie and her new friends, so I will not describe them except to say that their interactions provide wonderful moments of humor and poignancy as they accompany Maisie on her journey to her new life. Ms. Cresswell possesses a deft and elegant touch in creating her vivid characters both major and minor, all cracked pots and imperfect, but treated as worthy of happiness even so.
The plot may be simple, but it moves along at a comfortable clip, moving inexorably forward as Maisie uncovers old secrets and makes new friendships. Along the way, Maisie and the reader explore family, those families we are born into and marry as well as those we create with our friends or claim through duty mingled with forgiveness and understanding.
Film producers working with actresses "of a certain age" who complain of the lack of juicy parts for women of middle age would do well to grab this book and imagine casting Maisie and her friends. I can see a delightful ensemble piece, full of heart and insight into human foibles, anchored by Maisie and filled out by her friends, a must-see cozy film for those of us who long for something on the big screen without car chases or space aliens.
I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys superbly written, character-driven fiction. There is nothing flashy in this simple tale, but it is a rich and filling feast of real and complex characters muddling through life's challenges and finding their way forward together. I would write more, but I need to go find out what else Ms. Cresswell has written, and settle in with a cup of tea and another of her stories. I loved this book and gave it a five.
Posted on May 3, 2016 May 3, 2016 Categories Goodreads review, Literary, Mystery, ThrillerLeave a comment on THE HOARDER'S WIDOW

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Blu-ray Highlights: Week of July 30th, 2017 – Circle Gets the Square
This week on Blu-ray, giant kaiju stomp major cities to rubble while Tom Hanks violates your privacy and steals all your personal data. I ask you, which is the bigger monster, really?
Which Blu-rays Interest You This Week (8/1/17)?
'Across the Line' (Sony)
'All About the Money' (Gravitas Ventures)
'Big Little Lies' (HBO)
'The Bitter Tea of General Yen' (Sony Choice)
'Blackbeard' (Mill Creek)
'Boyka: Undisputed 4' (Universal)
'The Cara Project' (Gravitas Ventures)
'The Circle' (Lionsgate)
'Colossal' (Universal)
'Colossal (Mondo Exclusive w/ Statue)' (Universal)
'Crashing: The Complete First Season' (HBO)
'The Devil's Brigade' (Kino)
'Don't Knock Twice' (Shout! Factory)
'The Drowning' (Sony)
'Escape from New York (SteelBook)' (Scream Factory)
'The Fog (SteelBook)' (Scream Factory)
'Fortitude: Season 2' (PBS)
'Fruits Basket: The Complete Series - The Sweet Sixteen Anniversary Edition' (FUNimation)
'Going in Style (2017)' (Warner Bros.)
'The Good Son' (Kino)
'The Hippopotamus' (Momentum Pictures)
'Hired Gun' (Sony)
'House on Willow Street' (Shout! Factory)
'The Intruder' (Garagehouse Pictures)
'Jane's Addiction: Ritual de lo Habitual - Alive at 25' (Rock Fuel)
'Junjo Romantica: Season 2' (Right Stuf)
'League of Gods' (Sony)
'The Legend of Ben Hall' (Sony)
'The Lovers' (Lionsgate)
'MacArthur' (Universal Studios)
'Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin - Chronicle of Char and Sayla' (Right Stuf)
'North' (Sony Choice)
'Obit.' (Kino)
'The Ottoman Lieutenant' (Universal)
'Phoenix Forgotten' (20th Century Fox)
'Pure Country: Pure Heart' (Warner Bros.)
'S.W.A.T.: Under Siege' (Sony)
'Shin Godzilla' (FUNimation)
'Sleight' (Universal)
'Slither: Collector's Edition' (Scream Factory)
'They Live (SteelBook)' (Scream Factory)
'TT 2017 Official Review' (Duke Marketing)
'Wakefield' (Shout! Factory)
'Young Dracula: The Complete Fifth Season' (FilmRise)
Other (Tell us in the Comments)
Nothing for me this week
Unfortunately, none of this week's titles are available on Ultra HD.
'The Circle' – Within the span of just six weeks, Emma Watson starred in one of the biggest box office hits of 2017 and also one of the biggest box office disappointments. In the latter, she plays an idealistic twenty-something who works for a fictional social media/technology mega-corporation run by Tom Hanks doing his best Steve Jobs impersonation. Adapted by author Dave Eggers from his own novel, the story is meant to be both an incisive social satire about our media-saturated times and a suspenseful corporate espionage thriller. The withering reviews suggest that the movie version accomplishes neither particularly well.
'Colossal' – Nacho Vigalondo, the demented Spanish auteur behind 'Timecrimes' and 'Extraterrestrial', comes to Hollywood to deliver a peculiarly oddball spin on the giant monster attack genre. Anne Hathaway plays a hot mess party girl who discovers, after waking up from her latest binge-drinking bender, that her alcohol-fueled antics are somehow directly tied to a monster rampage across the globe in Seoul, South Korea. That's a wacky premise right up Vigalondo's alley, but the studio lost faith in the movie after test screenings and dumped it in theaters with little promotion. Reaction was mixed. Luke hated the movie when he saw it at Sundance, but Phil (and a number of other critics) thought more highly of it. Viewers were similarly split, some finding it hilarious and clever while others thought it was stupid and boring.
'Shin Godzilla' – More kaiju action comes from the home of such things in Japan. Toho Pictures reclaims the King of the Monsters for a brand new reboot entrusted to the hands of 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' creator Hideaki Anno. The writer/director made the decision to focus more on the human response to a giant monster crisis than the monster itself, and plays the movie as a satire of government bureaucracy and inaction, a parable for the Fukushima nuclear disaster of 2011. Surprisingly, a lot of fans were on board for this.
'Going in Style' – As a director, Zach Braff branches off from his insufferable exercises in cinematic narcissism to instead do a studio remake of Martin Brest's 1979 comedy about a trio of old codgers (originally George Burns, Art Carney and Lee Strasberg) who hatch a plan to rob a bank. The new version stars Morgan Freeman, Michael Caine and Alan Arkin. Critics were not impressed by the results, but the movie quietly did enough business to become profitable.
'The Lovers' – Three-time Oscar nominee Debra Winger hadn't landed a lead role in a feature in a number of years. If I'm not mistaken, her last was 1993's 'Shadowlands' opposite Anthony Hopkins. Here, she and Tracy Letts play an aging couple who have long since drifted apart into the arms of others. Just as they're about to pull the plug on their marriage for good, something unexpected happens and they fall for each other again. Is it cheating to have an illicit affair with your actual spouse? Both actors received rave reviews for the dark comedy.
'Obit.' – The morbid career of writing newspaper death notices is examined in a documentary about the obituary staff writers at the New York Times. Phil was a big fan of this, as were most other critics.
Catalog Titles
Hot off the success of his mega-budget 'Guardians of the Galaxy' sequel, Scream Factory digs up James Gunn's darkly comic creature feature, 'Slither'. The movie was a box office failure back in 2006, but found a cult audience on video. Its appearance on Blu-ray now ends years of HD DVD exclusivity.
After that, Scream Factory celebrates director John Carpenter with new SteelBook reissues of 'Escape from New York', 'The Fog' and 'They Live'. I'm fairly certain that these are all the same discs released previously, just in new packaging that's a little too Pop Art-y for my taste.
The Sony Choice manufactured-on-demand program offers BD-R copies of Rob Reiner's notorious flop 'North' (the film that caused Roger Ebert to coin the phrase "I hated, hated, hated this movie") and Frank Capra's controversial 1933 wartime melodrama 'The Bitter Tea of General Yen'.
Universal marches out the military bio-pic 'MacArthur', starring Gregory Peck as the famed WWII general.
Remember when adorable Macaulay Culkin tried to get edgy by starring in a psycho thriller about a murderous young boy? Kino dredges up 'The Good Son', along with the 1968 'Dirty Dozen' knockoff 'The Devi's Brigade'.
I have no doubt that HBO's stupidly-titled 'Big Little Lies' miniseries will pick up a bunch of Emmys next year, but one episode was more than enough for me.
I somehow completely missed the existence of HBO's 'Crashing', a comedy about stand-up comics created by and starring Pete Holmes. The first season of that is also available this week.
Finally, PBS delivers the second season of the British mystery drama 'Fortitude'.
My $.02
I'm inclined to rent 'Colossal' and 'Shin Godzilla'. I still have 'Slither' on HD DVD, but I recall that being a pretty mediocre disc that might need upgrading.
What are you up to this week?
TagsBig Little Lies Blu-ray Blu-ray Highlights Colossal Escape from New York Fortitude Godzilla Going in Style John Carpenter Obit Documentary Poll Slither The Circle The Fog The Lovers They Live
About Josh Zyber
Josh Zyber is a veteran movie and video disc reviewer from Laserdisc to DVD and beyond. He previously wrote for DVDFile.com, DVDTalk.com, and Home Theater magazine.
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July 31, 2017 at 5:55 am - Reply
Slither has been available on Blu-Ray for awhile. I'm assuming this release is just a beefed up collector's edition with better A/v and special features. At least it will include subtitles as the last release didn't which I thought was kind of pathetic.
Josh Zyber
Pretty sure this is the first Blu-ray release of Slither in the U.S.
I guess it's possible. I only know it was available in North America because I actually rented the movie on Blu Ray from my local library a few weeks back. Is it common for a movie to have a BD release in Canada and not the U.S.?
Universal released Slither on HD DVD but never bothered to port it to Blu-ray in the U.S. It looks like TVA Films released it in Canada back in 2008, on a disc with a 1080i encode and bilingual package art.
http://www.amazon.ca/exec/obidos/ASIN/B001E7LY6M/panandscathed-20
Csm101
Shin Godzilla is my main title of interest this week. I'm kind of bummed that my Best Buy is looking like it won't carry them in store, although I wouldn't be surprised if they appear as available tomorrow. I might have to stop at Wally World and see if they will carry it. Another strike against Best Buy is that Slither isn't on their website at all. I was going to use a gift card to have it shipped to my house, but I can't find it. BOO!! Colossal is also a title of interest. Another title showing as not available at Best Buy. I find it hard to believe they won't carry this or Shin Godzilla on release day. I guess I'll know for sure tomorrow….
Barsoom Bob
My gripe with Best Buy is that they have stopped bringing in the 3D releases and have remo9ved their 3D section in the store. Had to order Kong 3D and Ghost in the Shell 3D because BB didin't bring in any copies, I was there at 10 am on their release Tuesdays and nada. This is so stupid on the marketing departments part, The 3D copy of Beauty and the Beast that I had to order from Amazon UK is just beautiful in 3D.
Just curious, has anybody here tried viewing a Blu-ray 3D disc through a Playstion 4 VR headset ? Or, any other real VR headset ?
If so, care to give an evaluation of the experience ?
Lord Bowler
I'll be picking up the excellent WWII film 'The Devil's Brigade' starring William Holden.
I may pick up 'MacArthur', if the price is good enough.
I'll be renting: The Circle, Colossal, Going in Style, The Ottoman Lieutenant, Phoenix Forgotten, Wakefield, and S.W.A.T.: Under Siege.
I may pick up 'Blackbeard' (Mill Creek), if it's in the bargain bin. This is like the third release of this decent mini-series.
William Henley
Shin Godzilla sounds interesting, so I may have to blind buy it.
Fruit Basket has been on my bucket list for years, but I have never seen it at a decent price. I may have to look and see if it is available on a streaming platform
Deaditelord
Slither and They Live I might pick up if they go on sale cheap. I'm also probably going to give Shin Godzilla a chance once it shows up on Netflix, although my hopes for it are very low given how much I despised Neon Genesis Evangelion.
William, Deaditlord, I saw Shin Godzilla last year at one of the Alamo Drafthouse theaters. Josh isn't kidding when he says they favored the Government inaction over the big green guy. Really, a 75/25 ratio at best. But that being said, The Godzilla parts are very good, this is going to make great fodder for a fan edit ! Rent before you buy.
That's a bummer. When I watch a Godzilla film I want to see him on the screen as much as possible. Still will give it a chance on Netflix if/when it shows up.
July 31, 2017 at 1:08 pm - Reply
"If I'm not mistaken, her last was 1993's 'Shadowlands' opposite Anthony Hopkins."
I think Debra Winger also had a lead role two years later in Billy Crystal's 'Forget Paris'.
Always liked 'The Good Son', but it sure was an unpleasant movie.
I guess I followed the instructions in the title and forgot it.
Don't forget the actual Paris. It's awesome.
August 1, 2017 at 12:44 am - Reply
Should have seen that one coming, Josh 🙂 Joke's on you!
(EM is right, Paris is awesome, but I do believe Josh has already been there. All other readers: follow EM's advice, and go to the city of lights)
August 1, 2017 at 4:03 am - Reply
We'll always have Paris.
August 2, 2017 at 9:13 am -
This is good referential joking right here.
August 2, 2017 at 7:52 pm -
I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!
Although I'm not interested in rebuying the three John Carpenter steelbook reissues from SHOUT/SCREAM, I did see them at Best Buy this morning for 14.99 a piece. That's a sweet deal if one doesn't already own them.
Thanks for the tip CSM! Definitely going to take advantage of that deal during my lunch break today.
Awesome, let me know if your BB's had them!
Swung by my local BB in Florida and they did have all 3 Carpenter films in stock at $14.99, although at low quantities (4 copies of Escape from New York, 2 copies of They Live, and 5 copies of The Fog). Debated about picking up Escape from New York, but limited my purchasing to They Live.
August 1, 2017 at 10:45 am -
Good to hear. You know what I also thought strange is that my BB was carrying Death Wish II and Nighthawks from Shout! as well. I picked up the Death Wish II for the unrated cut. I hope to pick up Nighthawks at a future time. I wish they carried more Shout!/Scream titles consistently.
I also find that my local BB is very inconsistent with what movies/games they have in the store. My local BB is a relatively small store though. Having said that, I almost always try to pre-order movies/games from their website now unless it's noticeably cheaper on Amazon as I normally receive them before street date.
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The European Union should not give Russia technical help to develop Arctic oil and gas fields if Moscow fails to help to defuse the Ukraine crisis, EU Energy Commissioner Guenther Oettinger said on Wednesday.
EU officials have always said energy should not be used as a weapon in attempts to solve the crisis over Russia's actions in Ukraine.
While stopping far short of targeting physical energy supplies, EU ministers for the first time this week raised the idea of restricting Russian access to oil and gas technology.


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Witness the journey of a grizzled soldier Snake across Africa and Afghanistan as he resumes his life after the events of Ground Zeroes. Set in 1984 during the Soviet invasion on Afghanistan, Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain fills the unexplored cards in the timeline of the venerable series, letting the player control every step along Snake's way to power. Follow him as he gathers technology and personel to create his own organisation separate from international militaries, all while making his name heard around the world.


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Nurses Office – Last call for student flu shots will be tomorrow (Friday). If you have a signed flu form please report to the nurse's office tomorrow.
NHS – Quick meeting today after school in Room 1213. Please see Ms. Menery if you cannot make it, we need help with our Thanksgiving food drive for the Open door.
From Guidance – Next Wednesday, November 4th, a New England Service Academy Night will be held at the Danversport Yacht Club in Danvers from 6:30 to 9:00 PM. Many of the military academies, ROTC's and institutes will be there to talk to you about educational and military opportunities available to graduating seniors.
JROTC – JROTC will be holding a Jalapeno's night next Wed. Nov. 4th from 5-9 PM, come out and support the cadets.
Class of 2016 – Class dues must be paid before purchasing semi tickets. Dues can be paid to Student Council at the ticket booth during lunches all week. List of class dues are in the principal's office windows.
Class of 2016 – Semi tickets can be purchased for $50.00, tickets can be purchased after school tomorrow, (Friday) and Mon, Nov 2nd. Monday Nov. 2nd is the last day to buy tickets for semi.
Faculty Talent Show – Do you want to see some of your teachers on stage showing off their great talent? Do you want to hear some of your teachers sing, dance, play an instrument, or do a comedy act? You can hear them all at the Faculty Talent Show tonight, beginning at 6:30 PM in the auditorium. Tickets will be sold at the door. There will be plenty of food, a 50/50 raffle, and of course, a great show to see. Come and support the Gloucester High School community. Proceeds from the evening will go to the Class of 2017, and the Sunshine Fund. We hope many of you will attend. If you want any further information, please see Mr. DiPietro in Room 3215.


text:
Pack of cigarettes leads to arrest of Florida man after bank robbery
By Bob D'Angelo, Cox Media Group National Content Desk
ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. — A dropped pack of cigarettes led to the arrest of a Florida man, who is accused of robbing a bank Monday, authorities said.
David Keith Teal, 61, of St. Petersburg, is accused of robbing a Chase bank in St. Petersburg, the Tampa Bay Times reported. According to an arrest affidavit, detectives with the Pinellas Park Police Department found a pack of cigarettes with Teal's fingerprints at the bank's exit.
Teal was charged with providing a false name to law enforcement, armed robbery, possession of paraphernalia, possession of a controlled substance, resisting an officer without violence, petit theft, retail theft and trespassing, according to Pinellas County Sheriff's Office online booking records.
A pack of cigarettes left behind led police to an alleged bank robber.https://t.co/f22zrx69ps
— Tampa Bay Times (@TB_Times) September 2, 2021
According to the arrest affidavit, Teal entered the bank at around 9:30 a.m. EDT and handed a teller a note demanding $10,000, the Times reported.
After Teal allegedly took the money and left the bank, employees pointed police to a pack of cigarettes that Teal allegedly dropped on the floor, according to the affidavit.
Teal told police he had never been to the bank, the Times reported.
Teal was being held Friday in the Pinellas County Jail, with bail set at $56,800, according to online booking records.
A bond hearing is scheduled for Sept. 10, according to Pinellas County online court records.


text:
Richard Grainger's new novel.
Perhaps it was no great surprise that the first word Dave said was 'fuck'.
And the fact that this utterance occurred some eighteen years, two months, three days and seven hours after he was born caused considerable consternation; not least of all to Dave.
In fact, it caused so much consternation that the three other people who heard it imagined that they had heard it. Indeed, they thought that there must be some logical explanation as to why they all thought that they had heard it. And this was because there was as little likelihood of Dave saying anything – let alone 'fuck' – as there was of the object that had just struck him reciting the entire works of William Shakespeare.
"Just when I'd thought things had got as bad as they could get, they got even worse. There's a singer called Morrissey who writes songs about stuff like this, and even he would struggle to make this sound as miserable as it is."
Meet Dave.
Dave is an eighteen year-old blind, quadriplegic victim of medical negligence. He also suffers from locked-in syndrome.
He is highly intelligent, has an almost photographic memory and is capable of absorbing knowledge at a phenomenal rate.
Trouble is, he's the only one who knows this.
Dave's world revolves around the antics of his dysfunctional, avaricious, unloving family and everything he learns from BBC Radio 4 – constantly playing in his room – which provides a link to an outside world he knows he will never belong to.
Life is bleak for Dave.
Then Dave meets Molly.
Molly is the first person to notice that Dave can communicate through voluntary movement of his right eyelid.
Can Molly save Dave?
Can Dave survive the Coronavirus pandemic?
Can Dave escape from his egocentric and neglectful family?
And can Dave fulfil his life's ambition and follow his ultimate hero, John F Humphrys into a career in journalism?
Saving Dave, heartwarming and darkly comedic, is the first novel about locked-in syndrome.
Honest.
Here's a taster … the first twirty-two pages. Saving Dave will be available from Amazon and all good bookshops sometime soon, COVID-19 permitting!
The truth is often boring.
Someone once said that a lie can go around the world in the morning before the truth has put his trousers on.
What I'm about to tell you is the truth and I don't think it's boring because it's my life, and although you may well end up feeling sorry for me – or again, you may not – it's the best life I can have so I just have to make the most of it, even after everything that's happened to me.
When you've finished reading this, you can make your own mind up about whether I've been lucky or not.
But who knows what the future holds?
Do any of us?
Okay, so I'll begin to tell you about myself.
I was born around eighteen years ago, a healthy baby. Of course, I don't remember anything about this – does anyone? But from what I've found out over the years, listening to the parents' conversations, this is what happened.
About two and a half years into my life, they figured out that something was wrong. Most babies, I believe, progress from crawling to walking by their first birthday, but by the time I'd passed my second birthday, I was still crawling across the carpet like a slug on a lettuce leaf.
And that's a pretty good comparison, because apparently I was shaped like a football, so when crawling became rolling, and then forward and sideways movement finally stopped altogether, the parents decided they ought to investigate. I don't know why it took them so long to notice this because I can't remember that far back. But it doesn't really surprise me, cos they've always found more important and interesting stuff to do than pay much attention to me.
It took a doctor, who I think is called a paediatrician, about three nano-seconds to work out that both my hips were dislocated, and that without surgery to fix this I had as much chance of walking as a baby seal.
So I had both hips broken and reset, but I never got to walk anyway because after the operation there was some sort of 'complication'. And then after they'd got that under control one of the nurses in the ITU went for a fag break, during which time I stopped breathing.
By the time someone noticed and the resuscitation team did their stuff, I was so totally fucked that not being able to walk was the least of my problems.
So let me tell you about the list of ailments I was left with: I was blind, I couldn't speak, but I could make noises – noises which most people find very irritating, which is pretty much why I make them … actually, no, that's not entirely correct. I make them because everybody makes their own noises, so why should mine be any less important than anyone else's? It's my way of expressing myself, and just because nobody can understand me shouldn't make what I have to say any less important. It's like when the father hears something on the radio and says, 'He's talking utter shit.' This doesn't mean that there is actual poo coming out of his mouth; it just means that the father doesn't like or agree with what he's saying. So that makes my noises better than 'talking shit' because nobody can dislike or disagree with what I'm saying, because they can't understand it. For me, what I'm saying is perfectly clear, and just because I can't make it understandable shouldn't make it any less valid … should it?
Anyway, that's got that off my chest.
Oh yeah, my ailments.
I have no control over any of my limbs – I think this is what's known as quadriplegic. I'm supposed to have epilepsy … okay, hands up – well, not up in my case – I fake this because I learned how to do it, and a convincing epileptic episode at least guarantees me some attention. A seizure is the correct term, but the father refers to it, mainly to annoy the mother, as a fit. And I also quite like the medicine. It tastes okay and sends me to sleep, and being asleep is by far my favourite time. It's a time when no one can be horrible to me.
And to make all of this worse I've worked out from what I've heard on BBC Radio 4 – which the mother leaves on in my room all the time because she likes to listen to it and she probably assumes that I would too; which, actually, I do – that I have what is called locked-in syndrome.
Yes. Read that again … Locked. In. Syndrome.
The trouble is that I was the only person to have figured this out.
As you might understand, this was really frustrating, but I've sort of got used to it by now … well, most of the time anyway. I can be quite negative, bitter and resentful about what happened to me, but I usually try to be positive. Sometimes, though, it makes me, I don't know … maybe angry, when I think about how the parents have used my shitty life to their own advantage. Although, if I'm honest, I can remember the mother caring for me in a maternal kind of way before she found something better to spend her time on than looking after a fuck-up like me.
By the way, I need to warn you that there is going to be some strong language in this narrative. The person who is writing it for me – Sarah – is called a ghostwriter. She's writing this for me because I can't read, I can't write, and although I know some quite complex vocabulary because of BBC Radio 4 (like psychopath, for example) I'm not confident that I understand other words well enough to use them. That's because I can only learn words that I hear being used, and unless I hear them on BBC Radio 4, I don't have much chance of increasing my vocabulary.
I've told her not to use words that I can't understand, because when she reads this back to me I want to be sure that this is what I wanted to say and not some work of literary fiction.
So those are my disabilities, but you're not allowed to call them disabilities any more because we all have abilities, don't we? Even fuck-ups like me.
And just what are these? you're wondering.
I have control over the movement of my right eye. Nobody knew this, of course, other than Scooter the dog, so this skill set had fairly limited value.
I have an incredible memory. If I hear a word, even a really complicated word, I always remember it. But if I don't know what a word means, I can't ask anybody so I just have to guess, and sometimes I get it wrong. And I never forget people's names or numbers … especially numbers. I can tell you how many people there were on the Titanic (one thousand, three hundred and sixteen passengers, and nine hundred and thirteen crew, making a total of two thousand, two hundred and twenty-nine) and how many survived (seven hundred and thirteen) when it hit an iceberg, although I'm not completely sure what an iceberg is or why it hit it in the first place.
And I have fantastic hearing. Well, it isn't really fantastic, because to hear everything isn't as cool as it sounds and, in any case, it only keeps me awake. And I can control movements of my head, which I do to follow the direction of sounds.
But when I began to understand what people were saying, listening to what they said about me was at first quite distressing. They say things about me because they think I can't understand what they're saying. But then I got used to it and over the years it simply became boring. Same old, same old.
At least, that was the case until around a week ago – I can't remember exactly when because I don't have much concept of time, and unless I try really hard and pay attention to the radio, I get confused.
So let's just say it was a week ago. One day the father came back from the pub and was, for once, not particularly unpleasant to me. In fact, after he'd drunk some more beer, he came into my bedroom, kissed the top of my head and told me that he'd had a call from his – actually my – lawyer, and that I was going to be worth something after all.
Roger scratched his testicles and stretched.
Warm sunlight danced particles of dust across the cove of the bay window and dragged him reluctantly into another gloomy day.
His mind began to calculate just how he might possibly avoid wasting it. Wasting it … supervising the twins and babysitting Dave.
This he considered to be Gill's job. But she had asked him a week ago to keep today free, as apparently she had an appointment; she'd reminded him of this as she leapt out of bed. A leap, Roger considered, somewhat excessive for the mundane promise of her day.
'And this is going to take the entire day, is it?' he'd asked at the time.
'Yes, Roger, it will take the entire day,' she'd replied in a manner that suggested further investigation would only serve to fracture the fragile peace that existed between them at present.
Gill hadn't been well recently. No, that wasn't right, he corrected himself – Gill hadn't been herself recently. There was a difference here. Okay, she'd had some sort of breakdown that resulted in her seeing a shrink twice a week, but that couldn't be classed as illness, could it? He wasn't aware of any diagnostic labelling that had been formally attached to her. Gill was always having 'breakdowns'. Like the time she got up from the dinner table, screaming how much she hated this fucking family, and then disappeared for two days, only to return acting as if nothing at all had happened. NFG, Roger had remarked to the twins. Normal For Gill.
Or the time, he recalled, when the twins were aged about four, that she scooped one under each arm, grabbed her bag and car keys, stormed out and left him to look after Dave for six hours. Probably the worst six hours of his life, and certainly the only six hours he had ever devoted entirely to Dave.
Roger grimaced at the thought, particularly the 'bonding process' with Dave that had consisted of an aborted attempt to feed him: a task he undertook only because he could find no one else to do it. This had resulted in Dave spraying the food, in projectile fashion, over a relatively new and hitherto clean T-shirt. After Roger had cleaned up and calmed down a bit, he'd repaid Dave by banishing him to his beanbag with televised cricket for company. And in between these two events the real bonding had taken place, wherein he had informed his eldest son (then aged seven) that he was a blot on humanity, the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and that if he didn't die of natural causes pretty soon, then he would think of a way to assist him with the process.
Dave had turned his head despondently to the left, and other than making what Roger referred to as 'one of his mooing noises', had nothing further to say on the matter.
This particular day started with no hint of abnormality. It was going to be neither worse nor better than any other wasted day, he thought.
The bright morning sunshine eventually pulled Roger into a sluggish and reluctant wakefulness. Gill, as she did every day – whether he wanted it or not – had left him a mug of sweet, milky tea at six thirty before she took Scooter – the acrimonious, malodorous mutt of indeterminate ancestry who had duped them into adoption from rescue kennels nine years ago – for his reluctant run.
And as was the case every day during Roger's holidays, the tea was ignored and he drifted back into some sort of slumber in which he dreamt of a life in which things were very different, and one in which he wasn't facing the fact that the family home would be repossessed unless he could find an imminent solution to his current financial crisis.
He glanced at his phone. There were no messages, of course; he expected none, and social media held no interest for him. A phone was a phone, Roger often remarked. It was for making calls and for telling the time and the date. And this particular function informed him that it was Wednesday 17 July, which Roger's brain calibrated as the third day of the second week of his summer holiday; the precious six weeks that spanned the abyss of time he wasted teaching SMSC (Spiritual, Moral, Social & Cultural Education – including careers) to semi-literate primates at Wiley Hall Academy, whose only interest was to avoid any form of learning other than that which kept them at the top of the food chain on their own feral council estates.
Roger was quick to point out, to anyone willing to listen, that if you held the belief that academy status was no longer a governmental strategy for improving failing schools, then you knew nothing about state education. Because they were, and for Roger, the trick was to get through the day without the enactment of threats of violence from pupils, or giving grounds for HR to haul him over the coals for an inappropriate verbal or even physical response to said threats.
But things, he reflected, hadn't always been this bad, and the fact that this was as bleak a phase of his life as he could remember was, Roger would reluctantly admit, totally his own fault.
Roger was forty-six years old and the only child of elderly parents who had died shortly before his fortieth birthday, leaving him over two and a half million pounds to squander. The manner of their death was not without mystery, but the coroner concluded that the failure of their car to stop at a major traffic light-controlled junction was down to 'natural causes'.
And this was undoubtedly due to the fact that Hempsall senior had inadvertently taken around four times the recommended dose of Sitagliptin – a drug he took to control diabetes – and, as a result, had suffered acute heart failure. And whether it was his heart's failure or being T-boned by a Tesco eighteen-wheeler that had killed him was purely conjectural, concluded the coroner. The fact of the matter was that John and Eileen Hempsall were now dead and there was no blame to be attached to this event, therefore the executors of their wills were free to distribute their estates to the beneficiaries – there was only one – as prescribed.
The salient outcome of this was that it had allowed Roger to retire from teaching, an occupation he had come to hate, but one which he would privately admit at least meant that there were only two months of the year in which he had no holiday. And Ashley Grove Preparatory School, with its middle-class, middle-England values, and punters who were happy to shell out the best part of twenty-five grand a year for boarding education, suited Roger's somewhat elevated perception of his own social status.
Also, teaching put some distance between himself and Dave.
But by his forty-fifth birthday, the inheritance money had all but gone – fast cars, doomed business projects and an escalating gambling addiction being the principle money pits.
Thus, Roger had been forced to return to teaching. But the doors of Ashley Grove Preparatory School were firmly closed to him. Noel Sprockett, the long-suffering headmaster, had heaved a gigantic sigh of relief upon receipt of Roger's written notice to quit, and welcoming Roger back was about as appealing as an unannounced OFSTED inspection coupled with having to actually leave his study and teach. Sorry, Roger, no vacancies, no … not even on a part-time basis. Let you know if anything comes up, old boy.
So it was the state section to which Roger was reluctantly forced to turn, and after six months of fruitless applications largely due to a) Sprockett's less than complimentary reference, and b) the fact that state institutions are not renowned for their warmth of welcome to those from the 'other side' of education, Roger eventually managed to land the job at Wiley Hall.
But it paid a pittance.
The cars had long gone – his beloved Aston Martin had been replaced by a ghastly little Japanese runaround and an adapted van for Dave's transportation. But worse still, Gill had been forced to return to work, and this was a double whammy as a) blame for this was firmly laid (justifiably, Roger had to admit) at his door, meaning sex was as rare an occurrence as a fulfilling and enjoyable day at work, and b) he had to spend more time childminding Dave.
Added to this dismal scenario was the fact that an escalating amount of sick leave, ditto seeing her shrink, had resulted in a severe reduction of income from Gill's employer, and the threat of this – like sex – drying up altogether loomed closer by the day.
So all in all, Roger thought, pulling his mind away from the quagmire of his recent past, on this bright and beautiful July morning, reasons to be cheerful were few and far between.
And as he had, against Gill's advice, opened a third bottle of wine last night, even the prospect of alcohol later in the day did little to brighten his mood.
But then something flashed across his bleary consciousness that began to dissipate the shadows of gloom: the phone call he'd received yesterday evening. Yes, there was one thread of hope, one faint half-chance that could change all of this. And yesterday evening's call, which he'd received on the way to the pub, had turned that thread into a rope; indeed almost a rope bridge that crossed the chasm between poverty and wealth.
About three years ago when the money mountain was starting to look like a small slagheap, something had happened.
Dave had a minor accident at his school which resulted in a short stay in hospital, and following this, Roger persuaded Gill to talk to a lawyer.
The lawyer concluded that while they were likely to win the case, what they (Dave) would be awarded by the court would barely cover his costs.
But have you ever considered, he'd said, investigating how Dave got to be, hmmm – and here he paused, searching for more appropriate words than 'totally fucked'.
Roger had, in fact, considered this on many occasions but had failed to persuade Gill of his altruistic motivation for this course of action. Gill was a nurse, and nurses do not sue the NHS, do they? she'd said. And in any case, she'd told Roger, your only interest in this is that you see Dave as a potential cash cow.
But the lawyer, a Mr Charles Cuerliez, a senior partner of a firm named Gottemby, Short & Cuerliez, was very convincing.
It's not about the money, he'd said. Well it is about the money, but it's only what Dave is entitled to, and what is going to happen to Dave in the future? Hmmm? Besides, you are entitled to compensation for justifiable expenses in connection with Dave's needs over the past, let me see … fourteen years.
Dave had been present at the initial meeting, for the simple reason that on this occasion there was nowhere else to leave him, and at this point had made one of his 'mooing' noises – not dissimilar, most people thought, to utterances made by Chewbacca. Noises that no one – other than Dave – was ever able to attribute any meaning to. But on this occasion it meant agreement.
What, continued Mr 'Call me Charles' Cuerliez, if neither social services nor the NHS were able to provide an appropriate home for Dave in the future? What if Dave – due to lack of funding – were to be shoved into an old people's home and left to lie in the corner on a (piss-stained) beanbag, with wholly inadequate care from low-paid Eastern European staff who couldn't give a tuppenny fuck (not his exact words) about his welfare? Hmmm?
So Gill had been persuaded.
And then, a week ago, Mr Cuerliez had made a hugely significant discovery. The ITU staff roster from Monday, 14 June 2004, showed that there were insufficient staff on duty.
Cuerliez had struck gold.
According to the Paediatric Intensive Care Society's recommendations:
'In summary, the minimum number of qualified nurses required to staff one Level 3 critical care bed is, therefore, a minimum of 7.01 WTE.'
The roster showed that there were only three nurses on duty, and at the precise moment of Dave's 'incident', one had gone out for a fag break – of course this was referred to as 'on administrative duties' – and the other two were responding to an emergency affecting the only other patient in ITU, who was registered as Level 2 critical.
And as Dave was a Level 3 critical patient, that made it four point zero one nurses short of a full posse.
The North-Eastern Health Authority was understandably reluctant to hand over the relevant documentation, but when they were eventually persuaded to oblige, and 'Call me Charles' discovered that one page in the roster from Monday 12 May had been crudely doctored and another was missing.
Gotcha.
All Mr Cuerliez, his team of barristers and a top QC, whose name held no interest for Roger, had to do now was to persuade the North-Eastern Health Authority that the game was up and to settle out of court. But although one battle, he'd told Roger on the telephone yesterday – maybe a tad pessimistically – had been won, they were still a very long way from winning the war.
Roger had no idea what the spoils of this particular war might be, but he knew the sum coming their (Dave's) way would be sufficient for him to tell the head of HR at Wiley Hall to shove her letters of complaint where the proverbial sun doesn't shine.
And with that thought, he heard the back door open, Gill's voice yell 'Come here, you mangy old bastard,' (presumably, he thought, at Scooter) and decided it might be as good a time as any to get out of bed.
DIARY ENTRY: Friday, 20 July 2001
Dave came into this world at 03.57 last Monday morning.
I'd love to say that he just popped out, but he didn't.
He's my son, my first-born, and I love him, but I can tell that something isn't quite what it should be – I just know that nothing is going to be plain sailing. I don't know how … call it a mother's instinct.
It was an obstructed labour, or what is called 'labour dystocia', and this meant that my uterus was contracting normally, but the little blighter refused to come out through my pelvis because it was physically blocked.
And guess what was blocking it?
Dave, of course; he had a birth weight of nine pounds and fifteen ounces, and was classed as a large or abnormally sized baby.
And this meant an emergency C-section – or if we're splitting hairs, an unplanned C-section – because the doctor considered that Dave's life wasn't in danger, whereas the midwife thought it was as there was a significant chance that he wasn't getting enough oxygen; and even in my state, as a nurse myself I know that lack of oxygen results in either severe brain damage or death.
Put like that, I'd say his life was in danger.
On the positive side, I'd already had one epidural so I had what is called a combined spinal-epidural anaesthesia, and I felt nothing.
And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.
I suppose, if I'm honest, what I did feel was relief. Relief that the ordeal was over, but none of the joy and euphoric bullshit the second-time mums had eulogised about in the pre-natal classes.
I will always remember holding him and feeling a strange sensation of disappointment. I had this, I suppose … premonition that the complications of his birth would be surpassed by the complications that his life would bring. I put it down to the fact I was exhausted and alone. No Roger – I can't remember what his excuse was, and frankly the only interest he had shown in my pregnancy evaporated after the conception.
I had this weird conviction that here was an unremarkable baby – size apart – who would stumble through an unremarkable childhood and an unremarkable youth into an unremarkable adulthood, and, at best, his life would be a litany of complication and disappointment.
And so I passed him back to the midwife and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The best part of being forced to constantly listen to BBC Radio Four is that occasionally you accidentally learn something that might be of use.
Okay, so I'll admit, you probably can learn something every day if you are minded to do so, which, incidentally, I'm not.
Take the news, for example.
This is what is going on in the world, but how it's supposed to interest most ordinary people is, well … beyond me. Most of it is boring because it's about things called markets and politics. Although I actually like the news, because sometimes there are really interesting stories, most of it is just irrelevant information, isn't it? What interests the people who report the news – I think they're called the media – is the reaction to these events … the crying mothers, the screaming children; maybe, if they're lucky, smoke or a scene of total destruction they can describe in the background; the over-excited eye witnesses – sad losers given a chance to talk to an audience for the first time in their lives. That's good reporting though; giving a total randomer his fifteen minutes of fame, somebody once called it, or so John Fucking Humphrys told me. Actually, more like fifteen seconds.
By the way, I don't think this is his real name but this is how the father refers to him, so perhaps it is? Although on the radio they don't seem to bother with his middle name. I wish my middle name was Fucking instead of Nigel because that would be really cool.
There was an American politician called JFK who was shot and I wonder if his middle name was Fucking as well? Perhaps that's why people always use his initials when they refer to him.
So I think in future when I want to talk about John Fucking Humphrys I'm going to call him JFH because it's neater and I'm not sure whether he likes his middle name being used anyway.
I don't know much about people, but I do know that they are only interested in things that affect them. And as a mass murder in a Texas church has no bearing on the cost of beer, mortgages or petrol, it isn't what most people would call newsworthy. But of course it is newsworthy because I don't think mass murders occur very often in this country, so that means this country is supposedly a safer place to live. Unless I've missed something … which is entirely possible.
Aren't I lucky?
But mass murder in itself interests me. Not mass murders in which random people get killed, but mass murder where the killer targets a very specific group of people.
Like, for example, his family.
DIARY ENTRY: Monday, 10 May 2004
Tell me why I don't like Mondays?
I'll tell you why I don't like Mondays.
I don't like Mondays for a very good reason, and that's because shit always seems to happen on a Monday.
It's the most shitprobable day of the week.
Dave being born on a Monday? I'm not sure if that slides seamlessly into the shitistical set of shitty events but, let's just say, if Dave hadn't been born with DDH – that stands for Developmental Dysplasis of the Hip – then last Monday wouldn't have happened, and this Monday – the biggest shitstorm of all – wouldn't have happened either.
Not that it makes the slightest jot of difference, but the paediatrician who diagnosed Dave's DDH seemed to think that he wasn't in fact born like this, that it happened during his first year of life and – hear this – that it was actually our fault!
So just how could this have happened? I asked.
It could have happened, he replied, due to excessively tight swaddling whereby Dave's hips and knees were habitually straight. Quite common really, and you mustn't feel guilty, he added with a syrupy smile, just to ensure that guilt was all that I will ever feel.
Guilty?
I didn't even know what swaddling is and – because I didn't want to appear stupid – I didn't ask him and googled it when I got home. Stupid, wasn't it? I'm accused of a procedure that led to the dislocation of my baby's hips and I don't even know what it is. Worse than that, I don't even say I don't know what it is.
But I'm a Senior Staff Nurse, you see, hardwired to accept the decree of the Gods of the White Coat without query. If he says I did it, then I did it.
I'm not stupid. I know how the game is played.
Let's just say that Dave's hips had been dislocated at birth. This is – according to my research – by far the most probable occurrence (eighty-five per cent of babies with DDH are born with it). This being the case, someone should have flagged this up; if not at the time of his birth, it should have been picked up at a post-natal clinic within the following month.
And as this wasn't flagged up, this means blame. And where there's blame, etc.
So last Monday Dave underwent surgery to correct his hips. It was an eight-hour operation and we were told that it had been successful. He sailed through it. When I say we were told, I was told because Roger was at work. No complications … period of convalescence … intensive physio … get him moving as soon as possible … blah-de-blah.
But there were complications.
On Wednesday I was woken in the middle of the night and told that Dave had been rushed into surgery. Blood clots had formed and there was some other complication – a problem with his lungs, they told me – and although I didn't fully understand, I did understand that Dave's condition was life-threatening.
After this particular bout of surgery he was admitted to the ITU and classed as Level 3, which meant that he was one step away from needing mechanical ventilation to keep him alive.
I couldn't believe this was happening.
Roger didn't help, claiming that he couldn't get time off work because he was needed for Sports Day, and anyway, he couldn't leave the dog. And even if he could, he wasn't 'great' in hospitals anyway.
I felt so alone. I wasn't managing the situation; it was managing me. What information I did get had to be dragged from the ITU doctor – a Dr Sullivan – as if she was breaching the Official Secrets Act, the Hippocratic Oath, the Famous Five's code of conduct or any combination of the above.
And along with the loneliness, the isolation, the increasing sense of institutionalisation, I became aware of a creeping sense of dread.
It was like I was in a horror movie where the tension builds gradually. As does the paranoia; it builds, and builds … and builds.
And then it happened.
Dave stopped breathing.
Mass murder.
It's been on my mind a lot recently.
To be honest, I think of little else, and I can't help wondering whether … if I could … would I?
Would I what?
Would I murder my parents? And my brothers? Get them all out of the way at the same time?
Of course, being as totally screwed as I am, it's impossible. A pipe dream. But that doesn't stop me fantasising about it, particularly as there's nothing much else to fantasise about. I know there's something called sex that's supposed to kick in at about my age, but as there's as little prospect of that as walking on the moon, there's not much point in fantasising about it, is there? Anyway, I don't know much about sex but I'm learning quite a lot about mass murder. I think it's probably more my sort of thing than sex, but I could well be wrong.
Why would I want to do this, you're probably wondering?
That's easy enough to answer. Because the dysfunctional (I think that's the right word?) family that I had the misfortune to be born into constantly make my life hell with emotional abuse and neglect, and by the fact that they – yes, even the mother – seem to be in some sort of denial about my existence and my circumstances. Hello … look at me, I'm fucked and can't do anything for myself. I didn't ask to be like this: a retard in a wheelchair, capable of nothing but understanding everything. Can't you just see that? No? Well maybe try looking a bit harder.
It would be so much better if I was brain-dead … if I didn't have a clue about what was going on around me. But I'm not.
What makes it worse is that everyone – including the doctors … no, especially the doctors – think that my brain is totally sizzled and that there's as much going on between my ears as, I dunno, something with nothing between its ears. Maybe someone who plays football? Because I've heard footballers interviewed in the sport section on BBC Radio 4 and I think they may also suffer from some form of brain damage, but nowhere near as bad as mine.
There's nothing wrong with my brain; it's just, like I said, that everything's locked in, so communication is impossible. Well, at least it is until I can figure out a way to do it. In fact, I think I'm probably quite intelligent. I think I'm way more intelligent than the parents and light years ahead of the ginger twats that are called my siblings. By the way, I've worked out what a twat is. It actually has two meanings: the first is a person regarded as stupid or obnoxious, and the second refers to a woman's genitals … that's her sex bits. When the father refers to the twins as 'ginger twats', I'm fairly sure that he's referring to the first meaning. Of course, they may have some resemblance to a woman's genitals, but if they did, I don't suppose he'd want to draw everyone's attention to it.
So why do I think I'm way more intelligent that the rest of my family?
Because I very much doubt that any of them could come up with the totally foolproof plan that I've come up with.
A plan to murder them all and get away with it.


SHiiKANE made their debut into the musical industry in 2009 by releasing their debut Mixtape "SHiiKANE Touched This.
Shiikane Originally from Asaba, Delta State, Nigeria; born and raised in London, UK, now residing back home in Lagos Nigeria. The band was initially formed in 2005 in London and their name derived from amalgamation of their first names Shay, Kay and Annamay.
SHiiKANE made their debut into the musical industry in 2009 by releasing their debut Mixtape "SHiiKANE Touched This. After the Mixtape release, followed by debut single "Bamboo Dey Chop".[Shiikane released their Promo album "Paradise On Saturn" in 2011. SHiiKANE teamed up with producer P2J in 2014 and releases the track called "SugaKANE" which was "Song of the week" by Toolz of BeatFM 99.9 Lagos Nigeria. Their music is influenced by different musical genres including R&B, Rock, Hip Hop, Soul and Gospel.


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Tropheus Brichardi
Price : R Incl VAT
Tropheus Brichardi is endemic to Lake Tanganyika where it is widely distributed throughout the central parts of the lake but is absent in the far north and south. There are several varieties/races of this species. The main distribution appears to be north of Kigoma to the south of Rumonge. The northernmost habitat appears to be "corniche" of Nyanza Lac from which the first "shoko" were identified and exported. The habitat of Tropheus is solid rock, either anchored and part of the hard core of the coast interlocking rubble, or even the sandstone slabs lining a sand beach. Loose pebbles rolling about in the surf and silted-over habitats are avoided. The vertical depth range depends on the depth to which the epiphytic algae are growing and this varies from one species to another and from one part of the lake to another.
Tropheus Moorii "Firecracker"
The blunthead cichlid, Tropheus Moorii, is a species of African Cichlids found in Lake Tanganyika. There are over 40 different morphs of this species disbursed throughout the lake. The fish comes in many colors and patterns ranging from dark green to flame red and yellow. They are found in many rock formations in shallow water eating algae which comprises most of their diet. Tropheus are mouthbrooders they fertilize, carry eggs and babysit young fry in the mouth of the female. They are usually found in groups with males being extremely territorial and breeding with many females in the group. Tropheus Moorii comes in a dazzling array of colors and color patterns. There are well over 40 different geographical variants of Tropheus Moorii, each with its own distinctive morphology. They are found in all parts of Lake Tanganyika where rocks are found, and because they are one of the easier fishes to catch. A sexually monomorphic species, Tropheus moorii can be quite challenging to sex. Aside from venting, however, there are few tips that might clue you in as to their gender. The upper lip of males is more prominent (i.e., larger) than that of females. Males' lips on average tend to be more off-white as well, due to their constant lip-locking aggression. Furthermore, males tend to have a turned-up nose while females tend to have a greater slope and rounded nose, making the shape of their head ellipsoid. Tropheus Moorii is strictly herbivorous like all Tropheus species. They spend the majority of their time scraping algae from the rocks in both the aquarium as well as in the wild. In fact, they are better than plecos at cleaning algae off of glass and rocks! In the wild, Tropheus Moorii are found in shallow bays and in the upper reaches of the lake over rocky reefs where the water is quite illuminated. This is because this is where the algae and other vegetable matter grow the quickest and thickest. Consequently, they are adapted to bright light.
Copyright © 2014 Cichlid Warehouse ZA. All Rights Reserved.
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Cichlid Warehouse is one of the biggest African cichlid breeders in South Africa and specializes in breeding and raising cichlid species from Lake Malawi, Lake Tanganyika and Lake Victoria as well as a few other species of cichlid from all over the world.
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I bought this in Canada at THE FACE SHOP when it was on sale for $7 CAD.
In Korea, this one is 17000 won (regular price).
The salesperson told me this cleansing oil is very strong!
You can use it to remove any kind of make up!
It has a heavy soybean smell !
Just like what the salesperson had said, it does have a powerful cleansing effect!!
It can remove the heaviest mascara and eye make up!
I use ~2 pumps and massage the oil all over my face, add some water until it turns to the milky texture, then rinse with warm water.
Soybean contains natural anti-oxidant properties, helps brighten skin tone and, provides anti-aging effects.
It also protects your skin again UV rays.
The cleansing oil is thick & rich and really cleanses well!
After using it, my skin is brightened instantly!!
I feel moisturized and very clean!!


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Q: Bootstrap confidence interval for slope of regression line, in the presence of heteroskedasticity Suppose I have a simple linear regression problem, and I use the bootstrap to obtain a 95% confidence interval for the slope of the regression line.  (Maybe I will use this confidence interval to test whether I can reject the null hypothesis that the slope is 0.)
Suppose that the data has heteroskedasticity.  I know that when I see heteroskedasticity, I should potentially worry, as this violates the assumptions behind linear regression and a linear model.  For example, I know that standard errors for the parameters of the linear model computed using standard methods (linear algebra, least squares, etc.) might be wrong or misleading.
What about when I use the bootstrap, instead of standard methods?  Does that avoid those problems?  Do I get good 95% confidence intervals for the slope, even in the presence of heteroskedasticity?  Or are there caveats and cautions that I need to be wary of?

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaStackExchange


I'm Melisa! I'm an avid reader. I love romance novels and decided, hey, why not write about what I love and hate about the genre. And my favorite books. And when I get to meet authors. And all round why romance novels are awesome. Expect a lot of fan-girling, laughter, and some tears.


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Sometimes the building and construction industry achieves something truly special, awe inspiring and simply astonishing. Below are 6 of the worlds finest examples or architecture, marvels of the industry.
1) Empire State Building, NYC
Image Source: usatime1776.over-blog.com
The Empire State Building was once one of the tallest buildings in the world and is an integral part of the iconic New York Skyline. This timeless building was built in 1930 by the Starrett Brothers; it took 410 days to build and is a whopping 102 floors high. Over all it took 57,000 tons of steel to construct the building, 17 million feet of telephone wire servicing and it cost $24,718,000 to build.
2) Dancing House, Prague
Image Source: commons.wikimedia.org
The Dancing House or Fred and Ginger as some like to nick name it, is in Prague in the Czech Republic. It was designed by architects, Vlado Milunic and, Frank Gehry and it took from 1992-1996 to build. The spectacular design of the building is supported by 99 concrete panels which each have a different shape and dimension and on the top of the building is a large twisted structure of metal nicknamed Medusa. At first the Dancing House caused debate as the style of the house stood out from the other Baroque or Art Nouveau building structures but today the building is seen as a work of art adding value to the cityscape of Prague.
3) The Burj Al Arab, Dubai
Image Source: desertsafaridubaitours.com
The Burj Al Arab, Dubai is a luxury 7* hotel full to the brim of luxury commercial furniture and it is the fourth highest hotel in the world and it stands on an artificial island which is connected to the mainland by a private curving bridge. The architect, Tom Wright said the building was designed to be an iconic, symbolic statement for Dubai and after 5 years of building and $650 million later this was achieved as The Burj Al Arab is definitely synonymous with Dubai.
4) Blur Building, Switzerland
Image Source: openbuildings.com
The Blur Building in Switzerland is a suspended platform shrouded in a perpetual cloud of a man-made fog which was designed by architects, Elizabeth Diller and Ricardo Scofidio. The Blur Building can hold up to 400 visitors and its construction is designed to spray innumerable tiny drops of lake water from 31400 jets to create the fog like surrounding which is visible in all weathers.
5) HARPA Concert Hall and Conference Centre, Iceland
HARPA concert hall was opened in Iceland in May 2011 and was designed by the Danish firm Henning Larsen Architects in co-operation with Danish-Icelandic artist, Olafur Eliasson. The structure of HARPA consists of steel framework with different shaped glass panels consisting of different colours. Overall this 300,000 square foot concert hall masterpiece cost 164 million Euro to build.
6) Kunsthaus Graz, Austria
Image Source: flickr.com
The Kunsthaus Graz was built as part of the European Capital of Culture celebrations in 2003 and since then it has become a huge agricultural landmark in Austria. This museum has been nicknamed the friendly alien by its creators, Peter Cook and, Colin Fournier and this is due to the unusual design. This design is embedded with 930 40 watt fluorescent rings into the outset skin which each function as a pixel which then radiate far into the urban area and beyond. The concept behind this building is that it is designed to hold all exhibitions of multidisciplinary, modern and contemporary art from the 1960s to the present day.
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