#Capital Beltway Accidents

[preet-01]

Maxiel Political AU

Word Count: 958

Summary: Max Verstappen only had one goal - to be President. It's all he's wanted since he was just seven years old and all that he's worked towards. But bachelors don't get elected as Presidents, for the most part. Enter Daniel Ricciardo. Daniel's the ideal candidate for the country's most prominent and stressful unpaid job: the President's loving partner, a pretty bauble for the country to fall in love with and look towards. In secret meetings, contracts are signed and a marriage is arranged. Max and Daniel must convince the American people that they are a loving couple and perfect for the White House

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Chapter Four

This is not a meeting for the public. They don’t meet on the golf course or some insanely fancy restaurant where policy is negotiated. Nor do they meet underneath the clandestine moonlight in a park with no one else present. 

No, they meet in the little farmhouse that Seb had built for himself just an hour outside of DC in Northern Virginia. It’s quaint and nothing like the townhome he keeps in the District. With no one around, it’s the perfect spot. 

Max is the first to arrive. Always so prompt when he needs to be somewhere or do something important. He arrives with his father close behind and an air of annoyance as the two Verstappens step into the little farmhouse. 

They don’t talk much. Mostly just sit in silence as Jos Verstappen reads the file Seb had made on Daniel and his very prominent family. Max had been sent the file days ago and had memorized just about everything that was in it during his preparation for this meeting. He had not deemed it something that he needed to share with his father, so of course his father had hounded Seb about the file as soon as they sat down. 

Approximately twenty minutes after the Verstappens had arrived, Daniel arrived. “You’re late,” Seb says to the younger man in greeting. Daniel’s dressed in a suit with his tie loosened and has a Gucci briefcase in hand. 

“Drama at the office,” Daniel sighs, “then major accidents on 495 and 66. Almost makes me miss Cali.” 

“California traffic is worse,” Seb deadpans, he’d heard Daniel complain about traffic countless times over the years they’d known one another. If he was in California and stuck in traffic, he’d say he missed Virginia traffic. And it would be vice versa if he was stuck in Northern Virginia traffic. 

“Why would you take the Beltway at this time?” Max questions, looking at Daniel as if he was odd for taking 495 when leaving DC. Though Seb agreed with avoiding the Capital Beltway as much as possible, he also knew that Daniel was a creature of habit despite what he said. He’d taken the Beltway, or 495 as Daniel and so many others preferred to say, once when he first moved to DC and hadn’t changed his preferred route out of DC ever since. 

“As much as I love talks of traffic and travel routes,” Seb says, “but we have greater things to talk about.” 

That’s all it takes for Daniel to straighten up and take a seat opposite the Verstappens. He places the Gucci briefcase on the coffee table and opens it. 

“Contract, I presume,” Seb mutters when Daniel hands each of them a file. Ever the good lawyer, Daniel had come prepared. 

“Just a preliminary contract with room to negotiate. My terms are laid out,” Daniel says.

_____

Before he met Senator Verstappen, Daniel knew he’d be tying himself to the man and agreeing to a political marriage. 

Maybe if he hadn’t spent a few hours with his grandfather and talked about legacy and political aspirations, he would’ve called Seb crazy and been done with it. Maybe then he would’ve listened to his father and mother’s hopes for him marrying for love. Maybe then he would’ve called Michelle and let her talk him out of this as she had talked him out of so many bad decisions. 

But he’d done none of that.

He had left his office and spent hours with just his grandfather. He had listened to his grandfather talk about the burdens of legacy and the aspirations of their ancestors. He had thought back to his own childhood dreams and desires to be the President of the United States. Then he’d spent hours before work writing out a contract. 

Senator Verstappen, his soon-to-be fiance, sits across from him on Seb’s couch. He’s handsome – much more handsome than some of the men his grandfather had suggested in the past. Daniel could see himself chatting up the man at some bar and going home with him. People who know him would believe that Daniel Ricciardo was seeing someone like Max Verstappen. 

“These are very reasonable terms,” Max says, flipping through the contract pages carefully. Next to him sits his father, who looks much less pleased than his son does. Daniel didn’t know much about Jos Verstappen. To be fair, why would he? Jos Verstappen, in the context of US politics, was nearly a nobody. Insignificant except for the part he’d played in birthing and raising a rising star Senator with presidential dreams. 

“I’m a reasonable guy,” Daniel states causing Seb to raise his eyebrow. But the older man does not say anything contrary to his statement. 

It’s not until the last page, that Max has objections. He’d only put in the last few terms to see how far he could push the Senator’s willingness. 

Farther than he expected, Daniel notes when Max brings his objections to the last two terms – Cabinet appointments and judicial nominations. More specifically getting to choose at least two Cabinet appointments and federal judge nominations. 

“I’m willing to compromise on that,” Daniel says, “I want my opinion considered. I grew up amongst many of the establishment names that will be suggested for such positions.” Seb wanted Daniel for a reason. It wasn’t just his ability to birth children and look pretty on the arms of a Presidential candidate, but his connections and the inherent power he held as a scion of a major political dynasty. Max Verstappen, for all he could become President and the most powerful man in the free world, he would never have the privileges that Daniel was born into. 

Three days later, a finalized contract is signed and plans are made. 

[gabriellamontoya-blog1]

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[hiltonsomerblog]

Accident on the Capital Beltway: at least five tractors involved. If you, or someone you love, have been injured in a truck accident, call the attorneys at Hilton & Somer, LLC: (703) 782-8349

[thisdaynews]

Death knell or $1 million idea? Trump’s campaign tries to turn gaffes into gold.

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/death-knell-or-1-million-idea-trumps-campaign-tries-to-turn-gaffes-into-gold/

Death knell or $1 million idea? Trump’s campaign tries to turn gaffes into gold.

“I believe this is about ideology. This is about socialism vs. freedom,” House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) said at the time, seamlessly embracing the message developed by the president’s team.

And it happened in September, when reporters took notice of a sharpie-drawn addition to a map of Hurricane Dorian’s path. The map had been doctored in an apparent attempt to substantiate an erroneous claim Trump had made on Twitter that the storm was supposed to hit parts of Alabama. “Sharpie-gate” quickly became a proxy for the president’s serial dishonesty — and a marketing opportunity for his campaign officials. Within days, they were cheekily selling Trump-branded markers online, available for $15 per pack-of-five.

While the amount raised from marker sales — roughly $50,000 so far — pales in comparison to the $156 million cash the Trump fundraising committee have on hand, such efforts are more about branding to campaign officials.

“It’s pretty obvious that official Washington still doesn’t know what to make of the guy and that is what a great many of his supporters just love,” said Tim Murtaugh, the Trump campaign’s communications director.

Both episodes underscore the way Trump’s 2020 operation is using the most controversial moments of his presidency to electrify his base, reinforce his brand as the disruptor-in-chief and assure voters that — despite his incumbency — he’s as much a political outsider now as he was when he first ran for office four and a half years ago. With exactly one year to go until Election Day 2020, the tactic is one team Trump plans to employ as much as possible, primarily, they say, because it cannot be replicated.

“These are the things that only the Trump campaign can do because of who our candidate is,” said a senior campaign official.

“What would be the death knell for any other candidate is often a $1 million idea for us,” declared another, adding that they have “a candidate who loves rallies, loves campaigning and loves using Twitter, so there are plenty of opportunities for us to take what might be politically incorrect and capitalize on it.”

Campaign officials maintain that Trump is almost always their inspiration. “We follow the president’s lead” is a slogan they repeat frequently to inquiring reporters. But it’s their knack for rapidly turning his ideas or blunders into marketable material that they seem to take the most pride in.

“One of our strengths is our speed,” a third official said Thursday on a conference call with members of the media, pointing to the “Where’s Hunter?” tees currently available for purchase on the campaign’s website.

The shirts were posted minutes after Trump ranted about Hunter Biden, son of former Vice President Joe Biden, at a campaign rally earlier this month. The younger Biden has faced scrutiny for profiting off of his father’s career, particularly through business dealings with Chinese and Ukrainian companies. Trump has baselessly accused Hunter of corruption in the matter, and argued, without evidence, that his father helped him evade a Ukrainian government investigation. The House has opened an impeachment inquiry into the president’s attempts to get Ukraine to conduct such an investigation.

Other times, the campaign has converted gaffes by Trump’s opponents — or in one case, his top aide in the West Wing — into fundraising tools or awareness campaigns.

After acting White House chief of staff Mick Mulvaney acknowledged in a press briefing that the president “absolutely” leveraged aid to Ukraine for political reasons, telling reporters to “get over it,” the Trump campaign quickly released t-shirts emblazoned with the same slogan. Or when Biden, a top-tier 2020 Democrat, failed to purchase a web domain matching the name of his new Latino outreach effort, the Trump campaign scooped up “TodosConBiden.com” on its own. The landing page now reads, “Oops, Joe forgot about Latinos” in Spanish and English, before redirecting visitors to a “Latinos for Trump” website.

Outside of his core supporters, hardly anyone is pleased with the Trump campaign’s methods. Political opponents have accused the president’s team of tomfoolery, claiming they use immature pranks and gimmicky souvenirs to distract from unpopular policies.

“It is no surprise that Trump’s campaign would resort to childish antics like this to take attention away from this president’s appalling record of separating families and using immigrants as scapegoats…,” Biden campaign spokeswoman Isabel Aldunate said in a statement following the “TodosConBiden” stunt.

Other critics have said Trump’s survivability and the way his campaign fundraises off his most troublesome actions are due to a much deeper problem — one that’s nearly impossible to resolve. “Whether by design or lucky accident, he has given himself a singular armor, a special inoculation, which is that no one expects more from him,” New York Times columnist Frank Bruni wrote in an Augustop-edtitled “Donald Trump’s outrageous 2020 advantage.”

The Trump campaign sees such criticism as confirmation that it is doing something right.

Enraging “the inside-the-beltway tsk tsk crowd” is the most effective tool for energizing the president’s base, said the senior campaign official. The official was careful to note that the president’s campaign never corrects what Trump says, they just find a way to market it. Trump, the official said, likes to get in on the action by providing personal input before new merchandise is released or a new message is tested.

“This isn’t a typical reelection campaign,” the senior official explained. “But that isn’t a bad thing one bit.”

Read More

[shirlleycoyle]

The Installation

Nothing highlights the egregious growth of inequality in the nation quite like pharmaceutical executives becoming vastly wealthy by selling addictive drugs to the poor. What if this repulsive ongoing travesty took on a physical dimension, that we could see, feel, *smell*? That’s what writer, artist, and acclaimed experimental musician Terence Hannum imagines in today’s horrifying Terraform dispatch. Enjoy. -the Ed.

i.

The outer light of the descending sun transforms the evening inwards as it sinks below the overlapping crests of hills, casting the affluent landscape in a dull blue. I’m driving away from the city, and the sky above me is highlighted with a thin smear of pale orange, like dirty blood toward the horizon. I pass the beltway and traverse old pastures converted to large plots for oversize mansions, private schools, small horse barns and large garages full of upscale cars that overlap each other from behind the hills. I follow the smear, past the large maintained yards of athletes, old money, and new bankers.

The company van follows the curves on the winding two-lane road. NPR plays economic news on the radio when my boss calls me on the Bluetooth.

“How was the last job?” Larry inquires.

“Easy, just a few pictures, an arrangement in the family room. They seemed happy. Did you get the picture?” I ask and follow the GPS right up a tree lined street and towards an open iron gate.

“Yeah. They have another project we’ll be on soon,” He says, eating something.

“Ok, and this one is just an uncrate and install?”

“Yep, it’s a famous piece though, so get pics.”

“Is this the Chuck Close?” I ask watching the evenly planted trees that line the windy drive up to the large, earthtone, starter castle.

“Yep, it’s Chuck from the auction news. Brett is a guy in venture capital, you’ve been here before.”

“Those large Frank Stella pieces?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah he has a great collection,” I say thinking of the epic paper collages we installed in the hallway to his son’s room.

“If it comes up you should thank him for me, I made a nice mint on a stock tip in pharmaceuticals he gave me a bit ago.”

“Really?”

“Yep, just on a small recommendation. He must’ve made a killing.”

“Congrats.”

“I should have some champagne sent or something. But what do you send a guy like that?”

I pull up the black drive and swing around the curve circling a modern fountain of hard minimal cement. The doors to the garage are open displaying the hoods of a black Tesla, red Porsche, two large SUVs, and in the last bay a crumpled hulk of a vehicle. Behind the wreck a large wooden crate looms.

“Was he in an accident?” I ask.

“I don’t know, his assistant rescheduled a bit ago. There was a death in the family, or something.”

I put the van in park and stare at the bronze paint and buckled fenders in the garage light like broken gold.

“Yeah, it’s like a whole car, hope he’s ok.”

“Well, go knock and see what he needs. If he wants us to reschedule we can.”

“Ok.”

We hang up and I turn the ignition, then go in the back of the Sprinter to grab my pack, two large moving blankets, and my ladder.

Outside the van, it smells like fire and the landscape is eerily quiet. I watch the brake lights of fleeing traffic through the trees down below. A whinnying cry pierces the silence. Setting down the ladder I walk across the slate patio to the side of the large home to peer over the metal fence. Through the black gazebo and beyond the large built-in stainless steel grill, three black horses silhouetted in the dusk run at top speed, bucking in the cold dark field as if hunted. They neigh, buck, turn, and speed to the edge of their enclosure, and then repeat.

“Hello,” I say inside the large glass walled atrium of the foyer. A curving reclaimed wood staircase twists in front of me up into the second floor of the home where a Chihuly glass sculpture fills the atrium with its bright orange and yellow blown glass tendrils.

“Hello,” I say a second time stepping inside the home. It smells of something pungent like trash left in the can too long. It fills the house. A stack of Amazon boxes rest by the door, piled to my waist. I slip off my shoes by the door and, laying down a blanket, set the ladder on it so as not to scratch the ash colored hardwood floors that cross the space with wide beams.

Bass seeps up from the basement through the house. Perhaps Brett is downstairs watching a movie on the home theatre system. I pick up my phone to call his number.

“I didn’t hear you,” He says startling me and crossing the large living area to the front room. His black Under Armor track suit is open as he clasps a lit cigar in his pale hand. His large head is even more alien, shaved bald and glistening with sweat. A dark colored wine bottle protrudes from the oversized pocket of his jacket.

“Hey, Brett, I’m here to install the painting,” I say watching his shaved head shine under the lights. He has put on weight since I was last here.

“That’s today?” He stops and stares at me, puffs on the cigar between his wan lips. He has no shirt on underneath the zip-up and his chest is pale and skeletal.

“Yes, but I can call Gwendolyn and we can reschedule, if it is a bad time,” I say. His black eyes dart around the room, back outside at my truck as if anticipating something. A cloud of cologne hits me; wood, some musk of amber – expensive but it does not hide the stench of the home and his body odor.

“No, no, no, no, no. She doesn’t work for me anymore. She left. Like everyone,” He says gripping the wine bottle from his pocket and tossing it back with a large swig. He smacks his lips and says, “I lost them.”

“Well, where would you like the piece?” I ask. He extends the bottle to me and stares at the walls, “No thank you.”

“Here,” He states and slides the bottle back into his pocket wiping his arms wide on the large blank wall of the front room.

“And the piece is in the garage now?”

“Yes,” he says and puffs on the Padron cigar releasing a gray plume into the home. “Just in from Christie’s.”

“Ok, I can go uncrate it—”

“Or Sotheby’s. Maybe it’s Christie’s.”

“I can get some dimensions and then tape it off for your approval,” I say and pull the straps on my pack.

“This way.” He says and walks across the gray boards to the large wide opening of the dark kitchen where dishes, dirty pots, and bags of trash are piled. Flies alight into the air as we pass by, disturbed by our movement through the fetid atmosphere. Even in the dark light, I can see the surfaces squirm with living creatures. I turn to him to ask a question but in the dim shadow his skin has the look of something flayed, wet, and slick like he is not himself.

He stops in the mud room and turns toward me. In the light of the mud room, the designer Edison light bulbs surging orange light around us. The stacks of bills lean on the granite desk top built in like a contemporary sculpture. His face looks normal, haggard, but normal.

“Do you want some cigars?” He points to an open box of Padron cigars on top of other plastic wrapped boxes of cigars.

“No. Maybe later. Thank you.”

“Ok,” He opens the door into the garage and unholstering his wine from his pocket he takes another swig and walks past me, “I’ll be out back.”

“Were you in an accident?” I ask. He stops and doesn’t turn to me.

“Yes.” He answers but does not turn to face me, then vanishes, leaving me with smoke and decay.

ii.

Every art crate is different, some follow around each piece through every sale and transaction accruing markings which show their trajectory through time. From collector to museum, from collector to auction house, from gallery to collector. Some are reused from other works. All are different on the inside; with wooden supports, foam protection barriers, hexacomb dividers, lined with luxurious felt. This crate opened like a freshly laid crypt. I barely had to pry with the crowbar. The well-constructed plywood gave way in a clean pull.

I take the cover off and lay it against the crate. Within, I can see the Close painting behind the layers of plastic, suspended in the crate between foam lined barriers, displaying a large blurry face. Then I remove the screws holding it in place from behind and gently excise the piece from the crate, one corner at a time.

I look over the wrecked vehicle as it stands in a shallow pool of its mechanical viscera. I can see it was once a regal Maserati painted a deep bronze, now buckled and cleaved. Its inside now outside, eviscerated in a collision, resting in its own waste. A light breeze moves the trees outside like an erratic invisible hand.

I slide the wrapped piece on linen blankets through the mudroom before standing it up in the dark kitchen. Grabbing both sides, I hold my breath and make my way to the bright front room ignoring the piles of rotten food, insects, and detritus.

Once in the front room, the stairway curves and disappears into the dark hallways above. I set the painting against the wall with some fabric to keep it from marring the ash gray paint job, set up the ladder, climb a few steps where I measure the center of the wall, and raise the median height a bit to compensate for the console table hugging the wall between the unlit sconces. The floor still vibrates from the bass below, shaking a glass somewhere in the house.

It always amazes me how an oil painting, no matter its age, can smell fresh. I peel away the thick plastic allowing the waft of deep oil paint to emerge from the enclosure taking over the smell of rot in the house. Then, climbing the ladder, I tape off the edges; top, bottom, left, and right. The wall feels strange and warm beneath my hands. I climb down and step back to look at the blue tape outline balanced between the modern sconces. The blue outline looks perfectly centered.

“Brett?” I call out through the large living area but I don’t see him in the dimly lit room full of empty shelves. I walk to the back doors out to the large sweeping patio where a raging fire burns in the fire pit of severe unfinished concrete. I open the door.

“Do you want to take a look?” I say to him not stepping outside in my socks. Brett faces away from me, towards the fire and beyond, the large yard where the final impressions of the horse’s silhouettes race around their enclosure. He tosses an armload of clothing into the fire sending towering traces of embers up and over the patio.

“Brett?” I say again opening the door. He hoists a lacrosse stick into the blaze.

“What?”

“Do you want to see where the piece will be?”

The fire which again spits out loose burning orange sparks that flicker out.

“I trust you,” He says not turning to me.

“Ok, I just centered it on the sconces and above the console table, ok?” He doesn’t answer but empties the dark bottle into his upturned face and lets it fall to the ground. It bounces once before shattering across the slick flagstones.

“I’ll be in the wine cellar,” Brett says stomping into the house as I watch the unbridled mares chase ghosts behind the pyre.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Larry wanted to thank you,” he stops at the door and turns to me. “The stock tip?”

“Oh,” Brett pauses, he wipes his face, “That is great for him. I’m glad he did well,” he says continuing inside the home while the fire burns.

iii.

I climb the ladder and check my marks with the laser level. Then go to hammer the hooks in. With each hammer-stroke the wall gives opening a wide aperture into the interior wall of the home.

“Shit,” I say to myself and I touch the crumpled drywall as maggots fall from the hole. I stumble down the ladder and stare at the opening. More larvae crawl from the maw and tumble down the wall onto the floor in a continuous stream.

“Brett,” I call down the dark stairs into the large basement. I take step down feeling the bass move the floor. I descend into the space. I call out again into the red tinted basement.

The walls breathe as a sinew of the interior, broken only by collections of flies that hold fast to the dead surface. I cover my face to avoid the stench. A large flat-screen is on the financial news but muted, emitting bass frequencies like a car passing a house late at night. I walk towards the glass wall of the modern wine cellar where Brett sits in the dim darkness surrounded by deep red bottles backlit in the shadow of fleshy light.

“Brett, we have a problem,” I say opening the crypt and lowering my shirt from my face, it smells like fermentation and decay. He says nothing but finishes a bottle of wine, discarding the glass into a pile of other empty bottles.

“I’m not a monster, you know?” Brett says to me with his voice deep.

“No, of course not,” I say holding myself close to the glass door afraid to offend him.

“You want this Pomerol?” He asks, not looking at me.

“No, thank you. I’ll be ok.”

“Take a bottle—”

“I’m concerned about the structure of the home.”

“You should take some. It’s the best.”, he says uncorking another bottle from his vintage.

“I don’t drink on the job.”

“Have you ever lost something?”, he asks me. I can feel his eyes on me even though all I see of his eyes are black sockets.

“Of course—”

“Something you cannot get back?”, he asks me while taking a long pull on the bottle. “I can’t end. No matter what I try. I am destined to suffer.”

“I don’t think I get what—”

He holds up his hand to me to stop my reply and wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his crusty jacket.

“I sold it all and lost him,” He says to me.

“That wall up there is compromised,” I say pulling back my hair from my face. “I don’t think I can hang it. It’s full of—”

“I killed him.”

“I’m sorry?” I ask. “Who? Killed who?”

“My son,” Brett stands and runs his hands over the wall of bottles as if saying farewell. A swarm of flies lift off of him and obstruct the light, “Glad Larry made some money. Glad something good came out of it. He’s a good guy.”

I open the door behind me feeling the bass and the stench rise up within me.

“I am not a monster,” He pleads to me, or maybe himself, coming closer to me and revealing his flayed face in the red light; a rotten visage of vermin and decay barely concealing the blood congealed face and skull beneath. “It was an opportunity of a lifetime.”

I turn away toward the putrid staircase and faintly hear his plea as the walls leak a putrescent wake, “Help me.”

iv.

I left it all behind; the ladder, the fabric cloths, the tools, everything. I left it all in the house. My shoes. The famous Chuck Close resting against the wall. Everything.

Speeding down the drive in the van the mansion recedes in the darkness of night which each estate fights off by lighting every tree and every façade, every gate lit beautifully like the exteriors of luxurious abattoirs designed to ward off an outer dark within themselves as much as the world.

NPR plays quietly on the radio, stuck in a financial show reciting the massive acquisition of a pharmaceutical company and its new owners halting productions and adjusting prices.

The phone rings interrupting the broadcast.

“I spoke to Gwendolyn,” Larry says annoyed. I turn on to the main road away from the house. There is no traffic at this hour.

“I’m going to have to go back another time.”

“She was fired. It was his son?”

“What?”

“So, you didn’t get a picture?” He asks.

“No. I didn’t get a picture,” the home gets smaller in my mirrors. “I didn’t get the piece up.”

Larry sighs.

“His son was the death. Complications with his illness. Brett blames himself, the company stopped production of some medication, kind of sent him on this spiral. Anyway, I’ll reschedule,” Larry says disappointed. “It’s a mess.”

I don’t answer. I drive into the outer dark, pressing the gas through my socks, determined that I will never return to these false lights.

The Installation syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

Washington D.C. flood: Boats deployed to rescue stranded motorists; rainwater enters White Home basement

http://tinyurl.com/y6fhncoo Washington: A slow-moving rainstorm Monday washed out roads, stranded drivers and soaked basements, together with the White Home’s, throughout a chaotic morning commute within the nationwide capital area. Water gushed into the press workspace within the basement close to the White Home’s West Wing. Authorities staff labored to empty puddles of standing water with moist vacs. Motorists are stranded on a flooded part of Canal Highway in Washington throughout a heavy rainstorm. AP Nationwide Climate Service meteorologist Cody Ledbetter stated the storm dumped about 6.Three inches of rain close to Frederick, Maryland, about 4.5 inches close to Arlington, Virginia, and about 3.Four inches at Ronald Reagan Washington Nationwide Airport in a two-hour interval. “The storm was not shifting in a short time,” Ledbetter stated. Water ranges at Cameron Run in Alexandria, Virginia, a flood-prone space alongside the Capital Beltway, rose greater than 7 toes over 30 minutes after 9 a.m., in keeping with the climate service. 4 Mile Run, which runs by means of Arlington and Alexandria, noticed the same improve. Pete Piringer, a spokesman for the hearth division in Montgomery County, Maryland, stated emergency staff used boats for dozens of rescues, plucking folks from flooded vehicles. “In all places I turned, there was visitors and roads closed,” he stated. Piringer stated he did not instantly obtain any stories of storm-related accidents. In northern Virginia, Fairfax County Fireplace and Rescue stated it responded to greater than 30 requires swift water rescues all through the county. Authorities suggested folks to keep away from driving if doable. Neighboring Arlington County additionally reported quite a few rescues. Heavy rainfall flooded the intersection of 15th Road and Structure Ave, NW stalling vehicles on the street. AP Gretchen Eisenberg’s morning 4-mile commute often lasts about 10 minutes. It took her practically an hour to drive to work from her Frederick house. She stopped to shoot eye-popping video of a Frederick park inundated with raging floodwaters. “I attempted to take my regular route, however I needed to flip round and take a unique approach in due to the flooding,” she stated. Your information to the most recent cricket World Cup tales, evaluation, stories, opinions, stay updates and scores on https://www.firstpost.com/firstcricket/series/icc-cricket-world-cup-2019.html. Comply with us on Twitter and Instagram or like our Facebook web page for updates all through the continuing occasion in England and Wales. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) {if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function() {n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments)} ; if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)}(window,document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '259288058299626'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); (function(d, s, id) { var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) return; js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "http://connect.facebook.net/en_GB/all.js#xfbml=1&version=v2.9&appId=1117108234997285"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk')); window.fbAsyncInit = function () { FB.init({appId: '1117108234997285', version: 2.4, xfbml: true}); // *** here is my code *** if (typeof facebookInit == 'function') { facebookInit(); } }; (function () { var e = document.createElement('script'); e.src = document.location.protocol + '//connect.facebook.net/en_US/all.js'; e.async = true; document.getElementById('fb-root').appendChild(e); }()); function facebookInit() { console.log('Found FB: Loading comments.'); FB.XFBML.parse(); } Source link

[lrmartinjr]

A study on the future of Interstate 81 is winding its way through the state bureaucracy— with considerably more speed than traffic on I-81 during one of its maddening but increasingly regular slowdowns.

For this study, we can thank state Sen. Mark Obenshain, R-Rockingham County. Whether you like the outcome of that study may depend on whether you drive a truck.

First, let’s review the numbers:

When Interstate 81 was built, the expectation was that 15 percent of the traffic would be trucks. Today, it’s 24 percent. Of course, that’s an average. On some days, in some places, the figure is 40 percent. There’s also the volume. In the Roanoke Valley, traffic on I-81 has more than tripled since the 1970s.

Interstate 81 is not the state’s busiest interstate, but it is the one with the most traffic delays because of accidents. On most other Virginia interstates, the main reason for a delay is basic traffic congestion. On I-81, the main reason for a delay is usually an accident, and those delays are long ones – half an hour or more.

The Virginia Department of Transportation says 51 percent of the delays on I-81 are accident-related. By contrast, the figure is 35 percent on I-77, 25 percent on I-64, 15 percent on I-95, 7 percent on I-66 and just 4 percent on I-495, better known as the Capital Beltway (probably because the traffic there is already stopped anyway).

Put another way, when something happens on I-81, more than half the time things just grind to a halt. That’s not news to us in this part of the state, of course, but this phenomenon does sometimes come as a surprise to some officials on the other side of the state — who simply look at the traffic count and say “oh, things aren’t that bad.”

[hollywoodjuliorivas]

Every good teacher knows that a great education depends on asking the right questions. Since we are living in a time in which the president of the United States has made an issue of American greatness, it behooves us to ask: Well, just what is it that makes a country great? I would argue the answer depends on how we choose to answer a few basic questions. So allow me to propose four of them. The first question is, How do we treat foreigners? A more academic way of putting that question is to ask, What is our attitude toward human capital? Do we recognize its inherent value and potential? Or do we tend to see people, especially immigrants, as liabilities: likely criminals, costly additions to the welfare rolls, threats to our cultural integrity, would-be terrorists, and so on? Because the subject of the DACA program for illegal immigrants brought to the U.S. as children has been in the news this year, I’ve done some research on this subject for my column. A few findings: Did you know that immigrants account for 35 percent of all U.S. Nobel Prize winners? Did you know that 83 percent of the finalists in the 2016 Intel Science Talent search — widely known as the junior Nobel — are the children of immigrants? Did you know that 40 percent of all Fortune 500 companies — accounting for $4.8 trillion in revenues and 19 million employees — had founders who were immigrants or the children of immigrants? Did you know that immigrants start businesses at about twice the rate of other Americans? Did you know that without immigrants we would have had no population growth whatsoever since 1970, putting us on a path to a Japanese-style demographic death spiral? It is, of course, true that immigrants put strains on their host societies. It is also true that in any immigrant population there will be thieves, rapists, killers, scallywags and layabouts — though, by the way, did you also know that the incarceration rate of illegal immigrants is nearly half that of U.S. citizens? But the important question Americans must ask themselves isn’t whether there are liabilities. There are. It’s whether the liabilities aren’t vastly outweighed by the benefits. Do we see newcomers as an opportunity for us to grow? And do we believe our welcoming of them is evidence of our abiding faith in our founding creed, created equal? ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story The second question: What is our attitude toward independent thinking? It is no secret that it is becoming increasingly difficult to express a controversial thought in many parts of the United States today. A software engineer at Google writes a well-researched memo politely suggesting that the company is going about its gender policies wrong, and he gets fired. Football players take a knee during the national anthem to protest what they see as racial injustices and the vice president ostentatiously walks out on them. A liberal professor at Evergreen State College objects to student demands that all white people leave campus for a day, and he is hounded from his job. Oh, and a center-right columnist at The New York Times suggests that perhaps we should be less than 100 percent certain about our global-warming predictions, and 40,000 people sign an online petition demanding that he be fired. All this has been accompanied by multiple efforts, on campuses and in corporate life, to criminalize or aggressively marginalize certain types of speech in the name of such worthy goals as civility and inclusiveness. Yet what begins as soft censorship rarely ends there. What starts as an effort to deter outrageous speech inevitably has the effect of quashing genuinely original thinking. Just as the path to scientific discovery is a matter of trial-and-error, so too the road to an original idea, a great book, or a transformative social movement will always be littered with foolish thoughts, indelicate statements, and all kinds of verbal rubbish that may offend all kinds of powerful people. Newsletter Sign UpContinue reading the main story Sign Up for the Opinion Today Newsletter Every weekday, get thought-provoking commentary from Op-Ed columnists, the Times editorial board and contributing writers from around the world. Sign Up You agree to receive occasional updates and special offers for The New York Times's products and services. SEE SAMPLE MANAGE EMAIL PREFERENCES PRIVACY POLICY OPT OUT OR CONTACT US ANYTIME The United States has always been a land of invention — technical, political, and social — because it has given wide latitude to indelicate statements the ultimate value of which is often far from immediately apparent. We have also thrived because we have a cultural disposition in favor of the gadfly, the contrarian, the upstart, the entrepreneur, the late bloomer, the disrupter, the activist, the social nuisance. We have an inner sense that ripe fruits always start as sour ones, and so we nurture them. This is not how it is done in China, with its explicit forms of censorship and prescribed opinions. It is not how it is done in much of Asia, which often suffers through excessive deference to the opinions of elders. It is not how it is done in parts of Europe, with its polite political fictions. ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story But it is how we have done it in the United States. It is why we’ve been able to maintain an international edge in the “Think Different” category. And the question is whether we can maintain that edge knowing that it is ultimately our tolerance for the opinions that offend us most that’s the most vital ingredient in the preservation of our national institutions and the perpetuation of our national greatness. The third question: What is our attitude toward failure? Several years ago, the great historian Bernard Lewis made an important observation about the destiny of nations. “When people realize things are going wrong, there are two questions they can ask,” he wrote. “One is, ‘What did we do wrong?’ and the other is, ‘Who did this to us?’ The latter question leads to conspiracy theories and paranoia. The first question leads to another line of thinking: ‘How do we put it right?’” Lewis is an expert in the Middle East. Why are so many countries in that part of the world such failures? Why have they squandered their national energies on hating their neighbors, instead of thinking a little more critically about their own behavior? What might Syria, Iraq or Libya have looked like today if they had respected their Jewish citizens instead of scapegoating and persecuting them, both out of appreciation for their contributions and as a guarantee of tolerance for other ethnic or religious minorities? True, there’s a point at which self-criticism can become neurotic, paralyzing and perversely self-satisfied. But it’s also true that individuals, communities and nations that habitually ask “What did we do wrong?” instead of “Who did this to us?” are also the individuals, communities and nations that, in the long run, succeed. Lately, I’ve wondered: In which camp do we Americans fall? For many years there has been a grievance culture on the left, with a habit of turning statistical inferences into allegations of systemic biases, and treating bad personal habits as syndromes or diseases beyond the control of moral discipline. Now that’s been joined by a grievance industry on the right, which seems to think that every factory closure in Ohio is the result of devious trade negotiators in Beijing, and that everything else wrong in the world is the fault of Goldman bankers, Beltway “cucks” and the Fake News Media. This is a turn that can only be described as un-American. For generations, one of our advantages over our competitors in Europe and Asia is that we have had a greater tolerance for personal or business failures. We’re a country of second chances. But tolerance for failure has to be predicated on an acknowledgment of failure, a sense that we must first blame ourselves before we can hope to do better. ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story My fourth and final question: What is our attitude toward global leadership? This year marks the 70th anniversary of the Truman Doctrine. That doctrine put an end to our disastrous national experiment in blind and self-defeating isolationism by promising that America would come to the economic and military aid of embattled nations facing insurgency or aggression. In the following year, Truman came to the military rescue of a blockaded outpost of freedom, West Berlin, and he came to the moral rescue of another embattled outpost, Israel. In both cases — as, later on, in our defense of South Korea Truman put our national values ahead of our narrow self-interests. He didn’t ask, “What do we get out of this deal?” He asked: “What is right?” How extraordinary have been the moral and strategic dividends of these investments in principle! In West Berlin, Truman created what would soon became the world’s most visible rebuke to Communism and, not by accident, the scene of its demise. By fighting for South Korea, he saved its people from the Orwellian despotism that rules on the other side of the 38th parallel. And by recognizing Israel he gave Jewish civilization a chance to reclaim its roots, the Jewish people the possibility to stand up against its enemies, and a Jewish democracy the opportunity to wrestle with, and perfect, itself. For America, the dividends have been even greater. We have had 70 years of unparalleled material prosperity and technological advances. Seventy years of global leadership and trendsetting. Seventy years without another great war. And we have been able to do it because, for all the vicissitudes of the Cold War and globalization and the war on terrorism, Americans have broadly understood that great nations, like great institutions and great citizens, lead by example: by inspiring rather than coercing loyalty; by a decent respect for the opinions of mankind; by steadfastness of purpose and evenness of temperament; by the understanding that a policy of magnanimity and benevolence will, if nothing else, provide us with the friends, and the self-belief, needed in times of adversity. That is “the world America made,” as my friend Robert Kagan put it a few years ago. And yet this, too, seems to be under threat, thanks to an economically transactional and morally blinkered species of a foreign policy whose only question is “what’s in it for us?” and would trade all that we’ve gained, all our idealism, for a mess of pottage. In short: Do we understand that our greatness ultimately depends on putting our values first? That we do best when we define our interests according to our values, rather than — in the style of every fallen empire defining our values according to our interests? ADVERTISEMENT Continue reading the main story So those are my Four Questions. How we answer them matters a great deal to how we fare in the future. It’s a responsibility that rests especially heavily on the shoulders of educators. Because the questions I’m asking are only secondarily about policies, over which honorable people can disagree. They are primarily about habits of mind and virtues of character: about hospitality and openness; intellectual independence and tolerance; forgiveness and responsibility; magnanimity, courage, and fair play. I believe a university such as Yeshiva, with its proud embrace of religious wisdom with secular knowledge, can meet that responsibility. Not a generation ago we were the strangers in this land, just as we had ourselves been strangers in Egypt. We know what it means to be the foreigners. And we know how much we have contributed on our road to our American belonging. We are the children of Abraham, the original idol smasher and iconoclast: We know what it is to hold fast to unpopular ideas in the face of opprobrium and persecution — and to see those ideas vindicated in time. We are the people of King David, a man of many flaws. We know what it means to struggle, fail, and try again. And we are the followers of Moses, who also put values first as he steered his people through a wilderness toward a promised land he would never enter. We believe that our morality is a long-term investment, whose benefits only our children may reap, but is the wellspring of our self-respect and survival.

[bl0gosphere]

Trigger words & symbols of MK Ultra 🔫 Jewel Programming mind control 🔫 MKultra victims glitch "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" is not just a song by John Lennon. It is also the highest reward in "Jewel Programming". The first reward is Amethyst, for being able to keep a secret. Beginning in the 1950's, chosen citizens of the United States have been used as guinea pigs in secret experiments without their knowledge or consent. This was funded by the CIA but the illegal research was conducted by American universities, American pharmaceutical companies and American hospitals. The project was known as MK Ultra and it was terminated in the 1970's. Or was it? One of the goals of MK Ultra was mind control. Through a combination of hypnosis and hallucinogenic drugs, along with torture, a human being can be programmed to do anything. When the human subject is activated by pre-hypnotic suggestion, the deeply planted programming takes control and the subject then executes a mission in secret. When the mission is complete he will have no memory of it. The pre-hypnotic suggestion is also known as a "trigger". The sleeper agent is activated by his controller, or handler. The handler may use a trigger word or trigger symbol, at which point the unwitting subject becomes a robotic slave, also known as an "alter", that is, an alter ego. The trigger may be delivered in person, or over the telephone, radio or TV. The abundance of media in today's world has revealed many things that were once hidden. Body cams record police brutality. Car cameras record freak highway accidents. Oddball news reports from obscure local stations all over the world are permanently archived on the internet. Sooner or later the very commands used by Mk Ultra handlers were bound to be captured on record. The "White Rabbit" is a symbol borrowed from Lewis Carroll's Alice, who followed a white rabbit all the way to Wonderland. We know this term represents the handler, who gives the sleeper agent the ability to access a consciousness within them which is normally submerged. "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" is not only a song written by John Lennon. It also represents the highest reward in "Jewel Programming". The first compensation is Amethyst, for being able to keep a secret. For sexual submission the reward is Ruby. For loyalty the subject is compensated with Emerald. Diamond is the reward for completing one's first mission successfully. In 2002 there was a series of Beltway sniper attacks in Washington D.C. Ten people were killed in our nation's capital and the two men responsible were brought to justice. No one knows the words that provoked their homicidal spree but the killers were apparently de-activated by a television broadcast, when during a news conference, the Montgomery County Police delivered the 6-word trigger phrase, "Like a duck in a noose." This phrase originates from a Cherokee folk tale in which the duck is hunted by a white rabbit. The word "smile" or its symbolic equivalent the "happy face", induces an LSD-like flashback in the subject, producing a catatonic state known as "melting". The controller gives the command to melt when the subject is needed to wait, which he will do indefinitely until hearing the command to resume activity. The command to resume is, "I'm going to Kansas. Where are you from, Miss Ruby Shoes?" J.D. Salinger's book "Catcher in the Rye" was an early form of trigger used by MK Ultra. President Kennedy's assassin Lee Harvey Oswald was in possession of this book. So was John Hinckley, who attempted to assassinate Ronald Reagan. And moments after Mark David Chapman shot and killed John Lennon, he sat down, pulled out his paperback copy of "Catcher in the Rye", and continued to read it. License links: The full text of CC BY-SA 4.0, CC BY 4.0, CC BY-SA 3.0, CC BY 3.0, CC BY-SA 2.5, CC BY 2.5, CC BY-SA 2.0, CC BY 2.0, CC BY-SA 1.0, CC BY 1.0, and CC PD 1.0 can be found at http://bit.ly/2ovzFdt MK ULTRA MKUltra MK-ULTRA mind control jewel programming jewels programming Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds White Rabbit Ruby Shoes documentary victims triggers trigger words trigger phrases trigger symbols survivors mind control hollywood glitch mkultra documentary cia research MKultra triggers MKultra survivors celebrities documents melt melts melting hypnosis hypnotic suggestion https://youtu.be/opTXGbTOrNE

[kalachand97-blog]

New Post has been published on Globeinfrom

New Post has been published on https://globeinform.com/deldot-sues-dupont-others-for-i-495-bridge/

DelDOT sues DuPont, others for I-495 bridge

The tale of ways a 55,000-ton pile of dust brought about a $45 million emergency bridge repair, delaying 90,000 I-495 drivers every day at some stage in the summer season of 2014 is not over but.

The Delaware Department of Transportation filed an $89 million lawsuit in opposition to DuPont and three other companies, alleging the corporations’ “negligence” brought about the multi-million greenback avenue task that closed I-495 for months, snarling traffic on the crucial Northeast Corridor link.

Transportation crews in June 2014 rushed to repair the interstate’s bridge over the Christina River close to Wilmington after they have been alerted to its dangerously tilting pillars.

The integrity of the structure have been “compromised” and “posed an immediate chance to motorists,” according to the lawsuit, because personal construction crews, without allows, had placed 50-foot-tall mounds of dirt onto the land adjacent to the bridge, inflicting its columns to lean.

A federal record stated the columns “had circled via as an awful lot as four percent out of alignment.”

The offending dirt sat on land owned with the aid of DuPont and Alma Residences LLC. Keogh Contracting Agency and Port Contractors Inc. leased that land. The ones four businesses are indexed as defendants in the civil complaint.

In an announcement, DuPont spokesman Dan Turner stated DuPont believes the in shape is without merit.

“The Agency become now not worried in the stockpiling of soil that resulted in the damage to the I-495 bridge. DuPont leased its assets adjoining to the bridge to Port Contractors Inc. Who authorized the stockpile via Keough Contracting without asking for our consent or permission,” he said.

Officers at the alternative 3 companies named in the lawsuit could not be reached on Friday.

DelDOT is looking for $89 million from the companies, double the damages for the direct repair fees, in addition to extra repayment – the total to be decided in court – for the fees of site visitors delays, multiplied put on and tear on close by roadways, and the delay of state roadway tasks because of the enormous amount of assets that needed to be committed to the emergency upkeep.

The amount sought from every defendant has not been decided, said DelDOT spokesman C.R. McLeod, however, DuPont is responsible for at the least $6.7 million of the entire for failing to preserve the interstate proper-of-way “clean and freed from particles.”

“The dimensions and place of the embankment created a high diploma of hazard of harm to the Department’s land and the bridge,” the civil grievance said. “causing structural damage to a multi-million-dollar bridge shape surely guaranteed sizeable financial damage to the Department, especially endangered motorists and inconvenienced businesses that rely on transporting items.”

It becomes overdue May additionally in 2014 when an engineer from the Pike Creek company Duffield Buddies turned into traveling an activity website at the Christina River and happened to note that numerous I-495 pillars appeared to be tilting. He sent photographs to DelDOT, which ordered a complete shutdown June 2.

Southbound lanes closed between exits 2 and three until July 31 while northbound lanes were closed until Aug. 23.

The closure reduce off a key pass for the East Coast transportation grid, and motorists spilled onto close by roads. U.S. Transportation Secretary Anthony Foxx called the stoppage “a country-wide difficulty” and his employer stepped in to start with with $2 million in emergency finances.

President Barack Obama later brought a speech about infrastructure investment at the Port of Wilmington, close by of the span.

As time went on, the U.S. Department of Transportation included ninety-seven percent of the $44.6 million cost to repair the bridge and cast off the 50-foot-tall mound of dust. That blanketed a $2.four million disbursement to DelDOT introduced this week.

If DelDOT wins its case, it’ll reimburse the federal authorities for The ones payments and maintain the remainder for its personal operations, McLeod stated. Northern Virginia Transportation Northern Virginia is one of the wealthiest areas within the U.S., consisting of Arlington, Fairfax, Loudoun, Prince William, counties and the impartial cities of Alexandria, Falls Church, Fairfax, Manassas, and Manassas Park. Those towns and towns are related to each other with diverse transportation means inclusive of railways, roadways, and so forth.

Northern Virginia has excessive road congestion fee. The location is counted some of the most congested regions inside the country. With a view to reduce site visitors at gridlock, nearby governments help other kinds of transportation like Metrorail, HOV, carpooling, and many others. Northern Virginia Transportation conditions are worsening due to increasing populace.

Curvy colonial roads are one in every of the most important public transit troubles. But the latest maintenance of the Woodrow Wilson Bridge near Alexandria that still incorporates more than three hundred,000 motors regular into Maryland will double the traffic lanes at that unique slim vicinity whilst completed in 2008.

Commuting Through Springfield

The Springfield “blending bowl” expressway junction will offer relief as new ramp configurations open as a part of a big scale interchange reconstruction. The Springfield Interchange Development undertaking started in March, 1999 and is scheduled for of entirety in 2007. The seven-phased, $650 million undertaking has been backed through the Virginia Branch of Transportation. The pre-task interchange, in which I-ninety five, I-395 and i-495 come collectively, become approximately a mile lengthy linking the 3 most important interstates and serving almost thousands of automobiles normal. Studies screen that the interchange witnessed 179 accidents in years, hence making it the most dangerous junction on the sixty four-mile Capital Beltway. Additionally, visitors forecasts projected volumes to double by means of 2020.

for this reason to improve visitors wait VDOT is reconstructing the interchange to make it safer for commuters and long-distance tourists.

Blueprint of Springfield undertaking

Springfield Development plan includes construction of more than fifty bridges and flyovers, thirty ramps and putting in place of about two hundred guide signs and twenty email correspondence signs and symptoms. one of the foremost function of the challenge is to barrier-separate HOV lanes, Thru lanes and local lanes on I-95 to reduce weaving conflicts.

In November 2001, reconstruction of I-95/VA-644 interchange turned into finished. The direct Thru roadway linking for I-ninety five southbound traffic become inaugurated in Might also 2004. Rest of the I-ninety five/I-395/I-495 interchange and specific/local roadways on I-ninety five will open in stages from 2005 to 2007.

Last goal behind reconstruction of “blending bowl” is to improve protection and get right of entry to while increasing throughput capacity. Northern Virginia Transportation Development mission is in its final touch phase.

Belvoir New Vision Planners (BNVP)

Citadel Belvoir is a U.S.A. army installation which Also services as the headquarters of Protection Logistics organisation, the Defense Settlement Audit organisation, Defense Technical Information Middle and Defense Threat Discount agency. As a result of the 2005 Base Realignment and Closure Fee, Fortress Belvoir is expected to have a big increase in the wide variety of humans stationed or hired there. For this, a team of experienced planners, managers, Also considers the continuing challenge of Citadel Belvoir. The realignment is expected to be completed in 2011.

Engineers, architects, environmental and transportation professionals had been decided on by the Army Corps of Engineers to guide the realignment of Citadel Belvoir. The crew goes through the name Belvoir New Vision Planners.

BNVP – a partnership among PBS & J and Skidmore Owings & Merrill (SOM), is ready to begin paintings at once at the siting of tenants across Fortress Belvoir. In preparing the siting alternatives, BNVP will coordinate all vital conferences with key stakeholders in practise for a international-class city federal Middle; a flagship set up in The united states’s national security structure.

In all, Castle Belvoir which affords logistical and administrative aid to various businesses will experience a internet advantage of approximately 21,000 human beings. This migration of humans will require the construction of several new centers on the bottom. To perform this realignment, the Army plans for essential creation of latest workplace space and infrastructure. BNVP will begin a complete master improvement strategy that encompasses the wishes of the realignment and Additionally considers the continued venture of Fortress Belvoir. The realignment is expected to be finished in 2011.

[dmvalerts]

Alert Montgomery - Severe Traffic Alert - Capital Beltway (I-495)

*THIS IS A MESSAGE FROM ALERT MONTGOMERY* Accident cleanup closes the right two lanes of the Capital Beltway Outer Loop (I-495) just past Exit 36 (Old Georgetown Rd/MD 187). Expect significant delays. Seek alternate route. Sent By:  OEM- Miziorko     You received this message because you are registered on Alert Montgomery.  If you have questions please refer to the FAQ page by clicking HERE. 

[dmvalerts]

Alert Montgomery - Severe Traffic Alert - Capital Beltway (I-495)

This is a message from Alert Gaithersburg Accident cleanup closes the right two lanes of the Capital Beltway Outer Loop (I-495) just past Exit 36 (Old Georgetown Rd/MD 187). Expect significant delays. Seek alternate route. Sent By:  OEM- Miziorko     You received this message because you are registered on Alert Gaithersburg. If you would like to update your account, please visit http://bit.ly/1mTJJWY.  

[dmvalerts]

Alert Montgomery - Severe Traffic Alert - Capital Beltway (I-495)

This is a message from Alert Rockville -- Accident cleanup closes the right two lanes of the Capital Beltway Outer Loop (I-495) just past Exit 36 (Old Georgetown Rd/MD 187). Expect significant delays. Seek alternate route. Sent By:  OEM- Miziorko     To change the way you receive messages from Alert Rockville, please log in to your account to manage your information. If you wish to unsubscribe from Alert Rockville, please e-mail alert_support@rockvillemd.gov.