#flip top cap manufacturers near me

[plastparekh]

How renowned Flip top Cap Suppliers can meet different Industry Verticals packaging needs?

Packaging is an important step after the product is developed.  Bringing in ease of use and high-end convenience is always the prime concern of manufacturers before the product strikes on the sales rack. A lot of repetitive decisions are based on convenience and easy accessibility. Flip top caps will reduce wastage and bring in the high-end probability of using it in various liquid products like food items, gels, medicines etc. The Flip top bottles and caps have easily replaced the age old tactics and brought in the new innovations and ventures of possibilities. Here are some top-notch reasons of flip top caps being in trend and being globally used:-

Light-weight : - In the past decades those heavy glass bottles would consume a lot of space in our racks and due to the brittle nature; it was very difficult to carry them. In the trending times, consumers can easily carry sauces, dips or other small proportions of food in a plastic container and small flip top cap over it without fearing heaviness. These flip top caps are made in large to miniature sizes by the manufacturers as per the needs of consumers.

Easy accessibility : - After the waves of pandemic that badly hit on global scale, the need for health and hygiene gave a quick rise. Most of the time, for safety and prevention many consumers preferred to carry sanitizer bottles. The flip top caps are yet preferred by the manufacturers of Sanitizer because of its quality of ease of use. The bottles with the flip top caps can be opened with single hand functionality.

Caters well to hygiene needs : - In the trending times, a major contribution of flip top caps is seen in the packaging of liquids or oils. The one side hinge actually allows the product to be dispensed in smaller proportions without making any kind of human contact or touch. 

Helpful in repetitive usage :- Unlike the plastic pouches that would get discarded after single usage because of the fear of spill or leakage, the scene of flip top cap with plastic containers are totally different. The flip top caps are helpful in doing the repetitive usage of the products.

Comes in various different colors : - The availability of different colors and shapes makes the branding exercise very much easier for the manufacturers. The attractive colors add coolness in packaging needs too. The flip top cap manufacturers can even help in customizing things as per the product needs.

Child resistant Flip top caps : - The additional security and protection is required when it comes to medicines or other life-saving drugs. The good quality locks instilled will definitely reduce the risks of hazards or any kind of mishaps.

Reduces wastage :- In the good olden times, the serums or lotions were preserved in glass bottles or any containers. A lot of effort was required to extract it, the end result was to break the containers and extract those serums. The plastic containers with the flip top caps have drastically reduced all of these and have zero down the wastage.

Future positivity :- The reputed flip top cap suppliers are using good quality packaging which makes it an ideal thing to go for it and reduce down the chances of spillage or leakage. As these products are efficient in controlling the flow of the product, they will be used in future too.

Attractive to your packaging goals :-  Innovations are the need of hour, as manufacturers and suppliers can help in giving multiple size options with different hinges solutions, the flip top cap is becoming a fruitful one. 

Recyclable nature :- Not just one or two, the flip top caps bottles can be used in a variety of shape bottles and widely can be considered for hair oils, serums, lotions, beverages, industry chemicals or other applications. The recyclable features just add up feather to its wings and give the quick go ahead for choosing these products. The flip top caps are totally reliant and bring in non-spillage solutions. The durability and good quality ending hinges makes the plastic caps worth a pick from a renowned flip top cap manufacturer in Mumbai.

Conclusion : - Light weight, durability and zero spill solutions are the prime advantage of flip top caps. The uses are infinite and cater well to needs of packaging in varied industrial applications. Quality of being ultra light weight is yet another advantage to have them in practical usage.

[ltleflrt]

I need to bitch about the saga of my HVAC system today. Buckle up, this is a ride.

My house was built in 1987, and I bought it in 2009.  It had central air for heating, but had a swamp cooler for cooling.  In 2011 the water tray on the swamp cooler rusted through and dumped a bunch of water in my attic.  We decide to go ahead and have the swamp cooler replaced with an attic fan and to get an actual air conditioning unit.

For the a/c we go through a small company suggested by a coworker.  The unit is installed in June.  By the end of July, it’s not blowing cold air anymore.  The installer comes out to check it and says the coolant is low.  He fills it up and leaves.  By the end of August, it’s not blowing cold air anymore.  I have to nag the installer to come out and fix it.  Once again he tops off the coolant.  No explanation about why it’s low, and he does it while we’re not home so I can’t talk to him about it.  We’re right at the tail end of summer, and climate change hasn’t come out swinging with a bat in this area yet.  So next summer comes around and it seems to be fine at first.  It lasts 2 weeks.  And now the installer is refusing to come look at it.  It’s still under both the manufacturer and work warranties.  He puts me off until both are expired.

I call another company, recommended by a coworker that owns a couple rental houses.  This guy comes out, discovers the unit was defective and had a leak.  He bends over backwards to get the manufacturer to buy the unit back, and put the credit towards another one.  It’s a name brand I’ve heard of, and it has a 10 year warranty.  He gets it installed, everything is wonderful.

We decide in 2015 to call an electrician to fix an issue with anything stronger than a nightlight in the upstairs bedrooms flipping the breaker.  Apparently the fuse box is A MESS.  There are LIVE WIRES in there just FLOATING AROUND FREE, risking EXPLOSIONS if they get jostled and hit the sides.  The reason this is important to the HVAC story is that we discover at this point that the previous owner of the house probably finished the basement himself, and there’s a bunch of wonky shit that we’re going to have to deal with in the future.  For now tho, we can use the plugs upstairs, yay.

The furnace stops working in February 2016.  Awesome HVAC guy comes out and repairs it for free. I’m not sure why he doesn’t charge us, but he’s awesome that way.  He does warn that it’s getting near the end of its lifespan, and we may need to replace it soon.  He also mentions that it’s not actually big enough for our house’s square footage, and it’s probably running too hard and wasting electricity and wearing itself out faster.  Good to know, thanks Awesome HVAC guy.

In January 2017, the furnace starts screaming.  There’s something scraping in the fan motor.  Awesome HVAC guy just had knee replacement surgery and can’t come fix it, but he refers me to another contractor who fixes the fan.  He also says the furnace is on its last legs, but for now it’s working.  My husband and I decide to let it limp through the rest of this winter, and replace it later in the year.  Which we end up doing in January 2018 because it starts screaming again.  Awesome HVAC guy comes out to replace it, gives us a good deal, gets a bigger unit that is more efficient for our house size.  Oh look! Our winter electricity bill is much better thank you!

Everything is going JUST FINE.

In June of this year we have a bigger HVAC+Electric+Water Heater company come out and inspect our HVAC system.  It’s a free service we get for having them replace our water heater recently, so I figure we’ll have them look at it, and if anything needs to be done, I’ll call the Awesome HVAC guy to do the work, cuz he’s bound to be less expensive.  We discover that the furnace just needs dust blown out, and the A/C unit has a cap that’s loose that might be causing a coolant leak, although it’s very slow and probably not a big deal right now but is worth having fixed before it dies completely.

I say thanks, we’ll get back to you.  I call Awesome HVAC guy, but his numbers are disconnected.  Both his business number, and his personal number, which he gave me because for some reason he treats me like a daughter about all this repair business.  I hope he’s retired, and that Covid didn’t get him :(

So I decide to go ahead with getting the maintenance done with the company that did the inspection.  I schedule it for the end of August when I have some times off.  He’d also suggested an ionizer, which I’ve wanted for a few years and I’m like what the hell, let’s do it.  He does the ionizer install, cleans out the furnace, repairs the a/c.  Everything’s hunky dory.

Day before yesterday the a/c breaks.  It won’t turn OFF.  But it’s not triggering the blower in the furnace unit, so the a/c is pumping its little heart out, but it’s just freezing up the pipe.  The only way to turn it off is to go outside and flip the breaker.

So I call the big company again.  Because it’s the off season, they’re able to send someone right away, which is nice.  Dude comes out, does a few tests, checks what he hopes is the easy fix but that’s not broken.  Pokes around a little more.  Finds out that the problem isn’t something that can be fixed, and the whole unit has to be replaced.  It’s just out of warranty, of course.

It’s going to be almost $8000 to replace, but he’s going to apply a discount for all the maintenance we had done last month to bring the price down, which is nice of him.  But we find out also that starting in 2023, a regulation is going into place where if you replace an a/c or a furnace, you’ll be required to replace both at the same time, plus do some efficiency upgrades.  He’s not trying to upsell me for a furnace, he’s just warning me that with the warranties and life span expectancy of the units being different, if I have to replace my furnace in 5 years, I’ll be required to replace the a/c at the same time.

Siiiiiigh.

Again, he’s not upselling me, he’s just educating me about warranty stuff. So I ask him how much it would be to replace both and do the efficiency upgrades now.  It’s $16,000, but he finagles some discounts out of his boss and gets it down to $13,000.  I have the cashmoney for it, so I grit my teeth and say do it all right now, even though my furnace is fine.  I’d rather pay $13k right now with the discounts, than pay $7000 right now and in 5 years have to pay another AT LEAST $13k (because inflation and potential new regulations means it'll probably be more expensive then) to replace them both.  In the long run it'll save me money to do both now and I can afford it.

Amazingly, they can do it all that day.  It's off season! And they stockpiled some units, so unlike some other companies they're not all out at the end of busy season.  They come out, spend 6 hours replacing everything.  Nice guys, great work, everything looks and runs great.  They remind us to regularly replace our air filters, and get our yearly inspections, etc, then they take off after a job well done.  

Today my husband is like "y'know, I should replace the air filter right now since it's about the time of year when we do it anyway".  

And this is when he discovers that the guy who installed the ionizer in August put it in the way of the door to the air filter.  We can't open it.  FUCK.

Guess who I'm calling again right after posting this?

[shih-coulda-had-it]

At work there is an ice maker we call bertha we refill the ice machines with it and sometimes when we are refilling ice the lid falls and hits us I head cannon for the coffee shop au gran has access to the store to grab a taiyaki before and after patrol as long as he does small misc. Things around the shop like refill ice, take out trash etc.

“You’re not closed yet?”

Nana whips her head up from under the counter, startled by the familiar voice at an unfamiliar time. Gran Torino, looking a little worse for wear, lingers at the storefront. Half-in and half-out, like he is unsure of his welcome.

It’s nearly seven in the evening. She had sent Toshinori off at six, and she doesn’t plan on closing until nine. Even if customers aren’t looking for an evening fix, Nana likes to brew herself a cup and survey the sidewalks.

“Don’t I have my hours listed on the door?”

“It doesn’t have numbers,” he informs her. “You wrote in kaomojis, and I’m not sure what the shrugging one means.”

“It means, ‘try your luck’! And lucky you, I’m still open.” She grins and beckons Torino inside. Does she still have taiyaki warming in the display case? Maybe he has enough time to wait for Nana to pour a new batch. “You really are new to the area, aren’t you?”

“Mn.”

“What can I get you?”

“The regular, please,” he says. Then he catches himself. “A small black coffee and…”

“If you can wait fifteen minutes, I can get you one fresh for the patrol?”

Gran Torino stiffens. A little mechanically, he says, “What patrol.”

“Well, Torino-san,” Nana drags out, spinning around to pluck a paper cup, fit it to a sleeve, and situate it under the dispenser. “You don’t have your messenger bag, and that sure isn’t civilian clothing. You wouldn’t be the first pro-hero looking to get a snack before patrol, y’know? Even the underground heroes need their kicks.”

“Room for cream, please.”

That was different. Nana obliges, caps the cup, and turns around to slide it over the counter. “Is that a yes to taiyaki? Fifteen minutes, I swear.”

He glances at the clock. “... I can wait.”

“Excellent!” she crows, and rings up the purchases. “That’s six-hundred yen.”

“I remember,” he says drily. Gran Torino dips his fingers into his belt, and then he freezes. Nana observes the flash of panic twisting his mouth into a grimace and the almost serene way he rechecks his person for money. “Um. Shit. I, uh…”

“Happens to all of us,” she says, not unkindly.

“Sorry.” Torino pushes the coffee back over to her end of the counter, but Nana steadies his wrist and holds him there.

“It’s okay,” Nana says firmly. Except she knows that Gran Torino is not the type of person to accept charity, even as a flirtation, so in the way of all managers, she finds a task that needs to be done. “In exchange, would you mind refilling the ice machine? Lots of customers in summer means lots of iced drinks, so it needs a bucket or two.”

Gran Torino considers the proposal for only a second. “Done,” he says. “Tell me what to do.”

“Ah, it’s self-explanatory. Walk in from over there,” as he follows her directions, Nana darts to the kitchen and preps the taiyaki pan, giving it a quick brushdown with melted butter and turning the stove on medium-low.

“Found the ice maker,” he reports from the front.

“The white bucket next to it, fill up as much as you can carry,” she calls back. “Oh! And be careful of the lid, it’s got--”

A low thonk and subsequent curse. Nana winces as she retrieves the chilled batter and red bean paste, stirring the former as she peeks out of the kitchen.

“You okay?”

“I’ve been told I have a hard head,” Torino says, and hefts the bucket of ice onto his shoulder. Nana tries not to stare. “Where does this go?”

“Uh,” Nana stalls. He doesn’t even look strained by the weight. His shoulders are broad and his chest is, well, present. Manufacturers of pro-hero gear must have some kind of agenda, because Nana can’t think of a good reason why a jumpsuit needs to be so tight. Even flight suits have some give, not to mention the necessity of insulation. Wait, what’s happening?

“Shimura-san.”

“Stepladder. One moment,” she blurts out, and hastily returns to pour the batter into the pan mold. Nana adds a generous scoop of the red bean paste, ladles additional batter over that, closes the pan and flips it.

Muscle memory helps her set the timer for two minutes, and then she is out behind the counter again.

Just in time to see Gran Torino brusquely dump the bucket of ice into the machine’s canister. Nana has the perfect line-of-sight to see the curvature of his rear. Is that what the cape’s for? To hide how the angled lines of Torino’s yellow belt, the ones she suspects trace the vee of his hipbones, connect over a truly enviable butt?

She can never talk gossip to Toshinori about his homeroom teacher again.

It’s just--it’s just unfair, that is.

“It’s near capacity.”

“Mm, typically my part-timer needs two trips to get the ice in,” she says distractedly. “I usually top it up overnight.”

“Do you,” he says.

“One less task to do in the morning. Budge over.” Impulse has her joining him on the stepladder, sneakily using Float to make sure Nana doesn’t topple them to the floor. Checking the capacity of the machine is just an excuse, since there’s no reason to doubt Torino’s judgment.

He’s quiet. Belatedly, Nana realizes that he is reassessing something. She cancels Float and balances her weight on one foot.

“Guess you were right,” she says, cheerful.

“I have a good eye,” Torino murmurs. “You wouldn’t be the first to use your Quirk for minor things in public, Shimura-san.”

“I won’t be the last to do it, either.”

“So long as others don’t catch you.”

“I’ve made it this long without a ticket,” Nana teases. “Are you gonna be the first?”

“I’m not on-duty yet,” Gran Torino says, and deliberately looks at his coffee. “So before you ask, you can’t bribe me with taiyaki. That’s strictly payment for the ice.”

“I’ll be sure to time my transgressions better.” Her timer beeps. She has about thirty seconds before she really has to flip the pan again, so Nana pulls out her best customer service voice. “When does your patrol end anyway, Torino-san?”

“... Midnight.”

“I’ll keep the second taiyaki ready for you, if you drop by again tonight,” she offers. Nana hops down to the floor, Float flickering on and off, just to soften the clap of her sneakers’ soles on the tile.

“I can’t ask that--”

She ducks into the kitchen and flips the pan, resets her timer and pokes her head out to check on Gran Torino exiting the employee-only space. He snags his coffee and pops the lid; he fills it with cream and sugar.

Aha, she thinks gleefully. She knew he couldn’t possibly like coffee straight from the pot. The taiyaki from the afternoon might have sweetened the bitter brew, but as of the evening’s coffee?

“Will you be impressed if I tell you that I basically live upstairs?” she asks Torino.

“You’re renting both the business and your apartment?”

“I own the land and the building,” Nana corrects.

“That can’t be cheap.”

“I’m a responsible business owner!” In response, he snorts into his coffee. “Anyway, if you don’t have anyone to check in with after patrol, just check in with me. Underground pro-heroes are advised to have some kind of handler, right?”

“We’re not government agents,” Torino says, frowning.

“Just say ‘yes,’” she tells him. “‘Yes, I will drop by your balcony and pick up my other taiyaki, Shimura-san.’”

Because she’s watching for it, Nana sees the slight twitch of his lips curling up into a smile.

“Yes, I will drop by your balcony and pick up my other taiyaki, Shimura-san,” he parrots.

[dispensemiracles]

Birthday Drabble 2018

(( Under cut for length, more than a lil depressing this year ))

The sound of her turning the page echoed through the dining room. She smiled as she read the passage before looking up at the clock. The time told her noon, no different from the sun shooting through her balcony doors. Capitalizing, she bent her paperback toward the light. A few paragraphs passed in silence, until restlessness saw her set it down. She flipped her phone open and hovered over the contacts. 

Her eyes avoided the date by some compulsion she’d never express. Instead she scrolled through the names. Listlessness marked its touch in the vacancy of her stare; in the slouching of her mouth. The words Mother and Father were all she could choose from. They reflected in her eyes from the screen blindingly bright and terribly empty. She checked her recent calls to find them both absent. It was a tired wound that she’d traced a thousand times. 

Standing, she set aside her phone and moved toward a pile of boxes. Each was labeled simply. Chinaware, clothes, stacks of books, well kept empty albums. She sorted through the mess with the wary urgency of keeping busy. Her hands passed over each item as though afraid to no longer hold something. She did not hum or sing. Her skin crawled. An energy bubbled to the surface, longing and blood curdling. Her eyes remained far away. 

The clock read thirty minutes past when reluctantly she settled the last plate. A sigh left her. She tried to pick up her paperback but stopped. The restlessness stirred like a creeping infection. Before she knew it she dragged her broom over the spotless floors in a whirlwind. Her hands went raw from scrubbing.

But the itch persisted.

She slipped on her shoes and yanked her keys from the hook. Her jacket gave her protest, though relented. The moments of escaping down the stairs fled her memory. Abruptly she stood in the middle of the sidewalk beyond her apartment lobby. 

But the itch bit deep.

Before she could think her eyes darted along the block. The hunger within them searched the laundromats, the bright supermarket, the scattered clothing stores. A plain cafe with an unremarkable awning was the only standout. A FamilyMart sat on one corner but that was expected.The mundane of it all compelled her as though she were sampling an amusement park. A mundane task filled the hands better than air. Her feet took her to the supermarket. 

The aisles were normal for early June. Crowds congested the meat section, snaking near her the further she went. Clutching her basket, she navigated through with a forceful speed that surprised her. It was impulsive, a craving. Suddenly she fought her way to the front and loaded up an unreasonable pile. As she flit between the selections her basket grew laden. It’s handle dug into her arm and sent a stab of pain shooting into her shoulder. Her eyes widened incredulously looking into the items packed so dense they gave her no names. 

Names weren’t needed, however, for she could taste their prepackaged and prepared slog by memory. It came from the shapes of the boxes, from their familiar colors. For a moment her rationale seized control, guiding her reluctant hand to return things to the shelves. The light weight of her wallet screamed louder than the siren call of restlessness. When she returned the basket and stepped outside, it pulsated and throbbed under her skin. The budget, she thought. It always came down to the budget. To what the words on her phone permitted.

Her feet saw her huddled on a park bench overlooking the lake. The sun pounded down fanning hot air. Sweat filmed over her face until she cursed under her breath and stripped her jacket. She set it on her lap then buried her chin on her hands. A breeze off the tide buzzed against her ears, but couldn’t drown the chance of hearing her thoughts. She bolted up jacket in hand and began to walk. Her steps were patient and stalling, afraid of stopping. She tied her jacket around her waist.

The trees were a faceless blur passing into one another in parallel with nameless people. She sighted an elderly couple, the rare stroller attached to a new mother, high school students crowding in posses. Each time her curiosity rose, to be beaten whimpering by the urge to witness more lest there be nothing at all when they left. It made her forehead throb. Shaking her head, she sighed and returned to the streets. Just as she departed the gate the sound of children’s laughter made her blood freeze. 

A decently kept playground that’d seen more days withering than entertaining hosted children in a game of tag. Her eyes tracked their parents sitting not far away engaged in conversation. Some stole glances, cautious and protective as the young ones played. Her heart twinged at something so foreign yet longed for. She met the eyes of one mother glaring in disdain; a bear bristling before it bit. Without thinking she turned and ran.

Strangers stared frightened as she bolted down the avenue, until her lungs gave out. Her legs ground to a halt and she bent over, panting for breath. The restless need pulsated and yanked up her head by the hair. She looked to find the unremarkable, domestic blue lettering of the FamilyMart from earlier. The irony might’ve made her laugh on another day. Reaching for her wallet she entered. The pastries section greeted her almost immediately beside the magazine rack. She moved past the bored clerk hardly older than she was and began to browse. 

Several cakes were packed in clear plastic containers and sat a row up from the slices. Several were identical with vanilla frosting, lacy whip cream, and upright strawberries stripped of their tops. A few coated in chocolate stood out with bright candies for garnish. She breathed in their manufactured scent and let it bleed into her mouth. Lifting a finger, she wiggled it back and forth judging her options. Unsurprisingly, the strawberries and cream beat it’s chocolate competitor six to two. She lifted it and soon slid it onto the counter like a battle trophy. A thousand yen bill she pressed next with less consideration. The clerk managed a practiced smile, worked out her change, and saw her off with it as she left. 

Her dining room had grown darker when she returned. Switching on the lights, she placed the cake on the table after removing her shoes. Her jacket she unwrapped, made to throw it onto a chair, then thought better and hung it. She resumed her paperback, not looking at her purchase with consideration. The cake waited in saintly patience while she loudly turned pages. The hands of the clock ticked and the shadows of the room grew. Suddenly she earmarked a passage to slam the book down. It rang painfully in her ears and made her chest leap. She stood without looking at the cake. 

She balled her hands, pacing to the kitchenette and then her refrigerator. Opening it she reached in for a tall bottle of green tea. A part of her felt sleazy to hold it, much less to have included it among her raw teas. She unscrewed the cap and drank deeply. Not a moment later she pound it onto the plastic counter. Placing her hands onto the surface, she exhaled hard and lowered her head. 

The restlessness congealed and swelled making her want to jump out her skin. Somewhere within it converted to steeled resolve. Lifting her face she stared at the cake the way the doomed faced biting a bullet. A familiar sickness claimed her as she felt the weight of being the only one present. It nearly folded her composure like tossing a stone onto paper; she retrieved worn number candles from a box. 

Sticking in the candles was merely rote. Lighting them came easier. Not for the first time she stared watching the number increase another year; now it told her fifteen. It reminded her there were high school textbooks to check, a student handbook to skim. She shrugged her shoulders if only for herself. They could wait. Clearing her throat, she sung, tired.

“Happy birthday, happy birthday to me...”

The cake tasted sugary, light, and cheap. Carefully she chewed with vigor to resist the silence. As usual, it rang too loud. 

[friedchopshopkitty]

Defensive Men Motorcycle Leather Gloves Clothing - To Wear Or Not to Wear?

Wearing defensive cruiser clothing... or on the other hand not... is something everyone needs to choose. There are a few bearings that the reasoning that goes into settling on that choice men motorcycle leather gloves can take you.

 What's your cover up, and different pieces and parts of your remains, worth to you? Is it more essential to 'Look Cool'...

 ... or then again... stay entirety?

 Numerous years prior, an old Cowboy once trusted in me; "Brian, there's a meager line between Macho... what's more, Stupidity... furthermore, child... I gotta advise you... you venture across that sucker, way over and over again!

 I need to concede that I've opposed procuring much in the method of defensive bike clothing. Yet, eventually a fella needs to acknowledge that perhaps a little carefulness is all together... what's more, make those couple of strides needed to help save the great looks the Boss higher up favored him with!

 I can't resist the urge to concur that head protectors diminish that total impression of Freedom I get on a bike. Enveloping my head by a plastic container isn't my number one thing... Yet, that aversion is exceeded, to me, by the vision of someone getting the mush that used to be inside my skull, with a stick and a spoon!

 The inclination I get when I roll without a bike cap is so better than wearing one, that I can here and there have impressive trouble lashing on that specific piece of defensive bike clothing...

 In any case... I take two or three minutes considering the potential outcomes of not having it set up... prepared with an idea or two about the others, out and about, that a cruiser rider needs to battle with... furthermore, on it goes.

 Your Brain dish isn't the solitary part you need to secure all things considered. You'll need to consider different pieces and parts of your remains that are powerless, while considering defensive cruiser clothing.

 Every one of the parts that smack the ground in case you're sliding, or tumbling along, after you dump your cruiser are needing assurance. Shoulders, elbows, hands, hips, knees... all can stand a lil' safeguarding from the attack made on them by hitting the black-top, at 45 mph!... or on the other hand speedier!

 Many is the story where a biker needed to drop his ride... to try not to just hammer into the side of some bozo on 4 wheels... and afterward moved up and left, with just minor scratches and wounds. A story that wouldn't get told on the off chance that he'd picked 'Macho'... over great, quality, defensive cruiser clothing.

 Presently we make quick work of the story, even your butt needs insurance :- ) sorry... I just couldn't avoid that one... Do a little googling about that... also, I'm certain that a portion of the 'Street Rash' photographs, that will turn up, will send you motoring, Visa close by, liver shuddering, to purchase the most recent, atomic, defensive cruiser clothing for your kiester!

 You'll before long find that there's no specific lack of cruiser stuff to secure you. There are even a couple of outfits building 'expanding' cruiser vests and coats that quickly enclose you by an airbag you wear!... should you head out in different directions from your bike.

 Bike Leather or Fabric Jackets, total with worked in cushioning and safeguards to offer security against effect and scraped spot... manufactured or cowhide, Motorcycle pants, over pants, lash on safeguards and cushions, clothing made to be scraped area safe, and chaps and bike gloves; the rundown of defensive bike clothing is near on to perpetual...

 I'm the first to let it out... I very much want riding 'Free'... Nose to the breeze... unarmored... In any case, I can possibly shake my head when some person comes roarin' along, just shades, muscle shirt, shorts and flip lemon. No head protector, no gloves, heck, not even sleeves!

 Then, at that point there's different folks... haulin' their spouses or young lady companions on the pillion behind them... Similarly as unprotected... Not a piece of defensive cruiser attire to be seen between the pair of them.

 Realizing what might be... ought to either bicycle get cut off... furthermore, they need to drop it's anything but, a virus shudder up my back.

 I might have the option to settle on that choice for myself... furthermore, live with the results... be that as it may, should anything turn out badly... taking a gander at the woman I conveyed, unprotected, is essentially something I'm reluctant to do.

 Settle on the choice to secure yourself... and afterward gain the legitimate defensive bike attire to keep you entirety.

 A bunch of Protective Motorcycle Clothing can change a truly terrible wreck... into some minor scratches and wounds... what's more, give grain to some fine bike visiting 'war stories'... sippin' a coke at a stop on your next poker run!

 ... also, in all actuality... The stuff they're constructing now-a-days... painstakingly chose... in reality looks pretty 'Cool' ... in this way, presently you have no reasons!

 Brian is the "manager" of Goin' RV Boondocking, a site devoted to the full-time, dry setting up camp way of life, and furthermore, men motorcycle leather gloves on Freedom Road, where the name says everything. Following years and years RVing he has taken in a couple of things the most difficult way possible!

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Who Are You Going to Be One Day?

Photo: Suzanne Weerts He was nine pounds when I met him. Somehow I’d squeezed all nine of those pounds out of me with no medication. “Hello you!” I said, holding him in my arms as the night nurse tried to put him in the bassinet. “You should get some rest,” she said. “No, I’ll just keep him right here by my side.” I wasn’t afraid of crushing him in my sleep like I was with his older sister. I wanted to drink him in and imprint his utter perfection alone in that peaceful hospital room. I touched his soft cheek and searched his alert eyes for a sign he recognized the unconditional love that pulsed with my every heartbeat. Later that day, I’d be the mother of two: an infant and a toddler. But at that moment it was just him and me, numb from our mutual physical exertion.  A nurse came in, turned on the lights and pulled the curtain closed beside me as if that would allow for peace and privacy when another new mom was wheeled in surrounded by a boisterous family. Roommates: a perk of managed care health insurance. I practiced the Lamaze breaths I forgot to use two hours earlier, knowing that this was the calm before the real storm. “Hello you,” I whispered, “Who might you become one day?” and I dozed despite the din. Truth is, I wasn’t always the best mother. In some ways it is amazing he and I made it out alive. I am dedicated but I’m easily distracted. I manufacture magic despite multi-tasking. I’m overprotective but I encourage adventure. I am fabulously flawed like every other originator of offspring I know, and my son loves to challenge my competency. For example, there was the time I took a shower. Honestly, when you’re the mother of two or more tiny people, it seems like you can count those times on a hand, and this was one of those days when I could no longer bare the scent of myself, nor could I imagine my husband coming home from work to my greasy hair matted with spit up and my frenzied eyes ringed in puffed purple. I planted my children in their room and closed the door. My bathroom is six feet away. The baby monitor was next to the shower and the hall door was closed. I implored my three-year-old: “Play toys with your baby brother for two minutes on the rug,” I begged, “Only open the door to get mommy if it’s an emergency.” ADVERTISEMENT I took the fastest shower in human history. Didn’t even dream of shaving my legs. I wrapped that towel around me with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings and stepped into the hall to see the children’s bedroom door open. My daughter stood by the also open hallway door. “Where is Jack?” I squawked! “He wanted to go out,” she replied. “What?!” I screamed as I ran through the house leaving footprint puddles on the hardwood floors, the linoleum in the kitchen like a slip-n-slide. The kitchen door was open too, and then I saw that the gardener had the pool gate propped open with a trashcan. The rumble of the lawnmower drowned out my cries as I flew toward the pool imagining the worst scenario, and there I saw my six-month-old son on his knees by the pool steps, splashing his hand in the water. Another ten seconds and who knows? A couple of years passed sans near-death experiences when I was folding laundry and my then three-year-old son toddled into my bedroom looking like Charlie Brown’s friend, Pigpen, with a literal poof of dust floating above his head. Hoping it was a minor concern, I asked him to show me where this happened. I mean it had only been a couple of minutes since I put superhero t-shirts in his drawer and he was happily playing with Thomas the Train. But when I entered his room, it was like the Colorado Rockies in March. Every peak and every valley covered in fine, white dust. His train table, stuffed animals, books, rug, closet, shoe rack, and shoes. All white. The dresser, inside opened drawers and the lampshade: all covered. He looked at me through frosted eyelids as I slid down the wall and broke into defeated sobs. There was only one solution that I could think of. We had to sell the house. My husband, of course, disagreed with my assessment and, after hours of dusting, vacuuming, and swiffering, my son’s room was cleaner than it ever was or has been since and smelled powdery fresh for years. But I remain filled with fear for having left the baby powder within reach each time I’d hear a PSA about Mesothelioma. Perhaps a year went by when my daughter came into the kitchen while I was making dinner. “Jack is rappelling up the slide with a bungee cord,” she warned. I looked out the window and caught sight of him in his boyhood Indiana Jones bliss. “Don’t be a tattle tale,” I told her. “It looks dangerous,” declared my ever-wise six-year-old. I went back to chopping the vegetables no one would want to eat, but within fifteen minutes, I heard a cry outside the kitchen door and there stood Jack, his face masked in blood. The bungee hook had come free from the top of the slide and gashed him at the brow-line, centimeters from his eye. The emergency room doctor concluded he was lucky to still have that eye. My son has leaped over countless boulders spanning deep crevasses at 31 National Parks. I hear the rescue helicopters circling above and imagine the reporters’ microphones forced in my face, “What were you thinking? Are you fit to be a mother?”    But at least I tried to teach safety and calculated risk, and I’ve been known to pull over my car and threaten to call parents when I see his friends riding their bikes with helmets dangling from handlebars or perched on their heads with unbuckled straps flapping in the breeze. My fear is justified thanks to my son. As we were loading the car en route to the airport for a trip to Mount Rainier, my then ten-year-old son was racing his sister on his bike just a block from our house. He flipped over the handlebars and tri-pod landed in the street, cracking his helmet. His sister carried him into the house crying. He said his arms hurt, but there were no outward signs of trauma and he seemed to recover after a tender snuggle. We had to leave or we’d be late to the airport. But as we sat in the terminal, ready to board, I looked at his ashen face. He was in pain and fearful of derailing our travel plans. I imagined being in the wilderness without access to medical care. What kind of mother am I? We booked later flights. A trip to Urgent Care revealed not one but two broken arms. One in two places. Trooper that he is, my son hiked Mt. Rainier like a man in a western stick up, arms perpetually raised over his head to minimize pain and swelling. My husband and I fed and bathed him for the first month of fifth grade. The scent of baby powder has long since faded, replaced by the fragrance of sweaty soccer shin guards and volleyball kneepads, Nike high tops and discarded jerseys resting on guitar cases and flung atop a surfboard. In ninth grade, the kid broke his collarbone snowboarding. In 11th grade, a collision on the volleyball court resulted in a High School career-ending knee injury. But those days of picking up Lincoln Logs and stepping on Legos fade more quickly than you can imagine when you’re in the midst of them. Last week I watched as that baby I refused to put in the hospital bassinet threw his graduation cap into the air on his High School soccer field. Now, as I look into those bright blue eyes, I know he is secure in my unconditional love. Yet when I hold those stubbly chiseled cheeks in my hands I still wonder, “Who might you become one day?” Though I know him better than I did eighteen years ago, saying goodbye as he heads out to discover that answer is going to be my toughest challenge yet. #Natl-feed #SpokeContributorNetwork #RealTalk #Spoke

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/who-are-you-going-to-be-one-day-1

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2:00PM Water Cooler 7/29/2019

Digital Elixir 2:00PM Water Cooler 7/29/2019

By Lambert Strether of Corrente

Politics

“But what is government itself, but the greatest of all reflections on human nature?” –James Madison, Federalist 51

“They had one weapon left and both knew it: treachery.” –Frank Herbert, Dune

“2020 Democratic Presidential Nomination” [RealClearPolitics] (average of five polls). As of July 25: Biden up at 29.3% (28.6), Sanders flat at 15.0% (15.0%), Warren down at 14.5% (15.0%), Buttigieg flat at 5.0% (5.0%), Harris down 11.8% (12.2%), others Brownian motion. Harris reminds me of Clinton, in that her numbers are like a hot air balloon, which sinks unless air is pumped into it.

* * *

2020

Biden (D)(1): “Biden’s Medicare Lie” [Jacobin]. “Speaking at a forum sponsored by the American Association of Retired Persons in Iowa earlier this month, Joe Biden fearmongered about Medicare for All. ‘Medicare goes away as you know it,’ said Biden. Under Bernie Sanders’s plan, ‘All the Medicare you have is gone.’… It’s clever politics, but it’s a total lie. Medicare for All does exactly what it says in the name: it extends the benefits associated with Medicare to the rest of the population…. Medicare for All would effectively be a Social Security income boost of thousands of dollars per year to seniors. It accomplishes this by eliminating all co-pays, premiums, and deductibles; by covering all long-term care costs for seniors; and by capping prescription drug costs at $200 a year…. All told, the US government only pays for 65 percent of seniors’ medical spending right now. Medicare for All would make that nearly 100 percent.” • 65%? Yikes. That’s a rip-off!

Delaney (D)(1): “Delaney proposes ambitious mandatory national service plan” [CNN]. “Several 2020 candidates, including Massachusetts Rep. Seth Moulton, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, and South Bend, Indiana, Mayor Pete Buttigieg have proposed national service initiatives tied to college tuition or job training, but Delaney’s ambitious proposal, which would provide up to three years of free college tuition for those who participate in public service projects, is the first to mandate youth participation in service…. [I]nstead of offering voluntary service, it would be compulsory for all Americans upon high school graduation or upon turning 18. The proposal would apply only to those born after 2006, and would phase in over time, according to the campaign. The plan would provide two years of free tuition at a public college or university, and three years of tuition for those who extended their national service year to two years. Tuition could also be applied to vocational or technical training, the Delaney campaign told reporters.” • Who asked for this?

Harris (D)(1): “Kamala Harris Unveils ‘Medicare For All’ Plan That Preserves Private Insurance” [Bloomberg]. “Under her proposal, Americans could opt for Medicare Advantage, a program that allows beneficiaries to get coverage from a private insurer. Harris’s plan would put all Americans into Medicare over a 10-year transition period while allowing the participation of private insurance plans under a set of rules.” • Harris seems more than a little nimble in her positioning:

In which Jake asks Kamala Harris whether people would be able to keep their private insurance, if they prefer, under Medicare For All system — and she rejects that. "Let's eliminate all of that. Let's move on." pic.twitter.com/A1AY2TOT4g

— Rebecca Buck (@RebeccaBuck) January 29, 2019

Harris has also put herself on the same side as Trump:

Here’s Trump official @SeemaCMS last week bashing Medicare for All and public option – essentially Bernie and Biden plans – as “largest threats” to US health care.

But in same speech, praising Medicare Advantage as model. pic.twitter.com/VFKcbEL4lc

— Dan Diamond (@ddiamond) July 29, 2019

Perhaps that was the goal. Both Delaney and Harris seem to be sending messages to donors, not voters.

Sanders (D)(4):

On the Bern App profile page, under religion, there are many religions listed but NOT Eastern Orthodox. That will be a problem. Especially in Alaska. @fshakir

— Alice Marshall (@PrestoVivace) July 28, 2019

* * *

“Democratic 2020 race up for grabs: Half of voters have changed their minds since spring, poll shows” [Politico]. “The volatility has a limit, however. The vast majority of voters who switched since April moved among the top four candidates or between them and undecided status. The mass of candidates languishing at 1% or lower hasn’t benefited.” • No Trump-like breakout figure on the Democrat side so far.

“DCCC in ‘complete chaos’ as uproar over diversity intensifies” [Politico (RH)]. “POLITICO reported last week that black and Hispanic lawmakers are furious with Bustos’ stewardship of the campaign arm. They say the upper echelon of the DCCC is bereft of diversity, and it is not doing enough to reach Latino voters and hire consultants of color. In addition, several of Bustos’ senior aides have left in the first six months of her tenure, including her chief of staff — a black woman — and her director of mail and polling director, both women.” • In other words, DCCC should become more like the Sanders campaign?

2019

“Pelosi backers feel vindicated after tumultuous stretch” [The Hill]. “Part of Pelosi’s strategy in the first seven months of the new Congress has been to protect vulnerable centrists like O’Halleran and freshman Reps. Abigail Spanberger (D-Va.), Max Rose (D-N.Y.) and Joe Cunningham (D-S.C.) — the so-called majority-makers — whom Republicans will be targeting in 2020 in a bid to retake the House.” • (Spanberger and Rose are MILOs; all three are Blue Dogs. We’ll see how Pelosi’s DINO strategy works out, I guess.

Realignment and Legitimacy

“The Ultra-Rich Are Ultra-Conservative” [Jacobin]. “Billionaires are a politically active bunch…. Between 2001 and the end of 2012, 92 percent of the country’s hundred richest billionaires (combined wealth: $2.2 trillion) contributed to a political cause…. Yet they’re also eerily quiet…. As the trio of political scientists write, ‘many or most billionaires appear to favor, and quietly work for, policies that are opposed by large majorities of Americans’.” • Well worth a read. Since it would be irresponsible not to speculate, what if the 0.1% were “eerily quiet” about being pro-Jackpot? Thinking big, as billiionaires do, and thinking bigger than relatively minor efforts like gutting Social Security.

Stats Watch

Dallas Fed Manufacturing Survey, July 2019: “Texas manufacturing activity bounced back but not as much expected in July” [Econoday]. “The survey’s demand indicators were mixed but mostly stronger…. Today’s report shows Texas manufacturing recovering in July from June’s slide more strongly than the headline suggests, and will probably not strengthen the case for more accommodation by the Fed.”

Shipping: “Carriers across the sector are throttling back profit projections for 2019 as they wrestle with the hangover from last year’s freight boom” [Wall Street Journal]. “Freight demand isn’t far off last year’s high levels, but rates have been sinking. Measures of spot-pricing for truckload business are down by double digits from last year, and customers are cutting shipping costs rather than looking for trucks.”

The Bezzle: “California steers toward a future of self-driving cars” [CalMatters]. “The future can be glimpsed at a former Navy base near the Bay Area city of Concord, converted to the nation’s largest autonomous-vehicle proving ground where computer-driven cars are let off their leashes and are free to roam across 2,100 acres. The facility, GoMentum Station, run by the American Automobile Association, is an innovation hive where Silicon Valley marries its futuristic vision to the automobile industry’s traditional know-how. • OK… More: “But it’s a significant step from allowing testing of automated cars in protected, supervised settings to unleashing them solo on the road, which experts say remains on a far horizon. There is much to be perfected: how best to turn left in traffic, for example, a maneuver that bedevils many human drivers.” • Wait. After many billions, we don’t have an algo to turn left in traffic?

Rapture Index: Closes down one on Israel. “Israel Has been generally quiet the past few weeks.” [Rapture Ready]. Record High, October 10, 2016: 189. Current: 183. Remember that bringing on the rapture is a good thing.

The Biosphere

“Coase, Hotelling and Pigou: The Incidence of o Carbon Tax and CO2 Emissions” [Geoffrey Heal, Wolfram Schlenker NBER Working Paper 26086]. “Using data from a large proprietary database of field-level oil data, we show that carbon prices even as high as 200 dollars per ton of CO2 will only reduce cumulative emissions from oil by 4% as the supply curve is very steep for high oil prices and few reserves drop out. The supply curve flattens out for lower price, and the effect of an increased carbon tax becomes larger. For example, a carbon price of 600 dollars would reduce cumulative emissions by 60%. On the flip side, a global cap and trade system that limits global extraction by a modest amount like 4% expropriates a large fraction of scarcity rents and would imply a high permit price of $200. The tax incidence varies over time: initially, about 75% of the carbon price will be passed on to consumers, but this share declines through time and even becomes negative as oil prices will drop in future years relative to a case of no carbon tax. The net present value of producer and consumer surplus decrease by roughly equal amounts, which are almost entirely offset by increased tax revenues.” •

“Even a summer heat wave can’t light up fading natural gas prices. Some of the country’s largest natural gas producers are tearing up their drilling plans…. as natural-gas futures tumble to multiyear lows just as the calendar and the climate suggest rates should be rising” [Wall Street Journal]. “Producers point to the Permian Basin in West Texas, where oil producers are unleashing vast volumes of gas as a byproduct of drilling for crude. That’s offsetting high demand from utilities that are shifting from coal to gas, and even all-time high exports to Mexico and other overseas markets. Natural gas has been so plentiful in West Texas at times this year that the price has turned negative, meaning that producers have to pay pipeline operators more to deliver gas to market than what the fuel fetches once it reaches buyers.

“Deforestation in the Amazon is shooting up, but Brazil’s president calls the data ‘a lie’” [Science]. “Deforestation is shooting up again in the Brazilian Amazon, according to satellite monitoring data. But Brazil’s far-right president, Jair Bolsonaro, whom many blame for the uptick, has disputed the trend and attacked the credibility of Brazil’s National Institute for Space Research (INPE), which produced the data. Bolsonaro called the numbers ‘a lie’ during a 19 July breakfast talk with journalists, and suggested INPE Director Ricardo Galvão was ‘at the service of some [nongovernmental organization].’ ‘With all the devastation you accuse us of doing and having done in the past, the Amazon would be extinguished already,’ he said.” • Hmm. “[S]ome [nongovernmental organization]”?

“Climate Change in a Coastal County: Think Global, Act Hyperlocal” [Pew Trusts Stateline]. “[T]oday, sea level rise in Dare County [Virginia] is among the most precipitous in the nation, an average 0.18 inches a year in some parts, enough that scientists come from around the world to study the land… The resilience projects will carry the community only so far. Beach nourishment, for example, typically lasts five to seven years — though a single hurricane this fall could wipe out all the millions of dollars of new sand laid this summer. At some point, Nags Head and other Dare County communities will hit a tipping point and decide the return isn’t worth the investment. ‘I don’t know when that day is,’ said [Mayor Ben Cahoon, a Republican], the mayor. ‘But it’s out there.’ When that happens, [Reide Corbett, a coastal oceanographer and geochemist] said, communities will have to approach a final step in coastal resilience: retreat. Just move folks inland and out of danger entirely.”

Games

“Why the ending of Game of Thrones elevated the worst of fan culture” [Vox]. “‘Curatorial fandom’ is a general term for the area of geek culture that emphasizes amassing as much canonical knowledge as possible, no matter how minute… The other side of fandom is “transformative fandom.” If curatorial fandom is about enshrining an authorial version of canon, transformative fandom is about changing it. Transformative fandom is centered on fanworks, like fanfiction, fan art, or fan critique, all of which use the source text as the jumping-off point for original interpretations. The idea of “transformative fandom” is a core concept of fanworks-based fandom because transformativity is part of the legal framework that protects fanfiction (i.e. it’s a “transformative work”)….. Bran embodies the stereotype of a fannish geek who spends his entire day sitting surfing the internet…. Bran is a human database of facts and knowledge that he acquired from ‘reading’ the history/canon presented to him through his nebulous abilities as the Three-Eyed Raven. Not only that, but his first official act as king was to essentially go gaming in search of Drogon the dragon, while Tyrion and the small council were left to run the kingdom. These characteristics and behaviors make Bran easy to read as an avatar for curatorial fandom.” • Fandom is alien territory to me, but this certainly sounds plausible.

Health Care

“Turning 26 Is A Potential Death Sentence For People With Type 1 Diabetes In America” [Buzzfeed]. “Laverty faces a health care problem unique to many millennials with Type 1 diabetes who’ve been booted off their parents’ stable health insurance. The price of insulin, the drug that keeps them alive, tripled in the US from 2002 to 2013 — and a recent study found that, from 2012 to 2016, its average annual cost increased from $3,200 to $5,900…. That’s an impossible price tag for a generation still feeling the effects of the 2008 financial crisis and saddled with massive student loan debt and increasing housing costs. Studies show that US millennials are far worse off financially than previous generations, with an average net worth below $8,000. The result is that these young adults are rationing, stockpiling, and turning to the black market for the medication they need to stay alive — incredibly risky and desperate measures that could result in long-term harm or death.” • So Obama’s much-beloved policy of letting adult children stay on their parents’ policies until the random age of 26 — why not 25? of 27? — turns out to be an ancien regime-like added layer of complexity that fails the people who need it most. Everything’s going according to plan!

People love their health insurance companies:

Dear Blue Cross Blue Shield, Thank you for your help during this difficult time. pic.twitter.com/HV017ntjQC

— Nate Charny (@natecharny) July 19, 2019

An ObamaCare navigator speaks:

When I got a job as an ACA 'navigator' to help people who'd never had it sign up for & use health insurance, and the vast majority of them (myself included) could only afford the lowest-tier, most bare bones plans. Just disappointing people all day long.

— erik (@erikdstock) May 5, 2019

The “When did you become radicalized by the U.S. health care non-system?” is an important archive of horror stories.

Neera’s plan (Medicare Extra):

Therapist: And what do we do when the Center for American Progress keeps pushing a healthcare plan that would still cost people up to $1500?

Me: Point out how offensive it is to call that “progress” when most Americans don’t have even $1000 for emergencies

Therapist: Wow yeah

— DSA for Medicare for All (@dsam4a) July 23, 2019

“Judge OKs Trump’s expansion of short-term plans” [Modern Health Care]. “A federal judge on Friday ruled the Trump administration’s expansion of so-called short-term, limited-duration health insurance plans can move ahead, rejecting an insurer group’s attempt to strike down the move. The plaintiff, the Association for Community Affiliated Plans, immediately said it will appeal. The group represents not-for-profit health plans deeply invested in the Affordable Care Act exchanges…. The rule, finalized in August 2018 and in effect since early October 2018, allows up to 12 months of coverage through short-term plans. People can renew this coverage for up to 36 months. The plans don’t have to cover people with pre-existing conditions, nor are they subject to the ACA’s mandates such as coverage for the 10 essential benefits, includinge mental healthcare, maternity care and prescription drugs.”

“The Effects on Hospital Utilization of the 1966 and 2014 Health Insurance Coverage Expansions in the United States” [Annals of Internal Medicine]. From the abstract: “Past coverage expansions were associated with little or no change in society-wide hospital use; increases in groups who gained coverage were offset by reductions among others, suggesting that bed supply limited increases in use. Reducing coverage may merely shift care toward wealthier and healthier persons. Conversely, universal coverage is unlikely to cause a surge in hospital use if growth in hospital capacity is carefully constrained.”

“Blue-Collar Workers Had Greatest Insurance Gains After ACA Implementation” [Health Affairs]. From the abstract: “Analyzing national survey data, we found that workers in traditionally blue-collar industries (service jobs, farming, construction, and transportation) experienced the largest gains in health insurance after implementation of the Affordable Care Act (ACA) in 2014. Compared to other occupations, these had lower employer-based coverage rates before the ACA. Most of the post-ACA coverage gains came from Medicaid and directly purchased nongroup insurance.”

“Health websites are notoriously misleading. So we rated their reliability” [STAT News]. “NewsGuard was co-founded last year by journalist and entrepreneur Steven Brill (known in part for his health care reporting) and former Wall Street Journal publisher Gordon Crovitz. In rating news and information sites in the U.S., Italy, U.K., France, and Germany, it has discovered a diverse spectrum of health sites. These range from green-rated peer-reviewed medical journals such as the New England Journal of Medicine to hundreds of red-rated conspiracy-minded sites such as NaturalNews.com and Collective-Evolution.com…. This plague of health misinformation comes in many fevers, from the seemingly innocuous (there is no solid evidence behind the idea that Epsom salt baths heal sore muscles) to the potentially dangerous (if you take amygdalin, vitamin B17, or laetrile, different names for the same long-debunked “cancer cure” made from fruit pits, you can experience side effects that mirror the symptoms of cyanide poisoning).”

Our Famously Free Press

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette boss J.R. Block sounds like a real piece of work. Thread:

Since it’s out there, next week will be my last at the Post-Gazette. It’s been a privilege to work with talented journalists who have covered intensely challenging stories (the Tree of Life massacre, local fallout from Catholic clergy sex abuse, Antwon Rose) with humanity. (1/) https://t.co/BhmFEatJgW

— Trevor Lenzmeier (@trevlenz) July 27, 2019

Police State Watch

“Lafayette public defender found in contempt after filming duct taping of defendant” [Acadiana Advocate]. “[Michael Gregory, a] Lafayette public defender was found in contempt of court Friday after filming a bailiff duct taping a defendant during a sentencing hearing July 18…. [Amanda Koons, a public defender in the Harris County Public Defender’s Office in Houston said] she’s never seen physical force like what occurred July 18. She said duct taping someone isn’t appropriate or humane, especially when the option to temporarily remove the defendant from the courtroom exists.” • Plus, they had the duct tape handy. I don’t imagine they drove to a hardware store to get some.

Black Injustice Tipping Point

A walking tour of Charlottesville’s monuments (mostly Confederate); thread:

Saturday, July 27, 8:30 am (when it's cool!): Dr. Andrea Douglas of @JSAAHC & I will lead a walking tour of #Charlottesville's downtown Confederate monuments & the newly-installed @eji_org historical plaque for lynching victim John Henry James. Meet at courthouse on Jefferson St. pic.twitter.com/EmGxeT75ak

— Jalane Smash the Fash Schmidt

(@Jalane_Schmidt) July 24, 2019

Guillotine Watch

“Cosmopolitan”:

Jeffrey Epstein was Cosmo magazines' July Bachelor of the Month, in 1980 pic.twitter.com/aAsCDzwWJq

— Historic.ly (@historic_ly) July 29, 2019

News of the Wired

Speaking of collapse:

Why not “dark ages”? Why Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages matter? This is an experiment trying to argue for it in 10 tweets (w/footnotes). It is subjective, but hopefully balanced. Not meant to replace, but to inspire other (twitter) takes on the subject. A thread. (a) 1/ pic.twitter.com/FmH31TysPh

— Mateusz Fafinski (@Calthalas) July 8, 2019

“Another side of Samuel Beckett” [Guardian]. • A long read on Beckett’s life. Well worth a read and might expand his fan base!

“Tokyo subway’s humble duct-tape typographer” [Medium]. “Sixty-five year old Sato san wears a crisp canary yellow uniform, reflective vest and polished white helmet. His job is to guide rush hour commuters through confusing and hazardous construction areas. When Sato san realised he needed more than his megaphone to perform this duty, he took it upon himself to make some temporary signage. With a few rolls of of duct tape and a craft knife, he has elevated the humble worksite sign to an art form…. Sato san’s purpose is simple: he strives to make life better for the millions of commuters who negotiate station construction sites. His unassuming dedication to craft and service embodies the best side of the Japanese approach to work.”

“Grasshoppers invade Las Vegas thanks to Luxor hotel light beam” [Yahoo News]. • Nature’s buffet!

* * *

Readers, feel free to contact me at lambert [UNDERSCORE] strether [DOT] corrente [AT] yahoo [DOT] com, with (a) links, and even better (b) sources I should curate regularly, (c) how to send me a check if you are allergic to PayPal, and (d) to find out how to send me images of plants. Vegetables are fine! Fungi are deemed to be honorary plants! If you want your handle to appear as a credit, please place it at the start of your mail in parentheses: (thus). Otherwise, I will anonymize by using your initials. See the previous Water Cooler (with plant) here. Today’s plant (JN):

* * *

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2:00PM Water Cooler 7/29/2019

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[dippedanddripped]

 3pm on June 29th, a raucous crowd of 150 young people had gathered at the corner of Surrey Street and the Strand in central London. Though few would have guessed it from their heavy-for-the-weather streetwear – down jackets, tracksuits, layered T-shirts, baseball caps and beanies – they were the cognoscenti. Although it was a full 17 hours before the official announcement, they knew that the shuttered shop front on this unremarkable block, situated between Somerset House and the Royal Courts of Justice, was where it was going to happen.

To most passers-by, it – the release of a collection of clothing made by two fashion brands working in collaboration – would have meant nothing. Yet to this excited cluster, the hundreds who would join them the following day, plus the thousands more who would line the streets (many having slept on them overnight) at similar pop-up launches in Tokyo, Paris, Los Angeles, Beijing, Sydney, Seoul and Miami, this event meant a great deal indeed. For they were about to witness the result of a union between the world’s most famous luxury brand, 163-year-old Louis Vuitton, and the world’s most famous streetwear brand, 23-year-old Supreme.

“This is pretty much uncharted territory,” said Martin Ologunja, 19 years old, from Hackney. “As a Supreme head, I was never expecting it to get into the high-fashion side. And I’ve got the utmost respect for LV.”

Richard Blackman, also 19, added that he had come because of a rumour on Instagram. He said: “I’m here for the culture of hype products. Supreme is a really nice fashion brand – a street brand – that most of us kids wear.”

Were they hoping to flip (resell, in street parlance)? “Absolutely!” said Alex Tarrant, 18: “I think the profits could be in the thousands.” Ologunja said, “One person said to me that resellers are the new drug dealers, but I don’t think so. I think resellers are the new art dealers.”

Just then, a bald and bearded American-accented man in a suit – a suit! – shouted for attention. We gathered around him. “Congratulations to you all,” he said. “You are the first! You made it! But the council and the police are adamant – nobody can loiter on the street, so if you do, there will be nothing happening here. There will be announcements on social media.” Slowly, and with some chagrin, we straggled down the pavement towards a Pret A Manger.

This curious scene was elegantly explained in economic terms by Adita Varavina-Grover, 18, who (exam results permitting) hopes to take up an offer to study at the London School of Economics this September. “The more limited the item is, the more stressed out people get. It’s like inelastic demand. Even if the price goes up the demand will always stay the same, because of all this hype.”

were already rumours (there always are), but that hype officially began in January during the Spring/Summer men’s fashion shows in Paris. Kim Jones, who has overseen the menswear designs at Louis Vuitton since 2011, invited me to preview his collection the day before his show at his sprawling studio in the former headquarters of the La Samaritaine department store. His main collection, the exclusively Louis Vuitton stuff, was beautiful: a New York-artist-inspired wardrobe of loose-cut clothes in cashmere, vicuña, silk and denim which referenced Jean-Michel Basquiat and Andy Warhol among others.

This was advanced menswear for PhD-level aesthetes, requiring a certain connoisseurship – luxury masculine geekery – to read and relish it in full. Scattered within it, however, were items with a much more direct message: baseball shirts and work jackets in light Japanese denim on which was a grid of tufted shapes – the famous LV monogram pattern interspersed with the word “Supreme” in larger sans-serif letters. The same combination was on sneakers, backpacks, holdalls and a trove of other accessories that ran from bottle openers and pen-knives to handkerchiefs and badges. There were even trunks – Louis Vuitton’s original product – including one designed especially to hold a LVXSupreme patterned skateboard.

Ah, the irony of that skateboard! In 2000, Supreme released a skateboard deck upon which was decaled Vuitton’s monogram pattern, but with the LV replaced by an S. It was blatant and shameless logo abuse. Two weeks later, after Vuitton threatened a lawsuit, it was withdrawn. Now Vuitton – the Paris label positioned at the top-most point of the pyramid of the world’s largest luxury conglomerate – was working with a vaingloriously named unluxury New York upstart that it once rightfully accused of copyright infringement. How come?

It was chiefly down to Jones. “Michael Burke, the CEO of Louis Vuitton, called me up one day and said, ‘Do you know the people at Supreme, because I’m really interested in the brand and would like to talk to its founder’, who’s James Jebbia, whom I know. So I said ‘You can get his number off me if we can do a collaboration with them!’ And we sort of started from there.” Work on the collaboration, he said, had already been under way for over a year. “In this world where everyone wants the new, new, new, it’s nice to be able to throw in something that’s completely fresh…all I’m trying to do is create customer excitement and create things that I enjoy.”

At Louis Vuitton’s show the next morning the rapper Travis Scott took his seat on the front row wearing a T-shirt bearing the Supreme white-on-red box logo and the LV initials. David Beckham wasn’t wearing the collaboration – he opted for Louis Vuitton proper – but said that his kids were “really into” Supreme. Kate Moss fondly recalled that in the mid-1990s Supreme once appropriated and repurposed (in Supreme parlance, logo-flipped) a fashion campaign she’d done for Calvin Klein. “Later,” she added, “when they’d made loads of money they paid me to do an ad.”

Out came the collection. Around Jones’s core of refined raffishness, those Supreme pieces were strung like scarlet tinsel. Online, websites that specifically cater to “streetwear” – sports, work and military-attire-based fashion labels – exploded in rapture. The rumours were true! Their beloved anti-establishment upstart and the world’s most famous, establishment luxury brand were expecting! By June expectation had matured to fever pitch.

Supreme was created by James Jebbia, who moved from Britain to New York in the 1980s, after stints running a wholesale fashion store and working alongside Sean Stussy – streetwear’s equivalent to high fashion’s Coco Chanel – in the opening of a Stussy boutique.

As an explicitly skateboarding-inspired label, Supreme has long harnessed the sport’s image as a rebellious, artistic and sometimes illegal passion. Its own logo is strikingly similar to graphic elements and fonts in the work of artist Barbara Kruger – an inspiration Jebbia has acknowledged. The Louis Vuitton and Calvin Klein “logo-flips” are not Supreme’s only copyright infringements, but many of its collaborations are consensual.

These feed its retail operation – ten stores around the world plus a website selling goods with low production costs such as cotton T-shirts, maple skate decks and nylon jackets – which borrows much from high luxury’s business model. Each line is sold in strictly limited numbers. New goods are released in “drops” every Thursday, encouraging fans to queue every week to check out the new items before they disappear, perhaps for ever.

Justin Bieber has the LVxSupreme fever

That has created a community of fans – most of them young, along with others who wish they still were – who have defined themselves as a tribe while waiting in line. And the policy of enforced scarcity has enlarged further the community of Supreme-lovers by creating a frenzied secondary market within which the goods are traded and speculated upon.

For Louis Vuitton, the value of the collaboration lies in those kids. For Supreme, the sight of its street-rat logo on one of the world’s most venerable and iconic luxury products, a Louis Vuitton trunk, represents a stratospheric status upgrade – as if Banksy were hung in the Louvre. To have its co-branded products both manufactured and sold by Louis Vuitton – yet under Supreme-curated conditions of hype – is one in the eye for anyone who reckons it is an all-mouth-no-trousers brand for suggestible kids.

10am on Day One of the sale, a queue of about 600 people stretched down the Strand and along Surrey Street. Martin, Richard, Alex and Adita were all there. Running the queue for Louis Vuitton was security specialist Lex Showumni. “This is my first experience with Supreme. I was told it was going to be crazy, a lot of people pushing and shoving, but we haven’t experienced that so far.” The Supreme faithful have their own, slightly dubious, process of queue-management based on attendance and standing. It mostly works, but some people were unhappy: a trader had left the head of the queue to withdraw £12,000 from an ATM. He returned without the cash having lost his number 1 spot; eventually, after some animated discussion, he slipped back in near the front.

Each customer was admitted to the store for 15 minutes and allowed to buy six items. Successful trophy hunters included Ari Petrou, with a flipped T-shirt (around £400), that he was definitely keeping. Jeremy Wilson bagged a coveted red-logo baseball shirt (£730) that he planned to resell.

Within an hour, three main secondary exchanges had been set up outside the official store: one in the Pret A Manger, the other beneath a tree, and the third next to a municipal toilet. One dealer, who asked not to be named, explained that he had paid ten people a set fee to get early places in the queue and would give them a cut of the resale value of anything they could get their hands on. “It’s business!” he laughed. Wodges of cash were exchanged and stashed in newly acquired Louis Vuitton bags.

One of the trunks, priced at £40,000, remained unsold while I was there. A young dealer agonised about whether he should borrow the cash and risk everything on it. Perhaps fortunately, it was way out of Martin Ologunja’s league. He emerged, disconsolate, with nothing. “A lot of the ready-to-wear is gone. No T-shirts, no hoodies, they haven’t even got a lot of the collection. Apparently Tokyo is getting the red stuff this week and we are getting the black. There was pretty much nothing I wanted.”

Would he return? “Definitely! I’m coming every day. I’m not ready to swallow this. I’ll be back!”

[thechasefiles]

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 1/21/2019

Good MORNING #realdreamchasers! Here is The Chase Files Daily News Cap for Monday 21st January 2019. Remember you can read full articles for FREE via Barbados Today (BT) or Barbados Government Information Services (BGIS) OR by purchasing by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

EMULATE BARROW – As Barbadians mark Errol Barrow Day today, they are being called upon to remember what the National Hero stood for, and to stamp that across the length and breadth of the island. The challenge was thrown out by Verla DePeiza, president of the Democratic Labour Party that Barrow founded, during a service at the St David’s Anglican Church yesterday to commemorate the life and work of Barrow. “What Errol Barrow means to the Democratic Labour Party, I don’t think any book can ever capture. What he means to this country will live on for generations to come. But what it should mean for each one of us is a motivation to dig deep within ourselves, and find a way that we too, can have a lasting impact on our society,” she told the congregation. She added the country was at a crossroad and asked the citizens to join with the party, which suffered a humiliating 30-0 defeat in last May’s General Election, as it worked to steer the nation back on the right path. (DN)

PSV BOSSES LET’S TALK – If a national consultation on transportation is ever called, the owners of public service vehicles (PSVs) say one of the items they want high on the agenda is the conversion to electric vehicles and its potential to transform the industry. Both Morris Lee and Roy Raphael welcomed the recent call from the Congress of Trade Unions and Staff Associations of Barbados (CTUSAB) for a national consultation and review of the sector. In a media release last week, CTUSAB general secretary Dennis De Peiza said transportation was too important a plank in the social and economic well-being of a country and an efficient service was a necessity. He warned that over time, issues which emerged had called into question the management, regulation, coordination, policing and efficiency of the system, and if ignored, could create a “national crisis”. Chairman of the Alliance Owners of Public Transport (AOPT), Roy Raphael, said they had also called for a consultation because they wanted their voice to be heard and were too important to be left out. (DN)

A 'VERY GOOD' YEAR FOR TOURISM, SAYS SYMMONDS – Minister of Tourism and International Transport, Kerrie Symmonds says the tourism industry’s end of year results for 2018 were “very good”. But he warns that gun violence can possibly put a damper on the sector. Symmonds, who was speaking with members of the media on the sidelines of a reception for repeat visitors held at the Gun Hill Signal Station, revealed that the shooting in St Lawrence Gap last year could have left a bad impression on the visitors who witnessed it. “Tourism is our business. Running about the street with a gun and shooting one another over foolishness is unacceptable! We have to spend long hours working on something that we shouldn’t spend long hours working on because we have to try to contain the fallout of every instance when that happens,” said Symmonds. He pointed out that the marketing point of the island’s tourism sector of cleanliness, friendliness and safety was in a bind. He stressed that the threat to the island’s safety needed to be wrestled to the ground. “We will destroy the Barbados economy if it is that we have people shooting one another because somebody get horn or because somebody’s girlfriend chose to be with another man. We have to come to an understanding that every time this happens we are losing a massive amount of not only money but our reputation is taking a massive hit out there.” Symmonds also revealed that the recently established Cruise Development Commission will soon be providing a final audit of the ports of entry and overall visitor experience. “ I think we have to sit with the people in the craft sector as a whole . . . I have told the BTMI (Barbados Tourism Marketing Inc) that we have to have an opportunity to bring all the craft vendors in Bridgetown onto Trevor’s Way on a Friday night. Bring with them the music and the food and we have an opportunity for visitors to experience Bridgetown by night.” He argued that competitors across the region were creating opportunities for visitors to experience culture and the arts and Barbados could not afford to be satisfied with its current product while the industry was constantly transforming.   (BT)

OPPOSITION TEAM COVERING ALL BASES – Opposition Leader Bishop Joseph Atherley presented his official Opposition Spokespersons Team earlier today. He stressed that it was not the launch of a political party, but said that would come in due course. This new team includes several familiar faces who ran in the 2018 General Election under the Solutions Barbados and United Progressive Party (UPP) banners. Thirteen members were announced today with three more to be announced at a later date. The following is the list of team members and the portfolios that they will speak on. Irwin Belgrave – Home Affairs related matters; Rev. John Carter – Agriculture, food security and maritime economy; Dr Philip Corbin – Energy, water resources, telecommunications; Akil Daley – Youth and small business facilitation; Senator Crystal Drakes – Economic, sustainable development and climate change; Paul Forte – Housing, property ownership works and maintenance; Senator Caswell Franklyn – Labour, social security, corporatives and civil establishments; Paul Gibson – Health, wellness services development and environment; Sylvan Greenidge – Transportation, sanitation and sewage service;  Bruce Hennis – Internal business and trade, manufacturing and commerce; Maria Philips – Justice, law enforcement, penal system;  Alan Springer – Creative economy and sports industry development; Scott Weatherhead – Tourism, regional and international transport.  (DN)

EDGEHILL FOLK SHAKEN – The latest accident along Edgehill, St Thomas, has left some residents counting their lucky stars and one with a sleepless night. Shortly after 2 a.m on Sunday, people living in an apartment complex near the bend of the steep slope were rudely awakened when a minibus crashed into the building. It is understood three of the six passengers reported injuries and were taken by ambulance to hospital. The minibus was reportedly coming from a bus crawl when the brakes apparently failed. Up to press time police reports were not forthcoming, but some eyewitnesses said the minibus flipped at least once after striking a utility pole, before coming to rest outside the bedroom of a tenant, who recounted her experience. “I was sleeping and then I heard a funny noise, then a crash and the building shook. That got me right up out my bed. I made sure everybody was good and then I called the police,” she said. (DN)

JONES SMASHES FORDE’S 400M INDOOR RECORD – Jonathan Jones has taken his record-breaking track feats to the United States. Jones’ fast start to his collegiate career continued on Friday when he shattered the Barbados national 400 metres indoor record on the first day of the Clemson Invitational. The University of Texas freshman, who was named BIG 12 Conference Male Athlete Of The Week for his dazzling debut triumph at the Ted Nelson Invitational last week, won the 400 metres in an impressive 46.21 seconds from teammate Micaiah Harris (46.84). The time, which is third on the IAAF list this year, also surpassed the official national record of 46.34 previously set by Elvis Forde in 1987. However, another outstanding quarter-miler, Seibert Straughn, still has the fastest time ever recorded by a Barbadian. Straughn clocked 46.14 seconds at an oversized track in March 1991 while competing at a meet in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, in the United States. Jones now has the second fastest time on the US collegiate circuit this season behind Guyanese Arinze Chance, who replaced him at the top of the NCAA rankings with his 46.15 clocking at the inaugural Gamecock meet.  (DN)

FOGGING SCHEDULE 22ND - 25TH JANUARY - The Vector Control Unit of the Ministry of Health resumes its fogging programme next week in Christ Church between 4:30 and 7:30 p.m. each day. On Tuesday, January 22, the team will fog Rendezvous Hill, Rendezvous Ridge, Rendezvous Gardens, Amity Lodge with Avenues and environs. On Wednesday, January 23, they will be spraying Lower Amity Lodge, Rendezvous Hill, Brewster Road, Worthing with Avenues, Bamboo Road, Harmony Hall, Top Rock and surrounding areas. On Thursday, January 24, areas targeted will be St Lawrence Gap, Paradise Village, Highway 7, Worthing Main Road and neighbouring districts. The fogging exercise concludes on Friday, January 25, in Dover Gardens, Headley Road, Dover Terrace, Dover with Avenues and environs.

Householders are asked to cooperate with the officers of the Vector Control Unit by opening their doors and windows to allow the spray to enter. (BGIS)

SKYWATCHERS AWAIT 'SUPER BLOOD WOLF MOON' – Skywatchers are gearing up for a lunar eclipse, which some are referring to as a “super blood wolf moon”. During the spectacular event, the Earth’s natural satellite turns a striking shade of red. The entire eclipse will be visible from North and South America, as well as parts of western Europe (including the UK) and north Africa. (BT)

For daily or breaking news reports follow us on Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter & Facebook. That’s all for today folks. There are 344 days left in the year. Shalom! #thechasefilesdailynewscap #thechasefiles# dailynewscapsbythechasefiles

[plastparekh]

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[davidastbury]

The Student

His room was always a mess but he couldn’t face the effort of tidying it. He could never find his study notes when they were needed but they clattered down on his head when searching for a jumper. His life was equally chaotic - missed appointments, registration fees, return of books, canceling of subscription and so on - and so on.

The weekends were different; they were lagoons of peace in the troubled ocean of his life. All the anxieties faded away - he didn’t have to respond to anything - the jumble of demands became a soft blur and when meeting his girlfriend at Victoria Station and when in her arms, breathing in the joy of her loveliness, he didn’t even know what day it was.

Only Connect

He: I wish I’d known.

She: Yes.

He: I wish someone had told me.

She: Yes.

He: I would have come. I would have helped.

She: No one could help.

He: I would have tried.

She: Yes.

He: Was it very bad?

She: I don’t know. I don’t remember.

He: You have no memory?

She: No.

He: You can ask me! I’ll tell you.

She: Okay.

He: You can ask.

She: Were you nice to me?

Russell’s Mother And The Piano

Occasionally, when Russell was out, but due home at any moment, his mother - his elegant, charming, distant mother - would come into the room and talk to me. Perhaps she thought that by getting to know her son’s friends she would get closer to her son - to better understand the way his mind worked. Or she would just talk to me, not expecting much in the way of reply.

I remember her saying that she was sorry that Russell had given up his piano lessons. She put her hand flat onto the polished top of the piano, as if consoling a dear friend. He was good on the brass, but to her the piano was supreme and she started to explain why.

‘There is no other instrument that can match the piano for range of dynamics and range of expression. A simple phrase by Chopin can be as rich and emotional as anything played on a violin. Listen to this chord - now listen to this one - and this one! I am playing the same chord, just giving extra percussion to a different finger each time. I can change the whole meaning by stressing a different finger! Or if I repeatedly play this same chord with the same pressure - like this - each chord is slightly different - I could play it a thousand times and each would be different.’

And I sat and listened. My head was full of a wider wisdom - I knew - at the age of thirteen - an even greater truth than this. That the arrangement of the furniture would never be repeated - that nothing would be repeated - she would never again stand that way in front of the piano - nor look or sound the same - nor have that dreamy amusement in her eyes - nor would the afternoon sunlight shine the same way on the glass-fronted cabinets - nor my slight hunger - nor the sinking excitement, the tingling, the banked-down exhilaration at the thought that Caroline was in the house - and might walk in at any moment.

Early Loss

Somewhere between John Dalton Street and King Street (South) he lost a glove. He was annoyed; it was an expensive pair from Kendal Milne (as it was then known). He rushed back, looking for the glove, hoping to see it in the snow; but it wasn’t there. It should have been easy to see - like a black kitten - waiting to be rescued. But he couldn’t find it; he doubled back to check a second time.

The loss of the glove bothered him - it stayed in his mind and he thought about it nearly every time he wore gloves - in fact he never had another pair of gloves that were as nice or comfortable or meant as much to him.

Tunisia ... December 2019

It’s very hot and if I fall, helpless and gasping, onto the sticky airport tarmac and my condition is beyond the scope of the local medical facilities, the presiding pathologist will note that my last food was a large bag of ‘Chips Up’ (‘Tasty And Crunchier’) manufactured by Groupe Souani inc. Tunisia.

Met up with ‘Madame’ today. She looked at me, stepped back, blinked a few times and said - ‘Goodness! You’ve put on weight’.

And so the day wore on.

Shorts ... #27

He hadn’t been kind to his mother; he hadn’t treated he as he should have done. He never allowed her to get close - rejected her kindnesses - discarded her gifts - didn’t thank her - never showed any gratitude. When they talked he never said the things he should have said, but often said a lot of things he should not have said.

All this was long ago and one way or another he has found ways to be at peace with it. Of course he never asked for her to be his slave - he never wanted her eagerness to do everything for him. And so, here he is today, feeling that same wordless irritation as his second wife over sweetens his tea.

Night Out

A group of friends - glad to see each other - glad to get drunk together. The men ruddy and randy; the women collapsing with laughter - their voices strident and confident; expressive and exhilaratingly filthy.

So much to be afraid of! So many uncertainties - but none tonight - simply the joy of being a forty-year-old child.

The school bag.

The hotel allocates a space where departing guests can leave items for which they have no further use. Four or five shelves brimming with things like deluxe swimming goggles, piles of books and magazines, inflatable alligators, straw hats, sun creams, flip flops etc. Anyone can take what they want.

I saw a girls school bag; lots of pockets, pink shoulder straps - a bit knocked about - ‘well used’ is the phrase. The interior was scuffed and marked by felt-tip pens, which the owner had not capped - and traces of stickers, unsuccessfully scratched away by her thumbnail. I held it upside down to shake out the sand and the flap swung open revealing a drawing on the underside - a childish image of a kitten in a bow tie, surrounded by bunches of marijuana leaves. I had to smile.

And then, under the picture of the unfeasibly cute kitten, she had neatly stencilled her name ... Lucie Wider.

I put it back on the shelf.

‘O Master of the Universe,

Bless the life of Lucie Wider!’

R.

We knew each other for a few short weeks - right up to the time she left out little town forever. London was the magnet and I understood her reasons for going - I didn’t question any of it - I let the day come round and carried her bags and cases to the station - and I watched the bus take her away.

That was a long time ago. I heard nothing from her in the first few weeks and months - and then the months became years - in fact, nearly sixty years. And now others will have filled her life and they will see her as she is - but for me it is entirely different - I hold a gleaming fragment - fixed forever at that moment; how she had panicked over a last-minute confusion with her ticket - how she was cheerful and tried not to look at me - how she was heartbreakingly soulful - how she tried to smile and how hard she tried not to cry.

Ian and Lorna...1966

‘Come round anytime’ - said Ian - so I did. It was a midweek afternoon and I cannot remember why I was free, but I was. The door wasn’t fastened and I pushed it back and went in. Silence. No sign of Ian - no sign of anyone. And then I saw the shoes - his and hers; Ian’s and Lorna’s.

I stood staring at them and thinking that in a medieval painting it would have meant that the two saints had gone to heaven. I then realised that they were upstairs in the bedroom, so in a way, they had gone to heaven.

A window was open and the curtains were flapping. There was a school nearby, and it must have been playtime; voices shrieking and screaming with happiness.

I left - pulling the door shut behind me.

The Room ... 1964

She kept the rent-book on a table near the door, so that the landlord didn’t have a need to come into the room. It was a large room with three south-facing windows and the green carpet had three bands of faded colour, bleached by the summer sunshine. The furniture obviously hadn’t been planned; a few items bought with economy in mind - a sofa with cat scratches, a cheap drop-leaf table, a wardrobe with a door that kept swinging open, a strong, ugly bed. The only expensive item was her Spanish guitar, propped in the corner furthest from the door, next to a pile of sheet music.

She was very tidy; he wasn’t - but she didn’t mind. When alone she put all his ‘stuff’ away and did what she could to make the room attractive; but it was always unpleasant - except for the nights when they were together - the nights when, in the gloom, she glowed like a silver goddess and their damp foreheads touched and he saw both her eyes melt together and become a single eye, like a beautiful cyclops and she and the room slid into a perfection where everything was sour, salty, brackish.

Natasha and her brother Nikolai in their droshky, returning home, late at night.

‘You know,’ she suddenly said, ‘I know I’ll never again be as happy and peaceful as I am now.’

‘That’s nonsense, silliness, rubbish,’ said Nikolai, and thought: ‘How lovely my Natasha is! I have no other friend like her and never will. Why is she getting married? We could keep driving around together!’

‘How lovely my Nikolai is!’ thought Natasha.

‘Ah! there’s still light in the drawing room,’ she said, pointing to the windows of the house, shining beautifully in the wet, velvet darkness of the night.

( Tolstoy: War And Peace ... vol.2 pt.7 )

[ergohacks]

The Ergohacks Verdict

After one day with the R13 I knew I wanted to keep it. I’ve used Chromebooks on and off since the first CR-48 and they’ve always frustrated and delighted me in equal turns. The simplicity of working just inside a browser has been amazing and with HTML5 web apps the list of things that you can’t do has gotten extremely small. When it’s worked it’s been great. The problem has been twofold – hardware that isn’t quite up to scratch and the fact that if you go offline you’re almost completely out of luck.

So that does the R13 do to fix this? There have always been Chromebooks available with decent specs – if you’re willing to pay a lot for it. The problem is that once you get up to those levels of cost it’s hard to make an argument not to go for a upper-end Windows ultrabook or a lower level Mac. The R13 had 4gb of RAM, 64gb of storage, charges via USBC and a battery that is quoted to go for 12 hours and actually gets pretty near it. It’s powerful enough that I’ve not had problems with tabs reloading unexpectedly and it’s been stable and quick the whole time. It’s also got one more trick – it’s got a touch screen and is reversible. Flip it around and you’ve got a 13 inch tablet.

So why would you want a ChromeOS tablet? Make a couple of changes in the OS and you can opt into the beta to get the Android app store on it. Not every Android app will work and many just aren’t optimised for a tablet – never mind a 13″ one but many do work and they bring two crucial elements. First many of them work offline and second, there’s an app for almost anything. I’ve managed to play Minecraft, write WordPress posts offline, edit images and video in Adobe Clip, access newsgroups, ssh into our Ergohacks server and a range of other things. The beta isn’t quite perfect and I’ve also had a couple of crashes but I’d tend to blame the apps more than Google for this.

In total the R13 is a real machine and one that I can work on reliably at a price that’s not outrageous.  I originally wrote that I’m not quite ready to give up my desktop full time but with the exception of a couple of odd pieces of hardware like a slide scanner and gaming the R13 has been equal to every task I’ve thrown at it. Highly recommended.

Buy it from Amazon  + 

Price: ± £390.00 Included: Acer R13, USB-C Charger and Quick Start Guide

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Design

The R13 is a good looking laptop and particularly so for it’s pricepoint. It’s an aluminium block with squared off sides and edges. Around the edges are the USB-C charging point (that can also be used for data and with a breakout box), a USB 3.0 port, a HDMI port, a microSD card slot, a combined 3.5mm microphone and headset port and a Kensington port. There is also a power button and a volume rocker that have a distinctly tablet style.

The keyboard uses dark plastic keys that are good if not great to type on and have a reasonable travel, avoiding being mushy. The layout is typically ChromeOS with no caps lock or function keys but rather web navigation keys such as back and reload. If you’re coming from Windows they take a bit of getting used to but once you adapt to them are actually quite useful and certainly more so than the function keys ever were. The trackpad is mid sized at and feels quite responsive to use – thankfully it also accepts gestures.

The only potential flaw in the design is the hinge. Unlike most of the bodywork it’s plastic and while it does work reasonably it’s not as tight gripping as it could be and hence the screen can move about a lot more than I’m happy about. It’s worse if you try to actively use the touchscreen in laptop layout and you need to hold the screen with one hand while touching. I’m also a little concerned about its durability. It’s held up the three weeks of testing I’ve done but bends in directions it shouldn’t far too easily.

Specification

Product Dimensions: 1.5 x 22.5  x 32 cm Item Weight: 1.48kg Colour: Brushed aluminium Waterproof: No Release date: October 2016 Materials: Aluminium and plastic body

Technical Specification Operating System: ChromeOS Processor: 210GHz MediaTek Memory: 4GB Display: 13.3″ 1920 x 1080 IPS Camera: Fixed HDR Webcam Wi-Fi: 802.11 ac 2x MIMO Bluetooth: Yes Storage: 64Gb and expandable microSD card slot Input: Touch Screen 10 point Ports: USB-C Charge, 1x USB 3.0, HDMI, NFC (Near Field Communication): No Battery: Integrated non-removable 54 Watt Hours with  quoted 12-hour usage

Warranty: One year free from manufacturer defects

Requirements

It was once true that ChromeOS needed an always available internet connection and while this isn’t quite true these days and the advent of Android apps on ChromeOS is making it even less so it’s still nearly necessary. You can be away from wifi for a while but if you don’t spend the majority of your time in areas with decent wifi this may not be the system for you. The system will also require that you have a Google account.

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About Acer

Acer is a well known Taiwanese multinational that specialises in mid-range laptops but also makes a range of screens, VR devices, smartphones and other peripherals. They make a wide range of Chromebooks including the C720 which was my last Chromebook.

 We based our Ergohacks Verdict on three weeks of tinkering, testing and using the R13 provided by Acer during August and September 2017. This article was first published on 5 September 2017.

Acer R13 Chromebook The Ergohacks Verdict After one day with the R13 I knew I wanted to keep it. I've used Chromebooks on and off since the first CR-48 and they've always frustrated and delighted me in equal turns.

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Arplis - News: Who Are You Going to Be One Day?

Photo: Suzanne Weerts

He was nine pounds when I met him. Somehow I’d squeezed all nine of those pounds out of me with no medication. “Hello you!” I said, holding him in my arms as the night nurse tried to put him in the bassinet. “You should get some rest,” she said. “No, I’ll just keep him right here by my side.”

I wasn’t afraid of crushing him in my sleep like I was with his older sister. I wanted to drink him in and imprint his utter perfection alone in that peaceful hospital room. I touched his soft cheek and searched his alert eyes for a sign he recognized the unconditional love that pulsed with my every heartbeat. Later that day, I’d be the mother of two: an infant and a toddler. But at that moment it was just him and me, numb from our mutual physical exertion.  A nurse came in, turned on the lights and pulled the curtain closed beside me as if that would allow for peace and privacy when another new mom was wheeled in surrounded by a boisterous family. Roommates: a perk of managed care health insurance. I practiced the Lamaze breaths I forgot to use two hours earlier, knowing that this was the calm before the real storm. “Hello you,” I whispered, “Who might you become one day?” and I dozed despite the din.

Truth is, I wasn’t always the best mother. In some ways it is amazing he and I made it out alive. I am dedicated but I’m easily distracted. I manufacture magic despite multi-tasking. I’m overprotective but I encourage adventure. I am fabulously flawed like every other originator of offspring I know, and my son loves to challenge my competency.

For example, there was the time I took a shower. Honestly, when you’re the mother of two or more tiny people, it seems like you can count those times on a hand, and this was one of those days when I could no longer bare the scent of myself, nor could I imagine my husband coming home from work to my greasy hair matted with spit up and my frenzied eyes ringed in puffed purple.

I planted my children in their room and closed the door. My bathroom is six feet away. The baby monitor was next to the shower and the hall door was closed. I implored my three-year-old: “Play toys with your baby brother for two minutes on the rug,” I begged, “Only open the door to get mommy if it’s an emergency.”

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I took the fastest shower in human history. Didn’t even dream of shaving my legs. I wrapped that towel around me with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings and stepped into the hall to see the children’s bedroom door open. My daughter stood by the also open hallway door. “Where is Jack?” I squawked! “He wanted to go out,” she replied. “What?!” I screamed as I ran through the house leaving footprint puddles on the hardwood floors, the linoleum in the kitchen like a slip-n-slide. The kitchen door was open too, and then I saw that the gardener had the pool gate propped open with a trashcan. The rumble of the lawnmower drowned out my cries as I flew toward the pool imagining the worst scenario, and there I saw my six-month-old son on his knees by the pool steps, splashing his hand in the water. Another ten seconds and who knows?

A couple of years passed sans near-death experiences when I was folding laundry and my then three-year-old son toddled into my bedroom looking like Charlie Brown’s friend, Pigpen, with a literal poof of dust floating above his head. Hoping it was a minor concern, I asked him to show me where this happened. I mean it had only been a couple of minutes since I put superhero t-shirts in his drawer and he was happily playing with Thomas the Train. But when I entered his room, it was like the Colorado Rockies in March. Every peak and every valley covered in fine, white dust. His train table, stuffed animals, books, rug, closet, shoe rack, and shoes. All white. The dresser, inside opened drawers and the lampshade: all covered. He looked at me through frosted eyelids as I slid down the wall and broke into defeated sobs. There was only one solution that I could think of. We had to sell the house.

My husband, of course, disagreed with my assessment and, after hours of dusting, vacuuming, and swiffering, my son’s room was cleaner than it ever was or has been since and smelled powdery fresh for years. But I remain filled with fear for having left the baby powder within reach each time I’d hear a PSA about Mesothelioma.

Perhaps a year went by when my daughter came into the kitchen while I was making dinner. “Jack is rappelling up the slide with a bungee cord,” she warned. I looked out the window and caught sight of him in his boyhood Indiana Jones bliss. “Don’t be a tattle tale,” I told her. “It looks dangerous,” declared my ever-wise six-year-old. I went back to chopping the vegetables no one would want to eat, but within fifteen minutes, I heard a cry outside the kitchen door and there stood Jack, his face masked in blood. The bungee hook had come free from the top of the slide and gashed him at the brow-line, centimeters from his eye. The emergency room doctor concluded he was lucky to still have that eye.

My son has leaped over countless boulders spanning deep crevasses at 31 National Parks. I hear the rescue helicopters circling above and imagine the reporters’ microphones forced in my face, “What were you thinking? Are you fit to be a mother?”   

But at least I tried to teach safety and calculated risk, and I’ve been known to pull over my car and threaten to call parents when I see his friends riding their bikes with helmets dangling from handlebars or perched on their heads with unbuckled straps flapping in the breeze. My fear is justified thanks to my son.

As we were loading the car en route to the airport for a trip to Mount Rainier, my then ten-year-old son was racing his sister on his bike just a block from our house. He flipped over the handlebars and tri-pod landed in the street, cracking his helmet. His sister carried him into the house crying. He said his arms hurt, but there were no outward signs of trauma and he seemed to recover after a tender snuggle. We had to leave or we’d be late to the airport. But as we sat in the terminal, ready to board, I looked at his ashen face. He was in pain and fearful of derailing our travel plans. I imagined being in the wilderness without access to medical care. What kind of mother am I? We booked later flights. A trip to Urgent Care revealed not one but two broken arms. One in two places. Trooper that he is, my son hiked Mt. Rainier like a man in a western stick up, arms perpetually raised over his head to minimize pain and swelling. My husband and I fed and bathed him for the first month of fifth grade.

The scent of baby powder has long since faded, replaced by the fragrance of sweaty soccer shin guards and volleyball kneepads, Nike high tops and discarded jerseys resting on guitar cases and flung atop a surfboard. In ninth grade, the kid broke his collarbone snowboarding. In 11th grade, a collision on the volleyball court resulted in a High School career-ending knee injury.

But those days of picking up Lincoln Logs and stepping on Legos fade more quickly than you can imagine when you’re in the midst of them. Last week I watched as that baby I refused to put in the hospital bassinet threw his graduation cap into the air on his High School soccer field. Now, as I look into those bright blue eyes, I know he is secure in my unconditional love. Yet when I hold those stubbly chiseled cheeks in my hands I still wonder, “Who might you become one day?” Though I know him better than I did eighteen years ago, saying goodbye as he heads out to discover that answer is going to be my toughest challenge yet.

Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/who-are-you-going-to-be-one-day