#paving block machine

[beyazligroup]

[haomeiconcretebatchingplant]

Interlocking Paver Block Machine

Interlocking paver block machine, also known as interlocking paving block machine or interlocking block machine, produces blocks with interlocking structure by using raw materials such as stone powder, river sand, stone, water, fly ash, cement and other raw materials, which are pressed and molded by machinery. These interlocking blocks, due to their unique interlocking design, can effectively enhance the overall stability of the masonry and resistance to scouring, which is especially suitable for slope protection, bank protection and other projects. The working principle of the interlocking paver block machine is as follows: after mixing the raw materials according to the proportion, it is fed into the mold through the conveying device; the mold presses the raw materials under pressure; the formed interilocking paver blocks are taken out through the demoulding device, and can be processed or transported subsequently. During the whole process, the equipment adopts advanced control system to ensure the stability and efficiency of the production process.

Main features of interlocking paver block machine: - Multifunctionality: The interlocking paver block machine can produce a variety of specifications of blocks, including ordinary bricks, hollow bricks, pavement bricks, cement pipes, etc., to meet the needs of different projects. - Efficient and flexible: the interlocking block machine is able to change the molds according to the production demand, realizing diversified production and improving the production efficiency. - Energy saving and environmental protection: Interlocking paving block machine can make full use of industrial wastes such as fly ash, slag, etc. during the production process, which reduces the waste of resources, and at the same time, reduces the production energy consumption. - High product quality: the blocks produced are high density, strong and durable, with flat surface and precise size, which is conducive to improving the construction quality. Easy maintenance: the equipment has a compact structure and is easy to maintain, which reduces the maintenance cost. Application fields of interlocking paver block machine: - Water conservancy project: used in river, canal, lake and other bank protection, slope protection project, as well as drainage canal, spillway bottom lining, slope protection. - Road engineering: in the construction of highway and bridge, the materials such as pavement bricks and reinforced concrete produced by interlocking block machine can improve the construction efficiency and quality. - Construction project: it can be used for the production of blocks for the outer wall, inner wall and floor slab of the building, as well as the production of paving materials in the garden landscape. - Dock project: producing cement pipes, cement wells and other building materials to meet the material demand in dock construction. The price of interlocking paver block machine varies according to brand, model, configuration and other factors. Generally speaking, the equipment of high-end brand has higher price, but stable performance and reliable quality; while the equipment of middle and low-end brand has relatively lower price, but there may be some performance difference. Therefore, when purchasing interlocking paving block machines, it is recommended that users make comprehensive considerations according to their own needs and budgets, and choose cost-effective products. At the same time, you can also consult professional machinery and equipment manufacturers to get more detailed product information and purchase advice.

This resource is from http://www.haomeibatchplant.com/news/interlocking-paver-block-machine.html Should you be interested in, please contact us at: Haomei Machinery Equipment Co.,ltd Whatsapp/Wechat: 0086 181 3788 9531 Email: nydia@concretebatchplant24.com

[raytonblockmachinery]

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[mariacallous]

A month after Franklin D. Roosevelt won the 1940 presidential election, he called for legislation to ramp up military aid to countries fighting Nazi Germany. Congress passed the Lend-Lease Act in March 1941. Within months, Britain and the Soviet Union were pounding Adolf Hitler’s forces with U.S. weapons and other equipment.

Now that Americans have voted to return Donald Trump to the White House, the situation risks flipping into reverse: After Jan. 20, 2025, the United States may abandon its European allies to Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s fascist war machine.

During his campaign, Trump said he will “not give a penny to Ukraine.” Part of his plan to end the war “in one day” is that he would “tell [Ukrainian President Volodymyr] Zelensky, no more. You got to make a deal.” But if Russia is allowed to conquer and subjugate Ukraine, it would only be a matter of which democracy gets colonized next by a neighboring dictatorship: Poland, the Baltic States, Moldova, or Taiwan.

Thus, over the next 75 days, Congress and the Biden administration face an urgent historic mission to help Ukraine get as many weapons as possible before a possible withdrawal of U.S. support.

U.S. President Joe Biden has directed the Defense Department to draw down all remaining Ukrainian security aid that Congress has appropriated by the end of his term. It’s not clear if the Pentagon could supply much more weaponry than that by Inauguration Day, even if it received additional funding from Congress.

Instead, the way to promptly fund more arms is to bankroll Ukrainian procurement of U.S. weapons. Specifically, Biden should request, and Congress should pass, another supplemental funding bill on a similar scale as the one in April, which included $60.8 billion for Ukraine. The new supplemental should authorize the administration to spend any amount of the aid—up to the full amount—to cut a massive check to the Ukrainian government with the stipulation that Ukraine use the funds to purchase U.S.-made weapons.

Sending Ukraine $60 billion to spend on weapons would be entirely consistent with the strategy that the Biden administration had been preparing in case of a Trump win. One of Biden’s main initiatives has been to push the G-7 to give $50 billion in frozen Russian assets to Ukraine, deliberately structuring the transfer to get out the door before Jan. 20 so that Trump cannot stop it. Biden originally wanted to seize and give to Kyiv all $300 billion of Russia’s frozen money, but the Europeans could not be convinced. The administration has also shown its willingness to throw U.S. budgetary resources into the mix: When the $50 billion was blocked by the Hungarian government, the White House engineered a clever way of guaranteeing the money through the Treasury Department and the U.S. Agency for International Development.

The key political challenge, however, could be getting House Speaker Mike Johnson to support this legislation during the lame duck period, when he will probably be preparing to run for another term as speaker. This may require some hardball maneuvering by some of the many pro-Ukraine Republicans in the House. It would be much easier, of course, if Trump quietly goes along with it, like he did with the last supplemental.

The United States would not be the first government to fund Ukrainian arms procurement. Denmark paved the way this year with a grant that finances contracts between Ukraine and defense manufacturers. Denmark and Ukraine developed a transparent set of financial controls that include factory site visits, validation of delivery, and auditing processes. All sides regard this pilot program as so successful that other allies are pulling out their checkbooks to join in on the action.

Americans’ tax dollars would be safely held by the most credibly reformed and reputably led wing of the Ukrainian Defense Ministry: the defense procurement agency. In the early weeks of the full-scale invasion, when Russian forces were bearing down on Kyiv and heavy Western weapons hadn’t yet arrived, Ukraine’s desperate Defense Ministry called up illicit intermediaries, begging them to help buy up old stocks of Soviet-type munitions on the notoriously opaque and fragmented international arms market. But over the following months, as Western aid started flowing, Ukraine’s strategy shifted to building a clean, transparent pipeline for buying weapons straight from producers.

Established in August 2022, the defense procurement agency is now run by Maryna Bezrukova, a seasoned reformer who previously cleaned up procurement at Ukraine’s national electricity company. To be her deputy, Bezrukova hired Ukraine’s most reputably independent corruption investigator: Artem Sytnyk, the former head of the state National Anti-Corruption Bureau. With these sheriffs in town, the surest way for even the most powerful Ukrainians to go to jail is to try to corruptly make money off weapons acquisitions.

Under this reformist leadership, the defense procurement agency is aggressively cutting out intermediaries by contracting directly with arms manufacturers. The clearest sign of success is that excluded arms dealers and their cronies are attacking Bezrukova with threatening messages, smear campaigns, and doxing on Telegram. Most recently, these intermediaries tried to sideline Bezrukova by getting Ukrainian Defense Minister Rustem Umerov to merge her agency into another one—and fire her in the process. That announcement triggered such strong pushback by NATO and Ukrainian civil society that the minister canceled the planned reorganization. Instead, with support from Ukraine’s allies, the ministry formed a new supervisory board of reputable experts to oversee the procurement agency.

Any U.S. legislation that funds weapons contracts arranged by Ukraine’s defense procurement agency should come with one additional condition: Before Kyiv receives any money, it must enact legislation mandating the existence of the agency, safeguarding the independence of its supervisory board, and most importantly, prohibiting the defense minister from firing the agency head without a concurring decision by the supervisory board.

Beyond the strategic benefits, this approach could create jobs for Americans during Trump’s second term, largely in states that voted for him. Unlike military aid provided by Europe or allocated by NATO, U.S. funding would come right back home: to Northrop Grumman’s gun truck production line in Arizona, General Dynamics’ artillery shell facility in Texas, Raytheon’s missile factory in Alabama, and Lockheed Martin’s F-16 plant in South Carolina.

To prevent the Trump administration from using executive authority to block the export of weapons procured by Ukraine under the program, Congress should insert one exemption to the Buy American requirement: If the U.S. government ends up blocking exports, Ukraine would be free to redirect the funds to non-U.S. arms manufacturers.

Just as vital as the original Lend-Lease Act, this legislation could be called the Buy American Weapons Act. And it would keep the United States on the right side of history against the imperial armies that are once again on the march.

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Turns out that Shinjiro doesn’t have to worry about staying on the sidelines with Yamagishi while the rest of the team puts their necks on the chopping block, after all. Apparently, the chopping block’s decided to come to them.

Ikutsuki is waiting for them on the steps leading into Tartarus, Aigis standing by his side.

Immediately Shinjiro can tell that something isn’t right with her. She doesn’t greet them like she normally would. Hell, she doesn’t even look at them– her eyes are fixed on a point of nothing somewhere behind the group. Her face is blank and empty in a way that makes it shockingly clear that she’s never actually been truly expressionless in all the time he’s known her. It’s like she’s–

Right. Well.

Like she’s a robot.

She reminds them all the time of what she is, but she’s never felt like a machine to him before. She’s never been anything more or less than yet another weirdo in this pack of absolute weirdos. She’s always just been one of them.

“She is simply here to fulfill her role. As a weapon, that is,” Ikutsuki says in that phony, indulgent-uncle tone that Shinjiro’s always hated. He’s never been a fan of the way Ikutsuki talked about Aigis– more like an object than a person– but he never would have expected something like this. Just what the hell did he do to her?!

Ikutsuki lays out the way he played them for complete chumps like he’s explaining one of his shitty jokes. Getting rid of the twelve big Shadows was never going to end the Dark Hour. They hadn’t even been getting rid of the Shadows to start with– just smashing open the jars keeping them contained, setting them free to join back up into something so much worse.

He calls it the Fall, like a fancy title might make the end of the world go down smoother. It was what Kirijo’s grandfather had been after from the beginning.

They hadn’t been cleaning up after his failed plan– they’d been finishing it for him. Kirijo looks absolutely crushed.

Ikutsuki starts popping off about ‘Death the Almighty’ and princes and how he fancies himself to be one, the last of his clownish aw-shucks mask crumbling away. Shinjiro edges forward and sweeps one arm out to gently herd Yamagishi behind him, putting himself between her and whatever Ikutsuki might be planning to throw at them.

He looks manic. He sounds like a goddamn lunatic. Does he seriously believe the crap he’s spouting? Does he really think of himself so high and mighty that he deserves to be the only human left alive? Shinjiro’s always thought the guy was a little cracked, but this is on a whole different level.

“You son of a bitch…” Shinjiro hisses under his breath. What else is he supposed to say? Everything’s gone so wrong so fast. Ikutsuki had every single one of them fooled, even Kirijo. Even her dad.

“I do apologize for deceiving you,” Ikutsuki says, not sounding remotely sorry. He looks so pleased with himself, smiling that easy smile of his. It has a completely different meaning now. “But all your hard work has paved the way for the future.

“Stay at my side for a bit longer, and you, too, will find salvation.”

He’s going to tear this bastard to shreds.

Takeba speaks up before Shinjiro can even take a step forward. She demands answers, something about her father and a video they’d seen. And the scumbag cheerfully admits to doctoring footage of her father’s dying words in order to convince S.E.E.S. and further his own crazy agenda. No wonder everyone believed Ikutsuki’s lies so easily. 

That seems to be the last straw for Kirijo. Honestly, Shinjiro isn’t sure what took her so long to realize that they just need to beat the shit out of this guy. He’ll be more than happy to do it– Ikutsuki’s had this coming for a long time. 

“I was hoping you’d be able to see the light,” Ikutsuki sighs and shakes his head. “But you are just kids, after all. Maybe I set my expectations too high.” He’s still using that condescending tone, like he’s scolding them for roughhousing and breaking a window. Shinjiro’s blood boils. Where does he get off talking down on them all like this?

“Aigis!” She stands at attention as Ikutsuki finally acknowledges her. “It’s time you fulfill your role,” he says. “Capture them, and prepare them for sacrifice!” 

Aigis steps forward. “Understood.”

Her voice is just as flat and scrubbed of emotion as her expression. Did Ikutsuki reprogram her or something? What exactly is his angle here? Aigis is a hell of a fighter, sure, but it’s still one against nine. Does Ikutsuki think they’ll refuse to defend themselves against one of their own? 

Shinjiro knows Aigis probably the least well out of everyone on the team, and even he can say with certainty that she’d rather be put down if it came to that, than for them to let her to hurt them. It’s what Shinjiro would have wanted in that position, too.

“Energy output…at maximum.”

“Aigis?” Yamagishi’s voice shakes slightly. “What’s wrong?”

A thin hum drills into his eardrums. Shinjiro’s heart drops into his gut– he knows that sound. They all do. Light seeps through her chassis as her system overclocks itself and parts inside of her start to glow red-hot. She launches herself skyward.

Orgia Mode.

Whatever Ikutsuki had done to brainwash her, it apparently also means that she can tap into Theurgy without heightened emotions to fuel it– without emotions at all.

Shinjiro’s life flashes before his eyes for the second time. He hefts up his axe to shield against the blast as best he can, closes his eyes, and clenches his teeth in anticipation.

It’s pointless. He’s not surviving this. Not in the state he’s in– still too injured, too weak. He knows how powerful Orgia Mode is. He’s seen what the activation shockwave is capable of– watched more than one group of Shadows get straight-up liquified by the blast. He hasn’t got a chance in hell.

“No!”

Several voices clamor all at once, but Yamagishi’s is closest and clearest from behind him. Tiny, bird-boned Yamagishi, who probably couldn’t survive taking the brunt of Aigis’ attack either. At least he can stand between her and the worst of it. The only other thing he can do is pray that everyone else makes it through this. Just because he’s expendable doesn’t mean the rest of them are.

Aigis comes back down, and everything is swallowed by sound and blue-white light, so bright even through his eyelids that it makes him nauseous. A thunderclap of pure, blunt force rattles him down to his bones.

…

It hurts– which means he isn’t dead. Why isn’t he dead?

Shinjiro risks cracking his eyes open and they immediately snap wide in shock at what he sees. He’s surrounded by glass and delicate metal scrollwork. Rippling patterns of light play over him like he’s standing at the bottom of a pool.

“Yamagishi?” He turns around, gaping. Her hands are clasped tight in front of her and her eyes are huge and frantic.

She’d protected him, summoning Juno who had eaten most of the blast for the two of them. It’s a little weird being on this side of the bubble, and even weirder to be the one someone else is tanking a hit for, but he’ll count his blessings where he can.

“A-Aragaki-senpai– are you okay?” Yamagishi’s voice is so weak and fluttery that he can barely hear it. 

He’s the one who should be asking her that. Her face had been pink from the bite in the air just moments ago but now she’s as white as a ghost, and he’s pretty sure that it isn’t just a trick of the light as it filters through the glass walls around them. It looks like keeping her gaze focused on him is so difficult that her eyes are starting to cross from the effort.

One of her feet skids forward– he’s not even sure if she was actually trying to take a step towards him or just trying not to lose her balance. Either way, she doesn’t have it in her.

Her legs give out. Weak as he is, Shinjiro still catches her with one-armed ease. Her breathing is fluttery and fast but relatively steady– she’s just passed out, thank god. Protecting them from the onslaught had sapped all of her energy.

Shinjiro bites the inside of his cheek. It should have been literally anyone else but him. He mutters his thanks under his breath as he gently lowers her to the ground.

Juno dissolves into seafoam light and the sound of a struggle suddenly rings out, loud in the eerie silence of the Dark Hour. Shinjiro whirls around to a scene of absolute horror.

Kirijo, Takeba, and Amada lay crumpled on the ground right where they’d been standing. Junpei sprawls face-down, his evoker still held loosely in his hand like he’d had time to draw it but his strength had failed him before he could do anything else. Koromaru is nowhere to be seen– where the hell did he end up? Aki is a ragdoll heap at Aigis’ feet. And Aigis–

Aigis holds Arisato up in the air by his collar. Surrounded by the nuclear glow of Orgia Mode, she looks more like an angel of death than someone he recognizes, someone who’s fought by his side. Shinjiro grips his axe tight enough that his knuckles ache. He stands absolutely no chance against her one-on-one, and he knows it. That doesn’t mean he’s going down without a fight.

“Aigis!” He calls out. Her head swivels to look at him but the rest of her stays uncannily motionless. It was bad enough seeing her eyes empty of the soul she’s supposed to have to begin with, but having that hollowed-out stare aimed straight at him– 

Ice water dread slips down his spine.

Without even returning her attention to Arisato, she jams the fingers of her free hand against his solar plexus. He lets out a short, bitten-off scream as little arcs of energy leap over his skin, but Aigis appears completely unconcerned about the pain she’s causing him. He goes limp and she drops him unceremoniously to the ground. With how devoted she is to their leader… It’s more than disturbing.

“Target neutralized. New target acquired.”

“Come on…” he cajoles. Maybe trying to talk sense into her in this situation is an insane thing to do but– he has to try. Being hopelessly outmatched isn’t the only reason Shinjiro doesn’t want to fight her. “Don’t let that asshole control you, Aigis. You’re better than this! You can–”

She raises her arms. The toxic light from the Dark Hour’s moon glints off of ten silver magnum barrels, all aimed at him.

It feels like Shinjiro’s entire body has turned to glass. He can’t move. For a second he can’t even breathe. His pulse is suddenly screaming in his ears and his vision tunnels until all he can see are the guns.

The slimy smile behind the metal gleam.

Rest peacefully.

His side and shoulder throb.

“Hold on, Aigis.”

“Command acknowledged.” 

She lowers one of her arms. It does nothing to dry up the cold sweat running down the back of Shinjiro’s neck. It doesn’t tame the frantic gallop of his heart. 

“Don’t kill him,” Ikutsuki says mildly, like he’s talking about a spider he's got trapped under a cup. 

Shinjiro still can’t move– why can’t he make his body fucking move?! 

“Not just yet. It wouldn’t do to waste a perfectly good offering.”

“Understood.”

That flashbulb whine begins to build again. Aigis bleeds light. Shinjiro’s eyes burn. That unfeeling gaze bores into him.

“Engaging.”

Everything goes dark and silent.spa

[leiascully]

Ficlet: Highways and Backroads

Just a little ficlet thinking about Memento Mori.

Scully gazed at the image of her brain.  How strange it was to see inside her own head, despite the hundreds of scans she'd seen before.  How strange it was to see the mass and know it for the ill omen it was.  Not just a shadow or a smudge: the specter of death, approaching slowly.

She had lain in the machine and thought about Mulder.  She could lie still and think of Mulder.  Fanciful thoughts, only half-related to the matter at hand.  It wasn't an fMRI; she couldn't see the parts of her mind that lit up when she thought of him.  Instead she thought about how similar they would seem, scans of her brain and Mulder's: one image blurred and one pristine, but otherwise nearly indistinguishable.  The eggshell skull, the grey matter within.  

It wouldn't show the truth of them, she thought.  Her mind, tidy as a highway map, on ramps and off ramps at regular intervals.  Nevermind how many of them ended in dead ends or wilderness - she'd tried to block those off.  But Mulder's mind was like a county highway, winding through woods and little towns.  The scenic route.  She never knew what would be around the next corner: a brilliant shaft of sunlight illuminating a field of wildflowers or a sasquatch browsing among the ruins of a homestead or a strange little town where the diner coffee was a religious experience.  The world's biggest ball of yarn, maybe.  A cabin with creaking floors where gravity was supposedly reversed.  Something new each day revealed itself in the winding backroads of his thoughts.

She loved traveling the road of his mind.  It took her to such interesting places.  She loved the actual roads they drove to get to the small towns where magic was still rumored to happen.  They had wound through the woods and up the mountains in a hundred anonymous cars, chasing stories.  Even if she didn't believe in the Mothman, she could see the appeal of the story.  Once upon a time, we were important.  Once upon a time, the wilderness took a form like ours.  We feared it.  We loved it.  It showed us the truth of ourselves.

She still believed she had paved the only path that would have brought her to where she'd wanted to go.  The physics department, the medical school, the FBI Academy had all been full of men who only saw past her stature and her tits when she could prove she was more rational than any of them, more measured, less tied to all the earthy wisdom that Missy loved.  She didn't have the liberty to leap to conclusions; she had to document every step of her journey from one idea to the next, mile markers assuring her mentors that she wasn't going to veer into feminine foolishness.

Still, all of it had brought her here, to a white room with fluorescent lights, facing the silhouette of her own mortality on the horizon.  Perhaps all roads led to this particular Rome: to the hospital, to the mortuary.

She would have to tell Mulder.  He would refuse: the shadow she knew to be a tumor would be reduced under his critical gaze to a sunspot or someone's malicious thought.  He would take her down a different path, a track traced through the wilderness, to some unforeseen happy ending.

He would be wrong.  But she would enjoy the journey.

[caltropspress]

DISPATCHES FROM 2ND ST. STUDIOS: Fatboi Sharif & DRIVEBY in session

I went to DRIVEBY’s apartment in Jersey City because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of documenting musical exxxprrrimentation, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I knew witnessing Fatboi Sharif in the studio would be morbidly rewarding—I felt it in my critik’s skull-and-crossbones (memento mori, pirate flag, poison pictogram). It was New Year’s Day in the year of our Lord Have Mercy 2024, and I had to pull myself away from a tree documentary that had, sadly, begun to disappoint. I had opened a stocking-stuffed box of Goobers and was reluctant when Sharif sent the invitational text. I had settled in for the night. But it was my idea to watch the man work his black magikal esoterika hammer-don’t-hurt-them-witches recording session, so I’d be a real punk to rebuff the offer. I got into the Toyota and headed down Route 3 toward Jersey City. I was on the 1&9 in no time—the truest highway to hell, if one ever existed. Ate de Jong could never scout such a location. AC/DC roadside appliance wasteland. Potholes pave the way, but in a De Nah Soul manner. I finished eating the Goobers in the car, by the palmful, and lost one to an erratic lane merge. I motherfucked and shitted at the thought of a chocolate stain on my upholstered driver’s seat, or worse, the seat of my pants. My dad delivered Blimpie’s for thirty-plus years in Jersey City, long before it became Brooklyn-of-the-West, so I know parking spots there are at a never-dream-of-’em premium. I parked several blocks away from DRIVEBY’s studio and cloven-hoofed it while huffing brick air. Texted from outside, but Sharif was already ushering me through a wrought-iron gate (suitable for guttings and impalements) and into the basement apartment: DRIVEBY’s 2nd St. Studios. That gate was like an entrance into a secret garden—overblown and overflowin’ with a riot of root rot, weeds, and (of course) crumbling-but-still-grumbling gargoyles, most with the medieval motif of mooning jutting out from the church buttresses. DRIVEBY’s had a William Shatner’s TekWorld comic next to his speaker. Dusty keyboards lined the floor. Sega Genesis cartridges, a Sharp boombox, and the requisite vinyl collection on bowing crates completed the scene. The space stored antiquated and dead media—ghost machines humming and haunting.

⤧

Sharif told me he’d be recording some tracks for his upcoming album with Blockhead, something for Bigg Jus, and several features. When I arrived, he was in the middle of recording one of the Blockhead tracks. The mic and the iso shield were directly inside the door of the apartment, and I sat on the couch to the left of that. Sharif would be spitting at me, beyond me, as he did his thing—an intimate setting, to say the very least. Beans of Antipop Consortium sat on this same cushion months earlier, I thought. They recorded “Sex With the Leopard Print Lady” here. While I pondered the legacy of stylist berzerkers of past and present, Key & Peele played on the television in front of me. I wanted to make myself scarce, invisible as possible, Brundlefly-on-the-wall, non-participatory, so I watched the “Laron Can’t Laugh” sketch on mute and registered how Laron’s noiseless convulsions and eventual shriek expertly pantomimed Sharif’s vocals. These layers of silence allowed me to hear some of what Sharif was spewing forth and commit it to memory. He spoke of avenging the death of Candyman. The words loom like Tony Todd—tall as a ponderosa pine in a Cabrini-Green courtyard. Caroline crossed eyelids…90 degree pressure… Closing in on 400 degreez, but we’re talking below zero. The winter of our disconnected selves. Sharif tells DRIVEBY he wants his voice to sound “fucked up.” He’s snorting, super sinusy. He wants to cultivate a specific sound—it coats the inner concavities of his skull. He just needs to externalize it into a self-portrait in a convex DAW interface. “The soul establishes itself,” John Ashbery writes. Sharif is shoeless, I should add. He’s black socked as he cuts the song’s first of three adlib tracks. The first is completely muddled, barely audible—a grumbly grumble grumb. The second is a helium-huffed high pitch mania. The third, a yell—“the banshee,” as DRIVEBY calls it. Sharif slackens the headphone wires and walks across the room. He does “the banshee” from as great a distance as possible. You’ve no doubt heard the banshee adlib track before (B.A.T. for short, as in, the hematophagic vampire bat). If you’ve heard a Fatboi Sharif recording, you’ve likely heard a hotly desperate and deranged voice coming from the depths of a hellmouth—sinners swallowed and still writhing, quasi-alive, anticipating rigor mortis. DRIVEBY captures the natural reverb. Sharif asks him to put distortion and echo on the last word of the verse. 

⤧

Fatboi Sharif was reading lyrics off his phone, but by then he was Loosifa loose—engaging me, inviting me to dialogue, reveling in the job.  His feet are light and nimble, like McCarthy’s Judge. He says that he will never die. And, you bet, he dances in light and in shadow. He’s a craftsman and possesses an engineer’s ear, an ant-infested and severed one he probably plucked from a manicured lawn in Scotch Plains, NJ, Jeffrey Beaumont style. For the second verse of the song, he makes an alteration and decides to end the verse earlier than he had written it, stopping at the phrase “role model” because he likes the “swing of it.” Okay, Nuke Hellington. I see you, Benny Badman. A natural performer, the recording session reflects both technical know-how and impassioned delivery. He doesn’t quite lose himself as he does on the stage (or the audience floor where he so often ends up), but he’s unequivocally locked in, as he kids say. Locked in a room with padded walls, more apropos. On the next, he requires a seemingly endless run of retakes. I begin to wonder if my presence is a burden, a distraction. But the session keeps its devil-may-care air intact. Still, Sharif has a sonic vision he yearns to achieve. He won’t settle for less. He eventually gets the take he desires and tells DRIVEBY he’s gonna do three adlibs. These two men work in harmony to develop their songs of disharmony. They’ve been boys, and so that keeps the chemistry alchemical for the duration. Open and honest, DRIVEBY tells Sharif that three tracks of adlibs is “too many.” FUCK THAT! Sharif shouts at him. Sharif wants the adlibs to sound beneath everything—six-feet deep, or “buried alive and will come forth later in uglier ways” (unexpressed emotions, that is), as Freud or a Freud-fraud once wrote. Sharif wants echoes. He wants to sound like he’s a signal coming in and out of the radio as you drive through the night. These are the requests he makes, delicately selected from his mental doom board as DRIVEBY adjusts the mix, adds effects. “Do you do a lot of vocal mixing on the spot?” I ask. Sharif shakes his head, points to DRIVEBY slumped over his computer monitor, clicking and dragging, random access memory maybe lagging: “He’s on his Bob Power shit.” Listening to the playback, Sharif tells me he wants to be like Joker in the children’s hospital scene. What kinda clown carries a fuckin’ gun?! I’m waiting for the next Sharif release, crossing my fingers into an arthritic mass of flesh and bone in hopes of his cover of “If You’re Happy and You Know It” appearing on the tracklist. 

⤧

DRIVEBY puts Joker on the TV. It’s the bus scene; he can’t stop laughing. He hands a fellow passenger his card: Forgive my Laughter: I have a Condition. Sharif still sleeps to beats. He’s told this story numerous times to various media outlets, and so it’s beginning to take on the tone of lore. But it’s not. Even wilder, he’s not listening on headphones as he sleeps; he blasts the beats on speakers. Sharif prefers to record late, well into the wee hours of morning. DRIVEBY’s couch often becomes Sharif’s bed. “He’ll have the same beat on for five hours,” DRIVEBY explains. He’ll be in his bedroom, unable to sleep. Sharif grins and tells me, “That’s when I’m in the mindfuck.” Sharif reapproaches the mic. Another Blockhead track. “He told me he made this one especially for me,” Sharif says. The beat sounds like a Gregorian chant in a cavern. Beware of the Shroom Monster. Sharif has managed to amass an intimidating number of releases over the past several years while not indulging us to excess. He’s conservative with his run-times. Clocks ain’t shit to him. Many of his projects are EP-length, but categorizing them in any terms would seem to discredit his ingenuity. As the session unofficially ends and we settle into more casual conversation, Sharif implores DRIVEBY to play selections from their unreleased album, currently on ice like a corpse. I listen and hear of an exorcism of Antoinette, of Elvira and death resurrections, of Basquiat painting in Transylvania, crossroads, and plosive sonic samples from The Pagemaster—a film I have absolutely no recollection of but DRIVEBY speaks almost as highly of as his Fantastic Damage instrumental CD-R. OneShotOnce shows up, presumably for a session, but not before he and Sharif pillage DRIVEBY’s fridge. They feast on cold chicken while I gather myself to leave. 

Images: Astronomical table detail from the Almanach Purpetuum of Abraham Zacuto (c. 1500)

[theofficersacademy]

                                 Arval   Sephiran   Yuri   Edelgard                            Nel   Felix   Jakob   Kent   Grima                               Ayra   Veyle   Lyn   Diamant   Sothe

TEAM TAG: #AOzayin2024 LOCATION: Lilium DURATION: First part Jan 1 - 5 (noon), Second part Jan 5 - 7 (midnight)

Led by a bishop of the church, you travel to some inconspicious place in the woods outside of the monastery. When he peels back the fabric of space, you shudder. It feels like discovering a viper's nest right below where you live. With no idea what will happen when you step through, you're as prepared as you'll ever be. One deep breath and in you go…

Explosions rend the air, barely louder than the screams that rise from all around you. Blearily, you blink understanding into your surroundings: a cloudless, aquamarine sky, massive chunks of rock and twisted metal strewn across the paved street, towering skeletons of buildings, their windows blown out, leaning precariously all around you, and bodies - some moving, many still, all of them battered and bloody. As the dust settles, flames lick up a wooden pole behind you - you think maybe faces had been carved or painted into it, but it burns too quickly for you to see, and then topples across the caved roof of a house. There it sputters and dies into a log of charcoal against the smooth, dark metal that makes up the building's sides.

Where are you?

Lilium. Home. The answer comes to you from nowhere.

Yes, home.

You rush to aid whoever you can. Women and children, some infants. Not a single grown man among them.

Who did this?

██████. Static.

"Help my child. Please," the old woman in your arms pleads up at you weakly, through bruised eyes and a mouthful of blood. She points to a mound of rubble and then goes limp.

WHAT YOU KNOW

You've found yourself in a city called Lilium, currently under siege by some unknown force. You haven't been able to catch a glimpse of the attackers yet, or managed to get any information out of the people who live here. It's all-hands-on deck trying to keep people alive, so there hasn't been any time to talk.

The majority of the population seems to be women, children, and the elderly. They don't have the means to fight back, and are grateful for your aid.

The architecture of the city is unusual but familiar at the same time, and you can't figure out what year it is. Some of the buildings appear to be similar in style to what you're used to seeing around Fódlan, especially in Enbarr, but other features appear to defy what you understand to be possible: self-lighting lamps, for example, metal automatons that move on their own, and magic-powered machines.

The city is separated into four blocks. Block A, situated toward the southwest, has sustained the most damage, and only one or two buildings still stand. The attack caught the city by surprise, so there may still be survivors under the rubble… it's just been too dangerous for anyone to get close. Block B, in the southeast, is hardly any better, but there were fewer people living here at the time of the attack. This is a factory district, so supplies and weaponry may be found within the destruction. Block C, in the northwest, is the location of the infirmary, and currently has too many injured people to fit in one building. Lastly Block D, in the northeast, has been largely untouched. Those still well enough to work have begun gathering supplies here to defend their home, and aim to set up a second infirmary in the event that the first infirmary must evacuate.

Your own weapons, while you remain fully equipped with what you brought with you from Garreg Mach, look like they've seen better days. Be careful with them, since once they break, you might not be able to repair them…

WHAT TO DO

Note: When you choose a task for your character, they will not be able to leave the block until the end of the week.

BLOCK A (Risk: High)

Fight back (max: 3 people per thread) — Each participant in the thread will roll D3 before starting. Ping Mod Ree for your enemies — Traditional combat. The thread is completed once one side has lost all HP

Search for survivors (max: 2 people per thread) — Roll D6 per post. Each full Heavy Armor rank grants an additional +1 to the roll 　　　･　if 1, rubble cannot be moved without help from your partner. Your turn makes no progress, and your partner must roll a 3 or higher on their turn to help. If partner has Backup, grants one reroll. 　　　･　if 2, you disrupt an avalanche of debris. Roll D10, where 6 or higher will allow you to evade. Every point of speed currently equipped on the character grants +1 to this roll. Failing to evade inflicts -2HP (subtract -1 for every point of defense currently equipped) on character instead, and partner must roll a 3 or higher on their turn to save them instead. 　　　･　if 3, 4, 5, or 6, you have a lead. Your partner must roll 3 or higher to add to your roll. Once the combined total equals 10, you have successfully uncovered a person. Rolling a 2, however, will reset your progress. 　　　･　When you rescue someone, roll D20. If 11 or higher, they will be alive. If 10 or lower, they will be dead. Each full Faith rank grants an additional +1 to the roll

BLOCK B (Risk: High)

Fortify defenses (max: 2 people per thread) — One character will fill sandbags, the other character will place them — To fill sandbag, roll 3D5 per post to determine score. The higher the better. — To place each sandbag, roll D10 per post to determine score. The higher the better. If sandbag score is 7 or lower, subtract 1 from placement roll. If sandbag score is 4 or lower, subtract 2 from placement roll. — At the end of the week, or when the thread ends, the total score for the structure will be calculated.

Search for supplies (max: 2 people per thread) — Roll D6 per post. Each full Heavy Armor rank grants an additional +1 to the roll 　　　･　if 1, rubble cannot be moved without help from your partner. Your turn makes no progress, and your partner must roll a 3 or higher on their turn to help. If partner has Backup, grants one reroll. 　　　･　if 2, you disrupt an avalanche of debris. Roll D10, where 6 or higher will allow you to evade. Every point of speed currently equipped on the character grants +1 to this roll. Failing to evade inflicts -2HP (subtract -1 for every point of defense currently equipped) on character instead, and partner must roll a 3 or higher on their turn to save them instead. 　　　･　if 3, 4, 5, or 6, you have a lead. Your partner must roll 3 or higher to add to your roll. Once the combined total equals 10, you have successfully found something. Rolling a 2, however, will reset your progress. 　　　･　When you find something, roll D10 to determine what it is. Be sure to carefully log what you find and the amount, because it may be useful to you later. Items can be used immediately by the person who found them, or saved for next week. 　　　･　1. Scrap metal 　　　･　2. Iron Weapon (randomize: Sword, Lance, Axe, Bow, Gauntlets) 　　　･　3. Energy Block (x1) 　　　･　4. Recovery Tincture (S) 　　　･　5. Medicine (x1) 　　　･　6. Steel Weapon (randomize: Sword, Lance, Axe, Bow, Gauntlets) 　　　･　7. Recovery Tincture (randomize: M or L) 　　　･　8. Medicine (x3) 　　　･　9. Energy Block (x3) 　　　･　10. Whetstone (x1) or Scrap metal (x3) (randomize)

BLOCK C (Risk: Medium)

Help the wounded (max: 2 people per thread, at least one must have healing spell) — Consume staff uses to heal the injured in the infirmary. Roll as if healing during combat, affected by character's equipped stats. — Remember that your staves have durability, and you may not be able to recover their uses

Create medicine (max: 2 people per thread) — The infirmary has a magic-powered machine that converts herbs and other ingredients into medicine concoctions unlike any you've ever seen before. However, it takes time and energy. — Roll D4 per post. — If 1, the machine breaks down. Roll another D4 to determine cause. 　　　･　1. Out of energy. Consume Energy Block to power up again (Current # of Energy Blocks: 5) 　　　･　2. Overheating. Roll D10 to attempt to cool it with water or ice magic. Rolling 6 or higher is success. Each full rank the character has in Reason adds +1 to the roll. 　　　･　3. Unsuitable ingredient. Remove the entire concoction and start over. 　　　･　4. Jammed machinery. Roll D10 to attempt to fix the parts. Rolling 6 or higher is success. Each point of Dexterity in the character's inventory adds +1 to the roll. — Gather 1 vial of medicine every 3 successful posts (unless machine breaks down due to unsuitable ingredients, then start over). It will be consumed immediately by the nurses aiding the injured, so this will not be added to your inventory.

BLOCK D (Risk: Low)

Clean out the building for the new infirmary (max: 3 people per thread, only one thread allowed for this task) — Posts do not require rolls. Every post counts as 1 point. This will be totaled at the end of the week.

IMPORTANT NOTES

This event will be mostly driven by players unless otherwise stated. You will have tasks to complete throughout the week, the results of which may hurt or harm you in the long run. Every decision you make will impact you in one way or other, so choose wisely.

Content of a thread should NOT be limited to the requirements of a task. For example, if you choose to move rubble, you are not limited to writing your character moving rubble. Post counts and rolls are here as a way to score your progress, but that's all they should be used for. Focus on building relationships with your teammates. A post will still count for moving rubble even if you never mention rubble in your post.

We encourage thread replies to be short and quick, but still interesting for you and your teammates. While we won't be disqualifying anyone for taking longer than a day or so to reply, Mod Ree will be making sure that all threads are moving at a regular pace. Players who stall their threads will be skipped without their input.

IC failure will still progress the narrative, so use every action or outcome to build your character's immersion in the plot.

Team Zayin's team document is linked here. Please use it to take notes, log task outcomes, and keep up with threads.

If you have any questions or need more information, ping Mod Ree.

[fatehbaz]

[I]n the period of eerie suspension before the explosion [...], those who registered the [...] uncanny [...] experience[d] a condition that [...] would become familiar to everyone living in a targeted city during the Cold War: the sense that the present survival and flourishing of the city were simultaneously underwritten and radically threatened by its identity as a nuclear target. [...] [I]nhabitants of Cold War cities [...] became accustomed to a more overt and permanent variant of the uncanny frisson [...]. Lobbing incendiaries and explosives through the roofs and windows […], the British gunners gutted portions of the Dublin city center; during the week of the Rising, 500 people died […]. The more frequent and extreme outbreaks of traumatic violence in everyday urban life […], in the early-twentieth-century imaginary, the city had begun to host new forms of sudden mass death and severe physical destruction.

Cities had, of course, been sites of mass death before 1916.

But the Easter Rising differed from nineteenth-century urban barricade fighting in the use, principally by British soldiers, of more precise and destructive weapons; fired from the ground, from rooftops, and from gunships in the Liffey, the new cannons, incendiaries, and machine guns rapidly reduced whole blocks of the city center to ruins. These emerging military technologies and strategies link the Rising to the Great War then raging in England and on the Continent, whose fields and cities had become proving grounds for new weaponry and modes of warfare. In Ireland and the Great War, [...] “Like the Western Front [the Easter Rising] became a war of attrition, and the lessons of the Western Front were taught again in the streets of Dublin.” […]

---

Though the shelling of Dublin in 1916 reminded observers of Ypres, Louvain, and other European cities ruined in the Great War, it might as credibly have called to mind a different list: Canton, Kagoshima, and Alexandria. During the second half of the nineteenth century, British naval bombardments made rubble of these coastal cities […].

The naval bombardment of undefended cities and civilians, particularly those in colonial territories, paved the way for the first airplane bombardments, in which the imperial powers of Europe dropped bombs on nonwhite, non-European adversaries and anticolonial forces.

Italy pioneered airplane bombardment in 1911 by bombing Arab oases outside Tripoli; British planes bombed Pathans in India in 1915, Egyptian revolutionaries and the Sultan of Farfur in 1916, a Mashud uprising on the Indian-Afghanistan border in 1917, and Somaliland and the Afghan cities of Dacca, Jalalabad, and Kabul in 1919.

---

Several years before the inhabitants of European cities experienced it, aerial bombardment had been established as a uniquely colonial nightmare. [...] [T]he initial use of airplane bombs against colonies was foreseen and even fed by a racist fantasy pervading early-twentieth-century European science fiction, a fantasy of bombing subject races either into submission or out of existence. The willingness of several signatory nations to ignore Article 25 when bombing nonwhite soldiers and civilians made colonial towns and cities the first civilian spaces secured by the implied threat of bombardment from above.

In the world war […] the brief tenure of aerial bombardment as an exclusively colonial technique ended when imperial powers launched the first bombing campaigns against the cities of other imperial powers, initiating a change that would later find its apogee in the nuclear condition: the reconfiguration of the major metropolis as target.

---

All text above by: Paul K. Saint-Amour. “Bombing and the Symptom: Traumatic Earliness and the Nuclear Uncanny.” Diacritics Volume 30, Number 4, Winter 2000, pp. 59-82. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

[everflowingriver]

Blacklight 1: Renegade

A little something I wrote a while back. I like this one.

Renegade

The rain was harsh and cold; could he not have picked another night? It hardly mattered when his feet hit the alleyway's concrete paving, to which he caught the beat in his step again and kept running. The sirens were still blaring in his head when he dashed around corner after corner, just barely clinging to the bricks when he almost slipped and fell. The scathed and torn flesh on his hands barely caught his attention, when he heard it again; the light tapping of his pursuer. 

Scoffing, Nick sped into a tunnel, one he had used before. It would stretch towards the other end of the block, where he could hitch a ride, or so he thought. A headache tore through his mind when he remembered where he had left his car: Too far away. He cursed under his breath as he jumped into the tunnel, closing the hatch behind himself and engaging the arbitrary lock. 

Nick: "Damn it! Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

He fumbled with the phone he quickly pulled from his pocket, still jogging as he dialled his brother.

Nick: "Heyyyy, Al, would you mind?"

Alex: "Where are you? Dinner was an hour ago."

Nick: "Yeah, sorry I couldn't make it, I texted Thom-"

Alex: "Did you?"

Nick: "I didn't? Look, Al, I could really use a ride right now, quickly."

Alex: "Who are you running from?"

Nick: "You'll see when you get here.

Alex sounded a tired sigh, before audibly shrugging and loudly closing a cupboard.

Alex: "Address?"

Nick: "Raze Street- You know the spot."

Alex: "Figures. Sit tight."

Nick whispered a thank-you-made-apology, before turning his phone off, hoping that the call was not intercepted. Before long, he would make his way to the other side of the tunnel, where he turned around to face his flank- Empty. Good. His head on a swivel, he glanced over his shoulder as he backed up towards the exit. To his surprise, an electronic lock blocked the way.

"Fuck!" He hissed with fleeting breath, as he tried to make out who had placed it there; to which he frustratingly recognised the logo of ForeverTech, the largest engineering corp in town. "That is karma for you," he whispered to himself, a chuckle following when he felt the tumbling flash drive in his coat. These locks were notorious for their anti-tampering mechanisms, which had caught many an unsuspecting burglar, but Nick was not unsuspecting. Guess I'm stuck here until Al arrives, he thought to himself as he put his ear to the metal plating. 

After only a few minutes, Nick could hear the revving of an engine he recognised. A smirk slipped onto his face as he reached into his pocket, where he found a lighter. He took a deep breath, before pulling his coat's hood over his head again and triggering the lighter, before holding the yellow flame underneath the lock. After a few moments, the lock disengaged and triggered a fire alarm. The sound made Nick's ears ring as every sprinkler in the building activated as well. A grunt tumbled off Nick's lips as he climbed out through the newly opened escape hatch, which would lead him back onto the streets.

He was relieved to find his brother's motorcycle there, where Alex held out a helmet for Nick to put on. Nick wasted no time and took the headgear, before slipping it over his face and lowering the visor. Maybe he had hoped that they would have a little more time, until the siren sounded again. It was a deafening, alien noise that escaped from the vents of the peacekeeper's ribbed armour. There was no call to halt, no warning of arrest; Nick knew that if they lingered just a moment longer, they would be torn to shreds by a rifle. "Kick it!" He shouted, to which Alex wasted not another moment.

Alex hit the gas for all it had, sending the machine into a screeching galop. Alex bobbed and weaved through the late night traffic, until they were far enough out of sight to catch their breath. 

Nick: "Alex, I-"

Alex: "Check the damn bike for trackers."

Alex' commanding tone always could tear through any fabric, and Nick knew better than to fight him then, so he reared his head and started carefully checking the cycle's frame for tracking devices as they drove down the freeway.

Nick: "None on the back, but Alex-"

Alex: "I don't want to hear it. Not here. Now keep your head down, for Nòll's sake."

Nick did as he was asked and kept his gaze on his brother's back, as they drove all the way to the other side of town. Alex would not slow down one bit, until they left the freeway and pulled into the suburbs on the outskirts of Coredam. It would take no more than another minute or two for them to turn into the driveway of their childhood home, where the garage door responded to their arrival and opened up on its own. Alex carefully brought the bike to a halt and waited for Nick to get off, before doing the same. Nick removed his helmet and placed it on a workbench that stood by the wall. Alex was soon to follow, his deep blue eyes piercing the night as he sought eye contact with his brother, which Nick stubbornly denied. 

Still, he said nothing as he nudged Nick out of the garage and had the door close behind them, before opening the home's front door and heading inside. Nick was the one to close the door this time, hesitant to hang up his coat in case he was still being kicked out.  Alex had already left the hall and headed into the dining room, but Nick lingered for a moment, thinking of anything and everything he could say. After a few moments, he fixed his blond hair as much as he could and decided to hang up his coat anyway. After that, he headed after his brother, into the dining room where Alex was taking the dishes into the kitchen.

Alex stacked four dirty plates onto a clean one, before picking them up and leaving an empty table behind. Nick briefly checked the living room, yet could not see Thomas, the youngest, anywhere. He figured that Thom had simply gone to bed. Nick hesitated once more, before carefully following Alex into the kitchen, where the water was running. Alex was scrubbing the plates he had brought in just a few moments ago, glancing over his shoulder only briefly when Nick walked in. 

Alex: "You're a mess."

Nick: "You love me when I'm a mess."

Alex scoffed, shaking his head as he stacked the now clean plates. He was nothing if not efficient.

Nick: "You still love me, right?"

Alex: "You stole from a corp. Again."

Nick: "You know as well as I do that-"

Alex: "I know what's at stake, which is exactly why I can't have you keep doing this, not when you live under this roof!"

That last part was what hurt Nick. He would have left, if he could.

Nick: "That's not fair and you know it."

Alex: "What's not fair is that you keep putting Thomas in danger. We had a deal."

Nick: "I haven't forgotten."

Alex: "Then act like it!"

The silence was deafening.

Alex: "Who is it for this time?"

Nick: "The Collective."

Alex: "You are running for those rats again?"

Nick: "They are not rats."

Alex: "They will just sell the damn thing to the Militia!"

Nick: "I would bloody hope so!"

Alex: "I can't believe that you're okay with that."

Nick: "Dad would have supported me."

Alex: "Yeah, well, if you keep this up you can ask him what he thinks of it."

Nick: "I'm going to bed."

Just as Nick started to turn around and leave, Alex grasped his arm tightly and yanked him back into the kitchen.

Alex: "There's nothing you can do. Let it go."

Nick: "Oh, that's right, you would know all about letting go, wouldn't you?"

Alex only responded with a frown, to which his grip weakened. Nick slipped out of his grasp and retreated into the darkness of the hallway, before heading down the stairs and into the basement.

Alex backed up to stand against the counter, where he rested his hands in his lap as he leaned back a bit. He looked out through the kitchen window to see the burning tower in the distance, knowing what there was still to come; knowing that Nick hardly knew at all.

[shemsuji432]

Tips for the Best Way to Learn Python from Scratch to Pro

Python, often regarded as one of the most beginner-friendly programming languages, offers an excellent entry point for those looking to embark on a coding journey. Whether you aspire to become a Python pro or simply want to add a valuable skill to your repertoire, the path to Python proficiency is well-paved. In this blog, we’ll outline a comprehensive strategy to learn Python from scratch to pro, and we’ll also touch upon how ACTE Institute can accelerate your journey with its job placement services.

1. Start with the basics:

Every journey begins with a single step. Familiarise yourself with Python’s fundamental concepts, including variables, data types, and basic operations. Online platforms like Codecademy, Coursera, and edX offer introductory Python courses for beginners.

2. Learn Control Structures:

Master Python’s control structures, such as loops and conditional statements. These are essential for writing functional code. Sites like HackerRank and LeetCode provide coding challenges to practice your skills.

3. Dive into Functions:

Understand the significance of functions in Python. Learn how to define your functions, pass arguments, and return values. Functions are the building blocks of Python programmes.

4. Explore Data Structures:

Delve into Python’s versatile data structures, including lists, dictionaries, tuples, and sets. Learn their usage and when to apply them in real-world scenarios.

5. Object-Oriented Programming (OOP):

Python is an object-oriented language. Learn OOP principles like classes and objects. Understand encapsulation, inheritance, and polymorphism.

6. Modules and Libraries:

Python’s strength lies in its extensive libraries and modules. Explore popular libraries like NumPy, Pandas, and Matplotlib for data manipulation and visualisation.

7. Web Development with Django or Flask:

If web development interests you, pick up a web framework like Django or Flask. These frameworks simplify building web applications using Python.

8. Dive into Data Science:

Python is a dominant language in the field of data science. Learn how to use libraries like SciPy and Scikit-Learn for data analysis and machine learning.

9. Real-World Projects:

Apply your knowledge by working on real-world projects. Create a portfolio showcasing your Python skills. Platforms like GitHub allow you to share your projects with potential employers.

10. Continuous learning:

Python is a dynamic language, with new features and libraries regularly introduced. Stay updated with the latest developments by following Python communities, blogs, and podcasts.

The ACTE Institute offers a structured Python training programme that covers the entire spectrum of Python learning. Here’s how they can accelerate your journey:

Comprehensive Curriculum: ACTE’s Python course includes hands-on exercises, assignments, and real-world projects. You’ll gain practical experience and a deep understanding of Python’s applications.

Experienced Instructors: Learn from certified Python experts with years of industry experience. Their guidance ensures you receive industry-relevant insights.

Job Placement Services: One of ACTE’s standout features is its job placement assistance. They have a network of recruiting clients, making it easier for you to land a Python-related job.

Flexibility: ACTE offers both online and offline Python courses, allowing you to choose the mode that suits your schedule.

The journey from Python novice to pro involves continuous learning and practical application. ACTE Institute can be your trusted partner in this journey, providing not only comprehensive Python training but also valuable job placement services. Whether you aspire to be a Python developer, data scientist, or web developer, mastering Python opens doors to diverse career opportunities. So, take that first step, start your Python journey, and let ACTE Institute guide you towards Python proficiency and a rewarding career.

I hope I answered your question successfully. If not, feel free to mention it in the comments area. I believe I still have much to learn.

If you feel that my response has been helpful, make sure to Follow me on Tumblr and give it an upvote to encourage me to upload more content about Python.

Thank you for spending your valuable time and upvotes here. Have a great day.

[beyazligroup]

[raytonblockmachinery]

Construction industry block-making machines has advanced significantly, revolutionising the way blocks are made. The development of block-making machinery has completely changed how blocks are produced, from conventional manual methods to cutting-edge automated systems. Visit us for more information.

[buildersmarthyd]

Concrete Blocks - Manufacturing, Classification & Uses

     Concrete blocks are nowadays replacing bricks in masonry construction, notably in many multi-storeyed buildings. They are available in three types namely solid, hollow and cellular, widely used for the construction of filler walls and boundary walls in RC framework.

Concrete blocks are usually made in large sizes to make blockwork faster and consume less cement in joints than the brickwork. If the percentage of the voids is more than 25%, then they are hollow blocks and blocks with voids less than 25% are only perforated blocks.

The cellular concrete blocks are generally referred to as lightweight aerated concrete blocks. All these blocks are extensively used for compound walls and non-loadbearing walls.

Hollow blocks are specially made for loadbearing walls, which are useful in reducing a dead load of masonry in buildings. Blocks can also be with cement and sand called cement-sand blocks or with cement and soil called soil-cement blocks which are of low strength and use for low-cost construction.

Manufacturing of Concrete Blocks

    BIS recommends a fineness modulus of the combined aggregate between 3.6 to 4 and coarse aggregates used are of size 6 to 12 mm. Lean mixes up to 1:8 are generally used. Concrete mix for concrete blocks should not be richer than one part of the cement to six parts of the volume of combined aggregate.

Concrete blocks can be handmade and also machine-made. The cast block is then cured in a water tank or yard for at least 14 days (water need to be changed at least every 4 days).

After curing, the blocks are dried for 4 weeks before being used in masonry construction. They should be stacked with voids in the horizontal direction to facilitate easy drying, or they should be steam cured and dried.

The whole process allows the complete shrinkage of the block to take place they are laid on the wall, which is very important for strong walls.

Classification of Concrete Blocks

Hollow concrete blocks

     Open and Closed cavity-type hollow concrete blocks are classified into three grades:

Grade A - They possess a minimum density of 1500 kg/m³ and are used for load-bearing walls.

Grade B - They have a density below 1500 kg/m¬³ and used for load-bearing walls.

Grade C - These blocks are used for non-load bearing walls and have density more than 1000 kg/m³.

All these blocks are available in decorative facings like fluted facing to provide artistic effects.

Solid concrete blocks

     They should be manufactured for specific concrete strength of 4.0 and 5.0 N/mm² in 28 days. These blocks are used as load-bearing walls and have a density of not less than 1800 kg/m³.

Paver blocks

     These blocks are solid concrete blocks of different shapes specially made for exterior ground paving on sidewalks, parking lots, driveways, petrol pumps, industrial floors, etc.

AAC Blocks

     AAC blocks refer as Autoclaved Aerated Concrete Blocks. These blocks are also termed as light-weight hollow blocks.

They are prepared as solid blocks from cement, water and materials like ground sand, pulverized fly ash together with additives to aerate and stabilize the air bubbles.

The final result is a mixture of thick liquid which is then poured into steel moulds to form large cakes. After some time, the mixture sets and ready to cut into a serious of individual blocks of required size using taut steel wires.

Very light blocks for partition and moderate-weight blocks for light loadbearing walls can be obtained from aac blocks. These blocks do not shrink on drying as the material is obtained by autoclaving.

The autoclaved cement product is crystalline, which is different from the product obtained by normal wet curing or by ordinary steam curing.

Sizes and Tolerances

The nominal dimensions of concrete block as per BIS are as follows:

 Length - 600, 500, 450 or 400 mm

 Height - 100 or 200 mm

 Width - 50, 75, 100, 150, 200, 250 or 300 mm

Actual sizes will be less than 10 mm of mortar thickness. For Concrete and Hollow concrete blocks nominal length 390 mm and height 190 mm. The thickness for loadbearing walls is 190 mm, compound walls 140 mm and for filler walls 90 mm.

These dimensions can easily be achieved in machine-made blocks than handmade blocks. The width of blocks use for load-bearing walls is 200 mm and for parapet or filler walls is 100 mm.

Points to Remember:

The mortar strength should not be more than the strength of the blocks. With high mortar strength, cracks will be less and very large, but with low mortar strength, cracks will be small and distributed.

 We should use only blocks that are cured properly for at least 14 days and dried for 4 weeks to avoid shrinkage during construction.

 We should not wet the blocks while placing in masonry construction.

 Freshly-made and uncured concrete blocks should never be allowed on the work.

 Blockwork, particularly ordinary cement sand blocks and soil-cement blocks should not be used as loadbearing walls for concrete slab roof which favours to expand and contract with temperature.

 The maximum difference in sizes allowed is ±5 mm in length and ±3 mm in height and width.

 They should be protected from rains while being stored as they absorb moisture by wetting and shrinking on drying.

     The main disadvantage of concrete blocks is shrinkage due to the movement of moisture content which is not present in bricks. As these blocks are much larger than bricks, any foundation movement will cause blockwork to crack more than the brickwork.

Cement blocks, Concrete blocks, Hollow concrete blocks, solid concrete blocks, Paver blocks, AAC blocks Concrete blocks in Hyderabad

[artsharish]

Our Old house

I have been emotional, and it happens when you know that you are going out of the country, away from your family, friends. And most importantly I happen to remember our old house or the first own house of my father. All this culminated from a dream I had of visiting it. It has been almost 33 years since we left it and moved to a smaller house, an apartment precisely.

So just like that, I took some time off and went to the place. My dad inquired about where am I going but, I kept it personal and I am pretty sure that like me, he would have gone there many times just to see it, how looks like now.

A blast of memories struck me as soon I entered the locality. I remember searching its roof whenever I passed by the road just behind it so that I can get glimpses of it. Nostalgia was all over, the moment I entered the ‘not so wide lanes and abbeys’ it reminded me of our days in this house, the locality like a projection of a film. The abbey where I played while still as a small kid of 3 years. The first friend I made everything was going in frames in front of me.

Slowly and step by step I moved towards our old home, line by line, house by house, house of our neighbours where we played hide and seek appeared first. In my mind I see them, their small rooms and rickety old furniture. I remember their faces, young at those times, their relatives, and their long and odd names.

I looked up, the gali has changed, the old buildings have vanished and taken over by tall new buildings of aesthetics and colours. The simplicity is gone and paved way for commercialization.

The charpoys where our neighbours used to sit and talk have vanished. The bonhomie and chats have now gone. They say people don’t mingle like earlier days; the tall buildings have made difficult for their hearts to get connected. It is harsh I know, how simple people become sophisticated with money and power.

And finally, I saw it. Standing as we left it, in a dilapidated state, but it looks all the same. The home we used to see in old photos, our first home was in front of me like a living legend. The grey coloured grained-gravel walls ‘so that we don’t have to waste money in repainting’, seems to have stood the test of time. It was like traversing through a time machine in the era of black and white. There were colours at that time too but not that prominent, may be the population at that time was not much aligned to the aesthetics but to the humane values. Nowadays the homes have colours but not values.

The rectangular window overseeing the gali was still visible but blocked with bricks.The entrance to Staircase and the channel guarding the staircase was still in place. I remember how the mesh of the channel amused me and it might have been the very first shape which caught my attention. I never till now knew why I had a liking to shapes and building but who knows the channel might have the starting point. I saw a lemon and chilli hung on its head, like sermonising that the place still have its current resident living in it.

I remained seized; a glimpse of the door made me emotional. The door looked the same, the colour is same pitch blue. The years of paint might have made several coats on it but I know inside it, is a barren iron door. Soft it would have been on inside, like how we all pretend to be the strongest of men but, we are all weak from are inside. We all try to look strong, but we know that somewhere within us is that soft part which weeps when we go away from our parents, our brothers, and sisters. We all go away, leave our houses and parents, friends.

My dad left his village to earn here in Delhi. He came with just the clothes he was wearing and one sheet to cover himself in night. He left his parents in village where they waited for him to come, day and night. Likewise, I am too travelling to Paris this time on official posting. I can’t imagine how my parents would have been feeling and I guess it might be the same how parents of my father might have felt. No matter how happy we look when we talk on video calls, I know they pretend to be strong but, on the inside, they just want me to be with them.

The door has been the witness over the years, the day my father bought this home after almost years of savings and loans. I can’t imagine how light he might have felt after getting it. He was newly married and getting own roof over the head might have been his utmost priority.

The door saw my father working day and night to make ends meet. And the Door saw the day I was born in this home early morning of 24th July 1987, took my first step on the earth and spoke my first word. It would have witnessed the joy and happiness of being the first born of the family. The door was privy to the festivals and tragedies of our family. It saw my mother making bindies and kids clothes to support her husband. It kept the memories of semblance of our friends and relatives, and it also saw breaking up of our joint family into smaller factions. And finally, it saw us leaving it behind, in search of a better house and a better future.

The house is privy to what I see the phenomenon of social change in India when the joint families broke up into smaller nuclear families. Why we went out is surely a story for another time but leaving the house that time did anger me as a small kid, and I used to think it was a Himalayan blunder committed by my father. But as I grew up, I understood his side of the story, why he took up to stay away from his brothers and parents.

It also reminded me of our companions, friends which we leave behind and the ones who left us behind too, in search of better life, the ones which were once important to us in the bygone eras but have limited value now.

All this while I kept thinking that Is it the fact of life that when we rise up we lose friends and family? The same was the condition of door.

I somehow felt like the Door is speaking to me and complaining.

“Finally! You have come to meet me after 33 year, I have been waiting for you to come back since you left”.

I looked at it and stumbly replied to in my head as a teardrop pickled out of my eyes and I humbly wiped it of before anyone else could see it. I said to it and in my heart.

“I am thankful to you, Oh door, for being the keeper of our memories and the part of my life”

I promised to it that the life lesson which it gave me today will be dear to my heart, wherever I go. I will not leave my friends and family. I will be in touch and I will keep coming back to see you, oh door!

[perfecthydraulicmachines]

A Comprehensive Guide to Hydraulic Paver Block Making Machine

Welcome to "A Comprehensive Guide to Hydraulic Paver Block Making Machine." In the ever-evolving world of construction and infrastructure development, the significance of efficient and eco-friendly building materials cannot be overstated. Paver blocks have emerged as a popular choice due to their durability, versatility, and aesthetic appeal. At the heart of this revolution lies the Hydraulic Paver Block Making Machine – a game-changing technology that has transformed the production of paver blocks.

This article aims to delve into the intricacies of Hydraulic Paver Block Making Machine, providing a detailed exploration of their working principles, key components, and various types available in the market. We will uncover tips and some troubleshooting steps.

Moreover,we  will highlight essential considerations for selecting the right machine that aligns with specific project requirements. Whether you are an industry professional seeking to optimize production processes or an enthusiast eager to grasp the mechanics behind paver block manufacturing, this guide will equip you with invaluable insights.

Understanding Hydraulic Paver Block Machine Specifications

When it comes to hydraulic paver block machines, understanding their specifications is crucial for making informed decisions. These machines are essential for producing high-quality, durable, and aesthetically pleasing paver blocks used in various construction projects.

Hydraulic paver block machine specifications encompass a range of key features. The capacity, which determines the number of blocks produced per hour, directly impacts productivity. The molding area size affects the dimensions and shapes of the blocks. Additionally, the power and pressure rating influence the machine's efficiency and performance.

Moreover, it's essential to consider the automation level and control system, as advanced automation ensures precision and ease of operation. The type of molds compatible with the machine allows for versatility in block design. Understanding these specifications empowers buyers to select the ideal hydraulic paver block machine that aligns with their specific project requirements, resulting in cost-effective and successful paving solutions.

Choosing the Right Paver Type: Interlocking vs. Non-interlocking

When it comes to selecting the right paver type for your project, the choice between interlocking and non-interlocking pavers plays a crucial role in determining the overall outcome. Here are some key points to consider for each option:

Interlocking Pavers:

Interlocking pavers are designed to fit tightly together, creating a durable and stable surface.

They offer excellent load-bearing capabilities, making them ideal for driveways, walkways, and high-traffic areas.

The interlocking design provides flexibility, allowing them to withstand ground movement without cracking.

These pavers come in various shapes, colors, and patterns, enabling versatile and visually appealing designs.

Installation is relatively easier due to the interlocking system, reducing labor time and costs.

Repairs are simple, as individual pavers can be replaced without affecting the entire surface.

Non-Interlocking Pavers:

Non-interlocking pavers are more affordable compared to their interlocking counterparts.

They are suitable for light to moderate traffic areas like patios, garden pathways, and decorative landscape elements.

Installation may require more precision and skill as they do not have the interlocking mechanism.

Although repairs are possible, they might be more labor-intensive and could involve replacing larger sections.

Pro Tips for Maintaining Your Paver Block Making Machine

Regular Cleaning: Clean the machine daily to remove any residual concrete and debris that can cause blockages or malfunctions.

Lubrication: Keep all moving parts well-lubricated to reduce friction and prevent wear and tear.

Inspection: Conduct routine inspections to identify and address any signs of wear, damage, or misalignment promptly.

Tighten Bolts: Check and tighten all bolts and nuts regularly to maintain stability and prevent vibrations.

Replace Worn Parts: Replace worn-out parts immediately to prevent further damage and ensure optimal performance.

Calibration: Calibrate the machine regularly to ensure accurate and consistent block dimensions.

Electrical Connections: Inspect and secure electrical connections to prevent electrical issues.

Professional Maintenance: Schedule periodic maintenance by qualified technicians to address complex servicing and extend the machine's lifespan.

Operating Guidelines: Train operators on proper machine operation and safety protocols to prevent mishandling or accidents.

Store in Shelter: Store the machine in a sheltered area to protect it from weather conditions and extend its longevity.

Troubleshooting Hydraulic Paver Block Making Machine

Low Block Quality: Adjust the hydraulic pressure and ensure proper alignment of molds to improve block quality.

Block Disintegration: Check the mix proportions of raw materials and the curing process for better block strength.

Oil Leaks: Inspect hydraulic hoses and connections, repair or replace damaged parts, and refill hydraulic oil as needed.

Excessive Noise/Vibrations: Tighten loose components and bolts, and ensure proper leveling of the machine.

Uneven Block Height: Verify uniform material distribution in the mold and calibrate the machine for consistent block height.

Machine Not Starting: Check power supply, fuses, and safety switches; repair or replace faulty electrical components.

Insufficient Block Production: Clean and maintain the machine regularly, and optimize the production process for efficiency.

Irregular Block Shapes: Inspect mold condition, ensure proper vibration, and adjust mold settings to achieve uniform shapes.

Safety Hazards: Implement strict safety protocols, provide training to operators, and display safety guidelines prominently.

Seek Professional Help: If issues persist, consult experienced technicians or manufacturers for advanced troubleshooting and repairs.

Conclusion

A Comprehensive Guide to Hydraulic Paver Block Making Machine highlights the indispensable role of perfect hydraulic machines in revolutionizing paver block production. The detailed exploration of working principles, types, and maintenance underscores their efficiency and eco-friendly advantages. By embracing these cutting-edge technologies, the construction industry gains a competitive edge in creating durable and visually appealing infrastructure. As Perfect Hydraulic Machines continue to shape the future of paver block manufacturing, their impact on sustainable construction practices remains unparalleled.