The Kindness of Strangers Free Full gostream Torrents HD in Hindi directors Lone Scherfig

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Duration: 112 Minutes / Scores: 219 vote / Release date: 2019 / / Lone Scherfig / France.

Stories that could be true and how: The way Sam told the story was that one night, an old friend showed up at his door scared. The friend told Sam he was leaving town, that he was in danger and that he needed someone to care for a little girl that her father had died that night in a fire. So Sam took the little girl in, and he raised her as his own always sheltering her from the truth about her biological father. The friend that arrived at Sam's door could have been Katarina. It does not conclude Sam took the girl that night. Ah. A Russian milonga. Watch closely, Lizzy. Everything you need to know about negotiation is there in the tango milonga. At the outset, they are opponents. Each has something the other wants. They size one another up, assessing risk, setting boundaries, challenging each other to breach them. A sensuous battle- violence and sex balanced on the blade of a knife. Nothing given that is not earned- nothing taken that is not given. This is the pure essence of negotiation. Not a poker game, but a milonga. A tango. A seduction. This describes pretty well Katarina and RR Be careful, Lizzy. Because the truth of it is, once you start down this road there's no logical place to stop. You can see to her education, health insurance, housing. You can watch her or have her watched keep her safe try to ascertain her hopes, dreams, desires. Pull strings, call in favors to discreetly smooth the path. And for the first few years, it may work. You'll draw some measure of virtue from being her invisible benefactor. But that won't last. It's all a fraud. That it's really not about her at all. That it's all about you. And you're just going through the motions to salve your own guilt. Look, all the money, all the time and effort, all the favors in the world cannot possibly equal what you took away from her. Everything else is just a nice gesture. If he had a part in the death of her mother or father, in her growing up without them. His story to Zoe about having a daughter: Do you have kids, Kenneth? I do, a daughter. The two of you close?  It's complicated. She doesn't like anchovies? You know, I don't know about that. I wish it were that simple. Years ago, a Wisconsin housewife named Maureen Rowan was outside in the wee hours with the family dog, Dodger. It was absolutely frigid. No one in their right mind would've been out in that kind of bitter cold, and if not for Dodger's aging bladder, I imagine Maureen would have been fast asleep. But as fate would have it, her neighbor, Alexei Lagunov [ Sighs] the avtoritet of a Russian bratva, felt given the late hour and windchill, he and his boyeviks could move a body from his basement to the trunk of an associate's car without being observed. They didn't count on Dodger's call to nature. So Maureen had a choice between remaining silent or doing the right thing. She chose to testify. And while she helped to bring Alexei Lagunov to justice, she also forfeited the rest of her life in doing so. She's on that ureen Rowan is Kate's sister- uh, Mr. Kaplan's sister. I didn't need to find her. I just needed to make sure no one else can. she could be in WITSEC for another reason, or he could have looked for the list for a different reason, but it could be as simple as it seems. However the name Maureen Rowan meaning Maria Red seems. too much on the nose. Youth stories: I'll never forget a puppet show I saw when I was 5, maybe 6. "Hansel and Gretel. Scared me to death. But it wasn't the witch. It was the oven. Imagine an oven puppet. I don't think I set foot in our kitchen for a month I haven't had a babysitter since Brenda Gilroy. My God, pot pies, Lawrence Welk, bath time with Brenda. Still my perfect Saturday night. I haven't felt this giddy since Herbie Hunnicutt and I pooled our box tops and sent away for the decoder ring and periscope. janitor at my elementary school was called "Smokey. No idea why. He never smoked a day in his life I so wanted to be a scout- tying knots, the Pinewood Derby, and the campfire songs. Oh, those songs. I keep trying to explain to Dembe, but I'm no singer. The first time I ever smoked a cigar was with Marnie Petersen in fifth grade. Funny, little, bat-faced girl. I adored her. When I was young, I romanticized the life of an outlaw Bad guys. That was a long time ago. When I was young, I loved fairy tales. I was always partial to shapeshifters, who seemed good and sweet, but they were full of unimaginable darkness I knew a Marlin when I was young. Marlin Trout. One boy, two fish names. Funny When I was young, I wanted to be able to dance just like Gary Goddard. I still remember going to the Snowflake Dance and watching him for the first time. That kid, man, he could move. Won the eighth-grade talent show. He was on the Yell Squad. Gary even danced his way into Helen Hummer's pants, and let me tell you something, that was like breaking into Fort Knox. I remember the name of the baker I stole the strawberry bismark from when I was 11 years old and his wife- Trudy Svoboda I attended summer camp with this little stick of a girl Twila Stansberry. Hell of an athlete capture the flag. Had an unrelenting passion for fitness. Sacrifice the bishop. Reykjavi­k, 72. God, I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was in Steven Bash's rec room down in the basement, eating fried egg and bologna sandwich when he did Fischer. BJ Simpson and I started a lawn-mowing business in the summer of '72- bagging, hedging, the whole ball of wax. One day, I'm out rototilling Pat Hunt's garden. I go in for a bottle of pop- must have been 110- and there's BJ in the sunken living room, shoes off, feet up on the couch, eating a fried-bologna sandwich, watching Mike Douglas. Mike Douglas! Can you imagine? I quit that day. Point is, I haven't had a partner since. Rosie Cavendish had a bulldog. Franklin, named after her great-uncle. Poor guy had eczema, dermatitis, seborrhea one skin condition after the next. The dog, not the uncle. [The car did]Like Bergita Olofson in her parents' rumpus room on a Saturday night. I spent two summers operating the Whack-the-Cats at the Emmet County Fair. You know, when I was 15, I had a summer job installing carpets for Albert Kodagolian on Lake Charlevoix. Horrible job hot, indoors, forced to listen to "The Gambler" on 8-track while the rest of the world was at the beach. Three days into the job, I knew I had to quit. I asked my father for advice. All he wanted to know was whether I'd given my word to Mr. Kodagolian that I'd work the summer. I told him I had. My father suggested I stick it out. I'd given my word. Worst eight weeks of my life. [I want] another spin of the bottle in Melanie Reichman's basement, but I'll settle for you. I was a lifeguard my junior year in high school. Had to give mouth-to-mouth to Mrs. Beerman. She belched up a lung full of corned beef and chlorine. I haven't been in a pool since. This reminds me of our high-school production of "Guys and Dolls. A rousing rendition of "Fugue for Tinhorns. From as early as I can remember, I dreamed of someday being captain of a ship. To be out there on the ocean in the middle of the night, navigating by the stars. I always thought it would be the greatest life on earth. I've never told anyone that before. About a life at sea. With anyone else, Steve Lyditt would have won the North American pairs. We didn't even make it through regionals. I abhor working with a partner. Sharing my hand with anyone goes against every instinct I have. As Old Man Quimby, my fencing instructor used to say "If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, oh, what a Christmas we'd have. My God I loved the foil…. "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Ah, Quimby. The man was a walking aphorism I can't even think about derivatives without thinking of that tutor in manor hall Cindy something-or-other. Never wore a brassiere; Always a bounce in her step. Yes. [remember Anna McMahon] Like my first STD…. It was pubic lice. Crabs. Caught them on Hammamet Beach in Tunisia. She was a Vassar girl traveling with a bunch of pals from the French house. Two years after graduation, and they were still making up for lost time. My God. What a weekend. But like you, they get right in there and feast away without mercy until you want to douse the whole area with kerosene and set the little varmints on fire. Sorry. You and the crabs, not the Vassar girls. Tastes like Patty Sutton Early adulthood Luther, I never thought I'd enjoy having anything in my mouth as much as Petty Officer Virginia Sherman, but this My God! It tastes so good As Old Man Quimby, my fencing instructor used to say "If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, oh, what a Christmas we'd have. The man was a walking aphorism I'm actually a great proponent of marital therapy. Worked for me. Then again, I had sort of a thing for the therapist. Lovely voice. Stories we know are true: I once bankrolled a diamond mine outside Tshikapa. One day, a man showed up alone, unarmed, started to talk to me about the mine. I had guns and guards and an enterprise worth I don't know, 50, 150 million dollars. He had nothing but a story about greed driving atrocities and conflict, about armed groups using mass rape and mutilation as a means to control people in the villages around the mines. I had bullets, he had words. But when he was done talking, for the first time, I truly understood which of those was more powerful. I abandoned the mine, agreed to finance his campaign of protection and protest, and did so until two months ago when you had him murdered. Therapy helped me become - an entirely different person…. Several years ago, one of my bankers in Liechtenstein shared with me some unpublished works by Carl Jung handwritten notes on napkins, journals, and such. It was easily the most enlightening, consequential five days I've ever spent in a chalet. D: What about that week in Davos? Yes. Well. That was a cottage. We were camping in the altogether under the most delightful autumn moon in the Forest of Dean when a wild pig came out of nowhere and gored my left flank, so to speak. And Melissa here not only slew the beast and salved my wound with a honey of … yarrow compress, but also made the most scrumptious pork pie in the monarchy. I know an ex-SEAL commander, recruited some former colleagues, formed an elite heist crew. I hired them once to get back a shamefully expensive Patek Philippe I foolishly left on the nightstand in Ras Al Khaimah after a dalliance with a lovely but very… Oh, never mind. I traded it for a bowl of pongal and a slightly used Ruger after a particularly rough night in Bengaluru. But I will forever be grateful to you for retrieving it. Some years ago, I had a rather awkward encounter with a bull shark while diving off the Great Barrier Reef. I actually think it was trying to be affectionate, even a little forward. But the net result was excruciating. But I did spend a glorious month submitting to the healing hands of an utterly divine lighthouse keeper on Bramble Cay a low-lying island that's rapidly Have you ever been spearfishing? You should go spearfishing. I love spearfishing. On the Ambergris Caye, there is a reef—…. An aggressive, invasive species threatens the local habitat, leaves destruction in its wake. Sound like anyone we know. I took aim and released. In the water, it sounded like a dull thud, but the spear passed clear through. I'd already bagged six of them with glancing blows, tail shots. So I knew this last predator was mine. And the destruction it had caused was over. And then it wriggled free. Kirk is dying. And the Ribowski virus is a temporary antidote to what afflicts him…. He has aplastic anemia- a systemic failure to produce viable bone-marrow cells. It's been a death sentence for generations of men in his family, except a distant uncle, who had contracted the Ribowski virus. After getting the virus, the uncle lived longer than any other Rostov with the blood disease…. It's a simple math problem, really. Kirk's disease prevents his body from producing enough blood cells. The Ribowski virus results in a rare form of leukemia which creates the opposite problem- too many blood cells. Remember that wretched bit of business on the Malay Peninsula? I was positive I would rot alone in that holding cell in Surat Thani. Slowly eaten alive by mosquitos to the constant refrain of body blows and screaming. 47 interminable days of near-constant rain. I couldn't be sure any of my messages had been dispatched. And then, on the 48th day, they swung the cell door wide and handed me a package. Half a dozen tins of chilled Beluga caviar and a note. "Love, Marvin. When I think of it- guards on two continents- the bribes alone must have cost you a fortune. I still cannot fathom how you managed to pull it off from inside a federal prison. But you had my undying gratitude, so when the opportunity arose, I facilitated your freedom. possibly post 1991 I was taken by Somali pirates last March, spent three weeks in a shipping container. The first two were a nightmare. The third one was actually quite pleasant. Even so, that won't happen again.  I spent a month in silent meditation at a monastery just outside of Kunming. It was a wonderful escape from the distractions of everyday life. I can't imagine the distractions one might encounter down here.  Dear Fredrick was waiting tables when we first met strange little man, built like a fireplug. He was living here with his mother until she died. Poor Fredrick couldn't afford to stay on, so I bought the place for him. Laurence Dechambou. owns that nightclub. Last time I was there, we had a great deal of fun, until she tried to strangle me with her stocking. Or just bend over any available piece of furniture and let her slap you on the ass. She loves that. Years ago, I used to smuggle small shipments of oaxaca-highland gold into this airstrip. Beautiful space. Bumpy as hell. any rate, have a safe flight. And buckle up. This runway is a bitch. Allies today, enemies tomorrow The world is a complex place, further complicated by man's fickle nature. Years ago, I saved a man's life under a beautiful old cedar tree in Lebanon. A month later, he tried to kill me in a hotel in Damascus. I understood. Allegiances shift. A month later I broke his neck with a shower caddy.  Oh, my God. If only I could do just one. [Mescaline steam bath] No, last time I played around with that, I ended up naked in the desert trying to hitch a ride to Tuba City. Those Navajo tacos- Oh! Heaven!  Pagosa Springs public library? I had a water pump go out in Pagosa of a mountain Wolf Creek ought I was gonna end up living out there with the hill people until this Teddy bear of a man fixed me up at the local garage. I'll never forget him. Tracy Woods. You don't know Tracy, do you? Leather vest, mustache Tracy Woods. I wonder if he's still fixing water pumps. Anyway, it'll always be a fond memory. I was once on the island of Ko Ri, free-diving in the Andaman Sea. I felt terribly ill stung by a lionfish. I was dehydrated, in excruciating pain. I had lost all sense of time and place. I was completely disoriented. But I knew I was dying, so I readied myself for it. And in that moment, at death's door, I looked up, and standing over me in the brightness was this landless Moken sea gypsy just standing there, smiling. She and her tribe nursed me back to health, good as new. And when I left the island she kissed me. It was like a burst of sunlight on my cheek. It was It made nearly dying well worth it. I once shared a ride with the man on a twin-engine prop from Port-Au-Prince to Baracoa. We had to counterweight the plane with three containers of Russian R. P. G. s just to accommodate his girth. I had the good fortune of sharing a cell in a prison outside Sochi with a An associate of yours, Yevgeny Bushkin. Big bear of a man, 150 kilos on an empty belly. As I remember it, Yevgeny went on hunger strike to protest some oil pipeline that threatened a vital something-or-other. You probably remember better than I. But the point is the old boy didn't eat for 74 days. I once spent part of a summer in Bermuda. The island. Certainly not the shorts. Not a lot to do there except ride motor scooters and play checkers with the locals. I'm more of a chess man myself. But one tactic that came naturally was the concept of forced capture sacrificing a checker to force your enemy in one direction while your forces lie in wait for the exquisitely satisfying double jump. You know, some years back, I was hiking Devils Tower for a bracing dip in the spiritual vortex, when who did I run into but the tribal leader of the Lakota Nation, a man of vast invited me to witness the extreme version of the Sun Dance ritual. I once stayed at a villa in Bali with a view of the Indian Ocean. Every morning, all I saw before me was possibility. That and a gorgeous housekeeper named Putu I must say, The Bunker compares rather favorably to a Malagasy cave I once had the misfortune of inhabiting What happened in Iztapalapa was a terrible mistake. I regret it dearly, and I had no idea she was your mother. Have you ever heard of Bruno Ashmanskis? The most skilled cat burglar I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Bruno mostly did jobs on commission, but he always wanted to do something for himself, something special, so he got it into his head that he was gonna break into the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge to steal an imperial vase from the Qing Dynasty worth millions- the single biggest trophy of his career. I never heard from him again. I'd always assumed he'd succeeded, that he was sipping some umbrella-clad cocktail on a beach in Tahiti, until five years later during a remodel of the Fitzwilliam, they removed a wall. There was poor Bruno- what was left of him, anyway- stuck inside a heating duct, still clutching that vase. I prefer to think of old Bruno on that beach in Tahiti. Have you ever heard of Mugs Kalinowski? Lovely guy. Ugliest man I ever laid eyes on. That's why everyone called him Mugs. Except his dear mother. She was an art professor at Bard. Lovingly referred to him as Picasso…, it was an apt nickname. His face was all over the place. But perhaps as a result of that nickname, Mugs grew up with a great appreciation for art. He fenced some of the most extravagant pieces in the world. He only had one rule. Out of respect for dear mom, he'd never lift a Picasso. Felt it was bad luck. Then one day, he got a tip from a source about a piece sitting in a huge loft in Soho. So one evening, Mugs shimmied up the drain pipe, broke in, and lo and behold, there hung on the wall, Les Femmes D'Alger. A spectacular Picasso. One of a series of 15 and astronomically was convinced that was the single biggest stroke of bad luck he'd ever suffered. Well, what he didn't know was the source who'd given him the tip was working with the feds. The painting had a tracking device on it. Sometimes, bad luck is the best luck you'll ever have. It may be hard for you to imagine, but I once had a relatively normal life- bills to pay, playdates, family, some friends, people to care about. Lost all that. In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra. They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn't die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I've rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous? I didn't want you to come here, follow me here. Because the truth is if I don't stop Braxton, what he'll discover is that he can't get the Fulcrum without you. The other one, the watercolorist, she- legs like a shot-putter. She gets me in this headlock. I black out. Next thing I know, I wake up, no sheets, vaseline everywhere. The lipstick on the mirror overhead reads, Same time next year. I haven't missed an art expo in Basel since. I knew a guy that happened to all the time. Best glass-Smith in new England. Nobody could free-blow a vase like Theodore Bundy. Can you imagine? Ted Bundy, an amazing craftsman, couldn't sell a vase. Have I ever told you the story about Ian Bartleby and his wife and the beekeeper they fell into bed with on the Isle of Skye? Fascinating, illuminating story. I met [Julian] a decade ago in West Africa. The WHO and the Gabonese Ministry of Health had declared a hemorrhagic fever outbreak in the OgoouÃ-Ivindo Province. I happened to be in the area transporting materials to the Congolese border when we ran into an improvised roadblock of broken crates and rusty barrels. And I ordered my men to clear the road, when out steps this young, skinny kid, fresh out of Harvard Medical School. Justin hadn't yet lost the use of his limbs. Although, even then, he was showing early signs of the ALS that would eventually claim his mobility. But he was fearless. A lion. He demanded to commandeer our convoy in order to transport refugees to Ekata. He was unarmed. I had a security detail of a dozen international battle-hardened mercenaries… the face of that kind of will, I re-organized my cargo and complied with his demands. Robert took me under his wing. He taught me how to be a fugitive. I trusted him with my life and my life's savings. Which he convinced me to invest in a cattle ranch in Paraguay. Or so I thought, until I went down there and found out it was a whorehouse just outside of Asunción. This reminds me of Sok Pich. We were navigating the backwaters in western Cambodia hoping to steal some sapphires from a mine foreman. Got as far as Pailin when the monsoon struck. Took shelter in a root cellar of all places. I've never seen so much rain. Winds like a monarch gone mad. All we could do was hunker down and wait it out. But Sok he just made a run for the village. So, there I was soaking wet, alone. Three days of absolute misery. And then on the fourth day, I was overcome by this incredible feeling of peace. Something about being hidden there underground while the rest of the world was being torn apart outside…. You have every right to be afraid. Just don't let it control you. Poor Sok learned that the hard way…. He died. Didn't get six steps before the wind blew a blade of lemongrass into his skull. You're in a storm, Lizzy. You need to find the peace below the winds. I was completely swept up in the idealism of the theatre owner- a pipe-smoking cream puff of a German named Gerta. She read "Mother Courage" to me aloud- the whole play in one sitting. A brilliant exploration of the politics of war and those who profit from it. Sadly, it was 1991, and audiences were going in droves to see "Cats. Gerta lost every penny of my investment, but she remains grateful to this day. I admire the way you're dealing with your addiction, Donald. I tried NA once after an opium den in Kuala Lumpur got the best of me. Didn't stick. I couldn't get past the requirement to believe in a power greater than myself. Would you look at that? 416 Rigby Mauser. And fully loaded, no less. An African bull elephant weighs 14, 000 pounds, and this can bring one down. I happened upon one of those magnificent creatures in the Zambezi Valley, and one of these came in quite handy. I shot the poacher that was about to kill the elephant. Dying isn't so bad. I did it once in Marrakesh. "Embrace the Struggle" Zig Ziglar at his most persuasive. Are you familiar with his work? He's a motivational speaker. Who motivated me to quit smoking and shoot from the neck down. I once spent three weeks cooped up in motel on Zihuatanejo just glued to the telenovela Amorcito Corazon. My Darling Sweetheart. This unlucky-in-love architect who lost the love of her life when she was 18 because of her controlling father. But perhaps I cut too close to the bone. I had a brief professional relationship with your father, a man who wrestled with significant demons. I know his wife, your mother, is a manipulative creature whose own husband didn't trust her. Whose answers to the questions you wanna ask her could never be trusted. All that really matters is that you vanished off the face of the earth nearly 30 years ago. And yet, here you are. Leave the past in the past, Tom. Nothing good will come from digging up secrets. I first met Stratos Sarantos when he was running guns to Cypriot resistance fighters in 1987. For more than 20 years, he's overseen my shipping concerns from the Bosphorus to the Suez Canal I must admit, I've always been somewhat seduced by the idea. Bill Miner, the old gray fox. Butch Cassidy. But I've never really felt the itch until now. So you're gonna walk back to wherever it is you walk to and get the manifests, or I'm gonna stop this train, take your money, and give this rail line the most ridiculous PR disaster since the Newton Boys robbed that mail train in Rondout. I haven't been in steerage since Li Yanping and I stowed away on a Chinese destroyer off the coast of Pulau Belitung. Have you ever sailed across an ocean, Donald. On a sailboat surrounded by sea with no land in sight? Without even the possibility of sighting land for days to come? To stand at the helm of your destiny, I want that one more time. I want to be in the Piazza del Campo in Siena, to feel the surge as 100 horses, I want another meal in Paris at L'Ambroisie in the Place des Vosges. I want another bottle of wine. And then another. I want the warmth of a woman in a cool set of sheets. One more night of jazz at the vanguard. I want to stand on summits and smoke Cubans and feel the sun on my face for as long as I can. Walk on the wall again. Climb the tower. Ride the river. Stare at the frescos. I want to sit in the garden and read one more good book. Most of all, I want to sleep. I want to sleep like I slept when I was a boy. Give me that. Just one time. A farmer comes home one day to find that everything that gives meaning to his life is gone. Crops are burned, animals slaughtered, bodies and broken pieces of his life strewn about. Everything that he loved, taken from him. His children. One can only imagine the pit of despair, the hours of job-like lamentations, the burden of existence. He makes a promise to himself in those dark hours. A life's work erupts from his knotted mind. Years go by. His suffering becomes complicated. One day he stops. The farmer, who is no longer a farmer sees the wreckage he's left in his wake. It is now he who burns. It is he who slaughters. And he knows, in his heart he must pay. Doesn't he, Stanley? S tories about his loses Losing someone we love is painful. Agonizing even unto death. The Japanese call it tako-tsubo a grieving surge of abnormal electrical waves that causes the heart to deflate and contort until it resembles a a fishing pot. Hollow and cold, an empty vessel at the bottom of a fathomless sea. I'm sorry for your loss. Searching in the desert for a drop of vengeance to slake an unquenchable thirst is a lonely walk, my friend. Donald, I understand how you feel. Beneath the iron-and-rust exterior beats the heart of a man swimming in immeasurable grief. I am truly sorry about Audrey. There are few that understand love and loss more than me tell you something that someone much wiser than I told me at a similar point in my life. Go home. Turn back from this and go home. It may seem like the hardest thing in the world, but it is profoundly easier than what you're Ressler. Once you cross over, there are things in the darkness that can keep your heart from ever feeling the light again. Donald, I want you to know that I do understand how you feel. There is nothing that can take the pain away. But eventually, you will find a way to live with it. There will be nightmares. And every day, when you wake up, it will be the first thing you think about. Until one day It will be the second thing I ran out of gas. I was so excited to get home, I didn't even bother to look. My head was just I ran out of gas. It was Christmas Eve. I pulled off to the side of the road. Seemed like it'd been snowing for days. No traffic. No cars to come help. Just me and a car full of gifts. It was more than 20 years ago. I must have walked four miles five, maybe. It was so still. Just cold and white. The whole time, all I could think about was them in our house. The warm light in the windows, the smoke from the chimney. The sound of my daughter at the piano. The smell of the tree and the fire, oyster stew on the stove. I was so upset to think that I'd ruined Christmas for them, being late, leaving the gifts in the car. But the closer I got, the more I realized how funny the whole thing was, how much they'd love the story, daddy running out of gas, how every Christmas they'd get such joy from telling that story at my expense. And then, finally I got there. I walked I walked through the door. And there was just blood. All I saw was blood. All there was was blood. I can I can still s-smell the nape of her neck feel her little fingers on my cheek her whisper in my ear. That's why I didn't show up in Florence. It's why I haven't shown up in a lot of places over the years. There are foundational elements in our lives. People that form the brick and mortar of who we are. People that are so deeply imbedded that we take their existence for granted until suddenly, they're not there. And we collapse into rubble. I've stood over the open grave of someone I've loved too often. Once for my mother. And then the others. I needed to recall this feeling because I'd be staring at another body right now if not for you, Aram. Dembe didn't stay with me because he saw me as his savior. He stayed with me because he saw me for the man I really was a man surrounded by darkness. No friends who could be trusted, no faith that loyalty or love could ever truly exist. I was… Well, I was younger then. Angrier. Dembe connected his life with mine to show me, that day and every day, that the world is not what I fear it to be. He is the light in the darkness. Living proof that there is another way, that life can be good that people can be kind, that a man like me might one day dream of becoming a man like him. He pledged his life, offered it up as evidence that I was wrong about this world. Dembe guards my life because he's determined to save my soul. Stories we know are inventions: H-Hello, Diana. This is Stanley Kornish. I'm in a bit of a panic. My dog has gotten out, and I've lost my cellphone with the tracking code. I was wondering if I might bother you for the code and if you could reboot the application for this mobile device. He's an emotional support dog. Please hurry. My heart, it's pounding, and I'm hang trouble breathing. There you are! What the hell happened to you? You just leave me stranded with that awful Algerian? He's been hitting on me for 20 minutes! Well, not secure[area] enough if you ask me, sister. You know what? Why don't you ask Rasil? We wouldn't even be here if it weren't for that troublemaker. Always an agenda with him. Cultural attache. Culture my ass. The things I do for this one. Gallivanting around the globe for your little assignations with you-know-hmm-hmm, carrying her furs and bikinis as if I wouldn't rather be back in Dutchess County with my shelties. Hey, don't take anything for granted! Everything you have was bought and paid for by your boyfriend! Do you have any idea whose horn this tramp is blowing? Let's just say it starts with Bashar and ends with Assad, gassing you faster than a sunni. So, let's get her out of the hot seat and into a limo- good God. Crumbs up! – Your cummerbund. Pleats up! You look like Bob Yoshimura in 8th-grade swing choir. It's upside down! According to the missus, always. Gambling. He lost his daughter's college fund playing Caribbean Stud, left home in embarrassment, Helen's worried sick. It's a mess. You must be Lisa. Max said your eyes were radiant, but my God. Mesmerizing. It's a very small space. We want to brighten. I love mauve, but a soft, creamy yellow will just open up the entire room. We also need to land on cabinet options and millwork today. I'm already arguing with my supplier. Tell me if I'm going too fast. You see that lovely woman there? The one with the camera? She's a stringer for UPI. Dear, dear friend. Shoots my Christmas card every year. She has a wonderful eye for composition and detail. An intuitive sense of timing to capture the moment. A warm embrace between old friends. The exchange of a gift. The intimacy of a quiet conversation in the backseat of a car. But the curious thing is, pictures never tell the whole story. For instance, the only story here will be your friendly meeting with an international criminal wanted by the FBI, Interpol. I wonder how long you'll survive once that story hits the Venezuelan press? I'm sorry. I can't help myself. It's a photo album for your press clippings. Rafael. 25 years in Chicago parking on the street, and my car gets taken in Monte Carlo. I'm telling you, my mother used to say, a driver's license is nothing but an invitation to injury and heartache. She was agoraphobic Monsieur, did you see the person who took your vehicle? Yes, absolutely I saw them. They took the damn thing right in front of me. They had the audacity to wave as they went, well, the one, the The white one had a ponytail. The other, the black one, very worked out. He must drink a ton of those muscle Mercedes. CLS-550. License plate "B" as in boy. "A" as in, okay. Uh, BA 204 T R. God knows where they are now and what they've done to my car. …That's them. 100. Ponytail. Muscle shake I haven't picked my car up. I've been in your restaurant eating lunch. A lemon-verbena iced tea and salmon salad. which was overcooked, for what it's worth. And I'm certainly not one of these meatheads who tells you to keep it close "Storm on the Sea of Galilee. thing's hanging on the wall of my house on Lake Como. Oh, my gosh. That's it. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. We're having a get-together at the house Saturday. You should come. The whole charade of Grayson Blaise's house: Why aren't you destroying everything. haven't notified you? We're on the brink of a Level 4 breach. name? Caden Gard, Chief International Council for your employer. I don't have time for this. I-I'm only here because Blaise has been arrested less than 20 minutes ago, and within another 20, this place is going to be crawling with Carabinieri. I called ahead, gave explicit instructions that everything was to be destroyed. That Blaise was arrested. What do you think I'm standing here for? Miss Chloe and I are only here because this is a Single Scope SCI, my God. Where is Peniford. right. Radio your team Everyone! Tell them I'm on site and we're at Tier 3, okay? Miss Chloe, contact our man in anyone shows up, the alert word is "pumpkin. You, inside. The Legate charade, a mythic assassin stories about his extended family: See, this is why I don't go to family reunions. Aunt Lucile is always arguing with Buddy, Uncle Scott is drunk by noon, and someone's hand is always in the wrong cookie jar. Head on. 35 miles an hour. Just like my uncle Vic on a Saturday night Stories about Katarina Rostova When your mother was pregnant with you, it was terribly inconvenient. The Cold War was ending. Her country was falling apart. Everything she had ever known She dreaded having a child. Almost aborted it. Not one day of her pregnancy did she ever think of you as anything but a curse. And then, from the second you were born there was never a day when she thought you were anything but a blessing. In my experience, there is never a convenient time to have a child. Your parents loved each other very much. The Cold War was hard- too hard for your father. When the Soviet Union was collapsing, he took you from her. She gave up everything to follow him, to follow you. The night of the fire- that's what they were arguing about? Your mother, despite what he'd done, she wanted him back. She wanted them to be a family. As much as it pains me to say it, he was probably the only man she ever really loved. And I shot him. It was an accident. Your mother was never the same after that. The man she loved killed by the child she adored- it was just too much. Two months later, she went to Cape May and left her clothes on the beach, walked into the ocean, and was never seen again. So, that night, I killed both my parents. You were a child. There should never have been a gun for you to grab. Looking back, I'm not sure I shouldn't have raised you myself. I don't want you looking back with that kind of regret. She was a KGB officer. Would it surprise you to learn that she and I had quite a complicated history? Sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll. Did I say "sex" Sex. How about that Katarina hid the fact that she was a KGB agent, stole the coordinates for the submarine U. S. Gideon, and passed them on to her superiors? That she, in fact, was responsible for the deaths of those brave young men? You know what else is possible? That I was framed by Katarina Rostova, which I could prove if Your Honor would grant me even the shortest 35 years ago, a Naval intelligence officer working for the US government fell fell into a relationship with a beautiful Russian woman. Unbeknownst to his superiors, that relationship, which started as guarded attraction, quickly evolved into passion, which resulted in pregnancy. They had the child. A girl, whom they both loved. What the Naval officer didn't know, but certainly should have suspected, was that the Russian woman was a KGB officer that Katarina Rostova had been assigned to get close to Raymond Reddington and steal classified information from him. What Reddington could never have suspected was that though she was a KGB agent, Rostova's real handlers were members of a secret criminal organization, a multinational cabal working in the shadows to manipulate world governments, economic markets, trade, and international alliances. When Reddington discovered this, he confronted Rostova, who warned him that if he threatened to expose them, the Cabal would destroy his reputation, discrediting him so he could not discredit them. And that's what happened. With the help of the Cabal, Rostova framed Reddington with the very evidence you've heard in this courtroom. To prevent him from protecting his country, she made it appear as if he had betrayed it. As a result, the Cabal remained in the shadows, Rostova disappeared, and Raymond Reddington became a completely different person. A man who has done many brutal, scary, illegal things but not a single one ever that was treasonous.
Have you ever thought about a modelling career but dont know where to start? The world of modeling has something for everyone. Becoming a model can be easy, or it can be difficult, depending on how you approach it. Read the guide below to find out how to become a model! How to Become a Successful Model 1. Getting Started as a Model If you ask a little girl what she wants to be when she grows up, there is a good chance she will say “I want to be a famous model! ” When she becomes a teenager, the childhood dream accelerates as pages from Vogue, Glamour and Elle decorate the walls of her bedroom. And for the very determined, the fascination will gain momentum and ever so gradually, a sense of urgency will emerge. At its pinnacle, her fantasy will ultimately beg the question, “How do I go from dreaming about being a model to actually becoming a model? ” 2. The Three Types of Modeling in the U. S. The first thing to understand about becoming a model is there are different types of modeling. The type with which the layperson is most familiar is “High Fashion. ” High Fashion modeling encompasses designer runway shows, the advertising photos you see in top-ranked fashion magazines, spokesmodels for glamorous products and of course, the “Cover Girls (boys)” who grace the front pages of elite fashion publications. The second type of modeling to which one might aspire is known as Commercial Modeling-National. Commercial Modeling on a national level includes advertisements for everyday household products, restaurants, chain stores, adult beverages, food items, and the like. These print images are found in down-to-earth magazines such as Good Housekeeping, People Magazine, Redbook, as well as hundreds of others. Opportunities at a national level also include catalogs for major department stores, brochures, and online-marketed goods and services. The third type of modeling is Commercial Modeling-Local. Local commercial models will do photo shoots for photographers intending to sell photos online as stock inventory or in need of models for other purposes. Sometimes the shots will be for smaller businesses, a local line of products, tea-room modeling or fashion shows in a variety of events, such as a bridal fair or car show. Models also work for national brands in need of local talent to promote their products i. e. energy drinks at state fairs, military bases, special events, conventions, and sports games. Do You Want to Become a Model? If you desire a career in modeling, the most important question to ask yourself is, “Why do I want to become a professional model? ” If your reasons include, “It looks fun! ”, “My friends all say I should be a model! ” or “I want to be on magazine covers! ” you will need to brace yourself for a strong dose of reality. While those reasons are all valid explanations for wanting to become a model; the only answer that matters in the real world of professional modeling is “I have what it takes to be a model and therefore, I am marketable. ” Modeling is a unique career because it is all about your physical appearance. Unlike other industries which offer advancement for working harder, attending higher levels of education, or earning additional certifications, the world of modeling is not flexible. Ironically, the modeling industry will take you and your appearance, literally, at face value. 4. Do You Have What It Takes to Be a Successful Model? It has never been easier to ascertain your suitability for a modeling career than it is today. Historically, the industry mandated jumping through expensive and arduous hoops before an aspiring model could make their way up the chain, only to find out that they stood no chance of succeeding as a model. Today, each category of modeling mentioned above, High Fashion, Commercial-National and Commercial-Local, has a distinct standard for acceptance and success. If you are taking the first steps towards a career in modeling, its best to investigate the specifics of each category so that you can make the best use of your time, money and energy. Fashion: Standards & Requirements High Fashion Is Highly Competitive & Rigid Of all the types of modeling, High Fashion has the most rigid and easily determined standards. Although there are always exceptions to the “rules, ” there are some basic truths about the industry that are indisputable: you must be tall and thin, period. You may have read about or heard interviews with models who have defeated the odds, but the cold, hard reality is that for every single exception there are literally thousands and thousands of hopeful individuals who failed. And, while the world of fashion has seen an influx of plus-size modeling, the demand for models who break the mold has not yet permeated the traditional model. While this may sound both discriminatory and cruel (muck like the world of horseracing and jockey selection) there are reasons for the rules. For fashion designers to truly show off their work, those wearing the pieces must not detract from the lines and subtleties of the clothing. Further, the taller the model, the greater the material exposure and the sleeker the fashion will present and cast itself as finely proportioned. World-famous expert, Paul Fisher has demystified the world of High Fashion modeling in two television shows: “Remodeled” and “I Can Make You a Supermodel”. His journey began in 1987 when he founded IT Models. His career and notoriety in the industry grew to remarkable highs when he represented supermodels such as Naomi Campbell, Carol Alt, and Stephanie Seymour. Fisher recommends that anyone interested in the world of High Fashion take a measured approach when assessing their own chances of success in the industry. Anyone who is serious about a career should begin by taking the following steps. Research the Industry: At this juncture, you must treat the industry as any other you would consider entering. You must do your homework. Fisher advises, “Find this out: Do they want what you have? What are their clients looking for? ” They way to research the industry, per Fisher, is do a thorough survey of the website “” At the site you will find the following categories. Become a Statistician: Chart the height, weight, hair color, age, shoe size etc. of the top and up-and-coming models. Find out which agencies are representing each model. Read about what the clients are looking for; what the designers want to see; and who the photographers clamor after for photo shoots. Analyze Your Data: Make charts and/or graphs. Then determine if your appearance, thus far, is meeting the profile of the successful model. If the answer is yes, go on to step 2. If not, you will want to investigate other options in the industry. Take Pictures Without Make-Up: Ask a friend or family member to photograph you. Find an area with a neutral background and without distractions. Wear a bathing suit and include full body shots from front, back and each side. Also, take head shots. Do not enhance or edit the photos in any way, shape or fashion. If you have long hair, pull it back in at least one head shot. Submit Your Photos to the Top Agencies: According to Fisher, the next step is where the proverbial rubber meets the road. You are to send your photos to the nations top modeling agencies. Before doing so, review their websites thoroughly; there may be a process youre required to follow. Be sure and follow it exactly as indicated. They receive thousands of photos; be sure yours is one they look at because you followed the rules. At this point, it is a waiting game. It could take some time. But ultimately, you will find out what the top modeling agencies think about you. With regards to High Fashion modeling, Fisher says, “Send them your picture. You will hear back from them. If you do not hear back from them, dont model. ” 6. Commercial Modeling: National The wonderful news about the world of Commercial Modeling on a national level is that clients are looking for real people; people who are young, old, tall, short, thin, heavy, etc. The one most important thing about this branch of the industry is that you have an agent. Securing Representation from an Agent or Agency To be prosperous as a Commercial Model doing national print work, you must have an agent who is successful; the key idea being–the agent is successful. But how do you find a successful agent? Scour the Internet All successful modeling agents have websites showcasing their models and the client accounts they have represented. Scrutinize the quality of the website; as in any industry there are unscrupulous imposters who will take your valuable time and money if you are not careful. Vet the agencies which appear to be of the highest caliber. Google their name; find out if their claim to any fame can be legitimized. Watch any YouTube videos which discuss the agency. Make a list of the agencies you verified as trustworthy and affluent. Dissect Each Website for Direction The fact of the matter is this: if you can make money for an agent, they will want you. The professionals in this industry are not trying to make your dreams come true; they are businesspeople working to make a profitable living. But unlike High Fashion representation, agencies will vary in what they are looking for in a model. A good analogy is the literary agent. Some agencies deal only with romance novels or mysteries; others may work only with biographical manuscripts. The same can be said of agents and agencies. They may represent every look or be in the market for only a few particular types. It is your job to find out the agencys, take your list and methodically examine each website. Look at everything. Finally, go to the section on becoming part of their talent roster. It may be entitled “Contact Us” “Recruitment” “New Talent” or even “Become a Model. ” Again, before you go any further, make sure you are dealing with a reputable firm. Otto Models, a California-based agency has this warning prominently displayed on their website:The above paragraph is some of the best advice you will ever receive with regards to agencies. Reputable agencies do not try and sell you photo shoots with “their photographers” or ask for any money from you for representation. Parents should always be the one to contact an agency on behalf of minors; and under no circumstances should nude photos be solicited. Follow Directions Each agent will have their own method of processing new talent. Make sure you follow their instructions thoroughly. Most will ask for photos and your vital statistics such as age, weight, height etc. Do not be deceptive. The worst thing you can do is be dishonest about any aspect of your appearance. Remember, this is a business and no one wants to hire a liar. Website Platforms You may come across websites which offer to assist you in finding an agent. They serve as the platform on which you showcase your photos. As with your agency search, approach with caution. Find out what is in it for the website. Make sure the service is reputable. Do not do anything which hints at being improper or a scam. 7. Commercial Modeling: Local This type of modeling is difficult to do at a professional level. “Professional, ” meaning the job you do to support yourself to make-a-living. Depending on the town or city in which you live, you may find work doing the following: Working for local photographers Posing for newspaper advertisements Representing local businesses in their brochures, menus or catalogs Modeling clothes for a local department store Modeling for restaurants (Tea-Room Modeling) Modeling or posing for art schools and schools of photography Local modeling is typically done for fun or as part-time work. If you have an agent, however, you should never accept a job without their consent and knowledge. 10 Ugly Facts About The Modeling Industry You Should Know Before Start Modeling When one sees a model online, in a magazine, on a billboard, or in a runway show, we tend to envy them for their beauty. In our society, we assume that beauty is the ticket to happiness. It becomes the most desirable attribute, to the extent that people spend thousands of dollars on diets and plastic surgery to become just a little bit better-looking. Almost no one feels sorry for models, and they believe the worst thing they ever experience is eating disorders. The sad reality is that the modeling industry lures in young people who have dreams of fame and abuses them in more ways than one. Their stories are often a mystery to those who are not involved in the industry. These unattainable ideals plastered in the media arent just damaging to the models themselves but to society as a whole. We truly have no idea just how messed up the life of a professional fashion model can be. 10. Unaccompanied Minors In many cases, models start their careers when they are just 13 years old. In a documentary called Girl Model, a 13-year-old named Nadya is recruited as a model during an audition in Siberia. She flies by herself to Japan, where she is instructed to lie about her age, because 15 is the minimum age requirement there. Nadya wears layers of heavy makeup and is made to pose provocatively in front of the camera. Without the proper paperwork, no one bats an eyelash as barely pubescent girls get work overseas on a regular basis. Backstage at a runway show, models are all getting undressed in front of stylists, designers, photographers, and journalists. They are not allowed to have any modesty or privacy, which means that minors are exposed for everyone to see on a regular basis. The New York Department of Labor did not protect the rights of child models until 2013, after a series of child sex trafficking cases happened in the deregulated industry. Even after the changes were made, it really only required working permits and mandatory breaks every four hours. It still does not fix the issue of exploiting young girls. 9. Poverty And Debt Many have imagined life as a world-famous supermodel who gets to travel the world and live in luxury homes. In reality, only a tiny fraction of models actually get to that point in their careers. When they are still new, models live in crowded city apartments owned by the agencies so that they can go to auditions. There are usually four to six people sleeping in bunk beds arranged in a studio or one-bedroom apartment. To make matters worse, agencies typically charge their models five times the market rate on rent. Models are only paid after the agency is reimbursed for the rent and travel expenses they provided in the beginning. Many aspiring young models realize they no longer want to live that lifestyle and actually end up in debt to the agency. If they choose to keep going, and they need more money, they can borrow against their future earnings from the agency, which charges interest for doing so. Even when a model can climb out of the debt cycle and become successful at her job, the true average salary is around 48, 000 per year. 8. Working For Trade And Exposure With social media playing such a huge role in marketing today, its no longer good enough to simply have some great headshots before an audition. Many aspiring models choose to post themselves on Instagram. Many times, gaining a healthy social media following before getting paid has become an essential part of the modeling business, and it can even lead to jobs. Companies like Glossier have hired amateur models directly through Instagram. However, the amateur photo shoots are essentially working for free in order to get exposure. World-famous supermodel Karlie Kloss posted a video on her YouTube channel explaining how in her early modeling days, she was very lucky that her family supported her modeling career. They even moved from St. Louis to New York so that she could commute into the city for auditions. She did not need to go into debt like many other young girls do. As a teenager, Kloss worked in exchange for free clothing. In some cases, if a model works with a fashion designer who ends up becoming famous someday, this strategy can pay off in the long run. Today, Klosss clothing collection from her for-trade work is worth thousands of dollars. Unfortunately, for models who do not have support from their parents and actually need to pay their debts to an agency, that plan will not work. “The best shows to do, especially in the beginning, were for-trade. I didnt care about money. I cared about clothes, ” says Kloss. Sexual Abuse One of the biggest scandals in the fashion world was the revelation that Dov Charney, the founder of American Apparel, was sexually harassing his models and female employees during photo sessions and at his factories. He would force women to pose nude or half-nude and persuade them to have sex in exchange for work. He was forced to step down as the CEO of his own company. Charney is not the only man who is guilty of sexually abusing models in the fashion industry. He is just the most unapologetic and downright proud about the entire thing, calling himself a “pussy fanatic. ” Even after this public scandal, Charney maintains that his behavior is normal in the industry. His new office even has a mattress on the floor with condoms sitting next to it, totally shameless. During an interview, he was asked if he believed he really could make a comeback from the scandal. He chuckled, as if the question was ridiculous, saying, “People are still listening to Michael Jackson! ” Despite the fact that many models are far younger than the age of consent, they become sex objects in the eyes of consumers and the people who are working with them on a daily basis. These girls are usually very tall, wearing makeup and made to look older than they are. Nearly every model has a story of sexual abuse. These depressing circumstances were enough for 20-year-old Russian model Ruslana Korshunova to commit suicide. She moved to New York to model when she was just 15. 6. Required Surgeries In South Korea, double eyelid surgery to make their eyes appear more Western-looking is an actual requirement for celebrities and models. Girls learn about plastic surgery as young as elementary school, and it becomes a very normal part of everyday life for people to change the faces they were born with. Even for non-models, these surgeries have become so common that it has become normal for Korean employers to expect their employees to be “beautiful enough” to get any job at all. Anyone who has ever seen Keeping Up with the Kardashians knows that sisters Kendall and Kylie Jenner have both had plastic surgery, and they are two of the most popular celebrities who young girls look up to at the moment. Kendall got the highly coveted job as a Victorias Secret Angel. While many models try to keep it a secret, nose jobs, tummy tucks, and other surgeries are commonplace. 5. Fickle Tastes Fashion changes constantly, and a models natural-born look may become quickly outdated as trends change. At the moment this article was written, androgynous models are all the rage. Just a few years ago, these people would have struggled finding work. In the 1980s and 1990s, white women with blonde hair and blue eyes were extremely sought-after in Tokyo-based magazines. A Canadian model named Taylor Richard interviewed the head of her modeling agency in Japan and uploaded the video to YouTube just before she left to move to Hong Kong. According to Richard and her agent, Sachiko, it was possible for a girl to live in Japan for just two months and earn enough money to return home to Canada or the United States and invest in some real estate. Today, however, that is no longer the case. At the moment, biracial, or hafu, models are all the rage in Japan, and they get the most work. In 2015, a biracial woman named Ariana Miyamoto became the first biracial Miss Universe contestant from Japan. Despite the fact that Miyamoto is celebrated for her beauty, she is still not accepted by people around her as truly being Japanese. Drug Abuse There is a stereotype that models snort cocaine to help them stay thin. Unfortunately, thats pretty accurate to the truth. Fashion shows almost always have raging after-parties. Imagine being 16, living alone in New York City, and you are invited to a party or a nightclub filled with beautiful people. Its like peer pressure times 1, 000, and almost no one can resist. According to Vice, drug dealers know to hang around during Fashion Week because they can make a fortune from models looking to buy. One Calvin Klein model, Kayley Chabot, began her career at just 13 years old. The agency told her that she needed to lose 2. 5 inches from her hips. Hearing this at such a young age encouraged her to stop eating. She eventually had to quit her career when she was just 17 because the lifestyle had caused her to become a drug addict, and shed developed a severe eating disorder. 3. Scams And Labor Abuse Many women who attempt to become models are easy targets to get kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking. A former police officer in Miami ran an online scam where he would post an advertisement for a model casting and wait for beautiful young women to show up to the location. Once they arrived, the women were knocked unconscious and raped on camera. The men who were responsible for this particular case were arrested, but similar scams are extremely common, especially with “casting calls” posted on Craigslist. Even when models find a real agency to work with, they are still being exploited. Models are considered to be independent contractors, despite the fact that they are forced to sign contracts that only allow them to work for one agency, which is given carte blanche to take fees as needed. This leads to agencies taking arbitrary expenses from models pay without any rational explanation. Their contractor status means that they do not receive the same workers rights and protections from the government as a full-time employee at a company. 2. Every Inch Matters When people say models have “body issues, ” they really arent kidding. Getting a little tight in the jeans could mean losing their job. Since they have to wear perfectly tailored clothes down the runway, models are required to maintain their exact body measurements during the entire time they are working with a client. If a model loses or gains even a fraction of an inch, she could lose her job. This will ruin her reputation, and she cant use that designer as a reference. This pressure leads models to do crazy things to lose weight, like taking laxatives, vomiting, or eating cotton balls. This practice is not because designers are cruel; its just part of the business. Hundreds of models show up to an audition, and only a handful get picked. Since deadlines are tight, and girls are eager to work, it is much easier for a designer to call in a backup model with the correct measurements than it would be to do last-minute sewing. Keep in mind that some women bloat, gain a few pounds, and break out with acne when its their “time of the month, ” every single month, even if their diet has not changed. Many models work so hard to prevent this bloating that theyve stopped having their periods all together. If that continues long-term, it can permanently damage their bodies and their chances to have kids someday. Considering that most models start working in their early teens, they truly do have a warped sense of what is “normal” and often do damage to their bodies through eating disorders. 1. The Expiration Date Considering that the fashion industry hires extremely young girls, there comes a time when a model is too old to continue working. Unfortunately, many of these girls gave up their high school or college educations in exchange for the model life, and by the time they hit their mid-twenties, it suddenly dawns on them that they have very few real-world skills outside of modeling. While there are some older models out there, their opportunities are few and far between. As they reach their thirties, models have a difficult time finding other forms of work. There are opportunities for older women, but once a girl hits age 30, she is considered to be a “classic” model, which is just a polite way of saying “old. ” A 50-year-old former model named Karen Dobres retired from modeling at 25 but contacted an agency which encourages older women to try to audition. They charged her a fee of over 100 for the photographs, only to reject her over the phone when she inquired about job opportunities. Source.

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Continuing We arrived at the , ү , the Institute of Paleontology and Geology (MAS) which is the institution affiliated with the Mongolian Dinosaur Museum in Ulaanbaatar. I felt like a kid in a candy store rather than a hard-nosed, serious scholar. I wanted to be off to view the exhibits, commune with the critters, and see those dinosaurs I read about seemingly all my life. But, once again, reality intruded. We were ushered off to an adjacent conference room where we were to wait on the arrival of the others in our expedition. Luckily, there was ample butter tea, coffee, buuz, qurut, which is a sort of dried cheese biscuit, homemade bread, and Yak butter. As well as beer, cognac, and vodka. The Russian influence was dying out very slowly here. While we looked over the elegant repast, Tyuma sort of melted into the background. “Tyuma, come on over here. Have some breakfast. ” I said. “Thank you, no Mr. Rock. I am only driver. I stay out of sight. ” He said. “Not on my watch, Tyuma. Youre an integral part of this expedition. Forget all that nonsense and come join us. ” I commanded. Classless society, my ass. Once he saw that I was not going to back down, he gratefully accepted the offer. Plus, he helped decipher what these delectable edibles were. Over time, our Polish and Japanese counterparts arrived. With their addition to our clan, there were English, Mongolian, Russian, Japanese, Polish, and French languages that needed to be translated in several directions, sometimes simultaneously. A cadre of perevodchiks were assigned to us. They were not just mere translators, they were all students of science and bi- and trilingual. They put me to shame. Esme spoke fluent German and perfect English. I was one of the few monolinguists here. I vowed to correct that deficiency as soon as possible. The perevodchiks, I came to learn, were competing with one another to be included on our expedition. The country was not heavily endowed with scientific grants nor research funds so the competition to gain field experience was intense. This would prove to be a pivotal point in the development of the expedition. Back to our geological party, the Polish contingent arrived first. These were scientists from the Muzeum Ewolucji Polskiej Akademii Nauk; Muzeum i Instytut Zoologii and the Instytut Paleobiologii, the Museum of Evolution of Polish Academy of Sciences and Institute of Paleobiology. The main players here were: • Dr. Lewandowski - the mammalian vertebrate paleontologist. • Dr. Woźniak - the reptilian vertebrate paleontologist • Dr. Zieliński - the comparative anatomist and physiologist, and • Dr. Baran - the taxonomist. Since there was a plethora of various doctors and doctoral students in our group, and as geologists and paleontologists are much less formal than their stodgy biological or zoological counterparts, nicknames evolved for all: • Dr. Lewandowski - Dr. Lew, • Dr. Woźniak - Dr. Woz, • Dr. Zieliński – Dr. Zed, and • Dr. Baran – Dr. Baran since we could all pronounce ‘Baran. That being sorted, our Japanese counterparts arrived next from the国立自然科学博物館, Kokuritsu shizen kagaku hakubutsukan, or National Museum of Nature and Science. The participants in our grand endeavor here were: • Dr. 地すべり: Dr. Jisuberi – Dr. Jay - the reptilian vertebrate paleontologist, • Dr. 解剖学: Dr. Kaibōgaku – Dr. Kay - the mammalian vertebrate paleontologist, • Dr. 生理: Dr. Seiri – Dr. Seri - the comparative anatomist and physiologist, and • Dr. 分類学: Dr. Bunrui-gaku – Dr. BG - the taxonomist. Esme and I were the only Americans in this outfit, so ‘Rock and ‘Es fit right in, nomenclature-wise. Finally, the Mongolian scientists and support staff joined us. These folks were: • (Tyuma) – Driver, • (Baggi) – Driver, • (Batsaikhan) Bat – Driver and translator, • (Altantsetseg) Allie – translator, • (Naimanzuunnadintsetseg) – Naima – translator, • үү (Müünokhoi) – Moony – Geology PhD candidate and boon companion, • Dr. (Taimorkhan. Dr. Tai – Mongolian dinosaur expert, • Dr. (Tomorbaatar. Dr. Tomo – Mongolian geologist, • (Shar airag) Shar - logistics and planning, and • (Arkhi) Arky – logistics and procurement. This then was our contingent of twenty souls, from Japan, the United States, Poland, and Mongolia, who were going to go out into the wilds of the Gobi Desert. We were somewhat retracing the trails blazed 60 years earlier by Roy Chapman Andrews of the Central Asiatic Expeditions of the 1920s and 30s. However, this time it was the first joint cooperative international expedition consisting of representatives from several distinct and diverse Oriental and Occidental countries allowed in Mongolia. Yeah, it was a historical event. And Esme and I were participants. The next couple of days were spent getting to know each other and acclimatizing to the Mongolian culture, customs, and cuisine. Luckily, most these folks were all geologists or paleontologists by primary training, so the possibility of incompatibility pretty much evaporated over the first evenings festivities. We set records for the number of empty bottles the University custodial staff shoveled out the next morning. The organizers of the expedition, one each from the Polish, Mongolian, and Japanese contingent, prepared our itinerary and had it translated into the various languages for all. This made for a rather thick package of documents which needed to be schlepped along. It was 37 days in-country, with a time out in the middle of the show to attend the Naadam Festival, which is the traditional summer festival in Mongolia. The fiesta is locally termed "eriin gurvan naadam" or "the three games of men. The games are Mongolian wrestling, horse racing, and archery. It sounded like a hoot, and it was. This neatly split our expedition into two equal parts. We would return after two weeks in the ‘bush* offload our collections, and spend a bit of time at the Naadam. Then wed re-provision, return back to the Gobi, and resume the expedition. However, before we tackled the Gobi Desert, the crew chiefs, for the lack of a better name, though it would be best to stage a pre-expedition trip more locally to iron out any difficulties and preclude any problems. We all thought this to be an excellent idea, so two days later, we were en mass en route to the Gun-Galuut Nature Reserve. It is a park and nature preserve some 130 km or about 2 hours drive from Ulaanbaatar. The Gun-Galuut Nature Reserve is a protected area in order to conserve threatened species. Its composed of three zones: one is “touristic” and open to visitors, another one has some restricted access, and the last one, central, is forbidden to those without proper credentials or training. It consists of the ecosystems of steppe, rocky mountain, small lakes, river, streams, and wetland, and it is about 20, 000 hectare. The harmonized complex of high mountains, steppes, rivers, lakes and wetlands as well are kept enough as its original condition. It was here that wed test our Mongolia mettle. I had to negotiate some particularly complex pathways and jump through many hoops to obtain clearance to bring any firearms into Mongolia. Call me a stodgy old traditionalist, but I never venture into the field without a sidearm. I decided to leave my usual pistol, the. 454 Cusall Magnum home this trip. Finding ammunition in the US was hard enough, I thought it would be damn near impossible in Mongolia. Instead, I brought with my nickel-plated Colt ‘King Cobra. 357 Magnum with 6” barrel. It accepted the. 357 Magnum as well as. 38 Special caliber ammunition. As many Russian and Chinese pistols are chambered in or approximate this round, I figured it would be the easiest to keep well fed. However, once we arrived at the Gun-Galuut Reserve, I did cause a bit of a potential international incident when I emerged from our tent in full field regalia. They didnt mind my field outfit except for the sidearm slung at my hip. Many of these folks had never handled a gun, nor actually seen one in real life. It appeared to them that the Ugly American packing heat was not just a western movie construct. There was an immediate powwow with every member of the expedition in attendance. They voiced their objections and concerns. With the aid of the perevodchiks, I was able to explain my rationale, that the desert environment was home to many nasty spiders, scorpions, snakes, and other slithery, nasty ill-tempered non-friendly critters. I was taking it merely as a precaution, and wasnt that the reason we were here right now? A shakedown before the actual assault on the desert proper? Besides, it makes for a helluva noisemaker if one were to become lost in the badland wilds of where we were headed. I asked them if theyd like to have a turn firing the thing and demystify it from the tool of the devil to being just another tool. Three boxes of ammo later, everyone calmed down and asked if we could have another target shoot later. If the lil ol. 357 made them crazy, just wait until my order from the Mongolian Military arrives. That took some special sorts of flips and twists, but with my permits, letters of introduction and recommendation, I was able to procure some explosives that will make our expedition a little easier. Ive pored over the old reports of the strata which encase our quarry. A little judiciously applied dynamite and Primacord are going to save loads of time as well as a few backs. But thats going to be addressed later. The next couple of days we hiked over the varying landscapes of the nature reserve. It was agonizingly beautiful, ranging from huge grass-covered steppes to snowy mountain crags, to volcanic piles, with wetlands, lakes, and rivers. I asked Tyuma if fishing was allowed here in the reserve and he said hed find out. It was allowed and the small spinning combo with which I travel was put to the test in a swift river on our last night in the reserve. I knew the rivers in Mongolia were teeming with fish, but I had only anecdotal evidence for the incredible variety that called this place home. The Japanese contingent was enthralled as I caught several smallish trout-like fish, some perch-y looking things, grayling, pike, and some just plain unidentifiable species. Tyuma provided a pretty good running commentary, but since he wasnt much of a fisherman and fish are not a staple of the traditional Mongolian diet, he was also stumped on some of the more odd-looking creatures I dragged out of the river. We had a great final fishy nature-reserve meal as the Polish and Japanese crowd there absolutely loved them and provided the recipes and preparation. We had several different dishes from which to choose that evening. I found out there is this Franken-trout that inhabited Mongolian rivers that goes by the name of ‘taimen or Mongolian Terror Trout. These guys are the kings of the fluvial systems here, and average 15 to 30 kg (33 to 66 lb. though they can grow much larger and are fish of folklore. Tyuma tells me of the Mongolian legend about a giant taimen trapped in river ice. Starving herders were able to survive the winter by hacking off pieces of its flesh. In the spring, the ice melted and the giant taimen climbed onto the land, tracked down the herders, and ate them all. Legendary indeed. I had hooked a small lenok, a pike type fish, and was reeling it in. Something smashed that fish like a thirsty geologist on a cold beer and immediately broke my line. Tyuma assured me I had just had an encounter with a taimen, as they eat fish; as well as small rodents, birds, and occasional sheep. I wasnt kitted out for this type of fishing, but vow one day I will return with the proper gear. The next morning we struck camp and agree to all meet back at the university parking lot the next day, bright and early at the ungodly hour of 1000. We said our temporary goodbyes, piled into Tyumas UAZ and headed back to Ulaanbaatar. I had a message waiting for me at the hotel and Tyuma transported me over to the local military outpost to take delivery of a special parcel. Fortunately, I had all the proper documentation and with Tyumas help as translator, I took possession of a parcel of Russian and Chinese explosives, blasting caps, and a Cyrillic-labeled blasting machine. They thought it was all very suspect, but after I had bought them all rounds of buuz and booze at the camp commissary, they decided I knew what I was doing and since I had all the proper paperwork… I asked Tyuma to take Esme and myself to a traditional hole-in-the-wall Mongolian café that evening. I didnt want to go to the hotels Westernized restaurant and Esme was intrigued as well. Tyuma dropped us off and said he would collect us later at a pre-arranged hour. “Balderdash! ” Esme and I said in chorus, “Youre eating with us. Get used to it. Were going to be bunkies for the next month and a half. ” “Thank you, but I have to go home. My wife and children…” Tyuma protested. “Go get them. Bring them with. Were buying tonight and wed love to meet your family. ” Esme interjected. Tyuma instantly brightened and told us hed be back in less than half an hour. He arrived, family in tow, at the predicted time. Tyumas wife, Bayarmaa, or Bya as she preferred, was a very handsome example of typical rugged rural Mongolian stock. Very friendly but spoke only Mongolian. Tyuma was our capable translator. His three daughters, Esen, Odval and Munkhtsetseg, were ages 6, 9 and 13 respectively, and also spoke only Mongolian. They were somewhat shy and taken aback by the large loud Westerner, but immediately were enraptured with Esme. Introductions all around I instructed Tyuma to order whatever they desired, I was paying tonight. Rather, grants from the university back home were buying that night, so have whatever you desire, and damn the price. In fact, I put the whole meal into Tyumas capable hands. I couldnt read a word of the hand-printed menu and decided that when in Rome, as it were… Tyuma excelled as a meal planner and Tamandar, the old Russian tradition of toasting before, during and after meals that had been assimilated into Mongolian society. There was butter tea, coffee, Chinese black and green tea as well as vodka, beer, and airag – the fermented mares milk that was ubiquitous, for drinks. Amid the rotational toasts, there was a huge assortment of appetizers: buuz, pot stickers, reindeer cheese, noodle dishes, and the like. Main dishes included Khorkhog, which is Mongolian Barbeque; Tsuivan, a noodle stew; Budaatai khuurga, a Mongolian rice dish; Gambir, a sugary dessert; and Ul Boov, the lovely and delicious ‘shoe sole cakes. We all ate and drank until sated to near critical mass. The final tab, including beer and vodka, for seven people came out to right at 15 US dollars. I ended up leaving a healthy tip so the whole shebang set me back some 100, 000 Mongolian Tugrik. Tyuma dropped us off at our hotel, promising to return the next day at 0930. The farewells to Tyumas wife and children took us almost a half hour, it was that heartfelt. Es and I dragged ourselves back to our room and slept like logs until the next morning. Right at 0925, Es and I, along with all our baggage, were waiting in front of the hotel for Tyuma. He arrived spot on time and we proceeded to load all our gear into our transportation that would be our ersatz home for the next 5 weeks. Tyuma had hooked up a small trailer which sported a locking cover to his UAZ and we unceremoniously dumped the heavy core drill into its spacious confines. A case of vodka, cases of water, and the explosives went back there as well. The blasting caps and blasting machine rode inside the UAZ with us. We motored over to the university and were greeted by the Japanese and Polish part of our contingent, and their transports as well. By 1100 hours, we were ready to depart. There were the traditional Mongolian blessings from a local Buddhist monk from a local Buddhist monastery. After some deliberations over our route, we headed generally south out of the city for the wilds of the Gobi. We departed Ulaanbaatar more or less at the crack of noon. We were headed to our first overnight at Bayankhongor, a city of some 25, 000 people. There we would spend the night at a ger camp, shaking down our transports and solving any problems before we attack the Gobi. Our eventual destination in the Gobi was the famous Flaming Cliffs site, also known as Bain-Dzak. Its a huge area, some 165, 381 km 2 or 63, 854 mi 2, with a population less than 50, 000. The largest city in the region is Dalanzadgad, a town of less than 15, 000 souls. Wed be traveling there as our next port of call. We had a lot of ground to cover and we were taking our time, being prudent and cautious. The Gobi does not suffer fools lightly. In Bayankhongor, we were told of bandits in the Gobi and even though we were a large, well equipped group, we should be prepared. There were also fossil thieves, who steal antiquities from the Gobi and sell them on the Black Market. Now it appears folks were more pleased to count the pistol-packing Ugly American in their group. We are set up in our respective traditional nomadic ger tents; our group takes up the entire camp of 12 gers. These are not termed ‘yurts, they are most emphatically ‘gers, as one of the Polish crew discovered. Yurt is a Chinese term and not one favored by the intensely nationalistic Mongolians. Tyuma and I decide we need to take a trip into town to secure a few Jerry Cans of petrol for the blasted core drill. Also, having some extra fuel along is a comfort where were headed. There can be up to 600 kilometers between filling stations out in the Gobi. Esme sets to making up our ger and is pleased she doesnt have to accompany Tyuma and me on our little side quest. Our Polish and Japanese counterparts are claiming exhaustion from todays 800 kilometer austral trek and beg off as well. “Sheesh. What a bunch of lightweights, ” I snicker to Tyuma on the way into town. “Youd think they were on some sort of Asiatic expedition. ” “Yes”, Tyuma agrees, chuckling. Hes a veteran of many trips to the Gobi, hell, all over Mongolia. Hes taken part as driver and logistician for Russian, German, Chinese, and Canadian groups of scientists looking at everything Mongolia has to offer; from botany to horses to coal to fish. “They do seem somewhat fragile”, Tyuma agrees. We arrive at the petrol station, the only one in town. Its closed up tight and the pump was padlocked. “Oh, bother”, I say, “Looks like weve got a bit of a worry here, Tyuma. ” “No problem, ” Tyuma assures me. He returns with a length of pipe and suddenly the pump is no longer padlocked. He finds the electrical box and switches on power to the pump. We dispense our 150 liters or so of fuel, refueling the UAZ as well, and replace the nozzle. Tyuma produces a padlock from his UAZ and locks the pump back in place. After shutting down the electrical power once again, I hand him the requisite amount of local currency plus an additional 10% for the bother. Tyuma slips the cash, the pump key, and a quick note under the door. “See, Rock? ” Tyuma says, “It is Mongolian way. No permanent damage and we get what we need. ” I ask him if he has any more locks with him as our beer supply is getting low. Surprisingly, he has a collection of about 15 of the finest Chinesium padlocks and keys; each costing him the equivalent of US0. 25. Evidently, he wasnt just joking; it is an accepted practice out here in the boonies. Also, the local liquor stores around are almost always open so we venture to the nearest one and buy the stores entire beer supply. That locking trailer is coming in very handy indeed. Tyuma asks if Id like to drive around town and get a good overview of what life is in these parts. Come to find out, its his tricky way of cadging a cigar from me as he can drive, explain what were seeing, smoke the cigar, and not have to have any to hand over to his comrades. Sneaky bugger. He neednt worry, Ill keep him in cigars, vodka, and beer this entire trip. Having a boon companion and driver who knows the ropes can often spell the difference between unmitigated disaster and a minor inconvenience. We tool around town and Tyuma points out the Russian influence, now departing slowly, that had been superimposed over the traditional Mongolian culture. He shows me the Palace of Industrial Labor, Palace of Culture and Science, Hall of Stakhanovite Workers and other Russian 5-year plan edifices. They were crumbling from lack of attention. They might build them, but that was no guarantee that they would come. The locals ignored those places passionately. He took me past a squat, dismal, eerie looking boarded-up falling-down structure. It had really tumbled on hard times and seemed to be waiting, yearning for an impromptu lightning strike so it could cease to exist. It was a prison, or, more correctly, a detention center. It was a page out of the Siberian Gulag, written large out here on the steppes of Mongolia. He told me this is where dissidents, ‘undesirables, and other forms of unappreciated thinking and action were sequestered away from mainstream society. He tells me the one were passing now is one of the better ones, there are some so far out in the absolute middle of nowhere, that theyre not even shown on maps. With a visible shudder, Tyuma gooses the UAZ and we speed by leaving a trail of red-gray dust in our wake. “Even that is too good for these places. They are places of evil. ” Tyuma solemnly says. Cigars finished, we stash our now empty beer cans and return to the ger camp. There will be a meeting in the main gathering hall tonight to review what weve done so far and make certain everyones on the same page for tomorrows push right to the edge of the Great Govi, as its locally known. At 1900 hours, everyones drinking their beverages of choice. Representatives of the Polish and Japanese crews are giving last-minute instructions for their talks with their translators. We have set up a network of translators like the UN, and have strategically devised seating so the translation can be passed round-robin style. The speaker will start, then to a translator into Japanese or Polish, to another translator to French, French to English and then into Mongolian. The Mongolian is translated back into Polish or Japanese and is checked for accuracy. Ever play the old game “Telephone”? Whisper a phrase to your neighbor, then they whisper to the next, and after 10 iterations, you see up with what you end. Similar here, but with five very different languages. It took time, but by the middle of the second leg in the Gobi, the translators were getting bored. Latin and Greek were pretty much understood by all the scientific types and interpersonal communications flourished. It was rather hilarious hearing Japanese with a Polish accent, or Monglish, a combination of Mongolian and Polish, or Americanisms in Japanese; ‘knifu and ‘forku caused much snickering at dinnertime. However it was universal, no one language, nor speaker escaped unscathed. Esme with her German mastery picked up on many Polish idioms and the Warsaw crowd was duly impressed. My rudimentary attempts at Russian and Mongolian were especially thought to be hilarious by everyone. But for now, it was bottles away and high hilarity when the translations came full circle. It seemed like a strangely inefficient way to communicate, but with the disparate languages, there arent too many that are fluent in Polish and Japanese, English and Mongolian, with French and German thrown in for added amusement. It was rough at first, but we made it work, one way, or another. The next day dawned very bright and breezy as is the usual case out here in the wilds of Outer Mongolia. We were loaded up and headed out towards Bayantooroi, a little one-street burg right on the edge of the Gobi proper. We were camping in our own tents that night as the final shakedown before our assault on the desert. We drew a lot of attention from the few locals in the area and in what would presage just about every stop from here on out. They decided to pay us a little visit. From seemingly out of nowhere, they appeared. Either appearing out of the dust clouds from the occasional passing coal-train truck or on horseback. They were all just curious and were wondering what was going on. We became instant celebrities as we passed out beer, candies, and other small gifts to the folks that arrived. Evidently, word got out about our caravan having a rather large supply of beer and other powerful potables. Some of the local neer-do-wells drifted into camp and began harassing those in our team. They were a scruffy, drunk, and disorderly quartet demanding we hand over some, if not all, of our beverage supplies. Our Mongolian drivers, interpreters, and fellow scholars tried to dissuade them but to no avail. They wanted our beer, vodka, and whatever else we had. This was approaching a heightened level of nasty I wished to avoid. Tyuma came over to Esmes and my tent to get me, telling me to bring my sidearm. “They are hooligans, ” Tyuma explains, “Disgusting creatures, nothing but drunken bullies. They are without honor. You go out and tell them no. Theyll respect you. ” “And my pistol? ” I asked. “Yes. ”, Tyuma agrees, “But dont display it. Just show them. Theyll see it and theyll run and never return. ” “Can I light up a cigar and yell at them, too? ” I half-jokingly asked. “That would help as well” Tyuma smiles back. The four hooligans were agitatedly arguing with our interpreters and logisticians. They were forming a circle around them and getting more and more belligerent. This was not going at all well. I was wearing my black-felt field Stetson, black denim duster, and typical cargo dungarees, flannel shirt, and my size 16 field boots. I came stomping up to the fracas as loudly and largely in the usual mammalian threat posture as I could muster. “RIGHT! ” I yell as I wade into the crowd. “Whats all this then? ” Tyuma was right beside me giving the play-by-play. The head hooligan wanders up to me. I have about 60 pounds and a foot in height on this guy, but he doesnt want to appear cowed; hed lose face in front of his schnozzled comrades. He goes off in rapid-fire Mongolian and thumps me, laughing, right in the chest. “Tyuma, tell this smelly idiot that Im American and dont take lightly to drunken hooligans. Also tell him that if he touches me, or any of our group, hes going to find out what its like to live with several major broken bones. ” I snarl. The American part gave them pause, but my threat seemed to fall on deaf ears. It only enraged them more it seemed. Once more, with feeling. “Either you assholes get the FUCK out of here now or there will be…trouble. This is your last warning. ” I put as much bluster into that as I could muster. Tyuma translates and at least that gave them something to think about. Theyre all standing now in a row side-by-each, so I figure its a good time to have a smoke. I pull a cigar out of my duster, bite the end off, and make a display of spitting the end in their general direction, Western movie style. They didnt seem to appreciate that, if their volume and harangues were any indication. Too fucking bad, Chucklers. One of them starts to take a step towards me. Yeah. Right on cue. I flip open my duster in my well-practiced method, and the gleaming nickel-plate of Mr. Colts finest firearm glinted in the low afternoon sun. I fished a lighter out of my pocket, fire up my cigar, and look up to see four very worried looking hooligans being very quiet and reserved. I blow a large blue smoke cloud in their general direction. “Tyuma, did they get the message? ” I ask. Tyuma laughs, noisily hocks and spits in their direction where they all jump back, and says “Oh, yes, Mr. They got the message. ” “Good. Tell them to fuck off and never EVER bother another group in the field again. Tell them Ill be watching for them. ” I say with all the Clint Eastwood gravel I could impart. Tyuma did so and they, to a man, bowed low, scraped a bit, and hauled ass for parts unknown. Tyuma comes over and we both have a good chuckle. “ ”, Tyuma snarls. I add another word to my growing Mongolian vocabulary. We have a wonderful field breakfast the next morning and I got dragooned into making pancakes for everyone. Somehow it got out that as an undergrad, I used to work at a fast-food joint, Sambos, back in the day that was famous for its ‘dollar cakes. Thats why I standing on the very edge of the Gobi Desert flipping pancakes and grilling horse sausage for my international colleagues. We didnt have any maple syrup so we made do with warmed local honey. I must have used 5 kilos of flour and a good portion of our egg supply to make the pancakes. My secret ingredient, warm beer, made the cakes light and fluffy with an especially yeasty taste. Everyone there thought they were a great addition to our usual more austere breakfast of hot dogs and chocolate ice cream. Seriously. I was dragooned several times into making some of my western specialties over the course of the expedition. Beer-batter mutton kabobs and my 5-Alarm chili, made with yak, was an especially big hit. I also made Indian fry-bread, from the recipe I learned back in New Mexico. This was particularly appreciated; paradoxically mostly by the Japanese group. Being a chili head as well as Cheesehead, I had also brought a supply of hot sauce as I had learned that Mongolian cuisine was not terribly big into spices. I had secured a generous selection of unusually suspect peppers from a Chinese market back in Ulaanbaatar. With native onions and tomatoes, it made for some electrifying salsa. The Polish contingent was most alarmed by the spices. But once the initial shock passed by, they told me they had grown a real taste for it. We packed up, checked our vehicles one last time, and fired up to head into the Gobi Desert proper. It was the point of no return. We were going in. Rubicon crossing? Whats that? It was terribly anticlimactic. The Gobi has no real line of demarcation, the only difference was the slow disappearance of shrubs and grasses and the more typical appearance of a sandy, rocky desert. No great sand dunes here, at least in this part of the Gobi, just big sky the likes of which Montana could only dream. The wildlife actually started to appear more and more. They were skittish of people in settlements but seemed genuinely interested in our caravan. Antelope, wild Bactrian camels, wolves, marmots, musk deer, wild horses, and wild boar all made their appearances. In fact, the camels got downright pushy. They werent at all afraid of humans and dropped by on several occasions to cadge a free handout. The avifauna, that is, birdlife, was incredible. Hawks, falcons, buzzards, cranes and owls; eagles of several species, and oddly pelicans, gulls and other what were normally considered seabirds. No idea why, we all puzzled over their appearances. We were about as far from the sea as is possible on this old planet. Trundling south, the lead vehicle shudders to a stop and the Japanese contingent pile out of their van, cameras at the ready. We pulled up and spied, up on a not-too-distant hill, some form of bird. These were huge. Looked to be all of 2 meters in height and adorned with huge poofy layers of gunmetal gray feathers and very large, very nasty recurved beaks. Tyuma said these were a rare form of condor-like bird and are very seldom seen any longer. It was thought to be a good omen. We took a lot of pictures at that stop. The birds wholly ignored us. Back on the ‘road again, which is a painful pun as we hadnt been on a road since we were 30 kilometers outside of Ulaanbaatar. The land is flat, we could see for miles and what passed for roads out here were barely recognizable paths. Still, we had shortwave radio communications and our compasses, so we knew we needed to head south and thats what we did. We arrived at our next destination and pitched camp. Here we were to bivouac for the next couple of days. There were some very likely looking cliffs not too far distant, a well for fresh-ish water, and enough badlands-y cover to protect us from any spontaneous sandstorms. We parked our vehicles in a line to protect us from the wind to some degree and proceeded to make it our home for the next few days. The first night out in the Gobi proper was unforgettable. Stars the likes of which few have ever experienced. Whole galaxies, an incredible stellar display; the ‘backbone of the night, as Tyuma put it. We were so far away from any sort of indication of human habitation there was zero light pollution. It was magnificent and awe-inspiring. The animals really came out in force during the night and we were nearly driven to distraction by the little kangaroo rats, or jerboas, that found us and decided to make us their pets. Furtive, feet footed and fearless, theyd sneak up to see what was lying about that might interest them. Quick as a bunny fucks, a pen would disappear, thered be one less piece of cheese, or they were in the sugar bag again. It was pointless to try and catch them and Tyuma was almost crying from laughing so hard at a couple of the Polish crew designing and building a wholly ineffective kangaroo rat trap. It took them whole hours to construct and it malfunctioned each and every time a jerboa grabbed and made off with the bait. We decided to leave well enough alone and resigned ourselves to being their charges. To be continued...

I Think this was a Good Feel Good movie... I felt good after and i will watch it again, to feel good. Know the difference between fantasy and realty. This is fantasy, we American's are not that kind, we think we are in our own mind, but in situations like this. never happens. Whens the last time you or anyone you know took a homeless person into your actual home? I did once for a year and got him back on his feet. There are social workers who do get paid at their jobs to help the poor, downtrodden or ex convicted people, but its their job and they do it and not very well paid - unless one is a manager. That is reality.

 

 

Uprzejmość nieznajomych. Dit laat my dink aan 'n verhaal. (That reminds me of a story. On the road again - Just can't wait to get on the road again The life I love is making explosions with my friends And I just can't wait to get on the road again On the road again Goin' places that I've never been Seein' things that I may never see again And our way Is on the road again Just can't wait to get on the road again The life I love is makin' explosions with my friends And I just can't wait to get on the road again… “Esme, my dear? ” I sweetly intone to my very tolerant wife. “Yes, my darling Doctor, ” Esme replies in her inimitable manner. “Hon, my brain hurts”, I say, “I need a vacation; therefore, we need a vacation. ” “Vacation? ” she says incredulously, “You just got back from the South Pole. ” “Yeah”, I crank, “But that was work-related. I want to go on a real vacation, just you and me. For shits and giggles. For laughs. For grins. For humor. ” “OK”, Es replies, “I can see youre in one of your ‘Im already planning to do this, so just go along with the moment mode. Where to this time? ” “Well, lets see. Weve covered the west and West Coast”, I reply, “I dont want any more ice or snow right now, so Alaskas out. Weve been to the Gulf Coast, the Third Coast, and the East Coast is too depressing to consider. How about South Africa? ” “Whoa, ” Es exclaims, “If youre going to shift locales that fast, at least double-clutch the conversation before you strip its gears. ” “Sorry, mdear”, I tell her, “Weve always wanted to go there. Plus, with our frequent flier miles and my new degree, as I get travel perks with some of my grants, Im pretty sure it wont cost too much. ” “True for the flights” Es notes, “But what about accommodations? ” “Dont you remember? “ I tell her, “We have a standing invitation from Dennis the Dentist. ” “That goof? ” Es cries, “The one that opted out of geology for dentistry because he didnt want to learn the names of all those minerals? That Dennis? ” “Yep. One and the same”, I say, “Hes got a flourishing practice down in Cape Town…or was it Johannesburg? I forget. Whichever, hes always been grateful for my tutelage and helping him pass both mineralogy and petrology. Weve kept more-or-less sort of in touch, the offer still stands. ” “OK”, Esme assents, “Give him a call. If you can set it up, well go. But only for two, two and a half weeks max. My work needs me now, with the annual audit approaching. ” “But I need you more. Besides, I figured thatd be the time youd want to be out of the office. ” I snicker. “Be that as it may, Ill call Dennis and set it up; if the invitation is still good and his schedule can accommodate. ” Dennis the Dentist was a character I first met when I was a Teaching Assistant in grad school, all those miles ago. He was intent on becoming a geologist, but he had some sort of short-term/long-term memory dysfunction. He was rather the clever and outgoing chap, but unless he put in an Augean effort, names, faces, and other noun-like things rarely registered with him for more than a week. My youngest has a similar difficulty. It took years to diagnose as it an odd form of dyslexia. It took even longer to develop methods of treatment and training. Unfortunately, at the time this all transpired, dyslexics were still categorized as slow, ‘late bloomers, or just plain stupid. Programs further than “TMR”, Trainable Mentally Retarded, or “UMR”, Untrainable Mentally Retarded, didnt exist to aid in the diagnosis, much less treatment, of the less mainstream forms of dyslexia, dyscalculia, or dysgraphia. I spent huge amounts of time with Dennis trying to help him. Through rote, mnemonics, note-taking, or silly songs. Just about any other method, I could cook up to help him retain mineralogical and petrological facts. It was an uphill slog, but we managed to successfully get him through his Geology-200 level courses; those designed for the Geology Major. Not just the ‘Rocks for Jocks 100-level courses. He then had his change of heart, and direction of career, just before he enrolled in foraminiferal micropaleontology. The memorization for this course was particularly brutal, even I recall being aghast at Plectofrondicularia cf. pseudoquadrilatera. He had seen the metaphorical hand-writing on the wall. He stuck it out through mineralogy and petrology to avoid any really low marks, fails, drops, or incompletes on his college transcripts. Besides, he really wanted to become a dentist. “Why? ” Hell if I know, and I doubt Dennis does either. However, one thing I know is that Dennis is luckier than a man with two dicks. Good luck just seems to vomit all over him. He has a beautiful and supportive wife, Denise, who is from South Africa. They have three rambunctious children: Chloë, the oldest girl, 16; Dennis Jr., the middle boy, 14; and Laetitia, the youngest girl, 10. Their home is a huge walled-in compound: an 8 bedroom-villa, with tennis courts, his own security force, pool, huge manicured lawn, and hot tub in South Africa. He heads an expanding dental practice with 6 other dentists. He drives expensive cars and drinks expensive booze. A kindred spirit? And best of all, he believes he owes me for helping him pass some geology courses. I dig through my notes and find for what I was looking: “Dr. Dennis Tandarts, DDS. Cape Town, South Africa. [Phone number] ”. “Ah, ” I muse, “It was fuckin Cape Town. ” “Ring, ring, ring…click. Sharp fede, Big Toothy Grin Dental Clinic. How may I direct your call? ” “Good day, ” I reply, “This is Colonel Amazinyo of the South African Revenue Service, SARS. Could I please speak to Dr. Dennis” I make like Im reading from a form “Tan-darts, DDS. ” “Could I say what this is in relation to? ” the disembodied voice on the other end of the line asks. “No, you may not, ” I reply semi-brusquely, “This is a personal matter. That is, unless youd like to be included in our on-going investigations. ” “Oh, no sir! ” she recoils, “Ill page Dr. Dennis for you immediately. Im put on long-distance, overseas hold at about US7. 00 per minute. Luckily, Im calling from the University. “Click! ” the phone speaks, “This is Dr. Dennis Tandarts. Who is this? ” “Dr. Tan-darts. ” I continue, “You are the Dennis Tandarts who attended the University of Baja Canada-Brew City during the period from [then to then] “Err…yes…” Dennis gives forth, slowly and cautiously. “Did you take a certain number of upper-level geology courses during that time? ” I continue. “Ummm…yes…” Dr. Dennis gives forth, more slowly, more curiously, and more cautiously. “During that time did you receive selfless and near-heroic tutelage under the patronage of one ‘Rocknocker? ” I ask. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did”, he answers, totally perplexed. “Tell me about him, ” I order, most officiously. “Whats this all got to do with SARS? ” he queries. “Im the one asking questions here, Dr. Tandarts. ” I gruff, “Now, please answer the question. ” “Um, yeah. He helped get me through some really rough courses. ” He says. “Would you say you knew this individual well? ” I add immediately. “Oh, yes”, he replies, “He helped me at a time I almost gave up on school altogether. Ill never forget him. ” “Then why dont you recognize my voice, you old dental dingus? ” I laugh. “Rock? Is that you? ” he sighs, relieved. “No”, I reply, “its Doctor Rock, the motherfucking Pro from Dover. How the hell are you? ” “Rock! ” Dennis laughs, “You asshole. You had me all worked up. How, where, and what the fuck are you doing these days? ” “Well, Im married”, I continue, “Finished my doctorate, was in Mongolia, and just returned from Antarctica. So, nothing much. ” “Thats nothing much? ” he chuckles, “Another typical Rocknocker production. Where are you now? ” “Still back home in Brew City, ” I explain, “That actually the reason for the call. ” “Hows that? ” Dennis asks. “Im brain fried. Toast. ” I recount to him, “Esme and I need a small vacation. Hows Cape Town this time of year? ” “Lovely autumn weather”, Dennis continues, “Are you thinking of coming on down? ” “Thats the plan, ” I say, “If I can find some decent accommodations for Esme and myself. ” “Thats not a problem”, Dennis states, “Barely an inconvenience. You are going to stay with Denise, me and the kids. Weve got loads of room. ” “You sure? ” I ask, “I mean, it does sound sort of suspect I just ring you up out of the blue to harass you and ask for room and board. ” “Oh, fuck that! ” Dennis exclaims, “I fucking owe you everything. You got me to stick it out…” “Even those times I told you to tuck it back in…” I joke. “Damn, Rock. Oh, sorry, Doctor Rock”, Dennis rejoins, “You havent changed a bit. OK, when and how long? ” “If its OK with you, wed leave in about a week and hang around for a couple of weeks, ” I reply. “Make it three weeks at my place and its a done deal. ” Dennis insists. “Fuck, mate. You drive a hard bargain. ” I chuckle. I inform Esme and shes actually rather excited. It seems now she has good reason to miss the annual audit at work, a grueling ordeal, citing my need to immediately depart for South Africa. It was a matter of utmost scientific importance. Yeah, keeping her husband from going off the deep end. A little off-white prevarication; but still semi-truthful. If we didnt depart as planned, itd cost us a fortune in rearranged flights. It was rather easy booking those flights. It was going to be another in a series of long haul slogs. To the Windy City, to Amsterdam, onward to Cape Town. However, only two stops, which is most appreciated. I had more than ample frequent flyer miles, so I booked two Business class tickets round trip for the coming Wednesday. I had my graduate student slaves tend my sedimentological and depositional environmental experiments, so that was covered. Classes werent about to start for another 8 weeks. Plenty of time to sort out a syllabus. Esme got all her ducks in a row at work so now were waiting on a cab to whisk us away to the airport. “Why do all the international flights always begin at O-dark thirty? ” Es grumbles. “Probably for the same reason all international flights arrive at the gate furthest from your departure”, I commiserate. The cab arrives and with the judicious application of BFFI, brute force and fucking ignorance, we manage to mash all our luggage into the cab. I never would have planned on taking this much. I figure that if I forgot anything, Id just buy it at the airport or destination. Esme is far more pragmatic. Pack three of everything in case two of them go missing. Between us, we always somehow make it work. We arrive at the airport with plenty of time to spare. If Esme has odd ideas about packing for a trip, I have this obsession of arriving at least three or four hours before my flight. I rarely, if ever, miss a flight. Since I check in so early, if theres a call for stand-by flyers, Ill bid up the airline. I make sure I always have time for an out. Ive made thousands of dollars over the years by giving up my seat for some desperate stand-by flyer. Ill usually wrangle cash, a free flight on the next one available, and even hotel overnights with transport, drinks, and meals included. It pays to not be anal when you fly. Build-in some slack time and take advantage of others anxiety. Hey, they set up the rules, not me. Im just devious in my methods of applying them. But today was going to be different. The flight to the Windy City, short as it is, was only half full. It could be due to the ungodly hour or the fact its mid-summer time and everyones already off on holiday. The layover in the Windy City is boring, lacking of fun, and expensive. White Sox? Cubs? Bears? Ick. A 16-ounce beer for US8. 50! Are you mad? Thats like US0. 90/sip. I make certain to have all my emergency flasks topped up before flying and only accept drinks on the plane. We land and head down the jetway. I notice Agents Rack and Ruin waving to us as we walked up to arrivals. Sheesh. Is nothing sacred to this bunch? “Good day, Agents”, Esme and I greet our unintentional companions. “Off again, Dr. Rock? Good day, Mrs. Rock”, Agent Rack says. “Good day to you as well, Agent Ruin, ” Esme replies. “Im Agent Rack. Agent Ruin is the one with the coffee stains on his tie. ” He explains. “Oh? I always thought you two were interchangeable…” Esme chuckles. “Nice. ” Replies Agent Rack. “So, off to South Africa? ” “Why must you characters always ask questions when you already know the answers? ” I query. “Oh, that just part of our charismatic characters. ” Agent Ruin replies. “Well, as you both well know, were off on holiday to Cape Town. Going to visit an old college buddy. ” I tell them. “Be sure to give Dr. Tandarts our best. ” Agent Rack smiles. “You guys are inscrutable. ” I note, “Notice I didnt add that you should go get screwed? ” “And we appreciate your efforts, Doctor. ” Agent Ruin replies, smiling broadly. “So, anyways, ” I ask, “On whom do you want me to drop a dime this time? ” “Basically, Cape Town. Wed like a sitrep from you and Mrs. Rock. ” “Oooh, ‘sitrep. Going all military. How very covert. A situation report on an entire city? ” I ask. “Well, the whole of South Africa if you do any traveling internally while youre in-country. ” Agent Rack replies. “OK, one country sitrep as usual. Got it. ” I add, “By the way, your check is late this month. ” “Our checks to you are always late. On you is a different question”, Agent Ruin grins semi-malevolently. “In that case, I want a raise, ” I tell them. “OK, well double your usual take. Hey, Ruin, whats twice nothing? ” Agent Rack laughs. “You guys seriously need a new hobby”, Es and I agree. At least they bought Esme and my breakfast. They already had their coffee and biscuits, so Esme opts for her morning awful-flavored green tea and I stick them for three 8. 50 beers. “Beer for breakfast, Dr. Rock? ” Agent Rack asks. “Breakfast of champions”, I reply, “Youd know that if you read my dossier more closely. Besides, vodka is whats for dinner. ” After some more verbal parrying and small talk, the agents wish us well on our journeys. “In all seriousness, Dr. and Mrs. Rock, please exercise extraordinary care while in-country. It has a reputation for being sometimes, ah, unsavory, if you take our meaning. We wouldnt want anything to happen to our two favorite globetrotters. ” The Agents agree. We thank them for the input and the sentiment. Theyre really a couple of OK guys, just spooky as shit. Im a little more at ease knowing that if something went seriously sideways, I could call on them. Whether or not theyd reply is for another day. Off to Amsterdam, where we have a layover long enough to take a tour of the city as were going to be overnighting it there. Ive booked us into the airport-adjacent Hyyak Hotel. Ive stayed there many times in my international peregrinations. I get us an upgrade to a suite because who doesnt want to keep the newly minted doctor happy? As an aside, this whole ‘Yes, Im a doctor shtick gets real old, real fast. I always used to like dropping it into a conversation, especially when Im negotiating a sale or upgrade. However, on the flights, Im just Mr. Herr Señor Rock. Once was enough to be asked if I was a doctor, reply in the affirmative, and be asked to look at some gnarly, sweaty passengers varicose veins or foot fungus. “Sorry, ” I have to say, “Unless I the patient is silicate or carbonate, I cannot help you. ” “Hmph. ”, I get, “Some doctor. What of your Hippocratic Oath? ” “I only took the Bacchusian Oath; the god of the grape harvest, winemaking, wine, and by extension, beer, booze, and John Barleycorn; ‘to never drink weak or cheap. ” Usually shuts them up. Once in the hotel and after a couple of bracing sunrisers, Esme wants to go out into the city for a tour. “Oh, Rock, honey, look”, Esme points out to me from the ever-helpful in-room tourist magazines, long may they burn. “We can go see The Canal Belt. Or the Stedelijk Museum, or the Vondelpark Park & Theater or the Rijksmuseum Art Museum” My enthusiasm is underwhelming. “OK, how about the De Oude Kerk Church, its a historical landmark…” “Tserkov' Church? Nyet. ” I reply tiredly. “OK, smarty-boots. How about the EYE Film-museum Art Museum? The Van Gogh Art Museum? ” “Es, my love, ” I remind her, “I used to damn near live in a museum. Theres got to be something else. ” “OK, fair enough, ” she continues, “Hows this: the ARTIS Amsterdam Royal Zoo? They have a reptile house… ” she croons. Now were talking. I fucking love zoos. Always have. Guess I was spoiled by living in Baja Canada and having relatively easy access to the local county zoo, itself a world-renowned zoological gardens and uber-cool Lake Baja Canada aquarium. Together, further south, there was always the Lincoln Park Zoo, the Shedd Aquarium, the Field Museum, the Windy City Art Institute, with all those magnificent nudes… Hey, I was 15 at the time. Slack, por favor. “Sounds great”, I say, “Let me call the concierge and arrange tickets and transport for this afternoon. ” We arrange tickets and transport, via concierge. We always follow through on our intentions. We have a lovely time at the well-appointed ARTIS Amsterdam Royal Zoo. Probably one of the top zoological gardens in Western Europe. We walked for hours and kilometers. It was well worth the pile of guilders it cost. But, inevitably, it came time to leave. “But I want to be here when they feed the Komodo Dragons” I groan. After this, we went to the heart of downtown Amsterdam for some shopping. Rather Esme went shopping and I found the “House of Bols Genever”, the birthplace of gin, or so they say. Wall to wall, literally, with bottles containing the various hues of liquor that cover the spectrum. I opt for a quick Genever ‘experience, which is a tour and hospitality room afterward. I found that Genever wont give you a hangover, its not that nice. I limited myself to sampling only one representative from each of the primary color groups. Weve still a long way to go and I didnt need to just park myself on Mahogany Ridge all evening. Not just yet. Back at the hotel, Esme models the diaphanous fashions she found at ‘this adorable little boutique. My credit cards were facing imminent meltdown if this continues much longer. However, upon inspection, it certainly was worth the price. Yowza. We have a wonderful dinner at the hotels Gallery Café and retire early as our flight, as usual, departs at O-dark 30. It was a most uneventful flight, all eleven and a half hours of it. Business Class was most comfortable and I actually managed to sneak in a couple of hours kip between several well-proportioned double vodkas and bitter lemons, with slice limes. Esme snuffled soundly from wheels-up to touchdown. I still dont know how she does it. At the Cape Town International Airport, we get severe scrutiny of our passports. Mine with Antarctica and Russian stamps, both of ours with Mongolian visas and hosts of red, Cyrillic imprints. After explaining what they were all about; as we were international SCIENTISTS, we were quickly processed through the line. We ventured out to the arrivals hall once we secured our luggage, which followed us all that way, and made it past customs. Out in the arrival hall, were walking around, looking for a Rent-a-car or cab to take us to Dr. Dennis digs. A very, very tall African fella, Ode by name, is holding a placard reading: “Dr. Rock and Esme. Time to leave, Bwana. ” Dr. Dennis the Dentists warped sense of humor. Ode tells us he works for Dr. Dennis the Dentist and has a car waiting for us. He grabs our luggage and leads us out to parking and Dennis personal monstrous Land Rover. Its a huge, older model Land Rover. It easily gobbled up all our luggage, Esme, and myself; without as much as a burp. Ode slips in behind the wheel, adjusts his natty cap, and we take off to Dr. Dennis domicile. Dennis lives in Century City, Milnerton, Western Cape in Cape Town. Its only about 25 or so kilometers from the airport, so we make good time. We are cautioned to keep our windows rolled up and doors locked, though. Ode tells us that although Century City is ‘safe as houses, some parts of Cape Town are marred by theft, muggings, assaults, car-jackings, and gang violence. So its better to opt on the side of caution. He continues by telling us the major issue is drug-related gang violence. The common types of crimes include burglary at residential premises, muggings, and theft of personal belongings like jewelry and wallets. There is an epidemic of criminals impersonating law enforcement officials in order to commit hijackings. We must remain vigilant, but “dont be paranoid”. “Yeah. Sure. Easy for you. ” Esme and I say to Ode in unison. We presently arrive at the literally palatial estate of Dr. Dennis the Dentist and family. We are buzzed in by his private security force, and after proper identification, through the massive electronic gate that blocks the drive. The estate is huge. Huge lush lawn, huge pool, huge tennis courts, huge house. Dennis hasnt done anything half-way. We arrive at the front door and are greeted by Denise, Dennis wife. She welcomes us and explains that Dennis will be over from his practice directly and the kids are still in school. Thatll give us some time to get into our room and situated. Ode insists on taking all the luggage to our room. Esme balks and says that the smaller Halliburton case has to remain. Thats where she packed all the gifts for Dennis clan. It still goes up the stairs with Ode. Denise directs us into the downstairs drawing room and offers us a welcoming drink. Esme accepts her very usual light gin and tonic. Denise turns to me with a very tall glass full of ice, expensive Russian vodka, sliced lime, and a wee bit of bitter lemon. “Denise, ” I query, shaking my head, “How did you know? ” She explains that Dennis had her ring Esme after he got our flats phone number from Stella the secretary at university. I am going to have to speak to Stella. I have real enemies out here in the world, yknow… Esme laughs out loud, having finally pulled the wool over my eyes this one time. “Thought I couldnt keep a secret? ” she chuckles directly at me. ‘This is one Ill hold still for”, I replied. Denise, a Cape Town native, goes on to explain that Dennis told her of the American penchant for lots of ice in their drinks. Mine was sporting half a glacier. I almost wanted to map it for proper explosives placement. It was most refreshing. After one drink, Denise says “Its such a nice day. Let us go sit out on the veranda. Dennis wont be too much longer, but I know how you like your cigars. ” “Very thoughtful”, I accede to her, “Id never think of smoking in someone elses home. ” “We both smoke occasionally, Denise continues, “But your relationship with cigars is legendary. ” We share a laugh, as I accept another drink. We all go out to sit on the veranda, have a snort, and a smoke. Were just sitting around, chatting, laughing, and getting better acquainted. Come to find out, Dennis is doing better than just ‘good. His practice has mushroomed from a single dentist to seven, and he runs the show. They have nannies for their children, as well as gardeners, groundskeepers, chauffeurs, private security, a cook, butler, and maids. All very posh. Right out of late 1800s England. Joycelin, the downstairs maid, asks if we need refills on our drinks. We all do, its warm and dry here. A very moderate climate, very comfortable, but after all that flying, were parched. “Must remain hydrated”, the good doctor of geology notes. Esme excuses herself to retrieve the house warming presents weve brought along. Denise and I have a nice chat awaiting Dennis arrival. I could get used to this level of living real fast. Be it ever so humble and all that. Esme reappears with our smallest Halliburton case. Shes decided to wait on Dennis arrival for gift disbursement. Another couple of drinks late, Dennis finally shows. He hasnt changed a lick in the intervening years. “Doctor Rock! Or is it Grizzly Adams? ” Dennis jokes as a manly handshake ensues. “One in the same” I chuckle back, “Youre looking well. And looking like youve done well. ” “Sorry, Im late. I had to stop and pick up more ice. Joycelin called me and said were going to need some now that youre here. Youre an anomaly. Enjoy it. ” “Dennis, Id like you to meet Esme, my wife. ” As I try to remember protocol. Im sometimes less that ept in these circumstances. They exchange pleasantries. Suddenly, after handshakes and hugs, Dennis reacts in horror. “Mein Gott! ” he says, alarmed, “Herr Doctor Rocknocker, your drink glass is almost empty! Crisis! Joycelin! ” Dennis always did have a flair for the dramatic. After the present calamity was averted, Dennis wants to take us on a tour of the grounds. Denise demurs and says shed rather sit this one out. “Ive seen it already”, she chuckles. Esme, jet-lagged and tired, agrees. “I havent, but Id rather have a sit. These long haul flights are killers. ” “OK, then” Dennis laughs, “You ladies sit and sew or knit or whatever you all do, while the two manly doctors of science go walkabout! ” Dennis later relates that cuffed ears really smart. Drinks in one hand, cigars in the other, we begin the perambulation of his estate. Not far behind is a retainer in a golf cart that carries the cooler. “We can walk. But I want the drinks to be relaxed whenever we need them. ” Dennis explains. We tour the tennis courts first. Dennis doesnt play tennis, but, as he tells me “It came with the house”. His gardener is raising a ruckus and we amble over to see what the problem is. Seems while mowing the capacious lawn, hes come across a slithery, snapping sneaky snake. Not just any snake, but a fucking cobra. I am agog. It pulls a hood boner on us and I jump back meters. Dennis chuckles. OK. We just dont have this type of problem in Baja Canada. Bunnies, birds, the very occasional totally inoffensive garter snake? Yes. But a fucking goddamned hooded cobra? Dennis instructs the golf cart driver to go to the house and retrieve Dennis ‘snake charmer. He returns a bit later with a. 410 gauge short-barreled pistol grip shotgun. Dennis gives the cobra. 410s worth of high-velocity birdshot. He then instructs the gardener to bury the corpse in the garden compost patch. “Cant have these little bastards around with the kids playing out here all the time. “So, you are allowed to have guns here? ” I ask. “Oh, fuck yeah. ” Dennis boasts, “Ive quite the collection. But with the kids, I keep most of them down at the club out of harms way. ” “Shooting club? ” I ask. “Oh, yeah. ” Dennis replies, “Do you shoot? ” I regale him with tales of my custom. 454 Casull and. 357 Magnum. I tell him Ive acquired a few others, “Mostly pistols. 44 Magnum. 50 caliber. 460 Mag and the like. ” “Pistols? ” Dennis whooshes, “You mean ‘hand cannons. Typical Doc Rock production. Nothing succeeds like excess. Right? Jesus Christ. Thats it, were going to have a shoot-off down at the club before you leave. ” “OK”, I agree, “Only bet what you can afford to lose. ” We both chuckle a mite, refresh our drinks, and return to the ambulatory tour. We walk over to the gazebo he has out in the middle of his lawn. Its a very comfortable place to sit, drink, smoke, chat, and keep a manly watchful eye on the grounds. Were just shooting the shit when I notice what appears to be a light-colored outcrop of rock over toward the southern edge of the property. “Hey, Tooth Doc, ” I ask, “Whats that over there? ” “Oh, that. ” he sounds exasperated, “That was going to be a fish pond for the kids and Denise. Theyre all the rage out here. Koi and goldfish and other forms of expensive carp. ” “What happened? ” I ask. “Well, ” he slurps his beer, belches respectfully, and says, “The previous tenant here wanted to build himself a fish pond. He hired a contractor to excavate the thing. Everything was going fine until the contractor hit solid granite. ‘Peninsula Granite he told me, whatever the fuck that means. Well, the contractors bid was predicated on only moving soil. He hit solid rock, buggered off, and left the mess. ” I am immediately lost in thought. Suddenly, an idea breaks through, and I blossom into a large shit-eating grin. “Rock? ” Dennis says. “Rock? Hello? ” “DOCTOR Rock! Earth calling. Why are you smiling like that? Youre scaring your host…” I take a big puff of cigar and a healthy slurp of my drink. “Esme and I had no idea what to get you as a house warming gift. Now I know. ” I smiled. “Im almost afraid to ask…” Dennis hesitates. “You do know that Im a certified and licensed International Blaster, right? ” I ask. “I do now, ” Dennis replies. “How would you like me to fix you and your kids pond? ” I ask, my shit-eating grin the widest its ever been. “Oh, fuck me”, Dennis recoils, “You dont mean? ” “Yes, I do”, I grin, “FIRE IN THE HOLE, motherfuckers! This is gonna be some fun. ” “Good Lord”, Dennis sighs, “What have I done? ” To be continued.

Can someone please explain to me how having a bald head is against dress code. I'm legitimately confused. Details Occupation: Full-time undergrad  Industry: Marketing and advertising Age: 23 Location: Singapore Gender Identity: Woman Assets Government-mandated savings (general) aka CPF: nil ( link for more info) Savings (Parents contributions) 15, 000 Emergency/ Long term savings: 3, 350   Debts Credit Card: nil Student Loan Balance: 16, 000 (taken out for study abroad, my parents plan to pay 12, 000 from an education savings account they set up since I was young) Tuition: 4, 100 per semester (my parents pay for it with their credit card) Invisalign Treatment: 800 (I paid nearly 6, 000 of the 8, 000 bill in installments with part-time work, parents paid the initial 2, 000)   Income Main Income: 550 (internship) Side Gigs: 300-700 (doing private tutoring - this month is low as its school holidays) Allowance: 250 ( allowance from parents because they want me to save as much of my income as I can + they will stop giving me allowance when I get a full time job) Monthly Expenses Rent: nil (living at home) Cell Phones: nil (75 on parents plan - I plan on switching to a cheaper plan when I start full-time and have to pay it myself) Transit: around 55 (45 monthly concession for trains) Gym: nil (free gym at condo complex) Health Insurance: nil (parents handle it) Life Insurance: nil (parents handle it) Subscriptions Spotify: 4. 50 (on family plan with friends) Day one - 1/12 (Sunday) 8:05 am- I wake up early even though it's a Sunday since my room has a full wall with floor to ceiling windows and I get a lot of natural light. Normally, I get out of bed immediately but since it's a weekend, I settle in bed and use reddit.  9:15 am- I finally get out of bed- brush teeth, toilet, a glass of water. I settle in front of the TV to catch up on my YouTube. My mum is preparing her breakfast and my dad has gone on to work (he's tutoring at a training centre in his industry as a side gig and I've been telling him to leave it because the money is really bad like 150 for a full 9-5 day but he doesn't want to listen. He wants to work there once I work full time, so I guess he wants to keep the connection. 9:40 am- My 17 year old brother emerges from his room and we gobble on the sweets and candy he brought back from his school trip to China. Breakfast of champions. I have been loosely intermittent fasting the past two weeks but have left my weekend IF-free since I'm starting out. I also brew some Chinese tea he brought back, itself surprisingly spicy which is weird. My mum loves it while my brother hates it. 10:20 am- I continue watching YouTube and I binge watch some Bon Appetit, Epicurious (just discovered the 4 levels videos) Sierra Schultzzie (a body positive yt-er that I've just discovered. I also snack on more of those souvenir/snacks my brother has left on the coffee table 3 pm- I suddenly realise it's late and I've done nothing but watch TV the whole day. I was planning on going to the back to open a new account, edit some travel vlogs for my youtube channel (I have no sort of audience there and haven't been active for a year but it's fun and I want to get back to it) and prop lift my dying pothos (it had mold which I removed the weekend before but it's recovering. But alas, I decide today is a bust and continue watching youtube.  5 pm- I finally run out of things to watch and tidy my room and the house. I sweep every room, put my things back in their places in my room, store away the snacks on the coffee table, and put away my laundry.  6 pm- my mum is finally done in the kitchen (I think she was there the whole day. My dad is also back from work. I prepare my packed lunch for the next day while my parents prepare for dinner. For my packed lunch, I prepare a lettuce and spinach salad mix with some sauteed cauliflower and long beans situation and top off with a few prawns my mum cooked. I add cherry tomatoes and pink guava and pack it in the fridge.  7:30 pm- I join my family for dinner that they've already started on and quickly gobble down the salad my mum made. I catch up with my family and we discuss our upcoming week. 9 pm- I retreat into my room and start winding down for bed. I wash my face, do my skin care routine (I'm in the midst of adding retinol to my routine) take my vitamins (including my melatonin) and a shot of apple cider vinegar (to lose some belly fat, it worked for me in the past but I feel off it for a while. I also pack my bag and prepare my outfit for the next day.  10:35 pm- I feel like it's a little too early to jump into bed so I decide to journal for half an hour. 11:30 pm-  When I end journalingjournaling, I realise it's already 11:27 pm and I quickly turn off the lights and go to bed. I don't regret it though because I fall asleep quickly since my mind is pretty clear and tired after venting everything on paper.  Daily Total: 0 Day 2- 2/12 (Monday) 7 am- I wake up and immediately hear to the toilet. I take out my Invisalign trays, brush my teeth, and pop them back in. I also put on contacts and my workout clothes (already in the toilet) and head to the gym at my condo complex.  7:28 am- No one else is in, Im happy. I do a 5 mins dynamic stretching, 30 mins of goblet squats, bicep curls to overhead press, glute bridges and russian twists with low-weight dumbbells, 10 mins of a mat exercises like leg raises, fire hydrants and planks, 10 mins of cycling (on a semi-HITT mode) and 5 mins stretching to cool down. I just started out 2 weeks ago so Im trying everything to find what I like.  8:40 am- I get into the shower and get ready for work. I also message my supervisor to confirm when were meeting at a studio to pick up some things. He doesnt reply and Im thinking hes gonna bail on me. I continue putting on makeup and tidy up a little after. 9:30 am- I head out a little earlier than usual because Im going to a studio to pick up the things we used for a shoot the week before so I can return them to the client. I have to change trains twice but its good because I get a seat. I have a monthly train concession pass so I dont take note of my fare.  10:30 am: I reach the studio on our agreed time, my boss has yet to reply so I guess Im on my own. I pack the things and manage to consolidate it all into 1 luggage and 2 ikea bags that are more than half my body height (Im 147cm / 49 so I guess thats not saying much but still. I get a message from my supervisor that he was busy with family matters and asking if I still need help. I decline since Im almost done and he didnt even have to help in the first place. I book a Grab (South East Asias version of Uber) and the driver cancels on me when I ask him to come in further because I cant move. I book another and struggle with the 3 bags. -9 11:40 am- I alight at the mall and and am frustrated at how stupid I look lugging 3 bags to the clients store and stop every 3 seconds because theyre so heavy. I drop off all the items and the store manager gets angry at me because I didnt pack them properly and its a messy process in returning and accounting for everything. I apologise profusely and want to cry by the end of it.  12:30 pm- My boss calls and I think they can pick up on my mood seeing as how my voice breaks when I talk to them but I just need a moment to get over it. I take the train back to the studio with the empty luggage and try to pick up my mood by listening to Kanyes Jesus Is King and visiting reddit meme pages. 1:10 pm- I reach the studio and quickly pack up the other things to bring them to the office. One of my students message me to cancel our tuition lesson tonight because her grandfather passed away. I feel for her as I have been through it before. 1:25 pm- I book another Grab and the driver helps me with the bags. My mood picks up a little. -10 1:55 pm- I reach the office and a colleague helps me with the bags but I think they can tell I'm pretty worn down. I settle down and have my packed lunch which turned out to be really good. I was worried the spinach would wilt being in my bag half the day but its still fresh and cold.  2:40 pm- I write some copies for a clients IG and chill for the remainder of the time.  4:20 pm- My office starts a meeting and my supervisor asks me to join them. Im grateful for the opportunity and listen in. I help update the Facebook shop catalogue for a client, which should be easy but takes forever because the clients website sucks. I dont know how theyre in business.  6:10 pm- I finish up and call it a day. Take the train back (no seats.   7:05 pm- I reach home and lock myself in my room so my parents dont pick up on my bad mood. I watch some Youtube videos about John McCains Health Care vote, Obamas speeches, and Jon Stewarts old videos that make me cry and Im glad for the cathartic experience.  9:55 pm- I wash up and prepare my packed lunch and bag. 11pm- I go to bed. Im exhausted.  Daily Total: 19 Day 3- 3/12 (Tuesday) 7:20 am- I wake up sore and seriously contemplate skipping the gym so I snooze for 30 more mins, which is very unusual for me because I use a sleep clock alarm which wakes me up naturally. 7:55 am- I finally get out of bed and do my morning routine before gym.  8:10 am: I reach the gym 10 mins later than I planned and I really dont want to workout but I do a half-assed version of the one I did yesterday (I skip the mat workout and cycling)  and yeet out at 8:45 am.  8:50 am- I realise I bruised on my shoulders from carrying the bags the day before. The bruises are bright red even against my tan skin and I pray they heal quickly. I continue on with my shower and morning routine.  10 am- I leave for work 10 mins late just because. 10:50 am- I reach fairly early and no one else is in the office yet. I prepare green tea from the pantry and sip on it while I reply to all my messages on my phone and make some plans with some friends.  11:20 am- There are only 3 of us in the office today and one of my colleagues ask me to sit with them instead of at the corner which is where I sit where everyone is in. Im so glad and thankful that theyre friendly and chill unlike my previous internship place. I dont tell them I have no work and instead chill on reddit.  1 pm- Im bored and feel guilty so I ask for work but they have nothing for me so I try to find something productive to do. I suddenly recall Ive been meaning to find another budgeting app since my free nYNAB is expiring this month. I research a little on reddit and settle on Aspire Google Sheets as my new budgeting tool.  1:45 pm- I decide to break my fast 15 mins early and grab my lunch while I watch some tutorials on how to set up the Aspire budget. I spend the rest of my afternoon doing that.  4 pm- I finally get some work. Its some copy and I finish it pretty quickly so Im left free again.  4:20 pm- I chat with my colleagues for a while and appreciate how theyve been sweet about trying to get to know me and I vow to ask them more about themselves to get to know them as well. I dont have much issues making friends but I do find that at the workplace, I tend to be a little shy and too professional sometimes. I continue on setting up my budget google sheets and transferring all the info over.  6:05 pm- The others start leaving and I also quickly pack up. I walk to the train station with them making small talks but I feel awkward so I say bye to them at the station and pray we dont run into one another since were going the same direction. I dont but I also dont get a seat. Oh well. I also sign up to write a Money Diaries. Im nervous and I almost back out twice but I submit anyway.  7 pm- I reach home, pick up the mail on the way, and catch up with my family in front of the TV. I also waste some time on my phone.  7:40 pm- I clean up and prepare for the next day but I dont pack a meal because Im not going to work the next day. I also talk to my parents some more and I ask my parents for all my insurance and saving account papers so I can better calculate for my Aspire budget. Theyre packed in storage under the bed so my mum says shell get it for me on Saturday.  9:35 pm- I have an impromptu Skype call with some friends I went on Spring Break to Mexico and Cuba with in the Summer during my study abroad in DC, USA last semester. Were thinking of going on a sudden trip to the Middle East in January. I really want to go but Im a little apprehensive about the budget and not getting a good deal on the flights. We end up settling on around USD 1k as the budget and shortlist Greece (although Ive already been, I guess I dont mind) and Oman.  10:50 pm- I end the call and feel happy with our plans. A part of me is still torn about going on a trip to a place Ive already been to and with spending some of my NYC savings on another trip but I feel like I should do as many trips as I can now before I start work full time and become restricted by paid leaves and whatnot. I can always earn back that money and save for NYC when I get a full time job.  11 pm- I go to bed but spend an hour on my phone reading Wattpad and stories before I fall asleep.  Daily Total: 0 Day 4- 4/12 (Wednesday) 6:10 am- I wake up early so I can take the shuttle bus to school. I do my morning routine (w/o the gym) and ask my Dad if he can drop me off at the bus stop. He agrees. Score! I just saved myself a 15 mins walk/ around 1 for the train.  6:45 am- I finish putting on my makeup, pack some eggs my mum cooked, some cherry tomatoes and snacks and head out the door.  7 am- The shuttle bus arrives and I show my uni card and hop on. Its free but most importantly, it only takes 45-50 mins compared to when I take public transport and have to change trains 3 times and take a bus to go to school, which takes nearly 2 hours. I would usually nap on the ride but I see that I got approved for Money Diaries and start writing my past two days. Im surprised by how much I remember.  7:50 am- I reach school and head over to my favourite place in the whole campus- a sheltered balcony area with an outlet and great wind. I will miss this most when I graduate next May. I continue writing my Money Diary and worry that its already too long.  9:45 am- I finish my diary and browse on reddit for almost an hour.   10:55 am- I finally start on my lecture notes for my finals the next day. Its a relatively low-workload module so Im not too worried and the prof is lowkey a misogynist and I know I wont do well either way so Im just looking to get a B.  11:35 am- I break my fast early with some cherry tomatoes and egg that I bought from home. I finish off with some Milo biscuits (amazing but too sweet) and watch Youtube. 1:30 pm- I go over to another building to help my friend, B, with a video shoot for a project about slow fashion. Its an IG video and I take part in a sewing challenge and drink a weird concoction of carrot juice, green tea, chilli sauce, banana milk and fried onion flakes in a questionnaire challenge. Instant regret, it tastes like vomit.  2:45 pm- The shoot ends and I go to another seating area in the campus to watch Youtube while I wait for the shuttle bus back at 5pm. I have given up on studying for finals- I think its the fact that Im in my final year.  4:30 pm- I go to queue for the bus and end up waiting until 5:30pm because the bus is late which has never happened before. I am tired and frustrated because the guy in charge didnt explain to us why its late or what we should do.  6:45 pm- I finally reach home and vent/talk to my mum about our day and watch youtube and snack on candies and sweets. I know its unhealthy but I decided to skip dinner since Im full from that.  9 pm: I start getting ready for bed and shower.  10 pm: I get distracted by my phone and end up sleeping an hour later. Daily Total: 0 Day 5- 5/12 (Thursday) 6 am- I wake up and do my morning routine (brush teeth, wash face, makeup and outfit. I dash out at 6:45 am but I dont have enough time to walk to the bus stop so I take the train instead. I top up 10 on my card because I have insufficient funds. -10 7 am- take the shuttle bus, I read up on my notes on the way. I reach 45 mins later. 7:45 am- I chill and catch up on the k-pop MAMA news. I get distracted so I rush to the exam venue at 8:45am. 8:55 am- I reach the exam venue in the nick of time. I begin the paper and realise an hour into the exam it is open-booked. I obviously didnt realise but I still manage to finish it. Im a mess. 11 am- i finish the paper 30 mins early and waste time on my phone while I wait for my parents to fetch me.  12 pm- My parents pick me up (they both took leave) and my brother is on school holidays so we spend the day together. We go to the mall and mum treats us to lunch and bubble tea for all of us.  5 pm: come home and crash, I nap till 8 pm. 8 pm: I have dinner and pack up for the next day.  10 pm: I have another Skype call with my friends about our January travel plans, we settle on Oman but worry that our 800 usd budget might be too low for a week.  12 am: Finally the call ends, and I go to bed. Daily Total: 10 Day 6- 6/12 (Friday) 8:30 pm- I wake up and do the same routine from Monday and Tuesday. I slept in because I had a bad sleep so I skip my gym routine for a 10 mins HITT workout on Youtube. Then, I continue with the rest of my routine as per usual.  11 am- I reach work and finish some copy.  1:15 pm- I meet a buyer for a face mask that I put up for sale on Carousell (an app like depop. 3 2 pm- I break my fast and have the same lunch as Tuesday.  2:30 pm- I continue with my work and rush so I can finish by 6pm since I have dinner plans. 6:15 pm- I finish and walk 30 mins to meet my friends for dinner. I would have taken the train but I wanted to save money and walk off my jittery energy from a Thai Milk Tea my boss treated me to in the afternoon.  7 pm- I meet my friends W and T and we have soba bowls at the mall as we catch up. -8 7:30 pm- We go to the museum W is interning at for an exhibition. He got us tickets for free so I dont mind but if I had to pay for it, I would have been disappointed.  9 pm- We go for deserts but I skip since Im on IF and also because I want to save money. I also lend my friend money because shes low on cash. -10 10:30 pm- I start heading back because I have to wake up early the next day.  11:30 am- I reach home and quickly go to bed after getting unready.  Daily Total: 15 Day 7- 7/12 (Saturday) 6 am- I wake up and do my makeup quickly so I can head out my 6:45am. I bring along my passport because my friends and I are going thrifting in Malaysia haha. Theres a serious lack of thrifting in Singapore but going to Malaysia is easy enough so its not uncommon to go thrifting there. 7:30 am- I meet my friend R and her other friend for the first time, Q, and we hit off well so its not too bad. Q also hands me around 300 ringgit as I transferred her 100 to change currency into earlier this week. The immigration to Malaysia is packed and we finally reach after 4 hours, at 11:30am. -100 11:30 am- We walk to a cafe and grab lunch there. I share a poke bowl, chicken confit and fried squid with R. Its around 14 in sgd which is amazing because the same meal would probably cost around 20-30 plus in Singapore. 2 pm- We take a grab to the thrift store and I buy 2 shirts and 2 jackets there for around 7 sgd total. We leave at 3 because we want to avoid the jam back home so I didnt get to look through properly. I also pay Q for the two Grab trips, around 5 sgd.  3:15 pm- We take a grab back to the immigration area but before we go back to Singapore, I go to the pharmacy to buy some birth control pills (I take Diane-35 for my acne and it was the main reason I went to Malaysia since they cost half the price as in Singapore and I always stock up whenever Im in Malaysia. I buy 4 boxes for around 60 sgd. I also buy 4 hair clips for a secret Santa Exchange at work (the budget is minimum 25 which is pretty expensive for me so I just get some fancy looking hair pins I know my Santee will like and hope they dont follow the budget too strictly) which cost around 15 sgd.    6:30 pm- I finally reach home, which is not too bad since we didnt encounter a jam on the way back. Im exhausted, so I take a nap. 9:30 pm- I am woken by my dad since I skipped out on dinner. I quickly eat my dinner and try to go back to sleep but I cant so I spend until 12:30 am on my laptop and fall asleep.    Daily Total: 100 Transportation: 10 + train concession Food + Drinks: 8 Activities: 100 Others/Misc. (work, lending) 26  Total spending: 144   Diary Reflection This week was a pretty normal week for me (other than the day trip and stocking up on my pills. Also, I usually go out more in a week but this was a slow week for me. Im also trying to save money to move and get my finances in order because I want to stop replying on my parents when I graduate. This was my first time Money Diary and I do YNAB so this wasnt very shocking, just a new experience.

Continuing “Well”, I said to Lucas, “Looks like we might have had a breakthrough last night. ” “Either that”, Lucas chuckled, “Or you terrorized them into thinking you were somewhat more than a little unstable. ” “Hmmm. Either one works. ” I smiled, and sipped my coffee. I spoke with Dr. Sam back at the Bureau and informed him of last nights adventures. The tossing of the trailer peoples, the invasion of the biker monsters, and the resolution of the assault. “So, Rock”, Sam asks, “Where do we stand this morning? Trip canceled? Or are we still a go? ” “Its up to the participants. ”, I replied, “They continue with their silent majority methods, and Ill see you this afternoon. They decide to come to reason, Ill be calling you instead. ” “Its your show, your call”, Sam sighed, “I just cannot comprehend that type of abysmal behavior from a supposedly intelligent group of people. ” “I also am at a loss”, I replied, “I guess they just really resent authority, in whatever manifestation. ” “Keep me posted, Rock, ” Sam replied and rang off. “Well, the balls in their court now”, I say to Lucas and point to the group beyond the ridge. After a slow but steady parade of breakfast moochers, as not all had armbands and by rights, I did toss them all last night; a small contingent approached Lucas and me at our camp. “Yes? ” I asked glacially. “Doctor”, the lead delegate continued, “We need to talk. ” “Oh, so now you can speak. ”, I replied, “Its a miracle! What brought about this transformation? ” “Now, Doctor”, Doctor A said, “I dont think we need to relive last nights events. ” “I never said we did”, I noted, “Youre the one that broached that subject, Chuckles. ” “Well, perhaps”, he stammered, obviously annoyed at being referred to in the narrative as ‘Chuckles. “Look. What do you want? ” I asked forcefully, “I do not have the time nor inclination for entertaining annoyances. ” He looked like someone just pissed in his almond-milked All-Bran. “We want to know of your intentions. ” he finally articulated. “I do think I made them abundantly clear last night. ” I said, “Has something changed drastically in the interim? ” He stands there like he is about to pout and stomp his Birkenstocks. “Are you really going this direction? he whines. “And what direction is that? ” I ask. “Demanding apologies! ”, he almost yells. “I find that type of behavior reprehensible. ” I stand up and get nose to ample nose with this degreed bozo. “You find that ‘reprehensible? ”, I bark, “Let me tell you what I find reprehensible. Supposedly educated, civilized people, acting like a bunch of prima donna, spoiled, petulant children. So, you resent my authority. Big fucking deal. Did you resent it last night when I ran those ruffians off and protected your sorry asses? ” “The results, no. But your methods…” he continues. “My methods? “ I reply, “My methods are what get fucking results and saved your collective bacon. Its not all strawberries and cream out here in the private sector, out here in the real world. This isnt a sterile, spotless lab nor your ivory-tower office. Its real life, fucking warts, carbuncles, pimples, and all. I deal with those growths as I deem necessary. Sometimes, they just have to be extirpated. Chanting hosannas or singing Kumbaya sometimes is just not the proper course of action. ” He looks on, somewhat abashed. But struggles to continue. “That as may be, but that doesnt excuse your actions. ” He yowls. “I dont recall asking if any of you approve of my methods or actions. In fact, I give neither a hoot in hell nor a fat black rat fuck of your opinions of me or my methods. ” I reply. Lucas looks on, evidently pleased by my replies. Dr. A looks like hes in the throes of an impending apoplectic attack. “Look, Tweedles., I continue, “I dont care if you dont like me, my methods, my modus operandi or my proclivity for rare meat and strong alcohol. I do care that you and your clan of like-minded irritants really dislike authority, and being told what to do, and when to do it. Truth, now, Doctor. You are just beside yourself that someone might just know more than you, know the proper course of action in a given unfamiliar situation, and you resent the fuck out of being outed as something less than adequate or acceptable. ” Doctor A looked as if he was completely consumed by kicking around the loose rocks on the ground. “So, you and your band of bozos decide you resent authority, even though in such a situation that obeying said authority is necessary to keep you from becoming unalive. You believe the best course of action is to give him the silent treatment and ignore what he has, in your best interest, to say? ” I add. From the entire assembled crowd, silence. “Thats it. ” I say, “That is the very reason I‘m bouncing all your asses out of here. Lucas, Doctor D, and I will continue this field trip and perhaps learn something of value. That, I hope, will be bilateral. You bunch can all go hang. In good conscience, I could no further take you into an abandoned mine than I could give an idiot child a live hand grenade. ” “Now, Doctor”, Birkenstock boy continues, “Thats a bit severe, isnt it? ” “Severe? ” I shout, “No more severe than one of you picking up a rock and not seeing the rattlesnake or scorpion beneath it like I had warned. No more severe than someone picking up a live blasting cap and getting their hands, eyes, or brains blown out because you didnt heed my prior profuse caveats. No more severe than me having to call the Nevada State Troopers to come out with an assortment of body bags because you stupid fuckers ignored the warnings from the gas monitors as I had drilled into your knotheads and now youre all fucking DEAD! Hows that for ‘severe? ” “Well, we didnt know. ” he croaks, “How could we? ” “You could have read the trip prospectus. It was all outlined in great and glorious detail. ” I yell, “You could have read some of the volumes I noted in the extensive bibliography included with the prospectus. You could have done some previous online research. You could have fucking ASKED me. ” The crowd, almost to a soul, looked heavily mortified. “I dont know why Im even bothering to talk with you”, I reply, “You are unrepentant. You never as much as deign to apologize for your abysmal behavior. Youre unremorseful. And youre a fucking waste of my time. I already bounced you last night before our motorcycle pals appeared. Forget that? You never have even asked me to re-instate any of you, you just come here and whine and wail that Im course, I swear, I stink, I yell, I drink, I carry a gun, and Im not like what you thought Id be, evidently. Heres a newsflash, Cupcake. I DONT FUCKING CARE! ” The crowd reacts like I just tossed old hot unprocessed motor oil on them. “However, ” I continue, “Doesnt make a fucking lick of difference to me one way or another. I still get paid. I conduct the trip with a full complement, or just with Lucas and Dr. D., Im paid either way. I still have to write up reviews on all of you on your participation, progress, and preparedness. These still have to be done, notarized, certified by the BLM and DOI and sent off to your respective institutions. University, business, public sector? It doesnt matter to me one tiny fucking iota. But I do think that it will to some of your tenure committees, superiors, or shareholders. ” “Are you threatening us? ” Birkenstock boy demands. “Hardly. These are not threats, ” I reply serpently, “These are fucking promises. ” Rarely does one hear sounds like that except from an overheated tea kettle. “Lucas”, I say, “Were done here. Christ. Its got to be five oclock somewhere. Please, beer me. ” I turn to go and sit back down in my camp chair to await Lucas in the short term and his Dr. D in the slightly longer when Dr. A foolishly grabs my shoulder. “Doctor A. ”, I look at him a la a peeved Tommy Lee Jones, “That right there is simple assault and sheer lunacy after what you saw last night. I suggest you remove your hand before I utilize some of the tools in my vast personal inventory to do the same for you. ” He reacts as hed just felt-up a grouchy grizzly. “Doctor, a word. ”, he asks, very politely, “Please? ” “So sorry. ”, I reply, “That time has long passed. Lucas? That beer? ” Dr. A stands there like his train of thought had just run into a closed tunnel. Lucas hands me a fresh, cold Spotted Coo, which I accept appreciatively. Someone in the crowd says: “Oh, how nice. Ill have one as well, ‘eh. ” I look at Lucas, and he at me. Who just said that, we both wonder? An older silver-bearded gentleman in a proper field outfit, complete with bush hat, strolls out of the crowd. “Dr. D! ”, Lucas shouts, “When did you get here? ” “Hello, Lucas. Doctor”, he says, tipping his well-worn bush hat and gratefully accepting a cold morning brew, “I got here late last night. I parked out beyond that ridge on the other side of all these trailers. I was somehow awakened by the sound of gunfire. ” “That”, I said, raising my hand, “Would have been me. ” “I figured as much, Rock”, he smiles, “Remember Calgary and that AAPG convention a few years back? Your lecture on Neoproterozoic source rocks had the place rocking. ” “NOW! I remember you”, I smile, “Greetings Dr. D. Welcome to your very own, personal field trip. ” “I heard all that as well”, he shakes his head. “What the hell you people think youre playing at, ‘eh? ” he directs to the crowd. “Well, ah, well, um, he…” they stammer. “Dont bother, I heard it all. ” He says, “Its a damn good thing Im not running the show. I think Dr. Rock has shown spectacular restraint. I would have had you all clapped in irons and shipped home post-paid for your ridiculous behavior. ” Lucas and I just stand there, glad to finally have an ally. “Well, Rock said to get. ”, he says to the crowd, “So get. I dont think its very clever to annoy a person like him. ” There a general murmur and din from the crowd. “Or, do you want to”, he continues, “admit you were being educated idiots, acting like entitled children, apologize to the good doctor, and hope he might, even though I would not, consider accepting you back into the program? ” Murmur. Murmur. Yes. “Im afraid I didnt hear you”, Dr. D says, “I know Dr. Rock didnt. Buggers half-deaf, ‘eh? ” “Yes. ” Dr. G finally says. “I dont know about the rest of you, but I need this field program. Not just for personal aggrandizement, but to apply in my daily work. I may have sided, seriously unintentionally, with the silent majority, but I for one ask Dr. Rock to please consider accept me back into the program. ” Slowly, one after another come forward with similar pleas. Except for Dr. A, Señor Birkenstocks. “Well, ” I muse, “This would be highly irregular. It would also be against my better judgment. However, if I had a solemn, signed pledge from all those who wish to remain after I nail my version of the 95 Theses to the mine adit. I maybe, perhaps, could, conditionally, on a provisional probationary period, possibly be enticed into said course of action. ” There are sighs of relief from the crowd. “Conditionally! ” I roar. “Under the conditions, including but not limited to: answering immediately when queried, doing as I order without rebuttal or argument, paying for those you have snuck in here under the aegis of them being ‘associates, and promising to try and learn something from this old, cranky field geologist. I ask for feedback and even complaints. But not when Im showing you how not to get dead around high explosives, dangerous mine shafts, or in the face of vicious animals, 2 or 4-legged. ” “We agree! was the response. “Also, ” I add, “Dr. A is not included in this limited-time amnesty program. Sorry, Dr. A, you have crossed the Rubicon. I need to ask you, once more and finally, to depart. ” All eyes focus on Dr. A. He shrivels noticeably. D, Lucas, and I all sit at my campsite, enjoying the fruits of the Baja Canada German brewing tradition. A slowly shuffles over. “Doctor? ” Dr. D and I answer simultaneously, “Yes? ” “Um, Rock”, he corrects himself, “Can we talk? ” “We already have”, I reply, “Why are you still here? You are no longer attached to this project. ” “I was wrong”, he admits, “Terribly wrong. But youre so…unorthodox. I thought you were less than suitable to lead this project. I thought…” “Well”, Dr. D interrupts, “You thought wrong. Doctor Rocknocker here holds the highest regards and reputation in the business. You have no more right judging his acumen or worthiness than you have disparaging a pterosaur on the way it flies. ” “I know that now”, he says, “Just Im the boss at my job. I surmise it was my reaction to his declaration of ultimate authority to which I immediately objected. ” “Well, thats just a pity, “Dr. D says, “I know its up to Dr. Rocks discretion, but Id still bounce your ass out of here. Youre a liability. Youre inherently dangerous. Youre totally unreliable. You have no honor. Lucas! Crack tubes! ” Lucas laughs out loud and retrieves three fresh Spotted Coos. A”, I say after savoring that first icy sip, “Its just that I cant trust you. Were not making cookies out here. Were dealing with deadly gasses, closed-in spaces, dodgy abandoned machinery, high explosives, potentially lethal animals. I cannot in good faith either put you or by your inaction or disagreement, someone else in that kind of danger. Sorry, but you are out. Please vacate the premises. Now. ” “But…Please! ”, he implores, “I can change. I need this for my tenure application. They tell me Id already had tenure but I have no field experience. This was to be my deliverance. Without it…” “Sorry, Dr. A”, Dr. D, the tenured mining geologist, and vertebrate paleontologist adds, “Perhaps you should have thought of that before you went on your little smear campaign. Yknow Rock, some people just arent cut out for university tenure. ” “You claim that you can change? ”, I say, ”Then go change, metamorphose, transform, mutate, but do it elsewhere. I have neither the desire nor inclination to waste any further time awaiting your transmogrification. A looks totally defeated. However, he decides to play his trump card. “Ill report the lot of you! ”, he screams in impotent fury, “Drinking! Guns! Indecorum! Youll rue the day…” Lucas has had enough, gets up, and eases Dr. A out of the way and back to his trailer. Hell ensure that he packs and departs posthaste. “Rue the day? ”, Dr. D asks me, “Who talks like that? ” I called Dr. Sam back at the Bureau and told him of the days events and that he should be prepared for a verbal onslaught from Dr. Once Sam stopped laughing, he told me to carry on and hung up, still snickering. D and I spend a good portion of the morning catching up. I am pleased hes here. Hell lend an additional degree of respectability to my authority. Its good to having someone else in your corner. Lucas returns and tells me Dr. A was practically weeping his way out of the camp. I feel no remorse, everything that transpired he brought upon himself. D, Lucas, and I work up a short series of ‘camp-mandments for the afternoon meeting. Its time to get this field trip and project back on track. “Fuck peoples feelings and all that other touchy-feely crap, lets go blow some shit up! ” Dr. D exclaims. “Absolutely, Doctor”, I say, “Let us begin. ” “Number four. Pay for everyone in your group. No sharing of meals. Sharing of meals gets you bounced. With prejudice. ” “Number five. I say ‘shit, you ask ‘how high. Meaning? You follow my orders precisely and to the letter. You want to argue, save it for later, around the campfire. Your very lives may depend on you observing this rule. ” “Number eleven. No one handles explosives without my express say-so. I am the only one legally licensed here. I will train you in the care and feeding of explosives. I will teach you what different species of explosives are and what they do. But go into the trailer? You are gone. Go into my Hummer? Gone. I might just press formal charges as well. Make no mistake. Im serious as stage-four pancreatic cancer here. ” “Number twelve. THERE IS NO NUMBER 12! Except you will work hard to have a good time and find at least once per day to laugh at the overall absurdity of existence. ” “Thus endeth the lesson, as written and submitted, this day, by Saint the Very Reverend Monsignor Doctor Knocker of Rock. Go forth. Be fruitful and multiply. But wait until after dark. We dont want you scaring the local wildlife. ” At least that last one got a laugh. “OK, were now all on the same page, as soon as I receive and tally your signed, and very legal, affidavits. Next stop? Mine ingress gear. Issuance and check out. Meet at the camp gear trailer in 30, folks. Smokem if you got ‘em. Dismissed. ” “Holy shit, Rock, ” Dr. D laughs, “Keep this up and youll have ‘em all re-enlisting. At least, youve got their attention. I doubt a single one would dare to interrupt you, ‘eh? ” I smile at his observations. “Its good to be the King. ”, I note as I hand Dr. D a fresh Cuban. Lucas and I wander over to my camp to file and assay the paperwork. After a brief time, Lucas notes that everyones signed, sealed, and agreed. I could run bare-ass naked through the camp, firing off my pistol, and have a bottle of best Russian vodka hooked up to an IV trailing behind me, and not a soul here would dare say a single word. Not that I would do that, of course. These Cretaceous sandstones are killers on bare feet. A while later, were all over at the mine ingress gear trailer. There are 16 piles of kit laid out. I already have mine and we wont be needing one for Dr. This way, we have spares if anything goes haywire. I begin: “This is a hardhat and miners lamp. Its battery-powered. The battery pack on the belt, hardhat on the head. ” “This is your NORM badge. It will let you know if you run into any of those nasty Naturally Occurring Radioactive Materials. Check it now and frequently when you go underground. Make a note with alacrity any changes. ” “This is an Estwing geologists hammer. It is your friend. Treat it as such. It is a tool of many uses. Use it instead of your hand to turn over loose rocks, boards, etc., so any critter living under it will attack hardened tool steel instead of your soft hands. Ill show you all a couple of extra uses it wasnt directly designed for tonight after dinner. ” “This is an Altair 4XR Multigas Detector, battery-powered, internally. It will warn you in advance of any noxious gas levels. It sounds like this beep if the gas is present. It sounds like this Beep if gas levels are rising. It sounds like this BEEP! if gas levels are approaching critical. It detects carbon monoxide, hydrogen sulfide, carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, and a few other not as nasty, but still crucial, gasses. Get to know it well. ” “This is a climbing/rescue harness. Wear it over your coveralls. It gives us plenty of places to clip on to you and drag you out of harms way. ” “This is your Self Rescuer. After we kit out, I will demonstrate how its used. You will learn how to use this device before youre allowed in any portal. ” “This is climbing rope. We will get you familiar with how its used and what knots you should know. ” “This is your Latchways Personal Rescue Device. It is a lightweight, unobtrusive personal rescue device that has an integrated full-body harness system for self-rescue. In the event of a fall, the device lowers your hapless ass gently to the ground in a controlled descent. ” “These are your polycarbonate safety glasses. They are photochromic. In a mine, theyll be transparent. They will protect your eyes from rocks, bugs, and bats. ” “These are your U-No-Flinch earplugs. Good to have around when Im blasting or running off motorcycle gangs. ” “And this is your official, one-each DOI/BLM monogrammed towel. A towel is the most important item a mine explorer can carry. Partly because it has great practical value. You can use it to wrap and carry rock samples out of a mine. You can use it to filter beer when you inadvertently crack the head off a longneck with your Estwing. You can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course, you can dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough. ” “OK, folks, “ I say, “Suit up. Lets see if youve been listening. ” I check out Dr. D and Lucas first. They had everything in apple-pie order, as I expected. I dragooned them into helping me check out the remainder of our crew. After we had out mine ingress gear check out, I called for a break. “Coffee, soft drinks, and doughnuts at the chow trailer. One must learn to ward off the hungries as well as stay hydrated. ” At the trailer, Im smoking a cigar and working on a Nehi Blue Cream Soda. Its oddly weird, or weirdly odd, and I simply must try it as a mixer with chilled imported potato juice. Im approached by a number of folks staggering around in their mine kit. Some of them are having no problem with the approximately 30 kilos of kit, some are simply quite literally, staggering. “Having a good time? ”, I ask. “Doc, excuse me for asking, ” one of the more diminutive crowd asks, “But is this really necessary outside the mine? ” I smile and say, “Now thats how you ask questions. Thank you. Yes, its absolutely critical. Would you venture off on a 100-mile hike in brand new field boots without breaking them in first? ” “Oh”, he replies, “I see. Ah. I get it. ” “Yep. ”, I reply, “Better fall on your ass out here instead of while standing next to a bottomless mine shaft. Get used to it now so you can use it later. D, Lucas, and I are puffing away on our fine Cuban cigars, and I note that the demeanor of the crowd has done a complete 180 0 flip. People are having a good time. Theyre joshing with each other over the gear theyre wearing. Theyre actually laughing over the seeming ludicrousness of the outfit. But none are bitching, kvetching, or being otherwise pains-in-the-ass about being forced to march to an unknown, so far, drummers cadence. I hit the air horn. All eyes are on me. “Explosives training. Amphitheater right. You can change your gear but bring your notebooks, and earplugs. There are bleachers set up for your enjoyment. Wear a hat, the sun will cook you alive today. Be there in 30. See you there! ” “Lucas, I have a favor to ask…” Were all assembled at the amphitheater. Lucas and I are out front, with my laden worktable. The gang is out about 15 yards away on bench seats supplied by the Bureau. “OK, folks. ” I say, “Its nut cuttin time. That means Im going to go over the devices and materials we will be using in closing down these abandoned mines. First, safety protocols. After that, a break. Then the hardware. After that, a quick break. Then the explosives themselves. Ill give plenty of warning before I touch anything off to allow for earplug emplacement. If you have any questions, use your outdoor voice. Its going to get noisy out here in a while. I start off going over my safety protocol. Lucas is helping me with actual demonstrations of what we do in each particular segment of the sequence. “First. We ‘clear the compass, I say. Lucas does his best Apache Scout imitation looking hither and yon for breathing creatures. “North. South. East. West. We check and double-check. If theres the slightest bit of concern, we stop. We check again, correct the deficiency, and proceed. ” People are writing notes like theyre possessed. I call “NORTH? ” Lucas shouts back: “North clear! ” And so on, we run around the compass. “Next, we deliver three blasts on the air horn. If one is not available, a car horn, fluegelhorn, or really loud voice will suffice. ” Lucas delivers three loud air horn ‘Blaaats! ” in rapid succession. We now have everyones unbridled attention. “After that, we check the compass again. Just a quick look-see if something has wandered in where it shouldnt be. ” Cue Lucas apt Apache Scout imitation. “Now the fun begins guys and gals. We yell, as loudly as possible, FIRE IN THE HOLE! three times. ” Lucas confuses cattle and startles sheep in adjacent counties. “If you hear that cry and are not sure whats going on, or where, freeze! Send up a flare. Shout. Scream. Draw attention to yourself. You may be in imminent danger. Let someone know, there are only seconds to go. ” I warn. Continuing… “Then we give one last look around. Just in case. ” “Now it gets really interesting. My own self or one of my duly authorized deputies will take the demolition wire and hand it over. I will galv it, dont worry, Ill explain all that a bit later, and hook it to a detonator of some kind. ” Everyones still scribbling. “Then, we do a quick check again, make sure all is clear. I point to the blaster person, and yell “HIT IT! ”. “Then theres a big boom. Any questions? ” There were none. Gad, this is thirsty work. “OK, break time. Make sure you have your hardhats. See you back here in 15. ” I applaud Lucas on his demonstrative skills. I ask him to take a small package and secret it out in the desert in a hole some 150 or so meters distant behind us. I go get myself a Grape Nehi and Lucas a Nehi Red. D wanders over with a coffee and tells me he finds my method of teaching and demonstration most laudable. “High praise, indeed”, I reply, “Thanks, Doc. ” We go on with the hardware theyre likely to encounter in this business. Blasters pliers. Demolition wire, Western Union splices, set-pull-forget fuses, blasting caps and blasting cap super boosters. The care and feeding of a galvanometer. Blasting standoffs, ‘Elephant Shit, reduction splicing, Plunger-type blasting machines, ‘Captain America-type electronic blasting machines, Remotely operated blasting actuators and blasting mats. I call for questions. There are none. I then call for another quick break so Lucas and I can get set. “Break time! See you back here, hardhats and earplugs, in 15! ” As before, I have a series of similar-sized rocks set up in the distance. I set an equivalent charge under each of the more common explosives. First, we go through the safety protocol. They did well and really got into FIRE IN THE HOLE song of my people. We begin. For each, I toot the air horn and wait for a few before detonating the charge. I decided that Id rather describe the upcoming action and let Lucas, under my direct observation, detonate the remainder. • Blasting cap. Rock jumps. • Blasting cap with boosters. Rock jumps and splits in half. • Primacord. Rock jumps, and splits four for one. • Black powder because Im feeling nostalgic. Rock goes north, quickly. It thuds back to earth with a healthy wallop. • 40% Extra Fast Dynamite. Rock shattered. • 60% Estra Fast Dynamite. Rock shattered and distributed over a wide area. • C-4. Rock shattered into millions of pieces over a very wide area. • ANFO. Ammonium nitrate and fuel oil. Rock propelled north at speed. Its a deflagrating, as opposed to a detonating, explosive. • Solid nitroglycerine. It took some doing to source even this small amount. Rock just plain gone. • PETN. Rock departed. • RDX. Rock absent. • Torpex. Rock vanished • Kinestik solid binary. Rock evaporated. • HELIX solid binary. Rock missing, presumed destroyed. • Energex liquid trinary. This was new, even for me. Rock disappeared, possibly in orbit around Venus. I announce that these are the typical explosives one will run into in the situations well be encountering. I explain they well mostly use C-4 and dynamite to close portals and adits. Well use more energetic explosives for intramine shafts, drifts, and raises. They all thought it was a great demonstration, and they had learned much. “But wait”, I smiled, “Theres more. These can be combined for additional effects. Mr. Lucas? ” Lucas smiles and tries to knock the bottom out of the blasting machine. There is a polychromatic explosion out in the desert. Blue, purple, sparkly, red, and orange debris flies out at multi-Mach speeds. The report is deafening. “That was one of my own design”, I say, “Five kilos of binary solid and trinary liquid. A little potassium permanganate, magnesium shavings, cobalt (III) peroxide, calcium carbonate, strontium sulfide, and titanium dioxide. It leaves a big, pretty round hole. ” Everyone was duly impressed. “OK, folks! ”, I say, “Thats it for today. Dinner in an hour, drinking light will be lit in 30. Tomorrow, we break up into groups and we make our first mine ingress, so plan accordingly. Smokem if you gotem. Later. ” Lucas helps me clean up and police the site. He totes all the debris to the dumpster, and I replace all the tools and explosives in the trailer and my truck. I make certain to securely lock both. After tea, were all sitting around, most participants broke up into cliquey little groups. I am taking notes. Im going to break these guys up into coteries with people whom they normally do not associate for tomorrows initial ingress. The next morning after a considerable breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs, griddle cakes, sautéed mushrooms, hash browns, toast, English muffins, bagels, muffins, and coffee, where one chooses their favorite breakfast carb, I call the group to order. First thing, were going on photographic safari up to the mine adit. Im going to familiarize these folks with the anatomy of an abandoned mine. Up the road we schlep. Im carrying my gas monitor, to take some mine-mouth readings just in case. We arrive and I begin going over the types of things youll normally find around old abandoned mine adits, both industrial and societal, i. e., human debris. I point out the key structures and features of an adit; their construction, use for access, ventilation, drainage, and egress. I point out the primary features of an adit, that is, typically a lockable door and frame, cribbing/gobbing to ensure entry, how small drifts are sometimes driven laterally for storage rooms and mine mouth offices, for tote-boards recording mine entrance and exits, or storage of tools, or pyrotechnics. Once the mine is abandoned, I explain, everything of any value is removed by the human equivalent of vultures, jackals, hyenas, and maggots. What is perceived of little value or is immovable, is immediately destroyed by vandals, trespassers, and hooligans. All of this is, of course, highly illegal. Occasionally state or federal agencies get involved and create bat-blinds to close the mine to access for everything but bats, birds, and bugs. These, of course, are immediately destroyed by the previous group of dimwitted idiots, who rip them down because evidently no one tells them what to do. Especially if were out in a remote, desolate deserted desert location. Then the mine enters another phase, the party place. Locals discover a fine place to have cover for their nefarious deeds. They can party their diminutive brains out, well out of sight, indulge their degenerate carnal desires in total darkness, consume their illegal drugs in anonymity without fear of consequence, that is, until they get too spaced-out and walk over a rotten wooden false-floor above an open 1, 500-foot vertical shaft in the pitch blackness. Further, and heres a fun practice, many locals have taken to using disused mines as not-too-sanitary landfills. Mines are famous for their water and airflow, forked and tortuous shafts, and interconnections with the local water table and surface waters. That does not dissuade disingenuous dimwits from tossing carbon-based garbage deep into these mines. Things like dead farm animals, disused cannibals, elephants of Hannibal, and organics hoped inflammable. Things like bacon rinds and chicken bones, drippy ends of ice cream cones, prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, pizza crusts, and withered greens, soggy beans and tangerines, crusts of black burned buttered toast, gristly bits of beefy roasts, greasy napkins, cookie crumbs, globs of gooey bubble gum, cellophane from green baloney, rubbery blubbery macaroni, peanut butter, caked and dry, curdled milk and crusts of pie, moldy melons, dried-up mustard, eggshells mixed with lemon custard, cold french fries and rancid meat, yellowed lumps of Cream of Wheat. Add into this potpourri of putrescence a bit of water, some acid mine drainage, and suddenly, the Methanogens take over. The Methanogens are coming, theyre swarming in the Earth. Theyre extremophiles whove been around, since the planets birth. Converging in the continents, they're fearless and they're brave. They're cruising down through mineshafts and exploring every cave. Liberating gasses from the planet's long history, from Precambrian to Holocene, for all the world to see. These microscopic little chemoorganophiles go absolutely berserk in an orgy of free-feeding on all those loose carbon-based crunchies. Over time, mine atmospheric methane builds to 9-14% by volume air. Finally, just a single errant spark and the whole mine becomes one very large bomb. Sure, it puts me out of a job on that particular demolition project, but its indiscriminate and has been known to take the adjacent mining towns and their populace along with them when they go. I decided to take Lucas, Dr. D, and a few others on the physical first ingress or the mine. We kit out and meet at the adit. Its a straightforward entry, and besides the Tanglefoot, rusty cart rails, and old ore cart rail spikes decorating the floor like rusty punji sticks, its fairly innocuous as abandoned mines go. We travel to the workface, which was a straight shot down the main tunnel. We explore a couple of side-drifts, nothing of any great excitement. Then we discover the party room. Its actually behind a closed door, now off its hinges. It was one, that when the mine was active, shut off a large disused drift that was used as locker rooms, storage for mine mechanicals, and from the appearance of it, a lunchroom, if “Clean up after yourself! ” posters from the 1930s have anything to say. The more recent filth was indescribable. It was if packrats had moved in, created a foul, disgusting series of nests, abandoned them as unlivable, and then disreputable elements of the local bipedal population moved in. The room was littered with human feces, drug paraphernalia, rotted fast-food, just garbage of every description. It was horrendous from several points of view. I sometimes really loathe my species. I decided right then and there, that this room was getting a ‘special present. Further mine tours would mention the room, but further access was disallowed. Two more groups traipsed through the mine, took their notes, and got a good and quick education on the use of their various pieces of mine apparatus. I decided that Dr. D, Lucas, and I would wire this mine and let everyone watch and take notes. I suddenly wanted to kill this mine once and for all. We would demonstrate the methods of preparing the mine for explosives, then the explosives themselves. Then wed kill this fucking cesspit well true and dead. So, over the next day, we demonstrated how to use our Estwings to create retents along the mine adit for sticks of dynamite, how C-4 can be shaped to sever steel pipes, rails, and beams, and how ANFO can be used, as a bonus, as a large area cover-explosive. We spread 10 sacks of ammonium nitrate fertilizer on the floor of the mine and soaked it in diesel fuel. Then we primed it with super-boosted blasting caps. This would provide a more heaving, as opposed to shattering, detonation. Itd really ‘bring down the house. Plus, as an extra, extra bonus, I planted a 100-pound torpedo of Torpex, PETN, RDX, dynamite, and Kinestik binary in the fetid party room. I sealed the door with a portable welder because as much as no one should ever have had to go into that place, I made certain they no longer could under any circumstances. We ran all the demolition wires back to camp. The death of this mine was to be an event. Truth be told, I was diggin all the enthusiasm from this crowd, they were really getting into the destruction of the mine. I guess it stirred their primal blood lust, held in check for oh these so many years. I was also enjoying the notoriety as a Master of Ceremonies. It tweaked that little bit of showman in us all. So, just after dinner and before dark, we put on a little show. D, Lucas, and I were ringleaders of this circus. We had everyone well away from the mine, all sitting in lawn chairs, bean bag chairs, or portable hammocks, watching to see what happens to the mine where they so recently had introductions. To be continued.

Uprzejmosc nieznajomych film. In today's news: NSS chief Arthur Vanetsyan and the former regime; Armenia's waste management and recycling system and what's being done; Sports; Healthcare; IRS and economy; a lot more more accusations against former NSS chief Arthur Vanetsyan Former NSS (National Security Services) chief Arthur Vanetsyan earlier ragequit, accusing Pashinyan of crossing the line, telling him to "stop. His complaint was most likely about the high number of arrests done against the members of the Roboserj regime. He quit around the time when the authorities were preparing to make new busts. Vanetsyan was then accused of cozying up with Serj's son-in-law, media/mining magnate Mikael Minasyan. The pair were allegedly seen together in Russia, photos were circulated, but later it became apparent that Vanetyan was with Serj's media propagandist Ara Saghatelyan. Vanetsyan denied colluding with the former regime, saying that he's just friends with some of its members. Roboserj outlets were "credited" with launching a mass media campaign against Pashinyan's family members. False rumors were spread about 1st lady Anna Hakobyan, transport, hotel stays, jets, helicopter rides, etc. ArmTimes outlet (managed by Pashinyan's family) reports that according to their sources, Arthur Vanetsyan is behind coordinating the media attacks against the Pashinyan family. ArmTimes believes Vanetsyan also finances these operations. The outlet doesn't know when exactly Vanetshyan allegedly got involved with this campaign, but they believe it's most likely while he was still the NSS chief. Armtimes writes that a Roboserj Website and Vanetsyan began cooperating in late-2018. This was made possible with the effort of Aram Vardanyan, aka Vstrechi Aper. Who is Vstrechi Aper? He is a member of the criminal subculture and was earlier arrested as part of an investigation about a 2017 kidnapping and assault incident. He was extradited to Armenia for a trial. However, his case was cut short and he was let go. The official explanation is that he would have qualified for the 2018 mass amnesty. What else do we know about Vstrechi Aper to give us some context before today's story? In August-2019, the Informed Citizens NGO chief Daniel Ionesyan claimed that Vstrechi Aper and Arthur Vanetsyan were close friends. Ionesyan had long complained that the National Security Services chief had friends from the criminal subculture. The claims about Vstrechi Aper and Vanetsyan being allies in the media field were first made around this time, so ArmTimes isn't breaking any "exclusive" info. Some of this was known, but the outlet provides additional info. Back to ArmTimes' new story about Vanetsyan - Vstrechi Aper - Roboserj collusion ArmTimes says: There have long been rumors that while Vanetsyan was the chief of the NSS Erebuni branch back in the days, he was under the "protection" of criminal subculture player Vstrechi Aper. Vstrechi Aper had to return a favor to Vanetsyan (by helping Vanetsyan to cozy up to the unnamed Roboserj outlet) because, at some point, Aper was in legal trouble and had to escape Armenia after some citizen approached Pashinyan and complained that Aper had kidnapped him. Aper immediately left Armenia after Pashinyan and Vanetsyan held a conversation about this case. (Armtimes is implying that Vanetyan informed his friend Vstrechi Aper to leave Armenia before he gets arrested; an insider leak. Despite Aper's escape, the police were able to track him down and arrest him abroad. He got extradited. Yet surprisingly the judge refused to issue detention permission, so Aper was legally free. The Roboserj outlet in question (which colludes with Vanetsyan, Armtimes won't give the name) then teamed up with Vanetsyan and became his PR machine, while throwing dirt at Pashinyan administration, with the main targets being Pashinyan's wife and daughter. The Roboserj outlet would occasionally mildly criticize Vanetsyan to make it seem they weren't "friendly" with Vanetsyan. Some information the Roboserj outlet received was insider info passed to them from inside NSS. For example, car license info. Vahagn Boyajyan is the man behind this PR and dirt throwing campaign. He was Vanetsyan's media guy during his NSS leadership. Before quitting NSS, Vanetsyan gave a souvenir weapon to Boyajyan, which is a symbolic gesture that is done to senior and distinguished employees. Boyajyan, however, was a newbie with a few months of experience, yet he got one from Vanetsyan. (Vanetsyan gave it to him because they're BFFs) The mastermind of this idea for Vanetsyan, Babajanyan and Vstrechi Aper to work together, is Ara Saghatelyan, who is Serj's main media propagandist. This is the man who met Vanetsyan in Russia a few months ago and was filmed from a hidden camera. Propagandist Ara Saghatelayan is close friends with Serj's son-in-law Mikael Minasyan. He is also childhood friends with Vanetsyan and helped Vanetsyan with his career. Serj's propagandist Saghatelyan asked Vanetsyan to "shield Serj from Pashinyan. Note: Vanetsyan publicly told Pashinayn to "stop" before his infamous ragequit from NSS. Up until that point, everyone was wondering why Serj hasn't been charged yet. Serj got charged only after Vanetsyan was gone. In exchange for Vanetsyan's effort not to arrest Serj, Saghatelyan agreed to help Vanetsyan to become politically powerful by undermining the Pashinyan administration and promoting Vanetsyan. Vanetsyan is being aided by Saghatelyan and Mikael Minasyan to make this happen. Fake social media accounts are part of their plan. The idea is to spread rumors about Pashinyan is mentally unfit (my bad I do this too sometimes) that apparently Pashinyan was going to start a big war which would take 30, 000 (date of the alleged war that was supposed to happen has passed. The idea was to strengthen the conviction among the public that Pashinyan is mentally unfit, and that his removal is a matter of national security. ArmTimes believes that Vanetsyan's infamous ragequit message was written by Mikael Minasyan. (At the time Pashinyan said this, but it was viewed more as a rhetorical criticism. End of ArmTimes' article. TLDR of the accusations: Former NSS chief Vanetsyan was Serj's secret rat within the system, worked to undermine certain operations, leaked info to help Roboserj allies. Helped Roboserj outlets to spread negative propaganda against Pashinyan. Relevant info: Last year the Informed Citizens NGO chief speculated that there was no 2018 phone hack and that Vanetsyan could have set up the phone conversation leak with the SIS chief in order to aid Kocharyan. Criminal subculture player Vstrechi Aper denies helping Vanetsyan to cozy up with the Roboserj outlet. "Don't drag me into political games" he said. Pashinyan's daughter Mariam: We became friends and neighbors with Vanetsyan family in a short time. We used to have fun, take care of dogs, and dine with his children. We would visit each other for tea. I had the impression that they were genuine friends. It turns out Vanetsyan has been coordinating the media attacks against our family. What's worse, is he could have done this while he was the NSS chief. Arthur Vanetsyan responds: The accusations made by Pashinyan family's sources are false. It would have been below my man's dignity. Family is a holy concept for me, and the idea to harm someone by harming their family is unacceptable for me. This isn't the first time such attempts are made to discredit me. My lawyers are looking into it. P. S. Mariam Pashinyan, darling, don't insert yourself into adults' games. Mariam Pashinyan responds to Vanetsyan: Arthur, when you say your man's dignity doesn't allow you to say certain things, it surprises me, because for the past 4 months you've threatened to "speak up. Speak, then. If you say family is holy, then why do you spread lies about it? In the past, you tried to unnecessarily underline your "loyalty" to our family. We've always viewed your family as a friend, and not a "subordinate. NSS reports directly to PM's office. You aren't speaking up because you have nothing to say, and every word will be a word against yourself. Send greetings to [Vanetsyan's family members. Informed Citizens NGO Daniel Ionesyan, who was [among the] first last year to publicly raise the topic of Vanetsyan being friends with former regime members and criminal subculture members, gave an interview, during which he said: I not only fully believe that ArmTimes' sources are correct about Vanetsyan, but I, too, raised the topic last year. Vstrechi Aper is tasked with PR-ing Vanetsyan. Q: Has Vanetsyan broken any laws? A: I think he did when he used official NSS resources to demand a media outlet to retract a negative thing written against him last year (someone wrote something about Vanetsyan, Vanetsyan called it a lie, then NSS' official website asked the author to retract it, the argument is that Vanetsyan should have demanded a retraction personally without involving NSS. I won't be surprised if Vanetsyan eventually gets charged for this. Q: Why did Vanetsyan go "rogue" A: Vanetsyan has big ambitions. When the govt changed, Vanetsyan was hoping to become the Parliament speaker, but Ararat Mirzoyan took that job. Q: The story was published by Pashinyan's family outlet. Does this mean this news also reflects Pashinyan's personal views? A: I beleive so. I'm glad that after us raising alarm about Vanetsyan for so long, Pashinyan finally understands this. Q: Any comment about Vanetsyan saying he won't speak because of man's dignity and family being holy? A: We all know what his "man's dignity" is worth, while he was being promoted by his family within the system (he was apparently promoted in the system by his mother. With Vanetsyan's knowledge, NSS agents were sent to former SOC chief David Sanasaryan's wife's workplace and children's school to illegally collect info on Sanasaryan's family members (Sanasaryan has beef with Vanetsyan, has long insisted he was unfairly targeted by Vanetsyan, he remains a suspect as part of a medical equipment contract fixing story. Now Vanetsyan is saying he respects family. Vanetsyan didn't get the job as NSS chief for being good, he was just lucky. He was a low-profile employee until he got lucky and received the job after the revolution. He is an ungrateful man. Vanetsyan is currently working with Tashir Group's Karen Karapetyan (Samvel Karapetyan. to create his political party. Multiple sources confirm this. Today, some NSS employees are working to undermine democracy and the PM. This was bolstered under Vanetsyan administration, but now it's milder after he quit. NSS's administraiton is in a sad state. There aren't many qualified trustworthy people who can be appointed as leaders. Q: why is ArmTimes publishing the article now? A: Maybe they got the info just now. There is some info about Vanetsyan that I myself received only very recently. It's about the infamous story about Pashinyan allegedly having a psycho-paper showing he's mentally unfit. That fake news was spread by NSS agents and some criminal subculture members. Q: why do you believe Vanetsyan doesn't like civil society NGOs? A: Not only Vanetsyan but also some NSS employees. They don't like the ongoing institutional reforms. Some NSS agents found out that Pashinyan was going to appoint Rustam Badasyan as the Justice Minister, and used a new site to spread attacks against Badasyan's persona because Badasyan would actually start major reforms. (when Pashinyan fired former Minister Artak Zeynalyan, he said it was because he needed the institutional reforms to accelerate, which is when he appointed Rustam Badasyan. The representatives of the former corrupt regime aren't interested in these reforms so they deal blow to the individuals behind the reforms, instead of publicly criticizing the idea of reforms. End of Ionesyan interview. 🍿. tastes good կան-մարդիկ-որ-պատրաստ-են-խոսել-ու-խոսել/ Վստրեչի-Ապերի»՝-համաներմամբ-խնդրահարույց-ազատման-հարցով-զբաղվում-են-իրավապահները/366906 Tag: ArthurVanetsyan, NSSleaks Azerbaijan & Armenia Earlier Azeri army tried to do engineering work to improve their positions near the northeastern Tavush region. Armenian side opened fire to stop the advancements. One Azeri soldier was killed. On Saturday one Armenian soldier was wounded in the region. Armenian army blames any future escalation on the Azeri side. Azeri opposition leader Ari Kerimli criticized Aliyev's administration for lying to the public about time working against Armenia. "The 'hungry Armenians' just purchased powerful fighter jets. A new road is being built between Armenia and Karabakh. New settlements are being prepared. Today is the 30th anniversary of the 1990 Baku massacres of Armenians. Pashinyan: we aren't going to let something like that happen again. From the 250k population, only 40k were left in Baku. They were a peaceful population not posing threat to Azerbaijan, but they were targeted for their ethnicity. To this day there is no remorse or respect by Azerbaijan. Those Azeris who dared to speak were persecuted. Full Armenian opera singer Hasmik Papyan says the Azeri singer Youssif Ayvazov refused to sing with Ruzan Mantashyan in Europe because the latter is an ethnic Armenian. Papyan plans to send a note of protest to Drezden opera theater. Update: There was apparently a misunderstanding by people involved in this story. 2019 was an "unprecedented" clam year on the borders. The deaths reached the minimum in recent history, said Pashinyan. Later, Helsinki Committee's Vanadzor branch chief Ishkhanyan and two other outlets did their independent calculations and said that there were other years when the deaths were lower. Then a fact-checker claimed Pashinyan was correct about the death count. PM apparently used Defense Ministry's official numbers, while others used prosecutors' numbers, and came up with contradicting info. The fact-checkers insist that the prosecutors' numbers are more accurate. Healthcare Ministry Healthcare Ministry audited schools to check if they comply with heating and sanitary conditions. Several schools were issued a warning for being too cold for students, not having enough restrooms and for being in poor shape. The law requires rooms to be 18-22C. In Feb-2019 the Healthcare Ministry made ischemic stroke surgery free. 382 patients have used the subsidized system so far. Ministry held a meeting with industry members, including Alberta Canada university neurologist, to create a plan to develop the treatment program in provinces, and to use clinics to prevent strokes. A bi-annual charity event took place in Gyumri. 500 Russian soldiers and their families donated 200L blood. 5, 000 have participated since the charity's creation in 2011. Police accountability In 2019, 36 cops were disciplined and 28 were fired. IRS, Sales receipts, Border imports, Taxes Armenians import used cars to resell them in other EAEU countries. 2018: 64k imported 2019: 189k imported The sharp rise is due to the fact that 2019 was the last year before EAEU rules raise car import tariffs, making most used cars more expensive. IRS collected >1. 4trln in 2019. That's 7. 5% higher than predicted. In addition, some money was collected but refunded to the taxpayer. 44% growth in collections vs 2017. When Pashinyan got elected he predicted it would rise by 30-40. 967 people quit or were laid off. 600 were hired. (IRS has a large workforce, they handle border transactions too. Employee wages went up. The salary bonus budget went from 5bln to 5. 8bln. When they paid 5bln in bonuses in 2018, there was criticism by the opposition. IRS boss believes it's not a good thing when high earners are vilified; the agency has to retain professional staff. In 2019 they paid even more in bonuses, but there wasn't as much criticism as before. Chief believes it's due to dialogue with the public. He says the goal is to secure a decent living wage for employees. Beginning in 2020, the small micro-businesses with <24mln annual turnover don't pay tax. IRS chief warns businesses not to game the system by splitting their large businesses into smaller pieces for each to be below 24mln to evade taxes. Says IRS has tools to detect such evasions. Immediately after the news, the Ծամոն & Սեմուշկա Ծախող Տատի LLC organized riots outside of IRS headquarters. "We have a network of 35 tatis pushing 50mln worth merch annually. I want to be able to evade taxes by registering each tati as a separate business from Virgin Islands" complained one desperate business owner with shrinking margins. Another protester tati said, The change won't really harm my business tho, because I've always paid taxes, I just don't qualify for this new waiver. When asked about why she was protesting then, she said, I don't, բալամ ջան, it's just warm outside after yesterday's snow. I'm having a nice walk. Someone should fact check this riot story, it seems fake. Me hope me not get arrested. IRS chief Ananyan: 32% more sales receipts were printed during the 2020 New Year holidays vs last year's period. 22% higher trade turnover. The growth was much higher in provinces than in Yerevan. Syunik province printed 124% more sales receipts with 97% more trade. Gyumri printed 99% more receipts with 70% more trade. We have unprecedented growth in businesses' willingness to pay taxes. Sports Armenia soccer's attacking midfielder Marcos Pizelli is retiring at the age of 35. He received an injury while playing in Brazil, was told he'd need surgery to return, but he refused and decided to retire. gg Marcos 👏 Armenian Freestyle wrestlers won 2 silver and 4 bronze medals in Takhti Cup held in Iran. Armenia skiers won 2 medals in Developing Nations Cup held in Serbia. Former president Serj and mayor Taron Margaryan visited the chess academy to observe the Andranik Margaryan Cup competition. Roma wants to keep Henrikh Mkhitaryan. He is currently in a "trial" period in Roma. They offered Arsenal 10mln to seal the deal, but Arsenal refused. Now Roma is offering 14mln. Travel & Tourism "20 Ancient Sites Older Than Stonehenge (Worth Planning Your Next Trip Around) Armenia's Zorats Karer is mentioned. Ryanair low-cost airlines will begin its flights to Armenia with a rough start. Italian employees are protesting about something at home, so some delays are expected. First batch of tickets sold out. Civil Aviation chief Tatevik Revazyan says Armenia will soon have 16 routes to Europe instead of current 7. "Before you buy tickets from a low-coster, remember that they'll bait you to buy addons, insurance, they'll have strict luggage limits, etc. Armenia Airways decided to stop its Yerevan-Tehran flight after Iran admitted that its military mistakenly shot a jet. Civil Aviation committee advises against flying over Iran and Iraq for now. Next day Armenian Airways received an assurance by Iranian govt that flights will be safe. They'll resume flights tomorrow. Singer Sirusho has a documentary "Armat Tour" where she travels to various Armenian diasporas. Pt1 - Belgium Pt2 - Belgium Yerevan news It finally snowed in Yerevan yesterday. Municipality tried a new approach by pouring salt and sand before the snow fell, to prevent ice from forming on the streets. This will be done in select areas. Some residents were satisfied with the snow cleaning operations, uploading pics of clean streets. Yerevan's newly purchased 1, 000 metal garbage bins have arrived. These are supposed to be sturdier and won't melt when torched. Education Minister Arayik Harutyunayn: Kids shouldn't sit under all-day camera surveillance in kindergartens. It creates psychological problems. Proposed education reforms will allow kindergartens to accept children under the age of 6. Right now it's limited to >2-3 yo. now some serious trash-talking Govt is working on a plan to reform the trash collection and processing system. Experts from the nature protection center of American University of Armenia are developing the new system. The university conducted several examinations. Some are their initiative, some are aided by the Swedish government. The goal is to have a new trash collection and processing system across Armenia with environmental and economic friendliness. An interview with Harutyun Alpetyan, an expert from the Nature Center of the university: Q: It's the first of a kind system for Armenia. What is this շրջանաձեւ տնտեսության գործիքների կիրառում thing? A: We need to reduce the creation of trash before we think about recycling it. Some things can be reused. The current traditional system is consisted of recycling and reusing. Recycling: appliances are repaired, the paper is recycled, glass is processed. Reusing is the dark part. We need to assess how widespread it is among the public. It's possible that Armenia inherited high levels of reuse culture from USSR. Europe talks a lot about reusing trash. Մեր երկիր dairy firm in Armenia does this, they advertise on bottles that if you collect 30 bottles they'll come to pick it up and give you 50 AMD or some milk. This needs to be advertised more broadly. Q: 24 firms and groups are mentioned as being part of the proposed recycling and reusing operations. How come some are unknown to the public? A: there are >20 processing firms in Armenia who prefer not to attract attention. Maybe some are breaking environmental or employee rules. It's important not to glorify recycling firms too much, they pollute during the recycling process. There are laws that encourage recyclers and those who import low-pollution technologies, but not many are taking advantage of the law. We advise the govt to reform this law to make it more usable. Govt can contact recyclers, offer them the benefits, then monitor their work to make sure pollution coming from them is in norms. Q: it's been said that Armenia doesn't have enough trash to make recycling a profitable business. Does your examination show that there could be recycling after doing the waste separation? A: we, locals, and Swedes conducted 5 exams on waste in Armenia to find out its "ingredients. We need more exams to conclude whether it's good enough for serious recycling business. Sometimes private firms do their own exams before they invest in recycling. Our exam is done for the govt to understand the broad picture. Q: What did the exams reveal? A: 50-60% is kitchen waste. Typical for a developing nation. If this accumulates in a waste field, it turns into a methane gas, which turns into dirty water and contaminates underground water. If we remove this organic waste from waste fields, it'll be a huge environmental relief, and it'll make further resorting easier. It'll help if people separate this organic waste from other things at home. Europe aims to solve this issue entirely by 2030. Waste Content: 50-60% organic 5-12% paper 7-20% plastics 1-4% metal 3-6% glass 1-4% rubber & leather 2-6% textile (thanks Lfik) It is entirely possible that Armenia might not have enough waste to make recycling profitable, but this is also a public health and environmental problem and not just about business. It needs to be done either way. Q: any solutions to neutralize the threat from dangerous waste? A: There are currently no areas where you can take this type of waste for neutralization. This includes electronics, chemicals, mercury, engines, some bulbs, and batteries. Batteries are very bad when they reach a waste field. Sometimes people keep them at home in a box, which is safer. Current law is hostile and expensive towards those who could offer a solution. Too many regulations requiring you to go through lengthy steps to get a license to create a facility for storing such waste. Q: will product manufacturers be involved in this process? Manufacturers should pay a "tax" for creating products that easily turn into a waste. Battery and tire importers should take steps to prevent their items from ending up in waste fields. Bottled water producers can team-up and create a firm tasked with collecting bottles. Q: which part of this is the hardest to solve? A: reducing the creation of waste. We trash less than Europe, but we can do better. Plastic bag producers say "just improve recycling instead of reducing bag usage" but that's not enough. We need to reduce waste. To reduce the dangerous gas-y kitchen waste we need to promote the "Don't buy more than you consume" slogan. Q: you also examined the possibility of using pyrolysis to burn waste at a low temp without oxygen. Any results? Not suitable for Armenia. The process itself is new and has flaws. It's rarely used elsewhere. Q: About the lack of waste fields. There are plans to build new fields in Kotayk and Gegharquniq. Also, a 32-hectare replacement facility next to the existing Nubarashen field, after the Nubarashen field is closed. Why do they need to build new ones? A: EU gave 26mln loan&grant to close the Nubarashen field and build a new one with a processing facility that has high standards. We need to decide what tpye of waste this new field will receive, and for how long. If the field will receive organic waste, then its side-facility will have a technology to process the waste and turn it into biogas and compost. Tag: Recycling, GarbageCollection, Garbage. Pashinyan commented about garbage collection. "The problem is that right now we only worry about moving the trash from point A to point B, but we don't care about what happens at point B. We need a better system that processes the trash afterward. Full Wages and Maternity pay Pashinyan: Poverty is at the lowest level since the beginning of the stat collection. 23. 5% are poor. 45k AMD) out of which 1% are extremely poor. 25k AMD) and 10. 6% are moderately poor. 35k AMD. Poverty is down 2. 2. 19. 9% of Yerevan is poor. 30. 3% of other cities. 21. 3% of villages. Reported population is 2, 965, 000 million. The decline (emigration and natural) slowed down last year. Labor Ministry: Govt earlier decided to raise the childbirth reward payment by 2x-3x. In addition, monthly aid rose from 18. 5k to 26k, paid each month until the kid turns 2. In villages, those mothers who do not work will receive 26k/mo. Those who work will receive 53k. a flower market in the morning Disclaimer: All the accused are innocent until proven guilty in the court of law, even if they may sound as being guilty. Currency in Armenian Drams unless specified otherwise. Older posts can be found at: PART 1; PART 2; PART 3; PART 4, credits to Idontknowmuch.

After the Last Jedi I feel like I'm coming back to a bad relationship watching this trailer. I think I'll just wait for the reviews after the movie comes out...