text:
WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THIS?! AN UPDATE?! Hi, it's me, it's been about, well, a year. :/ I have no excuses. I simply just got fed up with Glee because ugggh continuity, and uggggh what have you done to Klaine, and uggggh everything, so I lost interest in my fics. But I was looking over the old reviews, and you guys have been so nice to me, and you deserve a conclusion, so I am going to try and finish this one at the very least. (Handling It fans, I will endeavor to work to finish that one too, but it's harder to write, and has gotten away from me a bit, so I don't want to make more promises I can't keep. I will simply say that I will try.)

If you still want to read this, then you are a God-send, and if you're all like, "no, screw you, you made me wait for a million years for an update," then I do not blame you. I just hope you won't hate me forever.

Also, keep in mind that this is still in the end-of-season-2-verse, and I have not included any canon after that, because the canon after that is stupid and I don't like it. :) Reminders: Blaine is still a Warbler, Puck and Zizes are together, Kurt and Blaine are in the same year, etc.

Okay, without further adieu, the next chapter of Let's Talk about IT!

The Timing

Kurt escaped from the table at the first opportunity. This was becoming habitual, this dashing away from awkward situations red faced and horrified. He lied to himself, pretending he just really needed to get his homework done, which would have been a better excuse if he hadn't already done everything that was due for the next day.

He settled for re-writing French sentences using the present perfect tense (he needed the review anyhow). He barely paid attention though, so the lesson was lost on him. All he could focus on was the all too recent memory of his father's face when the words, "sexually frustrated" barreled out of his mouth like train a steaming down the track. If Finn's horrific intrusion was better than a cold shower, the thought of his dad knowing about his "problem" would be the equivalent of dipping himself in the Arctic Ocean, for the foreseeable future.

"Knock knock," Carole's voice rang out, making Kurt jump. He looked up from his French sentences to see his stepmother smiling warmly at him from his open door. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," Kurt said hesitantly, gesturing for her to have a seat on his bed. He non-discreetly moved his most recent issue of Cosmo off the comforter and into his desk drawer. Carole took the offer and settled down on the mattress. Kurt waited patiently for her, and she took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

Uh-oh, Kurt thought.

But no, there was no way Carole was up in his room to discuss what he was pretty sure she was there to discuss. Because he could deal with Finn, Mercedes, Brittney and Santana, Puck and Zizes, and even Rachel and her insane dads, but this was Carole, and Carole reminded him of his dad, and just. No.

But Kurt knew better. He'd faced this situation too many times in the past few weeks, and he felt it in his gut what was coming. Carole didn't avoid his room, per say, but it was his area, and they didn't generally converge up there, and they certainly didn't sit down just to chat at random. Normally, if Carole or Kurt wanted bonding time, one of them would propose a latte date, and they'd go to Lima Bean and discuss school, work, fashion, and everything under the sun. Today was different, and that made Kurt's insides twist painfully.

"So, dinner tonight," Carole started, confirming Kurt's fears. He groaned, and leaned over, letting his forehead hit his desk with a pathetic "thud".

"Do we have to?" he asked his neat scrawl on the notebook paper he'd been practicing on.

"Yeah, 'fraid we have to, kiddo," came Carole's response.

"Why?" Kurt asked, suddenly more angry than embarrassed. He shot back up, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave Carole a look. "For weeks now, I haven't been able to turn the corner without someone saying to me, 'hey Kurt, you should masturbate more,' or 'hey Kurt, here's how you have sex with men,' but no one ever asks me if I want this information. Everyone just piles it on me, ignoring my questions and my concerns, just telling me what they think I should know, and it's getting overwhelming, Carole, so whatever you have to say, I think I can do without it!"

Carole just watched him patiently as he breathed heavily, waiting for him to calm down. Finally, when the tense air lessened a bit, she just gave him another kind smile and said, "Kurt, honey, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

Kurt blinked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Carole reached over and put a comforting hand on his elbow, as she said, "This isn't something your dad is putting me up to, or anything like that. If he feels like he needs to talk to you, then you know he will. I just… I guess I just wanted to throw my two cents into this conversation. I know he gave you a talk a while back-"

"Don't remind me."

"-But I think, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the circumstances have changed a bit since then. Would you say that's right?"

"I…guess," Kurt said, shrugging. For someone who so determinedly avoided everything hot and raunchy, Kurt had probably had had more sex talks than anyone he knew.

"How is your relationship with Blaine?"

"Non-sexual, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking," Carole said gently. "I want to know how your relationship is. How do you feel about him? Where do you see yourself going with it? Tell me about everything."

Kurt was dumbstruck for just a moment, because in all the talks he'd had thus far there had been so little to do with Blaine. Kurt didn't realize how bizarre this was until Carole was sitting there asking him to talk about his boyfriend, and he had to struggle to think up the words to describe it. He'd spent so much time worrying about being with Blaine, that he forgot to think about what it was just... being with Blaine.

"It's great," he said finally. "Wonderful. He matches my talent musically, he's smart, gorgeous, he's a year behind me in French so I get to tutor him and hear him botch the language so adorably, and I know he's in that uniform pretty much 24/7, but when he's not he has such a good sense of fashion, Carole, I can't even tell you." Kurt babbled on, and stopped, embarrassed, at Carole's beaming face. "What?" he asked, suddenly bashful.

"That's what I want you to remember, Kurt," she said gently. "Because you know everyone and their dog has an opinion about sex, but only you know what it's like to be with Blaine. You can't base your choices off of what everyone says. In this case, you have to base what you do on your experiences with this one other person."

"But I am so clueless about this stuff, Carole," Kurt argued, sounding miserable. "How can I make decisions like that if I don't even know what I'm deciding?"

"Asking for advice is fine, sweetie, but don't let everyone make the choices for you. Honestly, letting a bunch of teenagers, who are probably just about as clueless as you, just better at hiding it, isn't going to solve your problem. It's just going to make it more complicated."

"I'm more confused about this whole sex thing than I was before everyone started trying to teach me."

"Exactly. And through this whole thing, have you even asked yourself the most important question?"

"What's that?"

"Do you want to have sex with Blaine?"

"That's all I've been thinking about," Kurt said, confused, but Carole shook her head.

"But have you really thought about it? Sure you've thought of the consequences, and maybe even the benefits, but have you thought about what it would be like to share that experience with Blaine? Are you ready for him to know you that intimately? Is your relationship strong enough to take it? Those are the things you should be deciding right now. Everything else? You'll learn in time." She shrugged. "You need to have sex when you're ready to have sex, Kurt. Now when everyone else is ready for you to."

"Thank you," was all Kurt could think to say. Carole smiled as she stood.

"Anytime, and I mean that." She started for the door. "Oh and Kurt?"

"Please don't take sex advice from Cosmo, alright?"

And of course, Kurt blushed.

About an hour later, Kurt was on his back staring at his ceiling, still thinking about what Carole had said to him. It had been a refreshing conversation, but it still left him with new complications to consider. He reached over on his bedside table and grabbed his phone. He dialed the number by heart.

"Hey," Blaine's voice said on the other end after just two rings.

"Hey, sorry, I know it's getting late, I didn't wake you or anything, did I?"

"At ten o'clock? Yeah right," he said laughing. "Haven't even started my homework yet."

"Don't make me drive out there and make you do it, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said, grinning.

"You know, telling me I'll get to see you if I don't do my homework isn't the best threat."

"Fine, then I'll refuse to see you unless you get straight A's."

Blaine faked a gasp. "You wouldn't dare, Hummel."

"Watch me."

"I'd have to come find you myself."

"I'd hide."

"I'd pretend to be John Cusack and stand outside your window with a stereo and play bad love songs until you agreed to see me."

"That only happens in the movies," Kurt said, laughing. "Besides, I'd rather hear your voice."

"Then I'll sing you bad love songs outside your window until you agreed to see me."

"That has a better chance of working. Maybe. Only if you got nothing lower than a B."

"I could probably manage that."

"Good, I'd hate not seeing you."

"I'd hate it more. Hey, not that I'm complaining, but you don't normally call at this time. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just wanted to hear your voice. I guess I just feel like I haven't really gotten to be with you in a while."

"I know what you mean. You free this weekend? We could see a movie, get dinner, my treat?"

"Do I get to pick the movie?"

"Of course."

"Then count me in."

"Looking forward to it."

"Alright, well, I'll let you get back to your homework, which you had better be doing, but I'll call you sometime tomorrow, alright?"

"Sounds good. I love you."

Kurt's heart still fluttered whenever he heard Blaine say that. If stomach butterflies were any indication, then Carole was spot on. What mattered here wasn't what other people thought he should do—what mattered is what Blaine wanted to do, and what he wanted to do with Blaine. It really was that simple.

"Love you too," Kurt replied, feeling a sense of calm wash over him that he hadn't felt in ages. Hanging up the phone, he got ready for bed, and slept better than he had in weeks.

But of course calm never lasts.

Which is how, bright and early the next morning, before the first bell had even rung, Kurt found himself face to face with Quinn Fabray, who was shoving about twenty condoms in his face.

Maybe, he thought to himself miserably, it wasn't so simple after all.


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text:
If you’re a customer with energy provider AGL, make sure you look at your bill very closely.
If you’re a customer with energy provider AGL, make sure you look at your bill very closely.

‘Don’t click’: AGL warns about email hoax

IF YOU'RE a customer of energy provider AGL, make sure you look at your bill very closely.

The energy retailer has warned about an email scam targeting Australians that tries to pass itself off as a legitimate bill from the company.

AGL Energy took to social media at 11.50am today to warn customers of the hoax.

"We have received reports of hoax emails in circulation with the subject line 'AGL electricity bill' falsely claiming to be from AGL," the company said.

These scams are often phishing attacks that try to get unwitting victims to click a link and download malicious software onto their device, giving the attacker access to their computer or personal information.

Others might simply try to get victims to make an illegitimate payment for a fake outstanding bill.

To make sure you don't get caught out, take a careful look at the email address the bill is sent from. If it's fake, it will have a slight difference to the official AGL address.

Do the same for any links in the email by hovering your cursor over the link rather than clicking. If anything look suspicious, don't click and contact the company.

According to AGL, a legitimate bill from the company will contain your supply address and account number in the email body.

"If it does not contain these details, it may be a hoax email," the company says.

A notice on the AGL Facebook page is pointing customers towards its Stay Safe Online page.

"If you have received a hoax email, please delete it. Do not click on any links or content from the email," the page says, regarding the latest scam.

"If you have clicked on the link and submitted your personal details, please login to these accounts and reset your password straight away and run a comprehensive Anti-Virus Scan."

Scams like this are not uncommon and they often seek to masquerade as bills or emails from familiar companies like banks, telco providers and energy companies.

In 2016, an email scam that appeared to be an AGL bill tricked users into downloading ransomware that infected their computers and essentially held them hostage. It successfully targeted at least 10,000 Australians before it was detected, claimed one cybersecurity analyst at the time.

Our sister paper news.com.au contacted AGL but the company declined to comment at the time.

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text:
Sugar misses out in Trans Pacific Partnership deal
Sugar misses out in Trans Pacific Partnership deal Peter Holt

MPs push to change sugar industry laws

THERE is no legislation that requires sugar mills to act in the best interest of cane farmers, and this is something two Queensland politicians want to change.

Katter's Australian Party MPs Shane Knuth and Robbie Katter have sought to change Queensland law to allow canegrowers to have "real choice" over who sells and prices sugar.

Wilmar Sugar's exit from sugar marketing arrangements from the end of the 2016 season was a catalyst for the legislation changes.

Mr Knuth told Queensland Parliament on Tuesday that two other milling groups including MSF Sugar and Tully Sugar also announced their intentions to exit the current marketing structure following Wilmar's decision.

"That decision of the unilateral mills will deny growers any choice in how their share of production, their GEI (grower economic interest) sugar, is marketed in the future," Mr Knuth said.

"Unless addressed, those anticompetitive actions will restore the monopoly position of mills in the market for sugarcane, with ramifications across the whole industry.

"All milling companies and their supplying growers will be affected, including those that have elected not to withdraw from the marketing structures."

When addressing parliament, Mr Knuth said the Sugar Industry (Real Choice and Marketing) Amendment would provide growers with the ability to be involved proactively in the marketing of their own sugar.

In a statement, Mr Knuth said he looked forward to the Parliament's support.

"We are sitting just behind Brazil and Thailand as the world's third largest sugar producers and now isn't the time for politicians to sit on their hands - the industry called for assistance, and we have delivered what they need," he said.

The amendment bill has been referred to the Agriculture and Environment Committee.


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Bulgaria’s United Patriots Oppose Voting by Mail and More Polling Stations in Turkey

Elections | January 12, 2021, Tuesday // 15:44|  views

IMRO stands firmly against voting by mail and more polling stations in Turkey, announced on Facebook deputy chairman of the party and co-chair of the parliamentary group of United Patriots Iskren Veselinov.

Alleged defense of voting rights of Bulgarian citizens abroad are only an attempt to attack the Electoral Code, writes Iskren Veselinov and reminds that the parliamentary group of United Patriots managed to limit the number of polling stations in Turkey with the changes adopted in 2015 and thus limit Erdogan's influence over Bulgarian home politics.

The IMRO deputy floor leader described yesterday's consultations with the President as a ‘reality show’ in which not our compatriots abroad participated, but persons who have Bulgarian passports.

The essence of another change in the electoral rules are the interests of the Turkish side and the narrow party interests of the Movement for Rights and Freedoms, according to Iskren Veselinov.

He declined to comment on the United Patriots' refusal to attend the Head of State's consultations for the upcoming parliamentary vote.

We need your support so Novinite.com can keep delivering news and information about Bulgaria! Thank you!

Tags: Bulgaria, elections, IMRO

» Related Articles:


text:
Porsche 911 4S Convertible

Tech Specs

Engine Engine
Gas, 3.8L H6 DOHC 24V
Car Seats Car Seats
Transmission Transmission
7-speed manual
Fuel Economy(CTY/HWY) Fuel Economy
18/26 mpg
Drivetrain Drivetrain
Rear Wheel Drive
HorsePower HorsePower
Miles Included Miles Included

Rent a Porsche 911 4S Convertible from Prestige Luxury Rentals today and experience the pleasure that driving a true driver’s car can bring. Porsche, there is just something about the name that speaks to our souls. Hear it and you can feel the acceleration pushing you back into your seat. You can hear that throaty roar; that says power. You can feel the G-Forces pulling on you as you swing through the curves like your running on rails. There are many companies that build sports cars, but there is only one, PORSCHE.Since the company’s inception in 1948 it has stood for two things with unwavering dedication; performance and cutting edge innovation. The latest proof of that dedication can be found today in the Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Convertible.Everything about this car screams, the future is now. From its state of the art power plant to the newly engineered wind screen no detail has been spared in bringing you a totally exquisite driving experience.Performance The heart of the new 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet is its engine. This beautifully engineered 3.8 liter, flat-six power plant produces 400+ hp and over 325 lb-ft of torque. When this kind of power is placed in a car weighting just a hair over 3300 lbs you get performance to spare.The Carrera 4S Convertible will whip you from 0-60 mph in just 4.3 seconds (Sport+ mode) and at 75 mph you are just topping out the fifth gear in its 7 speed transmission.Of course, all that power is straight line, but what makes a Porsche a Porsche is handling. The 911 excel’s here like no other. The 4S is equipped with all wheel drive, Porsches Traction Management (PTM) system as well the recently developed Porsche Torque Vectoring Plus (PTV Plus) what this all means is that the car is constantly reading everything from wheel angle to body yaw and adjust the application of the drive force delivered to each wheel to help you not only carve the curves but to actually propel you around them.Comfort The entire point of a convertible is that wind your hair driving experience, but Porsche recognized with the 911 Carrera 4S Convertible that there might be times when you want to have the top down, and still be able to enjoy music or even talk to the person beside you. That is why they not only reengineered the windscreen, but added an electric wind deflector. The two combined all but eliminate wind noise and assures draught free driving. Best of all, it deploys and retracts in just two seconds, even if you are running at 75 mph.Other creature comforts include a dual zone climate control system, and a true holographic, surround sound system that will put you in the middle of a concert, even when your miles from the closest city.At Prestige Luxury Rentals, we pride ourselves on offering the very finest cars that the automotive world has to offer. When you rent a Porsche from us you can rest assured it has been maintained to the highest possible standards.


text:
Movies | Music | Music

Amazon Prime rolls out mobile-only video plan in India

Amazon Prime has teamed up with Airtel for the first roll-out of Prime Video Mobile Edition. Airtel customers will now have access to its mobile-only plan created especially for a mobile-first country like India.

What are the costs involved and are there any offers?

"All Airtel customers on pre-paid bundled packs get 30-day free trial of Prime Video Mobile Edition. Subsequently, customers can activate Mobile Edition through recharge bundles starting at an introductory offer of Rs 89," the OTT platform has said.

To elaborate, after the 30 day-free trial period, Airtel customers can continue to enjoy Prime Video Mobile Edition through pre-paid recharges starting at an introductory offer of Rs 89, to get 28-days of Prime Video Mobile Edition along with 6GB data or choose a Rs 299 pack of 28-day validity that includes Prime Video Mobile Edition along with unlimited calls, data access of 1.5 GB per day.

A wholesome package

Customers who want to get the complete Prime Video experience including multi-user access, streaming across devices including Smart TV and the ability to enjoy content in HD/UHD in addition to having access to all Prime benefits including ad-free music with Prime Music and free fast delivery on, Prime Reading and other Prime benefits, will have the option of recharging with a 30-day Amazon Prime membership at Rs 131 or recharge with a Rs 349 pack of 28-day validity that includes Amazon Prime membership along unlimited calling, data access of 2 GB per day.

Additional info

The recharges will be available on the Airtel Thanks app or at over a million recharge points across the country. These offerings provide unlimited access to Prime Video’s entire entertainment content library and empowers the customer with even more choices and options to access Prime Video.

Gaurav Gandhi, Director and Country General Manager, Amazon Prime Video India said: “We believe that the Mobile Edition plan will further accelerate Prime Video’s adoption in India and allow an even larger number of customers to access our popular entertainment content. This initiative for Amazon, is designed not just to give customers more choice (of plans) but also easy access to subscribe to Prime Video along with mobile data plans."

Shashwat Sharma, Chief Marketing Officer, Bharti Airtel said, “We are happy to partner with Amazon to democratize quality digital entertainment in India by leveraging Airtel’s core strengths of quality customers, deep distribution and best-in-class network for video.”

Speaking on the collaboration with Airtel, Sameer Batra, Director, Mobile Business Development, Amazon, “Smartphones powered by pre-paid connections and affordable data are ubiquitous to a large base of Indian customers – Mobile Edition will make Prime Video synonymous to quality entertainment for this large customer group. We look forward to expanding the reach of our service to the entire pre-paid customer base in India.”

Prime Video Mobile Edition will be available for Airtel pre-paid customers starting 2 PM today (Jan 13).

Updated on January 13, 2021


text:
1934 Plymouth Hot Rod Hidden for 30 Years

1934 Plymouth Hidden in Basement for 30 Years

This 1934 Plymouth hot rod, built by Charles Berry in 1965, has been rescued and put back on the road after more than 30 years — follow the journey as we rescue a historic hot rod and get it running again.

In this video, I explain the history of the car, and how it entered my shop, as well as the steps it took to get it back on the road. The car has a pretty cool history, so enjoy the old pictures from the 1960’s and 1970’s and see how this car was built on a high school kids’s budget in the mid 1960’s…


text:
YMCA gives Government holiday programme thumbs up

Published: Thu 27 Aug 2009 03:38 PM
Media Release
For Immediate Release
27 August 2007
YMCA gives Government holiday programme the big thumbs up
The Government’s announcement yesterday that it would give disadvantaged children access to free holiday programmes endorses a long held objective of the YMCA, says National Chief Executive Officer Ric Odom.
The YMCA is the largest national provider of holiday camps with camping having been a YMCA programme for most of its 150 year history in New Zealand.
He said he now looked forward to working with the Government to determine if YMCA programmes could be part of the new Break-Away Package for School Holidays initiative in the future.
“We’ve experienced countless situations where holiday camps have prompted young people to change their life’s direction for the better. They gain self esteem, new skills, new friends and a new approach to life. Some realise they have true leadership potential; a notion that would never otherwise occurred to them”
YMCA has always aimed to keep costs as low as possible so that families from all backgrounds could give their children the holiday camp experience, Mr Odom said.
“However, if we can offer some camps for free, this opens up the opportunities to a lot more disadvantaged and at-risk children.”
In New Zealand summer camps are a key community project for YMCA and are about getting kids outside, involved in activities and active.
YMCA operates eight camps across New Zealand – from Auckland to Bluff –and most run summer camp programmes. These are run by a mix of dedicated volunteers and professional instructors. The camps offer a mix of challenging and confidence-building activities and recreation such as high ropes, horse rides, tramping, ecology studies, archery, water sports and indoor activities such as craft.
YMCA also operates its camps throughout the year for school outdoor education and adventure programmes, corporate team building and conferences and special events.
Building strong kids, strong families and strong communities
YMCA has been in New Zealand for over 155 years, building strong kids, strong families and strong communities. There are 48 YMCA centres across New Zealand.

Next in New Zealand politics

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Border Exception For Some Returning International Tertiary Students
By: New Zealand Government
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By: Export NZ
View as: DESKTOP | MOBILE © Scoop Media


text:
113ZYT Morocco  Series Electric DC Motor 113ZYT220-500-1750

Min.Order Quantity 1 pcs
Price Negotiable

Product Details

Rolling Element MaterialBearing Steel
Days to ShipQuote
Bearing Inner Dia. ShapeTapered hole adapter
Grease TypeStandard Grease
Basic Load Rating, Dynamic Rating(N)57200
View more

Company Profile

Worktime 9:00-18:00
Phone 0065-81416102
View more

Related News

  • Bearing internal clearance is the amount of internal free movement before mounting. As displayed in Fig., when either the inner ring or the outer ring is fixed and the other ring is free to move, displacement can happen in either an axial or radial...
  • When determining preload, the preload force required to provide an optimum com- bination of stiffness, bearing life span and operational reliability should be calculated irst. Then calculate the preload force to be used when adjusting the bearings during...
  • With tapered roller bearings, the term "setting" simply indicates the specific amount of end play (axial clearance) or preload (axial interference) within a mounted bearing. The flexibility to easily adjust and optimize rating enough time of assembly is an...
  • Recommended Products

    All Products Contact Now


text:
Bearing 4R2437

Min.Order Quantity 1 pcs
Price Negotiable

Product Details

Dimension J (Bolt Size)0.5 in
Dimension H0.75 in
Dimension SV3.14 in
Grease Lubrication - M/N Seal2200 rpm
Float0.050 in
Dimension L Exp3.17 in
Dimension E4.07 in
Oil Lubrication - T Seal3800 rpm
C0 - Static Load31900 lb
Shaft Size  50 mm
View more

Company Profile

Worktime 9:00-18:00
Phone 0065-81416102
View more

Related News

  • Bearing internal clearance is the amount of internal free movement before mounting. As displayed in Fig., when either the inner ring or the outer ring is fixed and the other ring is free to move, displacement can happen in either an axial or radial...
  • When determining preload, the preload force required to provide an optimum com- bination of stiffness, bearing life span and operational reliability should be calculated irst. Then calculate the preload force to be used when adjusting the bearings during...
  • With tapered roller bearings, the term "setting" simply indicates the specific amount of end play (axial clearance) or preload (axial interference) within a mounted bearing. The flexibility to easily adjust and optimize rating enough time of assembly is an...
  • Recommended Products

    All Products Contact Now


text:
 Weldmax in Brisbane,Australia - Wuxi Sanlian Heavy Industry Co.,Ltd

Weldmax in Brisbane,Australia

Date: 20th,May 2017

Country: Brisbane, Australia

Project name: 20ton/40ton Fit-up Growing Line+ 5×9 Column and boom Welding Manipulator

Detailed description: This customer was one of our new customer , we got the inquiry from the customer at the end of 2016, due to the end of the year , so everything is slow both in China and Australia.But after new year and Chinese new year , everything became bright. Our managing director Jason Wang and Australia company director Jason and Attila both reach an agreement , the first PO include (2) 40ton Fit-up growing line, (2) 30ton V-roller and (2) 5×9 Welding Manipulator.

After 45days , we shipped all the equipment , and we sent (2) engineers to flew to Brisbane, Australia to help customer do the installation.Under the active cooperation of customer,Especially the production manager Jake. We finished all the work into 5days.

Right now ,all the gear works perfect in customer’s workshop , we provide customer for 18months after service , so anything broken , we will send the replacement into a week.

Anyway,it is a great experience. I believe that we will be their first choice if they need to purchase more equipment.


text:
Hope to the Nth Degree

What does a liberal arts education look like? What does a liberal arts education at Hope look like? There are 3,150 students at the college this year and just as many ways to answer those questions.

What follows are the stories of three of those students and one recent graduate, scholars with active minds who have made the most of the opportunity that they have found at Hope to explore varied interests deeply with the world around them in mind.

Trying to separate Ismael Byers’ story into distinct threads — language goes over here, identity is over there; this one is medicine, that one is public health — is impossible. The threads overlap and intertwine and weave together in ways that can’t be easily separated.

So how can we describe Byers? He’s a graduating senior from Clarkston by way of Grand Blanc (both in Michigan); an Afro-Latino son of Spanish-speaking immigrants from Panama who didn’t really learn Spanish until high school and college; a prize-winning documentarian who wants to work in medicine and public health; and an introspective student who’s learned to be at home with himself and who feels a relentless pull outside of himself to help others, especially those on the margins.

Byers came to college, as many do, with no clue what to do after graduation.

“It started off really confusing and muddy,” Byers said, in part due to his bicultural identity. “I grew up as an Afro-Latino not really feeling like I had a place either being black or Latino.” Growing up, he felt ostracized, and his identity crisis compelled him to become conversant (he’s hesitant to say fluent) in the language his parents spoke at home but never formally taught their children.

Ismael Byers
Ismael Byers ’18

“If I can use my identity to help people who feel marginalized by an unfair system, I hope to be that bridge, and to be the bridge between medicine and public health.”

Accordingly, he decided to pursue a Spanish major and, eventually, to study abroad in a Spanish-speaking country where he’d be able to hone his language skills — and get some hands-on experience in hospitals and clinics as part of his second major, biology, which itself overlaps with his pre-health career track in preparation for medical school.

For Byers, language and medicine go hand-in-hand. His family pediatrician, from Argentina, spoke his parents’ native Spanish and provided a level of care that many Spanish-speakers can’t find in a primarily English-speaking health care field. Byers wants to give others the same gift.

Before he left for a semester in Santiago, Chile, though, Byers found a job doing literature review work with Michigan State University’s medical school in Flint, where he focused on the water crisis, child health and community research. To his surprise, he started to fall in love with public health.

He figured he’d use his time in Chile as a sort of experiment. He’d do some clinical observation and see what he wanted to do more: medicine or public health. But his study-abroad experience wasn’t quite what he expected.

His clinical experiences reinforced his desire to provide patient care and, at the same time, made him question even more whether clinical health care alone is enough to adequately address health issues. Most notably, Byers saw a lot of inequities related to the language barrier. “Language is a public health issue,” he said.

He didn’t just see it in Chile or with his pediatrician on the east side of the state; he sees it in Hope’s hometown of Holland, Michigan, where he volunteers weekly at the free health clinic, providing education and translation for diabetic patients who speak only Spanish. Byers wants to close the disparity by being a bilingual practitioner and working to resolve systemic issues in health care.

“I decided I’m going to do both. The social problems in the field of medicine inspire me to pursue medicine and public health to address health disparities for all patients — for those who speak Spanish and for others who feel left out,” he said.

Working for the underserved in health care may start with language, but Byers says his skin color and a growing empathy for those in poverty are part of it, too. “I want to work for the underserved,” he said.

Overall, Byers says his experience in Chile was difficult — it was good, yes, but also painful. Byers describes it as “probably the loneliest time of my life.” But even loneliness can be valuable. That theme was the subject of his award-winning documentary about his experience in Chile. As reported in the winter issue of News from Hope College, the film, Solitude: A Companion Abroad, won the grand prize in the 2017 IES Abroad Study Abroad Film Festival.

“I’ve learned to practice self-analysis and self-reflection,” Byers said. The clarity he eventually found came in part from the opportunity that his semester in Chile had provided to look inside, and to his past.

“If I can use my identity to help people who feel marginalized by an unfair system — whether that’s the government making decisions on behalf of a community to their harm, like the water crisis, or neglecting immigrants because they speak only Spanish — I hope to be that bridge, and to be the bridge between medicine and public health,” he said.

After he graduates, Byers is planning to take a gap year to see more of the world before he attends medical school, where he’s considering adding a master’s degree in public health as a graduate-level dual degree. It’s a path that the freshman who arrived on campus in August of 2015 wouldn’t have predicted, but which the past four years and a lifetime of experience have made clear.

“I don’t think an 18-year-old would’ve been able to have this idea of taking my identity crisis and using that for medicine and public health,” he said. “I’m just beginning to understand that now. The light bulb is just turning on.”

Wherever Hope College junior Irene Gerrish set foot in Athens, Greece, last fall, the lingering vapors of democratic musings seemed to brush against her, inspiring her to a deeper understanding and appreciation of millennia-old notions on democracy. For voting, jury selection and freedom of speech, Gerrish knew to thank the Greeks. It was in Greece, after all, that the concept of representative, elective government was born roughly 27 centuries ago.

So there, in the birthplace of democracy, Gerrish could hardly believe her good fortune. An economics and political science double major, she was among just 24 students from 13 countries chosen by the Global Liberal Arts Alliance, of which Hope is a member, to attend the New York Times (NYT) Athens Democracy Forum, an international event whose participants also included former United Nations Secretary General Kofi Annan, senior government officials from around the world, international business executives and leading journalists from the NYT. There, in Athens for a week, she pondered the endurance of world democracies during these unique and challenging times. There, she walked ancient Athenian ground, listened to new-millennial minds, and then readily chimed in on panel discussions with her own insights on democracy and its future.

And through it all, Gerrish — bright, inquisitive, funny — couldn’t help but wonder, “Could my life get any better than this?”

Irene Gerrish
Irene Gerrish ’19

“I think to some extent everybody wants to change the world… I know there is only so much one person can do, right? But I have to try somehow. I mean, what else am I going to do with my life?”

It could and it would. Gerrish is still living her best life, one any young political wonk with aspirations to change the world could want. This time, though, she’s living it in Washington, D.C., as a student on Hope’s Washington Honors Semester this spring.

“D.C. feels like home to me,” confesses Gerrish, who makes this observation after living in the nation’s capital for only three weeks and whose real hometown is Los Alamos, New Mexico. “It is not logical, I know. But I’ve always had this idea that I would be in D.C. someday so I suppose it makes sense to me. Like in Athens, I feel grateful constantly to be here.”

If Greece gave democracy its birth, then it can be said that America made it famous. And the most famed symbol of democracy is the U.S. Capitol. Gerrish made a beeline for an internship there, working for Michigan Senator Debbie Stabenow’s office. The 20-year-old intern primarily writes policy memos on tax and finance matters, but she also must tend to quotidian tasks, like answering constituent phone calls. Even then, when communication is routinized to ensure consistency of information, she appreciates the necessity and difficulty of it all. Everyone should work in politics at least one day of their lives, she thinks, just as those who work in the restaurant industry feel everyone should wait tables for a long shift, too. Then, anyone who has ever complained about the warmth of their food or of their politicians will get a taste for the complexities of service to all.

“We get calls from people on both sides,” says Gerrish. “Calls come from Democrats and Republicans who are frustrated with the senator’s voting behavior. It’s very hard to please everyone.”

Gerrish is not trying to easily explain away the reality of how hard it is to govern. Living and learning on the D.C. Honors Semester, under the direction of Dr. Jeff Polet this semester, has reinforced the humanity of those trying to lead a wounded country. Many view Congress as an uncooperative and dysfunctional bunch; Gerrish, who describes her political views as centrist to left-leaning, sees most U.S. politicians as hard-working and sincere.

“Irene is very thoughtful, very reflective, very open,” compliments Polet. “She’s simply interested in everything.”

“Irene complements her keen intellect with an open and curious mind,” adds Dr. Brad Richmond, professor of music, who knows Gerrish well since she is also a talented violist in Hope ensembles. “She exudes confidence without a hint of arrogance.”

Playing viola at Hope is as important to Gerrish as reading The Economist, her favorite magazine. She has a wide-ranging, liberal-arts way about her. But it is politics that capture her imagination. Like a sports fan who can name team’s offensive linemen in a crowd, Gerrish knows exactly who Senators Markey, Hirono and Booker are and which states they represent. Those senators may be obscure to some, but to Gerrish, each is an essential, familiar and celebrated cog in the U.S. political system.

And maybe, just maybe, she will be one someday, too. Perhaps she’ll run for office, but she’s also interested in working for the Treasury or the Fed or a policy think tank like Rand Corporation. She is ready to roll up her sleeves to go to work anyplace where she can “be part of a process that lends itself to optimal human flourishing,” she says. In Athens and in D.C., Gerrish confirmed that democracy is that process.

“I think to some extent everybody wants to change the world,” Gerrish reasons. “I know there is only so much one person can do, right? But I have to try somehow. I mean, what else am I going to do with my life?”

It is a rare person who can say he or she has ever founded anything new or necessary or unique in a lifetime. It is a rarer person still who can say he or she founded anything at the age of 20.

Meet Taylor Mills ’17, a rare person.

Taylor Mills
Taylor Mills ’17

“Students need to know that educational systems and institutions are made for them. I want them to feel like they are actual active agents of change in their schools and they can bring their own ideas and make this place, or any place, fit for them.”

And it’s not just because Mills co-founded the Undergraduate Network for Research in the Humanities (UNRH) three years ago while a rising junior at Hope. What also makes Mills rare is her distinctive intellect and interest in a wide number of subjects — music, art, Spanish, philosophy, psychology and even physical fitness. Dr. Maria Andre, professor of Spanish, summates Mills’ persona, appropriately enough, as “a true Renaissance woman, a poster child of what the liberal arts is all about.”

Mills is, of course, humbled by such lofty descriptors, but they are not sobriquets she ever sought. She’s simply curious about so many things that it’s hard for her to draw a hard line at what or when or where she’ll stop learning… if ever. Besides being a Mellon Scholar, Phelps Scholar, flutist in Hope’s concert band, soprano in Chapel Choir, Spanish minor, composite major in moral philosophy and psychology, and regular runner (phew, are you keeping up?), Mills also co-created UNRH — a national and international conference organized by and entirely for humanities undergraduates in 2015 with six other undergraduate cohorts. Here’s how Andre recounts Mills making UNRH a thing:

“Taylor was a student in my Advanced Spanish grammar class (her sophomore year) and I could tell she was outstanding which is why I invited her to join me to participate in a four-day humanities workshop at the Institute for Liberal Arts Digital Scholarship in New York. At the time, we were collaborating on a mapping project on Mexico City funded by the Great Lakes Colleges Association. Not only was Taylor extremely tech-savvy at producing and learning about digital scholarship, she was also highly entrepreneurial, to the point that, by the third day of this workshop, she was co-creating a similar digital humanities organization with other undergraduates [in attendance].”

For its first two years, UNRH was hosted at Davidson College and Washington and Lee University, since two of Mills’ co-conspirators in UNRH’s creation were students there. This year, with Mills on Hope’s staff as the Post-Baccalaureate Fellow for the Mellon Scholars Program, UNRH was hosted at Hope. “Thirty-two students from nine countries and a bunch of U.S. states all converged at Hope and it was just really exciting to see them here,” Mills says.

Her reasons for creating UNRH were as much personal as altruistic. Giving undergraduates their own platform to display and explain their scholarship was powered by Mills’ desire to embolden the voices and works of other students as well as her own need to drive down another avenue of creativity. “I really enjoy the creative process,” she says, “and what I love about research, especially research in digital humanities, is that it’s extremely interdisciplinary and creative. You pull from all of these different fields and see how they connect… So building websites and maps and other digital tools is far more interesting to me than just writing a paper.”

Besides her post-graduate role at Hope, Mills is also working for Lighthouse Immigrant Advocates, a non-profit law firm in Holland, as their community coordinator during her gap year between Hope and either law or graduate school. Delving into matters of social justice is another Mills interest, one that again gives others a platform to find their voices. She believes strongly in the ability to have a say in the future, whether one is an undergraduate liberal arts student or an immigrant seeking citizenship.

It can be said that the once self-described “shy-and-quiet” Mills is now anything but. Her own vision and voice, admittedly discovered prior to her undergraduate years but strengthened by her Hope education, have a clarity of purpose, seen through multiple lenses and uniquely Millsian. And as she’s always done, Mills is willing to share both.

“I hope that my legacy [with UNRH and Hope] is one of empowering students,” concludes Mills. “I think a lot of students are used to having the professor tell them what to learn. And while I have the utmost respect for professors — my family has generations of teachers and I want to be a teacher, I think — I do think that students need to know that educational systems and institutions are made for them. So I want them to feel like they are actual active agents of change in their schools and that they can bring their own ideas and make this place fit for them.”

Her only recollection of him was at a funeral. His funeral. Nia Stringfellow hazily remembers paying her last respects to Allen Stringfellow, her great uncle, when she was 7 years old at an art-gallery-turned-funeral-home in Southside Chicago. As it turns out, it would not be the final time the younger Stringfellow would honor her elder.

Nia Stringfellow
Nia Stringfellow ’18

“I’m inspired to make long-lasting work in the same way that my great uncle has, to use the gifts I’ve been given to leave an impact on what art means.”

Since the fall of 2016, Hope College senior Nia Stringfellow — an exercise science major, dance performance minor and Mellon Scholar — has researched and revealed a man she barely knew. That Allen Stringfellow was a prolific African American artist in the mid-20th century could have been reason enough for Nia to bring his story to more prominent light. That he happened to be a family member, well, that was an endearing, added bonus.

“The Man Who Wore Red” is what they called Allen Stringfellow, and that is the title of the research project Nia presented at three different academic conferences in 2017-18 from Atlanta to Chicago to Holland, Michigan. Red was the color that defined Allen’s daily wardrobe “because it was powerful to him,” explains Nia.

But it was Allen’s watercolor and collage art of daily African American life — depicted peacefully and joyously at church, jazz clubs, picnics or busy streets — that was powerful to Nia. In them, she finds the emotive representation of a culture she knows well, if not the man who painted it. In them, she sees art, and a great uncle, who bear witness to enduring social activism created from a highly expressive palette of and for all colors.

“The best way I can explain my uncle’s expression of social justice is that it wasn’t angry. It was not pervaded by any negative emotions,” she says of his art created during the Great Migration and Civil Rights Movement, some of which is owned by Oprah Winfrey and the late Whitney Houston. “It didn’t make anyone feel angry or feel bitter. Rather, he took some of the most comforting moments of African American life, and he celebrated the social history and the social strength of black people.”

The research was not easy. Information about Allen’s life was not laid at Nia’s feet, the primary tools she uses to brilliantly learn and move on point as an artist herself. “It took a lot of digging,” she says, to find a good number of images of Allen’s works and stories about his life. The Internet or printed texts were not rife with them. But her great aunt Shirley was. In her home in Montgomery, Alabama, Shirley provided Nia with an oral history about Allen “and our family on that side that I didn’t really know too well. And maybe some information that I wasn’t supposed to know,” she chuckles.

While Nia’s research was personally satisfying, the main reason she undertook the project was to make Allen’s art and life relevant for all audiences. Professor Linda Graham, her Mellon advisor, prompted her to do so because “Nia’s intellect and experience as a dancer and artist provide her with a unique empathy, an understanding through embodied perspective, as well as the ability to perceive, abstract, explore, shape and form a narrative in an organized multimedia way,” Graham says.

“I’m just incredibly grateful to have had this opportunity through the Mellon Scholars Program to perform historical research that I would not have had as an undergrad in other places,” says the Frankfort, Illinois native.

With a major housed in the social sciences, a minor in the arts and research in the humanities, the pragmatic and intuitive Stringfellow is as well-balanced a scholar as she is dancer. Even as she was researching and presenting “The Man Who Wore Red,” Stringfellow was also creating and performing a solo work of art of her own. Called “The Will,” it is a potent piece in classic modern technique expressing tenacity of will in the face of oppression. Stringfellow debuted the work at a student dance concert in spring 2017, then presented it again two months later at the Centre de Danse du Marais while she was studying on a May Term in Paris, France. Subsequently, “The Will” and a work by senior Emily Mejicano-Gormley titled “Memory” were combined and selected for adjudication at the regional American College Dance Association conference in March. “The Will/ Memory” became one of the only 11 pieces chosen for the event’s Gala Concert and one of the only two alternatives from the region for the national ACDA festival.

“I will say that through my participation in the dance department, I’m inspired to make long-lasting work in the same way that my great uncle has, to use the gifts I’ve been given to leave an impact on what art means,” says Stringfellow, whose ultimate goal is to open her own studio center that promotes health and the arts for young developing artists and dancers in low-income areas. “To me, and I think to him, it means to be honest, to be joyful, to be raw and authentic.”

“I just hope to leave an impact as Nia Stringfellow. Then maybe one day, some random great niece of mine will do research on me,” she says, and a calm but infectious smile crosses her face. “I’m not counting on it, but that’s the effect that I’d like to have.”


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The Trick of Home Design That Nobody is Talking About

This is the number one cause why folks redecorate their houses. Who wants to dwell in another person’s style, particularly if it doesn’t match your taste at all? Simple issues like taking down wallpaper or painting the partitions a distinct colour can go a good distance in making a new dwelling feel more like your own home. Once you get your individual furniture and accessories within the place, it should undoubtedly really feel a lot more like your private home instead of a stranger’s house.

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Home Design Interior

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Magic Baltimore Listen Live

Rep. Frederica Wilson (D-Fla.) and the Rev. Al Sharpton sat with  Myeshia Johnson at Saint Agnes’ Episcopal Church in Miami on Saturday for a Veterans Day prayer service, CBS News Miami reported.

Veterans Day would have been an appropriate time for President Donald Trump  to end his insane feud with Johnson, the widow of Sgt. La David Johnson. Instead, he spent the day tweeting about Russia, China and North Korea. He was silent about the biggest news of the day: new details about Johnson’s death.

Sharpton was the keynote speaker at the service. He criticized the president for his attacks on Wilson, who revealed Trump’s insensitivity toward Johnson in his condolence call, telling the widow that her husband knew what he signed up for by joining the Army. Trump accused Wilson of lying, but Johnson confirmed the president’s callousness.

READ MORE: Myeshia Johnson Breaks Silence On Trump Condolence Call

“To act like she (Wilson) did something wrong, to stand up for a soldier killed in the line of duty … I can’t understand how we can even rationalize that,” Sharpton told the congregation, according to the Washington Examiner.

READ MORE: Pattern Emerges Of White Supremacists Threatening African Americans Who Criticize President

Wilson urged the congregation and Miami community to give the fallen soldier’s family “our love and support.”

Meanwhile, Johnson awaits the results of an official investigation of her husband’s death in an ambush on Oct. 4 in Niger. Villagers reported what the military has known: that Johnson was bound and apparently executed by Islamist militants.

READ MORE: U.S. Sgt. La David Johnson Was Bound, Executed In Niger, Villagers Say

Trump knew, or should have known, the circumstances of the soldier’s death when he made his condolence call. This reveals the depth of his lack of empathy—not only when he called but now that the rest of the world also knows how the Johnson died. A White gold star widow, whose husband served with Johnson, said she received a “gracious” message from the president. Myeshia Johnson deserves the same.

SOURCE:  CBS News Miami, Washington Examiner

How Trump’s Lies About Rep. Frederica Wilson And Myeshia Johnson Could Lead To Impeachment

Rep. Frederica Wilson Wants Answers In The Killing Of Sgt. La David Johnson’s Death

Trump’s Silence On Details Of Sgt. La. David Johnson’s Death Speaks Volumes  was originally published on


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Interesting Research on Wellness – What You Didn’t Know

A Definitive Guide to Changing the Way You See Life by Knowing Where to Look

People as we are, to live our lives is something that not all of us are well aware on how to handle, especially since there basically are instances where such problems just hit us hard. Nonetheless, the key to actually have a great fight with life is to make sure that you know where to look at. For you to be able to fight back respectively, it really is important that you will have to be aware on what to do and to consider adopting a pet is going to be a great thing to consider. Just in case you are looking forward to adopt a pet, then VetIQ is a great place to start, not to mention that they also are great in terms of providing you with quality pet products to ensure you are getting things right.

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Praciticng doing regular exercises basically is a great way for you to have altered the direction of your life in a rather positive approach since regular exercises are found to help in terms of improving positivity in your life instead of sulking yourself on negative energy. Taking a step back also is a great move for you to not just give yourself some room to look at where you are but to also reflect on things and course your way on the right path.

Resource: read this


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Innogen and the Hungry Half: 06 – A tail more perilous than the head

Previously: Britannicus the pamphleteer; Imogen the diplomat; Cymbeline versus Illyria; Cymbeline versus Innogen; Dr. Cornelius and his caller; Posthumus and the walls; Rigantona looks fondly on him; Imogen leaves on her own.

All of Londinium is my city, even the parts I haven’t seen yet. Behind us is the palace, the chieftains, the minders, the arrangements, the backrooms. Behind us is my father, whose greatest fear is that I will be out of bed.

We have the river between us now. Yes, it warms me a little. Maybe some. Maybe more.

This is my city, day and night. It will open to us if we ask.

“I say, I say, I say! A girl for that other arm, my lad? Fine-looking woman, two’s better than one, I say!”

Posthumus pulls me closer, stammering to the stout man who’s planted himself in our way. The fellow winks at me and tips his cap. “Or I got boys—you want two boys for your lovely lady there? Guarantee she’ll love it, bet you will too! Ten pieces for the first hour, prices negotiable after that.”

“I—thank you,” Posthumus tries, pushing up his glasses. A towering woman jostles us with an enormous, ragged bustle as she passes. I clutch my jacket as I catch myself, to be sure of my purse inside.

“We’re fine,” I say quickly, and lead Posthumus around the pander.

“It’s Bellicia’s Bawds when you change your mind!” he shouts after us.

Before I came to Sower Street, I might only have known this: that when the Romans built their great bridges over the Tamesis, fishers sold their bankside land to builders and moved on from fishing. That taverns, theaters and all manner of low entertainment bought deeds along the new road, and flourished like so many toadstools. That Sower Street is a byword in Britain for all the trappings of ill-spent money and youth.

Posthumus twists to stare at the pander, gobsmacked at the offer we just fled. “This was a better idea at the palace,” he says.

I have to smile, only a little. “Oh come now. Cloten is here somewhere—what’s that, if not a ringing endorsement?” I nod toward the long row of public houses, Romans and Britons alike streaming through the open doors. “Which one looks most appealing?”

“I’m not him,” he says, irritated. “Don’t start with that.”

I have accepted the fundamental madness of our childhoods, for which I’ve been granted some narrative consistency. Posthumus may not remember it, but that means nothing. Soldiers may black out the pitch of battle; survivors of a sinking ship may blot out their time in the water. A trauma like ours could easily leave no trace. A child might touch a machine and become two children. A girl might dream of it for years and learn it was true.

Cloten might know what happened that night at the exhibition. He was there too, and his mother who found him had to tell him something. We are not doing anything unreasonable, now that this is the case.

The Emporion, the sprawling port. Every surface plated with bright tiles from Massilia. Continental fare covers the tables, wine and olives and goat’s cheese and rosemary. One look and I’m ready to turn around. “He’s not here.”

Posthumus knits his brow. “He might have stopped in.”

Rigantona surely raised him calling us Lud’s-town. She believes in Britain. This place seethes with empire.

Posthumus catches a trim, dark man in a spotless apron. “Excuse me,” he says, one hand on his arm. “I’m looking for someone, my height, no glasses, curly hair.” The server glares and pushes past us. Posthumus tries to follow. “His name is Cloten. Has he been by?”

The server curls his lip and leaves us behind. At the bar, a smartly-dressed man, his black hair slicked neatly back, smirks into his tumbler. I am exquisitely aware of my scuffed boots and seasons-old skirt, of Posthumus’s knobby wrists inches beneath the sleeves of his coat. This place is aspirational; he wants to be here, not Cloten. All at once, I’m embarrassed for him. I grip the back of a nearby chair. “We can do better than this.”

Posthumus’s expression curdles, just a little. “I’m listening.”

You live at the palace, I want to say. Instead, I nod to the tiles, to the statues of the gods. “Let’s start with places where he wouldn’t come just to pick a fight.”

“Fine.” He dips his chin. “By all means, we’ll do it your way.”

I drop my hand. “That’s not what I’m saying—”

“Aren’t we wasting time?” he says, and strides toward the door.

“Can we be clear on one thing?” Posthumus steps to avoid a puddle of effluvia, pressing us instead into a hooting gaggle of wealthy teenage boys. “I need to know why you’re out here with me.”

“We need to find Cloten. Were you not sure?” I squeeze my elbows to my side, narrowly dodging a young man with much to learn about sharing space. “Remember we both had the same idea and met in the middle.”

Posthumus shakes his head. “I want to find him and see what he’s about. As far as I can tell, you just want to win at something.”

I smile. He’s needling because he can, because he’s nervous. “What do I want to win here?”

“You don’t like it that no one thinks your theory is wonderful,” he says. “You don’t like it that I haven’t said I believe you.”

My smile becomes tighter. “I don’t like that you’re less committed than I expected.”

“Soft beds up here!” someone calls from an open window. “No fleas! Good rates!”

Posthumus bows his head. “You’re telling me that I’m half of some other person. Forgive me if I’d rather take some time on this.”

Rigantona is not waiting for any of us. I can only laugh; I am out of other rebuttals. “What time have we got?”

Ardu, named for the forest without roads. The walls teem with hunting gear and taxidermy; no subtlety nor chance of escape allowed. The barkeep glowers, a gladiator in a starched shirt. His bald head gleams; his mustache bristles, perfectly trimmed. His arms bulge as he wipes down a mug that engulfs his fist.

“He’s not my brother,” Posthumus insists. “I’m just looking for him.”

The barkeep eyes me suspiciously. I give him a bland, eager smile. He grunts. “Strangers have no business hearing about my customers.”

I have coin ready; it gleams against the counter between us. “We’re customers too. Doesn’t that make us friendly?”

He pockets the money with not a flicker of interest and strolls off to the taps. Posthumus drums his fingers, engrossed with the wall art. The din of the pub rushes in to fill the space. Behind us, a cluster of men howls in a parody of song. A few seats down, a red lady leans against a shabby man, her hair threaded with the ribbons of her trade. Where her hand is is anyone’s guess. Posthumus appears, with effort, not to notice.

The barkeep returns with two tankards, one laughably dainty, which he sets before me. He grunts at Posthumus. “Left here about an hour ago,” he says. “I wasn’t sorry to see the back of him.”

I lean over the counter. He can be no harder to crack than a proconsul. “You don’t have any idea where he could have gone?”

The barkeep’s monstrous mustache twitches, but Posthumus cedes the man’s attention to me. “He didn’t confide in me. I’d guess further down the street.” He says so with rueful disdain, as one who knows that he’s low but not that low.

“He’s not my brother,” Posthumus insists, setting down his mug. The barkeep watches him, unimpressed. Posthumus glances at me, wipes his mouth and drinks again.

Three Cambrians cheer as we leave Ardu. “Lovely catch!” crows a ruddy fellow with one dead tooth. Posthumus tightens his hold around my shoulders.

“They’ve obviously seen him!” I hiss. “Let’s go back!”

“There’s nothing obvious about it,” he says, eyes forward. “They’re just catcalling.”

“I could give a damn. We have to talk to them!” I squirm out from under his arm.

He throws up his hands. “Yes, of course we do, Imogen, because after all, it’s your idea, and your ideas are never wrong.”

I circle in front of him and glare. “Would you shout a little louder, please? I don’t think the whole street heard my name.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, calm down.”

Don’t, Posthumus.”

We cut across the current, across the street. On the curb, a young woman is bawling; another crouches next to her, rubbing her back. Drunks spill past us, laughing and baiting each other. We step to one side, not looking at each other, waiting for an opening. One of them catches sight of us. He’s a middle-aged man, shorter than I am, half bald with a merry face. He beams. “Here now. Haven’t I seen you before?”

“I think you’re mistaken,” says Posthumus, at the same time I say, “Him? Have you seen him?”

“No. No no no.” The man veers closer. “I know I’ve seen you before.” He wags a finger. My breath catches. “Down on Epaticcus Lane, eh? Here on your own time, then?” He reaches for my arm.

In an instant, Posthumus has stepped between us. He has a good eight inches on the man. I cannot think of Posthumus as ferocious, but in that moment, he is so still, I wonder what he might do.

“Too early for a fight, Mato.” One of his friends pounds his shoulder and pulls him back. Mato gives me one more merry wink before he’s swept off down the street.

“This is all a mistake,” Posthumus murmurs, neck bent.

“Let’s not catastrophize.” I slip my arm through his again. I also look behind us, watching Mato, weaving away.

The Boar and Brachet, wild pigs and hounds crowding every inch. Posthumus cocks his head. “Isn’t it the Gauls who are obsessed with boars?”

It’s an old place, all the wood dark and stained and smooth. The booths are pitted with nicks and dents, deeply gouged with graffiti. The names and boasts are all British; not a hint of Latin to be seen or heard. A proud place. For a princess of Britain under Rome, an oddly uncomfortable place.

Posthumus has gone still again. Of course he has: abruptly, there is Cloten, raising his glass to a group of regulars.

He is hard to watch. He goes from chair to chair, the dog wagging furiously and hoping for scraps. I still can’t reconcile the movements he makes with the face and the body he wears. His expression shifts constantly, often exaggerated, often unpleasant. I glance at Posthumus, who is so quiet I hope he will come up for air.

“We should get him,” I say quietly.

Posthumus looks at me, skeptical. “It’s noisy, it’s raucous, the night is young and so are we—what do you think you’re getting from him tonight?”

“He’ll talk to us,” I insist. “This is important.”

“Imogen, this theory of yours, I’m not even sure I believe you yet.” Posthumus slips his hands in his pockets and looks out over the bar. Then: “I’ll get him.”

“Why don’t we both—”

Posthumus shakes his head. He’s in earnest. I glance toward the bar again, uncomfortable. “You don’t like each other.”

He doesn’t look away. “Let me have this.”

Posthumus is here for a different reason than I am. If I am honest, I have no rebuttal.

He leaves me at a booth that hasn’t been cleared yet. I slide into the middle of the bench and try being patient. One hand starts tugging at the fingers of the other. The noise of Sower Street is starting to bear down on me. I jump at an unseen burst of laughter. At another table, a handful of sailors whistle at me. When I look up, one of them makes grotesque kissing faces; another waves me over. I swallow. Posthumus has left me alone with my city. Realizing I don’t feel safe here infuriates me.

The Greeks have a name for everything. In one word, they describe the act of descending into the underworld: katabaino. Perhaps tonight is making me heavy-handed. I think we’re at the rim of something we can’t see the bottom of.

The pit of my stomach boils, watching Posthumus’s slow collision course with his double. Cloten has shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to the elbow, loose-limbed and gregarious; Posthumus is shabby and contained, pushing politely through the throng. I wonder, in that moment, precisely what parts of him went with Cloten when they split.

I brace myself for tension, more of the spitting cats from our encounter near the Pallas. Instead, Cloten beams and crows “Posthumus Leonatus!” before thumping him on the back. He embarks on a ramble, full of gesticulations. The regulars lose interest. Posthumus leans close to him, and then points toward me. Cloten’s face lights up with that leer. My jaw goes tight. He swipe his coat from a stool and marches toward the booth, Posthumus at his shoulder. I slide to the outside edge of the bench: he’ll have no chance for liberties.

Cloten plants both hands on the table in front of me. “Who’d have thought to see you here?” He grins. “You have any more surprises for me tonight?”

He reeks of curmi, the cheap barley liquor. Posthumus hovers behind him. To see them side-by-side is still dizzying. I lift my chin. “Have a seat.”

Cloten needs no further obliging; he throws himself down the bench. Posthumus lowers himself next to him, corralling him by the wall. I fold my hands. “Cloten, we’re so glad we found you.”

“Aren’t you?” He smirks, and slings an arm over the back of the booth. “I knew you couldn’t keep away from me.”

“That’s not what she’s saying,” Posthumus begins.

He reaches for his shirt buttons. “I was going to woo you first, but hell, if you’re eager, I’m willing—”

“Cloten,” I interrupt sharply. “This is important.”

He pounds the table. “By all means, then, another round!” He splays a hand over the table, then counts each finger. “I have been at this for five hours now. Let me elucidate you, it only gets better with more.”

Cloten plants his chin in his palm. “You came for me,” he says dreamily. “How many times?”

“Mind yourself,” says Posthumus sharply. “She’s going to be queen one day.”

Cloten wags his eyebrows, a senseless jackal just before he laughs.

“Enough.” I shift toward the edge of the bench. “Cloten, we have questions for you, personal questions. Let us take you somewhere, we can make sense of some things.”

“Why, what is it we can’t do here? Other than the expected. I’ve already been reprimanded for that.” He slings an elbow around Posthumus’s neck. “I feel so close to you already—”

“He’s not your brother!” I snap, unplanned and more passionately than intended.

Cloten wrinkles his nose. “Who’s saying that?” Posthumus watches me while carefully disentangling himself from Cloten’s arm. “You know, we both made mistakes tonight.” Cloten’s mouth twists, ugly. “You left your father with my mother, and I left my mother with your father.”

Posthumus frowns. “She’s working for the king.”

Cloten twists toward him. “Have you ever worked a queen?” He winks at me. “Or a future queen?” He claps a hand on Posthumus’s knee. “You should if you haven’t tried.”

My cheeks are hot. All my foolishness is smacking me in the face right now. Everything we’ve learned tonight could have waited another day. “Watch yourself, Cloten. You won’t remember this in the morning, but I will.”

“Save your breath,” he sneers. “This isn’t the palace. None of this matters and no one cares.”

“Listen,” says Posthumus quickly, glancing at me, then turning to Cloten. “Why not take a walk? Get some fresh air?”

Cloten points at him. “You have an interest in asking me nicely.”

“We both do,” he says. “Come on, there’s no reason we can’t all be friends.”

Cloten thumps both elbows on the table. “I like him,” he says to me. He sniffs. “So what if he’s poor and half Roman? I wish you could be more like him. Wait, this is a good one!” He hunches low. “Have you got any Roman in you?”

Posthumus sighs. “Don’t answer that.” He stands and buttons his jacket. The sailors start to howl and whistle.

“Are we going?” Cloten blinks. He waves lazily at the churning pub crowd. “Forget all this. I know a back way out. Forgive me if I’m not precise—I was distracted when the lady showed it to me.”

We’ve come only to make him trust us. We follow him, past the brewing vats, past the kitchens, out the delivery doors, into the alley and past the men urinating on the bricks. Posthumus and Cloten walk sometimes shoulder-to-shoulder, sometimes drifting into a line. The rhythm in their movements is nothing alike: Posthumus upright, steady; Cloten swaggering, meandering. How different they became. How queasy to see them together.

The alley runs parallel to the street—to be expected, but so far we can’t seem to find a way back, save through other pubs. I glance at Cloten, hoping he hasn’t led us totally astray. There’s something haggard in his face under the cider cast of the gaslamps. He’s coiled tight and in his cups, which makes me warier than ever. “Are we close?” I ask, hoping one or the other will answer.

Cloten stops and looks around, his face blank. Posthumus turns and points over his shoulder. “I’ll check up ahead.” His long stride takes him away from us before I can insist otherwise.

Cloten and I stand there by the trash bins of The Laughing Mare, awkward as unwilling dancers. The persistent roar of merrymaking is muddied back here, as is the silt smell of the river. “You came for me,” Cloten says thickly.

“We were impatient.” I glance up the alley, to check on Posthumus. “We think you might know something important.”

He shakes his head, something unspooling in his face. “No one ever comes for me.” Too late I see he’s closing the space between us. I sidestep him, but he traps me between his arm and the bricks. “Finally,” he slurs, and leans in, mouth open.

It happens so quickly. I twist away; his lips only graze my forehead. I catch the full force of his five hours of drinking, and gag. His hand gropes at my stomach, seeking higher than that. He tries to pull me toward him. “Oh no,” I grunt; I grind my teeth, brace myself and ram my elbow into his chest.

He staggers, wide-eyed, hanging midair for a moment before collapsing spectacularly into a stack of empty crates. His limbs go flailing. A rat shrieks and scuttles away, at which Cloten thrashes even harder. “What was that for?” he yells.

I raise both fists. “What do you think it was for?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Cloten snarls, grappling for purchase and toppling more boxes. “Never mind what my mother’s doing to your father right now. Never mind what a man wants for himself. It’s all the same whatever Cloten wants.”

Posthumus skids to a halt behind me. He checks in, a hand on my elbow, then takes a step toward Cloten, who shouts, “You stop pretending at me!” He rolls away from the mess he’s made and pushes himself to his full height. “I don’t need you,” he barks. “I’ll find better ones. To all the hells with both of you!”

He spins on his heel and marches, full speed ahead, two whole paces, where he collides, headfirst, with a thick copper pipe and lands flat on his back, dead to the world.

One of the men who’d been at the wall yells up the alley. “Hurt, love?”

I wrap my jacket as close around me as I can. I’ve gone cold with rage, shaking and breathing hard. Posthumus sets a hand on my shoulder. “We’re fine,” he shouts back.

Posthumus takes a step toward him. “Come on.”

I plant my feet. “Come on what?”

He stops. “We can’t just leave him there.”

“I don’t see why not.”

Posthumus just nods. “Fine. Go back to the palace. I’ll meet you there.”

My knuckles go white. “Don’t be absurd. I’m not leaving without you.” Posthumus lifts his eyebrows. I point to Cloten. “You’re excusing him?”

He holds up his palms. “No, I’m not—”

My voice quakes. “You were right, you know. There was no way we’d get anything out of him, now or ever.”

“That isn’t what I—“

“We’re done. I could honestly give a fig what happens to him.”

“You have stakes in this if I do,” Posthumus says quietly. I only listen because it’s him, it’s Posthumus, and he came with me tonight. “You’ve asked me to believe a lot of difficult things about Cloten and me. Either he’s as important as you say, or you don’t want to deal with what you’ve started.” We’ve both gone still now. “Tell me,” he says, “because it’s one or it’s the other.”

We drag him back toward Sower Street, toward the gaslamps, toward the hackney cabs. We carry him between us, deadweight over our shoulders. Cloten’s eyes flutter open. I ought to want to see him as Posthumus does, as related, as salvageable, but I can’t. I can’t and I won’t. Cloten laughs, unsteady and soft. “You’ve never come back for me before.”

Posthumus leans closer. “What was that?”

He releases a long, deep breath, a rotten wind. “My whole life, over and over again at night. I’m left there and I can’t see anything and no one ever comes back for me.” He trips, and Posthumus grunts as he props him up.

I hitch his arm up higher. “We came for you, Cloten.”

“It was just an accident,” he mumbles. “I caused so much trouble.”

“Yes,” I murmur, resenting his sour smell, the fact of my bearing him. “More than you know.”

“The lights went out,” he continues, and his voice cracks. “Oh, everything just went out, and no one came.”

An empty cab lurches in our direction. I hail it, certain it won’t slow down even after it hits us. The driver casts a jaundiced eye at us, but accepts us with our load.

“Well,” Cloten sighs as we push him upright into a seat. “She came for me. But she wasn’t angry long.”

“Say it again?” Posthumus settles in beside him, but Cloten is already snoring, open-mouthed.

I realize this as we are walking home, Cloten since deposited at his front step.

The nightmare will come tonight: the pearlescent glow, the air sucked out of our chests, the towering generator thrumming through the floor. Children can touch a machine and become two children. Posthumus has no such memory, but that is not proof against it.

“I did win,” I say softly. Posthumus looks at me, brow furrowed. Oh, for all the comfort it brings me. “It happened just like I’ve said it did.” I ball my hands in my pockets. “Cloten remembers.”

Posthumus matches me, step for step. “How can you tell?”

“He dreams it. He said so, on the way back.”

Neither one of us speaks. We plod on, quiet as the city around us, back to our beds in my father’s palace.

 | next: The heavens must still work

Hi, and thanks for reading! Got some feelings? I would love to hear your thoughts. All content © Esther Bergdahl, 2011. Thanks again, and hope you enjoy!

10 thoughts on “Innogen and the Hungry Half: 06 – A tail more perilous than the head”

  1. Yay new chapter! I’m so glad I had a chance to catch up on this and revel in its awesomeness. I love the interplay between the three of them, and how we really start to feel bad for Cloten there at the end, even after his gross pass at Imogen. Your world-building is excellent, and I really got a feel for the dirtiness of this part of London. I did wish that the danger of being out of the palace was played up a little more, especially as I think it explains Posthumus’s attitude towards the whole evening (right? or is there something else going on that I missed?). What would happen if someone recognized Imogen? I mean, considering that her brothers were kidnapped, she’s actually in quite a lot of danger out here, isn’t she? (I don’t mean that rhetorically, I’m really asking.)

    Anyway! I think the whole thing is wonderful and I’m really, really excited for the next chapter!

    1. I’m so glad you’re all caught up and enjoying it! Thank you thank you, for this whole comment. I could play it cool and pretend that no one recognizes Imogen in the same way no one recognizes King Henry at Agincourt, but that’s not true — my focus was on the conceit of being able to visit the underbelly, and I missed that angle. A hypothetical full-text edit once this thing is done, though — that would be a great thing to add back in. Because you’re right, she is in danger! And her father is incredibly paranoid about missing children, which, in this instance, translates more to obstinate rebellion than, you know, thoughts of personal safety. Oh Imogen. Just because you spent the whole day feeling like no one takes you seriously doesn’t mean you should try to exert power because you think you can.

      I’m rambling! Thank you again, and I’m thrilled that you’re excited for more — I am too!

  2. Oh gosh, I don’t even know where to start. Imogen and Posthumus’ bickering! The visceral way that I could practically feel the neighborhood they were in!

    And ugh awful, disgusting, pitiable Cloten. I’m so angry about my feels at the end when he says that they never come back for him.

    Though I’m becoming concerned about why Posthumus is the only one who doesn’t remember!

    I feel that I must reread before I say more. AND I DO HAVE MORE TO SAY.

    1. Clearly I would be mayor of Cloud 9 to hear more thoughts and feels! This is pretty gratifying, though. Thank you! Oh gosh, so many feelings about Cloten, with all those adjectives you just used.

  3. I love everything you added! Imogen in the tavern: Realizing I don’t feel safe here infuriates me. It says SO MUCH about her. And the beginning is so much better, and the Cloten slapstick right after his increasingly gross behavior works awesomely — it doesn’t undercut how disgusting and dangerous he is, but it does underline how pathetic he is, too, and pitiable, like Rawles says. It’s a great chapter, and you surely earned it.

    1. I was hoping you’d have a chance to see this! It changed so much after your suggestions, and very much for the better. And oh man, thank you — I do feel like this was clawed out of — I don’t even know. Silly putty? It was a hard one. I’m so glad you like what it became! (On to the next!)

  4. Ooo new chapter! Love love love. I would agree with Alexandra–I want more of the danger she’s putting herself in, for sure, and even if she’s stubbornly telling herself that she’s totally in charge here, some moments of not-that would underscore it I think. Also, I’m curious (and this I think is sort of related) — is this something Imogen has done before? Gone sneaking out of the palace at night, especially with Posthumus? I imagine them doing this some as kids (teenagers maybe) but not very far, or very much perhaps. And not to places like this, either–I love the way you’ve written her tone here, how she expects the whole city to be hers and yet she doesn’t feel safe in it–SO good, so clear about who she is.

    And, ugh. Cloten. I just… agh. So pathetic, in such a perfect way for his character. Augh.

    So thrilled about this! Can’t wait for installment-the-next. 🙂

    1. Thank you so much! I’m glad it’s sparking all these questions — hopefully some of them can be addressed in future chapters. As for the sneaking out, it’s a good question — after all, it was Imogen’s idea to sneak out of the palace, into the exhibition, when she and Posthumus were little…

      I am delighted by the response to Cloten. Wait, did that come out wrong? But yes, thanks! Installment-the-next percolating as we speak. Hello, weekend!

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text:
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text:
For a franchise used to flying under the radar, the White Sox have found themselves in the midst of a ridiculous maelstrom that has set the baseball world on fire and even snared national headlines this week. Grown accustomed to their distant second-place status in the Second City behind the Cubs, the Sox have looked completely unprepared to deal with the fallout from Adam LaRoche‘s abrupt retirement after his son Drake was banned from the clubhouse and all team activities.

Strong arguments can be made for and against management or LaRoche, but regardless of which side was right or wrong, it all started when someone complained about the constant presence of a 14-year old kid in the clubhouse. The central question remains unanswered: Who hates Drake?

Myriad theories abound on sports talk radio and in print, ranging from the reasonably plausible to the most insane tin-hat conspiracy theories imaginable. Let’s take a look at the usual suspects in this most unusual mess.

The Villain
Executive Vice President, Kenny Williams has been vilified—fairly and unfairly—in the mediocre years following the 2005 championship. His massive ego and acid tongue have led to feuds with players and managers alike, making him a punching bag for many Sox fans. So it would make sense to many that Kenny would come down from his castle to stick his nose into clubhouse business where it doesn’t necessarily belong. But was Kenny acting unilaterally or  just taking the bullet to cover for a player (or players), management, or ownership? This is where thing get really interesting and sometimes ugly.

The Outsiders

Did a newcomer like Todd Frazier or Brett Lawrie enter the strange scene and  feel compelled to ask what’s up with this kid here all the time? It may have been as simple as  one (or both) of them, with an outsider’s perspective, asking a logical question to spark the chain of events that led to the controversy.

The Immigrant

We only have to look at the current political shit show to see how convenient it is to blame immigrants for all of society’s ills. Some idiot talk show callers have even questioned whether Cuban exile, Jose Abreu may have been jealous of LaRoche, seeing his inferior teammate’s son with him everyday while his entire family is sequestered a world away. Ludicrous.

The Reluctant Manager

Robin Ventura has never acted like he really wanted the job and has looked more like Dante Hicks from Clerks (“I’m not even supposed to be here today!“) than a Major League manager during his tenure as leader of the clubhouse. If he was fed up with the LaRoche situation, he may have opted spinelessly to go up the chain to voice his frustration instead of dealing with it directly and risk alienating his clubhouse.

The Figurehead

Whether he had anything to do with it or not, one thing has become abundantly clear in this entire fiasco: Rick Hahn definitely DOES NOT wear the pants in the White Sox family. Kenny has consistently stepped all over Hahn’s dick with past comments like “…at the end of the day, everything falls on my desk. I hired the manager. I hired the general manager.”  Williams taking center stage in this latest crisis only solidifies Hahn’s figurehead status.

The Puppet Master

Has owner Jerry Reinsdorf played everyone like a wicked puppet master manipulating strings to masterfully orchestrate the entire situation just to put LaRoche’s $13M salary back in his own ample pocket? Diabolical!

The Double Agent

I saved my favorite for last. How fucking baller would Chris Sale be if he actually pulled the evil genius move of making the complaint, then brilliantly covering his tracks by launching his scorched-earth assault against management? His red-assed meathead behavior in the past suggests otherwise, but it’s fun to think about.

Regardless of who it was , the truth is somebody didn’t like Drake being there. As long as the question remains unanswered the organization will remain fractured over this stupid debacle that should’ve been handled internally and never come to public light.


text:
Search found 2 matches

by eddie812
Sun Oct 13, 2019 1:08 pm
Forum: Blu-ray discs
Topic: Toy Story 4
Replies: 9
Views: 7166

Re: Toy Story 4

I am having the same identical issue when ripping a Redbox Toy Story 4 Blu Ray. I was able to play all of the content on my home entertainment system without any issue. But, ripping produced the sample of errors below. The disc is clean and pristine visually. I suspect that there is another issue. S...
by eddie812
Thu Jul 12, 2018 5:44 pm
Forum: DVD discs
Topic: Chappaquiddick - failed to copy
Replies: 16
Views: 11906

Re: Chappaquiddick - failed to copy

I tried ripping Chappaquiddick several times and was unsuccessful too. The disc was pristine in appearance before and after cleaning it.


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Make your succulent garden dreams come true with this tutorial for making your own beautiful cedar pallet succulent planter that Allison from Dream a Little Bigger shared on Mom Spark!

Succulents are hardy, forgiving plants, which makes them a great option for places that get tons of sun and not much rain. (I have a thriving succulent pot on my own fire escape, and it seems like the more I ignore it, the better it does!)

Ready to give succulent gardening a try? Click here to start building.


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Remember, some of the crowdfunding projects from our previous Cool Crowdfunding collections may still be active! Go back and check them out to see if there’s anything you shouldn’t miss.

The benchtop cnc mill market can’t have too many competitors. This one looks like it will be a good addition to the options available.

see it on kickstarter

Armz Smart Robot

A modular robot that can take several forms. I personally just really like the way it looks, some of those attachments are pretty neat.

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Wireless Remote For Arduino

Build your own wireless controller with a range of around 5,000 feet. Give yourself much more flexibility than purchasing a similarly priced off-the-shelf unit.

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Pi Arm

6 degrees of freedom and a raspberry pi brain. What more could you ask for?

see it on kickstarter


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Pearl Series Machines

BMU and Access Equipment

Pearl Series Machines areparapet mounted Building maintenance Unit (BMU), it is recommended where the roof space is insufficient or the roof is not able to bear the load of the machine or the parapet height is more, the traversing is along the double rail track mounted on the back of parapet wall, the roof machine will include steel chassis, structure and frame, the jib, the slewing mechanism, the spreader bar slewing mechanism.

Hoisting Option:

  1. The hoist is within the working cradle, it is basic system with advantage of using the same power cradle with other system be it machine, monorail or davit by easy switching.

Traversing Option:

  1. Parapet mounted double steel track on steel bracket connected to parapet by steel anchors.

  • Luffing of jib by hydraulic jacks
  • Spreader bar to keep cradle parallel to façade (motorized/manual)
  • Motorized machine slewing
  • Complete Control are given in machine and cradle

Standard Dimension:

Application Height : up to 250 meters
Jib length: 2500 – 4500 mm
Cradle length: 2 – 3 meters
Safe working load: 240 kg

  • Emergency stop
  • Electromagnetic brake in the hoist with secondary mechanical brakes
  • Upper limit safety device
  • Lower limit safety device
  • Emergency manually controlled descent
  • Thermal overload safety for cradle
  • Slack wire ropes safety device
  • Anti – collision bar