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Again, with the Midwestern hook: this was really beginning to frost my extremities, getting a tad too familiar for words. Hang the wailing foghorn loop around the neck of that billowing overcast now enveloping Doyle Drive and the coastal ridge up ahead. As it was, we had just regathered ourselves after an unnerving encounter around the promenade bend with a tandem band of ardent trailbikers shortcutting back from the Dipsea course with gripping intensity.

These blood-spinning rough riders were fiercely pumping their muddied Mark Fishers and Cannondales in full racing skins, Giro clamshelmets, photo-chromatic wraparounds—toe clips flying, grimaces vice-clamped down on performance mouth guards to keep from spitting root-canalled chiclets. The bikenuts were more attuned to their micro timers than anybody in their path.

It was all we could do to panic slide aside, all I could do to keep things on track, so to speak, looking to the Coast Guard for those overboard rescues they always executed in the nick of time. Anyway, so much for traditions: as went Gorbachev, so went Semper Paratus. From the moment family and friends traipsed all over the crime scene, and the police bungled the evidence, Boulder itself went on trial.

Across Great Meadow from the marine sanctuary, white froth began spilling like a weakly drawn head of Guinness over West Crissy Field. Currently a hodge-podge of bike shops, artsy-craftsy studios and mutant trampoline playpens, remaining West Crissy Field structures—the Hose Reel House and Glass Palace to Stilwell Hall—were newly pacified and creatively industrious, all hands on deck, minus the aero spit and polish.

Alas, a space crunch, bridge construction and these horrendously foggy winds forced 91st Squadron Army flyers to dip their wings in farewell to Crissy Field by the mids. And today brought all the excitement of the latest inbound Chevron tanker emerging this side of the Golden Gate shrouding. On the other hand, there was no accounting for that Coast Guard cutter steaming in not far behind.

Meanwhile, they were pointing an accusatory finger at everybody else. I mean, like when people were calling them liars and murderers. Hallowed ground as playground: True-blue dogs chased back and forth between ultimate Frisboys and Frisbabes, against a blustery backdrop of long-decommissioned Battery Blaney and Sherwood. Extreme pogo-ers spun and backflipped as they strang and boinged across the commons on compressed air, feet off the ground.

Speed climbers worked out rappelling gear bought and brought over from the cavernous Super Sports Center—a former commissary boondoggle left over from the Reagan era, barely ever activated for military duty. Yet we pressed ahead, albeit against my nagging lack of judgment, but all-in at this point nonetheless. Meanwhile that Coast Guard chopper screamed back by to our shore side, a harbor patrol boat roaring over the bay from Alameda, some emergency sirens converging up along Doyle Drive.

Boulder authorities never bought if for a second. Even Governor Romer admonished them to come clean. They all cut the family free…no guilty trip there, at all. Maybe just the desire to find the real killer. Real killer indeed. And Mr. While the city and state are millions in the hole for this entire fiasco. Still worse were all the truly innocent people they threw under the bus along the way. Boulder friends and neighbors like Fleet White and professor Santa Claus.

Half the town simply tried to help or support those manipulative ingrates, only to be repaid with diabolical accusations behind their backs. The devious hicks poisoned everyone and everything they touched in Boulder. Chapter Fifty-Two. This looked to be a culture clash: couple of exiled Tahoe ski stoners sparking a blunt, cupping it against the wind, turning harshly on two apparently H1B programmers who were speaking oddly broken English—looking more Hindu than Hamas.

But like these scruffy snowboard washouts in scuffed-up hiking boots would even know the difference. Visual-thinking Bangalore whiz kids, over here in the states coding for Oracle, they apparently were up from Silicon Valley for either the Mile Scenic Drive, or something a bit more nautically electrifying, with hi-def handycams at the ready. None too shabby for a nice Jewish boy from Southside Chicago, I marveled. And the smiling Oracle coders remained in corporate thrall to where they kept their cameras rolling despite any physical foreboding.

I just have one more substratum to peel away, simply to be certain. Yes, heading straight ahead, nearing the bridge. Not so as I can tell. Herbert, wait—over this way. Doc may have been off the hook at last, yet not so for the coders. You should see the homeless squatting in city parks, the hopelessly wasted, throat-slasher runaways panhandling up and down Pearl Street Mall. Sad truth is, there is a second degeneration of hippie boomer babies, doped-up parents begetting screwed-up progeny. Freaky at-risk problem children prowling about—all dreaded and pierced and Sketchered and Croced, like those two ski bums over there.

Lunatic A. It is rowdy, stupid, oversexed as hell, I tell you: bare-breasted bacchanalia lorded over by the Flatiron formation. Paulen and I had moved on by then. Taking his curveball responses as a point of departure, I gazed up to Crissy commons, drawn by even more kite flyers having a field day in these winds. This meadow-wide kitefest was nearly too much to process. A brilliant color calliope soaring, pitching, dipping, bobbing and weaving with the gusts and gales, in tune with larger board-surfer brethren out on the bay.

Carrying their pilots along like so many loose sandwich wrappers—striped, crescent-shaped sled kites crossed flight paths with anime-emblazoned diamonds and eddies. Knotted multi-tails streamed from rainbow deltas.

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Mid commons, more competitive kiters did battle with Rokkaku dragons and red-orange Kimono Sodes. Celestial black-yellow tombstone shaped barn door kites undershot the twin keels of double-skewer doperos. And a leaping kennel array of faithful kite dogs chased after them all, tongues wagging like the long satiny kite tails that they trailed.

But when a Vipered Scorpion split-frame roller broke free from its lines and lofted downwind, wary kiters began scanning these now more gusty skies, reeling in their diamonds before the Westerlies got too rough. I tracked them all no less, until a beach-soaked Water Spaniel brushed by, bringing me back down to earth. Fifth month of the ecclesiastical year of the Hebrew calendar. Whether it is the thought police, the language police, the peace camp or the Air Force anti-Semites of Colorado Springs.

Pretty soon, there will be no left left, at all. A free marketplace of ideas, throwing light on differing views? The anti-abortion buses back there, remember? Toss in the e-mail harassment and PMOC nonsense, why subject myself to all that? Ironic, though—those same student bodies mate like minks, and Boulderites run Halloween naked on the mall.

Only his hard drive knew for sure…. Meanwhile those unfriendly Tahoe toughs sat toking away on a driftwood piling amid the narrow beach sandbar. We ourselves turned back trailward to face a quickening, thickening flow of inbound trail traffic bearing down upon us. Odd then, that leading the pack was likely the least mobile of an intently kinetic crush.

Not far behind, a young mother chased after a wind-blown baby blanket that had flown off the alloy-framed buggy her househusband had struggled to hold steady. This sullen long walker, complete with cross-country poles, then lost his Mets cap, baring nothing but the fringe on top. Batten the comb-over crop: Sad to say, I could be heading down that road as well, what with the anxiety of trudging along out here despite myself against the prevailing winds and flow.

The state legislature is seeing to that. A small, fractious gaggle of northern geese honked discordantly overhead as they flapped south-southeast, away from the coastline.

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LDL—who could tell from that tiny byte-sized screen? Now, WTF was up with that—like, way the hell out here? Everybody waiting breathlessly for the next ignitions, if not getting flash washed away. Just in time for backcountry avalanches—before you know it, the foothills are blizzarded, and Boulder Valley is in full white-out mode, schools closed, roads piled up, snowshoes de rigueur.

So the cabin used to rock and roll under quilted bedcovers sometimes, while roofs peeled off through the valley — part of the high mountain drama package, all over the wild, wild west. Rest assured, I know precisely whereof you speak. Total geo warp. Maybe it was because the Golden Gate Promenade appeared to rise slightly, as if to more level off with the Great Meadow. Or rather that the commons was sinking—or that this was merely a topographic optical delusion on my part. Still, the few remaining kites dipped closer, flying Frisbees spun nearer, the Aussie Shepherds leaping after them whisked by with diminishing margin for error.

Why, for that matter, did the bay shoreline and an Asia-bound Hapag-Lloyd cargo ship look to have risen higher than the slender beach that brought us within spitting distance of tidal immersion under duress? Made me dizzy just misperceiving it…. Perhaps you could return to Colorado and really tease out your narrow predispositions. Women, right? Chapter Fifty-One. Like where Robin Williams lives? This leg illustrated the dynamics of carbo-loads and stamina potential of electrolytes, aminos and kale. Not unlike Reese Paulen and I, a heavily logoed LaVie Claire jerseyed cyclist had braked for hazardous curves, only his pneumatically beefed-up Diamondback mountain bike stirred up even more gravel dust than Gate winds were now generating without pause.

Who could blame him, as the tied-back blonde in tight black Helly Hansen skins was shaped and sculpted like a Cal power rower. The outbound biker surely had a better shot than we did, flexing in a sleeveless Hour Fitness sweatshirt and straining Capo biker shorts. But his guns, much less slight love handles, betrayed the beginnings of fortyish hang and sag. And who knew what was under his silver metalflaked Limar helmet? Moreover, his tread-bare hit lines had rudely cut into her smart-ass phone time, so she was already profiling him with a cool, calculating eye.

At the very most, she was looking to get into his pockets, while he was aiming to get into her pants. Not that we ourselves were lingering about this vigor-themed globe to see that transaction through. In other words, she basically kicked his ass to the curb, had there been one there. Dishwater grey-white, the seatop mane snaked in through the Golden Gate, unfurling like an ermine train, collaring around Alcatraz Island, and tailing points east.

Even on the wildest off chance those harassment accusations were to become true, it would have been the work of le autre mos, le judis moi —the Franco-Italio Verniere side of me. Not the reborn Paulen-mere mentsch that I endeavor to be today. Nevertheless, I am serious, my friend. For instance, how on earth could I countenance my Gallic side any longer, when there is a Jewish population of over one-half million there that dates back to at least , who have stood at the barricades arm in arm with the French Left through the revolution, Vichy, deGaulle, le Pen, what have you.

Now, it has come down to a barrage of Israel delegitimization, of anti-feuj hazing and hatred, the Nazification of the Jewish State—swastikas and flaming vandalism by neo-Nazis and the radical Islam Maghrebi on a scale not seen since the s—all in the service of the so-called Palestinian cause.

And what do I face on my Italian side? Right, it would be like blowing off my Irish side, or Scottish side, or alter-either, or them…both.

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  4. But I have discovered there is a vast difference between tree-lined and shady, Herbert—and I much prefer basking in the brighter light of day. You see, no Marrano nor Derrida de Man am I now. And a familiar fog pattern it was: Central Valley heated up, sucking in circling ocean winds and cold waters, the latter condensing into fog as it spread ashore on its inbound course—scrubbing the air, dispatching bay area pollutants eastward along the way.

    Beautiful, it all remained to this day. Still, with fog came the dampening chill, driving the combers and birders up here, away from the shoreline, trudging toward the promenade through bayside dunes thick with Yerba Buena, orange California poppy, tangles of swale and arroyo. A particularly patch-pocket pair of shuddering Audubonders merged into our slow-witted lane from a sandy feeder path, then turned degrees around us, toward the Mason Street diagonal trail, nothing warm and fuzzy about them, fair or fowl.

    But the way things are going, perfectly competent faculty are one performance evaluation away from the itinerant teaching circuit, running lesson plans campus to campus out the trunks of their cars. Feeling that shrinking sensation in my Orbital Frontal Cortex all over again. Emotional over rational, primordial feelings to the fore. Promethean intelligence detoured to the intuitive route. Back to the bad decisions, foul behavior—with less and less limbic capacity to stem the tide of sociopathia. Still, get a grip…. At roughly the same time, an Abercromied couple heated up on a concreted barrier bench, just this side of the stairway to a long footpath bisecting the Meadow commons.

    Facebook hooked-up, the young foreplay daters cuddled tightly in the moment, oblivious to this inspiring bay view: deep sea-fed splendor formed some 8, years before. They read with constant A. And it is all we can do to keep up with their cheating. Though you did some shortcutting yourself way back in the day, as I recall. Add in fending off of textbook publishers—indeed, the entire publish or perish the thought syndrome.

    Little wonder some professors come unhinged and bludgeon their loved ones like a relapsing, laid-off logger. Poor babies have tutors, personal trainers and advisors at their disposal for all their purported mental strain.

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    Safe zones, saunas, organic health food bars, free wi-fi everywhere—miles of slopes to ski, rocks to climb. I recalled relishing the morning swims and skating at the Rec Center, Front Range mountains in full picture window view. Particularly when I in some ways still missed it so…. Then they Provigil and Adderall out of their hangovers, that is if they make morning classes, at all. Look at Rice, Virginia Tech—the melodrama at Duke or Colorado State…mostly just isolated stuff, kids cutting loose after class. Seven all-American gridiron rapes—three lawsuits and counting.

    Gratis drunken lap dances instead of running laps. It remains to be seen whether that rebuilding is a promise the athletic director can actually keep. I now had the time to observe the sheer, shameless ardor of that young couple, as Paulen was abruptly fielding yet another incoming curious, enervating earphone call. I slide stepped to the far side of that concrete stairway, leaning against its narrow metal banister like a bookmaker picking an over-under from the Morning Line.

    It got me to reflecting on the sheer sociology of this all —forks and knives, roads taken, tracks washed out and abandoned. How doc seemed a bit creakier for his age, a lot more opinionated and doctrinaire. How we thought so much unalike, and yet, cytoplasmically alike —nice to nasty, nasty to nice, just more non-complementary behavior, all but glutamated, so to speak…. Soon enough, I took in the quickening marine activity of regatta and more official-looking craft out on the bay, from Fort Mason to the old Coast Guard pier and beyond. Where else was I ever going to load up on chunky apple oatmeal and buttery piles of raisin toast?

    All those cute local companies like Crocs and Celestial Seasonings have gone meta corporate conglomerate. Little food shops like the Sausage Mart have been squeezed out by newbie haute cuisine. Add in the real estate bubble along the green line…forget about it. Honestly, who can afford to live there anymore? Chapter Fifty. The fog began barging back in the Golden Gate, cold, dripping with atmospheric vengeance.

    But more immediately ahead on the Bay Trail were these ersatz playdaters, some guy sporting photochromatic Maui Jim shades, a tight-ass little L. Wearing a tropical shirt and hard-creased Agave power jeans crunching his junk, he glided along in Nike comfort slides, sanitary white Wigwams and an Anaheim Angels halo ballcap, aromatically into body washes, foot massage lotions and other minor man card violations—somewhat a pipefish with porn stash, cut loose from his OC man cave lugging a hot thuringer manwich and manly musette bag.

    Slightly taller though slouching to build him up, she looked to be staring into the abyss of unattached middle age. I had seen them both before around Chestnut Street, just never together like this. Like with the Sex-for-Life therapy BS… and those penis erectdys implants. As if size really matters, right? Total snow job, if you ask me. Way too long playing one of the guys, she was shaking her strawberry bowl-cut hair as they passed us by, kicking the trail sand with her strap-around Torin sandals, simmering on low flame, plainly horny as landlocked toad.

    Instead, trail traffic persisted in lingering about those re-emerging EcoGlobes. Fare alert—what were they charging for now? Spare the air alert, tear alert? More seismic shockwaves, a problem with the next cluster of globes? Half hearing, I could barely make it out, even when seashell cupping my crusting ears.

    Seemed that something in fact might be in the air. Bingo, here we go, total exposure zone. Before long, some disgruntled former research assistant of mine filed a sexual harassment complaint against me for fostering a hostile work environment within the Sociology Department—dredging a slew of other ex-students out of the woodwork with ludicrous sob stories. The vicious, man-hating strumpets accused me of everything from unwelcome advances to coercive groping and oral copulation to make their grades. They claimed the unwelcome predatory flirting and assaults had been going on for years, and it was time for redress—painted me as some sore of Clintonian dirty old man.

    Slandered by some skinny little rich bitches spoiling around campus in their big, fat Range Rovers and X-5 Beemers. Just got to keep it light, no matter what…. But I did not have sex with those women! Nevertheless, try telling that to Helen Grammersly, who bought their mandatory reporter slanders sight unseen. She proceeded to conduct a sham departmental inquiry, concluded I had violated Title IX, basically suspending me via administrative leave on charges of moral turpitude. So much for my tenure… their witch hunt is cutting me off at the professional knees.

    Honest to God, where was DeCole Lerndon when we needed him? That stiffening wind whipped up the typically glassine tidal marsh, pixelizing its reflective bridge tower imagery, not to mention how it now white-capped the bay. Gulls, the errant brown pelican took flight on our left flank, terns and black Brandts cormorants flitted about marshy mud flats, surrounded by pitted scrub brush and knee-high fencing —scattered kestrels and dunlins out-wading the hardier coots and sandpipers for surfacing shellfish, sea scraps and organic debris in a boisterous flurry of waterfowl.

    Such a big ruckus over such trifling spoils: once past a wire gate and intersecting Crissy footpath, we at the very least left that particular flap behind. Ever since Catherine MacKinnon days, females have been taking the whole school over. Before long, even the fraternities will be sororial history.

    The Faculty Assembly held its nose and backed him, too. What was the administration to do? Meanwhile, none of this was helping my situation one blessed bit. Keying in turn on the further fog build-up around the Golden Gate, I nearly veered into a run of speed-shoe walkers, hot on the trail of some thermal relief. By now, bridge towers were again visually breaking up behind the thickening gray soup, its 4, foot-long deck vanishing, let alone the marine traffic below and Marin Headlands beyond.

    Frigid on-shore winds blew sand in all along the shoreline and dune brush on this long, narrow shoal to our starboard. Granules creviced in everywhere: eye sockets and scalps, through nostrils and ear canals, grinding between teeth and gums like a walk-up credit dental drill. We could overhear everything from Chic to Firestarter pulsing from their stereo ear buds. Throw in the Asian group shuffling toward their tour bus in the outbound lane to our right, cloaking their pocket Chins, Chow-Chows and Shihtzus, and we found ourselves being squeezed into center trail.

    And there again, a bright orange turbo helicopter thwapped by, low flying, patchy treetop sweeping overhead. Pounding pavement half out of breath, I would revisualize the whole Army-Air Corps scene—here where stiff windsocks, open bay hangars and cordons of company barracks stood in armed aeronautical support of DH-4Bs and Douglas s. How is one to fight for reinstatement amid all that? Blink twice and I could have been gliding alongside open cockpit, wood and fabric-covered mono and biplanes, when this was but a cut-grass, runway, the revving props of Curtis Jennies dusting the taxiway.

    Heroic, legendary, record-breaking, seat-of-the-pants missions, all right—these were nothing less than the vital, unwavering rigors of coastal defense. Today, flight plans on this sodded strip were limited to a squadron of smurfy silk-screened box kites, day-glo ragtails dangling where courier mail hooks and short-wave radio antennae used to be. Limited save for those contemporary dirigibles, which were getting harder and harder to spot in the grey-white mounding fog.

    Chapter Between flighty intolerance theories and three teetering porta-toities on a wooden plank platform—blue as the sea, creaking and leaning further in the wind—conditions were ripe for some bench jockeying, a little recuperative downtime. So Reese Paulen and I momentarily rode the pine, about the length of a bat handle leftward of this conversation, resting our cases and hammies, otherwise collecting our breathless selves, as the Gate fog dissolved and resolved to re-mound.

    But here was where whatever we may have been discussing on the Judeo-Palestine front was occluded by the diminishing bay view, not to mention these snippets of gal-talk straight out of The Feminine View. The guy—Seth, I think it was, had all the mechanics down firm, down to a sweet science, yet nice and slow. A total money shot. I went going off like a nuclear reactor.

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    Even if it means having to background check them through Vali-Date. Being the woman you really want to be? Brrrr, anyhow—meeting you out here is so…out of context. These two women next bench over were laying bare their intimate secrets like so much down pillow talk, on a sand-basted bed of pine needles and wood chips. What could possibly be the context for OMing or naked yoga? Ewwph, oh, yeah—I remember now: her sun-bathed bedroom, holy schoolkids chanting uniformly in the Catholic church yard, a love supreme three floors up. Delinquent overdrafts, negatively amortized, positively splitsville, can feel it back there between my precuneus and posterior cingulated cortex….

    Still, uneasy as that recollection could make me, Paulen seemed glued-in yet uncomfortable all the more. Once the twenty-thirtyish pair commenced hugging and stroking their Lululemon designer hoodies, we found ourselves amply rested and ready to move the sticks. Not that we were eavesdropping or anything. But who could not overhear something like that? There we left our woodies and this insular tree-cropped rest area in the trail dust, merging like Iowa sated truckers onto the interstate, road conditions taking another turn for the worse. Who can say what anymore?

    Who can do to and what to or with whom? So I read all the rags and stuff, keep up on all kinds of local and global developments—you know, feed him the raw meat and votemeal—among other… clients. And what would be the other part? Some light-headed chardonnaysayers, who likely as not had strayed afar from a Fort Mason oenofest, were propping each other up around the very next EcoGlobe, plastic long-stems still in hand. They would have had a much warmer reception in Napa-Sonoma; but inexplicably, out here they happened to be.

    Still, with bubbling serendipity, the tasteful threesome—two shawl-wrapped women and a fading fancy man—reconnoited around a pea green, map pin-dotted sphere, waxing ironic on where their insouciant gadding had inadvertently led them, rather in need of a quick red-eye coffee and espresso shot. Anti-Semitism Czar herself for federal resources? And resulting classroom disquisition. I closed in, determined to keep this exchange right on tracking. More troubling to me are the agitprop demonstrations flaring up around Norlin Library—the so-called teach-ins that are insidious disinformation of the worst kind.

    The viticultured trio was in a Malthusian tizzy over the plotted fossil fuel consumption. I momentarily focused on the pincushion around metropolitan Chicago. Just look at the culture clashes on campuses coast to coast. Why, take into account demonstrations and counter protests throughout the University of California system, on issues such as newfangled frat policies, trigger warnings, speech codes and safe zones.

    Not to mention rape cases down on the Farm. The unrest extends to post-humanist discrimination debates at Dartmouth, identity and equity politics at Yale—hands off Title IX altogether. Yet into this maelstrom storms the Middle East and anti-SemIsraelism. Blowing by us all was a PowerAde-propelled runner in graphite jogbra, matching sports pants and compression socks clutching, flexing her Nomex gloves with 2 lb. Her gasping inbound male partner pulled up, calves half-knotted, not far behind, sucking in a lung load of her waffle-soled dusty trail wash—as were stepped aside in unison.

    As for the trail running out here, I had long ago buried my heart on a twisted knee. He was equating Gaza with some Warsaw ghetto concentration camp in his blog. That is as hatefully preposterous as John Strugnell slandering Judaism as a horrible heresy religion nearly two decades ago. And you see how dearly Strugnell paid for that nonsense—a Harvard professorship justifiably forfeited.

    Which is precisely the sort of bigotry I would tackle, top of mind. Embracing Hamas and Hezbollah terrorists in their shameful, twisted cause, selectively employing the bigotry of double standards in their arguably illegal campaign. Omar Barghouti and colonialist narratives, for godsakes…calling Israelis dirty Zionist pigs. Fighting against discriminatory profiling and surveillance. Beyond that, silky bush lupine and scraggly soap root rustled on salt windy shoreside dunes and permeable pavement, as if bracing for climate-modeled heat spikes on the horizon.

    It is every bit as diabolical as Palestinian skyjacking in the past. The Jewish State clearly must defend itself once again. Got to nip that BDS rubbish in the bud. But yes, Israelis and their supporters are always prepared to mobilize for conflict. Minus his L. Bean wear and brown chukkas, the moke could have been a dead ringer for what I remembered of a long-haired Nate Grimaldi. Then, on a somewhat elliptical orbit out toward the Golden Gate, that sightseeing zeppelin with the Disney imprimatur had cleared priority airspace for a second orange-white helicopter.

    This next wave of concussive blade thwapping was loud enough to fluster the seagulls, the cormorants and sandpipers already squabbling over mollusks and crustaceans in the shallows of a wind-rippled tidal marsh to the left of us—not to mention an unlikely couple of early adopters shuffling outbound against the tide, several edgy trail steps ahead.

    Is that as painful as it sounds? This chapter contains detailed dialogue regarding comparative spirituality and the Jewish religious calendar. From Filbert Street on, things got a bit more physical…metaphysical, as well. Upstairs from that was the office for one of my joblets, which entailed news curating for a political hitman and blogosfear monger with a Burton-Boxer clientele—culling periodicals for his clip file, aggregating around the Internet, on casual remote.

    The part-time gig kept me reading through everything—left and right, right and wrong—fodder for his ricinous campaign pamphlets and doorhangers. Not that I was any keener on owning up to the professor here about that. And I am barely scratching the surface of what there is to know about it. We eased around a pack of charity 10k trainees bouncing about the storefront, trying out a variety of stiff new shoes.

    Across the way, a mostly empty DVD rental dispensary ground floored a light moss and pewter corner Victorianesque building, victim of Netflix and the BitTorrent download blues. Fraud and infidelities mostly— en delecto flagrante indiscretions: still, rumor was these no-dice private dicks were ever keeping keen eye on all things Fillmore, ear to the street below.

    Yet there was nothing that mysterious about the walk-up stairway behind black iron-gated bars: This Eisenhoff Agency had been around since the wanton Sixties, so testified its bleed-out red bay window signage, complete with fingerprint and spyglass iconography. Rudy and his broad-beamed PI snoops had putatively cut their teeth on Lucky Strikes and major cases—particularly the haunting and harrowing variety, once flower children began suspiciously pushing up daisies around Buena Vista and Golden Gate Parks.

    Safe to say, I had unearthed that little tidbit first hand, striking up momentary conversation with the head dick one time while waiting in a locksmith line at the vintage hardware store, there up Fillmore. Although on balance, Rudy mined studiously more from our exchange; so I had but nodded warily to him in passing ever since. Eisenhoff was known to skulk the neighborhood in his off hours, ever in black suit, vest and topcoat, cowboy boots trimmed in gold. Rudy was a little too stocky, a little slicked back; a trifle crooked, known to pack.

    That last little gem I did pry out of his operatives, who tossed a measly crumb or two my way every now and then, a lick of opposition research and the like. I scooped them up like Comstock nuggets, hoping to further hustle some Website design work or something on their behalf. Now, a dagger-eyed blonde in a black twill anorak descended from the walk-up, through the iron gated door, furtively carrying fiber-taped, bubble-wrapped manila envelopes to the final Saturday pick-up at the local Lombard Street post office—retro old school mail drop, analog style.

    Have they familiarized themselves with the Siddur like I have? Yeah, bring on snoopydix. Or be aware that the cornerstone of Judaism is justice in this life? Rudy himself stared down, as if he knew me from somewhere, or something—seeming to motion my way with a sharp shiv of his forearm.

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    Either that, or he was just brushing away all his cigarette smoke. Wax model of the heads is made from th Land, australasia, New Zealand, Mountains. CNN Collection. Sign In Create an Account. Required Required Remember me? We are getting your download from the archive provider, please wait We are directing you to the partner site Request information for this clip. There was a problem obtaining your download from the archive, please try again. You must have a Footage. No Clip Bin selected.

    Both men are deserving of recognition for the relentless pursuit of information that cast a revealing hot, white light on practices formerly kept from public scrutiny, some practices worthy of indictments. How many flower shops stock oak trees and bushes? There was Supt. For anyone who believes there was glory to be gained in asking for these materials and bringing them into public discussion, there was not. There was, in fact, sometimes acute discomfort and retaliation with attempts to discredit those who spoke up, a discomfort and retaliation that spilled into business and personal and family life.

    Manuel Menchaca IV had style. It was evidenced by his fine mind, his demeanor, and his merry laugh. It was noted, too, in his snap-brim cap and his good wool coat. When I was born at Doctors Hospital, I was really sick. But the doctors and nurses took great care of me. Each time, they made me feel better.

    The hospital shall not be liable for actions or treatments provided by physicians. He was a graduate of St. His father was the founder of the Texas Hat Company, at one time one of the largest manufacturers of straw hats in the country. De Llano was employed by the Hat Company for many years. He had a zest for life and for helping the disadvantaged. De Llano enjoyed many close friendships, including his beloved nieces and nephews, and others. He often said his favorite sport was being with his friends and enjoying life. He is remembered as a kind, gentle, and caring individual who evoked smiles with his positive words and deeds.

    De Llano directed that the Trust continue his legacy by helping the hometown community that he loved. He was especially interested in the Trust assisting children and the less fortunate. The Trust intends to maintain the corpus of the Trust while distributing the annual income to charitable organizations in Laredo for many years to come. The organizations and fund amounts that were distributed are as follows:. Will Dems, Obama lose immigrants?

    As the legislative drive for health care insurance reform picks up steam, pro-immigrant groups are increasingly alarmed by proposals that target both documented and undocumented residents of the US. In a telephonic press conference September 16, Latino rights, religious, and political leaders blasted policy ideas circulating around the White House and Capitol Hill as not only an attack on the.

    C-based Americas Voice immigrant advocacy organization. The Nueva Vida Maternity Clinic at Corpus Christi provides expectant mother care, ultrasound, pap smears, fetal monitoring, and lab tests. Free pregnancy tests are also offered. Wilfrano Sanchez and Dr. Medicaid and Medicare and all major insurances are accepted.

    A grand opening is planned for early October. Sharry and other pro-immigrant leaders said they were deeply concerned by measures unveiled in the Senate Finance Committee and in other quarters on Capitol Hill that would exclude immigrants from participating in an insurance exchange even with their own money, prevent children of undocumented residents from getting coverage, probe the residency status of emergency room patients, and make verification of residency status an expanded, cumbersome process for both citizens and non-citizens alike.

    US Representative Luis Gutierrez DIllinois voiced dismay that the White House was considering keeping many immigrants out of the insurance exchange, especially after Gutierrez and other members of the Hispanic Congressional Caucus agreed that no public monies or tax credits could be used by undocumented residents in a new health insurance reform scheme. Gutierrez contended that prohibiting undocumented residents from being in the exchange even with their own cash could result in masses of people losing their health insurance coverage.

    Numerous analysts consider new American voters, immigrants, and their children, a key voting bloc that swept the Democrats into the White House and Congress last year. Many pro-immigrant groups are growing increasingly frustrated by the pace of immigration reform promised by presidential candidate Barack Obama during the campaign.

    Speaking to reporters, Rep. Additional sources. NCLR, September 16, Press statement. CNN September 16, For a free electronic subscription email fnsnews nmsu. Of 2, births handled annually by the hospital, more than one-third, or 34 percent, is done by cesarean section, according to Tanguma. Of the C-sections, 15 percent are performed on mothers less than 19 years old, while approximately 50 percent are done on mothers between the ages of 19 and In the United States, C-sections represent about 31 percent of all births. Stressing that C-sections are especially risky for younger mothers who have not had adequate prenatal care, Tanguma said that many patients are migrants from rural zones in the states of Veracruz and Chiapas- places where medical care is spotty.

    The gynecologist calculated that single mothers make up half of all mothers who give birth at the. Tanguma, however, was upbeat about one trend. Sex education provided by the hospital could be one reason, Tanguma contended. According to Tanguma, an information booth run by the hospital informs young people of the inconveniences of having children before 19 years of age, and promotes condom use as a means of avoiding unwanted pregnancies.

    This story was compiled by Frontera Nortesur. Sources: Enlineadirecta. Article by Gaston Monge. Associated Press, January 8, Article by Stephanie Nano. The requests she had in hand at about 2 p. Martinez entered the Engineering Department offices several times to deliver her open records requests, but could find no one to sign for them. On her fifth visit to the office, engineering project coordinator Arnulfo Gonzalez, standing at a nearby elevator, asked if he could help her.

    When she apprised him of her business and her need for a signature to acknowledge receipt of her requests, Gonzalez told Martinez he would not sign for them until he had the opportunity to read the contents. Martinez told Gonzalez he could read the requests once he signed the acknowledgement. She said Gonzalez insisted on reading the requests before signing because he said he was not. Martinez countered that the acknowledgement listed all the requested documents and that the absence of the county engineer was of no consequence.

    The exchange, she said, led to Gonzalez telling her he no longer represented the Engineering Department and that she would have to ask the department secretary to sign for them. Martinez retrieved them from his clutches and told him he had to sign for them before he could have them. That is not the way we do things at the County. Another exchange ensued with Gonzalez who dismissed Martinez by telling her she was crazy. Martinez said Gonzalez scolded Sanchez and told her she could not sign for them until she read them.

    Martinez said Sanchez was a professional and attempted to explain to Gonzalez that it was a standard practice to acknowledge. As Martinez attempted to show Sanchez where to print her name, time stamp, and sign the acknowledgement, Gonzalez once again took the forms from Martinez. Martinez grabbed them back, and in doing so, invited more vitriol from Gonzalez. What difference does it make? What is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?

    Are you mentally challenged or are you an imbecile? She said that had their exchange continued, Gonzalez could have become violent, having already grabbed the request twice from her hands and getting in her face to assert dominance. How many kinds of wrong is that? Will I be asked what my religious affiliation is as well? What other civil liberties can I expect to have violated? Is this retribution for the presentation I made at Commissioners Court August 24, ? Am I to understand I will not be allowed to question my government for fear of this treatment?

    Might I assume the doors of my government are now closed to me? Send a message of zero tolerance. No one should ever be subject to such treatment, particularly by a servant of the people. Judge W W W. Since this is an on-going investigation we will withhold any comments until the investigation is complete. Gonzalez, completely out of line for how a county employee talks to a citizen and a taxpayer. She said the incident evidences the need to establish a clear policy for Webb County employees to follow when presented with an open records request.

    Cavazos Ramirez said that Gonzalez had denied asking Martinez if she was gay. You could get more from the rock-faced assembly at Mt. Rushmore than you can from this court. Arnulfo Gonzalez represents exactly what is wrong with this Commissioners Court and this administration —- small minded individuals protecting their own interests and their own power base rather than putting real energy or leadership to work for us, to put the brakes on spending, and to find new ways to save taxpayer money.

    Why is it that we must continuously remind them that the information belongs to us: the people who pay their salaries and unjustly suffer their abuses? The brutal frontal assault by the Category Five megastorm. What a drag! What a hassle! What a shame! But what about the people on the very horns of the dilemma? How were they going to cope? How were they going to muster the strength, the bravery, the heart, the will to carry on?

    It was more like a crushing blow for Lyle, sitting in his office at his job and hearing over the radio that a levee had broken and that his entire neighborhood was under water. Two images of the lasting kind that Lyle carries around in his head are the glance he took towards the ocean from the 10 th story of an office building at the height of the storm. The streetlights up on the posts illuminated it. It was a scary sight.

    Both Lyle and his mother are back in their own homes, which they have been fixing up little by little. The three-day celebration will include seminars and demonstrations from November Also attending will be Boxe Francaise legend Professeur Richard Sylla, a time French Savate champion and a kick boxing world champion, national trainer for the French Savate Team from to , and trainer of numerous professeurs of savate, including Buitron, and Ubirajara Bira Guimaraes Almeida, better known as Mestre Acordeon, a native of Salvador, Bahia, Brazil, master of the Brazilian martial art known as Capoeira, teacher, performer, organizer, and author, and director of the United Capoeira Association UCA , as well as the creator of the Capoeira Arts Foundation in Berkeley, California.

    Special Forces, and one of the foremost exponents of Serak Silat. Last but not least, the event will include Guro Carlito Bonjoc, a native of. The World Pugilist Hall of Fame pays homage to masters of all martial arts and sciences while these masters are alive. While a total of 29 lawyers from Houston and the South Texas area were selected, Almaraz was the only attorney named from Webb County. A native of Hebbronville and once a stellar participant in UIL debating, one-act play, and prose reading, Almaraz credits his involvement in these extra-curricular activities with laying the groundwork in his mind for his eventual decision to pursue a career as a lawyer.

    I graduated in four years with a major in political science and a minor in speech. The Teacher Corps was initially a Great Society program to train teachers for the task of educating economically disadvantaged elementary school children in inner city settings. I had almost decided to attend the University of Colorado at Boulder, but the first time the weather hit about 20 below, I decided to return to Texas and attend St. I earned my Juris Doctor degree in three years. He took a job with a Midland law firm where he worked for one year and gained invaluable experience.

    We helped a lot of them, and I felt good about the work we were doing. He spent the greater part of the next five years as the sole federal prosecutor in Laredo. It was when Almaraz hung up his shingle and began the private law practice in which he has distinguished himself for the past 29 years.

    Although he is known as a formidable criminal lawyer, Almaraz has not limited himself to handling only criminal cases. Among his achievements is the successful handling of many high-profile state and federal cases. Attorney David Almaraz as a consummately prepared professional are part and parcel of the Almaraz aura and mystique. A lawyer can only be himself, and I try to improve myself constantly. Before being selected as a Texas Super Lawyer by Texas Monthly, the publication Texas Lawyer named him one of the top three criminal defense attorneys in the Laredo area.

    I think my preparation bears this out. I know that 99 percent of my clients are satisfied, and I get my share of acquittals. All of the nominated practices were invited to apply for the award, and their applications were peerreviewed by a subcommittee of the ASCO Cancer Research Committee in order to select the eight award recipients. The award criteria were based on a number of factors, including patient accrual to clinical trials over a three-year period.


    Special consideration was given to practices that increased clinical trial participation among under-represented populations and to practices that used innovative techniques to overcome barriers to the enrollment of cancer patients onto clinical trials. Without clinical trials, there would be significantly fewer advances in cancer treatment. Since , the Clinical Trial Participation Awards have publicly honored community practices that have demonstrated outstanding work in the area of patient clinical trials. Doctors Hospital received the award in recognition of its active, ongoing participation in clinical trials in the private practice community and the role it plays in the development and refinement of cancer therapies.

    Gary W. Jessica Guajardo, Director of the Cancer Center, received the prestigious award on behalf of the hospital. Jane Unzeitig; Dr. Unzeitig, Principal Investigator; and Dr. While most elected officials and highly paid administrators in city and county government make their petty grabs for glory, wage turf wars to expand their fiefdoms, lift the mighty lever of palanca to hire their friends, relatives, and Godchildren, and promote the incompetent and castigate the good, employment issues and termination disputes of city and county employees pile up like so many orange sandbags outside the Webb County Justice Center.

    How puffed with pride were the chests of so many council members and commissioners when they established Civil Service committees in city and county government, throwing out to rank and file employees the false hope that they would have a forum of fairness and impartiality to hear grievances and disputes without fear of retaliation. As of now, Civil Service for non-uniformed employees has been what it was the first time it was presented as the right thing to do -- a whole lot of yadda-yadda and mucho nada.

    When you hear an incumbent rattling the Civil Service saber remember that he or she did little to get the effort moving during his or her tenure. Take heed, watch for falling dead wood. Leza said the job necessitated a street cut, and he assumed Gonzalez had secured the necessary permit. Salinas with Orfila. Orfila told committee members Sylvia Ornelas, Anna M. Cortez, Gregorio E. And well that the City had, for it himself in to authorities on Monday, benefits -- is more specific, citing the October Even before Liendo found no probable cause in Le- ward Fahey.

    This story is about a stealth firing without due protion of Acting Public Works dicess and fast-track City of Laredo administrators in Rambo rector, a position to which he mode, well-remunerated for being imprudent. Between October 7, long ago dismissed for probable cause in hour. He is Public Works manager and not fice.

    Public Works Direc- director, as was decided in the reorganitor, and on the same day, reflecting a job zation of City departments in December hindquarters of an uttered plan for retalititle change to Public Works Manager, his What is blathered at City Hall makes its nure steaming in the summer sun. A notation on the written request. Leza is in the process of having the matter expunged from his record. To be clear, this is not written in defense of Robert Leza and whether or not he is guilty of that with which he was once charged. This story is about a stealth firing without due process and fast-track City of Laredo administrators in Rambo mode, wellremunerated for being imprudent.

    This is not an unfamiliar story. It resonates with repetition. The pipe dream of an up-and-running Civil Service forum for non-uniformed city and county employees remains what it was the first time it was uttered by a politician to get votes -- an empty promise. The advantages of independence are still in the larval stage of development to many citizens who are struggling with mental illness.

    Its initial administrative and outpatient facilities were housed in the former Laredo Air Force Base Hospital. The current facility is located on a The facility transitioned into a community center in September New facilities have been added in the form of culturally sensitive. The Mental Health MH aspects that it deals with are the three primary diagnoses -- bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and major depression. The services for mental illness-mental health consumers 18 years of age or older are crisis services, intake and assessment, continuity of care, case management, assertive community treatment ACT , psychosocial rehabilitation services, counseling services CBT , crisis hotline, jail diversion, crisis respite, skills training services, supportive housing, supportive employment, Texas Correctional Office on Offenders with Medical or Mental Impairments TCOOMMI services, and medication management.

    De Llano, who is seen by some as a veritable guardian angel among those involved in mental health providership, has for many years demonstrated an unselfish example of love and commitment, and a pattern of pro-active participation second to none. These three volunteers who met with us at the LareDOS offices to promote Mental Illness Week told us that their own involvement in the mental health arena was at least partially inspired by the fact that a family member had occasion to be served by the Border Region MHMR.

    Mental illness is just that -- an illness of mental and emotional disabilities, a disorder of the brain and how it responds. Police officers need to be a part of this, too. They need crisis intervention training. The counseling community needs to participate. We still have a long way to go as a society, but I know that change for the better is possible, because there are an awful lot of people working to bring about positive change.

    Activities being offered include park tours, hikes, guided mountain bike and horseback rides, desert survival and camping demonstrations, a student art show, Buffalo Soldiers encampment, and informational displays on everything from bats to river recreation. The purpose of the Fiesta is to increase. Information booths will be open and special Fiesta programs running from 9 a. Visitors attending Fiesta weekend can make arrangements to stay overnight but should be aware that there are limited tent camping options.

    Camping is free during the Nov. No lodging will be available at Sauceda. To learn more about the state park and Fiesta activities online, visit the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department Web site at www. Now 81, Sosa maintains that his patriotism is still firm and unshaken, although he would very much like the government to address a few unanswered questions that have haunted him and his family all these years.

    At the time two nuclear bomb tests July 16 and July 25, , were carried out at Bikini, Sosa and his fellow sailors were unaware that they were within spitting distance of a nuclear detonation, and that the radioactive fallout that they were being exposed to would trigger health issues in many of them that eventually led to serious if not lethal consequences for some. Nor does Sosa want to sue the government for huge sums of money.

    Personnel a total of 42, men and laboratory equipment were transported and housed on ships, while 90 empty ships were anchored in the target area. For the ABLE test, mice, guinea pigs, white rats, farm pigs, and goats had been placed aboard some of the target ships as part of experiments on the effects of radiation that were. Fully 35 percent of the animals that survived the blasts eventually died from radiation exposure. Force 1. After several weeks, his ship was sent to the Marshall Islands.

    Then the bomb went off with a loud explosion.

    Tag: thriller

    Some of the vessels went up high into the mushroom cloud like toys, where they tumbled in suspension for a while before they fell back down into the sea. Since Sosa served as boat coxswain, it was his duty to take scientific personnel on repeated trips to the ships in the target area where the radiation levels were quite high, and he was required to board some of those ships on more than one occasion. Alvino served for 28 years, Eduardo served for 26 years, and Rodolfo Jr. Senator John Cornyn, he answered my letter, too; and U.

    Representative Henry Cuellar; he never answered. I feel that we were used as human guinea pigs during the testing of atomic radiation. We were never informed as to the risk we were facing or the after effects of exposure to radiation. No one was given radiation protective gear or briefed concerning exposure to radiation in a highly irradiated area. Yet we continued to work, eat, and sleep while the testing continued. The following are some of my health problems that I have developed since my exposure to high levels of radiation.

    I have. Atomic Veteran, Fito Sosa shingles, prostate gland enlargement, high blood pressure, loss of hearing, rosacea, abnormal heart beat, heart murmurs, and glaucoma. Also the exposure to high levels of radiation has been passed on to my children. One of my younger daughters, Sonia, died of cancer, and another of my other daughters has a child with leukemia.

    Both of my sisters were girls, and my mom was a woman. We had two female cats whose names -- Big Kitty and Baby Cat-- could have been taken straight from a Eudora Welty short story. As far as I know, the box turtle in the basement was female, too. It took three stitches to close the wound, and my carelessness will leave a scar that matches one I acquired four decades earlier when my helmet cracked in a freshman football game.

    We kiss, and I head out the door with my gym bag. I move through the crowd with difficulty, as many of the distaff versif iers have gigantic egos and yield only grudgingly. The shock of recognition hits me, even though both women have had cosmetic surgery recently. Her opponent is jeanmarie benson, who opted for an Italicized style during a recent fellowship in Rome. Even though neither will be eligible to enter the Yale Younger Poets Competition ever again, I have to admit that both are looking great.

    My blood sugar restored, I launch into my tale. The owner called me up and I put him into Chapter So the bank got permission to foreclose. If no one raises up their hand The bank will shortly own this land. Where she picked berries, red and blue and where we planned a petting zoo. The room was silent. Finally, a young woman in toreador pants and black glasses spoke. Since then the place has gone through two owners, neither of whom knows Sylvia Plath from a lath.

    And, uh, miles to go before I sleep. Copyright , Con Chapman. Trevino School of Communications and Fine Arts, has once again -- for the 13th consecutive year -- captured a First Class Award from the National Scholastic Press Association for newspapers published during the school year. Under the direction of VMT journalism instructor and newspaper sponsor Mark Weber, the publication earned an overall score of 3, points with two marks of distinction by NSPA judges for exemplary work.

    Judges of the competition use the Mark of Distinction as a measure to recognize outstanding work in a category. The Magnet Tribune received a score of of a possible for coverage and content and a score of out of in the leadership category. The bigger cities usually win. The NSPA publication. Weber attributes the success of the Magnet Tribune to the work ethic of the students. The Magnet Tribune will publish six issues this school year, one every six weeks. Former bar president Donato Ramos Jr. Proceeds from the event will be matched by the Fernando A. The recent Grand Tour walk-and-bike-a-thon at Mary Help of Christians presented a great opportunity for families to enjoy time together.

    Hundreds of kayaks and canoes will race for cash prizes down the historic river. A festival that will include a health fair, a tequila festival, and other events will follow the event. For more information about the race visit www. The De La Garzas are experienced travelers -they seem to have those special instincts that lead the traveler to occasionally depart from the itinerary and improvise on a hunch. Improvisation in the form of unplanned visits and overnight stays at places of interest that were not necessarily on the itinerary has been the source of many indelible memories -- sights seen, people met, history learned, and adventures experienced -- for the De La Garzas.

    In addition to colorful old mining towns, Indian sights, beautiful desert and mountain scenery, and plenty of small old Spanish sites -- churches, haciendas, and ranchos -- as well as lots of places to view and purchase authentic Native American arts and crafts, interact with Native American citizens, and see picturesque examples of their folkways. The large urban centers, Albuquerque and Santa Fe, also contain multiple research libraries, cultural museums, permanent and temporary exhibits, and colorful plazas, bazaars, and other arts and crafts venues that.

    In addition to spending plenty of time at the Pueblo Cultural Center where they watched some charming live shows of Indian music and dances, the De La Garza party had a fascinating stay in Santa Fe, the oldest capital city in the United States, sightseeing, lingering in the tourist-friendly Spanish-style plazas, and shopping along the intruiguing shaded sidewalks replete with sidewalk vendors displaying hand-made Spanish Colonial-style and Native American wares for sale.

    Almost all the food on the menu is served spicy. We definitely need to work on improving a few things. They have their own tribal governor and their own department of tourism. The shows and seminars they conduct are part of an effort to raise public awareness of the American Indian way of life.

    The place is very well maintained, and it attracts tourists from all over the world. It is much visited and much appreciated for its fine workmanship and graceful appearance. The nuns prayed hard to St. Joseph for divine intercession, and one night a hungry stranger came to the church in the middle of the night and was given food and shelter by the Sisters of Loretto.

    At the end of three months, the nuns reentered the chapel to find the stranger gone. The chapel, now under private ownership, is a popular wedding venue, and the Miraculous Stairway is billed as the Helix to Heaven. Multiple legends about this humble little structure, some dating back centuries to pre-Colonial times, add to its intrigue and have long attracted visitors to the site to see and seek miracles.

    Early Spanish missionaries commented that the spot in the hillside near the Santa Cruz River where the shrine is now located was an Indian pilgrimage destination even before a chapel was built over it in But the crucifix kept mysteriously returning to its native niche in the soil on the hillside. After several repetitions of the round-trip phenomenon, the area residents and the local clergy decided to build a chapel over it where it could be permanently housed.

    The crucifix as well as the soil at that location are said to possess miraculous healing qualities, and thousands of pilgrims flock to the shrine several times each year. His Indian and Southwest motifs are instantly recognizable the world over. T How do you spell success? The festival, which will be held October 16 and 16, includes a kayak and canoeing event, as well as a health fair, a mercado, art exhibition, and a food, tequila, and Mexican cultural fest featuring chefs from both sides of the border.

    The canoeing veterans made landfall beneath International Bridge I after a sixmile practice run. Mynar is a year veteran who has competed all over the state and the country. The race will cover race 53 kilometers and is being organized by the Laredo Hotel and Lodging Association. For information on the event or kayak lessons call Ellman at Mental Illness Awareness Week Oct. Share your talents. Be a volunteer in our circle of giving and receive the satisfying reward of knowing you are part of a greater effort to change lives through advocacy, education, art, music, and exercise.

    At least, those are the ostensible targets. Clearly, these demonstrations of inchoate rage are about more than public policy. Oh no! Evil monkeys stole our W W W. You know who really had their act together? British colonists in India. But oppressing a country of hundreds of millions for more than a century was not without its dangers. And that it is how former House Whip Rep. Roy Blunt, R-Missouri, chose to illustrate the challenges facing conservatives in the Obama era. So for this golf course, and this golf course and this golf course only, they passed a rule, and the rule was, you have to play the ball where the monkey throws it.

    Added the.