The first Warlocks were corrupted by the Burning Legion.They were the wielders of the dark magic.

Now, this warlocks live like any other people. They are being tolerated, but not always trusted.

They have now, in Stormwind, a secret place where they come to do their magic, in the basement of a bar.

Thrall hates the warlocks, but he needs them! He see’s them addicted of power. “Power… Power! Must have! Need it!”

Warlocks can summon demons to do their bidding’s. “If you are not loyal, I would scare you to death!”

Spells are based on DoT (Damage over Time), that eats slow the life and steal their life from the enemies. In four words: they suck their lives. “Fear… Dot’s! Dot’s! Then Fear Again… Dot’s! Dot’s!” As a big personality.

The Warlocks where the first class that existed (before the creation of Azeroth).

That’s what TMZ.com is saying, that this whole thing is strictly domestic. Husband and wife argued about a third wheel–rumored to be Rachel Uchitel. Those lacerations on his face and head? All from Mrs. Woods–and her little golf club. Well, someone else in the family knows how to swing one…as The First Church of Tiger Woods as well as TMZ.com can also testify.

Tiger Woods did not suffer facial lacerations from a car accident. They were inflicted by his wife, Elin Nordegren — according to a conversation Woods had Friday after the accident.

Tiger has yet to be formally interviewed by the Florida Highway Patrol — that should happen this afternoon. But we’re told Tiger had a conversation Friday — with a non-law enforcement type — detailing what went down before his Escalade hit a fire hydrant.

We’re told he said his wife had confronted him about reports that he was seeing another woman. The argument got heated and, according to our source, she scratched his face up. We’re told it was then Woods beat a hasty retreat for his SUV — but according to our source, Woods says his wife followed behind with a golf club. As Tiger drove away, she struck the vehicle several times with the club.

We’re told Woods became “distracted,” thought the vehicle was stopped, and looked to see what had happened. At that point the SUV hit the fire hydrant and then hit a tree.

We’re also told Woods had said during the conversation Friday he had been taking prescription pain medication for an injury, which could explain why he seemed somewhat out of it at the time.

Well, how have the mighty fallen. Here I was thinking that him focusing on his wife’s pregnancies was slowing up his game. It’s not that; it’s bouncing several blonde babes who nearly resemble each other at the same time that’s been screwing up his “A game.”

This is something even his deceased cheating Creole daddy won’t be able to fix.

What an idiot. Is that all it comes down to? Nooky on demand? He’s got everything, so what does he want now? The ruin of his career? Joining these other sad souls on the covers of People and National Enquirer full of money and power and unhappiness? It’ll fall away, Tiger. Everything will fall away if you don’t recognize this opportunity for what it is. Stop. Fcking. Around. Divorce Elin, remarry or stay single. Or try something else to do other than golf.

Other white golfers have tended to keep their creeping under wraps or on page 14 of the sports page. Or they’ve stuck with the same woman through creeping, children, moving around, and financial reverses. But not you, Tiger. There were already strong rumors before this happened that you were creeping. See, you’re a rock star. When people heard about the accident, it was like a thunderclap heard around the world. Nobody, except perhaps Obama, will get this kind of attention and concern. Even if you are losing on the course, you still have that rock star mantle. It’s a blessing, but now, it’s a curse. People won’t come to see you or buy your endorsed products if you keep on this way. Lorne Rubenstein of Canada’s The Globe and Mail says we’re all waiting for some answers.

Woods has the support of many sponsors, who pay him untold millions. They want to be associated with the 33-year-old winner of 14 major championships not only because he is a brilliant golfer – perhaps the best in history – but because of his image. They along with golf fans will want to know exactly what happened early yesterday morning in the darkness of the exclusive Isleworth community when Woods pulled away from his mansion.

The sponsors that will want to know – or one would think they would, and need to – include, among others, Nike, Upper Deck, Accenture, TAG Heuer, EA Sports, Golf Digest, Netjet, Gatorade, and Gillette. Meanwhile, Kim Montes, a spokesman for the Florida Highway Patrol told The Associated Press that police plan to ask Woods “everything.” First reports said nothing about that having happened, the explanation being that Woods was being treated for his injuries.

One thing is certain: PGA Tour commissioner Tim Finchem and the sponsors of every tournament in which Woods plays, must have nearly collapsed with worry when the accident was reported. He moves the dial like no other golfer, ever.

Woods was one of only two golfers ranked in the top 50 in the world who played in that recent Australian Masters, and some 25,000 spectators followed him every round. The Hong Kong Open on the same week had 12 players ranked in the top 50. Telecasts of the tournament showed very few people at the tournament.

My advice: Man up. Admit that you are having marital problems, then go into counseling with your wife. Decide whether to keep her and the children, or let her go with enough money to live the rest of her life in peace. It doesn’t work to have a family and to continue being a playa when you’re on tour. In between, be with your little boy and little girl. That’s your living legacy. Find or reject religion or find comfort in family or friends who’ll tell you the truth, not what you want to hear. Get back to the basic reason why you love golf and what it does for you, and then spread that love around to your wife, children and other family members. Open up your life, Tiger. And above all, step on, but on a different path. Let this episode fade away for your sake. Don’t turn this into a donnybrook that every major gossip media outlet will rush to talk about to your detriment, and have folks shaking their heads. It’s up to you.

Just found this great article on something I’ve always struggled with regarding the “attachment parenting”/”natural parenting”/”empowered birth” communities…socioeconomic exclusivity.

From her article:

Claudia Booker, an African American doula in Washington, DC, agrees. She explains that women in low-income communities of color stopped giving birth outside of hospitals at least three generations ago. There is also a sense, she noted, that giving birth at home is “what poor people do and [that homebirth] was something we did because we had no option.” This history reflects a larger transition among US women giving birth at home to hospital birth, which happened in the 1920s. Low-income communities, and particularly African American ones, took longer to make this transition because of poverty, racism and lack of access to hospitals. Now the paradigm has shifted and hospitals are where low-income people get most of their health care.

……….

The media depictions of home birth moms are not far off from the demographics of those at the helm of the maternity reform movement. This small collection of organizations and individuals, primarily made up of midwives, doulas and mothers, is predominantly white and middle class.  Steff Hedenkamp from the Big Push for Midwives readily admits these shortcomings. “You could say we’re not doing enough to reach out and engage with lower income women, and it’s probably true. We’re not doing enough on every level.” It’s difficult to say whether it’s merely a demographic issue, or reflective of something larger, but it’s clear that the demands of the maternity reform movement are not promoting the needs of low-income women. Even if the Medicaid barrier were to be eliminated, the education provided by films like The Business of Being Born need to be geared specifically toward low-income women or they aren’t going to leave the hospitals anytime soon. “My clients don’t know a thing about homebirth, nor do they understand why they would even consider such a thing,” explains Muhammad.

I’m concerned that the rising cost of midwifery education still only reaches those white, middle to upper-middle class women who will take their skills back to their community – leaving other communities scarcely represented.  Furthermore, the push to get through a midwifery education quickly means that many of these privileged white women will go to high volume birth centers in border states or in other countries to get their skills on women of color, far removed from their own realities.

As one of those privileged white women, I’m not sure where the answers lie.  My practice seeks to make homebirth an affordable choice for all that want it – I barter, offer a very, very low fee and sometimes do births for free.  If the desire is truly there, I will support that woman no matter the payment.

Where and how do we make change?

Every time, I log into the course webpage, I curiously study the thumbnail-sized photos to try to unlock the mystery and wonder behind the smiling faces. It looked a lot like Adventure Pursuits from Cornerstone, but much bigger. If I questioned carefully, I might hear an exciting anecdote from a second or third-year student. Yes, I had waited patiently since September for this day, left unknowing of when it would exactly come. But as promised, I knew it would and all my curiousities would cease to exist. I am referring to Community Day, when all students are exempt from classes to participate in activities as a whole student body and give feedback on our experiences. So, not only do the day’s events allow you to become a closer community, but also help make Quest a better place. After all, we are building the university!

Although the tradition is strong, no community day is the same, especially as the student body expands exponentially each year. For starters, we were let out of class a half hour early, rather than completely exempt. Also, for logistical reasons, it is less of a surprise and some of us knew about a day or two in advance. Read about one tutor’s reflections on a past community day here. But despite the rain that caused us to move indoors and the fact that for the first time, over 200 students were present, we started by forming a huge tight circle, then simultaneously sitting down. The person in front of you is supported by you and you are supported by the person behind, so, as Toran  says, “we are all supporting each other.” We do a series of other team-building activities, such some making impressive human towers, which forces first, second and third years as well as staff and faculty to fully integrate by working together. With free pizza and snacks as a blatant incentive, we stick around and discuss our favourite features about Quest and suggest improvements. We are told that our suggestions really matter, and I am convinced because I know of a few from previous days that have already been implemented. Then, there are a serious of optional breakout discussions and students can choose to participate in those that interest them…health and wellness, volunteerism in Squamish, scholarships and financial aid, residence, classes and so on.

Why just attend a university when you can help build one?

4 potatoes

4 apples

4 small yellow onions

2 carrots

2 granola bars

4 individual cereal packs

Bag of rice (maybe 3 cups)

Dogfood (maybe 5 cups) – for the cat!

1 tin “luncheon meat”

Package of 12 wieners

500 ml. sour cream

Can of tomato soup

2 yellow peppers

2 jello pudding servings (they’re turquoise! wtf)

I can flaked tuna

1 can of chick peas

750 ml syrup

2 litres (1/2 gallon) orange juice

♥

Two years ago, I was making almost $60,000 a year. This morning, I went to a foodbank in a church basement.

For those who haven’t been following, I lost my job at the end of May (see earlier journal posts). Things have not been going that well and, although at first I wasn’t too worried, now I’m wondering if I should maybe be panicking more. Have I been too naïve? I grew up totally upper-middle class. I’m smart, & have three university degrees attesting to that fact. If I have to, I can throw on a different tie for every day of the week. I’ve given thousands to charity in the past. Never in a million years did I ever think I’d find myself needing to resort to a foodbank.

A few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago, I would have been mortified by the idea. But, as day after day goes by, and I send out hundreds of resumes without even a nibble, I find I’ve switched into survival mode. I have a good life, a nice home, and I need to do whatever is necessary to protect that. Applying for jobs that I am way overqualified for is part of that. Apparently, so too is going to a foodbank. Pride is a luxury of the wealthy, and stable. Right now, I am neither of these.

I showed up on time, having got the coordinates over the phone from the city’s social services department. It was in the basement of a United Church, half a block from my house. A newish location for a foodbank from what I can tell, but they seem to be popping up all over these days. Another pandemic, where no one’s sure about a cure. Though it was physically located in a church, it was run by “The Daily Bread Foodbank” who are Toronto’s umbrella foodbank coordinators (and do an amazing job). I waited almost an hour and a half, and ended up walking out with what you see above (20.5 pounds, though this includes packaging!). If I give them details about my financial situation, I can make this a regular occurrence. But, this was a one-time-only emergency thing. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.

So far, my cat seems unconcerned about eating the dogfood they gave me. Heh!

While I was there (they are open 2 days a week, for a 2 hour stretch each time, so I think I got a sense of the place), the staff were very helpful. They came right up as soon as I walked in, and asked me if I needed anything in particular. There were lots of brochures & handouts about things like tenant rights, legal aid, and things that people down on their luck would probably need to know. I suspect most of the staff came from a volunteer or social work background. They weren’t the least bit condescending, or moralistic. Totally friendly and professional. (Could they, maybe, hire me?)

They served 143 people while I was there. The clients seemed to be maybe 60 percent drawn from the chronically unemployed/unemployable. People who have been on the margins their entire lives. Honest folk, mostly, but hard done by, usually through no fault of their own. Only one person there was an obvious crack whore. And, she probably needed the charity as much as everyone else. There were other “clients,” too, who apparently thought that a colourful neck tattoo would be a good idea, but didn’t think very far ahead.

But, the rest were more-or-less like me – people who had until recently been working, and have fallen on hard times. I heard a lot of people asking the same questions I did: “I’ve never been to a foodbank before…” It’s said (and, it’s true) that poverty hits women the hardest, but the majority of people were late-middle aged males. Maybe late 40s or early 50s. Quite a few immigrants, though since this is Toronto, probably no more than you’d expect statistically. The man next to me was reading a Russian language newspaper. The young guy sitting across from me while I waited plugged a laptop into the wall and occupied himself with that. People were quite friendly. I wasn’t in the mood to be sociable, but total strangers talked to one another, exchanging stories, advice, gripes. Poverty had brought us all down to the same level. There were no pretenses anymore.

It seems that when money gets really tight, people stop getting good haircuts. (guilty!). Bad clothing decisions follow, as options narrow. I suspect that compared to the other 142 people there, I am still pretty lucky. Not only because of that university education & presentable look (so far!) but also because I had $60 in my pocket as I sat there, and still have friends and family I know I can count on for help.

The food I got today is probably only worth $20 or so. But, it’s $20 I don’t have to spend now, and can save to use for subway tokens to take me to (ever-anticipated) job interviews, or that I can put toward a much needed pair of ordinary black walking shoes, which I desperately need. Winter’s coming, though, and fortunately I have a good stock of boots. And, even though I’d probably never buy turquoise day-glo jello in real life, I’ll eat this one knowing that some individual, or (more likely) some corporation, donated it. And, I’ll like it, too.

Oddly, I’m glad I did this. It was a new and interesting experience. Not necessarily a good one, but still… You can bet when I get a proper job again, I’ll be making some serious donations to foodbanks! At the end of the day, I went to my favourite café, and had a $3 latte (hypocrite!), and did some writing. And, for a million reasons I was happy, but most of all, because dinner was taken care of, and since yesterday, someone had decided to decorate a telephone pole in my neighbouhood. For no apparent reason, that I could tell, but – who needs a reason for flowers?

(Originally posted 4 Nov/09                 122 comments)

Cédric DEBACQ Mode Homme Collection Photo 2009

haha such a cheesy name…

anyways… one day i popped out my camera to see what everyone was wearing in my honors ancient history class… I chose the wrong day ’cause the next day there were Audrey Hepburn inspired outfits, vintage outfits,guys in cardigans etc.  Oh well, sigh.

Friend 1.

The laid back, free, i dont care style.

This friend is pretty much one of my style icons. Cardigans,polos,khakis,sweaters,blouses, sperrys,lacoste.
The laidback classic.

top:American Eagle classic blouse,($30?) price idk
pants:jeans-Abercrombie ($45)
Shoes: Sperrys $70
Earrings;Diamond from her parents.( i think or some other precious jewel)

My gorgeous friend, Briana.

Isnt she so pretty? sigh.
Shes’s one of the friends that I pretty much talk about stores or the latest teen Vogue issue.We both like URBAN OUTFITTERS :0 haha.
This outfit she got on total discount.  No fair. She looks like a model. hmphh.

Dress: Marshalls she says $12
Tank top: American Eagle : $10
Flats: Alligator flats: not sure where she got them. $20-$30?

LASTLY ME!! haha i am a dork.
and i am very asian.. woot.

shirt:Ralph Lauren(got it on sale for $20)
Dress: Abercrombie(kids)-$39.99
Vest: Military inspired/Target($10)
Leggings-Korean market..5000 won or app. 4.50
Boots:Michelle D.(tons of people asked me where i got them. Dillard’s/last year) $65
Purse: SakRoots(made out of bamboo (: asian pride!)$45

haha today wasnt the greatest fashionista day but oh well. Aren’t all my friends so CUTE! haha love them.

As I stated I would show some more pics of the completed wide body C63 with some of the performance upgrades. check out info and pics below. For more information on acquiring this kit contact GTPRO.COM.

Conversion contents

D2 complete wide chassis:
−D2 front wide bumper
−D2 front carbon lip
−D2 front wide fender
−D2 side skirt extension
−D2 rear apron
−D2 rear wide fender

C63 D2 optional eye Thames:
−D2 rear carbon diffuser
−D2 stainless steel sport muffler
Blackout inside – front headlight
−D2 front headlight carbon trim
−AMG Styling W 19inch
−D2 suspension kit by H&R

seductioninc.wordpress.com

seductioininc.wordpress.com

The other night a friend and I attended a sushi making course put on by a local recreation centre.   I love eating sushi so I thought the next step should be to try to figure out how to make it.  It looked hard, but what did I know? 

We were told in advance of the class to bring a sharp knife, cutting board and apron, but they also should have suggested that we bring Tupperware to take our sushi creations home in.  I guess I had been expecting that we would eat as we went along, but not so!  (I purposely hadn’t had dinner in expectation of this and so was hungry!)

Our teacher had a fantastic sunny personality and so it was fun to be part of her class.  She gave us all printed instructions on how to make the sushi rice but then we pretty much immediately got right down to doing it ourselves.  We made the rice, added the special vinegar to it, and then set it out to let it cool.  We prepared our vegetables and imitation crab and tuna.  Nothing raw was on the menu, I suppose to cater to the people that don’t like raw sushi.  (I do, so I’ll have to do that on my own soon!)

Next up it was time to learn how spread the rice onto the nori (dried seaweed sheets).  We laid out our small sushi-making bamboo mats and placed a half sheet of nori on it.  We then wet our hands (important for avoiding rice sticking to them), gathered some of the rice up in our hands into an avocado-shaped ball and then started to spread it on the nori.  The rice is very sticky so it was a little hard to spread it out evenly, but once completed it was very easy to turn the nori sheet upside down and have the rice stick to the bottom (so the nori was on top).  We were following this technique to make an ‘inside-out roll’.  Then we laid our meat and vegetables on the nori and used the bamboo mat to roll it all up.  There is a bit of a trick to it, but most of us seemed to get the hang of the technique the first time. 

It was so thrilling to see my perfect little roll hanging out there waiting to be cut into maki pieces.  Yum.  I think the hardest part was making sure that when cutting the roll apart we didn’t squish the roll and mess it all up.  I realized my knife probably wasn’t sharp enough and kept having to wash the sticky rice goo off of it before I made another cut.  That aside, it was very easy to complete my first roll and was really pleased with how it looked!

The whole course was three hours and during that time our teacher showed us how to make inside-out rolls (as described) and outside-in rolls (nori on the outside) and cone rolls (which I didn’t do because I find the nori hard to bite through in such a large piece and thought I would probably never make a roll on my own because of this).  We experimented with our ingredients and prepared the kinds of rolls we wanted to make, getting some more practice.

It was really great to realize that sushi-making isn’t really all that hard and that you don’t need very many specialty tools to be able to do it.  Some ingredients may need to be purchased, such as black sesame seeds, fish roe, nori and the special vinegar sauce, but all of that can be found at a Japanese grocery.  Apparently Fujiya is a great place to go here in Victoria, and I plan to check it out soon.

Now I’m looking forward to having a sushi party to put my skills into practice!

1.  I have been teaching this term two courses that I meant to be identical but at different levels of intensity and abstraction, but my intentions (I typed intensions, which is more correct, since my intentions have stretched) (and I told my students that there are no asides in the classroom) (which is the same thing as saying there is no no in the unconscious) have little to do with what has happened, absolute divergence. As I described in the last post, teaching classes is for me like writing: if, in advance, I overprepare, then become blank and excited before I set out the prospective shape of things, and if, during the time of extension, I find it all absorbing and difficult, and if, afterwards, I can’t exactly remember what happened, not even the affect, and if I have to excavate the encounter as though it involves material from a therapeutic hour, that’s when I know that something has happened.

2.  John Forrester claims that the analysand can only lie, as all the story she has is noise that fills the space of what she knows but cannot know yet, or bear to know. That is true about teaching, too. It is impossible to know who one is as a teacher. The relation between what one intended and what one did–even if one’s own sense of things were to govern the evaluation of efficacy–can’t be determined solipsistically, not only because we teach other people as singularities and as groups, not only because teaching them is so very different than reaching them, not only because the feedback loops are so varied and out of synch (when they’re not out of commission altogether), but also because the relation between information transmission and all of the other activities within the scene of teaching is mostly unconscious, seat of the pants, in the normative ether, and atmospheric, rather than eventilized. I cannot imagine myself as a student encountering myself as a teacher.

But, in contrast to the analysand, I do not lie when I am teaching:I know when things are being described well and I know when we are going somewhere uncharted. I’m explicit about this, too: I say that I don’t know what I don’t know, that I made a mistake, that I fear that things are not happening when discussions are weird, that the quality of the feedback loop is unsatisfying if I sense that people are not learning. I try to keep things ratcheted up. I know when what they came for is available to them and when it’s still inadequately gathered up in clarifying narrative, reference, and context-building. But knowing that it’s available does not mean that teaching has happened.

That’s really the main difference between the classroom and the analytic scene, but it’s a big one.  Not knowing is the inevitable experience of therapy. There, language and bodies carry what is known into domains that cut through what is said. In class, though, I have a mission to model relations of clarity to unclarity, to talk about the ways we might be able to know the contours of something difficult more fully if we had different skills to encounter it. I then show them the beginnings of an encounter with the problem and map out what skills the people in the conversation might need to build, including me, and students add to that pile, when it works. In any given 90 minute session we can only begin to open up an approach to the material that is being mediated by the material material that is on the syllabus. In the next class we try again, aiming toward a new opening that’s different from the other one.  There is never enough time.  Only time for a first (half-averted, distorted) encounter, then another.

3.  This term I am speechless in front of the material I am teaching, and not because it’s about trauma and suffering.  I have been struggling also with my muteness in front of the material with which I am writing as well,  maybe it’s related. Also, it’s a lot of new material, and it takes a process for me to let things in. In another part of this series I will tell a story about an encounter I had in my car a few Sundays ago with Sarah Schulman, who tried to teach me how to write, and the difference was hilarious. For the time being, though, my life is defined by this: I have constructed two out of joint courses that are similar topically but mainly in the way they stuff a fist in my throat.

4. I take that image from Phoebe Gloeckner’s A Child’s Life and Other Stories, which I am inexplicably bringing to my graduate class on trauma, for which I have named this genre, a teaching.

5.  Gloeckner’s book is a heap of remnants, attempts to tell a story whose plot is about her being fucked and out of luck but never out of desire.  Lucky for her, slapstick is in her arsenal to help her see her way through life: slapstick, with its big, violent, hyperbole lodged in the ordinary and shaped by startling rhythms of sequencing that always peter out into an ellipsis or faux finality. Slapstick is the “WTF?” and the “FML!” as best (imaginary) friends.

Gloeckner’s drawing always involves new economies of rawness (exposure) and defense (close-up, distance, clutter, word/image intensity, child-cartoonish distortion).  Her stories are straightforward comic sentimentality:  tragedy with exclamation points. (!!! !!!)  I tried to lead my students through the rhythm of her recirculation of defense and exposure, of surrealism and the detail, of her upending of the inside and outside of the body, of the tragicomic situation as seriality without end or narrative satisfaction. They were not so interested in what I have to say–this class does not find my mind interesting. They were compelled by something else, Scott McCloud’s concept of cartoon realism.  But the communication of something is more than the pressing of a subjectivity’s face onto paper.

6. I inserted the book in the course at the last minute when my dearly beloved Was turned out to be out of print.  But I cannot yet see why I thought A Child’s Life was a substitute, since Was is the most tender book I’ve ever read, which is to say the least comic, even though technically it is a comedy: it’s like putting your finger on the forehead of a friend and then taking away your hand to watch the imprint fade. I had known that Was was out of print because Geoff Ryman had told me so, but I refused to believe it: a week before school started the bookstore confirmed what I had refused to take in and in a panic I inserted this book, this child’s garden of trauma.

7. A teaching exists when you read a text for the conceptual opening it can make in the rhythm of ignorance that you have called your knowledge (Rancière). A teaching exists when you gather up different ways of conceiving the same problem and try to move things by putting them in relation. This is the point about Gloeckner’s use of serial form: it’s not just a representation of being broken (reduced to a cartoon) but a rhythm of astonished ongoingness–breaks, distortions, repetitions, fadings without dying. Authority is not the point and application is impossible. The point is to use the spiky cluster of episodes that are variations in a field of affect to construct a live analytic happening whose governing infinitive does not yet exist (so you ask: what potential action is shifted by these scenes? what is it a transformative case of?). I always need one more class than I have to make effective this process of shifting the shape of any object/scene.  Recomposing  an encounter with a problem forces one to hear the noise, the penumbra of the problem, in a new way.   On the other hand, it all takes place in my head, my desire, I fear.  I bring it to the room, and each day the students look at me as though they were never inside it.  Remember?  Oh, that was four days ago. Maybe they weren’t.  In any case, I am not them inside of it, only me.  All we have to hold onto is the common problem, and I am the keeper of the problem.  And remembering that is hard enough.

8.  Suddenly the room in which I am typing smells like candle wax, and the woman with Alzheimer’s who lives above me is howling for dear life. I hope these things are not related–yet they are.

Hy en estadística me ha dado por preguntarle a la profesora por la fórmula para obtener la probabilidad de que salga un determinado resultado, así que para ayudaros un poquito a hacer vuestras predicciones de cara a una tarde frente a un mapa o talero, y teniendo en cuenta que hace falta un poco de tiempo para sacarlo por cuenta de la vieja (o yo no me cosqué), lo pongo por aquí. En este caso, es para sacar fuerza irresistible en whf con 3D6, es decir, al menos dos 6.

P(66NU6N6UN66) = 1/6 · 1/6 · 5/6 + 1/6 · 5/6 · 1/6 + 5/6 · 1/6 · 1/6 + 1/6 · 1/6 · 1/6 = 16/216 = 2/27

Es decir, de cada 27 tiradas de 3D6 que hagamos, en 2 saldrá un doble  un triple 6.

Todo este párrafo esá aplicado al 3D6. La probabilidad, obviamente, es la misma para todos los demás resultados. Para hallar la probabilidad de que salgan otros resultados, sólo hay que multiplicar lo que nos ha dado antes (2/27) por el número de resultados favorables de entre 6. Por ejemplo, la probabilidad de que nos salga un doble cualquiera con 3D6 e de 12/27.

Para tiradas que no sean de 3D6, hay que hacer lo mismo siguiendo esta fórmula para hallar la probabilidad de, al menos un doble, en la tirada, pero añadiéndole un ·5/6 más a cada uno de las multiplicaciones (excepto la última, a la que se añaden ·1/6) y añadiendo tambén otra multiplicación más igual que las anteriores por cada dado que añadamos a a tirada. Una vez obtenida la probabilidad de cualquier doble.

Paratriples o cuáduples, sólo hay que poner en cada términ de la suma (cada multiplicación) un 1/6 en vez de 5/6.

Espero haberos echado una mano a la hora de planificar rol y wargames.

By: J-Fénix

26 NOVEMBER 2009.
It was a bittersweet experience traveling to school this week, knowing it’s the final week before we enter the real world. It’s not like I’m graduating tomorrow or something but it was the very last time I’m going to SP to attend normal lessons.

I kinda felt the pinch on Tuesday (24Nov), when I reached campus at 730am to prepare myself for PP CA2 interview. I doubt I ever gone to school that early alone before. The feeling was great. No crowds, no rush, no distractions, just me walking all by myself thinking, reflecting. I seldom take slow walks to School of Business.

While walking, I was thinking through the 3 years, people I’ve met, known, forgotten, don’t wanna remember. There were so many places in school where memories were created. That thought made me smile for a while.

Then as I looked up at the big red “I want I can @ SP” banner, I can’t help but to think of the friendships that were made and how it progressed. However, there were some memories, I really don’t wish to relive.

I guess, my experience in school was awesome. I didn’t regret taking the polytechnic route at all. It did open my eyes to the real world and how’s everything is in shades of grey.

I’ll miss you guys, lecturers, course mates and classmates.
I had fun.

Year 2Year 3 – DMC 3B05

Entire cohort!

“Today, while in math, my teacher asked us what a super prime was. Everyone looked around, then in unison said “Optimus.” MLIA”

First, why do all totally ‘average’ things happen in Math Class? Is there something I don’t know about?

Secondly, I doubt that everyone in your math class has watched Transformers. Then again, I’ve never watched Transformers and even I know what Optimus Prime is, but seriously. Everyone, EVERYONE in your WHOLE math class said “Optimus”. At the same time, too. I’m surprised that they did it and they missed a beat.

If everyone in my math did this, sure, maybe I would feel a little cool, but here’s the thing: no one in my math class WOULD do it. No one in ANY math class would.

How is this ‘average’?

Welcome to the Information Aesthetics class.

Welcome to the Design for Hypermedia class.

Shaquille O'Neal in his latest incarnation as a Cavalier. O'Neal was so moved by the little girl's tragic death that he paid for all of the funeral expenses (Courtesy: Denver Post)

For the record, the usual child’s funeral costs about $4,500. It’s not chicken feed.

Basketball star Shaquille O’Neal paid for the funeral of a 5-year-old North Carolina girl after being moved by national news coverage of the case of Shaniya Davis, who police say was kidnapped and killed.

The Cleveland Cavaliers player was touched by the stories he saw and got in touch with the family to see what he could do to help, a spokeswoman for O’Neal said Thursday.

More than 2,000 people attended the girl’s funeral Sunday. Her body was found Nov. 16 beside a rural road.

Her mother, Antoinette Davis, who had reported the child missing six days earlier, is charged with human trafficking and child abuse involving prostitution. Mario McNeill is charged with murder, rape and kidnapping in the case.

“I was sitting at home watching it on the news and the story brought a tear to my eye,” O’Neal told The Cleveland Plain Dealer newspaper.

Better make sure that Bradley Lockhart’s mitts aren’t on the money raised for the little girl’s funeral expenses. It was announced that the money already raised would be given to charities and organizations concerned with child abuse. It had better be; any money sent to a bank in the name of a missing or murdered child is still the property of the people who set up the account–either Bradley Lockhart or his sister Carey Lockhart-Davis. These people’s actions should be watched. I wouldn’t be surprised if more than $4,500 was raised; and that’s enough for any one to suddenly get greedy.

Art Spander from Real Clear Sports says it all about what I think about what Shaq did.

The holiday had nothing to do with it, although the timing was exquisite. The gesture by Shaquille O’Neal happened to be announced on Thanksgiving, and that gave greater meaning to a unique act of kindness.

We are too familiar with the manner some athletes have gained headlines away from their games. So many have been arrested, whether for serious offenses, Plaxico Burress pleading guilty to criminal possession of a weapon, or lesser ones.

If Shaq is guilty of anything, however, it’s sensitivity. Others may have shamed sports, made us ask “What’s the matter with these guys? Don’t they have a brain in their head?”

O’Neal provided a large percentage of pride. He did what’s right. Without being asked or coaxed.

Shaq is far from perfect. He is being sued for divorce. But he always has been a caring individual, raised in a military family by a stepfather who demanded discipline and respect.

Shaq may play a mean game of basketball, although now at age 37, he is too often injured, including currently, having not been in uniform for the Cleveland Cavaliers since mid-November because of a shoulder ailment.

In the game of life, as so many big men, O’Neal rarely is mean.

Perhaps he does not fit the mythical category of Gentle Giant. So we label him the Considerate Competitor. Or employ the description he often has used on himself, the Big Socrates.

Touched by the tragedy of 5-year-old Shaniya Davis, who police say was kidnapped and killed, and whose body was found a week and a half ago beside a rural road in North Carolina, O’Neal paid for the child’s funeral.

“I was sitting at home watching it on the news,” O’Neal told the Cleveland Plain Dealer, “and the story brought a tear to my eye.”

He saw what we all saw, hate, pain, tragedy, tales told repeatedly in modern society. A girl he didn’t know. A story we all know. Shaquille O’Neal was not content merely to step away.

He never has been.

Read the whole thing about Shaq. Some of that stuff I never knew about the guy. It just might restore your faith in people one more day.

For anyone that has downloaded, or even looked at, TBAmud, one of the first things you’ll realize is that there are only four classes: Mage, Cleric, Warrior, Thief.  In game terms, that means all four of the standard D&D roles are filled; range damage, healing, tank, and melee damage.

But in order to make your MUD more interesting, you need more classes.  Why?  Because it’s boring with just the standard four.  What about the Paladin, a Cleric/Warrior hybrid?  Or an anti-Paladin, a Mage/Warrior hybrid.  By combining classes into hybrids of two or more, you can create some more interesting classes.

Instead of combining classes, another challenge is to create something new.  How about a Ranger, who has some elements of a mage (limited spellcasting) and a rogue (sneak/hide), but also has the ability to tame and control animals?  Or has the ability to fire ranged weapons from outside of combat.

Alternatively, combine these skills with healing, and you now have a Druid.  He can cast spells out of combat, while still able to deal damage to the target.  Much better than a cleric (especially if some cleric spells are out-of-combat only, such as Sanctuary), although probably not as versitile.

These were ideas I struggled with in SIGMUD.  I finally settled that I wanted a total of 6 classes to start, preserving the initial four and adding two more – Paladin and Necromancer.

The Paladin is a warrior/cleric hybrid, with some healing spells and the ability to swing big weapons at things, with a few added tricks that Clerics and Warriors don’t have access to.

The Necromancer is a toned down mage/cleric hybrid.  But instead of fighting in melee and healing others, he raises his own undead minions to fight for him, and heals his undead minions.  To benefit groups, I gave him a plethora of curses and other fun stuff to do to mobs.

No food, no shelter, no jobs, no healthcare.

This is what the people of NYC have been struggling with for what seems like forever.  From a lack of supermarkets in our poor and working class neighborhoods, unavailability of affordable housing, high unemployment, to a loss of benefits and beyond, the non-wealthy of New York City are taking an exceptionally severe hit from this recession. The thing is, even when the economy was at its peak, lower income New Yorkers were already facing obstacles to obtaining these basic necessities.  Going at it alone in this city is damn near impossible.  To protect themselves from slumlords, tenants sought the assistance of civil service attorneys to represent them in holdover proceedings.  When facing foreclosure, or extended unemployment, disability discrimination, New Yorkers can turn to agencies such as The Legal Aid Society of NY and Legal Services NYC for assistance.

Lady Liberty and Justice

Civil service attorneys who fight for fair housing practices, who seek to rectify discrimination in employment, who secure benefits for those in need, are facing DEEP cuts and lay offs are coming.  Criminal defendants are guaranteed attorneys by the U.S. Constitution and the State Constitutions of the states.  This means that funding for public defender offices, although deficient cannot be completely divested.  Nevertheless, all nonprofits are struggling with funding.  If City Government agencies are being required to cut their budgets by 12%, imagine what financial state the private nonprofits are in.  Public Defender agencies are suffering from deep cuts, however Civil Services agencies will soon have to abandon entire divisions of practice.  Persons in need of representation in Civil matters on the other hand, are not entitled to a free attorney.  Nonprofit agencies such as the LAS, LSNY and others rely partially on fundraising from private entities, but primarily through IOLA funds. IOLA collects interest from accounts held by lawyers holding large amounts of funds for their clients.  The interest collected on these accounts is then placed in IOLA for civil legal services spending for THE ENTIRE STATE OF NEW YORK.  Fundraising and asking private firms to donate money is not sufficient. IOLA funds encompass the bulk of many agencies’ funding.  Millions of the money that funds civil legal servicescomes from the IOLA fund, yet  IOLA is broke.  The loss of this money will be crippling to the the various divisions that represent the working class of this city.  People who receive benefits, who have found housing through their free attorney, have been showing up Senate hearings demanding to be heard. This must continue!

SO WHAT CAN WE DO?

The New York State Senate is holding a hearing on December 9th about civil legal services funding.  The hearing will be 11:00 am to 6pm at New York University Law School, Vanderbilt Hall, Greenberg Lounge, 40 Washington Square South.  There must be a major turn out to demand that our politicians ensure that the IOLA fund for civil legal services is funded and protected.

AutoProject started working on their wide body kit for the AMG C63. Quite frankly I am liking the direction they are taking. Matter of fact I like the finished product in which I will post in a few days.