Thousands of feral camels are wreaking havoc in an Australian town as they search for water in a continuing drought…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: sea current. The blog is also related to: ocean winds.

Thousands of feral camels are wreaking havoc in an Australian town as they search for water in a continuing drought…. From BBC News. Full story

This site may contain information about: sea current. The blog is also related to: ocean surface.

(CFD.net.au – Contract for Difference, Share, Forex, ETFs, Commodities Traders) – Police say a drunk driver has hit 10 parked cars in Sydney’s inner east, knocking one to its side on the footpath.

Police say the 30-year-old had nearly three times the legal blood alcohol limit when he wreaked havoc in his ute on Victoria Street at Potts Point at 3:50am (AEDT).

The Mona Vale man was arrested on the street and charged with negligent driving and drink-driving. His driver’s licence was suspended on the spot.

Joanne Pridham works at a backpacker’s hostel on the street and went to inspect the damage herself.

“I saw a backpackers’ station wagon with a lot of their belongings on the street and it was pretty obliterated,” she said.

“The back windows were out. The tyres were all flat. The bumpers were off. They’re going to come out and see their car and they’re not going to be amused.

“There are about three or four cars with their wing mirrors knocked off and damage to their tyres and bumpers.”

The man will face Sydney’s Central Local Court on November 5.

Police want owners of the cars to call Kings Cross Police on (02) 8356 0099 or Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000.

Source: 'Drunk driver' smashes into 10 cars

(CFD.net.au – Contract for Difference, Share, Forex, ETFs, Commodities Traders) – Police say a drunk driver has hit 10 parked cars in Sydney’s inner east, knocking one to its side on the footpath.

Police say the 30-year-old had nearly three times the legal blood alcohol limit when he wreaked havoc in his ute on Victoria Street at Potts Point at 3:50am (AEDT).

The Mona Vale man was arrested on the street and charged with negligent driving and drink-driving. His driver’s licence was suspended on the spot.

Joanne Pridham works at a backpacker’s hostel on the street and went to inspect the damage herself.

“I saw a backpackers’ station wagon with a lot of their belongings on the street and it was pretty obliterated,” she said.

“The back windows were out. The tyres were all flat. The bumpers were off. They’re going to come out and see their car and they’re not going to be amused.

“There are about three or four cars with their wing mirrors knocked off and damage to their tyres and bumpers.”

The man will face Sydney’s Central Local Court on November 5.

Police want owners of the cars to call Kings Cross Police on (02) 8356 0099 or Crime Stoppers on 1800 333 000.

Source: 'Drunk driver' smashes into 10 cars

Percy Chapman aka Trag is a true master.
You can check his credentials in this documentary about…

“Queensbridge: the world’€™s largest housing project, with the richest legacy in hip-hop: from The Juice Crew, to Nas, Mobb Deep and the realest of them all: Tragedy. While still in his mother’s womb, Tragedy’s dad is shot dead. Thirteen years later, with his mom hooked on smack, Trag has to hustle to survive, but the kid’s a rap genius and is signed to the world famous Juice Crew ’til he’s busted and sent to Riker’s at 16. Trag emerges political, releasing his Intelligent Hoodlum album. ‘Nuff respect, but he’s eclipsed by young rapper Nas. Trag falls prey to the streets where he discovers teen rappers Capone-N-Noreaga. After dissing Snoop Dogg, they get a record deal. Trag is hailed as a genius for masterminding their geo-political War Report album.
Capone is busted and Noreaga finds stardom, leaving Trag to starve. Then Trag’s mom ODs. At first Trag turns to crime, then finds inspiration, turning pain to beauty with underground albums Against All Odds and Still Reporting. Trag meets Nore to talk about making music together again, but cops pull up on ‘em, throwing Trag in jail. Out on bail, Trag is still reporting from the hood, keeping it real in Queensbridge.“

Prison sentence: On December 27, 2007, Tragedy was convicted of selling narcotics and sentenced to a maximum of four years in prison.
He is scheduled to be released on January 21, 2011

В нета се появи ново геймплей видео от The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings което е още по нелегално от първото (клик), но пък компенсира със значително по отвратително качество

Както ще видите по-долу, видеото е записано от някакъв ултра вманиачен пират по време на презентация на експото Игромир 2009 (Gameworld 2009). За предпочитане е да не го гледате в HD ;|

Ако не сте разбрали нищо (което е логично) polygamia.pl са така добри да систематизират инфото и на английски тук.

PS: Мисля, че е време CD Projekt да пуснат нещо официално

Източник: Ultimate Wobblecam: The Witcher 2 [RPS]

I brought team two up on comms, who had located the environmental controls to discover Arthree  altering the controls, slowly returning pressure to the ship. They reported that the ship should return to standard atmosphere within the hour. Then a familiar voice interrupted our transmission.

“That’s nice and all, but we’re in a bit of a spot here Vance.” Crix’s statement resounded through the small sound emitter.

“Crix, Is that you? What’s your location?” The adrenaline that was beginning to fade kicked into overdrive once again. ” Where the hell have you been?”

“I’ll be happy to tell you all of that if you can get us out of here. Our cutting equipment and one of my men got sucked into the ship… through what looks like a fifteen centimeter hole. We did what we could to prevent further casualties.”

“We’re on the way then. By the way, you missed out on a great fight…. It just goes to show that they truly don’t make droids like they used to.” I smiled with the thought, and winced at the pain in my shoulder. Without looking, I knew the arm to be lost. It would never again use it with success. With today’s technology, I can get it replaced easy enough. Or I could just let it hang there, useless for the rest of my life. Knowing that I would let it fall off first before going to one of those hack job surgeons. No, you will not, you will be born anew, answered the dragon.

As we made our way down to the engine compartment, some of team two’s commandoes were already cutting Crix and Alpha team out of their would-be tomb. I stopped in my tracks as I rounded the corner to see the remains of a tech could be seen spread all over the engine room’s floor, and nearby walls. The gelatinous blobs looked as though the man had exploded, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

White kids, please stay in the suburbs.

Havoc is a motion picture about the lives of wealthy Los Angeles, California, teenagers whose exposure to hip hop culture inspires them to imitate the gangster lifestyle. They run into trouble when they encounter a gang of Latino drug dealers, discovering they are not as street-wise as they had thought.

Now when I watched this film I couldn’t stop thinking about another coming-of-age film myself, Thirteen. They both have the same ideas of little suburban teenagers who want to act wild and be free, when really that’s not who they are.

Personally, Havoc really does connect to me cause there are a lot of people like these ones portrayed I know. The people I know try to act all gangster like they could kick anyone’s ass, when really they aren’t anything compared to the real thing.

This film captures that real well showing from the first encounter how different these two groups really are. The white kids always try to act all tough on their own homecourt, but when they go somewhere else they are a bunch of little chickens who are scared out of their minds.

There are a lot of really good dramatic scenes by the end of the film that really does keep this film going on to powerful. The way these two different cultures are portrayed is just really perfect as you can see the big differences, and the little similarities these two groups have in common.

I liked the movie and everything I just think it wasn’t anything different that I’ve seen before. It seems like the same old message,”keep your daughters inside the house”, and to be truly honest Havoc doesn’t do much to add to this message and make it even more powerful than previous films.

Yes, for all you little pervs out there, Anne Hathaway does get naked for this film. But please do not let that take you away from this film cause her acting is magnificent. I was surprised to see the same chick from The Princess Bride, dropping down(literally), and doing a very serious and complex role, and actually pull it off. Her and Bijou Phillips have great chemistry in this film and you can actually tell that they actually are friends as they do feel like it. The rest of the cast does well with stars such as Channing Tatum, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Freddy Rodriguez, but a lot of the good cast is underused and you rarely see them at all during this film.

Also, the ending was not as powerful as it could’ve been. The film doesn’t come full circle and connect at the end like many other films of this nature have. It leaves you with a little message that is powerful, but not powerful enough. I didn’t quite know what was the eventual resolution to these actions and what happened to the these characters at the end of the story.

Consensus: Havoc features a true message, magnificent performances, and some great looks on real life. But the film doesn’t become too powerful as it could’ve been and left me wondering just what was to happen to these characters by the end of the film.

6/10=Rentall!!!!!

Before last week's Nor'easter, there were steps from Katherine and Larry's deck to the beach.

Growing up in the Midwest, I’d never ever heard the word “Nor’easter” before. But then in 1997 we moved to the Outer Banks of North Carolina, and I found out firsthand how destructive a November storm like that can be.

We lived at the ocean for two years, and every morning I’d take my Seeing Eye dog Dora out for a short walk on the beach while Mike got Gus off to the school bus. We’d meet in the kitchen then, grab a cup of coffee and bring it outside to enjoy at the top of the steps to the beach.

One particularly stormy morning, though, I knew we wouldn’t be meeting for coffee. There’d been no news of a hurricane, not even a tropical storm, but the rain seemed to be pelting down sideways. In buckets. “Hup up, Dora! C’mon, Dora!” I hurried Dora down the wooden walkway to the beach. “Hup up! Let’s go!” She did rush, but still remembered to stop at the top of the stairway. And I remembered to praise her. “Good girl,” I said, tapping the top stair with my foot to reinforce the notion that a step down is worth stopping for. Even when the rain is pelting down, and the winds seem to be rushing at 60 mph, she has to stop. “Good girl, Dora,” I repeated, then gave her the “forward” command. She didn’t budge.

“Dora, forward!” I commanded again. She wouldn’t go. I started getting mad. The rain was cold, and though we’d only been out for a minute or two, I was already soaked. the wind rushed at us, determined to knock us over. “DORA!” I yelled at her. “Forward!” I was so mad, I took a step forward myself just to show her what I meant.

It felt like Dora and I were suspended mid-air for a long time. I learned later from Mike that it was at least a six-foot drop. I had no idea how we’d ended up free-falling that way, but I was glad Dora had come along for the ride. After we hit ground, I turned my head right and left, trying to assess what had happened. I couldn’t see, of course, but looking around like that is just old habit. It took a few seconds, but I did work it out. There were no stairs. They were gone. And so was Dora. I’d lost her leash in the fall.

”Dora, come!” I screamed into the wind, hoping that somehow she’d hear me. She did. She came and stood. Right by my side. I crouched down to feel her, clutching the leash now so that we couldn’t be separated again, asking her over and over if she was okay. “I’m so sorry, Dora,” I repeated, shouting to be heard over the wind. “You were right.” I told her she was a good girl, trying to reassure her we’d be alright.

But would we? The Nor’easter had washed the stairs completely away; we’d have to climb the dune to get back to the house. Waves were creeping in at our feet, which should have been scary, I guess. I found them reassuring, though. They gave me a clue of which direction to go next. Turning my back to the sound and feel of the water, I picked up the harness and commanded, “Dora, forward!” She led me as far as she could on foot. Eventually I had to get on all fours, like her. We crawled up the dune together, side by side.

Once up the dune, Dora helped me find what was left of the walkway and we headed back to the house. I might have felt heroic, if I hadn’t been so ashamed. You see, when I stepped off that top step ahead of Dora, I’d broken one of the Seeing Eye’s cardinal rules: never get ahead of your dog. I’d put Dora and me in real danger, and I didn’t want to admit my mistake to Mike.

And so, I walked in, took Dora’s harness off, and hung it on its hook, just like normal. I might have gotten away with it, if it hadn’t been for the long hooded coat I was wearing. The coat was made of wool and was covered, head to foot, in sand.

Who woulda’ thought something that doesn’t even qualify as a tropical storm could cause so much havoc? Tropical storms, hurricanes and nor’easters all produce buckets of horizontal rain and high winds, but tropical storms and hurricanes usually come and go quickly. Nor’easters can hang around for days.

*******

Two of our best friends from our Outer Banks days visited us here last weekend. Katherine had visited us in Chicago before, but it was Larry’s first time here. We caught up over cocktails, enjoyed a delicious meal together and even took a long walk along Lake Michigan, the weather was so unusually beautiful in Chicago that weekend.

That's Larry and Katherine, our dear friends who live on the Outer Banks, during their visit to Chicago the first week of November. We're trying to persuade them to move here for the weather.:)

Unfortunately that was not the case when Katherine and Larry returned home. They got back to their oceanfront house in Kill Devil Hills just days before a Nor’easter hit the coast. This from a blog called Seaside Vacations:

The November Nor’easter is sticking around on the Outer Banks. The storm (really two systems; a high and a low pressure system, the low being the real “Nor’easter” and the remnants of Ida) set in late Wednesday and is very reluctant to release its grip on the OBX.

The wind and rough surf have been relentless. Due to the large waves and higher tides than normal, the beach no longer serves as a boundary for the ocean; water and debris have flowed onto the streets in many areas.

Katherine wrote to assure us they were alright, and in that Outer Banks spirit, the subject line in her email was, “Could’ve Been Worse.” You can see for yourself from the photos – they lost their steps, just like Mike and I did a decade ago. I’m afraid it may be a while before Katherine and I enjoy a glass of wine on her deck like we did last September.

At least we knew where to go from here. I contacted team two, and informed them that an Arthree unit would be attempting to restore pressure before they arrived. After receiving acknowledgement, we continued towards the bridge.

Kriff! I hate this. I can’t see, I can’t hear, and I certainly couldn’t fight in these conditions. I don’t see how these stormies can handle it. It’s like they were born in a vacuum or something. I finished the thought as I noticed a grey blur run through an intersection at the end of the corridor ahead of me. It was moving in the direction of the bridge, still some fifteen meters away from the intersection. I motioned for the troopers to follow, then began the most painful run of my life. The thundering that I thought was that of our boots against the deck plates was actually my heartbeat echoing through my head. My vision seemed to dim even more as I began to suffer a type of tunnel vision. I somehow managed to reach the intersection before the troopers.  As soon as I began to round the corner, a durasteel fist caught me in the center of my chest, knocking me nearly three meters back down the opposite corridor.

I landed on my knees, and out of reflex, I threw my left arm up as blaster bolts began sizzling past my head. In the darkness of my vision, I witnessed two white blurs roll into view. The sound of blaster fire continued, and intensified as the droid slowly backed down the corridor.

My ears popped again as pressure began to slowly climb. I rolled to the side behind a support beam. As I rolled, a blaster bolt caught my left leg, sending jolts of searing pain through my already aching body.

A voice then spoke to me. It was as clear as a bell. You were prepared to fight even before you were created. Get up! Get up and fight! The dragon within seemed to breathe fire into my weakened body and spirit. I began to regain  vision, and the shrieks of blaster fire became more distinct. I stood, now able to see the damage to my leg, which, in my newly empowered state,  seemed to be nothing more than a flesh wound. I spun around the support beam, rifle drawn, and began to charge past the troopers barricaded in the intersection, toward the antique assassin droid. I bellowed a war cry as I fired upon the droid, who deflected every shot with its own shield. The sleek droid returned fire, bathing the entire corridor with white hot bolts of energy. A single shot caught me center of mass as I advanced, threatening to throw me off balance. Without slowing down, I reached the droid and dove into its durasteel form, knocking the machine off of its feet, and taking it down to the deck plates. The droid latched onto my left arm, crushing armor and bone as it cinched ever tighter, threatening to detach it completely from my body.

Ignoring the pain, I delivered a single slash with my vibroblade, effectively beheading the ancient creation. The droid’s body fell flat against the deck plates with a metallic clang, and its powerless hand fell free of my now useless arm. I stood, looking down at my chest. The armor had protected me from the powerful bolt of energy. A scorched, gaping hole on the exterior gave view of multiple layers torn away from the heat. I could feel the thick, warm presence of my blood just under the final layer of armor. Another scar to remember me by, the voice said to me.

“Vector, do you copy? We’ve just sealed ourselves in, and are getting ready to….” The sounds of static and muffled screams were heard just before the channel closed.

“Alpha, come in…. Crix, answer me!” Without time to think, I pushed through the tech, and entered HaVoC’s Intent. Halfway through the door, my vision blurred from lack of oxygen, and my nose began pouring blood due to the lack of pressure. Fortunately, my hazy memory was intact enough to remember that I stored emergency breath masks in a console near the door. I tore open the latch, opening the console, and quickly donned the mask. My ears were ringing, and all was a blur. A flashback of my university professor pressed into my thoughts. The human body cannot survive for long periods of time in a vacuum without a pressure suit, especially if pressure change is rapid. The memory both awakened, and pained me. I felt like dying right there on the spot. Much more time here, and we WILL be dead, but we must push on.

I surmised that Crix and his team were dead, caught unawares of the environmental condition inside the ship. During our planning, we had thought of the lack of oxygen, but not this. I turned to the team, gazing upon their emotionless helmets, knowing that they were suffering similar effects without the availability of pressure suits.

“Everyone listen, we are now splitting into two teams. Half of you are with me; we’re going to the bridge to regain the ship. Team two; you get to the Engine Room and manually get environmental controls online. Stop for nothing, and cut the oxygen tanks open if you have to. It won’t be enough to completely pressurize, but at least it will buy us some time!” I blurrily glanced at the troopers now forming two groups, equally balancing both skill and weaponry.

Team two set off down the main ventral corridor just outside of view from our position. I led our small group of nine troopers towards the bridge, stopping at one of the control stations to view system status. Everything was powered down save for the grav plates, and security emplacements. I then unfastened and thumbed my communications datapad that connected me with Sara.

//…I… need… intelligence… I…am….. onboard…ship…//

Only a moment went by before the reply.

//…Assassin…droid….onboard….unknown…model…environmental…controls..//

//offline…Oxygen…count…point..zero…zero..one…Pressure….suit….required…//

//sending..R3…G6…to…correct..pressure…two…droids…unaccounted..core..//

//…power…cells…optimum…..sensory….input…negligible…intelligence….via….//

//…droid….uploads….location…..level….four…..grid….seventeen….//

Mission Report 09-1138-A11 Encryption code Zabina-Theta: Commander Crix Madine, Imperial Gunship – Interrogator

Lord Vader,

It may come as no surprise to you that Vance Rögen, also known as HaVoC in some circles, is a bit… fixated… on the loss of his vessel. He has not endangered equipment, or men as of yet. He seems to switch from meticulously focusing on one task at a time, to spreading his thoughts over matters and distances that I simply cannot fathom. He is an enigma of sorts.

My orders have been to observe Vance Rögen and determine if connections exist with the any of the Republic loyalist factions. In spite of equipment placed both on his person, and in his quarters, to date, I have not observed any such alliances. He has only sent two encrypted communications via a datapad to his ship’s computer SARA. The method of communication was developed by our own Cornellius Taft. I do not believe him to be sympathetic to those who defy the Empire on a day to day basis. If indeed he has had contact with them, it has not been during his stay aboard Interrogator.

My Lord, I neither question your judgment, or authority, however, I do not see him fit for service in the Empire. He is, with the lack of a better description, Insane. I have never met a person so hell bent on self destruction, and…. protection of everyone around him, even droids. Honestly m’Lord, I have grown a great amount of respect of the man. He views the galaxy as a playground. Though that perception of freedom alone could be considered dangerous, I do not view him as a threat to the Empire.

Currently, we have located HaVoC’s Intent and are preparing to board her. Intelligence has revealed that a BRT computer has been placed onboard. This city computer is governing a majority of ship functions, as well as an assassin droid that, reports indicate, is of an antique design. For the boarding, Vance will be commanding a team, per your orders. His mission will be entering through an airlock, suppressing any resistance, and taking control of the bridge. My group will be performing a free jump onto the hull, and breaching the exterior hull into a redundant system access where we will re-seal the exterior hull and then breach the engine compartment after re-pressurizing the small access. The mission should go smoothly.

With that, I shall finalize preparations. You shall receive a full report at mission’s end.

In service of the Empire,

Madine

Once we arrived at the airlock door, I attempted to enter my override code. As expected, I was locked out of the system. The lead tech, Tiv, assisted by attaching a mag-lock coupling, with an extended keypad and slot combination, over the original keypad. He inserted a card, and keyed a decryption code to begin the program. What once was a blazing red light panel above the lock began to glow a comforting green. The door hissed as the pressure attempted to regulate, causing my ears to pop. Realizing that the Intent was holding a vacuum  quickly alarmed me, and with the thought of what damage it could do to Interrogator, I thumbed the remote controlling Interrogator’s own airlock door, trapping us in the tube without oxygen.  I thought: The troopers would live if they could survive the lack of pressure; they had breathmasks built into their helmets. Already running short of breath, I attempted to raise Crix on the personal comm.

Now prepared, I thought of how much I hated fighting… and the reasons why. It had always brought out… It always made me do things that I wished I could forget, and sometimes did. It is almost as if some other presence, something dark, was violently awoken. That presence is what I call the dragon. It was what my father sometimes jokingly called HaVoC because trouble always seemed to follow me. He gave me that nickname when I was twelve on Ord Mantell, when I nearly killed a glitterstim addict in his early twenties for attempting to rob me. I picked up the item nearest to me, a broken sliver of durasteel. My next memory was of the would-be thief lying motionless in a puddle of blood. I fled the scene, fearing that the thief would wake up. After my father died, I occasionally used the nickname in memory of him.

I approached the hangar where our boarding party was scheduled to meet. Apparently everyone else had been awaiting my arrival. Cheers and jeers were sent into my direction as I stepped into the main bay. I spotted a docking tube out of the corner of my eye. It extended from the Interrogator and attached to the Intent’s side docking port. That would be my team’s route. Crix’s team however, was busily hustling towards the other airlock, readying for the difficult jump across open space where they would then attach themselves to my ship’s hull.

I guess we’re going on with that plan after all. It would have been nice if he’d informed me of that. I addressed my team of eighteen elite troopers. Most consisted of general Marines, if they could be called that, armed with what appeared to be advanced custom E-11 blaster rifles. We also had two techs, three troopers armed only with medium charge thermal detonators, and DC-19 stealth carbines. There were also four troopers carrying Z-8 rotary blaster cannons for heavy cover fire.

“Okay men, I know this mission has been pretty slow for most of you. In fact, I’m willing to wager that some of you welcomed this break in action while others… well, you know who you are.” Glancing around, and seeing a few nods gave me an indication of the several — more proactive members of this highly trained group. “This boarding mission may get hot fast, or we may not need to fire a single round. Either way, be on your guard. You have all been briefed of the Intent’s droid compliment. Anything else is to be considered hostile. There may be droids in my manifest that have been reprogrammed. However, do not fire unless agressive actions are taken against you. This is, above all, a recovery mission in essence, not a war. Theta squad, you will take point with me, Omega, you cover the rear. Shadows… well you know your job better than I do. Trust your team, cover your partners, and above all, don’t shoot me, the guy in red!” A few smiles, and laughs among the crew indicated to me that the message hit its mark. Okay Vance, now for your finale… Inspire them, and lead away… “Okay, men, let’s get in there and take this ship!” A cheer echoed through the hangar bay and we began filing through the airlock doors into the tunnel connecting us to HaVoC’s Intent.

Hello everyone, I just wanted to stop here and say thank you to everyone who has been supporting this little hobby of mine! A special thanks goes to Aria Brisard (http://insidetheempire.wordpress.com) for inspiring me into this project!

To make things interesting, I have decided to add a bit of “flavor” to some of the posts. From time to time, I will be inserting storyline “enhancements” via music to help set the mood, and tone of the scene. Not all music will be Star Wars related, some could just be my inspirational music while writing that section of the draft.

Again, thank you to all that have commented, and given advice. I am truly humbled by your show of support! Keep the critiques flowing!

Sincere Thanks,

Robert D. Porter

My father had been a soldier for the Republic. His rifle and his career had been his life, and he served both well. He had retired his commission and his rifle before the Clone Wars began, which in his eyes seemed to be a good thing. He despised the act of cloning, especially for a military purpose. During a trip to her home world, my mother contracted hardan plague, and died in a backwater med-center weeks later. Jent was seven at the time, and I was only a toddler. My father was grief stricken, and left our home on Hemei IV to settle on the seedy planet of Ord Mantell. He began life anew working as a local mercenary, usually as personal security for various local crime lords. Credits, however, did not come by effortlessly. He continued the line of work until he found a newer, better love; salvaging and repairing old and antique droids. His newly acquired shop, and his droids became a passion of his that Jent and I cherished being involved with.

My daydreaming was interrupted by the intercom. Crix’s voice came over the loudspeaker announcing a five minute countdown before we boarded. I snatched my rifle from the bunk, grasping it tightly. The rugged grip and weight felt comfortable to me, yet alien in my hands. I checked the energy pack, and gas canister, which both gave nominal readings.