3 Ocak 2013 Perşembe

Pam Corkery's Birthday, Her Herald Interview Plus The #1 Song The Day She Was Born

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Today is my co-host from The Two Pam Corkery's 56th birthday and in case you missed it, here is the link to today's New Zealand's Herald where she was featured in the 12 Questions segment.

Amongst the obvious highlight of her mentioning my name, Pam reveals why she's glad she abandoned the brothel for women business idea (so am I), says what terrifies her the most and explains one of the things her mother taught her which still resonates.

Because it's Pam, not surprisingly today's 12 Questions is funny, but it is also incredibly honest, blunt and poignant. This is a woman who has survived and right now, things are deservedly good. Good health, good man, good writing, good co-host (humbly said) and ratings* neither of us can scarcely believe.

Happy birthday Pam! Here is the song that was US #1 the day she was born and not a bad one either:




*Ratings increased for Newstalk ZB's The Two (Sunday evenings 9pm-midnight) from 13% market share in Auckland all ages 10+ one year ago to 19.4% six months ago to 25.7% where they are now - almost triple that of the second top-rated competitor. During the same period my Thursday - Saturday morning overnight shifts have also increased from 15% market share to 24.8%. 


Why Rod Stewart's Shag-tastic Autobiography Is Genuinely Inspiring, Plus A Forgotten Early Fave

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I've just got home from four nights in Melbourne and in between a reunion with a dozen of the best Aussies I've ever met, taking in Derby Day at Flemington, playing (and losing) tennis with a long-time rival and catching up with my sister and brother-in-law, I found time to read Rod Stewart's brand new autobiography Rod.

I'd mentioned on-air a couple of weeks ago on Newstalk ZB that I not only loved Rod's music, but had much admiration for the man too. "How could you say that about such a hell raising womanizer!?" said Alarmed of Albany via the text machine, but really it's easy. Rod didn't woo all those blonde beauties by being a Brad Pitt-esque hunk, he did it in large part by being so ridiculously charming. That charm didn't just extend to tall, tanned models and actresses - read just a couple of chapters of Rod and it's clear this is a bloke who blokes like too, be it his soccer buddies, his bandmates or famous cohorts like Elton John or (especially) Ronnie Wood.

I was talking to my sister about the difference between Rod and politicians who lecture to the rest of us relentlessly on Christian morality while privately conducting affairs or sometimes, much, much worse. I was contrasting that with Rod who (not surprisingly) never lectured on morality, has filled his book with a remarkable honesty and is oddly enough, someone I find inspiring.

Whereas Eric Clapton's equally gripping book's tales of his infidelity left me thinking how little I now liked Eric, Rod's book had the opposite effect. I put this down to the fact Rod's honesty about his failings is coupled with an acute understanding of how charmed a life he's lived. He is simultaneously humble, grateful and self-aware enough to know both his astonishing talent and his monumental cock-ups. He also grew up.

All of that makes a working-class man who's driven Lamborghinis for more than 40 years both very real and very relatable. And back to the morality stuff, I'd always got a sense that underneath the boozing, the cocaine-fuelled parties, the hotel-trashing and the shagging, this was an inherently good guy who wasn't adverse to thoughts of a more spiritual nature. Bare in mind this is a chap whose neck has rarely been seen without a crucifix (even when it wasn't just the accessory de jour), who covered Amazing Grace round about the same time he wrote about bedding a girl whose name he couldn't remember (Stay With Me) and chose Curtis Mayfield's devout People Get Ready as his mid-80s reunion song with guitar great Jeff Beck. He also admits to he and wife Penny finding an unspoken pull into churches where the two of them often walk in for silent prayer.

Rod is funny (his explanation of the prominence his buttocks received in the Da' Ya' Think I'm Sexy video is priceless), real, ridiculous, inspiring and self-deprecating. The New Zealand Herald critic said he felt like marrying the man after finishing the book. I don't know about that, but I'd unashamedly love to hang out with Rod, encourage him to keep songwriting (a skill he'd thought had deserted him but which has recently returned), discuss our favourite Sam Cooke records, get some tips on the art of woo-ing insanely beautiful women, have a couple of beers and crack a few funnies. He seems like that sort of bloke.

The song featured in this edition of The Roxborogh Report is 40 years old and was written by Rod and probably his best friend, Ronnie Wood (who prior to joining the Rolling Stones, was Rod's bandmate in the wonderfully shambolic Faces. In Rod, Ronnie is always referred to as "Woody" and the two don't just look like brothers, it's clear they share a deep brotherly love. This song is early Rod at his very best in that it is not just rock, but is folk, has a bit of soul, has the narrative of country music and the humour of...well, Rod Stewart. This is Lost Paraguayos.



4 More Years For Obama - The Irony Of Springsteen's Campaign Theme Song

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Obama & Springsteen on the campaign trail.
It's almost a week since President Obama won a second term so it's about time I loaded up a relevant song to The Roxborogh Report to mark the occasion. I've gone with what became the campaign theme song, Bruce Springsteen's We Take Care Of Our Own from his most recent album Wrecking Ball.

The song was an interesting choice for Obama to use because for not the first time in Springsteen's career, he's written what almost sounds like a jingoistic first-pumper which on closely inspection is anything but. Like with Born In The USA (which Reagan unsuccessfully tried to use as his 1984 re-election theme), the chorus line of We Take Care Of Our Own is sung with a good dollop of irony. Just read the lyrics immediately prior to the first chorus:
"I've been stumbling on good hearts turned to stoneThe road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone"
Referencing the appalling government response to Hurricane Katrina a few years ago, Springsteen in the second verse talks about "from the shotgun shack to the super dome," before mentioning a cavalry who stayed at home and that there was nobody "hearing the bugle blowin'."
But the final, extended verse seems to offer a slither of hope amidst the frustration. He sings of looking for the work that will set his hands and his soul free, of searching for the spirit that will "reign over me." The fact he still believes in that spirit suggests all hope is not lost and "wherever this flag is flown, we take care of our own," might be less ironic and more literal in that last chorus. Or maybe not and maybe it was a bad choice for a President trying to be optimistic.
Possibly, but in a non-cynical way I think the presence of Springsteen in the Obama campaign (sometimes a physical presence too) spoke volumes of the inclusiveness that is the reality of this President. Fox News want you to believe in the Divided States of America, but when a white rocker in his 60s whose fan base is overwhelmingly also white has the courage to back Obama, it speaks of a nation where unlikely bonds can still be formed. And Springsteen formed one of those with his best-mate Clarence Clemons 40 years ago - read his spectacular eulogy to him here.
For those lifelong fans who were surprised Springsteen publicly endorsed Obama, they'd clearly never read any of his lyrics - his compassion for the common man has always been there for all to see. A further irony to all of this is that it's possible the Obama team didn't really read the lyrics to We Take Care Of Our Own either. That is unless they understood that the song's message of frustration and fear for a nation who had lost its way would appeal to people who could see a bigger picture than just the previous four years. If those final lyrics in the song do represent a shift away from irony to something more genuine, then it's a message I hope comes true.





When A Great Band Gets A Good Album's First Single Wrong #U2 #TheKillers

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Bono in the Magnificent music video.
Apologies for the hashtags in the headline (almost sounds like a band name #Hashtags In The Headline), but two of my favourite bands have erred in recent times with their new album's first single and somebody needs to come forward and tell them.

Today I was at JB HiFi and was reminded of just how brilliant and inspirational U2 can be. Lots of people would agree with that and would no doubt cite countless songs from the 80s and even 90s as proof. But the DVD playing in-store was from their most recent tour and the song that made Bono take off his sunglasses and look skywards was from their most underbought album in decades, 2009's No Line On The Horizon.

Magnificent is not ambiguous. When Bono sings against a stunning Edge guitar line, "I was born to sing for you," and he looks to the heavens, you're not left in any doubt as to who he is singing to. He goes on to say, "I didn't have a choice but to lift you up / And sing whatever song you wanted me to / I give you back my voice from the womb / My first cry, it was a joyful noise."

In the same way that their early 2000's mega-hit Beautiful Day wasn't really just about a bit of sunshine and blue sky, Magnificent isn't really about something or someone being "magnificent" as far as we would normally comprehend. It's much like the word "awesome." At the heart of it, both these words pack significant punch which due to their common usage has been diluted. Regardless, had the awesome (and to be blunt, God-fearing) song Magnificent been the first single (rather than the forgotten second) from U2's 2009 album, it would've undoubtedly given a much more positive impression of the album than Get On Your Boots.

For a band as drenched in meaning, importance and metaphor as U2, it was probably briefly exhilarating to release a song as frivolous and literal as Get On Your Boots. Only problem was that not only was it not particularly catchy, it was not at all representative of the serious artistic work that it came from. And try as I might, I couldn't find a metaphor. It really was about feet and boots.

The Killers.
Las Vegas band The Killers are currently facing a similar conundrum. The momentum of their new album Battle Born has been stalled by a poor choice of first single, Runaways. While not as throwaway as Get On Your Boots, Runaways sounds in individual 30 second segments like a grand piece of stadium rock that somehow barely hangs together when listened to in one go. Indeed, it is arguably the weakest track on what is one of the best albums of 2012. To find out tonight that the album's second weakest song Miss Atomic Bomb is going to be the second single is vaguely heartbreaking.

In the music industry, everyone likes to think they are the expert with the almost clairvoyant ability to pick hits. I hate to say, but I am no different. As a massive fan of The Killers and without knowledge of the first two chosen singles, I sent an email after a week of non-stop Battle Born listening to my fellow Killers diehard buddy (also named Tim) with my six best songs on the album. None of the six were the singles. In short, whoever is making the decisions regarding singles for this band, they are costing Brandon Flowers and co. potentially millions.

The six songs in question were: The Way It Was, Deadlines And Commitments, From Here On Out, Battle Born, Carry Me Home and the remixed Flesh And Bone. To think that the last two songs are bonus tracks is galling. As to what the first single should've been, Carry Me Home leaves Runaways for dead and beautiful ballad The Way It Was as the followup would have been the business. Carry Me Home, as well as U2's Magnificent are below:







Pink's Domestic Violence Ballet "Try" - Possibly Her Greatest Song Yet

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A still from the video for Try.
Just a short post to follow-up on a discussion Pam Corkery and I had on last night's episode of The Two (Newstalk ZB, Sunday evenings, 9pm-midnight) about Pink's latest song, Try. I don't know a great deal about what constitutes pioneering dance choreography, but as far as I can gather, the "Love Gone Wrong / Domestic Violence Ballet" genre has prior to this video been untapped.

The video is so intense that Pink's own mother said she was "speechless," and there's no doubt seeing your daughter in this way wouldn't just wash over you.

Pink bugs me a little because she has a great voice and a fine ear for a pop hook - indeed she is so massive in this part of the world that she easily sells more albums per capita in Australia than any other country in the world - but litters her songs with a Nicki Minaj-like potty mouth. Songs like her hit Perfect exist in two parallel worlds: one where the anthemic pop ode to self-belief tells you to never believe that "you're less than, less than perfect," and the other where not to think "you're less than, f*cken perfect." Being that the radio version was the clean version, it's not as if the song required the f-bomb to get to the top of the charts. Do pop singers now really use f-bombs for the alleged street cred. a warning sticker on your album gives you? What's the point in dropping bombs if you don't have to?

All that to one side, Try is (unusually for Pink) cuss-free and even without it's groundbreaking video, one of the best pop songs of 2012. Add that video to the mix and it's one of the more remarkable songs this prolific artist has recorded, not to mention arguably her bravest.



2 Ocak 2013 Çarşamba

Significa 12-24-12

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R.I.P. Ravi Shankar

RAGA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=U_Y91TqDwM4

RAGA is a journey to Ravi Shankar's musical, cultural and spiritual roots.

This documentary is an intimate portrait saturated with music as it follows Shankar rehearsing, teaching and performing in concert.

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Discover How Many Different Ways You Can Use Food Grade Diatomaceous Earth
HowToUseDiatomaceousEarth.com

Food Grade Diatomaceous Earth is 85% Amorphous Silica! Silica is the most plentiful element on earth, following oxygen; but there are very few foods that contain an adequate amount to supply the quantity your body needs. Silica is crucial to bones, tendons, skin, cartilage and blood vessels. Silica is even located in the blood itself and important organs such as the liver, heart, and lungs. The average human body holds approximately 7 grams of silica, a quantity far exceeding the figures for other important minerals such as iron. It is as important to provide the body dietary sources of Silica early in life as it is during the aging process when Silica levels in tissue usually drop off steeply. Silica plays an important role in many body functions. Silica has an exact absolute influence on absorption of all minerals that the body requires to maintain health. It adds to the quality of life! Silica does not accumulate in the body; it is water soluble, is easily absorbed by the intestinal wall and rapidly excreted, so daily consumption is important. Studies have not found any negative side effects from too much Silica. Food Grade Diatomaceous earth is a 100% natural and organic source of silica, it is safe for the environment, pets, livestock, and people. It is taken from fresh water deposits and is the purest form available. Food Grade Diatomaceous Earth is not actually an "earth" but it is the fossilized remains of microscopic shells created by one celled plants called DIATOMS. When taken internally, many health benefits have been observed. The biggest benefits seen have been lower cholesterol, lowering of blood pressure, relief from arthritis pain, increased energy, more regular bowel movements, smoother complexion, and sinus and cough relief. It is estimated that there are more than 1,500 ways DE is beneficial to humans, plants, and animals. As a daily supplement, many believe that its most beneficial use is for internal cleansing by aiding in the elimination of intestinal parasites, which are not able to develop an immunity to the sharp edges of DE. DE can also detox the body. According to a top cancer researcher, it is also the best natural chelating product available for pulling heavy metals from the bloodstream. Many believe that the increase in the number of cases of Heavy metal poisoning has occurred in part due to mercury in vaccines, fluoridated water, deodorants with aluminum, some seafood, foil wrap, cooking in aluminum cookware, soda/energy/beer aluminum cans, and a number of other ways. DE has many health benefits. Years ago the silica in our food was adequate, but with todays hybrids and depleted soils, only about 1/3 of the silica needed is supplied in our food. Diatomaceous Earth is a simple and inexpensive way to get the silica your body needs. Food grade diatomaceous earth - aka Food Chemical Codex Grade contains 85% amorphous silica. The micro-fossil deposits, also known as Amorphous Silica, are mined from ancient dried lake bottoms thousands of years old. When magnified 7000x, diatomaceous earth looks like spiny honeycombs. Food Grade DE is completely safe and non toxic.

DE is EPA approved: For treatment of indoor and outdoor crawling insects DE is USDA approved: As an anti-caking agent for animal feed

Other beneficial effects of Amorphous Silica: Stimulates cell metabolism and cell formation Inhibits the aging process in tissues Necessary for the structure and functioning of connective tissue Strengthens and stimulates the immune system Silica is important for the development of healthy nails and hair and regular intake can stop unnecessary hair loss Strengthens and stimulates the vascular system; lowers blood pressure and improves the condition called arteriosclerosis Increase elasticity and firmness of the blood vessels Silica is indispensable for the elasticity of lung tissue and, therefore, is a basic therapy for lung and respiratory disorders Has anti-inflammatory disinfecting, absorbing and odor binding effects

Nature's Wisdom DE leaves no poisonous chemical residues which can build up in the bodies of animals or people. Nature's Wisdom DE is composed of naturally occurring minerals and contains no cancer-causing synthetic chemicals. Nature's Wisdom DE kills any insect coming in contact with it Nature's Wisdom DE is not a pesticide that insects can develope a resistance to. Nature's Wisdom DE is permanent... will not dissipate Nature's Wisdom DE is stainless and odorless Nature's Wisdom DE is economical... more for your money!

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Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 2013 Inductees: Rush, Public Enemy, Heart and Randy Newman
Donna Summer and Albert King will be inducted posthumously
December 11, 2012
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/rock-and-roll-hall-of-fame-2013-inductees-rush-public-enemy-heart-and-randy-newman-20121211

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has officially announced next year's inductees: Rush, Public Enemy, Heart, Randy Newman, Donna Summer and Albert King will all join the class of 2013, with Summer, who passed away this May, and King, who died in 1992, earning the honor posthumously. Lou Adler and Quincy Jones will both receive the Ahmet Ertegun Award for non-performers.

"It's a terrific honor and we'll show up smiling," Rush's singer and bassist, Geddy Lee, tells Rolling Stone. "It made my mom happy, so that's worth it." Lee is especially happy for Rush's army of hardcore fans. "It was a cause they championed," he says. "I'm very relieved for them and we share this honor with them, for sure."

Public Enemy are only the fourth hip-hop act to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five were inducted in 2007, Run-D.M.C. made it in in 2009 and the Beastie Boys received the honor last year.

Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart were also overjoyed to learn the news. "Some people have an idea of what the shape of rock & roll is supposed to look like," says Ann Wilson. "We're not really it. Personally, that's why I think it's taken quite a while . . . We're always traveling and out there doing it. It can start to feel like you're a tree falling in the forest, but nobody notices. So this kind of acknowledgement is really sweet."

For Randy Newman, the news came as a shock. "I thought maybe I'd have to die before they let me in," he says. "I'm really glad it happened when I was still around to see it . . . They're always a little doctrinaire about what's rock & roll and what isn't rock & roll. It's nice they opened up a little to let me in."

The public was allowed to vote for the first time in the history of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame this year. Votes were taken online, and the result was a "fan's ballot" that was counted along with roughly 600 other ballots.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony will be held on April 18th, 2013 at the Nokia Theater and broadcast on HBO May 18th. Tickets will go on sale to the public on January 25th.

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"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former."
~ Albert Einstein

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Head Light: Taking the Psychology Out of Parapsychology
Paul Devereux
http://www.realitysandwich.com/head_light_taking_psychology_out_parapsychology

The existence or otherwise of  psi, ESP or whatever you want to call it, is one of those key controversies at the centre of the great consciousness debate concerning whether mind somehow exists beyond the confines of the brain.  Hardened materialists say such a notion is nonsense, that psi phenomena such as telepathy simply do not exist and that parapsychology is a sham.

A classic example of this attitude is pinpointed in David Metcalfe's Psi News 4 here on RS where he links to an Alex Tsakiris interview with arch-sceptic Victor Stenger, author of the recent God and the Folly of Faith: The Incompatibility of Science and Religion. In the interview, Stenger manages to call parapsychologists charlatans, even including venerable researchers like Stanley Krippner in that charge.  Apart from displaying such gall, "New Atheist" Stenger goes on to effectively equate psi research with beliefs about god and religion - something the likes of Richard Dawkins is guilty of too. But this linkage is false, a non-sequitur: the existence of psi phenomena does not necessarily need there to be a god.

This inappropriate free-association of ideas is typical of the muddled thinking in this whole area - even among some non-sceptics. But the nub of the matter remains - are critics like Stenger correct in their dismissal of psi? Well, this bleak midwinter I bring you the glad tidings that ongoing, remarkable experimental evidence not only indicates such scepticism to be misplaced, but that the whole nature of the debate is about to be superseded.

Parapsychology generally provides its evidence in the form of statistics, and so is all too readily subject to the charge of "lies, damned lies and statistics" - how reliable is monitoring lots of subjective responses to laboratory tests, and why isn't psi robustly repeatable in experimental conditions?  When it comes to actual, real-life psi experiences - telepathic or precognitive events, apparitions and so forth - critics tend to level accusations of misperception or dishonesty against the claimants, and point out that in any case such reports are merely anecdotal, and not acceptable as scientific evidence. Mainstream scientists demand "hard" evidence (whether or not their idea of that is applicable to the mercurial nature of psi phenomena). But now, research by the redoubtable Michael Persinger, with Blake Dotta and their team at Laurentian University, Ontario, makes it look as if the hard-nosed sceptics can at last be confronted on their own ground. To do so, the Laurentian researchers have taken a different track to standard parapsychology - and it is all to do with light.

Persinger is famous (or infamous) for his so-called "God helmet", a helmet that holds electrodes in place on the wearer's temples that generate programmed patterns of weak magnetic fields which massage the temporal cortex producing sensations  of unseen "presences" and other strange perceptions. (In fact, Persinger had developed this procedure to explore the neurological use of magnetism in therapy in place of pharmaceutical products.) But on the heels of this device, he and his co-workers developed a further instrument, nicknamed "the octopus" on account of all the wires involved. More properly known as a circumcerebral magnetic stimulation (CMS) device, this basically is comprised of solenoids (coils) set at intervals on a headband fitted around a person's cranium. The solenoids are controlled by a computer program that enables them to rotate precisely configured weak magnetic pulses around the head. This magnetic stimulation can affect the brain in certain ways, including partially disrupting the 40 Hz so-called "binding factor" of the brain which normally seems to help pull all our sensory inputs together into a smooth, seamless perception of the world. Put in non-technical language, this disruption allows normally curtailed or masked information from "Mind-at-Large" to reach awareness. Some of this information can seemingly possess psi properties, whatever they turn out to be.

I have been a long-time fan of this CMS device ever since I tried out a prototype at Laurentian. It gave me an unambiguous, veridical remote perception or telepathy experience, which I have written about on and off over the years. Now the Laurentian researchers have gone a stage further and carried out tests using two synchronised CMS devices, one worn by the "sender" in a telepathy experiment type of set up, and the other by the "receiver" sitting in a separate, distant, lightproof room. And here's the quirky bit: the receiving participant is monitored by a photomultiplier - a device so sensitive it can detect individual photons, minute specks of light invisible to the naked eye.

In fairly recently published research papers, the experimenters describe in detailed technical terms some results of these tests. Put in simpler language, two types of experiment were involved. In one, a volunteer wearing a CMS device sat in a room and was subjected to flashes of light. In the distant lightproof room, a second volunteer wearing another, synchronised, CMS device was monitored for biophoton activity ("biophotons" are emissions of ultraweak light produced by all living cells). What the experimenters found was that in exact time with the flashes of light in the first room, there was an increase of biophoton emission from the head of the second, "receiving" volunteer: the increased activity was picked up by the photomultiplier tube set a few centimetres from the right side of the person's head, at the level of the temporal cortex (roughly, just above the ear).  This was a repeatable effect. The other experiment was the same basic design, except this time instead of people, two petri dishes of cells were used, each set within a separate ring of synchronised rotating magnetic fields, with one dish being stimulated by light flashes.  Again, the cells in the second, lightproof room registered greater biophoton emission in synch with the light flashes in the first room. It seems the cells like the human brains were somehow communicating with one another without regard to space or time. When the rotating magnetic fields were not present, there were nil results.

Clearly, none of this has a direct bearing on psi itself, but, crucially, the experiments do apparently show that given the appropriate environment, some mysterious means exists for cells, and especially neurons, to directly interact with one another at a distance without any identifiable intermediary mechanisms. (Persinger tells me that preliminary experiments show the effect still works at distances of up to about 2 km, and the distance limit has not yet been defined.) The Laurentian researchers ascribe the effect to "entanglement", to non-locality:  when an atom is suitably stimulated and two of its electrons fly off in different directions, changes made to one instantly affect the other, irrespective of how far apart they are. The electrons are said to be "entangled", but nobody truly knows what that means. It is "spooky action at a distance" to hi-jack Einstein's memorable phrase.

Psi phenomena like telepathy or remote perception would require consciousness to possess non-local properties. If the Laurentian work holds up under further study, then the researchers will have demonstrated that there is a biophysical framework within which psi can occur. They will have stripped the psychology from parapsychology and moved the whole issue of psi research onto a different level altogether. Be in no doubt, the Laurentian research is potentially game changing, and Persinger is under no illusions - he knows mainstream materialists will resist it, and ignore and shun it for as long as possible. This is understandable, because it challenges the very philosophical plank on which the Western view of reality is based. Identifying the workings of psi will be merely a sideshow to the deeper implications. It makes one feel positively light-headed.
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The technical papers referred to:

Persinger, M. A., Saroka, K. S., Lavallee, C. F., Booth, J.M., Hunter, M.D., Mulligan, B. P., Koren, S. A., Wu-H.P. and Gang, N. (2010). "Correlated cerebral events between physically and sensor isolated pairs of subjects exposed to yoked circumcerebral magnetic fields." Neuroscience Letters, 486, 231-234.

Dotta, B. T., Buckner, C. A., Lafrenie, R. M. and Persinger, M. A. (2011). "Photon emissions from human brain and cell culture exposed to distally rotating magnetic fields shared by separate light-stimulated brains and cells." Brain Research, 388, 77-88.

Further information on a version of the "Octopus" CMS device can be obtained from Dr. Todd Murphy at http://www.shaktitechnology.com/shiva/index.htm

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Craft Brewers Call For Transparency in Major Beer Companies
SHAINA PEARLMAN
December 14, 2012
http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2012/12/craft-brewers-call-for-transparency-in-major-beer.html

American craft brewing is becoming a lucrative industry, growing by 13 percent in 2011 and another 12 percent this year, even while the overall beer industry is down. Beer drinkers are no longer stuck with name-brand, commercial beers, opening their palates to different textures and tastes. This has lead to large brewers attempting to enter the craft beer marketplace.

The Brewers Association recently issued a statement in support of small and independent craft brewers asking for transparency as these major beer companies produce craft-imitating beers. Many supposed craft beers in the marketplace were actually the products of large breweries, which goes against the exact definition of what it means to be “crafty.”

“The large, multinational brewers appear to be deliberately attempting to blur the lines between their crafty, craft-like beers and true craft beers from today’s small and independent brewers,” the statement read. “We call for transparency in brand ownership and for information to be clearly presented in a way that allows beer drinkers to make an informed choice about who brewed the beer they are drinking.”

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Wal-Mart, Kroger among companies bidding for Hostess
Jeffrey McCracken and Beth Jinks
14 December 2012
http://www.dallasnews.com/business/headlines/20121214-wal-mart-kroger-among-companies-bidding-for-hostess.ece

Wal-Mart Stores Inc. and Kroger Co. are among the bidders for assets being sold by Hostess Brands Inc., the bankrupt maker of Wonder bread and Twinkies, said a person familiar with the matter.

There are about two dozen bidders, said the person, who asked not to be named because the process is confidential. Last month, financial adviser Joshua Scherer of Perella Weinberg Partners LP said the liquidation sale may generate about $1 billion.

A few of the bids are for all the assets, some are for just the cakes or breads businesses, and others are interested in individual Hostess plants or products, according to the person. Other first-round bidders include Grupo Bimbo SAB and Alpha Baking Co., the person said.

The 82-year-old maker of Hostess CupCakes, Ding Dongs and Ho Hos said last month that it would liquidate and fire more than 18,000 workers after failing to reach agreement with its striking bakers' union on concessions to help it emerge from its second bankruptcy. Changes in American diets led to years of declining sales at Hostess, while ingredient costs and labor expenses climbed.

Representatives for Hostess, Wal-Mart, Kroger, Alpha Baking and Bimbo declined to comment on the auction process. C. Dean Metropoulos & Co., the private-equity firm that owns Pabst Brewing Co., planned to submit a bid, Daren Metropoulos, a principal at the Greenwich, Connecticut-based firm, said this week. He didn't respond to a request for comment.

A standoff with striking union workers triggered liquidation auctions of Hostess's brands, recipes, plants and other assets. The Bakery Confectionery Tobacco Workers and Grain Millers International Union went on strike Nov. 9 after U.S. Bankruptcy Judge Robert Drain imposed contract concessions opposed by more than 90 percent of the union's members. The union represents more than 5,000 Hostess workers.

Hostess emerged from an earlier bankruptcy in 2009 as a private company controlled by buyout firm Ripplewood Holdings LLC and lenders. The company was previously known as Interstate Bakeries Corp. and changed its name to Hostess Brands in October of that year. Hostess entered its latest bankruptcy in January.

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Forget Extinct: The Brontosaurus Never Even Existed
December 09, 2012
http://www.npr.org/2012/12/09/166665795/forget-extinct-the-brontosaurus-never-even-existed

It may have something to do with all those Brontosaurus burgers everyone's favorite modern stone-age family ate, but when you think of a giant dinosaur with a tiny head and long, swooping tail, the Brontosaurus is probably what you're seeing in your mind.

Well hold on: Scientifically speaking, there's no such thing as a Brontosaurus.

Even if you knew that, you may not know how the fictional dinosaur came to star in the prehistoric landscape of popular imagination for so long.

It dates back 130 years, to a period of early U.S. paleontology known as the Bone Wars, says Matt Lamanna, curator at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History in Pittsburgh.

The Bone Wars was the name given to a bitter competition between two paleontologists, Yale's O.C. Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope of Philadelphia. Lamanna says their mutual dislike, paired with their scientific ambition, led them to race dinosaur names into publication, each trying to outdo the other.

"There are stories of either Cope or Marsh telling their fossil collectors to smash skeletons that were still in the ground, just so the other guy couldn't get them," Lamanna tells Guy Raz, host of weekends on All Things Considered. "It was definitely a bitter, bitter rivalry."

The two burned through money, and were as much fame-hungry trailblazers as scientists.

It was in the heat of this competition, in 1877, that Marsh discovered the partial skeleton of a long-necked, long-tailed, leaf-eating dinosaur he dubbed Apatosaurus. It was missing a skull, so in 1883 when Marsh published a reconstruction of his Apatosaurus, Lamanna says he used the head of another dinosaur — thought to be a Camarasaurus — to complete the skeleton.

"Two years later," Lamanna says, "his fossil collectors that were working out West sent him a second skeleton that he thought belonged to a different dinosaur that he named Brontosaurus."

But it wasn't a different dinosaur. It was simply a more complete Apatosaurus — one that Marsh, in his rush to one-up Cope, carelessly and quickly mistook for something new.

Carnegie Museum of Natural History

Although the mistake was spotted by scientists by 1903, the Brontosaurus lived on, in movies, books and children's imaginations. The Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh even topped its Apatosaurus skeleton with the wrong head in 1932. The apathy of the scientific community and a dearth of well-preserved Apatosaurus skulls kept it there for nearly 50 years.

That Brontosaurus finally met its end in the 1970s when two Carnegie researchers took a second look at the controversy. They determined a skull found in a quarry in Utah in 1910 was the true Apatosaurus skull. In 1979 the correct head was placed atop the museum's skeleton.

The Brontosaurus was gone at last, but Lamanna suggests the name stuck in part because it was given at a time when the Bone Wars fueled intense public interest in the discovery of new dinosaurs. And, he says, it's just a better name.

"Brontosaurus means 'thunder lizard,'" he says. "It's a big, evocative name, whereas Apatosaurus means 'deceptive lizard.' It's quite a bit more boring."

Forging a Bond in Mud and Guts

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JOSHUA DAVID STEIN
December 7, 2012
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/09/fashion/extreme-obstacle-course-races-forge-a-bond-in-mud-and-guts.html

BY Monday morning, Michael Cugini would be back at his desk at a major Wall Street firm, another high-powered cog in the engine of finance. There would be men on his left, men on his right, all yelling into their phones and scanning the stock ticker.

But Mr. Cugini bore unseen scars beneath his crisp custom suit. Twenty-four hours earlier, Mr. Cugini (nickname Cujo) was shirtless, face down, crawling through a 40-foot-long pit of cold mud, while being electrified by low-hanging wires. He also scaled a 15-foot-high wall, ran 12 miles and underwent something called an Arctic Enema, in which he jumped into a Dumpster filled with ice water, dyed neon green, and swam under concertina wire.

Two and a half hours after he began, Mr. Cugini crossed the finish line, bloody but unbowed. He had a Dos Equis to celebrate.

“There’s always a lot of moaning on Monday morning,” said Mr. Cugini, 31, a small man with a bald head and a strong grip. “And I just think, ‘Come on, what did you do this weekend?’ ”

Mr. Cugini had company. About 25,700 others participated that October weekend in an ordeal in Englishtown, N.J., known as Tough Mudder, an extreme obstacle course that is becoming the macho sport of choice for Type A men (and some women) who find marathons too easy and triathlons meh.

Started in 2010 by a Harvard Business School graduate, Tough Mudder has exploded onto the fitness scene, with 35 races this year in 4 countries and 660,000 participants to date. Next year, 55 events are scheduled for 5 countries. Along with other quasi-military obstacle courses like the Spartan Race and Warrior Dash, Tough Mudder is the new gantlet for body-conscious Gen Xers.

Though the muddy details vary, each challenge consists of a 3- to 12-mile course spiked with cheekily named obstacles like Ball Shrinker.

Rewards vary. There is neither a trophy nor a purse for Tough Mudder, only an orange headband. Spartan Race, on the other hand, gave away $500,000 in purse money this year. Beer is normally included with entrance fees, which range from $80 to $200.

The common motivator could be called the Walter Mitty weekend-warrior complex. While the races draw a fair share of endurance athletes and ex-military, many of the muddiest, most avid, most agro participants hail from Wall Street.

“Goldman brings a massive team,” said Will Dean, the 31-year-old founder of Tough Mudder. “So does Morgan Stanley.”

That they do makes sense since Mr. Dean tailored his sport for cubicle-bound masses yearning to breathe free. “When we started Tough Mudder, we identified a few key demographics,” he said. “One of them was the white-collar urban professional.”

FROM a distance, the Tough Mudder course at the Old Bridge Township Raceway Park looked more like a medieval battlefield than a 400-acre racetrack. Beefy figures, silhouetted against a frigid slate gray sky, faltered up steep hills. In the gravel parking lot, teams of men prepared for battle.

Some stretched, others squeezed into compression shirts. One man, placing surgical tape on his chest, said fearfully, “This is going to be 9/11 on my nipples.”

Held in late October, it was one of the last chances to qualify for the Toughest Mudder, an invitation-only championship race in November, and squads of men from the tristate area made the pilgrimage to Englishtown, a small New Jersey town of aluminum diners and gas stations.

The chest thumping began before the first obstacle. Next to a cheesesteak stand, a barbershop was set up to dispense free mohawks. A chin-up bar was erected next to a chalkboard, where the highest scores were posted. Nearby, men warmed up by tossing kegs at a cardboard cutout of Fabio.

The bonding intensified at the start line. From 8 a.m. onward, teams gathered in a gated corral on the racetrack, which was still sticky from burned tires, stamping their feet in the cold and jumping up and down in anticipation. Many wore matching T-shirts with team names like Mudlife Crisis and the STDS (short for “Super Tough Dudes”). One shirt read, “I don’t get drunk, I get awesome.” The fittest tended to go shirtless.

With American flags fluttering overhead, a wiry announcer in a plaid cap and tight blue T-shirt lifted the mic. “Everybody take a knee!” he yelled, and everyone knelt. “We’re going to test your fitness. Oo-rah!”

“Oo-rah!” the crowd replied, using the traditional greeting of the Marine Corps.

As the last note of “The Star-Spangled Banner” sounded, a monster truck roared to life and the Tough Mudders chased after it, like a herd of lemmings clad in Under Armour.

Among them was Carlo Ferolino, 27, an accountant with the Bank of New York Mellon in the financial district who had been training with his team, the Mudsketeers, since February. “Eight months!” he shouted, his shirt caked in dirt as he prepared to tackle a mile of muddy troughs. “It’s come to this: four hours of hell.”

His teammates shouted, “Let’s do this!” as they plunged back into the muck, like an armada of aggressive ducklings.

A few miles ahead, Brian Polakowski, 36, a vice president of BlackRock, the giant money manager in Midtown Manhattan, had collapsed into a muddy pit after being electrocuted in the Electric Eel challenge. As he crawled from exhaustion, a stranger grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet, saying, “You did it, man, you did it.” Mr. Polakowski stumbled on.

Bryan Garlick, 30, a rugged analyst at Merrill Lynch in New York, fared better. He emerged from a sewer-like pipe exuberant. “Having competed in both, triathlons are boring and road races are even more boring,” he said. “Tough Mudder is the only chance for a guy like me to feel like King Leonidas.”

That is no accident, said Dr. Robert Heasley, a sociology professor at the Indiana University of Pennsylvania and the president of the American Men’s Studies Association. “Obstacle courses like these are the physical representation of masculinity, which is lacking for people like lawyers, doctors, bankers and others in softer careers,” he said. “By associating themselves with the military and military training, these men are becoming masculine by association.”

To paraphrase the manly poet Hamlin Garland, they let urban professionals be savage again.

THE founders of these tough-guy races are intimately familiar with that primal urge. Mr. Dean, a former intern at Bain Capital, developed the business plan for Tough Mudder as part of a competition at Harvard.

“Finance people are in a weird juxtaposition,” Mr. Dean said. “They may make 100 times more than their fathers, but their hands are soft. We designed Tough Mudder to fill that void.”

(As noted in a recent article in Outside magazine, Mr. Dean borrowed heavily from an English challenge called Tough Guy. A Harvard investigation cleared Mr. Dean of wrongdoing, though it noted that he “violated the Harvard Business School Community Values of honesty on several occasions.”)

“I was surrounded by supercompetitive alpha males at Harvard,” Mr. Dean said. “I thought if I could bring that to fitness, I’d be successful.”

His instincts proved correct. From just $20,000 in seed money and two employees (himself and a lawyer, Guy Livingstone, currently the company’s president), Tough Mudder is projected to take in $70 million this year, according to figures provided by the company.

Joe Desena, the founder of the Spartan Race (perhaps Tough Mudder’s fiercest rival), also comes from the hypercompetitive world of finance. An avid competitor who once ran two 100-mile ultramarathons and an Ironman Triathlon in one week, he is the managing director for ICAP, a brokerage in New York.

His 24-hour Dantean course — which involves chopping wood for two hours, carrying rocks for five hours, cutting a bushel of onions and memorizing the first 10 presidents of the United States — was partly inspired by the film “300,” which chronicled the Spartan stand at Thermopylae.

Originally called the Spartan Death Race, it was, in Mr. Desena’s words, “meant to break people.” The tagline was “You May Die” — the Web site, youmaydie.com.

To reach a broader audience, Mr. Desena also started the less brutal Spartan Races, in which Mount Killington takes the place of Mount Purgatory. The series has three levels of brutality: the Spartan Sprint, the Super Spartan and the Spartan Beast. “When I was in finance, everyone smoked cigars and had extravagant dinners,” he said. “But now, health and fitness are the new social status symbols.”

Male bonding, needless to say, figures prominently. Like Iron John before it, these obstacle challenges are designed to forge camaraderie.

The bonhomie is reinforced by challenges like the Everest and Berlin Walls, which require the men to work together and, in some cases, stand on one another’s shoulders. There are many one-arm bro-hugs, and even some full embraces.

That the three big races appropriate the argot and signifiers of the military is no coincidence. The logo of the Spartan Race consists of a Corinthian helmet. The logo of the Warrior Dash a Viking horned helmet.

“A part of me always wanted to join the army, but I never did,” said Evan Lotzof, 31, a senior accountant at Deloitte from Astoria, Queens, who ran Tough Mudder in October. “Tough Mudder gives me a sense of band of brothers.” The warlike glory was evident.

As Mr. Cugini crossed the finish line, he was greeted by pretty volunteers who slipped an orange headband over his head and a banana in his hand. A cover band played the White Stripes, and in the dying light, men did pull-ups and drank beer.

The next day, the competitors would be sitting at rival firms, but Mr. Cugini said the sense of camaraderie and confidence of Tough Mudder made these banking brethren his brothers for life.

Every day they are handed a mess, he said. “It’s not that different than slogging through mud.”

Who Bombed Ben-Menashe’s House?

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Exclusive: Montreal police may hope to just nail the “torch,” the culprit who hurled a fire-bomb into the home of ex-Israeli spy Ari Ben-Menashe. But to solve the mystery, they may have to delve into Ben-Menashe’s complex intelligence ties, including his hostile relations with his old superiors in Israel, writes Robert Parry.
Robert Parry
December 8, 2012
http://consortiumnews.com/2012/12/08/who-bombed-ben-menashes-house/

Montreal police are providing few details about their investigation into last Sunday night’s fire-bombing of an upscale home belonging to ex-Israeli intelligence officer Ari Ben-Menashe, as authorities sift through both the evidence collected from the ashes and the wide array of possible suspects.

Indeed, when I spoke with a police spokesman on Friday, all he offered was an outdated statement from Monday about the city assessing the risk of the gutted structure before collecting evidence. However, by Friday, the building had been taken down; the arson squad had scoured the wreckage for residue of the bomb’s accelerant; Ben-Menashe had been allowed to pick through the ashes looking for any personal items that might have survived; and the wreckage had been hauled away in dumpsters.

This past week in interviews with me as he worked to rebuild his life, Ben-Menashe, 61, was reluctant to finger any specific suspect, but suggested that the attack may have originated with the Israeli government, which has viewed its former intelligence officer over the past two decades as something between an irritant and a threat.

And, it appears that Ben-Menashe has risen again on the Israeli government’s list of concerns. If the bomb had not dramatically disrupted his life on Sunday night, he was planning to fly to Washington on Monday and accompany a senior Israeli intelligence figure to an interview with me.

The bombing not only prevented Ben-Menashe from making the trip, but he said it unnerved the other intelligence official who concluded that the attack was meant as a message from Israeli authorities to stay silent about the historical events that he was expected to discuss.

The fire also destroyed many of Ben-Menashe’s documents, his home computer and his personal records, including his old and current passports which provided something of a chronology of his decades traveling the globe.

So, if the Israelis were behind the attack, they would have accomplished many of their goals: intimidating Ben-Menashe, shutting down possible new disclosures of Israeli misconduct from the other intelligence veteran, and destroying records that would have helped Ben-Menashe prove whatever statements he might make.

An Almost Vanunu

In May 1991, Israel made a stab at capturing their rogue agent when Ben-Menashe was scheduled to fly from Australia to Washington to provide testimony to the U.S. Congress about national security scandals that implicated top Israeli officials and senior Republicans, including then-President George H.W. Bush.

Shortly before Ben-Menashe’s trip, a U.S. intelligence source tipped me off to a plan in which U.S. authorities would deny Ben-Menashe entrance at Los Angeles and then put him aboard a flight to Israel where he would have stood trial for exposing state secrets.

After getting the tip, I contacted congressional investigators who planned to question Ben-Menashe. One later called me back and said the Bush-41 administration was balking at giving a guarantee of safe passage for Ben-Menashe to Washington. It was suggested that I contact him and recommend that he delay his flight, which I did.

When I reached him in Australia, he was just about to leave for the airport, but agreed to postpone his flight until he got an all-clear from the congressional investigators, who finally received a promise from the Bush-41 administration that they would not deport Ben-Menashe to Israel. Ben-Menashe then flew to Washington.

Years later, Ben-Menashe told me that an old friend in Israeli intelligence confirmed the existence of the plan to deport him to Israel (much as was done to whistleblower Mordecai Vanunu in 1986 after he exposed the existence of Israel’s secret nuclear arsenal). Ben-Menashe said his old intelligence friend also relayed that there was active consideration of a back-up plan to simply kill Ben-Menashe as an enemy of the state.

Instead, Israel settled on a public relations campaign to destroy Ben-Menashe’s credibility by providing derogatory information to American journalists with close ties to Israeli intelligence. That campaign proved remarkably effective even as many of Ben-Menashe’s factual claims checked out or at least were not disproven. [For details, see Robert Parry’s America’s Stolen Narrative.]

Ben-Menashe also could be his own worst enemy, often compounding his media problem by treating journalists in a high-handed manner, either due to his suspicions of them or his arrogance.

In the 1990s, Ben-Menashe gradually rebuilt his life in Canada, marrying a Canadian woman and becoming a citizen. But he also surrounded his far-flung business activities in secrecy and got involved with some controversial international figures, such as Zimbabwe’s leader Robert Mugabe.

In recent years, Ben-Menashe has conducted his international consulting business at Dicksen and Madson in a wide variety of global hotspots, including conflict zones such as Mali, Sudan and Congo. He also has maintained ties to various intelligence services which are eager to receive his briefings about areas where traditional diplomats and even spies are hesitant to go.

Because of those complex business dealings and the international intrigue that has surrounded them, the Israeli government is only one of many possible suspects in last Sunday’s fire-bombing. Any number of Ben-Menashe’s enemies might have had motive to fire-bomb his house and send him fleeing into the night.

A Top Israeli Agent

During the 1980s, Ben-Menashe was something of a star intelligence officer for Israel assigned to a special unit of Israeli military intelligence. An Iraqi Jew born in Iran and an emigre to Israel as a teenager, Ben-Menashe was a young operative who assisted in rebuilding Israel’s strategic ties to Iran after the Islamic Revolution in 1979.

Traveling the world, Ben-Menashe brokered Israeli-sponsored arms sales to Iran during its war with Iraq in the 1980s and handled sensitive assignments including efforts to counter U.S.-supported military shipments to Iraq. He turned up as a shadowy figure on the fringes of the Iran-Contra scandal, which is where I first heard about him as I was covering that story for the Associated Press and Newsweek.

But I never could track him down – until late 1989 when he was arrested in the United States on charges of selling military aircraft to Iran. Confined to the federal prison in Lower Manhattan, he consented to an interview and I flew from Washington to New York to speak with him.

During that prison interview, Ben-Menashe offered me startling new information about the Iran-Contra scandal, which I thought that I knew quite well. However, my first task was to verify who this brash Israeli was. Initially, the Israeli government dismissed him as an “impostor.” However, I was able to obtain official Israeli letters of reference describing his decade-long work for the External Relations Department of the Israel Defence Forces.

Confronted with that evidence, Israeli officials changed their story, admitting that Ben-Menashe indeed had worked for a branch of the IDF’s military intelligence but labeling him “a low-level translator.” But the letters described Ben-Menashe’s service in “key positions” and said he handled “complex and sensitive assignments.”

Despite this evidence – that Israeli officials had first lied and then retreated to a new cover story – the Bush-41 administration and the Israeli government managed to galvanize friendly journalists who went out of their way to discredit Ben-Menashe as a compulsive liar. [For details about one of the key denouncers of Ben-Menashe, see Consortiumnews.com’s “Unmasking October Surprise ‘Debunker’”.]

In fall 1990, Ben-Menashe convinced a New York jury that he indeed had been working on official Israeli business in his transactions with Iran and he was acquitted of all charges. After that, Ben-Menashe continued to provide testimony about secret dealings involving Republicans and the Israeli government. He gave information to investigative journalist Seymour Hersh about Israel’s top-secret nuclear program and identified British media mogul Robert Maxwell as an Israeli spy.

Perhaps Ben-Menashe’s most controversial claim was that he and other Israeli intelligence officers had assisted the Republicans in brokering a deal with Iran’s Islamic regime of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini in 1980 to hold 52 American hostages until after the U.S. election to ensure President Jimmy Carter’s defeat. As a result of this so-called October Surprise caper, the hostages were not released until Jan. 20, 1981, immediately after Ronald Reagan was sworn in as U.S. President, Ben-Menashe said.

Yet, if the American public ever came to believe that the Israeli government had manipulated the outcome of a U.S. presidential election – to put in a favored candidate – that could have severely damaged Israel’s crucial alliance with the United States. So, for both the Israelis and the Republicans, the goal of destroying or silencing Ben-Menashe became an important priority.

After achieving success in marginalizing Ben-Menashe by 1993 – at least in the eyes of the Washington Establishment — the Israelis seemed to view him as a declining threat, best left alone. He was able to pick up the pieces of his life, creating a second act as an international political consultant and businessman arranging sales of grain.

But his renewed efforts to finally prove the truthfulness of his earlier claims, especially regarding the October Surprise charges, may have suddenly elevated him again on Israel’s threat chart.

Though the Montreal police are understandably hesitant to climb down the rabbit hole into Ben-Menashe’s mysterious world of espionage and historical mysteries, they may ultimately have no choice.

Investigative reporter Robert Parry broke many of the Iran-Contra stories for The Associated Press and Newsweek in the 1980s. You can buy his new book, America’s Stolen Narrative, either in print here or as an e-book (from Amazon and barnesandnoble.com).

Robalini's Week 17 NFL Picks

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Here's my results for Week 16
W-L-T record: 5-1
Season record: 67-61

Buffalo Bills (-3 1/2) over New York Jets

Mark Sanchez has one final insult in his season of bad luck for the Jets.

Indianapolis Colts (+6 1/2) over Houston Texans

Hey, give the Colts a near touchdown at home against the Texans in their season of stunning surprises?  I'll take it!

Tennessee Titans (-4) over Jacksonville Jaguars

I'll take the Titans at home to beat the Jags soundly in the season finale.

Philadelphia Eagles (+6 1/2) over New York Giants

Michael Vick will return for one final game, and he'll at least keep it close in New York

Chicago Bears (-3) over Detroit Lions

After Megatron gets 2000 yards, the Lions have no focus for this game, while the Bears do.

Kansas City Chiefs (+16 1/2) over Denver Broncos

You should never give an NFL team 16 1/2 points.

Arizona Cardinals (+16 1/2) over San Francisco 49ers

See above.

St. Louis Rams (+11) over Seattle Seahawks

Eleven points in this game is still too much.

All bets are placed at Station Casinos:

http://www.stationcasinos.com

To check Las Vegas odds, The Konformist recommends VegasInsider.com:

http://www.vegasinsider.com

The Story of the World War I Christmas Truce

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Robalini's Note: The Konformist opened 2012 with a very happy personal Christmas story: the return of my sweet tomcat Blueboy returning home after being gone for a week following X-mas.  We end the year with perhaps the most amazing Christmas story of the 20th Century.

It's one of the most fascintating stories of the 20th Century that few people really know about, and the lack of knowledge is by design. During WWI, a Christmas truce broke out among the trenches among the front lines. In some cases, the truce did not end the following day. This story doesn't get airplay (though credit to Smithsonian Magazine for this article) because the idea of soldiers questioning the purpose of war is a threat to the military state of all wealthy nations. This is a story that needs to be told.

See you in 2013...

Peace on the Western Front, Goodwill in No Man’s Land
The Story of the World War I Christmas Truce
Mike Dash
December 23, 2011
http://blogs.smithsonianmag.com/history/2011/12/peace-on-the-western-front-goodwill-in-no-mans-land-the-story-of-the-world-war-i-christmas-truce

Even at the distance of a century, no war seems more terrible than World War I. In the four years between 1914 and 1918, it killed or wounded more than 25 million people–peculiarly horribly, and (in popular opinion, at least) for less apparent purpose than did any other war before or since. Yet there were still odd moments of joy and hope in the trenches of Flanders and France, and one of the most remarkable came during the first Christmas of the war, a few brief hours during which men from both sides on the Western Front laid down their arms, emerged from their trenches, and shared food, carols, games and comradeship.

Their truce–the famous Christmas Truce–was unofficial and illicit. Many officers disapproved, and headquarters on both sides took strong steps to ensure that it could never happen again. While it lasted, though, the truce was magical, leading even the sober Wall Street Journal to observe: “What appears from the winter fog and misery is a Christmas story, a fine Christmas story that is, in truth, the most faded and tattered of adjectives: inspiring.”

The first signs that something strange was happening occurred on Christmas Eve. At 8:30 p.m. an officer of the Royal Irish Rifles reported to headquarters: “Germans have illuminated their trenches, are singing songs and wishing us a Happy Xmas. Compliments are being exchanged but am nevertheless taking all military precautions.” Further along the line, the two sides serenaded each other with carols—the German “Silent Night” being met with a British chorus of “The First Noel“—and scouts met, cautiously, in no man’s land, the shell-blasted waste between the trenches. The war diary of the Scots Guards records that a certain Private Murker “met a German Patrol and was given a glass of whisky and some cigars, and a message was sent back saying that if we didn’t fire at them, they would not fire at us.”

The same basic understanding seems to have sprung up spontaneously at other spots. For another British soldier, Private Frederick Heath, the truce began late that same night when “all down our line of trenches there came to our ears a greeting unique in war: ‘English soldier, English soldier, a merry Christmas, a merry Christmas!’” Then–as Heath wrote in a letter home–the voices added:

‘Come out, English soldier; come out here to us.’ For some little time we were cautious, and did not even answer. Officers, fearing treachery, ordered the men to be silent. But up and down our line one heard the men answering that Christmas greeting from the enemy. How could we resist wishing each other a Merry Christmas, even though we might be at each other’s throats immediately afterwards? So we kept up a running conversation with the Germans, all the while our hands ready on our rifles. Blood and peace, enmity and fraternity—war’s most amazing paradox. The night wore on to dawn—a night made easier by songs from the German trenches, the pipings of piccolos and from our broad lines laughter and Christmas carols. Not a shot was fired.


Several factors combined to produce the conditions for this Christmas Truce. By December 1914, the men in the trenches were veterans, familiar enough with the realities of combat to have lost much of the idealism that they had carried into war in August, and most longed for an end to bloodshed. The war, they had believed, would be over by Christmas, yet there they were in Christmas week still muddied, cold and in battle. Then, on Christmas Eve itself, several weeks of mild but miserably soaking weather gave way to a sudden, hard frost, creating a dusting of ice and snow along the front that made the men on both sides feel that something spiritual was taking place.

Just how widespread the truce was is hard to say. It was certainly not general—there are plenty of accounts of fighting continuing through the Christmas season in some sectors, and others of men fraternizing to the sound of guns firing nearby. One common factor seems to have been that Saxon troops—universally regarded as easygoing—were the most likely to be involved, and to have made the first approaches to their British counterparts. “We are Saxons, you are Anglo-Saxons,” one shouted across no man’s land. “What is there for us to fight about?” The most detailed estimate, made by Malcolm Brown of Britain’s Imperial War Museums, is that the truce extended along at least two-thirds of British-held trench line that scarred southern Belgium.

Even so, accounts of a Christmas Truce refer to a suspension of hostilities only between the British and the Germans. The Russians, on the Eastern Front, still adhered to the old Julian calendar in 1914, and hence did not celebrate Christmas until January 7, while the French were far more sensitive than their allies to the fact that the Germans were occupying about a third of France—and ruling French civilians with some harshness.

It was only in the British sector, then, that troops noticed at dawn the Germans had placed small Christmas trees along parapets of their trenches. Slowly, parties of men from both sides began to venture toward the barbed wire that separated them, until—Rifleman Oswald Tilley told his parents in a letter home—”literally hundreds of each side were out in no man’s land shaking hands.”

Communication could be difficult. German-speaking British troops were scarce, but many Germans had been employed in Britain before the war, frequently in restaurants. Captain Clifton Stockwell, an officer with the Royal Welch Fusiliers who found himself occupying a trench opposite the ruins of a heavily shelled brewery, wrote  in his diary of “one Saxon, who spoke excellent English” and who “used to climb in some eyrie in the brewery and spend his time asking ‘How is London getting on?’, ‘How was Gertie Millar and the Gaiety?’, and so on. Lots of our men had blind shots at him in the dark, at which he laughed, [but] one night I came out and called, ‘Who the hell are you?’ At once came back the answer, ‘Ah—the officer—I expect I know you—I used to be head waiter at the Great Central Hotel.”

Of course, only a few men involved in the truce could share reminiscences of London. Far more common was an interest in “football”—soccer—which by then had been played professionally in Britain for a quarter-century and in Germany since the 1890s. Perhaps it was inevitable that some men on both sides would produce a ball and—freed briefly from the confines of the trenches—take pleasure in kicking it about. What followed, though, was something more than that, for if the story of the Christmas Truce has its jewel, it is the legend of the match played between the British and the Germans—which the Germans claimed to have won, 3-2.

The first reports of such a contest surfaced a few days afterward; on January 1, 1915, The Times published a letter written from a doctor attached to the Rifle Brigade, who reported “a football match… played between them and us in front of the trench.” The brigade’s official history insisted that no match took place because “it would have been most unwise to allow the Germans to know how weakly the British trenches were held.” But there is plenty of evidence that soccer was played that Christmas Day—mostly by men of the same nationality, but in at least three or four places between troops from the opposing armies.

The most detailed of these stories comes from the German side, and reports that the 133rd Royal Saxon Regiment played a game against Scottish troops. According to the 133rd’s War History, this match emerged from the “droll scene of Tommy und Fritz” chasing hares that emerged from under cabbages between the lines, and then producing a ball to kick about. Eventually, this “developed into a regulation football match with caps casually laid out as goals. The frozen ground was no great matter. Then we organized each side into teams, lining up in motley rows, the football in the center. The game ended 3-2 for Fritz.”

Exactly what happened between the Saxons and the Scots is difficult to say. Some accounts of the game bring in elements that were actually dreamed up by Robert Graves, a renowned British poet, writer and war veteran, who reconstructed the encounter in a story published in 1962. In Graves’s version, the score remains 3-2 to the Germans, but the writer adds a sardonic fictional flourish: “The Reverend Jolly, our padre, acted as ref [and showed] too much Christian charity—their outside left shot the deciding goal, but he was miles offside and admitted it as soon as the whistle went.”

The real game was far from a regulated fixture with 11 players a side and 90 minutes of play. In the one detailed eyewitness account that survives—albeit in an interview not given until the 1960s—Lieutenant Johannes Niemann, a Saxon who served with the 133rd, recalled that on Christmas morning:

the mist was slow to clear and suddenly my orderly threw himself into my dugout to say that both the German and Scottish soldiers had come out of their trenches and were fraternizing along the front. I grabbed my binoculars and looking cautiously over the parapet saw the incredible sight of our soldiers exchanging cigarettes, schnapps and chocolate with the enemy. Later a Scottish soldier appeared with a football which seemed to come from nowhere and a few minutes later a real football match got underway. The Scots marked their goal mouth with their strange caps and we did the same with ours. It was far from easy to play on the frozen ground, but we continued, keeping rigorously to the rules, despite the fact that it only lasted an hour and that we had no referee.  A great many of the passes went wide, but all the amateur footballers, although they must have been very tired, played with huge enthusiasm.


For Niemann, the novelty of getting to know their kilted opposition matched the novelty of playing soccer in no man’s land:

Us Germans really roared when a gust of wind revealed that the Scots wore no drawers under their kilts—and hooted and whistled every time they caught an impudent glimpse of one posterior belonging to one of “yesterday’s enemies.” But after an hour’s play, when our Commanding Officer heard about it, he sent an order that we must put a stop to it. A little later we drifted back to our trenches and the fraternization ended.


The game that Niemann recalled was only one of many that took place up and down the Front. Attempts were made in several spots to involve the Germans—the Queen’s Westminsters, one private soldier wrote home, “had a football out in front of the trenches and asked the Germans to send a team to play us, but either they considered the ground too hard, as it had been freezing all night and was a ploughed field, or their officers put the bar up.” But at least three, and perhaps four, other matches apparently took place between the armies. A sergeant in the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders recorded that a game was played in his sector “between the lines and the trenches,” and according to a letter home published by the Glasgow News on January 2, the Scots “won easily by 4-1.” Meanwhile Lieutenant Albert Wynn of the Royal Field Artillery wrote of a match against a German team of “Prussians and Hanovers” that was played near Ypres. That game “ended in a draw,” but the Lancashire Fusiliers, occupying trenches close to the coast near Le Touquet and using a ration-tin “ball,” played their own game against the Germans, and–according to their regimental history–lost by the same score as the Scots who encountered the 133rd,  3-2.

It is left to a fourth recollection, given in 1983 by Ernie Williams of the Cheshire Regiment, to supply a real idea of what soccer played between the trenches really meant. Although Williams was recalling a game played on New Year’s Eve, after there had been a thaw and plenty of rain, his description chimes with the little that is known for sure about the games played on Christmas Day:

[A] ball appeared from somewhere, I don’t know where, but it came from their side… They made up some goals and one fellow went in goal and then it was just a general kickabout. I should think there were a couple of hundred taking part. I had a go at the ball. I was pretty good then, at 19. Everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was no sort of ill-will between us…. There was no referee and no score, no tally at all. It was simply a mêlee—nothing like the soccer that you see on television. The boots we wore were a menace—those great big boots we had on—and in those days the balls were made of leather and they soon got very soggy.


Of course, not every man on either side was thrilled by the Christmas Truce, and official opposition squelched at least one proposed Anglo-German soccer match. Lieutenant C.E.M. Richards, a young officer serving with the East Lancashire Regiment, had been greatly disturbed by reports of fraternization between the men of his regiment and the enemy and had actually welcomed the “return of good old sniping” late on Christmas Day—”just to make sure that the war was still on.” That evening, however, Richards “received a signal from Battalion Headquarters telling him to make a football pitch in no man’s land, by filling up shell holes etc., and to challenge the enemy to a football match on 1st January.” Richards recalled that “I was furious and took no action at all,” but over time his view did mellow. “I wish I had kept that signal,” he wrote years later. “Stupidly I destroyed it—I was so angry. It would now have been a good souvenir.”

In most places, up and down the line, it was accepted that the truce would be purely temporary. Men returned to their trenches at dusk, in some cases summoned back by flares, but for the most part determined to preserve the peace at least until midnight. There was more singing, and in at least one spot presents were exchanged. George Eade, of the Rifles, had become friends with a German artilleryman who spoke good English, and as he left, this new acquaintance said to him: “Today we have peace. Tomorrow, you fight for your country, I fight for mine. Good luck.”

Fighting erupted again the next day, though there were reports from some sectors of hostilities remaining suspended into the New Year. And it does not seem to have been uncommon for the resumption of the war to be marked with further displays of mutual respect between enemies. In the trenches occupied by the Royal Welch Fusiliers, Captain Stockwell “climbed up on the parapet, fired three shots in the air and put up a flag with ‘Merry Christmas’ on it.” At this, his opposite number, Hauptmann von Sinner, “appeared on the German parapet and both officers bowed and saluted. Von Sinner then also fired two shots in the air and went back into his trench.”

The war was on again, and there would be no further truce until the general armistice of November 1918. Many, perhaps close to the majority, of the thousands of men who celebrated Christmas 1914 together would not live to see the return of peace. But for those who did survive, the truce was something that would never be forgotten.

Sources

Malcolm Brown & Shirley Seaton. The Christmas Truce: The Western Front December 1914. London: Papermac, 1994; The Christmas Truce 1914: Operation Plum Puddings, accessed December 22, 2011; Alan Cleaver and Lesley Park (eds). Not a Shot was Fired: Letters from the Christmas Truce 1914.  Whitehaven, Cumbria: Operation Plum Puddings, 2006; Marc Ferro et al. Meetings in No Man’s Land: Christmas 1914 and Fraternization in the Great War. London: Constable & Robinson, 2007; “The Christmas Truce – 1914.” Hellfire Corner, accessed December 19, 2011; Thomas Löwer. “Demystifying the Christmas truce.” The Heritage of the Great War, accessed December 19, 2011; Stanley Weintraub. Silent Night: The Remarkable Christmas Truce of 1914. London: Simon & Schuster, 2001.

1 Ocak 2013 Salı

Pam Corkery's Birthday, Her Herald Interview Plus The #1 Song The Day She Was Born

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Today is my co-host from The Two Pam Corkery's 56th birthday and in case you missed it, here is the link to today's New Zealand's Herald where she was featured in the 12 Questions segment.

Amongst the obvious highlight of her mentioning my name, Pam reveals why she's glad she abandoned the brothel for women business idea (so am I), says what terrifies her the most and explains one of the things her mother taught her which still resonates.

Because it's Pam, not surprisingly today's 12 Questions is funny, but it is also incredibly honest, blunt and poignant. This is a woman who has survived and right now, things are deservedly good. Good health, good man, good writing, good co-host (humbly said) and ratings* neither of us can scarcely believe.

Happy birthday Pam! Here is the song that was US #1 the day she was born and not a bad one either:




*Ratings increased for Newstalk ZB's The Two (Sunday evenings 9pm-midnight) from 13% market share in Auckland all ages 10+ one year ago to 19.4% six months ago to 25.7% where they are now - almost triple that of the second top-rated competitor. During the same period my Thursday - Saturday morning overnight shifts have also increased from 15% market share to 24.8%. 


Why Rod Stewart's Shag-tastic Autobiography Is Genuinely Inspiring, Plus A Forgotten Early Fave

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I've just got home from four nights in Melbourne and in between a reunion with a dozen of the best Aussies I've ever met, taking in Derby Day at Flemington, playing (and losing) tennis with a long-time rival and catching up with my sister and brother-in-law, I found time to read Rod Stewart's brand new autobiography Rod.

I'd mentioned on-air a couple of weeks ago on Newstalk ZB that I not only loved Rod's music, but had much admiration for the man too. "How could you say that about such a hell raising womanizer!?" said Alarmed of Albany via the text machine, but really it's easy. Rod didn't woo all those blonde beauties by being a Brad Pitt-esque hunk, he did it in large part by being so ridiculously charming. That charm didn't just extend to tall, tanned models and actresses - read just a couple of chapters of Rod and it's clear this is a bloke who blokes like too, be it his soccer buddies, his bandmates or famous cohorts like Elton John or (especially) Ronnie Wood.

I was talking to my sister about the difference between Rod and politicians who lecture to the rest of us relentlessly on Christian morality while privately conducting affairs or sometimes, much, much worse. I was contrasting that with Rod who (not surprisingly) never lectured on morality, has filled his book with a remarkable honesty and is oddly enough, someone I find inspiring.

Whereas Eric Clapton's equally gripping book's tales of his infidelity left me thinking how little I now liked Eric, Rod's book had the opposite effect. I put this down to the fact Rod's honesty about his failings is coupled with an acute understanding of how charmed a life he's lived. He is simultaneously humble, grateful and self-aware enough to know both his astonishing talent and his monumental cock-ups. He also grew up.

All of that makes a working-class man who's driven Lamborghinis for more than 40 years both very real and very relatable. And back to the morality stuff, I'd always got a sense that underneath the boozing, the cocaine-fuelled parties, the hotel-trashing and the shagging, this was an inherently good guy who wasn't adverse to thoughts of a more spiritual nature. Bare in mind this is a chap whose neck has rarely been seen without a crucifix (even when it wasn't just the accessory de jour), who covered Amazing Grace round about the same time he wrote about bedding a girl whose name he couldn't remember (Stay With Me) and chose Curtis Mayfield's devout People Get Ready as his mid-80s reunion song with guitar great Jeff Beck. He also admits to he and wife Penny finding an unspoken pull into churches where the two of them often walk in for silent prayer.

Rod is funny (his explanation of the prominence his buttocks received in the Da' Ya' Think I'm Sexy video is priceless), real, ridiculous, inspiring and self-deprecating. The New Zealand Herald critic said he felt like marrying the man after finishing the book. I don't know about that, but I'd unashamedly love to hang out with Rod, encourage him to keep songwriting (a skill he'd thought had deserted him but which has recently returned), discuss our favourite Sam Cooke records, get some tips on the art of woo-ing insanely beautiful women, have a couple of beers and crack a few funnies. He seems like that sort of bloke.

The song featured in this edition of The Roxborogh Report is 40 years old and was written by Rod and probably his best friend, Ronnie Wood (who prior to joining the Rolling Stones, was Rod's bandmate in the wonderfully shambolic Faces. In Rod, Ronnie is always referred to as "Woody" and the two don't just look like brothers, it's clear they share a deep brotherly love. This song is early Rod at his very best in that it is not just rock, but is folk, has a bit of soul, has the narrative of country music and the humour of...well, Rod Stewart. This is Lost Paraguayos.



4 More Years For Obama - The Irony Of Springsteen's Campaign Theme Song

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Obama & Springsteen on the campaign trail.
It's almost a week since President Obama won a second term so it's about time I loaded up a relevant song to The Roxborogh Report to mark the occasion. I've gone with what became the campaign theme song, Bruce Springsteen's We Take Care Of Our Own from his most recent album Wrecking Ball.

The song was an interesting choice for Obama to use because for not the first time in Springsteen's career, he's written what almost sounds like a jingoistic first-pumper which on closely inspection is anything but. Like with Born In The USA (which Reagan unsuccessfully tried to use as his 1984 re-election theme), the chorus line of We Take Care Of Our Own is sung with a good dollop of irony. Just read the lyrics immediately prior to the first chorus:
"I've been stumbling on good hearts turned to stoneThe road of good intentions has gone dry as a bone"
Referencing the appalling government response to Hurricane Katrina a few years ago, Springsteen in the second verse talks about "from the shotgun shack to the super dome," before mentioning a cavalry who stayed at home and that there was nobody "hearing the bugle blowin'."
But the final, extended verse seems to offer a slither of hope amidst the frustration. He sings of looking for the work that will set his hands and his soul free, of searching for the spirit that will "reign over me." The fact he still believes in that spirit suggests all hope is not lost and "wherever this flag is flown, we take care of our own," might be less ironic and more literal in that last chorus. Or maybe not and maybe it was a bad choice for a President trying to be optimistic.
Possibly, but in a non-cynical way I think the presence of Springsteen in the Obama campaign (sometimes a physical presence too) spoke volumes of the inclusiveness that is the reality of this President. Fox News want you to believe in the Divided States of America, but when a white rocker in his 60s whose fan base is overwhelmingly also white has the courage to back Obama, it speaks of a nation where unlikely bonds can still be formed. And Springsteen formed one of those with his best-mate Clarence Clemons 40 years ago - read his spectacular eulogy to him here.
For those lifelong fans who were surprised Springsteen publicly endorsed Obama, they'd clearly never read any of his lyrics - his compassion for the common man has always been there for all to see. A further irony to all of this is that it's possible the Obama team didn't really read the lyrics to We Take Care Of Our Own either. That is unless they understood that the song's message of frustration and fear for a nation who had lost its way would appeal to people who could see a bigger picture than just the previous four years. If those final lyrics in the song do represent a shift away from irony to something more genuine, then it's a message I hope comes true.