Wikipedia:Articles for creation/2006-06-28 and User talk:Svetovid: Difference between pages

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Spent many hours
 
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==Economy of Bratislava==
== [[Sonia Aziz]] ==
Great job![http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Economy_of_Bratislava&curid=5819392&diff=125909046&oldid=119948897] Those articles really need more references. [[User:Tankred|Tankred]] 19:22, 25 April 2007 (UTC)
 
==HQ==
<!-- IMPORTANT! In the box above labeled "subject/headline", put the name of your proposed article. Place [[ and ]] around it, [[like this]]. -->
<blockquote>00:48 Bratislava (diff; hist) . . (+19) . . Svetovid (Talk | contribs) (headquarters is a better word..mea culpa)</blockquote>
<!-- Place the initial content of your article below this line. USE YOUR OWN WORDS; do not copy content from another website. -->
Famous for being a TV presenter on the DM Digital Network (channel 817 and 822 on SKY within the UK and also available in 166 countries worldwide). A firm favourite among viewers of all ages, a fact confirmed by the popularity of all the shows she is part of. Best known for her natural and genuine approach to presenting, her bubbly screen presence and most of all her infectious smile and her often uncontrolled laughter :)
 
Sure, but "ma sidlo v ..." is pretty damned compelling :) [[User:MikeGogulski|MikeGogulski]] 22:55, 25 April 2007 (UTC)
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
www.dmdigitaltv.co.uk
 
== Bratislava ==
 
Hi, "worldseer" :-). I must say my "thanks" to you because you did a lot of work so far with Bratislava-related articles and I must admit that it woke me up to work and collaborate. Great job!
<!--Do not edit the four tildes (~~~~) below this line. That is your signature -->
Anyway, I see you are almost complete with the History section in your sandbox, so I'm interested, when it will replace that awkward bulleted prose which we currently have? And what do you think, what still needs editing excluding History to make [[Bratislava]] article at least GA? [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 18:28, 7 May 2007 (UTC)
[[User:82.7.243.220|82.7.243.220]] 00:29, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
Hmm... I see you haven't responded to my message last time, so I'll try it again. I see you stated that you want other people to review the [[Bratislava]] article, but there's still one thing that should be done before submitting to [[WP:GA|good article]] review or peer review, and that's History, which is ready in your [[User:Svetovid/Sandbox|sandbox]], but not yet implemented. When do you think it will be done, in order to continue improving? [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 17:23, 10 May 2007 (UTC)
== Ruckus aka Claude Marrow (Wrestler) ==
:Hi, I'm quite busy now at work and school, but it should be finished till the end of the this week. Other suggestions are in the TO DO list in the discussion section.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 17:25, 10 May 2007 (UTC)
::Ah, sorry, I didn't know that you are busy, though same applies to me. But thank you for your reply. Anyway, what are you exactly meaning with this to-do: "Make the Territorial division section more aesthetically pleasing"? Also, I think as MikeGogulski, you, I and sometimes Tankred are editing this article, I think you could give your feedback on this: merging Tourism into Economy, and Etymology into History. And third point, I think I can delete this one "Implement Wikipedia:WikiProject_Cities/Assessment recommendations", because it looks like no one from that project is interested in it. What do you think? [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 17:46, 10 May 2007 (UTC)
 
== [[WP:NOR|No Original Research]] doesn't apply on meta-discussions ==
<!-- IMPORTANT! In the box above labeled "subject/headline", put the name of your proposed article. Place [[ and ]] around it, [[like this]]. -->
Hi! Because of our conversation on the featured picture candidate nomination for [[Wikipedia:Featured_picture_candidates/Male_Lion_and_Cub_Chitwa_South_Africa_Luca_Galuzzi_2004|lion and cub feeding]], I started a [[Wikipedia_talk:Featured_picture_candidates#Original_Research_in_image_discussions|discussion]] on the FPC talk page. Since you hadn't posted there, I just wanted to make sure you'd seen it. If you've seen it, feel free to ignore this comment. [[User:Enuja|Enuja]] 20:54, 11 May 2007 (UTC)
<!-- Place the initial content of your article below this line. USE YOUR OWN WORDS; do not copy content from another website. -->
:It doesn't matter whether it "applies" or not, I just pointed it out to you.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 20:56, 11 May 2007 (UTC)
[[<b>Wrestling Name:</b> Ruckus
<br>
<b>Real Name:</b> Claude Marrow <br>
<b>From:</b> Baltimore, Maryland <br>
<b>Debut:</b> April 18, 1999 <br>
<b>Show:</b> Combat Zone Wrestling, Maryland Championship Wrestling.<b>Height: </b>5-8<b><br>
Weight: </b>235lbs<b><br>
Favorite Moves:</b> The Razzle Dazzle (handspring elbow), Phoenix Splash,
Spaceman Plancha, The Sweet, The Shiznit, The Move of the Night, The Leap of
Faith, The Ruckus Spike<b><br>
Notable Feuds:</b> Rockin' Rebel, Trent Acid, Chris Cash, Sonjay Dutt<br>
<br>
<b>Championships<br>
<br>
Combat Zone Wrestling</b><br>
* CZW Jr Heavyweight title (3)<br>
* CZW Tag Team titles w/Sabian<br>
* CZW World Heavyweight title<br>
<br>
<b>Big Japan Pro Wrestling (BJPW)</b><br>
* Big Japan Jr Heavyweight title (2)<br>
&nbsp;<table cellSpacing="0" cellPadding="0" width="100%" border="0" id="table1">
<tr>
<td vAlign="top" align="middle" height="100%">
<table cellSpacing="0" cellPadding="0" width="100%" bgColor="white" background="http://www.obsessedwithwrestling.com/layout/bgstone.gif" border="0" id="table2">
<tr>
<td vAlign="top">&nbsp;</td>
</tr>
</table>
</td>
</tr>
</table>]]
 
===Poll Sourceson =Bratislava==
Thank you for your participation in the discussion regarding the use of the names "Bratislava" and "Pressburg" on [[Talk:Bratislava]]. I would like also to invite you to a poll that will show us the real support for the two alternatives. I hope the poll will help us reach consensus and close this case so we can move on to other improvements of that (hopefully) future featured article. You can access the poll at [[Talk:Bratislava#Poll]]. I look forward to your opinion. [[User:Tankred|Tankred]] 05:53, 24 May 2007 (UTC)
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
 
==[[Slovak Paradise National Park]]==
Nice work. [[User:Tankred|Tankred]] 03:55, 25 May 2007 (UTC)
{| class="messagebox {{#ifeq:{{{small|}}}|yes|small|standard}}-talk"
|-
|[[Image:Updated DYK query.svg|15px|Updated DYK query]]
|On [[May 30]], [[2007]], '''[[:Template:Did you know|Did you know?]]''' was updated with {{#if:{{{4|}}}|facts|a fact}} from the article{{#if:{{{4|}}}|s|}} '''''[[Slovak Paradise National Park]]'''''{{#if:{{{4|}}}|{{#if:{{{5|}}}|, |, and}} '''''[[{{{4}}}]]'''''
}}{{#if:{{{5|}}}|{{#if:{{{6|}}}|, |, and}} '''''[[{{{5}}}]]'''''
}}{{#if:{{{6|}}}|, and '''''[[{{{6}}}]]'''''}}, which you created or substantially expanded. If you know of another interesting fact from a recently created article, then please suggest it on the [[:Template talk:Did you know|Did you know? talk page]].
|} <!-- [[{{CURRENTMONTHNAME}} {{CURRENTDAY}}]], [[{{CURRENTYEAR}}]] -->Thanks for that Svetovid. This article was kindly nominated by Bbik. In the future feel free to self-nom like the majority of our entries. It certainly is ok, and we definitely could do with Slovakian stuff on DYK more often. I actually went to Bratislava for a day....back in ol 2001. See you around, '''[[User:Blnguyen|Blnguyen]]''' ([[User talk:Blnguyen|cranky admin anniversary]]) 02:57, 30 May 2007 (UTC)
 
== Nitra/Nyitra(?) ==
 
Hi. If the article is about the KOH count, why dont we use the original name? I am waiting for your answer.Thank you[[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 10:08, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
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I reverted the edits of [[user:Hobartimus]].
[[User:69.243.60.4|69.243.60.4]] 00:38, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
:Wikipedia is not about "original" names but about English names or names recognized by English speakers. Nevertheless, original name would be in Slovak or Latin anyway.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:14, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
 
I really dont know what are you talking about. I am not reverting the names, it is another user. I only changed the names of the articles one time, but that happened days ago, and when Tankred said that that they should be in slovak name, i did not reverted more. I always use the talkpage, and I said that it should be in the hungarian name, because the article is about the historical county...
{{afc source}} --[[User:LynnMarie|LynnMarie]] 19:53, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
And if you check the history page of the articles, you will find out, that I reverted the edits of [[user:Hobartimus]].
*And: The article is about the historical county, and the name of the article should be the historical. And why do you think, that engilsh users recognise the Sovak or latin name? The original name of the county was Nyitra county.[[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 10:23, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
 
Look at this:[http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Zvolen_county&action=history], and this [[http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Tren%C4%8D%C3%ADn_county&diff=134016644&oldid=133944235]], [http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Zvolen_county&diff=134016984&oldid=133927597], or this [http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Tren%C4%8D%C3%ADn_county&diff=134016644&oldid=133944235]. [[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 10:28, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
== [ [ Sarah Faraji ] ] ==
:OK, sorry If i mistook you for someone else. No, the Hungarian names are definitely not original since they are just version of the Slovak/Slavic/Latin names. And the names should be historical, but recognized in English.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:33, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
::Just to add more, the original names could, of course, be from other languages (tribes), such as Germanic or Celtic tribes.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:38, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
 
Hi. Thank you for your answer. It was not me who changed the names. As I said I only changed 2 or 3 once (which were restored), because I did not Know the agreement which was made about the counties. Yes, most of the names of the North counties of the KOH were the versions of "magyarizated" slovak names. If you would like, rename the articles into the slovak form, but I still belive (as I wrote this on the talkpage), that this article is about the historical administrative county of the historical Kingdom of Hungary (which noone wants to reinstall!). There the county was never called Nitra.
<!-- IMPORTANT! In the box above labeled "subject/headline", put the name of your proposed article. Place [[ and ]] around it, [[like this]]. -->
Therefore in this historical context, the article should be named in Hungarian: the only correct historical form, and we should write in the present day slovak forms too.
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Ps: there were so many changes, that there are many versions about Nitra county as I saw it ( I added pictures into one of them...).[[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 10:51, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
Sarah means cool in band kid language, she is a rock hard girl, 08 dont hate!
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
www.myspace.com/faranjagi
 
I mean 2 or 3 county articles.[[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 10:52, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
:That would be Latin or German, which were the official languages for centuries, then. You really are overestimating the influence of the Hungarian language before 1840/1850 there.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:57, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
 
We can use the slovak name, it is much better than german or latin :). Yes, german and latin was the official language, like in the present day slovakia in that time, but i dont think that people actually spoke in latin. I would like to add to the infoboxes the hungarian names, like this: Nitra/Nyitra. Or Nitra (slovak)/Nyitra(hungarian). What do you think?[[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 11:08, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
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[[User:70.152.248.142|70.152.248.142]] 00:48, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
i like cookies.
 
Hobartimus is in action again. I think this article name problem will never end... I am going to write him/her.[[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 14:30, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
 
{{afcSorry, I copy pasted the bio}}wrong name![[User:SeidenstudBaxter9|SeidenstudBaxter9]] 0514:0332, 2728 JuneMay 20062007 (UTC)
It is [[User:Hobartimus]][[User:Baxter9|Baxter9]] 14:33, 28 May 2007 (UTC)
 
== kulturemaxGreater multimediaFatra ==
Hi, I'm the author of most pages related to the Greater Fatra range. I've noticed you've been recently replacing all English names with their Slovak counterparts. And you even moved the article on the range to its Slovak name. I'm afraid this is a bit of misunderstanding and it's also against some Wikipedia rules.
 
This is the English Wikipedia and as the Manual of Style says: ''If you are talking about a person, country, town, film, or book, use the most commonly used English version of the name for the article, as you would find it in other encyclopedias and reference works.'' You stated in your comment that ''after going through a lot of sources, the Slovak name seems to be the most acceptable and universal in English with emphasis on the translations''. Well, most Google links might lead to English pages with the Slovak name for the range yet I doubt these pages were written by native speakers. It has unfortunatelly become a bad habit on Wikipedia to force the English what names they should use in their own language.
[[Kulturmax Multimedia]] is an independent movie company based in [[North Miami]], [[Florida]] with production and distribution of independent movies as its main goal. Created in 2003, [[Kulturemax Multimedia]] was more an art and craft oriented business than an indie. Toward the end of 2004, [[Herold Israel]]; its founder decided to change his career. Former director and chief of staff of the national TV in [[Haiti]], he had acquired the knowledge and skills enabling him to start in the movie industry. Since then, he had come up with two movies in 2006, and became one of the most influent figure in the Haitian movie market. Dolores and [[Player 1/2]] (creole with english subtitle) were both filmed on a canon XL-1s and edited with adobe premiere pro. Their first [[bluckbuster movie]], [[A Given Promise]] is in production and will be out on December 2007.
 
Besides, most links in other Wikipedia articles (on Carpathians as well as other Slovak mountains) use the English names such as [[White Carpathians]], [[Low Tatras]] etc. That's why I opted for using the English names in the texts I wrote and I tried to use them consistently. Finally, unless there's a good reason, one shouldn't change the style and language of the original text, especially when the style is prevalent (I mean the English forms of the geographical names).
{{afc corp}} Also, is it possible to call a film that is in production a "blockbuster?" [[User:Seidenstud|Seidenstud]] 05:05, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
Do you live somewhere near the Greater Fatra? I was real mesmerized by these fantastic mountains last year, and I'm planning to go hiking there again and again. I took many photographs and I'm planning to create more articles on the summits, valleys and especially nature reserves.
== [[Image in the Sand]] ==
 
I'm from Prague but I prefer discussing in English here so that other readers can read the messages as well. But we can communicate in Czech and Slovak via other channels if you're interested. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 19:20, 29 May 2007 (UTC)
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:Hi, I've been waiting for some response regarding the name changes. I've been looking into a lot of sources and other articles to decide whether the Slovak or English name should be used for the Fatra Mts., as well as other mountains and geographic names.<br>Carpathians and Tatra{s} are widely used and accepted English names so there is no discussion there.<br>I decided to use the Slovak names as the main names because:<br>#1 There are more English translations.<br>#2 The Slovak names are commonly used in English sources.<br>See, for example, [http://books.google.com/books?id=YPCMq-Wff5kC&pg=PA370&ots=4O_dg_UFNx&dq=%22Velka+Fatra&sig=DLDZnF_GAYIMCUF2RlAgB_ZE2B4#PPA371,M1 Czech and Slovak Republics by Lonely Planet] or compare Google Scholar search for [http://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&lr=&q=%22Velka+Fatra&btnG=Search Velka Fatra] (43 results), [http://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&lr=&q=%22Ve%C4%BEk%C3%A1+Fatra&btnG=Search Veľká Fatra] (92 results), [http://scholar.google.com/scholar?sourceid=Mozilla-search&q=%22Great+Fatra Great Fatra] (14 results) and [http://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&lr=&q=%22Greater+Fatra&btnG=Search Greater Fatra] (only 2 results). Also when you search Google minus wikipedia results, you get [http://www.google.sk/search?q=-wikipedia+%22Greater+Fatra&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8&aq=t&rls=org.mozilla:en-GB:official&client=firefox-a only 219 results] for Greater Fatra and [http://www.google.sk/search?hl=sk&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-GB%3Aofficial&hs=Osm&q=-wikipedia+%22Great+Fatra&btnG=H%C4%BEada%C5%A5&meta= 999 results] for Great Fatra, of which many are pages that copied Wikipedia, alternative translations in parentheses, and overwhelming amount of Slovak pages using this English name. However, searching for "Velka Fatra" in English pages gives [http://www.google.sk/search?as_q=&hl=sk&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-GB%3Aofficial&hs=4HS&num=100&btnG=H%C4%BEada%C5%A5+v+Google&as_epq=Velka+Fatra&as_oq=&as_eq=wikipedia&lr=lang_en&as_ft=i&as_filetype=&as_qdr=all&as_occt=any&as_dt=i&as_sitesearch= 19 400 results] and searching for "Veľká Fatra" in English pages gives [http://www.google.sk/search?num=100&hl=sk&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-GB%3Aofficial&hs=Ld7&as_qdr=all&q=%22Ve%C4%BEk%C3%A1+Fatra%22+-wikipedia&btnG=H%C4%BEada%C5%A5&meta=lr%3Dlang_en 9 180 results] (this search is not precise but still). And if you search for the English names in English pages only, the number of results is even lower indeed.<br>[http://www.google.com/custom?q=fatra&sa=Go%21&cof=S%3Ahttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.unep-wcmc.org%3BAH%3Aleft%3BLH%3A56%3BL%3Ahttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.unep-wcmc.org%2Fwdpa%2FI%2Funepwcmcsml.gif%3BLW%3A100%3BAWFID%3A681b57e6eabf5be6%3B&domains=unep-wcmc.org&sitesearch=unep-wcmc.org The UN] and other environmental agencies also use the Slovak name, for example, [http://www.eeconet.org/eaf/what/Annual_Report2005.pdf eeconet.org].<br>As for native speakers, here are some examples: [http://www.worldinfozone.com/country.php?country=SlovakRepublic worldinfozone.com], [http://www.naturetrek.co.uk/wildlife-holidays-in-europe/detailsdb.asp?ID=136 naturetrek.co.uk] and [http://www.photographersdirect.com/buyers/stockphoto.asp?imageid=471570 photographersdirect.com]. <br>Last but not least, the governing bodies of the Veľká and Malá Fatra National Parks use the Slovak Name, as do many other official Slovak agencies and organizations.<br>So you can clearly see that the Slovak name should be used for the article's name, so I'll wait for your response and ask you to revert your changes/redirects if you have no reservations.<br>The situation is quite easier with places that have ''hory'' or ''vrchy'' in their name because that is an obvious translation.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 20:37, 29 May 2007 (UTC)
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:Also, please stop using boldface where it's not appropriate. The [[Wikipedia:Manual of Style]] says: "Use italics, not boldface, for emphasis."--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 21:26, 29 May 2007 (UTC)
 
<s>:I'll reply tomorrow, I'm too sleepy today. I'd prefer if you do not change the names as they are unless this is solved. Greater Fatra or Great Fatra are valid names for Wikipedia so no harm is done in the meantime. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 23:30, 29 May 2007 (UTC)</s>
The title of the first episode of the seventh season of [[Star Strek: Deep Space Nine]]. It involves [[Benjamin Sisko]] meeting [[Ezri Dax]] for the first time and traveling to uncover the lost orb of the Emissary. Original airdate: September 30, 1998.
=== Sources ===
http://www.startrek.com/startrek/view/series/DS9/episodes/index.html?season=7
 
::I see your point yet … There have been quite a few of discussions on Wikipedia whether Google tests are relvant for solving naming disputes or not. Most articles that Google finds are written by non-native speakers so they're hardly relevant, besides non-native speakers tend not to bother with translating geographic terms. And even when a native speaker writes an article on the Greater Fatra they use the form of the name they're familiar with, which they saw elsewhere hardly being aware what the Veľká part of the name stands for.
http://www.treknation.com/episodes/ds9/
 
::You state Low and High Tatra(s) are widely used, but the Slovak forms are used as well in English pages. You admit generic words such as ''vrchy'' should be translated. So why not also generic ''Veĺká'' and ''Malá''? This is rather about consistency. If you read the discussion at [[Talk:Divisions_of_the_Carpathians]] I'd say translating the generic parts of names is recommended and, in my belief, logical. Furthermore, both ''Greater'' and ''Lesser Fatra'' were used on English Wikipedia and the articles were under those names for a long time and this seems to have been generally accepted.
 
::As for the use of Greater/Great/Big. English definitely prefers the comparative forms in geographic names, especially when there's a "pair" (Greater/Lesser Antiles). Although you can find some pages with Big Fatra, this is simply a faulty translation as the adjective big is not very common with geographic places, I can only think of Big Apple and that's a nickname. Besides, most Google links with Big Fatra are from the .sk ___domain. So I'm removing that version from the synonymy.
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[[User:69.149.61.155|69.149.61.155]] 01:59, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
::To put it in a nutshell. Both Greater and Lesser Fatra have been under these headwords for a long time, undisputed. It is consistent with other Slovak geographic names as they are used on Wikipedia, it is with translated generic words. I believe if you still feel they should be renamed and moved it should be discussed first. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 20:00, 30 May 2007 (UTC)
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:::I still strongly feel that the names should be in Slovak. Native English speakers are - as confirmed by enormous evidence I presented - used to these Slovak names and have no problems using them. In many cases, direct translations used as main names could be considered [[Wikipedia:No original research|original research]]. And in case of Slovak places these were mainly done by {{userlinks|Juro}} and produced some rather awkward names.<br>The English names were undisputed simply because there was nobody interested/knowledgeable enough around (no offence). Even if relatively easy, literate translation are not preferred if not backed by strong evidence. We still have [[Morskie Oko]], [[Picos de Europa]] or [[Ligurian Alps|Colle di Cadibona]] instead of Sea Eye, Peaks of Europe and Cadibona Hill.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 14:34, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
 
:::And we also have [[Hostýnsko-vsetínská hornatina]] ... created by yourself :).--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 21:27, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
=== Sources ===
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::::I don't think the names Greater Fatra and Lesser Fatra are someone's inventions, even less so [[Wikipedia:No original research|original research]], they have been used in English for some time, both online and in printed media. Both Fatras are at least of the same importance for Slovak tourism as Low Tatra(s) which too have an English name, which you don't seem to object to.
 
::::If you feel the names should be changed, and that feeling is as valid as mine that they shouldn't, I guess you should first start a dicussion and get some native speaker's opinios rather than changing the names which are correct and have been used here for quite some time. You say you gave enormous evidence, well, the only evidence is Google tests which are just one piece in resolving any naming disputes (and one which is usually sneered upon at discussions) while all other bits seem to concure Greater/Lesser Fatra are OK, even better. It's not a good wiki practice to change any information or names just because you don't like it … take our discussion at [[Borišov]]. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 22:19, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
:::::I wouldn't consider it original research in case of Fatra, but with other names, sure. And once you start doing it, it's a slippery slope.<br>But this discussion is not about whether "Greater Fatra" is a relevant name or not; we are trying to conclude which name is the most commonly used and recognized in English.<br>Google results were used only partially. I'll list the other sources again:<br>[http://www.google.com/custom?q=fatra&sa=Go%21&cof=S%3Ahttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.unep-wcmc.org%3BAH%3Aleft%3BLH%3A56%3BL%3Ahttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.unep-wcmc.org%2Fwdpa%2FI%2Funepwcmcsml.gif%3BLW%3A100%3BAWFID%3A681b57e6eabf5be6%3B&domains=unep-wcmc.org&sitesearch=unep-wcmc.org The UN] and other environmental agencies also use the Slovak name, for example, [http://www.eeconet.org/eaf/what/Annual_Report2005.pdf eeconet.org] and [http://assets.panda.org/downloads/skprofile.pdf WWF].<br>As for native speakers, here are some examples: [http://www.worldinfozone.com/country.php?country=SlovakRepublic worldinfozone.com], [http://www.naturetrek.co.uk/wildlife-holidays-in-europe/detailsdb.asp?ID=136 naturetrek.co.uk] and [http://www.photographersdirect.com/buyers/stockphoto.asp?imageid=471570 photographersdirect.com], and [http://www.mtsobek.com/mts/sta mtsobek.com]. The examples are significant, because they come from pages for hikers, people who are usually more knowledgeable about mountains and such.<br>Google News search (English sources only) gives [http://news.google.com/archivesearch?q=%22Greater+Fatra&btnG=Search+Archives&hl=en&ned=us 0 results for Greater Fatra] and only [http://news.google.com/archivesearch?q=%22Lesser+Fatra&btnG=Search+Archives&hl=en&ned=us 1 result for Lesser Fatra] but [http://news.google.com/archivesearch?q=%22Velka+Fatra&btnG=Search+Archives&hl=en&ned=us 13 results for Velka Fatra] and [http://news.google.com/archivesearch?q=%22Mala+Fatra&hl=en&ned=us&sa=N&start=0 78 results for Mala Fatra]. Also see [[User_talk:Svetovid#Rusovce_mansion| an opinion from a native speaker below]].<br>You also didn't respond to the practice of using native names (as articles' names), although easy direct translations are available, practice even you use.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 22:49, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
 
::::::Well, I've always tried to keep away from any namimg disputes as they seem pointless and generally harming the idea of Wikipedia. What we all should put most effort into is writing good articles, uploading photograps and maps etc. Given the nature of Wikipedia when various names can be redirected to the main page I don't think it's that important under what name the artcile is in the database. That's why I usually don't bother.
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[[User:12.219.171.122|12.219.171.122]] 02:09, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
::::::I usually start articles or add substantial text to topics I'm interested in, very often about places I personally know, from which I can provide some photographs I've taken. And I always try to write a well-balanced text and then keep an eye on it. I'm saddened to see there are too many editors on Wikipedia who, instead of focusing on the articles themselves, focus on marginalities, such as what headword the article should be under. The artcile on both the Greter Fatra and the National Park of the same name can be helped a lot and I'm planning to do so when I find the time. It always takes me time 'coz I base my texts on a multi-resource research.
== [[Pontian Islands]] ==
 
::::::As of your points, if you look at some of those links you provided you'll see they also quote Vysoké Tatry, i.e. in Slovak. So those don't seem to help. I'm afraid you still give the same and only evidence. Links which you found via Google. As I wrote before, number of Google hits isn't considered that relevant: [[Wikipedia:Naming_conventions_(use_English)#Borderline_cases]]. Most of the texts were written based on Slovak resources which always use the Slovak form even in English texts. Also, the first point at [[Wikipedia:Naming conventions (geographic names)]] says: ''When a widely accepted English name, in a modern context, exists for a place, we should use it.'' If you look at [[Wikipedia:Naming_conventions_(geographic_names)#Widely_accepted_name]], it says ''Always look at search results, don't just count them.'' (Besides, those tests proved the name Great Fatra more frequent though linguistically wrong.) Another recommendation says [[Wikipedia:Naming_conventions_(places)#Maintain_consistency_within_each_country maintain consistency within each country]], so as there are [[Low Tatras]], [[High Tatras]], [[White Carpathians]], [[Lesser Carpathians]] etc. it's common sense we should have [[Greater Fatra]]. All these are names with an easily translatable part. It seems odd to translate such low profile places as Cerová vrchovina (it was discussed someplace) or [[Hostýnsko-vsetínská hornatina]], but here the English name would qualify under original research. I also once started [[Moravian-Silesian Beskydy]] which got renamed to [[Moravian-Silesian Beskids]] (not by myself) although you don't find the English name in many English resources.
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::::::I'm sure you would find places in those and other rules which support your point. To sum it up, there exist good reasons for the ''Veľká Fatra'' as well as ''Greater Fatra'' names. Unless there's a wider support I don't think you should rename the article and any occurence of ''Greater Fatra'' based on just your feeling as it has been used so (as ''Greater Fatra'') for quite some time, reviewed by many editors and no-one seems to have problem with the English version so far. I don't think this discussion has helped the article at all, I really wish to spend my Wikipedia time in a more meaningful way. I'd like to enlarge both artciles on the range and the national park as well as adding mopre localities. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 14:03, 3 June 2007 (UTC)
The Pontian Islands are a group of islands off the coast of Italy, part of the province of Latina. They are south of Rome and west of Naples, at approximately 40 deg 53 min N latitude 12 deg 56 min E longitude (Isola di Ponza) and 40 47 13 25 (Isola Ventotene).
:::::::Until now, you haven't mentioned a single source that would confirm that Greater Fatra is "a widely accepted English name in a modern context", but I've offered loads of evidence that Velka Fatra is this kind of name. And I avoided simple Google results completely in the last post.<br>I believe you know what Google News is, and it clearly proves that whenever one of the Fatras is mentioned in the English speaking media, it's always by its native name and not one of the translations.<br>"Reviewed by many editors" - again no evidence that knowledgeable editors looked into it.<br>And I agree, a dispute about the name should not stand in the way to improve the article's content. But in this case, the name is confusing, goes against consistency and is against Wikipedia's policies, which you coincidentally cited to prove my point.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 14:31, 3 June 2007 (UTC)
Palmarola and Zannone are also included in this group.
 
=== SourcesBratislava ===
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Google Earth and Google Maps show the individual islands. Google Earth was used to obtain the latitude and longitude cited.
 
Hi, I see you've noticed that Bratislava has been promoted to GA status. Now I would like to ask, when we have passed this one, what do you think this article needs to push it forward to FA? Also, I'm considering sending it to [[WP:PR|peer review]] for more feedback. What do you think? [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 11:45, 31 May 2007 (UTC)
[https://www.italiancookingandliving.com/food/regional/latium.html] mentions the islands in the paragraph on the province of Latina.
:Follow the to do table :)--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 16:38, 31 May 2007 (UTC)
 
Just to let you know, to the Economy section "construction boom" paragraph, I've started doing it at my sandbox, because I think this needs tweaking and checking before submitting into the article. What do you think, could you help me to prepare this one? (You can reply here) [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 20:25, 4 June 2007 (UTC)
The Geological Society has a book entry which includes a paper on "Rhodolith facies evolution and burial as a response to Holocene transgression at the Pontian Islands shelf break, D. Basso, C. Morbioli, C. Corselli" (Cool-Water Carbonates: Depositional Systems and Palaeoenvironmental Controls, GSL Special Publications, 11 March 2006) at [http://www.geolsoc.org.uk/template.cfm?name=bookshop_details&action=details&id=720]
:I'll check and correct your final version, but I don't have time to do research and such this weak.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 20:32, 4 June 2007 (UTC)
::So it seems I'm alone to do this one... but I agree, this is particularly weak and sensitive on citations topic. [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 20:43, 4 June 2007 (UTC)
:We only need a few sentences so I believe it shouldn't be a problem for you :).--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 20:45, 4 June 2007 (UTC)
Ahhhh. Thank you for bringing this [http://www.statistics.sk/webdata/english/census2001/tab/tab.htm link] to me. The data presented were just identical with the old version so I reverted them back and sourced. Now Demographics section should be OK for now (unless new estimate comes out or census will take place). So all we need is to do on the to-do table, though from the peer review where you conflicted, he said that Gov't section should be more coherent plus in more detail, but I'm not so sure with that detail. [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 19:44, 9 June 2007 (UTC)
 
Hi again. No, I'm not going to comment your skirmish with [[User:Caroig]], but as usual, something with Bratislava article. I've seen that we have received some comments from [[WP:CITIES]] project, and one of the recommendations is to trim the History section. Since you are the author of most of that material, you may wish to look and edit that section so it summarizes briefly only more important facts and the rest should go to the History of Bratislava article. [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 07:12, 12 June 2007 (UTC)
Nature has an article, perhaps a submitted letter, describing "Evidence of Foundered Continental Crust beneath the Central Tyrrhenian Sea" that mentions the Pontian Islands and Sardinia. viz, [http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v229/n5283/abs/229327a0.html;jsessionid=2BED4EA300AD4D86CD3F87E5A88E10CC]
 
== What language versions to be used for naming former KoH counties? ==
Wikipedia references them in articles such as [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nero]
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[[User:138.239.220.7|138.239.220.7]] 02:14, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
Could you join this starting debate: [[Talk:Kingdom of Hungary#What language versions to be used for naming former KoH counties?]]
== [[Sonia Aziz]] ==
 
--[[User:Peyerk|peyerk]] 16:16, 31 May 2007 (UTC)
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Well known TV presenter from the DM Digital Network
Fans can contact her on the following address: themix@dmdigitalgold.com
 
=== SourcesRusovce mansion ===
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www.dmdigitaltv.co.uk, www.desitunes4u.com
 
see http://www.bratislava.sk/en/vismo5/dokumenty2.asp?u=700000&id_org=700000&id=2005914 for as "official" a use of the kaštieľ/mansion translation I could find in this context. — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 22:22, 31 May 2007 (UTC)
:Of course, ''Kaštieľ'' translates as mansion or manor (house), but Rusovce mansion sounds a little off :).--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 22:40, 31 May 2007 (UTC)
::Maybe, but it's a hell of a lot more on-target than the "forcemeat in a potato damper" I keep seeing on restaurant menus around here :) — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 01:10, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
:Speaking of which, translations on bratislava.sk are not top-notch all the time either. It's like they directly translate some word that is not used in that sense in English.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 11:37, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
::Well, I did say "official" (scare quotes and all) rather than "good"... :) Honestly, the place looks more like a castle to me. Let's see what [http://slovnik.juls.savba.sk/ SSJ] says:
:::'''kaštieľ''', -a, ''6. p.'' -li, ''mn. č.'' -le ''m.'' veľký, obyč. umelecký cenný dom, za feudalizmu vidiecke sídlo šľachticov a boháčov: ''renesančný k., zemiansky, panský k.'';
::so... could be mansion, manor, chateau, or even palace or castle. Pretty loose definition. *shrug* — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 12:34, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
:[[Mansion]]: "In Europe mansions are often given various titles, hinting at their origins - castle, palace, manor, towers, and grange to name but a few." So it's a broad category indeed. But to avoid confusion, it'd best to translate ''palác'' as palace, ''hrad'', ''hrádok'' and ''zámok'' as castle, ''kaštieľ'' as mansion or manor (or palace? ;). Anyway, those are the translations I used to give some consistency to the [[List of castles in Slovakia]].--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 12:46, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
::Good enough for me mate. — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 13:41, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
BTW, if you noticed the discussion above about whether to use [[Veľká Fatra]] or some of the English translations, what do you, as a native speaker, reckon?--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 12:50, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
:Personally I would prefer listing such a thing under it's local name (in Slovak), and establishing redirects for the known English versions of it. Among the English versions I've seen, "Greater Fatra" appears far better than "Great Fatra", but there is also an argument that it should be "Greater Fatras" to keep a parallel with "High Tatras", "Low Tatras", etc., which seem to be in more common use in the plural rather than the singular. Native-English names for mountain ranges are usually given in the plural (cf: [[Rockies]], [[Appalachians]], [[Alps]], [[Himalayas]]), but then we do use foreign-language names quite a bit, which are sometimes in the singular (cf: [[Sierra Nevada]], [[Sierra Madre]]). — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 13:41, 1 June 2007 (UTC)
 
Another comment, not about the kastiel, but naming in general... to me it makes no sense for the canonical name [[Old Town, Bratislava]] to exist, when we have [[Nové Mesto, Bratislava]] instead of [[New Town, Bratislava]]. I would definitely support making [[Old Town, Bratislava]] be a redirect to a properly-named page for the district (e.g. [[Staré mesto, Bratislava]]). — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 15:09, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
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[[User:82.7.243.220|82.7.243.220]] 02:24, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
:I'll bite. I would weakly support moving this article to its Slovak name, but there are many articles using the English name, e.g. [[Old Town, Prague]] or [[Inner City (Budapest)]], so no ''Staré Město'' or ''Belváros''. Best would be determined by G-test or by browsing official places, if applicable. To that kaštieľ issue (sigh!), I have created it under name ''[[Rusovský kaštieľ]]'', but don't know if I picked the best name [[User:MarkBA|MarkBA]] <sup>[[User talk:MarkBA|t]]/[[Special:Contributions/MarkBA|c]]/[[Special:Emailuser/MarkBA|@]]</sup> 16:00, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
 
::The thing that bugged me was seeing "Old Town" next to "Nové mesto" in the territorial divisions of BA section. It's asymmetrical... ugly... such asymmetry is another reason I don't really like [[WP:NCGN]] as it stands. The purist in me would be a lot happier calling things by their local, official names (with as many redirects as necessary to cover English-language usage), rather than this reference to "widely-accepted English-speaking" nomenclature that we've got. Maybe I'm pissing in the wind here, since my chances of getting a move approved for [[Red Square]] to [[Красная площадь]] are approximately zero. *shrug* — <font face="Verdana">[[User:MikeGogulski|Mike Gogulski]]</font><sup>&nbsp;↗''[[Special:Contributions/MikeGogulski|C]]•<small>[[Special:EmailUser/MikeGogulski|@]]</small>•[[User talk:MikeGogulski|T]]''↗</sup> 00:01, 3 June 2007 (UTC)
{{afc nn}} --[[User:LynnMarie|LynnMarie]] 19:53, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
==Question==
== [[Memorandum decision]] ==
Hey, first of all would it be possible to copy your opinion to the other pages in the deletion series? (If not, could I do it?) Second of all, I have no problem with nominating the others for deletion, but the Balkan ones are the ones I'm familiar with, and I'm only one man. If you nom any, let me know and I'll give the same opinion there. - [[User:f-m-t|Francis Tyers]] [[User_talk:f-m-t|·]] 14:50, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
:You need to get those articles to [[Wikipedia:Articles for deletion/Log/Today]] though.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 15:00, 2 June 2007 (UTC)
 
==From Ernst Stavro Blofeld==
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Because I was peer reviewing the article. Thanks for wasting my efforts also at tidying the pictures also [[User:Ernst Stavro Blofeld| <font color="darkblue">'''''♦ Sir Blofeld ♦'''''</font>]] <sup>[[User talk:Ernst Stavro Blofeld| <font size="-4"><font color="Purple">'''"Expecting you"'''</font></font color> ]][[Special:Contributions/Ernst_Stavro_Blofeld|<font size="-4"><font color="Grey">'''Contribs'''</font></font color>]]</sup> 10:40, 8 June 2007 (UTC)
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If you look at existing FA articles on many cities the places in the city comes before sport. -it is all part of the geography of the city. -an important section that should be nearer the top rather than at the bottom. [[User:Ernst Stavro Blofeld| <font color="darkblue">'''''♦ Sir Blofeld ♦'''''</font>]] <sup>[[User talk:Ernst Stavro Blofeld| <font size="-4"><font color="Purple">'''"Expecting you"'''</font></font color> ]][[Special:Contributions/Ernst_Stavro_Blofeld|<font size="-4"><font color="Grey">'''Contribs'''</font></font color>]]</sup> 10:48, 8 June 2007 (UTC)
#REDIRECT [[Memorandum opinion]]
 
I have request though. Can someone try to write an article summarizing the [[Culture of Slovakia]]. [[User:Ernst Stavro Blofeld| <font color="darkblue">'''''♦ Sir Blofeld ♦'''''</font>]] <sup>[[User talk:Ernst Stavro Blofeld| <font size="-4"><font color="Purple">'''"Expecting you"'''</font></font color> ]][[Special:Contributions/Ernst_Stavro_Blofeld|<font size="-4"><font color="Grey">'''Contribs'''</font></font color>]]</sup> 10:49, 8 June 2007 (UTC)
=== Sources ===
:Unfortunately, you messed up territorial division with climate and so on. Could you write down your suggestions first if you want to change the article significantly?--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:54, 8 June 2007 (UTC)
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== Quick link ==
The official term for this type of judicial activity in Arizona is "memorandum decision". I've never heard of "memorandum opinion", but as that article already exists and accurately describes what we call a memorandum decision, we need a redirect. Thank you.
Just in case you're interested: [[Talk:United_States#Tables]]. The largest cities table, in particular, has been a heated source of debate in the US talk page, so I figured your comment warranted discussion on talk, lest it responses slowly flood the FAC page. [[User:MrZaius|<font color="Blue">'''MrZaius'''</font>]]<sup>[[User talk:MrZaius|'''<font color="Blue">talk</font>''']]</sup> 09:27, 9 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== Minor edits ==
<!--Do not edit the four tildes (~~~~) below this line. That is your signature -->
{{{icon|[[Image:Information.svg|25px]] }}}Please remember to mark your edits{{#if:The Broken West|, as you did to [[:The Broken West]]}} as '''m'''inor when (and only when) they genuinely are minor edits (see [[Wikipedia:Minor edit]]). Marking a major change as a minor one (and vice versa) is considered poor etiquette. The rule of thumb is that only an edit that consists solely of spelling corrections, formatting changes, or rearranging of text without modifying content should be flagged as a 'minor edit.' {{{{{subst|}}}#if:No hard feelings about you adding the speedy delete tag (honest!), but I do not believe you should be marking that as a minor edit. Thanks.--[[User:Paul Erik|Paul Erik]] 04:41, 11 June 2007 (UTC)|No hard feelings about you adding the speedy delete tag (honest!), but I do not believe you should be marking that as a minor edit. Thanks.--[[User:Paul Erik|Paul Erik]] 04:41, 11 June 2007 (UTC)|Thank you.}} <!-- Template:uw-minor -->
[[User:216.39.182.234|216.39.182.234]] 03:33, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
:Sometimes the mouse slips and you tick an incorrect box. Sorry about that.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 07:53, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== [[Daumone]]Warning ==
Do read something about how Wikipedia works and stop damaging it. Wikipedia doesn't work by someone deciding on their own accord what's correct and what's not and forcing everyone to use their style, forcing people do bring evidence or do anything as they wish.
 
You have decided that the only "proof" is count of Google hits. I provided quite a lot of links proving that this is not the definite dicision factor on Wikipedia, just one of many (and never the most important one), all speaking in favor of Greater Fatra. You haven't contributed significantly to any article on Great Fatra besides changing the name. I don't want to check how many other regions you've damaged this way but a lot of users have been banned for just what you've been doing. Have you ever made a useful edit? Adding some text, uploading a picture?
Animals use pheromones to send chemical signals to each other; one pheromone used by snakes (C. elegans) is called daumone. Pheromones are an important classification of chemicals that are widley used in chemica6l research to help facilitate the production and development of drugs for humans. Also known as, (R)-(3,5-dihydroxy-6-methyl-tetrahydro-pyran-2-yloxy) heptanoic acid, this chemical facilitates entrance into the dauer stage of life in which the snake stops aging to protect the snakes from adverse environments. The chemical formula for daumone is C13H24O6, and although the chemical has been synthesized in lab, little information is reported about its physical and chemical properties on the MSDS. Therefore, melting point, and boiling point are unknown, although it is reported that the chemical has low solubility in aqueous environments. Since it is a naturally occuring chemical, daumone does not have any known isomers, either geometric or optical. The optical rotation is known to be -81 degrees. Information specific to this chemical can be found in the February 2005 issue of Nature in an artical called: Chemical structure and biological activity of the Caenorhabditis elegans dauer-inducing pheromone. This article discusses the biological implications of the chemical and outlines the in-lab synthesis, which required 10 separate steps.
 
If you feel the name should be cahnged, do start a discussion and get as many opinios as possible. Until then the names should remain where they are as it has been a long-time consent. Your edits just make the articles a chaotic mix of Slovak and English names. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 08:12, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
 
:I didn't mention Google hits in my last post ''full'' of evidence at all.<br>Asking people to present evidence ''is'' the cornerstone of Wikipedia. {{cquote|Editors should provide a reliable source for quotations and for any material that is challenged or is likely to be challenged, or it may be removed. [[WP:V]]}}
=== Sources ===
:You haven't give a '''single''' source to prove that Greater Fatra is "a widely accepted English name."<br>There was no consent about the name; the discussion page is empty.<br>Also please read this: [[WP:OWN]], [[WP:BB]] and [[WP:CIV]] (in regards to "warning" and "Have you ever..."--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 08:56, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
:Anyway, see [[Talk:Greater Fatra]] and finally present some evidence please.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 09:25, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
 
:I'm afraid I'm going ask for arbitration in this case. You keep repeating the same thing yet you completely disregard other reasons which support Greater Fatra. Number of hits in whatever search engine are not the main decission factor and I provided enough links to Wikipedia guidelines. There are many articles with similar disputes, where the native name is more frequent in media yet they remain under their English name. Your disruptive edits to the [[Borišov]] where you erased substantial information without any reason (you quote {{cquote|Editors should provide a reliable source for quotations and for any material that is challenged or is likely to be challenged, or it may be removed. [[WP:V]]}}, all information in that article is based on data from more other sources, which are given, which don't contradict on any of those statements, yet you removed the lines anyway and as a reason gave "trees just don't grow there") showed a lot about your way of editing as well as your statement you have considerably contributed to that article when your only edits concern renaming. I don't feel any need to respond to threats, this isn't Wikipedia behavior at all. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 14:22, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
Jeong, P.Y., et al. 2005. Chemical structure and biological activity of the Caenorhabditis elegans dauer-inducing pheromone. NATURE 433.
:Feel free to ask for whatever you want. The only so called threat I'm seeing here is a post named "Warning" with text like "a lot of users have been banned for just what you've been doing," written by yourself. But I don't think it's a threat I just think you are a little confused.<br>As for [[Borišov]], what does that have to with anything? We are discussing a name change here, not content of some completely different article. That's what [[Talk:Borišov]] is for and if you look there, you'd see "Thanks, the article is fine by me for now.--Svetovid 00:58, 30 May 2007 (UTC)" so why mention it now at all?--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 14:36, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
 
::What I asked for some time ago was a discussion. By which I mean a wide discussion with constributions from many users. I guess everyone contributing to Wikipedia does some work for a living as well, so not everyone is able to answer ASAP, neither am I. I never questioned the fact that "Velka Fatra" (i.e. unaccented) is more common in Google hits than any English name. On the other hand I think this data needs some analysis as well, exactly as one of Wikipedia rules says ("do not just count Google hits …"). Besides, there are more factors to take into account when deciding on a name, I provided some links. What made me upset was that you're setting the rules, when I didn't answer within a week (I have to work sometimes) you changed the names again, that I must provide some evidence … .
MSDS [Online]. http://www.kdr.co.kr/Daumone/upfiles/MSDS_Version_0_Nov_30_2005_daumone.pdf Ret. 4/7/06
 
::And as for Borišov, I think it matters here because while you're calling for giving evidence you erased sourced data instead of at least asking first or checking the resources (or better looking for more) so I'm afraid it showed that working with resources isn't your "prime directive" and the reasoning behind your edits was, sorry, ridiculous. And that article finally made switch your edits back to Greater Fatra after I checked the core of your contributions was just renaming English names to Slovak.
[[User:65.25.218.207|65.25.218.207]] 03:35, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
::So what I suggest again is to start a discussion, let other users have their say, analyze all pros and cons (not just how frequent the names are on the Internet). I'm trying to check some sources outside the internet, i.e. books, which are always based on more substantial research than online data which is mostly copied from one site into another. I takes some time. And as Wikipedia's usage have been Greater Fatra for a few years, most articles refer to it under that name (and not just articles I started) I suggest keeping it that way until a discussion has taken place. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]])
== Warriors Of The Forest ==
:::Why do you keep repeating Google hits? [[Talk:Greater Fatra]] is full of evidence that does not use the number of Google hits at all. Only in the end did I mention the number because 20,000 vs 66 is as clear as it gets.<br> I edited [[Borišov]] because it was awkwardly written with grammatical errors and ambiguous phrases. I was mistaken about one thing (deforestation of the summit), which was explained and the article was immediately edited to follow its sources. And your conclusion is that "working with resources isn't your "prime directive"? Please...<br>Also, you can stop with personal attacks - see [[WP:CIV]]. I don't mind them so they are pointless in this case.<br>Discussion has been going on for about 10 days now. I've presented evidence big enough for a thesis and got support from {{userlinks|MikeGogulski}} and {{userlinks|MarkBA}}, which is 100% of all 3rd parties involved so far.<br>You haven't presented a single piece of evidence and got no support so far. You only linked to [[Wikipedia:Naming_conventions_%28use_English%29#Borderline_cases|Borderline Cases]], but this is not a borderline case. I'll cite:"There is a trend in part of the modern news media and maps to use native names of places and people, even if there is a long-accepted English name." Greater Fatra or Lesser Fatra is not a long-accepted English name. You also linked to [[Wikipedia:Naming conventions (places)]] and [[Wikipedia:Naming_conventions_(geographic_names)#Widely_accepted_name]]. Both Velka and Mala Fatra ''follow'' the conventions and both ''are'' widely accepted names.<br>Last but not least, please read Wikipedia's policies and guidelines before you advice others to do so. You want to ask for arbitration even though, according to [[WP:AC]], "it is a last resort when all else has failed."--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 20:28, 11 June 2007 (UTC)
::::Would you please reread all my posts, try to answer at least some of my comments (i.e. not just those concerning the name's frequency on the Internet) and stop threatening and setting up deadlines. And also respect that I have other work to do (the only time I have for Wikipedia is when I have all my work done, late at night). Over the weekend I'll try to add an extensive comment to the discussiion which hasn't been started yet. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 20:41, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
:::::Please stop saying that nonsense about threatening because the only one using words like "warning" and "ban" is you. Is there anything I haven't talked about yet? Please add those issues point by point. The discussion has been going on for 14 days, which is quite enough. If you cannot find a few minutes to respond, that's not my problem, don't you think?--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 20:47, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
::::::I'll try to add '''extensive''' comments to all aspects of the issue, with analysis of the data and more resources in favor of the English names. I'm used to present well-researched and analyzed data on Wikipedia, this takes time. Over the years I've been a member of the Wikipedia community, I haven't participated in a discussion in which anyone would settle any deadlines. I don't think statements "If you don't … I will" are appreciated either. I apologize for any rash expressions I might have used. These days, I usually work from 7.00am thru 22.00pm CET so I really do not have the time nor the energy. We might also want to first set a [[WP:RM]] to draw more attention to the point in discussion. – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 21:29, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
:::::::Since you are the only person opposing the names and since you don't bother to respond for days, deadlines are indeed necessary for such a trivial issue.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 21:34, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
 
::::::::No one user has any right to set any deadlines, that's not how Wikipedia works. Wikipedia is not your personal project but a collective one. If any change is to be done, it should be proposed and discussed first. This approach is real unprecedented. 06:55, 16 June 2007 (UTC)
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::::::::Addendum: To satisfy your impatiency a bit, a part of my research for now, more to be added when I finish my work:
::::::::*Britannica 2007 doesn't mention the Fatras
::::::::*Britannica 1911 contains Great Fatra in the article on Carpathians
::::::::*MS Encarta 2007 mentions Greater and Lesser Fatra in the Slovakia article
::::::::*Columbia Lippincott Gazetteer of the World has Greater Fatra – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 07:46, 16 June 2007 (UTC)
:::::::::<shakes head looking at personal attacks used ''again''> Britannica 1911 cannot be used in this case because it's too old a source to establish anything, and only mentions a single mountain under the name "Great Fatra", not the whole range anyway. You are right about the MS Encarta 2007, which proves that the English translation exists and that it is used, ''but not'' that it is used and accepted widely. I could even go as far as to use the same logical fallacy you used and say that they use strange translations (Low Tatry?), but it's not needed. Anyway, move this discussion to [[Talk:Greater Fatra]] for all to see.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:30, 16 June 2007 (UTC)
 
=== SourcesThanks ===
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Yeah I would graciously like to congradulate you for deleting the page I spent a half hour working on about a local band which has rising popularity in my home town. I see just because something isn't famous it can't be on your precious website. I think it really sucks that you have noted it for speedy deletion which I think your page should be because it's full of useless crap no one cares about.
:It's not my site at all. Read [[Wikipedia:Notability_%28music%29#Criteria_for_musicians_and_ensembles|WP:Notability]] next time.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 16:35, 12 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== Dannebrog opposition ==
 
You said that the image was not the best that Wikipedia offers. What is the best one? [[User:ANNAfoxlover|ANNAfoxlover]] 00:49, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
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:There are plenty. For example, many I've voted for in the past. Of course, we are not talking about the same subject here :)--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 08:20, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
[[User:24.92.70.148|24.92.70.148]] 03:37, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
::Oh! Of course. [[User:ANNAfoxlover|ANNAfoxlover]] 14:22, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== Ghostwriter ==
''Warriors Of The Forest'' is a moive about the Warriors (books series) by Erin Hunter. This moive is set to be released Summer 2007.
 
Hi, you deleted some material in the Ghostwriter article, stating that "(the deleted part was with no references, unencyclopedic and messed up page design)." The deleted material on ghostwriter's fees had Internet references to Ghostwriting companies. Regarding your claim that it is "unencyclopedic," I don't understand what you mean. The article is about ghostwriters, and I added information on how much money ghostwriters are paid per page, per article, or per book. This helps readers understand how ghostwriters make a living. Regarding the claim that it was "messed-up page design," if you don't like bullets, change them, don't erase the section. Thanks[[User:Nazamo|Nazamo]] 19:23, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
:Some very unprofessionally looking anonymous websites offering services on the Internet are not a reliable source by any means. It didnt't even link to an original page but to a cached page instead. Either find some real sources - like an article whose author did some substantial research - or exact prices cannot be included in the article. Linking to a website offering services is considered ad spam anyway. Therefore, I've removed the first two points and left the third using writersunion.ca as a source (and have linked to the original website).--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 19:46, 14 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== Your Tagging Development Workshop Article ==
{{afc source}} --[[User:LynnMarie|LynnMarie]] 19:54, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
Hi, You tagged article [[Development Workshop]] as lacking references and advertisement like. I want to discuss it. First of all the article (just started today) had at least one reference and three its different web-sites. If it is not enough for the start, I will try to find more sources. Second, it belongs to the [[List of non-governmental organizations in Vietnam]]. As for neutrality question, could you please specify, the exact sentence, which contain any personal attitude or promotional phrase? What do you think should be written in the articles about humanitarian organizations? Critisizing? Or how should the neutrality be reached? Have a good time. Regards. [[User:Ans-mo|Ans-mo]] 09:18, 15 June 2007 (UTC)
:Hi, the whole bulleted list following "Development Workshop France (DWF) is involved in the following activities in Vietnam:" reads like an advertisement/self promotion. It needs to be rewritten somewhat because at the moment it only states what the organization claims to do and not what it really does. It may be doing what it claims but you need to source that. The page that is supposed to confirm that - VUFO NGO Centre Vietnam - cannot be used because it does not neutrally report on what the organization does but merely copies its claims. You have a good one too.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 09:26, 15 June 2007 (UTC)
::OK. Thanks for advise. In general such kind of activities are not widely described in media. So, the related NGO directories seem to be reliable source. There are even less known organizations, which operate without wide publicity. Why should not they be described and inserted in the related lists? [[User:Ans-mo|Ans-mo]] 09:40, 15 June 2007 (UTC)
::::Because it cannot be stated as a fact. It should read as "the organization claims that..." or "Its mission statement is.." Charitable organizations are often dodgy and special care needs to be devoted to their claims. Organizations and enterprises will always state only positives about their activities, but an encyclopaedia should only report sourced facts.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 10:14, 15 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== Greater, Great, Velka or Veľká Fatra ==
== [[finDNA]] ==
 
Well, I've added som more extensive comments to the talk page. I moved your text lower as I think the new text provides a better starting point for a discussion, feel free to rearrange the page if you disagree. I believe if a move is proposed, it should be first proposed at [[WP:RM]] with a link to the disucssion to draw attention of a wider public to the topic. The Greater Fatra doesn't seem to be in watchlists of many users.
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I've noticed the inconsistency with Tatry (and other places elsewhere). I'm certainly not going to propose any rename, it just illustrates that the matter is not just about strictly following guidilines and statistics but about applying common sense too.
 
I'm still working on a major rewrite of the article, with more text, more images and maps. But it will take time, I prefer presenting consistent work and I don't think there'a any need to hurry. I'd welcome a helping hand especially if you have any knowledge of the area, any further resources (I don't have that many, I'd appreciated mainly printed ones). – [[User:Caroig|Caroig]] ([[User_talk:Caroig|talk]]) 16:25, 16 June 2007 (UTC)
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
 
== Deletion review Kari Schull et al ==
You participated in the [[Wikipedia:Articles for deletion/Kari Schull|AfD for Kari Schull]] where the nominator is attempting to overturn the "keep" decision at [[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Deletion_review/Log/2007_June_17 deletion review Kari Schull]]. This discussion is linked to 3 others the previous day, where the author of the articles is attempting to use the "keep" at Kari Schull to overturn the rejection of his other similar articles. Interesting potential precedents for the applicatrion of BIO, or for the reform of special case notability criteria --[[User:Kevin Murray|Kevin Murray]] 18:48, 17 June 2007 (UTC)
 
== Shouldn't all... ==
 
(re [[Template:Miss Teen USA 2007 delegates]]) Yes, these should probably be listed on AFD. [[User_talk:Radiant!|<b><font color="#0000DD">&gt;<font color="#0066FF">R<font color="#0099FF">a<font color="#00CCFF">d<font color="#00EEFF">i</font>a</font>n</font>t</font>&lt;</font></b>]] 11:48, 18 June 2007 (UTC)
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[[User:59.160.137.4|59.160.137.4]] 03:40, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Request to reconsider your opinion on deletion of Clayton Middle/High School ==
{{afc blank}} --[[User:LynnMarie|LynnMarie]] 19:55, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
Hi,
== Dith Nussbaum ==
 
Since your vote in favor of deletion at [[Wikipedia:Articles for deletion/Clayton Middle/High School]], I added information from three news articles about the school which establishes notability under Wikipedia standards ([[WP:N]]). Please take a look at the revised [[Clayton Middle/High School]] article and reconsider your vote. Thanks! [[User:Noroton|Noroton]] 16:45, 18 June 2007 (UTC)
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:Hi, thanks for noticing me. It'd be best to show notability already while writing a new article to avoid an AfD nomination.--[[User:Svetovid|Svetovid]] 16:50, 18 June 2007 (UTC)
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==How to sign unsigned comments==
Dith Nussbaum, better known as Merri Nussbaum is a total turd with no friends who likes to eat crap and terrorizes many villages on the outskirts of mainland china. Her special move is the head butt and her charge up move involves losing all personality.
I saw your comment at the [[Nipple sucking]] AfD. Go to [[Template:Unsigned]] and follow the instructions there. Let me know if you get stuck. [[User:Joie de Vivre|Joie de Vivre]] <sup><small><small>[[User talk:Joie de Vivre|T]]</small></small></sup> 11:26, 19 June 2007 (UTC)
 
=== SourcesSpent many hours ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
 
Trying to find solid references for the personal computer article. The research and sifting of accurate information is time consuming...
 
 
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[[User:69.113.221.41|69.113.221.41]] 03:45, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
 
''Declined.'' Wikipedia is not a suitable resource for [[abusive ad hominem]] nonsense. Thanks. [[User:Seidenstud|Seidenstud]] 05:10, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== finDNA ==
 
finDNA™ AML Solution: Tracing financial strands of every transaction
finDNA™ is an 'intelligent' Anti-Money Laundering (AML) solution that helps financial institutions of all types and sizes in complying with AML regulations, both locally and globally, effectively, efficiently and in a cost-effective manner. It is a highly configurable and flexible solution with advanced detection techniques to track and sift out fraudulent transactions.
 
Some of the features of finDNA™ AML solution includes:
 
Sanctions monitoring and WatchList scanning.
Customer profiling and scoring.
Risk based transaction monitoring.
Threshold violation analysis.
Statistical and behavioral analysis.
Link analysis to uncover hidden links.
ML pattern recognition.
Comprehensive Case Management.
Trend analysis.
Neural Network based self learning.
Past alert history and Audit trail.
Regulatory, MIS and adhoc reporting.
Modular, Flexible and Scalable architecture.
 
 
=== Sources ===
http://www.tcs.com/Banking/products/anti_money_laundring.aspx
 
 
[[User:59.160.137.4|59.160.137.4]] 03:45, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
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[[User:24.136.147.70|24.136.147.70]] 03:59, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Sonnet 71]] ==
 
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Sonnet 60
 
by William Shakespeare
 
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
 
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
 
Give warning to the world that I am fled
 
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
 
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
 
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
 
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
 
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
 
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
 
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
 
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
 
But let your love even with my life decay,
 
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
 
And mock you with me after I am gone.
 
=== Sources ===
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A book called Shakespeare's sonnets.
 
 
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[[User:172.215.3.121|172.215.3.121]] 04:31, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
* Declined. Wikisource would be more appropriate for just the text of a Shakespeare sonnet, to be included in Wikipedia, literary criticism would also have to be included. Thank you for your submission. --[[User:LynnMarie|LynnMarie]] 19:58, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[DeViouS]] ==
 
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DeViouS is a bengali hip hop and rap group. The members include Daszle, Nemz, Saijn, Shyne and Abbyz. They not only do bengali but also hindi and english.
=== Sources ===
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[http://www.dvs-crew.net] Official Site
[http://www.betarecords.com/devious] Beta Records
[http://www.myspace.com/deviousrecordz] Myspace
 
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[[User:24.184.164.19|24.184.164.19]] 04:32, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Matthew Kozlowski ==
 
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[[User:203.213.43.170|203.213.43.170]] 04:32, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Sonnet 71]] ==
 
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Sonnet 71
 
by William Shakespeare
 
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
 
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
 
Give warning to the world that I am fled
 
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
 
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
 
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
 
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
 
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
 
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
 
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
 
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
 
But let your love even with my life decay,
 
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
 
And mock you with me after I am gone.
 
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
A book called Shakespeare's sonnets.
 
 
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[[User:172.215.3.121|172.215.3.121]] 04:32, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Kafarakab, Lebanon ==
 
Kafarakab (prounounced "Kfara-ab" in Arabic) is the franco-phone spelling of the name of a scenic village in the mountains of Lebanon. The village is of particular significance because it is one of the various historic points of origin of of the well known Maalouf family. This family history is traced back to the very beginnings of Christianity in the Middle East begining with the Ghassani tribe, which converted to Christianity nearly 2000 years ago. The family name is now wide-spread worldwide. Family lineages are detailed and well preserved, and conferences and a sense of family pride still preserve traditions, reunions, and culture. The preservation effort has the intent of documenting every known person bearing the Maalouf name.
 
Aside from this notoriety, the village is quaint and picturesque. It is of no great size, consisting of only a handful of old homes built on terraced mountainsides lined with grape vineyards and many varieties of fruit trees. The breathtaking view is perhaps the most impressive aspect of this red terra cotta rooftop cluster - including a view of the snow capped Lebanon mountains to the east, and the Mediterranean sea and the city of Beirut to the west. The village sits at about 4,000 ft, and is truly one of the small places from which a great diaspora has influenced the world. There are Kafarakab Maaloufs are all over the world in many distinguished professions. Wikipedia already includes an article about Nasim Maalouf, who is known for his great accomplishments in trumpet music repetoire in Paris, France. I too am a Maalouf, and this Wikipedia article is only my third internet publication. Please add to this reference, as I plan to link family conference websites, migration information, geneology, and modern day Maalouf celebreties and success stories.
 
Gabriel Maalouf (Houston, TX)
 
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[[User:68.90.246.165|68.90.246.165]] 04:34, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Matthew Kozlowski ==
 
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Matthew Kozlowski is famous for the incomparable attractiveness
of his sister, Christina, his mother Serena, and finally, the diamond in the rough, his grandmother, Franchesca.
=== Sources ===
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www.sportsillustrated.com
 
 
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[[User:220.245.178.139|220.245.178.139]] 04:37, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Rich Comeau ==
 
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'''Early Life'''
Rich Comeau was born Richard Matthew Comeau on December 25, 1982 in Burlingame, California to Richard Albert Comeau, a high tech salesman, and Sigi Gebert Comeau. Rich soon after moved to Los Gatos, California where he attended local public schools.
 
'''Education'''
Rich graduated from Los Gatos High School in 2001. In high school, Rich enjoyed a prolific swimming career and was what many Los Gatans would call "chobber". After spending one semester at Arizona State University, Rich transferred to Santa Barbara City College. Not sure of what to study, Rich dabbled in Biological Engineering, Biology, Chemistry, Aviation, Business, eventually settling on Global Studies. Rich also took an extensive course on massage therapy, completing many hours of training before stopping just short of certification. Rich plans to work at a bank for a short period of time before attending the MBA program at California State University, San Jose.
 
'''Future Plans'''
After receiving his MBA, Rich hopes to embark on a one year sojourn to Southeast Asia, teaching English in South Korea and possibly China.
 
'''Fun Facts'''
Rich is approximately six feet tall and enjoys swimming and hiking. Rich does not like unnatural light and abhors obesity. Rich cannot live outside of coastal California. It simply is not a possibility. Rich also enjoys surfing and beach culture in general. Rich's father, Richard, also likes surfing in the Northern California city of Santa Cruz, an activity he frequently enjoys doing with his son. Rich currently lives in Santa Barbara with his ex-girlfriend and a reclusive couple from Yuba City. Although he often denies it, Rich is also Gay
 
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Rich's swimming statistics: http://www.svcn.com/archives/lgwt/05.03.00/swimming-0018.html
 
 
 
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[[User:66.92.9.53|66.92.9.53]] 04:40, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
*'''Declined'''. This suggestion does not assert the importance or significance of the subject. See the [[WP:SPEEDY#A7|speedy deletion criteria A7]] and/or [[WP:BIO|guidelines on biographies]]. Please provide more information on why the person or group is worthy of inclusion in an encyclopedia. Thank you. [[User:Seidenstud|Seidenstud]] 05:12, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
 
 
 
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I75 is a major interstate running up the west coast of florida into georgia
 
 
 
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[[User:67.8.87.203|67.8.87.203]] 04:55, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
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Kwikset is America’s #1 selling lockset. We manufacture and market a complete line of door hardware, including handlesets, knobs, levers, deadbolts, and pocket door hardware for residential and light commercial applications. For sixty years, millions of families have relied on Kwikset for security and peace of mind.
 
Door hardware is often the first thing that visitors touch and feel when entering your house and can set the tone for the rest of your home. With Kwikset, you don’t have to sacrifice style for security. Express who you are by finding the right door hardware style and finish to complement your home.
 
Kwikset offers three levels of security, style and price point with these brands.
 
Kwikset UltraMax Signatures®
 
The Ultimate in Strength and Style™
Premium Security Features
Elegant Accents and Refinements
Kwikset Maximum Security®
 
Maximum Security at Maximum Value™
Powerful Security Features
Most Popular Designs
Kwikset Security®
 
America’s Number One Selling Lockset™
Trusted Security Features
Most Recognized Styles
Fact is, there’s hardly a door made that Kwikset can’t make more attractive or more secure. No wonder more people trust their doors, inside and out, to the strength and beauty of Kwikset. Look for Kwikset products at home improvement retailers, door hardware distributors and quality home builders.
 
Kwikset is part of the Black & Decker Hardware and Home Improvement Group, headquartered in Lake Forest, California.
 
 
 
=== Sources ===
*[[http://www.kwikset.com/About/Company/default.aspx Homepage]]
 
 
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[[User:85.181.83.119|85.181.83.119]] 05:13, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
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Pierre is a Deer head with a eye patchthe pro wrestler Al Snow talked to had as a manager what his other manager Head, a mannequin head was out with a injury. pierre ment his demise when wrestle Hardcore Holly beat him agenst the ring post untill he fell to pices. he was honnored with a funeral survice, by Al snow, on a episode of Raw
 
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[[User:207.255.46.123|207.255.46.123]] 05:17, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Dwarf Spirals ==
 
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Any spiral galaxy that either orbits a larger galaxy or is small in size (disk and mass). Many dwarf spirals contain lots of dust and gas needed to create new, massive stars. They usually have a bluish-pink appearence due to the HII star forming nebulas and clusters of hot, young, massive, blue stars. Some dwarf spirals contain only one arm.--
 
 
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www.daviddarling.info/index.htm
 
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[[User:204.16.82.187|204.16.82.187]] 05:57, 27 June 2006 (UTC)'''Jordan Martirossian'''
 
== [[Nexus Entertainment]] ==
 
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Nexus Entertainment, LLC. is a video game developer which is working on the creation of several titles across many genres. The current project is the massively multiplayer online (MMO) game 'Paradigm Shift'.
 
Other titles being worked on are NexusRising, HardPoint, Flux, Awakener, Dreamscape, Ascension, and Enclave: Urban Conflict.
 
Nexus Entertainment is based in Huntington Beach, California and is run by President and CEO Mark W. Warner.
 
The company's website is www.NexusEnt.com
 
=== Sources ===
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http://www.nexusent.com
http://www.gamasutra.com/features/20050425/hong_01.shtml
http://www.igf.com/judges.html
 
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[[User:172.191.28.128|172.191.28.128]] 06:04, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
#REDIRECT [[Eutheism and dystheism]]
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[[User:211.31.27.77|211.31.27.77]] 06:15, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
= Grey Poo Poun =
 
==What Is Grey Poo Poun?==
 
Grey poo poun is a novelty item/ term created in the late 20th centurary, where one would ask another if they had any "Grey Poo Poun". Grey Poo Poun was first used in a film named "Wayne's World" where the main character "Wayne Campbell" wound down the window of best friend "Garth Algar's" "Mirth Mobile" (his car) and asked a snoby looking man ''Italic text''"Do you have any Grey Poo Poun".
 
 
==Where Can I Get My Hands On Some Grey Poo Poun?==
 
A simple answer is that you can't.
 
==Is There Anything Else I Need to Know About Grey Poo Poun?==
 
no.
 
== [[Kagura Kagurina]] ==
 
--[[User:69.229.63.105|69.229.63.105]] 07:13, 27 June 2006 (UTC)Phatima Cabaski<!-- IMPORTANT! In the box above labeled "subject/headline", put the name of your proposed article. Place [[ and ]] around it, [[like this]]. -->
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[[Kagura Kagurina]] of [[Salamanca, Spain]], [[November 15,1990]]. Daughter of Kea Kasona and Kohl Kagurina.
Died on [[June 6,2006]]
Kagura was an extraordinary child with two known talents of; [[telekinesis]] and [[psychic]]. Kea did not like this fact at all, to her this was an embarrassment. At the age of 5 Kagura and CyC traveled to the USA, where in a private school she met her best friend Daniel Miguel. There was when her talents were discovered as well. She was blest for three months only. On [[July 18,1995]] Kea put Kagura in a mental hospital in [[Jakarata, Indonesia]](this was also her death place). In this prison was where Kagura was burnt and electrocuted by her sick nurse (not named for security reasons). Though she never lost her beauty, the only known solution for this is that every night at 6 p.m. there will be a wolf's howl and then the next day she was cured of all damages taken. On [[September 16,2000]] CyC tried to break Kagura out, this was not a success, this was tried 6 times. On the last trial her telekinesis fell out of her hands. For 14 years Kagura suffered and was rejected by her mother, which she only visited her once. There was this one time when Rev. Jocusco tried to commit an [[exorcism]] on her. Kagura's brain unbalanced and she caused a small hurricane there. The room was demolished and this was when Kea went to pay all damages, and just that. On [[June 5,2006]] Kagura contacted Daniel and was able to talk to him for the last time. The next day at 6 p.m. she died. On [[June 15, 2006]] CyC found a letter in Kagura's room, lot 6 number 6 , the letter she found was from Kagura. The letter went like this;
"Dear Diary,
Now that my end is near I want to write about what I have just seen in the near future. "I open my eyes, find myself swimming desperately up to the surface. I am able to reach the shore, this handsome boy named Kris grabs my hand to help me out. There he leads me to his house where I am handed a room. Then I see myself misusing my telekinesis and psychic abilities. I also see myself kill at least 4 innocent people and worst 1 beautiful little baby. After that horrible scene I see myself laying on the floor with a bullet through my heart and on my way to hell. Then that all changes and I'm in front of [[God]] Saying "If I am to become that horrible monster, I do not wish to live up to that point." I begin to cry my eyes out. There I here this majestic voice say "You will pass through the fist part put I will stop the second part, so go in piece." I then see a vision in my vision. CyC is in my room, reading my letter. She begins to cry madly, I dont understand. But now I know why. I saw CyC dying on [[June 19,2006]] and I see her traveling down to hell. "Cyc this is a problem that can in fact be solved, you know what to do. So do it, I insist you to." Finally I see my mother, father and the rest of my family dying rapidly. This, I do not like. For the closing of my letter I would like to thank God. I could not be mad at him like some would have. I know that I wasn't assigned the easiest of tasks, but i am glad I was at least able to see the wonders this life brings, not only that but also the suffering it brings with it. God I am grateful for all you gave me, and mother, you will always stay in my heart, I love you. I could not leave without telling you that i forgive and always will love you, for eternity. If God forgives and loves, to those that don't, then why should I private myself to that same act. I know it's hard to do this, especially to someone that has done you lots of damage but I strongly recommend for people to follow this example. Now I will die in peace, I will miss the people I love, don't cry and suffer for my death. Good bye, I know I will see you soon."
Kagura never reached a hospital, she literally died in the streets. The most horrible thing about her death is that her own mother did not make her a funeral. All she did was put her in a titanium container and throw it in the ocean. In addition;
CyC Duarte [[March 16,1991-June 19,2006]] her death place was the USA.
 
=== Sources ===
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www.worldsecrets.com
 
 
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[[User:69.229.63.105|69.229.63.105]] 07:13, 27 June 2006 (UTC)Phatima Cabaski
 
== [[gomme syrup]] ==
 
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Gomme syrup also known as sugar syrup is an ingredient commonly used in cocktails. Gomme syrup is comprised of a sugar and water mixture. Gomme syrup is made with the highest percentage of sugar to water possible before crystalization. To make gomme syrup just add sugar to boiling water until the water is fully saturated with sugar (no more sugar will dissolve at this point) Simple sugar is made the same way although a 50% sugar to 50% water mix is used.
 
=== Sources ===
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The cocktail handbook/maria costantino/barnes&noble books/new york/2001/isbn#0760739749
 
 
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[[User:69.181.222.9|69.181.222.9]] 07:42, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[suavitel]] ==
 
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Suavitel is a product by colgate palmolive whereby it reduces static cling in the fabric and leaves a refreshingly nice fresh scent. It is a fabric softener and makes ironing easier.
 
it is not meant for use on children's sleepwear as it can reduce flame resistance.
 
 
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http://www.colgate.com/app/Suavitel/US/EN/Dryer/FieldFlower.cvsp
 
 
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[[User:203.197.52.161|203.197.52.161]] 08:22, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
Aishwarya Ramesh
 
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[[User:194.8.54.250|194.8.54.250]] 08:30, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
A hero!!!!!!!!!
 
== [[Raw Deluxe]] ==
 
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Origin San Francisco, California, United States
Years active late 1990s–present
Genre(s) Jazz, Funk, Hip-Hop
Label(s) Reel Deal Music
Members
Chris Arenas
Chris Spano
Matt Fleming
Tony Jurado
Lexxx Luthor
Mic Blake
CB
 
The band formed in 1998, when bassist, Chris Arenas, and drummer, Chris Spano, began performing with keyboardist, Matt Fleming. The trio enlisted Dj M3, the well-noted San Francisco house/hip-hop DJ (who now heads the SF-based record label Green Gorilla Lounge), and a host of Bay Area horn players. Throughout the late nineties, the group infiltrated the Bay Area's acid-jazz and hip-hop circuits, performing at parties such as Toph One’s, "The Funkside," and Mr. Brown’s, "Elephunk" and "Double Trouble". Raw Deluxe soon made their first trip to Europe, performing throughout the Eastern part of the continent during the summer of 1999.
 
In 2000, Raw Deluxe was voted "Best Jazz Band" by the San Francisco Bay Guardian’s, "Best of the Bay". The band was also nominated for 2001 Best Music Act, on citysearch.com, along side artists such as Green Day, Boz Scaggs, and Vinyl, where they were noted as “One of the best original acts currently in the Bay Area." The group was then nominated for the 2002 SF Weekly Music Awards, "Best Soul / Blues / Funk" category.
 
In July 2001, the group released the critically acclaimed EP, "Back to the Jungle," with the Reel Deal Music label. XLR8R magazine noted the CD as "Killer jazz-funk from this San Francisco outfit, complete with horns, wailing keys and tight rhythm. They've been quietly winning loyal fans for the past few years, and with these six original tracks it's easy to see why. Check 'em out." The single "Get Some" was also featured on the Subkoncious Records compilation, Elephunk / Live-N-Direct that year as well.
 
In October 2005, the band released their follow up album "Back By Popular Demand". During the course of the recording the band enlisted guest MC's Lexxx Luthor, CB, and Mic Blake of the seminal jazz/hip-hop group Alphbet Soup. By the release of the album the MC's became offical members of Raw Deluxe due to Alphabet Soup's saxophonist Kenny Brooks and drummer Jay Lane's busy touring schedule with Grateful Dead guitarist/singer Bob Weir's band Rat Dog.
 
Today band is comprised of Chris Spano - drums, Chris Arenas - bass, Matt Fleming - electric piano/organ, Tony Jurado - saxophone and features MC's Lexxx Luthor, Mic Blake and CB of Alphabet Soup. The group continues to perform regularly and has come from it's underground status to playing both nationaly and internationally with acts such as Digital Underground, Olu Dara, and The Breakestra.
 
Members of Raw Deluxe are also featured in other side projects. Bassist Chris Arenas started the band New Libation Orchestra featuring Jeff Raines and Ben Ellman of the New Orleans funk band Galactic. He also performs with the legendary New Orleans guitarist Ernie Vincent, leader of the legendary 1970's funk band Ernie and the Top Notes. MC Mic Blake has another hip-hop group called Bop City Pacific based out of Oakland, CA.
 
Discography
 
 
Back to the Jungle - Reel Deal Music (2001)
Elephunk - Live & Direct (various) - Subkoncious Records (2001)
Back By Popular Demand - Reel Deal Music (2005)
 
 
External links
 
http://www.rawdeluxemusic.com
Official web site
 
Categories: American musical groups | Funk musical groups | Hip-Hop music groups | Jam bands
 
=== Sources ===
 
Oct. 16th, 2002 - SF Weekly
Music Awards 2002 Nominated for the Soul / Blues / Funk Catagory
 
Oct. 1st 2001 -XLR8R magazine
 
Sept. 1st, 2001 CitySearch.com
Music, Bars, and Nightlife
Best Local Music Act 2001
 
July 26-Aug. 1, 2000 - The San Francisco Bay Guardian "Best of the Bay"
Voted Best Local Jazz Band
 
Raw Deluxe biography
http://www.rawdeluxemusic.com
 
New Libation Orchestra - Where Y'at Magazine Aug 05
http://www.whereyat.net/index.php/333
 
New Libation Orchestra - Gambit Weekly
http://www.bestofneworleans.com/dispatch/2005-08-02/ae_feat.php
 
 
 
<!--Do not edit the four tildes (~~~~) below this line. That is your signature -->
[[User:Kungfuchris|Kungfuchris]] 08:56, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Fabio Duó]] ==
 
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Wirtschaftsinformatiker.<br>
Lebt und feiert in Zürich am Idaplatz.<br>
Geboren am 23.09.1981<br>
CH/IT<br>
 
<br>Mehr folgt noch.
 
 
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
 
 
 
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[[User:195.49.85.164|195.49.85.164]] 09:06, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Angry Dwarfs]] ==
 
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onceth uponeth a timeth there waseth aneth angryeth dwarfethetheth, thateth flatulatedeth oneth a taco, noteth ineth, but oneth (full stopeth)
 
Aseth I watchedeth the littleth minny me-eth let fluffy off the chaineth, my face scrunchedeth uppeth liketh a puggeth (full stopeth)
 
This is the endeth my friendeths NOW I'VE GOT 2 WORDS FOR YA......
 
Le fineth
 
Translation
Dwarfeth To English
(Once upon a time there was an angry dwarf, that flatulated on a taco, not in, but on.
 
As I watched the little minnie-me let fluffy off the chain, my face scrunched up like a pug.
 
this is the end, my friends, NOW I'VE GOT 2 WORDS FOR YA......
 
Le Fin
 
Translation from French to English
 
(The End)
 
The moral of the story
 
Person 1: my dog has no nose
person 2: how does it smell?
person 1: very bad!
 
Angry dwarfs that wrestle
 
Hank the Angry Drunken Dwarf
 
Clobberus
 
Fartacus In Womens Clothes
 
Big Pudd With Pork
 
Oompa-Loompa #5
 
The Undefeated Midget-Man
 
"The Ladies Man" One Eyed Pete
 
"Stumpy Leg" The One Legged Swedish Dwarf
 
"The Immovable Object" Super Fatty
 
Santas Little Belcher
 
Info submitted by:
James "the jimboob and local torquay legend" Lay
 
Harry "The Flatulent and local torquay legend" Lay
 
Ryan "funny man and local torquay legend" Clover
 
And last but always least....
 
Random "king of no pants" Ronny-John
 
 
Thank you for reading this odd bit of gibberash that a bunch of fools made up because they were bored. In other words HA HA WE WASTED 5 MINS OF YOUR LIFE!!! (please don't delete this!!! Let US have our fun!!)
 
TOOCHEY
HARRY, RYAN and JAMES.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
 
An angry dwarf army rolled over to me and farted in my taco. So I got angry and slapped him. After I slapped him I analysed the taco (in which had been farted on recently), and then that gave me proof that dwarfs are angry and gas-filled.
 
Books
Angry Dwarfs That Wrestle
By James Lay And Ryan Clover
 
Internet Sites:
This One
Angrydwarf.com
 
<!--Do not edit the four tildes (~~~~) below this line. That is your signature --> Larjus Fartus
[[User:203.214.108.48|203.214.108.48]] 09:19, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
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In the sixteen hundreds coffeehouses were popular meeting places for people of leisure. Many rich and famous people met in coffeehouses to discuss recent events, as it was around this time that the first British newspaper was produced so there was plenty to talk about. Coffeehouses were also sometimes used by businessmen and merchants for meeting clients and closing deals. It was also around this time that the new drink chocolate had been brought over from Southern America, before that the few remaining Aztecs living in Mexico had been making the drink out of the crushed cacao beans and peppers but had recently been brought to England by the Spanish. Another two popular drinks in coffeehouses were sherbet; a sour fruit drink and cock ale; a cheap ale that sometimes had pieces of chicken in it. In 1652 the first coffee house opened in London by a Jewish Turk. The only women allowed in coffee houses were maids and cleaners, only men were allowed to relax there, it was a law, many petitions were set up to allow women in coffee shops but all failed until around sixteen seventy five when there was over three thousand coffeehouses across England so many of them allowed women the law was abolished. Inside coffeehouses men gambled, met up, looked at paintings and traded as well as drinking coffee. Coffee was originally only available in Turkey until after the war of Vienna the coffee stolen from the defeated Turks was spread slowly across the world.
 
=== Sources ===
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[[User:82.110.222.96|82.110.222.96]] 09:28, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Toby Essery ==
 
Toby Essery is very cool. He can't skate haha. but he likes to try anyway. He is happy most of the time & on ocations he may poo himself.
 
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<!-- Place the initial content of your article below this line. USE YOUR OWN WORDS; do not copy content from another website. -->Sam from Elk Grove has had sex with two people, he is a dirty ho, he is not a virgin.
 
 
=== Sources ===
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[[User:24.23.41.93|24.23.41.93]] 09:42, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Usman Qayyum ==
 
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Usman Qayyum is a student of MS (Computer Software Engineering) at College of Electrical and Mechanical Engineering (NUST) on the scholarship basis from an R&D organization of Pakistan. He is going to get Gold Medal, due to his academic performance in MS. He received his B.E. Computer Software Engineering in October 2004 and was declared Silver medalist. He got 2nd position in all Pakistan Software Competition at 25th September 2003. His current research interests are biometrics, pattern recognition and Computer vision. He has high-quality projects under his credit i.e. Hand geometry recognition, Lane transition detection, road curve prediction, image processing toolkit, Content base image retrieval and Vehicle tracking.
PUBLICATIONS
 
1.Usman, Q. and Javed, M.Y., “Lane Change Detection using Fusion of IPM and SVM”, Proceedings of the 8th IASTED International Conference on Intelligent systems and control, October 31 to November 02, 2005, Cambridge, MA,USA, pp. 126-131
 
2.Usman, Q. and Javed, M.Y., “Vehicle Tracking using Sub-holistic based Wavelet Technique”, 3rd international Workshop on Frontier of Information Technology (IEEE Islamabad section), 28-29 December, 2005, Islamabad, Pakistan.
 
 
3.Javed, M.Y and. Usman, Q., “Mean Based Linear Classifier For Lane Transition Detection”, 10th WSEAS International Conference on COMPUTER, WSEAS Transaction on COMPUTER (Journal), 13 July, Athens, Greece(Accepted)
 
4.Usman, Q. and Javed, M.Y., “Notch based Face Detection, Tracking and Facial Feature Localization”. 10th WSEAS International Conference on COMPUTER, WSEAS Transaction on COMPUTER (Journal), 13 July, Athens, Greece(Accepted)
 
 
=== Sources ===
<!-- Give at least one PUBLISHED source for the information, like a reputable website or book. Other editors must be able to check it, so "personal knowledge" is not enough. -->
 
www.profiles.com/mrusmanqayyum
www.msnspace.com/mrusmanqayyum
 
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[[User:202.83.163.22|202.83.163.22]] 09:55, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Bulletin of the Odessa Numismatics Museum ==
 
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Results of Odessa Numismatics Museum's scientific-research activity have been embodied in a regular periodical – “Bulletin of the Odessa Numismatic Museum”. The Bulletin’s issues include materials concerning publication of unique and rare coins of ancient cities of the Northern Black Sea Region , analysis of the coins’ features (typology, semantics of images, chronology, weight data, metallic formulation) synthesized with historical events, economy and worldview of the past times. Such publications introduce into research practice previously unknown findings and enrich the Corpus of coins of our Region . The Odessa Numismatic Museum’s research practice continues almost bicentennial traditions of renowned Odessa researchers-numismatists and contributes its share to the scientific investigation of the Northern Black Sea Coast history.
In 2004 were published "Collected Articles of Numismatics of the Northern Black Sea Region". There're included 19 ussues of "Bulletin of the Odessa Numismatics Museum" as result of Museum's scientific-research activity for five years. Necessity of this edition has been caused by two reasons: constantly growing interest to ancient numismatics of Northern Black Sea Region both in Ukraine and abroad and also that's why all issues of "Bulletin" were carried out as not commercial issues in small circulations and today became rare books. In tables there're resulted images of 363 coins, among them there're many rare and unique specimens.
 
== External link ==
*[http://www.museum.com.ua/en/nauch_isled/vestn.htm Issues of Bulletin]
*[http://www.museum.com.ua/en/nauch_isled/stat.html Collected Numismatics Articles]
 
 
=== Sources ===
*[http://www.museum.com.ua/en/nauch_isled/nauchn_isl.htm Publications of Odessa Numismatics Museum]
 
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[[User:195.138.74.147|195.138.74.147]] 10:13, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== C Team ==
 
The C Team is a team that origionates from Shropshire, UK. The are the third choice 6th form football team at Thomas Telford School. Even though their matches arent always greeted at the final whitsle by cheers, their players still continue to turn up every Friday evening and train and even play matches. Their most famous victory came at the end of the 2005/06 season with a 5 - 3 demolition of the TTS Staff.
 
For a more indepth look into the C Teams 2005/06 season with player profiles of that season visit the [http://www.freewebs.com/cteam0506/index.htm Official Website]
 
In September the C Team will reform for what will be the last season for the current players as they will all be leaving in June/July. The team is as follows:
 
Mike Brewerton: Midfielder
 
Dan Byles: Defender
 
Nick Cook: Defender
 
Mike Goodall: Striker
 
Ben Jones: Midfieder
 
Stewart Murray: Striker
 
Nick Nicholson: Defender
 
Dan Podmore: Goalkeeper
 
Adam Rathbone: Defender
 
Sam Rogers: Midfielder
 
Nick Turner: Defender
 
Joe Wakely: Striker
 
Stefan Watts: Midfielder
 
Names are subject to change.
 
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=== Sources ===
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[[User:24.91.86.71|24.91.86.71]] 10:19, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
Willie and The Wet Sneakers
 
Willy and the wet sneakers was a psychedellic group in the early to late 70's known for their hits such as "Cardboard Jelly" and "Oh Baby". The band originated in massachusetts,usa. Frontman Bob Turini is often regarded as the greatest rhythm guitar/lead singer ever to live. Starting in 1970 the band took little time in findind their audience and record label for that matter. They were soon inked to one of the largest record deals of their era. A fallout almost occured in 72' that would eventually happen in 1980 when Bobs Girlfriend (Julie) claimed that the guitarist hit on her. Bob disregarded it and then The band performed before crowds as large as 200,000. Lead guitar was Willy Sneaks. After a show in San Francisco, Bob destroyed a hotel room and broke the servants jaw. Bob Ended up in prison for the night and while in prison he wrote the famous album "Sneakers of all sizes and colors". This then went on to be one of the best guitar driven albums ever.
 
== [[International Permafrost Association]] ==
 
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The [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/ International Permafrost Association (IPA)], founded in 1983, has as its objectives to foster the dissemination of knowledge concerning [[permafrost]] and to promote cooperation among persons and national or international organisations engaged in scientific investigation and engineering work related to permafrost and seasonally frozen ground. The IPA became an Affiliated Organisation of the [http://www.iugs.org/ International Union of Geological Sciences (IUGS)] in July 1989.
 
 
[[Permafrost]] or perennially frozen ground is defined as earth material that remains at or below 0° C for at least two consecutive years. As such upwards of 25 % of Planet Earth is underlain to some degree by permafrost and in extreme conditions reaches depths of 1500 meters. Permafrost occurs in the high latitudes and mountains and plateaus of both hemispheres. Its spatial distribution in the Northern Hemisphere is illustrated on this map [http://nsidc.org/fgdc/maps/ipa_browse.html].
 
 
 
== Objectives ==
 
 
The Association’s primary responsibilities are to convene International Permafrost Conferences, undertake special projects such as preparing databases, maps, bibliographies, and glossaries, and coordinate international field programmes and networks. International conferences were held at: West Lafayette, Indiana, U.S.A. (1963); Yakutsk, Siberia (1973); Edmonton, Canada (1978); Fairbanks, Alaska (1983); Trondheim, Norway (1988); Beijing, China (1993); Yellowknife, Canada (1998); and Zurich, Switzerland (2003: [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/ICOP2003.htm ICOP 2003]). The [http://www.nicop.org/ Ninth International Conference on Permafrost (NICOP)] will be in[http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/University_of_Alaska_Fairbanks Fairbanks], Alaska, June 29-July 3, 2008. Field excursions are an integral part of each Conference, and are organised by the host country. Regional conferences are organised between the main conferences (in Europe, Russia, China).
 
 
 
== Organization and Structure ==
 
 
Membership is through adhering national or multinational organisations or as Associate Members in countries where no Adhering Body exists. The IPA is governed by an Executive Committee and a Council consisting of representatives from 26 Adhering Bodies and Associate Members having interests in some aspect of theoretical, basic and applied frozen ground research, including [[permafrost]], [[periglacial]] phenomena, seasonal frost, and artificial ground freezing. Members are: Argentina, Austria, Belgium, Canada, China, Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, Iceland, Italy, Japan, Kazakhstan, Mongolia, The Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Russia, South Africa, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, United Kingdom, United States of America. News from the IPA members are posted on the IPA webpage [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20News%20Members.htm].
 
 
The officers of the six-member Executive Committee (2003-2008) are:
 
:President: Dr. Jerry Brown (U.S.A.)
 
:Vice Presidents: Professor Charles Harris (U.K.) and Dr. Georgy Z. Perlshtein (Russia)
 
:Members: Dr. Hans-W. Hubberten (Germany), Mr. Don W. Hayley (Canada), and Professor Zhu Yuanlin (China)
 
 
The IPA Constitution provides for three categories of Working Group Parties: standing committees (long-term), working groups (5-10 years) and task forces (2-3 years) that organise and coordinate research activities and special projects. The first category includes a Standing Committee for Data, Information and Communication and an International Advisory Committee for the International Permafrost Conferences. There are ten Working Groups, each with two co-chairs and some with subgroups. These are:
 
:• Antarctic Permafrost and Periglacial Environments
 
:• Coastal and Offshore Permafrost (see: [http://www.awi-potsdam.de/acd/ Arctic Coastal Dynamics] webpage)
 
:• Cryosol (see: [http://igras.geonet.ru/cwg/])
 
:• Glacier and Permafrost Hazards in High Mountains (see: [http://www.geo.unizh.ch/gaphaz/ GAPHAZ] webpage)
 
:• Isotopes and Geochemistry of Permafrost (see: [http://www.awi-potsdam.de/www-pot/geo/isochem-wg.html])
 
:• Mapping and Modelling of Mountain Permafrost
 
:• Periglacial Landforms, Processes, and Climate
 
:• Permafrost and Climate
 
:• Permafrost Astrobiology
 
:• Permafrost Engineering
 
Details of the Working Parties goals and activities are found on the IPA website [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20News%20WorkingParties.htm].
 
 
The International Secretariat is based at the [http://www.unis.no/ University Centre in Svalbard (UNIS)] under the direction of Dr. Hanne H. Christiansen (Norway). Starting in 2005, the IPA Secretariat in [http://www.unis.no/ UNIS] is receiving support from the [http://www.forskningsradet.no/ Norwegian Research Council] to provide administrative support for IPA activities including preparation and distribution of [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20FrozenGround.htm ''Frozen Ground'']. Annual membership contributions are used for producing and distributing [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20FrozenGround.htm ''Frozen Ground''], and support of Working Parties and committee activities and representations at international meetings.
 
 
 
== Publication and Information ==
 
 
Proceedings of peer-reviewed papers are produced for each International Permafrost Conference by the host country, as are field trip guidebooks. A list of publications is found on the IPA website [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20Publications.htm]. The News Bulletin [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20FrozenGround.htm ''Frozen Ground''] is published annually and has a distribution of over 2500. Current and back issues are posted online [http://www.geo.uio.no/IPA/IPA%20Publications.htm].
 
The [http://nsidc.org/data/ggd318.html Circum-Arctic Map of Permafrost and Ground-Ice Conditions] at a scale of 1:10,000,000 was prepared by an international team and published in the Circ
 
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=== Sources ===
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[[User:213.40.67.66|213.40.67.66]] 15:40, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
My guide is so easy, even a caveman can do it! Use it to convert from almost any format (AVI, MPEG, VOB/DVD, etc) into crystal clear DVD-quality video for iTunes and/or your iPod.
 
If you're going to rip DVDs into Videora, you first need to install DVD43, which de-protects any DVDs in your PC. Then, DVD Shrink is needed to combine the movie's VOB files into one, and lastly, Videora iPod Converter is needed to get the videos encoded properly for iTunes/iPods. If you're only converting downloaded videos, and not DVDs, you only need Videora iPod Converter, which I will from hereon refer to as just 'Videora'. Note that any videos created with this guide will only be playable in Quicktime 7, iTunes 6 or an iPod video.
 
Videora iPod Converter (freeware):
[Website/Download] http://www.videora.com/en-us/Converter/iPod/
 
DVD43 (freeware):
[Website/Download] http://www.dvd43.com/
 
DVD Shrink (freeware):
[Website] http://www.dvdshrink.org/
[Download] http://fileforum.betanews.com/sendfi...ink32setup.zip
 
Encoding downloaded videos with Videora is fairly easy and self explanatory. If you need explanation, start reading from Step 11 below, and instead of using VOBs and such, just use the videos you want on your iTunes/iPod.
 
Getting DVDs into Videora:
---You only need to perform the following four steps once---
1) Download and install DVD43 from the above link, and restart. Make sure it's running after your computer starts up again (it's a smiley face in the system tray).
2) Download and install DVD Shrink from the above link.
3) Open DVD Shrink, and go to Edit -> Preferences...
4) Go to the Output Files tab, and uncheck Split VOB files into 1GB size chunks. Click OK.
---Continue----
5) Click the Re-Author button on the top of the window.
6) Find your DVD drive in the DVD Browser list, and open it. Drag the Main Movie to the left half of the window.
7) Click on the Compression Settings tab in the right half, and then pick No Compression in the drop down menu for video compression (it says Automatic by default).
8) Only check the audio track you want encoded to your iPod/iTunes (probably the first one). None of the subtitles will be converted, so you can uncheck all of those, too.
9) Click the Backup! button on top. Wait patiently as DVD Shrink analyzes your movie.
10) In the Select backup target drop down, select Hard Disk Folder. In the next box, type wherever you want your DVD files saved. Press OK and wait while it does its stuff (may take up to 20 minutes). Once DVD Shrink is done, move on to the next step.
---Start here for encoding downloaded videos, or keep reading for DVDs----
11) Open Videora iPod Converter. Click Transcode New Video, and navigate to the folder you chose in DVD Shrink for backing up the movie. Open the VIDEO_TS folder. (If you're using downloaded videos and not a DVD, just find the video you want to encode, and ignore the VIDEO_TS and VTS stuff)
12) There should be a file called VTS_01_1 in the folder (if you're not using a DVD, just find your video right now). Select it and begin encoding with H264/320x240/640kbps Stereo/128kbps if the video is fullscreen, or see this image for widescreen. Make sure that if your movie is widescreen, you encode with my widescreen profile. The encoding process takes awhile to complete, and if your PC is slow, it might take as long as the actual video. Sometimes Videora will jump to 100% quickly, but this is a glitch, and it's not really finished until "Transcode Complete" appears.
13) Once the encoding is done, Videora will say "Transcode Complete" and the final video (to add to iTunes) will be saved into whatever folder is written in the 'Output files to' box in Videora, under Setup.
14) To get the videos on your iPod, right click the iPod in iTunes, go to iPod Options and then pick a transfer method under the Video tab. Automatic updating is recommended if you're using the iPod on one PC.
 
== Alpha Wave Movement Electronic/Ambient Musician ==
 
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<b>Alpha Wave Movement</b> is the primary music project for US based electronic musician Gregory Kyryluk. Alpha Wave Movement debuted in 1994 with a track on the then pioneering San Francisco, CA ambient label Silent Records. The music consists of the smooth ambience of Brian Eno and Steve Roach to the space/berlin school rhythms of John Serrie and classic Klaus Schluze.
Focus is on a strong melodies, structure and a sense of depth and emotion. Inspiration is also drawn on photography, science and the natural world.
<p>
Alpha Wave Movement has released numerous full length album on the Dutch Groove Unlimited label as well as the US label Harmonic Resonance Recordings(HRR). Other Alpha Wave Movement projects include the 2000 collaboration with harmionic vocalist Jim Cole of Spectral Voices.
<p>
Other accomplishments include a recent DVD "Terra" utlizing still and video footage of the New Zealand countryside as well as <b><i>Thought Guild</b></i> a collaborative project with fellow synthesist and analog synthesizer collector Christopher Cameron.
 
=== Sources ===
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<b><u>RELEASES</b></u>
<p>
Transcendence (1995/2006)<br>
The Edge of Infinity (1996)<br>
Concept of Motiion (1997)<br>
Drifted Into Deeper Lands (2000)<br>
Bislama (2000/2005)<br>
A Distant Signal (2001/2002)<br>
Cosmology (2002)<br>
Beyond Silence (2005)<br>
Terra DVD (2006)<br>
<p>
website: http://www.home.earthlink.net/~alphawav
 
 
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[[User:168.137.0.17|168.137.0.17]] 15:41, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Thought Guild Classic Synthesizer Music ==
 
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<b>Thought Guild</b> is the brainchild of US based electronic musicians Gregory Kyryluk (Alpha Wave Movement) and Christopher Cameron.
<p>
Thought Guild creates atmospheric synthesizer music using the tools vintage keyboards of yesteryear (i/e Moogs, ARP, Korg etc) together with todays modern digital synthesizers(Ensoniq/Kurzweil). The music is recorded spontaneously live direct to disk with almost no overdubs giving it a fresh and unpretentious feel. Thought Guild is only interested making fun and intelligent electronic music that ebbs and flows as it progress's.
<p>
Influences are classic period Kitaro, Vangelis, Tangerine Dream, Popul Vuh, Lyle Mays, Danna and Clement and Brian Eno.
=== Sources ===
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<B><U>RELEASES</B></U>
<P>
Context (2002)<br>
Continuum (2006)<br>
E-ditions Magazine #12 (2006)<br>
<p>
website: http://www.home.earthlink.net/~alphawav
 
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[[User:168.137.0.17|168.137.0.17]] 16:03, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Hal Brooks - Director]] ==
 
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Hal Brooks directed the acclaimed Off Broadway hit and Pulitzer Finalist Thom Pain (based on nothing) by Will Eno for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, Soho Theatre, London, and the DR2 in NYC. Other credits include Rinne Groff's WHAT THEN (Clubbed Thumb), Sharr White's SIX YEARS (Humana) and Nilaja Sun's NO CHILD (Epic Theatre Center) which opens at the Barrow Street Theater in July 2006. Formerly the Artistic Director of the Rude Mechanicals Theater Company of New York, he directed the Off Broadway premieres of Don DeLillo's Valparaiso and Will Eno's The Flu Season (Oppy winner). Recent credits: Intimate Apparel (Southern Rep), Benefactors (Pennsylvania Center Stage), Big Wyoming (NY Stage and Film). He has worked at NYTW, New Dramatists, Naked Angels, INTAR, Magic Theater, McCarter Theater, Berkeley Rep, American Conservatory Theater, Syracuse Stage, Southern Rep and the Virginia Stage Company. Other New York credits: Keith Reddin's Almost Blue, Beckett's Rough for Theatre #1, Caught (Don Quixote Project). Hal was a Drama League Fall Directing Fellow in 2003 and is a member of the Lincoln Center Theater Directors Lab and SSDC.
 
 
=== Sources ===
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http://clubbedthumb.org/people/whatthen.php
 
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[[User:71.255.55.154|71.255.55.154]] 16:14, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
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[[User:83.42.13.57|83.42.13.57]] 16:15, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[ Travel South Africa ]] ==
 
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Some handy Travel Recources to South Africa for anyone wanting to explore this wonderfull country
 
|[http://www.infosouthafrica.com/ South Africa Travel Directoty]|
 
|[http://www.allafricaventures.com/ South Africa Accommodation, Tours and Adventures]|
 
|[http://www.lynx-tours.com/ South Africa Tour Operator]|
[[User:196.38.239.99|196.38.239.99]] 16:55, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Ballyronan ==
 
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Ballyronan has a fine marina which is often the site of boat rallies organised by the various clubs and associations using Lough Neagh.
 
 
=== Sources ===
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http://www.cookstown.gov.uk/Leisure/BallyronanMarina.htm
 
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[[User:194.176.201.10|194.176.201.10]] 17:01, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Brianna Blaze]] ==
 
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'''Brianna Blaze''' is an american porn actress who appeared in more than 30 porn movies between the years 2003 and 2005.
 
She was born on October 11th of 1984 in the state of Ohio (United States of America). This beautiful woman debuted in porn at the age of 18 and began a vertiginous career. In fact, she filmed more than thirty quality porn movies in less than two years.
 
With beautiful blue eyes and a perfect body, her role during acting made her to win the "Magic Pussy" nickname at porn industry. Although she could film whatever porn scene she wants, decided to specialize her in cum swallowing scenes, signing movies as brilliant as No cum dodging allowed 2.
 
Nowadays Brianna is retired, after having been mother. No one knows if she will decide to return in the future, but meanwhile, she usually works as stripper near her born town.
 
==External links==
*[http://www.imdb.com/name/nm1518368/ Her filmography at IMDb]
*[http://www.freeones.com/html/b_links/Brianna_Blaze/ Many links to Brianna´s pictures and sample videos]
*[http://www.angelfire.com/poetry/bbfpscreensaver/ Fansite (under construction)]
 
 
=== Sources ===
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I only use the Wikipedia Spanish page of Brianna. What you have read is just a translation of what you could read at Spanish page. So my source is Wikipedia. If you are interested in this source, please visit http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brianna_Blaze
 
PD: In the Spanish version we could find a link to a picture of Brianna, but it is copyright material so...
 
 
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[[User:81.40.192.175|81.40.192.175]] 17:35, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== what is a rouf ==
 
rouf is a kashmiri dance form usually sung during weddings festivals and harvesting.It has its origin in central asia.In kashmir songs r sung to the accompanement of the naut tumbaknari and the sarangi.The song usually starts on a slow note but gathers momentum.
 
== Ilias Psinakis ==
 
Ilias psinakis is a famous greek-philippino star manager. Psinakis was famous greek singer [[sakis rouvas]]'s managing director for years.It is said that rouvas is a "total creation" of Ilias. Psinakis comes from a wealthy greek-philippino family. Psinakis was never the real businessman type so he turned to the music industry by promoting future male pop-stars. Psinakis sexual orientation is towards the gay side. It is rumored that Psinakis and Rouvas had a stormy relationship. Unfortunately their affair seems to have ended two years ago when rouvas (an another famous greek gay singer) flirted with a woman of chinese origin named rebecca wang. After rouvas rediscoreved his lost sexuality over women psinakis abandoned him and joined [[mega channel]]'s talent show "[[super idol]]" as a judge of the future music stars. After the huge success he enjoyed he moved to [[alpha tv]] to accompagny greek reality tv-giant [[Andreas Mikroutsikos]] as a judge to talent show "dream show". Psinakis is famous for his quotations which always include dirty language. Psinakis also presents reality tv - game "[[distraction]]". Nowadays Psinakis has a flirt with the promising young singer Martakis who participates in the "Dream Show". Famous Quotations include:
 
Ante re mouni...Ti den prepei? Pardon (Begone you pussy...It's not ok?Sorry)
 
Eisai megali kargiola (You are a big hooker)
 
Adressing to Rouvas commentating the award given to him : Einai san na to dineis stin filippineza sou (it's like being awarded to your maid lady)
 
Eimaste oles treles (We are all crazy girl)
 
Prepei na eimai kai poly aderfara (I must be a great faggot)
 
Ohh Lipothimo (Ohh I am passing out)
 
Telika i poustia sou ekane kalo (Finally being a faggot was good for you)
 
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<!-- Place the initial content of your article below this line. USE YOUR OWN WORDS; do not copy content from another website. --> Howesville is located on Route 26 approximately halfway between Kingwood and Tunnelton.
 
 
=== Sources ===
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[[User:168.216.241.107|168.216.241.107]] 18:30, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [Lyman School for Boys] ==
 
--[[User:208.224.220.188|208.224.220.188]] 18:31, 27 June 2006 (UTC)--[[User:208.224.220.188|208.224.220.188]] 18:31, 27 June 2006 (UTC)<!-- IMPORTANT! In the box above labeled "subject/headline", put the name of your proposed article. Place [[ and ]] around it, [[like this]]. -->
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The Lyman School for Boys was established by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts about 1886 and was closed in 1972. It was the first reform school, or training school in the country, replacing the State Reform School near the same site, which was opened in 1846. The school was named for its principle benefactor, Theodore Lyman who had been a mayor of Boston and one of the founders of the Waltham Watch and Clock Company.
 
Lyman School was situated near Lake Chauncey in the town of Westborough. It comprised about one thousand acres of which about five hundred were prime farmland, maintained by its students. The farm remained a principle means of support for the school until about 1955 when the agricultural nature of the region changed to a more industrial composition. At that time, training of the students was also changed to reflect these changes.
 
Students were sent to the Lyman School when the courts had determined that it would be in the public interest. Until about 1970, juveniles in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts were afforded none of the (now) commonly accepted Constitutional rights. Therefore, many boys were sent to this reform school for “crimes” such as truancy and being a stubborn child. In fact, the laws in the Commonwealth even allowed stubborn children to be put to death.
 
Students at the school were subjected to strict discipline. They were required to conform at all times to some strict rules that were enforced with corporal punishment. Students lived in so-called cottages. These were monstrous brick buildings that provided shelter for three to four hundred boys in each cottage. The top floor of each cottage comprised a dormitory and the lower floors, the living space.
 
Pictures and information about this school are currently being maintained by Dick Bolt in (http://freepages.history.rootsweb.com/~history/grafton/LymanSchool.html/). There are two authors known to have attended the Lyman School and lived to write about it. They are Mark D. Devlin, the author of ''Stubborn Child'', (http://www.blogofdeath.com/archives/001357.html), who recently died, and Richard B. Johnson, author of ''Abominable Firebug'', who writes considerable details about students’ daily activity at the school. His webpage is (http://www.AbominableFirebug.com/).
 
 
=== Sources ===
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''Abominable Firebug'' ISBN 0595-386-679
 
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[[User:208.224.220.188|208.224.220.188]] 18:31, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[A Little Bitter]] ==
 
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=== Sources ===
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www.alittlebitter.co.uk
 
 
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[[User:172.202.163.122|172.202.163.122]] 18:40, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== Matt Talor ==
 
Matt Talor is a student that did attend Lynn grove High School. He was recently beaten up By a Boy called Ashley ******(witheld for leagal reasons)
By Jordan Francs
 
== [[Donald Duane Whitehead II]] ==
 
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<!-- Place the initial content of your article below this line. USE YOUR OWN WORDS; do not copy content from another website. -->Whitehead was born in a small town of [[Odessa]], [[Texas]] in the year [[1986]].
 
 
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[[User:85.195.137.62|85.195.137.62]] 18:42, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
Nemesis
 
== [[Ultrajectine]] ==
 
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''Ultrajectine'' defines the tradition of a sect headquartered at the [[Dutch]] city of [[Utrecht]] following the schism of its [[Jansenist]]-oriented bishop, [[Peter Codde]], and who was excommunicated for his obduracy in [[1704]]. The [[Calvinist]] [[Dutch Republic]] had already before this become a [[refuge]] for the Jansenists of [[France]], even during the episcopate of [[De Neercassel]], Codde's immediate [[predecessor]], with entire groups of Jansenist-minded monks decamping en masse north across the border.
 
Utrecht was the former [[Roman]] city of [[Ultrajectum]], so named for its position opposite a ford on the [[Rhine]], thus ''ultra''-''jectum'', and ''Ultrajectine'' is the adjective form of the city's name.
 
After the [[First Vatican Council|Vatican Council]] of [[1869]] - [[1870]] formally defined [[Papal Infallibility]], dissidents under the leadership of the [[liberal]] [[Bavarian]] [[priest]] [[Johann Joseph Ignaz von D%C3%B6llinger|Dollinger]] seceded from the [[Catholic Church]] and styled themselves the ''[[Old Catholics]]''; this sect federated with the Ultrajectines and were provided their bishops by them.
 
The Ultrajectines and Old Catholics together form one community in practical fact, although the ecumenical ''[[Union of Utrecht]]'' or [[Ultrajectine Communion]] includes the [[Polish National Catholic Church]], the [[Lithuanian National Catholic Church]], the [[Mariavites]] and other sects, and maintains full intercommunion with the [[Anglican]] and [[Philippine Independent Church]] sects.
 
=== Sources ===
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* [http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08285a.htm Catholic Encyclopedia, 1910, ''Jansen & Jansenism'']
 
 
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[[User:61.246.204.115|61.246.204.115]] 18:47, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
Biography for
Johanna ter Steege, most international actress of the Netherlands
 
Mini biography
From 1979 to 1984 Johanna ter Steege studied at the academy of dramatic art in Kampen to become a drama teacher. Her initial desire to develop theatre for and with children prompted her to seek a career as an actress and a teacher. From 1984 to 1988 she attended the school of acting at Arnhem to become a stage actress. Considering acting "the language of the heart", one of the most important things she learned was that the personnel and creative development of an actor are closely knit. Her acting experience ranges from Shakespeare, Sophocles, Strindberg and Chekhov to improvisory clown acts.
 
At the academy, collaboration with fellow students resulted in the very successful theatre group "De Trust", directed by Boermans. In 1987 Johanna was asked for a role in the film Spoorloos (1988) (aka "The Vanishing"), directed by George Sluizer. This role met international acclaim, winning her the "Felix Award" (Best Supporting Actress) in Berlin.
 
Inevitably, her career shifted from the theatre to the cinema. For the past twelve years she has traveled all over the world, acting in different languages and working with renowned directors, such as Robert Altman (Vincent & Theo (1990)), István Szabó (Édes Emma, drága Böbe - vázlatok, aktok (1992), aka "Sweet Emma, Dear Bobe"), Heddy Honigmann (Tot ziens (1995) aka "Goodbye", for which she won Best Actress at the Locarno International Film Festival) and Bruce Beresford (Paradise Road (1997)).
 
Johanna has also worked with actors such as Glenn Close, Frances McDormand, Isabella Rossellini, Gary Oldman, Tim Roth and Klaus Maria Brandauer. In January 2001 ter Steege played Countess Geschwitz, in the play "Lulu", directed by Jonathan Kent, both in the Almeida theatre in London and in Washington.
 
Was cast as the lead character of Tania in Stanley Kubrick's "Aryan Papers," a Holocaust film based on the novel "Wartime Lies." The project was only weeks from production in Slovakia when Kubrick canceled it, not wanting it to come out after Schindler's List (1993) which had just been released. He had a similar experience with Full Metal Jacket (1987) which came out just after Platoon (1986).
 
2006: special honoured guest at Nederlands Filmfestival Utrecht
 
== [[Carol Gay]] ==
 
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Carol Gay is the Democratic Nominee for US Congress in New Jersey's 4th Congressional District. She faces Incumbent Christopher Smith in the November 2006 election.
 
Born in Alabama, Carol graduated with an AB in Sociology from Georgia College and State University and was named to Who's Who in American Colleges and Universities in 1970. She taught in Georgia, and came to New Jersey in 1972 as a social worker for the Camden County Board of Social Services. On her first day on the job, she joined her union, the Communications Workers of America, and has been a union leader ever since. From 1980 until her retirement in 2003, she served CWA as an organizer and International Representative, and was the first NJ Welfare Council member elected to serve on the CWA Public Workers National Bargaining Council.
 
Carol has been active in supporting human rights, women's rights, and workers' rights throughout her career. From the struggle against apartheid in South Africa to protecting democracy and human rights in El Salvador, she has always been in the front lines. The Executive Vice President of the New Jersey Industrial Union Council, she chairs New Jersey Labor Against the War and the Stop Wal-Mart NJ Coalition. She has been a board member of New Jersey Peace Action and President of Central New Jersey Coalition of Labor Union Women. She served as the coordinator of NJ Jobs With Justice.
 
Carol has been recognized for her leadership and commitment with awards from the New Jersey Industrial Union Council and New Jersey Peace Action, and was named Grand Marshall of the 2000 Labor Day Parade, sponsored by the Botto House/American Labor Museum. She has also received recognition for her grassroots activism and dedication to social and economic justice and human rights, including international labor rights, and was awarded an Honorary PhD in Civics from the Rutgers Tent Sate University in 2005.
 
Carol has been a resident of the 4th Congressional District for twenty years.She lives in Brick Township and is active in the Ocean Co Democracy for America, the Brick Democratic Club, the NJ Work Environment Council, NJ Citizen Action, People's Organization for Progress, NJ Democracy for America, and LET's Stop Wal-Mart. She is a member of ACLU, the Labor Party, Coalition for Peace Action, NJ PIRG, NARAL and the National Organization for Women, Greenpeace, Clean Ocean Action and the Sierra Club. She was a founding member of Freehold Residents for Immigrant Rights, Jersey Shore Against the War, and is a charter member of the Solidarity Singers of the NJ Industrial Union Council.
 
Carol has dedicated her life to people's needs and concerns and will represent the will of the people, not the corporations or the politicians. Her fresh perspective will help restore integrity to a congress tainted by the culture of corruption. She is committed to building a better, safer, more peaceful world.
 
Carol enjoys taking long walks on the beach with her dog, Max, singing with the Solidarity Singers, movies, books, tennis and golf, and wishes she had time to play.
 
=== Sources ===
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www.carolgayforcongress.com
 
 
 
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[[User:69.242.118.133|69.242.118.133]] 19:10, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Majur Bludd]] ==
 
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Majur Bludd was formed February of 2005 between vocalist Alfonso Rodriguez, bassist Tom Brannon, guitarist Ryan Wrobel and drummer Tom Goodwin. After recording their first demo in October 2005 and playing some shows they decided they could a 2nd guitar player to fill out the band. In April 2006 they found Phil McNeil and starting writing more material. They been played regularly on several radio stations and because of their original alternative metal style have gained a serious following. They are currently in the studio recording and "New Jersey's Metal Machine's" album should be out by the end of 2006.
 
=== Sources ===
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Breaking News:Majur Bludd To Be on Trainwreck Radio on the 12th!!
Current mood: excited
Category: Music
 
That's right.The New Jersey Bludd Metal Machine will be on Trainwreck Radio this coming Friday.I will be playing Majur Bludd's 4 song EP during the interview.There will probably be updates so I'll check in with some more news.
 
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=34227415
 
Majur Bludd's Myspace Page
 
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[[User:24.152.251.146|24.152.251.146]] 19:23, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[THE LURKING FEAR]] ==
 
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THE LURKING FEAR
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written November 1922
Published January-April 1923 in Home Brew
 
 
I. THE SHADOW ON THE CHIMNEY
 
Vol. 2, No. 6 (January 1923), p. 4-10;
 
There was thunder in the air on the night I went to the deserted mansion atop Tempest Mountain to find the lurking fear. I was not alone, for foolhardiness was not then mixed with that love of the grotesque and the terrible which has made my career a series of quests for strange horrors in literature and in life. With me were two faithful and muscular men for whom I had sent when the time came; men long associated with me in my ghastly explorations because of their peculiar fitness.
We had started quietly from the village because of the reporters who still lingered about after the eldritch panic of a month before - the nightmare creeping death. Later, I thought, they might aid me; but I did not want them then. Would to God I had let them share the search, that I might not have had to bear the secret alone so long; to bear it alone for fear the world would call me mad or go mad itself at the demon implications of the thing. Now that I am telling it anyway, lest the brooding make me a maniac, I wish I had never concealed it. For I, and I only, know what manner of fear lurked on that spectral and desolate mountain.
In a small motor-car we covered the miles of primeval forest and hill until the wooded ascent checked it. The country bore an aspect more than usually sinister as we viewed it by night and without the accustomed crowds of investigators, so that we were often tempted to use the acetylene headlight despite the attention it might attract. It was not a wholesome landscape after dark, and I believe I would have noticed its morbidity even had I been ignorant of the terror that stalked there. Of wild creatures there were none-they are wise when death leers close. The ancient lightning-scarred trees seemed unnaturally large and twisted, and the other vegetation unnaturally thick and feverish, while curious mounds and hummocks in the weedy, fulgurite-pitted earth reminded me of snakes and dead men's skulls swelled to gigantic proportions.
Fear had lurked on Tempest Mountain for more than a century. This I learned at once from newspaper accounts of the catastrophe which first brought the region to the world's notice. The place is a remote, lonely elevation in that part of the Catskills where Dutch civilization once feebly and transiently penetrated, leaving behind as it receded only a few mined mansions and a degenerate squatter population inhabiting pitiful hamlets on isolated slopes. Normal beings seldom visited the locality till the state police were formed, and even now only infrequent troopers patrol it. The fear, however, is an old tradition throughout the neighboring villages; since it is a prime topic in the simple discourse of the poor mongrels who sometimes leave their valleys to trade handwoven baskets for such primitive necessities as they, cannot shoot, raise, or make.
The lurking fear dwelt in the shunned and deserted Martense mansion, which crowned the high but gradual eminence whose liability to frequent thunderstorms gave it the name of Tempest Mountain. For over a hundred years the antique, grove-circled stone house had been the subject of stories incredibly wild and monstrously hideous; stories of a silent colossal creeping death which stalked abroad in summer. With whimpering insistence the squatters told tales of a demon which seized lone wayfarers after dark, either carrying them off or leaving them in a frightful state of gnawed dismemberment; while sometimes they whispered of blood trails toward the distant mansion. Some said the thunder called the lurking fear out of its habitation, while others said the thunder was its voice.
No one outside the backwoods had believed these varying and conflicting stories, with their incoherent, extravagant descriptions of the hall-glimpsed fiend; yet not a farmer or villager doubted that the Martense mansion was ghoulishly haunted. Local history forbade such a doubt, although no ghostly evidence was ever found by such investigators as had visited the building after some especially vivid tale of the squatters. Grandmothers told strange myths of the Martense spectre; myths concerning the Martense family itself, its queer hereditary dissimilarity of eyes, its long, unnatural annals, and the murder which had cursed it.
The terror which brought me to the scene was a sudden and portentous confirmation of the mountaineers' wildest legends. One summer night, after a thunderstorm of unprecedented violence, the countryside was aroused by a squatter stampede which no mere delusion could create. The pitiful throngs of natives shrieked and whined of the unnamable horror which had descended upon them, and they were not doubted. They had not seen it, but had heard such cries from one of their hamlets that they knew a creeping death had come.
In the morning citizens and state troopers followed the shuddering mountaineers to the place where they said the death had come. Death was indeed there. The ground under one of the squatter's villages had caved in after a lightning stroke, destroying several of the malodorous shanties; but upon this property damage was superimposed an organic devastation which paled it to insignificance. Of a possible seventy-five natives who had inhabited this spot, not one living specimen was visible. The disordered earth was covered with blood and human debris bespeaking too vividly the ravages of demon teeth and talons; yet no visible trail led away from the carnage. That some hideous animal must be the cause, everyone quickly agreed; nor did any tongue now revive the charge that such cryptic deaths formed merely the sordid murders common in decadent communities. That charge was revived only when about twenty-five of the estimated population were found missing from the dead; and even then it was hard to explain the murder of fifty by half that number. But the fact remained that on a summer night a bolt had come out of the heavens and left a dead village whose corpses were horribly mangled, chewed, and clawed.
The excited countryside immediately connected the horror with the haunted Martense mansion, though the localities were over three miles apart. The troopers were more skeptical; including the mansion only casually in their investigations, and dropping it altogether when they found it thoroughly deserted. Country and vrnage people, however I canvassed the place with infinite care; overturning everything in the house, sounding ponds and brooks, beating down bushes, and ransacking the nearby forests. All was in vain; the death that had come had left no trace save destruction itself.
By the second day of the search the affair was fully treated by the newspapers, whose reporters overran Tempest Mountain. They described it in much detail, and with many interviews to elucidate the horror's history as told by local grandams. I followed the accounts languidly at first, for I am a connoisseur in horrors; but after a week I detected an atmosphere which stirred me oddly, so that on August 5th, 1921, I registered among the reporters who crowded the hotel at Lefferts Corners, nearest village to Tempest Mountain and acknowledged headquarters of the searchers. Three weeks more, and the dispersal of the reporters left me free to begin a terrible exploration based on the minute inquiries and surveying with which I had meanwhile busied myself.
So on this summer night, while distant thunder rumbled, I left a silent motor-car and tramped with two armed companions up the last mound-covered reaches of Tempest Mountain, casting the beams of an electric torch on the spectral grey walls that began to appear through giant oaks ahead. In this morbid night solitude and feeble shifting illumination, the vast boxlike pile displayed obscure hints of terror which day could not uncover; yet I did not hesitate, since I had come with fierce resolution to test an idea. I believed that the thunder called the death-demon out of some fearsome secret place; and be that demon solid entity or vaporous pestilence, I meant to see it
I had thoroughly searched the ruin before, hence knew my plan well; choosing as the seat of my vigil the old room of Jan Martense, whose murder looms so great in the rural legends. I felt subtly that the apartment of this ancient victim was best for my purposes. The chamber, measuring about twenty feet square, contained like the other rooms some rubbish which had once been furniture. It lay on the second story, on the southeast corner of the house, and had an immense east window and narrow south window, both devoid of panes or shutters. Opposite the large window was 'an enormous Dutch fireplace with scriptural tiles representing the prodigal son, and opposite the narrow window was a spacious bed built into the wall.
As the tree-muffled thunder grew louder, I arranged my plan's details. First I fastened side by side to the ledge of the large window three rope ladders which I had brought with me. I knew they reached a suitable spot on the grass outside, for I had tested them. Then the three of us dragged from another room a wide four-poster bedstead, crowding it laterally against the window. Having strewn it with fir boughs, all now rested on it with drawn automatics, two relaxing while the third watched. From whatever direction the demon might come, our potential escape was provided. If it came from within the house, we had the window ladders; if from outside the door and the stairs. We did not think, judging from precedent, that it would pursue us far even at worst.
I watched from midnight to one o'clock, when in spite of the sinister house, the unprotected window, and the approaching thunder and lightning, I felt singularly drowsy. I was between my two companions, George Bennett being toward the window and William Tobey toward the fireplace. Bennett was asleep, having apparently felt the same anomalous drowsiness which affected me, so I designated Tobey for the next watch although even he was nodding. It is curious how intently I had been watching the fireplace.
The increasing thunder must have affected my dreams, for in the brief time I slept there came to me apocalyptic visions. Once I partly awaked, probably because the sleeper toward the window had restlessly flung an arm across my chest. I was not sufficiently awake to see whether Tobey was attending to his duties as sentinel, but felt a distinct anxiety on that score. Never before had the presence of evil so poignantly oppressed me. Later I must have dropped asleep again, for it was out of a phantasmal chaos that my mind leaped when the night grew hideous with shrieks beyond anything in my former experience or imagination.
In that shrieking the inmost soul of human fear and agony clawed hopelessly and insanely at the ebony gates of oblivion. I awoke to red madness and the mockery of diabolism, as farther and farther down inconceivable vistas that phobic and crystalline anguish retreated and reverberated. There was, no light, but I knew from the empty space at my right that Tobey was gone, God alone knew whither. Across my chest still lay the heavy arm of the sleeper at my left.
Then came the devastating stroke of lightning which shook the whole mountain, lit the darkest crypts of the hoary grove, and splintered the patriarch of the twisted trees. In the demon flash of a monstrous fireball the sleeper started up suddenly while the glare from beyond the window threw his shadow vividly upon the chimney above the fireplace from which my eyes had never strayed. That I am still alive and sane, is a marvel I cannot fathom. I cannot fathom it, for the shadow on that chimney was not that of George Bennett or of any other human creature, but a blasphemous abnormality from hell's nethermost craters; a nameless, shapeless abomination which no mind could fully grasp and no pen even partly describe. In another second I was alone in the accursed mansion, shivering and gibbering. George Bennett and William Tobey had left no trace, not even of a struggle. They were never heard of again.
 
II. A PASSER IN THE STORM
 
Vol. 3, No. 1 (February 1923), p. 18-23;
 
For days after that hideous experience in the forest-swathed mansion I lay nervously exhausted in my hotel room at Lefferts Corners. I do not remember exactly how I managed to reach the motor-car, start it, and slip unobserved back to the village; for I retain no distinct impression save of wild-armed titan trees, demoniac mutterings of thunder, and Charonian shadows athwart the low mounds that dotted and streaked the region.
As I shivered and brooded on the casting of that brain-blasting shadow, I knew that I had at last pried out one of earth's supreme horrors - one of those nameless blights of outer voids whose faint demon scratchings we sometimes hear on the farthest rim of space, yet from which our own finite vision has given us a merciful immunity. The shadow I had seen, I hardly dared to analyse or identify. Something had lain between me and the window that night, but I shuddered whenever I could not cast off the instinct to classify it. If it had only snarled, or bayed, or laughed titteringly-even that would have relieved the abysmal hideousness. But it was so silent. It had rested a heavy arm or foreleg on my chest...
Obviously it was organic, or had once been organic... Jan Martense, whose room I had invaded, was buried in the grave-yard near the mansion... I must find Bennett and Tobey, if they lived... why had it picked them, and left me for the last?... Drowsiness is so stifling, and dreams are so horrible...
In a short time I realised that I must tell my story to someone or break down completely. I had already decided not to abandon the quest for the lurking fear, for in my rash ignorance it seemed to me that uncertainty was worse than enlightenment, however terrible the latter might prove to be. Accordingly I resolved in my mind the best course to pursue; whom to select for my confidences, and how to track down the thing which had obliterated two men and cast a nightmare shadow.
My chief acquaintances at Lefferts Corners had been the affable reporters, of whom several had still remained to collect final echoes of the tragedy. It was from these that I determined to choose a colleague, and the more I reflected the more my preference inclined toward one Arthur Munroe, a 'dark, lean man of about thirty-five, whose education, taste, intelligence, and temperament all seemed to mark him as one not bound to conventional ideas and experiences.
On an afternoon in early September, Arthur Munroe listened to my story. I saw from the beginning that he was both interested and sympathetic, and when I had finished he analysed and discussed the thing with the greatest shrewdness and judgement. His advice, moreover, was eminently practical; for he recommended a postponement of operations at the Martense mansion until we might become fortified with more detailed historical and geographical data. On his initiative we combed the countryside for information regarding the terrible Martense family, and discovered a man who possessed a marvelously illuminating ancestral diary. We also talked at length with such of the mountain mongrels as had not fled from the terror and confusion to remoter slopes, and slope again scanned for dens and caves, but all without result. And yet, as I have said, vague new fears hovered menacingly over, us; as if giant bat-winged gryphons looked on transcosmic gulfs.
As the afternoon advanced, it became increasingly difficult to see; and we heard the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering over Tempest Mountain. This sound in such a locality naturally stirred us, though less than it would have done at night. As it was, we hoped desperately that the storm would last until well after dark; and with that hope turned from our aimless hillside searching toward the nearest inhabited hamlet to gather a body of squatters as helpers in the investigation. Timid as they were, a few of the younger men were sufficiently inspired by our protective leadership to promise such help.
We had hardly more than turned, however, when there descended such a blinding sheet of torrential rain that shelter became imperative. The extreme, almost nocturnal darkness of the sky caused us to stumble badly, but guided by the frequent flashes of lightning and by our minute knowledge of the hamlet we soon reached the least porous cabin of the lot; an heterogeneous combination of logs and boards whose still existing door and single tiny window both faced Maple Hill. Barring the door after us against the fury of the wind and rain, we put in place the crude window shutter which our frequent searches had taught us where to find. It was dismal sitting there on rickety boxes in the pitchy darkness, but we smoked pipes and occasionally flashed our pocket lamps about. Now and then we could see the lightning through cracks in the wall; the afternoon was so incredibly dark that each flash was extremely vivid.
The stormy vigil reminded me shudderingly of my ghastly night on Tempest Mountain. My mind turned to that odd question which had kept recurring ever since the nightmare thing had happened; and again I wondered why the demon, approaching the three watchers either from the window or the interior, had begun with the men on each side and left the middle man till the last, when the titan fireball had scared it away. Why had it not taken its victims in natural order, with myself second, from whichever direction it had approached? With what manner of far-reaching tentacles did it prey? Or did it know that I was the leader, and saved me for a fate worse than that of my companions?
In the midst of these reflections, as if dramatically arranged to intensify them, there fell nearby a terrific bolt of lightning followed by the sound of sliding earth. At the same time the wolfish wind rose to demoniac crescendos of ululation. We were sure that the one tree on Maple Hill had been struck again, and Munroe rose from his box and went to the tiny window to ascertain the damage. When he took down the shutter the wind, and rain howled deafeningly in, so that I could not hear what he said; but I waited while he leaned out and tried to fathom Nature's pandemonium.
Gradually a calming of the wind and dispersal of the unusual darkness told of the storm's passing. I had hoped it would last into the night to help our quest, but a furtive sunbeam from a knothole behind me removed the likelihood of such a thing. Suggesting to Munroe that we had better get some light even if more showers came, I unbarred and opened the crude door. The ground outside was a singular mass of mud and pools, with fresh heaps of earth from the slight landslide; but I saw nothing to justify the interest which kept my companion silently leaning out the window. Crossing to where he leaned, I touched his shoulder; but he did not move. Then, as I playfully shook him and turned him around, I felt the strangling tendrils of a cancerous horror whose roots reached into illimitable pasts and fathomless abysms of the night that broods beyond time.
For Arthur Munroe was dead. And on what remained of his chewed and gouged head there was no longer a face.
 
III. WHAT THE RED GLARE MEANT
 
Vol. 3, No. 2 (March 1923), p. 31-37, 44, 48;
 
On the tempest-racked night of November 8, 1921, with a lantern which cast charnel shadows, I stood digging alone and idiotically in the grave of Jan Martense. I had begun to dig in the afternoon, because a thunderstorm was brewing, and now that it was dark and the storm had burst above the maniacally thick foliage I was glad.
I believe that my mind was partly unhinged by events since August 5th; the demon shadow in the mansion the general strain and disappointment, and the thing that occurred at the hamlet in an October storm. After that thing I had dug a grave for one whose death I could not understand. I knew that others could not understand either, so let them think Arthur Munroe had wandered away. They searched, but found nothing. The squatters might have understood, hut I dared not frighten them more. I myself seemed strangely callous. That shock at the mansion had done something to my brain, and I could think only of the quest for a horror now grown to cataclysmic stature in my imagination; a quest which the fate of Arthur Munroe made me vow to keep silent and solitary.
The scene of my excavations would alone have been enough to unnerve any ordinary man. Baleful primal trees of unholy size, age, and grotesqueness leered above me like the pillars of some hellish Druidic temple; muffling the thunder, hushing the clawing wind, and admitting but little rain. Beyond the scarred trunks in the background, illumined by faint flashes of filtered lightning, rose the damp ivied stones of the deserted mansion, while somewhat nearer was the abandoned Dutch garden whose walks and beds were polluted by a white, fungous, foetid, over-nourished vegetation that never saw full daylight. And nearest of all was the graveyard, where deformed trees tossed insane branches as their roots displaced unhallowed slabs and sucked venom from what lay below. Now and then, beneath the brown pall of leaves that rotted and festered in the antediluvian forest darkness, I could trace the sinister outlines of some of those low mounds which characterized the lightning-pierced region.
History had led me to this archaic grave. History, indeed, was all I had after everything else ended in mocking Satanism.. I now believed that the lurking fear was no material being, but a wolf-fanged ghost that rode the midnight lightning. And I believed, because of the masses of local tradition I had unearthed in search with Arthur Munroe, that the ghost was that of Jan Martense, who died in 1762. This is why I was digging idiotically in his grave.
The Martense mansion was built in 1670 by Gerrit Martense, a wealthy New-Amsterdam merchant who disliked the changing order under British rule, and had constructed this magnificent domicile on a remote woodland summit whose untrodden solitude and unusual scenery pleased him. The only substantial disappointment encountered in this site was that which concerned the prevalence of violent thunderstorms in summer. When selecting the hill and building his mansion, Mynheer Martense had laid these frequent natural outbursts to some peculiarity of the year; but in time he perceived that the locality was especially liable to such phenomena. At length, having found these storms injurious to his head, he fitted up a cellar into which he could retreat from their wildest pandemonium.
Of Gerrit Martense's descendants less is known than of himself; since they were all reared in hatred of the English civilisation, and trained to shun such of the colonists as accepted it. Their life was exceedingly secluded, and people declared that their isolation had made them heavy of speech and comprehension. In appearance all were marked by a peculiar inherited dissimilarity of eyes; one generally being blue and the other brown. Their social contacts grew fewer and fewer, till at last they took to intermarrying with the numerous menial class about the estate. Many of the crowded family degenerated, moved across the valley, and merged with the mongrel population which was later to produce the pitiful squatters. The rest had stuck sullenly to their ancestral mansion, becoming more and more clannish and taciturn, yet developing a nervous responsiveness to the frequent thunderstorms.
Most of this information reached the outside world through young Jan Martense, who from some kind of restlessness joined the colonial army when news of the Albany Convention reached Tempest Mountain. He was the first of Gerrit's descendants to see much of the world; and when he returned in 1760 after six years of campaigning, he was hated as an outsider by his father, uncles, and brothers, in spite of his dissimilar Martense eyes. No longer could he share the peculiarities and prejudices of the Martenses, while the very mountain thunderstorms failed to intoxicate him as they had before. Instead, his surroundings depressed him; and he frequently wrote to a friend in Albany of plans to leave the paternal roof.
In the spring of 1763 Jonathan Gifford, the Albany friend of Jan Martense, became worried by his correspondent's silence; especially in view of the conditions and quarrels at the Martense mansion. Determined to visit Jan in person, he went into the mountains on horseback. His diary states that he reached Tempest Mountain on September 20, finding the mansion in great decrepitude. The sullen, odd-eyed Martenses, whose unclean animal aspect shocked him, told him in broken gutterals that Jan was dead. He had, they insisted, been struck by lightning the autumn before; and now lay buried behind the neglected sunken gardens. They showed the visitor the grave, barren and devoid of markers. Something in the Martenses' manner gave Gifford a feeling of repulsion and suspicion, and a week later he returned' with spade and mattock to explore the sepulchral spot. He found what he expected - a skull crushed cruelly as if by savage blows - so returning to Albany he openly charged the Martenses with the murder of their kinsman.
Legal evidence was lacking, but the story spread rapidly round the countryside; and from that time the Martenses were ostracised by the world. No one would deal with them, and their distant manor was shunned as an accursed place. Some how they managed to live on independently by the product of their estate, for occasional lights glimpsed from far-away hills attested their continued presence. These lights were seen as late as 1810, but toward the last they became very infrequent.
Meanwhile there grew up about the mansion and the mountain a body of diabolic legendry. The place was avoided with doubled assiduousness, and invested with every whispered myth tradition could supply. It remained unvisited till 1816, when the continued absence of lights was noticed by the squatters. At that time a party made investigations, finding the house deserted and partly m ruins.
There were no skeletons about, so that departure rather than death was inferred. The clan seemed to have left several years before, and improvised penthouses showed how numerous it had grown prior to its migration. Its cultural level had fallen very low, as proved by decaying furniture and scattered silverware which must have been long abandoned when its owners left. But though the dreaded Martenses were gone, the fear of the haunted house continued; and grew very acute when new and strange stories arose among the mountain decadents. There it stood; deserted, feared, and linked with the vengeful ghost of Jan Martense. There it still stood on the night I dug in Jan Martense's grave.
I have described my protracted digging as idiotic, and such It indeed was in object and method. The coffin of Jan Martense had soon been unearthed-it now held only dust and nitre - but in my fury to exhume his ghost I delved irrationally and clumsily down beneath where he had lain. God knows what I expected to find-I only felt that I was digging in the grave of a man whose ghost stalked by night.
It is impossible to say what monstrous depth I had attained when my spade, and soon my feet, broke through the ground beneath. The event, under the circumstances, was tremendous; for in the existence of a subterranean space here, my mad theories had terrible confirmation. My slight fall had extinguished the lantern, but I produced an electric pocket lamp and viewed the small horizontal tunnel which led away indefinitely in both directions. It was amply large enough for a man to wriggle through; and though no sane person would have tried at that time, I forgot danger, reason, and cleanliness in my single-minded fever to unearth the lurking fear. Choosing the direction toward the house, I scrambled recklessly into the narrow burrow; squirming ahead blindly and rapidly, and flashing but seldom the lamp I kept before me.
What language can describe the spectacle of a man lost in infinitely abysmal earth; pawing, twisting, wheezing; scrambling madly through sunken -convolutions of immemorial blackness without an idea of time, safety, direction, or definite object? There is something hideous in it, but that is what I did. I did it for so long that life faded to a far memory, and I became one with the moles and grubs of nighted depths. Indeed, it was only by accident that after interminable writhings I jarred my forgotten electric lamp alight, so that it shone eerily along the burrow of caked loam that stretched and curved ahead.
I had been scrambling in this way for some time, so that my battery had burned very low, when the passage suddenly inclined sharply upward, altering my mode of progress. And as I raised my glance it was without preparation that I saw glistening in the distance two demoniac reflections of my expiring lamp; two reflections glowing with a baneful and unmistakable effulgence, and provoking maddeningly nebulous memories. I stopped automatically, though lacking the brain to retreat. The eyes approached, yet of the thing that bore them I could distinguish only a claw. But what a claw! Then far overhead I heard a faint crashing which I recognized. It was the wild thunder of the mountain, raised to hysteric fury - I must have been crawling upward for some time, so that the surface was now quite near. And as the muffled thunder clattered, those eyes still stared with vacuous viciousness.
Thank God I did not then know what it was, else I should have died. But I was saved by the very thunder that had summoned it, for after a hideous wait there burst from the unseen outside sky one of those frequent mountainward bolts whose aftermath I had noticed here and there as gashes of disturbed earth and fulgurites of various sizes. With Cyclopean rage it tore through the soil above that damnable pit, blinding and deafening me, yet not wholly reducing me to a coma. In the chaos of sliding, shifting earth I clawed and floundered helplessly till the rain on my head steadied me and I saw that I had come to the surface in a familiar spot; a steep unforested place on the southwest slope of the mountain. Recurrent sheet lightnings illumed the tumbled ground and the remains of the curious low hummock which had stretched down from the wooded higher slope, but there was nothing in the chaos to show my place of egress from the lethal catacomb. My brain was as great a chaos as the earth, and as a distant red glare burst on the landscape from the south I hardly realised the horror I had been through.
But when two days later the squatters told me what the red glare meant, I felt more horror than that which the mould-burrow and the claw and eyes had given; more horror because of the overwhelming implications. In a hamlet twenty miles away an orgy of fear had followed the bolt which brought me above ground, and a nameless thing had dropped from an overhanging tree into a weak-roofed cabin. It had done a deed, but the squatters had fired the cabin in frenzy before it could escape. It had been doing that deed at the very moment the earth caved in on the thing with the claw and eyes.
 
IV. THE HORROR IN THE EYES
 
Vol. 3, No. 3 (April 1923), p. 35-42.
 
There can be nothing normal in the mind of one who, knowing what I knew of the horrors of Tempest Mountain, would seek alone for the fear that lurked there. That at least two of the fear's embodiments were destroyed, formed but a slight guarantee of mental and physical safety in this Acheron of multiform diabolism; yet I continued my quest with even greater zeal as events and revelations became more monstrous. When, two days after my frightful crawl through that crypt of the eyes and claw, I learned that a thing had malignly hovered twenty miles away at the same instant the eyes were glaring at me, I experienced virtual convulsions of fright. But that fright was so mixed with wonder and alluring grotesqueness, that it was almost a pleasant sensation. Sometimes, in the throes of a nightmare when unseen powers whirl one over the roofs of strange dead cities toward the grinning chasm of Nis, it is a relief and even a delight to shriek wildly and throw oneself voluntarily along with the hideous vortex of dream-doom into whatever bottomless gulf may yawn. And so it was with the walking nightmare of Tempest Mountain; the discovery that two monsters had haunted the spot gave me ultimately a mad craving to plunge into the very earth of the accursed region, and with bare hands dig out the death that leered from every inch of the poisonous soil.
As soon as possible I visited the grave of Jan Martense and dug vainly where I had dug before. Some extensive cave-in had obliterated all trace of the underground passage, while the rain had washed so much earth back into the excavation that I could not tell how deeply I had dug that other day. I likewise made a difficult trip to the distant hamlet where the death-creature had been burnt, and was little repaid for my trouble. In the ashes of the fateful cabin I found several bones, but apparently none of the monster's. The squatters said the thing had had only one victim; but in this I judged them inaccurate, since besides the complete skull of a human being, there was another bony fragment which seemed certainly to have belonged to a human skull at some time. Though the rapid drop of the monster had been seen, no one could say just what the creature was like; those who had glimpsed it called it simply a devil. Examining the great tree where it had lurked, I could discern no distinctive marks. I tried to find some trail into the black forest, but on this occasion could not stand the sight of those morbidly large boles, or of those vast serpent-like roots that twisted so malevolently before they sank into the earth.
My next step was to reexamine with microscopic care the deserted hamlet where death had come most abundantly, and where Arthur -Munroe had seen something he never lived to describe. Though my vain previous searches had been exceedingly minute, I now had new data to test; for my horrible grave-crawl convinced me that at least one of the phases of the monstrosity had been an underground creature. This time, on the 14th of November, my quest concerned itself mostly with the slopes of Cone Mountain and Maple Hill where they overlook the unfortunate hamlet, and I gave particular attention to the loose earth of the landslide region on the latter eminence.
The afternoon of my search brought nothing to light, and dusk came as I stood on Maple Hill looking down at the hamlet and across the valley to Tempest Mountain. There had been a gorgeous sunset, and now the moon came up, nearly full and shedding a silver flood over the plain, the distant mountainside, and the curious low mounds that rose here and there. It was a peaceful Arcadian scene, but knowing what it hid I hated it. I hated the mocking moon, the hypocritical plain, the festering mountain, and those sinister mounds. Everything seemed to me tainted with a loathsome contagion, and inspired by a noxious alliance with distorted hidden powers.
Presently, as I gazed abstractedly at the moonlit panorama, my eye became attracted by something singular in the nature and arrangement of a certain topographical element. Without having any exact knowledge of geology, I had from the first been interested in the odd mounds and hummocks of the region. I had noticed that they were pretty widely distributed around Tempest Mountain, though less numerous on the plain than near the hilltop itself, where prehistoric glaciation had doubtless found feebler opposition to its striking and fantastic caprices. Now, in the light of that low moon which cast long weird shadows, it struck me forcibly that the various points and lines of the mound system had a peculiar relation to the summit of Tempest Mountain. That summit was undeniably a centre from which the lines or rows of points radiated indefinitely and irregularly, as if the unwholesome Martense mansion had thrown visible tentacles of terror. The idea of such tentacles gave me an unexplained thrill, and I stopped to analyse my reason for believing these mounds glacial phenomena.
The more I analysed the less I believed, and against my newly opened mind there began to beat grotesque and horrible analogies based on superficial aspects and upon my experience beneath the earth. Before I knew it I was uttering frenzied and disjointed words to myself; "My God!... Molehills... the damned place must be honeycombed... how many... that night at the mansion... they took Bennett and Tobey first... on each side of us..." Then I was digging frantically into the mound which had stretched nearest me; digging desperately, shiveringly, but almost jubilantly; digging and at last shrieking aloud with some unplaced emotion as I came upon a tunnel or burrow just like the one through which I had crawled on the other demoniac night.
After that I recall running, spade in hand; a hideous run across moon-litten, mound-marked meadows and through diseased, precipitous abysses of haunted hillside forest; leaping screaming, panting, bounding toward the terrible Martense mansion. I recall digging unreasonably in all parts of the brier-choked cellar; digging to find the core and centre of that malignant universe of mounds. And then I recall how I laughed when I stumbled on the passageway; the hole at the base of the old chimney, where the thick weeds grew and cast queer shadows in the light of the lone candle I had happened to have with me. What still remained down in that hell-hive, lurking and waiting for the thunder to arouse it, I did not know. Two had been killed; perhaps that had finished it. But still there remained that burning determination to reach the innermost secret of the fear, which I had once more come to deem definite, material, and organic.
My indecisive speculation whether to explore the passage alone and immediately with my pocket-light or to try to assemble a band of squatters for the quest, was interrupted after a time by a sudden rush of wind from the outside which blew out the candle and left me in stark blackness. The moon no longer shone through the chinks and apertures above me, and with a sense of fateful alarm I heard the sinister and significant rumble of approaching thunder. A confusion of associated ideas possessed my brain, leading me to grope back toward the farthest corner of the cellar. My eyes, however, never turned away from the horrible opening at the base of the chimney; and I began to get glimpses of the crumbling bricks and unhealthy weeds as faint glows of lightning penetrated the weeds outside and illumined the chinks in the upper wall. Every second I was consumed with a mixture of fear and curiosity. What would the storm call forth-or was there anything left for it to call? Guided by a lightning flash I settled myself down behind a dense clump of vegetation, through which I could see the opening without being seen.
If heaven is merciful, it will some day efface from my consciousness the sight that I saw, and let me live my last years in peace. I cannot sleep at night now, and have to take opiates when it thunders. The thing came abruptly and unannounced; a demon, ratlike scurrying from pits remote and unimaginable, a hellish panting and stifled grunting, and then from that opening beneath the chimney a burst of multitudinous and leprous life - a loathsome night-spawned flood of organic corruption more devastatingly hideous than the blackest conjurations of mortal madness and morbidity. Seething, stewing, surging, bubbling like serpents' slime it rolled up and out of that yawning hole, spreading like a septic contagion and streaming from the cellar at every point of egress - streaming out to scatter through the accursed midnight forests and strew fear, madness, and death.
God knows how many there were - there must have been thousands. To see the stream of them in that faint intermittent lightning was shocking. When they had thinned out enough to be glimpsed as separate organisms, I saw that they were dwarfed, deformed hairy devils or apes-monstrous and diabolic caricatures of the monkey tribe. They were so hideously silent; there was hardly a squeal when one of the last stragglers turned with the skill of long practice to make a meal in accustomed fashion on a weaker companion. 0thers snapped up what it left and ate with slavering relish. Then, in spite of my daze of fright and disgust, my morbid curiosity triumphed; and as the last of the monstrosities oozed up alone from that nether world of unknown nightmare, I drew my automatic pistol and shot it under cover of the thunder.
Shrieking, slithering, torrential shadows of red viscous madness chasing one another through endless, ensanguined condors of purple fulgurous sky... formless phantasms and kaleidoscopic mutations of a ghoulish, remembered scene; forests of monstrous over-nourished oaks with serpent roots twisting and sucking unnamable juices from an earth verminous with millions of cannibal devils; mound-like tentacles groping from underground nuclei of polypous perversion... insane lightning over malignant ivied walls and demon arcades choked with fungous vegetation... Heaven be thanked for the instinct which led me unconscious to places where men dwell; to the peaceful village that slept under the calm stars of clearing skies.
I had recovered enough in a week to send to Albany for a gang of men to blow up the Martense mansion and the entire top of Tempest Mountain with dynamite, stop up all the discoverable mound-burrows, and destroy certain over-nourished trees whose very existence seemed an insult to sanity. I could sleep a little after they had done this, but true rest will never come as long as I remember that nameless secret of the lurking fear. The thing will haunt me, for who can say the extermination is complete, and that analogous phenomena do not exist all over the world? Who can, with my knowledge, think of the earth's unknown caverns without a nightmare dread of future possibilities? I cannot see a well or a subway entrance without shuddering... why cannot the doctors give me something to make me sleep, or truly calm my brain when it thunders?
What I saw in the glow of flashlight after I shot the unspeakable straggling object was so simple that almost a minute elapsed before I understood and went delirious. The object was nauseous; a filthy whitish gorilla thing with sharp yellow fangs and matted fur. It was the ultimate product of mammalian degeneration; the frightful outcome of isolated spawning, multiplication, and cannibal nutrition above and below the ground; the embodiment of all the snarling and chaos and grinning fear that lurk behind life. It had looked at me as it died, and its eyes had the same odd quality that marked those other eyes which had stared at me underground and excited cloudy recollections. One eye was blue, the other brown. They were the dissimilar Martense eyes of the old legends, and I knew in one inundating cataclysm of voiceless horror what had become of that vanished family; the terrible and thunder-crazed house of Martense.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:27, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Majur Bludd]] ==
 
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Majur Bludd was formed February of 2005 between vocalist Alfonso Rodriguez, bassist Tom Brannon, guitarist Ryan Wrobel and drummer Tom Goodwin. After recording their first demo in October 2005 and playing some shows they decided they could a 2nd guitar player to fill out the band. In April 2006 they found Phil McNeil and starting writing more material. They been played regularly on several radio stations and because of their original alternative metal style have gained a serious following. They are currently in the studio recording and "New Jersey's Metal Machine's" album should be out by the end of 2006.
 
=== Sources ===
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Breaking News:Majur Bludd To Be on Trainwreck Radio on the 12th!!
Current mood: excited
Category: Music
 
That's right.The New Jersey Bludd Metal Machine will be on Trainwreck Radio this coming Friday.I will be playing Majur Bludd's 4 song EP during the interview.There will probably be updates so I'll check in with some more news.
www.majurbludd.com
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=34227415
 
Majur Bludd's Myspace Page
 
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[[User:24.152.251.146|24.152.251.146]] 19:27, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[memory by h.p.lovecraft]] ==
 
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MEMORY
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 1919
Published May 1923 in The National Amateur, Vol. 45, No. p. 5, 9.
 
In the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great upas-tree. And within the depths of the valley, where the light reaches not, move forms not meant to be beheld. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. And in trees that grow gigantic in crumbling courtyards leap little apes, while in and out of deep treasure-vaults writhe poison serpents and scaly things without a name. Vast are the stones which sleep beneath coverlets of dank moss, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. For all time did their builders erect them, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for beneath them the grey toad makes his habitation.
At the very bottom of the valley lies the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. From hidden springs it rises, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon of the Valley knows not why its waters are red, nor whither they are bound.
The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Daemon of the Valley, saying, "I am old, and forget much. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of Stone." And the Daemon replied, "I am Memory, and am wise in lore of the past, but I too am old. These beings were like the waters of the river Than, not to be understood. Their deeds I recall not, for they were but of the moment. Their aspect I recall dimly, it was like to that of the little apes in the trees. Their name I recall clearly, for it rhymed with that of the river. These beings of yesterday were called Man."
So the Genie flew back to the thin horned moon, and the Daemon looked intently at a little ape in a tree that grew in a crumbling courtyard.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:29, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[Pez from Skrimshank]] ==
 
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=== About ===
''Pez'' is the lead [[vocalist]] from the almighty ''[[Skrimshank]]''; a two-piece [[hip-hop]] orientated [[super-group]] based in [[Devon]], [[England]]. Along with fellow member ''Damo'', who handles the [[beatmaking]] and [[production]], he is best known for his unique voice and unpredictable flow, along with his thought-provoking [[lyrics]].
 
He has featured on the work of other artists, such as the ''[[Cheap As Chips E.P.]] (2005)'' with ''[[Beit Nun]]'' and ''Menace (A.K.A. [[Jesus The Backpack Rapper]])'', aswell as on various [[mixtapes]] and of course the two ''[[Skrimshank]]'' albums (''Redemption (2005)'' and ''Alter-Natives (2006)'').
 
=== Discography ===
[[Skrimshank]] - Redemption (2005)
[[Skrimshank]] - Alter-Natives (2006)
 
''Slip Your Bad Selves Into Some Shank!''
 
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[[User:86.3.145.160|86.3.145.160]] 19:30, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[the moon-bog by h.p.lovecraft]] ==
 
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THE MOON-BOG
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written March 1921
Published June 1926 in Weird Tales, Vol. 7, No. 6, p. 805-10
 
Somewhere, to what remote and fearsome region I know not, Denys Barry has gone. I was with him the last night he lived among men, and heard his screams when the thing came to him; but all the peasants and police in County Meath could never find him, or the others, though they searched long and far. And now I shudder when I hear the frogs piping in swamps, or see the moon in lonely places.
I had known Denys Barry well in America, where he had grown rich, and had congratulated him when he bought back the old castle by the bog at sleepy Kilderry. It was from Kilderry that his father had come, and it was there that he wished to enjoy his wealth among ancestral scenes. Men of his blood had once ruled over Kilderry and built and dwelt in the castle, but those days were very remote, so that for generations the castle had been empty and decaying. After he went to Ireland, Barry wrote me often, and told me how under his care the gray castle was rising tower by tower to its ancient splendor, how the ivy was climbing slowly over the restored walls as it had climbed so many centuries ago, and how the peasants blessed him for bringing back the old days with his gold from over the sea. But in time there came troubles, and the peasants ceased to bless him, and fled away instead as from a doom. And then he sent a letter and asked me to visit him, for he was lonely in the castle with no one to speak to save the new servants and laborers he had brought from the North.
The bog was the cause of all these troubles, as Barry told me the night I came to the castle. I had reached Kilderry in the summer sunset, as the gold of the sky lighted the green of the hills and groves and the blue of the bog, where on a far islet a strange olden ruin glistened spectrally. That sunset was very beautiful, but the peasants at Ballylough had warned me against it and said that Kilderry had become accursed, so that I almost shuddered to see the high turrets of the castle gilded with fire. Barry’s motor had met me at the Ballylough station, for Kilderry is off the railway. The villagers had shunned the car and the driver from the North, but had whispered to me with pale faces when they saw I was going to Kilderry. And that night, after our reunion, Barry told me why.
The peasants had gone from Kilderry because Denys Barry was to drain the great bog. For all his love of Ireland, America had not left him untouched, and he hated the beautiful wasted space where peat might be cut and land opened up. The legends and superstitions of Kilderry did not move him, and he laughed when the peasants first refused to help, and then cursed him and went away to Ballylough with their few belongings as they saw his determination. In their place he sent for laborers from the North, and when the servants left he replaced them likewise. But it was lonely among strangers, so Barry had asked me to come.
When I heard the fears which had driven the people from Kilderry, I laughed as loudly as my friend had laughed, for these fears were of the vaguest, wildest, and most absurd character. They had to do with some preposterous legend of the bog, and a grim guardian spirit that dwelt in the strange olden ruin on the far islet I had seen in the sunset. There were tales of dancing lights in the dark of the moon, and of chill winds when the night was warm; of wraiths in white hovering over the waters, and of an imagined city of stone deep down below the swampy surface. But foremost among the weird fancies, and alone in its absolute unanimity, was that of the curse awaiting him who should dare to touch or drain the vast reddish morass. There were secrets, said the peasants, which must not be uncovered; secrets that had lain hidden since the plague came to the children of Partholan in the fabulous years beyond history. In the Book of Invaders it is told that these sons of the Greeks were all buried at Tallaght, but old men in Kilderry said that one city was overlooked save by its patron moon-goddess; so that only the wooded hills buried it when the men of Nemed swept down from Scythia in their thirty ships.
Such were the idle tales which had made the villagers leave Kilderry, and when I heard them I did not wonder that Denys Barry had refused to listen. He had, however, a great interest in antiquities, and proposed to explore the bog thoroughly when it was drained. The white ruins on the islet he had often visited, but though their age was plainly great, and their contour very little like that of most ruins in Ireland, they were too dilapidated to tell the days of their glory. Now the work of drainage was ready to begin, and the laborers from the North were soon to strip the forbidden bog of its green moss and red heather, and kill the tiny shell-paved streamlets and quiet blue pools fringed with rushes.
After Barry had told me these things I was very drowsy, for the travels of the day had been wearying and my host had talked late into the night. A man-servant showed me to my room, which was in a remote tower overlooking the village and the plain at the edge of the bog, and the bog itself; so that I could see from my windows in the moonlight the silent roofs from which the peasants had fled and which now sheltered the laborers from the North, and too, the parish church with its antique spire, and far out across the brooding bog the remote olden ruin on the islet gleaming white and spectral. Just as I dropped to sleep I fancied I heard faint sounds from the distance; sounds that were wild and half musical, and stirred me with a weird excitement which colored my dreams. But when I awaked next morning I felt it had all been a dream, for the visions I had seen were more wonderful than any sound of wild pipes in the night. Influenced by the legends that Barry had related, my mind had in slumber hovered around a stately city in a green valley, where marble streets and statues, villas and temples, carvings and inscriptions, all spoke in certain tones the glory that was Greece. When I told this dream to Barry we had both laughed; but I laughed the louder, because he was perplexed about his laborers from the North. For the sixth time they had all overslept, waking very slowly and dazedly, and acting as if they had not rested, although they were known to have gone early to bed the night before.
That morning and afternoon I wandered alone through the sun-gilded village and talked now and then with idle laborers, for Barry was busy with the final plans for beginning his work of drainage. The laborers were not as happy as they might have been, for most of them seemed uneasy over some dream which they had had, yet which they tried in vain to remember. I told them of my dream, but they were not interested till I spoke of the weird sounds I thought I had heard. Then they looked oddly at me, and said that they seemed to remember weird sounds, too.
In the evening Barry dined with me and announced that he would begin the drainage in two days. I was glad, for although I disliked to see the moss and the heather and the little streams and lakes depart, I had a growing wish to discern the ancient secrets the deep-matted peat might hide. And that night my dreams of piping flutes and marble peristyles came to a sudden and disquieting end; for upon the city in the valley I saw a pestilence descend, and then a frightful avalanche of wooded slopes that covered the dead bodies in the streets and left unburied only the temple of Artemis on the high peak, where the aged moon-priestess Cleis lay cold and silent with a crown of ivory on her silver head.
I have said that I awaked suddenly and in alarm. For some time I could not tell whether I was waking or sleeping, for the sound of flutes still rang shrilly in my ears; but when I saw on the floor the icy moonbeams and the outlines of a latticed gothic window, I decided I must be awake and in the castle of Kilderry. Then I heard a clock from some remote landing below strike the hour of two, and knew I was awake. Yet still there came that monstrous piping from afar; wild, weird airs that made me think of some dance of fauns on distant Maenalus. It would not let me sleep, and in impatience I sprang up and paced the floor. Only by chance did I go to the north window and look out upon the silent village and the plain at the edge of the bog. I had no wish to gaze abroad, for I wanted to sleep; but the flutes tormented me, and I had to do or see something. How could I have suspected the thing I was to behold?
There in the moonlight that flooded the spacious plain was a spectacle which no mortal, having seen it, could ever forget. To the sound of reedy pipes that echoed over the bog there glided silently and eerily a mixed throng of swaying figures, reeling through such a revel as the Sicilians may have danced to Demeter in the old days under the harvest moon beside the Cyane. The wide plain, the golden moonlight, the shadowy moving forms, and above all the shrill monotonous piping, produced an effect which almost paralyzed me; yet I noted amidst my fear that half of these tireless mechanical dancers were the laborers whom I had thought asleep, whilst the other half were strange airy beings in white, half-indeterminate in nature, but suggesting pale wistful naiads from the haunted fountains of the bog. I do not know how long I gazed at this sight from the lonely turret window before I dropped suddenly in a dreamless swoon, out of which the high sun of morning aroused me.
My first impulse on awaking was to communicate all my fears and observations to Denys Barry, but as I saw the sunlight glowing through the latticed east window I became sure that there was no reality in what I thought I had seen. I am given to strange fantasms, yet am never weak enough to believe in them; so on this occasion contented myself with questioning the laborers, who slept very late and recalled nothing of the previous night save misty dreams of shrill sounds. This matter of the spectral piping harassed me greatly, and I wondered if the crickets of autumn had come before their time to vex the night and haunt the visions of men. Later in the day I watched Barry in the library poring over his plans for the great work which was to begin on the morrow, and for the first time felt a touch of the same kind of fear that had driven the peasants away. For some unknown reason I dreaded the thought of disturbing the ancient bog and its sunless secrets, and pictured terrible sights lying black under the unmeasured depth of age-old peat. That these secrets should be brought to light seemed injudicious, and I began to wish for an excuse to leave the castle and the village. I went so far as to talk casually to Barry on the subject, but did not dare continue after he gave his resounding laugh. So I was silent when the sun set fulgently over the far hills, and Kilderry blazed all red and gold in a flame that seemed a portent.
Whether the events of that night were of reality or illusion I shall never ascertain. Certainly they transcend anything we dream of in nature and the universe; yet in no normal fashion can I explain those disappearances which were known to all men after it was over. I retired early and full of dread, and for a long time could not sleep in the uncanny silence of the tower. It was very dark, for although the sky was clear the moon was now well in the wane, and would not rise till the small hours. I thought as I lay there of Denys Barry, and of what would befall that bog when the day came, and found myself almost frantic with an impulse to rush out into the night, take Barry’s car, and drive madly to Ballylough out of the menaced lands. But before my fears could crystallize into action I had fallen asleep, and gazed in dreams upon the city in the valley, cold and dead under a shroud of hideous shadow.
Probably it was the shrill piping that awaked me, yet that piping was not what I noticed first when I opened my eyes. I was lying with my back to the east window overlooking the bog, where the waning moon would rise, and therefore expected to see light cast on the opposite wall before me; but I had not looked for such a sight as now appeared. Light indeed glowed on the panels ahead, but it was not any light that the moon gives. Terrible and piercing was the shaft of ruddy refulgence that streamed through the gothic window, and the whole chamber was brilliant with a splendor intense and unearthly. My immediate actions were peculiar for such a situation, but it is only in tales that a man does the dramatic and foreseen thing. Instead of looking out across the bog toward the source of the new light, I kept my eyes from the window in panic fear, and clumsily drew on my clothing with some dazed idea of escape. I remember seizing my revolver and hat, but before it was over I had lost them both without firing the one or donning the other. After a time the fascination of the red radiance overcame my fright, and I crept to the east window and looked out whilst the maddening, incessant piping whined and reverberated through the castle and over all the village.
Over the bog was a deluge of flaring light, scarlet and sinister, and pouring from the strange olden ruin on the far islet. The aspect of that ruin I can not describe - I must have been mad, for it seemed to rise majestic and undecayed, splendid and column-cinctured, the flame-reflecting marble of its entablature piercing the sky like the apex of a temple on a mountain-top. Flutes shrieked and drums began to beat, and as I watched in awe and terror I thought I saw dark saltant forms silhouetted grotesquely against the vision of marble and effulgence. The effect was titanic - altogether unthinkable - and I might have stared indefinitely had not the sound of the piping seemed to grow stronger at my left. Trembling with a terror oddly mixed with ecstasy, I crossed the circular room to the north window from which I could see the village and the plain at the edge of the bog. There my eyes dilated again with a wild wonder as great as if I had not just turned from a scene beyond the pale of nature, for on the ghastly red-litten plain was moving a procession of beings in such a manner as none ever saw before save in nightmares.
Half gliding, half floating in the air, the white-clad bog-wraiths were slowly retreating toward the still waters and the island ruin in fantastic formations suggesting some ancient and solemn ceremonial dance. Their waving translucent arms, guided by the detestable piping of those unseen flutes, beckoned in uncanny rhythm to a throng of lurching laborers who followed doglike with blind, brainless, floundering steps as if dragged by a clumsy but resistless demon-will. As the naiads neared the bog, without altering their course, a new line of stumbling stragglers zigzagged drunkenly out of the castle from some door far below my window, groped sightiessly across the courtyard and through the intervening bit of village, and joined the floundering column of laborers on the plain. Despite their distance below me I at once knew they were the servants brought from the North, for I recognized the ugly and unwieldy form of the cook, whose very absurdness had now become unutterably tragic. The flutes piped horribly, and again I heard the beating of the drums from the direction of the island ruin. Then silently and gracefully the naiads reached the water and melted one by one into the ancient bog; while the line of followers, never checking their speed, splashed awkwardly after them and vanished amidst a tiny vortex of unwholesome bubbles which I could barely see in the scarlet light. And as the last pathetic straggler, the fat cook, sank heavily out of sight in that sullen pool, the flutes and the drums grew silent, and the binding red rays from the ruins snapped instantaneously out, leaving the village of doom lone and desolate in the wan beams of a new-risen moon.
My condition was now one of indescribable chaos. Not knowing whether I was mad or sane, sleeping or waking, I was saved only by a merciful numbness. I believe I did ridiculous things such as offering prayers to Artemis, Latona, Demeter, Persephone, and Plouton. All that I recalled of a classic youth came to my lips as the horrors of the situation roused my deepest superstitions. I felt that I had witnessed the death of a whole village, and knew I was alone in the castle with Denys Barry, whose boldness had brought down a doom. As I thought of him, new terrors convulsed me, and I fell to the floor; not fainting, but physically helpless. Then I felt the icy blast from the east window where the moon had risen, and began to hear the shrieks in the castle far below me. Soon those shrieks had attained a magnitude and quality which can not be written of, and which makes me faint as I think of them. All I can say is that they came from something I had known as a friend.
At some time during this shocking period the cold wind and the screaming must have roused me, for my next impression is of racing madly through inky rooms and corridors and out across the courtyard into the hideous night. They found me at dawn wandering mindless near Ballylough, but what unhinged me utterly was not any of the horrors I had seen or heard before. What I muttered about as I came slowly out of the shadows was a pair of fantastic incidents which occurred in my flight: incidents of no significance, yet which haunt .me unceasingly when I am alone in certain marshy places or in the moonlight.
As I fled from that accursed castle along the bog’s edge I heard a new sound: common, yet unlike any I had heard before at Kilderry. The stagnant waters, lately quite devoid of animal life, now teemed with a horde of slimy enormous frogs which piped shrilly and incessantly in tones strangely out of keeping with their size. They glistened bloated and green in the moonbeams, and seemed to gaze up at the fount of light. I followed the gaze of one very fat and ugly frog, and saw the second of the things which drove my senses away.
Stretching directly from the strange olden ruin on the far islet to the waning moon, my eyes seemed to trace a beam of faint quivering radiance having no reflection in the waters of the bog. And upward along that pallid path my fevered fancy pictured a thin shadow slowly writhing; a vague contorted shadow struggling as if drawn by unseen demons. Crazed as I was, I saw in that awful shadow a monstrous resemblance - a nauseous, unbelievable caricature - a blasphemous effigy of him who had been Denys Barry.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:31, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[NYARLATHOTEP]] ==
 
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NYARLATHOTEP
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written early Dec 1920
Published November 1920 in The United Amateur, Vol. 20, No. 2, p. 19-21.
 
Nyarlathotep... the crawling chaos... I am the last... I will tell the audient void...
I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a demoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.
And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences of electricity and psychology and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare. Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.
I remember when Nyarlathotep came to my city the great, the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. My friend had told me of him, and of the impelling fascination and allurement of his revelations, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which shewed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.
It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets. I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We swore to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and laughed at the queer faces we made.
I believe we felt something coming down from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to shew where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and almost on its side. When we gazed around the horizon, we could not find the third tower by the river, and noticed that the silhouette of the second tower was ragged at the top. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently I felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. I lingered behind, for the black rift in the green-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight. As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the unimaginable.
Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:34, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[the other gods by h.p.lovecraft]] ==
 
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THE OTHER GODS
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 14 August 1921
Published November 1933 in The Fantasy Fan, Vol. 1, No. 3, p. 35-38.
 
 
Atop the tallest of earth's peaks dwell the gods of earth, and suffer not man to tell that he hath looked upon them. Lesser peaks they once inhabited; but ever the men from the plains would scale the slopes of rock and snow, driving the gods to higher and higher mountains till now only the last remains. When they left their old peaks they took with them all signs of themselves, save once, it is said, when they left a carven image on the face of the mountain which they called Ngranek.
But now they have betaken themselves to unknown Kadath in the cold waste where no man treads, and are grown stern, having no higher peak whereto to flee at the coming of men. They are grown stern, and where once they suffered men to displace them, they now forbid men to come; or coming, to depart. It is well for men that they know not of Kadath in the cold waste; else they would seek injudiciously to scale it.
Sometimes when earth's gods are homesick they visit in the still of the night the peaks where once they dwelt, and weep softly as they try to play in the olden way on remembered slopes. Men have felt the tears of the gods on white-capped Thurai, though they have thought it rain; and have heard the sighs of the gods in the plaintive dawn-winds of Lerion. In cloud-ships the gods are wont to travel, and wise cotters have legends that keep them from certain high peaks at night when it is cloudy, for the gods are not lenient as of old.
In Ulthar, which lies beyond the river Skai, once dwelt an old man avid to behold the gods of earth; a man deeply learned in the seven cryptical books of earth, and familiar with the Pnakotic Manuscripts of distant and frozen Lomar. His name was Barzai the Wise, and the villagers tell of how he went up a mountain on the night of the strange eclipse.
Barzai knew so much of the gods that he could tell of their comings and goings, and guessed so many of their secrets that he was deemed half a god himself. It was he who wisely advised the burgesses of Ulthar when they passed their remarkable law against the slaying of cats, and who first told the young priest Atal where it is that black cats go at midnight on St. John's Eve. Barzai was learned in the lore of the earth's gods, and had gained a desire to look upon their faces. He believed that his great secret knowledge of gods could shield him from their wrath, so resolved to go up to the summit of high and rocky Hatheg-Kla on a night when he knew the gods would be there.
Hatheg-Kla is far in the stony desert beyond Hatheg, for which it is named, and rises like a rock statue in a silent temple. Around its peak the mists play always mournfully, for mists are the memories of the gods, and the gods loved Hatheg-Kla when they dwelt upon it in the old days. Often the gods of earth visit Hatheg-Kla in their ships of clouds, casting pale vapors over the slopes as they dance reminiscently on the summit under a clear moon. The villagers of Hatheg say it is ill to climb the Hatheg-Kla at any time, and deadly to climb it by night when pale vapors hide the summit and the moon; but Barzai heeded them not when he came from neighboring Ulthar with the young priest Atal, who was his disciple. Atal was only the son of an innkeeper, and was sometimes afraid; but Barzai's father had been a landgrave who dwelt in an ancient castle, so he had no common superstition in his blood, and only laughed at the fearful cotters.
Banzai and Atal went out of Hatheg into the stony desert despite the prayers of peasants, and talked of earth's gods by their campfires at night. Many days they traveled, and from afar saw lofty Hatheg-Kla with his aureole of mournful mist. On the thirteenth day they reached the mountain's lonely base, and Atal spoke of his fears. But Barzai was old and learned and had no fears, so led the way up the slope that no man had scaled since the time of Sansu, who is written of with fright in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts.
The way was rocky, and made perilous by chasms, cliffs, and falling stones. Later it grew cold and snowy; and Barzai and Atal often slipped and fell as they hewed and plodded upward with staves and axes. Finally the air grew thin, and the sky changed color, and the climbers found it hard to breathe; but still they toiled up and up, marveling at the strangeness of the scene and thrilling at the thought of what would happen on the summit when the moon was out and the pale vapours spread around. For three days they climbed higher and higher toward the roof of the world; then they camped to wait for the clouding of the moon.
For four nights no clouds came, and the moon shone down cold through the thin mournful mist around the silent pinnacle. Then on the fifth night, which was the night of the full moon, Barzai saw some dense clouds far to the north, and stayed up with Atal to watch them draw near. Thick and majestic they sailed, slowly and deliberately onward; ranging themselves round the peak high above the watchers, and hiding the moon and the summit form view. For a long hour the watchers gazed, whilst the vapours swirled and the screen of clouds grew thicker and more restless. Barzai was wise in the lore of earth's gods, and listened hard for certain sounds, but Atal felt the chill of the vapours and the awe of the night, and feared much. And when Barzai began to climb higher and beckon eagerly, it was long before Atal would follow.
So thick were the vapours that the way was hard, and though Atal followed at last, he could scarce see the gray shape of Barzai on the dim slope above in the clouded moonlight. Barzai forged very far ahead, and seemed despite his age to climb more easily than Atal; fearing not the steepness that began to grow too great for any save a strong and dauntless man, nor pausing at wide black chasms that Atal could scarce leap. And so they went up wildly over rocks and gulfs, slipping and stumbling, and sometimes awed at the vastness and horrible silence of bleak ice pinnacles and mute granite steeps.
Very suddenly Barzai went out of Atal's sight, scaling a hideous cliff that seemed to bulge outward and block the path for any climber not inspired of earth's gods. Atal was far below, and planning what she should do when he reached the place, when curiously he noticed that the light had grown strong, as if the cloudless peak and moonlit meetingplace of the gods were very near. And as he scrambled on toward the bulging cliff and litten sky he felt fears more shocking than any he had known before. Then through the high mists he heard the voice of Barzai shouting wildly in delight:
"I have heard the gods. I have heard earth's gods singing in revelry on Hatheg-Kla! The voices of earth's gods are known to Barzai the Prophet! The mists are thin and the moon is bright, and I shall see the gods dancing wildly on Hatheg-Kla that they loved in youth. The wisdom of Barzai hath made him greater than earth's gods, and against his will their spells and barriers are as naught; Barzai will behold the gods, the proud gods, the secret gods, the gods of earth who spurn the sight of man!"
Atal could not hear the voices Barzai heard, but he was now close to the bulging cliff and scanning it for footholds. Then he heard Barzai's voice grow shriller and louder:
"The mist is very thin, and the moon casts shadows on the slope; the voices of earth's gods are high and wild, and they fear the coming of Barzai the Wise, who is greater than they... The moon's light flickers, as earth's gods dance against it; I shall see the dancing forms of the gods that leap and howl in the moonlight... The light is dimmer and the gods are afraid..."
Whilst Barzai was shouting these things Atal felt a spectral change in all the air, as if the laws of earth were bowing to greater laws; for though the way was steeper than ever, the upward path was now grown fearsomely easy, and the bulging cliff proved scarce an obstacle when he reached it and slid perilously up its convex face. The light of the moon had strangely failed, and as Atal plunged upward through the mists he heard Barzai the Wise shrieking in the shadows:
"The moon is dark, and the gods dance in the night; there is terror in the sky, for upon the moon hath sunk an eclipse foretold in no books of men or of earth's gods... There is unknown magic on Hatheg-Kla, for the screams of the frightened gods have turned to laughter, and the slopes of ice shoot up endlessly into the black heavens whither I am plunging... Hei! Hei! At last! In the dim light I behold the gods of earth!"
And now Atal, slipping dizzily up over inconceivable steeps, heard in the dark a loathsome laughing, mixed with such a cry as no man else ever heard save in the Phlegethon of unrelatable nightmares; a cry wherein reverberated the horror and anguish of a haunted lifetime packed into one atrocious moment:
"The other gods! The other gods! The gods of the outer hells that guard the feeble gods of earth!... Look away... Go back... Do not see! Do not see! The vengeance of the infinite abysses... That cursed, that damnable pit... Merciful gods of earth, I am falling into the sky!"
And as Atal shut his eyes and stopped his ears and tried to hump downward against the frightful pull from unknown heights, there resounded on Hatheg-Kla that terrible peal of thunder which awaked the good cotters of the plains and the honest burgesses of Hatheg, Nir and Ulthar, and caused them to behold through the clouds that strange eclipse of the moon that no book ever predicted. And when the moon came out at last Atal was safe on the lower snows of the mountain without sight of earth's gods, or of the other gods.
Now it is told in the moldy Pnakotic Manuscripts that Sansu found naught but wordless ice and rock when he did climb Hatheg-Kla in the youth of the world. Yet when the men of Ulthar and Nir and Hatheg crushed their fears and scaled that haunted steep by day in search of Barzai the Wise, they found graven in the naked stone of the summit a curious and cyclopean symbol fifty cubits wide, as if the rock had been riven by some titanic chisel. And the symbol was like to one that learned men have discerned in those frightful parts of the Pnakotic Manuscripts which were too ancient to be read. This they found.
Barzai the Wise they never found, nor could the holy priest Atal ever be persuaded to pray for his soul's repose. Moreover, to this day the people of Ulthar and Nir and Hatheg fear eclipses, and pray by night when pale vapors hide the mountain-top and the moon. And above the mists on Hatheg-Kla, earth's gods sometimes dance reminiscently; for they know they are safe, and love to come from unknown Kadath in ships of clouds and play in the olden way, as they did when earth was new and men not given to the climbing of inaccessible places.
 
 
 
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:35, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== joey mccallig ==
 
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[[User:83.70.222.154|83.70.222.154]] 19:36, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[THE PICTURE IN THE HOUSE by h.p.lovecraft]] ==
 
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THE PICTURE IN THE HOUSE
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 12 December 1920?
Published July 1919 in The National Amateur, Vol. 41, No. 6, p. 246-49.
 
Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. For them are the catacombs of Ptolemais, and the carven mausolea of the nightmare countries. They climb to the moonlit towers of ruined Rhine castles, and falter down black cobwebbed steps beneath the scattered stones of forgotten cities in Asia. The haunted wood and the desolate mountain are their shrines, and they linger around the sinister monoliths on uninhabited islands. But the true epicure in the terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness and ignorance combine to form the perfection of the hideous.
Most horrible of all sights are the little unpainted wooden houses remote from travelled ways, usually squatted upon some damp grassy slope or leaning against some gigantic outcropping of rock. Two hundred years and more they have leaned or squatted there, while the vines have crawled and the trees have swelled and spread. They are almost hidden now in lawless luxuriances of green and guardian shrouds of shadow; but the small-paned windows still stare shockingly, as if blinking through a lethal stupor which wards off madness by dulling the memory of unutterable things.
In such houses have dwelt generations of strange people, whose like the world has never seen. Seized with a gloomy and fanatical belief which exiled them from their kind, their ancestors sought the wilderness for freedom. There the scions of a conquering race indeed flourished free from the restrictions of their fellows, but cowered in an appalling slavery to the dismal phantasms of their own minds. Divorced from the enlightenment of civilization, the strength of these Puritans turned into singular channels; and in their isolation, morbid self-repression, and struggle for life with relentless Nature, there came to them dark furtive traits from the prehistoric depths of their cold Northern heritage. By necessity practical and by philosophy stern, these folks were not beautiful in their sins. Erring as all mortals must, they were forced by their rigid code to seek concealment above all else; so that they came to use less and less taste in what they concealed. Only the silent, sleepy, staring houses in the backwoods can tell all that has lain hidden since the early days, and they are not communicative, being loath to shake off the drowsiness which helps them forget. Sometimes one feels that it would be merciful to tear down these houses, for they must often dream.
It was to a time-battered edifice of this description that I was driven one afternoon in November, 1896, by a rain of such chilling copiousness that any shelter was preferable to exposure. I had been travelling for some time amongst the people of the Miskatonic Valley in quest of certain genealogical data; and from the remote, devious, and problematical nature of my course, had deemed it convenient to employ a bicycle despite the lateness of the season. Now I found myself upon an apparently abandoned road which I had chosen as the shortest cut to Arkham, overtaken by the storm at a point far from any town, and confronted with no refuge save the antique and repellent wooden building which blinked with bleared windows from between two huge leafless elms near the foot of a rocky hill. Distant though it is from the remnant of a road, this house none the less impressed me unfavorably the very moment I espied it. Honest, wholesome structures do not stare at travellers so slyly and hauntingly, and in my genealogical researches I had encountered legends of a century before which biased me against places of this kind. Yet the force of the elements was such as to overcome my scruples, and I did not hesitate to wheel my machine up the weedy rise to the closed door which seemed at once so suggestive and secretive.
I had somehow taken it for granted that the house was abandoned, yet as I approached it I was not so sure, for though the walks were indeed overgrown with weeds, they seemed to retain their nature a little too well to argue complete desertion. Therefore instead of trying the door I knocked, feeling as I did so a trepidation I could scarcely explain. As I waited on the rough, mossy rock which served as a door-step, I glanced at the neighboring windows and the panes of the transom above me, and noticed that although old, rattling, and almost opaque with dirt, they were not broken. The building, then, must still be inhabited, despite its isolation and general neglect. However, my rapping evoked no response, so after repeating the summons I tried the rusty latch and found the door unfastened. Inside was a little vestibule with walls from which the plaster was falling, and through the doorway came a faint but peculiarly hateful odor. I entered, carrying my bicycle, and closed the door behind me. Ahead rose a narrow staircase, flanked by a small door probably leading to the cellar, while to the left and right were closed doors leading to rooms on the ground floor.
Leaning my cycle against the wall I opened the door at the left, and crossed into a small low-ceiled chamber but dimly lighted by its two dusty windows and furnished in the barest and most primitive possible way. It appeared to be a kind of sitting-room, for it had a table and several chairs, and an immense fireplace above which ticked an antique clock on a mantel. Books and papers were very few, and in the prevailing gloom I could not readily discern the titles. What interested me was the uniform air of archaism as displayed in every visible detail. Most of the houses in this region I had found rich in relics of the past, but here the antiquity was curiously complete; for in all the room I could not discover a single article of definitely post-revolutionary date. Had the furnishings been less humble, the place would have been a collector's paradise.
As I surveyed this quaint apartment, I felt an increase in that aversion first excited by the bleak exterior of the house. Just what it was that I feared or loathed, I could by no means define; but something in the whole atmosphere seemed redolent of unhallowed age, of unpleasant crudeness, and of secrets which should be forgotten. I felt disinclined to sit down, and wandered about examining the various articles which I had noticed. The first object of my curiosity was a book of medium size lying upon the table and presenting such an antediluvian aspect that I marvelled at beholding it outside a museum or library. It was bound in leather with metal fittings, and was in an excellent state of preservation; being altogether an unusual sort of volume to encounter in an abode so lowly. When I opened it to the title page my wonder grew even greater, for it proved to be nothing less rare than Pigafetta's account of the Congo region, written in Latin from the notes of the sailor Lopex and printed at Frankfurt in 1598. I had often heard of this work, with its curious illustrations by the brothers De Bry, hence for a moment forgot my uneasiness in my desire to turn the pages before me. The engravings were indeed interesting, drawn wholly from imagination and careless descriptions, and represented negroes with white skins and Caucasian features; nor would I soon have closed the book had not an exceedingly trivial circumstance upset my tired nerves and revived my sensation of disquiet. What annoyed me was merely the persistent way in which the volume tended to fall open of itself at Plate XII, which represented in gruesome detail a butcher's shop of the cannibal Anziques. I experienced some shame at my susceptibility to so slight a thing, but the drawing nevertheless disturbed me, especially in connection with some adjacent passages descriptive of Anzique gastronomy.
I had turned to a neighboring shelf and was examining its meagre literary contents - an eighteenth century Bible, a "Pilgrim's Progress" of like period, illustrated with grotesque woodcuts and printed by the almanack-maker Isaiah Thomas, the rotting bulk of Cotton Mather's "Magnalia Christi Americana," and a few other books of evidently equal age - when my attention was aroused by the unmistakable sound of walking in the room overhead. At first astonished and startled, considering the lack of response to my recent knocking at the door, I immediately afterward concluded that the walker had just awakened from a sound sleep, and listened with less surprise as the footsteps sounded on the creaking stairs. The tread was heavy, yet seemed to contain a curious quality of cautiousness; a quality which I disliked the more because the tread was heavy. When I had entered the room I had shut the door behind me. Now, after a moment of silence during which the walker may have been inspecting my bicycle in the hall, I heard a fumbling at the latch and saw the paneled portal swing open again.
In the doorway stood a person of such singular appearance that I should have exclaimed aloud but for the restraints of good breeding. Old, white-bearded, and ragged, my host possessed a countenance and physique which inspired equal wonder and respect. His height could not have been less than six feet, and despite a general air of age and poverty he was stout and powerful in proportion. His face, almost hidden by a long beard which grew high on the cheeks, seemed abnormally ruddy and less wrinkled than one might expect; while over a high forehead fell a shock of white hair little thinned by the years. His blue eyes, though a trifle bloodshot, seemed inexplicably keen and burning. But for his horrible unkemptness the man would have been as distinguished-looking as he was impressive. This unkemptness, however, made him offensive despite his face and figure. Of what his clothing consisted I could hardly tell, for it seemed to me no more than a mass of tatters surmounting a pair of high, heavy boots; and his lack of cleanliness surpassed description.
The appearance of this man, and the instinctive fear he inspired, prepared me for something like enmity; so that I almost shuddered through surprise and a sense of uncanny incongruity when he motioned me to a chair and addressed me in a thin, weak voice full of fawning respect and ingratiating hospitality. His speech was very curious, an extreme form of Yankee dialect I had thought long extinct; and I studied it closely as he sat down opposite me for conversation.
"Ketched in the rain, be ye?" he greeted. "Glad ye was nigh the haouse en' hed the sense ta come right in. I calc'late I was alseep, else I'd a heerd ye-I ain't as young as I uster be, an' I need a paowerful sight o' naps naowadays. Trav'lin fur? I hain't seed many folks 'long this rud sence they tuk off the Arkham stage."
I replied that I was going to Arkham, and apologized for my rude entry into his domicile, whereupon he continued.
"Glad ta see ye, young Sir - new faces is scurce arount here, an' I hain't got much ta cheer me up these days. Guess yew hail from Bosting, don't ye? I never ben thar, but I kin tell a taown man when I see 'im - we hed one fer deestrick schoolmaster in 'eighty-four, but he quit suddent an' no one never heerd on 'im sence - " here the old man lapsed into a kind of chuckle, and made no explanation when I questioned him. He seemed to be in an aboundingly good humor, yet to possess those eccentricities which one might guess from his grooming. For some time he rambled on with an almost feverish geniality, when it struck me to ask him how he came by so rare a book as Pigafetta's "Regnum Congo." The effect of this volume had not left me, and I felt a certain hesitancy in speaking of it, but curiosity overmastered all the vague fears which had steadily accumulated since my first glimpse of the house. To my relief, the question did not seem an awkward one, for the old man answered freely and volubly.
"Oh, that Afriky book? Cap'n Ebenezer Holt traded me thet in 'sixty-eight - him as was kilt in the war." Something about the name of Ebenezer Holt caused me to look up sharply. I had encountered it in my genealogical work, but not in any record since the Revolution. I wondered if my host could help me in the task at which I was laboring, and resolved to ask him about it later on. He continued.
"Ebenezer was on a Salem merchantman for years, an' picked up a sight o' queer stuff in every port. He got this in London, I guess - he uster like ter buy things at the shops. I was up ta his haouse onct, on the hill, tradin' hosses, when I see this book. I relished the picters, so he give it in on a swap. 'Tis a queer book - here, leave me git on my spectacles-" The old man fumbled among his rags, producing a pair of dirty and amazingly antique glasses with small octagonal lenses and steel bows. Donning these, he reached for the volume on the table and turned the pages lovingly.
"Ebenezer cud read a leetle o' this-'tis Latin - but I can't. I had two er three schoolmasters read me a bit, and Passon Clark, him they say got draownded in the pond - kin yew make anything outen it?" I told him that I could, and translated for his benefit a paragraph near the beginning. If I erred, he was not scholar enough to correct me; for he seemed childishly pleased at my English version. His proximity was becoming rather obnoxious, yet I saw no way to escape without offending him. I was amused at the childish fondness of this ignorant old man for the pictures in a book he could not read, and wondered how much better he could read the few books in English which adorned the room. This revelation of simplicity removed much of the ill-defined apprehension I had felt, and I smiled as my host rambled on:
"Queer haow picters kin set a body thinkin'. Take this un here near the front. Hey yew ever seed trees like thet, with big leaves a floppin' over an' daown? And them men - them can't be niggers - they dew beat all. Kinder like Injuns, I guess, even ef they be in Afriky. Some o' these here critters looks like monkeys, or half monkeys an' half men, but I never heerd o' nothin' like this un." Here he pointed to a fabulous creature of the artist, which one might describe as a sort of dragon with the head of an alligator.
"But naow I'll show ye the best un - over here nigh the middle - "The old man's speech grew a trifle thicker and his eyes assumed a brighter glow; but his fumbling hands, though seemingly clumsier than before, were entirely adequate to their mission. The book fell open, almost of its own accord and as if from frequent consultation at this place, to the repellent twelfth plate showing a butcher's shop amongst the Anzique cannibals. My sense of restlessness returned, though I did not exhibit it. The especially bizarre thing was that the artist had made his Africans look like white men - the limbs and quarters hanging about the walls of the shop were ghastly, while the butcher with his axe was hideously incongruous. But my host seemed to relish the view as much as I disliked it.
"What d'ye think o' this - ain't never see the like hereabouts, eh? When I see this I telled Eb Holt, 'That's suthin' ta stir ye up an' make yer blood tickle.' When I read in Scripter about slayin' - like them Midianites was slew - I kinder think things, but I ain't got no picter of it. Here a body kin see all they is to it - I s'pose 'tis sinful, but ain't we all born an' livin' in sin? - Thet feller bein' chopped up gives me a tickle every time I look at 'im - I hey ta keep lookin' at 'im - see whar the butcher cut off his feet? Thar's his head on thet bench, with one arm side of it, an' t'other arm's on the other side o' the meat block."
As the man mumbled on in his shocking ecstasy the expression on his hairy, spectacled face became indescribable, but his voice sank rather than mounted. My own sensations can scarcely be recorded. All the terror I had dimly felt before rushed upon me actively and vividly, and I knew that I loathed the ancient and abhorrent creature so near me with an infinite intensity. His madness, or at least his partial perversion, seemed beyond dispute. He was almost whispering now, with a huskiness more terrible than a scream, and I trembled as I listened.
"As I says, 'tis queer haow picters sets ye thinkin'. D'ye know, young Sir, I'm right sot on this un here. Arter I got the book off Eb I uster look at it a lot, especial when I'd heerd Passon Clark rant o' Sundays in his big wig. Onct I tried suthin' funny - here, young Sir, don't git skeert - all I done was ter look at the picter afore I kilt the sheep for market - killin' sheep was kinder more fun arter lookin' at it - " The tone of the old man now sank very low, sometimes becoming so faint that his words were hardly audible. I listened to the rain, and to the rattling of the bleared, small-paned windows, and marked a rumbling of approaching thunder quite unusual for the season. Once a terrific flash and peal shook the frail house to its foundations, but the whisperer seemed not to notice it.
"Killin' sheep was kinder more fun - but d'ye know, 'twan't quite satisfyin'. Queer haow a cravin' gits a holt on ye - As ye love the Almighty, young man, don't tell nobody, but I swar ter Gawd thet picter begun to make me hungry fer victuals I couldn't raise nor buy - here, set still, what's ailin' ye? - I didn't do nothin', only I wondered haow 'twud be ef I did - They say meat makes blood an' flesh, an' gives ye new life, so I wondered ef 'twudn't make a man live longer an' longer ef 'twas more the same - " But the whisperer never continued. The interruption was not produced by my fright, nor by the rapidly increasing storm amidst whose fury I was presently to open my eyes on a smoky solitude of blackened ruins. It was produced by a very simple though somewhat unusual happening.
The open book lay flat between us, with the picture staring repulsively upward. As the old man whispered the words "more the same" a tiny splattering impact was heard, and something showed on the yellowed paper of the upturned volume. I thought of the rain and of a leaky roof, but rain is not red. On the butcher's shop of the Anzique cannibals a small red spattering glistened picturesquely, lending vividness to the horror of the engraving. The old man saw it, and stopped whispering even before my expression of horror made it necessary; saw it and glanced quickly toward the floor of the room he had left an hour before. I followed his glance, and beheld just above us on the loose plaster of the ancient ceiling a large irregular spot of wet crimson which seemed to spread even as I viewed it. I did not shriek or move, but merely shut my eyes. A moment later came the titanic thunderbolt of thunderbolts; blasting that accursed house of unutterable secrets and bringing the oblivion which alone saved my mind.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:40, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
Kinda like a chess master.
 
 
See bobby fischer.
 
== [[the descendant]] ==
 
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THE DESCENDANT
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 1926
Published 1938 in Leaves, Vol. 2, p. 107-10.
 
In London there is a man who screams when the church bells ring. He lives all alone with his streaked cat in Gray's Inn, and people call him harmlessly mad. His room is filled with books of the tamest and most puerile kind, and hour after hour he tries to lose himself in their feeble pages. All he seeks from life is not to think. For some reason thought is very horrible to him, and anything which stirs the imagination he flees as a plague. He is very thin and grey and wrinkled, hut there are those who declare he is not nearly so old as he looks. Fear has its grisly claws upon him, and a sound will make him start with staring eyes and sweat-beaded forehead. Friends and companions he shuns, for he wishes to answer no questions. Those who once knew him as scholar and aesthete say it is very pitiful to see him now. He dropped them all years ago, and no one feels sure whether he left the country or merely sank from sight in some hidden byway. It is a decade now since he moved into Gray's Inn, and of where he had been he would say nothing till the night young Williams bought the Necronomicon.
Williams was a dreamer, and only twenty-three, and when he moved into the ancient house he felt a strangeness and a breath of cosmic wind about the grey wizened man in the next room. He forced his friendship where old friends dared not force theirs, and marvelled at the fright that sat upon this gaunt, haggard watcher and listener. For that the man always watched and listened no one could doubt. He watched and listened with his mind more than with his eyes and ears, and strove every moment to drown something in his ceaseless poring over gay, insipid novels. And when the church bells rang he would stop his ears and scream, and the grey cat that dwelt with him would howl in unison till the last peal died reverberantly away.
But try as Williams would, he could not make his neighbour speak of anything profound or hidden. The old man would not live up to his aspect and manner, but would feign a smile and a light tone and prattle feverishly and frantically of cheerful trifles; his voice every moment rising and thickening till at last it would split in a piping and incoherent falsetto. That his learning was deep and thorough, his most trivial remarks made abundantly clear; and Williams was not surprised to hear that he had been to Harrow and Oxford. Later it developed that he was none other than Lord Northam, of whose ancient hereditary castle on the Yorkshire coast so many odd things were told; but when Williams tried to talk of the castle, and of its reputed Roman origin, he refused to admit that there was anything unusual about it. He even tittered shrilly when the subject of the supposed under crypts, hewn out of the solid crag that frowns on the North Sea, was brought up.
So matters went till that night when Williams brought home the infamous Necronomicon of the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred. He had known of the dreaded volume since his sixteenth year, when his dawning love of the bizarre had led him to ask queer questions of a bent old bookseller in Chandos Street; and he had always wondered why men paled when they spoke of it. The old bookseller had told him that only five copies were known to have survived the shocked edicts of the priests and lawgivers against it and that all of these were locked up with frightened care by custodians who had ventured to begin a reading of the hateful black-letter. But now, at last, he had not only found an accessible copy but had made it his own at a ludicrously low figure. It was at a Jew's shop in the squalid precincts of Glare Market, where he had often bought strange things before, and he almost fancied the gnarled 'old Levite smiled amidst tangles of beard as the great discovery was made. The bulky leather cover with the brass clasp had been so prominently visible, and the price was so absurdly slight.
The one glimpse he had had of the title was enough to send him into transports, and some of the diagrams set in the vague Latin text excited the tensest and most disquieting recollections in his brain. He felt it was highly necessary to get the ponderous thing home and begin deciphering it, and bore it out of the shop with such precipitate haste that the old Jew chuckled disturbingly behind him But when at last it was safe in his room he found the combination of black-letter and debased idiom too much for his powers as a linguist, and reluctantly called on his strange, frightened friend for help with the twisted, mediaeval Latin. Lord Northam was simpering inanities to his streaked cat, and started violently when the young man entered. Then he saw the volume and shuddered wildly, and fainted altogether when Williams uttered the title. It was when he regained his senses that he told his story; told his fantastic figment of madness in frantic whispers, lest his friend be not quick to burn the accursed book and give wide scattering to its ashes.
 
* * * * *
 
There must, Lord Northam whispered, have been something wrong at the start; but it would never have come to a head if he had not explored too far. He was the nineteenth Baron of a line whose beginings went uncomfortiblly far back into the past- unbelievably far, if vague tradition could be heeded, for there were familytales of a descent from pre-Saxon times, when a certain Cnaeus Gabinius Capito, military tribune in the Third Augustan Legion then stationed at Lindum in Roman Britain, had been summarily expelled from his command for participation in Certain rites unconnected with any known religion. Gabinius had, the rumour ran, come upon a cliffside cavern where strange folk met together and made the Elder Sign in the dark; strange folk whom the Britons knew not save in fear, and who were the last to survive from a great land in the west that had sunk, leaving only the islands with the raths and circles and shrines of which Stonehenge was the greatest. There was no certainty, of course, in the legend that Gabinius had built an impregnable fortress over the forbidden cave and founded a line which Pict and Saxon, Dane and Norman were powerless to obliterate; or in the tacit assumption that from this line sprang the bold companion and lieutenant of the Black Prince whom Edward Third created Baron of Northam. These things were not certain, yet they were often told; and in truth the stonework of Northam Keep did look alarmingly like the masonry of Hadrian's Wall. As a child Lord Northam had had peculiar dreams when sleeping in the older parts of the castle, and had acquired a constant habit of looking back through his memory for half-amorphous scenes and patterns and impressions which formed no part of his waking experience. He became a dreamer who found life tame and unsatisfying; a searcher for strange realms and relationships once familiar, yet lying nowhere in the visible regions of earth.
Filled with a feeling that our tangible world is only an atom in a fabric vast and ominous, and that unknown demesnes press on and permeate the sphere of the known at every point, Northam in youth and young manhood drained in turn the founts of formal religion and occult mystery. Nowhere, however, could he find ease and content; and as he grew older the staleness and limitations of life became more and more maddening to him. During the 'nineties he dabbled in Satanism, and at all times he devoured avidly any doctrine or theory which seemed to promise escape from the dose vistas of science and the dully unvarying laws of Nature. Books like Ignatius Donnelly's chimerical account of Atlantis he absorbed with zest, and a dozen obscure precursors of Charles Fort enthralled him with their vagaries. He would travel leagues to follow up a furtive village tale of abnormal wonder, and once went into the desert of Araby to seek a Nameless City of faint report, which no man has ever beheld. There rose within him the tantalising faith that somewhere an easy gate existed, which if one found would admit him freely to those outer deeps whose echoes rattled so dimly at the back of his memory. It might be in the visible world, yet it might be only in his mind and soul. Perhaps he held within his own half-explored brain that cryptic link which would awaken him to elder and future lives in forgotten dimensions; which would bind him to the stars, and to the infinities and eternities beyond them.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:51, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[the evil clergyman]] ==
 
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THE EVIL CLERGYMAN
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 1937
Published April 1939 in Weird Tales, Vol. 33, No. 4, p. 135-37
 
I was shown into the attic chamber by a grave, intelligent-looking man with quiet clothes and an iron-gray beard, who spoke to me in this fashion:
"Yes, he lived here - but I don’t advise your doing anything. Your curiosity makes you irresponsible. We never come here at night, and it’s only because of his will that we keep it this way. You know what he did. That abominable society took charge at last, and we don’t know where he is buried. There was no way the law or anything else could reach the society.
"I hope you won’t stay till after dark. And I beg of you to let that thing on the table - the thing that looks like a match-box - alone. We don’t know what it is, but we suspect it has something to do with what he did. We even avoid looking at it very steadily."
After a time the man left me alone in the attic room. It was very dingy and dusty, and only primitively furnished, but it had a neatness which showed it was not a slum-denizen’s quarters. There were shelves full of theological and classical books, and another bookcase containing treatises on magic - Paracelsus, Albertus Magnus, Trithemius, Hermes Trismegistus, Borellus, and others in a strange alphabet whose titles I could not decipher. The furniture was very plain. There was a door, but it led only into a closet. The only egress was the aperture in the floor up to which the crude, steep staircase led. The windows were of bull’s-eye pattern, and the black oak beams bespoke unbelievable antiquity. Plainly, this house was of the Old World. I seemed to know where I was, but cannot recall what I then knew. Certainly the town was not London. My impression is of a small seaport.
The small object on the table fascinated me intensely. I seemed to know what to do with it, for I drew a pocket electric light - or what looked like one - out of my pocket and nervously tested its flashes. The light was not white but violet, and seemed less like true light than like some radioactive bombardment. I recall that I did not regard it as a common flashlight - indeed, I had a common flashlight in another pocket.
It was getting dark, and the ancient roofs and chimney-pots outside looked very queer through the bull’s-eye window-panes. Finally I summoned up courage and propped the small object up on the table against a book - then turned the rays of the peculiar violet light upon it. The light seemed now to be more like a rain of hail or small violet particles than like a continuous beam. As the particles struck the glassy surface at the center of the strange device, they seemed to produce a crackling noise like the sputtering of a vacuum tube through which sparks are passed. The dark glassy surface displayed a pinkish glow, and a vague white shape seemed to be taking form at its center. Then I noticed that I was not alone in the room - and put the ray-projector back in my pocket.
But the newcomer did not speak - nor did I hear any sound whatever during all the immediately following moments. Everything was shadowy pantomime, as if seen at a vast distance through some intervening haze - although on the other hand the newcomer and all subsequent comers loomed large and close, as if both near and distant, according to some abnormal geometry.
The newcomer was a thin, dark man of medium height attired in the clerical garb of the Anglican church. He was apparently about thirty years old, with a sallow, olive complexion and fairly good features, but an abnormally high forehead. His black hair was well cut and neatly brushed, and he was clean-shaven though blue-chinned with a heavy growth of beard. He wore rimless spectacles with steel bows. His build and lower facial features were like other clergymen I had seen, but he had a vastly higher forehead, and was darker and more intelligent-looking - also more subtly and concealedly evil-looking. At the present moment - having just lighted a faint oil lamp - he looked nervous, and before I knew it he was casting all his magical books into a fireplace on the window side of the room (where the wall slanted sharply) which I had not noticed before. The flames devoured the volumes greedily - leaping up in strange colors and emitting indescribably hideous odors as the strangely hieroglyphed leaves and wormy bindings succumbed to the devastating element. All at once I saw there were others in the room - gravelooking men in clerical costume, one of whom wore the bands and knee-breeches of a bishop. Though I could hear nothing, I could see that they were bringing a decision of vast import to the first-coiner. They seemed to hate and fear him at the same time, and he seemed to return these sentiments. His face set itself into a grim expression, but I could see his right hand shaking as he tried to grip the back of a chair. The bishop pointed to the empty case and to the fireplace (where the flames had died down amidst a charred, non-committal mass), and seemed filled with a peculiar loathing. The first-coiner then gave a wry smile and reached out with his left hand toward the small object on the table. Everyone then seemed frightened. The procession of clerics began filing down the steep stairs through the trapdoor in the floor, turning and making menacing gestures as they left. The bishop was last to go.
The first-coiner now went to a cupboard on the inner side of the room and extracted a coil of rope. Mounting a chair, he attached one end of the rope to a hook in the great exposed central beam of black oak, and began making a noose with the other end. Realizing he was about to hang himself, I started forward to dissuade or save him. He saw me and ceased his preparations, looking at me with a kind of triumph which puzzled and disturbed me. He slowly stepped down from the chair and began gliding toward me with a positively wolfish grin on his dark, thin-lipped face.
I felt somehow in deadly peril, and drew out the peculiar ray-projector as a weapon of defense. Why I thought it could help me, I do not know. I turned it on - full in his face, and saw the sallow features glow first with violet and then with pinkish light. His expression of wolfish exultation began to be crowded aside by a look of profound fear - which did not, however, wholly displace the exultation. He stopped in his tracks - then, flailing his arms wildly in the air, began to stagger backwards. I saw he was edging toward the open stair-well in the floor, and tried to shout a warning, but he did not hear me. In another instant he had lurched backward through the opening and was lost to view.
I found difficulty in moving toward the stair-well, but when I did get there I found no crushed body on the floor below. Instead there was a clatter of people coming up with lanterns, for the spell of phantasmal silence had broken, and I once more heard sounds and saw figures as normally tri-dimensional. Something had evidently drawn a crowd to this place. Had there been a noise I had not heard?
Presently the two people (simple villagers, apparently) farthest in the lead saw me - and stood paralyzed. One of them shrieked loudly and reverberantly:
"Ahrrh! ... It be’ee, zur? Again?"
Then they all turned and fled frantically. All, that is, but one. When the crowd was gone I saw the grave-bearded man who had brought me to this place - standing alone with a lantern. He was gazing at me gaspingly and fascinatedly, but did not seem afraid. Then he began to ascend the stairs, and joined me in the attic. He spoke:
"So you didn’t let it alone! I’m sorry. I know what has happened. It happened once before, but the man got frightened and shot himself. You ought not to have made him come back. You know what he wants. But you mustn’t get frightened like the other man he got. Something very strange and terrible has happened to you, but it didn’t get far enough to hurt your mind and personality. If you’ll keep cool, and accept the need for making certain radical readjustments in your life, you can keep right on enjoying the world, and the fruits of your scholarship. But you can’t live here - and I don’t think you’ll wish to go back to London. I’d advise America.
"You mustn’t try anything more than that - thing. Nothing can be put back now. It would only make matters worse to do - or summon - anything. You are not as badly off as you might be - but you must get out of here at once and stay away. You’d better thank Heaven it didn’t go further...
"I’m going to prepare you as bluntly as I can. There’s been a certain change - in your personal appearance. He always causes that. But in a new country you can get used to it. There’s a mirror up at the other end of the room, and I’m going to take you to it. You’ll get a shock - though you will see nothing repulsive."
I was now shaking with a deadly fear, and the bearded man almost had to hold me up as he walked me across the room to the mirror, the faint lamp (i.e., that formerly on the table, not the still fainter lantern he had brought) in his free hand. This is what I saw in the glass:
A thin, dark man of medium stature attired in the clerical garb of the Anglican church, apparently about thirty, and with rimless, steel-bowed glasses glistening beneath a sallow, olive forehead of abnormal height.
It was the silent first-coiner who had burned his books.
For all the rest of my life, in outward form, I was to be that man!
 
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:52, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[ex oblivione]] ==
 
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EX OBLIVIONE
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 1920
Published March 1921 in The United Amateur, Vol. 20, No. 4, p. 59-60.
 
 
When the last days were upon me, and the ugly trifles of existence began to drive me to madness like the small drops of water that torturers let fall ceaselessly upon one spot of their victims body, I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.
Once when the wind was soft and scented I heard the south calling, and sailed endlessly and languorously under strange stars.
Once when the gentle rain fell I glided in a barge down a sunless stream under the earth till I reached another world of purple twilight, iridescent arbours, and undying roses.
And once I walked through a golden valley that led to shadowy groves and ruins, and ended in a mighty wall green with antique vines, and pierced by a little gate of bronze.
Many times I walked through that valley, and longer and longer would I pause in the spectral half-light where the giant trees squirmed and twisted grotesquely, and the grey ground stretched damply from trunk to trunk, some times disclosing the mould-stained stones of buried temples. And alway the goal of my fancies was the mighty vine-grown wall with the little gate of bronze therein.
After a while, as the days of waking became less and less bearable from their greyness and sameness, I would often drift in opiate peace through the valley and the shadowy groves, and wonder how I might seize them for my eternal dwelling-place, so that I need no more crawl back to a dull world stript of interest and new colours. And as I looked upon the little gate in the mighty wall, I felt that beyond it lay a dream-country from which, once it was entered, there would be no return.
So each night in sleep I strove to find the hidden latch of the gate in the ivied antique wall, though it was exceedingly well hidden. And I would tell myself that the realm beyond the wall was not more lasting merely, but more lovely and radiant as well.
Then one night in the dream-city of Zakarion I found a yellowed papyrus filled with the thoughts of dream-sages who dwelt of old in that city, and who were too wise ever to be born in the waking world. Therein were written many things concerning the world of dream, and among them was lore of a golden valley and a sacred grove with temples, and a high wall pierced by a little bronze gate. When I saw this lore, I knew that it touched on the scenes I had haunted, and I therefore read long in the yellowed papyrus.
Some of the dream-sages wrote gorgeously of the wonders beyond the irrepassable gate, but others told of horror and disappointment. I knew not which to believe, yet longed more and more to cross for ever into the unknown land; for doubt and secrecy are the lure of lures, and no new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the commonplace. So when I learned of the drug which would unlock the gate and drive me through, I resolved to take it when next I awaked.
Last night I swallowed the drug and floated dreamily into the golden valley and the shadowy groves; and when I came this time to the antique wall, I saw that the small gate of bronze was ajar. From beyond came a glow that weirdly lit the giant twisted trees and the tops of the buried temples, and I drifted on songfully, expectant of the glories of the land from whence I should never return.
But as the gate swung wider and the sorcery of the drug and the dream pushed me through, I knew that all sights and glories were at an end; for in that new realm was neither land nor sea, but only the white void of unpeopled and illimitable space. So, happier than I had ever dared hope to be, I dissolved again into that native infinity of crystal oblivion from which the daemon Life had called me for one brief and desolate hour.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:52, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[he by h.p.lovecraft]] ==
 
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HE
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 11 Aug 1925
Published September 1926 in Weird Tales, Vol. 8, No. 3, P. 373-80.
 
I saw him on a sleepless night when I was walking desperately to save my soul and my vision. My coming to New York had been a mistake; for whereas I had looked for poignant wonder and inspiration in the teeming labyrinths of ancient streets that twist endlessly from forgotten courts and squares and waterfronts to courts and squares and waterfronts equally forgotten, and in the Cyclopean modern towers and pinnacles that rise blackly Babylonian under waning moons, I had found instead only a sense of horror and oppression which threatened to master, paralyze, and annihilate me.
The disillusion had been gradual. Coming for the first time upon the town, I had seen it in the sunset from a bridge, majestic above its waters, its incredible peaks and pyramids rising flowerlike and delicate from pools of violet mist to play with the flaming clouds and the first stars of evening. Then it had lighted up window by window above the shimmering tides where lanterns nodded and glided and deep horns bayed weird harmonies, and had itself become a starry firmament of dream, redolent of faery music, and one with the marvels of Carcassonne and Samarcand and El Dorado and all glorious and half-fabulous cities. Shortly afterward I was taken through those antique ways so dear to my fancy-narrow, curving alleys and passages where rows of red Georgian brick blinked with small-paned dorrners above pillared doorways that had looked on gilded sedans and paneled coaches - and in the first flush of realization of these long-wished things I thought I had indeed achieved such treasures as would make me in time a poet.
But success and happiness were not to be. Garish daylight showed only squalor and all enage and the noxious elephantiasis of climbing, spreading stone where the moon had hinted of loveliness and elder magic; and the throngs of people that seethed through the flume-like streets were squat, swarthy strangers with hardened faces and narrow eyes, shrewd strangers without dreams and without kinship to the scenes about them, who could never mean aught to a blue-eyed man of the old folk, with the love of fair green lanes and white New England village steeples in his heart.
So instead of the poems I had hoped for, there came only a shuddering blackness and ineffable loneliness; and I saw at last a fearful truth which no one had ever dared to breathe before - the unwhisperable secret of secrets - the fact that this city of stone and stridor is not a sentient perpetuation of Old New York as London is of Old London and Paris of Old Paris, but that it is in fact quite dead, its sprawling body imperfectly embalmed and infested with queer animate things which have nothing to do with it as it was in lile. Upon making this discovery I ceased to sleep comfortably; though something of resigned tranquillity came back as I gradually formed the habit of keeping off the streets by day and venturing abroad only at night, when darkness calls forth what little of the past still hovers wraith-like about, and old white doorways remember the stalwart forms that once passed through them. With this mode of relief I even wrote a few poems, and still refrained from going home to my people lest I seem to crawl back ignobly in defeat.
Then, on a sleepless night's walk, I met the man. It was in a grotesque hidden courtyard of the Greenwich section, for there in my ignorance I had settled, having heard of the place as the natural home of poets and artists. The archaic lanes and houses and unexpected bits of square and court had indeed delighted me, and when I found the poets and artists to be loud-voiced pretenders whose quaintness is tinsel and whose lives are a denial of all that pure beauty which is poetry and art, I stayed on for love of these venerable things. I fancied them as they were in their prime, when Greenwich was a placid village not yet engulfed by the town; and in the hours befere dawn, when all the revellers had slunk away, I used to wander alone among their cryptical windings and brood upon the curious arcana which generations must have deposited there. This kept my soul alive, and gave me a few of those dreams and visions for which the poet far within me cried out.
The man came upon me at about two one cloudy August morning, as I was threading a series of detached courtyards; now accessible only through the unlighted hallways of intervening buildings, but once forming parts of a continuous network of picturesque alleys. I had heard of them by vague rumor, and realized that they could not be upon any map of today; but the fact that they were forgotten only endeared them to me, so that I had sought them with twice my usual eagerness. Now that I had found them, my eagerness was again redoubled; for something in their arrangement dimly hinted that they might be only a few of many such, with dark, dumb counterparts wedged obscurely betwixt high blank walls and deserted rear tenements, or lurking lamplessly behind archways unbetrayed by hordes of the foreign-speaking or guarded by furtive and uncommunicative artists whose practises do not invite publicity or the light of day.
He spoke to me without invitation, noting my mood and glances as I studied certain knockered doorways above iron-railed steps, the pallid glow of traceried transoms feebly lighting my face. His own face was in shadow, and he wore a wide-brimmed hat which somehow blended perfectly with the out-of-date cloak he affected; but I was subtly disquieted even before he addressed me. His form was very slight; thin almost to cadaverousness; and his voice proved phenomenally soft and hollow, though not particularly deep. He had, he said, noticed me several times at my wanderings; and inferred that I resembled him in loving the vestiges of former years. Would I not like the guidance of one long practised in these explorations, and possessed of local information profoundly deeper than any which an obvious newcomer could possibly have gained?
As he spoke, I caught a glimpse of his face in the yellow beam from a solitary attic window. It was a noble, even a handsome elderly countenance; and bore the marks of a lineage and refinement unusual for the age and place. Yet some quality about it disturbed me almost as much as its features pleased me - perhaps it was too white, or too expressionless, or too much out of keeping with the locality, to make me feel easy or comfortable. Nevertheless I followed him; for in those dreary days my quest for antique beauty and mystery was all that I had to keep my soul alive, and I reckoned it a rare favor of Fate to fall in with one whose kindred seekings seemed to have penetrated so much farther than mine.
Something in the night constrained the cloaked man to silence and for a long hour he led me forward without needless words; making only the briefest of comments concerning ancient names and dates and changes, and directing my progress very largely by gestures as we squeezed through interstices, tiptoed through corridors clambered over brick walls, and once crawled on hands and knees through a low, arched passage of stone whose immense length and tortuous twistings effaced at last every hint of geographical ___location I had managed to preserve. The things we saw were very old and marvelous, or at least they seemed so in the few straggling rays of light by which I viewed them, and I shall never forget the tottering Ionic columns and fluted pilasters and urn-headed iron fenceposts and flaring-linteled windows and decorative fanlights that appeared to grow quainter and stranger the deeper we advanced into this inexhaustible maze of unknown antiquity.
We met no person, and as time passed the lighted windows became fewer and fewer. The streetlights we first encountered had been of oil, and of the ancient lozenge pattern. Later I noticed some with candles; and at last, after traversing a horrible unlighted court where my guide had to lead with his gloved hand through total blackness to a narrow wooded gate in a high wall, we came upon a fragment of alley lit only by lanterns in front of every seventh house - unbelievably Colonial tin lanterns with conical tops and holes punched in the sides. This alley led steeply uphill - more steeply than I thought possible in this part of New York - and the upper end was blocked squarely by the ivy-clad wall of a private estate, beyond which I could see a pale cupola, and the tops of trees waving against a vague lightness in the sky. In this wall was a small, low-arched gate of nail-studded black oak, which the man proceeded to unlock with a ponderous key. Leading me within, he steered a course in utter blackness over what seemed to be a gravel path, and finally up a flight of stone steps to the door of the house, which he unlocked and opened for me.
We entered, and as we did so I grew faint from a reek of infinite mustiness which welled out to meet us, and which musf have been the fruit of unwholesome centuries of decay. My host appeared not to notice this, and in courtesy I kept silent as he piloted me up a curving stairway, across a hall, and into a room whose door I heard him lock behind us. Then I saw him pull the curtains of the three small-paned windows that barely showed themselves against the lightening sky; after which he crossed to the mantel, struck flint and steel, lighted two candles of a candelabrum of twelve sconces, and made a gesture enjoining soft-toned speech.
In this feeble radiance I saw that we were in a spacious, well-furnished and paneled library dating from the first quarter of the Eighteenth Century, with splendid doorway pediments, a delightful Doric cornice, and a magnificently carved overmantel with scroll-and-urn top. Above the crowded bookshelves at intervals along the walls were well-wrought family portraits; all tarnished to an enigmatical dimness, and bearing an unmistakable likeness to the man who now motioned me to a chair beside the graceful Chippendale table. Before seating himself across the tahle from me, my host paused for a moment as if in embarrassment; then, tardily removing his gloves, wide-brimmed hat, and cloak, stood theatrically revealed in full mid-Georgian costume from queued hair and neck raffles to knee-breeches, silk hose, and the buckled shoes I had not previously noticed. Now slowly sinking into a lyre-back chair, he commenced to eye me intently.
Without his hat he took on an aspect of extreme age which was scarcely visible before, and I wondered if this unperceived mark of singular longevity were not one of the sources of my disquiet. When he spoke at length, his soft, hollow, and carefully muffled voice not infrequently quavered; and now and then I had great difficulty in following him as I listened with a thrill of amazement and half- disavowed alarm which grew each instant.
"You behold, Sir," my host began, "a man of very eccentrical habits for whose costume no apology need be offered to one with your wit and inclinations. Reflecting upon better times, I have not scrupled to ascertain their ways, and adopt their dress and manners; an indulgence which offends none if practised without ostentation. It hath been my good fortune to retain the rural seat of my ancestors, swallowed though it was by two towns, first Greenwich, which built up hither after 1800, then New York, which joined on near 1830. There were many reasons for the close keeping of this place in my family, and I have not been remiss in discharging such obligations. The squire who succeeded to it in 1768 studied sartain arts and made sartain discoveries, all connected with influences residing in this particular plot of ground, and eminently desarving of the strongest guarding. Some curious effects of these arts and discoveries I now purpose to show you, under the strictest secrecy; and I believe I may rely on my judgement of men enough to have no distrust of either your interest or your fidelity."
He paused, but I could only nod my head. I have said that I was alarmed, yet to my soul nothing was more deadly than the material daylight world of New York, and whether this man were a harmless eccentric or a wielder of dangerous arts, I had no choice save to follow him and slake my sense of wonder on whatever he might have to offer. So I listened.
"To - my ancestor," he softly continued, "there appeared to reside some very remarkable qualities in the will of mankind; qualities having a little-suspected dominance not only over the acts of one's self and of others, but over every variety of force and substance in Nature, and over many elements and dimensions deemed more universal than Nature herself. May I say that he flouted the sanctity of things as great as space and time and that he put to strange uses the rites of sartain half-breed red Indians once encamped upon this hill? These Indians showed choler when the place was built, and were plaguey pestilent in asking to visit the grounds at the full of the moon. For years they stole over the wall each month when they could, and by stealth performed sartain acts. Then, in '68, the new squire catched them at their doings, and stood still at what he saw. Thereafter he bargained with them and exchanged the free access of his grounds for the exact inwardness of what they did, larning that their grandfathers got part of their custom from red ancestors and part from an old Dutchman in the time of the States-General. Arid pox on him, I'm afeared the squire must have sarved them monstrous bad rum - whether or not by intent - for a week after he larnt the secret he was the only man living that knew it. You, Sir, are the first outsider to be told there is a secret, and split me if I'd have risked tampering that much with - the powers - had ye not been so hot after bygone things."
I shuddered as the man grew colloquial - and with the familiar speech of another day. He went on.
"But you must know, Sir, that what - the squire - got from those mongrel savages was but a small part of the larning he came to have. He had not been at Oxford for nothing, nor talked to no account with an ancient chymist and astrologer in Paris. He was, in fine, made sensible that all the world is but the smoke of our intellects; past the bidding of the vulgar, but by the wise to be puffed out and drawn in like any cloud of prime Virginia tobacco. What we want, we may make about us; and what we don't want, we may sweep away. I won't say that all this is wholly true in body, but 'tis sufficient true to furnish a very pretty spectacle now and then. You, I conceive, would be tickled hy a better sight of sartain other years than your fancy affords you; so be pleased to hold back any fright at what I design to show. Come to the window and be quiet."
My host now took my hand to draw me to one of the two windows on the long side of the malodorous room, and at the first touch of his ungloved fingers I turned cold. His flesh, though dry and firm, was of the quality of ice; and I almost shrank away from his pulling. But again I thought of the emptiness and horror of reality, and boldly prepared to follow whithersoever I might be led. Once at the window, the man drew apart the yellow silk curtains and directed my stare into the blackness outside. For a moment I saw nothing save a myriad of tiny dancing lights, far, far before me. Then, as if in response to an insidious motion of my host's hand, a flash of heat-lightning played over the scene, and I looked out upon a sea of luxuriant foliage - foliage unpolluted, and not the sea of roofs to be expected by any normal mind. On my right the Hudson glittered wickedly, and in the distance ahead I saw the unhealthy shimmer of a vast salt marsh constellated with nervous fireflies. The flash died, and an evil smile illumined the waxy face of the aged necromancer.
"That was before my time - before the new squire's time. Pray let us try again."
I was faint, even fainter than the hateful modernity of that accursed city had made me.
"Good God!" I whispered, "can you do that for any time?" And as he nodded, and bared the black stumps of what had once been yellow fangs, I clutched at the curtains to prevent myself from falling. But he steadied me with that terrible, ice-cold claw, and once more made his insidious gesture.
Again the lightning flashed - but this time upon a scene not wholly strange. It was Greenwich, the Greenwich that used to be, with here and there a roof or row of houses as we see it now, yet with lovely green lanes and fields and bits of grassy common. The marsh still glittered beyond, but in the farther distance I saw the steeples of what was then all of New York; Trinity and St. Paul's and the Brick Church dominating their sisters, and a faint haze of wood smoke hovering over the whole. I breathed hard, hut not so much from the sight itself as from the possibilities my imagination terrifiedly conjured up.
"Can you - dare you - go far?" I spoke with awe and I think he shared it for a second, but the evil grin returned.
"Far? What I have seen would blast ye to a mad statue of stone! Back, back - forward, forward - look ye puling lackwit!"
And as he snarled the phrase under his breath he gestured anew bringing to the sky a flash more blinding than either which had come before. For full three seconds I could glimpse that pandemoniac sight, and in those seconds I saw a vista which will ever afterward torment me in dreams. I saw the heavens verminous with strange flying things, and beneath them a hellish black city of giant stone terraces with impious pyramids flung savagely to the moon, and devil-lights burning from unnumbered windows. Arid swarming loathsomely on aerial galleries I saw the yellow, squint-eyed people of that city, robed horribly in orange and red, and dancing insanely to the pounding of fevered kettle-drums, the clatter of obscene crotala, and the maniacal moaning of muted horns whose ceaseless dirges rose and fell undulantly like the wave of an unhallowed ocean of bitumen.
I saw this vista, I say, and heard as with the mind's ear the blasphemous domdaniel of cacophony which companioned it. It was the shrieking fulfilment of all the horror which that corpse-city had ever stirred in my soul, and forgetting every injunction to silence I screamed and screamed and screamed as my nerves gave way and the walls quivered about me.
Then, as the flash subsided, I saw that my host was trembling too; a look of shocking fear half-blotting from his face the serpent distortion of rage which my screams had excited. He tottered, clutched at the curtains as I had done before, and wriggled his head wildly, like a hunted animal. God knows he had cause, for as the echoes of my screaming died away there came another sound so hellishly suggestive that only numbed emotion kept me sane and conscious. It was the steady, stealthy creaking of the stairs beyond the locked door, as with the ascent of a barefoot or skin-shod horde; and at last the cautious, purposeful rattling of the brass latch that glowed in the feeble candlelight. The old man clawed and spat at me through the moldy air, and barked things in his throat as he swayed with the yellow curtain he clutched.
"The full moon - damn ye - ye... ye yelping dog - ye called 'em, and they've come for me! Moccasined feet - dead men - Gad sink ye, ye red devils, but I poisoned no rum o' yours - han't I kept your pox-rotted magic safe - ye swilled yourselves sick, curse ye, and yet must needs blame the squire - let go, you! Unhand that latch - I've naught for ye here - "
At this point three slow and very deliberate raps shook the panels of the door, and a white foam gathered at the mouth of the frantic magician. His fright, turning to steely despair, left room for a resurgence of his rage against me; and he staggered a step toward the table on whose edge I was steadying myself. The curtains, still clutched in his right hand as his left clawed out at me, grew taut and finally crashed down from their lofty fastenings; admitting to the room a flood of that full moonlight which the brightening of the sky had presaged. In those greenish beams the candles paled, and a new semblance of decay spread over the musk-reeking room with its wormy paneling, sagging floor, battered mantel, rickety furniture, and ragged draperies. It spread over the old man, too, whether from the same source or because of his fear and vehemence, and I saw him shrivel and blacken as he lurched near and strove to rend me with vulturine talons. Only his eyes stayed whole, and they glared with a propulsive, dilated incandescence which grew as the face around them charred and dwindled.
The rapping was now repeated with greater insistence, and this time bore a hint of metal. The black thing facing me had become only a head with eyes, impotently trying to wriggle across the sinking floor in my direction, and occasionally emitting feeble little spits of immortal malice. Now swift and splintering blows assailed the sickly panels, and I saw the gleam of a tomahawk as it cleft the rending wood. I did not move, for I could not; but watched dazedly as the door fell in pieces to admit a colossal, shapeless influx of inky substance starred with shining, malevolent eyes. It poured thickly, like a flood of oil bursting a rotten bulkhead, overturned a chair as it spread, and finally flowed under the table and across the room to where the blackened head with the eyes still glared at me. Around that head it closed, totally swallowing it up, and in another moment it had begun to recede; bearing away its invisible burden without touching me, and flowing again out that black doorway and down the unseen stairs, which creaked as before, though in reverse order.
Then the floor gave way at last, and I slid gaspingly down into the nighted chamber below, choking with cobwebs and half-swooning with terror. The green moon, shining through broken windows, showed me the hall door half open; and as I rose from the plaster-strewn floor and twisted myself free from the sagged ceiling, I saw sweep past it an awful torrent of blackness, with scores of baleful eyes glowing in it. It was seeking the door to the cellar, and when it found it, vanished therein. I now felt the floor of this lower room giving as that of the upper chamber had done, and once a crashing above had been followed by the fall past the west window of some thing which must have been the cupola. Now liberated for the instant from the wreckage, I rushed through the hall to the front door and finding myself unable to open it, seized a chair and broke a window, climbing frenziedly out upon the unkempt lawn where moon light danced over yard-high grass and weeds. The wall was high and all the gates were locked but moving a pile of boxes in a corner I managed to gain the top and cling to the great stone urn set there.
About me in my exhaustion I could see only strange walls and windows and old gambrel roofs. The steep street of my approach was nowhere visible, and the little I did see succumbed rapidly to a mist that rolled in from the river despite the glaring moonlight. Suddenly the urn to which I clung began to tremble, as if sharing my own lethal dizziness; and in another instant my body was plunging downward to I knew not what fate.
The man who found me said that I must have crawled a long way despite my broken bones, for a trail of blood stretched off as far as he dared look. The gathering rain soon effaced this link with the scene of my ordeal, and reports could state no more than that I had appeared from a place unknown, at the entrance to a little black court off Perry Street.
I never sought to return to those tenebrous labyrinths, nor would I direct any sane man thither if I could. Of who or what that ancient creature was, I have no idea; but I repeat that the city is dead and full of unsuspected horrors. Whither he has gone, I do not know; but I have gone home to the pure New England lanes up which fragrant sea-winds sweep at evening.
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:53, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[history of the necronomicon]] ==
 
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HISTORY OF THE NECRONOMICON
by H.P. Lovecraft
Written 1927
Published 1938
 
Original title Al Azif -- azif being the word used by Arabs to designate that nocturnal sound (made by insects) suppos'd to be the howling of daemons.
Composed by Abdul Alhazred, a mad poet of Sanaá, in Yemen, who is said to have flourished during the period of the Ommiade caliphs, circa 700 A.D. He visited the ruins of Babylon and the subterranean secrets of Memphis and spent ten years alone in the great southern desert of Arabia -- the Roba el Khaliyeh or "Empty Space" of the ancients -- and "Dahna" or "Crimson" desert of the modern Arabs, which is held to be inhabited by protective evil spirits and monsters of death. Of this desert many strange and unbelievable marvels are told by those who pretend to have penetrated it. In his last years Alhazred dwelt in Damascus, where the Necronomicon (Al Azif) was written, and of his final death or disappearance (738 A.D.) many terrible and conflicting things are told. He is said by Ebn Khallikan (12th cent. biographer) to have been seized by an invisible monster in broad daylight and devoured horribly before a large number of fright-frozen witnesses. Of his madness many things are told. He claimed to have seen fabulous Irem, or City of Pillars, and to have found beneath the ruins of a certain nameless desert town the shocking annals and secrets of a race older than mankind. He was only an indifferent Moslem, worshipping unknown entities whom he called Yog-Sothoth and Cthulhu.
In A.D. 950 the Azif, which had gained a considerable tho' surreptitious circulation amongst the philosophers of the age, was secretly translated into Greek by Theodorus Philetas of Constantinople under the title Necronomicon. For a century it impelled certain experimenters to terrible attempts, when it was suppressed and burnt by the patriarch Michael. After this it is only heard of furtively, but (1228) Olaus Wormius made a Latin translation later in the Middle Ages, and the Latin text was printed twice -- once in the fifteenth century in black-letter (evidently in Germany) and once in the seventeenth (prob. Spanish) -- both editions being without identifying marks, and located as to time and place by internal typographical evidence only. The work both Latin and Greek was banned by Pope Gregory IX in 1232, shortly after its Latin translation, which called attention to it. The Arabic original was lost as early as Wormius' time, as indicated by his prefatory note; and no sight of the Greek copy -- which was printed in Italy between 1500 and 1550 -- has been reported since the burning of a certain Salem man's library in 1692. An English translation made by Dr. Dee was never printed, and exists only in fragments recovered from the original manuscript. Of the Latin texts now existing one (15th cent.) is known to be in the British Museum under lock and key, while another (17th cent.) is in the Bibliothèque Nationale at Paris. A seventeenth-century edition is in the Widener Library at Harvard, and in the library of Miskatonic University at Arkham. Also in the library of the University of Buenos Ayres. Numerous other copies probably exist in secret, and a fifteenth-century one is persistently rumoured to form part of the collection of a celebrated American millionaire. A still vaguer rumour credits the preservation of a sixteenth-century Greek text in the Salem family of Pickman; but if it was so preserved, it vanished with the artist R. U. Pickman, who disappeared early in 1926. The book is rigidly suppressed by the authorities of most countries, and by all branches of organised ecclesiasticism. Reading leads to terrible consequences. It was from rumours of this book (of which relatively few of the general public know) that R. W. Chambers is said to have derived the idea of his early novel The King in Yellow.
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:53, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[the horror at red hook]] ==
 
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THE HORROR AT RED HOOK
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 1-2 Aug 1925
Published September 1926 in Weird Tales, Vol. 8, No. 3, p. 373-80.
 
I
 
Not many weeks ago, on a street corner in the village of Pascoag, Rhode Island, a tall, heavily built, and wholesome-looking pedestrian furnished much speculation by a singular lapse of behaviour. He had, it appears, been descending the hill by the road from Chepachet; and encountering the compact section, had turned to his left into the main thoroughfare where several modest business blocks convey a touch of the urban. At this point, without visible provocation, he committed his astonishing lapse; staring queerly for a second at the tallest of the buildings before him, and then, with a series of terrified, hysterical shrieks, breaking into a frantic run which ended in a stumble and fall at the next crossing. Picked up and dusted off by ready hands, he was found to be conscious, organically unhurt, and evidently cured of his sudden nervous attack. He muttered some shamefaced explanations involving a strain he had undergone, and with downcast glance turned back up the Chepachet road, trudging out of sight without once looking behind him. It was a strange incident to befall so large, robust, normal-featured, and capable-looking a man, and the strangeness was not lessened by the remarks of a bystander who had recognised him as the boarder of a well-known dairyman on the outskirts of Chepachet.
He was, it developed, a New York police detective named Thomas F. Malone, now on a long leave of absence under medical treatment after some disproportionately arduous work on a gruesome local case which accident had made dramatic. There had been a collapse of several old brick buildings during a raid in which he had shared, and something about the wholesale loss of life, both of prisoners and of his companions, had peculiarly appalled him. As a result, he had acquired an acute and anomalous horror of any buildings even remotely suggesting the ones which had fallen in, so that in the end mental specialists forbade him the sight of such things for an indefinite period. A police surgeon with relatives in Chepachet had put forward that quaint hamlet of wooden colonial houses as an ideal spot for the psychological convalescence; and thither the sufferer had gone, promising never to venture among the brick-lined streets of larger villages till duly advised by the Woonsocket specialist with whom he was put in touch. This walk to Pascoag for magazines had been a mistake, and the patient had paid in fright, bruises, and humiliation for his disobedience.
So much the gossips of Chepachet and Pascoag knew; and so much, also, the most learned specialists believed. But Malone had at first told the specialists much more, ceasing only when he saw that utter incredulity was his portion. Thereafter he held his peace, protesting not at all when it was generally agreed that the collapse of certain squalid brick houses in the Red Hook section of Brooklyn, and the consequent death of many brave officers, had unseated his nervous equilibrium. He had worked too hard, all said, it trying to clean up those nests of disorder and violence; certain features were shocking enough, in all conscience, and the unexpected tragedy was the last straw. This was a simple explanation which everyone could understand, and because Malone was not a simple person he perceived that he had better let it suffice. To hint to unimaginative people of a horror beyond all human conception - a horror of houses and blocks and cities leprous and cancerous with evil dragged from elder worlds - would be merely to invite a padded cell instead of a restful rustication, and Malone was a man of sense despite his mysticism. He had the Celt's far vision of weird and hidden things, but the logician's quick eye for the outwardly unconvincing; an amalgam which had led him far afield in the forty-two years of his life, and set him in strange places for a Dublin University man born in a Georgian villa near Phoenix Park.
And now, as he reviewed the things he had seen and felt and apprehended, Malone was content to keep unshared the secret of what could reduce a dauntless fighter to a quivering neurotic; what could make old brick slums and seas of dark, subtle faces a thing of nightmare and eldritch portent. It would not be the first time his sensations had been forced to bide uninterpreted - for was not his very act of plunging into the polyglot abyss of New York's underworld a freak beyond sensible explanation? What could he tell the prosaic of the antique witcheries and grotesque marvels discernible to sensitive eyes amidst the poison cauldron where all the varied dregs of unwholesome ages mix their venom and perpetuate their obscene terrors? He had seen the hellish green flame of secret wonder in this blatant, evasive welter of outward greed and inward blasphemy, and had smiled gently when all the New-Yorkers he knew scoffed at his experiment in police work. They had been very witty and cynical, deriding his fantastic pursuit of unknowable mysteries and assuring him that in these days New York held nothing but cheapness and vulgarity. One of them had wagered him a heavy sum that he could not - despite many poignant things to his credit in the Dublin Review - even write a truly interesting story of New York low life; and now, looking back, he perceived that cosmic irony had justified the prophet's words while secretly confuting their flippant meaning. The horror, as glimpsed at last, could not make a story - for like the book cited by Poe's Germany authority, 'es lässt sich nicht lesen - it does not permit itself to be read.'
 
II
 
To Malone the sense of latent mystery in existence was always present. In youth he had felt the hidden beauty and ecstasy of things, and had been a poet; but poverty and sorrow and exile had turned his gaze in darker directions, and he had thrilled at the imputations of evil in the world around. Daily life had fur him come to be a phantasmagoria of macabre shadow-studies; now glittering and leering with concealed rottenness as in Beardsley's best manner, now hinting terrors behind the commonest shapes and objects as in the subtler and less obvious work of Gustave Doré. He would often regard it as merciful that most persons of high Intelligence jeer at the inmost mysteries; for, he argued, if superior minds were ever placed in fullest contact with the secrets preserved by ancient and lowly cults, the resultant abnormalities would soon not only wreck the world, but threaten the very integrity of the universe. All this reflection was no doubt morbid, but keen logic and a deep sense of humour ably offset it. Malone was satisfied to let his notions remain as half-spied and forbidden visions to be lightly played with; and hysteria came only when duty flung him into a hell of revelation too sudden and insidious to escape.
He had for some time been detailed to the Butler Street station in Brooklyn when the Red Hook matter came to his notice. Red Hook is a maze of hybrid squalor near the ancient waterfront opposite Governor's Island, with dirty highways climbing the hill from the wharves to that higher ground where the decayed lengths of Clinton and Court Streets lead off toward the Borough Hall. Its houses are mostly of brick, dating from the first quarter to the middle of the nineteenth century, and some of the obscurer alleys and byways have that alluring antique flavour which conventional reading leads us to call 'Dickensian'. The population is a hopeless tangle and enigma; Syrian, Spanish, Italian, and Negro elements impinging upon one another, and fragments of Scandinavian and American belts lying not far distant.. It is a babel of sound and filth, and sends out strange cries to answer the lapping oily waves at its grimy piers and the monstrous organ litanies of the harbour whistles. Here long ago a brighter picture dwelt, with clear-eyed mariners on the lower streets and homes of taste and substance where the larger houses line the hill. One can trace the relics of this former happiness in the trim shapes of the buildings, the occasional graceful churches, and the evidences of original art and background in bits of detail here and there - a worn flight of steps, a battered doorway, a wormy pair of decorative columns or pilasters, or a fragment of once green space with bent and rusted iron railing. The houses are generally in solid blocks, and now and then a many-windowed cupola arises to tell of days when the households of captains and ship-owners watched the sea.
From this tangle of material and spiritual putrescence the blasphemies of an hundred dialects assail the sky. Hordes of prowlers reel shouting and singing along the lanes and thoroughfares, occasional furtive hands suddenly extinguish lights and pull down curtains, and swarthy, sin-pitted faces disappear from windows when visitors pick their way through. Policemen despair of order or reform, and seek rather to erect barriers protecting the outside world from the contagion. The clang of the patrol is answered by a kind of spectral silence, and such prisoners as are taken are never communicative. Visible offences are as varied as the local dialects, and run the gamut from the smuggling of rum and prohibited aliens through diverse stages of lawlessness and obscure vice to murder and mutilation in their most abhorrent guises. That these visible affairs are not more frequent is not to the neighbourhood's credit, unless the power of concealment be an art demanding credit. More people enter Red Hook than leave it - or at least, than leave it by the landward side - and those who are not loquacious are the likeliest to leave.
Malone found in this state of things a faint stench of secrets more terrible than any of the sins denounced by citizens and bemoaned by priests and philanthropists. He was conscious, as one who united imagination with scientific knowledge, that modern people under lawless conditions tend uncannily to repeat the darkest instinctive patterns of primitive half-ape savagery in their daily life and ritual observances; and he had often viewed with an anthropologist's shudder the chanting, cursing processions of blear-eyed and pockmarked young men which wound their way along in the dark small hours of morning. One saw groups of these youths incessantly; sometimes in leering vigils on street corners, sometimes in doorways playing eerily on cheap instruments of music, sometimes in stupefied dozes or indecent dialogues around cafeteria tables near Borough Hall, and sometimes in whispering converse around dingy taxicabs drawn up at the high stoops of crumbling and closely shuttered old houses. They chilled and fascinated him more than he dared confess to his associates on the force, for he seemed to see in them some monstrous thread of secret continuity; some fiendish, cryptical, and ancient pattern utterly beyond and below the sordid mass of facts and habits and haunts listed with such conscientious technical care by the police. They must be, he felt inwardly, the heirs of some shocking and primordial tradition; the sharers of debased and broken scraps from cults and ceremonies older than mankind. Their coherence and definiteness suggested it, and it shewed in the singular suspicion of order which lurked beneath their squalid disorder. He had not read in vain such treatises as Miss Murray's Witch-Cult in Western Europe; and knew that up to recent years there had certainly survived among peasants and furtive folk a frightful and clandestine system of assemblies and orgies descended from dark religions antedating the Aryan world, and appearing in popular legends as Black Masses and Witches' Sabbaths. That these hellish vestiges of old Turanian-Asiatic magic and fertility cults were even now wholly dead he could not for a moment suppose, and he frequently wondered how much older and how much blacker than the very worst of the muttered tales some of them might really be.
 
III
 
It was the case of Robert Suydam which took Malone to the heart of things in Red Hook. Suydam was a lettered recluse of ancient Dutch family, possessed originally of barely independent means, and inhabiting the spacious but ill-preserved mansion which his grandfather had built in Flatbush when that village was little more than a pleasant group of colonial cottages surrounding the steepled and ivy-clad Reformed Church with its iron-railed yard of Netherlandish gravestones. In his lonely house, set back from Martense Street amidst a yard of venerable trees, Suydam had read and brooded for some six decades except for a period a generation before, when he had sailed for the old world and remained there out of sight for eight years. He could afford no servants, and would admit but few visitors to his absolute solitude; eschewing close friendships and receiving his rare acquaintances in one of the three ground-floor rooms which he kept in order - a vast, high-ceiled library whose walls were solidly packed with tattered books of ponderous, archaic, and vaguely repellent aspect. The growth of the town and its final absorption in the Brooklyn district had meant nothing to Suydam, and he had come to mean less and less to the town. Elderly people still pointed him out on the streets, but to most of the recent population he was merely a queer, corpulent old fellow whose unkempt white hair, stubbly beard, shiny black clothes, and gold-headed cane earned him an amused glance and nothing more. Malone did not know him by sight till duty called him to the case, but had heard of him indirectly as a really profound authority on mediaeval superstition, and had once idly meant to look up an out-of-print pamphlet of his on the Kabbalah and the Faustus legend, which a friend had quoted from memory.
Suydam became a case when his distant and only relatives sought court pronouncements on his sanity. Their action seemed sudden to the outside world, but was really undertaken only after prolonged observation and sorrowful debate. It was based on certain odd changes in his speech and habits; wild references to impending wonders, and unaccountable hauntings of disreputable Brooklyn neighbourhoods. He had been growing shabbier and shabbier with the years, and now prowled about like a veritable mendicant; seen occasionally by humiliated friends in subway stations, or loitering on the benches around Borough Hall in conversation with groups of swarthy, evil-looking strangers. When he spoke it was to babble of unlimited powers almost within his grasp, and to repeat with knowing leers such mystical words or names as 'Sephiroth', 'Ashmodai', and 'Samaël'. The court action revealed that he was using up his income and wasting his principal in the purchase of curious tomes imported from London and Paris, and in the maintenance of a squalid basement flat in the Red Hook district where he spent nearly every night, receiving odd delegations of mixed rowdies and foreigners, and apparently conducting some kind of ceremonial service behind the green blinds of secretive windows. Detectives assigned to follow him reported strange cries and chants and prancing of feet filtering out from these nocturnal rites, and shuddered at their peculiar ecstasy and abandon despite the commonness of weird orgies in that sodden section. When, however, the matter came to a hearing, Suydam managed to preserve his liberty. Before the judge his manner grew urbane and reasonable, and he freely admitted the queerness of demeanour and extravagant cast of language into which he had fallen through excessive devotion to study and research. He was, he said, engaged in the investigation of certain details of European tradition which required the closest contact with foreign groups and their songs and folk dances. The notion that any low secret society was preying upon him, as hinted by his relatives, was obviously absurd; and shewed how sadly limited was their understanding of him and his work. Triumphing with his calm explanations, he was suffered to depart unhindered; and the paid detectives of the Suydams, Corlears, and Van Brunts were withdrawn in resigned disgust.
It was here that an alliance of Federal inspectors and police, Malone with them, entered the case. The law had watched the Suydam action with interest, and had in many instances been called upon to aid the private detectives. In this work it developed that Suydam's new associates were among the blackest and most vicious criminals of Red Hook's devious lanes, and that at least a third of them were known and repeated offenders in the matter of thievery, disorder, and the importation of illegal immigrants. Indeed, it would not have been too much to say that the old scholar's particular circle coincided almost perfectly with the worst of the organized cliques which smuggled ashore certain nameless and unclassified Asian dregs wisely turned back by Ellis Island. In the teeming rookeries of Parker Place - since renamed - where Suydam had his basement flat, there had grown up a very unusual colony of unclassified slant-eyed folk who used the Arabic alphabet but were eloquently repudiated by the great mass of Syrians in and around Atlantic Avenue. They could all have been deported for lack of credentials, but legalism is slow-moving, and one does not disturb Red Hook unless publicity forces one to.
These creatures attended a tumbledown stone church, used Wednesdays as a dance-hall, which reared its Gothic buttresses near the vilest part of the waterfront. It was nominally Catholic; but priests throughout Brooklyn denied the place all standing and authenticity, and policemen agreed with them when they listened to the noises it emitted at night. Malone used to fancy he heard terrible cracked bass notes from a hidden organ far underground when the church stood empty and unlighted, whilst all observers dreaded the shrieking and drumming which accompanied the visible services. Suydam, when questioned, said he thought the ritual was some remnant of Nestorian Christianity tinctured with the Shamanism of Thibet. Most of the people, he conjectured, were of Mongoloid stock, originating somewhere in or near Kurdistan - and Malone could not help recalling that Kurdistan is the land of the Yezidis, last survivors of the Persian devil-worshippers. However this may have been, the stir of the Suydam investigation made it certain that these unauthorised newcomers were flooding Red Hook in increasing numbers; entering through some marine conspiracy unreached by revenue officers and harbour police, overrunning Parker Place and rapidly spreading up the hill, and welcomed with curious fraternalism by the other assorted denizens of the region. Their squat figures and characteristic squinting physiognomies, grotesquely combined with flashy American clothing, appeared more and more numerously among the loafers and nomad gangsters of the Borough Hall section; till at length it was deemed necessary to compute their numbers, ascertain their sources and occupations, and find if possible a way to round them up and deliver them to the proper immigration authorities. To this task Malone was assigned by agreement of Federal and city forces, and as he commenced his canvass of Red Hook he felt poised upon the brink of nameless terrors, with the shabby, unkempt figure of Robert Suydam as arch-fiend and adversary.
 
IV
 
Police methods are varied and ingenious. Malone, through unostentatious rambles, carefully casual conversations, well-timed offers of hip-pocket liquor, and judicious dialogues with frightened prisoners, learned many isolated facts about the movement whose aspect had become so menacing. The newcomers were indeed Kurds, but of a dialect obscure and puzzling to exact philology. Such of them as worked lived mostly as dock-hands and unlicenced pedlars, though frequently serving in Greek restaurants and tending corner news stands. Most of them, however, had no visible means of support; and were obviously connected with underworld pursuits, of which smuggling and 'bootlegging' were the least indescribable. They had come in steamships, apparently tramp freighters, and had been unloaded by stealth on moonless nights in rowboats which stole under a certain wharf and followed a hidden canal to a secret subterranean pool beneath a house. This wharf, canal, and house Malone could not locate, for the memories of his informants were exceedingly confused, while their speech was to a great extent beyond even the ablest interpreters; nor could he gain any real data on the reasons for their systematic importation. They were reticent about the exact spot from which they had come, and were never sufficiently off guard to reveal the agencies which had sought them out and directed their course. Indeed, they developed something like acute fright when asked the reasons for their presence. Gangsters of other breeds were equally taciturn, and she most that could be gathered was that some god or great priesthood had promised them unheard-of powers and supernatural glories and rulerships in a strange land.
The attendance of both newcomers and old gangsters at Suydam's closely guarded nocturnal meetings was very regular, and the police soon learned that the erstwhile recluse had leased additional flats to accommodate such guests as knew his password; at last occupying three entire houses and permanently harbouring many of his queer companions. He spent but little time now at his Flatbush home, apparently going and coming only to obtain and return books; and his face and manner had attained an appalling pitch of wildness. Malone twice interviewed him, but was each time brusquely repulsed. He knew nothing, he said, of any mysterious plots or movements; and had no idea how the Kurds could have entered or what they wanted. His business was to study undisturbed the folklore of all the immigrants of the district; a business with which policemen had no legitimate concern. Malone mentioned his admiration for Suydam's old brochure on the Kabbalah and other myths, but the old man's softening was only momentary. He sensed an intrusion, and rebuffed his visitor in no uncertain way; till Malone withdrew disgusted, and turned to other channels of information.
What Malone would have unearthed could he have worked continuously on the case, we shall never know. As it was, a stupid conflict between city and Federal authority suspended the investigations for several months, during which the detective was busy with other assignments. But at no time did he lose interest, or fail to stand amazed at what began to happen to Robert Suydam. Just at the time when a wave of kidnappings and disappearances spread its excitement over New York, the unkempt scholar embarked upon a metamorphosis as startling as it was absurd. One day he was seen near Borough Hall with clean-shaved face, well-trimmed hair, and tastefully immaculate attire, and on every day thereafter some obscure improvement was noticed in him. He maintained his new fastidiousness without interruption, added to it an unwonted sparkle of eye and crispness of speech, and began little by little to shed the corpulence which had so long deformed him. Now frequently taken for less than his age, he acquired an elasticity of step and buoyancy of demeanour to match the new tradition, and shewed a curious darkening of the hair which somehow did not suggest dye. As the months passed, he commenced to dress less and less conservatively, and finally astonished his new friends by renovating and redecorating his Flatbush mansion, which he threw open in a series of receptions, summoning all the acquaintances he could remember, and extending a special welcome to the fully forgiven relatives who had so lately sought his restraint. Some attended through curiosity, others through duty; but all were suddenly charmed by the dawning grace and urbanity of the former hermit. He had, he asserted, accomplished most of his allotted work; and having just inherited some property from a half-forgotten European friend, was about to spend his remaining years in a brighter second youth which ease, care, and diet had made possible to him. Less and less was he seen at Red Hook, and more and more did he move in the society to which he was born. Policemen noted a tendency of the gangsters to congregate at the old stone church and dance-hall instead of at the basement flat in Parker Place, though the latter and its recent annexes still overflowed with noxious life.
Then two incidents occurred - wide enough apart, but both of intense interest in the case as Malone envisaged it. One was a quiet announcement in the Eagle of Robert Suydam's engagement to Miss Cornelia Gerritsen of Bayside, a young woman of excellent position, and distantly related to the elderly bridegroom-elect; whilst the other was a raid on the dance-hall church by city police, after a report that the face of a kidnapped child had been seen for a second at one of the basement windows. Malone had participated in this raid, and studied the place with much care when inside. Nothing was found - in fact, the building was entirely deserted when visited - but the sensitive Celt was vaguely disturbed by many things about the interior. There were crudely painted panels he did not like - panels which depicted sacred faces with peculiarly worldly and sardonic expressions, and which occasionally took liberties that even a layman's sense of decorum could scarcely countenance. Then, too, he did not relish the Greek inscription on the wall above the pulpit; an ancient incantation which he had once stumbled upon in Dublin college days, and which read, literally translated,
 
'O friend and companion of night, thou who rejoicest in the baying of dogs and spilt blood, who wanderest in the midst of shades among the tombs, who longest for blood and bringest terror to mortals, Gorgo, Mormo, thousand-faced moon, look favourably on our sacrifices!'
 
When he read this he shuddered, and thought vaguely of the cracked bass organ notes he fancied he had heard beneath the church on certain nights. He shuddered again at the rust around the rim of a metal basin which stood on the altar, and paused nervously when his nostrils seemed to detect a curious and ghastly stench from somewhere in the neighbourhood. That organ memory haunted him, and he explored the basement with particular assiduity before he left. The place was very hateful to him; yet after all, were the blasphemous panels and inscriptions more than mere crudities perpetrated by the ignorant?
By the time of Suydam's wedding the kidnapping epidemic had become a popular newspaper scandal. Most of the victims were young children of the lowest classes, but the increasing number of disappearances had worked up a sentiment of the strongest fury. Journals clamoured for action from the police, and once more the Butler Street Station sent its men over Red Hook for clues, discoveries, and criminals. Malone was glad to be on the trail again, and took pride in a raid on one of Suydam's Parker Place houses. There, indeed, no stolen child was found, despite the tales of screams and the red sash picked up in the areaway; but the paintings and rough inscriptions on the peeling walls of most of the rooms, and the primitive chemical laboratory in the attic, all helped to convince the detective that he was on the track of something tremendous. The paintings were appalling - hideous monsters of every shape and size, and parodies on human outlines which cannot be described. The writing was in red, and varied from Arabic to Greek, Roman, and Hebrew letters. Malone could not read much of it, but what he did decipher was portentous and cabbalistic enough. One frequently repeated motto was in a Sort of Hebraised Hellenistic Greek, and suggested the most terrible daemon-evocations of the Alexandrian decadence:
 
HEL • HELOYM • SOTHER • EMMANVEL • SABAOTH • AGLA • TETRAGRAMMATON • AGYROS • OTHEOS
ISCHYROS • ATHANATOS • IEHOVA • VA • ADONAI • SADAY • HOMOVSION • MESSIAS • ESCHEREHEYE
 
Circles and pentagrams loomed on every hand, and told indubitably of the strange beliefs and aspirations of those who dwelt so squalidly here. In the cellar, however, the strangest thing was found - a pile of genuine gold ingots covered carelessly with a piece of burlap, and bearing upon their shining surfaces the same weird hieroglyphics which also adorned the walls. During the raid the police encountered only a passive resistance from the squinting Orientals that swarmed from every door. Finding nothing relevant, they had to leave all as it was; but the precinct captain wrote Suydam a note advising him to look closely to the character of his tenants and protégés in view of the growing public clamour.
 
V
 
Then came the June wedding and the great sensation. Flatbush was gay for the hour about high noon, and pennanted motors thronged the streets near the old Dutch church where an awning stretched from door to highway. No local event ever surpassed the Suydam-Gerritsen nuptials in tone and scale, and the party which escorted bride and groom to the Cunard Pier was, if not exactly the smartest, at least a solid page from the Social Register. At five o'clock adieux were waved, and the ponderous liner edged away from the long pier, slowly turned its nose seaward, discarded its tug, and headed for the widening water spaces that led to old world wonders. By night the outer harbour was cleared, and late passengers watched the stars twinkling above an unpolluted ocean.
Whether the tramp steamer or the scream was first to gain attention, no one can say. Probably they were simultaneous, but it is of no use to calculate. The scream came from the Suydam stateroom, and the sailor who broke down the door could perhaps have told frightful things if he had not forthwith gone completely mad - as it is, he shrieked more loudly than the first victims, and thereafter ran simpering about the vessel till caught and put in irons. The ship's doctor who entered the stateroom and turned on the lights a moment later did not go mad, but told nobody what he saw till afterward, when he corresponded with Malone in Chepachet. It was murder - strangulation - but one need not say that the claw-mark on Mrs. Suydam's throat could not have come from her husband's or any other human hand, or that upon the white wall there flickered for an instant in hateful red a legend which, later copied from memory, seems to have been nothing less than the fearsome Chaldee letters of the word 'LILITH'. One need not mention these things because they vanished so quickly - as for Suydam, one could at least bar others from the room until one knew what to think oneself. The doctor has distinctly assured Malone that he did not see IT. The open porthole, just before he turned on the lights, was clouded for a second with a certain phosphorescence, and for a moment there seemed to echo in the night outside the suggestion of a faint and hellish tittering; but no real outline met the eye. As proof, the doctor points to his continued sanity.
Then the tramp steamer claimed all attention. A boat put off, and a horde of swart, insolent ruffians in officers' dress swarmed aboard the temporarily halted Cunarder. They wanted Suydam or his body - they had known of his trip, and for certain reasons were sure he would die. The captain's deck was almost a pandemonium; for at the instant, between the doctor's report from the stateroom and the demands of the men from the tramp, not even the wisest and gravest seaman could think what to do. Suddenly the leader of the visiting mariners, an Arab with a hatefully negroid mouth, pulled forth a dirty, crumpled paper and handed it to the captain. It was signed by Robert Suydam, and bore the following odd message.
 
In case of sudden or unexplained accident or death on my part, please deliver me or my body unquestioningly into the hands of the bearer and his associates. Everything, for me, and perhaps for you, depends on absolute compliance. Explanations can come later - do not fail me now.
 
ROBERT SUYDAM
 
Captain and doctor looked at each other, and the latter whispered something to the former. Finally they nodded rather helplessly and led the way to the Suydam stateroom. The doctor directed the captain's glance away as he unlocked the door and admitted the strange seamen, nor did he breathe easily till they filed out with their burden after an unaccountably long period of preparation. It was wrapped in bedding from the berths, and the doctor was glad that the outlines were not very revealing. Somehow the men got the thing over the side and away to their tramp steamer without uncovering it. The Cunarder started again, and the doctor and a ship's undertaker sought out the Suydam stateroorn to perform what last services they could. Once more the physician was forced to reticence and even to mendacity, for a hellish thing had happened. When the undertaker asked him why he had drained off all of Mrs. Suydam's blood, he neglected to affirm that he had not done so; nor did he point to the vacant bottle-spaces on the rack, or to the odour in the sink which shewed the hasty disposition of the bottles' original contents. The pockets of those men - if men they were - had bulged damnably when they left the ship. Two hours later, and the world knew by radio all that it ought to know of the horrible affair.
 
VI
 
That same June evening, without having heard a word from the sea, Malone was desperately busy among the alleys of Red Hook. A sudden stir seemed to permeate the place, and as if apprised by 'grapevine telegraph' of something singular, the denizens clustered expectantly around the dance-hall church and the houses in Parker Place. Three children had just disappeared - blue-eyed Norwegians from the streets toward Gowanus - and there were rumours of a mob forming among the sturdy Vikings of that section. Malone had for weeks been urging his colleagues to attempt a general cleanup; and at last, moved by conditions more obvious to their common sense than the conjectures of a Dublin dreamer, they had agreed upon a final stroke. The unrest and menace of this evening had been the deciding factor, and just about midnight a raiding party recruited from three stations descended upon Parker Place and its environs. Doors were battered in, stragglers arrested, and candlelighted rooms forced to disgorge unbelievable throngs of mixed foreigners in figured robes, mitres, and other inexplicable devices. Much was lost in the melee, for objects were thrown hastily down unexpected shafts, and betraying odours deadened by the sudden kindling of pungent incense. But spattered blood was everywhere, and Malone shuddered whenever he saw a brazier or altar from which the smoke was still rising.
He wanted to be in several places at once, and decided on Suydam's basement flat only after a messenger had reported the complete emptiness of the dilapidated dance-hall church. The flat, he thought, must hold some due to a cult of which the occult scholar had so obviously become the centre and leader; and it was with real expectancy that he ransacked the musty rooms, noted their vaguely charnel odour, and examined the curious books, instruments, gold ingots, and glass-stoppered bottles scattered carelessly here and there. Once a lean, black-and-white cat edged between his feet and tripped him, overturning at the same time a beaker half full of a red liquid. The shock was severe, and to this day Malone is not certain of what he saw; but in dreams he still pictures that cat as it scuttled away with certain monstrous alterations and peculiarities. Then came the locked cellar door, and the search for something to break it down. A heavy stool stood near, and its tough seat was more than enough for the antique panels. A crack formed and enlarged, and the whole door gave way - but from the other side; whence poured a howling tumult of ice-cold wind with all the stenches of the bottomless pit, and whence reached a sucking force not of earth or heaven, which, coiling sentiently about the paralysed detective, dragged him through the aperture and down unmeasured spaces filled with whispers and wails, and gusts of mocking laughter.
Of course it was a dream. All the specialists have told him so, and he has nothing to prove the contrary. Indeed, he would rather have it thus; for then the sight of old brick slums and dark foreign faces would not eat so deeply into his soul. But at the time it was all horribly real, and nothing can ever efface the memory of those nighted crypts, those titan arcades, and those half-formed shapes of hell that strode gigantically in silence holding half-eaten things whose still surviving portions screamed for mercy or laughed with madness. Odours of incense and corruption joined in sickening concert, and the black air was alive with the cloudy, semi-visible bulk of shapeless elemental things with eyes. Somewhere dark sticky water was lapping at onyx piers, and once the shivery tinkle of raucous little bells pealed out to greet the insane titter of a naked phosphorescent thing which swam into sight, scrambled ashore, and climbed up to squat leeringly on a carved golden pedestal in the background.
Avenues of limitless night seemed to radiate in every direction, till one might fancy that here lay the root of a contagion destined to sicken and swallow cities, and engulf nations in the foetor of hybrid pestilence. Here cosmic sin had entered, and festered by unhallowed rites had commenced the grinning march of death that was to rot us all to fungous abnormalities too hideous for the grave's holding. Satan here held his Babylonish court, and in the blood of stainless childhood the leprous limbs of phosphorescent Lilith were laved. Incubi and succubae howled praise to Hecate, and headless moon-calves bleated to the Magna Mater. Goats leaped to the sound of thin accursed flutes, and Ægypans chased endlessly after misshapen fauns over rocks twisted like swollen toads. Moloch and Ashtaroth were not absent; for in this quintessence of all damnation the bounds of consciousness were let down, and man's fancy lay open to vistas of every realm of horror and every forbidden dimension that evil had power to mould. The world and Nature were helpless against such assaults from unsealed wells of night, nor could any sign or prayer check the Walpurgis-riot of horror which had come when a sage with the hateful key had stumbled on a horde with the locked and brimming coffer of transmitted daemon-lore.
Suddenly a ray of physical light shot through these phantasms, and Malone heard the sound of oars amidst the blasphemies of things that should be dead. A boat with a lantern in its prow darted into sight, made fast to an iron ring in the slimy stone pier, and vomited forth several dark men bearing a long burden swathed in bedding. They took it to the naked phosphorescent thing on the carved golden pedestal, and the thing tittered and pawed at the bedding. Then they unswathed it, and propped upright before the pedestal the gangrenous corpse of a corpulent old man with stubbly beard and unkempt white hair. The phosphorescent thing tittered again, and the men produced bottles from their pockets and anointed its feet with red, whilst they afterward gave the bottles to the thing to drink from.
All at once, from an arcaded avenue leading endlessly away, there came the daemoniac rattle and wheeze of a blasphemous organ, choking and rumbling out the mockeries of hell in a cracked, sardonic bass. In an instant every moving entity was electrified; and forming at once into a ceremonial procession, the nightmare horde slithered away in quest of the sound - goat, satyr, and Ægypan, incubus, succubus and lemur, twisted toad and shapeless elemental, dog-faced howler and silent strutter in darkness - all led by the abominable naked phosphorescent thing that had squatted on the carved golden throne, and that now strode insolently bearing in its arms the glassy-eyed corpse of the corpulent old man. The strange dark men danced in the rear, and the whole column skipped and leaped with Dionysiac fury. Malone staggered after them a few steps, delirious and hazy, and doubtful of his place in this or in any world. Then he turned, faltered, and sank down on the cold damp stone, gasping and shivering as the daemon organ croaked on, and the howling and drumming and tinkling of the mad procession grew fainter and fainter.
Vaguely he was conscious of chanted horrors and shocking croakings afar off. Now and then a wail or whine of ceremonial devotion would float to him through the black arcade, whilst eventually there rose the dreadful Greek incantation whose text he had read above the pulpit of that dance-hall church.
 
'O friend and companion of night, thou who rejoicest in the baying of dogs (here a hideous howl bust forth) and spilt blood (here nameless sounds vied with morbid shriekings) who wanderest in the midst of shades among the tombs, (here a whistling sigh occurred) who longest for blood and bringest terror to mortals, (short, sharp cries from myriad throats) Gorgo, (repeated as response) Mormo, (repeated with ecstasy) thousand-faced moon, (sighs and flute notes) look favourably on our sacrifices!'
 
As the chant closed, a general shout went up, and hissing sounds nearly drowned the croaking of the cracked bass organ. Then a gasp as from many throats, and a babel of barked and bleated words - 'Lilith, Great Lilith, behold the Bridegroom!' More cries, a clamour of rioting, and the sharp, clicking footfalls of a running figure. The footfalls approached, and Malone raised himself to his elbow to look.
The luminosity of the crypt, lately diminished, had now slightly increased; and in that devil-light there appeared the fleeing form of that which should not flee or feel or breathe - the glassy-eyed, gangrenous corpse of the corpulent old man, now needing no support, but animated by some infernal sorcery of the rite just closed. After it raced the naked, tittering, phosphorescent thing that belonged on the carven pedestal, and still farther behind panted the dark men, and all the dread crew of sentient loathsomenesses. The corpse was gaining on its pursuers, and seemed bent on a definite object, straining with every rotting muscle toward the carved golden pedestal, whose necromantic importance was evidently so great. Another moment and it had reached its goal, whilst the trailing throng laboured on with more frantic speed. But they were too late, for in one final spurt of strength which ripped tendon from tendon and sent its noisome bulk floundering to the floor in a state of jellyish dissolution, the staring corpse which had been Robert Suydam achieved its object and its triumph. The push had been tremendous, but the force had held out; and as the pusher collapsed to a muddy blotch of corruption the pedestal he had pushed tottered, tipped, and finally careened from its onyx base into the thick waters below, sending up a parting gleam of carven gold as it sank heavily to undreamable gulfs of lower Tartarus. In that instant, too, the whole scene of horror faded to nothingness before Malone's eyes; and he fainted amidst a thunderous crash which seemed to blot out all the evil universe.
 
VII
 
Malone's dream, experienced in full before he knew of Suydam's death and transfer at sea, was curiously supplemented by some odd realities of the case; though that is no reason why anyone should believe it. The three old houses in Parker Place, doubtless long rotten with decay in its most insidious form, collapsed without visible cause while half the raiders and most of the prisoners were inside; and of both the greater number were instantly killed. Only in the basements and cellars was there much saving of life, and Malone was lucky to have been deep below the house of Robert Suydam. For he really was there, as no one is disposed to deny. They found him unconscious by the edge of a night-black pool, with a grotesquely horrible jumble of decay and bone, identifiable through dental work as the body of Suydam, a few feet away. The case was plain, for it was hither that the smugglers' underground canal led; and the men who took Suydam from the ship had brought him home. They themselves were never found, or at least never identified; and the ship's doctor is not yet satisfied with the simple certitudes of the police.
Suydam was evidently a leader in extensive man-smuggling operations, for the canal to his house was but one of several subterranean channels and tunnels in the neighbourhood. There was a tunnel from this house to a crypt beneath the dance-hall church; a crypt accessible from the church only through a narrow secret passage in the north wall, and in whose chambers some singular and terrible things were discovered. The croaking organ was there, as well as a vast arched chapel with wooden benches and a strangely figured altar. The walls were lined with small cells, in seventeen of which - hideous to relate - solitary prisoners in a state of complete idiocy were found chained, including four mothers with infants of disturbingly strange appearance. These infants died soon after exposure to the light; a circumstance which the doctors thought rather merciful. Nobody but Malone, among those who inspected them, remembered the sombre question of old Delrio: 'An sint unquam daemones incubi et succubae, et an ex tali congressu proles nasci queat?'
Before the canals were filled up they were thoroughly dredged, and yielded forth a sensational array of sawed and split bones of all sizes. The kidnapping epidemic, very clearly, had been traced home; though only two of the surviving prisoners could by any legal thread be connected with it. These men are now in prison, since they failed of conviction as accessories in the actual murders. The carved golden pedestal or throne so often mentioned by Malone as of primary occult importance was never brought to light, though at one place under the Suydam house the canal was observed to sink into a well too deep for dredging. It was choked up at the mouth and cemented over when the cellars of the new houses were made, but Malone often speculates on what lies beneath. The police, satisfied that they had shattered a dangerous gang of maniacs and man-smugglers, turned over to the Federal authorities the unconvicted Kurds, who befure their deportation were conclusively found to belong to the Yezidi clan of devil-worshippers. The tramp ship and its crew remain an elusive mystery. though cynical detectives are once more ready to combat its smugging and rum-running ventures. Malone thinks these detectives shew a sadly limited perspective in their lack of wonder at the myriad unexplainable details, and the suggestive obscurity of the whole case; though he is just as critical of the newspapers, which saw only a morbid sensation and gloated over a minor sadist cult which they might have proclaimed a horror from the universe's very heart. But he is content to rest silent in Chepachet, calming his nervous system and praying that time may gradually transfer his terrible experience from the realm of present reality to that of picturesque and semi-mythical remoteness.
Robert Suydam sleeps beside his bride in Greenwood Cemetery. No funeral was held over the strangely released bones, and relatives are grateful for the swift oblivion which overtook the case as a whole. The scholar's connexion with the Red Hook horrors, indeed, was never emblazoned by legal proof; since his death forestalled the inquiry he would otherwise have faced. His own end is not much mentioned, and the Suydams hope that posterity may recall him only as a gentle recluse who dabbled in harmless magic and folklore.
As for Red Hook - it is always the same. Suydam came and went; a terror gathered and faded; but the evil spirit of darkness and squalor broods on amongst the mongrels in the old brick houses, and prowling bands still parade on unknown errands past windows where lights and twisted faces unaccountably appear and disappear. Age-old horror is a hydra with a thousand heads, and the cults of darkness are rooted in blasphemies deeper than the well of Democritus, The soul of the beast is omnipresent and triumphant, and Red Hook's legions of blear-eyed, pockmarked youths still chant and curse and howl as they file from abyss to abyss, none knows whence or whither, pushed on by blind laws of biology which they may never understand. As of old, more people enter Red Hook than leave it on the landward side, and there are already rumours of new canals running underground to certain centres of traffic in liquor and less mentionable things.
The dance-hall church is now mostly a dance-hall, and queer faces have appeared at night at the windows. Lately a policeman expressed the belief that the filled-up crypt has been dug out again, and for no simply explainable purpose. Who are we to combat poisons older than history and mankind? Apes danced in Asia to those horrors, and the cancer lurks secure and spreading where furtiveness hides in rows of decaying brick.
Malone does not shudder without cause - for only the other day an officer overheard a swarthy squinting hag teaching a small child some whispered patois in the shadow of an areaway. He listened, and thought it very strange when he heard her repeat over and over again,
 
'O friend and companion of night, thou who rejoicest in the baying of dogs and spilt blood, who wanderest in the midst of shades among the tombs, who longest for blood and bringest terror to mortals, Gorgo, Mormo, thousand-faced moon, look favourably on our sacrifices!'
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:54, 27 June 2006 (UTC)
 
== [[in the vault]] ==
 
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IN THE VAULT
by H. P. Lovecraft
Written 18 Sep 1925
Published November 1925 in The Tryout, Vol. 10, No. 6, p. 3-17.
 
 
There is nothing more absurd, as I view it, than that conventional association of the homely and the wholesome which seems to pervade the psychology of the multitude. Mention a bucolic Yankee setting, a bungling and thick-fibred village undertaker, and a careless mishap in a tomb, and no average reader can be brought to expect more than a hearty albeit grotesque phase of comedy. God knows, though, that the prosy tale which George Birch's death permits me to tell has in it aspects beside which some of our darkest tragedies are light.
Birch acquired a limitation and changed his business in 1881, yet never discussed the case when he could avoid it. Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. It was generally stated that the affliction and shock were results of an unlucky slip whereby Birch had locked himself for nine hours in the receiving tomb of Peck Valley Cemetery, escaping only by crude and disastrous mechanical means; but while this much was undoubtedly true, there were other and blacker things which the man used to whisper to me in his drunken delirium toward the last. He confided in me because I was his doctor, and because he probably felt the need of confiding in someone else after Davis died. He was a bachelor, wholly without relatives.
Birch, before 1881, had been the village undertaker of Peck Valley; and was a very calloused and primitive specimen even as such specimens go. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly "laying-out" apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the degree of dignity to be maintained in posing and adapting the unseen members of lifeless tenants to containers not always calculated with sublimest accuracy. Most distinctly Birch was lax, insensitive, and professionally undesirable; yet I still think he was not an evil man. He was merely crass of fibre and function- thoughtless, careless, and liquorish, as his easily avoidable accident proves, and without that modicum of imagination which holds the average citizen within certain limits fixed by taste.
Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales. I suppose one should start in the cold December of 1880, when the ground froze and the cemetery delvers found they could dig no more graves till spring. Fortunately the village was small and the death rate low, so that it was possible to give all of Birch's inanimate charges a temporary haven in the single antiquated receiving tomb. The undertaker grew doubly lethargic in the bitter weather, and seemed to outdo even himself in carelessness. Never did he knock together flimsier and ungainlier caskets, or disregard mote flagrantly the needs of the rusty lock on the tomb door which he slammed open and shut with such nonchalant abandon.
At last the spring thaw came, and graves were laboriously prepared for the nine silent harvests of the grim reaper which waited in the tomb. Birch, though dreading the bother of removal and interment, began his task of transference one disagreeable April morning, but ceased before noon because of a heavy rain that seemed to irritate his horse, after having laid but one mortal tenement to its permanent rest. That was Darius Peck, the nonagenarian, whose grave was not far from the tomb. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was also near by; but actually postponed the matter for three days, not getting to work till Good Friday, the 15th. Being without superstition, he did not heed the day at all; though ever afterward he refused to do anything of importance on that fateful sixth day of the week. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch.
On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. That he was not perfectly sober, he subsequently admitted; though he had not then taken to the wholesale drinking by which he later tried to forget certain things. He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. The day was clear, but a high wind had sprung up; and Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. Another rnight not have relished the damp, odorous chamber with the eight carelessly placed coffins; but Birch in those days was insensitive, and was concerned only in getting the right coffin for the right grave. He had not forgotten the criticism aroused when Hannah Bixby's relatives, wishing to transport her body to the cemetery in the city whither they had moved, found the casket of Judge Capwell beneath her headstone.
The light was dim, but Birch's sight was good, and he did not get Asaph Sawyer's coffin by mistake, although it was very similar. He had, indeed, made that coffin for Matthew Fenner; but had cast it aside at last as too awkward and flimsy, in a fit of curious sentimentality aroused by recalling how kindly and generous the little old man had been to him during his bankruptcy five years before. He gave old Matt the very best his skill could produce, but was thrifty enough to save the rejected specimen, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. Sawyer was not a lovable man, and many stories were told of his almost inhuman vindictiveness and tenacious memory for wrongs real or fancied. To him Birch had felt no compunction in assigning the carelessly made coffin which he now pushed out of the way in his quest for the Fenner casket.
It was lust as he had recognised old Matt's coffin that the door slammed to in the wind, leaving him in a dusk even deeper thanbefore. The narrow transom admitted only the feeblest of rays, and the overhead ventilation funnel virtually none at all; so that he was reduced to a profane fumbling as he made his halting way among the long boxes toward the latch. In this funereal twilight he rattled the rusty handles, pushed at the iron panels, and wondered why the massive portal had grown so suddenly recalcitrant. In this twilight too, he began to realise the truth and to shout loudly as if his horse outside could do more than neigh an unsympathetic reply. For the long-neglected latch was obviously broken, leaving the careless undertaker trapped in the vault, a victim of his own oversight.
The thing must have happened at about three-thirty in the afternoon. Birch, being by temperament phlegmatic and practical, did not shout long; but proceeded to grope about for some tools which he recalled seeing in a corner of the tomb. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the bald fact of imprisonment so far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer. The pile of tools soon reached, and a hammer and chisel selected, Birch returned over the coffins to the door. The air had begun to be exceedingly unwholesome; but to this detail he paid no attention as he toiled, half by feeling, at the heavy and corroded metal of the latch. He would have given much for a lantern or bit of candle; but lacking these, bungled semi-sightlessly as best he might.
When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least to such meagre tools and under such tenebrous conditions as these, Birch glanced about for other possible points of escape. The vault had been dug from a hillside, so that the narrow ventilation funnel in the top ran through several feet of earth, making this direction utterly useless to consider. Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the btick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it. There was nothing like a ladder in the tomb, and the coffin niches on the sides and rear- which Birch seldom took the trouble to use- afforded no ascent to the space above the door. Only the coffins themselves remained as potential stepping-stones, and as he considered these he speculated on the best mode of transporting them. Three coffin-heights, he reckoned, would permit him to reach the transom; but he could do better with four. The boxes were fairly even, and could be piled up like blocks; so he began to compute how he might most stably use the eight to rear a scalable platform four deep. As he planned, he could not but wish that the units of his contemplated staircase had been more securely made. Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted.
Finally he decided to lay a base of three parallel with the wall, to place upon this two layers of two each, and upon these a single box to serve as the platform. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. Better still, though, he would utilise only two boxes of the base to support the superstructure, leaving one free to be piled on top in case the actual feat of escape required an even greater altitude. And so the prisoner toiled in the twilight, heaving the unresponsive remnants of mortality with little ceremony as his miniature Tower of Babel rose course by course. Several of the coffins began to split under the stress of handling, and he planned to save the stoutly built casket of little Matthew Fenner for the top, in order that his feet might have as certain a surface as possible. In the semi-gloom he trusted mostly to touch to select the right one, and indeed came upon it almost by accident, since it tumbled into his hands as if through some odd volition after he had unwittingly placed it beside another on the third layer.
The tower at length finished, and his aching arms rested by a pause during which he sat on the bottom step of his grim device, Birch cautiously ascended with his tools and stood abreast of the narrow transom. The borders of the space were entirely of brick, and there seemed little doubt but that he could shortly chisel away enough to allow his body to pass. As his hammer blows began to fall, the horse outside whinnied in a tone which may have been encouraging and may have been mocking. In either case it would have been appropriate; for the unexpected tenacity of the easy-looking brickwork was surely a sardonic commentary on the vanity of mortal hopes, and the source of a task whose performance deserved every possible stimulus.
Dusk fell and found Birch still toiling. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture. He could, he was sure, get out by midnight- though it is characteristic of him that this thought was untinged with eerie implications. Undisturbed by oppressive reflections on the time, the place, and the company beneath his feet, he philosophically chipped away the stony brickwork; cursing when a fragment hit him in the face, and laughing when one struck the increasingly excited horse that pawed near the cypress tree. In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. He would not, he found, have to pile another on his platform to make the proper height; for the hole was on exactly the right level to use as soon as its size might permit.
It must have been midnight at least when Birch decided he could get through the transom. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. The hungry horse was neighing repeatedly and almost uncannily, and he vaguely wished it would stop. He was curiously undated over his impending escape, and almost dreaded the exertion, for his form had the indolent stoutness of early middle age. As he remounted the splitting coffins he felt his weight very poignantly; especially when, upon reaching the topmost one, he heard that aggravated crackle which bespeaks the wholesale rending of wood. He had, it seems, planned in vain when choosing the stoutest coffin for the platform; for no sooner was his full bulk again upon it than the rotting lid gave way, jouncing him two feet down on a surface which even he did not care to imagine. Maddened by the sound, or by the stench which billowed forth even to the open air, the waiting horse gave a scream that was too frantic for a neigh, and plunged madly off through the night, the wagon rattling crazily behind it.
Birch, in his ghastly situation, was now too low for an easy scramble out of the enlarged transom; but gathered his energies for a determined try. Clutching the edges of the aperture, he sought to pull himself up, when he noticed a queer retardation in the form of an apparent drag on both his ankles. In another moment he knew fear for the first time that night; for struggle as he would, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity. Horrible pains, as of savage wounds, shot through his calves; and in his mind was a vortex of fright mixed with an unquenchable materialism that suggested splinters, loose nails, or some other attribute of a breaking wooden box. Perhaps he screamed. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon.
Instinct guided him in his wriggle through the transom, and in the crawl which followed his jarring thud on the damp ground. He could not walk, it appeared, and the emerging moon must have witnessed a horrible sight as he dragged his bleeding ankles toward the cemetery lodge; his fingers clawing the black mould in brainless haste, and his body responding with that maddening slowness from which one suffers when chased by the phantoms of nightmare. There was evidently, however, no pursuer; for he was alone and alive when Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door.
Armington helped Birch to the outside of a spare bed and sent his little son Edwin for Dr. Davis. The afflicted man was fully conscious, but would say nothing of any consequence; merely muttering such things as "oh, my ankles!", "let go!", or "shut in the tomb". Then the doctor came with his medicine-case and asked crisp questions, and removed the patient's outer clothing, shoes, and socks. The wounds- for both ankles were frightfully lacerated about the Achilles' tendons- seemed to puzzle the old physician greatly, and finally almost to frighten him. His questioning grew more than medically tense, and his hands shook as he dressed the mangled members; binding them as if he wished to get the wounds out of sight as quickly as possible.
For an impersonal doctor, Davis' ominous and awestruck cross-examination became very strange indeed as he sought to drain from the weakened undertaker every least detail of his horrible experience. He was oddly anxious to know if Birch were sure- absolutely sure- of the identity of that top coffin of the pile; how he had chosen it, how he had been certain of it as the Fenner coffin in the dusk, and how he had distinguished it from the inferior duplicate coffin of vicious Asaph Sawyer. Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily? Davis, an old-time village practitioner, had of course seen both at the respective funerals, as indeed he had attended both Fenner and Sawyer in their last illnesses. He had even wondered, at Sawyer's funeral, how the vindictive farmer had managed to lie straight in a box so closely akin to that of the diminutive Fenner.
After a full two hours Dr. Davis left, urging Birch to insist at all times that his wounds were caused entirely by loose nails and splintering wood. What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to let no other doctor treat the wounds. Birch heeded this advice all the rest of his life till he told me his story; and when I saw the scars- ancient and whitened as they then were- I agreed that he was wise in so doing. He always remained lame, for the great tendons had been severed; but I think the greatest lameness was in his soul. His thinking processes, once so phlegmatic and logical, had become ineffaceably scarred; and it was pitiful to note his response to certain chance allusions such as "Friday", "tomb", "coffin", and words of less obvious concatenation. His frightened horse had gone home, but his frightened wits never quite did that. He changed his business, but something always preyed upon him. It may have been just fear, and it may have been fear mixed with a queer belated sort of remorse for bygone crudities. His drinking, of course, only aggravated what it was meant to alleviate.
When Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. The moon was shining on the scattered brick fragments and marred facade, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. Steeled by old ordeals in dissecting rooms, the doctor entered and looked about, stifling the nausea of mind and body that everything in sight and smell induced. He cried aloud once, and a little later gave a gasp that was more terrible than a cry. Then he fled back to the lodge and broke all the rules of his calling by rousing and shaking his patient, and hurling at him a succession of shuddering whispers that seared into the bewildered ears like the hissing of vitriol.
"It was Asaph's coffin, Birch, just as I thought! I knew his teeth, with the front ones missing on the upper jaw- never, for God's sake. shew those wounds! The body was pretty badly gone, but if ever saw vindictiveness on any face- or former face... You know what a fiend he was for revenge- how he ruined old Raymond thirty years after their boundary suit, and how he stepped on the puppy that snapped at him a year ago last August... He was the devil incarnate, Birch, and I believe his eye-for-an-eye fury could beat old Father Death himself. God, what a rage! I'd hate to have it aimed at me!
"Why did you do it, Birch? He was a scoundrel, and I don't blame you for giving him a cast-aside coffin, but you always did go too damned far! Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was.
"I'll never get the picture out of my head as long as I live. You kicked hard, for Asaph's coffin was on the floor. His head was broken in, and everything was tumbled about. I've seen sights before, but there was one thing too much here. An eye for an eye! Great heavens, Birch, but you got what you deserved. The skull turned my stomach, but the other was worse- those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin!"
 
 
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[[User:87.116.168.174|87.116.168.174]] 19:54, 27 June 2006 (UTC)