[gallery]
Another example: this is what happened when I pressed my finger on the sentence beginning “The suspended….” I tried scrolling up and down, and even refreshed the page. It was still impossible for me to select the text I was touching. I feel like Sepp looks. I am having my very own small emotional breakdown.
After this I went to another site where pressing the text with my finger resulted in nothing at all. So on three different sites I tried simply to select text, and that basic operation failed in three different ways.
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) and a primatologist named Antje Engelhardt are demanding that a San Francisco federal court declare a macaque monkey named Naruto the rights holder of a few famous selfies the monkey allegedly took in the Tangkoko Reserve on the island of Sulawesi, Indonesia in 2011. The monkey, the named plaintiff in the case, is suing a publisher and David Slater, the British nature photographer whose camera was swiped by an ape while the photographer was on a jungle shoot. Slater has published a book with the pictures the monkey took of himself, and the monkey is seeking damages for copyright infringement.
In short, I support people creating “safe spaces” as a shield by exercising their freedom of association to organize themselves into mutually supporting communities, run according to their own norms. But not everyone imagines “safe spaces” like that. Some use the concept of “safe spaces” as a sword, wielded to annex public spaces and demand that people within those spaces conform to their private norms. That’s not freedom of association. That’s rank thuggery, a sort of ideological manifest destiny. It’s the difference between saying “I shouldn’t be forced to go to a talk by this controversial figure” and “this controversial figure should not be allowed to speak at my school.”
Tributes are already beginning to arrive for my dear friend Brett Foster, who died last night at an obscenely early age. Wesley Hill, with whom Brett and I spent many sweet hours, has posted his remembrance, with the addition of an especially appropriate poem by Brett.
In the photo above Brett and I are in London, and about to go, with our beloved wives, to have dinner with Chris and Rachel Bond, who then lived in St. John’s Wood. We brought our ritual offerings, as you can see, our libations to be poured out, but Chris’s parents had fetched such sweet vintage from their home in the south of France, and Chris poured so discreetly and yet freely, that I believe our cheap bottles remained untouched. How we laughed that evening; what joy was had in friendship and fellowship. We all grew drunk with wine and with sheer affection, and the Fosters and Jacobses staggered back to our cab in helpless giggles.
Last year, soon after Brett received his cancer diagnosis — already Stage 4 — he came to visit Teri and me at our home in Waco. “I hope it’s not my time,” he said to me at a sober moment. “But if it is — Alan, my days have been full. They’ve been rich.” Indeed they were, dear Brett; and in God’s mercy will yet be.
People think they don’t understand math, but it’s all about how you explain it to them. If you ask a drunkard what number is larger, 2/3 or 3/5, he won’t be able to tell you. But if you rephrase the question: what is better, 2 bottles of vodka for 3 people or 3 bottles of vodka for 5 people, he will tell you right away: 2 bottles for 3 people, of course.
The Room Three is exactly what fans have been hoping for, and more. Though several classical elements have changed, they’ve changed for the better. There’s a glut of new content, but it’s familiar and tweaked just enough for everyone to find something here they enjoy. There aren’t enough puzzlers out there like The Room, so it’s refreshing to see that Fireproof Games has knocked it out of the park once more. If you’ve not delved into this complex and enigmatic series, you need to do yourself a favor and get locked in The Room as soon as possible.
