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Brexit Remain Backers
Here we go with the rolling hatchet job on who funded the Brexit referendum campaigns. It's very strange that a lot of people funded £7,508.50 exactly. This must be some kind of insider joke, it's not a donation threshold. The only recommendations for businesses to support are these:
Gambling, climate change, and invetment banking are probably not what you came looking for, but that's all I've got. Also Sainsbury. I thought that I would be able to make a long list of consumer products that Remainers could support. How naive I was! I'm feeling salty this morning so I'm going be rude about some of these people. I haven't filtered any of these donors out, so the post is getting long. Remain backers had a couple of options on where to throw their money - the official Tory campaign, Conservatives In, or to Britain Stronger In Europe which was not aligned with any political party. Why 2 different campaigns? David Cameron thought that forming Conservatives In would bring the party closer together. He is lack of judgement is now well known. Conservatives In is essentailly a list of people who wanted to brown nose David Cameron and George Osborne. No large corporations funded Conservatives In, they are all private donations. Some money did come from corporate vehicles, but only from businesses that are 100% owned or controlled by one individual.
Bar & Kitchen Ltd. £25k. The shareholder is Clive Royston Watson, who co-founded The Capital Pub Company, which is now owned by Green King - no point in drinking there, leaver or remainer, because the beer is minging.
Langley Holdings Plc £50k http://www.langleyholdings.com/en-GB . This business is Anthony Langley, a billionaire who owns European engineering businsses: Manroland Sheetfed GmbH; Piller; ARO; Claudius Peters
Lorraine Spencer £15k- wife of former Tory Party treasurer Michael Spencer.
Michael Tory £10k. Ondra LLP. Yes that is his name.
Next up are the large corporations that are not controlled by one individual. They all opted to put their money into Britain Stronger In Europe and avoided Conservative In.
Airbus SAS - £7.5k. I thought that one of the largest European companies would have greater interest in Remain. What this tiny donation means is that Airbus / EADS is not particularly worried about Brexit. Why not? Because it makes weapons - they will always be able to flow freely across borders, and are never subject to import duties. £7.5k is a pitiful amount compared to the $12.5 billion in arms sales it did in 2016.
Bloomberg tradebook europe £250k. Bloomberg is unusual because it is a regular donor to the 3 main historic parties: lib dems, conservatives, and labour. That is a good approach for a responsible corporation. SNP would probably disagree.
Canary Wharf Group - £35k. Owns land in Canary Wharf.
Citigroup Partners - £250k
Commercial Estates Group (CEG) is a London-based property company, £10k
That list was obviously dominated by US giants. I don't have a problem with donations from any business that operates in the UK, but it is a bit concerning that there are no UK businesses that felt the need to participate in this. It's clear that Brexit could hurt a lot of UK businesses. Company directors do have a legal duty to avoid losing money for shareholders, so trying to stay in the EU should have been a no brainer. I can only conclude from this that US Corporations are better corporate citizens and have better management than any UK business. https://sunlightfoundation.com/2016/06/22/u-s-financial-firms-spent-almost-3-million-against-brexit/ Up next is the list of individuals who put their own money into Remain, without trying to get a peerage or honour from David Cameron. You might expect a random grouping of different people here, but there are some that I'll group together. First, people who work for the Vampire Squid! Yes that's right, Goldman Sachs employees have the courage to do what they think is right. You may be surprised by this, but I wasn't because Goldmans make a big effort not to recruit idiots or wankers. I have genuinely liked every person I have ever met who worked at Goldmans - cf Deutsche Bank. I've included people who have moved on from Goldmans, because their souls stays behind when they leave
Charles Manby, £10k
Glean Earle £50k. ex goldman europe coo
Karen Cook. chairman at goldman sachs. £15k
Ewan Kirk - £110k. Ex Goldmanite, Founded Cantab Capital Partners
Michael Plantevin Bain Capital MD. £10k
Patrick Drayton £15k. His wife is chair of Goldman Investment Banking division https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karen_Cook_(banker)) . Let's pretend she was never a director of Tesco, especially not during the false accounting era which you may expect a Goldmanite to have noticed.
PLLG £25k. http://www.pllglimited.com/ daniel richardson. occupation listed as book keeper. i can't make sense of this at all. company only makes 20k a year in profit, and giving it all to Remain is a bit weird. PL is defo an acronym for Peter Levine (former name of company was Peter Levine and Co)
Richard Reed £7.5k. co-founded innocent drinks, now sold.
Roland Rudd - £33k. Amber Rudd's brother. Read his wiki if you want to see what a professional PR person thinks of themself "He does not claim particular sporting ability...perhaps a lazy Christian" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roland_Rudd . He was one of the trustees of the garden bridge project, so is clearly a complete moron - hint - taxpayers want their £37m back! The point of having trustees is for them to put their balls on the line, which he clearly didn't. His wife makes high end women's clothing, he's just loaded with nothing to do. https://www.sophiehale.com/about-sophie
Samia Murgian-Hedger £100k. real estate developer
Bruno Schroder £50k - part of the Schroder banking dynasty
Sir Simon Robertson. deputy chairman of HSBC. £50k. Fun fact - his knighthood in June 2010 came just one month after the Tories took office. I'm looking at Brexit so not covering this, but you can see his history of conservative donations here. http://powerbase.info/index.php/Simon_Robertson. i estimate the price of a knighthood is around £300k based on his donation history.
This was going to be my final word on referendum donations, but I think I need one more post to compare and contrast Leave and Remain backers. Also a look at which MPs Airbus gives money to will be interesting, and how many of them are in the ERG. Edit: if any of this is wrong, lert me know in the comments and I'll update the post
Saturday morning. You wake up and stare at the curtains of your small westwards-facing studio flat. Though it's hard to tell what's going on outside beyond the faint patches of light illuminating your pale yellow curtains, the sound of the rain betrays Mother Nature's desire to keep you at bay. You reluctantly decide that putting the iPhone alarm to snooze for a third time may be a sub-optimal solution. The faint taste of Guinness and Tesco-brand vodka still linger, but you brush it off, taking your trusty wind-breaker and heading out into the urban wilderness. Less than twenty minutes later, you're on the Tube. At least, you thought you were on the Tube. However, it apepars that the security barriers decided that today would be the best day to transform into a portal to Bangkok. After you manage to nudge your way into a position where the doors are slightly less likely to maul your head at every station, you jiggle around to remove the jacket you thought would come in handy on this dreary day. "Ah well." you think to yourself; given the current state of affairs, this might be the closest you're coming to a tropical retreat all summer. Twenty minutes later, you're spat back onto the wet and windy streets and back to square one. Goddamned British summers.
It's been a while since I last made a guide and since then, my opinions on fashion have developed significantly. Now, more than ever before, I'm open to different types of styles and interpretations of colour, fit, and sizing. As a result, my approach to this guide is going to be a lot more general than the 2015 one. The best approach to updating your wardrobe is to make a list of what you already have (and want to keep) and what you think you need. After that it comes down to deciding where you want to spend your money. In general the ordering of expenditure tends to be outerwear > shoes > trousers > shirts > t-shirts but if you're after something very specific or find a great deal, you can obviously work around that. As for shopping, a lot of online retailers such as END and Mr. Porter have summer sales on so now is a great time to buy. Experiences with eBay tend to vary, but I've bought a lot of my footwear from there at heavily discounted prices so if you're willing to put in the time it's rewarding. The next step comes in deciding what to buy because, unless you really have a lot of change to spare, you're probably not going to buy every single item listed here. My approach to dealing with this is to both consider the style I'm after as well as considering which items work together best. I'll put examples of this after every item. To simplify things, let's break down the clothing into:
shirts & t-shirts,
Self-explanatory. I've included a range of styles which may be a bit jarring, but it's just to cover all the different possibilities that I think are all valid for summer.
Although it's not technically part of this guide, getting a small umbrella is a very useful investment and circumvents the need to carry around a hooded jacket. In contrast to a typical winter coat, you want a light rain coat for summer. Cotton, nylon, and blends of the two tend to be your best bet. They can vary quite a bit in sizing and fit, but tend to work well with slimmer jeans. If you're after a more informal alternative, Adidas, Nike, and pretty much every street-wear brand produces coach jackets which are worth a look. Works well with: Skinny black jeans, black trainers Brands to consider:Rains (£), Folk (££), Oliver Spencer (££), Norse Projects (£££), Stutterheim (£££) I love denim jackets. Alongside black jeans, I truly believe they're one of the few pieces that can be worn in any season and work in a large variety of styles depending on colour and fit. During summer you're best off looking for Type III denim jackets that are washed/light blue. Works well with: graphic tees, henleys, skinny black jeans, skinny stonewashed jeans, white minimal trainers, cream trainers Brands to consider:Edwin (£), Levis (£), AMI (££), Acne (£££) Summer is the perfect time to pull out blazers for casual wear. Linen blends and unstructured constructions are what you want to be looking out for and thankfully there are a lot of British offerings in this category. Works well with: linen shirts, white/light blue oxford shirts, cropped trousers, chinos, derbies Brands to consider:Universal Works (£), Folk (££), Oliver Spencer (£££), Percival (£££), Engineered Garments (£££) Shirt jackets & overshirts are an interesting category because it's practically an umbrella term for a lot of items. As before, lightweight garments in light colours tend to prevail. I'm going to put noragis and kimono-style shirts under this category as well but these are more of an alternative choice. Works well with: plain tees, skinny jeans, cropped trousers, trainers, slip-ons Brands to consider:Beams Plus (£), Percival (££), APC (££), Our Legacy (£££)
SHIRTS AND T-SHIRTS
Short-sleeve shirts are the name of the game. A lot of people on MFA used to have the opinion that these look childish. Although I think that wearing long sleeves rolled up can definitely work, short-sleeves are better for the weather. Summer's the time to embrace patterns so don't be afraid to go for louder options when looking at casual shirting. Works well with: shorts, skinny jeans, trainers, slip-ons Brands to consider:Zara (£), GAP (£), Next (£), YMC (££), Percival (££) If you do want to go for for more formal/full-sleeve options, go for linen options or the MFA-standard OCBD. The fun thing about linen clothing in general is that you can afford to go for far looser fits without drowning in excess fabric, so don't worry too much about getting the slimmest fit. Works well with: skinny jeans, chinos, sandals, derbies, trainers Brands to consider:Next (£), Uniqlo (£), Muji (££) (The Muji websites seems to be void of most of their clothing so find a shop), Gant Rugger (££), S.E.H. Kelly (£££) Plain tees don't need much of an introduction. Indeed, most people are used to rocking these in summer. You can never go wrong with white and heather grey, and summer is also a good time to pull out pastel and washed out colours. Slim/athletic fits where the sleeves fall mid-bicep tend to look the best, but widescooped necks, dropped sleeves, and oversized fits work better with looser trousers. Works well with: works with most other items, but largely dependent on cut Brands to consider:Banana Republic (£), Cos (£), Sunspel (££), Acne (£££) Graphic tees are very similar (as you may expect) to plain tees. The usual advice is to not go for loud designs and to stick to more understated graphics. If it's something you can relate to e.g. a band tee, all the better! Works well with: denim jacket, skinny jeans, minimal trainers Brands to consider:Zara (£), Muji (£) (Their organic cotton striped tees are great.), Armor-Lux (££) Henleys have grown a bit less popular but I still think they're a decent choice for anyone looking for a t-shirt alternative. Works well with: denim jacket, skinny jeans, chinos, trainers, slip-ons Brands to consider:Banana Republic (£), Pistol Lake (££)
Jeans are yet another staple, but the most important thing to remember is to go light-weight for summer. As excited as you may be to fade your 21oz raws, it may be best to begin doing so during autumn. As for colour, stonewashed tends to be quite popular during summer and, in my opinion, black jeans always work. Works well with: pretty much everything Brands to consider:Uniqlo (£), Cheap Mondays (££), Nudie (£££) Sun's out, shorts out right? Cargo shorts are very difficult to pull off unless you are ready to spend a decent amount so I think it's best to stick to simpler and slimmer shorts. Works well with: graphic t-shirts, short sleeve shirts, sandals Brands to consider:Uniqlo (£), Massimo Dutti (££)Cos (££),YMC (££) Cropped and linen trousers have been gaining a lot of mainstream popularity in the last two years and are now, thankfully, available at quite a wide variety of price ranges. They're both comfortable and a great way to finish off a looser fit. Works well with: linen shirts, sandals, slip-ons, overshirts Brands to consider:Zara (£). Muji (£), YMC (££), Oliver Spencer (££), S.E.H Kelly (£££) Chinos are a good alternative for a slightly more formal look. I prefer ones with no break and a slight taper. Works well with: blazers, linen shirts, derbies Brands to consider:Massimo Dutti (£), Carhartt (£)YMC (££), Gant (££), Paul Smith (££), AMI (££)
Sandals can be risky if you're worried about crossing into the uncle-at-the-BBQ territory, but more minimal designs can work well with linen clothes. Works well with: linen shirts, shorts, cropped trousers Brands to consider:Birkenstock (£), Tevas (££)Suicoke (£££) Trainers and sneakers within themselves could probably take up an entire post, but I'll just give a few examples which are ideal for summer. Works well with: Minimal sneakers work with almost everything; trainers are better suited to jeans and more casual fits. Brands to consider:Converse (££), Saucony (££), Adidas (££), Nike (£££), Filling Pieces (£££) Slip-ons are one one of my guilty pleasures and they also tend to be more popular in the UK and Europe than what I've seen in the US. Again, simplicity in design is usually best, but feel free to experiment with different textures. Works well with: Looser fits e.g. linen shirt, cropped trousers Brands to consider:Vans (£), Axel Arigato (£££) To round off, we finish with the more formal derbies which are great for your day out trying to sneak into Wimbledon. Works well with: Blazer, chinos, oxford shirts Brands to consider:Meermin (££), McNairy (£££), Grenson (£££), Tricker's (££££) If there's anything you think deserves to be added please do drop me a message. Enjoy!
Happy Hump Day, FPS! Hyde here. This sub has somehow made me see things through new eyes. While I considered myself an accomplished people watcher before, I feel as though I notice much, much more now that ya’ll have schooled me in the snacky ways of the Ham. Damn you all. (Not really, I love you.) The Saturday before Memorial Day was a typical busy weekend day for me. Muscle Shirt was out of town, so I had a chance to run all the errands. It seemed on this day that the Great Beetus had smiled upon me, and decided to send a bevy of beautifully bovine behemoths to entertain my weary travels. Or make me question the future of humanity, whichever. My ‘To Do’ list was as follows:
drop off dry cleaning
go to the bank
get car washed
The Dry Cleaner I met Ham #1 at the dry cleaner. She was moon sized, heavily made up, and wore a lot of bedazzled crosses and fleur de lis merchandise. I don’t know what that style is called, but it seems to be worn predominately by white trash trying to be classy. She had a large blended coffee drink in one hand, and the other jewel bedecked hand she was waving directly in the face of the lovely Korean woman who works behind the counter.
No, lady, you don’t understand. I’m paying you to get those stains out, mmkaaay? You’re going to get the stains out, and if you charge me more so help me I’ll go straight to Yelp and tell everyone that you’re terrible. Do you understand? ‘No more stain, yes?’
The Korean woman listened to this tirade silently, and did not react to the mocking Asian accent accompanying her last statement, before pushing the enormous pile of clothing back over the counter towards Ham #1.
We no need you money, miss. Please take you things and no come back.
Ham #1 slammed her Starbeetus on the counter, hard.
WHAT? NO. You are NOT refusing me service! You’re the CLOSEST DRY CLEANERS and you are GOING to get these stains out! What is the matter with you people?! I’m giving you MONEY. Leave, or I call police.
Ham #1 gave a furious grunt, grabbed all of her clothes, and stomped out. Amazed, I approached the counter and asked if the attendant was okay. She smiled very sweetly, nodded, and sighed.
Fat lady always get cheese sauce on cloth. Stain bad, no can get out first try. Cost more. Bad customer.
I laughed, dropped off my items, and said goodbye. The Bank The bank is in the same parking lot, so I walked over. When I left, I noticed that Ham#1 was in line to see the teller. There are complimentary lollipops in a jar for those waiting. At least, there were … I walked by in time to see the last handful disappear into Ham #1’s rhinestone studded fleur de lis purse, much to the chagrin of the little boy standing with his mother directly behind her, who announced, loudly, as little children do, the injustice of the situation.
Mama, how come that lady gets ALL the lollipops?
I didn't see, but I'd be willing to bet everyone was glaring disapprovingly at our bedazzled Ham. The Car Wash My next stop was the car wash. I went to one of those fancy shmancy hand car washes, because I was feeling extravagant. I paid and proceeded to the waiting area, where I busied myself with paying my bills online. Multitasking, for the win. My concentration, however, was interrupted by a conversation that was seemingly increasing in volume by the minute. It was a young couple – high school age, I think? - squabbling. He was the very definition of a beanpole, or rather a mop – tall, skinny as a rail, with a huge brown helmet of messy hair that looked hilariously similar to Sia’s wig. She was porky, acne-ridden, and loud. She wore a tight white t-shirt, tucked in, too-small denim Bermuda shorts, and a belt so painfully tight that it had rolled up and in to her waistband. (I tried to find a photo example but I couldn’t.) The result of the whole outfit, in what appeared to be an attempt at slimming, made every bulge more prominent in the most unattractive fashion. They were arguing about a candy bar.
But I’m still hungry! You had all your snacks, two of the Milky Ways we just bought, AND all of my Fritos. This is my fucking candy. You are being SO mean. Give me the damn chocolate! NO. I’m fucking HUNGRY. GIVE IT TO ME OR NO BLOWJOBS FOR A WEEK!
This last bit was shouted. Everyone looked. Beanpole shrank into his chair, humiliated, and handed over the candy. Bermuda crammed the chocolate bar into her mouth and chewed loudly and rudely at him, gargling, “Mmmm! Ooohh! SOOO GOOD!” He looked away. Having swallowed, she decided to pick on him further.
Ohh, are we embawassed? Poor Beanpole, so rude to his loving girlfriend she has to stand up for HERSELF. God, I don’t know why I let you treat me like this. IN FUCKING PUBLIC.
I was about to move out of earshot to escape this stupidity, but my car was ready. Thank goodness. I sped off towards Costco and sincerely hoped it would be uneventful. Lolnope. Costco Costco was a madhouse. You know that scene in Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail Last Crusade (thank you, rex_furore) where they find the catacombs under the library, and there are rats on top of rats crawling on rats with rats underfoot? That’s what Costco felt like. People, and carts, everywhere. Guess where I found Ham #2? In front of the sausage sampling station, of course. Ham #2 was a ham of galactic proportions. He rode a ScootyPuff that was filled to the brim with two things – sausages, and frozen lasagna. He had them stacked neat as you please in his cart, one on top of the other, half of his cart lasagna, half of it sausages. Ham#2 had parked his ScootyPuff lengthwise in front of the sausage cart, and as the samples hit the tray, they were almost immediately eaten, one after the other. The man behind the cart looked frustrated.
Sir, please, others will want samples too. Store policy is your samples are unlimited. Also, I’m taking them one at a time. Not my fault if folks aren’t fast enough.
In the time it took me to get through the mess of people from where I was, to where I was going, I had witnessed him eat nearly an entire package of sausages. I did not stay to see more. The last item on my list was asparagus. I was hoping, desperately, that because it was a vegetable, and thus surrounded by vegetables, I would be temporarily safe from hams in the produce section. Instead, I found Ham#3 and her Obeast Spawn. (Seriously. This kid was terrifyingly fat. He was in the carriage part of the cart instead of the child seat. Whenever he tried to climb into the child seat, he would get his fat legs stuck and cry til his mother extracted him. This happened three times that I saw.) Ham#3 had two carts with her. One was full. The second was mostly full, and she was loading up on carton after carton of strawberries. Because she had two carts, and was not paying attention to one, or the general flow of traffic, there was almost immediately a bottleneck. Five or six people, and their carts, were forced to wait until she had finished. It was probably only 45 seconds, but it felt like an eternity. The last Hams I dealt with were in line at the registers. There is a red phone on the store side of Costco that allows you to make a phone call to the pizza kitchen, so you can order your pizza, pay, and ostensibly have it ready to go when you’ve finished with your purchase. Ham#4 and Ham#5 got on the phone and spent about five minutes arguing with each other and the poor kitchen employee about their incredibly large order of 4 pizzas, several chicken bakes and “just” six churros. They hung up without a single please or thank you. I went home, unpacked the groceries, closed the blinds, and laid down in the dark for a bit. tl;dr: Hyde wishes that her errands could be done in the middle of the night, when Hams are abed.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/4j1kdy/houston_files_hoax_or_fact/ I'll say now that I have a hard time telling this story. I have spent twelve years trying to forget it, but I feel like if I don't tell it now, I might never. I needed a place that wasn't going to judge me, and this place seems the best bet. I know a lot of stories get told here, and many are strange and frightening, so maybe this one will fit in and perhaps give warning of whats out there. Assuming I'm not crazy and this is for real. I don't remember much about the rest of that day. Thomas and Jack finished unloading and came in to find me napping on the couch. Thomas gave me the next day off, and told me to rest and get acclimated to the Houston weather. He drove me back to my motel, a cheap rat hole off of I-45. I lay in bed watching baseball that evening and trying to grasp what happened at the shed. Finally I gave up and remembered the pint of whiskey I had claimed. I cracked open the glass bottle, the label read "I.W. Harper". I poured myself a glass, then another and finally drifted off to sleep. The wake up call I had requested came at 7am, but since I was off for the day I just hung up the phone and rolled over and went back to sleep. I jerked awake about 11:15 am, concerned I had missed work, then remembered and relaxed a bit. I decided to get out of bed and look for some lunch but as I started to move I felt something heavy on my feet. I sat up partially and could see a mass of black laying across my feet and the end of the bed. At first it just seemed like a blanket or jacket, but I had put neither there the night before. I shifted slightly and the mass moved. A sleek black scaled face, glassy black eyes reflecting alien thoughts stared at me. The snake must have been at least twelve feet long, and its head rested between my feet, staring coldly in my face. I froze, being from West Texas I had learned a strong respect for snakes at an early age. "Don't move." I thought, "and it will go away." But that is not what happened. It moved, but not away. It slowly moved up between my legs, never taking its eyes off of mine. I swear I could hear it breathing. My heart was racing and I felt the adrenaline pumping. I jumped directly off the bed and rolled up into a low squat in the floor. The snake was gone. I awoke, and the clock said it was 11:15. I quickly glanced at my feet but nothing was there. I shook off the dream and got up. A quick shower and I found myself walking a couple of blocks down to a waffle house. A few bucks for a decent breakfast and I made my way back to my motel room. I had a whole day to do nothing, so I decided to read a bit of the leather book I had acquired. I had left the book lying on the side table when I had left, but when I returned to the room it was on the bed. "Strange." I thought and picked it up. A cold chill ran up my back and I could faintly smell the acid smell form yesterday. I tossed the book back on the bed. I found the whiskey bottle and saw that there was only a shot or so left in it. I drank that, walked a few blocks to a liquor store and bought a fifth. I wanted some I.W. Harper but was told they didn't carry it, so I grabbed some Jameson instead. Upon returning to the room I grabbed the book and a cup of ice and changed into some swim trunks. I decided that if I am going to read this book, I will need full daylight, and a whiskey chaser. I took the book out to the pool, laid out in a deck chair and sipped whiskey as I read. The first part of the book seemed pretty sane. After the note on the inside cover, the first several pages where dated from August of 1970. Eric Feldman had been in the Marines, and had served two tours in Vietnam as a recon specialist. The journal was a way for him to deal with his demons, as his therapist had said. He had joined the Marines as a fresh faced kid of eighteen in 1969, signed up because he didn't want to be drafted. He trained at Parris Island, South Carolina and did well in the military life. During his two tours he saw combat on several occasions and was eventually wounded and sent home on May 5th, 1971. After returning to Texas he attempted going to college for a business degree but dropped out after the first semester. He felt like college wasn't for him. He ended up in Beeville Texas with three dollars in his pocket and no plans or assistance. Now this part here really tells you the character of this guy, Eric Feldman, so I am gonna just transcribe what he wrote, so you get a good picture of who he was. I had landed in Beeville after leaving Corpus Christi because thats all the ticket money I had. I had saved myself back three dollars and knew I would need a job quick. So as soon as I got off the bus I started looking around. I found a diner down a half mile or so from the bus stop and went inside. The waitress was named Betty and she was a fox. We made eyes at each other as I ordered lunch and after I had eaten and paid, we talked a minute. She had grown up in Beeville, and her dad owned a construction outfit called Piebald and Sons. She was as sweet as honey and I knew that I had to take some time to get to know her. I told her that I was in town looking for work and she said her dad was needing hands. So I got the address from Betty and beat feet down to Piebald and Sons to get a job. Once I got there I found a small building and lots of heavy equipment. I combed my hair and went inside. The old man inside look kinda gruff, no nonsense and so I strode right up and looked him in the eye. I asked for a job and he asked if I could load a dozer on a truck. I said sure, no problem (even though I had never drove a dozer or loaded one). He had me follow him out back and there set a dozer and a tractor trailer. I took a deep breath and climbed into the dozer cab. I glanced at the controls and decided to play around with them for a second. Didn't take me but a minute to figure out how they worked and within ten minutes I had that dozer on the back of that trailer. The old man hired me on the spot, and a shot at gettin to know Betty had just blossomed. The more I read about E. Feldman the more I liked the guy. I had been worried that the book contained, I don't know, some weird stuff, but so far it was pretty decent and I felt happy for Feldman and his turn of luck. I sat by the pool for a couple of hours reading, then had a short swim. Ended up going back to the room and napping until later that evening. Went down to the nearby burger King for some supper and then back to the motel to have a few more drinks and then sleep for the night. The next morning found me back at Thomas' warehouse and heading out again with Jack. We were going back to Clodine to finish dealing with the shed house and we had two others lined up in Houston proper for later in the day. Jack seemed concerned as I climbed into the truck. "You awright Wesstexas? I don't need you dropping on me again today youngun." I winked at Jack, "I am fine today, some rest and some whiskey and I'm a new man." He seemed to like that answer and we drove the rest of the way to Clodine in silence. As we got closer to our destination I began to feel off, just a little at first, but the feeling built until it was full on anxiety by the time we arrived. As we pulled up at the residence I could feel my heart beating a mile a minute, but I took a deep breath and kept my nervousness hidden from Jack. He hopped out and got the dollie. "Lets get them 'pliances outta the house first, then we can clear that shed." he ordered. I agreed and we spent the first half hour getting the rusted fridge and stove out of the house and onto the trailer. Jacked wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at me across the water jug, "I looked inat Shed yesterdy and I figure we need to see whats in that cellar, don't you?" His question was right on point as I had been wondering about the hatch since I was here last. "Sure." I said, but its got a chain and lock on it, not sure if we can get into it." I said, somewhat hoping we could not. Jack smiled, and pulled up a pair of bolt cutters from the back of his truck. "I already done thought of that Wesstexas, ain't no chain gonna keep us out." He grinned so wide I could see the black snuff in his teeth. I grabbed the flashlight and we headed back into the shed. The shed interior was just as I had left it, nasty and forlorn. we threw out the cot, tables and trunk and made room to get the dollie in if we needed it. Jack strained heavily at cutting the chain on the hatch but after several attempts it finally gave way and we were able to remove the chain and lock. The door was heavy and took both of us to open, the smell that came up form below I can only describe as pleasant. I know that sounds strange considering the surroundings and all, but it was true. The smell of expensive and often used incense drifted up the concrete stairwell that led down into the cellar. The room below was small, maybe twelve feet long by 8 wide. Our lights revealed two bookcases on either side of the room and a small table against the far wall. The bookshelves held books and what appeared to be jars containing snakes...preserved...in something? I was feeling very anxious now, and even Jack seemed spooked. The table bore a rotting table cloth of stars and moons, and upon it sat a brass bowl and a knife and some sand or dirt. On the wall behind the table where drawn weird pictures, symbols and words I could not read. The books on the shelves seemed to be about unusual topics like, the Bermuda triangle, ghosts, monsters and stuff like that. They definitely did not make me feel better about my current position. Jack broke the silence, "Hey Wesstexas, you ever seen anythin like this afore?" I shook my head, "Maybe inna horror movie." I said. Jack laughed, and picked up one of the jars. "I done seen stuff like this in them Voodoo shops in Nawlins, smells the same too." My anxiety was getting the better of me and I told Jack that we needed to hurry up. He instructed me to empty the books into a trash bag and then we could carry the bookshelves upstairs. I was in no mood to argue so I did as he said. Things seemed to be going fine until Jack was attempting to load several jars into a bag. He had just lifted one and was closely examining it when it seemed to slip from his hand. It hit the concrete floor with a crash and the small snake fell into the putrid water covering the floor. Jack seemed miffed that he had dropped the jar and began attempting to pick up the broken pieces. It was then that I noticed the movement. A quick flicker of agitation in the water, I reacted by attempting to push Jack away from the glass but I instead forced him into a sitting position in the water. A small black snake struck towards his outstretched leg, at the open skin between his sock and overall's leg. It bit him, I thought, but then it seemed to just be disappearing into Jack's leg. He was screaming bloody murder and I lost my shit. I hate to say it but I ran, ran as fast as I could up those stairs and through the shed and out into the sunlight. I must have tripped and knocked myself silly, because I woke up laying face down in the muck. I felt drained and although I wanted to keep running, I had no energy. I lay there in the swelter and considered giving up. I'm not sure how long I laid there, but the next thing I remember is someone grabbing my legs. I tried to turn over but I felt sluggish and subdued. I could hear whistling, a tune, but slightly chaotic. I finally managed to turn my head up and I saw Jack dragging me by my legs towards the truck. He seemed deeply focused and was whistling this weird tune. I tried to mouth words but nothing came and then he was lifting me into the passenger seat of the truck. I sat in stunned silence as he easily and quickly brought out the book shelves single handedly and loaded them into the truck, he then went back and returned with the table and bowl. After a few minutes he climbed in the truck and we backed out and headed into town. The cool air seemed to bring back some of my energy and after a few minutes I was able to speak. "Hey Jack?" I said timidly. He glanced at me with his bulging eye. "Hey man, are you okay? It looked like that snake bit you." I said, looking down at his leg. He smiled a wry smile, a little longer than was comfortable. "Naw, don't you worry Wesstexas, that ol' snake was dead and didn't bite me at all. You just sit over there and relax and we will get this load back to Thomas' place." I sat back in my seat. Somehow I felt this was going to be a long, long day.
They only talked about the first girl in whispers. Three months ago I was in town running errands and I bumped into Pastor Creedy who preaches at the Lutheran church in the southernmost point of Tarker. He told me to say a prayer for a sixteen-year-old girl from his mass who had run away from home. I’m not very religious but regardless, I told him I would – just like I bet everybody else did. It’s not something I talk about much, but if there’s a God he already knows it’s too cold out for a teenager to be drifting. Pure curiosity prodded me to ask the Pastor what people knew about the situation, and he said nothing, but the last place anybody saw her was out on the plain with a knapsack over her shoulder, heading toward Highway 83. Some days later I was perched on a barstool at Shady Pines sipping at straight Jack with no junk in it when I overheard Miss Claire from the East Side of our backwater settlement asking somebody whether or not they’d found her knapsack since the cops began their search. A cacophony of drunken farmers and breaking glass drowned the answer, but at that point in time I wasn’t sure I wanted to know it anyway. Another week passed. I didn’t hear anything else ‘til I went grocery shopping. I was standing by the dairy aisle feigning interest in the contents of the fridges when a stray shard of dialogue caught my attention. A woman and a man who I knew (but only by their faces) were a little down the way having a heated discussion in hushed tones about whether or not it was safe to be out at night since “she” had disappeared. I still wasn’t sure who “she” was, but it didn’t much matter because the point is that “she” had vanished, and that sort of thing doesn’t often happen around here. I kept on eavesdropping but nothing else of importance was said, except that a lot of people think she might’ve gotten on a train and gone who knows where. Yet another week went by. I was an hour and a half outside Tarker coming home from an out-of-town trip when I stopped to buy cigarettes at a gas station on Highway 83. When I threw my cash down by the register the attendant told me to watch over my shoulder on the way back to town because they found that girl’s sweater. He gave the impression that he wasn’t supposed to be talking about her because he lowered his voice to tell me - even though there wasn’t a single customer around to listen in on our conversation. I’d temporarily forgotten about that girl in my few days away, so I was keen to hear more. By then I felt like I needed to. I hammered him with questions. What condition was the sweater in? Was it torn? Bloodied? Where exactly did they find it? As my luck would have it, the attendant didn’t actually know shit – much like everyone else, he could only regurgitate what he’d heard from friends of friends of friends. Finally I asked him if he knew whether or not “they” had reached a conclusion. The attendant said he couldn’t say – no surprises there – but he himself was sure she was dead, because what else could’ve happened out there on that lonely old road? She ain’t heading to Florida, that’s for certain. The lady who runs Tarker’s sole news agency told me the girl’s name was Billie. Billie was the only child of a one-parent family, and she was the hot topic of the town for a month all told. As if to shake us up even more her father, Quinn, gassed himself in his Chevy shortly after the police found her sweater. We all thought that maybe he knew something we didn’t about the whereabouts of his little girl but the Sheriff, who was the only person to read his suicide note, said he doubted if Quinn had anything at all to do with it. At that point it looked like there’d be no more leads, no more discoveries. No more nothing. When it seemed as if the whole situation would be a mystery forever, the townsfolk of Tarker stopped wondering and tried to focus on lighter things. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel wrong, but we had to get on with our lives. We didn’t necessarily accept that Billie was dead – just that she was gone and that she probably wasn’t coming back. And for a while things went back to the territory of “same old”. Curious things have an ugly way of resurfacing. One of our community’s oldest residents – a Second World War vet who goes by the name of Ludlow Parker – was driving back to town from an out-of-state visit to his children in South Carolina. The sun had set over the hills in the west. Ludlow had lived in Tarker since he was in short shorts and he knew that he had a maximum of ten minutes before the day completely disappeared. He and his wife decided to make a pit stop on the shoulder of Highway 83 to dump out some of the sweet tea they’d spent the weekend drinking. I need to piss somethin’ fierce, he’d said, and I want to be done before the light fades. The place they pulled over at is a stretch of Highway 83 known colloquially as “Tanner’s Path”. Tanner’s Path runs for twelve and a half miles. The six miles of the Path closest to Tarker are bordered by grazing fields on one side and woodland on the other. Marking the halfway point of the Path is a pretty big protruding slate formation that we know as Rosencrantz Rock because a practical joker carved Hamlet quotes into its face. Ludlow took a leak in the shadow of Rosencrantz Rock. The pinks and oranges of twilight dissolved into cobalt hue. The daytime had gone. Mister Parker was enveloped by the dark. Half buried by the place Parker stood to do his business at was something that didn’t fit with the chipped slate and the dead Bermuda grass. Understandably, he thought nothing of it until he lit his post-piss cigarette. His looming shadow, borne of the Zippo’s flame, danced across the rock face and over the line etched in stone: Good my Lord, what is the cause of your distemper? The feeble light brought Parker to a wretched understanding: the half buried thing – it was a Converse All-Star. Left foot. Size eight in women’s. Black canvas with a white rubber trim. As far as highway-strewn shoes go, that kind is probably the most common. But as he’d tell us later, by god, did it smell funny. Parker’s curiosity was piqued, so he did what a lot of us would’ve: he picked up the shoe. An hour passed before the Parkers reached the sheriff’s office, and when they finally got there they made no secret of their findings. Mrs Parker was in hysterics because my husband found that girl’s shoe! Parker and the deputy – a good old boy and son-in-law of the county’s biggest cane crop magnate – tried real hard to calm her down, but Parker always said that once she starts she don’t stop. For the rest of the night she wailed like a wounded animal – her foot was in the shoe! Her foot was in the shoe! Her goddamned foot was still inside her shoe! Details of the girl’s final resting place came to me in much the same way as the details of her disappearance. At the bar or the grocery store or on the street I’d catch an exchange between people with pale faces and tired eyes. I put the snippets of information together in the hopes that I could make some sense of it all, and this is how it sounds: Billie was murdered – that was, at least, the most popular opinion (although there’re folks who want to believe that she was hit by a truck). There still aren’t any leads on who might’ve done it. Most everybody says it must’ve been someone from a neighbouring town, or maybe someone who was just drifting through the county – because if it wasn’t, it had to have been one of us. That there is a thought too grisly for the good people of Tarker to entertain. We don’t know the specifics of her death. We don’t even have an established cause. All I know is that the Sheriff’s department found her around a thousand yards from Rosencrantz Rock, and they brought her back home in at least three bags. That was a month ago now. When they spoke about the second girl they were a lot more open, but only because they were starting to panic. Some of the newer families jumped the shark and left Tarker for good. She was taken no more than three weeks ago. Allegra Whitaker was her name, and she was two and a half years old. Somebody snatched her straight from her crib in the middle of the night. In the same vein of denial as the folks who believe Billie was crushed by an eighteen-wheeler, some people placed responsibility for Allegra’s disappearance on her parents. I’d like to note that, of those kinds of people that I’ve spoken to myself, none of them could think of a valid reason for why Anthony and Domenica would do that. For all intents and purposes the couple are well respected around town, and most residents of status have vehemently denied that the girl’s vanishing was an engineered event. According to rumours, the nursery was almost entirely undisturbed bar for a couple of scratches on the windowsill. The window that Allegra’s parents have firmly stated was closed every night when we put her to bed had been unlatched. The draft coming in from the outside caused the nursery door to slam – and when Domenica investigated the noise she found that her baby wasn’t where she’d been left. All that occupied the room was a smell that has since been described as "blood and bile". Fifteen days back I was gettin’ sheared when the barber’s son, who is the town’s only forensic pathologist, dropped in to deliver coffee and a few pastries to his old man. The barber and his boy were hunched over the counter facing one another, their mugs adorned with grim expressions. Randall Jones, the man who was cutting my hair, stopped talking in my ear. A vacuum of grim tension quietly conquered the room. According to the barber’s son, three of the Whitaker’s guard dogs had died in their kennels not a hundred yards from the nursery window on the night that Allegra disappeared. The Sheriff hypothesized that the abductor, to prevent the dogs from complicating the crime, had poisoned them. How he got close enough to three ovcharkas to feed ‘em I’ll never know, the Sheriff had said, but he sure must be good with animals. But the barber’s son said the Sheriff didn’t know what he was talkin’ about. That the dogs hadn’t been poisoned. That the only unusual things about ‘em were the high presence of adrenaline in the soft tissue and the bruising on their lungs. Such bruising is normally indicative of suffocation, the barber’s boy said. But aside from that there wasn’t a foul mark on ‘em. They must’ve been holding their breaths when they died. Randall is a doomsayer and he has a big fuckin’ mouth. As soon as he heard that the dogs had died in their kennels with their adrenaline pumping he cocked an eyebrow at me. Right off the bat I recognised that look and demanded he keep what we’d just heard between the two of us. We weren’t meant to know – and even if we were, the knowledge would only add to Tarker’s burgeoning hysteria. The very next day I bought cigarettes in town from the grocery store. The shopkeeper greeted me with hey, Levi. Wanna know somethin’ scary? Clark didn’t give me an opportunity to say no. He went on. The Whitaker’s dogs, some of ‘em died in their kennels the night the baby went astray. Know why? They was scared to death. Ain’t that some shit? Ain’t it somethin’? What would you have to do to scare a big fuckin’ dog like that to death – let alone three of ‘em at once? Fourteen days back the Sheriff extolled a few precautionary rules unto Tarker’s populace, and those rules became canon within forty-eight hours. No going out at night. Children are to be supervised at all times. Report any suspicious behaviour immediately. Worst of all was the rule that forbade people from going into the woods alone and unarmed. I can’t decide whether or not I think that one is silly, but I’ll tell you one thing I know for damned sure – you won’t catch me dead after dark without my snubnose in my pocket. I chose to let go of the Tarker I was so fuckin’ fond of because there was only a slim chance that it was ever coming back. I begrudgingly accepted the new order of paranoia that still plagues the town as though the rats are spreading fear instead of disease. See, we’re haunted by an idea – the idea of the ghost that stalks the highway – the one that skulks about at the edge of the light and drags lonesome girls to places where the trees grow thick and wild. The one that unlatches windows and makes off with children when the lights go out. The one that walks with a gentle step and leaves barely a trace of its presence behind. The one that sits by us, drinks beer with us, laughs with us, and watches us make our way home. The one that is calculating, cunning, and worst of all – patient. As for whether or not he'll keep reminding us of his presence, only time will tell…but I hope it doesn’t. I hope that Tarker will let the thing alone. I hope that, in time, it dies and is buried for good. But curious things have an ugly way of resurfacing.
[Table] I am a guy who's profession revolves entirely around all things grass, and with spring soon to be upon us I'm here to offer advice regarding lawn care and whatever else you want to ask me . I am in Turf Management AMA!
Verified?(This bot cannot verify AMAs just yet) Date: 2014-03-20 Link to submission (Has self-text)
Generally irrigation and fertilization practices are what people make mistakes on. Usually over watering and not getting a soil analysis done to determine what nutrients the soil needs.
Some pesticides cannot be used on some grasses, for instance St Augustine is incredibly finicky and will get stressed if 2-4-D or any variation of it is used on it.
Some grasses such as cool season fescues and blue grasses cannot be treated with Sedge herbicides because they will be destroyed along with the sedges.
In the state of Texas you actually have to have a pesticide applicators license to apply the majority of the chemicals I use. Some stuff can be really harmful if used improperly, that's why we try to keep it in the hands of those educated in proper integrated pest management practices.
High nitrogen fertilizers such as Scott's turf builder are great for greening up the lawn in the spring because nitrogen promotes top growth, however they hardly have any phosphorous or potassium (in the form of potash) that promote root growth. A happy healthy lawn uses a balanced fertilizer that your lawn analysis will determine .
Those are from an aerator like this guy] ([Link to i.imgur.com right here. Aerations are done on high traffic sports fields and golf courses to help promote root growth, oxygenate the root structure, and to prevent soil compaction and root suffocation. Those little plugs are the cores of turf left after it's done.
Your neighbors aren't going to think you're a fucking idiot and commercial farming has managed to produce higher yields then you could ever imagine. Because you aren't going to feed a family on 5k square feet.
I grew up on a farm and my dad is a PhD in soil and crop sciences.
I see where you are trying to go with this question but it's not a path we are gonna take.
No problem, sorry if the answer seemed defensive. And this sounds like such a weird crusade but I hate when turf is demonized or anything that possibly seems it might be demonized. I can't even partake in thoughtful discussion on it. I don't really know why,.
A ton of regulation, which is completely understandable because some people truly are idiots and shouldn't be allowed access to some chemicals because they will abuse them. We've also created better safer chemicals, Bayer is on the forefront of turf management chemicals. Their stuff is amazing
That would be goose grass ( a rye grass variation) . Your best bet would be to spray roundup and kill both then overseed with more Bermuda. If that's not cost effective for you , try to spot treat the goose grass with roundup if you can.
You may be able to purchase a product called "image" it's in a green bottle and at most major hardware stores , it may (keyword here being may) eradicate the goose grass . But I'm not too sure on it, goose grass and annual ryes suck and are always a pain to deal with
It can be stressful MSMA is a great grassy weed selective herbicide but it's also an arsenic. I wouldn't necessarily say stress because I enjoy the challenge but it is stressful for my boss/the owner because he can't do any thing that will be guaranteed treatment for grassy weeds. We are looking at multiple alternatives at the moment because you have to wait till July to even apply any grassy weed herbicides but it is still a pain, usually the customer will be patient and work with you, but occasionally we get the pain in the ass.
Actually I just got back into the shop, and realized this is more than likely an annual rye of some type.
I would def try the green bottle of image on it if you really wanna eradicate it. It should work but idk how high the percentage of active ingredient is available for private purchase. I do know they sell it at lowes or Home Depot, it's a bit pricier but a great product
It's a suppressant more than an eradicant. Finale by Bayer is pretty good shit but it has really weird treatment conditions. MSMA was our fucking ace in the hole but goddamn a few idiots fucked it up for the rest of us.
I use Tip and pours for everything. They are awesome.
You know the drill then, don't apply till it's above 95 degrees. Then two to three weeks later when the grass has turned yellow and full chlorotic, hit it again.
Should burn that shit out completely . Now you won't get in trouble because it's for private use . Now I can purchase it under my research licensing but I cannot use it for profit on a residential lawn
More than likely you are on some incredibly thick clay. Bringing in top soil and then tilling it through out is probably the only way. You Could try aerating but that would give you maybe a year of better soil moisture
Id call a pest control company that deals with small mammals, they usually can trap them and release them elsewhere. I'm not a big fan of any type of poison bait for small mammals, the risk of hurting pets is too big
So I'm a huge advocate of not watering. If it has irrigation then don't worry about it. You don't need to water a lawn all the time. That's a huge misconception a lot of people Think. It makes turf and turf management look like a wasteful industry when that is just not the case. You could probably spend less than 200 bucks a year in spraying what we call pre emergents, or having a company come and spray them. Because without an applicators license you can't purchase them. Or you could do curative treatments and just spot treat weeds as they come up. Plus the occasionally fertilizing. I wouldn't even fertilize 3.5 acres. I'd declare myself about a 10 to 15k square foot section as your front yard. And then go from there. You can keep the other grass maintained but it doesn't need to be extremely manicured if that makes sense. Like the difference between the fairway and the rough.
Use your local extension agency to the best of your ability, they are their to help with all things agriculture related and would not mind answering your questions, even though you're not a rancher they will still treat your questions with importance.
You can't use pre emergents at the percentage of active ingredient that I can. I get to use a .15% blend of pendemethalin, while you can only purchase a .001% of the same chemical. The percentages are usually the biggest difference as far as restrictive use goes. And preen is terrible, it's got like a 50% chance of working.
I am currently treating with a pre emergent known as Barricade, it's a Syngenta product that uses Prodiamine and it is fucking awesome.
Urine spots can lead to urea burns and dead patches. There should be some type of spray available that makes rabbits avoid your grass, it's a bittering agent I believe. the best time to water the lawn is early morning so the lawn can absorb it throughout the day. In the hottest months the occasional afternoon misting may be needed but generally you avoid water before night so that the chance of fungi and disease is avoided
Hopefully it eliminated them. Grub curatives suck nowadays except for Merit and liquid Dylox, but you can't legally purchase those. The general rule of thumb is to wait till after Easter to scatter new seed. I would put some sand on the bare patches and then throw the seed down. Make sure to keep those seeded areas moist for about six weeks, it should come up like gangbusters
You'd get someone like me to come out with a proper core aerator and poke big ass holes in the ground, but also drainage is usually an elevation issue. Aeration is the only other option besides leveling out the yard.
Depends where you're at. The sun and shade blend is a fescue and rye mix. If you're in the south then that fescue won't survive the summer unless it's thoroughly watered and actually in the shade. But if you're in the north then those sun and shade mixes are great. A bit milder summers and not as long as down here
Depends on the grass type but I usually recommend Ortho or Bayer weed b gone , you hook it to the hose and spray it down. It should burn the clover out pretty well. You wanna take care of that ASAP because clover is a notorious nitrogen thief
It steals from the Bermuda. It's not a beneficial plant to have in the yard. Not to mention it eats up moisture. You don't want any competition in the yard for most turf grasses. There is a reason we class everything as weeds like clover. There has always been the other side of horticulture that is more of a junk science on weeds. Don't get me wrong we have PhDs who specialize in weed identification and study. But many don't provide benefits, you can go on these green thumb lawn forums where Joe Schmo and Lilly the Hippie yard care expert will tell you how to run your yard. But neither of these people have degrees in turf sciences and are terribly misinformed.
That sounds incredibly snarky but I didn't put myself in debt and bust my ass in school just so someone can tell me everything I'm doing is wrong
No. It's highly illegal to use mammalian poison bait traps without proper licensing and training. I recommend contacting a professional pest control company that can properly take care of the infestation for you. Even I don't touch that kind of stuff. It's something I'm not comfortable nor familiar with and something you can get into serious trouble and cause serious harm to an entire ecosystem with. Don't ever poison a food supply, mammals are not selective eaters and while you may just be trying to kill moles you could harm so many others things. Even major golf courses don't use poison bait traps.
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