Saturday, July 23, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Boneheads: when smart people do (really) dumb things.
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
It seems my father is right again. Ever since I can remember he has said, "People with Ph.D.s can do some of the dumbest things"... Then he'd reel off a list of his latest discoveries, always ending up with two or three of the waiters at a local restaurant who were, despite their advanced degrees, slinging hash. I always reminded him that those folks only had Master's Degrees... but he'd snort "Same difference" and that was that.
When I saw this story on the wire services recently, I knew I'd have to tell you about it... and grab it before my father, a news fanatic, brought it to my attention with what comments I already knew so well.
Picture the scene...
It is 2005 and professor emeritus of political science F. Chris Garcia is moving towards the conclusion of a distinguished academic career at the University of New Mexico, including a stint as President of the university. You mull over your options...
You could write another book. You've already got 11 under your belt. They include "Hispanics and the U.S. Political System" and "Moving into the Mainstream". You are a recognized expert on one of the most important subjects in American politics; how to organize Hispanics and reap major advantages.
You could get another top academic position. Your resume is stellar. You've done what was necessary steadily to move up the ladder: you've been dean of the College of Arts and Sciences (1980-86); vice president of academic affairs (1987-1990); you know, few better, the arcane ins and outs of the Academy.
You could call in some of the favors you've laboriously acquired over the years; you think... a cushy job in Washington... well-paid lobbyist... maybe Ambassador to one of the South American countries you know so well... His Excellency the U.S. Ambassador to Bolivia... maybe even Chile. Cool
There's no rush; you're 71 now (2011) but that, as you keep telling yourself, is the new 60... you've got lots of time... and lots of options. In due course, after a lot of deep and serious thought, you decide to do something you've always been interested in...something that will give you all you desire... something that'll both make you a lot of money and fulfill your fastidious personal wants. The solution is obvious.
You decide to get involved in the new and exciting world of Internet prostitution a growth field if ever there was one.
Here's how it happened:
"Burque Pops" (Garcia's online handle) comes to know fellow academic, Fairleigh Dickinson University professor of physics Dr. David Flory. These guys hit it off right away, kindred spirits speaking the same language. They're both about the same age (Flory's 68), both respected in their academic fields, both restless as all get out. Time's unceasing chariot is moving, moving, moving; if they were going to make a change, experience "real" life and have fun, they knew they needed to take fast action NOW!
And, of course, there was the thrill of Les Girls to consider, something you could never get on campus and retain your tenure. Wow! It was all good... all they had to do was come and get it.
The company that these hot-blooded academics decided to get involved with was called Southwest Companions. The idea was simple: people of influence, people of education, people of standing had human needs like hoi polloi; but they needed a level of sophistication and discretion that Joe Sixpack didn't require. In short, they needed a gentlemen's retreat, flattering lighting optional.
Southwest Companions was founded in 2005 by Cara Garrett. Her mug shot makes her look like what she was: a tough customer, decades younger than Garcia and Flory but with a lifetime of street smarts and survival skills these aging lotharios could only imagine. They were putty in her pudgy palms. Our hapless professors might have suspected as much, but they were not experts in the films of the Weimar Republic, most particularly the 1930s masterpiece by Josef von Sternberg, "Der Blaue Engel". Here Marlene Dietricht takes her professor on a roller coaster ride from respectability to something way over his head. Cara Garrett knew these tricks, too...
Southwest Companions was sold by Garrett in 2007 to another suspect in the case, Mike Dorsey. He in turn sold the site in 2009 to Flory, who had homes in both Manhattan and Santa Fe.
Things prospered and the two most important aspects of the business waxed: there were more of Les Girls, lots more, and lots and lots more of the discretion-seeking daddio's from all walks of life. In due course the ring had some 1,400 members, including 200 prostitutes.
The money was good, too... and tax-free. Members of the site paid anywhere from $200 for a sex act to $1,000 for a full hour of time. The prostitutes were paid in cash by the clients, not through the site.
Garcia and Flory took to the game with enthusiasm and the organizational skills they both had in abundance. They rose to the heady heights of being a "hunter", the guys empowered to recruit new girls, for new girls were always in demand; fresh faces, firm bodies were what it was all about... and the academic gentlemen knew how to find and recruit them. They also advised on the creation of a handy list of police undercover agents to help members recognize them and avoid arrest. Like all good entrepreneurs, they found a need and filled it.
It was all up, up and away... but there was a weak link and its name was Cara Garrett. He life was a mess as quickly came out when she was arrested (December 2010) on drug, child abuse and prostitution charges; she was arrested again in June, 2010, this time for threatening another informant in the case. .The canaries were singing... and a lot of gentlemen -- including academics Flory and Garcia -- got nervous, real nervous. Cara knew all... and Cara was going to tell as much of it as necessary to save her skin. It's a very old story indeed...
Flory, Garcia and three other "hunters" were arrested, the details ending up in papers coast to coast (June 24, 2011). The good burghers of the nation saw it, read it, read it again, then munching toast, said "Look at this, Martha. Did you ever hear of such a thing?" There was more than a little satisfaction and smug superiority in these remarks. People with advanced degrees want and get a level of respect and deference which can irritate those without. Comeuppance is sweet.
And comeuppance, lots of it, there would be. Because as Flory and Garcia now know, once a thing is on the Internet it is forever on the Internet. At the time of his arrest F. Chris Garcia, now a long way from the regalities of the Academy, was found trying to purge files and tamper with the evidence. He hadn't a clue...
... my father could have told him: "Most Ph.D.s can't do squat. Look at these clowns from New Jersey and New Mexico. One was even president of a university"....
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have yourself over 269 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
It seems my father is right again. Ever since I can remember he has said, "People with Ph.D.s can do some of the dumbest things"... Then he'd reel off a list of his latest discoveries, always ending up with two or three of the waiters at a local restaurant who were, despite their advanced degrees, slinging hash. I always reminded him that those folks only had Master's Degrees... but he'd snort "Same difference" and that was that.
When I saw this story on the wire services recently, I knew I'd have to tell you about it... and grab it before my father, a news fanatic, brought it to my attention with what comments I already knew so well.
Picture the scene...
It is 2005 and professor emeritus of political science F. Chris Garcia is moving towards the conclusion of a distinguished academic career at the University of New Mexico, including a stint as President of the university. You mull over your options...
You could write another book. You've already got 11 under your belt. They include "Hispanics and the U.S. Political System" and "Moving into the Mainstream". You are a recognized expert on one of the most important subjects in American politics; how to organize Hispanics and reap major advantages.
You could get another top academic position. Your resume is stellar. You've done what was necessary steadily to move up the ladder: you've been dean of the College of Arts and Sciences (1980-86); vice president of academic affairs (1987-1990); you know, few better, the arcane ins and outs of the Academy.
You could call in some of the favors you've laboriously acquired over the years; you think... a cushy job in Washington... well-paid lobbyist... maybe Ambassador to one of the South American countries you know so well... His Excellency the U.S. Ambassador to Bolivia... maybe even Chile. Cool
There's no rush; you're 71 now (2011) but that, as you keep telling yourself, is the new 60... you've got lots of time... and lots of options. In due course, after a lot of deep and serious thought, you decide to do something you've always been interested in...something that will give you all you desire... something that'll both make you a lot of money and fulfill your fastidious personal wants. The solution is obvious.
You decide to get involved in the new and exciting world of Internet prostitution a growth field if ever there was one.
Here's how it happened:
"Burque Pops" (Garcia's online handle) comes to know fellow academic, Fairleigh Dickinson University professor of physics Dr. David Flory. These guys hit it off right away, kindred spirits speaking the same language. They're both about the same age (Flory's 68), both respected in their academic fields, both restless as all get out. Time's unceasing chariot is moving, moving, moving; if they were going to make a change, experience "real" life and have fun, they knew they needed to take fast action NOW!
And, of course, there was the thrill of Les Girls to consider, something you could never get on campus and retain your tenure. Wow! It was all good... all they had to do was come and get it.
The company that these hot-blooded academics decided to get involved with was called Southwest Companions. The idea was simple: people of influence, people of education, people of standing had human needs like hoi polloi; but they needed a level of sophistication and discretion that Joe Sixpack didn't require. In short, they needed a gentlemen's retreat, flattering lighting optional.
Southwest Companions was founded in 2005 by Cara Garrett. Her mug shot makes her look like what she was: a tough customer, decades younger than Garcia and Flory but with a lifetime of street smarts and survival skills these aging lotharios could only imagine. They were putty in her pudgy palms. Our hapless professors might have suspected as much, but they were not experts in the films of the Weimar Republic, most particularly the 1930s masterpiece by Josef von Sternberg, "Der Blaue Engel". Here Marlene Dietricht takes her professor on a roller coaster ride from respectability to something way over his head. Cara Garrett knew these tricks, too...
Southwest Companions was sold by Garrett in 2007 to another suspect in the case, Mike Dorsey. He in turn sold the site in 2009 to Flory, who had homes in both Manhattan and Santa Fe.
Things prospered and the two most important aspects of the business waxed: there were more of Les Girls, lots more, and lots and lots more of the discretion-seeking daddio's from all walks of life. In due course the ring had some 1,400 members, including 200 prostitutes.
The money was good, too... and tax-free. Members of the site paid anywhere from $200 for a sex act to $1,000 for a full hour of time. The prostitutes were paid in cash by the clients, not through the site.
Garcia and Flory took to the game with enthusiasm and the organizational skills they both had in abundance. They rose to the heady heights of being a "hunter", the guys empowered to recruit new girls, for new girls were always in demand; fresh faces, firm bodies were what it was all about... and the academic gentlemen knew how to find and recruit them. They also advised on the creation of a handy list of police undercover agents to help members recognize them and avoid arrest. Like all good entrepreneurs, they found a need and filled it.
It was all up, up and away... but there was a weak link and its name was Cara Garrett. He life was a mess as quickly came out when she was arrested (December 2010) on drug, child abuse and prostitution charges; she was arrested again in June, 2010, this time for threatening another informant in the case. .The canaries were singing... and a lot of gentlemen -- including academics Flory and Garcia -- got nervous, real nervous. Cara knew all... and Cara was going to tell as much of it as necessary to save her skin. It's a very old story indeed...
Flory, Garcia and three other "hunters" were arrested, the details ending up in papers coast to coast (June 24, 2011). The good burghers of the nation saw it, read it, read it again, then munching toast, said "Look at this, Martha. Did you ever hear of such a thing?" There was more than a little satisfaction and smug superiority in these remarks. People with advanced degrees want and get a level of respect and deference which can irritate those without. Comeuppance is sweet.
And comeuppance, lots of it, there would be. Because as Flory and Garcia now know, once a thing is on the Internet it is forever on the Internet. At the time of his arrest F. Chris Garcia, now a long way from the regalities of the Academy, was found trying to purge files and tamper with the evidence. He hadn't a clue...
... my father could have told him: "Most Ph.D.s can't do squat. Look at these clowns from New Jersey and New Mexico. One was even president of a university"....
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have yourself over 269 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
Thursday, July 7, 2011
What we have lost along the way: the great Republican festivals and whyAmerica needs them now.
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Did you have a nice day yesterday? It was the 4th of July hereabouts, a day sacred to beach going, music in the park and, of course, fireworks, Boston's being always notable.
It is also a day celebrating the nation, my nation, the United States of America. Yet the vast majority of my fellow citizens will have enjoyed the day without stopping, even for an instant, to consider what the day is truly about... and why we forget it at our peril.
Dudes with powdered hair.
On this date (July 5) back in 1776, the great document called the Declaration of Independence was riding in the saddlebags of people anxious to spread its momentous news to all the people of what was fast changing from a gaggle of squabbling colonies to a nation of revolutionaries.
First of all, you must realize that the events of those heady days were dangerous, extremely dangerous.
The great problem of history is that we know how things turned out. Thus we have the tendency to treat events that were by no means inevitable as if they were. Nowhere is this more true than with the days when our ancestors forged a great nation. Because they won we think their winning had to occur; that it was inevitable, certain, a piece of cake.
In fact it was anything but.
Let us be very plain with each other: conceiving, writing, printing, posting, disseminating the Declaration of Independence, all these were deeds of treachery. Each of these activities was designed to diminish, denigrate and degrade the crown of England, to which each one singly and all collectively had sworn an oath of loyalty, fidelity and commitment.
His Most Gracious Majesty King George III and all the king's horses and all the king's men took a very dim view of what the colonists across the pond were up to and about. And on July 4th these self-same colonists took the ultimate step... for they passed from being protestors within the system... to be declared traitors without. In so doing they put their heads into the noose. Had the British caught these fellows they would lose their property, their freedom, and their lives.
Revolutions, you see, are a very serious business.... and no one knew this better than the royal Hanoverian dynasty of George III; he got the crown, after all, as a result of the "Glorious Revolution" of 1688. He knew what revolutions could deliver... but also how nervous and undependable they made people who could so easily become gallows fodder. Oh, yes, revolutions were a very dicey business indeed.
Thus did the gentlemen in Congress assembled tread warily up to moment they signed, with whatever secret misgivings. As they put quill pen to paper, they were signing what could be their own death warrant... and at such a moment of moments may a man wonder... and the spouse of his body sit up and cry aloud in the dark hours of the night, praying to God Almighty for succor, guidance, and mercy.
The revolutionary landscape was confusing. There were Loyalists; there were Revolutionaries. Then there were the people who did the best they could as events broke around them. Winning over these people, the great majority of the people, was always a major objective of both sides. Bit by bit, this great majority became committed to the goals of the Revolution, clearly outlined in the ringing prose of the Declaration of Independence:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." The British lost the Revolutionary War because they could not match what the Revolution offered, much less better it. And so, mind by mind and heart by heart the Revolution from being unthinkable became unstoppable.
The Revolution, the great religion of America.
As the Revolution developed, grew strong, and gathered momentum, the realization became overwhelming that these one-time colonials, now citizens, had succeeded in doing something no other people or nation had ever done: they had won complete political freedom. They owned themselves, the most precious and important gift of all. This was an event so significant, so earth-shattering, so gratifying and so thrilling that the people of America longed to gather at periodic intervals to remind each other about what had happened, why it happened, what each had done... and what all would do again, should it ever be necessary to put down the plough and take up the gun.
July 4th became sanctified as the great day of freedom! Liberty! Revolution! And the people demanded it be celebrated in high style to match the importance of the event, the goals of the Founding Fathers, and the soaring rhetoric they all knew. Each prophet of this Revolution all knew, too, and wished to honor again; special reverence was always paid to Jefferson, who gave the Revolutionaries the golden gift of heart-touching words... and to Washington, the man who had turned down the crown of America for the surer crown of his countryman's respect, love and undying admiration.
Each place in America, no matter how small, competed to remember and to honor and so did the festivals of the Great Republic commence and grow... for the people, having wrenched America from the hands of tyrants, were determined to celebrate their great achievement and remind the entire world what it meant... and invite them to join the future.
Days before these festivals took place preparations would begin. A Liberty Tree would be festooned with the robust and venerated slogans of the Revolution. Old Continental Army uniforms would be taken from chests, to be tried on (and let out) . Larders were raided for ample picnics and still rooms for a variety of distillations and brews, essential for toasts. Wagons were packed; a few extra comforts added for Grandpapa who got his honored wound at Cowpens (1781)... and his wife whose prayers for his safe return had been answered. They were all going and joyfully.
And the same scene played all over America, for the 4th was the quintessential American festival... an event of the people,by the people, for the people, long before Lincoln used these immemorial words.
Whether the festivities were small or grand; whether addressed by a well regarded student with a future... or by one of the great orators of the day... didn't matter. The republican verities were the stars of the event, stated, restated, the principles for which they had fought and which so much had been sacrificed.
And if, at the larger gatherings so many could not hear, even those practised orators with the greatest reach, that did not matter. For the people knew in their bones what was said, its impact, and importance. And they were satisfied to be there at all, each one so necessary for the whole.
Now all this is gone... remembered by few, practised by fewer. Who, then, can wonder at the state of America, when we ourselves have removed the means for understanding, celebrating and reverencing her? She needs these now more than ever.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.
To see Dr. Lant's blog go to www.jeffreylantarticles.com
Dr. Lant is happy to give all readers 50,000 free guaranteed visitors for attending his live webcast today. Visit Worldprofit for details. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have yourself over 269 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
Did you have a nice day yesterday? It was the 4th of July hereabouts, a day sacred to beach going, music in the park and, of course, fireworks, Boston's being always notable.
It is also a day celebrating the nation, my nation, the United States of America. Yet the vast majority of my fellow citizens will have enjoyed the day without stopping, even for an instant, to consider what the day is truly about... and why we forget it at our peril.
Dudes with powdered hair.
On this date (July 5) back in 1776, the great document called the Declaration of Independence was riding in the saddlebags of people anxious to spread its momentous news to all the people of what was fast changing from a gaggle of squabbling colonies to a nation of revolutionaries.
First of all, you must realize that the events of those heady days were dangerous, extremely dangerous.
The great problem of history is that we know how things turned out. Thus we have the tendency to treat events that were by no means inevitable as if they were. Nowhere is this more true than with the days when our ancestors forged a great nation. Because they won we think their winning had to occur; that it was inevitable, certain, a piece of cake.
In fact it was anything but.
Let us be very plain with each other: conceiving, writing, printing, posting, disseminating the Declaration of Independence, all these were deeds of treachery. Each of these activities was designed to diminish, denigrate and degrade the crown of England, to which each one singly and all collectively had sworn an oath of loyalty, fidelity and commitment.
His Most Gracious Majesty King George III and all the king's horses and all the king's men took a very dim view of what the colonists across the pond were up to and about. And on July 4th these self-same colonists took the ultimate step... for they passed from being protestors within the system... to be declared traitors without. In so doing they put their heads into the noose. Had the British caught these fellows they would lose their property, their freedom, and their lives.
Revolutions, you see, are a very serious business.... and no one knew this better than the royal Hanoverian dynasty of George III; he got the crown, after all, as a result of the "Glorious Revolution" of 1688. He knew what revolutions could deliver... but also how nervous and undependable they made people who could so easily become gallows fodder. Oh, yes, revolutions were a very dicey business indeed.
Thus did the gentlemen in Congress assembled tread warily up to moment they signed, with whatever secret misgivings. As they put quill pen to paper, they were signing what could be their own death warrant... and at such a moment of moments may a man wonder... and the spouse of his body sit up and cry aloud in the dark hours of the night, praying to God Almighty for succor, guidance, and mercy.
The revolutionary landscape was confusing. There were Loyalists; there were Revolutionaries. Then there were the people who did the best they could as events broke around them. Winning over these people, the great majority of the people, was always a major objective of both sides. Bit by bit, this great majority became committed to the goals of the Revolution, clearly outlined in the ringing prose of the Declaration of Independence:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." The British lost the Revolutionary War because they could not match what the Revolution offered, much less better it. And so, mind by mind and heart by heart the Revolution from being unthinkable became unstoppable.
The Revolution, the great religion of America.
As the Revolution developed, grew strong, and gathered momentum, the realization became overwhelming that these one-time colonials, now citizens, had succeeded in doing something no other people or nation had ever done: they had won complete political freedom. They owned themselves, the most precious and important gift of all. This was an event so significant, so earth-shattering, so gratifying and so thrilling that the people of America longed to gather at periodic intervals to remind each other about what had happened, why it happened, what each had done... and what all would do again, should it ever be necessary to put down the plough and take up the gun.
July 4th became sanctified as the great day of freedom! Liberty! Revolution! And the people demanded it be celebrated in high style to match the importance of the event, the goals of the Founding Fathers, and the soaring rhetoric they all knew. Each prophet of this Revolution all knew, too, and wished to honor again; special reverence was always paid to Jefferson, who gave the Revolutionaries the golden gift of heart-touching words... and to Washington, the man who had turned down the crown of America for the surer crown of his countryman's respect, love and undying admiration.
Each place in America, no matter how small, competed to remember and to honor and so did the festivals of the Great Republic commence and grow... for the people, having wrenched America from the hands of tyrants, were determined to celebrate their great achievement and remind the entire world what it meant... and invite them to join the future.
Days before these festivals took place preparations would begin. A Liberty Tree would be festooned with the robust and venerated slogans of the Revolution. Old Continental Army uniforms would be taken from chests, to be tried on (and let out) . Larders were raided for ample picnics and still rooms for a variety of distillations and brews, essential for toasts. Wagons were packed; a few extra comforts added for Grandpapa who got his honored wound at Cowpens (1781)... and his wife whose prayers for his safe return had been answered. They were all going and joyfully.
And the same scene played all over America, for the 4th was the quintessential American festival... an event of the people,by the people, for the people, long before Lincoln used these immemorial words.
Whether the festivities were small or grand; whether addressed by a well regarded student with a future... or by one of the great orators of the day... didn't matter. The republican verities were the stars of the event, stated, restated, the principles for which they had fought and which so much had been sacrificed.
And if, at the larger gatherings so many could not hear, even those practised orators with the greatest reach, that did not matter. For the people knew in their bones what was said, its impact, and importance. And they were satisfied to be there at all, each one so necessary for the whole.
Now all this is gone... remembered by few, practised by fewer. Who, then, can wonder at the state of America, when we ourselves have removed the means for understanding, celebrating and reverencing her? She needs these now more than ever.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. at www.worldprofit.com, providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.
To see Dr. Lant's blog go to www.jeffreylantarticles.com
Dr. Lant is happy to give all readers 50,000 free guaranteed visitors for attending his live webcast today. Visit Worldprofit for details. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have yourself over 269 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
Monday, July 4, 2011
'When Johnny comes marching home again
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
Author's program note. One of the most zestful of military marches is "When Johnny comes marching home again.' It is a Civil War tune, written at a time when war demanded the full panoply of pageantry, martial measures, flags unfurled, their symbolism bold, daring, resolute. Written by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, a serving Union soldier, it is the perfect accompaniment to this article. You'll find it in any search engine, often performed with period instruments, smart, stylish, fit for the heroes of the Great Republic.
My fellow Americans, allies, well disposed nations and peoples worldwide, and to those who mean us ill, greetings...
We meet again on the most hallowed day of the republican year to reaffirm the meaning and importance of our nation. And, as so many other times on this date in our history we are gathered together at a time of war, when the nation, as before, is challenged, not least to understand the events and their significance.
There are many aspects of war that would form suitable subjects for a day of such national significance. We could discuss the reasons for these wars, their necessity (always subject to vigorous debate with patriots taking diverse views).
We could discuss, and rightly so, how our resources are stretched and challenged, at a time when the demands made upon our military services seem unending.
We might venture to look upon, deeply, completely, whether our allies, enjoying to the full the benefits they derived from the commitment, resolve, and sacrifices of the most generous people on earth, the American people, are taking advantage, shirking their just responsibilities, knowing we cannot.
We could present, with ardor and profound belief, the meaning of our previous wars, engagements, incursions, police actions, invasions, battles, and more; in each and every one of which the sons and daughters of the nation were wounded, maimed, disabled... or, we must never forget, died... their mortal bodies, consigned to God, now part of every continent... for on every continent we have given, done valorous deeds, and shaped the destiny of the world, action by action, body by body, a record of determination, perseverance, grit and gallantry unmatched in the history of the world.
We could expound upon, joyfully, too, the just rights of all our fellow citizens, now allowed, whatever their sexual orientation, to serve their country, now openly and proudly, for such people have always served; now they may do so with the proud assurance that the nation no longer treats them with disdain.
Any of these subjects would be relevant on this Independence Day; let us hope vigorous and candid discussions upon these important matters are taking place today... for such debates are a sign of health in the body politic. The Republic has always valued and sustained such conversations.
I, however, have chosen another theme, a theme that is part of every war: when, that war over, Johnny, our beloved father, son, mother, daughter, neighbor, fellow citizens all, return... what they must know and all the rest of us must do upon the occasion of return.
Suggestions, recommendations, insights and guidance for veterans.
For the last months and years, your life, every waking moment, has centered on the military services of the nation. You have, and willingly so , left behind the joys and frustrations of civilian life the better to hone your skills and fulfill your often perilous missions.
During these missions you have come across scenes of distress, horror, brutality, fear, and , always, the tragic deaths of colleagues, buddies, pals.
You will, even when surrounded yet again by loved ones and friends, be subject to vivid and terrifying flashbacks, ordinarily arriving deep at night, excruciatingly real.
You will want to share such matters, to let the citizens of your acquaintance know them in full and even tragic detail. But your fellow countrymen, protected by you abroad, will demand protection, too, from the stories which you rightly regard as essential to understanding and appreciating you and need to tell.
Your friends and relations are relieved and excited by your return. But they cannot know that the person you were at embarkation has changed and developed... now has observations, insights, specialized knowledge and vital experiences which your countrymen not only do not know, but which they make a point of not knowing and ignoring, to your disappointment, regret, and, often, white-hot anger.
And so, too often does the returning husband, stunned and dismayed by such a situation, throw harsh words at the wife of his body -- "You don't understand. You were not there!"...
... whereupon that wife returns equally incendiary sentiments, born of loneliness, endless worries and the necessity to be both parents, when one is away serving America's agenda. "You don't understand. You were not here!" And those who should be all-in-all to each other create chasms that drain the affection and loyalty, leaving bitterness and regret.
Other situations you must also know.
Good citizens will tap you on the shoulder offering welcoming sentiments... less welcome will be indelicately rendered comments upon the utility of "your" war; its total waste and uselessness. Such comments you will be forced to listen, too; remember, these omniscient civilians do not know what you know and never will; most important they do not know that war meant doing dangerous jobs with expert skills and a deep well of good humor. And, above all, it was about the people you fought beside, lived beside, were wounded and died beside. Civilians do not have such relationships; for you they were everything. And, above all, remember this: you fought America's battles so that America's citizens would never experience your hardships and daunting tasks.
Suggestions, recommendations, insights and guidance for the family and friends of veterans.
First, rejoice. Your loved one, the object of ceaseless worry and prayer, is home. Even if wounded or disabled, rejoice. Many families just like yours face lifelong grief for their loss. They envy you.
Be patient. Your loved one has faced death on a regular basis. They will have insistent ruminations... especially if they saw young friends fall. That image is indelible, recurring, troubling. You will find such veterans in need of a quiet place; they have much to consider and reconsider... and they will not want to share (though they may need to) until the perfect moment has arrived.
Advise your children that the returning one needs some special TLC and benevolence. He may be irritated and disoriented at the cacophony and boisterous ways of his ordinarily much loved offspring. He needs time and your patience to remember that the exuberance and safety of all American children, not just his own, are his special gift to the nation.
"God shed His grace on thee..." but their exertions have preserved and fostered it.
This great nation was conceived in war,only to fight again and often to preserve what we hold most dear and to ensure that others enjoy these benefits, too.
Now the veterans who helped sustain our great idea are returning home. Veterans all, may they be granted what they fought for: peace and the tranquility of the soul.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. , providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
So now that you have Read this
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have for yourself over 278 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
Author's program note. One of the most zestful of military marches is "When Johnny comes marching home again.' It is a Civil War tune, written at a time when war demanded the full panoply of pageantry, martial measures, flags unfurled, their symbolism bold, daring, resolute. Written by Patrick Sarsfield Gilmore, a serving Union soldier, it is the perfect accompaniment to this article. You'll find it in any search engine, often performed with period instruments, smart, stylish, fit for the heroes of the Great Republic.
My fellow Americans, allies, well disposed nations and peoples worldwide, and to those who mean us ill, greetings...
We meet again on the most hallowed day of the republican year to reaffirm the meaning and importance of our nation. And, as so many other times on this date in our history we are gathered together at a time of war, when the nation, as before, is challenged, not least to understand the events and their significance.
There are many aspects of war that would form suitable subjects for a day of such national significance. We could discuss the reasons for these wars, their necessity (always subject to vigorous debate with patriots taking diverse views).
We could discuss, and rightly so, how our resources are stretched and challenged, at a time when the demands made upon our military services seem unending.
We might venture to look upon, deeply, completely, whether our allies, enjoying to the full the benefits they derived from the commitment, resolve, and sacrifices of the most generous people on earth, the American people, are taking advantage, shirking their just responsibilities, knowing we cannot.
We could present, with ardor and profound belief, the meaning of our previous wars, engagements, incursions, police actions, invasions, battles, and more; in each and every one of which the sons and daughters of the nation were wounded, maimed, disabled... or, we must never forget, died... their mortal bodies, consigned to God, now part of every continent... for on every continent we have given, done valorous deeds, and shaped the destiny of the world, action by action, body by body, a record of determination, perseverance, grit and gallantry unmatched in the history of the world.
We could expound upon, joyfully, too, the just rights of all our fellow citizens, now allowed, whatever their sexual orientation, to serve their country, now openly and proudly, for such people have always served; now they may do so with the proud assurance that the nation no longer treats them with disdain.
Any of these subjects would be relevant on this Independence Day; let us hope vigorous and candid discussions upon these important matters are taking place today... for such debates are a sign of health in the body politic. The Republic has always valued and sustained such conversations.
I, however, have chosen another theme, a theme that is part of every war: when, that war over, Johnny, our beloved father, son, mother, daughter, neighbor, fellow citizens all, return... what they must know and all the rest of us must do upon the occasion of return.
Suggestions, recommendations, insights and guidance for veterans.
For the last months and years, your life, every waking moment, has centered on the military services of the nation. You have, and willingly so , left behind the joys and frustrations of civilian life the better to hone your skills and fulfill your often perilous missions.
During these missions you have come across scenes of distress, horror, brutality, fear, and , always, the tragic deaths of colleagues, buddies, pals.
You will, even when surrounded yet again by loved ones and friends, be subject to vivid and terrifying flashbacks, ordinarily arriving deep at night, excruciatingly real.
You will want to share such matters, to let the citizens of your acquaintance know them in full and even tragic detail. But your fellow countrymen, protected by you abroad, will demand protection, too, from the stories which you rightly regard as essential to understanding and appreciating you and need to tell.
Your friends and relations are relieved and excited by your return. But they cannot know that the person you were at embarkation has changed and developed... now has observations, insights, specialized knowledge and vital experiences which your countrymen not only do not know, but which they make a point of not knowing and ignoring, to your disappointment, regret, and, often, white-hot anger.
And so, too often does the returning husband, stunned and dismayed by such a situation, throw harsh words at the wife of his body -- "You don't understand. You were not there!"...
... whereupon that wife returns equally incendiary sentiments, born of loneliness, endless worries and the necessity to be both parents, when one is away serving America's agenda. "You don't understand. You were not here!" And those who should be all-in-all to each other create chasms that drain the affection and loyalty, leaving bitterness and regret.
Other situations you must also know.
Good citizens will tap you on the shoulder offering welcoming sentiments... less welcome will be indelicately rendered comments upon the utility of "your" war; its total waste and uselessness. Such comments you will be forced to listen, too; remember, these omniscient civilians do not know what you know and never will; most important they do not know that war meant doing dangerous jobs with expert skills and a deep well of good humor. And, above all, it was about the people you fought beside, lived beside, were wounded and died beside. Civilians do not have such relationships; for you they were everything. And, above all, remember this: you fought America's battles so that America's citizens would never experience your hardships and daunting tasks.
Suggestions, recommendations, insights and guidance for the family and friends of veterans.
First, rejoice. Your loved one, the object of ceaseless worry and prayer, is home. Even if wounded or disabled, rejoice. Many families just like yours face lifelong grief for their loss. They envy you.
Be patient. Your loved one has faced death on a regular basis. They will have insistent ruminations... especially if they saw young friends fall. That image is indelible, recurring, troubling. You will find such veterans in need of a quiet place; they have much to consider and reconsider... and they will not want to share (though they may need to) until the perfect moment has arrived.
Advise your children that the returning one needs some special TLC and benevolence. He may be irritated and disoriented at the cacophony and boisterous ways of his ordinarily much loved offspring. He needs time and your patience to remember that the exuberance and safety of all American children, not just his own, are his special gift to the nation.
"God shed His grace on thee..." but their exertions have preserved and fostered it.
This great nation was conceived in war,only to fight again and often to preserve what we hold most dear and to ensure that others enjoy these benefits, too.
Now the veterans who helped sustain our great idea are returning home. Veterans all, may they be granted what they fought for: peace and the tranquility of the soul.
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc. , providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
So now that you have Read this
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have for yourself over 278 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
Saturday, July 2, 2011
'There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.' The watery end of bright-smiledMarie Joseph and her unsettling fate.
IS This what the lifeguard do to protect?
He A 9 year old called upon the lifeguard for assistance. But demi-god in his Ray Bans, he had better things to do than his job; ignoring kids' babble was part of what made him so cool and exalted. She saw the water slide. It looked fun.
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
It is high summer in Fall River, Massachusetts, once a focal point of American commerce and the most elegant of sailing ships, now a city defined by its gnawing problems and of people who arrive only to count the days until they leave this way station to something better.
Many of these new arrivals are Hispanic and the place where the most adamant of New Englanders flourished is now a place where often the language is Spanish and the orientation Latin. How surprised the mariners of Massachusetts would have been... but even they, unhappily seeing the transformation of their works, would have looked twice at the radiant smile of Marie Joseph, the kind of smile that lightens loads, brings people together, and holds them together when it's needed, as it always is.
Marie Joseph graced lives, she did not impose upon them. Such people are too rare... always valued.... the sinews on which all communities rely, especially the ones which seem to have more than their share of problems.
The new arrivals, not yet ascending to country club status, rely on the plethora of municipal services which, in this year 2011, are stressed, pressured, threatened, deteriorating. But more needed than ever... especially if that service is the state-run swimming pools that provide relief on the so-hot summer days you always forget are a sweltering feature of summer hereabouts.
The thought of the beckoning pool, aqua marine, cool, refreshing, a blessing to folks without air conditioning is just what Marie Joseph wanted... and so, arrayed in that smile that wouldn't quit, she made her way to the modern city's version of the old swimming hole. In the last picture of Marie Joseph, taken the day before she died (June 26, 2011) her smile is incandescent, radiant, cast on the child in her arms with plenty left over for the rest of the world.
That image should have defined the event and the day, a happy memory in a life of challenges and tribulations... Instead, that image stands as irony, proof (if it were ever needed) that life is short, can never be taken for granted, and can end in ways inexplicable and horrifying... as it was about to do for Marie Joseph.
The water slide took her down indeed, to the conclusion of a brief life, just 36 years.
She saw the water slide. It looked fun... especially as she watched a nine-year-old neighbor go down the slide accompanied by the full panoply of quips, expressions, and ear-shattering squeals all kids horde for just such events. She was game. You had to take your fun when and where you could.
As she slid down the water slide into death and eternity, no one (except the nine-year-old) paid any attention. No need. That water slide was popular and no one gave it a second thought. But this day something went terribly wrong... while people who should have seen saw nothing... or at least they say so now...
The first horror: death by drowning, surrounded by people.
Marie Joseph may have known how to swim; her friends and family are not sure. She didn't ask. Why should she; she had watched her young friend use the slide joyously; she probably didn't know the water was 12 feet deep. Once in the water, Marie was in trouble... and must have made a fearful racket as anyone would as they faced the reality of their situation and fought for life. How could this death struggle happen before so many... with only one person, her young neighbor doing anything to assist?
He at least knew something was wrong and tried to pull Marie up, to safety; and when he failed, he called upon the lifeguard for assistance. But demi-god in his Ray Bans, he had better things to do than his job; ignoring kids' babble was part of what made him so cool and exalted.
Here the story goes from tragedy to the macabre, from one family's grief to an enduring symbol of ineptitude, scandal, and staggering incompetence.
Marie Joseph was now dead... but no one knew it...
The friends she came with wondered where she had gone; something no doubt had come up; she'd tell them later. And so the sunburnt children wanting more... and their mothers who had had enough, all went home...
... leaving the body of Marie Joseph entombed in water, her raven tresses in constant movement under the water under the summer's night. And so on this cheerful day did Marie Joseph pass a night peaceful perhaps for her, but of mounting worry and concern for her family and friends. Where had she and her radiant smile gone?
Business as usual.
The next day was business as usual... the kids came to swim and scream, the mothers to watch and gossip, complaining about the temperature and how hot it was; the lifeguard, high above, looked down on the scene and wondered if his girl was cheating on him, of all people.
And throughout this day, mere feet below the teaming activity, the lifeless body of Marie Joseph moved to the water's beat, its whereabouts known only to God. Yes, on this evening, too, and throughout the stages of the night, did her unseeing eyes abide in their incomprehensible resting place.
And, though its staggers belief, it went on for another day... another day with the corpse swimming with youngsters... and where chary mothers saw nothing... and lifeguards with plum summer jobs, envied, yet saw absolutely nothing.
And still the story worsens, morphing from the shocking to the incredible.
Now officials, making a periodic visit, appeared. Despite the inexplicable disappearance of Marie Joseph, now common gossip, these officials made only the most cursory of inspections... not one suspecting that the pool itself and its cloudy waters held the body. Like everyone else but one small boy they looked... and saw nothing, though the corpse of a beautiful woman was dissolving into debris....
... which teams of lifeguards missed and even the people charged daily with inspecting the pool, cleaning it, keeping the waters fresh and clear. Add these, too, to the staggering number who should have seen... but say they did not.
Now, of course, alarm bells ringing in the face of widespread condemnation, officials great and small come slowly forward, mutter platitudes, and run for cover. A tiny fraction of this energy would easily have saved the life of Marie Joseph or at least given her honorable burial, sparing her from becoming a thing of horror and nightmare. For such she has become, no longer the beloved person she was but a fearful presence for the children who now see a place of sun, light, air and shimmering water as a place of dread and abhorrence, wondering what else they may find there.
Marie Joseph did not deserve her fate. Let some poignant lines from Alfred, Lord Tennyson, provide her one better:
"Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott." (1842).
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have yourself over 269 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
He A 9 year old called upon the lifeguard for assistance. But demi-god in his Ray Bans, he had better things to do than his job; ignoring kids' babble was part of what made him so cool and exalted. She saw the water slide. It looked fun.
By Dr. Jeffrey Lant
It is high summer in Fall River, Massachusetts, once a focal point of American commerce and the most elegant of sailing ships, now a city defined by its gnawing problems and of people who arrive only to count the days until they leave this way station to something better.
Many of these new arrivals are Hispanic and the place where the most adamant of New Englanders flourished is now a place where often the language is Spanish and the orientation Latin. How surprised the mariners of Massachusetts would have been... but even they, unhappily seeing the transformation of their works, would have looked twice at the radiant smile of Marie Joseph, the kind of smile that lightens loads, brings people together, and holds them together when it's needed, as it always is.
Marie Joseph graced lives, she did not impose upon them. Such people are too rare... always valued.... the sinews on which all communities rely, especially the ones which seem to have more than their share of problems.
The new arrivals, not yet ascending to country club status, rely on the plethora of municipal services which, in this year 2011, are stressed, pressured, threatened, deteriorating. But more needed than ever... especially if that service is the state-run swimming pools that provide relief on the so-hot summer days you always forget are a sweltering feature of summer hereabouts.
The thought of the beckoning pool, aqua marine, cool, refreshing, a blessing to folks without air conditioning is just what Marie Joseph wanted... and so, arrayed in that smile that wouldn't quit, she made her way to the modern city's version of the old swimming hole. In the last picture of Marie Joseph, taken the day before she died (June 26, 2011) her smile is incandescent, radiant, cast on the child in her arms with plenty left over for the rest of the world.
That image should have defined the event and the day, a happy memory in a life of challenges and tribulations... Instead, that image stands as irony, proof (if it were ever needed) that life is short, can never be taken for granted, and can end in ways inexplicable and horrifying... as it was about to do for Marie Joseph.
The water slide took her down indeed, to the conclusion of a brief life, just 36 years.
She saw the water slide. It looked fun... especially as she watched a nine-year-old neighbor go down the slide accompanied by the full panoply of quips, expressions, and ear-shattering squeals all kids horde for just such events. She was game. You had to take your fun when and where you could.
As she slid down the water slide into death and eternity, no one (except the nine-year-old) paid any attention. No need. That water slide was popular and no one gave it a second thought. But this day something went terribly wrong... while people who should have seen saw nothing... or at least they say so now...
The first horror: death by drowning, surrounded by people.
Marie Joseph may have known how to swim; her friends and family are not sure. She didn't ask. Why should she; she had watched her young friend use the slide joyously; she probably didn't know the water was 12 feet deep. Once in the water, Marie was in trouble... and must have made a fearful racket as anyone would as they faced the reality of their situation and fought for life. How could this death struggle happen before so many... with only one person, her young neighbor doing anything to assist?
He at least knew something was wrong and tried to pull Marie up, to safety; and when he failed, he called upon the lifeguard for assistance. But demi-god in his Ray Bans, he had better things to do than his job; ignoring kids' babble was part of what made him so cool and exalted.
Here the story goes from tragedy to the macabre, from one family's grief to an enduring symbol of ineptitude, scandal, and staggering incompetence.
Marie Joseph was now dead... but no one knew it...
The friends she came with wondered where she had gone; something no doubt had come up; she'd tell them later. And so the sunburnt children wanting more... and their mothers who had had enough, all went home...
... leaving the body of Marie Joseph entombed in water, her raven tresses in constant movement under the water under the summer's night. And so on this cheerful day did Marie Joseph pass a night peaceful perhaps for her, but of mounting worry and concern for her family and friends. Where had she and her radiant smile gone?
Business as usual.
The next day was business as usual... the kids came to swim and scream, the mothers to watch and gossip, complaining about the temperature and how hot it was; the lifeguard, high above, looked down on the scene and wondered if his girl was cheating on him, of all people.
And throughout this day, mere feet below the teaming activity, the lifeless body of Marie Joseph moved to the water's beat, its whereabouts known only to God. Yes, on this evening, too, and throughout the stages of the night, did her unseeing eyes abide in their incomprehensible resting place.
And, though its staggers belief, it went on for another day... another day with the corpse swimming with youngsters... and where chary mothers saw nothing... and lifeguards with plum summer jobs, envied, yet saw absolutely nothing.
And still the story worsens, morphing from the shocking to the incredible.
Now officials, making a periodic visit, appeared. Despite the inexplicable disappearance of Marie Joseph, now common gossip, these officials made only the most cursory of inspections... not one suspecting that the pool itself and its cloudy waters held the body. Like everyone else but one small boy they looked... and saw nothing, though the corpse of a beautiful woman was dissolving into debris....
... which teams of lifeguards missed and even the people charged daily with inspecting the pool, cleaning it, keeping the waters fresh and clear. Add these, too, to the staggering number who should have seen... but say they did not.
Now, of course, alarm bells ringing in the face of widespread condemnation, officials great and small come slowly forward, mutter platitudes, and run for cover. A tiny fraction of this energy would easily have saved the life of Marie Joseph or at least given her honorable burial, sparing her from becoming a thing of horror and nightmare. For such she has become, no longer the beloved person she was but a fearful presence for the children who now see a place of sun, light, air and shimmering water as a place of dread and abhorrence, wondering what else they may find there.
Marie Joseph did not deserve her fate. Let some poignant lines from Alfred, Lord Tennyson, provide her one better:
"Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot: But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott." (1842).
About the Author
Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books. Republished with author's permission by Lawrence Rinke http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
What’s your opinion on this?
DID YOU READ THIS????????
Please leave a comment!
I hope you Enjoyed this article.
Lawrence Rinke
YOU Can have yourself over 269 Articles on YOUR Blog
Call me at
310-618-8107
http://ActionEqualsProfit.com.
Takes the time to check out what Worldprofit offers. You not only learn extensively how to market your business, but how to market yourself as well.
For Leaving a comment you will get
When YOU click and fill the form on the next page.
100% Give Away: Software Packages To Generate Massive Waves Of Traffic To Your Website
http://www.ActionEqualsProfit.com/?rd=uv82n09j
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