Warranty?????

I went to the village torture chamber, uh, excuse me.... Dentist for an overhaul the other day. You know, the usual, fill the cavities, clean the roots, and replace the crown that disintegrated when I chewed a french fry.

Yep, bit down on a semi crispy potato stick and developed a mouth full of eggshells. I took the gross mass out of my mouth and tossed it out the window. No problem, after all, I'm not going to save it for several weeks and a four hundred mile trip for show and tell when having it repaired.

Wrong! That would be exactly what the warranty on the crown requires!

Notably, I had never even considered that there was a warranty on one of these things, or that it is only good for five years, not to mention that it has to be inspected every six months. Now lets toss in the idea that the insurance company doesn't want to cover it unless it is over five years old. The highly trained medical professional that I pay for all this, failed to mention any of the above.

Must have been a busy day.

This device will cost $982.

I've driven cars that cost less, and they lasted longer. Interesting to me is the crown adjacent to the expensive hole in my head has lasted for thirty years with no problems.

Let's see, I have no input to the choice of suppliers, no information regarding the warranty, no idea that this isn't a permanent fix, and no idea that the "lab" has had quality control issues.

However I am financially responsible.

As expected no one will assume responsibility for the failed component, by default it comes to me.

Imagine that!

The remaining pleasure was the "deep cleaning". Deep is a relative term, African gold mines are deep, some oil wells are deep.

Digging in my gums with sharp metallic objects is deep when I walk into the room.

Six or so syringes of numbing later,a very nice young lady spent an hour scratching under my toenails from inside my mouth. I thought I was going to have to clean blood out of my boots.

The cavities, I hardly noticed, a little drilling a little probing and four hands in my mouth at the same time, no problem there.

At the end of the morning, a bill for $1600 and a small bag of floss and toothpaste.

Don't you just love our health care system?

The party of rants, violence and lies.....

SALISBURY, Md. -- A gunshot shattered a glass door Wednesday at a Salisbury office of the Maryland Republican Party, according to a party statement.

The party published the statement on its website, indicating that a single gunshot shattered the front door at the office early in the morning.

Salisbury police officers discovered the shattered glass after midnight and reported that the office had been vandalized.

The statement indicated that a party staffer found a bullet in the office.

If you have any information regarding this continuing investigation, contact Salisbury police by dialing 410-548-3165.

In these days it is entirely possible that someone from that office, or a friend, fired a shot to get a little notice for the GOP.

Even so, the person responsible needs a little jail time.

I am willing to believe a frustrated Demi could no longer restrain it's self. This would not be the first violent attack by the pacifist party. Stand by for more demonstration of unhinged politics.

Don't you remember?

Way back in 2008 the soon to be first lady made the statement that the pie is only so big, and some will have to take a smaller piece, so others will be able to get more.

Now we know who the "others" are.

That would be "she who must be obeyed" and forty or so close friends and family. That would not include the nearly seventy security folks. This was a "mother and daughter trip" per a White House spokes person.

Thank God it wasn't a family outing.

$375K, per the Drudge report. Somebody got themselves one humongous piece of pie.

Everyone I know is tightening their belt, and the White House staff is on over time planning trips for the first spouse. Eight this summer, or so reports say.

The next extravagance is the designer coat, from the UK, whass'amatter Mo-chelle, US designers not good enough for you?

The sense of entitlement is staggering.

How would you know?

CHICAGO (AP) -- They may have been the world's most famous man-eating lions, but it turns out they made other dinner arrangements from time to time.
Scientists have determined that the Tsavo lions probably ate about 35 Kenyans in the 19th century and not the 135 they've long been credited with devouring.
The Tsavo lions are both now stuffed and on display at the Field Museum in Chicago. Their killing spree inspired the 1996 movie "The Ghost and the Darkness."
Scientists from the University of California at Santa Cruz have studied the lions' bones and fur. They determined in a study released Monday that the lions probably killed about 35, although they may have had as many as 72 humans or as few as four.

Considering that the count was made by an engineer, on the scene, rather than by scientists more than a hundred years removed, and also considering the likely hood that those lions had been processing deceased natives since cub hood, I'm going with the original number.

I'm thinking that could have been more than a little light.

I was talking about fishing....

I haven’t thought of this story in a long time. A friend of mine is from the Land Between the Lakes in Kentucky. He invited me and another friend to do some snag fishing below Kentucky Dam.

I’m always ready to go fishing.

The process is simple. Take a fishing rod seven feet or less long, a sixteen ounce sinker, 140 lb line, and a 14/0 treble hook, then go to the river and whale the thing as far as you can.

Hopefully it will hit the river. When you feel the sinker hit bottom, swing the rod to the side, and occasionally you will hook a fish. The day I went, we used two rods, for three men. The result was more fish than me and a big man could carry to the parking lot. I was worn completely out and I only fished for part of the day.

It’s a popular pass time. The fly in the ointment can be the commercial fishermen.

The commercial guys buy the biggest flat bottom john boat they can, and a six horse power Johnson out board motor. They have one wash tub for cut bait, and another for fish. Their sinkers are two or three pound balls of lead. Those are kept in a bucket with the pistol. They will motor to the top of the boil below the dam, drop a bait from a two inch long rod and wait for something whiskered to show an interest. They then hand over hand it to the top of the water, accesses the danger, apply sedation with a small pistol as appropriate, and throw them into the wash tub.

Pistol?????........yep, pistol!

If you’re wondering why a pistol in the boat, consider what would happen if you hauled an unsedated catfish of,, say,, 100 lbs into the boat? Nothing good, you can be sure. Some times a tourist will see the big fish, and see just enough to be foolish and drag a pissed off monster into the boat,,, sans sedation. Said tourist will immediately be balanced on the windshield like an ungainly cat, whilst the fish swats every thing not nailed down into the river. The oh, so helpful river rats, between gasping for breath and belly laughs, are yelling helpful advice, like, “shoot ‘im”. Like the dude has a gun or it wouldn’t blow a hole in the boat.

The bank fishermen have a gun also, in their sinker bucket, after all they don’t want to get a leg broken, or get finned by a catfish.

The problem starts when a boat fisherman decides to fish the boil nearest the bank. The bank fishermen are shut out until he leaves.

They take exception to that, seriously.

A new boat fisherman decides that the bank fishermen are having better luck a hundred feet away, and they can’t do anything to him, so he’s going to putt over and drop a bait. Profanity and verbal abuse ensue. Threats and such fly back and forth. Still the boat guy doesn’t move off.

A small group of bank fishermen gather and discuss tactics, then spread out and get ready to cast. The boat guy is lulled into a false sense of security. When the boat comes into range, all the bank conspirators cast at the same time.

It sounded like a hail storm on a tin roof.

Remember all those 140 lb lines and 14/0 hooks?

The boat guy is caught, and the six horse motor starts to lose ground. Someone is about to get his butt kicked.

Boat guy panics and grabs his pistol first, after a couple of shots, the bank guys, not to be out done, grab their pistols and return fire.

These are .22 or .25 hand guns with a two inch barrel, kept in a bucket full of lead balls. Probably not target pistols to start with and likely abused for years, a hit would have been an act of Providence, who was bent over laughing hard enough to puke at the moment, not deciding anyone’s fate.

The unarmed people freak and streak.

Good idea!

The TVA guard hears the commotion and takes cover with my friend behind a parapet wall.

Boat guy finally grabs a bait knife and starts cutting lines to make his escape.

So my bud asks the guard, who is holding his .38 revolver in his best TV dude, “point in a safe direction”, grip…”What are you going to do about that?”

He replied, “As soon as they run out of ammo, I’m going down there and run them off!”

Who says fishing is boring?

Allergy

I have developed a positive allergy to shoe leather.

Every time some jackass sticks a boot in my butt,

I get a positive rash and a bad attitude!

Remember,,,,,, I'm from the south, I don't do hurry up!

The china shop dwelling bovine hired to apply said leather, avoids me.

When I see him, I put him to work helping me with the heavy lifting

You just have to make your weakness your strength.

Elevator tactics

I have learned something. (imagine that!)

If you are on a crowded elevator, the loud announcement "I HAVE GAS!" will get you all the room there is, and a path to the door with no hassles.

Just in case you need to know.

Herding Cats

I am a little amazed by the amount of money that is dumped on me, on a weekly basis. I'm not complaining mind you, just amazed. It, most weeks, comes to about 2500 a week after taxes. I am riding herd on a bunch of over trained, under motivated retirees, who have collectively, more knowledge regarding smart remarks, bad attitudes, and valve lore than a whole school of engineering graduates.

I will say though, they hide their light under a bushel quite well.

Most I would allow to work on a clock, some of the others I wouldn't let touch a manure spreader.

Boring, however, never enters the picture.

I told a tech today, one that I actually like, that sometimes when you just keep pushing all the buttons, you find the one that sets the bomb off. Food for thought if nothing else. Another, that I am starting to really like, is a professional "grumpy old bastard", except that he hasn't managed to get under my skin yet, and he is obviously going for the reaction. He always speaks softly to me and will do most anything I ask. What else do you need? I am always in the field with them, something that some of the other supervisors don't do. Those other supervisors didn't get asked back and couldn't figure out why.

We have some new tech's that are young enough to make a name for them selves as "hands" if I ever get to pick my crew, or at least some of them, I am going to snag as many as I can. Then watch the grease fly.

I suppose my worth to the job comes from my knowledge of power plants and industrial safety. The other part is error prevention tools.

If I can I think I will try to get a slot at the Crane Valve School, and then work a dirt burner with them. More knowledge and more experience would be good on the resume.

My lucky red hat...

All of us at one time or another have had our "blankey", that ugly dirty thing that was a charm or comfort totem.
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Mine was a red knit cap that I bought for a dollar in a gas station. I think I remember buying the thing when working as an electrician's helper. In those days becoming a helper was no more complicated than adopting a cat. It also paid as well as adopting a cat. We would gather at the bosses house and get our days assignment for the day and off we went to string wire in the morning and then go to a finish job in the afternoon. Summer time wasn't too bad, winter was another story. Have you ever hit your fingers with a hammer when they were so cold you had to wait to warm them up to bleed?
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It sucks swamp water.
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I was working with my future brother in laws. Bruce was a comical little troll, who tried to scare me one morning by almost rear ending a car, and swerved just in time to hit another car turning across our lane. He didn't see that one.
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He almost scared me to death. I came out of the seat in a ball, bent the dash with my knees and destroyed the wind shield with my head. The red hat didn't help.
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A new job taught me cool things like welding and grinding. How to saw asbestos with a sawzall, and line heat treat ovens. That one gives me nightmares. I came so close to dieing so many times there I can't count. One that made a real impression, and collected four stitches, was pulling a fly wheel off a punch press. The dudes who installed it were a little less than patient when fitting the key. The end result was a 20 ton porta power to remove the fly wheel. It slipped with about ten tons of load on it and I caught a one inch diameter threaded rod across the top of my head with a sound like breaking a ball bat.

Guess what I was wearing instead of a hard hat? (They ordered them while I was on the way to the ER).
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I was somewhat smaller than I am now and drove a Triumph Spitfire MKIV, probably the coolest car I have ever owned. It met it's demise one evening at the bumper of a 1965 Galaxy 500. It was my fault. When the dude hit me the car spun so violently I broke the passengers window with my head.
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Still wearing the red hat.
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I kept the hat for a long time, it was just something I wore because I had it.
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I sat down one night and counted all the scars and stitches I had accumulated while wearing the one dollar hat. When I was done and the total considered, I couldn't get it in the trash soon enough.
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Slow learner, that's me.

The large TIM (Time Is Money) calculator shown above was based on the stepped drum calculator mechanism. This was the first type of four function calculator and these machines were inherently large and heavy. (The model shown was 21.5" x 7" x 6" and weighed 23 pounds.)

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The first stepped drum calculators were made in wooden boxes (see the Burkhardt below), but the model shown was an improved metal-cased model that was made in 1909. Because of their bulk, sales of these early machines were relatively small. (Dozens to hundreds per year.) Price was another obstacle. In today's dollars, a TIM would be priced at well over $10,000.

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Manual four function calculator.

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For a small amount I could have a scientific calculator wrist watch, that I would never use. If I wanted to, I could use my cell phone. Actually I can do most anything I need on one of the three desk top calculators cluttering the joint.

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Which I bought for a dollar each.

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Where will it go?

Monsters in the yard

I found a pair of these growing in my yard, had no clue as to where they came from or what they were. Seems they are European imports spread by bugs.

They are a variety of stink horn.

The things look like monsters breaking through the ground, small but disgusting.

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Some say they are edible, some say not.

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I'll never know.

Explorer???? OK!

Your result for The Steampunk Style Test...

The Explorer

32% Elegant, 45% Technological, 40% Historical, 72% Adventurous and 9% Playful!

You are the Explorer, the embodiment of steampunk’s adventuring spirit. For you, clothing should be rugged and reliable, and just as functional as it is attractive. You probably prefer khaki or leather, and your accessories are as likely to include weapons as technological gizmos. You probably wear boots and gloves, and maybe a pith helmet. Most of what you wear is functional, and if you happen to wear goggles people had better believe that you use them. In addition to Victorian exploration gear, your outfit probably includes little knickknacks from your various travels. Above all, you are a charming blend of rugged Victorian daring and exotic curiosity.

Try our other Steampunk test http://www.helloquizzy.com/"> style="color:#131313">HelloQuizzy

There are times when you just know to STFU....

When The Love of My Life and I started dating the first of those things we found that we really enjoyed, that can be done in public, was road trips. We visited San Francisco, later we went out west and camped. While we were there we hiked and generally did and saw some wonderful things. During my first marriage I had done a couple of driving trips all around the west and mid west, and thought it would be cool to share the experience with a couple of the more adventurous kids.

The planning was done and off we went. I had a four wheel drive Suburban to provide room for four and,,,,,stuff. We camped hither and yon for roughly two weeks. From the Badlands to Vegas and Tombstone, we went where ever the urge took us and stayed the night.

One of the many places I wanted to go was Devils Tower. This Native American sacred sight is known as the Home of the Bad God. It's as impressive as any natural structure I have seen. It is in a rather remote area. Oh, well actually, go to the end of the world and turn left, drive until you see the sign.

We had camped at Badlands National Park, and driven a long day to get to the approximate time zone. I don't know how long the ride was, but every one was napping, including, occasionally, the driver. The Love of My Life was driving, at the posted speed limit of 55mph.

Remember that number.

I woke up long enough to wonder where the hell we were. I was in the navigators seat and snagged the map, started looking for road signs, and trying to get information from TLOML.

The road was long straight and apparently endless, then I saw a sign, and almost immediately a town. When I looked up from the map again, I saw the highway sign that indicated our turn.

Then I really screwed up bad. I said "You need to turn here", and she did.

At 55 miles an hour, TLOML took both her little hands on the wheel, and yanked that land yacht into a right turn.

It must have looked like a cartoon. Dust flying, tires bellowing, passengers pasted to the window on the down hill side. I knew we were going over. If I hadn't been wearing my seat belt I probably would have flown out the drivers window.

Jesus in all his mercy, must have reached down and held that truck in the road.

That must have been what woke up Officer Peterson.

He was a young man performing his duty, apprehending a wild eyed, breaker of the law. He fired up the cruiser and in short order blue lighted TLOML and allowed her a short bleep of siren.

About that time I made another life changing mistake, my second of the day. As the good officer reached the window, I was about to try to help, I said "Now baby," that's as far as I got.

TLOML turned to me, I swear lightning came out of her eyes, ears and butt all at once. She told me, "don't you BABY ME!!!" everyone for miles knew that I would not baby her anytime soon, on pain of a fate worse than death.

From that point on I was peeping out of the crack at the bottom of the seat. Officer Peterson stepped back for a second, and then did a lot of talking from behind his hand.

I think he strangled occasionally.

As soon as he determined that I was an idiot (not too difficult) he gave us directions and sent me off to my fate.

I wonder why he was wiping his eyes while walking to his car, must have been the dust.

Now I know why it's called "Black Friday"

I decided that I would be brave and accompany The Love Of My Life to do the Christmas Shopping for the grand babies. That would be on the biggest shopping day of the year.

Up at three forty five, at the mall at four o'clock, thoroughly pissed off by four fifteen. The women in the "zone", do not compare well with hogs at the trough, with regard to size or manners.

I and my daughter were walking down an aisle when, out of a side aisle comes a gray hired road block, about two zip codes across the butt, who stops and bends over, (tempting target) blocking the aisle. I started the pattern for the day, by apologising loudly for being on her planet.

Some what later another svelte (for an Orangutan) little lady, breaches over like a break action shotgun, and pulls her cart up behind her and blocks the path of about fifty people. I think that one needed an overweight permit and a wide load banner on her car.

We did indeed brave Wally Mart, after the stampede (no one died) and picked up a few things. We paid for the lot and went to the exit, just in time to hear a self righteous ass proclaim to the door grannie, "You can inventory my cart if you must, but it will be a manager who does it."
The elderly ladies promptly lost concentration and "had to DO something", whereupon she took off with my receipt (???) to get help!

Oh! Damn!

Now this is apparently the horses ass's pet peeve, someone looking in his cart to make sure he isn't stealing, like anyone knows or cares who the idiot is.

It's a policy at all their stores, it reduces theft, no one is being singled out, get over your self!

Now the twit has his cart across the door way, and the battle axe has my receipt! He wont leave and I can't!

Then mouthy twit boy starts to step back, and the TLOML is on the verge of climbing his back like a window shade, to save him from screaming like a third grade girl, I reached over her head and pushed the dude and told him "Don't step on my wife!" He said sorry and moved a half step away.

Smarter than he looks.

The Assistant manager shows up, checks his stuff, because the wind bag "gives his permission", the battle axe, throws us our receipt, now we all leave.

All is well, then the wind bag tries to justify himself to me!

Bad Idea!

The meat head is as big as I am but nowhere near as pissed off. I told him to "shut up and go home no one gives a crap about his reasons!"

I wish you could have seen the look on his face.

The next debacle came when we took the grand babies to the "Shopping Towne" for the lighting of the Christmas Tree, and Sandy Claus arrival. Just us, and about two thousand people I've never seen in my life. You could listen and hear the IQ points drain away like the sand in an hour glass. No one barricaded the streets or side walks, the rent a cops looked and acted like they were hired that day (probably true), and the cute little PR girl couldn't spell "clue" with spell check.

Disaster by the numbers.

When the band marching ahead of the Jolly Old Elf's Land Rover was heard, the entire mob surged into the street. I ask you, how the heck is he supposed to get to the tree when the mob is in the way? Four wheel drive comes to mind, but thats just me. We'll over look the fact that the rent a cops couldn't let the chain down, so the band and sponsors mascots had to step over the chain.

At this time I issued instructions for the second time that day.

Some self appointed Hawt Dude starts hitting on Ms. Claus, who is driving the Land Rover. He is yelling loud enough to make himself heard through the closed window.

Right beside my ear.

I turned to him, looked him in the eye and told him very calmly, "Don't yell in my ear again."

Saw the whites of his eyes, I did. Didn't hear a peep afterward. Learns quick, he does.

The end of my evening was spent on deposit guard for my sons store, they did 15K at the Game Stop, and there have been muggings in the area.

By this point I was ready to pistol whip a mugger for stress relief.

Black Friday indeed!

Next year it's full dress SWAT, I wounde how that will go over?

Irony is where you find it....

At o330 I am sitting in Connecticut, listening to guys from Alabama, Arkansas, New Hampshire, make fun of the accent of a farmer from Maine.

It's OK, he took his turn laughing at a guy from Rhode Island.

I guess they can't hear them selves.

Evil just got a bath.....

The Kitty above is fifteen years old, and has never enjoyed a single bath. She gets 'em. she just doesn't like 'em.

I'm afraid.

Not made in my home....

Long ago and far away, or so it seems, a young man decided to go hiking. He had been on the Grand tour of every whore house in South America and the Med, courtesy of the US Navy, howsomever, carousing with five thousand or so of your closest friends didn't fill the void of his wandering soul.

He was determined to find real adventure.

Boy, Howdy!

I don't know that he spun a globe and threw a dart while drunk and blind folded, but I wouldn't be surprised.

His first hike ever, he decided to go to Nepal.

Talk about gettin' out of town.

At one point in our history I had given him some nonverbal indication that bad things were about to befall him, at my hand. When we got past that, with out legal or medical involvement, we actually became friends.

Imagine my surprise!

When I got the news that he was about to risk his life gallivanting about the Himalayas, I extended an offer for help and education. I taught him some lessons that I had learned the hard way about caring for his feet, advised him on foot ware and taught him some things about what to do when the above didn't work.

I should have told him not to eat anything that you didn't see cooked. Poor sap caught something in Thailand that cost him about twenty pounds and two weeks of work before it left his system.

Partly because of my efforts on behalf of his feet, and somewhat because of my efforts at anger management on behalf of the rest of him, he asked if there was something small he could bring me. After lengthy discussions regarding the possibly difficulty in transporting small Thai ladies in carry on bags, I opined that a knife would be nice.

The above pictured blade came from half a world away.

The style is from Nepal; the bent, leaf shaped blade with "eating knives" in the sheath. The blade is .333 thick and seven inches long. This design and workmanship are out of history. The tool marks indicate the shape was chiseled from whatever came to hand and then shaped with basic tools to it's present finish. Over all length is 13 inches.

The decoration is carved into the steel with a chisel. Some one spent considerable time drawing what appear to be a dragon and coi into the blade. The brass fixtures are riveted to the tang. The grip is yak bone, hand carved and the grooves filled with ocher and copper rivets. The triangular piece on the grip is copper.

The sheath is wood covered in leather, and decorated with hand carved copper brass and what appears to be nickle silver. The metal is covered in designs from end to end. The decoration is held in place with wire rivets, and tacks. Interestingly there is cardboard under the metal and inside the sheath.

I am ashamed to say I never looked at it closely until I sat down to write this.

When the wind gets up....

When I moved to the coast close to thirty years ago, I had never experienced a hurricane. I have nine under my belt now, that would be nine direct hits, not not near hits or close misses.
The map of where I live, yes all those are storm tracks.
http://dragonwatch-south.blogspot.com/2007/08/now-thats-depressing.html

Needless to say, there have been some interesting quotes from people waiting for those storms.

The redneck from New Jersey-"I hope it hits here, I want to get out in the wind and feel what a hundred miles an hour is like!" This while striking a heroic (or in this case stupid) pose with his fists clenched and chest pushed out.

My reply, "Hey hero, what you gonna' do when you're out in the wind and see a stop sign coming edge on at a hundred miles an hour? Or maybe a pine cone off those Long leaf pines?"

His reply, ????blank stare???

The guys in the back room at work- "Hey, look at the window, it's bulging inward when the wind picks up!"

My reply, "Shit, see ya! I'm getting inside the shield wall!"

The Sheriffs deputy in charge of the shelter- "See that guy, (points at me) he knows what's going on, put him too work!"

Me- "Damn it!"

Me- "Boss, I need to go check my house, my wife has passed out from shock and fear in the service building."

Boss- "You can't leave!"

My reply- "This isn't a bleeding jail, hide and watch me bud!" He turned several shades of white and got me permission. I drove home and back, in a seventy mile an hour cross winds in a Subaru Brat, all was well. Except for the pinch marks in the seat and steering wheel.

Me cutting one of my trees off the neighbors house in the middle of the storm.
TLOML stomping and spitting like a wet cat, while screaming at me to get off the top of the neighbors house. The words and gestures exceed my ability to describe, but I was more afraid of her than the storm.

My neighbor Bill from New Jersey, "How much will you charge me to cut up this tree?"
Me- "Nothing"
Bill- "What do you mean, nothing"
Me- "We're neighbors, I'll do it for nothing."
Bill- "Whats your favorite poison?"
Me- "Excuse me?"
Bill- "Liquor"
Me- "JD Black label"
Bill brought me a gallon.
After that when any of my non chain saw owning friends asked me to work up a blow down, I always told them "I work for Booze", I don't remember much after that.

After several hours of work with one of my big chain saws the neighbor I'm helping asks, "Do you guy's want a beer?"
Me -"Yes, please!"
As the three of us are standing in the rain drinking our beers, "Uh, guy's do you realise how stupid we look standing here in the rain?"
Neighbors- "Yeah, maybe we should come in out of the rain."

All my prayers to those on the Gulf Coast, God knows I hope all you have to remember is the stupid quotes

RATS!!!!

Blogger is driving me nuts (short trip, I am sure) I can only write in the field before adding a title or tag. Once there is a keystroke some where, I start getting a cross instead of a cursor.

The standard of proof in Canada just went in the toilet.

Leduc said they advised her that Victoria's educational assistant (EA) had visited a psychic, who said a youngster whose name started with "V" was being sexually abused by a man between 23 and 26 years old. Leduc was also handed a list of recent behaviours exhibited by her daughter.



An autistic child with no physical evidence of abuse, and she is being accused of neglect/abuse? More than a little weird if you ask me. http://www.torontosun.com/News/Canada/2008/06/18/5910691-sun.html