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[WTB] .308 rig

2024.05.14 12:08 abuddahwalrus [WTB] .308 rig

Gents,
Looking to LARP with my 308 and need a way to carry mags on my body. Belt, chest rig, LBE, doesn’t matter. I just want a full on turnkey rig that I can grab and go that can hold 308 magazines/ items. Lookin to spend ~ $100, but that’s flexible. Thanks
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2024.04.18 05:15 No_Math6278 (ENG Translation) [2/2] The Miracle of the 70 Days on the Mountains. GENTE magazine, December 1972

(ENG Translation) [2/2] The Miracle of the 70 Days on the Mountains. GENTE magazine, December 1972
Pictures of the magazine shared by Marcelo Lopizzo on the Reviven Facebook group.
This article was written before the December 28th press conference.
Translation by me.
Part 1
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THE REENCOUNTER, THE LOVE, THE LAUGHTER, THE MEMORIES
... is 5.200 meters [17.00 feet] tall. The way down was even worse because the snow was very soft and the rocks crumbled. One rock was so close to Roberto that it nearly killed him.
The pace became slower and slower. We were hungry and cold. In the end, we were walking two steps and resting, two steps and resting... We crossed a valley and we found the source of a river. That gave us some hope. We decided to go farther West. We guided ourselves with the plane's compass, which fortunately had been left intact. Roberto got sick on the stomach and I had to carry his backpack because he didn't have any strenght to do it himself. On December 20th at sunset, we saw some cows. That was our first solid hope. 'If there's cows, men have to be near' we thought. I told Roberto that we had to kill a cow to eat, otherwise we wouldn't be able to set any steps farther. 'With what?'' - he asked - 'With this little pocket knife?'
We kept going, When the sun was setting, Roberto shouted. He had seen the arriero. He was very far, in the shadowsm almost covered up by some trees, but he was able to see us. We shouted, made some desperate signal. He got close to the river bank and told us: 'Tomorrow, tomorrow'. That night we slept there, next to the river, to keep our location. The next day, he came back and threw us paper and a pen wrapped in a rock. I wrote as fast as I could: 'I come from a plane that fell in the mountains. I am Uruguayan. We have been walking for 10 days. I have a hurt friend up there. In the plane remain 14 injured people. We have to get out of here fast and we don't know how, We don't have food. We are weak. When are they coming to rescue us up there? Please, we can't even walk. Where are we?'. I wrapped the paper on the rock and I threw it to him, from one riverbank to the other, He read it and he threw us three sandwiches that did us good. Then he went to alert the Puente Negro police and came back. He helped us cross [the river], took us to a ranch and made [someone] serve us a bean stew, cheese and bread, we couldn't believe it. Throughout all that time, our obsession had been food, We reunited inside the plane, and made a list of planes and special dishes. I wrote down 63 places in Montevideo where you can eat specialties, That is how we spent time. It was more prefrerable than adressing deep topics or talking about death...
The next day, the helicopters started arriving with my rescued comrades. When [I] started the expedition, I had taken a token, a sneaker that I bought in Mendoza for Gastón, the son of a brother-in-law of mine. I left the other one with Carlitos and told him: 'You are giving it back to me when we see each other again. Because I assure you that I am going to find help and I am going to take you [all] out of here'. And, indeed. When the helicopter rescued him, the first thing he did was giving me the sneaker...'
ACCOUNT BY CARLOS PÁEZ RODRÍGUEZ
"I once had an accident. It was in Uruguay, in the Pinamar circuit, with a car that [belonged to] Roy Harley's grandmother. We entered a curve and we flipped. I broke an arm. And I thought that I had lived a great adventure, that I had been close to death. Today, now, that makes me laugh. I think it's [little] boys' foolishness. I feel like I grew up, that I am 20 years older. When something like this happens, you realize that there are many things that don't matter. I was a [typical] rich kid. I was worried about cars, clothesm frivolous things. Now I know that the only important [thing] is God, faith, comradership, solidarity. Suddenly, we had to stock on medicines, had to gather heat with each other to survive, had to distribute the little we had for eating. So we started feeling [like] brothers and giving [each other] things. Death used to me something almost unknown. And, suddently, we had to look at it in the eyes everyday, We had to see it get to many of our comrades, without being able to do anything. Some laid down inside the plane, closed their eyes to sleep, and didn't wake up.
  1. Santiago de Chile. Sheraton Hotel. Sunday. Christmas Eve. Near the swimming pool, José Luis Inciarte Vasques enjoys the first hours of peace. Between hugs and laughs,
  2. Gustavo "Ears" Zerbino hugs his girlfriend and tries to forget. He played a soccer match the day after being rescued. He is one of the most enegetic and cheerful ones of the group.
  3. José Pedro Algorta Durán, another one of the survivors, reunites with his girlfriend in San Fernando's chapel. She travelled as soon as she heard the news and hugged him, crying, in the middle of mass.
  4. José Luis Inciarte Vasques, quite beaten by the terrible adventure lived in the Andes, found the first moments of peace and tenderness in his girlfriend. Life has started again,
  5. Sunday was a day of strong emotions, Of hugs, tears and laughs. Of hunger for getting the time lost in the unending tragedy back.
  6. Álvaro Mangino attended the mass in San Fernando in a wheelchair, He lost many kilos and his general state is still very weak. His girlfriend didn't leave his side for a moment.
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THE FIRST MASS, IN THE CHAPEL OF SAN FERNANDO
All of that made us truly feel like brothers. I think that we are something like 16 apostotles. There, there was no boss other than each one's capability of doing things. I, for example, was the plane's official wall repairer. I was left with the thoughest job, make a wall on the entrance at night, before sleeping. But we also had the medic, that was Canessa. And the invertar, which was Fito Strauch. Fito invented the sunglasses and the shoes for walking on the snow. Soon, we realized that the sun and its reflection on the snow would leave us blind, So Fito cut with a pocket knife some pieces of dark plastic that was in some notebooks, put them together with copper wire and tied them with some elastics that he took from some women's garments he found in the suitcases. That way, we all had [sun]glasses, Later, with the seats of the plane, he made some kind of boots that helped us walk on the soft snow without sinking. When our skin started peeling because of the sun, he made us some "nose protectors" from cloth, In the 70 days we were there, there were three birthdays. October 30th was Numa Turcatti's, the 31st was mine, and November 1st was Alfredo Delgado's. But we barely noticed. The calendar-clocks only served to count the days we were in the mountain and to calculate how much longer we could endure. The idea of praying sprung up on its own. But, if among us there was someone without faith, I assure you that that little faith multiplied by a thounsand, by a million, by infinite. We were all sure we would survive. It's weird, but the longer time went by, and the further the hopes of us getting saved were, we were more sure we wouldn't die, And we wouldn't allow anyone to give up. Some days ago, while I sewed a sleeping bag, Canessa said to me: "Carlitos... don't you see it differently this time, don't you think...?" I screamed at him no. I shouted at him saying that we were going to spend Christmas together, far away from this hell. And I wasn't wrong."
... the chapel, separated from the hospital by a patiom is full of amazed and silent people. A girl in overalls gets close to each one of the boys and puts in their neck a blue ribbon, a medal of the miracle. Behind the first benches, there are the parents, the siblings, the girlfriends of those boys. There are few words. They look at each other and that is enough. They squeeze each other's hands and that is enough. Outside, in the patio, under a 30 degree [86°F] sun, there are barefoot men and women who have stopped their noon routine, have looked for some withe paper (an old car, the reverse of the envelope of an already read card), have asked for a pen with barely a look -- there are many reporters and many pens -- and they have stayed by the door of the chapel so that all or some of those boys write some words or scribble a signature. Of course. The announcers have said miracle, and the newspapers have written miracle, and the word miracle has travelled Santiago and San Fernando and Colchagua and Los Maitenes. Plus, tomorrow is going to be Christmas Eve, and the day past, Christmas.
Miracle. But Fernando Parrado Dolgay, 23 years old, floats in his pants. And Gustavo Zerbino's lips are charred. And Javier Methol hasn't yet come out of the hospital. José Luis Inicarte drinks an infinite ammount of fruit juice, because his stomach can't open up to anything more. And a Chilean psychiatrist says in four or five reports that the 16 will inevitably suffer from survivor's guilt, an emotional imbalance that haunts people who have gone through an extreme situation.
Miracle. But they leave San Fernando, arrive to Santiago, stay on the best rooms of the Sheraton, they become, or others [force them to become] stars, and yet, when the moment's interview or the hugs end, Roy Harley, or Daniel Fernández Strauch or Roberto Canessa, become like shadows again. They are left alone, they look at the mountains that timidly start behind the hotel and it's like they are having a secret dialogue with their ghosts.
Miracle?
  1. The synthesis of the miracle. Fernando Parrado Dolgay, the arriero Sergio Catalán Martínez (center) and Roberto Canessa Urta.
  2. Javier Methol Abal, 37 years old, the "veteran" of the group, came back from the mountains with very damaged eyes. He was hospitalized.
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THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS IN THE WORLD
From left to right: Gustavo Zerbino, Antonio Vizentín Brandi (hidden in the picture), José Luis Inciarte Vasques, Fernando Parrado Dolgay, Carlos Miguel Páez Rodríguez, Eduardo Strauch Urioste, Ramón Sabella, José Pedro Algorta Durán and Francisco Delgado. With them, parents, siblings, girlfriends[fiancées]. All the clocks of Santiago de Chile have just hit 12. The survivors of the mountain drama toast, sing and laugh in one of the halls of the Sheraton hotel. They are welcoming a Christmas that could have been the saddest, and became the most beautiful one in the world. After the toast, Páez Rodríguez said "It was a miracle, a miracle by God." Yes. But it also was an epic of courage, of youth, of will to live. Against everything, and despite everything. GENTE was with them, and also raised their glass.
MAN AGAINST AN EXTREME SITUATION
Today, two days after the encounter, people talk. "Did you see that thing...","Did you hear about that other one...", "Could you imagine...". And I, a bit coldly, can imagine everything, think about everything. But everything is too little. One has read the tales of castaways. One has read the terrible chronicles from wars. One has once flown in a plane that shook in the air and next to them there was someone praying. One once lost a loved one or saw in front of their eyes how a car lifted an unaware pedestrian into the air. One has read books about concentration camps. But what none of us can never read or imagine was this awesome 70-day adventure in the mountains. Over a meter [3 feet] of snow. Under a blanket of clouds, rain, snow. Without anything. Everything white, white. White is the blinding reflection. White are the raus that burn skin and lips. White is the snow that the sun will turn into water without salt, in water that can't even quench thirst. There, 16 boys who didn't even know where they were on earth, with an average temperature of 10 degrees below zero [14°F], lived a torment that would end after 70 days.
There, in a space barely above 10 square meters [107 square feet], they had to define their future, decide on actions, desperatem fight, find distractions, hope, smile, cry, go mad for the rescue that wouldn't come anymore. There, everything must have happened. Urged by hunger, loneliness, pain, the terrible pain that is caused by never ending cold and that has nothing to be prevented with. Not even the minimal proteins to withstand some hours in the outdoors. That way, 16 boys, well prepared, educated, physically suited thanks to a good sport life, healthy, had to go against what, in this moment, from an air-conditioned office, we are calling an "extreme situation".
No one, absolutely no one can talk about these boys and do it [using] the normal parameters. Even for us, it wasn't a regular note. When we were going to Chile, we commented that rarely one can stumble upon a periodistic note with so many pointsm si many novelesque elements, dramatic, joyful, huge. One of those few times was precisely this one, And, when we met face to face to any of the boys, we thought that man is raised to live some way, is raised to be this or that thing, but is never logically raised for a similar situation. And a happening like this, what does it produce? it generates a new situation, completely original and unique. And of the condition of intelligent beings is precisely adapting to those new situations. AND SURVIVE. When we talked with Parrado about survival in the mountains, he said:
-- All of us are university students. We can analize this survival thing from any level and accept responsibility for it. Of course we worry about the thoughts of the people. But is it that everyone can be our judge...?
We are before 16 healthy and smart boys. Full of life, tough, sportsmen, We are before 16 boys that went through the most incredible of adventures and that saved themselves by the fact that they together did what had to be done in those cases. Be solidary and and stand strictly by all for one and one for all.
Of those 16, two came close to suicide when moved by desperation they tried, no less and no more, getting out of the mountains with only rugby shoes. They did it for the other 14 and for themselves. Canessa and Parrado arrived and saved the others. But for the rest and for them, none was a hero. They were all one. And all of them cried for the friends that were left in the snow, For the relatives that were left in the snow. For everything they were forced to leave behind in the snow. The freshness of an splendid youth, the goodbye to the innocence of being 20.
Also, there in the mountains, remains buried the myth that you can't live there for more than a week. There too remains the myth of stopping the search after mere 10 days.
We know - we know - that there is a secret report by the Andine Rescue Team that was in charge of the rescue. We talked about it with some of the boys. Later, when all of this has calmed down, when the survivors aren't that anymore, but instead are again boys like all the rest mixed in the Uruguayan streets, we'll come back to it. But, before talking about that, let's think about the "extreme situation". And that in that, man has to adapt to situations for which nobody prepared him for.
Some of the survivors are with a great mystical "attack". All of them talk about God as if [He were] a brother, like an everyday hand they held onto every day to keep living. All of them have their amulet. All of them have their own ritual. For now, everything is an anecdote. In some more days, when the anecdote is buried, we will talk again about what a 20 year-old boy feels before an extreme situation, for which the parameters of us who only feel hunger when the refrigerator is empty, don't have any validity. We are saying this very seriously.
The A.P. cable is in front of ours. Officially, the man in charge of the Uruguayan business in Chile confirmed that the survivors had eaten human meat. We made a pact with Parrado, and we stand by it. No reports, nor leaks. We will only talk about the matter face to face.
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2024.04.17 19:31 FeelsKindOfBadMan Gen1es APRIL 2024 schedule

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2024.04.17 06:10 No_Math6278 (ENG TRANS) [1/2]The Miracle of the 70 days on the mountains. Gente magazine, December 1972

(ENG TRANS) [1/2]The Miracle of the 70 days on the mountains. Gente magazine, December 1972
Pictures of the magazine shared by Marcelo Lopizzo on the Reviven Facebook group.
This article was written before the December 28th press conference.
Translation by me.
Part 2
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EXTRA: The miracle of the 70 days in the mountains. Seen and lived with exclusive photographs and survivors‘ testimonies. From Chile. By our special envoys.
Dramatic document. Here [is where] the protagonists of the miracle lived.
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We lived the miracle of the mountains.
In the Andes mountains and Santiago de Chile, “Gente” lived quite closely the [biggest] news of the year and one the most formidable human adventures that a group of men have [ever] led in an extreme situatio: the rescue of the 16 young survivors of the Uruguayan Air Force plane that fell in the mountains the last 13th of October. The protagonists, without adequate clothing, no suitable food, in a precarious refuge that they made with the remains of the apparatus, managed to defeat death. Many of their companions were left forever in the snow, but two of the members of the group, after an odyssey, managed to ask for help and save the rest. This is the story and the images.
By our special envoys: Samuel Gelblung, Alfredo Serra, Enrique Blanco and Juan José Pérez.
Exclusive document. Some of the protagonists of the miracle of the mountains, next to the remains of the fallen plane, [the] only shelter they had throughout their adventure.
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THE SNOW’S TRAP AND THE FIRST TOAST OF THE RESCUE
It’s 12 at noon, Saturday, December 23rd. The sun is red, yellow and blue in the geometrical and simple stained glass of the chapel in San Fernando, a small town with no surprises — 2.500 inhabitants— which is 140 kilometers [87 miles] south of Santiago de Chile. In the first row, seated, some with their legs covered by rustic grey blankets, there’s ten boys. All of them have long hair. All of them are very burned by the sun. Almost all of them have a beard. They all have new pants and shirts. You can tell, by the straight folds, that the pants and shirts have just been bought and displayed. They are light blue, green, pink. The priest, a young man, finishes the psalm. — To Him, glory and gratitude. To Him, glory and gratitude. He orders to sing the “Hallelujah“. The chapel, separated from the hospital by a patio, is full of amazed and silent people.
ACCOUNT BY JOSÉ LUIS INCIARTE
”It was 5 minutes to 4 in the afternoon. I was reading ”Aventuras de Isidorito” [Argentinian comic], you know... The plane made a turn and [Juan Carlos] Menéndez, who later died in the avalanche, told me ‘Now it’s when it gets rough’. We were flying inside the clouds and couldn’t see anything. The seatbelt light turned on. I left the magazine and I tightened [my seatbelt] well. I think that saved me, because the ones that didn’t were sucked by the air. Suddenly, the plane fell like 2.500 feet. I heard that in the cockpit someone was saying: “Give it more power, give it more power”. [Daniel] Fernández Strauch told me he saw peaks. I crossed my arms, lowered my head and closed my eyes. Some seconds later, I felt cold, a cold wind that surrounded me. I breathed deeply. It smelled like gasoline. The plane started sliding down, as if it were a slide. The snow hit me in the face. Later, I heards screams, whimpers. I opened my eyes. There was blood and bodies everywhere. I was unharmed. I got up and got out of the plane. The first thing I saw was a huge groove, a gash on the mountain. It was the tracks the plane had left. Rocks fell on a zig-zag. They almost crushed me. I became buried to the waist when I tried to walk. The snow was soft and deep. I was wearing trousers, a dress shirt and a blue tie. The trousers and the shirt were intact, but the tie was left in shreds, as if someone had cut it many times with scissors. After some minutes, I noticed I had fallen over a body. It was the mother of the Parrado, who was dead. The ones who were still alive reunited and started helping the wounded. But there was little we could do for them. Many died there, in front of our eyes. That night we slept outside the plan, among the dead and the wounded, covering up with what we could find. With rags, with the cloth of the seats, with the clothes of the dead. We started organizing ourselves the next day. There were 28 alive, but many were badly hurt. The first thing was looking for the warmest clothes possible. We used the rugby equipment, which are made with thick cloth and everything that we could find in the suitcases and spilled on the snow. The warmest [garments] we got were the pilots’ jackets and a wool sweater with a zipper of the machinist on board, who died at 7 pm of the second day, buried by an avalanche. There was never a boss. There were never bosses. The boss was the strongest, the one in the best mood, or simply [the one who had] the best idea. The hunger started being a torture. We had chocolates, marmalade, alfajores and some wine, things we had bought in Mendoza when we stayed there. We put everything together and rationed it. But the most important thing was not dehydrating. With an axe and a few tools that were in the plane, we cut some aluminum sheets, filled them with snow and inclined them. When the sun melted the show, the water ran in the sheets and we caught it with empty wine bottles. That way we battled thirst and avoided dehydration. The days without sun, we didn’t have water. But the worst was the night[s]. We didn’t have [any] light and, at 6 pm, when the sun set, the temperature was unbearable. We got inside the plane, we blocked the entrance with the sheets and we lay next to each other to use the body heat. That way we were able to——
PICTURES (LEFT TO RIGHT)
  1. The Tingiririca Volcano. The arrow points at the exact place where the plane fell. There the valiant Uruguayan youths lived for 70 days and 70 nights before being rescued.
  2. Exhausted, Fernando Parrado Dolgay (the tallest, one of the heroes of the odyssey) and Carlos Páez Rodríguez get down the helicopter in Los Maitenes, the first base of the rescue operation.
  3. Eduardo Strauch Urioste, nephew of the Uruguayan president, Juan María Bordaberry arrives to Los Maitenes held by a soldier and an official of the Chilean military. He cries in silence.
  4. Adolfo Strauch (left) and Carlos Páez Rodríguez toast, euphoric, some hours after being taken out of the snow and ice trap. Pensative, [Eduardo Strauch].
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THIS IS HOW THEY LIVED AND THIS IS HOW THEY REACHED THE END OF THE NIGHTMARE
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… [obtain] a temperature of 4 or 5 degrees [39-41 F]: harsh, but enough to not die frozen.
We found a small radio and we adapted it with a 15 meters [49 feet] Collins antenna we found in the plane. When its batteries ran out, we made it work with the plane’s batteries. We could only listen between 7 and 9 am, because after that hour there were too much interference. Because of the radio, we knew we were being looked for by rescue planes. So that we could be seen — becau the plane didn’t have flares nor signal pistols nor anything — we were always with the pilots’ jackets inside out, because they were orange. After that, we made a huge snow cross — 100 meters [328 feet] — because someone remembered having read that that is one of the methods that the people that get lost in the snow use. But none of that worked. We saw the planes pass by, we waved rags, shouted, waved our hands, and the result was always negative. One morning we heard on the radio that the search was suspended. Officially, were dead to everyone. It was one of the worst moments. But far from giving up, we decided to get out there no matter what. Crawling, however, but we were getting out. I never thought about death, and I don’t think the others did either. What helped us the most was faith, religious faith. We knew we could only trust in God and our own strength. That we were alone in the world. So, we started praying. Carlitos Páez Rodríguez had his grandmother‘s rosary on his neck. We prayed it many times a day, and that made us feel really good.
As the days went by, we learnt and we solved problems. We got fire with the plane’s fuel. We got lighters and two butane tubes, and with that we got our lighting. We discovered we had to exercise to keep in shape, so we spent many hours walking, going up and down mountains. One afternoo, we found 170 cigarett packs. In the plane there was a maker that was taking them to Chile, to give them to some colleagues, I think. It was a great party. Even if it seems like a lie, we smoked the last pack the day we were rescued. The radio was our only connection with the world, it was what made us aware that we weren’t in another planet. We learned that Nixon was elected as a president for the second time, that National was the Uruguayan champion — we had great fights with the Peñarol fans — that Perón returned to Argentina. I know that many imagine that in a similar situatio, its protagonists talk all the time about deep topics. But our case wasn’t like this. We prayed and we talked all the time about getting out of there. Get out, escape the trap, it was the leading topic. But, over everything, it was forbidden to talk about death. It was enough that one mentioned it for all of us to be left defeated. We imposed an optimism philosophy. And, when one failed — because there were a lot of crisis, lots of anguish— a slap and that’s it. We didn’t need a boss for that. The lead was taken by whoever was the most composed. The strongest. Parrado, Canessa, Strauch, Carlitos Páez, me…
Carlitos Páez is a great guy. I didn’t know him a lot, wasn’t a great friend of his, and yet he took care of my leg when I got sick. Some foruncules appeared and I oppened them with a razor. It was a lot worse. I had an infection and great pain. I still haven’t completely healed. Well, when that happened, Carlitos started sleeping next to me, with my leg on top of his body, to ensure me the most comfortable position. Finally, December 22nd came. That morning we heard on El Espetacular radio [station] that “there were survivors of the lost Uruguayan plane”. But we didn’t think much of it. It was true that Parrado and Canessa had gone on an expedition looking for help, but we were really let down by fake news, different versions, etc. But on a second note,we heard the broadcaster say that an arriero had —
  1. HOURS BEFORE THE TRAGEDY. Exclusive document. Inside the circle, from left to right, José Luis Inciarte Vásquez, Gustavo Zerbino and Álvaro Mangino, three of the survivors of the Uruguayan plane. The photograp was taken in Mendoza, some hours before the accident. With them, other passengers.
  2. Roberto Canessa, third year medical student, went alongside Parrado Dolgay to play their last card. After a strenuous walk, the two men conquered the finish line. Canessa’s lips, burned by the sun and the snow, are clear marks of the odyssey lived in the Andes.
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THE MESSAGE THE ARRIERO READ AND THE JOY OF COMING BACK TO LIFE
stumbled into two survivors of the Uruguayan plane and that their names were Parrado and Canessa. Then, yes. We started screaming, threw ourselves at each other, rolled in the snow like kids. After [that], we put on the best clothes (even if it sounds like a joke), washed ourselves with snow, comber our hair, brushed our teeth (we still had toothpaste and we always said it was our dessert) and we sat next to the plane, waiting for the rescue. The most beautiful memory of my life is the “tacatacataca” that the helicopter made, seemingly from behind the mountain. But sadly, it couldn’t make me forget Nogueira, Turcatti, Nicola, Echevarren, of all who had died by our side…”
ACCOUNT BY FERNANDO PARRADO
“Enrique Platero had a horrible wound in his abdomen. It opened with a metal sheet when the plane fell. His intestines hanged. We made surgery on him, stitched him with metal bits, dressed with strips of a shirt. The wound scarred. And, when he was strong, when he was starting to walk, he died burried in an avalanche on Octobef 29th. It’s a horrible story. And to think we have like a hundred of those…
I still don’t know how I survived. I was on the tail of the plane. Some minutes before the accident I was talking with Panchito Abal. I saw the seatbelt signal, but I didn’t bother and didn’t strap myself. When the plane crashed against the peak, the fuselage sucked me and the force threw me to the front. I fainted and was unconcious for two days. Later I learnt that in the first night I was outside, with the dead, because they had thought that I was also dead. I only had a shirt and jeans. All my warm clothes were in my suitcase and the others wore them. The lack of clothes was one of the big problems. We were very lightly dressed the first weeks — until we found the suitcases. We woke up with a layer of snow, stiffened. I was also saved in the avalanche of the 29th. It happened at 7 pm, but it was very dark, and many were asleep. The snow covered me completely. I held my breath all I could while I made an effort to get out. I felt like I was about to explode, but I didn’t want to let myself go. I finally let myself free. And it wasn’t the only avalanche. Another one completely covered the only air opening that we left in the plane and all of us almost suffocated. All of this made me find God again. But, of course, you don’t want me to talk about God. I am Parrado, who lost his mother and a sister in the tragedy. And yet I seem the most whole. I am the chief. Look, if I were in Montevideo and I was told that my mother and sister died in an accident, I think I would have gone crazy. That I would bang my head against the walls. But there in the mountains, in an extreme situation, everything is different. My mother died in the act. My sister later, in my arms. I tried saving her with mouth to mouth until the last moment. And what did I do? I buried them, prayed for them and kept going. Because my life was on the line too, you understand? Things feel different… nobody believes that a dude who saw the death of his mother, his sister, his best friend (it was Pancho Abal) could be here in the Sheraton with a glass of orange juice in his hand, like a first class tourist, and yet…
I don’t know either how I became the chief, the leader. I don’t understand. Maybe because I always wanted be exemplary, I never gave up, because every time someone falted I shouted “you are getting out of here, even if it is by crawling!”. Or because I buried the dead, even if those dead were a friend’s wife of my own sister. We went on many expeditions looking for help, but none with results. But one night I told Carlitos Páez “I’m not dying of hunger here in the plane. I‘d prefer to die in the mountain.“ And the next day I went out with Roberto (Canessa) with the idea of walking West until we found a way to salvation. We barely reached the peak of the mountain—
  1. This is the message that Fernando Parrado wrote in the paper that the arriero Sergio Catalán Martínez threw by the river.
  2. Five of the survivors hug. It’s the end of the drama. In the mountains the empty plane and the bodies of the 29 fallen remain.
  3. José Luis Inciarte Vasques is taken care of by a nurse. He had a serious infection in his leg and had lost 36 kilos [79 pounds] of weight.
submitted by No_Math6278 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]


2024.04.15 06:57 DarthTormentum First Glock [22] Advice on Lasers?

Hey Gents', so I finally pulled the trigger and got my first Glock. Bought from a private dealer so options were limited. With that being said, I ended up with the Glock 22 .40cal. I am very happy with my purchase. I like .40 caliber in general so it worked out for me. As one does when he gets a new toy, I started looking into mods. The first few things I bought were the magazine finger extensions, and the butt plug to close off the pistol grip chamber.
So my next venture is/was going to be a laser and new irons. I have yet to get irons yet (Suggestions welcome plz) but I did go super budget on a laser, and I'm starting to pay for it. I bought the Solo fish laser off Amazon. Laser came in one piece, all good on that end. My problem was I often switched between holsters depending on the day and what was going on. (I have two OWB holsters, one for laser on, one for laser off) I guess from switching it out so often I ended up fucking up the O-Ring in the first position setting that sat the end of the laser flush with my trigger guard. Aside from that problem, I found the Zero'ing of the laser to become a problem, as the small Allen screws wouldn't hold well. I thought of zero'ing to a distance I deemed sufficient, and adding super glue to keep them in place. But that didn't sit okay with me, as I figured, again, different days would require different distance zeroes.
So to make a long story short, would you gentlemen give me some recommendations on some lasers? Both mid and high budget tier. Also debating whether or not I should switch out my irons, as I've now put about 2,000 rounds through the weapon and feel I'm ready to install a red dot. So your opinion on that would also be greatly appreciated.
I'm not made of money, but I make enough to live comfortably and then drop a couple hundred on a lasered dot.
Thoughts, opinions, suggestions welcomed!
Thanks for your time guys.
submitted by DarthTormentum to GlockMod [link] [comments]


2024.04.09 00:42 cr4shn Hope its true. Vendors? I need to stock up.

Hope its true. Vendors? I need to stock up.
Got any good vendors?
submitted by cr4shn to WAGuns [link] [comments]


2024.04.08 16:46 ConfusionEmpty3542 Echoes of Destiny: Chapter 7.

Thanks a ton to whoever participated in the poll, and helped me answer questions about NoP! I’m having a ton of fun writing this story, and I look forward to writing even more chapters.
Credit to SpacePaladin15 for original idea, setting, and characters of NoP.
Thanks a ton to the beta readers!
u/Cooldude101013
u/Golde829
Big thanks to my editors!
u/ErinRF
First Chapter Next Chapter>
________________________________________
/startsys
+sys_starting+
+Progress: 1%+
+Progress: 5%+
+Progress: 38%+
+Progress: 52%+
+Progress: 79%+
+Progress: 99%+
+Progress: 100%+
+sys_message: Overlord Program Operational+
/sys_status
+Processing…+
+sys_message: All system nominal. Minor Data Corruption present in file 8. Repair efforts ongoing.+
/openfile (C:\Users\███████\Documents\Data_Recording_11.3.2163_2)
+Opening File…+
Hao awoke in his bedroom, opening his eyes to reveal Bassi curled up around him, his legs twisted between Hao’s. Bassi gripped Hao as he continued to slumber, like a stuffed animal. Hao saw the clock in the corner, showing the time. Slowly untangling himself from Bassi, Hao tucks him in the new blankets. He still wore his jumpsuit, but some of Bassi’s fluffy fur had clumped onto some parts of it, including the legs. Hao swept the fur off into a trashcan, before quietly shutting the door, the new hinges not even making a noise as the door lightly clicked, indicating that the door had fully shut. Hao walked over to the kitchen, still creeping to not wake up the still sleeping Bassi. Grabbing a cup and filling it with water, Hao walks over to the window at the end of the hall. The city is lit up, with thousands of people settling into their new homes. Shuttles still fly down, dropping more and more people into the city. He watches as some shuttles land on the taller buildings, instead of the shuttle ports. Pulling out his helmet, Hao activates the magnification unit, zooming in on the shuttle pad. Personnel in CSSF jumpsuits wheel pods with sedated people into a bay, before the shuttle takes off again. As Hao watches, someone speaks over the comms system.
“Corporal Hao, this is Command. Nasir, your building caretaker, is requesting your presence downstairs in the lobby.”
Surprised, Hao takes a moment to reply. His helmet blocks the noise from disturbing Bassi.
“Copy that, Command. Heading down now.”
“Please put on your full hardsuit, and grab your equipment. You are needed at Point Ford.”
“Copy that. Grabbing my equipment now, and then I’ll head on down. Anything that is immediately needed as of now?”
“There are several situations that other CSSF personnel are needed at, but other marines are currently responding to these. Finish your meeting, and notify me before moving out.”
“Confirmed.”
Hao puts on the exosuit, before attaching the remaining equipment to his suit. A service rifle, his personal Katana, and his service pistol. Additional magazines for the weapons, flashlights, and basic medical equipment are also present. Hao powers up his suit before still quietly moving into the bedroom, before grabbing a piece of paper, and writing a note to Bassi for when he wakes up. Then Hao opens the front door, and leaves, closing it behind him.
Walking down the hallway, Hao taps into the CSSF local battlenet, reports coming in. Various small incidents involving small fights, and other common occurrences in a city start coming in. Hao taps around his datapad, looking through the reports. The elevator dings, signaling its arrival. Hao steps into it, pressing the button to the first floor with the armored fingers of the exoskeleton. Still tapping on his datapad, the elevator slows and comes to a stop on the fifth floor, with a small Gojid standing there, at least in compared to Hao in his armor. The Gojid takes one look at the armored marine towering above him, and Hao steps to the side, still tapping around on his datapad. The Gojid takes a few small steps, still staring at Hao. Eventually, the elevator door closes, the Gojid murmuring the small mantra that his therapist taught him. Hao’s armor picks up the Gojid, and translates it for Hao. The mantra is cleanly laid out in the smooth light blue text of CSSF standard, Hao reading it and saving the text file for later. Eventually, the elevator doors open, and the Gojid squeaks before running down the hallway. Hao waits for a few moments before exiting the elevator, his armor not stomping as expected, but instead lightly thumping with every armored footstep. Hao turns off the datapad, before putting it into a pocket on his hip. As Hao turns the corner, Nasir, or rather another one of his extensions, turns the corner, and starts talking to Hao.
“Ah, Mr. Zhang, it is nice to see you again! How was your beauty sleep? I trust that the apartment is to your liking? Excellent. Now, would you please follow me?”
The android opens a door, before swiftly stepping inside and holding it open for the armored form of Hao. He ducks his head under the door frame, before closing the door behind him. The room is a small supply closet, with more interior hallways leading into a network of tight hallways that Nasir’s androids and drones can use to navigate the apartment building. Power lines and fiber cables snake through the ceiling’s hallway, and the low hum of machinery echos through the distant rooms. Hao stands and listens for a moment, before turning to the waiting android. Nasir begins to talk, opening a hologram for Hao.
“CSSF command has mandated this talk for any CSSF personnel currently living with a Venlil. There are similar talks for those living with Gojid, Krakotl and other species. You are currently still living with Bassi, the Venlil, for the foreseeable future?”
Hao answers, his armor’s speakers tuned down low as to not disturb the other tenants.
“Yes. He’s sleeping right now in our apartment.”
“Very good. You know the risks of sleeping with a previously unknown species?”
“Yes. I had a few talks with the ship’s doctor.”
“Excellent. Then you know the basics. The Venlil are a mammalian species, who are similar to that of humans. They stand at an average of four feet and have vestigial horns on their heads, and have bowed legs. I am sure you know all this, but I have been instructed to talk to you about a few topics not fit for public discussion.”
“I don’t think we need to go into that today. Do you have any reading material that I could read instead?”
“I suppose so. However, there are a few topics that must be discussed here. After you read the information, please come back of down for a follow-up talk. Now, the Venlil have a similar anatomy to a human’s, which may allow for the act of-”
Hao blushes under his armor, realizing what Nasir is about to talk about.
“I think that’s enough for now. Thank you for the information. Do you have the files?”
“Please hand me your personal datapad.”
Hao unclips the pouch containing his datapad, before handing it to Nasir. The android plugs a cord from his chest into a side port, before transferring the data.
“The files have been downloaded onto the storage. They have also been sent to your personal email. Thank you for your time.”
“Thanks a ton! See you later.”
Hao opens the door, before stepping out into the hallway. He continues to walk down the hallway until he opens the front door, and steps into the quiet street. Wind lightly blows through the street, and a few small groups led by CSSF marines continue to file into the apartments lining the blocks. Hao re-opens his comm link, and the reports stream in once again. Command notices his activity, and sends a comms message.
“Corporal Hao, you are needed at Point Ford immediately.”
“Command, this is Corporal Hao. Requesting transport.”
“Transport en route. We are also in the process of picking up a few other marines spread around your area. Keep a lookout.”
A few minutes later, an armored personnel transport rolls around the corner, before turning sharply, and coming to a halt in front of Hao. It is a standard CSSF APC, with three wheels on each side, an angled frontal hull, and a boxy back for passengers, all painted a dark gray. A turret with an autocannon, coaxial machine gun, and a heavy Browning .50 cal mounted on the top hatch. The vehicle’s commander opens their comms, and tells Hao to hop in. The rear hatch lowers down, Hao striding inside. A few other armored marines sit inside, strapped to their chairs. The hatch closes, and the vehicle takes off once more, stopping twice to pick up other marines. The commander then opens a vehicle-wide comm link, before speaking to the assembled marines on-board the transport.
“Proceeding to Point Ford. Sealing vehicle.”
Outside, the APC locks its hatches, before turning onto a service road, which leads to a beach in the distance. A sign beside a chain-link fence and door reads: “Authorized Personnel Only. All trespassers will be prosecuted.”
The gate automatically opens, before the APC closes, followed by the gate. Turrets perfectly hidden in the trees track the APC as it slows down, before slowly driving into the water. As the first pair of wheels slide into the water, they activate magnetic strips inside each wheel, locking the vehicle onto the hidden metal plate under the surface. The APC slowly drives underwater down a path lit by small lights, the front headlights piercing into the murky waters of the ocean. Small fish swim by, while larger ones cautiously follow, interested in this new arrival. The underwater road gently transformers into a descending slope, taking the APC deeper and deeper underwater. After nearly half of an hour of slowly crawling underwater, the comms system switches on, before the commander announces something.
“Now arriving at Point Ford. Keep your hands and legs in the vehicle, ladies, and gents. This might get a little bumpy.”
Hao pulls up an exterior camera view on his visor screen, revealing the deep dark blue of the surrounding sea. Fish swim by, with bioluminescent streaks present on their long silvery fins. In the deep distance, huge schools of fish swim, thousands of tiny fish banding together to survive the larger predators. Speaking of the predators, a few swim near the APC, interested in its movement, but cautious from previous experiences with the shield. A newer one tries to swim closer, only to bounce off an invisible shield. Another predator swims over to the shocked one, interested in it, looking for any sign of weakness. The APC rolls to a stop suddenly, Hao looking through the camera to the front. Two lines of exo-suited personnel stride through the water, lights flashing as they look towards the APC. Two lines of five marines each, with automated carts following them, as they march to an unknown destination. After they pass, the APC begins crawling forward, bubbles whipping by the camera as it balances out the bumps of the road. Red lights in the distance can be seen, growing closer and closer. Before long, a light flashes in the distance, the APC coming to a halt in front of a hazard-stripe covered roadblock. The buzzing of a radio can be heard through Hao’s helmet, coming from the APC’s crew section. A few drones descend from the darkness of the water, before turning on their floodlights, illuminating the APC as it is scanned for unknown personnel and materials. Apparently, the APC passes, as the roadblock grinds down into the road, and the drones turn off their lights, and fly back up into the water. The APC turns on a fork in the road, before stopping on a metal platform. It begins to descend into the earth, the muted elevator’s machinery echoing through the small APC. Small lights embedded in the walls of the elevator give it some light, and a hatch above Hao begins to close, sealing the elevator shaft in darkness as it slides down into Point Ford. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop, before it is illuminated in bright white light filtered through the murky water. The water begins to drain, eventually passing over the camera, leaving a blurred version of the camera feed before it is cleaned. As the last of the water is drained from the room, the APC backs up, before a loud clunking noise is heard. The APC’s commander speaks one last time over the comm link.
“Connection is clear. Have a good day.”
The rear hatch begins to lower itself, a bit of water draining onto the metal floor and into a waiting grate. The room outside is a simple security checkpoint at the far end, with metallic walls providing little to no cover for any potential attackers. Large and shielded turrets provide security, and a reinforced desk with firing ports and a computer screen illuminate the hallway. A singular shield door provides an exit out of the hallway. There is no doubt that it could instantly lock up into a solid barrier, preventing any entrance but a forced one. A marine steps out of the APC, before walking over to the desk. Hao follows them, as do the other marines. They scan their ID chip before walking through the shield. Hao steps up, moving his wrist up to the computer screen, allowing for a temporary short-ranged connection to Hao’s ID chip, which is embedded into his arm. A light flashes green in his helmet, and he walks though the shield.
Inside is a plaza, complete with greenery, and a huge reinforced glass canopy that provides a spectacular view of the ocean above. It is a lie, the view created by a combination of cameras on the surface, and displayed on huge holographic screens above. Small automated restaurants provide food to the personnel of the base, some of which are busy eating at the various tables and benches provided. A waiting security officer notices Hao, and strides over. Hao depolarizes and removes his helmet, clipping it to his belt. The marine, a young man in light security gear, looks his right in his eyes, before questioning him.
“You are Corporal Hao, correct?”
Hao replies, a little surprised, but nothing shows on his face.
“Yes, I’m Corporal Hao. Command sent me here, but I don’t know why.”
“Excellent! I’ve been sent to take you down to the detention center.”
“Well, please lead the way.”
“If you would just follow me?”
The security officer swiftly turns, before walking down one of the many side passages leading deeper into the base. Hao follows him, the armored boots softly thumping on the concrete floor of Point Ford. After a few minutes of walking down seemingly endless hallways and through more rooms, Hao pops a question.
“I don’t know much about Point Ford. I’m assuming it was built around the same time as the city?”
The security officer quickly replies, still leading Hao down the many hallways of Point Ford.
“Yes. City One was being built when an underwater crater with rather interesting defensive qualities was identified. Point Ford is built into the crater, with the majority of facilities being underground. Some sections are still under construction, but the essentials have been completed.”
“Fascinating. Mind telling me a bit more about it?”
“Point Ford is built around a standard battery of four anti-orbital railguns, modified to allow for firing under the ocean. The railguns are rather well shielded, so it is rather hard for any hostiles in orbit to find the firing positions. There are also standard ICBMs ready to launch at several silos across the facility. Anti-air, anti-sea, and anti-ground weaponry is positioned at different points around the base’s perimeter.”
“What’s the estimated time to completion?”
“An inquisitive one, aren’t you? Estimated time to completion is about three weeks to a full month, depending on what our dig crews encounter. Now, this is where I must leave you. This elevator will take you to the detention center. Good luck.”
In front of the pair is a small elevator, with only two buttons. The first for the current floor, and the second for the detention center, Hao’s destination.
“You too. Have a good rest of your day.”
Hao steps inside, waving goodbye to the undeclared security officer, but he is already walking away. Hao puts his hand down to his side, before the elevator doors close, sealing him in the elevator. As it begins its descent, Hao looks up more information on his visor screen, using small finger movements to look through the data.
A few minutes later, the elevator doors open, revealing the detention center’s entrance. This one has turrets protecting both the entrance and exits, and with only one place to go, security can easily prevent any would-be-escapes. Anyone that made it out to an airlock would find themselves trapped in suits, waiting for security to find them and return them to their cells. Security personnel stand at intervals down the front hall, and an armed receptionist takes one look at him before speaking.
“You’re Corporal Hao, correct?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Let me scan your ID chip.”
Hao holds his wrist out once again, and a few moments later, she gestures to behind her, where an officer escorted by two marines wearing the very same armor as Hao stand, holding standard CSSF service rifles.
A few arduous minutes later, filled with numerous security scans, questions, and plenty of awkward moments, Hao finally steps into the interrogation center. An officer softly tells him something, before slipping into a side room.
“Take care of any personal things before you go in. I’m sending you a doc with the latest info on your subject. See you on the other side.”
A small ping noise indicates the received information. Before Hao can read it, a comms line opens, with an operator speaking to him.
“Corporal Hao, do you know of someone named Bassi? They keep trying to reach you, but this is the first time in a while that you popped back online.”
The elevator must have blocked the signals.
“Put him through.”
Hao hears a light buzzing noise as the link connects back to their apartment, and the familiar voice of Bassi fills his ears.
“Hao? Are you there? Hello?”
“Hey Bassi! Did you see my note?”
“Hao! Where are you? I woke up and you had disappeared!”
Stress fills the little Venlil’s voice, with Hao’s eyebrows knitting at the sound of it.
“Hey, it’s all good! I’m just at a CSSF military base not too far from you. I just need to finish up a few things, and then I’ll be back home. Is everything ok?”
“I’m so worried about you. Please don’t leave me alone for too long.”
“Do you need someone to talk to? Nasir can come on up for you.”
“I don’t want that creepy android in our home. Please just come home as fast as you can.”
“I sure will. See you in a few?”
“I’m really worried about you. Please be careful.”
“I’ll see you later. We can go to bed a little early tonight.”
“I would love that. I’ll see you later.”
Hao hears the line cut, and makes a note of Bassi’s mental state, before scanning the document the officer sent. The subject of his interrogation is a young Arxur, who during the boarding action, surrendered peacefully to CSSF forces, and did not initiate hostilities, unlike his now deceased comrades. He was transported to Point Ford, and woke up just a bit ago. Blood tests revealed that this Arxur had lower concentrations of hormones compared to the other captured Arxur, which may indicated that this Arxur might be less aggressive, although the others have not been interrogated just yet.
Hao shuts the document down, before turning to face a large frosted glass window. As he approaches, the glass clears to reveal an Arxur looking around and sitting down in a chair in front of a table. The Arxur’s arms are locked down to the table, and his legs are strapped into the concrete floor, preventing him from both escaping and attacking. Across from him is an empty chair, clearly meant for Hao. He walks over, before opening the door, and steps inside.
+File Playback Ends+
AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the shabby cliffhanger there! I completely forgot to post last week’s chapter, so my apologies are in order. The upcoming chapters should make it up, though! Enjoy the Eclipse if you can see it, and I’ll see you next Monday, on the 15th.
First Chapter Next Chapter>
submitted by ConfusionEmpty3542 to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]


2024.04.05 05:20 khaliltegee Inland Empire: Each city has its powerhouse Sur hood; example for Chino its Chino Sinners, for Riverside its ES Riva & Casa Blanca. Here's diff cities with the heavyweight Sur hoods in the IE, Part 1.

Inland Empire: Each city has its powerhouse Sur hood; example for Chino its Chino Sinners, for Riverside its ES Riva & Casa Blanca. Here's diff cities with the heavyweight Sur hoods in the IE, Part 1.
  1. Casa Blanca, Riverside. CB is one of then hoods where they still have that old school stilo, small with generational family ties.
  2. Cucamonga Kings, this is not only the oldest hood in Rancho Cucamonga but overall one of the oldest barrios(Mexican neighborhoods) in the IE.
  3. Corona Varrio Locos, they beef with a lot or some Orange County hoods due to them not being that far from OC. But still a old & powerhouse hood in Crown Town !
  4. Chino Sinners, this hood has a lot of history & a lot of their OGs were in Nuestra Familia to.
  5. South Side Fontana, deepest & oldest hood in Fontana.
  6. East Side Riva
  7. Onterio Varrio Sur, originally known as "Black Angels" which became the highest rank in their hood. OVS has a lot of history with Mexican Mafia.
  8. West Side Verdugo, San Bernardino. Deepest, oldest & most known hood in all of SB!
  9. South Side Colton
submitted by khaliltegee to CaliConnection [link] [comments]


2024.03.29 12:47 lgtwgs Compras não realizadas por mim, mas feitas na minha conta

(Ia colocar o print aqui mas não consegui postar com ela)
Gente, alguém sabe dizer se isso é algum tipo de golpe? Recentemente recebi uma mensagem da MagazineLuiza avisando de uma compra na conta da minha mãe (uma conta bem antiga), fui perguntar e ela disse que não havia comprado nada.
Achei que poderia ser engano, alguma conta do wpp fake, mas entrei no site oficial e o pedido tava lá, e o endereço estava pra nossa casa. O mais esquisito é que usaram um cartão que tava salvo lá há anos de um primo meu, mas que havia sido perdido há muitooo tempo também, acredito que já estaria bloqueado a essa altura.
Foi marcado como recebido mas ninguém chamou nem nada. Entramos em contato para ver se conseguimos pegar a assinatura mas ainda sem resposta.
Enfim, tudo muito esquisito. Aí hoje meu pai disse que recebeu um email de uma compra na Mary Kay (que ele nem sequer tinha conta) pra entregar em Roraima (somos do Rio). Alguém sabe dizer o que pode ser isso e se pode dar algum problema? Imagino que seja vazamento de dados, mas acontecer com duas pessoas da minha família em menos de 2 semanas me deixou alerta kkkkkkkkk
submitted by lgtwgs to golpe [link] [comments]


2024.03.27 07:08 obblonge Fast Fashion

Pick up the receiver
I'll make you a believer
- Depeche Mode
Personal Jesus
Violator album
Adjusting his tie, the sweat had begun to pool in all the customary places. It was after lunch, and the spicy meatball marinara had been a dangerous choice, but a rewarding one, throwing the gears of commerce into overdrive. Quota had been met earlier in the week, and it was all downhill for this account. Higher commission bonuses were assured. Unlike most in the cubicles, he preferred still his old telephone, with its nostalgic RF rejecting coiled cord as opposed to the headsets. A solid connection felt in the hand to establish solid connections with prospective clientele.
Short, atonal digital melody and....
" Good afternoon, Mr. Eisen?"
" Yes. " The voice responding had authority and smoke behind it. A gent in a library, or who at least maintained one in his place of residence, pictured itself on the blank 8 1/2" x 11" sheet pinned to the fabric on the wall directly opposing his desk. A visualization technique adapted from his first correspondence business course from Phoenix.
" Pleasure speaking with you today, Mr. Eisen. This is Chuck Rast, calling on behalf of East Telemarketers. "
No interruption or audible exhale. Excellent.
" Our client, Haven Literary Circle, has an offer of truly startling beauty and value that will only be available for a limited time. A matched, high-quality, robustly illustrated set of companion hardcover research texts detailing the authentication processes of the most widely available and trusted documents concerning the Dead Sea Scrolls, and other writings in ancient Hebrew shaping Judeo-Christian commentary today. "
He had practiced getting that sentence out in one breath, but not in a noticeable hurry, for hours. This attention to detail was why he was the top seller time and again, no doubt.
A creaking sound in the speaker held up to his ear. A wooden cabinet door badly in need of oil for its hinge? The voice following it, closer and louder, accompanied by static not present before.
" Mmmm. Candy for the cranium. Something to suck the gelatin out of. What do the covers look like, Charles? They're not those garish LifeTime types with magazine photography pasted to the glossy headings, are they? "
A metallic crunching. Mortar and pestle made of hollow aluminum mashing coconut scout cookies. No one had called him Charles since his mother died. He had pronounced it the same, in two separated syllables.
" Oh, no. I know what you mean - pop culture summaries like those belong next to the registers with the tabloids. Leather bound. Gold foil embossed. Stitched in ribbon place markers, a royal maroon color. Each one over six hundred pages. Available as a set of seven or individually. "
More static, imitating that of a roaring fire. Low pitched growling. Large dog warning the postmaster yet again?
" Ssss-plendid. My mind was lighting upon Megiddo and Gnosis as you rang. A charming tinder box that was. The rock waterside and below makes a satisfying crack when heated with apolmb and gussss-tow. "
Yes! Most of these sales were for the trial subscription. In fact, no one had sold a whole set cold calling yet. The miniature paper movie screen became a mirror with Chuck's glistening visage glowering.
Forget being a big fish, is there anyone else even working for East!?
The unmistakable sound of a child, a small boy, in his ear now. Probably the good man's son, getting the overprotective hound away from the front door screen before it bursts through. Must be a big thing, the way he's struggling....
" Very well, then. A credit to your foundation, Char-ulles. The R'amesians at Karnak would've feasted in your honor. One moment and I'll fetch my damned card...."
submitted by obblonge to FictionWriting [link] [comments]


2024.03.26 02:20 zilvia891 m&p compact

m&p compact
Thanks to a gent on Gunbroker for one of these rare compact slides without the magazine lettering on the slide.
submitted by zilvia891 to SmithAndWesson [link] [comments]


2024.03.25 18:16 Electronic-Hat2836 Nando, Carlitos and Pancho return home. Photos from "Gente" magazine.

submitted by Electronic-Hat2836 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]


2024.03.25 18:16 Electronic-Hat2836 Nando, Carlitos and Pancho return home. Photos from "Gente" magazine.

Nando, Carlitos and Pancho return home. Photos from submitted by Electronic-Hat2836 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]


2024.03.23 23:02 ProphetJodio Well... It's Jodiover

Well... It's Jodiover
I underestimated your intelligence, it should be an obvious joke
submitted by ProphetJodio to ShuumatsuNoValkyrie [link] [comments]


2024.03.23 05:30 Helsthef1994 Don Sergio proudly poses with his press clippings and the medal of honor given to him by the Uruguayan embassy in 1973. As always, the good friends of @re.viven rescuing jewels from the lost media. Gente Magazine 1975.

Don Sergio proudly poses with his press clippings and the medal of honor given to him by the Uruguayan embassy in 1973. As always, the good friends of @re.viven rescuing jewels from the lost media. Gente Magazine 1975. submitted by Helsthef1994 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]


2024.03.16 17:10 MagdaDzo 1973: after the rescue (description bellow)

1973: after the rescue (description bellow)
1st photo: On January 18, 1973, some bodies and human remains of the 29 victims of the FAU Fairchild 751 accident were buried (on the side of the Las Lágrimas glacier). The fuselage was subsequently set on fire (not entirely due to strong wind) before leaving the scene. View towards the west.
2nd photo: Father Iván Caviedes Medina volunteered to bury the victims. View towards the east.
3rd photo: Remains of the right side of the fuselage before beining burned. You can see the cut made by the propeller of the right engine during the impact. View towards the west.
4th and 5th photo: In April 1973, Argentine journalist Alfredo Serra from Gente magazine visited the glacier to record the traces of the tragedy. In the last image we can see the Sosneado volcano in the back (right).
Source: Facebook group "Trekking y andinismo Chile"
submitted by MagdaDzo to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]


2024.03.15 17:38 dieg0s Se você nasceu na classe média ou baixa, sua melhor chance de se tornar bilionário é ganhar na Mega da Virada 4 vezes

“Todos temos as mesmas 24 horas”, dizem os liberais naqueles cortes com trilha sonora esperançosa do TikTok.

O trabalhador e o bilionário. Com o “mesmo tempo” disponível. Porque “resultados” tão diferentes?

Questão pertinente, não é mesmo?

Sem entrar no mérito de que RESULTADO não deveria ser sinônimo de “sucesso financeiro”, ou melhor, acúmulo exacerbado de capital, vamos analisar algumas informações problemáticas que rondam esse raciocínio.

Muita gente, muito mais do que deveria, tem pouca noção da diferença entre 1 milhão e 1 bilhão.

E as vezes não adianta falar exaltadamente: “Cara! É 1000x mais!”.

Afinal esse cara também não vai ter a real dimensão do que é 1 milhão vezes mil.

E se dissermos que 1 milhão de segundos representa cerca de 12 dias, e 1 bilhão de segundos representa 32 anos. Exemplo batido, né? Se funcionasse, as pessoas já estariam conscientes.

Talvez tentar dizer que 1 milhão de dólares em notas de $100 cabem em uma caixa de sapato, e que para 1 bilhão de dólares seriam necessários 8 paletes em notas de $100 empilhadas com mais ou menos 1,5m de altura em cada um deles?

A verdade é que a real dimensão é imensa, mas talvez o centro da questão não seja esse.

A questão é que o mundo tem pessoas bilionárias, ou seja, com essa quantidade assombrosa de dinheiro/patrimônio. São 2.668 delas especificamente. Pelo menos as que são de conhecimento público.

Será que você pode ser o 2.669º???

Porque não? Você é esforçado, inteligente, trabalhador, criativo, não tem “mimimi”, não dá desculpas, acorda cedo, toma banho frio, segue a rotina dos CEOs, não tem o mindset da escassez e já leu “Pai rico, pai pobre”.

Certamente atingir o bilhão é questão de tempo. Ou será que não?

Ao colocar, no título desse artigo, que a forma mais fácil de chegar ao bilhão sendo da classe baixa ou média é ganhando 4x na Mega da Virada, é porque matematicamente a gente pode quantificar essa dificuldade.

Infelizmente essa conta é um pouco mais difícil do que esclarecer a diferença de milhão pra bilhão.

Mas me acompanhe nesse raciocínio que você vai entender mesmo se não gostar de matemática.

Para ganhar na Mega-Sena, isso inclui a Mega da Virada, você precisa acertar os 6 números que forem sorteados, dentre 60 possíveis de serem escolhidos.

Ou seja, você precisa acertar TODOS. Se errar apenas um, você até ganha, mas tá longe de ser aquela dinheirama toda que te atraiu a “fazer a fezinha”.

A questão é que sua chance de marcar 6 números no cartão e acertar todos os 6 é de 1 em 50.063.860 (50 milhões, sessenta e três mil, oitocentos e sessenta).

Percentualmente isso significa apenas 0.000002% de chance.

Você até pode apostar mais números e melhorar suas chances.

Para ter o direito de escolher 10 ao invés de 6, por exemplo, você passa a ter 1 chance em 238.399, e isso te leva a ter 0.00042% de chance de ganhar.

Mas para isso, você precisa desembolsar R$ 1.050 em vez de R$ 5 na hora de apostar.

“Nossa, mas essas chances são baixíssimas! Como então essa a forma “mais fácil” de se tornar bilionário?”

Aí que tá, meu amigo!

Se ganhar 1 única vez é tão difícil, pra não dizer praticamente impossível, imagine ganhar 4x?

Matematicamente essa chance é ZERO.

Não é a toa que um professor estatístico americano, certa vez disse:
“É mais fácil você ser atingido por um raio ENQUANTO é atacado por um tubarão do que ganhar na loteria.”

Agora que contextualizamos o quão impossível é ganhar na Mega-Sena, que dirá na da virada (e quatro vezes!), vamos entender porque é ainda mais impossível se tornar bilionário trabalhando, ou de alguma outra forma lícita.

Afinal os bilionários existem, não é? Então deve ter um jeito.

No empreendedorismo há um conceito chamado de Oceano Azul, que significa a descoberta de um mercado, nicho ou necessidade latente da sociedade ainda não explorada comercialmente.

Encontrar um “oceano azul” é como ganhar na loteria, dentro do nicho de empreendedorismo.

Mas tem uma diferença: não basta descobriidentificar essa oportunidade, mas também explorá-la no tempo apropriado com a capacidade e os recursos necessários para conquistar todas (ou grande parte das) águas desse oceano.

Mercados já explorados, dominados e/ou em decadência, são chamados de “Oceano Vermelho”.

Por exemplo: é mais fácil você criar uma rede varejista nova e concorrer com Magazine Luiza, Havan e Grupo Carrefour ou se dar bem criando uma nova ferramenta de inteligência artificial que ensina as pessoas a aprenderem algo novo na metade do tempo?

A primeira ideia está num oceano vermelho, a segunda, num oceano azul.

Alguns “oceanos azuis” são óbvios e as grandes empresas já se preparam para dominá-los no futuro, as vezes décadas à frente, como o turismo espacial.

Mas como esse artigo é para as classes C, D e E, essa é uma ideia de negócio um tanto quanto inacessível.

Vamos voltar para a nossa realidade aqui, parceiro de perrengue.

O que eu e você, gente que sabe o que é pegar fila no trampo pra esquentar marmita, que já pegou ônibus nessa vida, que já espremeu pasta de dente até o talo para render mais ou até que já foi dormir mais cedo porque não tinha janta e tava morrendo de fome, pode fazer para dar um salto considerável na realidade econômica da sua vida e na da sua família?

Bom, o primeiro passo é esquecer essa ideia de bilhão.

E vou te explicar exatamente o porquê:

MESMO QUE você empreenda, crie um negócio bem estruturado, tenha energia, capacidade e conhecimento para conduzi-lo ao crescimento sólido e esteja atuando em um oceano azul, você dificilmente terá uma margem de lucro superior a 40 ou 50%.

A média de lucro dos negócios considerados muito bons é de 30 a 40%.

Tem muito negócio pequeno com margens de 10, 12%…

Num oceano azul, que já é raro, e por um período de tempo que você consiga “nadar de braçada”, ou seja, antes de um concorrente aparecer disputando seu espaço, TALVEZ você consiga uma lucratividade média de 50 a 60%.

Essa lucratividade incrível de 60%, considerando um caso extraordinário, significa que a cada 10 reais que você coloca na operação, consegue gerar um negócio que te rende 16 reais de volta. Você paga seus R$ 10 iniciais e lucra R$ 6.

Você pode fazer isso repetidas vezes, mas lembre-se que existem dois limitadores:
  1. O limite da demanda;
  2. A sua capacidade de operação.

Cuidado com a falácia da demanda infinita. No videozinhos emocionante do TikTok é fácil dizer que se alguém vender 160 bolos de pote por dia você já pode tirar R$ 10.000 por mês.

O cômico conceito da demanda infinita que o coach da web tanto adora.

Foda que ninguém se grava fazendo isso na prática, né?

Pois bem, já que chegar no bilhão parece tão distante, vamos colocar as melhores condições possíveis no nosso exemplo, assim a gente tenta ir no limite de cada um dos fatores dessa jornada, e tenta exemplificar o que seria um cenário ideal.

Nessas condições maravilhosas, onde ($) podemos chegar?

Suponhamos, então, que você começou cedo, aos 20 anos de idade.

Sem filhos, com energia, com vontade e ainda por cima descobriu um “Oceano Azul”.

Você criou o negócio, você estudou e não cometeu tantos erros, você tinha o apoio financeiro dos seus pais para não se preocupar com aluguel, você optou em não namorar e nem ficar saindo com os amigos todo fim de semana, você teve como dedicar todo seu tempo ao seu negócio e fez um excelente trabalho.

Então provavelmente você construiu uma operação e pode ter chegado à lucratividade de 50 a 60%.

Quando tempo dá pra ficar assim?

Oceanos azuis não demoram a ser identificados por outras pessoas, outros empreendedores e, principalmente, por grandes corporações.

No nosso exemplo, criando uma inteligência artificial inovadora, você provavelmente seria comprado por uma grande empresa do setor que certamente não esperaria seu negócio valer bilhões para te comprar.

Então chega seu grande impasse: vendo meu negócio que tem potencial de valer 50 milhões por 1 milhão agora ou espero essa big tech super poderosa construir um clone em 1 mês, e depois roubar meus clientes com uma verba de marketing que eu jamais terei como competir em cerca de 6 meses?

1 milhão é uma grana que você nunca viu, e resolve bastante sua vida, né?

Mas agora sabemos o quão longe você estaria do bilhão. 12 dias versus 32 anos, lembra?

Melhor vender né? Eu não quero ser o novo Snapchat, que recusou uma oferta estrondosa do Facebook em 2013 e viu os Stories do Instagram, um clone do seu negócio, tomar todo seu público em menos de 1 ano.

Isso se chama poder econômico.

Os donos do grande capital (os verdadeiros bilionários) determinam o que VOCÊ vai fazer.

Mas isso só se você for incrivelmente capaz de chamar a atenção deles e incomodá-los por 1 segundo.

Se você não for, como 99,9% da população, você estará trabalhando muito para pagar os boletos no fim do mês e reiniciar o ciclo, sem muito tempo para pensar sobre do que a vida é feita, do jeitinho que eles querem.

Ouse fazer uma pequena cócega no dedo mindinho do pé de um deles, que ele logo mata esse pernilongo chato com uma “cartão de creditozada” na sua cabeça. E pode voltar a focar em continuar fazendo seus novos bilhões, dessa vez sem alguém da sua laia enchendo o saco dele.

Você fica ferido, tonto… mas feliz e grato. Agora você tem 1 milhão de dinheiros para explorar esse mundão e atrair as gatinhas e uma história de superação para contar e inspirar outros a abraçarem o sonho empreendedor.

E obviamente você nunca vai falar mal desse grande empresário que te enriqueceu, afinal “ele mudou a realidade da sua vida e da vida da sua família”.

Quanta bondade pode caber em um só homem? :’)

Ok. Talvez me perdi um pouco na narrativa. Estamos falando com a classe média e com os pobres aqui, não é?

Por que usei o exemplo de um pseudo-playboy que teve acesso aos estudos, a tranquilidade de trabalhar em paz, bancado pelos pais e com saúde mental o bastante para poder chegar a sonhar em subir na pirâmide de Maslow, ao invés de estar ocupado demais pensando em sobreviver, ter o que comer e não tomar um tiro no próprio bairro?

Certamente tem várias exemplos assim na classe média, mas a maioria precisa trabalhar desde cedo, ajudar em casa, isso quando tem a sorte de não ser interrompido por ação policial na vizinhança.

Pois é, meu exemplo não engloba o pobre, e também não é a realidade da classe média baixa.

Bom, talvez seja porque a realidade de uma pessoa comum, como eu e você, seja muito mais dura que isso.
AINDA QUE, uma pessoa nessa situação, tão comum na vida do público-alvo desse artigo, consiga se dedicar ao empreendedorismo, ela terá no máximo um pequeno negócio, num nicho que coincida minimamente:
- Potencial de receita (dinheiro suficiente para o negócio parar em pé);
- e segurança de poder se dedicar à esse negócio por um longo período de tempo sem uma grande rede chegar e te obrigar a fechar as portas.

É, isso acontece. Tão aí Oxxo “exterminadora de mercadinhos de bairro” e SmartFit “filho menor da gigante Bodytech e assassina de academias de bairro” para não me deixarem mentir.

Olha a mão do mercado agindo aí. Ou podemos dizer, a mão de um bilionário?

Sendo uma microempresa, o faturamento é de até R$ 360 mil por ano, o que dá R$ 30 mil por mês, se a margem for de 20% chegamos ao salário do empreendedor: magníficos R$ 6.000.

Se essa pessoa conseguir viver com apenas R$ 3.000 e guardar o resto, em 30 anos de economias, muito bem investidos, ela chegaria a um patrimônio de aproximadamente R$ 7 milhões.

Para o bilhão precisaria de 142x mais.

Dito isso, devemos lembrar que as “mesmas” 24 horas são muito diferentes para trabalhadores e para bilionários.

Pois as 24 horas do trabalhador são assim:
- No trabalho por 9 horas (quando seu patrão respeita as leis trabalhistas), se for uber ou entregador de comida, são 12h, 14h…. Ou o tempo suficiente para o trabalhador atingir o que ele entende como dignidade mínima;
- De 3 a 4h horas no trajeto (afinal as empresas costumam estar longe da periferia);
- De 2 a 3h em casa, para fazer tudo que é necessário: comer, tomar banho, cozinhar, comer, cuidar dos filhos, ajudar no dever de casa, arrumar a casa, matar a barata que tá na sua cozinha, chorar… (é nesse tempo que “eles” esperam que você estude, se qualifique, saia da “corrida dos ratos”, empreenda, ~PARE DE ARRUMAR DESCULPAS~);
- Sobra de 6 a 7h para dormir, se é que você consegue pegar no sono rápido. Para já já o despertador tocar e você reiniciar o ciclo de enriquecer um bilionário.

E ainda tem a jornada 6x1, hein?

E as 24 horas do bilionário são assim:
- Ele está no lugar em que ele quer estar, seja na sua mansão com vista para o mar, no país que, dentre as dezenas que ele já “teve a oportunidade” de visitar, ele considerou o mais atraente, com as pessoas que ele escolheu estar e também os seus serviçais, garantindo que tudo saia da forma que “o patrão gosta”;
- Ele trabalha? Sim, de onde ele quiser, muitas vezes só respondendo e orientando pelo WhatsApp ou Slack. Dando o direcionamento que a companhia precisa. Que também pode ser traduzido para “garantindo que a grana siga entrando enquanto ele dorme”;
- Sua holding de negócios possuem cerca de 3.000 trabalhadores. Proletários, sabe? Com você e eu. Todos somados representam um CUSTO, DESPESA de cerca de 8 milhões de reais por mês. Abrangendo gente “qualificada” que ganha aí um ótimo salário de R$ 10.000, e gente “braçal”, “pegador de inchada”, de “baixo intelecto”, que ele não faz questão de saber o nome e tira o salário mínimo de R$ 1.500;
- Essa indesejável DESPESA de absurdos 8 milhões de reais (onde é que isso vai parar?) representa 0.16% de sua fortuna. Isso significa que NA PRÁTICA, não faz NENHUMA DIFERENÇA no estilo de vida dele. Mas são esses 3.000 trabalhadores que estão fazendo suas holdings lucrarem enquanto ele dorme, se masturba, trai a esposa, relaxa na hidromassagem, humilha um garçom…
- Ele sabe muito bem, que mesmo que ele gaste esses mesmos 8 milhões por ano somente para si, com luxos extravagantes, só de sacanagem, ainda assim ele levaria uns 620 anos para ficar sem dinheiro, e somente se suas empresas parassem de operar totalmente de uma hora para outra.

Talvez, mas só TALVEZ, seja mais honesto dizer que a quantidade de horas pode ser a mesma, mas o uso dessas horas é cabalmente diferente.

E cá entre nós. Um segredo que ninguém conta (porque os bilionários não deixam): Eles não construíram a fortuna deles.

Ela vêm de influência familiar, bens (muitos deles roubados à custo de sangue de minorias, ou roubados “legalmente” através de uma lei criada via lobby), escravidão, acordos imorais, irmandade entre religiosos, genocídios, exploração precária de mão de obra, não cumprimento de obrigações legais, não pagamento de direitos trabalhistas, sonegação… são tantos meios. E alguns nem ferem a lei.

Uma família que hoje é bilionária começou esse trabalho há 100, 200, 300 anos.

E eles não vão deixar você tirar essa “conquista” deles. Jamais.

Quando pegamos o caso isolado do fenômeno do futebol que nasceu na periferia de Mogi das Cruzes e chegou ao topo do mundo, recém-tornado bilionário e mais de 300 milhões de seguidores nas redes sociais, somente para fazer parecer que é possível, lembre-se que ele reuniu características raras que possibilitou que ele fosse escolhido a dedo, para ao longo de 15 anos, ascender economicamente, enquanto usava seu alcance e influência para enriquecer bilionários consolidados, donos de marcas, clubes, holdings e bancos.

O jogador é uma vitrine, um potencial de fazer MUITA GENTE gastar um pouco de dinheiro cada, gerando muitos bilhões aos já bilionários. Enquanto a vitrine ganha uma comissão.

Em marketing, ele está na etapa de "atração" de um funil de vendas.

Para termos uma vitrine como essa na sociedade, que se torna o bode expiatório do discurso, milhares de jovens craques sonhadores ficaram pelo caminho.

Se esse artigo te deixou raivoso ou triste, magoado ou revoltado, saiba que você terá dificuldade de identificar os personagens dessa realidade.

Eles não aparecem, porque não precisam. Eles contratam CEOs para fazerem seus negócios crescerem e que vão dão as caras em entrevistas para um veículo de mídia que também pertence à holding dele. Eles compram políticos através de CNPJs. Eles determinam em quem você, vai poder "democraticamente" votar, PARA TE REPRESENTAR (de novo: para TE representar), dentre as opções que eles já selecionaram previamente. Eles não precisam dar as caras, apenas dar as cartas.

E ele vai tentar fazer você achar que o problema da sociedade é o Estado e os políticos. Que claro, estão longe de serem santos, e mais longe ainda de serem a solução. Mas acima deles há uma camada ainda mais poderosa e influente.

São os lobbystas. É gente branca de sobrenome. É bisneto, neto, filho de alguém “importante”. É sanguessuga no topo da cadeia socioeconômica.

E não cometa o erro de achar que são pessoas sem consciência de classe. É pior ainda. É gente com consciência de classe e que, mais do que escolhe, trabalha ativamente para manter tudo desse mesmo jeitinho.

Boa sexta!
submitted by dieg0s to brasil [link] [comments]


2024.03.02 02:41 Gurisalho Leiam isso caso pensem em comprar um kindle.

Começo dizendo que possuo um kindle de segunda mão e adoro ele. Porém tenho alguns problemas com ele: 1 - Não mostra cor, tudo é preto e branco; 2 - Bem lento; 3 - Você só lê nele, pelo preço, um novo não vale NADA a pena.
Venho dizer que, o kindle mais barato da Amazon est´á quase quinhentos reais. Sabe o que mais está na mesma linha de preço (mais barato até)? Tablets baratos da Multilaser, 4gb ram e android 13, você pode comprar um desses tablets bem baratos e baixar o app kindle na playstore. Você vai ter uma experiência até melhor que o Kindle e vai conseguir fazer mais coisas (como escrever ou transformar o tablet numa segunda tela para seu computador quando precisar, ou até mesmo desenhar). Me dói dizer isso mas o Kindle não está valendo a pena no momento. Recomendo ou comprar de segunda mão ou comprar um destes tablets baratos da magazine luiza.
Edit: Não entendo porque os comentários estão cheios de gente me xingando. Tudo que falei é verdade. O kindle é um aperelho muito bom mas pelo preço não vale a pena. Quinhentos reais por um novo é muito caro e pronto! Eu expliquei acima que eu tenho um e amo o meu Kindle, mas só comprei ele em segunda mão, justamente porque um novo é muito caro. Se pensem no lugar de alguém que não tem muito dinheiro e querem uma plataforma similar ao Kindle e não querem arriscar comprar algo de segunda mão, o Tablet é a melhor opção. Várias vezes eu recomendei que novos leitores comprassem kindle de segunda mão neste fórum, minha opinião sobre a plataforma continua a mesma: é muito boa mas o preço é muito salgado. Normalmente eu tento ser compreensivo lidando com opiniões alheias, mas lendo os comentários percebo que quase ninguém que me respondeu tem a habilidade cognitiva de interpretar texto. Estranho que esse pessoal está numa página para leitores.
submitted by Gurisalho to Livros [link] [comments]


2024.02.29 01:17 Helsthef1994 Agustin dellacorte in the patio of Antonio Vizintin's house for a production of Gente de Uruguay Magazine.

Agustin dellacorte in the patio of Antonio Vizintin's house for a production of Gente de Uruguay Magazine. submitted by Helsthef1994 to SocietyOfTheSnow [link] [comments]


2024.02.21 05:28 SVNDEVISTVN New Exquisite PSP Article By GTM?!

New Exquisite PSP Article By GTM?!
"PlayStation Portable" Games Tribune Magazine Article By: Julián Plaza Photography By: Fernando Sánchez Monthly Issue: Enero 24 (January 2024)
Hi gents! I found this great article about the Sony PSP while catching up with my latest GTM magazines. Figured I'd share it with you awesome people. It's an absolutely fantastic read with superb photography. If you can't read Spanish but want to read, save the post to your photos app and then select the text in the photos that you wish to translate. Otherwise, just enjoy these epic photos of the Silver PSP 2000. Lol
submitted by SVNDEVISTVN to PSP [link] [comments]


2024.02.20 21:50 odajoana Everything you need to know about Festival da Canção 2024

Here you can find everything about the 2024 edition of Festival da Canção, the selection show for the Portuguese entry at the Eurovision Song Contest.

Broadcaster

Official website Official YouTube Official Instagram Official Facebook Official TikTok Twitter fan account, but officially acknowleged

Dates

Show Date Starting Time Expected running time
Semi-final 1 Saturday, 24 February 2023 22h00 CET 3h00min (includes ad breaks)
Semi-final 2 Saturday, 2 March 2023 No info yet No info yet
Final Saturday, 9 March 2023 No info yet No info yet
Regarding the starting time, expect a delay of a maximum of 15 minutes (the news segment might run late or RTP might milk the advertising slot).
All the shows will take place at RTP 's garage Studio 1, in Lisbon. Here's how the stage looks like.

Where to watch

RTP doesn't usually geoblock the show, but as of now, there's no official confirmation on this.
RTP also does not stream live through YouTube or other platforms, other than their official website. No registration is needed to watch the stream.

Format

The selection process will be comprised of 2 semi-finals and a Grand Final. Each semi-final will have 10 acts, while the final show will be comprised of 12 acts.
14 out of the 20 participating acts were directly invited by RTP. However, as per the format since 2017, RTP invites the song writers, not the performers. It is up to the writers to either invite more people to co-write or perform their songs or do it all by themselves and they have full liberty to do whatever kind of song they want, as long as it complies with Eurovision rules.
The 6 remaining acts were chosen through an open submission format. Anyone, either with Portuguese nationality or residing in Portugal could send a song to RTP, regardless of having previous established work or not. These 6 songs were picked by RTP out of a pool of 809 songs received. This year, they are "You Can't Hide", "Quarto para um", "Volto a ti", "Água", "Criatura" and "Pontos finais".
There will be 6 finalists from each semi-final. The first 5 finalists of each semi-final will be chosen through a 50/50 combined score of jury and televote. After those five finalists are chosen, there will be a second voting window to choose a 6th finalist out of the 5 remaining entries, and this one will be decided by televote alone.
Final scores are calculated by converting to a 1-12 scale of points, meaning that – just like Eurovision – it doesn’t matter if there’s an overwhelming vote for one of the acts; all that matters is who is the most voted (12 points), who’s the second most voted (10 points), third most voted (8 points) and so on (7 to 1 points).
In the semi-finals, when deciding the first 5 finalists, in case of a tie in the 5th place, jury will be the tie-breaker.
In the final, in case of a tie, the televote is the tie breaker.

Jury

Usually the jury for the semi-finals are comprised of 7 people, however, there is no information regarding who are the jurors for this edition as of yet.
EDIT:
The jurors are now known, they are:
The jurors for the final are not yet known. It's usually a group of 21 jurors, 3 per the 7 different regions of Portugal (Norte, Centro, Lisboa e Vale do Tejo, Alentejo, Algarve, Madeira and Açores).

Competing acts

Semi-final 1: Saturday, 24 February 2023

Hosts:
Although it's not sure who exactly will be the hosts, it has been implied there will be several people taking turns, due to the celebration of the 60th anniversary of Festival da Canção (more details below).
Running Order:
(Links direct to the studio versions)
# Artist Song Invited Songwriter / Open Submission Choice Full credits
01 Nena "Teorias da Conspiração" Nena Nena Marques
02 Perpétua "Bem Longe Daqui" Perpétua Beatriz Capote, Diogo Rocha, Ruben Teixeira, Xavier Sousa
03 Mela "Água" Mela Mariana Gonçalves
04 Mila Dores "Afia a Língua" Mila Dores Filipe Sambado, Mila Dores
05 Left. "Volto a Ti" Left. António Maciel Graça
06 Rita Rocha "Pontos Finais" Rita Rocha Rita Rocha
07 Noble "Memory" Noble Pedro Fidalgo, Rui Saraiva
08 João Borsch "...Pelas Costuras" João Borsch João Borsch
09 Iolanda "Grito" Iolanda Alberto Hernández, Iolanda Costa
10 Bispo "Casa Portuguesa" Bispo Pedro Bispo

Semi-final 2: Saturday, 2 March 2023

Hosts:
Although it's not sure who exactly will be the hosts, it has been implied there will be several people taking turns, due to the celebration of the 60th anniversary of Festival da Canção (more details below).
Running Order:
(Links direct to the studio versions)
# Artist Song Invited Songwriter / Open Submission Choice Full credits
01 Buba Espinho "O Farol" Buba Espinho Bernardo Espinho
02 Cristina Clara "Primavera" Cristina Clara Cristina Clara, Jon Luz
03 Leo Middea "Doce Mistério" Leo Middea Leo Middea
04 Filipa "You Can't Hide" Filipa Filipa Carmo da Silva, Marie Jenkins, Rich Pilkington
05 João Couto "Quarto Para Um" João Couto João Couto
06 Huca "Pé de Choro" Huca Bruno Huca, Milton Gulli
07 No Maka ft. Ana Maria "Aceitar" No Maka Ana Maria Ramos, Duarte Carvalho, Emanuel Oliveira, Mara Cortez, Marcelo Garrido, Rafael Martins
08 Maria João "Dia" Maria João João Farinha, Maria João Grancha
09 Rita Onofre "Criatura" Rita Onofre Rita Onofre
10 Silk Nobre "Change" Silk Nobre Artur Guimarães, Fernando Nobre, Rui Pedro Pity

Final: Saturday, 9 March 2023

Hosts:
Running Order:
[TBA]

Interval Acts

Oh boy.
This year, RTP is celebrating the 60th Anniversary of Festival da Canção, which means we'll have more guests than contestants and more time dedicated to fluff and interval acts than the actual competing songs. I am not kidding, judging by all the fanfare RTP is making about this, the actual competition for this year is going to be very much secondary to the anniversary stuff.

Do mentally prepare for extremely long shows this year, moreso than usual.

Although, surely, if you survived Sanremo, you can survive this too.
As of the writing of this post, we have some info on the type of interval acts we'll have and some names of guests who will be taking part, in whatever form, in the shows, but no exact info on who's doing what.
The interval acts across the three shows will be:
  • A tribute act to António Variações, one of the most famous Portuguese artists, celebrating the 40th anniversary of his passing;
  • A tribute act to Sara Tavares, the Portuguese representative at Eurovision 1994, who passed away last November, with emphasis on the 30th anniversary of her Eurovision entry;
  • A tribute to Maria Guinot, celebrating the 40th anniversary of "Silêncio e Tanta Gente", the Portuguese Eurovision entry of 1984;
  • A tribute to Herman José, a very famous Portuguese comedian, celebrating his 50 years of career;
  • The mandatory Abba tribute, celebrating the 50 years of "Waterloo";
  • A premature celebration of the 50th anniversary of the 25th of April (also known as the Carnation Revolution)
All interval acts will be pre-recorded.
As for the guests, these are the confirmed names, as of now. I'm not even going to do a bullet point list, I'd be painful to scroll down for it.
Past winners:
António Calvário (1964), Simone de Oliveira (1965 and 1969), Paulo de Carvalho (solo in 1974 and as part of Os Amigos in 1977), Adelaide Ferreira (1985), Anabela (1993), Tó Cruz (1995), Inês Santos (1998 as part of Alma Lusa), Rita Guerra (2003), Vânia Fernandes (2008), Filipa Sousa (2012), Suzy (2014), Isaura (2018), Elisa Silva (2020), The Black Mamba (2021) and Mimicat (2023).
Past former contestants and hosts:
Helena Isabel, Herman José, Delfins, António Sala, Pedro Granger, Sónia Araújo, Jorge Gabriel, Catarina Furtado, Selma Uamusse, Tozé Brito, Eládio Clímaco, Milhanas, Isabel Angelino, Sílvia Alberto, Júlio Isidro, Pedro Fernandes, Margarida Mercês de Melo, Sofia Morais, José Nuno Martins, Ana Paula Reis, Isabel Campelo, Jorge Fernando, Manuel Luís Goucha, Helena Coelho, Rui Drumond, António Victorino de Almeida, Alex D'Alva Teixeira, Ana Lua Caiano and Luca Argel.
You can check the official Instagram or TikTok pages for pictures of these people.
Might edit this post later to add or correct some more info or add links. If you have any questions or see any wrong information in here, let me know.
Also, a reminder that, due to the anniversary, RTP has now uploaded all available past editions of Festival da Canção (even if only partially) in their archives.
EDIT 2024-02-22: Added the names of the jurors for the semi-finals.
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2024.02.15 10:06 Consistent-Ad1890 “Coin” Harvey Books

“Coin” Harvey Books
I started my collection over 10 years ago and this week I have acquired the last two books that I have never been able to find anywhere- The Patriots of America and Common Sense. These books are written by W.H. Harvey, a popular free-silver advocate and a campaign advisor to Presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan. His first book, Coin’s Financial School (1893), was his most popular book. It is said that over 1,000,000 copies were sold.
My W. H. (Coin) Harvey rare book collection includes: 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯’𝘴 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 (1894), 𝘈 𝘛𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 (1894), 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯’𝘴 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘜𝘱 𝘛𝘰 𝘋𝘢𝘵𝘦 (1895), 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢 (1895), 𝘊𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘮 (1900), 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘺 (1915, autographed), 𝘗𝘢𝘶𝘭’𝘴 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 (1924), 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤 (1927), and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 (1932).
submitted by Consistent-Ad1890 to rarebooks [link] [comments]


http://rodzice.org/