Gym Class Heroes 'The Fighter'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxV-OOIamyk
Yeah!
Just wakin up in the morning
And the beat well
Quite honest with ya,
I ain't really sleep well
Ya ever feel like your train a thoughts been derailed?
That's when you press on. Lee nails.
Half the population's just waitin to see me fail
Yeah right, you're better off tryina freeze hell
Some of us do it for the females
And others do it for the retails
But I do it for the kids, life through the tower head on
Everytime you fall its only making your chin strong
And I'll be in your corner like Mick baby, til the end
Or when you hear the song from that big lady
Until the referee rings the bell
Until both your eyes start to swell
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?
Chorus (Ryan Tedder):
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter
And if I can last thirty rounds
There's no reason you should ever have your head down
Six foot five, two hundred and twenty pounds
Hailing from rock bottom, loserville, nothing town
Text book version of the kid going nowhere fast
And now im yelling kiss my ass,
it's gonna take a couple right hooks a few left jabs
for you to recognize that you really aint got it bad
Until the referee rings the bell
Until both your eyes start to swell
Until the crowd goes home
What we gonna do ya'll?
Chorus (Ryan Tedder):
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter
Everybody put yo hands up
What we gonna do? (x7) ya'll
If you fall pick yourself up off the floor (get up)
And when your bones can't take no more
Just remember what you're here for
Cuz I know imma damn sure
Give em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life til we're dead.
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me
Say to me, this one's a fighter
Till the referee rings the bell
Till both ya eyes start to swell
Till the crowd goes home,
What we gonna do kid?
inspirational song for the EVA step
*********************
Katie Perry 'Wide Awake'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0BWlvnBmIE
I'm wide awake (x3)
Yeah, I was in the dark
I was falling hard
With an open heart
I'm wide awake
How did I read the stars so wrong
I'm wide awake
And now it's clear to me
That everything you see
Ain't always what it seems
I'm wide awake
Yeah, I was dreaming for so long
I wish I knew then
What I know now
Wouldn't dive in
Wouldn't bow down
Gravity hurts
You made it so sweet
Till I woke up on
On the concrete
Falling from cloud 9
Crashing from the high
I'm letting go tonight
Yeah I'm
Falling from cloud 9
I'm wide awake
Not losing any sleep
Picked up every piece
And landed on my feet
I'm wide awake
Need nothing to complete myself noooooo
I'm wide awake
Yeah, I am born again
Outta the lion's den
I don't have to pretend
And it's too late
The story's over now, the end
I wish I knew then
What I know now
Wouldn't dive in
Wouldn't bow down
Gravity hurts
You made it so sweet
Till I woke up on
On the concrete
Falling from cloud 9
Crashing from the high
I'm letting go tonight (yeah, I'm letting go)
I'm falling from cloud 9
Thunder rumbling
Castles crumbling
I am trying to hold on
God knows that I tried
Seeing the bright side
But I'm not blind anymore
I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Yeah, I'm falling from cloud 9
Crashing from the high
You know I'm letting go tonight
I'm falling from cloud 9
I'm wide awake (x5)
Power idea: counter to sleep and /or illusion effects
___________________________
"I've always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific." - George Carlin

As requested, I'm giving this story it's own thread.  Unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to type up anything more on the story until Saturday at earliest, thanks to real-life concerns and the need to review the source material.

Location: The Deep Marches.  Time: 7:41 PM, July 10 2009

Amaterasu
sat on the edge of a mountain, wondering where Izanami had gone.  The
Goddess of Death had vanished one year ago, and neither hide nor hair of
her had been seen since.  Even the few contacts Amaterasu had in the
Media had not seen her.  It was not like Izanami to vanish into the
corpreal world...the yelling of a severant shook her out of her
thoughts.  "Amaterasu-Omikami!   Izanami has been spotted in the Vale of
Dreams, gravely wounded!" 
****
The
wounds were even worse Amaterasu had believed.  Countless minor wounds
covered her body, and a single terrible wound leaked Forces with every
movement.  It was clear Izanami would suffer a second and far more
permanent death.  "Izanami, who has wounded you so?!" 
"A mortal..."
"A
mere human did this!  Impossible!"  Maybe one of the stronger Ethereal
gods, a Demon Prince, or an Archangel could strike such a blow.  But no
lesser spirit, and certainly not an mere mortal.
"Mere!  Hah! 
This mortal was as far from mere as the heaven are above the earth." 
Even through her pain and horrific visage, the joy on her face was plain
to see.  Suddenly, Izanami grabbed the front of Amaterasu's robe. 
"Listen to me, my husband's daughter.  I have a tale to tell."  And
Izanami told her story.  She had sought to test humanity, to see the
truth of their nature.  She spoke how she had chosen three mortals; One
to be nothingness, one to be despair, and one to be hope.  She spoke of
how she had spun a web of illusions veiling truth; Nothingness had used
her web to kill, Despair tried to stop the deaths but with tricked by
Nothingness, while Hope had spread like wildfire, fouling the schemes of
Nothingness, while following the trail of clues first to Despair, then
to Nothingness...
And then past the false villain left by Izanami
to track the goddess to her hiding place, where Izanami had sought to
test the powers of Hope and his allies, magic gained by facing their own
unwelcome truths.  "They fought well, Amaterasu.  They forced me to
stop testing them and fight them in truth...I struck their leader with
my greatest illusion...but those he had helped guided him free of it,
and the power he gained as a result..."  She gestured to the wound. 
"Hope did not just win my contest, my husband's daughter.  It exceeded
my wildest dreams.  The pit will never win, Amaterasu, no matter how
convoluted their schemes.  Mortals will unravel them.  Break with Hell."
"Break
with Hell!  If we dare betray them, Nybbas will smother us!  He will
cut off the flow of Essence that keeps us all alive!"
"Nybbas
will lose, Amaterasu.  Eventually, mortals will pierce his illusions,
track him to his lair, and strike at him as the did me.  It is only a
matter of time."  With that, Izanami's forces were scattered fully. 
Only Amaterasu had heard her tale, and Izanami had not mentioned the
names of the mortals she tested, nor the town where she had tested
them.  Still, there was enough for her to investigate. 
****
Kulumah,
Djinn and Servitor of the Media, (aka Kensuke in his current role as a
security guard) was waited backstage for his assignment to arrive.  He
was assigned to the latest pop idol, some human named Rise  The idiot
hellsworn mortal that had previously been assigned to keep an eye on the
girl was currently being "reprimanded" for failing to keep tabs on the
girl when she had gone to ground in some backwater for a year.  Luckily,
the girl's agent had persuaded her to come back, and now Kulumah's
first assignment on earth was to keep track of the carbon-copy pop-star
and keep her singing until her fame faded.  Given the low number of
halo's working in the areas, it looked like an easy first assignment. 
He was also technically supposed to try to isolate and guide Risette
towards hell, but he had a favor or two he could call in to help there-
he was no master of temptation, and he knew it. 
An announcement
blared over the speakers. "Risette's due to arrive 2 minutes!  Get
ready people!"  The  various humans involved in this whole circus
doubled there flurry of activity, and Kulumah pulled a trick the Boss
himself had taught him before sending him to earth.  He burnt a bit of
essence to forge a link to the greater symphony, and with a whiff of
brimstone a phantom music began to play, a soundtrack to the movie that
was his life.  Dead useful for figuring out how much shit he was in at
any given moment, and great for avoiding surprises- nothing like a
dramatic sting to warn you of danger.  Casual essense use was frowned
upon, since it disturbed the Symphony and could lead rival demons- or
worse, angels- right to your doorstep, you'd practically have to be in
the room to here the disturbance he'd just caused, ao he was feeling
safe.  He cocked his head, listening to the soundtrack.  A quiet but
upbeat affair, with strings setting a rhythm and synthesizers a cheerful
beat.  Good news.  At long last, the human singer finally walked into
.  The human that was presumably in charge of this whole circus was by
her side in an instant, babbling about the song schedule.  Before the
mass of humans could obscure her, he willed his Symphony to hers, using
his resonance to forge a link through which he could keep track of the
girl, using another drop of Essence to bo.  But before he even tried,
his soundtrack had shifted- the strings had turned a minor key, turning
the tone from cheer to uneasey and tense.  A split second later, Kulumah
noticed Rise was looking straight at him.  The a split second later,
she turned away just a bit too quickly for it to be casual.   
Kulumah
was not a stupid demon; his sharp mind was why he'd been assigned to
earth despite barely being a half-century old, and it raced considering
the implications.  Any use of essence caused a disturbance in the
symphony, and given the change in the soundtrack he was pretty sure that
her sudden interest in him wasn't a couincidence.  He'd bet a weeks
worth of essence that the girl could hear the Symphony.  Most
symphonically aware humans were soldiers for Heaven or Hell, and she
certainly hadn't been Hellsworn last year, otherwise she wouldn't have
had a Hellsworn set to track her.  His superior's probably didn't know,
otherwise he'd have been told.  Put it all together, and it meant
someone had made her a soldier within the past year in the boonies.  The
question was, who was she serving now, and why?  Either some other
demon was horning in on his boss's territory, or the halo's were trying
to pull something.  He made a mental note to get to a tether and report
in soon.
***
Two weeks
later, and Kumulah fumed as Rise excitedly talked with group of
teenagers- friends from the boonies, apparently.  Rise had been going
out of her way to avoid him, and when he had called in a favor form
Maximilian, a local Impudite, to try and get up close to her, she'd
avoided him too.  Max had sworn up and down he hadn't spent a drop of
Essence, and he was decent chance he wasn't lying.  The newcomers had
him feeling paranoid; he was almost certain that one of them was either
the celestial that had recruited her, a messenger from the same, or
backup here to get rid of him.  The detective was certainly gruff enough
to be a Malachim.  In a sudden bout of paranoia, he activated the
soundtrack to see if there was an ambush waiting for him, sending a tiny
clamor of disturbance rippled through the symphony.  As one, Rise and
all eight of her "friends" turned to look right at him,
expressions wary, but eager.  Kulumah got the feeling he'd just blown a
dog whistle next to a wolf pack.  Crap.  He then noticed that he was
alone with the unfriendly teenage soldiers, outnumbered 8 to 1 with no
witnesses.  Double crap.  Then the punk with the headphones took out a
card and called up bizarre thing he could only see with his celestial
senses- which was possible, but not normal- shot a windstorm at his
face- which was also not normal- and did it all without disturbing the
symphony in the slightest- which was goddamn impossible. 
Faced
with nine empowered humans doing impossible crap, Kulumah did the
eminently sensible thing, and fled like a team of Malachim were on his
ass.   

Wright Suit - 24/Jul/2012
Early 2011, Dublin, Earth & Kandor City, Luna.
Uniforms-like suits that are high-quality, hard-wearing, and, most important, handwavium-free.  Custom-fitted.  Anyone can wave-up a space suit, but these are comfortable day-to-day wear.
Basic standard dull-grey model sells for $2k.  Ones customised for a particular organisation, with places to attach rank markings, for $3k.  And, top-of-the-line individually customised ones for $5k.  It is clear these are subsidising the basic ones.
They could be made for vacuum sports teams.  Specialist 'Search & Rescue' suits could be bright orange; no good reason could be thought of for bright pink.  Experiments on the suits can't (yet) find any suitable dye, or bleach, that doesn't also damage their space-worthiness.  They do fit men, though some might complain they're a little 'tight' (maybe they don't like the unisex styling?).
The suits are practical but stylish; they are not identical to the uniforms used on O'Neill Station, though the material looks very similar, and the function seems identical.  These are disguised spacesuits, with near-invisible gloves concealed in the cuffs, and a near-invisible bubble helmet that can inflate from the collar.
In use the gloves and helmet are near-invisible, except from certain angles.  The gloves provide excellent manipulative ability and good insulation, the helmet provides limited glare protection.  The suit allows full flexibility – acrobatics and martial arts are quite practical.
The shoulder pads conceal an air supply good for ten minutes.  An optional stylish tool-belt (one is supplied with the suit) gives two hours air (takes a day to recharge), CO2 scrubbers and humidity control.  The suit is self-sealing for small holes, and includes patches and tourniquets.  There is no waste disposal, manoeuvre jets or communications equipment fitted as standard.
The uniform is quite difficult to get dirty, inside or out, and is remarkably comfortable, with the modified sports-footwear giving excellent grip.  Yes, underwear is worn with it.  It is as protective as light body armour.
This is truly a "Hollywood Spacesuit" - when the life support is active it suppresses hunger, thirst and... toilet requirements.  This is OK for the couple of hours that the suit is rated for, but people'd better have multiple occupancy toilet facilities real near their airlocks.
The suit doesn't need recharging, it gets power from the movement of its wearer; the belts do need a power supply to recharge from ambient atmosphere and purge built-up CO2 and water.
Accessories include redundant ear bud communicators, as well as a medical monitor in the form of a throat band, echoed on a PDA wrist display, which doubles as a communicator.  There is extended life support, six hours (fits in the small of the back), which adds to the two hours the tool belts give (needs two hours to fully recharge), with a PDA wrist communicator that warns of medical stress (including too long without food, water or a toilet break).
A 'Buy One Get One Free' offer is on the tool belts, so people have a spare, as well as one recharging.  Stuff always get broken or lost, and it is bad if this happens to important parts of a space suit.  Swapping between three belts would give you six hours air.  If you plan on more than two hours vacuum work per day then the extended life support accessory is strongly recommended.
Cleaning kits for both inside and outside of the suits are available, though there are clear 'dos and don'ts' in both the vacuum-proof paper and the electronic versions of the manual (a normal washing machine is OK; don't dry-clean; often wet-wipes are sufficient).
Custom fitting involves either going to a store or supplying 'Blender' models (possibly plus attachments) in a number of standard postures.  There is no problem with provision for tails, ears, antennae, horns, digigrade, four arms, etc., but the limit is near-humanoid (centaurs or quadrupeds, or wings, aren't (currently) practical).
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind

As some of us are already aware, there's a "freebie challenge" each month on the Daz3D forums. I've been accepted as the host for the November challenge... which means I need to either create or scrounge some decent prizes for the challenge winners, and something small for all of the participants. And my time to learn the skills to create something before November is effectively zero. (I might manage a texture or two for somebody else's clothing item, but I can't even guarantee I'll have the time for that.) While I could buy some store gift certificates, that's not really in the spirit of the challenges... and it doesn't help me with the item(s) for all participants. I need some help.

Is there anybody interested in creating a freebie or two for me to give away to the winners, even something as small as the aforementioned "texture or two" for an existing free outfit?

There's no way I can afford to pay what it would be worth, although I wouldn't mind if you sold it or gave it away after Xmas. I will of course give credit where credit is due. It has to be usable in Daz Studio at a minimum. (They're hosting the contest; that's one of their rules.) It doesn't need to be something related to my month's challenge theme (which, BTW, is "Lest We Forget") - in fact, a December-themed freebie would work well for a November contest.
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

this kind of hinges on the goods being delivered being the 'megaton leviathan ready to hit the roof' and perhaps a bit later 'steel in your hearts all across the land' whic might be a mishear of "stealin'," and if the collosus is actually 1000 tons probably takes at least a minute of the 4.16 to form and power up, and for that matter possibly an amplifier song first to let it be bigger than his usuall aoe or he only gets a dirigible fist or foot or head (useful as a bunker perhaps with it helmet design)etc
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows

Foreign Investment - 22/Jul/2012
February 2011, Kandor City.
All alone.  In a foreign place.  A quarter billion miles to home.  She certainly wasn't walking.
Jan shivered.  She was new-born.  How could they trust her?  What if she got it all wrong.  She sat down on a crate.  Took a deep breath.  Knocked on it.  Time to get to work.
The office-workshop, with accommodation above, wasn't ideal.  But, they were in a hurry.  Things were changing in Fenspace.  If they waited another month they might have no market, or have to do a complete product re-design.  So.  Kandor.  Branch office.  Now.
Security first.  Someone smart would check-out new businesses, as they arrived.  Before they were ready.  All installed OK.  No detectable bugs in the fabric of the structure.  Jan marvelled at how her hands knew to do things.  Things this body had never learned.  But, she expected, the novelty would wear-off pretty quick.
Heavy-duty power systems, installed.  Cooling ready.  Time to unpack the FTL communicator.  Carefully touching its security locks, disabling the self-destruct.  Locking it in its new location.  Locking her AI core in place.  Yes, the self-destruct would kill her, too.  But, she was ready for that.
At last!  Everything tested OK.  The clock showed Janet'd had enough time to get back to Dublin.  Just.  Give her another fifteen minutes, just to make sure.  Put on a cup of tea.  Unpack the fridge.  Fill it from the cold box.  OK.  Enough waiting.
Success!  The FTL communicator instantly talked to Dublin, Janet's workshop.  A blur of data, and they resynchronised.  Jan/Janet now remembered both setting-up the Kandor workshop, and her flight back to Earth.  They cut the data link. Paused.  Re-connected.  Everything worked smoothly.  Jan could feel Janet doing incremental backups, so she wouldn't loose more than ten minutes, even if the whole Kandor set-up was destroyed.  Perfect.
Next, the other remotes.  J1 to 5, all unpacked, all booted first time.  She felt them like fingers on a hand, side glances of attention, all smoothly integrated.  The Hollywood Machine did good work, if they could negotiate access to it.  Her AI core was multi-processor, and that seemed to let her handle six remotes as well as Janet could handle two.  They'd learned a trick or two by studying Alice.
The Uniform Machines, sorry, "Wright Suit Synthesisers", unpacked OK.  Three to start with.  Hopefully that'd be enough.  Their anti-tamper logic was different, but just as thorough as the FTL communicator.  Next the front office. Furnishings unpacked and assembled.  The two scanning booths with their privacy arrangements.  A dozen hands made fast work.  All OK.  Jan was waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Something must go wrong!
But, all seemed ready for business.  If things went well, then maybe they'd also sell off-Earth rated "Wright Frames".  *Ding*  A potential first customer. With an almost unconscious act of will J3 went to attend.  Almost certainly just an inquiry.  Who'd buy from a business on its first day?  She hadn't even double-checked the banking details.  But still...
A good start.
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind

Technology Exchange - 22/Jul/2012
December 2010, Dublin.
Contractual agreements.  NDAs.  Promises.  Hand shakes.  Past a certain point you just had to trust people.
O'Neill Station really needed a Body Builder.  If one of the AI Crew was badly injured then the easiest thing was to produce them a new body.  But, the Body Builder was the basis of Arthur's multi-million dollar business.  How could they be trusted with one?
Some sort of exchange was required.  They sat down with their lawyers and engineers.  Surprisingly, it went quite well.  The fact that one side was Sarah and Kelly, and the other was Janet and her family lawyers helped.  Kevin Wright chairing and facilitating had a lot to do with it.
The Hollywood Machine was obviously not on the table.  Both sides agreed that. It was too fundamental to the operation of the station.  So, it came down to various of Kelly's creations.  And, whether they could be reverse-engineered from Steam Punk to something more generally acceptable.  Sarah agreed Kelly had some rights as to their disposition.
Kelly suggested her self-propelled "crash cart".  This was generally accepted as a good idea, but the medical profession was naturally conservative, and something as obviously handwavium-based was tricky.  Similar the rest of her medical gadgets.  The farming tools might be of interest, to other people with bio domes, but this was currently a bit of a limited market.
Building a non-camouflaged version of Kelly's "Mirror Spiders", with something that looked a lot more like conventional hard tech, looked attractive.  They could be sold for station maintenance.  "Work Spiders" sounded a usable name, after they turned down "Wright Spiders".  Looked like a good long-term project.
Eventually, they decided there was only one choice.  Kelly's "Uniform Machine". In some respects this was comparable to the Body Builder, in that it made uniforms that were high-quality, hard-wearing, and, most important, handwavium-free.  Oh, and they were custom-fitted spacesuits.  Anyone could wave-up a space suit, but these were comfortable day-to-day wear.  Kelly was pretty sure they could be tweaked to have different colours, and, probably even to fit men.
There was a digression into fashion, but it was agreed that a basic standard dull-grey model would sell well for $2k - bright orange was turned down; pink firmly rejected.  Ones customised for a particular organisation, with places to attach rank markings, for $3k.  And, top-of-the-line individually customised ones for $5k.  If it was made clear these were subsidising the basic ones they could probably get away with this.
Maybe they could even make them for vacuum sports teams?  Kelly said she'd experimented on the suits, and couldn't find any suitable dye, or bleach, that didn't also damage their space-worthiness.  "Wright Suits".
It'd been a long meeting, but everyone was reasonably satisfied.  Kelly needed to get them a Uniform Machine to work on.  Arthur needed to build or find a spare Body Builder, and agree what anti-tamper precautions went with it.  Janet agreed, as an aside, to look around for some better waved medical equipment for Kelly.  Something that could induce safe suspension without risking a biomod would be good.
They very carefully didn't discuss the elephant in the room.  Alice.  Janet and Kevin were pretty sure that Kelly (and hence Sarah) knew Alice was Faster-Than-Light communications technology, and, there was a good chance they knew it would work off Earth.  There were people who'd literally kill for that.  And, probably everyone in the room knew it.
Janet had worked on the problem.  The best she could come up with was the size of two bath tubs, weighed half-a-ton, drank power like a fish, and could only handle a single data stream.  Admittedly that was terabits per second, and had an estimated pseudo velocity of tens of kilo-lights.  And neither end had to be at a fixed location.
Janet started to talk about causality light-cone considerations, phase-space configuration issues and virtual spectra, but while she could see Kelly's bright encouraging expression, other eyes were glazing over.  She quickly switched-back to matters of general interest.
So far she could only manage about 90% up-time, but was still fighting the prototypes into accepting substitutes for thermionic valves, and was pretty sure she could hit 99%.  Assuming 10k hours per year, that was still about four days per year downtime, but, with any luck she'd get it up to 99.9%, about ten hours per year.
The others were impressed.  Kevin Wright particularly so.  Janet explained she'd been stealing ideas from all over science fiction, and this was just one that looked to work.  She suggested they sell the 1.1 version (0.1% downtime) for off-planet use.  Say, for a $100k each, giving them about the same profit margin as the robot frames.
Sarah said she'd need to check, but she was pretty sure they'd want to buy one. Or, more sensibly at least two, the other end for their Australian offices.  She suggested Janet prepare for the stock markets to descend on her, waving their cheque books.  Micro seconds counted to them.  And, to tie them up with non-resale agreements, for the 'satellite' data link; call it a round $500k for all the bits.
It looked like "Wright Now Telecom" was going to be formed...
--
"It is the business of the future to be dangerous" - Hawkwind

The next morning, I did breakfast one last time with Sirius, 
Remus, and the entire Weasley clan plus teenaged hangers-on.
Thanks to the Headmaster's visit the previous night it was no
secret that I was departing for Hogwarts that morning, so the
meal became something of an impromptu "bon voyage" party.  

I even got a going-away present -- after the meal was over but 
before I'd had a chance to return to my room to pack, Fred and 
George cornered me in the hallway.  While Sirius acted as a 
lookout, they presented me with a plain cardboard box, marked
only with three interlocking, handwritten "W"s.

"Samples of our future wares," one explained.

"You seem to be the type who'd enjoy them," the other added.

"Even if you are a professor," the first amended.

"Well, geeze, guys, I don't know what to say."  I studied the 
box.  "Unless it's 'how far away should I stand when opening 
this?'"

The two of them grinned.  "We're not stupid," number two said
piously.  "We're not going to prank a professor."

"At least not this obviously," the other added with a shrug.
"When we prank you for real, you'll know it had to have been 
us..."

"But you won't be able to prove it!" the first ended 
triumphantly.

I raised an eyebrow at them.  "Should I take that as a challenge,
boys?"

They traded glances.  "If you like," the first replied.

I laughed.  I had to admire these two and their chutzpah.  "Tell
you what, guys.  If you get me some time this year -- really get 
me, with something innovative and new, nothing tired like buckets
over open doors -- I'll give you both extra credit A+'s ... um,
O's," I corrected myself, recalling the Hogwarts grading system
at the last moment.  "One each."

"Deal!" they said together, and stuck out their right hands.  I
shook both at the same time, one with my right hand and one with 
my left, then let go, crossed my arms, and shook again.  This got 
me a pair of broad smiles, followed by a furtive disappearance 
from the hallway.

A couple meters away at his post, Sirius was shaking his head and
chuckling.  "You're in trouble now, Doug."

I shot him a wry smile.  "I'm always in trouble," I said.  "It's
a defining characteristic of my life.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Allegedly Singing Voice by Leslie Fish

Quote:Rome never looks where she treads,

Always her heavy hooves fall

On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;

And Rome never heeds when we bawl.

Her sentries pass on – that is all,

And we gather behind them in hordes,

And plot to reconquer the Wall,

With only our tongues for our swords.

We are the Little Folk – we!

Too little to love or to hate.

Leave us alone and you'll see

How we can drag down the Great!

We are the worm in the wood!

We are the rot in the root!

We are the germ in the blood!

We are the thorn in the foot!

Mistletoe killing an oak –

Rats gnawing cables in two –

Moths making holes in a cloak –

How they must love what they do!

Yes – and we Little Folk too,

We are as busy as they –

Working our works out of view –

Watch, and you'll see it some day!

No indeed! We are not strong,

But we know Peoples that are.

Yes, and we'll guide them along,

To smash and destroy you in War!

We shall be slaves just the same?

Yes, we have always been slaves,

But you – you will die of the shame,

And then we shall dance on your graves!

We are the Little Folk – we!

Too little to love or to hate.

Leave us alone and you'll see

How we can drag down the Great!

We are the worm in the wood!

We are the rot in the root!

We are the germ in the blood!

We are the thorn in the foot!

Sally Ride, first American woman in space, succumbed to pancreatic cancer.
She will be missed.
http://www.washingtonpost...23/gJQAas574W_story.html
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Sucrose Octanitrate.
Proof positive that with sufficient motivation, you can make anything explode.