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Thu 11 Oct 2012

Pay $21 a week and Easily earn $4000 a week!

2012 Product to Promote



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Wed 18 Jul 2012

Get Paid Now Surveys!

Get Paid Surveys

Learn the secrets of a single dad who got out of debt and made over $3,000 per month taking paid surveys online!

United Kingdom

Hi, I'm Adrian Reid. This is my story...

Everyday when I wake up I make breakfast for my daughter and drive her to school. I usually work out and run some errands before I head back home to get to "work".

It's hard to even call it "work" though, because all I do is give my opinion on products and web sites and I get paid CASH! Companies need our opinions to make their products better so they can make even more money and will pay very well!

The best part is that ANYONE can take paid surveys. It doesn't matter if you're young or old, man or woman, or what language you speak! You WILL get paid for your opinion!

It's hard to believe how great my life is now because it wasn't always like this...

A few years ago, I was heavily in debt...

Four years ago I lost my job at a manufacturing plant producing popular toys for kids. You can probably guess what happened since it has been happening all over the world, my company "moved" all production to China and told me I was fired.

What happened after getting fired was years of struggling to take care of my family and lots of nights with no sleep worrying about what I was going to do. I was forced to start using my credit cards and getting loans from family just to put food on the table for my child.

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I had credit card bills, student loans... and a young daughter to support!

Life was hard... Raising a young daughter on my own meant I had to be around when she got home from school but having a roof over our heads and being able to buy clothes and feed her was my top priority.

I spent months searching for another job, but it seemed like every job I applied to was only willing to pay minimum wage with no benefits. I was sad and depressed and didn't know what I was going to when one of my lifelong friends invited me over to his house for a barbeque.

Everything changed when a friend showed me a check they received for taking a survey.

I was in shock when my friend showed me a $300 check he had received. What he told me next changed my life forever. "Companies will PAY ME MONEY for my opinion???" I couldn't believe what he was telling me.

Why hadn't I heard of this before??? When he told me companies spend BILLIONS per year doing market research, I got really excited and started asking him more and more questions. He taught me everything he knew and I signed up to start taking surveys that same day.

Before I knew it, I was getting 5-10 survey invitations a day!

Now I was the one getting checks for HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS sent to me EVERY WEEK!

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Get started NOW! Get started today!

I've been taking paid surveys for years now and I know the best ways to get started making money right away even if you have never taken a paid survey before. I will take you by the hand and show you everything you need to do to get started and getting paid today!

I’ll show you places with hundreds of surveys available today that you can take right away!

(Just like these below)
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Plus, I’ll show you how you can get paid to review new products AND get to keep them after submitting your review!

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Here are some of the free items I’ve received in the past month:

  • High tech Blender
  • Tablet computer
  • HD TV
  • Gift Cards
  • Lots of smaller household products

AND this was just last month!!

Change your Life TODAY!!

Copyright © 2012 GetCashForSurveys.com


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Sun 15 Jul 2012

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Mon 13 Feb 2012

An earth-sized planet found... are we on the threshold of finding someone 'out there', and the momentous problems this will bring?

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note: Arguably the most important and influential science fiction novel ever written was "The War of the Worlds" by H. G. Wells in 1898. It made palpable, frightening, believable the horrifying possibility that we are not alone and that what creatures descend on us could mean catastrophe for each and every one of us, our entire species and every manifestation of who we are, where we came from, what we've done, and even what happened to us thereafter and our pitiable inadequacies, best passing into oblivion rather than remembering, much less celebrating them in any way.

As if this book was not unsettling enough, the astonishing genius of Orson Wells (1915- 1985) made it worse. In 1938 this visionary, this enfant terriible, this man of audacity as boundless as space itself, scared the bejesus out of America with a fictional tale designed to look completely real, as if the events portrayed in New Jersey could have been taking place in any town, any state. Despite the fact that frequent announcements were made that the whole was merely a radio play (albeit the most famous ever broadcast)  vast numbers of people believed, ardently, fervently, and with unwavering commitment. Yes, whatever disclaimers were made, these folks knew in their bones that what they heard was the God's honest truth; not just that it might happen. But that it would happen. And we passengers on Spaceship Earth have lived with this deep-seated belief ever since.

Most of us put the matter out of our mind and daily life. Living creatures out there there might be, but not in our time. And so general belief in the existence of "something" was dropped to the lowest possible echelon of public concern, anxiety, and fear.

But now, in a development of the utmost importance, the comfort level of our species and its planetary lotus-eating has received a shock, a very great shock indeed... for we are now closer than ever before to not merely the philosophical supposition that we inhabit inter-galactic space with others... but the distinct and real possibility that that joint habitation is so.

And so I give you as the incidental music for this article, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto Number 1. This was the opening music for the Mercury Theatre on the Air, October 30, 1938 when the future we most dreaded and had always expected descended on Grover's Mill, New Jersey and the genus homo sapiens went irrevocably from master to minion...

Only one thing is different from that evening in October, 1938 and the astonishing discoveries announced by NASA December 21, 2011. And that is the fact that this time there will be no periodic announcements that what you are experiencing is fiction.

Here are the facts as they stand today... facts which every concerned man and woman on this planet owe to themselves to understand and to think deeply, profoundly about.

NASA and its Kepler mission searches the planets circling other stars, by analyzing more than 150,000 stars near the Cygnus and Lyra constellations. Kepler measures the size and orbit of distant planets by watching for a tell-tale dimming in a star's brightness as a planet crosses in front of the star.

In early December, NASA announced the discovery of Kepler-22b, a planet 2.4 times the size of Earth that orbits a star in a habitable zone that could support liquid water, and perhaps life.

Then on December 21 NASA announced the discoveries of Kepler -20e and Kepler -20f, two rocky planets, one Earth-sized and one slightly smaller. This was important and would have been even more important had both these rocky entities not had surface temperatures of 800 degrees, whereas Earth's average temperature is around 59 degrees. If... if... if either of these planets had had temperatures like Earth's, what then? Closer and closer to what scientists are aiming for: life forms, not just rocks and cosmic debris.  But the tantalizing "if" that drives scientists early and late was closer than it had ever been, no longer merely possible, but distinctly plausible. And so humanity makes quantum leaps to... what?

And it is this "what" that matters above all else... for humanity must be ready, as ready as possible, should we encounter, in any way,  personages of different planets and stars, different in as many ways as we may imagine now... and in ways we have not even dreamt of.  And for this, I advance the following recommendations, which I first address to the President of the United States, the responsible government authorities of the Great Republic, each and every presidential candidate, and to all the great executives of all other nations, for perforce we are all of us in this together.

ALL aspects of this unique, historic and portentous intersection must be given increased recognition, funding and priority, for no other single action, event or deed in human events has had the unfathomable significance of this matter.

So, here's what these officials and authorities must do, and do with dispatch:

1) Establish a department of state where all matters pertaining to this epochal rendezvous can be deposited, easily accessed, augmented, corrected, reviewed.

2) Important subjects to be reviewed and kept up to date must include all information, howsoever improbable and unlikely the source. This must include but not be limited to archeological data, historic artifacts, letters, diaries, commentaries on the general subject of denizens of the universe and how they may have made themselves known over time. Nothing should be regarded as beside the point, beneath academic interest, or responsible review. We must always be knowledgeable and humble about what we know on this crucial subject.

3) As a matter of course, aspects of inter-galactic search, contact, and consequences must include defense data, medical knowledge and necessities, as well as the body composition and genetics of our newly discovered neighbors.

More organizing, still better preparedness.

Members of the designated department must brainstorm all subjects, no matter how obscure, relating to this most significant meeting in history. These questions must be conceived, then considered for policy implications, etc.

The great role of the Great Republic.

You don't need to be a political scientist to realize America's once  high reputation has fallen in recent years to a distressing, even humiliating level.  This hurts, disappoints, and angers all well-meaning citizens who love this nation. It is time for America to reassert itself as that shining city on a hill, extolled by the first Pilgrims of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Never could America so help the world as being at the service of humanity through the preparation, protection, and pro bono work that will need to be done, done meticulously and done as soon as possible.

This work at once begun, can never be stopped, disregarded, dismissed, or left undone. You see the scientists at the new planet discovering Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics and all the other scientists at our most prestigious institutions will not stop their seismic work; they mean to make the crucial discoveries of life, if it be humanly possible. And we and our human institutions worldwide must adhere to the same high standards, for make no mistake about it; nothing less than the future of our species and our planet are at stake. And we must be prepared, or accept the potential obliteration of every sign, signal, and artifact of the place in the universe we forfeited when we had every opportunity to save ourselves, our cosmic foothold, and our self respect.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

Free Business Opportunities -> Free Biz Ops!

 

Free to Join n Get Paid to Promote this Cancer Killer -> Essiac Tea

Then Go to The Bottom of the page & Click on 'Affiliate Info'.

 


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Tue 7 Feb 2012

'Without the help and support of the woman I love.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. In 1936 the world was transfixed by a story so big, so engrossing, so incredible that only the Second Coming could have topped it. It was the story of Edward VIII, King of England, Emperor of India... and a twice- married American lady from Baltimore, Maryland --  Mrs. Simpson. It was billed as history's greatest love affair... but, as this article unfolds...  you may very well draw a very different conclusion.

But let's start by playing the tune I've selected to accompany this article.... "Exactly Like You". Go to any search engine to find this number. It was written in 1930 by Jimmy McHugh and Dorothy Fields. I swear by the rendition by Louis Armstrong. You won't be able to get it out of your head; kind of like the king's catastrophic obsession with his Wallis... for of all the women in the world who wanted him, he had to have her, the very worst choice imaginable.. to the consternation and disgust of the empire on which the sun never set.

The most important boy in the world.

When your great grandmother is Queen Victoria, ruler of half the world; when your grandfather is King Edward VII, called the Uncle of Europe, because his relations ruled over virtually everything; when your father is King George V and your mother is Queen Mary... your birth, life, and every single breath you take is an event... important, eagerly awaited, commented upon, chronicled. In short, it is life in the grandest fish bowl on Earth; for in return for unimaginable wealth, celestial status, and the adoration and veneration of untold millions... you give up any semblance of a personal life... any semblance of privacy. You belong not to yourself... but to your subjects, the people of England and of all the Dominions beyond the seas...

This was Edward Albert Christian George Andrew Patrick David, born in 1894, called David by his family and Your Royal Highness by everyone else. The world envied him... but his life was anything but enviable... his parents saw to that.

George (1865--1936) & Mary (1867-1953).

The argument for monarchy goes like this: in a turbulent, uncertain, unpredictable and therefore alarming world, a sovereign is eternal, stable, stalwart, an institution you can trust to be here tomorrow, because it was here yesterday and the day before that. A sovereign rises above the trivia of today, able to take the long view, high above the fray and the little concerns of little men. Having everything, wanting nothing, monarchs can be trusted with the concerns of the nation they exist to improve, to serve, to uplift and inspire.

This is all very well.... but where do you find such larger than life paragons? Certainly not in the lives of George and Mary, people frightened by their unceasing responsibilities and the constant burden of having to appear just so to a world which evaluated, and minutely too, every move they made, every action, every decision.

Most assuredly neither George nor Mary were such people... and therefore like so many people fearful of making a mistake (and being roundly criticized) they embraced rigid severity... and so sought to cover up their many inadequacies as people by a unceasingly stern and unapproachable demeanor. It looked good on ceremonial occasions... for then they were regal indeed... but life lived this way was tormenting to all concerned... especially for the two young princes Edward and Albert, future Edward VIII and George VI.

They were boys who needed love, tender care, affection... but were ignored by their colder than ice mother for whom a peck on the cheek was excessive... and constantly admonished by their father, a man who became king only because his elder brother died young thereby bequeathing the empire and his expected wife, Mary of Teck, to his younger brother Georgie, a man who rose far above his abilities, a man who knew nothing about human relations and thought that communication was nothing more than the business of barking orders and having them instantly complied with.

In such a world how could the little princes of Windsor emerge as anything other than flawed, wanting... and rebellious.

Prince of change.

All children go through a rebellious stage where "no!" is their favorite word. Do you want this? No! Do you want that? No! How about something else? No, again! But in the fullness of time even the most argumentative three year old comes out of this phase and starts growing up. But David of Windsor never did. Whatever was tried, true, traditional, standard... he wanted nothing to do with, wanted to change it, not slowly and unobtrusively but now in the most jarring and thoughtless of ways. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it... and as Prince of Wales from 1910... he was in a position to get it, especially as he came to understand how much the world loved and admired him.

Wobbly monarchy, high-flying adored prince.

World War I saw the demise of the great imperial dynasties of Europe, the Habsburgs of Austria, the Hohenzollerns of Germany, the Romanovs of Russia... all swept away. The only major dynasty left was in England, and it was headed by the uninspiring, unimaginative, fretful George V who was majesty in nothing but name. The dynasty needed youth... glamor... connection to the restive peoples of the empire. And for this role there was only one man available... David, now Prince of Wales... a man who shed glamor and allure on the Roaring Twenties. His world tours (from 1919) made him a world celebrity... and lonely.

He tried women, he tried booze, he tried drugs... but because he could have everything, nothing made him happy. Nothing that is except the thrills and freedoms of the Great Republic, particularly its greatest city, New York. Only there were there sufficient dissipations and indiscretions. Besides, just stepping foot in America enraged both his parents, and that made these trips delicious.

Then he met Wallis Warfield Simpson, a woman with a sordid past and two living husbands... a past that could outrage every convention and agitate the world he was destined to rule... a world that bored and annoyed him. Wallis offered him what he truly craved: submission for that was her secret... she gave the man everyone kow-towed to the gift of abasement.... the power to get the man to whom all knelt to kneel to her....

She, of course, despised him, but using him as he wanted her to use him would make her a world figure, maybe even Queen-Empress. She was ill-advised on this point, and so overplayed her cards. Instead of a boyish sovereign over whom she could rule, she got after his abdication in 1936 a semblance of a man whom she systematically and publicly humiliated for the rest of his life. He cried... he sobbed... he adored. It was the perfect relationship, exactly what he wanted. And, after all, isn't that what love is for?

For as Louis Armstrong sings,

"I know why I've waited Know why I've been blue I've been waiting each day For someone exactly like you... You make me feel so grand I wanna give this world to you..."

... and he almost did.

Honi soit qui mal y pense.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

Free Business Opportunities -> Free Biz Ops!

 

Free to Join n Get Paid to Promote this Cancer Killer -> Essiac Tea

Then Go to The Bottom of the page & Click on 'Affiliate Info'.

 


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Tue 7 Feb 2012

The personal ad you'd love to post... but don't have the guts!

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. As far as I can tell, everyone in the world has either run a personal ad (mostly online), is running one at this moment... or will run one before you can say "Jack Robinson." This means you. The question is not whether you will use personal ads... but whether they'll deliver the exact person you are seeking. Sadly, the vast majority of personal ads cannot deliver the bacon (or the cheese cake or the beef cake). They just don't provide enough detail and so are quite capable of delivering the Wrong Prospects. Witness the personal ad celebrated by Jimmy Buffet in the tune that made Pina Coladas mandatory Happy Hour fare as you bar hopped in pursuit of nirvana.

Start by going to any search engine and listen to Buffet's anthem. It was written by Rupert Holmes and recorded in 1979. It's official title is "Escape" but hardly anyone  knows that except Buffet who became with each insouciant word the recognized master of la dolce far niente... or, since most of you know no Eye-talian, the art of doing absolutely nothing... and doing it with the utmost style and grace, but without ever breaking a sweat.

Buffet's tune makes it clear why personals as currently structured  are silly, pointless, absolutely certain to deliver people you wouldn't be seen dead with. I mean, who doesn't like getting caught in the rain (given the right person on your arm)... who doesn't hate yoga.... and is hardly into health foods... but insists on champagne? Add long walks on a beach, making love at midnight in the dunes of the cape, and holding hands at the cinema... and you've got the personal ad in all its banal insipidity.

The wonder is not that they don't work for most people investing hope, time and money in them; the wonder is that they work for anyone at all... but then there are people (one hopes not you) who can be fully described with a few generic phrases. Avoid them like the plague.

Time for rethinking the personal ad.

In the olden days when personals appeared solely in newspapers and a few progressive publications like the alumni magazine for Harvard and such finicky folk as insisted on making known their preference for classical composers, stock brokers, and obscure holiday destinations; in those days one paid by the word and through the nose. Publishers counted on your desperation and longing to fill their coffers. Even the august Times of London cleaned up with such ads, universally called the agony column and always run on Page 1: "Should the fine lady in the blue mantle with yellow sleeves exiting the horse cars at Grosvenor Square Thursday last at 10:59 a.m. desire the acquaintance of a gentleman of means...", but you get the picture.

When writing such ads, where each word raised the cost, it was necessary to cultivate the virtues of laconic language, short, sweet, clipped. The objective was always to meet the person ardently desired but spend pennies, not pounds. As a result, it was understandable, even excusable when advertisers slashed words; robust clarity at all times was desirable... but unaffordable.

Enter the Internet.

The very first thing I learned about the 'net was that it's boundless, inexhaustible, absolutely unlimited. Thus, it can hold, maintain and preserve infinity. The implications of this fact are fathomless, too... not least on the matter of creating personal ads that get you the long-awaited apple of your eye. For now, since we have an infinity of space, there can be absolutely no excuse for writing and posting ads which are at once jejune, inadequate, and platitudinous in the extreme. They don't work, can never work, and must be abandoned, jettisoned, abjured, forsaken and, in case you miss the point, tossed into the dustbin of history at once.

Now you can write this all-important ad without being hobbled and restricted. You are at last permitted, nay empowered and directed to write what must be written, the ad, the whole ad, and nothing but the ad.

... but this will take careful thought and planning, for it is doubtful ere now that even one personal advertiser has written the magnificent advertisement you are about to write, edit, post, and benefit from for a lifetime. As such the most scrupulous planning is de rigueur and cannot be stinted.

Two people, two parts.

A good personal ad, which is to say an ad that accomplishes the desired objective, must be divided into two parts: half about who you are; half about what you desire in the person you wish to present the key to your (probably much bruised) heart.

Brainstorming, musing, total honesty.

Now, we all know that everyone, absolutely everyone lies in their personal ads. Excess Pounds disappear as if by magic; years are thrust in the dresser drawer; educational degrees are now cited from institutions which scorned the pleasure of your company; financial net worth up, all manner of imperfections down; spouses of decades unmentioned, and the eight darling children, too. This is the nature of the beast... until now. Now you have the space to tell everything... and complete details on the extenuating circumstances. Yes, you were flunked out of Alma Mater, but it was most assuredly not your fault... and you insist upon making the full dossier available right here and now. You have the space; honesty is desirable; and your bringing up the subject at all proves what a gem you are.

Thus instead of lying about the pounds you haven't lost, cite the reasons why. Honestly own up to the fact that your dietary habits are lax; list all your favorite foods... and the rate you consume them. List your last month's worth of dinner menus... and be scrupulous, entirely above board with everything you consumed, the kind of dishes on which you served the repast, and exactly what you did with the left-overs. You want your soon-to-be beloved to know you, fully, completely and so ardently; for after all, honesty is the bedrock of every meaningful relationship, don't you agree?

The desired one.

Once you have gathered all the critical intelligence about yourself, proceed at once to Part 2 of your ad, the absolutely crucial verbiage about the person to whom you wish to extend the glorious honor of sharing bed and board. Your complete and total focus is required. Again, brainstorm every desirable point, giving equal attention to what you do not want and cannot abide, and what you must have, a deal killer if not readily available, and in the desired quantity, too.

Starting this list is easy, almost effortless. You either want a smoker... or you don't. You either can accept pets (even the most exotic)... or you can't. But make it a point to move beyond these obvious points. Consider such matters as the odor you desire in a mate; how many showers per day; the kind, frequency and intensity of bodily hygiene. Honesty is required, and so honesty there must be. And if the length of your ad grows long and weighty, what of it? What you are doing here impacts the curvature of two lives, so no apology is necessary.

Post at once, reap your reward.

First, you are to be congratulated. You are a pioneer, a model of integrity and rectitude. Now it's time to reap the inevitable rewards which must come with posting. Mind, it may take a little time to get the single response this ad is meant to generate, for so thorough have you been that there can only be one response... from that extraordinary person daft enough to put up with you...and love you anyway.

*** We invite you to post your comments to this article below.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

Free Business Opportunities -> Free Biz Ops!

 

Free to Join n Get Paid to Promote this Cancer Killer -> Essiac Tea

Then Go to The Bottom of the page & Click on 'Affiliate Info'.

 

 


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Tue 7 Feb 2012

Spotlight on Mark Zuckerberg, hacker, Harvard drop-out, with a cute smile and a net worth already over 28 billion dollars. What's not to like?

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. I doubt that the subject of today's article is familiar with the celebrated English novelist E.M. Forster, but he ought to be. Foster's famous aphorism "Only connect" is the basis for what is already one of the greatest fortunes in the history of the world. Only connect... and the world is your oyster, all the oysters and all the pearls within them, too.

For what is the secret to the vast Zuckerberg fortune but an understanding that people need people, crave connection with them, need togetherness and a place to hang out. And so today I have selected as the incidental music for this article, the song made famous by Barbra Streisand (1964), "People", composed by Jule Styne; lyrics by Bob Merrill.

Go now to any search engine and listen to that soaring Streisand sound. Forster got it... Streisand got it... and now Zuckerberg has enabled everyone in the world to get it, for no one more than he, in the entire history of mankind, has connected more people than he has, as effortlessly as he has. And that is both good and not good... as we shall see.

Meet Mark Zuckerberg.

Whether you are familiar with Mark Zuckerberg depends to a considerable extent on your age and Internet savvy. The greater the one, the less the other, the more this soon to be iconic name will be unknown... and that, of course, means you're the oldest of fogies... and must instantly make amends. I intend to make that very easy for you.

Zuckerberg was born on May 14, 1984 in a "Leave It to Beaver" town with the quintessential name of Dobbs Ferry, New York. His life consisted of the very best and most appealing of what suburban life in the Great Republic offers; his father a dentist, his mother (before the birth of her four children), a psychiatrist. His was a loving, close-knit family that valued the most important thing of all: education, and made sure Mark got the best.

He was a prodigy from his earliest days; spurred on by his parents, who supplied tutorial assistance for this gifted boy, who seemed to know from conception that computers were his destiny, as they were for the world. He was sent to one of the Great Republic's most celebrated prep schools, Phillips Exeter Academy, where he captained the school's fencing team. Then, like so many of his gifted classmates, he made the expected move to Harvard... There in his now famous dorm room, right across the street from where I am writing, he began the steps that would not only make him one of history's wealthiest people... Croesus and Midas being pikers by comparison... but a social innovator of literally cosmic significance.

But all that is hindsight. At Harvard, Zuckerberg with his boyish grin that won't quit, danced administrators a merry measure. Harvard is famous for dealing with exceptional students; they are there, after all, precisely because they are exceptional... and, as often, difficult... as they try the patience of lesser deans charged with riding genius with a deft hand... and a recognition that these students will in due course rule the Great Republic and many other nations, its businesses and nonprofit organizations of every kind, and one tech enterprise after another. Future Success -- and generous donations to Harvard -- must never be forgotten... and never are.

Zuckerberg, hacking meister.

Harvard was, of course, familiar with young men of technical brilliance for whom The World's Greatest University, though undoubtedly an honor, moved just too slow. Quick, can you say Bill Gates?

Zuckerberg was impatient with things others deemed appropriate and suitable for him; a common Harvard malady. He had a sense, growing clearer by the day, of what he wanted, and it wasn't writing term papers on recherche' subjects minutes before they were due.

No, he wanted a career on the Internet, something his young generation "got" which was (and to a considerable extent still is) terra incognita to its woefully clueless parents. Not to put too fine a point on it, he spent his time at Harvard inventing what every red- blooded boy wants: a simple, effortless, infallible way to pick up chicks (and their hunky male equivalents.) And there was the Internet, universal, revolutionary, exhilarating right before him.... How could this force be put to work assisting the massive energies of  "the urge to merge," the most powerful drive in the lives of everyone on this planet, especially adolescents pulsating with untrammeled desire...

Mark, a recognized "go-to" guy at Harvard for solving computer problems, first invented something scholastically useful: "CourseMatch" which gave students absolutely candid (and hence often abashing to instructors) reviews of all courses and professors. It was an instant, irreverent hit...

Then, he invented Facemash, which matched pictures of two students, asking teen-aged connoisseurs to deliver comments on the various merits (and demerits) of each. Needless to say, comments were often rude, crude, hurtful... and funny. Harvard stepped in and killed this enterprise as "inappropriate".  And chastised Zuckerberg, who, to get the personal information Facemash required, hacked into protected areas of Harvard's sensitive and strictly private computer network.  Its popularity was undoubted -- 22,000 photo-views in its first four hours alone. But what was equally undoubted was Zuckerberg's blatant disregard of privacy and misuse of other people's data, issues which will always be part and parcel of his business life and fortune.

Facebook.

In February, 2004 Zuckerberg launched "Thefacebook" at www.thefacebook.com All hell broke loose amongst Zuckerberg's classmates -- Cameron Winklevoss, Tyler Winklevoss, and Divya Narendra -- who complained he was using their ideas. They sued, got a settlement and for the rest of their lives -- no matter how successful they may well be --  will always be overshadowed by Zuckerberg, and no matter how many bucks they settled for... It Will Never Be Enough. Just as the hapless owner of the domain name facebook.com probably says, getting a mere $200,000 for a name that is now worth untold riches. But it is in the nature of entrepreneurs to see things others don't and reap an avalanche of benefits as a result... and, why not? For after all they shouldered all the risks which are real enough and daunting.

Young, richer than rich, the apple of Wall Street's eye.

Mark Zuckerberg is now not merely a role model to every young techie just out of rompers, but a titan amongst plutocrats, whom he can now buy and sell. He is said to be quiet, unassuming, polite, never flaunting his fabulous wealth. But his may be the technical equivalent of "The Portrait of Dorian Gray." We shall just have to wait and see.

As for Zuckerberg, he should be reminded of the aphorism by Satchel Paige, "Don't look back. Something may be gaining on you." Because you can bet on it, Zuckerberg and the wealth of Facebook with over 800,000,000 members, one-third of all the Internet's ad revenues, and a mailing list worth billions and billions more, is now the target...

With the Initial Public Offering for Facebook Stock coming very soon, this month, Zuckerberg has other things on his mind, like what's a young man, just 27 years old, to do with 28 billion dollars, give or take a buck? There aren't enough things on our tired old planet to purchase... as he'll soon find out.

But while he's wondering how many zeroes there are in all those billions, he should never stop focusing on how to improve his corporate baby, for he must tend its cornucopia of information with strict regards for privacy, and he has a bad record here. He must root out the millions of underaged users (13 being the threshold) and urge them, with all due respect, to do more with their lives then develop oversized posteriors clicking computer keys.

He must urge all members to tell the truth (to be barred if they do not), for the "Veritas" (truth) he learned at Harvard is in lamentable short supply online, with Facebook members amongst the worst offenders.... Finally, he must work assiduously with all law enforcement personnel for Facebook is a haven for every human vice and malefactor on Earth. Use some of your mind-boggling fortune to preserve what is best about Facebook where happy serendipity is a constant occurrence and must remain so.

** We invite you to post your comments to this article below.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today. 

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Fri 3 Feb 2012

Paying to be programmed... The Student Loan Conspiracy

Paying To Be Programmed … The Student Loan Conspiracy‏

David Icke Newsletter Preview

PAYING TO BE PROGRAMMED …

… THE STUDENT LOAN CONSPIRACY

The David Icke Newsletter Goes Out On Sunday

I am not saying that this is the way for everyone. We are all different, or should be. What I am saying is that a ‘good education’ (programming) is not essential or the be-all and end-all of everything. You can educate – truly educate – yourself on your terms and not the system’s. I was well into my 30s before I really got started in educating myself and I was entering my 40s before this went into overdrive. It is never too late to start and with the Internet the information is there for everyone across a vast tapestry of subjects.

Self-education also gives you the power to focus on what you want to learn rather than what the system insists that you must. I mean, how many people have ever used algebra since they left the education sausage machine? X + Y = bollocksπ (pi constant), it always seemed to me.

Young people have their minds filled with so much useless tosh that they will never use and can always learn later if necessary and that’s even without the deluge of alleged ‘facts and information’ that turn out to be disinformation, diversion and downright lies. I see authorities, politicians and parents discussing school budgets, teacher ratios, class sizes and all this stuff, but hardly, if ever, what children and students are actually taught. That is just left to the system to decide and dictate.

I make all these points because of the way that college and university have become a ‘must do’ for so many young people and their parents today. Here we are an expression of All Possibility and yet the mind-numbing process of Little School, Big School, pass exams and go to university is the only possibility for so many.

TO SUBSCRIBE TO THE DAVID ICKE NEWSLETTER, GET IMMEDIATE ACCESS TO HIS FANTASTIC NEWSLETTER LIBRARY ON A HOST OF SUBJECTS GOING BACK TO 2005, AND SEE HOURS OF VIDEO FOOTAGE OF DAVID’S INFORMATION, PLEASE CLICK HERE …

 


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Fri 13 Jan 2012

Join My Recommended SafeList Programs

Join My Recommended SafeList Programs

A safelist is a mailing list that is geared towards advertising web sites, business opportunities, and so forth. All members of a free or paid safelist agree to receive advertising emails from the other members. It benefits you by allowing you to advertise to a number of people via email, without having to resort to spam.

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Join Our Recommended Traffic Exchange Programs

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Feel free to join the programs below. If you join the programs below you will get over 50,000 FREE visitors by those companies combined just for signing up!!! After you join you can enter your referral IDs from the companies so that all of the people you sponsor can join under you. That will be 10 or more income streams added to your Worldprofit Dealership!


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Leave Me Your Comments Anytime!

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Wed 28 Dec 2011

Straight talk about blogging. How to turn your blog into a money maker,with special information for your not-for-profit organization.



By Dr. Jeffrey Lant



Friend, have you got a blog yet? If not, you are not falling behind, you ARE behind. You see, a blog is a critical tool for making money online, whether you are selling products or need to raise donations for your not-for-profit organization.

What is a blog?

A blog is a conversation between you and your customers and donors. It enables you to present your message clearly, precisely, with the unfiltered emphasis solely on what you want these folks to know and do. When you blog, you call the shots and determine just what you want people to know and just when you want them to know it.  When you blog no one can intervene in what  you say or how you say it. It is 100% you, 100% of the time. The trick is knowing how to use this incredible communications device and power for maximum results.

Non-Profit organizations and the blog.

If you're running any kind of not-for-profit organization establishing a blog and using it to educate your supporters and donors is a must, especially now when the world is going through a particularly bad economic patch and many of your donors may be cutting back on the gifts which are essential for you doing your important work. When such periods occur (as they regularly do) you need to be even sharper about how to raise money... and your blog is an absolutely essential tool for doing so.

Donors want to know where their money goes.

If you want donors to keep giving to your organization, then you must tell them just what you need the money for... and inform them as you spend it. Blogs are ideal for this.

Say you're in the business of providing services to the elderly.  Without a blog you are very limited in your ability to inform your donors. With a blog, the sky's the limit.

Your blog should contain

1) precisely what you are doing.

2) why it's necessary.

3) what you would like to be able to do.

4) how much that would cost.

For not-for-profit organizations a blog becomes a way to talk simultaneously about the results you're getting... and the crucial tasks you could undertake if you had more funds.

Here's the formula:

1) We have raised (dollar amount).

2) With it we are doing (specific activities).

3) We need to raise (amount).

4) Which will enable us to do (more specific activities).

Making your blog really interesting.

Blogs that work are blogs that are interesting. Here's how you ensure that your blog captivates readers and keeps them coming back.

1) Focus on key people in your organization. Let donors see the people who are using the money they've given.

2) Provide donor testimonials. People who are considering donating will like to hear what  others are doing and why.

3) Feature the people who are benefiting from your service. They can provide valuable information about what you've done and how it helps.

Develop  a "wish list".

Every non-profit organization on earth knows it could accomplish more if it had more funds. Use your blog to talk about what you'd like to do... and what it will cost to do it. Break down major projects into do-able bits... projects should never be seen as too big and too complicated. Big projects should be divided into stages.

Your wish list needs to be carefully considered and presented. It should always be clear, understandable and capable of being achieved day by day, donor by donor.

Have a "we wished" list.

Here's something you've never heard before: don't just talk about what you want to accomplish. Talk about items which have been on your wish list.... but which are now accomplished fact. When you talk about such items, thank lavishly. Who helped you achieve this beneficial thing... who gave money... who gave time... who volunteered, reached out, helped? Talking about the "we wished"  items gives you the chance to give the gift of recognition.

Bring crucial information to your supporters and donors.

Part of your job is to provide continuing, in-depth information on the problem your organization addresses. To do this keep your eyes open and keep searching for timely, pertinent information.

When you see an article that pertains to what you're doing; when an important new study comes out; when there's new information from the government, let your audience know.

You can do so either by emailiing the details or, better, simply by emailng the link to the information with a brief introduction on why you're sending this. Remember: any chance you have to constructively interact with your supporters must and should be taken... this is how long-term, productive relationships are born and develop.

 Share the good news... and the bad.

Remember, a blog used properly is the basis for an infinite number of  long-term relationships. Such relationships must be honest, candid, real. This is especially true when things are bad. Open up to your supporters about what happened and why... and what you're doing -- right now -- to solve the problem. Believe me, I know how difficult opening up to your supporters in this way will be; you want to be perceived as "superperson"... but you're not. You're just a human, like everyone else, doing the best you can day by day, needing the help of other humans to achieve the objectives. This doesn't mean turning your blog into a psychiatrist's couch... it does mean being open with your supporters.

How often should you communicate with your supporters, donors, friends and well- wishers?

As often as necessary; whenever you have something important to say to them; whenever a word from you makes sense and can strengthen the relationship. In other words regularly, frequently.

How to write the best blog, in the least time.

Every organization needs a blog-meister, someone who is responsible for ensuring that the blog goes out regularly, consistently packed with all the details that you want readers to know. To achieve this result, delegate as much as possible.

1) If you're the sole person in your business or organization, write your blog a few minutes every day. The rest of the day, brainstorm items you want in your blog... and keep them in your important "blog idea file." In other words, when you're not actually writing your blog, you're thinking about it.

2) Ask others in your organization to help. Ask the person who's in charge of a new product to write up a blog post that tells why the product is important... what it does... why it's necessary, etc.

3) Ask the individual who's in charge of an important project to write an article about how things are going... and what needs to be done to keep things rolling along.

4) Ask an active volunteer to write a blurb on why she's so active... with a view to enthusing readers to tell you they want to help, too.

5) Use pictures and graphics to make your blog more visually appealing.

One more thing: be sure to contact me and let me know how this article and its detailed recommendations have helped you. I'd really like to know.


HOW TO INCREASE YOUR FUND-RAISING REVENUES

At Absolutely No Cost to Your Organization or Your Membership-- Ever!


Offered to you by Adrian Reid

To Join Our Fund Raising Program  Simply Click Here

 

 

 

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Dr. Jeffrey Lant is also the author of 18 best-selling business books.


Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Wed 28 Dec 2011

How to Create Blog Titles that DEMAND attention!

If you are going to spend the time it requires to blog then you want to make certain your time is for the maximum return.

You want readers right? You want your blog to be shared in social media right? You want more  traffic so  you  earn more money right? 

Smart bloggers who earn considerable revenue from their blogs, know it's critical to have well-thought blog titles.  

Here I share some critical points about writing blog titles so you get noticed among the millions of blogs out there.

For effective blog titles do this:

A great blog title gets the readers attention then draws them in so they actually read your blog. Remember, some web sites, readers and devices like cell phones and iPad aps, show only the title of your blog. Your introduction or summary of what the blog is about may not even appear so your title better be instantly eye-popping and interesting. If readers see only your title, and your title is lame, you are less likely to get readership. Instead make your title catchy, one that immediately conveys what the blog is about so readers think you are click-worthy. Be sure that your title is not word-heavy but is clear and obvious. Readers what to know right away what you have to offer and if its worthy of their precious time to read. When you read my examples below you will get a better understanding of what goes into a Blog Title that DEMANDS readership.

Creating blog titles that will get indexed by search engines, and read by people. 

When creating your titles you want to use as many key words related to your blog content as you can. Before you even start your blog post, think about who you want to read this post and what key words are relevant to your purposes and to your audience. If your blog is targeting a specific audience, try to work that into the title so your title speaks and says to the individual - HEY READ ME! If you want people to read your blog who are looking for specific key words related to what you offer, work those key words into the title.

Consider that people are busy, often they prefer short, easy to read blog posts. Ensure if you can that your blog title relays this by summarizing what you blog includes.

Don't compromise the value of your key words by being too creative in your title, make sure they are included in your title. With Google recently announcing that fresh content contributes to higher page ranking,  you want to make sure if your blog is about a trending topic, a news event, or breaking news, that it gets scanned first. You can help this happen by integrating the most obvious key words in your title so your blog gets scanned by Google and other search engine bots.

Finally, an important reason to give some thought to use of key words within your Blog title is this.  If you have any type of monetization on your blog, such as Google's Ad Sense, the key words you use will trigger specific related topic ads to appear on your site. This is beneficial to you, as ads that appear on your blog are more closely matched to your Ad Sense ads which offers you somewhat of an advantage for potential earning through clicks on the ads that appear on your blog.

Convey what your Blog is about with a smart title.

In your Blog title, say exactly what your content is in an enticing way. If you can find a clever way to shock, or make someone take notice within your Blog title, do so. For example, offer 7 Tips, or 10 Strategies, or 10 Ways to Drop 10 Pounds.  This style of titling is a good way to convey that your blog is brief but includes valuable information. For some blog titles you may find it helpful to convey a sense of urgency so readers gets the feeling they will miss out on some really good, juicy or helpful information if they don't read it. Celebrity gossip and Hollywood bloggers are particularly good at dangling carrots (celebrity names with a hint of scandal) within their blog titles to attract readership.

You may be thinking to yourself, WHOA! She is asking for a lot to be incorporated into a simple blog title! Yes, I am but it is easy if you know how to do it, you will get better at it as you go and your results will reward and motivate you. It's for your own good - really. To help you get started, I've included 6 examples of effective and less effective blog titles below. 

Example 1

Strong : How to grow roses that make your neighbours green with envy.
Weak:    How to grow roses.

Example 2

Strong: 7 Sure-Fire Ways to get rid of allergies for good!
Weak:   Allergies: a problem experienced by 30% of Americans

Example 3

Strong:  The TOP 10 BEST Hotels in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan
Weak:    Going to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan? Here's our picks for the best hotels.

Example 4

Strong: 5 Strategies That Will Triple Your Sales Today!
Weak: Looking for ways to increase your sales? We have what you need to know.

Example 5

Strong: Why Herman Cain can kiss the Presidency good-bye!
Weak:  US Presidential candidates, a look at who's running, the favourites and the predicted losers.

Example 6

Strong: 10 PROVEN Ways to Shed Weight FAST! Hollywood Celebrities do this, you can too!
Weak:  If you really do want to lose weight, we can help you.

See, it's not so hard. Spending a few extra minutes to think and tweak your Blog Titles will get you more readers, more traffic and more revenue!

**** What do you think? Do you use catchy titles for your blogs? What is your experience?

About the Author

Sandi Hunter is the Director of Website Development at Worldprofit Inc. Worldprofit provides a number of services for the small and home-based business community including hosting, design, webconferencing, traffic, advertising, SEO, safelists, traffic exchanges, training and resources.

This year Worldprofit marks their 17th year in business.

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

The most bully pulpit on earth -- your blog, and how to use it to make a difference.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. Have you ever felt that the problems of our muddled planet are too much for you... that you'd like your brief span on our bit of terra firma to matter... but can't imagine how to get started? In short, have you despaired... about your power, your abilities, your significance... about the future of our 3rd rock from the Sun... about making a difference that will last and make you proud?

Let me tell you this, fellow pilgrim, every single good person on Spaceship Earth has these thoughts; you wouldn't be the sentient soul you are if you didn't burn the midnight oil pondering these great questions of our species and its impact.

If you truly want to make that vital difference, then you will read this timely article and read it again... because it makes clear and in necessary detail just what awe-inspiring power you have at your immediate disposal... and how to use it, over and over again,  with ever growing experience and impact; a power that no Caesar ever had... no grave thinker... no nimble statesman... no dedicated man or woman of any kind (no matter how bold and innovative)... until the Internet came along and gave you -- you -- the power to change... to motivate... to chide... to encourage ... to uplift... to censure... to rethink and to re-examine... to educate... to cherish... to bring kindred spirits together... and lighten their labors whilst singing their praises.

You -- you -- wherever you are on this fast-spinning sphere, can alter the course of events, scrutinize and reshape the present, transform the future, enhance anything, enrich everything, place nefarious and heinous deeds under the most stark and unremitting light... whilst bringing to widespread public notice good thoughts, good deeds, good actions of every kind from every quarter and source.

All this and more is inherent in what we call a blog...and you have trod this world at just the right time... a time every reformer, redeemer, and revolutionary of the past envies you -- you -- for you possess what they could never even dream of whatever their station, intellect, or influence.

Commit.

First, commit and re-commit yourself to making a difference...not merely thinking of doing so, but actually pledging yourself to do so. When I was a young man thinking often about and baffled by my future, my mother offered me a salient piece of advice I have not only recalled from time to time... but crafted my life by: commit yourself, she said, to a cause that's bigger than you are, a cause that will need every skill you may master and all your imagination, energy, and the full measure of your heart, above all your heart.

This is a worthy objective for a life... though it never ceases to challenge and make demands which can sometimes seem too great, too exhausting, too strenuous. However, you will never know who you are unless you set such a rigorous pace and objective; for the grand goal and how you handle it make clear beyond question and cavil who you are...

Just one little candle.

Every great deed, every worthy thought, every beneficial action of every kind has begun with one step. Instead of being oppressed by all there is to do, instead be glad and comforted by the fact that you have the power now to begin... for as we say in New England, "well begun is half done."

Begin by saying, writing down and carrying with you at all times, the first four lines from the song "One Little Candle". You can find it in any search engine.

"It is better to light just one little candle Than to stumble in the dark Better far that you light just one little candle, All you need is a tiny spark."

(Music George Mysels, Lyrics Joseph Maloy Roach. Published 1952.)

Bully pulpit, not cliche, dross, drivel.

The term bully pulpit was coined by President Theodore Roosevelt, who referred to the White House as a powerful platform for advocating a progressive agenda. In his day only presidents and other holders of high offices had this power... but that is true no longer. You -- you -- have at your immediate disposal  powers and the potential for change, influence, and impact greater even than the man who coined the phrase and used it to effect the broadest possible results.

Unfortunately, some blog publishers are unclear on their mission and thus regularly publish material that is second-rate, old-hat, badly written, verbiage that would be better trashed than recycled through endless editions. Instead be clear on this: the material you publish must be worthy of a blog's potential and your ability to live up to it. That is every word, every sentence, every paragraph, every page must adhere to the highest possible standards, or else the whole enterprise is pointless, derisory, infra dig. And that result will never do... nor will it help you reach your goal of influencing the maximum number of people on this planet and so effecting meaningful change.

Celebrate, sustain, advance the underdog.

People of power, means, access, influence and position have absolutely no need for your services. They already occupy every significant place on Earth and the benefits and emoluments pertaining thereunto. Your task, to be worth the doing, must be to be clear on what you should be doing... who you should be supporting... and who scrutinizing and holding accountable. In other words, the best use of your blog is to support the underdog in any and every way at your empowered disposal. The world is full of the dispossessed, the disenfranchised, the desperate, the down trodden, the disappeared, the destitute. They are legion as are their stories of alienation, injustice, abuse; all too often thrust aside, deferred, buried, belittled, unregarded, distorted, dismissed.

Which is where you, your commitment, your blog, that bully pulpit, come in. In a world of such unending outrages, your task is clear and crucial, for all there will be days when it seems overwhelming.

Remember this, to have the power to effect good and to fail to use it regularly, pointedly, thoroughly is not merely an error, but dereliction, sacrilege, incomprehensible, immoral.

Thus, vow to set your blog on the path of unremitting reform. It will demand everything you've got with results unpredictable and never final. But this is God's work... and so it must be done... and why not by you and the blog that can touch and transform all? For, after all, you yourself are the one little candle that must be lit, that you may stand out in bold radiance, a beacon of hope for all the world and all who need you so.

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more. Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.


Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

'Darling, I am growing old, silver threads among the gold.' Telltale signsyou're an old coot.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note! Do you know the great Irish tenor John McCormack? If not, your grandmother surely did. "I tell you Mary Louise, he has the voice of an angel, an angel..." One of the multitude of songs he popularized and made his own was the famous tune "Silver threads among the gold". You couldn't listen without a tear or two dropping gently on your lap... no matter who you were or what your situation. There was that in the singer and his song that made even the most stoic lachrymose.

And so I have selected for the occasional music to this article, "Silver threads among the gold", perhaps the most popular ballad of the period starting with its copyright in 1873 right into the 1920s. The all affecting lyrics are by Eben E. Rexford, music by Hart Pease Danks. You'll find it in any search engine. Go now; find it; listen more than once and sniffle... because this music, these lyrics, this article are all about..... you..... the you getting older and stranger by the day.... you old coot, you.

Pity the poor coot.

I want you to know -- and coot lovers worldwide demand that I tell you -- the coot is an honorable, hard working, entirely meritorious fowl. It is a medium-sized water bird in good standing, well known and up-to-date in its membership in the rail family Rallidae. They constitute, and proudly too, the genus Fulica with eye-catching predominantly black plumage. They are common in South America, Europe, and North America, too.

Now hear this: they vigorously oppose the appropriation of their good name to describe eccentric or crotchety persons and are herewith filing a declaration and grievance with the United Nations. They aver and make clear: there is nothing wrong with coots in general, and old coots must be venerated, never, never derided and made the object of ridicule and derision. However some more insightful coots realize the only bad publicity is no publicity... and so these progressive birds use the expression themselves with glee and impunity.

Are you an old coot?

Consider the case of my honorable father and his telephone answering machine. Over time, this once pristine and useful device has deteriorated. First the machine lost about one in ten calls; then about one quarter of the calls went unrecorded... until now the number of lost calls and messages is hovering at a perfect 100%. It is just about impossible to leave a message for him.

When told of this situation, as he now constantly is, he says "I know. Other people tell me that." And each and every one of these folks wishing for immediate connection with my venerable sire says the same thing: "You need a new answering machine." But my father has a firm response based on his current age (86), likely check-out date, and a gnawing belief he will not get his full and complete money's worth out of any new answering machine... and so the matter rests from day to day... his standing as an old coot now entirely secure and certain. What's more, if he was to get as a gift, for Christmas say or his next birthday, a telephone answering machine, he probably could not be induced even to take it out of the box, for, after all, he didn't really need it; his current machine, despite its foibles and idiosyncrasies is still working, never mind that it only performs its necessary function at the most intermittent of occasions.

Out of range.

The same is true with Dad's O*Keefe and Merritt range. It's, 25, maybe 30, years old, or even  more. And whilst it is no doubt a fine company producing a fine product, this particular product has seen better days; to the extent that it cooks the food he likes hot and just so only about half way. And this, as one  may well imagine, irritates the old fellow. But because he is not just an old fellow but an old coot, he is not about to let that range go; after all it still cooks about half his food reasonably well.

And so, instead of calling the Sears appliance center or other venue offering stoves at fetching prices, he called..... O*Keefe and Merritt to see if they had the part that was defective on his unit. The representative he ultimately connected with laughed aloud when he gave her the part number, "Honey, we haven't produced that part for over 25 years." And that should have been that... trip to oven store at once... new machine to be installed next Thursday.

But old coots don't think that way....  no indeed.

All but useless... still good enough for coots.

If there's a penny's worth of value left in any object, no matter that that object can not do the job you need done, a coot, any coot, will die rather than lose that value. That's why dear old Dad, not only did not get a new range, but told the flip wench that he would keep looking for the part until he found it. Then he called a couple of repair places to see if they could help; they couldn't. This continued until he had the bright idea of going to Ebay, and there the matter rests because he doesn't know how to use Ebay and daren't ask me because he already knows what I'll say and getting rid of the friggin' stove is just the beginning.

I'd make him chuck the toaster that doesn't quite toast... "but I only got it 15 years ago, and it should be good for another 5,000 pieces at least..."

The typewriter he hasn't used, not to type a single letter or address label in a couple of decades at least... "but it's an Olivetti, top of the line"... Then the punch line, "They discontinued this model years ago, and you can't get ribbons anymore." Of course.

Even the bromo seltzer in the medicine cabinet... that he picked up for "Just a penny, I tell you" at the estate sale of my great grandmother, the sale held when I was just 13 or 14 or so; (I'm 64 now). Then, in 1959, it was already over 20 years old. But she'd say when people told her to get rid of it, she'd say with horror, "Why, what an idea, Lura Marshall"... and then these unanswerable words: "You never know"... and these unanswerable words were rendered with the hauteur of a queen... or at the very  least of someone who knew a great, dark, secret, like maybe it was a poison reserved for her Satanic rites. But it was worse, far worse than that.

Now I know what that secret is.

You see, that bottle of bromo seltzer arrived the other day, compliments of my father who decided he needed the space, but absolutely couldn't throw this away. Why, it was owned by his own grandmother.

When I opened that box, I knew; I knew not only I wouldn't... I couldn't throw it away.

And so I came to know.. and now I tell you the secret, that .. becoming an old coot is a matter of heredity, genetics, not choice, which makes me a Young Coot.

Thus I called Poor Old Dad (it took over a dozen attempts to reach him on his wonky answering machine) and promised I'll find him that part if it takes a year, or more; he's right, that range is far too valuable to discard, and new ones cost the earth.

You don't have to have silver threads among the gold to know that, although I most surely do. Why if I find that part, and I shall, that range has at least 20 good years left.... Dad says he's leaving it to me...

*** Your comments on this article are invited.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

 

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

'I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar. I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe.'

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. I've got this day all planned. First, I'll finish this article and get it out to the awaiting world; then I'll finish my Christmas shopping. I've been well organized about it. So far, so good; even the help at the other end of the telephone line, the people who take the orders, seem better and friendlier this year. Maybe they're glad to have a job, even a seasonal one, with so many  unemployed and likely to remain so.

I've got an objective that keeps me focused today... and that objective is to help myself to some good old, home-baked Christmas cookies... and not just one or two either. Diabetes be damned; Christmas and its cookies come but once a year.... and tonight I'll translate that into some serious munching.

One guy you may know who'll be helping me get in the mood is George Strait. He's called the "King of Country," his brand of music a toe-tapping mixture of western swing, bar-room ballads, honky-tonk style and fresh yet traditional Country. He seems a genuinely nice fellow, the kind of man who in real life would give you a big smile, a strong hand shake, and a tip of his over sized cowboy hat. Under the right circumstances, I could be persuaded to give him one of my Christmas cookies... but not more, no matter how nice he is.

In 1999 Strait recorded a peppy little number by Aaron Barker called "Christmas Cookies." It's got the necessary "gosh, ma'am"  twang factor and an infectious beat that'll follow you around the house like your favorite dawg, "I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar." The tune is about how he wolfs them down before his sugar babe even finishes the sprinkles and the icing....  his good woman outwardly chiding, but inwardly glad she has this big overgrown boy around the house; women like a little boy in their man... at Christmas and watching them down those cookies at record speed constitutes proof positive that she's got one. "Ah, shucks, babe, I didn't mean to eat them all.... but they were so good I couldn't help myself". What woman, and especially at Christmas, could take offense at that?"

No cookies, no Christmas.

Christmas for me means many, many things. Of the school pageant where my Midwestern school fellows shuffled through the first Noel all gawky embarrassment and barely suppressed giggles.

Of the all important trip to the car lot where one of those trees was ours... and no matter that it wasn't quite symmetrical and never, ever of decorator quality.  Our trees were mauled by love and had, from the very first moment, a family look... that became pure Currier and Ives when we tossed on the tinsel; (we were too impatient to put it on piece by piece; clumps were more our style). And when my father put the star on the top of the tree (and it was always the job of my father to do so), we all agreed, with our dog Missy reaffirming with her strident barks and capers, that this was the best tree yet. And so it was... every single year.

Christmas was all about tradition... and no one was more traditional than the three children in our home.... and woe if such and such a thing done a certain way the year before should, by an unthinking adult, be done differently this year. It was done that way before; it must be done that way now. This adamancy makes me smile when I think of it now. No army officer of ancient regiment could have been more devoted to the old ways and true than we were.

And this, of course, is where Christmas cookies come in. We were most dedicated to and unyielding about them, and not just because we always had the best cookies in the world baking in who's ever kitchen we found ourselves.  Quite simply, certain cookies with their unmistakable contours, tastes, and looks meant Christmas, and there would have been no Christmas at all without them.

The minute Thanksgiving was over...

I was born in Illinois in 1947, in February, so I was almost a year old when my first Christmas came along. There were just three of us for that first Christmas, two young parents in their mid-twenties... and me, the apple of every eye with consequences still playing themselves out over 60 years later. The first cookie story I remember is so good I have to insert it here... even though it's not about Christmas, but says everything about my mother and her unceasing concern about my welfare and place in the world.

When I was about three or four POM (Poor Old Mother) was so anxious that I have lots of friends and assured position at our neighborhood park, that she sent me into that park alone (whilst she watched anxiously from a distance), a backpack strapped to me and a big package of Oreo cookies filling that pack. So accoutered I became the bait that would ensure my popularity and social advance. There was a certain crazy logic to the scheme... and whilst I do not remember the incident itself, POM told me years later, I was mobbed by moppets who were not about to turn down free cookies, whatever the strings attached. And so my charismatic career was well and truly launched...

... thus was the importance of cookies made clear... so much so, that I can never recall even a short period of my life when I was cookie-less, and certainly never at Christmas.

Klotschkis

My grandmother was of English descent; my grandfather's was German. Yet neither English nor German cookies were favorites. That was the klotschkis which truly symbolized the holidays. Needless to say as a boy I cared nothing for the proper description, where it came from, even how they were made. I was simply mad for this one cookie, the cookie we only got at Christmas and ate wildly, regardless of its astronomic sugar content and stratospheric calories. And I was not alone in this. Klotschkis were everybody's favorite... and so my English-born grandmother bearing the name of the great queen who died the year she was born, was kept baking what we all craved... and knew too well would be gone soon, severely to test our patience before returning.

This year thanks to Sharon Oshatz and fast Internet searches, I got the low-down on the klotschkis, everything but the taste; that I had never forgotten and needed absolutely no assistance to recall.

Klotschkis are simple Polish butter cookies festooned by various jams... particularly strawberry, and the ones I remember best... apricot and prune. My grandmother always finished them with white confectioner's sugar. She knew the importance of tradition, particularly but not exclusively to her youngest relations; she never tampered with what she knew we wanted, expected, and would have been disappointed, dismayed and distraught had even the smallest particular concerning these cookies been neglected or overlooked. And in her kitchen they never were. Though common sense was.

The problem with traditions is that they all have the feeling of forever about them; that what one celebrates today will necessarily be here to be celebrated tomorrow. Nothing could be less true... for every tradition (like everything in the human condition) is doomed to fade, become uncertain and inaccurate, and pass on; and we humans are careless about such matters. We believe in "forever"; when we should be working instead to ensure that forever, by working hard to avoid forgetfulness and oblivion. And as a species we are just horrid at this.

Thus, in this year of our Lord 2011, I shall not have the joy of klotschkis, either the memory or the richness of flavor. My grandmother Victoria, as stolid and certain as Queen Victoria herself, would never be anything but forever; that's the way we acted... only to be upended by the predictable death that turns "forever" into a macabre joke. No recipe written; no recipe transmitted to her daughters, then to me and mine. If only she had said such and such amount of butter, so many dozens of eggs, blended in a bowl and baked for so many minutes. For without these simple directions, this cookie, made magic by Grammie, becomes the task of historians and archeologists.

Still this evening I shall do my best to recreate perfection, recipe in hand, high standard daunting but not inhibiting. For I was there to sample this perfection in the first place... and I must try to recapture it before I, too, cannot do so. I owe it to Grammie... my mother and siblings et al. And I owe it to myself, too, because you see

"I sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugar I sure do like those Christmas cookies, babe."

Dedicated to Sharon Oshatz, colleague, friend, cook, on the occasion of her birthday. I didn't ask how many, because I know she's just getting better and especially appreciate the help she's given to make me better, too.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc.,


Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

An appreciation for the life of Vaclav Havel, a man who changed the world with grit, endurance, and above all else with words. Dead at 75. December 18, 2011.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program notes. One of the great things about people, all people, but especially important people, people who made a difference, changed the world and the world's future is their oddities, their quirks, idiosyncrasies, their improbable habits, likes and aversions. They humanize the great ones of this planet and make them approachable, likable, not just historic. Amongst Vaclav Havel's many endearing traits was riding a kid's scooter through the corridors of venerable Hradcany Castle while he was the final president of Czechoslovakia (1989-1992) and then first president of the Czech Republic  (1993-2003) with a fondness approaching obsession with Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones.

Thus, for openers, I have selected as the theme music for today's article "Street Fighting Man'", released in 1968. And so I give  you this image, to set the stage for what follows... His Excellency the President of the Republic toodling through what were literally the corridors of power singing at the top of his voice, "The time is right for palace revolution"...  a man who not only thought so... but had already done it, liberating millions. You've gotta love this man... not to mention every aspect of his astonishing life. He was a man easy to love... as his nation and the world came to know so well.

Something hard for us to imagine, essential that we know, and must never forget.

Today, whatever day you read this, you will benefit from the freedoms of your nation. You will go where you want, join the friends of your choosing, take what satisfaction you can from the job you have chosen, at  least the job you voluntarily selected. You will read the publications you like, even the most advanced and incendiary. You will argue politics with a will, standing up to all, second guessing all, criticizing whatever takes your fancy and promoting whatever cause, even the least popular, with whatever ardor and effort you choose to make. You will go to what schools and institutions of learning you desire... live wherever you can afford to... and worship God where and when you like... howsoever you like. And you will take each and every one of these freedoms, all these rights, for granted; indeed, most probably you will think of none of them, so certain are you in their existence, validity and surety, for such is the nature of the world's advanced nations...

...  Vaclav Havel was born into another world altogether, a world where not one of the political rights and  liberalities listed above existed in any way at all... they were merely notions and words found in books smuggled in from other nations, conditions ardently desired but unavailable to anyone. And millions in the so-called Eastern Block lived this way from 1945 or tried to, for this was no life... and hardly an existence.

Geography is destiny.

What caused so many to be so confined, spied on, limited, totally subject to people whose vision extended no farther than total control, total submission, total state intrusion into every affair... and where humanity and the rights of humans were not merely suppressed, but did not exist? What caused this situation to exist? Proximity. The convenient nearness of Prague to Moscow, just 1034 miles, only about  50 miles more than the distance between New York City and Omaha. And this distance contained no insuperable mountains, no impassable deserts, no natural fortifications and formidable limitations. And so, over the course of centuries, the history of the lands of what became the Czech Republic January 1, 1993 -- Bohemia, Moravia, Silesia -- was merely a part of the history of Russia... for the great fact of the Czech people was Russia...  Into this inescapable and unchangeable fact, Vaclav Havel was born October 5, 1936 when the sovereign state of Czechoslovakia authorized by the victorious allies of World War I was already facing the crisis of World War II, a crisis that gave the Soviet Union the laissez passer they needed to destroy the great and historic lands bordering the USSR and fashioning what Winston Churchill called the Iron Curtain. These were the formative events of Havel's young life... that and his lifelong love affair with, reliance on, and ability to use words to influence, enthrall, motivate, change, and transmit to the people his vision of their collective future. And you will never understand Havel until you understand that words, never power, were the most important thing to him... and of these words he was master... thereby enabling him to rise above the outrages of his life... for the words were always there when he needed them... to do what he needed them to do... for himself and the people who came to depend on him... and on them.  Havel gravitated to writing and no wonder; for in a world where he had no control over his life, he could control even the most intractable and frustrating of words. In a world where the present was grim and the future despaired of, he could dream and create means for escape. And where his every thought and composition was scrutinized by bureaucrats entirely unsympathetic to the creative mind and desirous of isolating each and every one who would not conform, words offered not merely solace... but vital connection to the people who, over time, thrilled to the words, the vista they opened, and to the man who mastered and put them at the service of the nation he loved... and so escape its despondent present. In his words there were possibilities, optimism, and the magic that raises a man from the people to lead them. How could a great people not gravitate to such a man with such powers of succor and uplift?

And this the entrenched Communists of Prague, and their masters in Moscow, could never allow, and so did everything conceivable short of executing him, to ensure his life was an unending misery for in this they were the past masters... and even that execution was narrowly avoided and always a possibility.

The pivot of his thoughts.

The corpus of Havel's work, over 20 plays, articles, declarations, and many non-fiction works, was always this: that the development of the individual was antithetical to the Communist state, whatever reforms were adopted. Communism, he argued so forcefully and so well, was incompatible with human rights, and that above all else, the existence, maintenance and development of those rights was always paramount. This message was heard by all, oppressors and oppressed, with very different reactions.

And so Havel was censored, imprisoned, put in a job in a brewery he knew nothing about, called a non-person, a menace, derided as an intellectual, bribed to leave, threatened if he stayed. It was constant, systematic, barbaric, dark days which might cause even the strongest to break under the strain. He dealt with it by unfailing, indeed exquisite courtesy to all, an unending chain of the cigarettes which ultimately killed him and, above all else, with the great words which no Communist manifesto could debase, eliminate, or answer. These words faced the last great empire on earth with bravery, courage, selflessness, and with honesty, the essential attributes necessary to the destruction of Communism and its systematic attack on the best of what makes us human.

And so as the Soviet Union reeled and stumbled, Havel, made stronger by decades of challenge and ordeal, soared... each Communist government of Eastern Europe fell, the Berlin Wall fell, the very Soviet Union itself fell and Havel was, reluctantly he always said and I believe him, elevated to the presidency of his newly packaged nation. 

He still remained what he had always been, an advocate for the rights of humans, all humans, which made him a prickly presence in government circles, for his love affair with the truth and the words that disseminate it never waned, whatever his high, historic office and universal recognition, honors and prestige. He had the satisfaction he needed in the words, the tools he derived from them, and the victories for humanity and the human spirit they had helped him deliver.

But I shall end, not with Vaclav Havel's words, but with a couplet from Mick Jagger's "Street Fighting Man":

"Well, then what can a poor boy do Except to sing for a rock  n roll band?"

I'll answer that: he can master the power of words and change the world for the better, without a single bullet being fired, not even one.

#### We invite your comments by posting below. 

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.


Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

O Little Town... Christmas comes to Cambridge, Massachusetts, December 25, 2011. 12:54 a.m. 20 degrees Fahrenheit. Winds W-NW 8 miles per hour.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. Before I left on my Christmas walk-about at not quite 1 a.m. Eastern today, I turned on every light in my brilliantly lit house. On the lights in the hallway thereby exposing in radiance the wistful picture of a young 18th century prince of the House of Brunswick-Luneberg. Dead too soon, not even 20, he craves all the light I can give him, and that is much.

On the lights, all the lights in the Red Drawing Room, on the lights, all the lights in the Green Room, on the lights, all the lights in the Blue Room from where I am writing you now, where the chandelier throws out over 10,000 facets of light. So the seller told me; I have long since given up counting them... but their colors entrance while its welcome heat warms me...

What kind of mania is this that demands every light lit, every treasure burnished, everything bold, audacious, polished, warm and, to my uttermost ability, welcome?

Just this: It is Christmas Day, this very day, this day of days, to come but once and go... and I am alive, ready, eager to take myself from here and see how this 2,011th Christmas is evolving from my vantage point in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I command all this light, first, to celebrate the advent of this day and its great meaning, that on this very day, over two thousand years ago the Prince of Heaven was born, a boon to mankind, our sustaining hope unto the ages. And I want Him to know that He is welcome here... and always has been, though often I did not know or show it...

And, too, there must be light, an explosion of light, to welcome me home, for I mean to go out and see for myself how this Holy Night is faring and what my neighbors may be doing.

Red hat, white fur, my  lassez passer.

This is my 63rd Christmas; the year when my many friends worldwide, of so many climes and countries, offer their advice freely before I venture out into the dark and cold. "Bundle up," says Mark Anderson. "Remember to cover your ears," proffers Dale Thomson. "Don't stay out too long," offers David Mobile. Such words, each one on any other day lese majeste', convey care and love... and make me smile. A man like me knows well the warmth of such words and how to conjure them; they cheer the heart such as no fire can. Age hath its wisdoms and privileges; no one knows that better than I do, and I crave them as surely as air or sun; and get them, too.

And so I put on the foolish Santa hat I was given by a young friend who looked raffish when he wore it, whereas I look just silly...  but I  know that wearing it out this night of all nights, will safely mark me as harmless, eccentric, a man who has imbibed too much of the grape, erroneous conclusions to be sure, but useful when a man leaves his cozy house at midnight, and warm bed, too, to venture out into the piercing cold of a Bay State Christmas in pursuit of... but you must come out of your snug world and along with me to see.

Presents for me...

In the lobby of my building where I am now, I think, the senior resident or close to it, I see two boxes for me. These neat parcels, festooned by words like FedEx and UPS and the numeric mysteries of their tracking systems, firmly establish me as a card-carrying person of the middle classes and of means; poor people shop at stores and carry home their packages, often on buses and late-running subways. Mine ascend by elevators and are given by delivery men, exceptionally polite at this time of year, who say things like "Something else for you, Dr. Lant. Somebody loves you..."

But I have no time for such packages now... I have a mission.

Cold air, colder Puritan.

The cold of midnight is piercing but by no means the worst I have felt; the Internet weather report (the only place I go for weather intelligence anymore) says the wind chill factor is 10 degrees Fahrenheit. I feel superior to that, and further plunges, too. I am glad to take it, and to know I can still take worse; more evidence of my evergreen condition; of increasing importance as I get older...

The Cambridge Common, where by ancient law and privilege I could graze my cows (should I get some), is vacant tonight... but the statue of John Bridge continues its austere duty, scrutinizing the lives of Cantabridgians, ensuring not that we are as worthy as he (for that is impossible) but that we do not stray too far from his noble example.

Bridge was a Puritan, a man of God and God's affairs and ran these, no doubt to God's satisfaction, for Bridge's all-worthy career prospered in mid-17th century Cambridge. Such men, the very fibre of moral rectitude and self-assurance (my ancestors, too, for the nonce) made a point of destroying the olde English Christmas of "God rest ye merry gentlemen." Bridge would no doubt have disapproved the frivolity of my chapeau... and so I walked on, glad he was not coming to disdain my liberated Christmas.

The artistry of ice.

Burdened by winter as I often am here, captive of the chill Atlantic and its perishing cold, I more often avoid the ice than consider it. Tonight I rectified this error and stopped to scrutinize the random beauty of ice, frigid patterns that turned yesterday's puddles into tonight's etched allure. It is beautiful, the kind of sharp avant garde pattern in black and silver a stylish billionaire might use to dazzle every penthouse guest; here this transient beauty goes unremarked by all but me.

There is livelier fare across the street, when seven squad cars spurt police, busily at work at the main gate of Harvard College, just opened days ago from the thrall of the hapless revolutionaries who Occupied Harvard, but not effectively or for very long. The police are out in force, a tow-truck at the ready, a fellow human being in their arms, his Christmas and destiny to be paid out in hospital or jail cell.

I look instead at the statue of Senator Charles Sumner (1811-1874), a man of such austerity and respectability that when he escorted Mary Todd Lincoln there was no touch of scandal at all, though he was reckoned the most handsome man at Harvard and in Civil War Washington. I often wonder whether the burden of such rectitude made him happy. Certainly his statue does not show it. He was cold in life, and perhaps the coldness of this statue is its truest aspect.

I prefer to spend my Christmas night with another Harvard man, the Reverend Phillips Brooks (1835-1893). He is memorialized in Harvard Yard, but not in copper and stone. His is a memorial of people, for the people who admired and loved him created in 1904 Phillips Brooks House Association, a student-run, community-based non-profit public service organization whose mission is the true meaning of this holiday, to give and give until it truly helps and makes a difference.

Brooks took the fine tune by organist Lewis Redner and graced it in 1868 with the words we know as "O Little Town of Bethlehem" and whose words are my prayer for us all this day, and every day.

"O holy Child of Bethlehem Descend to us we pray... O come to us, abide with us Our Lord Emmanuel."

(Concluded and sent to the world as the author's gift, 5:05 a.m., Christmas  Day, 2011).

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.


Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

Ten thousand men of Harvard had victory today as the muddled levelersat the World's Greatest University pack it in..

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. This is a story of my Cambridge, Massachusetts neighborhood and of the clever administrators who, when the forces of revolution, in the persons of Occupy Harvard, through a simple, if unparalleled   expedient, showed the unwashed elite intent on mayhem, just why they weren't going to get it.

This is the story of the young and self-dubbed "idealistic"... who "captured" the undefended citadel of a great institution, pitching their pathetic pup tents at the very foot of John Harvard himself... expecting surrender, kudos, and the front page and editorial favor of the New York Times; then watched themselves become, day by day, a foolish anachronism, rightly snickered at and derided; and at the last embarrassing, uncool.

It is the story of the original alma mater of  this Continent who, whilst no doubt exasperated by these her erring children, used a smidgeon of its abundant parental wisdom so that the misbehaving youngsters in her charge were gently taken in hand, chagrined and frustrated of course, but not humiliated. For Harvard, corporate giant that it is, still remembers that it is an institution where young people -- so intelligent, each and every one of them -- must be allowed the foibles of their slender years; admonition and rebuke being the order of the day, not censure and the spanking they truly deserve and which would do them a world of good.

This is the story of how Occupy Harvard, ignored, derided, ridiculed, threw in the unwashed towel, always claiming victory of course, and went home to mom and dad, just in time for Santa Claus, little knowing they had already encountered him in the persons of the wise solons of the university; that their biggest present this season was the respectful treatment, care, even courtesy they received while acting out their petulance and selfishness in the Yard that is the beating heart of Harvard.

To get yourself in the mood for this true tale of our times, start by going to any search engine and find the Harvard Fight Song, "10,000 men of Harvard" and let its bold assurance set the pace for your day and my story. It has absolutely the right brass and total assurance that we ancient grads are feeling today as the immemorial gates of Harvard swing open again after the outrage of locking them in the first place and keeping them locked for 39 long, dreary days.

The tale begins.

Harvard and every single one of its students and grads would like to feel, no, do feel that here in Cambridge the best and brightest gather and under its antediluvian timbers and in the midst of every  knowledge Past, Present, and Future; yes gather, for nothing  less than to craft the future of this planet and of Mankind. This is the Harvard Mystique; whether it is true or not is irrelevant; for every man of Harvard and every woman of Harvard too, would suffer painful and fatal dismemberment before admitting otherwise. Thus the Mystique, and its very practical consequences, abides.

This Mystique was affronted by, irritated by, and irked and inconvenienced by the pip squeaks who thought they could upend the established order of things hereabouts by planting their ultra privileged posteriors in the mud,  and while proclaiming their sanctity and superiority go in pursuit of Something to Advocate. For make no mistake about it, they came to indulge the delights of revolution without a single item of revolutionary intent. These had to be found, even manufactured. And thus they were truly rebels without a cause. But all the other kids of their generation were indulging their penchant for community play time and fatuity; they wanted some of the fun for themselves.

And so they, free to move into the Yard, did so, rapscallions mouthing the flatulent and facile rodomontades of revolution, whilst continuing to take their hot and delicious meals in the convenient refectory, bills dispatched to daddy in the usual fashion. Never before in the annals of human affairs has revolution been so casual, so effortless and so well served.

In loco parentis. What should be done?

Once ensconced, the rebels proceeded to make a menace of themselves; not because of the high value and necessity for their demands; for they were scrambling to find such. No, the real danger was to them... and the university authorities rightly took heed to the very real likelihood that their presence would prove irresistible to the flotsam and jetsam of derelict humanity just feet away in Harvard Square where so many make an uncomfortable home and living, preying on the feckless students of Harvard, too young to know how exploited they are and how much at risk. To the revolutionaries, these are the "people", and they must be saved; thus mistaking who is victim and what is necessary.

And so for the first time in its storied history, since its very foundation in 1636, the great gates, the celebrated gates, the massive historical gates with the proud insignia of ages, these gates swung shut, padlocked and guarded. No one but bona fide students living in the Yard could get in... and this meant graduates like me, a Cambridge dweller, too, and close by, who all view the 25 acres of the Yard as our personal park and estate.

So, the responsible authorities of the university gathered to mull over what  they should do, for the good of the institution, the students who came (mirabile dictu) to study and better themselves, and the revolutionaries who needed the utmost protection of all. What should be done for the greatest good of the greatest number?

And some inspired soul at this meeting of high consequence said, "Close the gates." The suggestion, unprecedented, audacious, unexpected, was in fact inspired... for it gave succor to those who needed it (always, remember, including the sophomoric revolutionaries themselves) while depriving those revolutionaries of what they most needed and had to have: an audience.

At once the great leveling revolution and its wet-behind-the-ears practitioners took on an air of irrelevance, far from the event of cosmic significance Harvard students always assume whatever they do must be. They dreamed of sweeping consequence and imperial panoramas, but the best they could come up with was working to get a pay increase for the custodial staff, happily willing to let the students advocate for them, and so, from perceived oppression, show their wiles.

The revolutionaries threw the obligatory "teach in" where the absence of rhetoric, declamation, and logic from the Harvard curriculum was glaringly revealed. They shouted, too, for a review of Harvard's massive investment portfolio, sure that profits were being made by investors without social conscience. But it was much ado about nothing. And so, day by day, without auditors, fervor waned along with the temperatures of bone-chilling December. The revolution sputtered to an ignominious conclusion.

With white gloves...

Winston Churchill, so often so apt, once said, "When you hang a man, don't forget the white gloves." And perhaps this sentiment was conscious as Harvard, having seen the diminution of the revolution and grasped the growing desire of both students and revolutionaries alike for parlay, suggested a face-saving summit conference with all the honors... therefore offering a way out for the embarrassed and disdained occupiers; gates to be open, all but a symbolic token of revolution to be dismantled.

And so in approved Harvard fashion, the hapless revolutionaries will face their extinction today; thence to go home for the holidays extolling all the mighty deeds they did not do. Whilst Harvard, fair Harvard, endures, its great caravan encompassing the globe, majestic, whilst the little hyena yaps no more.

*** We invite you to post your comments to this article below.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses.


Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

 

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

So, in the end what did they accomplish? The millennial, the mud, the movement that didn't move and never danced.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. You know what was wrong with the great millennial movement now receding worldwide? They never looked like they were having a good time... these denizens of our grim day made a statement all right, but it was dour, unsmiling, without a provocative get-down dance move to be seen. But since this generation not only doesn't read but probably can't read, they don't know the secret to a successful revolution is fun. Because if you can't have fun overturning the powers of the world, what's the point! Woodstock Occupy America never was... and so this movement never had legs, much less any tangible success.

That's why I've selected a famous dance number for today's incidental music. It's "We are family" by Sister Sledge. Written by Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers, it was released in 1979 and immediately set the world dancing... and why not? There has never been a culture anywhere that didn't embrace the ecstasies of dance... not least because it's a superb way for young 'uns to show off  their bods, unceasing energies and the hot moves that cause old folks who have forgotten their own younger days to tsk, tsk.

What did they want? Everything.  What did they get? Nothing.

One day in September, a lazy young man who got irritated and surly every time his mother asked him to clean his room, decided "enough was enough". He didn't know what that meant, but, to his unclean and untutored ear, it sounded... well it sounded ominous, important, something that would surely get him something. And so he called a couple of his worthless buddies, the kind of schlemiels who are always hanging out, hoping to pick up a few scraps from the table; the kind of kids you feel sorry for and who are later arrested for stealing your silver ware. "Come on ovah," he says, "we'll hang out."

Let's call this kid Zeke, because surly young men with turbulent rooms always have names like Zeke, as young parents expecting their first born should know. A bad name can wreek havoc at any time or place.

Anyway, Zeke sends his first text message to the authorities that be, namely Mom. It says "I have enuff... No clean room ever again. When's dinner? Can Bobbie stay ovah 2nite?"

Despite a lifetime of irritations from her kid, outrages big and small, thoughtlessness of every kind, Mom still loves her Zekie and so indulges the bathless brat, by delivering his dinner rather than the slap on the back of his head he well and truly deserves. Yes, Mom's love protects him -- again.

Zeke's mooching friends arrive.

Zeke has no job... no ambition... no objectives... no goals... and a world of time. His useless friends are the same... no where to go, no way to get there, scroungers each and every one of them. And so, inevitably, they gather in  Zeke's ever more filthy and disgusting room to... complain about his Mom, their own Moms, and the entire business of Moms in general. It's unfair... unjust... and they just don't like it, so there.

Next text to Mom reads, "Mom we r hngry. Can you feed us? P.S. We hate you."

Mom's Response.

First off, you must never forget Mom loves Zeke... she knows he needs a swift kick, knows she's coddled him for life, knows that he'll probably be living with her the rest of her life... and that he picks up scum in the street faster than gum to a shoe... but she loves him... and so indulges him. So, she calls all her fellow Moms and arranges a meeting to determine what to do... she also buys a dozen boxes of Arm & Hammer baking soda and hides them in his room... because, not to put too fine a point on it, Zeke stinks, his buddies stink, the room stinks, and one of the neighbors has sent a letter to the board of health.

Now this is a problem.

Next text message received: "We hate all Moms. Plze get me warm clothes NOW?"

What they do all day.

In the past, Zeke, always near the bottom of his class, was going nowhere fast. But now, he's got buddies... a world of buddies... all useless, all just hanging out... all with text messaging, masters of short, misspelled messages, filled with incoherent demands. Thus, Zeke and his buddies besides eating Mom's free food and clogging the overused and under scrubbed facilities (to Mom's shame and disgust) spend every waking minute texting their buddies worldwide.

First, they text this "Meet at Zeke's. Bring lyrics to Kumbaya. Also lice killer." Zeke's new (itching, scratching) friends start arriving. "Hey, man, got any video games?"

Then folks who can't come, decide they want to do what Zeke's doing but in their own neighborhoods... 'cause sitting around the house, doing nothing, going nowhere fast is "wicked cool"... and all their equally worthless friends agree. They have never had more fun in their lives... although they smell something fierce.

The Moms gather.

By now Zeke and his feckless friends have taken over all the rooms in his house... including basement and attic... and they're all over the front yard, the back yard... and... the neighbors' yards. This is now a Real Problem. And so the Moms gather... the loving Moms, the angry Moms, the Moms who want to bash in Zeke's head and every other head, too... every Mom present, accounted for, with an Opinion On The Matter. They decide on Action... and so... they put  Zeke's Mom in a hotel along with the heirloom china she's afraid they'll break or steal... and start Retaliating...

... they shut off the heat... they turn off the water... they turn the already obnoxious "necessaries"  into truly noisome middens... they put saltpetre in the food.. and end all Charmin deliveries. They mean business.... and the kids gets grossed out... Moms know their business... and are a lot smarter than Zeke and his friends ever knew; although one Mom with a Social Conscience smuggled in some "Moist Wipes" thus earning the contempt of every other Mom. "I couldn't help it," she said, "Cathilynn has never been unclean before."

The media discover a "story".

Folks in the media spend a lot of time waiting for Something to Happen; sometimes they get so bored waiting that they speed up the process; this is especially true if you work for Rupert Murdoch, a guy who hates waiting. Anyway, it didn't take long before Zeke and his unwashed buddies were on Fox News being asked probing questions like this:

"What are you here for? " They didn't know.

"Who's your leader?" Don't have one.

"How long will you stay?" As long as necessary until we find out what we want, and get it.

And so a Huge Story was uncovered... and dutifully reported by news media even more clueless, if possible, than Zeke and the unwashed.

Then one day it happened...

The Moms stormed the Bastille, grabbing the occupiers by the back of their necks, pulverizing the sinks, the toilettes, and the unexpected cache of cusinarts and blenders, literally sending the kids to the showers. It was thorough, effective, well organized and it did the job.

Besides, it was getting close to Christmas, and Zeke and his buddies wanted to see what Santa brought them, for each and every one of them believe in Santa, you can bet on that, as they rely on so many like Santa, people who gave them everything and asked for nothing.

And now the grand summary for the would-be levelers of the world. Not having leaders didn't work.  Not having objectives didn't work. Not getting off your privileged posteriors didn't work. What worked was the system that you belittled, affronted, inconvenienced, and outraged. It gave you the hearing you wanted... even though you had nothing of any worth to say and forced us to indulge you to hear and pay for it.

### We invite your comments on this article below.

 

About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc., providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

 

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 26 Dec 2011

Relationship Building is Good Business, here's why.

If you want to set your business apart from your competitors spend some time creating and fostering relationships with your current and prospective customers.

Strong business relationship lead to long term customers and this is good for your bottom line. If you have been ignoring social media it's time to recognize that you are turning your back on a vital direct connection to the people who have supported your business and those people who may be your next customers. Your customers are a vital source of information for any company. They can help you understand how to better meet their needs and therefore, retain their business while attracting new business. One of the most powerful ways to tap this valuable resource is by finding more ways to connect with your customers and build lasting relationships.

Relationship building is an ongoing process on and offline. Social media makes it easier to start and build relationships with current and prospective customers all over the world. Your marketing plan should include dedicating resources for building your online presence through posts, blogs, backlinks, bookmarks, commenting and more. Your website is simply not enough any more. If you want to speak to your customers and grow your sales you will need to connect with them using popular social media.

Social media makes it easy to build relationships with your customers, here's how.

- Instantly create connections

- Expand your reach to new markets

- Ability to jump on customer service issues right away

- Better identify gaps in your service provision

- Know what people are saying about your company

- Increase awareness of what your business offers

- Increase referrals and sales

- Generate new sales with offers

- Post Product or Service Reviews

- Improve customer experiences with your company

- Generate fresh online frequent content that you control

What to do next:

Have a look at some of the popular Social Media sites to see which ones are the best fit for your company, products or services. Don't limit yourself to just the large sites, if you can find niche sites directly related to your purposes this can be ideal and easily found with a Google search. Here's just a few of the top ones ranked by Alexa.com

YouTube.com
Facebook.com
Twitter.com
LinkedIn.com
MySpace.com
Yelp.com
StumbleUpon
Tumblr.com
Reddit.com
Flickr.com
Digg.com
Metacafe.com
del.icio.us
segnalo.com
BlogCatalog.com
technorati.com
mixx.com
Rojo.com
Kaboodle.com
gather.com
Folkd.com
KillerStartups.com
Newsvine.com
Faves.com
BlinkList.com
BuddyMarks.com
WireFan.com
Mister-Wong.com

Before the Internet, building business relationships meant greeting your customer by name when they came into your store. Today, it means using  social media to better connect with your customers and in the process of helping them you help your own company grow stronger. Companies and their customers are connected in a way never seen before and it’s your job as a business owner to facilitate this process.

 

About the Author

Sandi Hunter is the Director of Website Development at Worldprofit Inc., a company providing a wide range of online services for small and-home based businesses. Services include home business training, affiliate marketing training, earn-at-home programs, traffic tools, advertising, webcasting, hosting, design, WordPress Blogs and more.

Find out why Worldprofit is considered the # 1 online Home Business Training program by getting a free Associate Membership today.

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

 

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Mon 19 Dec 2011

On the getting and giving of Christmas presents.

by  Dr. Jeffrey Lant

Author's program note. I started and just about finished my Christmas shopping last night, December 14. That is the anniversary of the death of Queen Victoria's much loved husband Prince Albert... and is the only day of any year when the public can view his mausoleum at Frogmore, on the grounds of Windsor Castle. The great queen is also buried there. I went once on a rainy day many years ago to see and found she had gone to the greatest possible lengths to make sure she was ready for him, her comfort through the anticipated blissful ages to come.

Prince Albert is on my mind today because he is most probably the man who launched in England the idea of the Christmas tree. And once he had done so, loyalists in the empire on which the sun never set felt obliged to have Christmas trees, too, even former imperial colonies like our Great Republic.

Prince Albert brought the idea from his picayune principality Saxe Coburg Gotha. If it had been up to them, the idea of Christmas trees would have stayed German, insignificant, and parochial... but Queen Victoria ruled over half the world... and her prince ruled over her. He liked Christmas trees (indeed, he liked all things that were family oriented and allowed him to drop a sentimental tear or two)... thus Victoria liked Christmas trees...  it was the royal couple's gift to the world. I'm glad; I do like the things with all their trimmings and especially their fresh pine scents.

Besides, all the presents do look nice artfully arranged under the tree, don't they? And since this is a story about Christmas presents, it's nice to know you have a beautiful tree packed with mementoes and memories of past years, a suitable place for packages wrapped and unwrapped.

Thus, I have selected the seasonal favorite "O Christmas Tree" as the incidental music for this article. The best known version was written in 1824 by Leipzig organist Ernst Anschutz. It may also have been introduced into England by Prince Albert, whose aspects were serious, nervous, severely self critical and often lachrymose.  If such a hard-working man (dead at just 42) could take pleasure in an actual tree and a fine tune about that tree, I  am glad he found some comfort and joy at Christmas and thank him for introducing these features of the season to his wife... then the world. You can find many renditions of this song in any search engine. It's very soothing...

Evening December 14

I am a person who has absolutely no Christmas spirit at all until I set about the important business of selecting gifts for my chosen ones. You see, I am one of the decided minority of people who actually like selecting and giving gifts. I do not regard the matter as forced (as so many others, budding Scrooges all), onerous, a ridiculous waste of time and money, over as early and inexpensively as possible. No, indeed.

I grew up in an Illinois home, part of the famous Baby Boom generation which has, since its conception, had such a pronounced effect on manners and mores. Giving apt presents was one of the things my family and friends liked to do, even grampa Walt who could be notoriously crusty about such matters, especially if the spending of money was involved (as, with Christmas, it always was). I have carried this cheerfulness with me even during my earliest days when money was scarce and one was, therefore, often frustrated and impatient. That, at least, is not the problem now.

The real problem I face is two-fold.  First, my annual list is dwindling year by year, compliments of the Grim Reaper, who most assuredly is no cheerleader for Christmas. Second, with only two exceptions (niece Chelsea and nephew Kyle) there are only two young people on the list, and they are already young adults, teen-age years already gone. My adult recipients all have comfortable lives, needing nothing but the one thing I cannot give: good health. Each and every one of them has a pressing health need... and we are all at the age when no conversation would be complete without a full and complete health update. Still, needing nothing, they would be most dismayed if nothing came from me... and I should think most poorly of myself. And so, December 14, 2011, after the day's work is done, I take out the stacks of catalogs I have been hoarding for months... and which are essential to the only kind of shopping I will ever do... shopping which can be done from the ease and comfort of home, never entering a store for any reason whatsoever.

First, as in every year, I draw up my list and, as always, I remember the dead of my family tree and acquaintance, people I knew so well and loved over the course of a lifetime of Christmases. I never forget these sinews of my life, though thinking of them is always bittersweet. I complete my short list in just a minute or two; I know each name so well and wonder who will be the next to go, shortening my list and diminishing my world.

I then make my preliminary pass through the 50 or so catalogs I have retained for just this moment. Some are automatically eliminated; the Sharper Image catalog immediately goes into the trash due to their astonishing ineptitude with an order for a dear friend. I shall never again trust my reputation and seasonable equanimity to those boneheads. Catalogs for children are disregarded; we have no children. Catalogs with soft furnishings are tossed; January sales will bring better offers. As for still others offering t-shirts with the inscription "She who must be obeyed", these are not my style.

Having discarded the dross, I commence my real labors... this year made immensely easier by the generous gift of a Sacher torte from Vienna, the gift of Dorotheum, Austria's leading auction house, a place I do regular business. Two slices of this famous confection have put me in a very good mood indeed. And so I begin my perusal and selection...

Unlike most Christmas gift givers, I have no pre-set budget. I buy what I like and which, from constant effort, I know the recipient will like. Cost is never the major variable; appropriateness for the recipient is. And so I ramble through the catalogs knowing I would give no present rather than something hasty or unsuitable for a single person on my short list, all loved and cherished by me.

Yet except for Kyle who is difficult, I find over the course of the next 3-4 hours presents that I like, that I feel sure my recipients will like, too. Then today, most probably in the early evening, I shall call every 800 number indicated and use my credit card to make all the purchases. The most important thing about this way of doing business is that one must be patient, partly because it's a very busy season and partly because the help is often seasonal, with all the potential problems that entails. Yes, patience is required. And a sunny word to the order taker, if she feels down and bedraggled, conditions immediately apparent.

In a couple of hours on the phone, my shopping is done... gifts now on their way, whilst I take up the next and final part of my shopping; a visit to Trader Joe's for purchase of the sherry I distribute to all the people who make my life easier, condo maintenance, house cleaners, et al. I have looked for a lifetime for the sherries I give now (for my taste includes both amontillado and cream); Real Tesoro is by far the best, and the least expensive; a miracle often performed at Trader Joe's.

Now I am done... simultaneously glad and sad by the paucity of my gifts... happy that I shall make these special ones happy at least once more... but missing the dear ones gone before and still so loved. For these, I take out my egg nog, remembering the great silver bowl my grandfather used when he administered the nog with brandy; (who got that anyway?), whilst I need only a glass.

And then I plug in my 13" tree, the one with the bubblers my grandmother gave me a half century ago. And in its undulating bubbles all I see is the past...  Christmases past retaining a magic Christmases future cannot hope to duplicate or reprise. But in my dark, quiet room, punctuated by the brilliant lights on my little tree, "O Christmas Tree" seizes and sooths me... and reminds me how sturdy God has made me... ready for the future to come...

"O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree How sturdy God hath made thee! Thou bidds't us all place faithfully Our trust in God, unchangingly."

### We invite your comments on this article below.


About the Author

Harvard-educated Dr. Jeffrey Lant is CEO of Worldprofit, Inc.,

Republished with author's permission by Adrian Reid.

Free Business Opportunities -> Free Biz Ops!

 

Free to Join n Get Paid to Promote this Cancer Killer -> Essiac Tea

Then Go to The Bottom of the page & Click on 'Affiliate Info'.

 


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Hidden Cancer Cures !?!?!
An earth-sized planet found... are we on the threshold of finding someone 'out there', and the momentous problems this will bring?
'Without the help and support of the woman I love.

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