Winter Biking

The chances that I’ll ride a bike through winter’s chilly slush

Are the same as being dealt in poker a straight flush.

For when the flakes start falling and the wind is sharp and keen,

Riding in the open is too much for any Green.

The icy path, the lumpy snow, the puddles just half froze --

These will keep me in my car, and not upon my toes.

Bundled up in layers thick, a scarf around my face,

I’ve no inclination a cold bicycle to race.

When they invent velocipedes that cushion me with air

That is warm and cozy I will peddle without care.

But till the lilacs are in bud and robins poke the ground,

I will find more balmy ways to make my daily round!

Hvordan holde brystene unge og Perky

Vestlige forskere begynner å ta et seriøst blikk på et gammelt urtemiddel som ofte brukes i Thailand og Myanmar, tidligere kjent som Burma. Pueraria mirificas tuberøse rødder (kalt Kwow Krua på Thai) vokser vilt gjennom mye av det nordlige og sentrale Thailand, og i de kuperte østlige delene av Myanmar. Det er nå nå oppdret kommersielt i Sørøst-Asia. For århundrer fortid ble det foredlet direkte fra jungelen av kvinner som praktiserte urtemedisin i sine landsbyer. Roten ble pundret i en pasta, deretter blandet med forskjellige andre krydder som gurkemeie og ingefær før de ble administrert til kvinner etter fødsel for å hjelpe til med å gjenopprette sin energi, fjerne strekkmerker og tone opp brystene.


Pueraria mirifica ble nylig anerkjent som et legitimt medisinsk legemiddel av den thailandske regjeringen og plassert i deres autoriserte Pharmacopeia. Offentlige tjenestemenn i Thailand anslår at medisinsk turisme vil regne med omsetning på rundt 49 milliarder baht i år. I amerikansk valuta er det omtrent 1,6 milliarder dollar. Og en god del av den inntekten er fra kosmetiske behandlinger, inkludert bruk av Pueraria mirifica.


Brukt som serum av thailandske medisinske fagpersoner, brukes ekstrakter av tuberroten for tiden til behandling av hudbetennelse og tørrhet, menopausal ustabilitet og PMS. Det er hovedbruk idag i medisinsk turisme industrien i Thailand, men er som en organisk buste enhancer. Behandling med Pueraria mirifica unngår ulempen og ubehag, for ikke å nevne den langvarige utvinningstiden, av tradisjonelle plastiske kirurgiske metoder for brystforbedring. Brukes som både en lokal krem ​​og en intern stimulant, hevder thailandske leger oppmuntrende resultater i å kontrollere østrogennivå, noe som igjen bidrar til å kontrollere bryststørrelsen og fastheten. Dette er veldig gode nyheter for kvinner som ikke ønsker å risikere invasive kirurgiske prosedyrer for å se sitt beste ut.


Medisinske og kulturelle historikere har notert med interesse at i den vestlige verdensmenstruasjonen, når østrogenivåene er høyest hos kvinner for å fylle ut og forme deres bryst for pleie, begynner senere og senere i livet. Mens overgangsalderen ofte begynte i en alder av elleve i utviklede land (som det fremdeles gjør i de fleste tredje verdens land), begynner det nå ikke før 15, eller senere. Dette reduserer den kvinnelige kroppens inntak av østrogen og svindler dermed brystkjertlene av deres fullstendige østrogenforsyning - som er nødvendig for å holde brystene faste og velskapte. Det er derfor østrogen kosttilskudd er en populær og mye spionerad behandling for myke brystene - de hjelper til med å gjenopprette ungdommens ungdommelige vår uten å ty til kirurgi.


Problemet med mange østrogenbehandlinger er imidlertid at de bruker kunstig produsert østrogen. Disse kjemiske rekreasjonene er ikke den nøyaktige kampen for naturlig østrogen, og det er ikke så effektivt og kan noen ganger føre til bivirkninger. Hva Pueraria mirifica gir, er et stimulerende middel som hjelper en kvinnes kropp til å øke sin egen østrogenproduksjon naturlig og sikkert. Det er et helt organisk og bærekraftig dyrt naturlig supplement uten kjente bivirkninger eller ulemper. Det er behagelig duft minner om sitrongress og jasmin.

Le journaliste et le poète

(Écrit par Rachel Abrams)

Les lecteurs de Times envoient souvent des notes aux journalistes et aux rédacteurs avec des commentaires ou des questions. Récemment, Rachel Abrams, une journaliste d'affaires, a reçu quelques messages de lecteurs qui lui ont donné une pause. Comme les journalistes ont coutume de le faire, elle a enquêté. Voici son histoire. J'ai reçu un petit bout de courrier amusant en octobre. C'était un dessin coloré d'un homme accompagné d'un poème:


Je mange des aimants tout le temps: la raison n'est pas redactive. Si je mange assez d'eux Je suis sûr d'être attirant.


Je venais d'écrire un article sur les enfants qui ingéraient des aimants puissants et j'ai trouvé la carte amusante, même si c'était un peu étrange. Mais je n'y ai pas trop réfléchi, jusqu'à ce que je reçoive deux autres poèmes, cette fois par mail. Le premier est survenu après un article que j'ai fait sur des produits illégaux qui transitent par les ports des États-Unis: Le Père Noël, avec sa meute de jouets, descendit la cheminée rapidement, Chargé de ces jeux astucieux et des poupées et bâton de réglisse! Juste comme il a commencé à répandre les cadeaux sous l'arbre, Les agents de sécurité des produits de consommation l'ont saisi soudainement!

Ils l'ont fouillé pendant qu'ils emmenaient sa meute à la recherche de contrebande; Pour les imitations Rolex ou peut-être une glande thyroïde de contrebande. Le DEA a alors confisqué ev'ry candy cane, Dans l'espoir que chacun était composé de cocaïne pure. Quand ils eurent fini, le sac du pauvre père Noël était vide et en lambeaux, Alors que les agents capturé des prunes à sucre autour de la tête des enfants. Les rennes ont été mis en fourrière pour être testés pour la gale; Pour les billets de bus au Pôle Nord Santa Panhandled changement de rechange! Que ce soit une leçon pour les kiddies et leurs amis Que les importations sont un danger, ou au moins un canular minable. Si vous voulez célébrer la manière patriotique Assurez-vous que vos cadeaux sont tous estampillés: "Made in the U.S.A." Et la semaine dernière, il a envoyé un autre poème en réponse à un article sur les hausses du salaire minimum:

Je suppose que je ne pourrais jamais maintenir une franchise avec succès, Puisque les travailleurs sous-payés me causeraient beaucoup de stress. Ce n'est pas que je sois un ange, envoyé par le ciel pour rendre les gens riches; C'est juste que je suis un fils de pute paresseux et bon à rien. Sous-payer les travailleurs sur une base constante signifie Un tas d'avocats et de comptables qui choisissent mes jeans. Pour les pauvres sont si difficiles à gérer si vous ne pouvez pas prouver Que vous êtes aussi en train de trimer dans cet horrible groove. Je devrais aller à des réunions et faire des organismes de bienfaisance un must; Je devrais esclave comme n'importe quoi pour gagner la confiance de mes pauvres. Je préfère ne pas créer un tas d'emplois qui gardent les hommes pauvres, Et donnez au monde des excuses pour construire un autre magasin à un dollar. Peut-être que j'aurais dû être effrayé, mais je ne l'étais pas. L'auteur, Tim Torkildson, n'est pas le premier lecteur à envoyer des journalistes de la poésie. J'étais vraiment curieux, cependant. Écrivait-il à d'autres personnes?

Une recherche rapide sur Google a produit le blog de M. Torkildson, qui contient des dizaines, voire des centaines, d'entrées. Il venait d'écrire sur les furets, juste après l'histoire de Sarah Lyall à propos de l'interdiction à New York. Mme Lyall a dit que M. Torkildson lui avait envoyé le poème. Il s'avère qu'il a écrit des poèmes à des journalistes pendant plus d'une décennie. Sa poésie est apparue sur le site Web du Times au moins une fois. M. Torkildson, qui vit dans l'Utah, a eu plus de temps pour écrire récemment après avoir été libéré d'un emploi d'enseignant à temps partiel cet été. "Je lis tous les jours quelques journaux, et quand je trouve une histoire qui me plaît qui me chatouille ou qui parfois m'indigne, je la pose en vers", a-t-il dit au téléphone la semaine dernière.

Le plus ancien poème dont il se souvienne a été envoyé en réponse au siège de Waco, au Texas, en 1993. Il envoyait la plupart de ses poèmes par courrier, jusqu'à ce que cela devienne trop cher. Maintenant, il les envoie généralement par courrier électronique, bien qu'il n'entende généralement pas de journalistes. Il a également dit qu'il avait soumis beaucoup de ses poèmes à des journaux pour publication. "La réaction que je reçois chaque fois que je soumets un poème à une page éditoriale, c'est:" Nous n'imprimons pas de poésie ", a-t-il dit. "Il est sorti du style, apparemment."

Sea Lice and Salmon

In recent years, however, the wild salmon population has more than halved, partly because of the spread of sea lice, parasites that feast on the mucus and skin of the fish before moving on to the muscle and fat, making the fish vulnerable to infections and sometimes killing them. From the NYTimes.

I’m reading about sea lice and quite suddenly I find

My innards are reacting with a most peculiar grind.

This parasitic critter that infests the seven seas

Preys upon the salmon, which I used to eat with ease.

But when I see a photo of that sucking parasite

I start to wonder what I’m getting when some lox I bite.

And how about that sushi that the supermarket hawks --

How much of it might carry just a tad of sea louse pox?

I know I’m being squeamish, but at my age you’d be too --

If you thought a salmon steak might give you stomach flu.

So Norway I regret to say, although I am a fan

Of salmon, from now on I’ll stick with tuna in a can!

Instant Ramen Noodle Review: Tongkotsu Ramen. Sapparo Ichiban brand.

This morning's instant ramen noodles are made in the USA -- although the packaging is labeled in Japan. (I can't figure that one out, either.) It requires boiling for 3 minutes before adding the chicken flavor packet. I'm going to add some black beans for body and substance. No egg this morning -- I had a cheese omelette last night. Hey, I forgot . . . I've got a couple of elderly white mushrooms loitering in the fridge -- chopped up, in they go! 

The ramen was a success. Noodles firm. Broth savory. The addition of mushrooms was a stroke of genius on my part, if I do say so myself. The black beans . . . eh, not so much. White beans would go better. Navy beans.
Now I've got a pot to clean up -- that's the only downside, I reckon.

The Paradise Papers

A trove of 13.4 million records exposes ties between Russia and U.S. President Donald Trump’s billionaire commerce secretary, the secret dealings of the chief fundraiser for Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and the offshore interests of the queen of England and more than 120 politicians around the world.

The leaked documents, dubbed the Paradise Papers, show how deeply the offshore financial system is entangled with the overlapping worlds of political players, private wealth and corporate giants, including Apple, Nike, Uber and other global companies that avoid taxes through increasingly imaginative bookkeeping maneuvers.  From ICIJ.    

I have a little tax haven upon a tropic isle

Which keeps my money secret with a deep abiding guile.

So I can hold my head up midst the riff raff when I say

“I’m an honest person and am glad to pay my way.”

The little people should be taxed because they have no clue

What their money in this wicked world can really do.

They like to waste it on such things as charity and rights

For the dispossessed as they pursue their tedious flights.

And even if a leak should show a bit of hocus pocus,

My dummy corporations will keep me fully out of focus.

Indeed, I wear so many fiscal masks it’s hard to know

Which are for my bankers and which are for public show!

Why I Don't Travel Anymore

Why bother going round the globe in search of the quixotic,

When my apartment building offers so much that’s exotic?

For botanizing pleasure all I need’s the laundry room,

Where faulty drains are filled with mold and fungi’s vivid bloom.

Amidst this verdant splendor there are animals galore

That residents walk in the halls, where they can leave their spoor.

I’ve seen the nimble spider at his work near smoke detector,

And marveled at the dumpster divers sipping their sweet nectar.

And I could spend a lifetime on the study of the quirks

Belonging to the many tribes of janitors and clerks.

All the world’s within my view; I’ve little need to wander

To find all sorts of ambience on which to deeply ponder!  

I Miss Dave Moore

I miss Dave Moore. He did the news on WCCO TV in Minneapolis forever. I grew up knowing that anything Dave Moore said about Art Naftalin or Minnehaha Falls was the copper bottomed truth, and probably very important to my well being -- even though as a kid I had more pressing concerns to deal with, like where to play kickball when they were paving the streets or preserving my allowance to purchase the latest MAD magazine.

Dave Moore gave the local news with an earthy panache, as well as detail, that no longer seems to exist. I hope I’m wrong, but the local news that was a constant background chatter for me as a kid has disappeared -- or have I just gone hard of hearing?  

If you seek the local news, you’re seeking it in vain.

The local news is owned by corporations who will reign

Over your opinions and perceptions, but refuse

To give you anything that passes as your local news.

Newspaper or radio, or television station --

Local stories now have gone on permanent vacation.

City council meetings or a school board jamboree --

Thinking they’ll be covered by the news is fantasy.

Or if by chance they’re mentioned by the local fourth estate,

It’s only cuz there is a chance it will make good clickbait.

Our sense of neighborhood and of community is nil,

As algorithms manufacture nothing but warm swill.

The Silly Male Animal

“In many species, males tend to do somewhat stupid things that end up getting them killed in silly ways, and it appears that may have been true for mammoths also,” said Love Dalén, an evolutionary biologist from the Swedish Museum of Natural History.  From the NYTimes.

The mammoth was a mighty beast; his feet did shake the ground.

His trumpet roar was hideous and heard for miles around.

But when he tried to take a mate by stamping on the ice,

He sunk into the muddy ground and now sleeps with the gneiss.

The dinosaur had massive brawn, though cousin to the birds;

He could thrash and crash and mash opponents into curds.

But after making sure his mate had laid her eggs discrete,

He trampled on them tenderly -- and now is obsolete.

And so dumb beasts of male persuasion silly things will do.

That is why we like to watch them living in the zoo.

Human males are also prone to posturing unwise --

Will they too disappear for good beneath much better skies?

Christians feeding others to the lions nowadays

Christians feeding others to the lions nowadays

Should not be surprising but engender lots of praise.

Reactionary dogmatists protect our moral fiber

While they’re throwing liberals into the flowing Tiber.

It’s something of a hobby for the upright and sincere

To never flagellate themselves, but whip the cavalier.

For heaven will not tolerate diversity in thought;

Salvation must be merited (or maybe even bought.)

Let’s celebrate the Bible for its message crystal clear

That dissidents be crucified with hymns of godly cheer.

Sowing seeds of hatred is most surely not caprice

When you claim the backing of the gentle Prince of Peace.