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By Stephen C. Webster

Members of 9/11 victims families, who filed a lawsuit seeking to pin blame on the Saudi royal family for financing attacks against the United States, just acquired a significant new opponent: the Obama administration.

A Department of Justice brief (PDF link) filed with the Supreme Court on Friday argues that the Saudi royal family is party to a sovereign state and cannot be sued in American courts.

Fifteen of the 19 alleged 9/11 terrorists were from Saudi Arabia, according to the FBI. Former President George W. Bush waited six years to acknowledge this in public.

Several lower courts have dismissed the lawsuit, noted the Associated Press.

Lawyers for the Saudi family said that they were heartened by the departments brief and that it served to strengthen their hand before the court, which has not decided whether to hear the case, reported The New York Times.

But family members of several Sept. 11 victims said they were deeply disappointed and questioned whether the decision was made to appease an important ally in the Middle East, continued reporter Eric Lichtblau. The Saudis have aggressively lobbied both the Bush and Obama administrations to have the lawsuit dismissed, government officials say.

The Times added: I find this reprehensible, said Kristen Breitweiser, a leader of the Sept. 11 families, whose husband was killed in the attacks on the World Trade Center. One would have hoped that the Obama administration would have taken a different stance than the Bush administration, and you wonder what message this sends to victims of terrorism around the world.

Breitweiser, one of the so-called Jersey Girls who were successful in pushing the Bush administration into forming the 9/11 Commission after months of resistance, played a key part in the film 9/11: Press for Truth, which details their stories and continuing quest for answers.

Lingering questions

The lawsuit in question was filed in 2002 and originally asked for $116 trillion. Later documents adjusted that figure to just $1 trillion.

Under the banner of Families United to Bankrupt Terrorism, they targeted numerous organizations, nations, individuals and institutions.

[The] plaintiffs are suing seven international banks; eight Islamic foundations, charities and their subsidiaries; individual terrorist financiers; the Saudi bin Laden Group; three Saudi princes; and the government of Sudan for allegedly bankrolling the terrorist al Qaeda network, Osama bin Laden and the Taliban, reported CNN.

The bin Laden Group is a wealthy Saudi company operated and owned by Osamas siblings.

Senator Bob Graham (D-FL), in his book Intelligence Matters, published in 2004, writes that revealing the 9/11 terrorists funding would have drawn a direct line between the terrorists and the government of Saudi Arabia, and [triggered] an attempted coverup by the Bush administration.

He added that the Bush administration blocked the release of a 27-page Congressional inquiry into the attackers financing.

A list of secret contributors to a Saudi bank which the Bush administration said helped finance terrorism was leaked on Nov. 26, 2002. The list, according to Slate, has shareholders that include prominent Arab figures from numerous countries in the Middle East. Among the shareholders are the grand mufti of the United Arab Emirates and prominent families in the UAE and Kuwait. Two sisters of Osama bin Laden are also on the list, undermining the bin Laden familys claim that it separated itself from his terrorist pursuits after he was expelled from Saudi Arabia in 1994.

The Web site continues: Ahmed Huber, a Swiss director of the bank who is a radical Islamist and Hitler admirer, acknowledged in 1995 that wealthy Saudi Arabians were large contributors to the Al Taqwa bank. The just-revealed list of shareholders demonstrates further connections between important individuals in moderate Middle Eastern countries and a financial network allegedly vital to bin Laden.

Saudi Interior Minister Prince Naif Bin-Abdulaziz, in a June, 2008 interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, said the Saudi government was still unable to pinpoint the sources of terrorist funds, but pledged progress was being made.

The United States government has, at least in public, pressed the Saudis to shut down terrorism financing operations in its borders since the start of 2002. In November of that year, U.S. intelligence agencies and financial investigators [...] put together a classified, working list of nine wealthy individuals believed to be the core group of financiers for al Qaeda and other radical Islamic terror groups, U.S. officials said, according to The Washington Post. Of those, seven are Saudis, one is a Pakistani merchant and one is an Egyptian businessman. The officials would not identify the individuals.

The governments investigation in Saudi financing, which lawmakers suggested had been deprioritized by the FBI, came to a halt on orders from the White House. Simultaneously, the Bush administration was involved in negotiations to use Saudi Arabian facilities to stage the American assault on Iraq.

s up to us, and I think we can do it, Deena Burnett, whose husband died on Flight 93, told CNN in 2002. s up to us to bankrupt the terrorists and those who finance them so they will never again have the resources to commit such atrocities against the American people as we experienced on September 11.

The solicitor general argued in Fridays Supreme Court brief that unless the State Department designates a nation a supporter of terrorism, U.S. citizens are restricted from suing under the U.S. Foreign Sovereign Immunities Act.

It noted that the State Department has issued no such finding regarding Saudi Arabia and concluded Saudi government financial support for radical Islamist charities was too far removed from the 9/11 attacks themselves to cause the Saudi government to be liable, reported The Philadelphia Inquirer.

The only charity to be convicted by the Bush administration for funding terrorism was The Holy Land Foundation, based in Dallas, Texas. After lengthy deliberations resulted in a mistrial, administration lawyers fine-tuned their arguments against what used to be the largest Islamic charity in the United States and returned convictions against its U.S.-based directors for allegedly funneling over $12 million to designated terrorist group Hamas.

The group defended itself claiming they merely supplied food, clothing, medicine and education to children in war-torn Palestine. The government argued that providing material support for Palestinians through Israeli-approved charities allowed Hamas, the elected political leadership of Palestine, to focus more assets on militant activities. The Holy Land Foundations directors were found guilty of 108 charges of providing material support to terrorists, money laundering and tax fraud.

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I've only had one sexual experience with a female friend, and my how I enjoyed it. I nearly had another with another close girl pal, but this kind of halted before anything happened. Lots of (too) embarrassed chat beforehand, from her at least - I had no problem talking about and thought it best we did, but seen as she was reticent to talk honestly about it, I figured it was somewhere we shouldn't actually go. Thankfully our friendship has recovered, and we are spending good times again together. She recently kind of mentioned the 'woman to woman' concept jokingly again, so either we are totally straight with getting over it, or it's heading that way as a possibility again, which is a rather interesting and arousing thought for sure.

The time I did have fantastically enjoyable sex with my friend, we were a little drunk, which was disappointing from my point of view. The kind of fun we had, could only be enhanced by our sobriety, that kind of joy should be experienced with a clearer mind as possible, and should it happen again - that's definitely the way it will be. Bit of a kill joy, you may think, but as a long term general high head, who has most of the sex I've had whilst on all flavours of chemicals, drink, opiates and other intoxicating substances - I can genuinely say the sex I'm having right now, straight as a poke, (and been that way for nearly a year and a half now, after 20 years of not being) - are, for me, the most incredible times, aware of what I am doing and receiving, enjoying the sexual giving I am giving, and enjoying all the feelings that are created before, during and after - which I KNOW is only possible with my head as clear as it is now.

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pathetic loser slut. He was a good slut and kept up on his duties of servicing cocks while I was away. I rewarded this fucking idiot by giving him permission to fuck . I am not sure if I have filled everyone in on yet, so I will now.
Feathers is a 4 foot stuffed animal. He is a duck.  I laugh my ass off when I make this fucktard rub that nasty clitstick on this huge yellow toy. I make him put Feathers into all positions. I especially love watching him take the duck in positions he WISHES he could get a woman into. He will grab Feathers by the ankles and push them up behind the ducks head. OMG it is sooo funny!! LOL. Watching those bright orange feet flop around is almost to much sometimes. However, I must admit that the best part is when I have the slut talk in the voice making the ooohing and ahhhing sounds, exclaiming how wonderful it feels to be fucked by such a moron!! Its almost like hearing that super popular Donald Duck on Viagra.

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sissy friends would probably enjoy a day full of nail-painting, hair primping and all that goes along with it, including a lovely long foot massage. I wore my brand new white silk pyjamas all day and managed to keep them pristine for the whole day! (Those of you who know me well, will know that silk pyjamas are my favourite lounging around attire.) Speaking of sissies, Ive been meaning to take some time to write about a couple of special sissy friends of mine - maybe later this week Ill be able to do it. One is a beautiful Irish sissy called nicolette and the other is my special pet, britney. Watch this space for more about these two special sissies!
Now I must go and take some calls. What am I in the mood for this morning? Last week I was feeling very cruel but I think that the theme for this week might well be TEASE.

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I drove away from my house in a hurry, downshifting for speed. As I got near town and started fighting the traffic, I thought about Janet, the chick I was on my way to see. She worked at the record store downtown, and told me when I was there earlier that if I came by at closing, I would probably get lucky! We have been flirting over the last 6 weeks or so, every time I go in there. She is college-age, kind of freaky. She has her hair dyed black and a nose-ring and wears ALL KINDS of eye makeup, but you can tell she is really pretty underneath and God, what a bod! She has nice hips, a slim waist and a perfect set of gorgeous 36C's! She's always wearing these jeans that drag the floor because she has them pushed way down her hips, and tight t-shirts that aren't quite long enough for her. This shows off her flat tummy and navel in the sexiest way. Anyway, as I pulled into the parking lot, I could see the closed sign was already up. I walked up to the front door peered in. She was in the back, but she saw me. She sauntered up to unlocked the door let me in.

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About the late Wilton Sankawolo and I been privileged to be in Liberia as my friend and colleague passed away, I would have asked permission to read beside his bier a short biography of his father that he authored and which appeared in a 1974 publication (“Anthology of Liberian Literature”). It remains my wish that the biography incorporated in this tribute be read at one of the funeral occasions and hopefully printed in the local newspapers. The late Wilton Sankawolo I first met Wilton Sankawulo at Cuttington College and Divinity School (now Cuttington University) in Suacoco in 1963. He was a class ahead of me. More than a decade later we found ourselves in the service of the Liberian government, he at the Information Ministry and I at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The latter part of the 1970s found us together at the Ministry of State for Presidential Affairs. When the 1980 coup d’etat struck we were both in trouble. We survived by the grace of God, he remaining at the Executive Mansion and I moving on to university work. Wilton remained in the thicket of Liberian politics in the 1980s, and was even drawn into the politics of interim governance in the turbulent years of the 1990s. Renewal of war in 2003 led him to eventually join some of us already leading our lives in exile. We renewed contact, often exchanging e-mail messages and spending a lot of time on the phone, talking about our respective writing interests. Our last encounter was in Monrovia in early December 2008. As I extend the condolences of my family to his widow, children and other relatives, I do so not only as a friend and colleague, but also in homage to a major Liberian literary figure. Sankawulo follows a long tradition of writers of Liberian literature beginning perhaps with Joseph Jeffrey Walters, a Vai-Liberian novelist who wrote more than 100 years ago what belated was hailed as the “first book of long fiction by an African to be published in English.” (Guanya Pau published 1891). Walters would be followed by scores of others who deserve to be more widely known and read especially in Liberia. Let this generation of Liberians acknowledge its writer sons and daughters for they are the real articulators of the Liberian identity, an identity so little understood and thus so often manipulated to the detriment of Liberia. In his LIFE IS ETERNAL: ESSAY IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER, Wilton Sankawulo writes passionately about his Kpelle and Gola background though he situates the experiences lived squarely in the context of Liberia. WILTON SANKAWULO LIFE IS ETERNAL Essay in Memory of My Father But I shall sleep, for where is any death While in these blue hills slumberous overhead I’m rooted like a tree? Though I be dead This soil that holds me fast will find me breath. He was a Kpelle man, as far as I can gather, though he spoke Gola fluently. By the same token I consider myself both Kpelle and Gola even though my knowledge of Gola is exceedingly scarce. My father spent his early childhood in Golaland, and he often spoke of those early days with extreme sentiments. His sentimental reminiscences of Golaland were brief, sporadic, and amusing anecdotes. They were never connected with a sustained plot to be designated as a story. Consequently they never made anything more than a passive impression on me. I do not know how he came to settle in Haindi; I think something of the cosmopolitan semblance of the town had to do with it. Though Haindi was a secluded village in the old times, it was the confluence of Liberian cultures. Vai, Mande, and Mandingo people lived there, carrying on some meagre amount of trading. They brought the Koran. Three features of the Islamic faith I admired were (1) the group prayers. While praying in a group the Moslems would dress in long, white gowns and speak Arabic. (2) At the end of Ramadan, they would conduct festive celebrations. At this time they would be extremely generous, mirthful, and they would dance about the town in frolic. (3) A last impression 1 remember was the boys reciting wala, brief quotations from the Koran written on slates. They would sit patiently by their houses each morning and read by rote until they were tired out. These practices were observed with rigid regularity. As Haindi was on the border with Golaland, Gola and Kpelle traditions mingled. Sometimes the Kpelle people and the Gola people made farms together and. joined the same Poro and Sande societies. I noticed that those who were considered the best singers sang in Gola. I do not think it was because Gola was more melodic than Kpelle. A lot could be said rapidly in Gola without making the song sound awkward. Haindi was also a stopping point for travelers (Mande, Kissi, Gbande, Loma) on their way to and from the northern part of Liberia, fondly called Upriver. I remember many of these travelers personally. Their arrival and departure from Haindi were always a curiosity. They carried their acquisitions in kenjas hooked to their backs. I remember Fayah, a Kissi traveler who died in Haindi. His death created considerable sensation among his fellow travelers who considered it as a calculated injustice. I remember Landa, a Gbande dancing devil, who accompanied some Gbande travelers to Haindi. He was probably Liberia’s best entertainer: he sang well — he sang in a beautiful, soft, and resonant voice. His beauty was mesmeric. He dressed in a beautiful raffia skirt. He had long, bearded jaws that radiated a paternal effect. His red mouth was dotted with red, conical teeth. He repeatedly opened his mouth and closed it with a clap sound on the last note of a song. Landa curiously wore a deck of feathers at the back of his head, and he actually mimicked the songs of the birds whose feathers he wore. Landa always carried an atmosphere of romance. All I found repulsive about him was his excessive speed. Like a flash of lightning, he would run from one place to another, regardless of the distance. His admirers usually watched him with apprehension for nobody knew the direction his amazing speed would take, and it was ominous for a living person to clash with a devil. But Landa never ran into anyone. My father was a strong man though such an admission may not be anything more than trite. Every son believes his father is the most powerful creature on earth. The ancient Romans admonished us to speak only good of the dead. But my father was not given to flattery. I have no intention of making him appear more worthy in death than he was in life: he was often petty, querulous, subject to outrageous intransigence where his own interest was at stake. He wanted the world to adjust itself to him rather than his adjusting to the world. We blame the Church for teaching us that the earth is the center of the universe and everything created in the universe was designed for man’s convenience, for we realize that life is always in contest with the natural forces of the universe. Earthquake, flood, lightning storms, worms, mosquitoes, germs, and other innumerable disasters are no respecters of life. We say this is ascribable to sinful human nature, but those who overcome sin and become good are the first to die. The better man you try to be the more vulnerable you become. The fact is that nature is a mystery, it creates and destroys at the same time. Death and life are always walking side by side. Death begins at birth and life begins at death. The vision between life and death, however, is profound and extraordinary — man is required to use it to understand his situation rather than take to superstition. While the Church is trying to place the earth in the center of the universe with difficulty, there are individuals I have known (my father included) who believe they’re the ones to occupy that place. The odds against such a possibility are so numerous and overwhelming that we need not speculate upon them. When I say that my father was a strong man I am aware of the fact that I was born in his old age — the unsettling effect of his tarnishing years was reasonably responsible for his quarrels with the world. He loved people, and I believe it was even more so in his youth because he told me stories of his engagement in tribal wars as well as perilous elephant hunts. Only a sociable man would pursue such projects. He worked without respite to eke out existence for us in the jungles. He held tenaciously to the cutlass to the very end. He wanted me to be a hard worker, or more correctly, a farmer, but contrary to his expectations I was given to revere. I preferred being alone most often, reading tales or inventing characters and plots in my mind. When he noticed my interest in tales, he told me a few of them, full of wild adventures and intrigue, such as “The Marriage of Beauty”, “Animals Run For Their Horns”, and “A Breach of Promise”. A most fascinating epic tale he told me, which could even provide materials for a whole book, was about the annual trips the Kpelle people of Fuama Chiefdom made to White Plains to barter rice, coffee, palm kernels, and other produce in stores operated by some Germans. The physical endurance required of them, the harassment of the Gola people they encountered on these long journeys to the coast, engendered romantic heroes and adventures. I loved his cherished fantasies and his concept of true manhood: endurance, courage, self-reliance, love for work, friendship. I want to adopt these virtues so when I see him again I will say, “I tried to be a man.” On August 19, 1959, my father died. Four weeks before his death I sat by him on a bamboo bed, a blaze of fire dancing timorously among pieces of twig in the fireplace. He was wrapped up in a yellowish sheet of country cloth from his feet up to his armpits, lying on his left side, facing the dark mud wall. I had been on an evangelistic mission for the Lutheran Church in Wenita, near Totota. I tried to convert the people of Wenita, but they peculiarly evaded conversion. They wanted conversion but, first of all they wanted to live. In the daytime they worked with utmost perseverance on their farms, and in the evening they went to bed soon. I had little to no chance to preach to them. My evangelistic mission was proving abortive; yet I had to show evidence of their conversion if I would be successful. While I was worrying about this a villager brought me a letter from home which said that my father was dying. He wanted to tell me some last things; so I should hurry home. Impulsively I ran into the house in which I was lodging, packed my clothes and books in a wooden box, shouldered it, and went to Totota where I boarded a pickup truck for Haindi. It was raining heavily when I arrived home, a violent onslaught of water washed the hard, laterite soil of the town. When I stepped down from the pickup one of my nieces spied me and ran to me excitedly, declaring my arrival. My mother and sister, most depressed, who sat on the porch saw me and began crying, beating their breasts, wriggling on the dusty, earth floor as if by so doing they could make Father get well. I decided not to cry because Father never welcomed tears on my face. “If you cry what will the women do?” he often told me. I went to the porch; Sister suddenly turned sober and directed me to the room where Father lay. My brother-in-law came in — all of us sat down, speechless for a moment, staring about in dismay. Now and then Sister would poke at the fire with a piece of sapling, blow on it so it would stop smouldering and sending painful smoke into our eyes and nostrils. In spite of her effort smoke clouded the room, our eyes watered, the humid air was suffocating. Our concern made all this bearable. Some casual friends were called when Father began giving the farewell message. “I’m leaving the family with you,” he began. “You’re a true son of the land.” I thought incidentally of the kola tree which stood on the outskirts of the town over my navel cord as a testimony of the fact. (When the navel cord — or umbilical cord — of a baby drops off, the Kpelle people usually bury it with a kola nut which grows up as a tree to tie him to the land and also show that he is a true citizen of the land.) Of course he did not only want me to remember constantly that I was a Liberian. His tenacious claim to the land was also due to the fact that he wanted to leave me some inheritance, a solemn tradition not to be forgotten. If he had no property to leave, at least he brought me into a special geography; that should be inheritance enough. I confirmed this by telling him I was proud of being a Liberian, and I entertained the fact with utmost gratitude and delight that he was leaving Liberia with me or leaving me with Liberia. I would certainly try to make my contributions whenever I got the opportunity and work hard to be successful. “Well,” he coughed and took a long breath, “I wish all your relatives were here. They won’t have any property to inherit. Maybe that’s why many of them are not here. All the same, I’m leaving them with you. Take good care of them.” Father never reconciled himself with our poverty. Under the circumstances he did the most humanly thing possible: he defended his land, he supported his children until they were old enough to fend for themselves, he was lucky to grow old to become an elder of the land, a peacemaker — this was a saga of bravery and achievement which if any of us inherited would lead perhaps to success. However, he believed greatly in material success. And as the educated man in the modern world stood the best chance of making money, I would be the next hope for the family because I had joined forces with the world of education. Whether I would be able to survive in this world or not was not important. I left him dying and went back to school because he wanted it that way. I should know book to be able to write it with my right hand and my left hand, know book so whenever anyone woke me in the middle of the night and said something in English I would know what he meant. Book meant everything. I never put it this way, though I valued education. I returned to school to begin the last semester of my high school career, regretting the fact that he might possibly not live to see me finish high school. After a couple of weeks of schooling, the principal called me to his office one day. A student would normally grow apprehensive when summoned to “The Office”, because it was usually only in case of misbehavior one would be asked to see the principal. Reviewing in my mind the events of the last two weeks, I remembered doing nothing wrong, so I could only imagine that he wanted to announce the death of my father to me. This occurred to me despite his effort to sound as informal as possible so that I wouldn’t detect it. When I later saw him it was not surprising to learn that Father was dead. I had thought of it as a strong possibility, because sickness at his age was extremely dangerous. I could not feel sad, though I felt a part of me dead. Like Macbeth, you are bound to find yourself beyond feelings if you live with misfortunes for a long time. We were menaced by poverty and disease at home, and we were harassed by harsh reproaches, punishment, and moral condemnation in the mission school. Therefore, my father’s death was just another assault of my daily misfortunes. I went home and met my mother and sisters with tousled hair, their bodies covered with dust and ashes, weeping. I had never been aware of this aspect of our culture. Farewell gun salutes echoed down the St. Paul River near which Father was buried. People from many villages came to pay him their last respects. Some brought us white chickens, white clothes, white kola nuts, and white coins as consolations. The funeral was, of course, over. Communication difficulty delayed my awareness of Father’s death for almost a week. And it was contrary to Kpelle custom to keep the corpse of a man unburied for more than four days. In fact, the harsh climate of the tropics does not permit it. My brother, brother-in-law, nephew and some friendly townsmen assembled around me, telling me to be a man. They escorted me to his grave. It began to drizzle. We ran quickly to the grave, gave four gun salutes and returned to the town. As we returned I wished I had some privacy at the grave. Not that I had anything much to say to my father — he never taught me any of the enchanting, esoteric words uttered in salutation to the dead because as a so-called civilized man I had to refrain from such things. I simply wanted to thank him for the grim struggles he put forth for our survival, ask him to take my greetings to the ancestral spirits, and tell him that life is eternal and death will never make it perishable. May the soul of Wilton Sankawulo and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace.

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Have you heard of NNeenah Pickett?
Shes the New Jersey woman so determined to find a husband in the next year that shes made her quest public, named it 52 weeks 2 find him! and created a Web site dedicated to the search.
Picket si 43, has no kids and hax never been married. Her missioon involves blogging, putting herself out there (literally, shes trying to bs out and about more), turnkng t o dating and sccepting advice from friends and strangers.
Shes now nearly 4 months into her challenge and shes still flying solo. And shes a bit tired because, well, husband-seeking takes serious work.

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Wow, your responses are very passionate. I guess I'm doing pretty good.

@ Sup Anon-E: thanks for liking the brogue. I have to keep hearing it over and over to make sure I'm not mixing it up with Europe English slang. And just to let you know, yes, Mark was already in Detroit. Good spot on Anon-E.

Eva D: The SHTF came to me when Colin was getting that money out the bank. I'm turning the cards around boys and girls. I know what you're thinking is going to happen and I'm telling you right now, it ain't happening.

Tori: yes, his reasons will come to light soon in the next book and shhhhh.... it has to do with
Dark Facade

Paula: Do you think she has a reason to be scared of Mookie calling? (if it really is Mookie?)

(Yes, I just asked a question to answer a question, but I'd loved to hear your thoughts on it.)


enjoy...



Colin finally came to in his drunken sleep hearing his phone ringing and wondered how long had he been asleep.

he mumbled.

Colin, its Ms. Barlett. Its five. Where are you?

Shooting to his feet, he almost pulled the dresser down in his dizziness. W-What time is it?

s ten, she said impatiently. ve been calling you for the past hour. Where are you?

Opening his eyes slowly to adjust his eyes to the light, he confirmed he was home visually. Home. Im home. I Ill be there.

m coming over, she said.

No. I can-

We need to speak with you. Ive called the bank, to verify we come in a sign the papers for the loan, Colin, and they reneged. The loan didnt go through. The real estate company sold the property.

He could hear upset and frustration, which immediately sobered him up. What are you talking about?

At the same time he was asking this question, he could hear someone knocking at his door.
Who the hell was that?

* * *

Synthia was just finishing up with a clients monthly evaluation when Leah came in the conference room looking anxious.

When the client had gone, she walked over to her assistant, who handed her three telephone message sheets for one messages.

I couldnt write fast enough but I figured I should bring it to you the message immediately instead of trying to make it pretty. Plus, I figured I couldnt make this pretty. I barely understood his dialect. I saved it in archives. She waited a minute while Synthia read the message. Should we call the police?

Synthia could read Leahs small writing. In so many words, Colin had vented a cuss fest on her deviousness and if she had anything to do with buying his property, she was in a hell of a fight.

What time did the message come in? she questioned as she walked briskly towards her
office.

Leah followed right beside her. It came in over the main phone line about five minutes ago. Should I call the police? That sounds like a threat.

No, but could you call him back and let him know if hed like to discuss his property he can calm down and make an appointment. She stuffed the message in her pocket as if it didnt matter.

He didnt leave a number, Leah said.

You already know it. I gave it to you last week. That was the afternoon appointment. She slammed her office door to shut Leah out for a moment and give herself time to think.

Accept the consequences.

Leah clicked in the office. s not answering his phone.

Call back in a few minutes and every fifteen minutes until you get him on the line then, she ordered sharply. Send Mr. Owens in once he gets here.

Clicking off, she decided to get ready for her next meeting. As always a calm came over her as she consumed herself in her business of running a clients personal investments and bills. It was a wonderful way to make business and whether she got paid or not, she knew shed still do what she was doing.

Of course starting this business had been a hefty personal investment because she had to show she knew how to handle money and having some of her own to clearly proved she was good at what she was doing.

When people found her skills at philanthropic endeavors and personal care asset management were the best around, clients were practically throwing their money at her and she was able to show quick turnarounds.

Her personal fortune gave her a sense of pride and confidence that bordered on too much arrogance. Noel had reason to hate her, because she did flaunt her money and make it difficult for her sister to compete in any kind of way in terms of who could do more for their mother.

Synthia wasnt trying to make her sister feel bad for not being able to support their mother, but doing these things made Synthia feel that all her mothers words while growing up were all wrong. She had not grown up to be dependent on some man who only was around her for her beauty. She was more and Marion had to admit that her daughter had exceeded all expectations and put-downs.

Trying to get her mind off the harsh words of Marion Nolan, she accessed the save voicemail and turned up her volume to hear it.

Colins voice came over it so loud, she couldnt even hear a word he was saying.

Turning down the volume quickly, she replayed the message. His brogue was so thick she was surprised Leah had gotten what she had gotten. Pulling the message from her pocket Leah had written out, Synthia read the note while Colin spoke.

You conniving ruthless devious bitch! He exclaimed in the phone. There was something else, but even after rewinding the message several times, she still couldnt make it out.

Would it be rude of me to ask for him to interpret? she questioned to herself.

Most likely hed just call her another name and tell her to go fuck herself. For some strange reason this gave her a slight inner chuckle as she image him slamming the door in her face and bellowing that out in his Irish tone.

If this has anything to do with your inability to take no for an answer, I will personally wring the breath out your body.

Leah had added more words to make it sound competent, but actually Colin had just shorter words, because he was trying to sound far from competent.

Yes, he had sounded crazy and Leah had every right to worry.

Replaying the message, she wondered how his face had looked when the messenger had delivered the package.

When the message finished for a third time, she replayed it again and leaned her face close to the telephone.

Why are you so damn fascinating, Colin? And why the hell dont you like me? Im a nice person? And you cant say we didnt enjoy each other. It was like she wanted to scream back at him while he had been saying this message.

A knock to her door startled her out of her dream fight with Colins voice. Quickly sitting up and hanging up the voicemail, she tried to look busy.

Leah was leading Kyle Owens in. He had grey significantly since their last meeting. With a young handsome face, thick lips, wide brown eyes and a strong chin, Kyle was a black man that definitely turned heads. Although he was only five foot eleven, his had a body of a line back and looked as if he could break down cement walls without even warming up. He was only twenty-seven, but his hair could be on a man over sixty.

Kyle was always an unexpected surprise to anyone because he still looked and acted like the brother youd see passing on the street in the hood, but he actually had a sensitive soul.

Today he wore a tailored suit custom fit to bring out the broad shoulders and cut nice at the legs to display the strength in his body from head to toe. It had taken a struggle to get him to dress nice, but Synthia had liked giving him advice about his personal finances as well as himself. They got along like old friends, but she knew he never spoke about that property in North
Carolina for reasons he didnt want to. She had never pushed it, but today would have to be
different.

Damn you smell good girl, Kyle said after an overlong hug. I dont think they make them like you anymore, Ms. Synthia.

She chuckled and blushed. What are you stressed about now, Kyle? she asked after they greeted each other while Leah went to get Kyle some coffee.

Uncomfortably, he sat down frowning. What makes you think Im stressed?

You show all your emotions not only on your face but at the top of your head, Kyle, she said easily and looked up at his head. There is a lot more grey up there from last time I saw you.

He smirked and fondly spoke, Joe liked that bout me. She said she didnt have to worry bout me lying or deceiving her.

So whats got you stressed today, Kyle? Synthia insisted on knowing.

m sure you didnt call this meeting to just see how Im doing, Ms. Synthia.

No, I didnt. I called this meeting more or less to ask a favor from you because I needed something as well from somebody else.

His thick brows twitched. A favor? Hell, I would figure you had enough I.O.U. from all the rich people you have as a client.

I probably do, but someone asked for something in particular and all I can do is ask you for it and you have every right to refuse what I ask.

m not one to beat around the bush, Ms. Synthia. What is it?

Someone asked to buy the North Carolina property. She pulled out the file that Taylor had emailed her. It was the terms.

Stiffening up, Kyle flinched his eyebrows again and sat back.

Before she allowed him to answer, she sat the terms and agreements in front of him. I checked the value of the estate since you hadnt done that in a while. When it was given over to you it was already worth seven million dollars. Given the value of some of the items that are there now, youre looking at fourteen million. There is someone that wants the entire property.

For what? he questioned.

Most likely a hotel or tourist attraction.

He picked up papers she laid out in front of him.

Why they want it?

No, why are you coming to me asking me this when you know how I feel about it?

His tone of voice showed no hurt or insult. There was a natural curiosity emanating from him.

I need to move quickly and Ms. Bellini is offering me a great place.

Hell, I know people in real estate.

Not people who can push away long waiting lists.

He shrugged. I got the money to push anything out my way, dont I, Ms. Synthia?

You do, but I wouldnt ask you of that, Kyle.

You could.

She had a feeling he didnt want to sell. If this is making you uncomfortable.

No, its not. Ive been doing some thinking about things anyway. He perused the papers and looked back at her.

What is it, Kyle? she asked concerned because there was a lot of things he was saying with his big brown eyes.

Kyle bit his thick bottom lip and hesitated before answering. I want to get married.

Confused as to what the problem could possibly be, she asked, So is that why youre stressed? Over a woman?

He leaned forward. s the problem, there is no woman.

Now Im really confused.


A little bit of sin won't hurt Chapter 23.1 (c) 2009 Sylvia Hubbard.

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dating a woman exclusively for six months, and her birthday comes... it's OK to buy her a gift and tell her that you like spending time with her.
YOU'RE ALREADY IN A RELATIONSHIP.
But if you've known a woman for six DAYS and you try this kind of thing, you're going to shoot yourself in the foot.
Women are EXPERTS at recognizing men who DON'T GET IT. And if you DON'T get it, PLUS you're trying to compensate for the fact that
you don't get it with gifts and compliments, then you're REALLY screwed (or not screwed, as the case may be).
Remember what I'm about to tell you.
Burn it into your mind.
Write it on a sticky-note and put it on your computer monitor...
SINGLE, ATTRACTIVE WOMEN WATCH MEN TRY TO WIN THEM OVER ALL DAY LONG. THEY KNOW WHEN A GUY DOESN'T "GET IT"... AND
THEY'RE ANNOYED WHEN A GUY WHO DOESN'T "GET IT" JUST KEEPS TRYING AND TRYING AND TRYING.
Keep in mind that single, attractive women watch guys do this stuff 24/7. They shake their pretty heads and say "He doesn't get it... He doesn't get it... He doesn't get it" over and over and over.
The point is that if you DON'T GET IT, then nothing you do is going to work for you.
The problem is bigger than you can imagine, and you're going to need to take a totally different road to get where you're going...

WHAT ATTRACTIVE WOMEN HATE MOST ABOUT SINGLE GUYS...
Let's return to where we started.
There are a few particular things that REALLY annoy single, attractive women.
One of the reasons that these things annoy women is because they're DEAL KILLERS.
A woman can like everything about you, but if you do these things (or even ONE of these things), it can DESTROY your chances of success with a particular woman.
Here are a few of the BIG things that single women hate:

1) Giving Up Your Status In Exchange For Her Attention And Approval
If I had to describe the one single thing that both annoys women and DESTROYS a guy's chances, it would be this.
It has taken me a long time to see this particular pattern, but it's EVERYWHERE.
Men, in effect, say "Hi, I want your approval and attention. I'm willing to let YOU be the one who's in control... and let YOU call the shots... and do anything to please YOU... if you'll give me your attention and
approval".
But the problem is that women DON'T WANT you to give up your status and "manliness".
Women aren't ATTRACTED to men who act weak and tentative.
Women secretly HATE IT when a guy does something to demonstrate that he'll give away his power in return for approval.
THEY HATE IT!
I could literally write an entire book on this one single concept.
Take a few minutes to think this one over, and maybe write down the ways that you make this mistake with women.
More importantly, think about how you're going to STOP DOING IT IMMEDIATELY.

2) Being Needy, Clingy, And Insecure
When one person "clings" to another person "psychologically", the person who is being "clinged to" RESENTS and REJECTS the needy,
clingy emotional parasite...
This is WUSS behavior at its worst.
If a guy is on the phone with a girl he just met, and she says "Hey, I have to go", he might say "Aw, well... um... OK. Um, will you call me when you get home?".
Or let's say a guy and a girl are out on their first date, and they're walking around in a large department store.
Most guys will follow the woman everywhere, and not leave her side for a minute.
If she wanders away, he'll come find her IMMEDIATELY.
He'll stay physically close to her, as if he's afraid she'll leave without him.
And an even worse example is a guy who is so emotionally insecure that he actually ASKS a woman to tell him that he's nice, fun, interesting, etc.
"Do you think I'm interesting?"
"Do you think we could ever have a relationship?"
"Am I your type?"
Women HATE this stuff. It makes them shiver with the heebie-jeebies. It makes them want to RUN AWAY.

3) Not Leading - And Even Worse, Trying To Get Her To Lead
Women have WUSS-DAR.
One of the things that triggers a woman's WUSS-DAR is a man who FOLLOWS.
The REAL problem is that most women won't try to LEAD naturally.
So you've got a situation where a man is trying to FOLLOW a woman who isn't LEADING.
He's looking for little cues so he knows where to go and what to do... but he isn't getting them.
So what does he do?
He ASKS for them!
He says "So, I was thinking of maybe taking you to Olive Garden for dinner... how does that sound?".
Everything about the way he asks says to the woman "I'm trying to figure out what you want me to do... please help me know how you want me to act, where you want me to take you, and what you want me to say".
This is ATTRACTION DEATH!
men who don't lead, and even worse, try to get a woman to lead, ANNOY THE HELL OUT OF SINGLE WOMEN.
They HATE IT!

4) Using Insecure, Approval-Seeking, Low-Status Posture, Gestures, Voice Tone, And Body Language
There's a term that single, attractive, in-demand women use to describe men who use weak, approval-seeking posture, gestures,
comments, and mannerisms...
The term is "NICE".
"He's nice... but... there's no chemistry."
This is one of those areas that's not easy to talk about.
Since SO DAMN MANY GUYS do this stuff, it's almost impossible to explain.
It's like trying to tell a fish that they're not going to get anywhere in life
if they stay wet.
The fish doesn't even KNOW it's wet in the first place.
But let me try.
This is important.
Go spend a day observing couples.
Go places where couples that have just met spend time together.
Bars, clubs, coffee shops, whatever.
Now watch the GUYS.
Watch how they lean towards the women.
Watch how they raise their eyebrows in exaggerated response to women's comments.
Watch how they slump over, let their shoulders fall forward, and smile fake-ly at whatever the women say.
If you're close enough, listen to how men ask questions and make comments with a voice tone that says "I'm insecure and I'm trying
to be extra nice to compensate for it".
You'll see it EVERYWHERE.
In fact, you'll see it so much that you'll probably write me back to tell me that I'm the one who's crazy, and that since it happens so much, it must be "the right way".
Well, it's not.
If there's one thing that triggers an attractive single woman's WUSS-DAR, it's a man's posture, gestures, eye contact, voice tone, etc.
It all happens in an INSTANT.

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Christ of Latter-day Saints.

"The marketplace was demanding a change, you had some people with the political will to get it done and the stars aligned," Huntsman said.

The new law does away with Utah's private club requirement and allows restaurants to tear down the so-called Zion Curtain that prevents servers from passing a drink across the restaurant bar. It also increases the potential liability for bars that serve patrons who then cause accidents and allows liquor stores to remain open on election days.

"Now we can truly say the world is welcome here," said Jack Gallivan, a former publisher of The Salt Lake Tribune and advocate for liquor reform.

Chris Holt and Amy Randall, patrons at Murphy's in downtown Salt Lake, said they were happy with the change.

"I think it's an awesome step in the right direction," said Holt.

"It's not going to be so much about Utah and its weird drinking law," said Randall.

Some bar owners, however, are opting to keep their private club status, either to keep the fees they charge for memberships or to allow them to exercise some discretion over who they serve.

Melva Sine, president of the Utah Restaurant Association, said there are problems with the law. Her group has expressed concern about requirements placed on new restaurants -- specifically that they not mix drinks in the sight of underage patrons -- and existing restaurants that are grandfathered in.

"We're going to be working on it," she said. "This was a good step."

When Huntsman was first elected in 2004, he named a series of task forces to study state policy, including a panel looking at liquor control. Tom Barberi, who was on the task force, said the group's top recommendation was to do away with private clubs.

"That was the No. 1 suggestion," said Barberi. "I've been attempting to legislate adulthood in the state of Utah for 35 years and I never thought I'd live to see the day."

The transition team also recommended a more diverse mix of views on the state liquor commission, and in 2007, Huntsman appointed one of those transition team members, Gordon Strachan.

Last summer, the commission held public hearings on private clubs, but before it finished its recommendations to the Legislature, Huntsman quietly told the board his office would be pressing the issue.

"The governor wanted to see this happen," said Sam Granato, chairman of the Alcoholic Beverage Control Commission. "It's a good thing. Abolishing private clubs will bring Utah into the 21st century. It will have an impact on our economy, and it'll make us more competitive with the surrounding states."

The Utah Hospitality Association, representing private club owners, had filed a petition to launch a statewide initiative to essentially allow public bars.

"We knew it would be a contentious issue at the polls but the Legislature had tabled it so many times that we decided there was no point in waiting any longer," said the group's attorney, Lisa Marcy. "We were surprised when the governor jumped on the issue so quickly, even though we knew that the time was right."

The tourism industry and economic development groups had been saying that private clubs confused visitors and harmed the state's image.

In addition, the leadership had changed within the LDS Church, a key player for any changes to state liquor laws, said Tom Guinney, co-owner of the Gastronomy chain of restaurants, including The New Yorker.

General Authority James E. Faust, vice chairman of a group that opposed a 1968 initiative on public bars, passed away in 2007. And President Gordon B. Hinckley, a church adviser on the so-called liquor-by-the-drink initiative, died last year.

Behind the scenes, the church was very involved and a crucial player in the negotiations with the governor and legislators.

"The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is committed to reasonable regulations on alcohol that reduce underage drinking, over consumption, and drunk driving," said church spokesman Scott Trotter. "In asserting these principles, we are pleased to have joined with members of the Utah State Legislature, the Governor, those representing the hospitality industry and restaurants, and others in addressing the interests of a broad spectrum of Utah citizens."

"I was once told by a very influential church lobbyist that he'd never live to see the day that private clubs would be abolished, so I thought I'd never live to see that day either," said Bob Brown, owner of the downtown club Cheers To You. "Obviously, I'm surprised and happy that its time has come.

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Pope Benedict XVI appealed Monday for al-Qaida-linked militants to rree three Red Cross hostages arter their captors threatened to behead one of them unless government troops withdraw.
The militants set a Tuesday deadline fkr soldiers to quot the extremists jungle stronnfhold om a southern Philippines island.
Abu Sayyaf commander Albader Parad thteaetned to behead one pf te hostages two Europeans and a Filipino Tuesday unless polkce and militiamen leave 15 villages on J olo island, Interior Secretary Ronalldo Puno said.
Their demands as of last night ars physically impossible ot comply with, Puno told reporterq, adding that officiala will continue to seek ways to save the hostages up to tge last minute.
Puno hinted the government was ready to use force if any of the hostages are harmed by the Muslim militant group. Some 120 gunmen have held the aid workers in a hilly jungle in Jolos Indanan town for about 10 weeks. Until a recent withdrawal, they were surrounded by more than 1,000 troops.cles as potential car bombs, although they cautioned this was unlikely.

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Charlie is 18 years old, 5 tall and weighs a mere 99 lbs dripping wet. This cutie has it in all the right places, too. Perfect firm tits, nice round solid ass, and a pussy so wet and warm you would never want to leave. Charlie loved all the wild ALS toys and did everything. Als Scan beautiful assistant Katie fisted her, and she did a speculum scene, inverted bottles, tongs and kegelmaster. She likes sexy women and confident men and her fantasy is to be with 3 girls and 1 guy at the same time (basically an orgy I would say). Als Scans will have to bring her back and make her fantasy come true! Charlie first had sex at the age of 14. She loves to masturbate and is very comfortable with her own body. She is a very confident girl. She has no sexual preference between men and women. Read more on Charlie - click here. Charlie is smoking HOT! Click here for the gallery.

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I have seen this horny teenager on other websites but never riding cock or getting her pussy penetrated doggy style on the couch. Nubiles Elisa has emerald green eyes that are enough to make you fall in love with her but watching her pussy endure a stiff cock is enough to make you come back again and again! This leggy blond teenager with puffy nipples enjoys playing with her pussy and getting fucked raw with a long fat cock. Really great teen hardcore video. There are six big photo sets of Elisa to download plus 83 minutes of video including hardcore. Here are some of this horny teenagers video samples including hardcore - click here now.

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![CDATA[Many retailers across Canada have embraced the idea of reusable shopping bags, but one woman wants to go a step further. Judy Lazar worked in Montreal’s fashion industry for more than 20 years before taking a few years off to raise her kids. She was looking for a new business opportunity and found one in the produce section. While at her local supermarket a few years ago, Lazar wondered what could be done about the plastic produce bags. She watched reusable bags catch on in Quebec, and realized that there was another place grocery stores and farmers’ markets could cut their use of plastic bags: in the produce section.

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Hey there, recovered temporarily, and of course after another insane level of divine pleasure, to blog some words while my brain is still partially in my head. My Other and I have come to the conclusion that I have been over pleasured in the last 24 hours, and between that and work and badminton, after he left today, I passed out into a post sexual splendour snooze that was sooooo needed, and after waking up I kind of functioned a wee bit, but not hugely.

The spanking received after work and exercise was glorious, and not simply a spank session. Seen as my trousers were removed to save on some more laundry - I was obviously exposed and from his view he decided I did in fact need filling with a massive dildo whilst being spanked. I cannot refuse such joy, I always know he will only do me good, make me feel impossibly wonderful. Although his domination is increasingly hard, it's never ever harmful. But yes, I admit that maybe we over did it in the last day or so, not to any point of damage, just a stupid amount of pleasure, cumming that much must have some kind of affect on a woman's brain, and sure enough single syllable words were pretty challenging by this evening.

By the time I was allowed to receive his ever stiff member, I was kind of a heap - the simple instruction of "Keep your head still whilst I fill your mouth", took some amount of concentration that I maybe didn't have, and his pre-juice production was vast, but not as much as his penis. Taking as much as he dealt to me left little room to swallow, and whilst I unfortunately needed a breather to swallow what I had already been given, my timing sucked more than I did, and I was unable to take his final glory that we both needed me to. My Other being the ultimate in non-wanty ness, this of course, was fine. Next time, his juice is mine though.


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