La Salle Explorers

[Bklyn]

That prosecutor is apparently out of her depth.

[Jungle Rat]

Freddie was paralyzed before they threw him into the van.

[Bklyn]

Happy Father's Day, fellas

[Jungle Rat]

You too.

[SnoodGator]

^ what they said.

[10ac]

Ditto

[eCat]

I'm putting this down to bad marketing otherwise I would have one in my basement

[sardis]

I think they used to have them in executive workplaces like water coolers.

[Jungle Rat]

I'd invest.

[Bklyn]

It was the "ICE COLD" that sunk the business model.

Speaking of, where is AA?

[eCat]

I personalized it

[eCat]

damn...if anyone thinks Muslims have it rough...Dachsunds and German Shepherds? WTF old school Cinci

an article about the transformation of Over the Rhine.......

Then the Germans started leaving. Anti-German hysteria during World War I played a major part. The teaching of German was suddenly banned, Dresden Street was renamed Republic, and German books were pulled from the libraries. The Austrian-born conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra and his wife were imprisoned and deported. “It got so bad that on Fountain Square they had public stonings of dachshunds and German shepherds,” says Craig Manness, who gives historical tours of Over-the-Rhine and its subterranean beer tunnels and admits to owning three pairs of lederhosen. “That’s when you saw the first big exodus from the neighborhood. People moved to places like Price Hill and changed their names or the spelling of their names to try to hide their German ethnicity.”

Meanwhile, city officials were drawing up plans to purge the inner city of its alleged slums, including Over-the-Rhine. In 1933, the city planning commission proposed razing half the neighborhood—and much of the adjacent African-American West End area—and replacing it with public housing “superblocks.” The West End was ravaged by a 1948 plan to belt the city center with expressways—the construction of Interstate 75 alone displaced thousands—but Over-the-Rhine dodged the bullet.

As Germans had moved out, they were being replaced by largely Scots-Irish Appalachians from Kentucky, West Virginia and Tennessee; the Great Depression and the mechanization of coal mines had pushed tens of thousands northward in search of work. The city’s war industries provided that and the city fathers were soon confronting the new challenge of how to assimilate the newcomers to urban life. “The people were kind of not used to the scheduling and the involvement of agencies in their lives,” says Bruce Tucker, professor emeritus of history at the University of Windsor in Canada who studied these migrants. “There was this narrative that the men were violent because they didn’t have the same civilizing constraints on them in the mountains, that they weren’t likely to recognize the authority of the police, that they were hard drinkers because of the availability of moonshine.”

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that's my peeps!

its a good article if you are interested - it doesn't tell the whole story though

http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/ ... ion-213969

AirBnB is raping that area now - and the poverty center has just been relocated to the west and north of Liberty street - which is unfortunately Clifton - the domain of cheap student housing.

Now students are competing for housing in an area that is becoming known as a drug haven

[hedge]

"As Germans had moved out, they were being replaced by largely Scots-Irish Appalachians from Kentucky, West Virginia and Tennessee"

Damn, talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire...

[Jungle Rat]

OTR was a mess until the white people took it over

[eCat]

Casey Nocket is a horrible person

and because of this website, she's been banned from 20% of America


http://www.modernhiker.com/2014/10/21/i ... nal-parks/

[eCat]

An earthquake fault line you haven't heard much about, with a magnitude 8.6 earthquake every 243 years on average. Its 73 years overdue

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/ ... ly-big-one


In the late nineteen-eighties, Brian Atwater, a geologist with the United States Geological Survey, and a graduate student named David Yamaguchi found the answer, and another major clue in the Cascadia puzzle. Their discovery is best illustrated in a place called the ghost forest, a grove of western red cedars on the banks of the Copalis River, near the Washington coast. When I paddled out to it last summer, with Atwater and Yamaguchi, it was easy to see how it got its name. The cedars are spread out across a low salt marsh on a wide northern bend in the river, long dead but still standing. Leafless, branchless, barkless, they are reduced to their trunks and worn to a smooth silver-gray, as if they had always carried their own tombstones inside them.

What killed the trees in the ghost forest was saltwater. It had long been assumed that they died slowly, as the sea level around them gradually rose and submerged their roots. But, by 1987, Atwater, who had found in soil layers evidence of sudden land subsidence along the Washington coast, suspected that that was backward—that the trees had died quickly when the ground beneath them plummeted. To find out, he teamed up with Yamaguchi, a specialist in dendrochronology, the study of growth-ring patterns in trees. Yamaguchi took samples of the cedars and found that they had died simultaneously: in tree after tree, the final rings dated to the summer of 1699. Since trees do not grow in the winter, he and Atwater concluded that sometime between August of 1699 and May of 1700 an earthquake had caused the land to drop and killed the cedars. That time frame predated by more than a hundred years the written history of the Pacific Northwest—and so, by rights, the detective story should have ended

But it did not. If you travel five thousand miles due west from the ghost forest, you reach the northeast coast of Japan. As the events of 2011 made clear, that coast is vulnerable to tsunamis, and the Japanese have kept track of them since at least 599 A.D. In that fourteen-hundred-year history, one incident has long stood out for its strangeness. On the eighth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth year of the Genroku era, a six-hundred-mile-long wave struck the coast, levelling homes, breaching a castle moat, and causing an accident at sea. The Japanese understood that tsunamis were the result of earthquakes, yet no one felt the ground shake before the Genroku event. The wave had no discernible origin. When scientists began studying it, they called it an orphan tsunami.

Finally, in a 1996 article in Nature, a seismologist named Kenji Satake and three colleagues, drawing on the work of Atwater and Yamaguchi, matched that orphan to its parent—and thereby filled in the blanks in the Cascadia story with uncanny specificity. At approximately nine o’ clock at night on January 26, 1700, a magnitude-9.0 earthquake struck the Pacific Northwest, causing sudden land subsidence, drowning coastal forests, and, out in the ocean, lifting up a wave half the length of a continent. It took roughly fifteen minutes for the Eastern half of that wave to strike the Northwest coast. It took ten hours for the other half to cross the ocean. It reached Japan on January 27, 1700: by the local calendar, the eighth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth year of Genroku.

Once scientists had reconstructed the 1700 earthquake, certain previously overlooked accounts also came to seem like clues. In 1964, Chief Louis Nookmis, of the Huu-ay-aht First Nation, in British Columbia, told a story, passed down through seven generations, about the eradication of Vancouver Island’s Pachena Bay people. “I think it was at nighttime that the land shook,” Nookmis recalled. According to another tribal history, “They sank at once, were all drowned; not one survived.” A hundred years earlier, Billy Balch, a leader of the Makah tribe, recounted a similar story. Before his own time, he said, all the water had receded from Washington State’s Neah Bay, then suddenly poured back in, inundating the entire region. Those who survived later found canoes hanging from the trees. In a 2005 study, Ruth Ludwin, then a seismologist at the University of Washington, together with nine colleagues, collected and analyzed Native American reports of earthquakes and saltwater floods. Some of those reports contained enough information to estimate a date range for the events they described. On average, the midpoint of that range was 1701.

It does not speak well of European-Americans that such stories counted as evidence for a proposition only after that proposition had been proved. Still, the reconstruction of the Cascadia earthquake of 1700 is one of those rare natural puzzles whose pieces fit together as tectonic plates do not: perfectly. It is wonderful science. It was wonderful for science. And it was terrible news for the millions of inhabitants of the Pacific Northwest. As Goldfinger put it, “In the late eighties and early nineties, the paradigm shifted to ‘uh-oh.’ ”

I’ve been through one of these massive earthquakes in the most seismically prepared nation on earth. If that was Portland”—Goldfinger finished the sentence with a shake of his head before he finished it with words. “Let’s just say I would rather not be here.”

So, in the next 100 years or so we should have a San Andrea earthquake around a 8.0, this monster in the northwest, the New Madrid Fault in Missourri coming in around a 7.8 and Old Faithful in Yosemite should explode and block out the sun

[hedge]

BRM does that every time he goes outside...

[crashcourse]

big red eclipse

[Jungle Rat]

Ouch

[eCat]

I've got a weekend getaway to burn in mid-october. Thinking about heading up to northern Michigan.

All the Michigan guys keep talking about Traverse City, but from what little I've found on the internet, it appears to be mostly wineries/breweries.

Anyone been there?