A genius at English, that is–not a genius who is English.
You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 93% Advanced, and 77% Expert!
Compared to users who took the test and are and [sic] in your age group:
* 100% had lower Beginner scores.
* 100% had lower Intermediate scores.
* 100% had lower Advanced scores.
* 100% had lower Expert scores.
Hmmm…
Unfortunately it doesn’t tell me what my score actually was. And I guess that if I were a little older, I’d have more competition.
Today is the sixty-fifth anniversary of Stalin’s massacre at Katyn Forest, in which he wiped out much of the officer corps of the Polish military.
Today is the sixty-fifth anniversary of Stalin’s massacre at Katyn Forest, in which he wiped out much of the officer corps of the Polish military.
Today is the sixty-fifth anniversary of Stalin’s massacre at Katyn Forest, in which he wiped out much of the officer corps of the Polish military.
Fossett is apparently over Kansas, and close enough to be able to glide in, even if he runs out of fuel, now.
[Update about 2:36 PM EST]
He’s almost made it–just a few miles out. Another record, for him, and another feather in Burt’s cap.
[Update at 2:48 PM EST]
He’s on the ground. I’ll bet he’ll be happy to find some indoor plumbing. And a bed.
Steve Fossett’s plane seems to be low on fuel:
Moore said fuel sensors in the 13 tanks onboard the single-engine jet differ from readings of how quickly fuel is burning during the flight. Moore said the crew has been forced to assume that 2,600 pounds of the original 18,100 pounds of fuel aboard “disappeared” early in the flight.
Where does 2600 pounds of fuel “disappear” to? Overconsumption early due to a cold engine, or stuck valve?
David Burge has a worthwhile birthday request.
Rocket Jones is hosting Carnival of the Recipes this week.
One of the most useful “Carnivals” in the blogosphere, I think, is “Carnival of the Recipes.”
I used it as the basis for tonight’s dinner. I started with the leek and potato soup, and modified it to make a seafood chowder (post title refers to the Simpsons episode in which Freddy Quimby is falsely (though justly, considering what a twerp he is) accused of injuring a French waiter because he wouldn’t pronounce “Chowdah” correctly (using the Kennedyesque Boston accent), instead pronouncing it “Chowdair”).
Instead of using sausage, and chicken broth, I instead used fresh mahi-mahi, and a couple cans of chopped clams, with juice.
It was delish.
…and I hope those of my readers, to the Instawife. And Glenn, too.