Mud Logging Equipment : Pharmaceutical Equipment Auction.
Mud Logging Equipment
- Logging is the process in which certain trees are cut down by a lumberjack or machine, such as the feller buncher, for forest management and timber.
- Information or allegations regarded as damaging, typically concerned with corruption
- mire: soil with mud, muck, or mire; "The child mucked up his shirt while playing ball in the garden"
- plaster with mud
- water soaked soil; soft wet earth
- Soft, sticky matter resulting from the mixing of earth and water
In Jordan's prize-winning debut, prejudice takes many forms, both subtle and brutal. It is 1946, and city-bred Laura McAllan is trying to raise her children on her husband's Mississippi Delta farm—a place she finds foreign and frightening. In the midst of the family's struggles, two young men return from the war to work the land. Jamie McAllan, Laura's brother-in-law, is everything her husband is not—charming, handsome, and haunted by his memories of combat. Ronsel Jackson, eldest son of the black sharecroppers who live on the McAllan farm, has come home with the shine of a war hero. But no matter his bravery in defense of his country, he is still considered less than a man in the Jim Crow South. It is the unlikely friendship of these brothers-in-arms that drives this powerful novel to its inexorable conclusion.
The men and women of each family relate their versions of events and we are drawn into their lives as they become players in a tragedy on the grandest scale. As Kingsolver says of Hillary Jordan, "Her characters walked straight out of 1940s Mississippi and into the part of my brain where sympathy and anger and love reside, leaving my heart racing. They are with me still."
Jordan won the 2006 Bellwether Prize for Mudbound, her first novel. The prize was founded by Barbara Kingsolver to reward books of conscience, social responsibility, and literary merit. In addition to meeting all of the above qualifications, Jordan has written a story filled with characters as real and compelling as anyone we know.
It is 1946 in the Mississippi Delta, where Memphis-bred Laura McAllan is struggling to adjust to farm life, rear her daughters with a modicum of manners and gentility, and be the wife her land-loving husband, Henry, wants her to be. It is an uphill battle every day. Things started badly when Henry's trusting nature resulted in the family being done out of a nice house in town, thus relegating them to a shack on their property. In addition, Henry's father, Pappy, a sour, mean-spirited devil of a man, moves in with them.
The real heart of the story, however, is the friendship between Jamie, Henry's too-charming brother, and Ronsel Jackson, son of sharecroppers who live on the McAllan farm. They have both returned from the war changed men: Jamie has developed a deep love for alcohol and has recurring nightmares; Ronsel, after fighting valiantly for his country and being seen as a man by the world outside the South, is now back to being just another black "boy."
Told in alternating chapters by Laura, Henry, Jamie, Ronsel, and his parents, Florence and Hap, the story unfolds with a chilling inevitability. Jordan's writing and perfect control of the material lift it from being another "ain't-it-awful" tale to a heart-rending story of deep, mindless prejudice and cruelty. This eminently readable and enjoyable story is a worthy recipient of Kingsolver's prize and others as well. --Valerie Ryan
Th' Pack's Isolation and T.Cannon Rules.
[19:07] Ayr Bosatsu looks down at th' furnace again - slowly resting the T.Cannon down on it's side. "I made a promise to shiro. An agreement of sorts. That there would be no two T.Cannons in the city at once. Primarily because they're both heavy anti material rifles but also because it was each of our Trade-marks for a long time. I had a gun prior to this known as the Harkonnen which i used to use. As time progressed though the barrel broke and warped til it could no longer be fired. Hence..." Gestures to the titan cannon. "Thus." Wearily leaning against the furnace he'd tap his finger son the surface where it wasn't too hot to touch, leaning down to grab a screwdriver and some other odd looking tools. "I disabled the weapon due to it's viciouscness when used properly too. But...with shiro's cannon gone for now, mines must become active."
[19:10] Chartruse Skytower looks down to her phone and reads the message looking between those present.. her ears flicking in Ayr's direction as he spoke.. eyes looking over the phone to view the T.Cannon...
[19:11] Ayr Bosatsu reaches over to the cannon before unscrewing the barrel - beginning to dislodge the equipment left therein intended to make it safe for 'public' use. "My weapon wasn't intended to be used again. Th' last time i used it i killed a person. Not something I'm proud of, but something which happened nonetheless. Most of the time when the weapon is turned 'safe' it means they simply jam some stuff into the mechanisms to fuck it up. There's nothing to really ever disable a gun because - thankfully - they are robust as hell. If a piece comes loose another can be made or found. It took me well over a year to get all the components to make the gun you see before you," Stepping to the right atad he'd gesture to it. The blackened barrel wouldn't shine in the light as many a gun did, clearly darkened and smoked to prevent being seen during or prior to use.
[19:11] Jutana Sneerwell puts her phone back into her pocket, watching Ayr quietly.
[19:15] Ayr Bosatsu rubs the back of his neck roughly as he himself looked over the gun. Even now it was dusty and covered with mud having been buried in the ruins for months. The barrel itself had some specks of rust on it; mostly about the mouth of the weapon. "The T.cannon carries a standard Three-round clip. Each of the rounds are stupidly expensive to make or buy outright. If you can't make them and don't have friends in the market then you're going to end up bankrupting yourself after the first month or two of constant use." Crunch. A piece of metal flicked forth from the rifle - something which had jammed the barrel now so bent out of shape. Holding it up a moment he'd let it fall over his shoulder carelessly into the furnace. "The emblem on my rifle is a nod to my old unit. We used to joke about silly things," Turning the gun a bit to expose the FoxHound emblem he'd laugh wearily. Pulling the clip from the gun he'd throw a round on over to Log, Ju and char to inspect - each roughly the length someones middle finger.
[19:17] Jutana Sneerwell catches th round after fumbling with it for a moment, She'd hold it close to her eye making a silent decision- she never wanted to get hit with this sunnovabish. "Looks painful." She'd say gently twisting it between her fingers for a moment, before offering t back to Ayr.
[19:18] Ayr Bosatsu points down to the middle of th' barrel again, "As standard it comes mit a bipod for sniping and a scope for long range. The T.Cannon can hit a target easily from about 800 meters without any assistance. In my case though," he'd smile faintly, "As opposed to loading it with lethal ammo i use rubber rounds. They'll still hurt and may break bones - but they're non fatal. As for making ammunition...All you really need is a furnace and some stable compounds. A bullet consists - in simplest form - of a hard object being flung at speed. You can, once you get more used to it, think about adding a jacket with some kind of explosive chemical to make th' round move faster. But it's all basically the same thing. Pour a hot chemical into a mould, pop it in water, done." Shakes his head a tad, "Keep it. Souveneir."
[19:19] Chartruse Skytower tucks her phone away as she continues to listen to the Alpha's words, watching intently as began to dismantle the barrel as he spoke.. she'd nibble softly on her lower lip as she eyed the piece of artillery. Char would catch the round as it was tossed to her.. and would indeed inspect it..turning the bulet over in her hand a moment.. "Wouldn't want to be on the recieving end of thise" she'd say and move to hand it back to him guessing she was to be keeping this round as well, she'd retract her hand slightly.. ears still listening.. eyes travelling over the bullet.
[19:22] Jutana Sneerwell lowers her arm, folding her hand around the round as if i
After all the mud sampling and data logging was done, we gathered the rest of our supplies and camping equipment and left on our way back home.
A last goodbye to the Salton Sea, it's ever changing weather climate and extreme conditions will always remind me to be thankful for the city life I live.
I was also, very ecstatic about never having to deal with swarms of files and disgusting dead fish stench again... hopefully.
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