Received: from [209.212.147.18] (port=47317 helo=goforallnow.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cW8Vm-0000S4-Nm for lojban@lojban.org; Tue, 24 Jan 2017 13:20:22 -0800 Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2017 14:20:09 -0700 Mime-Version: 1 To: From: "Mr Trump" Message-ID: <91495190-5707455_c2c7e55fbfda4353ca10c7b6e541eeed_lojban@lojban.org_hpi> Subject:I have a new plan that will double your-income this year: Only (3) spots are left so join me Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii X-Spam-Score: -0.4 (/) X-Spam_score: -0.4 X-Spam_score_int: -3 X-Spam_bar: / of course it is Special Live Report
Donald Announces Program To Double All American's Income

Our newly elected president is already making waves. On his second day in office, Trump has announced that every American will double, even triple their income this year.

He has received criticism for his behavior in the past but this is a major-win for everyone.

Be apart of this by seeing the full story

"I am so pleased to release this program. We need to make America great again" - Donald

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MMA POTOKWANE was not in her office when Mma Ramotswe arrived at the orphan farm. This was not unusual: the matron was often to be found in one of the outlying buildings, attending to one of the numerous minor, or sometimes major, problems that might be expected to crop up in the daytoday life of an orphanage. Most of these she resolved herself, dispensing advice, fixing something, or simply wiping away tears; all of which she did with the same brisk confidence that she applied to any task that confronted her. Not for nothing had Mma Potokwane previously been appointed as matron of a small but wellrun hospital, and the skills she had learned in the wards theredealing with unhappy or nervous patients, keeping nurses and others on their toesshe now applied in the rather different circumstances of the orphan farm. Mma Ramotswe, still thinking of her conversation with her new acquaintance, Mma Soleti, parked her tiny white van under the tree that always shaded it on her visits: a towering jacaranda tree on the lower limbs of which the had climbed, rubbing the bark bare with their legs. We should all have a tree in our childhood, she thoughta tree one might explore, a tree from which one might learn how to fall. She had fallen out of just such a tree as a and ded herself, while the who were with her stood in a circle about her and laughed; they were s, of course, and found misfortune funny in a way in which s did not. She had never forgotten the sensation of being ded: of having all the breath knocked out of you and waiting for your lungs to draw it back inbut it was as if your lungs were stunned and were waiting for instructions from you She made her way to the verandah that lined the building in which Mma Potokwane had her office. The door leading off into the office was open, and she could see that nobody was within. A fan had been left on, though, and was whirring away industriously. That meant that Mma Potokwane would not be far awaya counter of thebes every bit as much as pula, she would not waste electricity for long. Many of the goods supplied to the orphan farm she begged and borrowed from businessmen in the town, but you could not do that with electricity. There was no human face to the electricity board, no manager whom one could negotiate a lower price with or sweettalk with a promise of some future favour. The electricity board charged a set amount for electricity, and if you used it, you had to pay for it. There was no way round that, as there was with other bills. You cant be charging the poor orphans that much was one of Mma Potokwanes favourite lines, regularly invoked against traders who supplied the orphan farm with its needs, and it was often highly successful. But you could not say that to an electricity board that had no shame, no sense of what it was like to be an orphan.

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Mma Ramotswe decided to go in search of the matron rather than stay in her office and wait for her to return. She did not like to sit unattended in anothers officeeven if invited, explicitly or implicitly. There was always the feeling, she thought, that the person whose office it was would think that you had sneaked a look at the papers on the desk, which was what some inquisitive people did, no matter how hard it was to read upside down. And that notion reminded her of Clovis Andersen, who had writtenhad he notin The Principles of Private Detection, something about learning to read upside down. It came back to her now, from that section of the book that dealt with the skills that a good detective should try to master. Being able to read in a poor light puts one at a great advantage over those who cannot, he wrote. There have been many occasions when I have been able to glean information from a document which would be too poorly lit to be legible to most. And the same ability has seen me safely through a number of tricky, not to say perilous, situations. And what, she dered, were those Now she could ask him, of course, although he would only be able to tell her about them as long as disclosure on his part would not compromise the strict rules of confidentiality that he set out elsewhere in the book. Then had come the section on reading upside down. Now there can be no doubt, he wroteand how she loved that phrase, there can be no doubt; how assured it was, how definitiveNow there can be no doubt but that being able to read upside down is extremely useful and is, in fact, a skill well worth mastering. It enables you to read a document that lies before the person on the other side of the desk from you. They may think that you cannot read it; they may think that they can tell you what is in the document without your being able to verify their version. But they reckon without your ability to read upside down! Indeed they do, thought Mma Ramotswe. And it also enables you, Clovis Andersen continued, to read papers lying about on a suspects desk. These are usually facing the wrong way, and you cannot necessarily turn them round. Nor will it do to turn your head. Mma Ramotswe had imagined the contortions such a manoeuvre would entail and had decided that it was impossible to angle ones head and neck in such a way as to be able to read satisfactorily. It could not be done, she decided, unless one were somehow to upend oneselfto do a handstand, so to speakwhich would be difficult and selfdefeating, as ones dress would drop down over ones head and eyes and effectively prevent one from seeing anything, let alone reading. And it would be difficult to explain what was happening if the suspect returned to his office and found a visitor with her legs pointing up to the ceiling. Anything you might say in such circumstances would surely sound somewhat weak. I was practising my handstandsI hope you dont mind. Nobody would believe that, not even the normally gullible. They would suspect that something untoward was happeningand they would be right about that.