Received: from nobody by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with local (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cVhaL-0002q6-4E for lojban-newreal@lojban.org; Mon, 23 Jan 2017 08:35:13 -0800 Received: from [81.171.25.36] (port=40541 helo=dailytrumpinfo.com) by stodi.digitalkingdom.org with esmtp (Exim 4.87) (envelope-from ) id 1cVhaG-0002p3-Ki for lojban@lojban.org; Mon, 23 Jan 2017 08:35:12 -0800 Date: Mon, 23 Jan 2017 09:33:52 -0700 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit To: From: "Trump Presient" Subject: You are being offered a new position (21746594): 80.an-hour Mime-Version: 1 Content-Type: text/html; charset=us-ascii Message-ID: <60613792889_13792889-21746594-lojban@lojban.org35> X-Spam-Score: 2.9 (++) X-Spam_score: 2.9 X-Spam_score_int: 29 X-Spam_bar: ++ X-Spam-Report: Spam detection software, running on the system "stodi.digitalkingdom.org", has NOT identified this incoming email as spam. The original message has been attached to this so you can view it or label similar future email. If you have any questions, see the administrator of that system for details. Content preview: execute your income The whole yard came out to watch. Washwomen and spinners and weavers, dairy and stable hands, the ren too young to work and the old ones too feeble, they all gathered in the yard. From inside the mansion, house slaves peeked out from French plate dows. Even Mistress Amanda stepped onto the upstairs gallery with Daniel Webster perched upon her shoulder and watched as the wagon rolled into the yard. The driver jerked back on the reins and the horses pulled to a stop in front of the new fourroom cabin while everybody stood there with chins nearly touching the ground. It was a woman after all! Lord, she a sight! Granada whispered to herself. She had never seen anything like her. The stranger was reddish brown with pointed cheekbones and amber eyes. Bird feathers stuck out of her braids this way and that, and around her neck she wore a ponderous necklace made of gleaming white shells. She was as skinny as a river bird, and dd over her shoulders was a mangy wrap made from the fur of some animal Granada imagined being too ugly to ever have lived. [...] Content analysis details: (2.9 points, 5.0 required) pts rule name description ---- ---------------------- -------------------------------------------------- 0.0 URIBL_BLOCKED ADMINISTRATOR NOTICE: The query to URIBL was blocked. See http://wiki.apache.org/spamassassin/DnsBlocklists#dnsbl-block for more information. [URIs: dailytrumpinfo.com] -0.0 SPF_PASS SPF: sender matches SPF record -0.0 SPF_HELO_PASS SPF: HELO matches SPF record 0.0 HTML_FONT_LOW_CONTRAST BODY: HTML font color similar or identical to background 0.7 MIME_HTML_ONLY BODY: Message only has text/html MIME parts -1.9 BAYES_00 BODY: Bayes spam probability is 0 to 1% [score: 0.0000] 0.0 HTML_MESSAGE BODY: HTML included in message 1.9 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_E8_51_100 Razor2 gives engine 8 confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.5 RAZOR2_CF_RANGE_51_100 Razor2 gives confidence level above 50% [cf: 100] 0.9 RAZOR2_CHECK Listed in Razor2 (http://razor.sf.net/) 0.8 RDNS_NONE Delivered to internal network by a host with no rDNS execute your income

The whole yard came out to watch. Washwomen and spinners and weavers, dairy and stable hands, the ren too young to work and the old ones too feeble, they all gathered in the yard. From inside the mansion, house slaves peeked out from French plate dows. Even Mistress Amanda stepped onto the upstairs gallery with Daniel Webster perched upon her shoulder and watched as the wagon rolled into the yard. The driver jerked back on the reins and the horses pulled to a stop in front of the new fourroom cabin while everybody stood there with chins nearly touching the ground. It was a woman after all! Lord, she a sight! Granada whispered to herself. She had never seen anything like her. The stranger was reddish brown with pointed cheekbones and amber eyes. Bird feathers stuck out of her braids this way and that, and around her neck she wore a ponderous necklace made of gleaming white shells. She was as skinny as a river bird, and dd over her shoulders was a mangy wrap made from the fur of some animal Granada imagined being too ugly to ever have lived.



All Americans Will Make
At Least Double Their Income In 2017

During his inaguration speech Friday, every Republican was floored by his comments

He went completely off script during his speech

Our new president has been full of surprises and on Friday he made his most shocking yet but insulting everyone in the audience.

"In just a few weeks every American will make double their-income with my new plans I will put in place this week"

Here is hsi full speech that thrilled everyone in the audience.

The full story > > >








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Granada heard the whispers all around her. Got some Indian in her, thats for sure! Mostly African, still. Exactly what kind of creature is it? they asked one another. She was too unsightly to be thought of as frolic in bed for the master. She was too far past her bearing years to multiply the stock. Though she seemed nimble enough, it was hard to imagine her being brought all the way from North Carolina for field work. Granada surprised herself by laughing out loud with glee, but not only at the womans outlandish manner of dress. It was the way the oddlooking stranger jerked back on the reins, tied them off, and then jumped down off the wagon, spry as a pullet chicken. Granada eased closer to get a better look. She wasnt the only one.

Aunt Sylvie and the servant s came out into the yard to inspect the odd sight, all of them gathering in a tight knot at the kitchen steps, unable to take their eyes off the gangly, yelloweyed woman. She old as black pepper, Aunt Sylvie whispered. Got wrinkles you could grow cotton in. But she can manage them mules like a crack hand, came Chesters reply. People began to speculate aloud that there had to be somebody worth five thousand dollars hiding under the dusty tarpaulin in the back of the wagon. Maybe the master had bought him a bunch of ren after all, and she was the usedup mammy thrown into the bargain. But not a peep emerged from under the wagons tarp. All eyes went back to the woman, waiting for her to do something worth a pot of gold. First thing she did was walk with a limberjointed step across the yard right up to the new cabin with the huge brick chimney. She disappeared through the door and then emerged a few moments later with hands on her hips like she had taken ownership. She strode right over to where the master had reined his horse to a halt and was lowering Little Lord down from the saddle. The master opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, she looked him square in the face and said, Ill need me a couple of hands to unload the wagon and get everything moved in. Her voice was firm and clearthroated. Master Ben commenced to turn as purple as bullis g. He lifted himself up in his stirrups, clenching his jaw so that the muscles in his face bulged. The servants watched the masters reaction with great apprehension.

Though he was known to be slow to the whip, preferring to get rid of troublesome slaves rather than beat them, he surely couldnt stand for this. Granada didnt hear one person take a breath. Master Ben finally swallowed hard and barked at two old yard hands to wait on the woman. There followed a wave of headshaking from the onlookers. Next she took to bossing the pair of hands like she had Master Ben. With a voice that sounded curiously comfortable with authority, she told the old men to unload her wagon. They didnt argue and got right to it, unfastening the tarp and then whipping it off. Not a to be seen. Instead, the wagon was filled with all sizes of gourds and bulging burlap bags, intricately woven coiledgrass baskets and glazed pots of all sizes made out of clays of strange hues. Granada whispered to Aunt Sylvie, Did she bring her own grub to eat, too?, thinking she was some special kind of creature, like the mistresss pet monkey. Aunt Sylvie shrugged. , I got no idea. But Im going to tell you one thing I do know. Aint none of it coming in my kitchen. That woman makes the hair crawl off my head. They all watched silently as she walked toward her cabin, but when she got to the doorway she stopped and turned around. She stood for a moment with her chin lifted and her eyes closed. What on earth was she doing? Granada dered. The woman took a long, deep breath and smacked her lips like she could taste the air.

Nodding thoughtfully, she looked in the direction of the kitchen where the evenings meal was cooking—roast lamb. Then she threw back her head and exploded into a fit of highpitched cackling that could be heard across the plantation yard. The woman swung one last gaze over the yard full of dumbfounded spectators, and for the weightiest of moments her eyes settled on Granada, turning the s skin to chicken flesh. No one had ever looked at her that way before, studying her so thoroughly. The old womans allconsuming glare was nothing like the masters sharp glances. Or the look she got from the cold blue eyes of the mistress, momentarily glinting in icy recollection but then frosting over opaque. No, the strange womans eyes gripped her like two fists and held her tight. That stare was not one of questioning or of doubt, but one of rocksure recognition. It gave Granada the eerie feeling that there was something she was supposed to yield up to the woman, and she had no idea what. The woman nodded once to herself and pulled the door closed behind her. Granada remained where she stood. She could still feel the womans eyes on her, peeling her back like the skin of an onion, reading her layer by layer. Not since she was a , with troubling nightmares, had she felt this sense of foreboding.

She would wake sweatsoaked from muddled dreams and random visions of people she knew, and those she didnt—yet somehow was supposed to. They all came seeking, wanting something from her desperately, and she would wake to a terrible silence haunted by their grasping. This womans evil gaze had cast exactly such a mood over Granada. Aunt Sylvie was upset as well. I got a bad feeling about this woman coming here, she said. Yes, Lord, I got a bad feeling in my bones about her. I know she some kind of conjure woman. A conjure woman? Granada gasped. Whatever it was, it sounded very bad. Uhhuh. Hoodoo woman. Got some Indian in her, too. Theyre bad to put a fix on folks. You saw them snapping yellow eyes of hers. Snapping at peoples souls, she was. Shes done put a fix on the master for sure. Running round here like she Queen Sheba. Aunt Sylvie turned to the and waved a cook spoon in her face. Granada, that womans going to bear watching. Whatever shes up to, the devil is surely grinning with delight. CHAPTER 10 The next morning Granada was in the kitchen with Aunt Sylvie when they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs off the gallery. It was first light and early for any of the family to be out, but from the heaviness of the steps, Granada figured it had to be the masters boots. They spied on him through the kitchen dow as he left the house and strode directly over to the old womans cabin. The door was open and she stepped out to meet him. No word was exchanged.

Well, Ill be, Aunt Sylvie said. What nature of rag she got tied on her head? Indeed the old woman had lost the tattered hat and feathers she had worn the previous day and now her hair was covered with a head rag, tied turban style. As the woman followed the master closely, Granada noticed something peculiar about the scarf. From it hung a fringe of a shiny metal that lined the old womans brow and glimmered in the earlymorning light. The two disappeared from sight as they walked in the direction of the quarter, the collection of cabins that sat on the plantation grounds. These were especially set aside for the slaves who worked closely with the family, those who did the ginning, weaving, blacksmithing, and the tending to the animals and vegetable gardens. The ones for whom Sylvie oversaw the cooking. Aunt Sylvie shook her head worriedly. She was still suspicious as to why somebody should need a fireplace almost as big as hers. In spite of Chesters reassurances, she hadnt ruled out the possibility that the master had brought another cook to the plantation, especially when she spied all the supplies the woman had brought with her. Sylvie said maybe the woman knew secret recipes that made the slaves multiply faster.

She said she had heard of such things. In fact, she herself had been told by Mistress Amanda to put cotton root in the food of the house servants with the lightest complexions to stop them from getting biggedup with ever whiter ren. One day the mistress grew so flustered, Sylvie had once said to everybody at the kitchen table, she told me, ‘My God, Aunt Sylvie, cant he bring one Negro into this house that doesnt look like they dropped off the Satterfield family tree? Everybody had laughed then. But Sylvie wasnt laughing now. I wager there are things that work the other way around, Aunt Sylvie said. Maybe that Chester wasnt far off the track when he was pranking about tripleyolkers. Maybe that witch can make a stew that causes a woman to drop a litter like a cat.