English is a Crazy Language!

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life is too short

An atheist professor of Philosophy was speaking to his class on the problem Science has with GOD. He asked one of his new Christian Students to stand and..

Professor: You are a Christian, aren't you, son ?

Student: Yes, sir.

Professor: So, you believe in GOD ?

Student: Absolutely, sir.

Professor: Is GOD good ?

Student: Sure.

professor: Is GOD all powerful ?

Student: Yes.

Professor: My brother died of cancer even though he prayed to GOD to heal him. Most of us would attempt to help others who are ill. But GOD didn't. How is this GOD good then? Hmm?

(Student was silent.)

Professor: You can't answer, can you ? Let's start again, young fella. Is GOD good?

Student: Yes.

Professor: Is satan good ?

Student: No.

Professor: Where does satan come from ?

Student : From . . . GOD . . .

Professor: That's right. Tell me son, is there evil in this world?

Student : Yes.

Professor: Evil is everywhere, isn't it ? And GOD did make everything. Correct?

Student : Yes.

Professor: So who created evil ?

(Student did not answer.)

Professor: Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things exist in the world, don't they?

Student: Yes, sir.

Professor: So, who created them ?

(Student had no answer.)

Professor: Science says you have 5 Senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Tell me, son, have you ever seen GOD?

Student: No, sir.

Professor: Tell us if you have ever heard your GOD?

Student: No , sir.

Professor: Have you ever felt your GOD, tasted your GOD, smelt your GOD? Have you ever had any sensory perception of GOD for that matter?

Student: No, sir. I'm afraid I haven't.

Professor: Yet you still believe in Him?

Student: Yes.

Professor: According to Empirical, Testable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says your GOD doesn't exist. What do you say to that, son?

Student: Nothing. I only have my faith.

Professor: Yes, faith. And that is the problem Science has.

Student: Professor, is there such a thing as heat?

Professor: Yes.

Student: And is there such a thing as cold?

Professor: Yes.

Student: No, sir. There isn't.

(The lecture theatre became very quiet with this turn of events.)

Student: Sir, you can have lots of heat, even more heat, superheat, mega heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat. But we don't have anything called cold. We can hit 458 degrees below zero which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold. Cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.

(There was pin-drop silence in the lecture theater.)

Student: What about darkness, Professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?

Professor: Yes. What is night if there isn't darkness?

Student: You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light. But if you have no light constantly, you have nothing and its called darkness, isn't it? In reality, darkness isn't. If it is, were you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?

Professor: So what is the point you are making, young man ?

Student: Sir, my point is your philosophical premise is flawed.

Professor: Flawed ? Can you explain how?

Student: Sir, you are working on the premise of duality. You argue there is life and then there is death, a good GOD and a bad GOD. You are viewing the concept of GOD as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, Science can't even explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing.

Death is not the opposite of life: just the absence of it. Now tell me, Professor, do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?

Professor: If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, yes, of course, I do.

Student: Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?

(The Professor shook his head with a smile, beginning to realize where the argument was going.)

Student: Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor. Are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you not a scientist but a preacher?

(The class was in uproar.)

Student: Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the Professor's brain?

(The class broke out into laughter. )

Student: Is there anyone here who has ever heard the Professor's brain, felt it, touched or smelt it? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established Rules of Empirical, Stable, Demonstrable Protocol, Science says that you have no brain, sir. With all due respect, sir, how do we then trust your lectures, sir?

(The room was silent. The Professor stared at the student, his face unfathomable.)

Professor: I guess you'll have to take them on faith, son.

Student: That is it sir . . . Exactly ! The link between man & GOD is FAITH. That is all that keeps things alive and moving.

P.S.

I believe you have enjoyed the conversation. And if so, you'll probably want your friends / colleagues to enjoy the same, won't you?

Forward this to increase their knowledge... or FAITH.

I HATE MY MOTHER

Raine Kim Yu

My mom only had one eye. I hated her… She was such an embarrassment. She cooked for students and teachers to support the family.

There was this one day during elementary school where my mom came to say hello to me. I was so embarrassed.

How could she do this to me? I ignored her, threw her a hateful look and ran out. The next day at school one of my classmates said, ‘EEEE, your mom only has one eye!’

I wanted to bury myself. I also wanted my mom to just disappear. I confronted her that day and said, ‘ If you’re only gonna make me a laughing stock, why don’t you just die?’

My mom did not respond… I didn’t even stop to think for a second about what I had said, because I was full of anger. I was oblivious to her feelings.

I wanted out of that house, and have nothing to do with her. So I studied real hard, got a chance to go abroad to study.

Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. I had kids of my own. I was happy with my life, my kids and the comforts. Then one day, my Mother came to visit me. She hadn’t seen me in years and she didn’t even meet her grandchildren.

When she stood by the door, my children laughed at her, and I yelled at her for coming over uninvited. I screamed at her, ‘How dare you come to my house and scare my children!’ GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!!’

And to this, my mother quietly answered, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I may have gotten the wrong address,’ and she disappeared out of sight.

One day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. So I lied to my wife that I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went to the old shack just out of curiosity.

My neighbors said that she died. I did not shed a single tear. They handed me a letter that she had wanted me to have.

‘My dearest son,

I think of you all the time. I’m sorry that I came to your house and scared your children.

I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I may not be able to even get out of bed to see you. I’m sorry that I was a constant embarrassment to you when you were growing up.

You see……..when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost your eye. As a mother, I couldn’t stand watching you having to grow up with one eye. So I gave you mine.

I was so proud of my son who was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye.

With all my love to you,

My teenage affair with a teacher damaged me for life

She was a naive 16-year-old when she fell in love with her geography master. Only now can Christina see it was abuse, not romance

By Christina Morris

Last updated at 11:38 PM on 26th October 2011

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More than 20 years ago, this writer who contributes regularly to the Daily Mail, became embroiled in a sexual relationship with her teacher. For legal reasons, we are protecting her identity.

For a gauche 16-year-old, newly arrived from a strict all-girls’ boarding school cosseted away in the West Sussex countryside, the first day of term at an urban sixth form college was a bewildering experience.
The very fact my parents had agreed to let me do my A-levels in a co-ed environment — instead of at the sixth form of a single-sex private school — was, frankly, a triumph.
I think even my parents could see it was  time for me to learn how to talk to boys. Until that point, the only man I’d had any daily contact with for eight years was the school caretaker. So there I was, clutching my new bag and worrying over the clothes it had taken me weeks to choose — a polka-dot skirt, tights and ankle boots.

School girl crush: Christina thought her teacher loved her but only now realises she was abused (posed by model)

As I tentatively pushed open the door to my assigned form-room, I saw a man in his mid-30s wearing jeans and cowboy boots. He was leaning back in a chair, his feet up on the desk. Looking me up and down, he said: ‘Hi. I’m Mr Martin. Did someone pay you to wear that outfit?’

 

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I remember blushing, then feeling livid with myself for making it so obvious how out of my depth I felt. This man, whoever he was, had been assigned as my personal tutor, someone responsible for my welfare at college, who was also charged with steering me through my A-level in geography.
A person in authority had never spoken to me like that before and I had no idea how to respond. I later learnt this was a typical exchange for Mr Martin — or Ben, as he preferred to be called. He used insults as a way of breaking down the teacher-pupil barrier and encouraging us to communicate with him on an equal level. He loved witty banter and seemed to prefer students who were able to deliver sharp ripostes.

WHO KNEW?
In a recent survey, 15 per cent of 11-19-year-olds said they had been molested by an adult

It was all very strange to someone used to more traditional teaching methods — standing up when an adult entered the room, for example, and putting up your hand before asking a question.
It soon became clear these quaint habits of mine, drummed into me through years of disciplined schooling, gave Mr Martin plenty of ammunition. I soon became the butt of his jokes. ‘Sharpened your pencil, Christina?’ he’d inquire, as I arrived for a lesson. ‘Got an apple for me?’ he’d ask at the end.
Obviously, he was goading me, but I still have no idea why he singled me out. Most of my classmates were more streetwise and would have given him a better run for his money. I was self-conscious, awkward and acutely aware of sounding too posh. Perhaps he found this endearing.
One day he asked me to stay behind after school and help him catalogue some books in the staff room. We were on our own and I decided to ask why he was always picking on me. I don’t know what I expected, but he walked out from behind his desk and put his arms around me.
‘Don’t you realise it’s a sign of affection?’ he asked. It’s probably obvious to any adult reading this now what I should have done. But I was an impressionable  16-year-old with no experience of boys or men. Suddenly this man — 6ft tall, his brown hair streaked with grey — was telling me he liked me. Could I hear alarm bells?

Battle of wits: In the beginning of their relationship, Christina's teacher would flirt with her in class (posed by model)

Of course not. I tumbled headlong into a crush that was to consume my every waking moment for the next two years. At the start, I didn’t expect my feelings to be reciprocated. Mr Martin was head of a department and, ironically, responsible for my welfare. He was also married.
To my shame, this wasn’t something I reflected on. In my immaturity, it was the fact he was my teacher that seemed the greatest obstacle to us being together. As time passed, my feelings must have been glaringly obvious. I couldn’t stop blushing and I would find any excuse to stroll past Mr Martin’s office.
In class, I lost my inhibitions and started answering back. To his  delight, I became bolder at returning his insults. I wonder what my classmates must have thought, as lessons were often a battleground between the two of us.
‘Did you leave your brain at home, Christina?’ he’d challenge. ‘Did you leave your hairbrush?’ I’d retort.
The shift from blatant flirting to physical contact was a smooth one. It began six months later, at the start of the summer term, with a hand on my back as he steered me though a door, then a foot nudging mine under a table during a lesson. He never acknowledged these touches, but I understood what he was saying and knew what was unfolding.

I can’t pretend I was the innocent party: I wanted his attentions more than I wanted anything else in the world. Certainly, the fact we were harbouring a secret so dangerously explosive made it a heady aphrodisiac for both of us. The first time he kissed me, towards the end of that first academic year, was one evening in the staff room, against a row of books on seismic activity. I remember thinking the earth had moved, but all he could say was: ‘You understand you can never tell anybody about this?’ I said I did: I would have done anything for him.
Caught up in what I perceived to be a grand romance, it is significant that I felt unable to raise the subject of sex. I didn’t want to appear presumptuous but, at the same time, I felt he should know I was a virgin. Yet, the idea of bringing this up made me tense.  We were, by now, kissing whenever and wherever we got the chance — once, brazenly, at the end of a lesson as the last pupil left the room. But we never discussed what was going on. I didn’t want to pin him down or rock the boat with a conversation about what we were doing, so I kept my mouth shut.

After that first time... we fell into a pattern of driving back to my house after college and having sex on a rug on the kitchen floor

It’s probably inevitable that when we finally did have sex, it was a let-down. By then, our secret affair (if you can call it that) had been going on for six months. One day, just after my 17th birthday, Ben offered to drive me home from college — not something he had ever done before. We barely spoke during the drive; I was aware of an unspoken sense of anticipation. As we pulled into my driveway, he turned to look at me and put his hand on mine. I think we both knew what was about to happen and, just for a second, I wanted time to stand still.
What ensued seems surreal when I remember it. Like some kind of Lolita, I took his hand and asked if he wanted to see my bedroom. Upstairs, we sat awkwardly on the edge of my single bed. Then he took off his shoes and beckoned for me to lie down next to him. It was made worse by the fact I was in my childhood bedroom surrounded by teddies and Duran Duran posters, knowing my mother was due home from work at any moment. By the time she came through the front door, 30 minutes later, we were sitting at the kitchen table with a cup to tea.
She was flustered to find a teacher in the house. I’d had no time to process my emotions about what had happened — and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to. Ben, on the other hand, immediately launched a charm offensive, accepting biscuits from my mother and assuring her it was no problem to have given me a lift home.
In fact, it had been an opportunity to discuss my A-level syllabus. After that first time, which he never knew was my first time, we fell into a pattern of driving back to my house after college and having sex on a rug on the kitchen floor. We didn’t want to risk going upstairs again in case we couldn’t hear my mother coming in, although Ben always left in plenty of time to avoid another parental encounter.
We had sex once a week for the last six months of our relationship and I was so lucky not to get pregnant, because we didn’t use contraception. Insane, I know. One day I asked Ben if we were having an affair. ‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ he said. It seems unbelievable, when I cast my mind back now, not just that no one suspected what was going on, but also that I was able to stumble through my last year at school and get any work done at all. I’ll never forget the fact Ben was invigilating my A-level.
Everyone had their heads down, focused on their exam papers. But as he walked past my desk, he had the audacity to touch the back of my neck and wink. The only person I confided in was my best friend, who thought it was rather exciting that I was involved with a teacher. I suppose it seemed very grown-up.
I don’t know how I expected it all to end. Still, nothing was discussed. The snatched moments we had in the staff room, his car or my parents’ kitchen weren’t wasted on talking, but I believed it was love. Well, what did I know? I regarded him as my first boyfriend. It should have been no surprise that when that final term ended, Ben congratulated me on getting a B in geography and wished me luck at university.
He would, of course, try to write, but things would be busy over the next few months as his wife was heavily pregnant. I remember staring at him, my eyes blurred with tears and my throat burning with the effort not to cry. How could I make a scene? I’d never even told him how I felt, never staked a claim or admitted how much I loved him.
In truth, he probably thought it had all been a bit of fun. He had no idea what the last two years had meant to me. To say I was heartbroken would be an under-statement. I somehow managed to hide my feelings from my parents, staying in my room for most of that summer holiday, desperate for a postcard, a phone call, anything.
I thought about contacting him, but I had no way of doing so — no phone number, no address, no way of knowing where he was. Of course, there was no contact from him. And so that September, with no enthusiasm whatsoever, I headed off to university feeling jaded and depressed.
All too predictably, I dropped out after one year. But it took me a lot longer than that to get over what had happened with Ben. Did I mean nothing to him at all? I’ve never understood what he saw in me or why he did it.
I still feel a pang of loss, probably as things ended so abruptly and he never explained his feelings. I was left hanging and for years I wasn’t interested in boys my own age.
They seemed so immature and, of course, there wasn’t the same excitement factor. Falling in love with an older man is like running before you can walk. For a long while normal relationships seemed dull in comparison. It wasn’t until a year after leaving university that I felt able to fall in love again.
I’ve been married for many years now, but I still think about Ben. I’m not sure you ever forget your first love. I hear he’s done well for himself and is now the head of a private school. Presumably, it’s his job to sack teachers who abuse the trust of parents who are paying a fortune to send their children there. I’ve often wondered if I was the only one. It would be flattering to think I was, but I doubt that was the case. Ben took all those risks once, so it would be naive to think he didn’t try it with other girls.
I don’t want to sound bitter: after all, I should have known better myself. But now that I’m a mother with three daughters of my own, I look back at my teenage self and want to cry for her. For the first time, I can see how vulnerable she was, how fragile was her need to be loved and accepted.
As for you, Mr Martin, I hope that baby of yours was a girl. And I hope she gave you sleepless nights as a teenager, staying out all night with her hell-raiser boyfriend. At least that way you’d have known she wasn’t being abused by her teacher.

The names in this article have been changed.

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2053883/My-teenage-affair-teacher-damaged-life.html#ixzz1bxhlsoy7

TOASTMASTERS INTERNATIONAL

THE SUMMIT/SJ ADVANCED TOASTMASTERS CLUBS

 DISTRICT 51    DIVISION C

PRESENT

YOUTH LEADERSHIP PROGRAMME

For children between the ages of 12 – 17

At Summit Hotel, Subang Jaya

Date:  10^th to 12^th December 2010

Dear Parents,

Think for a moment about the successful leaders you know. Chances are they all have on quality in common - the ability to communicate effectively.

What are you children doing during this long break from November 2009 to January 2010?   That is a long time.   How about sending them to a three-day camp from 8.30am to 5.00pm from Friday to Sunday? On 10^th to 12^th December  2010,  The Summit and SJ Advanced Clubs of the Toastmasters’ movement in Subang Jaya area who have been running this Training for the past few years is willing to transform your children of 12 – 17 years of age into great speakers and most important of all … LEADERS.

Many times as parents we have seen our children shy away from not only their friends, but any one for that matter and do not want to be seen in public or even stand up in class to volunteer to speak on behalf of the others or even answer questions.

Purpose of the Programme

Youth Leadership is based on the belief that every young person has the potential to become a good communicator and leader, but this potential needs to be developed. The programme’s unique three-day session, workshop style design enables participants to develop this potential through practical experience.

How it Works

The programme runs for three days, starting on Friday and ending with a Contest on Sunday.  There will be seven to eight sessions. Each Session runs for one to two hours.  Each session is conducted as a Meeting involving everyone. It is mainly a practical workshop with minimal lectures.

In short Participants increase their self-confidence as they learn.

How much does it cost?

The investment for the programme is RM400 with 2 tea breaks and lunch arranged.

The Participants

Each Youth Leadership Programme Group is limited to between 20 and 25 pupils. This allows each participant to receive individual attention and to have the opportunity to get practical experience. The programme is not to honour those who already have become leaders inside and outside the school.  It is for the much larger group of young people who have not yet developed the ability to express themselves.

How it Works

Participants work from a handbook, select officers who preside over the meetings. They are assigned duties on a rotating basis so that everyone is actively involved.    

On the final day parents are invited to listen and witness the transformation their children have gone through and marvel. Don’t you want to be a part of this transformation? For more details please do not hesitate to contact any one of us, even for a chat on the Programme.

YOUR CONTACT TO ENQUIRE:

       Parames Ramanathan, DTM                  012 377 8559

            Alvin Ang ACB                                       012 237 8482

            Chew Shel Ling ACB, ALS                       012 222 6250    

TOASTMASTERS INTERNATIONAL

 DISTRICT 51    DIVISION C

Youth Leadership Program

Registration  Form

Please e-mail to : paramesstar@gmail.com  or

fax to : 03 8023 7128

Children’s particulars

Name	Date of Birth	Gender
		M   /   F
		M   /   F
		M   /   F

Parent/Guardian’s Particulars

Name:	Relationship:
Nationality	IC/Passport No	Occupation
Home Tel:	Office Tel:	Mobile:
e-mail:		Fax:
Address

Registration Fees (RM400 per child)

Made payable to CHEW SHEL LING, RHB Bank Account no. 1-14446-0003233-3 (inclusive of stationery, books, tea breaks and lunch Friday to Sunday)

I hereby register the abovementioned child/children for the Toastmasters International Youth Leadership Programme and agree to abide by the house rules.

I shall also agree to release Toastmasters International Youth Leadership Programme volunteers and its staff and employees acting within the scope of their employment of any liability for damages arising from any personal property loss or any injury sustained by myself and my child/children while participating in any activities or programmes conducted at the hotel.

Where damage to the property of hotel has been willfully, negligently or otherwise caused by me or my child/children, I shall be responsible and liable to fully compensate and indemnify the hotel for such damages.

I hereby declare that the abovementioned information completed by me is true and correct in all respects.

Signature/Date: ………………………………………………………………………….

(To avoid disappointment please fax in the Form and bank in the Registration Fee to CHEW SHEL LING, RHB BANK

Account : 1-14446-0003233-3  )

*********************************

EARLY BIRD OFFER:

(REGISTER BEFORE 15 NOV 2010)

RM350 per child

REGISTER 3 children for

Only RM1,000

EARLY BIRD OFFER:

(REGISTER BEFORE 15 NOV 2010)

RM350 per child

REGISTER 3 children for

Only RM1,000

Goodbye Cruel (News of the) World as we Knew It

Posted on July 12, 2011 by Bill Kovarik| Leave a comment

Breathtaking. The sheer mad genius of the thing.
Journalists bribing security guards. Tapping cell phones. Hacking computers. Spying on emails.
And not just once in a while, like the Cincinnati newspaper’s Chiquita banana episode in 1997, or the Chicago Mirage Bar sting of 1974.
But permanently, as part of an ongoing operation, with an A-list of targets including British prime ministers, rock stars, crime victims, even the royal family. Like Watergate in reverse gear.
The unprecedented, unmitigated gall of News Corp. and its cheesy tabloid: To run a private spy agency and dress it up as a newsroom.
This week The Nation magazine quoted Dan Cooper, formerly of Fox:

Deep in the bowels of 1211 Avenue of the Americas, News Corporation’s New York headquarters, was … the Brain Room. Most people thought it was simply the research department of Fox News. But unlike virtually everybody else, because I had to design and build the Brain Room, I knew it also housed a counterintelligence and black ops office. So accessing phone records was easy pie.

This is fairly well unprecedented in media history, but there are a few interesting flashbacks. The Guardian probably did the best job explaining similar behavior of Lords Northcliffe, Rothemere and Beaverbrook, late of Britain’s Fleet Street.
But for my money, the most grandiose vision was William T. Stead’s 1886 idea of “government by journalism.” Stead once said:

The telegraph and the printing-press have converted Great Britain into a vast agora, or assembly of the whole community, in which the discussion of the affairs of State is carried on from day to day in the hearing of the whole people…

So why not, Stead asked, just go ahead and replace the House of Commons with the press? Stead’s vision went nowhere, probably because of a lack of technology. The mercurial editor turned to other projects like world peace.
Rupert Murdoch’s vision is similar to Stead’s, and like Northcliffe, Rothemere and Beaverbrook, he has tried to rule government with journalism. Using inside information, Murdoch pulled the strings in the world’s second largest news empire, helping the rise and fall of politicians and keeping public discourse tightly inside his own narrow boundaries.
If you’d asked Murdoch and his editors, they might well have compared their operation to Stieg Larssen’s Millenium epic. In that three-part story about investigative journalism in Sweden, first published in 2004 and made into a terrific film trilogy in 2009-2011, a brilliant but abused young woman named Lisbeth Salander has an almost superhuman ability to hack into cell phones, emails and computers files. The exact details of all private lives, even Sweden’s secret service, are at her fingertips. She shares them with editor Mikael Blomkvist, who uses the power to track down serial killers.
But how did News of the World use its “Brain Room?” To spy on the Prime Minister and learn what he was bidding for a townhouse; to find out how many pounds the Dutchess of York had gained; to spy on 911 victims; to write malicious celebrity sob stories.
It’s an astounding abuse of power gone awry, almost like a science fiction experiment. Imagine mad scientist TV’s Frank proposing an experiment: Hey, let’s give a few media bimbos a major national publication, along with their own private spy agency, and see what they do with it while they paste in the Page 3 cheesecake girl.
In one of those weird life -imitates -art -imitating -life coincidences, the big item is flying around the UK blogosphere recently was that former News of the World editor Rebekah Brooks insisted that a reporter covering a Harry Potter press conference dress up like a wizard. The date was Sept. 12, 2001 — the day after the 911 attacks. The reporter checked with the boss, who backed Brooks up. Then he called in sick.
Yes, Britain’s tabloid press is a sick piece of work. And if you’re under age 21, you grew up knowing it. One of its prime victims, J.K. Rowling, is the author of the Harry Potter books. And as any 12 year old reader will tell you, journalism is a profession where you will find disreputable characters without the slightest sense of personal honor or common decency.
Just as Britain’s News of the World and the US Fox News became famous for playing “gotcha” as a blood sport, Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet in the Harry Potter books, proudly wears the mantle of sensationalistic arrogance. In one book, Skeeter is looking for an angle to skewer Potter. She asks him:

Speaking of your parents, were they alive, how do you think they’d feel? Proud? Or concerned that your attitude shows, at best, a pathological need for attention? The worst, a psychotic death wish?

Rita Skeeter has her own personal eavesdropping technology — She can magically transform into a bug in order to overhear private conversations.
But she gets caught. In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Hermione Granger catches Rita spying on the Quiddich match and threatens to expose her if she doesn’t stop. Later Hermione tells friends:

Rita Skeeter isn’t going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her… I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn’t supposed to be coming into the grounds…

A 2008 study in American Communication Journal observed with alarm that the Potter series had:

… three main frames in which media is viewed: Government Control of Journalism, Misleading Journalism, and Unethical Means of Gathering Information. Based on these frames, researchers argue the Harry Potter series does not put the media in a positive light.

Unethical information gathering? Like … the News of the World?

News of the World writes own obituary as it publishes last issue; was plagued with hacking scandals

BY LARRY MCSHANE

DAILY NEWS STAFF WRITER

Saturday, July 09, 2011

A laid-off staffer's T-shirt summed it up: "Goodbye, cruel News of the World."
The muckraking British tabloid ran its own obituary, publishing a final edition after a phone-hacking scandal led owner Rupert Murdoch to end its 168-year run.
"THANK YOU AND GOODBYE" read the simple front page message as some 200 newspaper employees worked their final shift in the London newsroom.
Media magnate Murdoch was due in London on Sunday to face the massive, mounting criticism over the newspaper's hacking into the cell phones of murder and terrorist victims, along with politicians and celebrities.

Final edition of Britain's News of the world printed

• By Cassandra Vinograd
• From: AP
• July 10, 2011 8:32AM

• • 
    

BRITAIN'S best-selling Sunday tabloid the News of the World has signed off with a simple front page message in the wake of the phone-hacking scandal: "THANK YOU & GOODBYE".

Journalists crafted the newspaper's own obituary before sending the tabloid's final edition to the printing presses overnight, apologising for letting its readers down but stopping short of acknowledging recent allegations that staff paid police for information.
"We praised high standards, we demanded high standards but, as we are now only too painfully aware, for a period of a few years up to 2006 some who worked for us, or in our name, fell shamefully short of those standards," reads a message posted on the tabloid's website.
"Quite simply, we lost our way. Phones were hacked, and for that this newspaper is truly sorry."

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Related Coverage

• Second UK paper hacking allegations Herald Sun, 1 day ago
• Heather Mills says her phone was hacked NEWS.com.au, 2 days ago
• Heather Mills makes hacking claim NEWS.com.au, 2 days ago
• Save any hacking clues, staff told NEWS.com.au, 7 days ago
• Tabloid whistleblower found dead NEWS.com.au, 18 Jul 2011

End of sidebar. Return to start of sidebar.

For the final edition the newspaper's front and back pages were covered with a collage of images of past exclusives and scoops.
The front page bore an epitaph, "the world's greatest newspaper 1843 - 2011" and a smaller headline with the words: "After 168 years, we finally say a sad but very proud farewell to our 7.5m loyal readers."
Throughout the day, journalists at the tabloid expressed their sadness and pride in working for an iconic news brand.
Video of the newsroom showed journalists tapping away at keyboards, one wearing a T-shirt reading: "Goodbye, cruel News of the World, I'm leaving you today."
The paper's editor, Colin Myler, offered words of encouragement and sympathy to his staff on a "very difficult day".
"It's not where we want to be and it's not where we deserve to be," he said in a memo to staff seen by Britain's Press Association. "But I know we will produce a paper to be proud of."
Helen Moss, a news and features editor who offered refreshments to journalists camped outside the tabloid's headquarters, described an "extremely emotional" newsroom.
The decision to close the tabloid was made this week amid shocking new claims of wrong-doing that saw advertising pulled.
It was reported that the News of the World had hacked the mobile phone of 13-year-old murder victim Milly Dowler in 2002 while her family and police were desperately searching for her.
News of the World operatives reportedly deleted some messages from the phone's voicemail, giving the girl's parents false hope that she was still alive.
The revelations ignited public outrage far beyond any previous reaction to press intrusion into the lives of politicians and celebrities, which the paper has acknowledged and for which it has paid compensation to some prominent victims, including actress Sienna Miller.
Revelations that journalists paid police for information added fuel to the fire, prompting calls for a boycott and causing dozens of companies to pull their advertising from the paper amid fears they would be tainted by association.
James Murdoch responded by saying this Sunday's edition of the tabloid would be its last and all revenue from it will go to "good causes".
The closure was seen by some as a desperate attempt to stem negative fallout and save a $19 billion deal to take over satellite broadcaster British Sky Broadcasting.
But the British government has signalled that deal will be delayed because of the crisis and the scandal has continued to unfold with the announcement of three arrests linked to the matter this week.
Andy Coulson - a former News of the World editor and ex-communications chief to Prime Minister David Cameron - was arrested, as was Clive Goodman, an ex-News of the World royal reporter, and an unidentified 63-year-old man. All three have since been released on bail.

Read more: http://www.news.com.au/business/breaking-news/final-edition-of-britains-news-of-the-world-printed/story-e6frfkur-1226091576115#ixzz1UGyHEVCM

How to Write Great Blogs

Welcome to Issue #44 of The Daily Feed. If this email was forwarded to you by a friend, you can subscribe on this page. You can read previous editions of The Daily Feed on our blog but note that posts to our blog are delayed 24 hours or more.
Today I'm going to share a few of my favorite blog entries on writing great blog posts.
Here is Darren Rowse with tips for writing better blog posts. In summary:

Make your opinion known

Link like crazy

Write less

250 Words is enough

Make Headlines snappy

Write with passion

Include Bullet point lists

Edit your post

Make your posts easy to scan

Be consistent with your style

Litter the post with keywords

Copyblogger has a few pithy observations on why some people almost always write great post titles.


And finally, Lifehackery.com with 11 ways to write better blog entries. In summary:


Writing is a habit, not an obligation

Read Read Read!

Avoid cliches.

Start and end with a Bang!

Get feedback on your writing - and listen to it

The more conversational the better

First be consistent, then add variety

Correctly use conjunctions

Comment on your own posts

Write somewhere quiet where you won't be distracted

Create an outline for your blog entry using keywords and key ideas in notepad or wordpad before you start writing

Have a great weekend and don't forget to write at least one blog entry before Monday.

Regards,


Mark Maunder

Feedjit Founder & CEO