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"Linda, dozing in the light of the campfire, jolted awake. She sat up, stretched, willed herself to wakefulness. It was her first duty on watch-she'd insisted on a stint-and she'd dozed. How reliable of her. She peered into the woods, listening, wondering why she'd awoken. The campfire crackled and whispered. A spark popped. She thumbed open the cylinder release of her revolver and counted bullets. The gun looked ancient, like a long-barreled cowboy weapon. As if she would know. She eased the cylinder shut with a click. She settled back again, grateful she hadn't shot anyone. Something rustled in the darkness of the nearby forest. She should be accustomed to this by now. Rainforest nights were deathly quiet in comparison to Boston nights, but that was just the problem. It would take a gunshot or a siren to jar her awake back home, but mere whispers did the trick here. They signaled movement. The jungle was alive, teeming. Jaguars would be about, prowling. The big cats had killed and eaten grown men on occasion. Man-eating jaguars. Nice. No chance of sleep now. Grant slumped in his chair opposite the fire, sound asleep, snoring softly, reassuringly. Not quite enough to set her at ease. The others had gone to bed. He preferred to stay with the watch, a visible, armed backup. What would be more comforting than Indiana Jones sound asleep would be Indiana Jones wide awake. She coughed, gently. Grant slept on. "Grant," she said. No response. "Hey, Grant!" He stirred and rubbed his eyes. "What?" "I didn't say anything." "Hm. Okay." Linda glanced about. "I'm hearing things in the woods. Maybe those sounds woke you." Grant sat up. "What kind of sounds?" He picked up his rifle. "Something moving." They sat in silence for long moments, listening. At last, Grant said, "The alarms haven't tripped. That's a good sign. Anything big would have set them off." He looked at his watch. "Why don't you get some sleep? You've only g

"Linda, dozing in the light of the campfire, jolted awake. She sat up, stretched, willed herself to wakefulness. It was her first duty on watch-she'd insisted on a stint-and she'd dozed. How reliable of her. She peered into the woods, listening, wondering why she'd awoken. The campfire crackled and whispered. A spark popped. She thumbed open the cylinder release of her revolver and counted bullets. The gun looked ancient, like a long-barreled cowboy weapon. As if she would know. She eased the cylinder shut with a click. She settled back again, grateful she hadn't shot anyone. Something rustled in the darkness of the nearby forest. She should be accustomed to this by now. Rainforest nights were deathly quiet in comparison to Boston nights, but that was just the problem. It would take a gunshot or a siren to jar her awake back home, but mere whispers did the trick here. They signaled movement. The jungle was alive, teeming. Jaguars would be about, prowling. The big cats had killed and eaten grown men on occasion. Man-eating jaguars. Nice. No chance of sleep now. Grant slumped in his chair opposite the fire, sound asleep, snoring softly, reassuringly. Not quite enough to set her at ease. The others had gone to bed. He preferred to stay with the watch, a visible, armed backup. What would be more comforting than Indiana Jones sound asleep would be Indiana Jones wide awake. She coughed, gently. Grant slept on. "Grant," she said. No response. "Hey, Grant!" He stirred and rubbed his eyes. "What?" "I didn't say anything." "Hm. Okay." Linda glanced about. "I'm hearing things in the woods. Maybe those sounds woke you." Grant sat up. "What kind of sounds?" He picked up his rifle. "Something moving." They sat in silence for long moments, listening. At last, Grant said, "The alarms haven't tripped. That's a good sign. Anything big would have set them off." He looked at his watch. "Why don't you get some sleep? You've only g

The first academic book on Thompson in twenty years, designed for both students and scholars. A critical study of the writing of Hunter S Thompson. It doesn't skirt over the controversies involving his life as these give his writing context but it does keep to its intended purpose of focusing on his work.

When Lethe refuses to return home to the States, the Director of the study abroad program offers to find him another Senora. Lethe begins to fantasize about his new Senora while his old Senora imagines his departure.

Are humans by nature hierarchical or egalitarian? Hierarchy in the Forest addresses this question by examining the evolutionary origins of social and political behavior. Christopher Boehm, an anthropologist whose fieldwork has focused on the political arrangements of human and nonhuman primate groups, postulates that egalitarianism is in effect a hierarchy in which the weak combine forces to dominate the strong. The political flexibility of our species is formidable: we can be quite egalitarian, we can be quite despotic. Hierarchy in the Forest  traces the roots of these contradictory traits in chimpanzee, bonobo, gorilla, and early human societies. Boehm looks at the loose group structures of hunter-gatherers, then at tribal segmentation, and finally at present-day governments to see how these conflicting tendencies are reflected. Hierarchy in the Forest claims new territory for biological anthropology and evolutionary biology by extending the domain of these sciences into a crucial aspect of human political and social behavior. This book will be a key document in the study of the evolutionary basis of genuine altruism.

Glenn Greenwald studied law and spent ten years as a litigator in federal and state courts across the country. Now he's a big two-fisted progressive blogger and columnist for Salon.com. And he's out with a blistering critique of what has happened to American law. We've stopped applying it to everyone, says Greenwald. We've carved out an exemption for Americans in the halls of power. We've created what Greenwald calls a "lawless elite" that is running roughshod over our economy and national policy. Over American law. This hour On Point: Glenn Greenwald, and liberty and justice for some.

According to Thomas Metzinger, no such things as selves exist in the world: nobody ever had or was a self. All that exists are phenomenal selves, as they appear in conscious experience. The phenomenal self, however, is not a thing but an ongoing process; it is the content of a "transparent self-model." In Being No One, Metzinger, a German philosopher, draws strongly on neuroscientific research to present a representationalist and functional analysis of what a consciously experienced first-person perspective actually is. Building a bridge between the humanities and the empirical sciences of the mind, he develops new conceptual toolkits and metaphors; uses case studies of unusual states of mind such as agnosia, neglect, blindsight, and hallucinations; and offers new sets of multilevel constraints for the concept of consciousness. Metzinger's central question is: How exactly does strong, consciously experienced subjectivity emerge out of objective events in the natural world? His epistemic goal is to determine whether conscious experience, in particular the experience of being someone that results from the emergence of a phenomenal self, can be analyzed on subpersonal levels of description. He also asks if and how our Cartesian intuitions that subjective experiences as such can never be reductively explained are themselves ultimately rooted in the deeper representational structure of our conscious minds.

MBA TERMS & GLOSSARY is an essential tool for Managers and MBA students. It is a wide-ranging and informative guide to all areas of business. It features up-to-date coverage of business terms from marketing to accounting, business strategy and supply chain management. It also includes US business terms, financial jargon, case studies and exercises.

In the latest installment of Lethe in Spain, the Director calls the Senora's apartment with an unfavorable piece of news. Lethe returns to his room where he longingly looks over the edge of the balcony and tries to imagine his future in Spain.