Creepy, Crusty, Crumbling: Illegal Tour of Abandoned Six Flags New Orleans [75 Pics] Hurricane Katrina killed this clown. According to the photographer, “An abandoned Six Flags amusement park, someone spray painted ‘Six Flags 2012 coming soon’ on the wall above the downed head. But they were clownin.’ Six Flags will never rebuild here.” That’s sad, but much of New Orleans has not been restored to her former glory. Welcome to Zombie Land kids! Chained dreams of fun at Six Flags New Orleans, abandoned Jazzland – that’s what Six Flags opened as “Jazzland” in 2000. Some photographers can see past the lifeless amusement park’s decay and desolation, showing us that there is still a chance the place could be cheery and not cheerless. Like a Bad Dream. Just in case you don’t know the scoop on what Hurricane Katrina did to New Orleans and Six Flags, this photo is of New Orleans, LA, on Sept. 14, 2005. Once upon a time, Six Flags was filled with children’s laughter – but now it’s sad, silent, and surreal. No lines for dead rides. Watch out for that tree! No one wants a ride?
W. H. D. Rouse Life Born in Calcutta, India on 30 May 1863, when the family returned home on leave to Britain Rouse was sent to Regent's Park College in London, where he studied as a lay student. In 1881 he gained a scholarship to Christ's College, Cambridge. Rouse gained a double first in the Classical Tripos at the University of Cambridge, where he also studied Sanskrit. He became a Fellow of Christ's College, Cambridge in 1888. After brief spells at Bedford School (1886-1888) and Cheltenham College (1890-1895), he became a schoolmaster at Rugby School, where he encouraged Arthur Ransome - against his parents' wishes - to become a writer. Ransome later wrote, "My greatest piece of good fortune in coming to Rugby was that I passed so low into the school ... that I came at once into the hands of a most remarkable man whom I might otherwise never have met. Rouse was appointed headmaster of The Perse School, Cambridge, in 1902. Also in 1911, James Loeb chose W.H.D. Notes
The Walt Whitman Archive An Armenian Sketchbook - Asymptote When I first went out for a walk around the mountain village of Tsakhkadzor, I was a foreigner. Passersby stared at me. Women by the water pump, old men sitting under a stone wall and clicking their worry beads, chauffeurs (our twentieth-century cavaliers) laughing and shouting outside the restaurant—everyone fell silent as I, dragging my feet and embarrassed at being the focus of so much attention, made my way between the little one-story stone houses. I saw curtains twitching in the windows: a new Russian visitor had appeared in the village. After this, I was thoroughly studied and analyzed. Then the old woman brought out a little bench. And when the translator left, his eyes red from the smoke, the dog, instead of barking as it had done on his arrival, gently wagged its tail—evidently the translator too now gave off some familiar bitter smell. The following day the translator set off along a mountain path and came to a cemetery where an old man was digging a grave.
Sir John Everett Millais, Bt Millais was born in Southampton, the son of John William Millais, a wealthy gentleman from an old Jersey family. His mother's family were prosperous saddlers. Considered a child prodigy, he came to London in 1838. He was sent to Sass's Art School, and won a silver medal at the Society of Arts at the age of nine. At the Royal Academy he became friendly with fellow student William Holman Hunt, and contributed with Hunt and Dante Gabriel Rossetti to the Cyclographic Society. In 1855 he married Effie Chalmers, Ruskin's former wife, with whom he had fallen in love while he was holidaying with the Ruskins in Scotland. Between 1855 and 1864 Millais made illustrations for numerous publications, including the Moxon edition of Tennyson's poems (1857), the magazine Once a Week (1859 onwards) and several novels by Trollope. Millais was made an Associate of the Royal Academy in 1853, and a full member in 1863. Terry Riggs January 1998
Digital Blasphemy 3D Wallpaper: Widescreen, Dual-Screen, Triple-Screen, iPhone4, iPad, Droid, XBox360, PS3, HDTV Backgrounds untitled Hearing Christopher Ricks speak about his early encounters with the Eng Lit canon, it seems almost inevitable that his career as a literary critic would see him, more than half a century later, the Warren professor of humanities at Boston and professor of poetry at Oxford, having held the King Edward VII professorship at Cambridge. How many other schoolboys would even have realised, let alone celebrated, their "terrific luck" that two English teachers, both liked and respected, disagreed profoundly as to whether Paradise Lost was any good? And how many others would have reached for Milton's epic as a strategy for dealing with the vicissitudes of school life? "Like many people I sometimes had to protect myself at school, and I did it partly through snobbery," explains Ricks. "And that included thinking that I must be the only person at school who was reading Paradise Lost for pleasure. Ricks follows Paul Muldoon into the Oxford post and Seamus Heaney and James Fenton before him.
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