Ghost shadow

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 11:32:00 -0800

Local IP in c#: (coming soon)

----------------------------------------

COSC 1436 TEXT BOOK

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 8 Sep 2011 16:46:00 -0700

Free & Safe:
C++ (7th Edition)
Link: C++ 1436 - 7th

Meghan Daun "Toy Children"

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 4 Oct 2010 08:27:00 -0700

http://books.google.com/books?id=NaIYVgoQp5MC&printsec=frontcover&cd=1&source=gbs_ViewAPI&output=embed#%257B%2522showLinkChrome%2522%253Afalse%257D
link:
link 2: toy children

"The Rake: A Few Scenes from My Childhood" By David Mamet

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 7 Sep 2010 13:17:00 -0700

"The Rake: A Few Scenes from My Childhood"
By David Mamet

There was the incident of the rake and there was the incident of the school play, and it seems to me that they both took place at the round kitchen table.

The table was not in the kitchen proper but in an area called the nook," which held its claim to that small measure of charm by dint of a waist-high wall separating it from an adjacent area known as the living room.

All family meals were eaten in the nook. There was a dining room to the right, but, as in most rooms of that name at the time and in those surroundings, it was never used.

The round table was of wrought iron and topped with glass; it was noteworthy for that glass, for it was more than once and rather more than several times, I am inclined to think, that my stepfather would grow so angry as to bring some object down on the glass top, shattering it, thus giving us to know how we had forced him out of control.

And it seems that most times when he would shatter the table, as often as that might have been, he would cut some portion of himself on the glass, or that he or his wife, our mother, would cut their hands on picking up the glass afterward, and that we children were to understand, and did understand, that these wounds were our fault.

So the table was associated in our minds with the notion of blood.

The house was in a brand-new housing development in the southern suburbs. The new community was built upon, and now bordered, the re-mains of what had once been a cornfield. When our new family moved in, there were but a few homes in the development completed, and a few more under construction. Most streets were mud, and boasted a house here or there, and many empty lots marked out by white stakes.

The house we lived in was the development's Model Home. The first time we had seen it, it had signs plastered on the front and throughout the interior telling of the various conveniences it contained. And it had a lawn, and was one of the only homes in the new community that did.

My stepfather was fond of the lawn, and he detailed me and my sister to care for it, and one fall afternoon we found ourselves assigned to rake the leaves.

Why this chore should have been so hated I cannot say, except that we children, and I especially, felt ourselves less than full members of this new, cobbled-together family, and disliked being assigned to the beautification of a home that we found unbeautiful in all respects, and for which we had neither natural affection nor a sense of proprietary interest.

We went to the new high school. We walked the mile down the open two-lane road on one side of which was the just-begun suburban community and on the other side of which was the cornfield.

The school was as new as the community, and still under construction for the first three years of its occupancy. One of its innovations was the notion that honesty would be engendered by the absence of security, and so the lockers were designed and built both without locks and with-out the possibility of attaching locks. And there was the corresponding rash of thievery and many lectures about the same from the school ad-ministration, but it was difficult to point with pride to any scholastic or community tradition supporting the suggestion that we, the students, pull together in this new, utopian way. We were, in school, in an uncompleted building in the midst of a mud field in the midst of a corn-field. Our various sports teams were called The Spartans; and I played on those teams, which were of a wretchedness consistent with their novelty.

Meanwhile my sister interested herself in the drama society. The year after I had left the school she obtained the lead in the school play. It called for acting and singing, both of which she had talent for, and it looked to be a signal triumph for her in her otherwise unremarkable and unenjoyed school career.

On the night of the play's opening, she sat down to dinner with our mother and our stepfather. It may be that they ate a trifle early to allow her to get to the school to enjoy the excitement of opening night. But however it was, my sister had no appetite, and she nibbled a bit at her food, and then she got up from the table to carry her plate back to scrape it in the sink, when my mother suggested that she sit down, as she had not finished her food. My sister said she really had no appetite, but my mother insisted that, as the meal had been prepared, it would be good form to sit and eat it.

My sister sat down with the plate and pecked at her food and she tried to eat a bit, and told my mother that, no, really, she possessed no appetite whatever, and that was due, no doubt, not to the food, but to her nervousness and excitement at the prospect of opening night.

My mother, again, said that, as the food had been cooked, it had to be eaten, and my sister tried and said that she could not; at which my mother nodded. She then got up from the table and went to the telephone and looked the number up and called the school and got the drama teacher and identified herself and told him that her daughter wouldn't be coming to school that night, that, no, she was not ill, but that she would not be coming in. Yes, yes, she said, she knew her daughter had the lead in the play, and, yes, she was aware that many children and teachers had worked hard for it, et cetera, and so my sister did not play the lead in her school play. But I was long gone, out of the house by that time, and well out of it. I heard that story, and others like, at the distance of twenty-five years.

In the model house our rooms were separated from their room, the master bedroom, by a bathroom and a study. On some weekends I would go alone to visit my father in the city and my sister would stay and some-times grow frightened or lonely in her part of the house. And once, in the period when my grandfather, then in his sixties, was living with us, she became alarmed at a noise she had heard in the night; or perhaps she just became lonely, and she went out of her room and down the hall, calling for my mother, or my stepfather, or my grandfather, but the house was dark, and no one answered.

And, as she went farther down the hall, toward the living room, she heard voices, and she turned the corner, and saw a light coming from under the closed door in the master bedroom, and heard my stepfather crying, and the sound of my mother weeping. So my sister went up to the door, and she heard my stepfather talking to my grandfather and saying, "Jack. Say the words. just say the words . . " And my grandfather in his Eastern European accent, saying with obvious pain and difficulty, "No. No. I can't. Why are you making me do this? Why?" And the sound of my mother crying convulsively.

My sister opened the door, and she saw my grandfather sitting on the bed, and my stepfather standing by the closet and gesturing. On the floor of the closet she saw my mother, curled in a fetal position, moaning and crying and hugging herself. My stepfather was saying, "Say the words. just say the words." And my grandfather was breathing fast and repeating, "I can't. She knows how I feel about her. I can't." And my stepfather said, "Say the words, Jack. Please. just say you love her." At which my mother would moan louder. And my grandfather said, "I can't."

My sister pushed the door open farther and said - I don't know what she said, but she asked, I'm sure, for some reassurance, or some explanation, and my stepfather turned around and saw her and picked up a hairbrush from a dresser that he passed as he walked toward her, and he hit her in the face and slammed the door on her. And she continued to hear "Jack, say the words."

She told me that on weekends when I was gone my stepfather ended every Sunday evening by hitting or beating her for some reason or other. He would come home from depositing his own kids back at their mother's house after their weekend visitation, and would settle down tired and angry, and, as a regular matter on those evenings, would find out some intolerable behavior on my sister's part and slap or hit or beat her.

Years later, at my mother's funeral, my sister spoke to our aunt, my mother's sister, who gave a footnote to this behavior. She said when they were young, my mother and my aunt, they and their parents lived in a small flat on the West Side. My grandfather was a salesman on the road from dawn on Monday until Friday night. Their family had a fiction, and that fiction, that article of faith, was that my mother was a naughty child ' And each Friday, when he came home, his first question as he climbed the stairs was, "What has she done this week . . . ?" At which my grand-mother would tell him the terrible things that my mother had done, after which she, my mother, was beaten.

This was general knowledge in my family. The footnote concerned my grandfather's behavior later in the night. My aunt had a room of her own, and it adjoined her parents' room. And she related that each Friday, when the house had gone to bed, she, through the thin wall, heard my grandfather pleading for sex. "Cookie, please." And my grandmother responding, "No, Jack." "Cookie, please." "No, Jack." "Cookie, please."

And once, my grandfather came home and asked, "What has she done this week?" and I do not know, but I imagine that the response was not completed, and perhaps hardly begun; in any case, he reached and grabbed my mother by the back of the neck and hurled her down the stairs.

And once, in our house in the suburbs there had been an outburst by my stepfather directed at my sister. And she had, somehow, prevailed. It was, I think, that he had the facts of the case wrong, and had accused her of the commission of something for which she had demonstrably had no opportunity, and she pointed this out to him with what I can imagine, given the circumstances, was an understandable, and, given my prejudice, a commendable degree of freedom. Thinking the incident closed she went back to her room to study, and, a few moments later, saw him throw open her door, bat the book out of her hands, and pick her up and throw her against the far wall, where she struck the back of her neck on the shelf.

She was told, the next morning, that her pain, real or pretended, held no weight, and that she would have to go to school. She protested that she could not walk, or, if at all, only with the greatest of difficulty and in great pain; but she was dressed and did walk to school, where she fainted, and was brought home. For years she suffered various headaches; an X ray taken twenty years later for an unrelated problem revealed that when he threw her against the shelf he had cracked her vertebrae.

When we left the house we left in good spirits. When we went out to dinner, it was an adventure, which was strange to me, looking back, be-cause many of these dinners ended with my sister or myself being banished, sullen or in tears, from the restaurant, and told to wait in the car, as we were in disgrace.

These were the excursions that had ended, due to her or my intolerable arrogance, as it was explained to us.

The happy trips were celebrated and capped with a joke. Here is the joke: My stepfather, my mother, my sister, and I would exit the restaurant, my stepfather and mother would walk to the car, telling us that they would pick us up. We children would stand by the restaurant entrance. They would drive up in the car, open the passenger door, and wait until my sister and I had started to get in. They would then drive away.

They would drive ten or fifteen feet, and open the door again, and we would walk up again, and they would drive away again. They sometimes would drive around the block. But they would always come back, and by that time the four of us would be laughing in camaraderie and appreciation of what, I believe, was our only family joke.

We were raking the lawn, my sister and I. I was raking, and she was stuffing the leaves into a bag. I loathed the job, and my muscles and my mind rebelled, and I was viciously angry, and my sister said something, and I turned and threw the rake at her and hit her in the face.

The rake was split bamboo and metal, and a piece of metal caught her lip and cut her badly.

We were both terrified, and I was sick with guilt, and we ran into the house, my sister holding her hand to her mouth, and her mouth and her hand and the front of her dress covered in blood.

We ran into the kitchen where my mother was cooking dinner, and my mother asked what happened.

Neither of us, myself out of guilt, of course, and my sister out of a de-sire to avert the terrible punishment she knew I would receive, neither of us would say what occurred.

My mother pressed us, and neither of us would answer. She said that until one or the other answered, we would not go to the hospital; and so the family sat down to dinner where my sister clutched a napkin to her face and the blood soaked the napkin and ran down onto her food, which she had to cat; and I also ate my food and we cleared the table and went to the hospital.

I remember the walks home from school in the frigid winter, along the cornfield that was, for all its proximity to the city, part of the prairie. The winters were viciously cold. From the remove of years, I can see how the area might and may have been beautiful. One could have walked in the stubble of the cornfields, or hunted birds, or enjoyed any of a number of pleasures naturally occurring.

Jonah Hex 2010

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 13:26:00 -0700

TV Online

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 06:36:00 -0700

Watch live video from Chilllie on Justin.tv

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Movie Pad 2:
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Watch live video from hi5movies25 on Justin.tv

How to train your dragon

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 21:14:00 -0700

WATCH ONLINE:

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Armored 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 12:32:00 -0700

WATCH ONLINE:
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Avatar 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 12:17:00 -0700

Description:
-------------

Avatar is a 2009 American epic science fiction film written and directed by James Cameron and starring Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldana, Sigourney Weaver, Michelle Rodriguez and Stephen Lang. The film is set in the year 2154, when humans are mining a precious mineral called unobtanium on Pandora, a lush moon of a gas giant in the Alpha Centauri star system.[5][6][7] The expansion of the mining colony threatens the continued existence of a local tribe of Na'vi—a sentient humanoid species indigenous to Pandora. The film's title refers to the genetically engineered Na'vi and human hybrid bodies used by a team of researchers to interact with the natives of Pandora.[8]

Development on Avatar began in 1994, when Cameron wrote an 80-page scriptment for the film.[9] Filming was supposed to take place after the completion of Cameron's 1997 film Titanic, for a planned release in 1999,[10] but according to Cameron, the necessary technology was not yet available to achieve his vision of the film.[11] Work on the language for the film's extraterrestrial beings began in summer 2005, and Cameron began developing the screenplay and fictional universe in early 2006.[12][13]

Avatar was officially budgeted at US$237 million.[2] Other estimates put the cost between $280 million and $310 million for production, and at $150 million for promotion.[14][15][16] The film was released for traditional two-dimensional projectors, as well as in 3-D, using the RealD 3D, Dolby 3D, XpanD 3D and IMAX 3D formats, and also in 4-D.[17] The stereoscopic filmmaking was touted as a likely breakthrough in cinematic technology.[18]

Avatar premiered in London on December 10, 2009, and was released overseas on December 16 and in North America on December 18, to critical acclaim and commercial success.[19][20][21] The film broke several box office records during its release and became the highest-grossing film of all time in North America[22] and worldwide, surpassing Titanic, which had held the records for the previous 12 years.[23] It also became the first film to gross more than $2 billion.[24] Following the film's success, Cameron stated that there will be a sequel.[25] Avatar was nominated for nine Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director,[26] and won three, for Best Cinematography, Best Visual Effects and Best Art Direction.

WATCH ONLINE:
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Shoot first and pray you live

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 12:13:00 -0700

Little Big Soldier

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 12:00:00 -0700

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Way of the panda

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 11:56:00 -0700

KG is a young chinese martial arts champion. She is always the underdog, but is empowered with a big heart and amazing self belief. But KG's best weapon is her mentor, the hilarious Master Panda. Together they embark in some magical martial arts adventures whilst restoring justice to her beautiful kingdom.
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Green Zone

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 11:50:00 -0700

Discovering covert and faulty intelligence causes a U.S. Army officer to go rogue as he hunts for Weapons of Mass Destruction in an unstable region.

The Final

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 16 Mar 2010 17:46:00 -0700

Thomas Paine Common Sense

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 16:38:00 -0700

Here is a the link to download the book Common sense.

Common Sense Download

Jefferson vs Hamilton: Confrontations shape a nations

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 13 Mar 2010 11:55:00 -0800

Code cua chuong trinh chat!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 21:40:00 -0800

The client:
-----------------------------
using System.IO;
using System.Net;
using System;
using System.Threading;
using N = System.Net;
using System.Collections;
using System.Windows.Forms;
using System.ComponentModel;
using System.Runtime.InteropServices;

class TalkUser {

static Form talk;
static N.Sockets.TcpClient TC;

[DllImport("kernel32.dll")]
private static extern void ExitProcess(int a);

public static void Main() {
talk = new Form();
talk.Text = "TalkUser - The OFFICIAL TalkServ Client";
talk.Closing += new CancelEventHandler(talk_Closing);
talk.Controls.Add(new TextBox());
talk.Controls[0].Dock = DockStyle.Fill;
talk.Controls.Add(new TextBox());
talk.Controls[1].Dock = DockStyle.Bottom;
((TextBox)talk.Controls[0]).Multiline = true;
((TextBox)talk.Controls[1]).Multiline = true;
talk.WindowState = FormWindowState.Maximized;
talk.Show();
((TextBox)talk.Controls[1]).KeyUp += new KeyEventHandler(key_up);
TC = new N.Sockets.TcpClient();
TC.Connect("IP OF A SERVER HERE",4296);
Thread t = new Thread(new ThreadStart(run));
t.Start();
while(true) {
Application.DoEvents();
}
}

private static void talk_Closing(object s, CancelEventArgs e) {
e.Cancel = false;
Application.Exit();
ExitProcess(0);
}

private static void key_up(object s,KeyEventArgs e) {
TextBox TB = (TextBox)s;
if(TB.Lines.Length>1) {
StreamWriter SW = new StreamWriter(TC.GetStream());
SW.WriteLine(TB.Text);
SW.Flush();
TB.Text = "";
TB.Lines = null;
}
}

private static void run() {
StreamReader SR = new StreamReader(TC.GetStream());
while(true) {
Application.DoEvents();
TextBox TB = (TextBox)talk.Controls[0];
TB.AppendText(SR.ReadLine()+"\r\n");
TB.SelectionStart = TB.Text.Length;
}
}
}
The Server:
------------------------------
using System.IO;
using System.Net;
using System;
using System.Threading;
using N = System.Net;
using System.Collections;

class TalkServ {

System.Net.Sockets.TcpListener server;
public static Hashtable handles;
public static Hashtable handleByConnect;

public static void Main() {
TalkServ TS = new TalkServ();
}

public TalkServ() {
handles = new Hashtable(100);
handleByConnect = new Hashtable(100);
server = new System.Net.Sockets.TcpListener(4296);
while(true) {
server.Start();
if(server.Pending()) {
N.Sockets.TcpClient connection = server.AcceptTcpClient();
Console.WriteLine("Connection made");
BackForth BF = new BackForth(connection);
}
}
}

public static void SendToAll(string name,string msg) {
StreamWriter SW;
ArrayList ToRemove = new ArrayList(0);
N.Sockets.TcpClient[] tc = new N.Sockets.TcpClient[TalkServ.handles.Count];
TalkServ.handles.Values.CopyTo(tc,0);
for(int i=0;i try {
if(msg.Trim()==""||tc[i]==null)
continue;
SW = new StreamWriter(tc[i].GetStream());
SW.WriteLine(name + ": " + msg);
SW.Flush();
SW = null;
} catch(Exception e44) { e44 = e44;
string g = (string) TalkServ.handleByConnect[tc[i]];
TalkServ.SendSysMsg("** " + g + " ** HAS LEFT US.");
TalkServ.handles.Remove(g);
TalkServ.handleByConnect.Remove(tc[i]);
}
}
}

public static void SendSysMsg(string msg) {
StreamWriter SW;
ArrayList ToRemove = new ArrayList(0);
N.Sockets.TcpClient[] tc = new N.Sockets.TcpClient[TalkServ.handles.Count];
TalkServ.handles.Values.CopyTo(tc,0);
for(int i=0;i try {
if(msg.Trim()==""||tc[i]==null)
continue;
SW = new StreamWriter(tc[i].GetStream());
SW.WriteLine(msg);
SW.Flush();
SW = null;
} catch(Exception e44) { e44 = e44;
TalkServ.handles.Remove(TalkServ.handleByConnect[tc[i]]);
TalkServ.handleByConnect.Remove(tc[i]);
}
}
}
}//end of class TalkServ

class BackForth {
N.Sockets.TcpClient client;
System.IO.StreamReader SR;
System.IO.StreamWriter SW;
string handle;

public BackForth(System.Net.Sockets.TcpClient c) {
client = c;
Thread t = new Thread(new ThreadStart(init));
t.Start();
}

private string GetHandle() {
SW.WriteLine("What is your handle? ");
SW.Flush();
return SR.ReadLine();
}

private void run() {
try {
string l = "";
while(true) {
l = SR.ReadLine();
TalkServ.SendToAll(handle,l);
}
} catch(Exception e44) { Console.WriteLine(e44); }
}

private void init() {
SR = new System.IO.StreamReader(client.GetStream());
SW = new System.IO.StreamWriter(client.GetStream());
SW.WriteLine("WELCOME TO TalkServ! Be Nice!");
//SW.WriteLine("What is your handle? ");
//SW.Flush();
handle = GetHandle();
while(TalkServ.handles.Contains(handle)) {
SW.WriteLine("ERR - Handle already exists!");
handle = GetHandle();
}
TalkServ.handles.Add(handle,client);
TalkServ.handleByConnect.Add(client,handle);
TalkServ.SendSysMsg("** " + handle + " ** HAS JOINED US.");
SW.WriteLine("Now Talking.....\r\n-------------------------------");
SW.Flush();
Thread t = new Thread(new ThreadStart(run));
t.Start();
}
}

(Suu tam)

Universal Soldier Regeneration 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 16:53:00 -0800

--------------------------------------------

THE MARINE 2

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 16:50:00 -0800

--------------------------------------------

12 Round 2009

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 16:43:00 -0800

------------------PART 1------------------------

------------------PART 2------------------------

History Presentation

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 9 Feb 2010 14:16:00 -0800

Here are some powerpoint file for everyone in history class.

Reference Information:

Campus : Spring Branch
Time : 2:00 - 3:30 PM TTh
Semester : Sping 2010
Professor : Brooks Lewellen

Download Links:
---------------
http://www.mediafire.com/?y2nymm2txw4
http://www.mediafire.com/?mwjhhyzmjem
http://www.mediafire.com/?gkdmnmyzm2m
http://www.mediafire.com/?gzdttekuget
http://www.mediafire.com/?52owm0nyt0t
http://www.mediafire.com/?zmmwwnzolyy
http://www.mediafire.com/?nzuzm5fzj2z
http://www.mediafire.com/?rtk1gmgzznz
http://www.mediafire.com/?wydnmlu5qtm
http://www.mediafire.com/?mtzq0d0xmnw
http://www.mediafire.com/?zjwow4wznnl
---------------
Thanks for visiting!

Search

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 9 Feb 2010 14:02:00 -0800

Custom Search

Alarm clock Pro

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 16:21:00 -0800

Just try it!!!!!!!!!!!
Download

Khong The Quen: Software List

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 19:26:00 -0800

Khong The Quen: Software List

BattleWarrior

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 22:13:00 -0800

Transformable robot - more powerful and stronger weapon after transformation.

* Several tens of enemy units and more various weapons.
* Easy and intuitive control.
* 2-D animation and effect with magnificence and high-quality.
* Upgrading the Specialized own robot with level-up.
* To acquire the chance of various items on the game.

- How to play -
* Tilt the Iphone to the right to go ahead.
* Tile the Iphone to the left to go back.
* You can jump when pushing the jump button.
* When you tap the screen, you can launch the arms.
* You can change your arm by touching 2nd arm button.
* You can transform when you touch transformation button in transformable phase.
* You can pause the game when pushing the menu button.
-------------------------------------------
- Scenario -

Time's up.
Completely ready to fight.
Are you ready to be assigned for your mission?
Outrageous enemies.
Don't worry though.
The ultramodern transformable robot, "BATTLE WARRIOR", is waiting for you.
Defeat enemies with no mercy and save the world.
You are the only one who can decide the destiny of the world.
-------------------------------------------
What's new
- bug fixed
* fix crash when starting game.
* fix sound crash.
- balance
* enemy's weapon accuracy is slight down.

Download