4425 Woodhaven Drive
Morristown, TN 37813


POINTS WEST; Knoxville, etc)

From Interstate 81: Exit 8, Take 25E North (Davy Crockett Pkwy) {TURN LEFT, Essentially}
Travel for 6.4 Miles to Morris Blvd.
*Note the two construction zones at I-81 & as you approach Walter’s State Community Collge and the shopping center. {UPDATE, I think the road destruction is complete at this point}

NOTE: POINTS EAST can take EXIT 12, 160N
to 25E and save a few miles.

You’ll have an “Exit Only” lane…

Travel 1.6 miles, and just past the COOP Farm Store (on the right) you will…


Travel 1.2 miles and


Go about 1000 feet and


Go to the top of the hill and


House is at the bottom of the hill on the corner on the right. Please Park on the same side as the house. The block circles around if you need it.


POINTS NORTH, Harrogate, Etc.

Take 25E South into Morristown.

EXIT RIGHT at EXIT 2A, loop around then TURN RIGHT onto MORRIS BLVD, (away from town, go across the bridge) and then follow the directions above.

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New People, New Places; Networking Has New Importance


Depending upon where you find yourself these days, one maybe has been noticing that for some time now, the entire planet is experiencing a significant energetic shift. (No! Say it ain’t so!)

In my tiny circle, many persons seem to be divorcing, pulling up roots, relocating, transitioning, or otherwise experiencing circumstance that is cultivating tremendous flux in their lives. My own domestic sphere is included, as it has undergone tremendous expansion, division, and acceleration merely since the May of 2013… *whew*

Observations would certainly seem to indicate that the overall ‘flux’ or consciousness of the planet is ‘on the rise’ or ‘accelerating’. {These qualities we can’t-quite-yet-measure can be difficult to describe; it is my hope that your own subjective observations are in some accordance with my divulgences here…}

Our immersion into this state seems to be also propogating a polarizing effect among persons. I sincerely believe that reality is becoming so ‘thin’, that false pretenses and blocked ways of living are no longer functioning as they were originally … um… ‘installed’ (?)… and some folks who are still attached to those modes are literally ‘losing their minds’; becoming lost in tiny circles….

More and more now I see opportunites to ‘make up my mind’. This phrase reaches me rather literally. (see?) Now, one may say, “no man is an island”. True. Reality maybe a reflection from the inside of our Egg, but regardless there is The Agreement we all share that allows this text have structure and meaning for you. Quite the miracle that it works as well as it does… eh?

It is this new vibration we find ourselves, new territory for many of us.

Last May I found in the span of 24 hours, one door closed and another opened, and I was propelled into the most wonderful community of individuals, all joined by a (somewhat) collective faith. Come to find out, this great circle of folks was in itself formed of the fragments of other recently disbanded circles; so synchronicity seems to have stitched together this entire affair!

My observations since then have slowly revealed to me this: NETWORKING AMONGST OUR FELLOW HUMANS IS CRITICAL.

Reality is more fluid now than it has been since, I supppose, before the Kali Yuga.
Thankfully we have now exited that dark age, and are entering into the Next Great Age Of Light. (or choose a better name if you like) :p

The point being, It would certainly seem we get to make up much of our reality now, just like we have the chance to Make Up Our Minds. So as we can all agree on how we desire to live our lives, sharing our ideas, expressing our amazement at the ‘luck’, alignment, synchronicity or other amazing things we are all experiencing individually, I highly suspect reality will have much less difficulty in following us, encouraging us even, to find us all here together living life the way we wanna. :)

So if you feel compelled, take a chance. Talk to that stranger. Share with your friends. It’s maybe more important than one first imagines……..

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It’s the feedback, or more particuarlaly, if it occurs.


Any media recording is a beacon, marker, or point indicator in timespace. The very nature of feedback itself serves as a ‘spike’ throughout the local paralells, much in the same way an atomic blast penetrates deeper into the local strata than many mundane events…

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A Proposal for a Better World Club Cup

A Proposal for a Better World Club Cup
by Matthew Aloisio
December 4, 2012 at 2:39pm

FIFA Off Target with World Club Cup

FIFA, under the Sepp Blatter regime, are blowing the opportunity for a year-end, week long, global showcase of the world’s greatest sport on the club level with their poor management of the World Club Cup (WCC). The importance of this tournament and what it could mean to the fans and the game itself cannot be overstated. Just within our grasp, fans, players and FIFA alike, is the opportunity to crown an actual world champion, on the club level, in a tournament that is looked upon as not just an important part of the season but as the pinnacle of the year. It deserves more than the second hand attention it now receives as just another schedule lengthening exhibition that the sporting world has a hard time viewing as valid. Being a solutions oriented type of guy, the following is a proposal to lift the WCC out of its current doldrums and elevate it to its proper place as the centerpiece of the world’s most beloved sport, futbol.

The biggest problem facing the WCC is one of perspective. The first perspective is that of top-flight managers and their respective front offices viewing the WCC as a burden on their team’s time and energy only adding to an already busy calendar. Second, the perspective of the fans that have a hard time believing the WCC is capable of producing a legitimate world champion. For one, they cannot be convinced that a team from Auckland New Zealand can be among the top seven teams in the world and have a chance, even if highly improbable, to be labeled as the best club in the world.

To be fair, in recent years FIFA has demonstrated a growing interest in promoting the tournament and have taken steps to ensure that there is a sense of a true world champion when it installed the WCC to become the replacement of the Intercontinental Cup. The new tournament took an important step by discarding the notion that only champions of Europe or South America could be named world’s best club. Several different formats have been tried but as of now the field is open to seven clubs, the champions of the six confederations of FIFA (UEFA, CONEMBOL, CONCACAF, AFC, CAF and Oceania) and the domestic league champion of the host country which is involved in a play-in game with the Oceania club for a spot in the final six. Under this format the UEFA Champions League victor as well as the one from the Copa Libertadores receive an automatic placement into the semi-finals. This represents a good start but it is apparent that FIFA has not gone far enough in identifying and addressing the issues that keep the WCC from producing a respected and strong field of competitors from which a truly laudable world champion would emerge while at the same time being a week long celebration of the year in club football.

The first perspective, attributed to the concerns of management especially in the premiere European leagues, will now be addressed. Most of the arguments presented in opposition to the WCC center around questionable scheduling problems. The complaint lodged is that the club is knee deep in fixtures in numerous competitions, including one or more of the following, domestic league, domestic cup action and the UEFA Champions League or the Europa Cup. In addition, clubs routinely watch a number of their top players take leave for international duty. There is certainly a level of legitimacy to this stance but there are measures that can be taken to ease to work load of the players including limiting the number of exhibition games that clubs play and eliminating what soon could be irrelevant competitions such as the UEFA Super Cup. What needs to be said is that the real cure for these “scheduling difficulties” is the obvious, financial reward. Comparing the UEFA Champions League prize money structure to that of the WCC, we can see the inequity between purses, a core reason behind opposition to the present format. An example is the 2010-2011 season in which Barcelona defeated Manchester United to win the UEFA Champions League title and took home 9,000,000 Euros, 11,000,000 USD at current currency exchange rates, just for winning the final. A year later, after winning the WCC, they took home less than half of that amount, 3,800,000 Euros or 5,000,000 USD. The above figure only accounts for approximately twenty percent of Barca’s total UEFA haul. When adding in the money won for round advancement, 21,500,000 Euros plus market pool share of television distribution, their entire take was over 50,000,000 Euros. That is not to suggest that the WCC purse should exceed 30,000,000 Euros at this time but to have the world champion collect on a payday, that is not even half of what the winner of one of the participating confederations takes home, is outrageous. To have the top clubs in the world begin to devote more of their time and energy to the development of this tournament, a payday for the winner cannot be less then 11,500,000 Euros or 15,000,000 USD. However, elevating the purse is only part of the solution. This would need to be combined with an aggressive marketing campaign promoting the tournament globally. This would lead to new deals, which should raise the television revenue for each club involved. Additional profits that would be reaped from accompanying merchandise sales would undoubtedly be huge. The increased financial boon combined with the bourgeoning prestige of winning the WCC title could go a long way in allaying the fears of the most staunchly opposed front office.

Of course money alone would not bring legitimacy to the tournament. The perspective of many in the sporting world, whether journalists, fans or club employees themselves, is that the present format garners little respect as a mechanism to produce a valid, untarnished world champion. Traditionally it has been acknowledged that the best club teams reside in Europe or South America, with this in mind it is hard to expect the fan base to accept that a team from New Zealand should be considered in the running for the world’s best club. This is not meant to be an attack on New Zealand; it is an attack on the existence of Confederation Oceania. The departure of Australia from Oceania to the Asian Football Confederation a few years ago stripped the confederation of any genuine influence it might have had on the global game. Lofty goals require bold decisions. FIFA should disband Oceania and constrict to five federations. All clubs formerly with Oceania would be incorporated into the AFC. If FIFA were comprised of five confederations, the WCC format would be open to more reform. Under this new proposal the tournament would be expanded to eight contestants consisting of the champions of the five confederations as well as three other qualifying positions. The reason for the expansion is two fold; firstly to elevate the competitive and skill level of the clubs involved and secondly in the interest of fair play. In a tournament of this magnitude and scope, no team should be given the advantage of a bye no matter how elite. Acknowledging that the top footballing clubs are either European or South American, clubs from these regions would fill two of the new spots. The European representative would be the Europa Cup champion while the winner of the Copa Sudamericana would also join the field. A bonus to these additions is a boost in prestige for these two tournaments, which would increase the level of interest and play. Another positive would be with renewed interest in the Europa Cup, UEFA would not have to consider getting rid of the tournament completely and watering down the Champions League as they are contemplating now.

So now with seven of the eight spots filled for the revamped tourney, careful thought must go into how the last club would be chosen. To ensure the integrity of the newly formatted tournament, in respect to strength of competition among the fielded teams, the previous year’s WCC champion would earn the berth over a club from the host country. The stronger the field, the better the tournament. It is foreseeable that the previous champion could qualify for the WCC by winning their respective confederation. In that case, the club that they beat, in their confederation’s champions league final, would receive the invite. The next step is seeding the teams. The tournament would be organized in a knockout style, as it currently exists. In a tip of the hat to futbol tradition, there would be two brackets with the European champion receiving the number one seed in one bracket and the champions of South American getting the first seed in the other bracket. FIFA’s current official club ranking at the time of the seeding would determine the overall number one. In addition, the Copa Sudamericana winner would be placed in the same bracket as the UEFA champion while the holder of the Europa Cup would be placed in the bracket with the Copa Libertadores winner. FIFA’s club ranking would then determine seeding for the rest of the field.

As for scheduling the tournament, with the WCC now consisting of eight clubs, the tournament could be held in nine days cutting two days off the present schedule, which is December 6th through the 16th. Two first round matches would be played on opening day, a Saturday. The first match would feature the team from the confederation that is currently hosting the event. The next two first round matches would kickoff on Sunday. The semi-finals would begin when Saturday’s winners face off on Tuesday while Wednesday would see the victors from Sunday square off in the second semi-final. Two more days of rest and buildup before the consolation match would be held on the second Saturday. All this leads up to the grand final on Sunday. The tournament could still be held in mid December and would be the last official action of soccer’s calendar year. There is one scheduling kink, which involves the Copa Sudamericana, which would need to be worked out. This year that competition crowns it’s champion on December 12th, which falls right in the middle of this year’s WCC. The difference seems close enough that minor scheduling adjustments on both sides would enable FIFA to remove this impediment to the successful design of a reconfigured WCC.

Hosting the tournament is not given much coverage here because there are plenty of people more qualified to make decisions concerning infrastructure, logistics and other relevant issues. It should be pointed out that in the interest of all involved, the confederations should be placed in a rotation with each having the chance to host the tournament. Not only is this fair but also would be a vehicle to continue to promote and grow the game globally.

To achieve a goal of this magnitude will take a lot of work and shakeups to the status quo. However, if FIFA is serious about their commitment to the future of the WCC then it would seem wise to seriously consider proposals such as this if they want a world club championship tournament that is perceived and treated as strong and legitimate. If they do this, FIFA may actually finally be on target for their much anticipated and long awaited goal.

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Howard Bella

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Rosie tugged at her skirt as though it slightly annoyed her, and maybe it was better off, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to the thought. She was too busy dancing. Just barely conscious of the amp stacks and to make sure not to slap Jerry or anything, the skirt left itself to it’s own accords as Rosie Danced across the stage.

Shades of “Bertha” were just coming around as she caught glimpses of lights and rigging, grass and smoke and swirls all around. A car horn sound tugged at her attentions and she could have sworn she saw two or more parked cars with boys and girls all standing and running and laughing and smoking… the music was very strange hear…”maybe so…maybe not” and that guitar!

through the swirreling smoke an image, one boy shoves another… “Bertha don’t you come around here any more…” With a swirlling blossoming, as though physically landing softly back onto the stage, Rosie’s head kept her balance and her feet kept the beat, and her body was instantly guided back into the music. It was then, in that moment of pure ecstatic bliss, that she realised she was naked.

The crackly weatherman’s voice floated across the parking lot, toyed with by the wind like a child with a ball: “Gusty conditions this evening, with increasing chances of thunderstorms. Stay tuned to your local forecast for alerts and warnings for your area.”

A row of cars along the street, garnished with young persons was only slightly deterred by the stormy weather, as most knew it would blow over soon. Hopefully without too much rain or wind or …well…

Ed watched Steve and Alex watch Liz and Alicia. Ed grew a slight smile to see his buddies’ entire demeanor shift when any skirts came flitting around. Just like on Wild Kingdom.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the hard work and dedication of our productin team has brought to you a real treat this evening on the Nature of Things; as you can see here two brilliant specimens of The Homo-hardon-erectus, both adorned in their full mating splendor. See the target of their affections, Sluttius Slurpitupinus.” Ed was laughing at his own joke, blowing his lines. But you can;t blame Ed, his buddy Ricky was already spewing soda out his nose…

“Man….you are TOO MUCH!” When you put dat shit on TV man…you make a million dollars in ONE NIGHT!” Ricky was only Ten, but more streetwise and mechanical than the entire lot put together, well, except for Nook, but Nobody Talks To Nook.

Ricky clutched in his scooter and let it glide alongside Ed.

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Edna was lost. “What the hell just happened?” Yogi was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a smell reminiscent of Aqua Velva cut her internal conversation short. Her head still on a pivot, now veered to locate the source of the offense. Naturally, it was obvious. Her stomach immediately reeled at the first sight of this character.

The slime was not so polished as it oozed from the finger rings, the gold bling in the chest hair lapel framed with White Captain’s Jacket, nor from his Blue Admiral’s Hat (with Scrambled Eggs) that was really too small and did nothing for his straight, greased, black hair; but perhaps it was because most of the nauseating pressure was extruding from That Giant Smile gleaming suspended under the fake designer sunglasses on the face of the Iranian Used Car Salesman.

A large, white angular car with black windows lumbered into the parking lot just as Slimeball was clearing the corner of the gold land barge with the peeling white vinyl top. She was looking for a way to duck the lethal beam of that smile, and she cursed yogi for leaving her in the lurch.

Yogi’s training kicked in, she simultaneously began to formulate strategies for evasion, escape, and Conflict Resolution between White Car, Slimeball and who the hell ever else… when his laughing words floated into her sphere and wrecked her trains: “Is any action truly required, what is it that you think is about to happen?” Unconsciously she had been stepping backwards from the center of the lot, back-towards a group of derelict trucks.

Just as she fully assessed this question, the Lethal Smile had swivelled to meet the driver’s window of the giant white mobile. The car rolled up as the front window rolled down, revealing the driver’s silhouette popping out with a glowing floating smile of it’s own.

Edna suppressed a laugh as she watched the two smiles converse with one another. She swore later it was a trick of the light, but it seemed that, through the dust and haze of the desert parking lot, in the shadows of the noonday sun, that it looked exactly like two Cheshire cats making a some sort of Mexican deal.

She busted out with a snort and both of the smiles turned and flashed at her. This shot a bolt of terror that pinned her to the spot. She rolled her eyes counterclockwise vigorously and slapped herself in the solar plexus.

Inhaling deeply, she looked up and the parking lot was empty, save for a meagre dust devil playing with the vinyl top. Neither the white car nor that predatory smile were anywhere to be seen.

Yogi cleared his throat, startling the poor girl back to reality. “Darling dearest you look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” She was torn between a variety of theories, none of which were in any way resembling anything acceptable. This point only seemed to infuriate her. Her head spun around, locked in, and blasted.

“Where the hell have you been? I could have been kidnapped and accosted and…” “completely taken for granted just like you’ve always wanted?” Yogi’s own smile gleamed sincerely as always, naturally making things worse. “You son of a bitch, leaving me all alone out here with these strange men.”

Yogi plainly looked slowly around the parking lot, turning his bedazzling robes casually….”It would appear I am the only strange man in this parking lot…” He turned and appeared sympathetic, casting a tinge of nauseation on his face, “Dear, you would look really beautiful in a hat, one like this one with a wide brim…” from nowhere he produced a huge straw hat with a nicely trimmed wide woven brim and placed it on her head, gently tying the ribbon prettily under her chin. She was too flustered, hot, tired, and exasperated to even try and fight it.

Yogi produced bottles of juices from his robes and handed one without looking to Edna and drank deeply from his own, polishing it off in one gulp; then sighing noisily and belching deeply. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

‘Barbarian’ she thought. ‘He is capable of literal miracles, yet I never can really tell…like this hat…where the hell did the hat come from…he always has a reasonable explaination…. damnit! Yet he is so CRUDE, and unsavory…. I just don’t understand, maybe “It’s a man thing.” extends to the realm of the gods…”

He belched noisily once again and patted his belly with gusto. “Ah!” He brightened up and began searching around for nearby possessions. “Our ride has arrived!” He slung a small bag over his shoulder and a small monkey, dressed neatly in a fez and vest, with tiny pantaloons jumped onto yogi’s other shoulder.

Edna froze, transfixed by the Monkey; he busied himself lightly grooming his tail and his left calf, biting and clawing evenly, using his right hand and foot to cling to yogi’s robe. Meanwhile a Giant White Bus of a van, completely adorned with clean, pristine, transparent windows, glides silently into the parking lot, scarcely raising a swirl of dust. Edna’s mesmerised monkey gaze was involuntarily pulled to watch the van as it floated into position between the two, make that three of them and the row of stagnant automobiles. It bobbed up, lurching like a balloon on a tether, swinging back down and bouncing onto it’s wheels lightly, up about three inches then SLAMM! Hard down onto the desert pack like it weighed ten tons. Sounds of the driver began spewing from the front like overheated coolant. “God Damnnit! Fucking Controller! Jesus Fucking Christ! AAAaarrrghhhh!”

The Monkey lept through the open passenger window, yanked off the driver’s hat and started beating him with it. “WHAT THE FUCK YOU GODDAMNED MONKEY!” The monkey stuffed the hat into the red faced driver and lept to the back of the van to escape a dire fate…

Yogi Laughed and swirled his hands, and the driver seemed to have found a bottle of water, and Edna was swimming in her own dream state. The Monkey popped open the forward half of the van’s double side doors, and rolled it open onto it’s stop, propping it open. Leaping onto the top of the open door he gazed at Edna, then turned to yogi. “Who’s the girl?, and do you think if I gave her a push she would fall over?”

This seemed to cause the center of Edna’s forehead to sink in. She felt somewhat light headed. The Monkey was fishing around in his vest and donned a pair of tiny RayBans, with their own little beaded chain. “I don’t think the hat is working. Lady you better get in the van before you eat dirt.” Suddenly this was the first sensible thing anyone had said since they left Alexandria. The left double door seemed to pop open of it’s own accord, and she flopped, floppy hat and all into the short seat behind the driver. A craggy, bearded scott of a face was pointed into the open tub area between the seats, the tub currently upside down on the passenger seat, with the engine and gutty works exposed. She had to snort slightly to herself at his sterotypical tartan beret, though this was stunted by her thoughts of how did it really stay on his head?

Though Edna was no mechanic, she sensed that this was different, it was not hot, nor smelly, nor dirty. Closer inspection revealed this did not look like an engine. She knew how to do oil, and filters, but this had none of those…This looked more like an arrangement of metal dinner plates, and modern art cylindrical tubes and shapes…The driver was fiddling with a colored plate at the top of the arrangement.

A strong Scottish accent cut suddenly throught the air. “Yea…damn sand gets in everything. I’ve got a nifty interface between the wheels and the directions, but keeping her on the damn ground where she weighs something good is a pain in the ass! He stopped and looked at her square. “I get her back to the states, the resolution on this discriminator is getting increased first thing!” He turned without awaiting a response and began cleaning his hands on greasy gob. Yogi was climbing in the side door and placing bags into the back. “Rocko? How’s your lovely beast of burden today?” Rocko hokked and spat out the window. “Don’t ask, we’re gassin’ beans right now, until I can get this controller cleaned out…”

Rocko flipped the tub over with practiced motion and locked it into place. “All right everyone, all ashore going ashore!” Pumping the gas pedal vigorously, he began cranking the lumberous engine. It fired, then backfired muffled, spewing a cloud of stinking blue smoke. He revved the engine noisily, it sputtering to life, then idling smoothly. He let his foot out and let it come to an easy pace. “That kind of shit is why I invented this!” and thumbed the closed tub. He eyed the cabin to the sound of doors closing. “Everyone in? Everyone ready? Allright!”

He rolled the steering wheel and the bus lurched forth with surprising speed and agility, merging seemlessly into the thronging traffic.

The driver continued to spout obsinities

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Her sleep was troubled. Dreams engaged then slipped from her feet. As she fell, she knew she was awake; terror began to rise then flood her mind as she realized she was lying in bed, falling and paralyzed!

Her mind panicked and roiled, squirming like a snake in a snare. Screaming was not an option. Something warm and dark and slippery like freshly harvested liver slipped around her mind and squeezed out the panic. “relax…let go…it’s allright”

She cleft asunder like a Spruce struck by lightening. Inside part of her, the terror accelerated, nearly spiraling into white hot panic. The other, animal part of her responded deeply to the voice, her body visibly slumping somewhat into the down comforter, and she felt her self slipping….into…AROUSAL!

NO! NO! The rational panic took hold and broke the Night Terror. She flew herself from the mattress and crashed into the floor knees and hands first. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.

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Pickles is too hot.

Pickles adjusted her tiny sunbrella to optimize her shade. Stuffing the shaft of the umbrella under her lid, she adjusted herself back onto his shoulder, nesting herself nicely on his right epaulet. “Howard, why are we in the desert, again?” She retrieved her sunbrella, crooked in her elbow and tried twist her lid back into place.

Howard smiled and gently seated her top. “Darling we are testing my new teleporter, and since it worked flawlessly, we are now waiting on the helicopter, which hopefully will arrive before we expire of exposure.” He adjusted the mister control on his hatband to MIN.

“If it worked flawlessly, why are we waiting on the helicopter?”
“Well, it flawlessly placed us about a hundred miles off course, away from the return unit. The navigational array, it seems, was not as finely tuned as the materialization discriminators…”

“Well, I just know my juice is getting too hot, and I start getting sour.”
“Yes Ma’am, my juice is too hot as well, and I will try to be sweet enough for both of us.”

She smiled and fanned herself, not really hiding her look of displeasure…

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