I received an email just moments ago regarding our friend, Morti's dad, Dave Morton, as follows:

This is Dave's mother. Dave was in a high speed motorcycle accident 7/9/12. We are praising the Lord daily for His mercies and miracles. Dave is in trauma Med/surg unit at Mercy San Juan Hospital in Carmichael, CA. He is slowly healing and probably will be able to come home soon. He has factures in all four limbs is going to need lots of therapies and tender loving care. He obtained no head injuries, but has multiple internal injuries, but doing good. You may send him cards to David Morton c/o Nancy Morton, po box 3834, Carson City, NV 89702. He doesn't have access to computer at this time, but soon should be able to use laptop and read emails.

Just for your information.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/sport/olympics/volleyball/9169429/London-2012-Olympics-female-beach-volleyball-players-permitted-to-wear-less-revealing-uniforms.html

I watched my tv this morning and fortunately nothing changed.

http://www.captainwag.com/beach-volleyball

This is a very cool, short story by Ray Bradbury who recently passed away.
We often speak of and even try to build "Smart Homes" or a Smart house but his vision was far better than that!

Read on:

There will come soft rains

by Ray Bradbury (born 1920)

In the living room the voice-clock sang, Tick-tock, seven o'clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o'clock! as if it were afraid nobody would. The morning house lay empty. The clock ticked on, repeating and repeating its sounds into the emptiness. Seven-nine, breakfast time, seven-nine!
In the kitchen the breakfast stove gave a hissing sigh and ejected from its warm interior eight pieces of perfectly browned toast, eight eggs sunnyside up, sixteen slices of bacon, two coffees, and two cool glasses of milk.
"Today is August 4, 2026," said a second voice from the kitchen ceiling., "in the city of Allendale, California." It repeated the date three times for memory's sake. "Today is Mr. Featherstone's birthday. Today is the anniversary of Tilita's marriage. Insurance is payable, as are the water, gas, and light bills."
Somewhere in the walls, relays clicked, memory tapes glided under electric eyes.

Eight-one, tick-tock, eight-one o'clock, off to school, off to work, run, run, eight-one! But no doors slammed, no carpets took the soft tread of rubber heels. It was raining outside. The weather box on the fron door sang quietly: "Rain, rain, go away; rubbers, raincoats for today..." And the rain tapped on the empty house, echoing.
Outside, the garage chimed and lifted its door to reveal the waiting car. After a long wait the door swung down again.
At eight-thirty the eggs were shriveled and the toast was like stone. An aluminum wedge scraped them down a metal throat which digested and flushed them away to the distant sea. The dirty dishes were dropped into a hot washer and emerged twinkling dry.

Nine-fifteen, sang the clock, time to clean. Out of warrens in the wall, tiny robot mice darted. The rooms were acrawl with the small cleaning animals, all rubber and metal. They thudded against chairs, whirling their mustached runners, kneading the rug nap, sucking gently at hidden dust. Then, like mysterious invaders, they popped into their burrows. Their pink electric eye faded. The house was clean.
Ten o'clock. The sun came out from behind the rain. The house stood alone in a city of rubble and ashes. This was the one house left standing. At night the ruined city gave of a radioactive glow which could be seen for miles.
Ten-fifteen. The garden sprinklers whirled up in golden founts, filling the soft morning air with scatterings of brightness. The water pelted windowpanes, running down the charred west side where the house had been burned evenly free of its white paint. The entire west face of the house was black, save for five places. Here the silhouette in paint of a man mowing a lawn. Here, as in a photograph, a woman bent to pick flowers. Still farther over, their images burned on wood in one titantic instant, a small

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Two of my favorite and arguably two of the best fingerstyle guitarists in the world are:

Tommy Emmanuel and Doyle Dykes - Google them or better, Search for them in YouTube to see and hear them play! They will astonish you with their abilities.

Two relative newcomers that will likely take over the reins for these two are Joe Robinson and Sungaha Jung - both at still in their teens bot you should see and hear them as well.

Just makes my want to put my guitar in the driveway and run it over!! JMHO and remember, these are fingerstylist players NOT Rock, Jazz, Country, Shredders, Classical, but I'd bet they could play any genre.

Well I for one take my hat off to Bradley Wiggins for winning the Tour De France. The first ever Britain to win what is the most gruelling Push-Bike race in the World. Good Show Old Chap.

Yup the new F1 game for 2012 is well on its way, with the new USA track, updated physics and better dynamic weather.

Check out the review from inside sim racing, it's a long video, about 29 mins with some adverts chucked in for good measure.

Yes I will probably get this game.

Here is hoping for a bug free experience, that would be most satisfying indeed.



You can now pre order F1 2012 from Amazon