doc martens style ‘New’ Ruiz training with Siaca Sr

2 rated challenger Ruslan “White Tyson” Chagaev (21 0 1, 17 KOs) in Dusseldorf, Germany. The Ruiz Chagaev winner will be the mandatory challenger for WBA heavyweight champion Nikolai Valuev. The WBA 1 rated Ruiz promises fans will see a new and improved version against Chagaev. “I’m learning new things from Manny,” Ruiz said. “I’m gradually moving into a new mode. I had leveled off. It hasn’t been since my stepfather trained me that I learned new boxing techniques and skills. I feel really good knowing that when I step in the ring I am bringing a different set of skills and a better mindset. Now I’m working with Manny to get away from being the old me. I’m not going to be lying back, waiting for the other guy, and just swinging away. We’re working on a new training method where I am now throwing punches and moving, not holding and waiting. But what’s really important, is that instead of talking about being the new me, I’m going to show everybody on November 18.”

Universum middleweight and former world champion Felix Sturm (25 2 0, 11 KO) will now have his first fight, after losing the World Champions belt, against the Australian Gavin Topp (20 2 2, 4 KO) on December 2 in the German capital of Berlin. A very sad rearrangement for Luan Krasniqi. His injury, which he suffered during training, is the reason for a change in the program. In a training session in preparation for his fight in Berlin read more .
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dr martens flowers ‘My Doc Marten boots saved my foot from being amputated’

The accident happened at around 7.30am on Friday, November 21 as Phebe crossed Vicarage Road, near to Kings Road, as she made her way to Swanshurst School.

The video was captured by a camera on a bus which waited at the zebra crossing for Phebe to cross. A red car is clearly shown overtaking at speed but the vehicle and driver have never been traced.

Phebe, who lives with her parents Paul and Lucy Hilliage, her sister Amy, aged 18, and Amy’s five week old son, in Chirton Grove, Kings Heath, said the traffic had stopped.

“I was halfway across when this car overtook the bus and two cars which had stopped and ran over my foot,” she said.

Shocking Footage: Video of the incident shows the moment the 12 year old girl was knocked down by a hit and run driver

“I dropped to the floor and felt like I was in a dream I was confused and didn’t know what was happening,” Phebe continued.

“This random guy came up to me, then two others, and they carried me to the side of the road.

“Then a woman appeared and gave me her phone and I rang my dad and my brother and told them I’d been knocked down by a car

She was taken to Birmingham Children’s Hospital where doctors operated.

“They told me that if I’d been wearing normal shoes, my injuries would have been so bad they’d probably have had to amputate my foot,” she said.

“It was sheer chance I was wearing my Doc Martens that day, because the day before I’d noticed my shoes had a hole in them so I had to wear my boots.”

High Speed: The video was captured by a nearby bus, that shows a red vehicle overtaking at speed

As well as a broken right ankle, the car also shattered bones in the foot which all had to be removed by surgeons.

Her foot is in a cast and when she returns to hospital in January, doctors will be able to assess how bad the damage is.

Mum Lucy, aged 40, who is unable to work because of arthritis, said: “They say her injuries are life changing and she may need further surgery.

“She’ll need physio and rehabilitation and the damage to the nerves could have affected her balance for life.”

Phebe has been off school since the accident and is being taught at home by teachers from James Brindley School.

Dad Paul, aged 39, who is Lucy’s carer, said: “Before this Phebe was an independent outgoing girl who was loved going to the cinema, shopping and seeing her friends.

“But now she can’t go out until the bones have healed because we can’t risk anyone knocking into her.”

Phebe said : “That driver has ruined Christmas for me.

“I’d planned to go and see my friends, go to the cinema, go shopping and now can’t do any of that. I’m stuck in the house watching telly and have to rely on my mum and dad to do everything for me.

“If I could say anything to the driver I’d say ‘you’re an idiot, a stupid person who needs to learn to drive safely and know that you have to stop at
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dr martens safety ‘mini Whole Foods’ coming to Staten Island

Late last year a market concept sprang up in Middle Village, Queens: Village Barn, a grocery store well stocked with organic meats and produce, gluten free and soy free items plus lines of all natural beauty products.

The market aims to be an affordable health food store for every diet need, particularly for people suffering from a variety of allergies.

Met Foods owner Bill Fani built Village Barn and wants to see the store on Staten Island. The inspiration came from Fani’s grandson who has grown up with food allergies.

“He steered me into this. So instead of having a Food Town or a C Town, I thought, ‘let me take this idea to a totally different level,'” said Fani.

So in the mix of offerings at the newly overhauled Queens market prototype, Fani rolled out an all day sushi station where a chef works to custom order, an in house bakery, grab and go foods and craft beer.

Fani describes Village Barn as a “mini Whole Foods” or Trader Joe’s without the private labels. It’s a world where Fani said “country meets city” and meats are all “Choice” as opposed to “Select.” (“Choice” grade is a notch below “Prime” and “Select,” “Commercial” and “Standard” are the lowest meat grades.)

Fani developed an interest in the food business thanks to his father. His Dad cooked in professional kitchens around the Island like those at Demyan’s Hofbrau in Stapleton and Cosmo’s in Grasmere. The younger Fani began in the grocery business as a teen. Ironically, while working at the former A in Castleton Corners, now Met Foods, Fani told a supervisor, “One day, I will own this store.”

The long time Islander takes pride in the distinctness of his stores, in their prime meats and inventories of locally produced products like Melone Bros. bread, beer and Beezy Beez honey. Crooner classics play on the sound system. Each venue has its own separate seafood department and groceries are intended to appeal to the borough’s diverse cultures.

Fani emphasizes a personal touch with service at each Island location. Home delivery, for example, can be phoned into the store to a personal shopper one is to call in the morning and get on a list from which a store associate will call back later for the order for a nominal delivery fee.
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how to lace dr martens ‘Bluefin’ makes big splash winning Best Feature Doc at California Film Awards

Prince Edward Island filmmaker John Hopkins acclaimed National Film Board documentary continues to land international accolades. has hit a strong public concern the world over that humanity has hit its limits with the over exploitation of nature and fragile wildlife.

hit the breaking point, and my film vividly gives you a sense, through this extraordinary story about giant bluefin tuna appearing to be so starving, these days, they are willing to cast aside their natural fear of humans and be vulnerably hand fed by fishermen in open ocean.

need to stop blaming others, and finally look at our part in this, and put the breaks on now or see all go the way of the cod, permanently We need to think for ourselves on this, and truly protect what left for future generations.

taxpayers who underwrite the public cost of fisheries, we all have a stake in this. Aside from a serious blow to our economy, on a personal basis, it will be our fishing communities and families who will lose the most, he added.

is being invited back to Toronto Feb. 27 for a private Talk screening and panel with celebrity chef Ned Bell and OceanWise, targeting the food industry and issues of seafood sustainability and fisheries. Upcoming screenings include a run by Cinema Politica and NFB Movie Nights at public libraries across Canada. It New England premiere at the New Jersey Film Festival takes place Feb. 2. Upcoming screenings also include the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival Feb. 18 in Montana.

t bar dr martens ‘A great wit and a great journalist’

He said: “Paul was one of the best journalists I ever worked with. The newsroom was always full of humour and Ricko was generally at the heart of it. I’m terribly saddened by the news.”

Former colleague Bev Abbs remembered him as: “The most wonderful man. A lovely friend, helpful and talented work colleague.”

He said: “I used to love talking cricket with Ricko and we used to joke that three of the greats shared the same birthday on October 11 me, him and Sir Bobby Charlton.”

Christine Meigh, who works in editorial admin and worked with Mr Ricketts for many years said: “So so sad. Such a lovely genuine man. Top bloke Simply the Best.”

Jan Perkins, who worked in admin at the paper, said: “A true gent, so kind and funny, he started at Berrows when my dad worked in the camera room and they worked together for years and then I worked at Berrows and loved having a catch up with Ricko.”

Stephanie Preece, of the Worcester News, said: “So sad to hear that the Worcester News has lost one of its finest. RIP. A great local journalist with a wicked sense of humour. He will be very, very sadly missed.”

Kelvin Lye, who works in the Worcester News IT department, was a colleague for 45 years, and recalled his sporting prowess and devilish humour.

He said: “He had an incredible knack of winding me up. I knew he was taking the mickey but I always fell for it. Played in the same skittles team (the mighty Newsmen) with him and other Berrow’s luminaries. He always seemed to be good at any game or sport he played. For a short while he was a neighbour of mine. I can remember a couple of times when he helped push start my car. He gave me a lot of stick about that.

“He would sometimes call me over when he had some computer problem which I usually couldn’t answer. He would say don’t tell me “turn it off and turn it on again”.

“After humiliating me with that glint in his eye we would have a good chat and put the world to rights.”

Former colleague, now Hereford Times editor, John Wilson referred to Mr Ricketts’ cricketing days with the newspaper’s team. He said: “There’s another legend to inscribe on the old Berrow’s Newspapers bat. RIP top bloke.”

While former Worcester News photographer Emma Attwood remembered his “great sense of humour”. She added: “He was always so generous and supportive. His high standards certainly kept me on my toes, for which I am eternally grateful.”

dr martens work boots uk A New Governor

Last Wednesday marked Governor Terry McAuliffe’s final State of the Commonwealth,and Monday was Governor Ralph Northam’s first. Those addresses bookended theInauguration of Dr. Northam as our 73rd Governor. I’ve been fortunate to attend the ceremonies

of all five of the governors I’ve served with, and participating in this process, fundamental todemocracy, inspires a deepened appreciation of our Commonwealth’s history and the greathonor to be a part of it. Despite the cold and even a few snowflakes, I greatly enjoyedwitnessing, once again, the peaceful transfer of power. Reflecting on the outgoing and incomingremarks from Governors McAuliffe and Northam, I was moved by two optimistic visions for thefuture: the belief in second chances and a call for hope.

In his Inaugural Address, Governor Northam acknowledged our Commonwealth’scomplicated heritage: Virginia helped set the stage for the American Revolution when PatrickHenry, our first elected Governor, cried “Give me liberty or give me death”

while only half amile away one of the largest slave markets in America was growing. Governor Northam saidthat as Virginians we have a “responsibility to shape the future to leave this place better thanwe found it.” He called on us all to rise above the shouting and the shallow tweets fromWashington and once again lead the way. With the party breakdown in both chambers nearly

tied, Dr. Northam’s Inaugural message must be realized: “If we work together today, tomorrowwill be better for all of the Virginians who have placed their trust in us.”

We welcomed nineteen new members to the House of Delegates fifteen Democratsand four Republicans. The freshman Democratic class is as diverse as the Commonwealthitself. These talented and promising new Delegates are majority female and include Millennials,a VMI alumna, two Latinas, the first Asian American woman,
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a former news anchor, the first outlesbian, and the first openly transgender legislator in the United States. Our LGBT caucus nowproudly includes five members. Other signs of progress include Governor Northam’s majority female Cabinet, and our new Lt. Governor, Justin Fairfax, who became only the second African

I’ve introduced 23 bills so far and intend to file up to seven more. Eight are on the topicof election reform, including no excuse absentee voting (SB 602), which will be heard by theSenate Privileges and Elections Committee where I serve as a member. On the subject of gunviolence prevention, I’ve introduced a bill to prohibit carrying loaded firearms while intoxicated(SB 2), universal background checks (SB 5), and a ban on bump stocks (SB 1). The urgency ofbanning bump stocks was further underscored by the brave testimony of Courtney Carroll, asurvivor of the Las Vegas tragedy who lives in Richmond. I’m continuing my fight to

decriminalize marijuana, this year with bipartisan support. Other topics I’m also pursuing includepreventing sexual abuse of public and private school students; allowing a governor to serve twoconsecutive terms; and establishing an office to assist immigrant service organizations. I intendto co patron a range of legislation including funding for Metro, redistricting reform, and a repealof the misguided rate freeze that has provided millions in over earnings for Dominion Power. Ialso look forward to assisting our new Governor’s efforts to expand and strengthen the NewVirginia Economy as we develop our new two year budget.
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dr martens 1461 black smooth A new ally against gerrymandering

Gov. Larry Hogan likes to call Maryland the most gerrymandered state in the country. While we haven not reveiwed the congressional district maps for the other 49 states, one look at Maryland’s pretty much makes Hogan’s case.

The last time redistricting occurred in Maryland was in 2011 under Gov. Martin O’Malley. O’Malley, a Democrat, termed out of office in 2014. Republican Larry Hogan was elected. One of his campaign pledges was to end the state’s practice of gerrymandering.

Gerrymandering is an old political term people love to use. It has a colorful history, stemming from an 1812 political cartoon in theBoston Gazetteshowing Gov. Eldridge Gerry’s map for the Massachusetts Senate looking like demonic salamander the “Gerry mander.” The term stuck.

One look at Maryland’s congressional map from 2011 clearly shows that rather than use preexisting communities and other sensible geographic boundaries, O’Malley squiggled lines in the name of political expediency on the part of the Democrats, not that they need much help in this blue state to begin with.

Prior to the redistricting, Maryland Republicans held two of the state’s eight congressional districts. suburbs.

O’Malley then strengthened the Republicans’ hold on 1st District, comprising the entirety of the Eastern Shore, by extending it through Harford and Baltimore counties. What appears interesting about the 1st District is that O’Malley appears to have made it more difficult for someone actually from the Shore to get elected or, for the Democrats, through the primaries.

As part of his legislative package in this year’s General Assembly session, Hogan is renewing his efforts to end gerrymandering through the establishment of a bipartisan redistricting process. Hogan has proposed the Redistricting Reform Act of 2017.

“Governor Hogan will again push to institute a nonpartisan redistricting process to ensure free and fair elections in Maryland, home to some of the most gerrymandered districts in the nation. The legislation echoes the administration’s 2016 proposal, which was not advanced by the General Assembly despite support from an overwhelming majority of Marylanders,” states a news release from Hogan’s office announcing the initiative.

Hogan appears to have a surprise supporter in his efforts to end gerrymandering O’Malley.

“We must, on a state by state basis, push for an end to gerrymandered Congressional districts,” reads a copy of a speech O’Malley gave last month at the Boston College School of Law.

It is an interesting about face from the man who approved the map for the 3rd District, which starts in Annapolis, wraps around Severna Park on its way to Glen Burnie, slides under Fort Meade on its way to Laurel and out to Olney before shooting a narrow path back up to include a sliver of Baltimore as it heads out west again to Towson. It is one sneaky snake of a district.

“As a governor, I held that redistricting pen in my own Democratic hand. I was convinced that we should use our political power to pass a map that was more favorable for the election of Democratic candidates. That in this hyper partisan era, we should not ‘disarm unilaterally.’ That this was legal and passes Constitutional muster. And it did,” O’Malley’s speech reads, like a confession.

We were part of the chorus that cried foul over O’Malley’s redistricting maps. In his speech, O’Malley points out that the redistricting plan passed a referendum with 69 percent of the vote,”notwithstanding three count them, three nasty lead editorials of opposition by the Washington Post; editorials accompanied by pictures of ugly maps.” We believe those were your maps, sir.

It is good to see O’Malley recognizing the errors of his gerrymandering ways. We hope he will give his Boston College speech, posted on the blog site Medium, here in Maryland, before General Assembly committees, in an effort to move forward a bipartisan redistricting process such as Hogan is calling for.
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dr martens yellow A most bizarre case The Mad Trapper of Rat River

The place is Aklavik, a tiny village in the Mackenzie River Delta in the northwest corner of Canada’s Northwest Territories and the man called himself Albert Johnson. He was dubbed “the mad trapper of Rat River” and was the fugitive in the most bizarre and dramatic manhunt in Canada’s history.

To this day, little light has been shed on the real identity of the strange man who was finally gunned down in the mid winter snows in Eagle River, Yukon on February 17, 1932.

To appreciate the degree of superhuman endurance, tenacity, cunning, savagery, desperation, mystery, ingenuity and suspense associated with the death of Albert Johnson, the reader must first appreciate the circumstances and conditions under which the events took place.

This is the great Mackenzie River Valley and the entire drama was played out in the killing sub zero temperatures of the mid winter darkness above the Arctic Circle.

For 48 days, a lone man withstood all attempts of a combined force of Royal Canadian Mounted Police assisted by Indian and white trappers to apprehend him for wounding a police officer.

The chase encompassed 240 kms. While Johnson travelled on snowshoes and broke trail, his pursuers used dog teams and were further aided by an aircraft and radio communication.

The forest and tundra of Arctic Canada is one of the most demanding environments on earth. This is the homeland of the Loucheux Indian.

The forest dwelling Loucheux, whose livelihood depends almost entirely on hunting, fishing and trapping, are acknowledged to be the most skilled hunters in the Arctic forests.

The inherent dangers associated with a semi nomadic existence in this remote and demanding Arctic environment make such high levels of skill tantamount to survival.

A white man, to survive in the high Arctic forests, had to be able bodied, keen of mind and experienced in the ways of wilderness living.

Albert Johnson was admirably well suited for the rigorous life of the high north trapper and prospector.

Johnson appeared in the Fort McPherson area on the Peel River around 1931. The taciturn stranger with the cold pale blue eyes was soon regarded as an unsociable loner who preferred his own company and the solitude of a cabin or bush camp.

In the sparsely populated river valleys of Canada’s Arctic, this was strange and unseemly behavior where friendly and social interchange was the basic fabric of life.

The cold eyed stranger’s surly silence in this already silent and lonely land made people uneasy.

A Mountie was obliged to question Johnson as a result of a formal complaint lodged against him by two Loucheux trappers. It was ascertained that Johnson refused to acknowledge or say a single word when the Mountie visited his lonely cabin on Rat River.

When the same officer returned with a search warrant several days later, Johnson, still without saying a word, shot and seriously wounded the constable.

On the third occasion, a heavily armed posse laid siege to his cabin for three days. They even used dynamite to blow the roof off and dislodge the trapper from his cabin but to no avail. He fired round for round and for the third time forced his attackers to retire for further supplies and to plan a subsequent assault.

Radio reports of the confrontation between the taciturn trapper and the famed mounted police force of Canada’s Arctic had reached the outside world and had fired up the interest of North Americans.

It has been stated that the daily reports of the chase and periodic shoot outs hastened the public acceptance of radio as a medium for blow by blow news coverage.

When a larger and better equipped posse was again ready to confront Johnson, it was learned he had abandoned his damaged cabin at Rat River. He had disappeared on foot into the frigid white world of the vast Mackenzie River Valley.

The wilderness trained Mounties, the Loucheux and white trappers live by sight, sound and a sixth sense, they interpret what they see and hear. Even the seemingly indefatigable and super elusive Albert Johnson must leave tracks in the winter snows.

A week passed before the Mounties found a faint trace of the trapper’s trail and resumed pursuit.

He was found, a gun battle ensued and a Mountie was shot dead by Johnson. He then scaled an ice covered canyon wall and disappeared once more into the twilight of the Arctic wilderness.
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dr marten socks a Man Without a Country

Khatchadourian writes: “Whether you see Assange as a ‘fallen man’ depends on how you viewed him to begin with. He has detractors who believe that he is a criminal, or a maniac, or both, and supporters who consider him an immaculate revolutionary.”

Editor in chief of WikiLeaks Julian Assange. (photo: Nadav Kander/The New Yorker)

he Ecuadorian Embassy in London is situated at the end of a wide brick lane, next to the Harrods department store, in Knightsbridge. Sometimes plainclothes police officers, or vans with tinted windows, can be found outside the building. Sometimes there are throngs of people around it. Sometimes there is virtually no one, which was the case in June, 2012, when Julian Assange, the publisher of WikiLeaks, arrived, disguised as a motorcycle courier, to seek political asylum. In the five years since then, he has not set foot beyond the Embassy. Nonetheless, he has become a global influence, proving that with simple digital tools a single person can craft a new kind of power a distributed, transnational power, which functions outside norms of state sovereignty that have held for centuries. Encouraged by millions of supporters, Assange has interfered with the world’s largest institutions. His releases have helped fuel democratic uprisings notably in Tunisia, where a revolution sparked the Arab Spring and they have been submitted as evidence in human rights cases around the world. At the same time, Assange’s methodology and his motivations have increasingly come under suspicion. During the Presidential election last year, he published tens of thousands of hacked e mails written by Democratic operatives, releasing them at pivotal moments in the campaign. They provoked strikingly disparate receptions. “I love WikiLeaks,” Donald Trump declared, in exultant gratitude. After the election, Hillary Clinton argued that the releases had been instrumental in keeping her from the Oval Office.

Shortly after Trump’s Inauguration, I flew to London, to visit Assange the first of several trips, and many hours of interviews, to better understand how he runs WikiLeaks, how he has been living, how his political views have changed, and what role Russia has had in his operation. Even as a new inquiry opened into possible collusion between Trump campaign operatives and Russia, “the WikiLeaks connection,” as James Clapper, the director of National Intelligence, put it last year, remained obscure.

Assange is not an easy man to get on the phone, let alone to see in person. He is protected by a group of loyal staffers and a shroud of organizational secrecy. One friend compared him to the central figure in Philip K. Dick’s “The Man in the High Castle” a recluse trying to reset the course of history. In many ways, the Embassy has become a surreal redoubt: a place of extreme seclusion in the center of a bustling world capital; a protective stronghold that few can enter, even though it is the target of millions of dollars’ worth of covert surveillance.

The easiest route to the Embassy, if you are using the London Underground, is through the Knightsbridge station, next to Harrods. The building, at 3 Hans Crescent, is a block away. Although Assange has remained in his sanctum for years, he is attuned to his immediate surroundings: real estate ownership, the Lamborghinis parked nearby, the habits of Arab sheikhs descending on local night spots. The lane between the station and the Embassy is packed with tourists. Assange knows the street artists and buskers there (for years, one has been playing the theme song to “Knots Landing” over and over). At the end of the block, the brick faade of the Embassy is visible its tricolor flag hanging from the white Juliet balcony where, from time to time, Assange issues proclamations.

Arriving at the building’s front entrance, I rang the buzzer, and a heavyset doorman came out, wearing the look of a bouncer accustomed to turning people away.

“I’m here to see Mr. Assange.”

“Ah,” he said, brightening. “Then come in.” A guard inside the Embassy had me empty my pockets and my bag onto a coffee table, then scanned my body with a security wand. Assange rarely allows visitors to carry electronics, so I was instructed to turn over my phone. The guard then directed me into a small conference room, closing the door behind me without giving any indication how long I could expect to wait.

Most visitors even celebrity friends, like PJ Harvey and Brian Eno meet Assange only here. Like the rest of the Embassy, the room is small, and the windows are cloaked with drapes. There is a poster, published by the Ecuadorian ministry of foreign relations, of a tubby, grinning pre Columbian figurine. There are cabinets filled with books, including dusty rows of a red bound series, “Biblioteca Ecuatoriana Mnima” (1960). Near the ceiling, there is a surveillance camera. Hanging above the conference table from thin rods are two curious white orbs, each about the size of a volleyball.

When I first met Assange, seven years ago, he was living out of a backpack. Now he is a man with aides de camp. One of them I will call him Mr. Picabia entered the conference room. “I’ll rouse Julian,” he said, smiling. On the way out, he flipped some switches on a tiny black box, and the orbs above filled the room with white noise. “He’ll probably want them on,” he said.

After a few minutes, Assange walked in. “Mr. Khatchadourian,” he said, seriously, as he opened the door. I extended my right hand to shake his, and he responded by giving me his left hand, palm up, redefining the exchange on his terms. He was once rail thin, but, at forty six, he is softening in the middle. He looked pale one close friend described his skin as “translucent.” His hand trembled a little. His hair was short, white, messy.

Assange was wearing a red shirt, tucked into black trousers without a belt, and he seemed groggy. He was fighting battles around the world; he told me that he has had a hundred and fifty lawyers work on his behalf. Ecuador’s Presidential elections were just weeks away, and a key candidate was vowing to evict him from the Embassy. In Sweden, a criminal investigation into whether he had committed rape in Stockholm, in 2010, was dragging on. In the United States, the possibility loomed of a secret grand jury indictment, related to documents that he had leaked years earlier. Although WikiLeaks has always been a magnet for criticism, the reaction to his election publications was unusually severe, with Assange gaining a reputation in Washington as a Russian intelligence asset. “Wonderful, isn’t it!” he told me. “These motherfuckers have taken on board a rhetorical device, and the rhetorical device is the ‘fallen man’ or the ‘fallen angel.’ It used to be great, and now it’s bad.”

Often, the lulls between major publications are difficult for him. With the 2016 campaign behind him, he was focussing on a new project a mysterious archive that he called Vault 7. The work was invigorating, but his prolonged isolation was clearly taking a toll. Assange has a fractured tooth, and a shoulder injury that requires an MRI, but if he leaves the Embassy for treatment he will face certain arrest. “At one point, he was looking for an orthopedic doctor, and doctors were basically refusing to go in there,” Ben Griffin, a former British Special Forces soldier who volunteers as his personal trainer, told me. As a precaution, Ecuador tried to negotiate a “safe passage” by which Assange could be admitted to a hospital without compromising his diplomatic protections, but the negotiations fell through. In the Embassy, a whiteboard lists the complex procedures involved should he face a medical emergency.

Assange’s physical universe for the past five years has been roughly three hundred and thirty square feet, comprising his private quarters and a few rooms that he shares with Ecuadorian staff. “It’s like living in a space shuttle,” a friend of his told me. Out of concerns about security, and also perhaps because paparazzi occasionally wait for him on the street, he rarely parts the drapes in the daytime, or stands at the balcony. He lives in a continuous state of hypervigilance, believing that the Embassy could be stormed at any moment. Ecuador’s foreign minister responded, “We want to be very clear, we’re not a British colony.” Assange told me that, preparing for imminent arrest, he readied a pair of handcuffs so that he could physically secure himself to the Ecuadorian consul. After that, British officers stationed outside taunted him by banging on the walls at four in the morning, and for a time Assange slept in a different room each night.

The uniformed men were removed in 2015. In their place, Scotland Yard initiated more intensive covert monitoring. Anyone familiar with Assange’s world view knows that this was far more psychologically stressful for him. He does not like to admit vulnerability, but in 2015 a specialist on isolation and trauma visited him and was struck by the way he was changing. Pointing out clutter accumulating in his bedroom, the doctor asked if Assange registered the mess. Never known for tidiness, Assange explained that his landscape was becoming a blur. “The walls of the Embassy are as familiar as the interior of my eyelids,” he said. “I see them, but I do not see them.” With reluctance, he admitted that he has suffered bouts of depression, and that his sleep was disrupted by anxiety. He often stays awake for eighteen, or twenty, or twenty two hours, until he collapses from exhaustion. Increasingly, the passage of time is difficult for him to gauge. “Nothing is before or after,” he told the doctor. “There are diminishing reference points.” Yet Assange has developed an acute sensitivity to his environment. One evening, he told me, “I have a sixth sense of the dynamics of the Embassy.” He raised a hand in an operatic gesture, as if holding a wand. “Just based on environmental the flow of the air, the little rumbles, people walking, typing.”

Before Assange gained notoriety, he lived a reclusive, rootless life. While he was growing up, in Australia, his mother moved the family dozens of times, and the habit of motion seems to have persisted; he once wrote software on the Trans Siberian Express. When I first got to know him, in 2010, he was traversing Europe, in possession of what he claimed was a roster of modest international leaks: documents about the BBC, Canadian detainees, Hungarian finance, Romanian police, Israeli diplomacy, and “some Russian and Chinese stuff that I can’t read.” None of it compared, though, to the trove of classified documents that a young Army private, Chelsea Manning, had just provided him: half a million military records from Iraq and Afghanistan, and a quarter of a million diplomatic cables from the State Department, among other things. Suddenly, he was walking around with gigabytes of secrets belonging to a superpower, and his worry about being surveilled had grown extreme. “There’s all sorts of aggressive intelligence action happening,” he told me. “Lots of spying.” He was trying to fly to Iceland, to connect with activists there, and he suggested that I come immediately to meet him.

A few days later, I stepped off an airport shuttle bus at Reykjavk’s station a little after dawn, uncertain whether I would find him, but there he was, dressed in a silver full body snowsuit. (He had been out all night with friends to see a volcano that had recently erupted.) “You didn’t call,” he chided me, in a way that mixed humor and irritation. We climbed a hill from the bus station into town, and on the way to his base, in a rented clapboard house, we got lost; Assange has a terrible sense of direction. That morning, he showed me an Army video that Manning had given him, and we went through it moment by moment. He had known me for only a few hours, but back then he trusted journalists readily. A few months later, I wrote about the footage, which he released as “Collateral Murder,” and about his personal history, in a piece for this magazine titled “No Secrets.” I did not imagine that there would be so many secrets to come.

Since then, in addition to Manning’s releases, he has published millions of documents, including hacked e mails from corporations and public figures, international trade agreements, and foreign government records. Some of these publications have brought real harm to the documents’ owners, some have altered public perceptions about war and state power, and some have been damaging to individual privacy, with no public benefit. In his confinement, Assange has become a quixotic cultural icon, helping to give the solitary act of whistle blowing the contours of a movement. Dr. Martens has issued boots in his name, sculptors have cast him in alloy, and lyricists have memorialized him in song. He has inspired a Bond villain, and the fiction of Jonathan Franzen; he has mixed with A list musicians, like Lady Gaga, and A list dissenters, like Noam Chomsky. investigations, crippling staff mutinies, venomous fights with journalists.

Whether you see Assange as a “fallen man” depends on how you viewed him to begin with. He has detractors who believe that he is a criminal, or a maniac, or both, and supporters who consider him an immaculate revolutionary. There have been calls for his assassination, and for him to be given a Nobel Peace Prize. Assange often describes himself in simple terms as a fearless activist but his character is complicated, and hard to reconcile with his considerable power. He is not merely the kind of person who will wear socks with holes; he is the kind of person who will wear socks with holes and rain fury upon anyone who mentions the holes in public. He can be mistrustful to the point of paranoia, but he can be recklessly frank. He tends to view human behavior as self interested, driven by a Nietzschean will to power, but he runs an organization founded on the idea that individuals can be selflessly courageous. He is a seeker of hard, objective truths who often appears to be unable to see past his own realities. He can be quick in the moment, an impressive tactician, and he is often fairly blind to the long arcs of strategy.

Assange is a difficult person, and he knows it. The people who care for him see a driven, obstinate man who has constructed around himself a maze of deflections, but they see this behavior as evidence of vulnerability, rather than of malice or narcissism. They recognize that his urge to resist conformity is often greater than his urge to be understood. Beyond the noise of his persona, they see the chief custodian of a technology that can be used for transformative good; whatever the hostility that he provokes, they maintain that there is no way his work could proceed without angering people.

Assange’s harshest critics know him personally, too. They see that, beneath his maze of deflections, there is a man with no core beliefs except in augmenting his own power. They see someone with a romantic view of himself in the world he once wrote, “The surest escape from the mundane is to teleport into the tragic realm” who is also titanically self absorbed, and desperate never to appear reactive. Assange told me in 2010, “When you are much brighter than the people you are hanging around with, which I was as a teen ager, two things happen. First of all, you develop an enormous ego. Secondly, you start to think that everything can be solved with just a bit of thinking but ideology is too simple to address how things work.”

At the start of this year, as the allegations grew that Assange had facilitated an act of Russian information warfare, his closest friends strove to offer a protective circle of support. “This wholesale campaign to portray Julian as a supporter of Trump has done a great deal of damage,” Yanis Varoufakis, the former Greek finance minister, told me. His defenders have had to withstand blistering attacks from critics. “I don’t let them win,” another friend assured Assange.

One afternoon, while I was at the Embassy, Pamela Anderson, the former “Baywatch” star and a vegan activist, walked in, dressed in a demure tweed overcoat, and took a seat in the lobby. Since last October, Anderson has been stopping by the Embassy regularly. Assange led her to the conference room, and they spoke for about an hour their conversation disguised by white noise, though Assange’s voice dominated, in long soliloquies. (“I’m being persecuted!” he declared at one point, loud enough to be audible through the walls.) After their meeting, the two emerged. Anderson held a notebook and a pen. “Hours go by, and I take a lot of notes,” she later told me.

Anderson and Assange have been dropping hints to fuel speculation of a romance; certainly, a juicy tabloid story would make for a convenient diversion from a run of withering press. But, as a close Assange supporter explained, “The Ecuadorians are trying to run their Embassy. They are quite a Catholic nation, and so the idea of him having his girlfriends come in is quite a difficult one. I don’t think it really happens.” In the conference room, Assange and Anderson had met under the unblinking gaze of the surveillance camera.
doc marten socks a Man Without a Country

doc martens steel toe boots A lot of hot air and one lone voice as energy bosses taken to task

It also made a star of the boss of little known Ovo Energy a minor player, keen to spill the beans on some of the dirty secrets of the hated Big Six.

The hastily arranged hearing followed public fury over eye watering price increases of more than nine per cent, to almost 1,500 a year for a dual fuel bill.

Meanwhile, energy prices have become the number one political issue, after Labour leader Ed Miliband vowed to freeze bills for 20 months, if he wins power in 2015.

After the bankers and the tabloid press, these occasions are notorious for the limelight grabbing MP, eager to put the boot in and today was no exception.

Wansbeck MP Ian Lavery had slipped his Dr Martens on and was soon railing, rightly, against the very real fear that “24,
dr martens pascal boot A lot of hot air and one lone voice as energy bosses taken to task
000 people could die this winter”.

The Labour firebrand said: “It’s an absolute outrage, in one of the richest economies in the world, that that’s being allowed to happen. It’s an absolute abuse by the Big Six energy companies.”

It was immediately clear those Big Six had adopted a two fold strategy befuddle us with headache inducing complexity and blame those evil ‘green levies’.

So, we were asked to wrestle with the bits of the bill made up of wholesale prices, ‘forward markets’, distribution costs and other “external pressures”.

Profits were barely mentioned, surprise, surprise although William Morris, of SSE, insisted: “It’s less than supermarkets make, it’s a fraction of what mobile phone companies make.”
dr martens pascal boot A lot of hot air and one lone voice as energy bosses taken to task