So the Denisovans (a sub species of Homo Sapiens, whose skull image is shown above), genome was analyzed.
The new Denisovan genome indicates this population interbred with an extinct population that lived in Asia more than 30,000 years ago, which is neither human nor Neanderthal.
They have yet to identify what this unknown species maybe.
This year it’s all coming out.
I’m not saying cylons BUT CYLONS
Paging Mr. Adams, Mr. Douglas Adams, we’ve found where Golgafrincham Ark B came down…
(seriously, though, this doesn’t surprise me at all; humans are the dolphins of the land- if it looks sort of like us and it acts sort of like us and we’re not in the mood to beat it up over it eating the same thing as us, you can start the countdown to getting jiggy with it pretty reliably)
We’re up in the Pleistocene,
We’re up acquiring some genes,
We’re up—you know what that means.
We’re up all night to get lucky.
You know the hair stylists in King’s Landing have the best gossip of all of Westeros.
- Tom: Canadians are the nicest people ever.
- Me: Someone buy your coffee for you?
- Tom: All the time. And I've gone to get a massage a few times since I've been here, and they always go longer than I booked and don't let me pay for the extra time. They don't let me tip, either.
- Me: Yeah. That's...nice.
I lost count.
"For some he was a guardian angel. For others, a cipher a ghost who never quite fit in."
Cheryl Klein is the continuity editor for the US version of the Harry Potter books.
I suggest that, when you finish your first draft, you go back and outline the entire book, chapter by chapter making a “book map,” as it’s called, describing the key action and plot or character-development points of each chapter and writing down key thoughts or lines.
I do this with each and every novel I edit because it allows me to see how the conflict develops, where the clues to any mysteries are being laid, how the protagonist is getting what he needs and more important, it lets me see how the book isn’t working. Where the author is going for long periods without introducing any new developments or information. Where characters are behaving inconsistently. Where there’s a dialogue scene that’s fun but sort of pointless or where two scenes in a row establish the exact same plot points, so one isn’t necessary.
That’s got to be the goal: to destroy less and create more. To increase awesome and decrease suck.
~ Hank Green
NEW PHOTO! Henry Cavill with fan Tammy Sanchez in Chicago, 22nd April 2014. [Image via HenryCavill.org]
He doesn’t know what to say and all he can concentrate on is the rising pressure in his throat and the stinging behind his eyes and he knows, he knows, that if he starts crying that he won’t stop, not here, not in front of this stranger with her blue hair and sunset skirt and easy laughter. Then she touches his face, so soft, so tender, so out of keeping with the cheeky and sunny persona, because this is warmth that heals, not sunburn bright but a nightlight in a child’s room to keep away the monsters that lurk under the bed. Her touch makes her real, makes this real, this moment of complete despair and loss and forgiveness in a stranger’s hotel room an ocean away from the woman who has lived in his heart for so long. Now that she is gone he has packed away the last few things she left behind and finally repainted the walls so that the faintly discolored rectangles from where her photos hung are gone and everything is new and clean and strange and unfamiliar and he feels awkward in his own skin. This is real, and Annie’s gone and it’s okay and the bandages are gone and all that’s left is scar tissue that must be stretched and exercised if he wishes to exorcise her ghost completely because that’s what he’s been making love to in his mind for the last four years. Her ghost. The disembodied embodiment of perfection. No room in his liturgy of worship to remember the almost constant insecurity that she loved Tom first and more. No hymn questioning his need to be patient and woo someone into choosing him through sheer stubbornness. No prayer to release him from his need to be rock and foundation and stone in a relationship, instead of transforming fire or cleansing water or the cheerful whimsical tease of air across stirring flesh. No appeal for the grace to let himself be loved the way he loves others.
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