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HOW TO CLEAN RUBBER FLOORS - CLEAN UP WINDOWS REGISTRY - HOW TO HAVE A CLEAN ROOM
How To Clean Rubber Floors
- (Rubber Flooring) Today rubber flooring - tiles and sheet goods - is made from synthetic rubber. It comes in ribbed, coin and other raised patterns.
- A how-to or a how to is an informal, often short, description of how to accomplish some specific task. A how-to is usually meant to help non-experts, may leave out details that are only important to experts, and may also be greatly simplified from an overall discussion of the topic.
- Providing detailed and practical advice
- Practical advice on a particular subject; that gives advice or instruction on a particular topic
- (How To’s) Multi-Speed Animations
- clean and jerk: a weightlift in which the barbell is lifted to shoulder height and then jerked overhead
- free from dirt or impurities; or having clean habits; "children with clean shining faces"; "clean white shirts"; "clean dishes"; "a spotlessly clean house"; "cats are clean animals"
- Remove the innards of (fish or poultry) prior to cooking
- make clean by removing dirt, filth, or unwanted substances from; "Clean the stove!"; "The dentist cleaned my teeth"
- Make (something or someone) free of dirt, marks, or mess, esp. by washing, wiping, or brushing
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Madness. Madness gripped at my mind. Clawing and scratching, whispering endlessly. Clang! Clang! Clang! Endlessly, never stopping. On and on it went. Clang! Clang! Clang! So tired. Always tired. Wanting to stop but can't. Pain will start again. No more!
Clang! Clang! Clang! Years. I had heard that sound for years. Day after day every hour, rarely changing. The Brichstopian miners never, ever stopped. Stopping meant pain...so much pain. I had stopped once before. Never again. Not again.
I had grown up in the mines. The cool darkness was the only home I had ever known. For much longer than I had lived, Brichstopians were enslaved in these mines. Forced to work for days on end by the Empire. A collection of pompous, rich idiots controlled the mines and the conditions the miners had to work in. They sat on their piles of money and laughed at our pain. You lived and died in the mines, most never saw the light of day. There was no retirement either, most of the miners never lived to be old and gray, but you worked all the way to your death.
Childbirth was strictly controlled but occasionally, unexpected children were born. Most of the time they were killed as an example but sometimes they would be put to work if there was a shortage or a guard was feeling generous. I was one of those children. I knew from a young age that I was not meant to be born, but the love of my parents kept me safe for a time. They hid me in my mother's small shack. I waited inside a damp box in the corner. I cried. For a long time I cried. But it was a quiet cry. One that could barely be heard. If anyone heard, my parents told me it would be the end. I was young but not stupid. Death was a part of life in the mines so I knew what would happen. I didn't want to die.
I hid in the same place for years. Sometimes my father or mother would come and talk to me. They would tell me how much they loved me and that everything would be alright. Sometimes they would bring me a shiny rock they found in the mines. Or other little trinkets to keep me occupied. They would always be exhausted. Their faces were bloody and worn. We would cry together.
One day I was hiding in my box like I always did. There was very little sense of time in the mines but I must have been around eight years old. The door to my mother's shack was kicked open and she was thrown inside. I could hear voices. There were two men, neither my father. One was speaking very quickly and the other huffed occasionally. Eventually the one man stopped speaking and the other began walking around the shack.
"Where is 'e?" the man said angrily. Silence for a moment then the shuffling of feet. I heard my mother give a yelp and her body hit the floor. She began to sob. Not quietly like how she taught me to, but loudly. Very loudly. I lifted up my box just a crack to see what was happening. She was lying in front of me not moving accept for the heaving of her cries. I looked past her and saw a man that looked a little bit like my father but shorter and skinnier standing in the doorway, and a huge muscular man standing over my mother. He had a pistol pointed at her head.
"I'm na goin' ta ask ye again," the huge man said. My mother just cried and cried. Then he saw me.
"Oy!" he yelled and strode over ripping off my box and grabbing me by the collar of my shirt. "Ya 'ittle buggar! I'll kill ya!" I tried to squirm from his grasp but his hand was like a vice. He threw me against the wall of the shack and pointed his pistol at me. All of a sudden he screamed and stepped forward. My mother had bitten his ankle and blood was spurting out. Bellowing with rage he turned on her and slammed his boot down on her neck. She began choking and clawing at the man's leg. He slowly raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. A bit of blood sprayed on his pants but he didn't seem to notice. My mother was dead. The bullet ripped her face open at the forehead. She died instantly. I sat back against the wall and put my head in my hands. Then my father walked in, looking for his wife.
"What's going on-" he said as he saw his wife. "Oh-oh my god! Oh my god!" he screamed as he ran towards the corpse. "No! No! No!"
"You tha boys father?" the huge man said, gesturing towards me. My father looked at me and back at the man.
"No," he said. Sobs creeping up his throat.
"Donae lie to me ya piece o' trash!" the man said as he grabbed my father by the throat.
"Fine! Yes I'm the boy's father. Please don't hurt him!"
"Ah I go' plans for dis boy. In fact, I think 'e can cover both ye and ye wife's duties," the man said.
My father winced and said, "Please no! I'm sorry,"
"Ya think ye sorry now? Hah! Maybe when I'm done wit ye!" the man said. He dropped my father and talked to the man in the doorway for a moment. He left and the large man shut the shack door. Then I sat in the corner while m
Week 01 - TITANIC [ALBATROSS]
The little bird skull was from a dead bird that was left on my balcony by my cat neighbors. They sleep on my balcony a lot as it is on the first floor and they can easily jump up there. And I have two kind of furry chairs out there that they like to nap on. I cat-sat for my upstairs neighbor a couple of times and I think the dead bird was a gift from the cat for my hospitality. I ended up tossing it into the lawn and recently walked past it. It was nearly skeletal and I went inside for a pair of scissors and snipped the little head off and cleaned it up with peroxide. I did wash my hands afterwards. My mother called while I was plucking dead bird feathers from this little skull and she asked what I was doing. I have no idea why I told her the truth and she flipped out and went on and on about how many diseases birds carry and I'm lucky if I don't die. I did wash my hands. Anyone that knows me and my art will recall that I invariably feature a skull of some sort right from the start. I know full well that it is “an overused motif” so I just get it over with.
TITANIC foam piece: Unsure as to what this is for. Light black foam with solid white lettering set completely through. This provides a reverse text on back side of foam. I sliced the foam in half length-wise giving me two pieces instead of one. I think I may try to include the other half in the last box. I like the foam TITANIC thing so well as it is just such a weird and unknown object. I found it outside of my apartment building and noticed it while standing on the balcony smoking and staring at squirrels. It's funny also that this foam TITANIC thing would be impossible to sink. And Basquiat wrote TITANIC on his shoes after Warhol's death. [Movie version, at least.] I am ending up filleting the thing and laying it flat. Welcome mat style. We had one of those hard rubber black mats with white lettering when I was a kid. TITANIC is also significant as the start my project, which is sort of monumental. Sort of. / Background image: from Adbusters magazine [Jul/Aug 2002 No. 42] – Inside cover and first page “Myth of Depth Painting” by Mark Tansey. / Small colorful feather from a parrot. [Not an albatross.] This was kept in a small blue velvet pouch that held a set of Runes I made for myself out of clay in 9th grade. I found the pouch today and looked inside. I forgot I put the feather there. From Quaker Baker [unoriginal name for a Quaker parrot] the bird that lived with me in STL Apt.3E who enjoyed marijuana and opium smoke and walked all around the apartment like he owned the place.
Albatross: A heavy burden of guilt that becomes an obstacle to success, as in The failed real estate scheme became an albatross around her neck, for now she could not interest other investors in a new project. This idiom comes from Samuel Coleridge's narrative poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner , which is based on the widespread superstition that it is unlucky to kill this large white sea bird. In the poem a sailor does kill an albatross, and when the ship then is stranded near the equator and runs out of water, his shipmates blame him and force him to wear the dead bird around his neck.
how to clean rubber floors
This econometric study covers the latent demand outlook for rubber floor and wall coverings across the states, union territories and cities of India. Latent demand (in millions of U.S. dollars), or potential industry earnings (P.I.E.) estimates are given across over 5,100 cities in India. For each city in question, the percent share the city is of it's state or union territory and of India as a whole is reported. These comparative benchmarks allow the reader to quickly gauge a city vis-a-vis others. This statistical approach can prove very useful to distribution and/or sales force strategies. Using econometric models which project fundamental economic dynamics within each state or union territory and city, latent demand estimates are created for rubber floor and wall coverings. This report does not discuss the specific players in the market serving the latent demand, nor specific details at the product level. The study also does not consider short-term cyclicalities that might affect realized sales. The study, therefore, is strategic in nature, taking an aggregate and long-run view, irrespective of the players or products involved.
This study does not report actual sales data (which are simply unavailable, in a comparable or consistent manner in virtually all of the cities in India). This study gives, however, my estimates for the latent demand, or the P.I.E., for rubber floor and wall coverings in India. It also shows how the P.I.E. is divided and concentrated across the cities and regional markets of India. For each state or union territory, I also show my estimates of how the P.I.E. grows over time. In order to make these estimates, a multi-stage methodology was employed that is often taught in courses on strategic planning at graduate schools of business.
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