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This January, the iconic Star Wars franchise returns to the House of Ideas in grand fashion with the first can’t-miss ongoing series kicking off in Star Wars #1! From the star studded creative team of writer Jason Aaron, artist John Cassaday, and colorist Laura Martin comes a brand-new series spotlighting beloved characters from the original trilogy. In 1992, a cargo ship container tumbled into the North Pacific, dumping 28,000 rubber ducks and other bath toys that were headed from China to the U.S. Some of the ducks, says Hohn, made their way to the coast of Gore Point, Alaska, a remote isthmus at the southern tip of Kachemak Bay State Park. Donovan Hohn's work has also appeared in Harpers, The New York Times Magazine and Outside Magazine.
Interview Highlights On the importance of beachcombers "There are people who do beachcombing for different reasons, but there's a community a€” a bit like avid bird-watchers a€” for whom it is more than just a pleasurable recreational thing to do when you go to the seashore.
Denise Spellberg is an associate professor of American and Islamic history at the University of Texas at Austin.
Thomas Jefferson had a vast personal library reflecting his enormous curiosity about the world.
In Get Capone, writer Jonathan Eig takes us back to the roaring '20s in Chicago, when cops and judges were on the take a€” and unsolved murders piled up by the dozens every year. Interview Highlights On how Chicago's population felt about the mob "I think at times Chicago's population felt terrorized, but it wasn't the machine guns that did it. Chapter 1: The Getting Of It Al Capone stood on the sidewalk in front of a run-down saloon called the Four Deuces, the wind whipping at his face. Today, Marvel Entertainment and Lucasfilm are extremely proud to unveil artist John Tyler Christopher’s Star Wars #1 Party Variant — featuring the return of Jaxxon! Taking place immediately after the events of Star Wars: Episode IV A New Hope, follow the continued adventures of Luke, Han, Chewbacca, Princess Leia, Darth Vader, and more as the growing Rebel Alliance battles for freedom against the Imperial Forces of the Galactic Empire! Currents took them, and news reports said some may have eventually reached Maine and other shores on the Atlantic. Hohn obtained his own rubber duck after visiting the isthmus with the Gulf of Alaska Keeper, a group of conservationists who wanted to clean up the debris along the coast. Among his volumes: a Quran purchased in 1765 that informed his ideas about plurality and religious freedom in the founding of America. Nobody saw this coming, especially after he was thinking two to three years, based on the offer the government had made a€” and based on other income-tax cases.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his jacket collar high to protect against the cold, or maybe to cover the scars on his left cheek.
Only available at Star Wars #1 Launch Parties, don’t miss your chance to get your hands on this one-of-a-kind variant cover to one of the biggest issues of the year! I liked my job and loved my wife and was inclined to agree with Emerson that travel is a fool's paradise. NPR reserves the right to use the comments we receive, in whole or in part, and to use the commenter's name and location, in any medium.
There were hardly any incidents in which innocent civilians were killed in these gang wars. He'd even seen some of his gang members go to jail for income tax evasion and he'd seen his brother convicted, and the typical sentence was two to three years. So you not only have the thrill of discovering a surprise or treasure, but you also have the chance of, like on a scavenger hunt, finding something that you're looking for that actually might serve some scientific purpose." On the importance of the spills to the scientific community "They do show us something. The currents have been compared to rivers in the sea, but ocean currents don't flow like rivers between two banks a€” they meander [and] they change seasonally and are, in a way, more mysterious than one might think.
I loved the part about conA­tainers falling off a ship, the part about the oceanographers tracking the castaways with the help of far-flung beachcombers.
The book reveals a lot about Capone a€” how freely he spoke to reporters of his exploits, the time he shot himself in the groin, how little Eliot Ness had to do with putting him away, and how venereal disease eventually robbed him of his health and sanity.
And because the police weren't doing anything to stop these guys, the fact that some of them died didn't stir a lot of sympathy among most Chicagoans. I especially loved the part about the rubber duckies crossing the Arctic, going cheerfully where explorers had gone boldly and disastrously before. And another beachcomber found a duck and had mercy a€” he gave it to me." The Plague Of Plastic In The Ocean While tracking down the path of the rogue ducks, Hohn also confronted the plague of accumulating plastics in the ocean. By following flotsam spills, you do have useful data to show us the movement of the currents and how they change." On the worst shipping container disaster in modern history "[A ship named APL China] was traveling from Far East to the Pacific Northwest [in 1998] and it lost 407 containers overboard in a single night [after a possible typhoon]. We already had an image of corrupt politics, we had a mayor who was widely perceived as being one of the most venal in the country's history, and then you've got these gangsters walking down the street with machine guns shooting it out on Michigan Avenue in broad daylight.
It was difficult to find men who were willing to convict bootleggers because everybody drank.

He worked in Chicago's Levee District, south of downtown, a neighborhood of sleazy bars and bordellos, where a man, if he cared about his health, tried not to stay long and tried not to touch anything. He details the journey a€” via plane, foot and container ship a€” in Moby-Duck: The True Story of 28,800 Bath Toys Lost at Sea and of the Beachcombers, Oceanographers, Environmentalists and Fools, Including the Author, Who Went in Search of Them.
I certainly never expected to join the crew of a fifty-one-foot catamaran captained by a charismatic environmentalist, the Ahab of plastic hunters, who had the charming habit of exterminating the fruit flies clouding around his stash of orA­ganic fruit by hoovering them out of the air with a vacuum cleaner.
So the city's business leaders are really the first to raise a ruckus and say, 'Something must be done about this.' " On Al Capone's celebrity status "In the 1920s, everyone wanted to be a celebrity. It was January 1920, the dawn of a rip-roaring decade, not that you'd know it from looking around this neighborhood. Called convergence zones or "garbage patches," these parts of the ocean contain trash, plastic and toys a€” whatever happens to get sucked in while floating past.
Or to cross the Graveyard of the Pacific on a container ship at the height of the winA­ter storm season. He ordered this Quran in 1765, eleven years before he wrote the Declaration of Independence. But he did acknowledge that he was a bootlegger." Jonathan Eig is a former writer and editor for the Wall Street Journal. Businessmen, in particular, in the '20s really believed that to be a success, an entrepreneur needed to have a personality, a sense that you were a success. Or to ride a high-speed ferry through the smoggy, inA­dustrial backwaters of China's Pearl River Delta, where, inside the Po Sing plastic factory, I would witness yellow pellets of polyethylene resin transmogrify into icons of childhood.
He was a law student at the time, and he had the book shipped from England to Williamsburg, Va. They put on jackets and ties and snap-brimmed hats and went to places such as the Four Deuces, which was named not for the winning poker hand but for its address: 2222 South Wabash.
And that's why he entertained the press a€” because he wanted to be perceived as a successful American. It was a four-story, brick, turn-of-the-century building with a massive arched door that looked like the mouth of a cave. Others climbed the stairwell at the back and went upstairs, where the smoke faded slightly but the aromas became more complex. There, on the second floor, high-heeled women paraded in varying states of undress, their movements lit by a bare bulb on the ceiling. Nor did I know or care that such toxins are surprisingly abundant at the ocean's surface, or that they bioaccumulate as they move up the food chain.
Honestly, I didn't know what "pelagic" or "adsorb" meant, and if asked to use "lipophilic" and "hydrophobic" in a sentence I'd have apA­plied them to someone with a weight problem and a debilitating fear of drowning. He was a dark-haired fellow, not quite big enough or ugly enough to scare anybody at first glance. He stood five feet ten and a half and weighed about two hundred pounds, with a powerful chest and hands as big as a grizzly's. His eyebrows were thick and wide, and the two horizontal scars on his cheek were light purple and still raw-looking.
One night, sleep-deprived and nearly broken, in thirty-five-knot winds and twelve-foot seas, I would overindulge all six a€” rolling, pitching, yawing, heaving, swaying, and surging like a drunken libertine a€” and, after buckling myself into an emergency harA­ness and helping to lower the mainsail, I would sway and surge and pitch as if drunkenly into the head, where, heaving, I would liberate my dinner into a bucket. He had not very good things to say about either Catholicism or Judaism, but he insisted that these individual practitioners should have equal civil rights. And all this I would do, I hoped, without leaving my desk, so that I could be sure to be present at the birth of my first child. There were many Protestants who would have disagreed with him about Catholics, and many who would have disagreed with him about Muslims.
So for Jefferson and others a€” and he was not alone in this, although it was a minority a€” for him to include Muslims meant to include everyone of every faith: Jews, Catholics and all others. It is nearly impossible to find a photograph in which he is not the best-dressed man in the room, even when he was young and poor. Spot a yellow duck dropped atop the seaweed at the tide line, ask yourself where it came from, and the next thing you know you're way out at sea, no land in sight, dog-paddling around in mysteries four miles deep.
He would wear suits in bright colors such as purple and lime that other hoodlums would never dare, and pinkie rings with fat, glittering stones that would put to shame many of Chicago's wealthiest society women. You're marveling at the scale of humanity's impact on this terraqueous globe and at the oceA­anic magnitude of your own ignorance. And it's not impossible that Jefferson actually owned Muslim slaves from Africa, but there's no direct evidence of it. When he finished his shift, he would walk back to the dumpy little apartment he shared with his wife, Mae, and their one-year-old son, Albert Francis.

And despite being spelled with an 'er' at the end, this is clearly the name of the prophet's daughter Fatima.
Solitary, nocturnal circumambulations of the outer decks by supernumerary passengers are strictly forbidden, for good reason. He ran with street gangs as a boy and young man, and worked a series of menial jobs as a teenager that made good use of his size, strength, and bravado.
He found his true calling as a bouncer at a dive bar on Coney Island, where he mixed with some of New York's toughest thugs. Nevertheless, there you are, not a goner yet, gazing up at the shipping containers stacked six-high overhead, and from them cataracts of snowmelt and rain are spattering on your head.
There you are, listening to the stacked containers strain against their lashings, creaking and groaning and cataracting with every roll, and with every roll you are wondering what in the name of Neptune it would take to make stacks of steel a€” or for that matter aluminum-containers fall. Some accounts suggest that Torrio recruited Capone to join his organization because he spotted talent in the young man. Or you're learning how to tie a bowline knot and say thank you in both Inuktitut and Cantonese. Others suggest that Capone fled Brooklyn after a bar fight in which he nearly killed a man with his fists. And you're rememberA­ing the scene near the end of Moby-Dick when Starbuck, family man, first officer of the Pequod, tries in vain to convince mad Ahab to abanA­don his doomed hunt.
E., or learned of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, or met the Ahab of plastic hunters, or the heartsick conservationist or the foulmouthed beachcomber or the blind oceanographer, any of them.
Without the watery boundaries of New York, people felt no need to jam themselves into cramped, unforgiving spaces. You're wishing you'd never given Big Poppa the chance to write about Luck Duck, because if you hadn't you'd never have heard the fable of the rubber ducks lost at sea.
Neighborhoods lined up one after another along the crescent-shaped coast, wooden shanties and muddy streets stretching on into the prairie.
Immigrants came in search of work: building, forging steel, slaughtering cattle, loading boxcars. Criminals came, too: pimps and prostitutes, pickpockets and safecrackers, con men, dope dealers, burglars and racket men. The police departmenta€”a mere afterthought in the city's earliest days of developmenta€”could never catch up.
At least that's what happens if you're a nearsighted, school-teaching, would-be archaeologist of the ordinary, with an indulgent, long-suffering wife and a juvenile imaginaA­tion, and you receive in the mail a manila envelope, and inside this enA­velope you find a dozen back issues of a cheaply produced newsletter, and in one of those newsletters you discover a wonderful map a€” if, in other words, you're me.
The Great Fire burned for days and left seventy-three miles of streets a wreck of embers and soot. In the first eight months of 1872, the city issued an astonishing 2,218 licenses for saloons.
Great architects, great salesmen, great lawyers, great artists, and great criminals would forge the city's new identity.
By 1910, a special commission reported that five thousand full-time prostitutes and ten thousand part-timers worked the city, and that, combined, they were responsible for more than 27 million sex acts a year. As more immigrants arrived from Italy, Ireland, Poland, Germany, China, Russia, and Greece, everyone shoved aside and made room. The city just kept stretching: twenty-six miles long and fourteen miles wide, more jigsaw puzzle than melting pot. The sprawling geography allowed ethnic groups to cling to their old languages and customs to a greater extent than they ever could in New York. New arrivals could tell in an instant from the odors if they were in one of the city's poorer sections. But the strongest and foulest stench came from the Union Stockyard: five hundred acres of livestock, living and dead. Millions of cattle, sheep, and hogs moved through the stockyards, their throats slashed, their carcasses split and sliced, their entrails washed into the Chicago River.
Buildings rose higher here than anywhere else, stabbing at the clouds in handsome shades of green, gray, brown, and blue.

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