Quintuple Your Income in 90 Seconds - the new book/MP3/CD thing from Walt Gleeson

Canfield, Proctor, Nightingale, Zagler, Hill, Robbins, Tracy, Aaron... step aside please..there's a new success guru in town! Walt is a highly successful, internationally renowned author of motivational books and CDs and other products. With a career spanning four decades he has enthralled readers with such titles as You Can Do It!, You Can Do It! Too, Literally Make Your House Work For You and Become a Millionaire Whilst On The Toilet.
Hey, it's Walt here with a Special message for YOU...
How would you like to be able to quintuple your income in 90 seconds?!? Yes, it's true, you can really do it (provided you cough up $19.99* to my coffers beforehand.
Quintuple Your Income in 90 Seconds RRP was $250,000,000 in the shops, but hey, I've been so generous I've SLASHED it to $19.99*, YES, that's a 1250625312% reduction, or so my PA tells me.
IN ADDITION to this I'm giving away three spots at forthcoming seminars of mine, ABSOLUTELY FREE! Yes that's right, the seminars take place at 3am on consecutive Sundays starting from this Sunday, 1 November, with 'Take a Pay Rise and Tell The Economy to Take a Hike', and 'Have ALL Your Cake and Not Eat It' the following Sunday, with 'TBC' (that means 'To Be Confirmed') the following two weeks. Book now to avoid early disappointment, I'm sure there are going to be literally billions of people already signed up for a piece of me.
So, I'll leave you with this final thought for the day from The Dead Sea Scrolls in the Boardroom, another excellent publication of mine: 'you'd waste far less time in procrastinating if you only knew how much time you could save by keeping things short and sweet and simply not putting things of and/or talking about doing something instead of actually doing it.'
Yours Ever
Walt.

Home Fires

We've (my flatmate and I) finally got the fire going properly, thanks to the ever helpful neighbour below us who came and sorted us out. It goes like a flamethrower, which bodes well for winter when it comes. We were doing all kinds of things wrong it seems, but now the living room is resembling if not a sauna at least the room next to one.
Still, it's so mild here at the moment I was hoping we'd get through winter just with the electric underfloor heating..

False Friends - Seth's Blog

According to my big brother, quoting 'Dunbar', I assume this is a person's name and not the town near Edinburgh or a life insurance company, it's not possible to have more than 150 friends. I mean it is, to have 'friends' (see the blog of unnecessary quotation marks below) on facebook and the like. But there's a critical number beyond which they're not really friends but just people you vacuously toss a few platitudes towards, or, like someone said, give the Duke of Edinburgh handshake (the one where it's both saying hello and goodbye at the same time)..so all those people with 300..400..500 friends on facebook are just deluding themselves.
Still, that leaves me with room for about another 147 anyway!!

'One Of Our Boys Is Missing' - Author's Disclaimer

Before reading One Of Our Boys Is Missing, the true memoirs of former special forces soldier Charlie 'Terminal' Moraine, the author would like to point out the following:
- Yes, I am less than half the man who is actually a Special Forces operative
- No, I could never even pass the pre-selection medical.
- Yes, everyone in the SAS, SBS and all other SF units could batter me with one had behind their backs.
- No, I'm not laughing at war heroes or the fallen, especially at this time of year.
- No, I don't want to try selection for myself.
- No, I'm not looking at you.
- No, I don't have the bottle / right stuff / 1000 yard stare etc. etc.
- No, I don't want to see what an overweight ballet dancer can do.
- Yes, no doubt I am a tw*t, f*cking idiot, immature [insert any brickbat you wish here].
Thanks.

Clocks back...

...urghh, the clocks went back today which means there are about 45 minutes of daylight per day now, always a real race when you have to do some job which requires daylight (eg installing lights, which I still need to do in the 'living' room)!

Hectic Social Life

I have to go to a six year old child's birthday party this evening. Actually I don't have to go. And I don't think he's six, I'm very poor at judging ages. But the neighbours have invited me and my flatmate, so I think we should show our faces at least, it's only a few metres away!. So another opportunity to see how far my Estonian still has to go. There will be a couple of babies there so at least I won't have the weakest Estonian in the room!
I just learned that Napoleon III died in Chislehurst. Bizarre.

'One Of Our Boys Is Missing'

Charlie 'Terminal' Moraine is a former special forces soldier who served in the legendary (especially since it's now defunct, along with most of the legendary British Army regiments) 53 Assault Reconnaisance Squadron in some of the world's hot spots (well they were hotspots if you were a special forces operative anyway) including Northern Ireland, Oman, Columbia at the height of the drugs war, and Chelmsley Wood in the West Midlands. The Puumaja Crew is proud to present, in serial form, his new book, 'One Of Our Boys Is Missing', covering his life story and over 20 years in the front line of one of the deadliest units since the Ottoman Janissaries

'One of Our Boys Is Missing' Part One - Contractual Obligations

Ah were born fightin'. It were the winter of 1956, which were a bad one, an' ah made me appearance kickin' and screamin reet from the start, like. Me mam knew ah was ganna be trouble, ah were a twin an' me brother Tommy was almost blue wi' lack of air when they tek 'im oot. He was supposed to be born first, like, but ah gorrim in a ninja heedlock even then, an' ah swear if the doctaz and norses hadn't yanked us oot ah would've killed him. Ah discharged mesel from hospital that day, that's how hard ah were, ah fought me way past seven porters, marched oot the hospital, flagged doon the forst car, kicked the driva oot and wa' off.
Frae then on it were a livin' nightmare for oor neighbours ...wuz used to tear doon the fence between oors and the neighbours, piece ba' piece like, an' use them tae fight wi'. ..
…actually I’m getting bored of this already; my editor thought it would be a good idea to open this book with an explanation of how I was born into such straitened circumstances – as it’s what the punters expect. In fact you can look forward to this regular feature of the book, my editor butting in and adding ‘annotations’ of her own, apparently these usually take the place of something called footnotes but she said we didn’t have the budget and it’d be a bit too much like hard work for most of our readership anyway.
I wasn’t born in the Northeast or Clydeside or any of those places, but rather an anonymous midlands town (called Kenilworth). I wasn’t a twin either, but the youngest of four, two boys and two girls. We lived on the wrong side of the tracks, it is true, but all that meant was we often had to wait at the level crossing on the main London to Birmingham line if we wanted to go to the Coop, assuming we were going by car, which most of us were by then. There wasn’t anything in my early life which hinted at the steely-eyed deliverer of death and destruction that you know today, from those darkened-room interviews or lucrative tv dramatizations of the squadron’s deeds in the world’s trouble spots.
So how did I make the transition from comfortable middle-class roots to world-class killer? Well, keep turning the pages and you’ll find out, I realize reading might be something of a test of endurance in itself for some of you, but it’ll be worth it if you hang in there – you’ll almost be honorary members of the Squadron. And by the way, if you think you can answer the following riddle (and you can look for further clues throughout the book) write to me at the address at the end of the serialization, and Big Chief Terminal Moraine will send you a limited edition laminated Squadron badge, a signed photo (heavily pixelated out of course) and a year’s subscription to The Sand Shall Not Have Us , the newsletter of the friends of the Squadron Society. Here is the riddle: I can see at night, and eat mice, but I’m not a cat; I am clever, but I can’t write; I have pellets, but I’m not an air rifle; I can rotate my head 360 degrees, but I’m not a challenger tank; I scare children, but I’m not a ghost…Tough, huh? Well, good luck.
I hope you enjoy this book. Feel free to hold it up on the train or bus, when you’re commuting into your soulless office job, I’m sure you’ll look very tough reading it, and some of the glamour will rub off on to you, believe me. I’ll also allow you to use phrases like ‘slotted’, ‘taken out’, ‘or ‘clusterfuck’, and if you talk in a loud voice within ear shot of the fairer sex near the office water cooler ,with laddish bonhomie about how you could definitely kill someone, or parade your knowledge of the military incursions of the last 30 years, I hope you reap the rewards you deserve.

‘Charlie bang bang…’. Those were my first words, or at least first reported words, uttered as I sat on the lawn on hot summer’s day at our house at 14 Latvia Drive. I remember the scene quite vividly. I was wearing my yellow and red stripy T-shirt (this was before 'the occurrence', when I still had colour vision) playing with my older brother Ted’s cap pistols. I was enraptured by the skill and craftsmanship that Mattel toys had shown in putting together such a beautiful piece, and marveled at the working parts, the smooth grip of the handstock, the acrid smell of a spent cap. I think I’d already taken out a few apaches single-handedly when I ran out of ammo. This wasn’t to be the last time I would have to face overwhelmingly heavy odds against indigenous peoples on active ops and overcome them.
My mother certainly used to egg me on. She’d say things like ‘there goes my little soldier’, in her particularly creative moments, and I lapped it up. As well as Ted, I had two much older sisters. I didn’t really grow up with them and to protect their identities they’ll play no further part in the story. Imelda married the prominent biochemist, Eric Gulzynski. They emigrated to Australia thirty years ago when he got a posting at Queensland University and they live in Toowomba. Jane stayed in the area, she and her husband live in the village of Bishops Pruritus, in the second house along from the vicarage.
My mother’s family were of local artisan stock and had lived in the area for generations. My father’s ancestors were a more peripatetic lot, his father’s side were Huguenot refugees, hence the French-sounding surname which has been something of a millstone for me throughout my career. His mother was descended from one of the ponies on Ernest Shackleton’s 1909 Nimrod expedition, which got within an ace of the South Pole. So hardiness is in the genes.
I was spoilt a lot, and learnt to manipulate situations to my advantage. I’d do anything to get a some attention, pulling a face, falling over, dressing up…this could sometimes backfire: ‘Look at me mummy, I’m a Indian..’ I burst into a dinner party once to announce. '… but a proper one from America, not one of those ones you said are taking over all the shops’. Unfortunately for her the guest list including the family dentist, Mr. Maitra, and his wife.

To be continued..

You Can't Get The Measure Of Others

I liked what my older brother Seth Godin had to say today on his blog. He said that, whilst empathy is no bad thing, we can overdo it. Be patronizing in a way. I remember seeing Paul McCartney at the NIA in Birmingham, UK and he introduced the song 'Blackbird' from the White Album by saying he'd tried to write it from the perspective of a black woman. Bollocks. Paul McCartney could no longer empathize with a black woman than he could pick his nose with his toes. Sympathize, yes, but not empathize, which is something different.
It's this problem that leads to people assuming they know what's best for others which leads to a condescending nature which I can't abide (which means I probably have it, if you spot it you got it).
Never get so that you're thinking you have the other person 'taped'!!
http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2009/10/empathy.html

Pay Taxes and Get Rained On

Found out some more information about how to properly heat the flat using the fire. It transpired we'd been doing it all wrong, you have to get a roaring inferno going for about 4-5 hours, heating up the bricks in this way and that should be good for a couple of days or so.
I also learned today just how much you get screwed for taxes here when you set up as a FIE (sole trader) as I've just done.
Hmmm, maybe this going freelance idea is, if not biting me on the arse, is threatening to do so; gonna have to work a lot more just to pay off the government, which in turn will be taxed.
Finally there seems to have been a few minutes respite in the rain which seems to have been going for the last 40 days and nights (well, since Saturday morning).

Noone knows nothing

Seth's blog today had a good entry explaining that just 'cos the fanatics in the marketplace lke something, it doesn't mean it'll be any good. In other words the real technophiles, hi fi buffs and foodies tend to set the tone too much (the internet allows this), so that companies cater to them and then end up producing something too expensive or esoteric or complicated and then lose a lot of money.
So I take it as an encourigng sign that there are no followers of this blog yet, what do the cognoscenti know anyway!
Sethie

Introducing the latest character to the PMC's roster of roustabouts

Charlie 'Terminal' Moraine is a former special forces soldier who served in the legendary (especially since it's now defunct, along with most of the legendary British Army regiments) 53 Assault Reconnaisance Squadron in some of the world's hot spots (well they were hotspots if you were a special forces operative anyway) including Northern Ireland, Oman, Columbia at the height of the drugs war, and Chelmsley Wood in the West Midlands.
As a prelude to his regular column, his former commanding officer when he was a mere private in the 8th Royal Calthrops (Prince George's Very Own) gives this glowing eulogy.
"Reader. Whilst I sit here at home in my study, my two dogs, Thorneycroft and Sminky plying me with the kind of obsequeious reverence that's been on distinctly short rations since my retirement, I like to ponder the position this country might hold in the world today, were it not for the contribution made by 53 Assault Recconaisance Squadron since its inception in the last War. With better schools and hospitals, perhaps, but I am not going to pander to the ghastly bleating of the inner city by conceding this or otherwise denigrating the achievements the Squadron have made in allowing successive British Governments to pursue their foreign policy aims. Not to mention the fear and respect which 53 Assault Recconaisance Squadron, the SAS and other special forces units engender in other, lesser Nations, lacking the backbone and spunk that the author of this book embodies.
The special forces soldier is thought to have evolved from his progenitor, homo substantia legendaro, a species not dissimilar to homo sapiens sapiens, though with distinctly underdeveloped regions of the brain which deal with the sensation of pain and sense of fear, in the latter stages of the last ice age. During this time he migrated northwards, following the retreating ice cap. It is thought that he did this in order to maintain his more familiar environment of extreme hardship. In so doing he came into contact with homo sapiens sapiens and inflicted particularly severe losses on its menfolk, way out of proportion to his numerical strength, cut off and appropriated its food supply, became particularly adept in the arts of weapon handling, those being largely carved from bone, flint etc, and stole all the women.
The modern descendants of this formidable species have found their way into 53 Assault Reconnaisance Squadron as the unit developed during World War Two, and the subsequent decline of the British Empire, reaching its pinnacle with TV programmes such as Survival Course, Urban Self defence Essentials and of course Good Effort: Can You Take The Pain?, where common-or-garden folk who have the temerity to move in non-military circles are invited to better themselves by undertaking a modified version of the Squadron's selection process. Along with his seminal work, The Sand Shall Not Have Us: the True Story of Sigma Patrol, Sergeant Moraine has forged an immediately recognisable brand name for himself in the clandestine, anonymous world of special forces memoir publishing, and it is with great pride that he should see this bolstered with further endorsement from myself.
This book is not for the fey of heart, one which I should be anxious to obscure from the line of sight of one's wife or servants; exploits are described graphically, but wholly accurately, as only twenty or thirty years of lapsed time and an eye on a TV deal can inspire. The law is laid down to those who have had the audacity to circumvent, frustrate, belittle, or obstruct the Queen's writ regardless of whether it applies in their land or not, and for some reason fail to embrace the benevolent beams of rose-pink light shone upon the greater part of the great continents, ranges, deserts, forests, jungles, islands, cities and settlements of this globe over the last few centuries.
For those of you thumbing throgh these pages, perhaps in your school or university bookshop, having already decided to cut out altogether a commission in the cavalry or guards, and pursue a career either in diplomacy, the civil service or plantation management, immediately upon graduating, I should say 'Stop! Listen in!' Why not consider the army? It's a tough life, granted, but nothing which a little Pond's Cold Cream and some sterile swabs can't alleviate, and I should hope that the escapades most dashingly recounted within these pages will act further to influence your decision.
For those of you still in prep school who have not yet been sent away, you may wish to consider joining your local branch of cadets; simpy ask nanny to find out where it is located and telephone them post-haste. And those of you who have not passed your eleven plus, fear not, there is a place even for you in the army; remember Sergeant Moraine only passed his by a whisker, and look at the heights he attained.
In summation, I am sure that you will enjoy this book, I know I did, it reminded me of my days in the Squadron in the 1950s, only we hadn't cottoned on to the idea of writing a book about our exploits and selling it by the four-tonner load. Bugger

Brigadier-General Sir Alun Thomson-Foals, DSO (Bar), MC, OBE, BDO Stoy Hayward.

Lucknow Cottage
Argyll and Sutherland

..there's too much free stuff on the internet

This is a regular blog post dedicated to blogging the blogs of one of the most successful bloggers in the blogsphere.
Sethie Godiney is the diminutive sidekick to Seth Godin, an internet marketing guru, by my own unimaginative and lazy summation.
My older brother tells me that people get so bewildered by choice that they effectively freeze up and avoid having to make one. Even with apples, never mind electronic or financial things.
That's really encouraging (not) to someone who just expects people to start buying my product or visiting my blog!
That said they don't have to buy anything - in fact they can't. Do people ever panic and get bewildered by choice when they don't need to spend any money?
Sethie

Universal flood

I was up at 6.25am this morning (it's a saturday?!?) to go running. It was a bit chilly but otherwise ok, but it started horrible, freezing rain whilst I was about 10 minutes from home..and it hasn't stopped since.
A day of being housebound researching one of my business (!) ideas, and when I did leave the house, getting a hosing from cars splashing through puddles.
We (me and my flatmate) got the fire going again today - let it roar a bit too long and wasted a lot of the wood before working out how to reduce it down to embers so it'll stay warm, but it's a learning process.

Stop Showing Off

Seth's post today - how everyone (well, a lot of people) are screaming for attention on the 'net. 'ooh ooh look at me, I'm so funny / clever / talented / deliver goods quickly / have a flashy design...or whatever. Well, he didn't state it like that but that's how I interpret what my older brother is saying...
...it struck a cord as I think that is what I am trying to do with this blog, even if, as yet it has no followers and I can type what I like since noone's reading it anyway. I wonder how many other blogs there are that can say that?
Anyway I persevere; he said, if you aim to be trusted, respected, bought from, etc, the notice might come later. Worth remembering in this time of isolation..

I Gotta Tell You About A Great New Product! (Of Mine,That I Need To Sell)

Canfield, Proctor, Nightingale, Zagler, Hill, Robbins, Tracy, Aaron... step aside please..there's a new success guru in town! Walt is a highly successful, internationally renowned author of motivational books and CDs and other products. With a career spanning four decades he has enthralled readers with such titles as You Can Do It!, You Can Do It! Too, Literally Make Your House Work For You and Become a Millionaire Whilst On The Toilet.
Hi, Walt here and thanks for reading my post. Just a short email to let you know about a new product I know you're gonna love. It's a bad quality recording of a seminar I gave in Wilmington, Minnihaha, when I was half cut on the free wine that was provided beforehand. For just $9.99* you can have this in CD or some other format. The recording contains some revolutionary new information and tells you to:
- get up earlier in the morning if you need more time.
- go to work, if you want to get ahead.
-go to sleep at night.
-eat food and drink drinks.
-not go to work drunk or badly hungover.
Oh, and that's not all, I'll throw in an extra special free gift, just because I'm so nice: a link to my friend Dirk Vileslayer's 'special people's club' forum. With just 2 members so far, it sure is special and an excellent way to network and meet a lot of like minded individuals. I think Dirk's plugging my new recording too.
Bye for now!
W.
* per day, plus sales tax.

A Very English Cliché

I really hate those 'a brit in Provence/Spain/Italy etc' books. There's something so objectionable about the self-important way the writers try to show how they've suddenly become the world's leading authority on where they've moved to within days of moving there despite knowing about three to five words in the language, how they've become something of a self-appointed celebrity, how, guffaw guffaw, it's a far cry from Surrey or somewhere, how the locals have the audacity not to speak fluent English etc.

I wonder how a 'Romanian in England' book would go down, in which the funny looking locals were satirised and general language misunderstanding laughs flowed like warm eggy beer. Probably not very well.

Anyway, so, here they are, my blog posts about being an Englishman in Estonia! Something to look backward to already...

Ineffective Fires..

It's Friday again (I think, it has far less meaning than when I used to work 9-5). There are a couple of guys on a hydraulic platform thing, which is blocking the entrance to the driveway. Luckily I didn't need to go anywhere in the car.
I think they're cleaning leaves from the gutters; they're doing something connected with the roof anyway. One of the guys just went past the bathroom window on the platform.
The wood finally arrived yesterday, 44 bags of it which I had to shift into the cellar. It's valge lepp, apparently, which translates as 'white alder'. It burns ferociously once it gets going. I'm now thinking we're gonna run out far earlier than the end of winter and will need to get some more. The fire's everything I'd expected it to be, smells divine, but I don't know if we're not doing something wrong, they (the previous oweners) said the fire would need lighting twice a week and the heat from that would be enough to be retained for a few days. But we lit it yesteday and it's almost cold already. My flatmate's room is a converted extension above the back entrance and with a flat roof above. In other words he doesn't get the benefit of the warmth from the adjacent flats, but the heat from the fire didn't seem to radiate as much as hoped which should have kept his room warm.
It's only mid-October so this is nothing compared with what it can be in Estonia in the winter, but this clearly needs to be sorted so I don't find him frozen like a statue one morning, pencil stub in hand halfway through scrawling a final message to the public.
I'll ask the neighbours, they seem to know about all these things, unlike the idiot western Europeans in flat 3. It might be something relatively simple (like this post!).

Sethie Godiney

This is a regular blog post dedicated to blogging the blogs of one of the most successful bloggers in the blogsphere.
Sethie Godiney is the diminutive sidekick to Seth Godin, an internet marketing guru, by my own unimaginative and lazy summation.
I'm never quite sure how his last name is pronounced (or even his first – Vikram Seth springs to mind, and the sneers that you will evoke from the Islington / mocha / tapas set for mispronouncing HIS last name, revealing yourself to the congnoscenti as someone who probably thinks Gabriel García Márquez plays for Liverpool, is enough to push this writer to the cautious side of the street). Is it spelt as it's written? GOD – in? Or is the second syllable given a French value, qw in waiting for Godin? Or even Go-DINE? I don't know.
Anyway Seth is well worth following (seriously).
It doesn't matter if you know naff all about marketing and / or don't work in that field, there's genuine truths in his posts to be had by all.
Alternatively you can follow lil' Sethie Godiney's posts, which merely paraphrase the daily Seth posts, which you can use as a sampler of the real thing (and hopefully visit his blog. Not that he needs any more followers, especially not the likes of you and me). Starts today, whenever I get the next post from SG!

Seth's Blog - Leave School Now...

Today Seth said that working for some companies was a bit like high school, in that there could be the same distractions (gossip, rivalries and the like) inhibiting one's development. He then applied the same analogy to the fashion magazine industry and the internet.
I work for myself so I don't know where that leaves me! Maybe the truant? Or the kid from the weird religious sect whose parents teach them at home, so as not to be exposed to heinous teachings on human procreation or evolution? Anyway I'm glad to be out.
http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2009/10/the-rule-of-high-school.html
Sethie.

...Walt Gleeson

Canfield, Proctor, Nightingale, Zagler, Hill, Robbins, Tracy, Aaron... step aside please..there's a new success guru in town! Walt is a highly successful, internationally renowned author of motivational books and CDs and other products. With a career spanning four decades he has enthralled readers with such titles as You Can Do It!, You Can Do It! Too, Literally Make Your House Work For You and Become a Millionaire Whilst On The Toilet. Look forward to Walt's weekly contribution to the puumaja crew's already rather shabby line-up.

How To Raise The Bar Without It Falling On Your Head

When the Puumaja Crew invited me to be a regular contributor to their site, I thought, well, thanks very much.
But then I remembered, I can't write! I'm just a down home, simple country boy from the East Dakota Highlands; I flunked out of high school with not one qualification to my name, and yet I've managed to build up a huge, multi-national business empire despite being wholly illiterate.
Fortunately my financial abundance enables me to employ a PA, Ilone. She's one of the best in her field, and I can dictate my musings to her any speed I like and she'll never fail to capture the essence of my genius, helping you to help yourself. And others. But mostly yourself.
One of the barriers to being successful is an inability to use people. People are all there for your use; we call it leveraging. Anyone and everyone you meet is superior in some way or other, to you, and you should leverage them to your own benefit. For example, not only is Ilona a superior PA, she can also find her own arse with her hands, and as a result I leverage her hands to find my arse for me too.
Maybe the mailman knows more about football than you do; pump him for questions. What's the winningest team at the moment? What's Favres attempts/completions ratio this season? Then dispose of him; there's nothing worse than time wasters. These people will suck you dry like a big sucking thing - avoid at all costs.
If you're gonna get ahead, and believe me, you WILL get ahead, provided you do everything I say to the letter (if you don't you'll freeze to death and be buried in an unmarked, mass grave) you've simply gotta pay attention to a few basic principles. We'll reveal these principles one at a time so you keep coming back.
We're gonna be something a whole lot more meaningful than just friends in the coming weeks and months (anyway all my friends are real big shots with huge companies and the like) – we're gonna have a saviour and disciple set up, except with a happier ending.

...Benedict Francis-Kentigern

BFK as we know him, is an affable motoring journalist of the old school. Dropping out of some big public school somewhere in England to pursue his passion pretending to race cars, he's acquired such an array of tweed jackets with leather elbow patches, arran sweaters and empty travel sweet tins, that you can't help but ignore him. Look forward to BFK's weekly reports on motoring, cars, and what drives the people that drive them, in his section to be found somewhere on the site.