How Robert Mondavi's White Smoke Captured the Wine Industry - 2012

 

How Robert Mondavi's White Smoke Captured the Wine Industry

In the history of Napa Valley, California, Robert Mondavi (1913 – 2008) holds a special place. In 1965, Robert had a much-publicized split with younger brother Peter Mondavi. The rift precipitated Robert’s leaving the family business at Charles Krug Winery in St. Helena. In what seemed like no time, Robert Mondavi then created the California premium wine business, as we know it today.

Among his first moves was to secure a location in Oakville for his new winery. Mondavi hired architect Cliff May (1909 – 1989) to design his new winery. It also happened to be the first new winery in the Napa Valley since the passing of Prohibition in 1930. Well known for his California ranch style homes, the Mondavi Winery soon became May’s most prominent commission. Even today, the arched entrance arouses both our contemporary esthetic and our search for timeless beauty. From his first vintage onward, Mondavi featured the building’s front façade on his label. Experiencing only minor variations in style, the Mondavi premium contemporary label looks much like one from the 1960s. To this day, the Mondavi label is a reliable symbol for quality California wine.

Mondavi was a marketing genius. The first vintage for Robert Mondavi Winery was his 1966 Oakville Cabernet Sauvignon. Upon its release in 1968, the entire vintage sold out almost immediately. Soon after his Cabernet Sauvignon sold out, Robert Mondavi rechristened an otherwise plebeian Sauvignon Blanc, calling it “Fume Blanc”.

By featuring the “white smoke” designation on the label, Robert Mondavi succeeded in convincing many neophyte wine consumers that he had invented a new varietal wine. Advances in large-scale cold fermentation were still years away, so making a distinguished Sauvignon Blanc was not easy. I will leave it up to others to determine if Mondavi succeeded in making a remarkable Sauvignon Blanc.

On my first visit to Robert Mondavi Winery in 1969, the ubiquitous Fume Blanc was the only wine available for sale to the public. Although I have since consumed many bottles of Robert Mondavi Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay, I have not noticed a bottle of Robert Mondavi Fume Blanc on sale for years. However, there are images of 2007 Robert Mondavi Fume Blanc on the internet, so they must still make that wine.

For those who bought land early, like Joseph Heitz, producing the only other 1966 Oakville Cabernet on the market was a natural step. Before Mondavi and Heitz, Beringer, Inglenook and other Napa Valley winemakers saw the place as just another California viticulture area. It was after Mondavi opened his winery that the Napa Valley became one of the hottest real estate markets in the United States. Wealthy individuals and corporations alike rushed to own a part of the California premium wine business.

Until Napa Valley real estate prices skyrocketed, Sonoma County and Mendocino County held nearly equal viticultural status to the nearby Napa Valley. After a string of international accolades for its premium wines in the 1970s, Napa Valley rose to preeminence in the minds of most California wine aficionados. To the present day, a Napa Valley "domaine de origin" still holds sway with wine aficionados, both young and old. Regardless of how imperfect a Napa Valley wine may be, most vinophiles will unconsciously give a Napa Valley wine the benefit of the doubt.

For Robert Mondavi, one could say that he happened to be in the right place at the right time. Although he was certainly in the right place, he capitalized on several trends, including the rush to varietal wine labeling. Until ridiculed by Mondavi and others, the term “California Burgundy” was in common usage. Soon thereafter, new laws required winemakers use accurate geographical and varietal wine labeling.

As with the red wine tradition in Bordeaux, France, a blend of California Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc and Merlot often makes a wine preferable to straight Cabernet Sauvignon. However, Robert Mondavi’s push for varietal labeling won the hearts of both legislators and consumers. Unless a wine could meet the seventy-five percent-of-content threshold, such a blend might be labeled “Claret” or worse yet, “Red Table Wine”. Out of misplaced deference for Robert Mondavi and his successful push for varietal labeling, we now drink our California Cabernet Sauvignon and even Merlot mostly straight, rather than in more thoughtful blends. For a winemaker to do otherwise, risks having his or her wine languish on the shelf, rather than consumed by the public.

Another reason for the success of Robert Mondavi and his fellow Napa Valley Vintners is the compact geography of the appellation. The valley is only twenty miles long and several miles wide. In the 1970s, a tourist could visit almost every winery in the valley in one day. In the early 1970s, stops at Robert Mondavi, Beaulieu, Louis M. Martini, Beringer, Charles Krug, Inglenook, then newly reformed Freemark Abbey and the new Sterling Vineyards might make for one full day of Napa Valley wine tasting.

Today, a tasting-trip north on the same California Highway 29 might take a week, given the large number of wineries now along that road. From Calistoga, a return trip south along the Silverado Trail yields scores more wineries, all still in the Napa Valley. On a weekend during the crush, the Napa Valley can seem like one giant amusement park for adults. When at Sterling Vineyards, be sure to ride the overhead tram out to the tasting room and back. After a glass of wine, it is a real experience.

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By James McGillis at 05:38 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

A Resident of Crescent Junction, Utah Tells the History of the Place - 2012

 

A Resident of Crescent Junction, Utah Tells the History of the Place

In 1955, if you pulled into Crescent Junction, Utah, the following is what you would see. The neon tower sign read; “CJunct. Café – Good Steaks – Lunches”. The “C” in the sign had a purposeful tilt, looking like a crescent moon. Across the top face of the building, a painted “Crescent Junction” left no mistake as to where you were. A lighted neon clock stood on the front face of the building.

In addition, hand-painted on the front of the building were the words, “Cold Pop, Beer and Lunch (in larger letters). A Pepsi “button sign” hung near the front door. On the left side of the building, a large painted “Lunch” appeared near the top of the wall. “Cold Drinks” and a Coke “button sign” gave the façade a classy look. Added more recently, at window height were, “Candy, Cigarettes and Beer”. Apparently, the liquor laws in Utah were more lenient in 1955.

To the left and behind the original store rose a new and larger concrete block building. In front of it were two AMOCO fuel pumps, each with a lighted glass globe on top. On one of the two pumps a sign reads, “Diesel Fuel”. Between the two pumps is another sign, which reads, “ATLAS” in vertical letters, with “Tires, Batteries and Accessories” listed below. Partially hidden by the two fuel pumps is a new gas-island, with new fuel pumps still in their crates. A recently strung high voltage electrical line is visible in the background. Between the two buildings, there is a glimpse of the majestic Book Cliffs.

Thank you to Lani Lange Asay for providing these historical photographs of her “hometown”, Crescent Junction, Utah. Following is Lani’s recent letter to me:

Jim,
My name is Lani Lange Asay and I am one of three current residents of Crescent Junction, Utah. I would like to give you a little history you do not have about Crescent Junction.

Brendel is the railroad siding at Crescent. I think Brendel was the name of one of the railroad officials or engineers.

The name Crescent Junction came when my Grandfather and family moved from SLC to Crescent to build the business. The original business was one building with ten bar stools inside and two gas pumps outside. In 1955, the current two buildings were built.

The name Crescent Junction came from the junction of the roads there, originally US 6 & 50 and US 160, (now I-70 and U.S. 191) and the original narrow gauge railroad, which formed an arc along the Book Cliffs above the junction. I could go on and on with the history. The private land held around the junction was an original homestead by my two great aunts.

Lani (Lee Anne Lange Asay)
Mother: Bette Wimmer Lange
Grandfather: Edwin Wimmer

Although I will not be in Crescent Junction again until spring 2013, I have plans to visit with Lani and her sister, Keven Lange at that time. At that time, I also hope to meet Kerry, their brother. I am sure that each of them will have many stories about Crescent Junction and Brendel, Utah.

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By James McGillis at 04:34 PM | Travel | Comments (1) | Link

An Evening in Moab with Author, Adventurer, Naturalist and Poet, Craig Childs - 2012

 

An Evening in Moab with Author, Adventurer, Naturalist and Poet, Craig Childs

Each year since 2005, I have visited Moab Utah in the fall. For my taste, the summers in Moab are too hot and the winters too cold. In the spring, the wind blows and the dust kicks up. In October 2006, I experienced almost fifteen inches of rain, but this fall the weather was as dry as a bone.

In October 2007, I was in Moab for a week and wanted to learn more about the town and its culture. Checking the events calendar, I saw that Craig Childs was in town, introducing his then new book, “House of Rain”. Until then, my only connection to Craig Childs was hearing him speak on the NPR program, Morning Edition. Not having read any of his books, I decided to go and hear him speak.

That evening, I arrived early at the Moab Information Center. With an auditorium that holds no more than seventy-five people, I was happy to sit in the front row. In the left-front corner of the room stood a stocky man dressed in clothing from the trail. As the attendees filed in and took their places on chairs or the floor, the man softly played a wooden flute. Only when he moved to the podium did I discover Craig Childs was the flautist we had just heard. Craig’s lyrical flute had created a mood for the slideshow and discussion to follow.

Demonstrating how important the book, “House of Rain” was to the career of Craig Childs, his personal website still goes by that name. Never using the phrase, “Great Disappearance” in that seminal book, his subject was the displacement Native American cultures from the Colorado Plateau around 1200 CE.

With painstaking academic research and fieldwork, alone or with paleo-scientists, Craig charted a course of migration that defined the culmination of the pre-Puebloan era. With Craig’s written guidance, I later visited and wrote about many of the places mentioned in that book. From Homolovi to Hovenweep and Mesa Verde beyond, Craig painted word-pictures of each sacred place.

In October 2008, I had the privilege of attending Confluence: A Celebration of Reading and Writing in Moab. Among the many guest authors, Amy Irvine, Jack Loeffler and Craig Childs each taught classroom and field seminars. The class was limited to forty budding authors, each paying $450 for the honor of close work with three authors. For his part, Craig Childs took our group a few miles north of Moab to a place called Seven Mile Canyon. There, among petroglyphs and sacred sandstone grottos, Craig encouraged each of us to feel the canyon sands barefoot before writing that day.

In October 2012, Craig Child’s latest book, Apocalyptic Planet: Field Guide to the Everending Earth arrived at Back of Beyond Bookstore in Moab. With a crowd of about 250 at Moab’s Starr Hall that opening night, Craig Childs proceeded to electrify the audience with stories of catastrophe and redemption. From a campsite on the rapidly melting Greenland Ice Sheet to the still warm lava flows of Mauna Loa Volcano in Hawaii, Craig elucidated the constancy of violent change occurring all over the Earth.

Not wanting to use an electronic flash that night, I tried to photograph Craig Childs in a still moment. Gesturing to his own image on the screen behind him, I watched as Craig’s animated motions transported him into his own photography. Craig on the stage merged into Craig, sitting on the front porch of the doomed Greenland camp. Later, as he swept his arm toward a small patch of island greenery surrounded by an active lava flow, Craig Childs could have been Moses, pinpointing the place where he had found the stone tablets.

Although I had videotaped parts of the presentation, I later erased all of my video from that evening. Electronic media cannot do justice to the poetry of Craig's words and voice. Standing barefoot on stage that night, reading excerpts from his new book, I saw and heard the essence of author and naturalist Craig Childs.

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By James McGillis at 03:45 PM | Current Events | Comments (0) | Link

An Energy Bridge of Water Links Mammoth Lakes to Los Angeles, California - 2012

 

An Energy Bridge of Water Links Mammoth Lakes to Los Angeles, California

In the fall of 2012, El Niño and La Niña global weather systems battled to a draw. Now it is anybody’s guess if this will be a big snow season in California’s Sierra Nevada. On Monday October 22, a friend in Mammoth sent pictures of the season’s first snowfall at Mammoth Lakes. After an extreme lack of snow at Mammoth Mountain Ski Area last winter, locals like Phil are hoping that snowstorms will visit again soon.

In August 2012, I visited Mammoth Lakes for the first time since the 1990s. I was surprised to see how little the core of the town had changed. Still, rampant development of the sub-alpine meadows around the edge of town looked unsustainable to me. In 2012, the town went bankrupt. At the same time, the Los Angeles Department of Water & Power (LADWP) made plans to exert its Mammoth Creek water rights. As has happened several times before, Mammoth headed deeper into an economic recession.

During the winter of 2011-2012, Mammoth Lakes experienced the economic ripple effect of ski area layoffs. With the semi-permanent closure of June Mountain Ski Resort in 2012, it will take more than one great snow season for Mono County and its economy to rebound. Still, as the town of Mammoth Lakes goes, so goes Los Angeles. As a persistent western drought continues, few in Los Angeles stop to think how much of their water originates in Mono County.

Collectively, we spent the past fifty years moving Los Angeles to Mammoth Mountain. Now, over-development and under-supply threaten water sources for both city and town. Perhaps a good 2012 – 2013 snow season will allow us to ignore both the economic and environmental realities for yet another year. Go Sierra snow!

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By James McGillis at 03:04 PM | Environment | Comments (0) | Link

Mesquite, Nevada - Doomed to Live Without its History - 2012

 

Mesquite, Nevada - Doomed to Live Without its History

For the past five years, my tradition has been to take both a spring and a fall trip to Moab, Utah and the Four Corner States. In 2007 and 2008, I would depart Los Angeles, travel to Phoenix, Arizona and then north to Moab. Having lived in Arizona earlier on, I liked to visit the detached suburb of Los Angeles that Phoenix had become.

In 2009, anti-immigrant rhetoric in Arizona reached a fever pitch. In April 2010, Governor Jan Brewer signed the statute known as Arizona AB 1070 into law. Although she saw an anti-immigrant bill as her ticket to higher office, I saw it as a poke in the eye of egalitarianism. Henceforth, I avoided Phoenix and all of Arizona whenever possible. With both the Grand Canyon and Old Route 66 running through the state, avoiding Arizona completely can be challenging.

After feeling repelled by Arizona politics, I needed a new way to get from Los Angeles to Moab. My new route was to be the Old Spanish Trail, now designated Interstate I-15 North and I-70 East. Although I-15 transits the northwest corner of Arizona, it does so through the Virgin River Gorge. In the gorge, there is no place to stop or spend money. Southwest of the Virgin River Gorge, and half way from Los Angeles to Moab lies Mesquite, Nevada. Each year since 2009, I have stopped overnight in Mesquite, allowing time to absorb some local culture.

On my first stop at Mesquite, I found a quaint collection of old motels and trailer courts. On West Mesquite Blvd., antique and hand-painted signs dominated the old commercial district. Although new development sprang up prior to the economic collapse of 2008, quaint reminders of Mesquite as a farming community and a later as a highway rest stop were evident.

Although permanently closed, Harley’s Garage featured a hand-painted “Ford Parts” logo sign atop its tower. Words scrawled on a front window celebrated Harley’s Garage for its fifty years as a mainstay of business in Mesquite. Likewise, the contemporary Ranch Market stood closed and empty. The market’s predecessor, a humble pole barn, stood tattered by a century of weather at the back of the same lot.

On my most recent visit, I caught sight of an old building on North Sandhill Blvd. Looking as if it had begun life as a house; it now stood stripped bare of its later business facade. With a new stucco exterior, it could have been a quaint restaurant or coffee stop. Instead, it featured “Keep Out” signs and other indications of its upcoming demolition. By the time of this writing, I assume that Mesquite has removed yet another clue to the town’s history.

The foolishness of systematically destroying all of the historical architecture and signage in Mesquite is obvious. To see a graphic example of why, look no further than Las Vegas, ninety miles south on I-15. Gambling-induced development skyrocketed there in the 1950’s. The result was an eclectic collection of iconic and nostalgic architecture. Because of its long-term popularity, old Las Vegas earned a place in the hearts of many visitors. What else explains the popularity of the old “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign that has stood at the south end of The Strip since 1959?

In recent years, a new class of casino and hotel development has prevailed In Las Vegas. With no room for expansion, developers imploded and replaced Desert Inn, The Dunes, El Rancho, The Sands and other hotel/casinos too numerous to mention. Everything in Las Vegas is bigger now, but it is a lot less fun. This recent “bigger is better” format wiped nostalgic old Las Vegas off the strip and into the dustbin of history.

I remember staying in a suite at the Desert Inn in the late 1980s. Just a few yards from the Strip, my suite overlooked a tranquil, green golf course. Maybe if I were a high roller I would care that Steve Wynn personally specified the design and materials of every mattress at his Wynn and Encore hotels. Just give me a bed on the Strip with a Magic Fingers massager under the mattress, and enough quarters to make me want to unplug it and I will be happy.

Out with the new and in with the old. Good luck to Mesquite, Nevada on its historical eradication campaign. For the sake of all who care, I hope the town runs out of redevelopment funds before it runs out of history.

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By James McGillis at 11:39 AM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

Hovenweep Road Disappears & Reappears Near Hovenweep National Monument - 2012

 

Hovenweep Road Disappears & Reappears Near Hovenweep National Monument

In late April 2012, I departed Moab, Utah, heading toward Hovenweep National Monument, 120 miles southeast. My first 89 miles were on U.S. Highway 191, transiting through Monticello and Blanding, Utah. Fifteen miles south of Blanding, my Magellan GPS directed me to turn east on Utah State Route 262.

Although Magellan was on course, I was not. Blanding rests at 6000 feet in elevation. As you descent into the desert, each hill begins to look like the last one. Near the bottom of the third long hill, I approached the UT-262 East the turn-off. Making that turn with my travel trailer in tow required unusual discretion. Carrying a speed of 55 MPH over the top of the hill meant that I was doing 65 MPH near the bottom, and all without touching the throttle. I applied the brakes and downshifted out of overdrive. Friction creates heat. With my truck and trailer brakes engaged, I hoped that the brakes on my rig would not fade.

With over five tons of metal accelerating downhill, I downshifted into third gear and let the engine roar. While applying my brakes, I dropped the shifter into Second and watched the engine rev up to 4200 RPM. Having had the good sense to preset my trailer brakes for highway speeds, I felt them work in unison with the big disk brakes on my 2006 Nissan Titan. My rolling rocket ship responded in kind, slowing to about 45 MPH.

The only problem was that I needed to be below 25 MPH in order to make the turn. At that point, it was “do or die”, so I applied the brakes even harder and hoped for the best. My “bail out” was to release the brakes and roll on past the intersection, but no one wants to hear Magellan say, “When possible, make a legal U-turn”. As I safely made the turn, the abundant skid marks and stray gravel on the road spoke to me. They said, “Jim, your successful outcome here and now is no cause for celebration”.

When I found myself facing east on UT-262, I took a deep breath and then looked for a place to pull over. This was at least the third time I had traveled from Moab to Hovenweep National Monument. Unbelievably, this was my best job yet negotiating that crucial left turn. Please remember that your perception of time, distance and vertical motion are different in the High Southwest. As Jim Morrison so aptly sang, “Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel”. Watch closely for the highway signs and keep your downhill speed below the posted speed limit. Otherwise, you too might miss your turn toward Hovenweep.

Soon, Utah Hwy. 262 began to show its age. Almost from the start, there were almost no shoulders on the sides of the road. For the first nine miles, the road was narrow, harsh and unforgiving. At that point, Highway UT-262 turned to the south, leaving me on old Hovenweep Road, which is also designated Indian Route 5099. Although my Magellan GPS had performed flawlessly until that point, its digital mainspring was about to uncoil.

Although Hovenweep National Monument is remote from any settlement larger than a trading post, it is a targeted destination for many motorists. With her database in full failure mode, Magellan’s siren-sweet voice tried to lead me astray. “Turn left at the next opportunity”, she declared. Such tactics may have lured Ulysses onto an ancient, rocky coastline, but not me. Her voice intended to deceive me. “Ha!” I said, “This is like déjà vu all over again”. This was my third trip to Hovenweep along this road. Had I learned anything?

Slowly, my thoughts came back to me. Long ago, in Navajo land I had learned to disbelieve Magellan’s driving directions. Just try to drive from Gallup, New Mexico to Chaco Canyon with only Magellan as your guide. Twice in the past, Magellan had failed me there. Smugly, I concluded that no one at Magellan or its database creators had ever traveled these roads. If they had, they would not suggest a shortcut that starts at the washout of Montezuma Creek and then winds for miles over rough terrain.

The first algorithmic rule for GPS databases should be, “If there is an alternative route over paved-roads, suggest it.” In order to do that, one must know firsthand if a road exists. If so, is paved or gravel? Only by placing the mapmakers’ eyes in the real world will such things ever change. Meanwhile, the Spirit of the Ancients sits around a celestial campfire, looking down at us and having a good laugh. Come on, mapmakers; none ever died wishing that they had spent more time in the office.

After Magellan suggested a hard left turn up a steep and curving gravel road, I stopped to consult my trusty DeLorme Utah Atlas & Gazetteer. Later, while looking at Google Maps, I could see why Magellan got it wrong. From Hatch Trading Post to Hovenweep on paved roads requires a roundabout tour to the south, via Reservation Road 2416 and San Juan County Road 413. Just south of Hatch Trading Post, that paved route crosses Montezuma Creek on a contemporary highway bridge. Just south of that bridge is where Magellan suggested a make a hard left turn.

Had I taken that route, it would have soon connected me with a graveled extension of “Hovenweep Road”, also called San Juan County Road 212. If one follows that gravel road, it is indeed the original and shorter route to Hovenweep National Monument. With its “Hovenweep Road” moniker, that gravel route is only ten miles long, but takes thirty-eight minutes. The paved route to the south is longer, but takes only twenty-nine minutes.

If you are familiar with Google Street View, you know that Google camera cars have traversed almost every paved road in America. Magellan, for its part, has outsourced its database to either the incompetent or the knowledgeable. The Navajo Nation is the largest Native American tribe in the U.S. Although their reservation abuts the Four Corners on three sides, Magellan treats it like a no-man’s land. Rich with cultural heritage, it behooves Magellan to provide accurate directions throughout the region. Magellan’s users need to know that they can follow paved roads to such treasures as Hovenweep National Monument.

Once I got past the Magellan database errors, I had a pleasant ride to Hovenweep. To the sides of the road I saw occasional Navajo dwellings. Whether any one of them was occupied or abandoned, I could not say. Were these empty houses awaiting their owner’s return or were they the abandoned relics of a time before the Dine’ (Navajo) moved to the cities. Other major features on the land consisted of natural gas wells and occasional water wells. The gas wells utilized propane fuel to spin their flywheels, while the water wells featured Aermotor windmill pumps. Although windmills usually indicate that cattle will be grazing nearby, the only wildlife in view that day consisted of wild horses.

Even in April, the desert was extremely dry. Little water ran in the major watercourses and there were no waterholes visible on the mesa. For the wild horses, finding sufficient forage and water defines their constant battle for life over death. Few of the horses looked well fed or well watered. In order to conserve energy or to beg a meal, many untamed horses stay close to the road. Although they were clearly wild, most of the horses barely moved when I stopped to photograph them.

One exception that day was a palomino stallion that I startled as he crossed the landscape. In order to photograph the horse, I had to make a U-turn and then stop on the gravel apron of a desolate crossroad. With all of the noise and commotion that I had caused, the palomino caught wind of me. As he galloped across an arroyo, I had time to capture only one image of the horse. As I later zoomed in on that image, I realized that his ribs were showing, indicating severe environmental stress. If I could rewind and redo my actions that day, I would not have pursued and further stressed that beautiful animal with my vehicle or on foot.

As I approached Little Ruin Canyon at Hovenweep National Monument, the grand Sleeping Ute Mountain appeared to the east. Although many of the place names throughout the High Southwest are fanciful in their origins, Sleeping Ute Mountain lives up to its name. With his head in the north and his feet in the south, the ancient spirit of the mountain appears to be at rest. As I approached the campground at Hovenweep National Monument near sundown, I held my breath, hoping to find an open campsite large enough to accommodate my rig.

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By James McGillis at 06:52 PM | Travel | Comments (0) | Link

A Busy Afternoon at Canyonlands Field - Moab, Utah - 2012

 

A Busy Afternoon at Canyonlands Field - Moab, Utah

In April 2012, I visited Canyonlands Field, near Moab, Utah. It was a busy day at the airport, with takeoffs and landings going on throughout the afternoon. Serving both general and commercial aviation at the same field sets the Moab airport apart from most regional airports. The juxtaposition of commercial and private takeoffs and landings, all without tower support means that everyone involved needs to stay alert and responsible for their actions.

In this video, I watch as the Great Lakes Airlines Beech 1900 departs Moab. Only minutes later, a private pilot lands his high performance TBM850 turboprop on the same runway. As with any uncontrolled airfield, no one takes off or lands until radio communications have confirmed the location of any airplanes in the area. Although this video looks like a narrow escape, it is more like an aerial ballet, choreographed by the pilots themselves.

Next time you are in Moab, Utah, be sure to dedicate a few hours to the action at Canyonlands Field. The best time is often on a Saturday afternoon. Between the skydivers coming down and the busy airfield, you will not regret your visit.

 

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By James McGillis at 11:18 PM | | Comments (1) | Link