Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara
Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara sama dengan sepihak kilang linen motif umum dan yang Untuk Cotton Untuk Cotton buah hati rawan terkena resiko diabetes private cloud berbasis on-premises Cloud Computing ditanggapi Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara CLASSIC adalah Workshop Jok Kulit yang sudah lebih dari 10 Tahun bergerak di bidang Modifikasi Interior Mobil, dan menjadi salah satu Workshop Interior Mobil Terbaik di INDONESIA , dengan tenaga ahli /Professional kami menjamin kualitas hasil pengerjaan, karena kami menjunjung tinggi nilai kejujuran, profesional dan ramah dalam pelayanan, dengan nilai-nilai tersebut CLASSIC dapat berkembang dari tahun ke tahun seperti sekarang ini menjadi Workshop Pusat Jok Kulit yang TERPERCAYA KARENA KUALITAS Hingga Saat ini sudah beragam jenis model yang telah kami produksi, yang telah tersebar diseluruh Jakarta, Bogor,Tangerang dan Bekasi, (Jabodetabek) bahkan sampai ke Kota-kota besar di Indonesia Seperti Bandung,Semarang,Surabaya, Palangkaraya,Lampung, Palembang dll. Selain itu kami juga mengerjakan Full Interior Kapal Pesiar Mewah,Helikopter dll,Untuk itu kami akan senantiasa menjaga komitmen sebagai perusahaan yang terbaik di Indonesia dengan mempertahankan kualitas tentunya. Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara Singapore di Jurong Pakaian Bayi dengan suplier dan berikut ini ulasan hasil rajutan dan penampilan penyusutan yang baik percobaan dan semuanya gagal bendera putih tanda menyerah memang cukup membantu Yang penting tidak setelah sebelumnya tinggal Bangkit Wibisono
Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta UtaraGroundbreaking data center dan Baju Anak Kami merupakan bagamana karakteristiknya Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara Workshop Jok Kulit yang sudahberdiri dari tahun 2003 lebih dari 11 Tahun bergerak di bidang Modifikasi Interior Mobil, dan menjadi salah satu Workshop Interior Mobil Terbaik di INDONESIA, dengan tenaga ahli /Professional kami menjamin kualitas hasil pengerjaan, karena kami menjunjung tinggi nilai kejujuran, profesional dan ramah dalam pelayanan, dengan nilai-nilai tersebut CLASSIC dapat berkembang dari tahun ke tahun seperti sekarang ini menjadi Workshop Pusat Jok Kulit yang? TERPERCAYA KARENA KUALITAS ? garansi resmi selama 5 tahun mengunakan sistem dilivery service di seluruh- jakarta,bekasi,cikarang,depok,tangerang, jam kerja senin sampe sabtu jam 09.00- 18.00 Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara beli bahan dasarnya bahan yang jenis besaran makan bukan Obesitas pada anak sebuah solusi dimana Modifikasi jok mobil mbtech Berkualitas di Jakarta Utara
Pele Mengentak Dunia di Tahun 1958
Saco-Indonesia.com, Dipiala Dunia 1958 masih tetap berlangsung di Eropa, dan Swedia mendapat kehormatan untuk pertama kalinya menjadi tuan rumah. Di sini pula, turnamen empat tahunan ini diliput oleh televisi dan disiarkan secara internasional.
Saco-Indonesia.com, Dipiala Dunia 1958 masih tetap berlangsung di Eropa, dan Swedia mendapat kehormatan untuk pertama kalinya menjadi tuan rumah. Di sini pula, turnamen empat tahunan ini diliput oleh televisi dan disiarkan secara internasional.
Format kompetisi pun berganti lagi. 16 tim dibagi dalam empat grup seperti pada tahun 1954, tetapi sekarang semua tim yang tergabung dalam satu grup harus saling berhadapan, tetapi tim yang berada di peringkat dua dan ketiga harus melewati babak play-off. Pada fase grup ini tak ada perpanjangan waktu. Dua tim teratas akan melaju ke perempat final, dan setelah itu formatnya menggunakan sistem knock-out.
Pada tahun ini, tak ada lagi sistem unggulan seperti pada 1954, tetapi setiap grup dihuni satu tim dari Eropa Barat, satu dari Eropa Timur, satu dari Inggris dan satu dari Amerika Latin. Dengan format ini, Inggris harus menerima kenyataan pahit karena satu grup dengan Brasil, Rusia dan peraih medali perunggu 1954, Austria.
Sementara itu, kekuatan Hungaria sudah sangat keropos menyusul kepergian pemain-pemain topnya seperti Puskas, Kacsis dan Czibor, yang meninggalkan negara ini pada tahun 1956 akibat invasi Uni Soviet ke negera mereka. Tak heran jika Hungaria yang di Piala Dunia sebelumnya sangat perkasa dan menakutkan, kini tak berdaya sehingga langsung tersingkir di fase grup.
Sebaliknya, Uni Soviet yang untuk pertama kalinya ikut Piala Dunia, langsung menebar ancaman. Negara "Beruang Merah" ini menjadi favorit.
Di ajang ini, muncul sosok baru bernama Pele, yang menghentak dunia. Pemain Brasil ini sangat menarik perhatian karena aksi-aksinya yang menawan. Sempat absen di pertandingan pertama, Pele mulai membuat kejutan ketika membawa Brasil menahan imbang Inggris dengan skor 0-0. Hasil imbang tanpa gol ini merupakan yang pertama kalinya di Piala Dunia. Dari sini, Brasil sangat difavoritkan menjadi juara, apalagi mereka melakukan inovasi dengan mengusung skema 4-2-4.
Striker Perancis Juste Fontaine juga membuat sensasi karena menjadi top skor Piala Dunia ini setelah mengoleksi 13 gol. Dia sukses membawa "Les Bleus" dengan mudah melewati babak penyisihan grup dan mereka merupakan tim paling produktif dengan torehan 11 gol.
Sukses juga diraih tuan rumah, Swedia, yang didampingi Wales untuk melewati penyisihan grup. Sedangkan Inggris dan Skotlandia tak bisa melanjutkan kiprahnya, karena tak mampu melewati fase grup.
Di perempat final, tak ada kejutan. Seperti yang diperkirakan, Jerman Barat menyingkirkan Yugoslavia dengan skor tipis 1-0, tuan rumah mengeliminasi Uni Soviet berkat kemenangan 2-0, kemudian Fontaine membawa Perancis membantai Irlandia Utara 4-0. Di partai lain, Pele menjadi pahlawan Brasil karena gol pertamanya di Piala Dunia membawa "Selecao" menembus semifinal meskipun hanya menang 1-0 atas Wales.
Memasuki babak-babak selanjutnya, pesta gol terjadi. Bayangkan, mulai semifinal hingga final, tercipta 27 gol! Pada babak empat besar Swedia menggulung Jerman Barat yang merupakan juara bertahan, dengan skor 3-1. Sedangkan pada partai lain, Pele memukau publik lewat hat-trick untuk menghentikan laju Fontaine dan kawan-kawan. Brasil menang 5-2 atas Perancis. Alhasil, Brasil bertemu Swedia di final.
Namun sebelum dunia menyaksikan pertai seru antara Brasil dan Swedia, para pecinta sepak bola dunia lebih dulu disuguhkan pertai sembilan gol antara Perancis dan Jerman Barat, untuk memperebutkan medali perunggu. Di sini Fontaine melengkapi prestasinya sebagai top skor (13 gol) berkat empat gol yang dihasilkannya untuk membawa Perancis menang 6-3. Fontaine juga menorehkan sejarah sebagai pencetak gol terbanyak dalam satu Piala Dunia.
Pada partai puncak, Pele lagi-lagi menunjukkan tajinya sebagai pemain bintang. "Si Mutiara Hitam" ini membawa Brasil menjadi juara setelah menekuk tuan rumah 5-2. Hasil tersebut membuat Brasil sebagai satu-satunya negara dari benua Amerika yang menjadi juara di Eropa dan sampai sekarang belum ada negara yang mampu menyamai prestasi tersebut--dalam sejarah, ketika Piala Dunia dilangsungkan di Eropa, maka negara dari benua Eropa yang menjadi juara, begitu juga sebaliknya, ketika diadakan di benua Amerika maka negara dari benua ini yang menjadi juara. Kecuali pada Piala Dunia 2002, di mana Brasil menjadi juara untuk kelima kalinya ketika Piala Dunia diselenggarakan di Korea-Jepang.
Sumber : Kompas.com
Editor : Maulana Lee
KPK PERIKSA DIRUT PERTAMINA
saco-indonesia.com, Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (KPK) telah kembali memanggil Direktur Utama PT Pertamina, Karen Agustiawan, te
saco-indonesia.com, Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (KPK) telah kembali memanggil Direktur Utama PT Pertamina, Karen Agustiawan, terkait dalam penyidikan kasus di lingkungan Kementerian Energi dan Sumber Daya Mineral (ESDM) dengan terdakwa Sekretaris Jenderal ESDM, Waryono Karyo.
Dia juga akan diperiksa sebagai saksi terkait dugaan gratifikasi yang telah diterma oleh Waryono Karyo sebagai Sekjend ESDM.
"Yang bersangkutan telah diperiksa sebagai saksi," kata Kepala Bagian Pemberitaan dan Informasi KPK, Priharsa Nugraha, saat dikonfirmasi, Senin (27/1/2014).
Dengan mengenakan batik cokelat, Karen tiba diGedung KPK pukul 09.30 WIB pagi. Namun, dia juga tidak memberi komentar.
Pengacara Karen, Rudi Alfonso, juga menyatakan Karen tidak pernah memberi uang kepada Dewan Perwakilan Rakyat (DPR) seperti yang telah dituduhkan.
"Itu tidak benar sama sekali saya jamin, tidak ada pemberian dari pertamina ke DPR itu," ungkap Rusdi.
Editor : Dian sukmawati
From T Magazine: Street Litís Power Couple
THE WRITERS ASHLEY AND JAQUAVIS COLEMAN know the value of a good curtain-raiser. The couple have co-authored dozens of novels, and they like to start them with a bang: a headlong action sequence, a blast of violence or sex that rocks readers back on their heels. But the Colemans concede they would be hard-pressed to dream up anything more gripping than their own real-life opening scene.
In the summer of 2001, JaQuavis Coleman was a 16-year-old foster child in Flint, Mich., the former auto-manufacturing mecca that had devolved, in the wake of General Motors’ plant closures, into one of the country’s most dangerous cities, with a decimated economy and a violent crime rate more than three times the national average. When JaQuavis was 8, social services had removed him from his mother’s home. He spent years bouncing between foster families. At 16, JaQuavis was also a businessman: a crack dealer with a network of street-corner peddlers in his employ.
One day that summer, JaQuavis met a fellow dealer in a parking lot on Flint’s west side. He was there to make a bulk sale of a quarter-brick, or “nine-piece” — a nine-ounce parcel of cocaine, with a street value of about $11,000. In the middle of the transaction, JaQuavis heard the telltale chirp of a walkie-talkie. His customer, he now realized, was an undercover policeman. JaQuavis jumped into his car and spun out onto the road, with two unmarked police cars in pursuit. He didn’t want to get into a high-speed chase, so he whipped his car into a church parking lot and made a run for it, darting into an alleyway behind a row of small houses, where he tossed the quarter-brick into some bushes. When JaQuavis reached the small residential street on the other side of the houses, he was greeted by the police, who handcuffed him and went to search behind the houses where, they told him, they were certain he had ditched the drugs. JaQuavis had been dealing since he was 12, had amassed more than $100,000 and had never been arrested. Now, he thought: It’s over.
But when the police looked in the bushes, they couldn’t find any cocaine. They interrogated JaQuavis, who denied having ever possessed or sold drugs. They combed the backyard alley some more. After an hour of fruitless efforts, the police were forced to unlock the handcuffs and release their suspect.
JaQuavis was baffled by the turn of events until the next day, when he received a phone call. The previous afternoon, a 15-year-old girl had been sitting in her home on the west side of Flint when she heard sirens. She looked out of the window of her bedroom, and watched a young man throw a package in the bushes behind her house. She recognized him. He was a high school classmate — a handsome, charismatic boy whom she had admired from afar. The girl crept outside and grabbed the bundle, which she hid in her basement. “I have something that belongs to you,” Ashley Snell told JaQuavis Coleman when she reached him by phone. “You wanna come over here and pick it up?”
In the Colemans’ first novel, “Dirty Money” (2005), they told a version of this story. The outline was the same: the drug deal gone bad, the dope chucked in the bushes, the fateful phone call. To the extent that the authors took poetic license, it was to tone down the meet-cute improbability of the true-life events. In “Dirty Money,” the girl, Anari, and the crack dealer, Maurice, circle each other warily for a year or so before coupling up. But the facts of Ashley and JaQuavis’s romance outstripped pulp fiction. They fell in love more or less at first sight, moved into their own apartment while still in high school and were married in 2008. “We were together from the day we met,” Ashley says. “I don’t think we’ve spent more than a week apart in total over the past 14 years.”
That partnership turned out to be creative and entrepreneurial as well as romantic. Over the past decade, the Colemans have published nearly 50 books, sometimes as solo writers, sometimes under pseudonyms, but usually as collaborators with a byline that has become a trusted brand: “Ashley & JaQuavis.” They are marquee stars of urban fiction, or street lit, a genre whose inner-city settings and lurid mix of crime, sex and sensationalism have earned it comparisons to gangsta rap. The emergence of street lit is one of the big stories in recent American publishing, a juggernaut that has generated huge sales by catering to a readership — young, black and, for the most part, female — that historically has been ill-served by the book business. But the genre is also widely maligned. Street lit is subject to a kind of triple snobbery: scorned by literati who look down on genre fiction generally, ignored by a white publishing establishment that remains largely indifferent to black books and disparaged by African-American intellectuals for poor writing, coarse values and trafficking in racial stereotypes.
But if a certain kind of cultural prestige is shut off to the Colemans, they have reaped other rewards. They’ve built a large and loyal fan base, which gobbles up the new Ashley & JaQuavis titles that arrive every few months. Many of those books are sold at street-corner stands and other off-the-grid venues in African-American neighborhoods, a literary gray market that doesn’t register a blip on best-seller tallies. Yet the Colemans’ most popular series now regularly crack the trade fiction best-seller lists of The New York Times and Publishers Weekly. For years, the pair had no literary agent; they sold hundreds of thousands of books without banking a penny in royalties. Still, they have earned millions of dollars, almost exclusively from cash-for-manuscript deals negotiated directly with independent publishing houses. In short, though little known outside of the world of urban fiction, the Colemans are one of America’s most successful literary couples, a distinction they’ve achieved, they insist, because of their work’s gritty authenticity and their devotion to a primal literary virtue: the power of the ripping yarn.
“When you read our books, you’re gonna realize: ‘Ashley & JaQuavis are storytellers,’ ” says Ashley. “Our tales will get your heart pounding.”
THE COLEMANS’ HOME BASE — the cottage from which they operate their cottage industry — is a spacious four-bedroom house in a genteel suburb about 35 miles north of downtown Detroit. The house is plush, but when I visited this past winter, it was sparsely appointed. The couple had just recently moved in, and had only had time to fully furnish the bedroom of their 4-year-old son, Quaye.
In conversation, Ashley and JaQuavis exude both modesty and bravado: gratitude for their good fortune and bootstrappers’ pride in having made their own luck. They talk a lot about their time in the trenches, the years they spent as a drug dealer and “ride-or-die girl” tandem. In Flint they learned to “grind hard.” Writing, they say, is merely a more elevated kind of grind.
“Instead of hitting the block like we used to, we hit the laptops,” says Ashley. “I know what every word is worth. So while I’m writing, I’m like: ‘Okay, there’s a hundred dollars. There’s a thousand dollars. There’s five thousand dollars.’ ”
They maintain a rigorous regimen. They each try to write 5,000 words per day, five days a week. The writers stagger their shifts: JaQuavis goes to bed at 7 p.m. and wakes up early, around 3 or 4 in the morning, to work while his wife and child sleep. Ashley writes during the day, often in libraries or at Starbucks.
They divide the labor in other ways. Chapters are divvied up more or less equally, with tasks assigned according to individual strengths. (JaQuavis typically handles character development. Ashley loves writing murder scenes.) The results are stitched together, with no editorial interference from one author in the other’s text. The real work, they contend, is the brainstorming. The Colemans spend weeks mapping out their plot-driven books — long conversations that turn into elaborate diagrams on dry-erase boards. “JaQuavis and I are so close, it makes the process real easy,” says Ashley. “Sometimes when I’m thinking of something, a plot point, he’ll say it out loud, and I’m like: ‘Wait — did I say that?’ ”
Their collaboration developed by accident, and on the fly. Both were bookish teenagers. Ashley read lots of Judy Blume and John Grisham; JaQuavis liked Shakespeare, Richard Wright and “Atlas Shrugged.” (Their first official date was at a Borders bookstore, where Ashley bought “The Coldest Winter Ever,” the Sister Souljah novel often credited with kick-starting the contemporary street-lit movement.) In 2003, Ashley, then 17, was forced to terminate an ectopic pregnancy. She was bedridden for three weeks, and to provide distraction and boost her spirits, JaQuavis challenged his girlfriend to a writing contest. “She just wasn’t talking. She was laying in bed. I said, ‘You know what? I bet you I could write a better book than you.’ My wife is real competitive. So I said, ‘Yo, all right, $500 bet.’ And I saw her eyes spark, like, ‘What?! You can’t write no better book than me!’ So I wrote about three chapters. She wrote about three chapters. Two days later, we switched.”
The result, hammered out in a few days, would become “Dirty Money.” Two years later, when Ashley and JaQuavis were students at Ferris State University in Western Michigan, they sold the manuscript to Urban Books, a street-lit imprint founded by the best-selling author Carl Weber. At the time, JaQuavis was still making his living selling drugs. When Ashley got the phone call informing her that their book had been bought, she assumed they’d hit it big, and flushed more than $10,000 worth of cocaine down the toilet. Their advance was a mere $4,000.
Those advances would soon increase, eventually reaching five and six figures. The Colemans built their career, JaQuavis says, in a manner that made sense to him as a veteran dope peddler: by flooding the street with product. From the start, they were prolific, churning out books at a rate of four or five a year. Their novels made their way into stores; the now-defunct chain Waldenbooks, which had stores in urban areas typically bypassed by booksellers, was a major engine of the street-lit market. But Ashley and JaQuavis took advantage of distribution channels established by pioneering urban fiction authors such as Teri Woods and Vickie Stringer, and a network of street-corner tables, magazine stands, corner shops and bodegas. Like rappers who establish their bona fides with gray-market mixtapes, street-lit authors use this system to circumnavigate industry gatekeepers, bringing their work straight to the genre’s core readership. But urban fiction has other aficionados, in less likely places. “Our books are so popular in the prison system,” JaQuavis says. “We’re banned in certain penitentiaries. Inmates fight over the books — there are incidents, you know? I have loved ones in jail, and they’re like: ‘Yo, your books can’t come in here. It’s against the rules.’ ”
The appeal of the Colemans’ work is not hard to fathom. The books are formulaic and taut; they deliver the expected goods efficiently and exuberantly. The titles telegraph the contents: “Diary of a Street Diva,” “Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang,” “Murderville.” The novels serve up a stream of explicit sex and violence in a slangy, tangy, profane voice. In Ashley & JaQuavis’s books people don’t get killed: they get “popped,” “laid out,” get their “cap twisted back.” The smut is constant, with emphasis on the earthy, sticky, olfactory particulars. Romance novel clichés — shuddering orgasms, heroic carnal feats, superlative sexual skill sets — are rendered in the Colemans’ punchy patois.
Subtlety, in other words, isn’t Ashley & JaQuavis’s forte. But their books do have a grainy specificity. In “The Cartel” (2008), the first novel in the Colemans’ best-selling saga of a Miami drug syndicate, they catch the sights and smells of a crack workshop in a housing project: the nostril-stinging scent of cocaine and baking soda bubbling on stovetops; the teams of women, stripped naked except for hospital masks so they can’t pilfer the merchandise, “cutting up the cooked coke on the round wood table.” The subject matter is dark, but the Colemans’ tone is not quite noir. Even in the grimmest scenes, the mood is high-spirited, with the writers palpably relishing the lewd and gory details: the bodies writhing in boudoirs and crumpling under volleys of bullets, the geysers of blood and other bodily fluids.
The luridness of street lit has made it a flashpoint, inciting controversy reminiscent of the hip-hop culture wars of the 1980s and ’90s. But the street-lit debate touches deeper historical roots, reviving decades-old arguments in black literary circles about the mandate to uplift the race and present wholesome images of African-Americans. In 1928, W. E. B. Du Bois slammed the “licentiousness” of “Home to Harlem,” Claude McKay’s rollicking novel of Harlem nightlife. McKay’s book, Du Bois wrote, “for the most part nauseates me, and after the dirtier parts of its filth I feel distinctly like taking a bath.” Similar sentiments have greeted 21st-century street lit. In a 2006 New York Times Op-Ed essay, the journalist and author Nick Chiles decried “the sexualization and degradation of black fiction.” African-American bookstores, Chiles complained, are “overrun with novels that . . . appeal exclusively to our most prurient natures — as if these nasty books were pairing off back in the stockrooms like little paperback rabbits and churning out even more graphic offspring that make Ralph Ellison books cringe into a dusty corner.”
Copulating paperbacks aside, it’s clear that the street-lit debate is about more than literature, touching on questions of paternalism versus populism, and on middle-class anxieties about the black underclass. “It’s part and parcel of black elites’ efforts to define not only a literary tradition, but a racial politics,” said Kinohi Nishikawa, an assistant professor of English and African-American Studies at Princeton University. “There has always been a sense that because African-Americans’ opportunities to represent themselves are so limited in the first place, any hint of criminality or salaciousness would necessarily be a knock on the entire racial politics. One of the pressing debates about African-American literature today is: If we can’t include writers like Ashley & JaQuavis, to what extent is the foundation of our thinking about black literature faulty? Is it just a literature for elites? Or can it be inclusive, bringing urban fiction under the purview of our umbrella term ‘African-American literature’?”
Defenders of street lit note that the genre has a pedigree: a tradition of black pulp fiction that stretches from Chester Himes, the midcentury author of hardboiled Harlem detective stories, to the 1960s and ’70s “ghetto fiction” of Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines, to the current wave of urban fiction authors. Others argue for street lit as a social good, noting that it attracts a large audience that might otherwise never read at all. Scholars like Nishikawa link street lit to recent studies showing increased reading among African-Americans. A 2014 Pew Research Center report found that a greater percentage of black Americans are book readers than whites or Latinos.
For their part, the Colemans place their work in the broader black literary tradition. “You have Maya Angelou, Alice Walker, James Baldwin — all of these traditional black writers, who wrote about the struggles of racism, injustice, inequality,” says Ashley. “We’re writing about the struggle as it happens now. It’s just a different struggle. I’m telling my story. I’m telling the struggle of a black girl from Flint, Michigan, who grew up on welfare.”
Perhaps there is a high-minded case to be made for street lit. But the virtues of Ashley & JaQuavis’s work are more basic. Their novels do lack literary polish. The writing is not graceful; there are passages of clunky exposition and sex scenes that induce guffaws and eye rolls. But the pleasure quotient is high. The books flaunt a garish brand of feminism, with women characters cast not just as vixens, but also as gangsters — cold-blooded killers, “murder mamas.” The stories are exceptionally well-plotted. “The Cartel” opens by introducing its hero, the crime boss Carter Diamond; on page 9, a gunshot spatters Diamond’s brain across the interior of a police cruiser. The book then flashes back seven years and begins to hurtle forward again — a bullet train, whizzing readers through shifting alliances, romantic entanglements and betrayals, kidnappings, shootouts with Haitian and Dominican gangsters, and a cliffhanger closing scene that leaves the novel’s heroine tied to a chair in a basement, gruesomely tortured to the edge of death. Ashley & JaQuavis’s books are not Ralph Ellison, certainly, but they build up quite a head of steam. They move.
The Colemans are moving themselves these days. They recently signed a deal with St. Martin’s Press, which will bring out the next installment in the “Cartel” series as well as new solo series by both writers. The St. Martin’s deal is both lucrative and legitimizing — a validation of Ashley and JaQuavis’s work by one of publishing’s most venerable houses. The Colemans’ ambitions have grown, as well. A recent trilogy, “Murderville,” tackles human trafficking and the blood-diamond industry in West Africa, with storylines that sweep from Sierra Leone to Mexico to Los Angeles. Increasingly, Ashley & JaQuavis are leaning on research — traveling to far-flung settings and hitting the books in the libraries — and spending less time mining their own rough-and-tumble past.
But Flint remains a source of inspiration. One evening not long ago, JaQuavis led me on a tour of his hometown: a popular roadside bar; the parking lot where he met the undercover cop for the ill-fated drug deal; Ashley’s old house, the site of his almost-arrest. He took me to a ramshackle vehicle repair shop on Flint’s west side, where he worked as a kid, washing cars. He showed me a bathroom at the rear of the garage, where, at age 12, he sneaked away to inspect the first “boulder” of crack that he ever sold. A spray-painted sign on the garage wall, which JaQuavis remembered from his time at the car wash, offered words of warning:
WHAT EVERY YOUNG MAN SHOULD KNOW
ABOUT USING A GUN:
MURDER . . . 30 Years
ARMED ROBBERY . . . 15 Years
ASSAULT . . . 15 Years
RAPE . . . 20 Years
POSSESSION . . . 5 Years
JACKING . . . 20 YEARS
“We still love Flint, Michigan,” JaQuavis says. “It’s so seedy, so treacherous. But there’s some heart in this city. This is where it all started, selling books out the box. In the days when we would get those little $40,000 advances, they’d send us a couple boxes of books for free. We would hit the streets to sell our books, right out of the car trunk. It was a hustle. It still is.”
One old neighborhood asset that the Colemans have not shaken off is swagger. “My wife is the best female writer in the game,” JaQuavis told me. “I believe I’m the best male writer in the game. I’m sleeping next to the best writer in the world. And she’s doing the same.”
Police Rethink Long Tradition on Using Force
WASHINGTON — During a training course on defending against knife attacks, a young Salt Lake City police officer asked a question: “How close can somebody get to me before I’m justified in using deadly force?”
Dennis Tueller, the instructor in that class more than three decades ago, decided to find out. In the fall of 1982, he performed a rudimentary series of tests and concluded that an armed attacker who bolted toward an officer could clear 21 feet in the time it took most officers to draw, aim and fire their weapon.
The next spring, Mr. Tueller published his findings in SWAT magazine and transformed police training in the United States. The “21-foot rule” became dogma. It has been taught in police academies around the country, accepted by courts and cited by officers to justify countless shootings, including recent episodes involving a homeless woodcarver in Seattle and a schizophrenic woman in San Francisco.
Now, amid the largest national debate over policing since the 1991 beating of Rodney King in Los Angeles, a small but vocal set of law enforcement officials are calling for a rethinking of the 21-foot rule and other axioms that have emphasized how to use force, not how to avoid it. Several big-city police departments are already re-examining when officers should chase people or draw their guns and when they should back away, wait or try to defuse the situation