Post or POST may refer to:
Daniel Cormier (born March 20, 1979) is an American mixed martial artist and a former Olympic wrestler. He is currently signed to Strikeforce, fighting in the heavyweight division. Cormier is ranked #4 in the heavyweight division by Fight Matrix.
Cormier is the son of Joseph and Audrey Cormier. He has an older brother named Joseph and a sister named Felicia. When Cormier was seven, his father was shot and killed on Thanksgiving Day in 1986 by the father of his second wife.
He was a three-time Louisiana wrestling state champion in high school and high school All-American. In high school, Northside High School, he suffered only two losses after his freshman year, both coming in injury defaults. He had a 101–9 record during his high school career and was also an All-State performer in football. After high school he attended Colby Community College where he was a two-time junior college national champion. After Colby he transferred to wrestling powerhouse Oklahoma State University where he was an NCAA runner-up, losing to Cael Sanderson in the finals.
Adam Smith (baptised 16 June 1723 – 17 July 1790 [OS: 5 June 1723 – 17 July 1790]) was a Scottish social philosopher and a pioneer of political economy. One of the key figures of the Scottish Enlightenment, Smith is the author of The Principles Which Lead and Direct Philosophical Enquiries, Illustrated by the History of Astronomy, prior to 1758, The Theory of Moral Sentiments, 1759, and An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, 1776. The latter, usually abbreviated as The Wealth of Nations, is considered his magnum opus and the first modern work of economics. It earned him an enormous reputation and would become one of the most influential works ever published. Smith is widely cited as the father of modern economics and capitalism and is still among the most influential thinkers in the field of economics today. In 2009, Smith was named among the 'Greatest Scots' of all time, in a vote run by Scottish television channel STV.
Smith studied social philosophy at the University of Glasgow and at Balliol College in the University of Oxford, where he was one of the first students to benefit from scholarships set up by his fellow Glaswegian John Snell. After graduating, he delivered a successful series of public lectures at Edinburgh, leading him to collaborate with David Hume during the Scottish Enlightenment. Smith obtained a professorship at Glasgow teaching moral philosophy, and during this time he wrote and published The Theory of Moral Sentiments. In his later life, he took a tutoring position that allowed him to travel throughout Europe, where he met other intellectual leaders of his day. Smith then returned home and spent the next ten years writing The Wealth of Nations, publishing it in 1776. He died in 1790 at the age of 67.
Plot
MOONFLOWER is the story of Scott (Anthony Misiano), a hopeless romantic with a broken heart at a crossroads in his life. Unsure of his every move, Scott is thrown into an unfamiliar world, and launched head first on a quirky, sometimes surreal adventure. Filled with preposterous pirates, malicious masked meddlers, and an articulate bigfoot with a penchant for English tea. Featuring stand out performances by Charles Peters and Mandy Dollar, MOONFLOWER is sure to thrill and delight, amuse and inspire, and most definitely entertain any who dare to dive in.
Edward IV: Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell, sour annoy; For here I hope begins our lasting joy!
Richard, Duke of Gloucester: [Referring to Edward IV] Would he were wasted: marrow, bones and all; That from his loins no hopeful branch might spring To cross me from the golden time I look for.
Earl of Warwick: Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.
Earl of Warwick: I had rather chop this hand off at a blow and with the other, fling it at thy face, than bear so low a sail as to strike to thee.
Earl of Warwick: For what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? Live we how we can, yet die we must.
Plot
Remy Marco, Prohibition beer baron, figures he'll do even better after repeal. Only trouble is, his beer tastes terrible. (He drinks no beer himself and nobody dares tell him). Four years later, when he's about bankrupt, he visits his summer home in Saratoga, complete with: 1) a dead-end-kid orphan; 2) his daughter's fiance...a state trooper!, 3) the bodies of four gangsters who planned to ambush Remy but had a shootout; 4) half a million in loot they hid in the house...just the amount Remy needs to get out of hock. The comic confusion mounts...
Keywords: banker, based-on-play, beer, brewery, celebration, chauffeur, corpse, crap-game, debt, engagement
High finance teaches a racketeer new tactics !
Remy Marco: Sure, I'm legit. I'm in favor of law and order. But you don't have to have it right in your own house, do you?
Nora Marco: Why isn't he in B-E-D?::Douglas Fairbanks Rosenbloom: Because I want more to E-A-T, you old C-O-W.
Remy Marco: But first I want you to meet some of the folks and have a little fun, you know. They're old friends of mine... great people!::Mr. Whitewood: I've met some of them already.::Remy Marco: Yeah?::Mr. Whitewood: Some rather whimsical ones.::Remy Marco: Who? Oh... , the only one who sings here is the singer. Never studied a note in his life.::Mr. Whitewood: Yes, I can hear that.
Remy Marco: Come on in, honey, into the music room.::Nora Marco: Music room? Up to now this has always been the slot machine room.::Remy Marco: Well, that's all going to be changing now. We got to start putting on plenty of class. Oh, and by the way, have Mike take the spittoons out of the living room.
Remy Marco: Hey, what's this? "Dear Boss, We've taken a half hour off. Mike." You know, I'm getting a little discouraged about Mike.::Nora Marco: You ought to. After all you've done for him and give him.::Remy Marco: Oh no, it ain't that. It's just that I can't learn him how to spell. Look at the way he spells 'token', with two o's.
Nora Marco: It's that grab bag of yours again, Remy.::Remy Marco: Say he hadn't walked around in his bare feet.::Nora Marco: I think we should go up and slip him a Mickey Finn.::Remy Marco: Uh, uh. He's liable to create a taste for them. Marco will talk to him. You go up the front stairs and I'll go up the back.
Lefty: [Helping carry out four dead bodies] That's just the kind of a dirty trick those guys would pull, leaving themselves in that kind of shape around your house.::Remy Marco: Yeah, you know, that Little Dutch never had no consideration for other people's feelings.
Eyed it, dried it, untied it
Chilled it, spilled it, refilled it
Taste it, traced it, erased it
He's my post to lean on
And I just cut him down
So I'm out to land on somethin'
Hopefully a boy will come to me at the ground
Eyed it, dried it, untied it
Chilled it, spilled it, refilled it
Taste it, trace it, erased it
He's my post to lean on
And I just cut him down
So I'm out to land on somethin'
Hopefully a boy will come to me at the ground
He's my post to lean on
And I just cut him down
So I'm out to land on somethin'
in a forrest pitch-dark
glowed the tiniest spark
it burst into flame
like me
like me
my name isobel
married to myself
my love isobel
living by herself
in a heart full of dust
lives a creature called lust
it surprises and scares
like me
like me
my name isobel
married to myself
my love isobel
living by herself
when she does it she means to
moth delivers her message
unexplaind on your collar
crawling in silence
a simple excuse
nana na nana
nana na nana
in a tower of steel
nature forges a deal
to raise wonderful hell
like me
like me
my name isobel
married to myself
my love isobel
living by herself
when she does it she means to
moth delivers her message
unexplaind on your collar
crawling in silence
a simple excuse
nana na nana
nana na nana
nana na nana
nana na nana
Waking up so late
I 'll have a shower and shave
So many little tastes I crave
The day can wait
The pleasure of such things
The treasure of manlike dreams
Unbearable to live
Unthinkable to kill
A place without you
Waking up late
Black coffee and cake
it's a terrible fate
When nothing to wait
The pleasure of such things
The treasure of manlike dreams
Unbearable to live
Unless is time to kill
These moments without you
Waking up so late
I 'll have a shower and shave
So many little tastes I crave
A day to waste
The pleasure of such things
The treasure of manlike dreams
Unbearable to live
Unthinkable to kill