Tag : umroh aman akhir desember 2015
Travel umroh murah jakarta Alhijaz Indowisata menyediakan Umroh dengan biaya yang murah di tahun 201. Travel Umroh Alhijaz Indowisata: Biaya Paket Umroh 2015
Temukan lebih dari 5.000 paket umroh murah dari 160 travel umroh resmi di seluruh indonesia. Harga hemat, pasti berangkat. Biaya umroh mulai 16 jutaan, Paket Umroh Murah dari Seluruh Travel Umroh di Indonesia
Biro Tour Travel Umroh Haji Jakarta Menerima Pendaftaran Dengan Harga Paket Umroh Murah Promo 2015 Hemat Ekonomis Hanya $1550 Buruan Daftar. harga paket umroh murah promo 2015 travel umroh haji
Temukan lebih dari 5.000 paket umroh murah dari 160 travel umroh resmi di seluruh indonesia. Harga hemat, pasti berangkat. Biaya umroh mulai 16 jutaan, Paket Umroh Murah dari Seluruh Travel Umroh di Indonesia
Biro travel umroh murah 2015, Melayani pemberangkatan umroh murah 2016 dengan paket umroh murah 2015, 2016 pasti hemat ke tanah suci agen resmi. Travel Umroh Murah 2015 / 2016 Paket Umroh Murah Dan
Paket Umroh Murah 2015 untuk awal tahun telah dikeluarkan secara resmi oleh travel umroh Jakarta AFI Tour. Biaya umroh mulai dari USD 1950. Umroh Murah 2015 | Biaya Umroh | Travel Umroh Terpercaya
Jika memang berjodoh, ayahanda Bella Shofie, Hamzah Nasution, tidak hanya menganggap Adjie Pangestu sebagai menantu. Tapi akan menerimanya sebagai anaknya sendiri, sekaligus teman yang bisa diajak sharing.
"Kalau saya sih lihatnya bukan menantu. Kalau jodoh anak saya, ya saya anggap seperti anak sendiri, jadi teman sharing," kata Hamzah Nasution ketika dijumpai di Kawasan Ancol, Jakarta Utara, Minggu (2/6) malam.
Meski sudah diterima secara terbuka, bukan berarti dalam waktu dekat Bella akan melanjutkan hubungannya dengan Adjie ke pelaminan. Mereka masih akan melanjutkan beberapa agenda yang harus diselesaikan. "Kalau untuk nikah, nanti dulu ya tapi kalau sudah jodoh mau dibilang apa," tegas Hamzah.
Hal senada juga terlontar oleh Bella. Saat ini masih ingin menikmati perjalanan hubungannya, tapi dia tidak dapat menolak jika Tuhan berkehendak lain. "Kita nggak bisa nolak jodoh juga, kalau memang jodohnya dekat mau gimana lagi. Kalau sekarang sih jalanin saja dulu. Pengenalan juga dan saling support," pungkas Bella. (kpl/aha/dis/dar)
sumber : saco-indonesia
devan.> Adjie Pangestu Dianggap anak sendiri Oleh Ayah Bella Shofie
Bagaimana sih memilih jaket kulit yang baik kualitasnya ?
Pertanyaan ini menduduki peringkat pertama yang ditanyakan oleh pelanggan kami .
1. Pastikan anda membeli jaket kulit produk garut (Asli Garut), karena produk jaket kulit dari Garut adalah produk No.1 Se-Asia
2. Hati-hati dengan penipuan yang mengatas namakan Jaket Kulit Asli Garut
3. Pastikan Jaket kulit tidak terlalu tebal, gunakan standart ketebalan para pengrajin Jaket Kulit garut , beberapa pengrajin jaket kulit yang nakal biasanya memberikan cat yang cukup tebal untuk menutupi permukaan jaket yang rusak , kalau sepintas orang awam melihatnya barang bagus tetapi lama kelamaan kualitas kulit akan kelihatan,
4,Perbedaan jaket kulit Domba, Jaket Kulit Sapi, Jaket Kulit dari kulit Kambing
hati-hati bagi para pembeli jangan sampai tidak mengetahui mana jaket kulit Domba Asli dengan jaket Kulit dengan bahan bukan domba Asli Garut, Di jaman modern saat ini apasih yang tidak bisa ditiru, kemajuan teknologi membuat orang semakin berfikir untuk menjiplak sebuah produk seperti layaknya produk asli . salah satu contoh apa sih bedanya Jaket Kulit Domba, Jaket Kulit Sapi, Jaket Kulit dari Kambing. Kalu orang awam kemungkinan 80 % tidak mengetahui mana Produk asli Jaket Kulit Domba dan Produk Palsu , maka jangan heran kalau ada orang yang menawarkan jaket kulit dengan harga 300 ribu sampai 350 ribu , Aslikah ? atau palsu ? Mungkin bisa asli dari kulit, tetapi dengan bahan bukan dari bahan baku Domba ( Jaket kulit dari bahan baku kulit domba merupakan Produk unggulan dan No.1 dikelasnya ) Mungkin Palsu ? bisa jadi kulit yang anda beli jaket kulit Imitasi , untuk itu silahkan untuk melakukan uji Coba keasliannya dengan cara memberikan api kecil kepermukaan jaket anda , tapi jangan pakai api yang ada dikompor gas ya he..he .Kalau ternyata jaket tahan api berarti jaket asli dari bahan Kulit .
Ups tapi nanti dulu bahannya dari kulit apa dulu kok bisa murah sih ?
Untuk pertanyaan itu akan kami jelaskan sebagai berikut :
1. Jaket Kulit Domba dengan ciri-ciri sebagai berikut
a) Warna terang
c) Apabila jaket dipakai tidak membuat anda kaku ( terasa nyaman )
d) Pori-pori kecil seperti halnya pori-pori kita ( untuk mengeceknya silahkan tarik jaket kulit anda denga 2 tangan ) pasti pori-porinya kecil kan ….!!!!
f) Bila sudah menjadi Jaket kulit , jaketnya biasanya tidak banyak sambungan , karena Domba Garut mempunyai ukuran yang besar disbanding kambing .
g) Cocok sekali dibuat Jas kulit
> TIP MEMILIH JAKET KULIT YANG BAIK
Salah satu tempat di kawasan banten yang paling asik untuk di kunjungi adalah gunung krakatau. Siapa yang tidak kenal dengan gunung satu ini ? Rasanya tidak ada, karena memang gunung krakatau selengkapnya> GUNUNG KRAKATAU
kami adalah perusahaan yang mempunyai hukum tetap yang setelah sukses dan besar pada Divisi Konstruksi dan Perdagangan Umum yang berkantor di Jakarta Barat, kini dengan pengembangan sayapnya perusahaan kami resmi membuka line Divisi Transportasi. Suatu Divisi yang telah melayani Jasa di Bidang Pengiriman Barang dan Kendaraan yang berkantor di lokasi strategis Jakarta Barat. Adapun Job Description dari Divisi Transportasi kami adalah sebagai berikut :
kirim Mobil ke berbagai wilayah Indonesia.
Sewa armada Truck untuk pengangkutan barang ke berbagai wilayah Indonesia (Colt Diesel, Fuso, Fuso Box, Wing Box, Flat Deck / Lossbak, Tronton, Container, Lowbed).
Pengangkutan barang – barang pindahan Rumah, Kantor, atau Pabrik
Handling Container / Penerusan Container ke tujuan (to door) untuk wilayah JABODETABEKSER.
Pengiriman Paket ke beberapa Wilayah Indonesia baik melalui Darat, Laut, dan Udara.
Adapun nilai lebih pelayanan yang akan kami berikan adalah;
Pilihan Pelayanan yaitu ; door to door, door to port, port to port, & port to door
Kantor Rekanan kami di beberapa kota wilayah Indonesia, dan beberapa negara
Garansi keamanan dan Kondisi barang sampai di tempat
Armada pendukung dengan berbagai kapasitas angkut yg telah kami siapkan
Kerjasama kami dengan pihak TNI / ABRI untuk pengawalan armada sebagai tindakan pengamanan.
Kerjasama dengan Pihak Asuransi Cargo.
> JASA PENGIRIMAN PAKET KIRIM MOBIL MOTOR EKSPEDISI TRUCKING CONTAINER PINDAHAN PACKING MOVING
LISt Harga Bahan Bangunan 2013
Pasir Putih bangka / m3 : Rp. 265.000
Pasir Putih Bangka / pick up : Rp. 600.000
Pasir Putih Bangka / truk : Rp. 1.550.000
Pasir Mundu (per m3) : Rp. 250.000
Pasir Cileungsi / m3 : Rp. 200.000
Split / pick up : Rp. 265.000
Batako Semen Besar / buah : Rp. 2.500
Batu Bata Merah ( biasa )/ buah : Rp. 500
Batu Bata Merah ( oven ) / buah : Rp. 650
Batu Kali Belah / m3 : Rp. 185.000
Batu Knecker / m3 : Rp. 200.000
Batu Candi ( 30 x 30 ) / m2 : Rp. 150.000
Batu Andesit ( 30 x 30 ) / m2 : Rp. 180.000
Batu Pancawarna / 25 kg : Rp. 75.000
Batu Bali / 10 kg : Rp. 70.000
Semen Holcim ( 40 kg ) : Rp. 65.000
Semen Holcim ( 50 kg ) : Rp. 75.000
Semen Tiga Roda ( 50 kg ) : Rp. 70.000
Semen Padang ( 50 kg ) : Rp. 65.000
MU – 100 Plester Premium ( 40 kg ) : Rp. 65.000
MU – 200 Acian Plester & Beton ( 5 kg ) : Rp. 25.000
MU – 301 Pasangan Bata + Plester ( 10 kg ) : Rp. 25.000
MU – 450 Perekat Keramik Lantai ( 5 kg ) : Rp. 35.000
MU – Finish Coat Repair ( 25 kg ) : Rp. 335.000
Selain info bahan bangunan 2013, silahkat lihat homepage kami untuk tips dan informasi renovasi rumah
Blok Reguler Tebal 10 mm (per m3) : Rp 610.000
Blok Jumbo (per m3) : Rp 580.000
Anak Tangga (per m3) : Rp 2.300.000
Panel (per m3) : Rp 320.000
Diameter 6mm/batang : Rp 23.500
Diameter 8mm / batang : Rp 35.000 (TYS ), Rp. 38.000 ( HJ ), Rp. 25.500 ( SP )
Diameter 10mm/batang : Rp. 53.000 ( TYS ), Rp. 52.000 ( HJ ), Rp. 48.000 ( SP )
Diameter 12mm /batang : Rp. 80.000 ( HJ ), Rp. 77.000 ( TYS )
Diameter 16mm (12m) : Rp 145.000
Besi Hollow ( 20 x 40 ) : Rp. 18.000
Besi Hollow ( 40 x 40 ) : Rp. 24.000
Seng Gelombang ( 182 x 91 x 0.2 ) : Rp. 36.000
Plat Alumunium ( 2 x 1 x 0.2 tebal ) : Rp. 35.000
Plat alumunium / meter : Rp. 20.000
Paku kayu uk. 2 cm / kg : Rp. 18.000
Paku Kayu uk. 2.5 cm / kg : Rp. 17.000
Paku Kayu uk. 3 cm / kg : Rp. 16.000
Paku Kayu uk. 4 cm / kg : Rp. 15.000
Paku Kayu uk. 5 cm / kg : Rp. 14.000
Paku Kayu uk. 7 cm / kg : Rp. 14.000
Paku Kayu uk. 10 cm / kg : Rp. 14.000
Tebal 3mm : Rp 40.000
Tebal 4mm : Rp 50.000
Tebal 6mm : Rp 65.000
Tebal 9mm : Rp 100.000
Tebal 12mm : Rp 135.000
Tebal 15mm : Rp 175.000
Tebal 18mm : Rp 195.000
GRC BOARD : Rp. 50.000
PAKU BETON PUTIH
Ukuran 2.5 cm / kg : Rp. 34.000
Ukuran 3 cm / kg : Rp. 34.000
Ukuran 4 cm / kg : Rp. 34.000
Ukuran 5 cm / kg : Rp. 34.000
Ukuran 6 cm / kg : Rp. 32.000
Ukuran 7 cm / kg : Rp. 32.000
Ukuran 10 cm / kg : Rp. 32.000
Ukuran 12.5 cm / kg : Rp. 32.000
PAKU BETON HITAM
Ukuran 3 cm / kg : Rp. 17.500
Ukuran 5 cm / kg : Rp. 16.000
Ukuran 7 cm / kg : Rp. 14.000
Selain info bahan bangunan 2013, silahkat lihat homepage kami untuk tips dan informasi renovasi rumah
A. Kaca Bening
Tebal 3 mm : Rp 80.000
Tebal 5 mm : Rp 87.500
Tebal 8 mm : Rp 140.000
Tebal 10 mm : Rp 200.000
B. Kaca Rayben
Tebal 3 mm : Rp 65.000
Tebal 5 mm : Rp 62.500
Tebal 6 mm : Rp 125.000
Tebal 8 mm : Rp 220.000
C. Kaca Tempered
Kaca Clear tempered 5 mm ( m2 ) : Rp. 200.000
Kaca Clear tempered 6 mm ( m2 ) : Rp. 250.500
Kaca Clear tempered 8 mm ( m2 ) : Rp. 375.000
Kaca Clear tempered 10 mm ( m2 ) : Rp. 400.000
Kaca Clear tempered 12 mm ( m2 ) : Rp. 450.000
Kaca Clear tempered 15 mm ( m2 ) : Rp. 1.950.000
Kaca Clear tempered 19 mm ( m2 ) : rp. 2.450.000
PAPAN FIBER SEMEN / TRIPLEK
GRC / Versaboard 4.0 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) /lembar : Rp. 53.500
GRC / Versaboard 6.0 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 )/lembar : Rp. 93.500
GRC / Versaboard 9.0 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) /lembar : rp. 129.000
Tebal 3 mm / lembar : Rp. 42.000
Tebal 4 mm / lembar : Rp. 53.000
Tebal 6 mm / lembar : Rp. 95.000
Tebal 9 mm / lembar : Rp. 110.000
Tebal 12 mm / lembar : Rp. 150.000
Tebal 15 mm / lembar : Rp. 190.000
Tebal 18 mm / lembar : Rp. 235.000
Jayaboard 9 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) / lembar : Rp. 57.000
Elephant 9 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) / lembar : Rp. 56.000
Knauf 9 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) / lembar : Rp. 53.500
Star 9 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) / lembar : Rp. 53.000
Aplus 9 mm ( 1.20 x 2.40 ) / lembar : Rp. 52.500
Meranti (2×3) per batang : Rp 15.000
Meranti (3×4) per batang : Rp 17.500
Borneo (2×3) per batang : Rp 20.500
Borneo (3×4) per batang : Rp 22.000
Kamper (2×3) per batang : Rp 17.000
Kamper (3×4) per batang : Rp 20.500
Meranti (4×6) per batang Rp 32.500
Meranti (5×7) per batang Rp 39.000
Borneo (4×6) per batang Rp 28.000
Borneo (5×7) per batang Rp 43.000
Kamper (4×6) per batang Rp 50.000
Kamper (5×7) per batang Rp 70.000
Meranti (5×10) per batang Rp 60.000
Borneo (5×10) per batang Rp 60.000
Kamper (5×10) per batang Rp 95.000
Meranti (6×12) per batang Rp 80.000
Meranti (8×12) per batang Rp 125.000
Borneo (6×12) per batang Rp 80.000
Borneo (8×12) per batang Rp 100.000
Kamper (6×12) per batang Rp 185.000
Kamper (8×12) per batang Rp 210.000
Selain info bahan bangunan 2013, silahkat lihat homepage kami untuk tips dan informasi renovasi rumah
Dulux Pearl Glo (2,5 lt ) Rp. 180.000
Dulux Pentalite Standard Colour ( 2,5 lt ) Rp. 137.000
Dulux Weather Shield Exterior/Brilliant white ( 2,5 lt ) Rp. 215.000
Dulux (2,5 lt) Rp 117.500
Dulux (20 lt) Rp 850.000
Mowilex ( 1 lt ) Rp. 60.000
Mowilex (2,5 lt) Rp 130.000
Mowilex (20 lt) Rp. 915.000
Catylac (5 kg) Rp 93.500
Catylac (25 kg) Rp 355.000
Avitex ( 5 kg ) Rp. 73.500
Vinilex (5 kg) Rp 75.000
Vinilex (25 kg) Rp 445.000
Metrolite ( 1 kg ) Rp. 24.000
Metrolite (3 lt) Rp 78.000
Metrolite ( 16 ltr / pail) Rp 380.000
Matex ( 4kg) Rp 60.000
Matex (25 kg) Rp 295.000
Profitex (5 kg) Rp 26.500
Profitex (25 kg) Rp 120.000
Dulux (2,5 lt) Rp 187.500
Dulux (20 lt) Rp 1.285.000
Mowilex (2,5 lt) Rp 160.000
Mowilex (20 lt) Rp 1.250.000
Dulux 1 kg Rp 35.000
Mowilex 1 kg Rp 60.000
Catylac 1 kg Rp 35.000
Glotex 1 kg Rp 35.000
Emco 1 kg Rp 35.000
Globe Supergloss Rp 43.000
Kanmuri Milenio (Double Interlocking)
- Warna Natural Rp 5.700
- Warna Standard Rp 6.500
- Warna Spesial Rp 8.500
- Warna Exclusive Rp 11.500
- Warna Natural Rp 5.500
- Warna Standard Rp 8.700
- Warna Spesial Rp 9.700
- Warna Exclusive Rp 10.500
M Class (Double Interlocking)
- Warna Natural Rp 5.500
- Warna Standard Rp 6.000
- Warna Spesial Rp 8.000
- Warna Premium Rp 11.000
- Genteng Knok Natural Rp 15.000
- Morando Rp. 3.750,-/pc (20pcs/m2)
- Berglazur Rp 3.500,-
- Natural Rp 2.000
- Moner Rp 5.350,- (9pcs/m2)
- Berglazur Rp 2.650/pc
- Natural Rp 1.750/pc
Sun Roof Venus
Ukuran 38,5 x 80 cm S/S Rp 23.000
Ukuran 38,5 x 80 cm D/S Rp 27.500
Sun Roof Pluto
Ukuran 38,5 x 80 cm S/S Rp 17.500
Ukuran 38,5 x 80 cm D/S Rp 20.000
150×105 (per lembar gelombang kecil) Rp 40.000
180×105 (per lembar gelombang kecil) Rp 45.000
210×105 (per lembar gelombang kecil) Rp 50.000
240×105 (per lembar gelombang kecil) Rp 55.500
270×105 (per lembar gelombang kecil) Rp 65.000
300×105 (per lembar gelombang kecil) Rp 75.000
Tebal 0.20 Rp 27.500
Tebal 0.25 Rp 37.500
Tebal 0.30 Rp 42.500
Tebal 0.20 Rp 49.000
Tebal 0.30 Rp 59.000
- Wavin 0,5 inci Rp 17.500
0,75 inci Rp 22.000
1 inci Rp 30.000
2 inci Rp 65.000
3 inci Rp 120.000
4 inci Rp 200.000
- Rucika 0,5 inci Rp 25.000
1 inci Rp 45.000
2 inci Rp 52.500
4 inci Rp 168.000
8 inci Rp 635.000
0,5 inci Rp 8.500
0,75 inci Rp 13.000
1 inci Rp 15.000
2 inci Rp 33.000
3 inci Rp 64.000
4 inci Rp 103.000
0,5 inci Rp 8.500
0,75 inci Rp 11.000
1 inci Rp 15.000
2 inci Rp 27.000
3 inci Rp 40.000
4 inci Rp 55.000
0,5 inci Rp 13.500
0,75 inci Rp 16.500
1 inci Rp 21.500
2 inci Rp 51.500
3 inci Rp 100.000
4 inci Rp 150.000
Tua Rp 35.000
Muda Rp 34.000
Putih Rp 30.000
Marble Rp 32.000
Fancy Rp 37.500
Putih Rp 30.000
Marble Rp 33.000
Kronotec (per meter) Rp 225.000
HDM Glossy (per boks) Rp 550.000
(putih) Rp 50.000
(motif) Rp 55.000
(putih) Rp 40.000
(motif) Rp 50.000
(putih) Rp 37.500
(motif) Rp 42.500
(warna muda) Rp 45.000
(warna tua) Rp 50.000
(warna muda) Rp 42.500
(warna tua) Rp 52.500
25×33 Roman Rp 50.000
33×50 Roman Rp 80.000
30×30 Hercules (putih) Rp 42.500
Acura (putih) Rp 35.000
KIG (warna) Rp 40.000
KIA (warna) Rp 40.000
60 x 60 Platinum Rp 125.000
30 x 60 Platinum Rp 75.000
58 x 58 Platinum Rp 110.000
Sanremo Classis CCST Rp 1.325.000
Lexington Rp 3.500.000
Granada 3000 CCST Rp 1.275.000
Granada II Space CCST Rp 1.500.000
Projecta Rp 1.000.000
Rapi EX Squat Rp 250.000
San Remo 55 Lava & Pedestal Rp 650.000
Studio 3000 Lava & Pedestal Rp 475.000
Studio 50 Lavatory Rp 250.000
Studio 45 Lavatory Rp 200.000
Impero 40×40 Rp 125.000
Granito 40×40 Rp 210.000
Inesa 40×40 Rp 175.000
Niro 40×40 Rp 160.000
Essenza 40×40 Rp 175.000
Firo Rp 275.000
Napoli Rp 30.000
Romaco Rp 65.000
Ferza Rp 33.500
Top Rp 30.000
Paloma Rp 420.000
Yale Rp 125.000
Beluci Rp 130.000
Note : Kami tidak menjual bahan bangunan diatas, Daftar Harga Bangunan yang kami masukkan dalam blog ini sifatnya sebagai Info dan acuan untuk membantu membuat anggaran atau estimasi dalam membangun dan merenovasi rumah. Koreksi mengenai perubahan /perbedaan harga dari teman-teman akan sangat kami hargai.......> LIST BAHAN BANGUNAN
Imagine an elite professional services firm with a high-performing, workaholic culture. Everyone is expected to turn on a dime to serve a client, travel at a moment’s notice, and be available pretty much every evening and weekend. It can make for a grueling work life, but at the highest levels of accounting, law, investment banking and consulting firms, it is just the way things are.
Except for one dirty little secret: Some of the people ostensibly turning in those 80- or 90-hour workweeks, particularly men, may just be faking it.
Many of them were, at least, at one elite consulting firm studied by Erin Reid, a professor at Boston University’s Questrom School of Business. It’s impossible to know if what she learned at that unidentified consulting firm applies across the world of work more broadly. But her research, published in the academic journal Organization Science, offers a way to understand how the professional world differs between men and women, and some of the ways a hard-charging culture that emphasizes long hours above all can make some companies worse off.
Ms. Reid interviewed more than 100 people in the American offices of a global consulting firm and had access to performance reviews and internal human resources documents. At the firm there was a strong culture around long hours and responding to clients promptly.
“When the client needs me to be somewhere, I just have to be there,” said one of the consultants Ms. Reid interviewed. “And if you can’t be there, it’s probably because you’ve got another client meeting at the same time. You know it’s tough to say I can’t be there because my son had a Cub Scout meeting.”
Some people fully embraced this culture and put in the long hours, and they tended to be top performers. Others openly pushed back against it, insisting upon lighter and more flexible work hours, or less travel; they were punished in their performance reviews.
The third group is most interesting. Some 31 percent of the men and 11 percent of the women whose records Ms. Reid examined managed to achieve the benefits of a more moderate work schedule without explicitly asking for it.
They made an effort to line up clients who were local, reducing the need for travel. When they skipped work to spend time with their children or spouse, they didn’t call attention to it. One team on which several members had small children agreed among themselves to cover for one another so that everyone could have more flexible hours.
A male junior manager described working to have repeat consulting engagements with a company near enough to his home that he could take care of it with day trips. “I try to head out by 5, get home at 5:30, have dinner, play with my daughter,” he said, adding that he generally kept weekend work down to two hours of catching up on email.
Despite the limited hours, he said: “I know what clients are expecting. So I deliver above that.” He received a high performance review and a promotion.
What is fascinating about the firm Ms. Reid studied is that these people, who in her terminology were “passing” as workaholics, received performance reviews that were as strong as their hyper-ambitious colleagues. For people who were good at faking it, there was no real damage done by their lighter workloads.
It calls to mind the episode of “Seinfeld” in which George Costanza leaves his car in the parking lot at Yankee Stadium, where he works, and gets a promotion because his boss sees the car and thinks he is getting to work earlier and staying later than anyone else. (The strategy goes awry for him, and is not recommended for any aspiring partners in a consulting firm.)
A second finding is that women, particularly those with young children, were much more likely to request greater flexibility through more formal means, such as returning from maternity leave with an explicitly reduced schedule. Men who requested a paternity leave seemed to be punished come review time, and so may have felt more need to take time to spend with their families through those unofficial methods.
The result of this is easy to see: Those specifically requesting a lighter workload, who were disproportionately women, suffered in their performance reviews; those who took a lighter workload more discreetly didn’t suffer. The maxim of “ask forgiveness, not permission” seemed to apply.
It would be dangerous to extrapolate too much from a study at one firm, but Ms. Reid said in an interview that since publishing a summary of her research in Harvard Business Review she has heard from people in a variety of industries describing the same dynamic.
High-octane professional service firms are that way for a reason, and no one would doubt that insane hours and lots of travel can be necessary if you’re a lawyer on the verge of a big trial, an accountant right before tax day or an investment banker advising on a huge merger.
But the fact that the consultants who quietly lightened their workload did just as well in their performance reviews as those who were truly working 80 or more hours a week suggests that in normal times, heavy workloads may be more about signaling devotion to a firm than really being more productive. The person working 80 hours isn’t necessarily serving clients any better than the person working 50.
In other words, maybe the real problem isn’t men faking greater devotion to their jobs. Maybe it’s that too many companies reward the wrong things, favoring the illusion of extraordinary effort over actual productivity.
Mr. Lechleider helped invent DSL technology, which enabled phone companies to offer high-speed web access over their infrastructure of copper wires.Joseph Lechleider, a Father of the DSL Internet Technology, Dies at 82 | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
Mr. Haroche was a founder of Liberty Travel, which grew from a two-man operation to the largest leisure travel operation in the United States.Gilbert Haroche, Builder of an Economy Travel Empire, Dies at 87 | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
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.”From T Magazine: Street Litâ€™s Power Couple | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
Even as a high school student, Dave Goldberg was urging female classmates to speak up. As a young dot-com executive, he had one girlfriend after another, but fell hard for a driven friend named Sheryl Sandberg, pining after her for years. After they wed, Mr. Goldberg pushed her to negotiate hard for high compensation and arranged his schedule so that he could be home with their children when she was traveling for work.
Mr. Goldberg, who died unexpectedly on Friday, was a genial, 47-year-old Silicon Valley entrepreneur who built his latest company, SurveyMonkey, from a modest enterprise to one recently valued by investors at $2 billion. But he was also perhaps the signature male feminist of his era: the first major chief executive in memory to spur his wife to become as successful in business as he was, and an essential figure in “Lean In,” Ms. Sandberg’s blockbuster guide to female achievement.
Over the weekend, even strangers were shocked at his death, both because of his relatively young age and because they knew of him as the living, breathing, car-pooling center of a new philosophy of two-career marriage.
“They were very much the role models for what this next generation wants to grapple with,” said Debora L. Spar, the president of Barnard College. In a 2011 commencement speech there, Ms. Sandberg told the graduates that whom they married would be their most important career decision.
In the play “The Heidi Chronicles,” revived on Broadway this spring, a male character who is the founder of a media company says that “I don’t want to come home to an A-plus,” explaining that his ambitions require him to marry an unthreatening helpmeet. Mr. Goldberg grew up to hold the opposite view, starting with his upbringing in progressive Minneapolis circles where “there was woman power in every aspect of our lives,” Jeffrey Dachis, a childhood friend, said in an interview.
The Goldberg parents read “The Feminine Mystique” together — in fact, Mr. Goldberg’s father introduced it to his wife, according to Ms. Sandberg’s book. In 1976, Paula Goldberg helped found a nonprofit to aid children with disabilities. Her husband, Mel, a law professor who taught at night, made the family breakfast at home.
Later, when Dave Goldberg was in high school and his prom date, Jill Chessen, stayed silent in a politics class, he chastised her afterward. He said, “You need to speak up,” Ms. Chessen recalled in an interview. “They need to hear your voice.”
Years later, when Karin Gilford, an early employee at Launch Media, Mr. Goldberg’s digital music company, became a mother, he knew exactly what to do. He kept giving her challenging assignments, she recalled, but also let her work from home one day a week. After Yahoo acquired Launch, Mr. Goldberg became known for distributing roses to all the women in the office on Valentine’s Day.
Ms. Sandberg, who often describes herself as bossy-in-a-good-way, enchanted him when they became friendly in the mid-1990s. He “was smitten with her,” Ms. Chessen remembered. Ms. Sandberg was dating someone else, but Mr. Goldberg still hung around, even helping her and her then-boyfriend move, recalled Bob Roback, a friend and co-founder of Launch. When they finally married in 2004, friends remember thinking how similar the two were, and that the qualities that might have made Ms. Sandberg intimidating to some men drew Mr. Goldberg to her even more.
Over the next decade, Mr. Goldberg and Ms. Sandberg pioneered new ways of capturing information online, had a son and then a daughter, became immensely wealthy, and hashed out their who-does-what-in-this-marriage issues. Mr. Goldberg’s commute from the Bay Area to Los Angeles became a strain, so he relocated, later joking that he “lost the coin flip” of where they would live. He paid the bills, she planned the birthday parties, and both often left their offices at 5:30 so they could eat dinner with their children before resuming work afterward.
Friends in Silicon Valley say they were careful to conduct their careers separately, politely refusing when outsiders would ask one about the other’s work: Ms. Sandberg’s role building Facebook into an information and advertising powerhouse, and Mr. Goldberg at SurveyMonkey, which made polling faster and cheaper. But privately, their work was intertwined. He often began statements to his team with the phrase “Well, Sheryl said” sharing her business advice. He counseled her, too, starting with her salary negotiations with Mark Zuckerberg.
“I wanted Mark to really feel he stretched to get Sheryl, because she was worth it,” Mr. Goldberg explained in a 2013 “60 Minutes” interview, his Minnesota accent and his smile intact as he offered a rare peek of the intersection of marriage and money at the top of corporate life.
While his wife grew increasingly outspoken about women’s advancement, Mr. Goldberg quietly advised the men in the office on family and partnership matters, an associate said. Six out of 16 members of SurveyMonkey’s management team are female, an almost unheard-of ratio among Silicon Valley “unicorns,” or companies valued at over $1 billion.
When Mellody Hobson, a friend and finance executive, wrote a chapter of “Lean In” about women of color for the college edition of the book, Mr. Goldberg gave her feedback on the draft, a clue to his deep involvement. He joked with Ms. Hobson that she was too long-winded, like Ms. Sandberg, but aside from that, he said he loved the chapter, she said in an interview.
By then, Mr. Goldberg was a figure of fascination who inspired a “where can I get one of those?” reaction among many of the women who had read the best seller “Lean In.” Some lamented that Ms. Sandberg’s advice hinged too much on marrying a Dave Goldberg, who was humble enough to plan around his wife, attentive enough to worry about which shoes his young daughter would wear, and rich enough to help pay for the help that made the family’s balancing act manageable.
Now that he is gone, and Ms. Sandberg goes from being half of a celebrated partnership to perhaps the business world’s most prominent single mother, the pages of “Lean In” carry a new sting of loss.
“We are never at 50-50 at any given moment — perfect equality is hard to define or sustain — but we allow the pendulum to swing back and forth between us,” she wrote in 2013, adding that they were looking forward to raising teenagers together.
“Fortunately, I have Dave to figure it out with me,” she wrote.Dave Goldberg Was Lifelong Womenâ€™s Advocate | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
The live music at the Vice Media party on Friday shook the room. Shane Smith, Vice’s chief executive, was standing near the stage — with a drink in his hand, pants sagging, tattoos showing — watching the rapper-cum-chef Action Bronson make pizzas.
The event was an after-party, a happy-hour bacchanal for the hundreds of guests who had come for Vice’s annual presentation to advertisers and agencies that afternoon, part of the annual frenzy for ad dollars called the Digital Content NewFronts. Mr. Smith had spoken there for all of five minutes before running a slam-bang highlight reel of the company’s shows that had titles like “Weediquette” and “Gaycation.”
In the last year, Vice has secured $500 million in financing and signed deals worth hundreds of millions of dollars with established media companies like HBO that are eager to engage the young viewers Vice attracts. Vice said it was now worth at least $4 billion, with nearly $1 billion in projected revenue for 2015. It is a long way from Vice’s humble start as a free magazine in 1994.
But even as cash flows freely in Vice’s direction, the company is trying to keep its brash, insurgent image. At the party on Friday, it plied guests with beers and cocktails. Its apparently unrehearsed presentation to advertisers was peppered with expletives. At one point, the director Spike Jonze, a longtime Vice collaborator, asked on stage if Mr. Smith had been drinking.
“My assistant tried to cut me off,” Mr. Smith replied. “I’m on buzz control.”
Now, Vice is on the verge of getting its own cable channel, which would give the company a traditional outlet for its slate of non-news programming. If all goes as planned, A&E Networks, the television group owned by Hearst and Disney, will turn over its History Channel spinoff, H2, to Vice.
The deal’s announcement was expected last week, but not all of A&E’s distribution partners — the cable and satellite TV companies that carry the network’s channels — have signed off on the change, according to a person familiar with the negotiations who spoke on the condition of anonymity because the talks were private.
A cable channel would be a further step in a transformation for Vice, from bad-boy digital upstart to mainstream media company.
Keen for the core audience of young men who come to Vice, media giants like 21st Century Fox, Time Warner and Disney all showed interest in the company last year. Vice ultimately secured $500 million in financing from A&E Networks and Technology Crossover Ventures, a Silicon Valley venture capital firm that has invested in Facebook and Netflix.
Those investments valued Vice at more than $2.5 billion. (In 2013, Fox bought a 5 percent stake for $70 million.)
Then in March, HBO announced that it had signed a multiyear deal to broadcast a daily half-hour Vice newscast. Vice already produces a weekly newsmagazine show, called “Vice,” for the network. That show will extend its run through 2018, with an increase to 35 episodes a year, from 14.
Michael Lombardo, HBO’s president for programming, said when the deal was announced that it was “certainly one of our biggest investments with hours on the air.”
Vice, based in Brooklyn, also recently signed a multiyear $100 million deal with Rogers Communications, a Canadian media conglomerate, to produce original content for TV, smartphone and desktop viewers.
Vice’s finances are private, but according to an internal document reviewed by The New York Times and verified by a person familiar with the company’s financials, the company is on track to make about $915 million in revenue this year.
It brought in $545 million in a strong first quarter, which included portions of the new HBO deal and the Rogers deal, according to the document. More of its revenue now comes from these types of content partnerships, compared with the branded content deals that made up much of its revenue a year ago, the company said.
Mr. Smith said the company was worth at least $4 billion. If the valuation gets much higher, he said he would consider taking the company public.
“I don’t care about money; we have plenty of money,” Mr. Smith, who is Vice’s biggest shareholder, said in an interview after the presentation on Friday. “I care about strategic deals.”
In the United States, Vice Media had 35.2 million unique visitors across its sites in March, according to comScore.
The third season of Vice’s weekly HBO show has averaged 1.8 million viewers per episode, including reruns, through April 12, according to Brad Adgate, the director of research at Horizon Media. (Vice said the show attracted three million weekly viewers when repeat broadcasts, online and on-demand viewings were included.)
For years, Mr. Smith has criticized traditional TV, calling it slow and unable to draw younger viewers. But if all the deals Vice has struck are to work out, Mr. Smith may have to play more by the rules of traditional media. James Murdoch, Rupert Murdoch’s son and a member of Vice’s board, was at the company’s presentation on Friday, as were other top media executives.
“They know they need people like me to help them, but they can’t get out of their own way,” Mr. Smith said in the interview Friday. “My only real frustration is we’re used to being incredibly dynamic, and they’re not incredibly dynamic.”
With its own television channel in the United States, Vice would have something it has long coveted even as traditional media companies are looking beyond TV. Last year, Vice’s deal with Time Warner failed in part because the two companies could not agree on how much control Vice would have over a 24-hour television network.
Vice said it intended to fill its new channel with non-news programming. The company plans to have sports shows, fashion shows, food shows and the “Gaycation” travel show with the actress Ellen Page. It is also in talks with Kanye West about a show.
It remains to be seen whether Vice’s audience will watch a traditional cable channel. Still, Vice has effectively presold all of the ad spots to two of the biggest advertising agencies for the first three years, Mr. Smith said.
In the meantime, Mr. Smith is enjoying Vice’s newfound role as a potential savior of traditional media companies.
“I’m a C.E.O. of a content company,” Mr. Smith said before he caught a flight to Las Vegas for the boxing match on Saturday between Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao. “If it stops being fun, then why are you doing it?”As Vice Moves More to TV, It Tries to Keep Brash Voice | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
WASHINGTON — A decade after emergency trailers meant to shelter Hurricane Katrina victims instead caused burning eyes, sore throats and other more serious ailments, the Environmental Protection Agency is on the verge of regulating the culprit: formaldehyde, a chemical that can be found in commonplace things like clothes and furniture.
But an unusual assortment of players, including furniture makers, the Chinese government, Republicans from states with a large base of furniture manufacturing and even some Democrats who championed early regulatory efforts, have questioned the E.P.A. proposal. The sustained opposition has held sway, as the agency is now preparing to ease key testing requirements before it releases the landmark federal health standard.
The E.P.A.’s five-year effort to adopt this rule offers another example of how industry opposition can delay and hamper attempts by the federal government to issue regulations, even to control substances known to be harmful to human health.
The E.P.A.’s decision would be the first time that the federal government has regulated formaldehyde inside most American homes.
“The stakes are high for public health,” said Tom Neltner, senior adviser for regulatory affairs at the National Center for Healthy Housing, who has closely monitored the debate over the rules. “What we can’t have here is an outcome that fails to confront the health threat we all know exists.”
The proposal would not ban formaldehyde — commonly used as an ingredient in wood glue in furniture and flooring — but it would impose rules that prevent dangerous levels of the chemical’s vapors from those products, and would set testing standards to ensure that products sold in the United States comply with those limits. The debate has sharpened in the face of growing concern about the safety of formaldehyde-treated flooring imported from Asia, especially China.
What is certain is that a lot of money is at stake: American companies sell billions of dollars’ worth of wood products each year that contain formaldehyde, and some argue that the proposed regulation would impose unfair costs and restrictions.
Determined to block the agency’s rule as proposed, these industry players have turned to the White House, members of Congress and top E.P.A. officials, pressing them to roll back the testing requirements in particular, calling them redundant and too expensive.
“There are potentially over a million manufacturing jobs that will be impacted if the proposed rule is finalized without changes,” wrote Bill Perdue, the chief lobbyist at the American Home Furnishings Alliance, a leading critic of the testing requirements in the proposed regulation, in one letter to the E.P.A.
Industry opposition helped create an odd alignment of forces working to thwart the rule. The White House moved to strike out key aspects of the proposal. Subsequent appeals for more changes were voiced by players as varied as Senator Barbara Boxer, Democrat of California, and Senator Roger Wicker, Republican of Mississippi, as well as furniture industry lobbyists.
Hurricane Katrina in 2005 helped ignite the public debate over formaldehyde, after the deadly storm destroyed or damaged hundreds of thousands of homes along the Gulf of Mexico, forcing families into temporary trailers provided by the Federal Emergency Management Agency.
The displaced storm victims quickly began reporting respiratory problems, burning eyes and other issues, and tests then confirmed high levels of formaldehyde fumes leaking into the air inside the trailers, which in many cases had been hastily constructed.
Public health advocates petitioned the E.P.A. to issue limits on formaldehyde in building materials and furniture used in homes, given that limits already existed for exposure in workplaces. But three years after the storm, only California had issued such limits.
Industry groups like the American Chemistry Council have repeatedly challenged the science linking formaldehyde to cancer, a position championed by David Vitter, the Republican senator from Louisiana, who is a major recipient of chemical industry campaign contributions, and whom environmental groups have mockingly nicknamed “Senator Formaldehyde.”
By 2010, public health advocates and some industry groups secured bipartisan support in Congress for legislation that ordered the E.P.A. to issue federal rules that largely mirrored California’s restrictions. At the time, concerns were rising over the growing number of lower-priced furniture imports from Asia that might include contaminated products, while also hurting sales of American-made products.
Maneuvering began almost immediately after the E.P.A. prepared draft rules to formally enact the new standards.
White House records show at least five meetings in mid-2012 with industry executives — kitchen cabinet makers, chemical manufacturers, furniture trade associations and their lobbyists, like Brock R. Landry, of the Venable law firm. These parties, along with Senator Vitter’s office, appealed to top administration officials, asking them to intervene to roll back the E.P.A. proposal.
The White House Office of Management and Budget, which reviews major federal regulations before they are adopted, apparently agreed. After the White House review, the E.P.A. “redlined” many of the estimates of the monetary benefits that would be gained by reductions in related health ailments, like asthma and fertility issues, documents reviewed by The New York Times show.
As a result, the estimated benefit of the proposed rule dropped to $48 million a year, from as much as $278 million a year. The much-reduced amount deeply weakened the agency’s justification for the sometimes costly new testing that would be required under the new rules, a federal official involved in the effort said.
“It’s a redlining blood bath,” said Lisa Heinzerling, a Georgetown University Law School professor and a former E.P.A. official, using the Washington phrase to describe when language is stricken from a proposed rule. “Almost the entire discussion of these potential benefits was excised.”
Senator Vitter’s staff was pleased.
“That’s a huge difference,” said Luke Bolar, a spokesman for Mr. Vitter, of the reduced estimated financial benefits, saying the change was “clearly highlighting more mismanagement” at the E.P.A.
The review’s outcome galvanized opponents in the furniture industry. They then targeted a provision that mandated new testing of laminated wood, a cheaper alternative to hardwood. (The California standard on which the law was based did not require such testing.)
But E.P.A. scientists had concluded that these laminate products — millions of which are sold annually in the United States — posed a particular risk. They said that when thin layers of wood, also known as laminate or veneer, are added to furniture or flooring in the final stages of manufacturing, the resulting product can generate dangerous levels of fumes from often-used formaldehyde-based glues.
Industry executives, outraged by what they considered an unnecessary and financially burdensome level of testing, turned every lever within reach to get the requirement removed. It would be particularly onerous, they argued, for small manufacturers that would have to repeatedly interrupt their work to do expensive new testing. The E.P.A. estimated that the expanded requirements for laminate products would cost the furniture industry tens of millions of dollars annually, while the industry said that the proposed rule over all would cost its 7,000 American manufacturing facilities over $200 million each year.
“A lot of people don’t seem to appreciate what a lot of these requirements do to a small operation,” said Dick Titus, executive vice president of the Kitchen Cabinet Manufacturers Association, whose members are predominantly small businesses. “A 10-person shop, for example, just really isn’t equipped to handle that type of thing.”
Big industry players also weighed in. Executives from companies including La-Z-Boy, Hooker Furniture and Ashley Furniture all flew to Washington for a series of meetings with the offices of lawmakers including House Speaker John Boehner, Republican of Ohio, and about a dozen other lawmakers, asking several of them to sign a letter prepared by the industry to press the E.P.A. to back down, according to an industry report describing the lobbying visit.
Within a matter of weeks, two letters — using nearly identical language — were sent by House and Senate lawmakers to the E.P.A. — with the industry group forwarding copies of the letters to the agency as well, and then posting them on its website.
The industry lobbyists also held their own meeting at E.P.A. headquarters, and they urged Jim Jones, who oversaw the rule-making process as the assistant administrator for the agency’s Office of Chemical Safety and Pollution Prevention, to visit a North Carolina furniture manufacturing plant. According to the trade group, Mr. Jones told them that the visit had “helped the agency shift its thinking” about the rules and how laminated products should be treated.
The resistance was particularly intense from lawmakers like Mr. Wicker of Mississippi, whose state is home to major manufacturing plants owned by Ashley Furniture Industries, the world’s largest furniture maker, and who is one of the biggest recipients in Congress of donations from the industry’s trade association. Asked if the political support played a role, a spokesman for Mr. Wicker replied: “Thousands of Mississippians depend on the furniture manufacturing industry for their livelihoods. Senator Wicker is committed to defending all Mississippians from government overreach.”
Individual companies like Ikea also intervened, as did the Chinese government, which claimed that the new rule would create a “great barrier” to the import of Chinese products because of higher costs.
Perhaps the most surprising objection came from Senator Boxer, of California, a longtime environmental advocate, whose office questioned why the E.P.A.’s rule went further than her home state’s in seeking testing on laminated products. “We did not advocate an outcome, other than safety,” her office said in a statement about why the senator raised concerns. “We said ‘Take a look to see if you have it right.’ ”
Safety advocates say that tighter restrictions — like the ones Ms. Boxer and Mr. Wicker, along with Representative Doris Matsui, a California Democrat, have questioned — are necessary, particularly for products coming from China, where items as varied as toys and Christmas lights have been found to violate American safety standards.
While Mr. Neltner, the environmental advocate who has been most involved in the review process, has been open to compromise, he has pressed the E.P.A. not to back down entirely, and to maintain a requirement that laminators verify that their products are safe.
An episode of CBS’s “60 Minutes” in March brought attention to the issue when it accused Lumber Liquidators, the discount flooring retailer, of selling laminate products with dangerous levels of formaldehyde. The company has disputed the show’s findings and test methods, maintaining that its products are safe.
“People think that just because Congress passed the legislation five years ago, the problem has been fixed,” said Becky Gillette, who then lived in coastal Mississippi, in the area hit by Hurricane Katrina, and was among the first to notice a pattern of complaints from people living in the trailers. “Real people’s faces and names come up in front of me when I think of the thousands of people who could get sick if this rule is not done right.”
An aide to Ms. Matsui rejected any suggestion that she was bending to industry pressure.
“From the beginning the public health has been our No. 1 concern,” said Kyle J. Victor, an aide to Ms. Matsui.
But further changes to the rule are likely, agency officials concede, as they say they are searching for a way to reduce the cost of complying with any final rule while maintaining public health goals. The question is just how radically the agency will revamp the testing requirement for laminated products — if it keeps it at all.
“It’s not a secret to anybody that is the most challenging issue,” said Mr. Jones, the E.P.A. official overseeing the process, adding that the health consequences from formaldehyde are real. “We have to reduce those exposures so that people can live healthy lives and not have to worry about being in their homes.”The Uphill Battle to Better Regulate Formaldehyde | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
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Hockey is not exactly known as a city game, but played on roller skates, it once held sway as the sport of choice in many New York neighborhoods.
“City kids had no rinks, no ice, but they would do anything to play hockey,” said Edward Moffett, former director of the Long Island City Y.M.C.A. Roller Hockey League, in Queens, whose games were played in city playgrounds going back to the 1940s.
From the 1960s through the 1980s, the league had more than 60 teams, he said. Players included the Mullen brothers of Hell’s Kitchen and Dan Dorion of Astoria, Queens, who would later play on ice for the National Hockey League.
One street legend from the heyday of New York roller hockey was Craig Allen, who lived in the Woodside Houses projects and became one of the city’s hardest hitters and top scorers.
“Craig was a warrior, one of the best roller hockey players in the city in the ’70s,” said Dave Garmendia, 60, a retired New York police officer who grew up playing with Mr. Allen. “His teammates loved him and his opponents feared him.”
Young Craig took up hockey on the streets of Queens in the 1960s, playing pickup games between sewer covers, wearing steel-wheeled skates clamped onto school shoes and using a roll of electrical tape as the puck.
His skill and ferocity drew attention, Mr. Garmendia said, but so did his skin color. He was black, in a sport made up almost entirely by white players.
“Roller hockey was a white kid’s game, plain and simple, but Craig broke the color barrier,” Mr. Garmendia said. “We used to say Craig did more for race relations than the N.A.A.C.P.”
Mr. Allen went on to coach and referee roller hockey in New York before moving several years ago to South Carolina. But he continued to organize an annual alumni game at Dutch Kills Playground in Long Island City, the same site that held the local championship games.
The reunion this year was on Saturday, but Mr. Allen never made it. On April 26, just before boarding the bus to New York, he died of an asthma attack at age 61.
Word of his death spread rapidly among hundreds of his old hockey colleagues who resolved to continue with the event, now renamed the Craig Allen Memorial Roller Hockey Reunion.
The turnout on Saturday was the largest ever, with players pulling on their old equipment, choosing sides and taking once again to the rink of cracked blacktop with faded lines and circles. They wore no helmets, although one player wore a fedora.
Another, Vinnie Juliano, 77, of Long Island City, wore his hearing aids, along with his 50-year-old taped-up quads, or four-wheeled skates with a leather boot. Many players here never converted to in-line skates, and neither did Mr. Allen, whose photograph appeared on a poster hanging behind the players’ bench.
“I’m seeing people walking by wondering why all these rusty, grizzly old guys are here playing hockey,” one player, Tommy Dominguez, said. “We’re here for Craig, and let me tell you, these old guys still play hard.”
Everyone seemed to have a Craig Allen story, from his earliest teams at Public School 151 to the Bryant Rangers, the Woodside Wings, the Woodside Blues and more.
Mr. Allen, who became a yellow-cab driver, was always recruiting new talent. He gained the nickname Cabby for his habit of stopping at playgrounds all over the city to scout players.
Teams were organized around neighborhoods and churches, and often sponsored by local bars. Mr. Allen, for one, played for bars, including Garry Owen’s and on the Fiddler’s Green Jokers team in Inwood, Manhattan.
Play was tough and fights were frequent.
“We were basically street gangs on skates,” said Steve Rogg, 56, a mail clerk who grew up in Jackson Heights, Queens, and who on Saturday wore his Riedell Classic quads from 1972. “If another team caught up with you the night before a game, they tossed you a beating so you couldn’t play the next day.”
Mr. Garmendia said Mr. Allen’s skin color provoked many fights.
“When we’d go to some ignorant neighborhoods, a lot of players would use slurs,” Mr. Garmendia said, recalling a game in Ozone Park, Queens, where local fans parked motorcycles in a lineup next to the blacktop and taunted Mr. Allen. Mr. Garmendia said he checked a player into the motorcycles, “and the bikes went down like dominoes, which started a serious brawl.”
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Before play began on Saturday, the players gathered at center rink to honor Mr. Allen. Billy Barnwell, 59, of Woodside, recalled once how an all-white, all-star squad snubbed Mr. Allen by playing him third string. He scored seven goals in the first game and made first string immediately.
“He’d always hear racial stuff before the game, and I’d ask him, ‘How do you put up with that?’” Mr. Barnwell recalled. “Craig would say, ‘We’ll take care of it,’ and by the end of the game, he’d win guys over. They’d say, ‘This guy’s good.’”Tribute for a Roller Hockey Warrior | PAKET UMROH BULAN JANUARI 2016
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