As a Community, we do not want RDF

[Maldiir-pagle]

@Windroot-grizzly-hills

weight of a fish is commonly its only title to fame

Take this section. It is very important to me, so I might want to find all the ways it was discussed.

[Windroot-grizzly-hills]

I see. And how many times has fish been discussed. It is a pivotal point in the ponds.

[Maldiir-pagle]

“search?context=topic&context_id=1342717&q=Fish&skip_context=false”

Enter this sequence into the browser after a search for anything. Just cut and paste and then you can see all the fish.

[Windroot-grizzly-hills]

So out of 6800 post fish is discussed in almost 1000. This is wild stuff here.

[Maldiir-pagle]

[quote=“Maldiir-pagle, post:6779, topic:1342717, full:true”]

@Windroot-grizzly-hills

The Ponds

Sometimes, having had a surfeit of human society and gossip, and worn out all my village friends, I rambled still farther westward than I habitually dwell, into yet more unfrequented parts of the town, “to fresh woods and pastures new,” or, while the sun was setting, made my supper of huckleberries and blueberries on Fair Haven Hill, and laid up a store for several days. The fruits do not yield their true flavor to the purchaser of them, nor to him who raises them for the market. There is but one way to obtain it, yet few take that way. If you would know the flavor of huckleberries, ask the cowboy or the partridge. It is a vulgar error to suppose that you have tasted huckleberries who never plucked them. A huckleberry never reaches Boston; they have not been known there since they grew on her three hills. The ambrosial and essential part of the fruit is lost with the bloom which is rubbed off in the market cart, and they become mere provender. As long as Eternal Justice reigns, not one innocent huckleberry can be transported thither from the country’s hills.

Occasionally, after my hoeing was done for the day, I joined some impatient companion who had been fishing on the pond since morning, as silent and motionless as a duck or a floating leaf, and, after practising various kinds of philosophy, had concluded commonly, by the time I arrived, that he belonged to the ancient sect of Coenobites. There was one older man, an excellent fisher and skilled in all kinds of woodcraft, who was pleased to look upon my house as a building erected for the convenience of fishermen; and I was equally pleased when he sat in my doorway to arrange his lines. Once in a while we sat together on the pond, he at one end of the boat, and I at the other; but not many words passed between us, for he had grown deaf in his later years, but he occasionally hummed a psalm, which harmonized well enough with my philosophy. Our intercourse was thus altogether one of unbroken harmony, far more pleasing to remember than if it had been carried on by speech. When, as was commonly the case, I had none to commune with, I used to raise the echoes by striking with a paddle on the side of my boat, filling the surrounding woods with circling and dilating sound, stirring them up as the keeper of a menagerie his wild beasts, until I elicited a growl from every wooded vale and hillside.
In warm evenings I frequently sat in the boat playing the flute, and saw the perch, which I seem to have charmed, hovering around me, and the moon travelling over the ribbed bottom, which was strewed with the wrecks of the forest. Formerly I had come to this pond adventurously, from time to time, in dark summer nights, with a companion, and, making a fire close to the water’s edge, which we thought attracted the fishes, we caught pouts with a bunch of worms strung on a thread, and when we had done, far in the night, threw the burning brands high into the air like skyrockets, which, coming down into the pond, were quenched with a loud hissing, and we were suddenly groping in total darkness. Through this, whistling a tune, we took our way to the haunts of men again. But now I had made my home by the shore.

Sometimes, after staying in a village parlor till the family had all retired, I have returned to the woods, and, partly with a view to the next day’s dinner, spent the hours of midnight fishing from a boat by moonlight, serenaded by owls and foxes, and hearing, from time to time, the creaking note of some unknown bird close at hand. These experiences were very memorable and valuable to me — anchored in forty feet of water, and twenty or thirty rods from the shore, surrounded sometimes by thousands of small perch and shiners, dimpling the surface with their tails in the moonlight, and communicating by a long flaxen line with mysterious nocturnal fishes which had their dwelling forty feet below, or sometimes dragging sixty feet of line about the pond as I drifted in the gentle night breeze, now and then feeling a slight vibration along it, indicative of some life prowling about its extremity, of dull uncertain blundering purpose there, and slow to make up its mind. At length you slowly raise, pulling hand over hand, some horned pout squeaking and squirming to the upper air. It was very queer, especially in dark nights, when your thoughts had wandered to vast and cosmogonal themes in other spheres, to feel this faint jerk, which came to interrupt your dreams and link you to Nature again. It seemed as if I might next cast my line upward into the air, as well as downward into this element, which was scarcely more dense. Thus I caught two fishes as it were with one hook.

The scenery of Walden is on a humble scale, and, though very beautiful, does not approach to grandeur, nor can it much con

Just clip out sections like this
[/quote] wait. Are we discussing the quote button or worms. I am confused.

[Windroot-grizzly-hills]

The worms were in the other topic with nearly the same name. This is very confusing

[Maldiir-pagle]

[quote=“Maldiir-pagle, post:6787, topic:1342717, full:true”]

@Maldiir-pagle

@Windroot-grizzly-hills

The Ponds

Sometimes, having had a surfeit of human society and gossip, and worn out all my village friends, I rambled still farther westward than I habitually dwell, into yet more unfrequented parts of the town, “to fresh woods and pastures new,” or, while the sun was setting, made my supper of huckleberries and blueberries on Fair Haven Hill, and laid up a store for several days. The fruits do not yield their true flavor to the purchaser of them, nor to him who raises them for the market. There is but one way to obtain it, yet few take that way. If you would know the flavor of huckleberries, ask the cowboy or the partridge. It is a vulgar error to suppose that you have tasted huckleberries who never plucked them. A huckleberry never reaches Boston; they have not been known there since they grew on her three hills. The ambrosial and essential part of the fruit is lost with the bloom which is rubbed off in the market cart, and they become mere provender. As long as Eternal Justice reigns, not one innocent huckleberry can be transported thither from the country’s hills.

Occasionally, after my hoeing was done for the day, I joined some impatient companion who had been fishing on the pond since morning, as silent and motionless as a duck or a floating leaf, and, after practising various kinds of philosophy, had concluded commonly, by the time I arrived, that he belonged to the ancient sect of Coenobites. There was one older man, an excellent fisher and skilled in all kinds of woodcraft, who was pleased to look upon my house as a building erected for the convenience of fishermen; and I was equally pleased when he sat in my doorway to arrange his lines. Once in a while we sat together on the pond, he at one end of the boat, and I at the other; but not many words passed between us, for he had grown deaf in his later years, but he occasionally hummed a psalm, which harmonized well enough with my philosophy. Our intercourse was thus altogether one of unbroken harmony, far more pleasing to remember than if it had been carried on by speech. When, as was commonly the case, I had none to commune with, I used to raise the echoes by striking with a paddle on the side of my boat, filling the surrounding woods with circling and dilating sound, stirring them up as the keeper of a menagerie his wild beasts, until I elicited a growl from every wooded vale and hillside.
In warm evenings I frequently sat in the boat playing the flute, and saw the perch, which I seem to have charmed, hovering around me, and the moon travelling over the ribbed bottom, which was strewed with the wrecks of the forest. Formerly I had come to this pond adventurously, from time to time, in dark summer nights, with a companion, and, making a fire close to the water’s edge, which we thought attracted the fishes, we caught pouts with a bunch of worms strung on a thread, and when we had done, far in the night, threw the burning brands high into the air like skyrockets, which, coming down into the pond, were quenched with a loud hissing, and we were suddenly groping in total darkness. Through this, whistling a tune, we took our way to the haunts of men again. But now I had made my home by the shore.

Sometimes, after staying in a village parlor till the family had all retired, I have returned to the woods, and, partly with a view to the next day’s dinner, spent the hours of midnight fishing from a boat by moonlight, serenaded by owls and foxes, and hearing, from time to time, the creaking note of some unknown bird close at hand. These experiences were very memorable and valuable to me — anchored in forty feet of water, and twenty or thirty rods from the shore, surrounded sometimes by thousands of small perch and shiners, dimpling the surface with their tails in the moonlight, and communicating by a long flaxen line with mysterious nocturnal fishes which had their dwelling forty feet below, or sometimes dragging sixty feet of line about the pond as I drifted in the gentle night breeze, now and then feeling a slight vibration along it, indicative of some life prowling about its extremity, of dull uncertain blundering purpose there, and slow to make up its mind. At length you slowly raise, pulling hand over hand, some horned pout squeaking and squirming to the upper air. It was very queer, especially in dark nights, when your thoughts had wandered to vast and cosmogonal themes in other spheres, to feel this faint jerk, which came to interrupt your dreams and link you to Nature again. It seemed as if I might next cast my line upward into the air, as well as downward into this element, which was scarcely more dense. Thus I caught two fishes as it were with one hook.

The scenery of Walden is on a humble scale, and, though very beautiful, does not approach to grandeur, nor can it much con

Just clip out sections like this
[/quote] wait. Are we discussing the quote button or worms. I am confused.

[quote=“Maldiir-pagle, post:6787, topic:1342717, full:true”]

@Maldiir-pagle

@Windroot-grizzly-hills

The Ponds

Sometimes, having had a surfeit of human society and gossip, and worn out all my village friends, I rambled still farther westward than I habitually dwell, into yet more unfrequented parts of the town, “to fresh woods and pastures new,” or, while the sun was setting, made my supper of huckleberries and blueberries on Fair Haven Hill, and laid up a store for several days. The fruits do not yield their true flavor to the purchaser of them, nor to him who raises them for the market. There is but one way to obtain it, yet few take that way. If you would know the flavor of huckleberries, ask the cowboy or the partridge. It is a vulgar error to suppose that you have tasted huckleberries who never plucked them. A huckleberry never reaches Boston; they have not been known there since they grew on her three hills. The ambrosial and essential part of the fruit is lost with the bloom which is rubbed off in the market cart, and they become mere provender. As long as Eternal Justice reigns, not one innocent huckleberry can be transported thither from the country’s hills.

Occasionally, after my hoeing was done for the day, I joined some impatient companion who had been fishing on the pond since morning, as silent and motionless as a duck or a floating leaf, and, after practising various kinds of philosophy, had concluded commonly, by the time I arrived, that he belonged to the ancient sect of Coenobites. There was one older man, an excellent fisher and skilled in all kinds of woodcraft, who was pleased to look upon my house as a building erected for the convenience of fishermen; and I was equally pleased when he sat in my doorway to arrange his lines. Once in a while we sat together on the pond, he at one end of the boat, and I at the other; but not many words passed between us, for he had grown deaf in his later years, but he occasionally hummed a psalm, which harmonized well enough with my philosophy. Our intercourse was thus altogether one of unbroken harmony, far more pleasing to remember than if it had been carried on by speech. When, as was commonly the case, I had none to commune with, I used to raise the echoes by striking with a paddle on the side of my boat, filling the surrounding woods with circling and dilating sound, stirring them up as the keeper of a menagerie his wild beasts, until I elicited a growl from every wooded vale and hillside.
In warm evenings I frequently sat in the boat playing the flute, and saw the perch, which I seem to have charmed, hovering around me, and the moon travelling over the ribbed bottom, which was strewed with the wrecks of the forest. Formerly I had come to this pond adventurously, from time to time, in dark summer nights, with a companion, and, making a fire close to the water’s edge, which we thought attracted the fishes, we caught pouts with a bunch of worms strung on a thread, and when we had done, far in the night, threw the burning brands high into the air like skyrockets, which, coming down into the pond, were quenched with a loud hissing, and we were suddenly groping in total darkness. Through this, whistling a tune, we took our way to the haunts of men again. But now I had made my home by the shore.

Sometimes, after staying in a village parlor till the family had all retired, I have returned to the woods, and, partly with a view to the next day’s dinner, spent the hours of midnight fishing from a boat by moonlight, serenaded by owls and foxes, and hearing, from time to time, the creaking note of some unknown bird close at hand. These experiences were very memorable and valuable to me — anchored in forty feet of water, and twenty or thirty rods from the shore, surrounded sometimes by thousands of small perch and shiners, dimpling the surface with their tails in the moonlight, and communicating by a long flaxen line with mysterious nocturnal fishes which had their dwelling forty feet below, or sometimes dragging sixty feet of line about the pond as I drifted in the gentle night breeze, now and then feeling a slight vibration along it, indicative of some life prowling about its extremity, of dull uncertain blundering purpose there, and slow to make up its mind. At length you slowly raise, pulling hand over hand, some horned pout squeaking and squirming to the upper air. It was very queer, especially in dark nights, when your thoughts had wandered to vast and cosmogonal themes in other spheres, to feel this faint jerk, which came to interrupt your dreams and link you to Nature again. It seemed as if I might next cast my line upward into the air, as well as downward into this element, which was scarcely more dense. Thus I caught two fishes as it were with one hook.

The scenery of Walden is on a humble scale, and, though very beautiful, does not approach to grandeur, nor can it much con

Just clip out sections like this
[/quote] wait. Are we discussing the quote button or worms. I am confused.

The quote is already on messed up so it just keeps getting worse

[Deathsbounty-area-52]

Thanks for finally proving you, lemonfont, are the owner of RDF / LFG / etc etc.

You opened up all their threads since your month ban is finally over.

LOL muted thread. Good day.

[Shanxi-faerlina]

@Prothealbest-aggramar

Any one know when blizard plans to add RDF?

They’ve made several announcements essentially saying RDF is NEVER coming, so I highly doubt it’s coming at all. Maybe in Cata Classic!

[Windroot-grizzly-hills]

I think Roundworm Flatworm Dracunculiasis is going to cured.

[Maldiir-pagle]

What makes you so certain.

[Shanxi-faerlina]

It’s only in four countries. Just a couple left to go.

[Windroot-grizzly-hills]

Well after our discussion I found this article.

Toilets & Latrines

The Need for Toilets and Latrines

Proper sanitation facilities (for example, toilets and latrines) promote health because they allow people to dispose of their waste appropriately, preventing contamination of their environment and reducing risk to themselves and their neighbors. Throughout the world, many people do not have access to sanitation facilities, resulting in improper waste disposal that safely contain waste away from human contact and ensure that waste is properly treated prior to environmental discharge and other risks.

Absence of basic sanitation facilities can:

• Result in an unhealthy environment contaminated by human waste. Without proper sanitation facilities, waste from infected individuals can contaminate a community’s land and water, increasing the risk of infection for other individuals. Proper waste disposal can slow the infection cycle of many disease-causing agents.
• Contribute to the spread of many diseases/conditions that can cause widespread illness and death. Without proper sanitation facilities, people often have no choice but to live in and drink water from an environment contaminated with waste from infected individuals, thereby putting themselves at risk for future infection. Inadequate waste disposal drives the infection cycle of many bacteria and other germs that can be spread through contaminated soil, food, water, and insects such as flies.

[Maldiir-pagle]

[quote=“Windroot-grizzly-hills, post:6795, topic:1342717, full:true”]
Well after our discussion I found this article.

Toilets & Latrines

The Need for Toilets and Latrines

Proper sanitation facilities (for example, toilets and latrines) promote health because they allow people to dispose of their waste appropriately, preventing contamination of their environment and reducing risk to themselves and their neighbors. Throughout the world, many people do not have access to sanitation facilities, resulting in improper waste disposal that safely contain waste away from human contact and ensure that waste is properly treated prior to environmental discharge and other risks.

Absence of basic sanitation facilities can:

• Result in an unhealthy environment contaminated by human waste. Without proper sanitation facilities, waste from infected individuals can contaminate a community’s land and water, increasing the risk of infection for other individuals. Proper waste disposal can slow the infection cycle of many disease-causing agents.
• Contribute to the spread of many diseases/conditions that can cause widespread illness and death. Without proper sanitation facilities, people often have no choice but to live in and drink water from an environment contaminated with waste from infected individuals, thereby putting themselves at risk for future infection. Inadequate waste disposal drives the infection cycle of many bacteria and other germs that can be spread through contaminated soil, food, water, and insects such as flies.
  [/quote] that is interesting but Roundworm Flatworm Dracunculiasis can spread in the soil.

[Shanxi-faerlina]

That’s a great article. I for one would be glad we could remove parasites on human kind such as dracunculiasis and RDF. Speaking of which, do you either have an articles on the latter?

[Redheadchild-kul-tiras (Redheadchild)]

@Shanxi-faerlina

They’ve made several announcements essentially saying RDF is NEVER coming

Rdf is already here though

Retail dragon fantasy.

[Windroot-grizzly-hills]

Some interesting facts…

Key facts

• Dracunculiasis is a crippling parasitic disease on the verge of eradication, with 27 human cases reported in 2020.
• From the time infection occurs, it takes between 10–14 months for the transmission cycle to complete. About this time, a mature female worm emerges from the body.
• The parasite is transmitted mostly when people drink stagnant water contaminated with parasite-infected water fleas.
• Dracunculiasis was endemic in 20 countries in the mid-1980s.

[Maldiir-pagle]

Dracunculiasis is rarely fatal, but infected people become non-functional for weeks and months. It affects people in rural, deprived, and isolated communities who depend mainly on open stagnant surface water sources such as ponds for drinking water.

[Shanxi-faerlina]

What’s unfortunate about RDF is it’s arguably worse than Dracunculiasis. Atleast the latter is only affects a small percentage of people. Meanwhile, RDF effects every classic player.

[Maldiir-pagle]

During the mid-1980s an estimated 3.5 million cases of dracunculiasis occurred in 20 countries worldwide, 17 countries of which were in Africa and the 3 others in Asia. The number of reported cases fell to fewer than 10 000 cases for the first time in 2007, dropping further to 542 cases (2012). Over the past eight years, human cases have stayed at double digits (54 in 2019 and 27 human cases in 2020). These human cases were reported from four countries: Angola (1), Chad (12), Ethiopia (11), Mali (1), South Sudan (1) and Cameroon (1) - likely imported from Chad.