Blog Posts

Irresponsible Media Coverage Could Increase Baby’s Risk for SIDS

If you’ve been anywhere near a computer or news app this past week, you have probably seen some frightening information about swaddling babies. A study by researchers from the University of Bristol claims that swaddling is an epidemic and those cute little swaddling blankies are out to eat your baby.

Or so the news coverage would have you believe.

The real story is very different, and by not telling the real story, the news media that we rely on to bring us information is putting infants at risk of dying in their sleep.

Before we go any further, I need to tell you something that could save your child’s life…

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Free Advertising Opportunity!

Would you like to advertise on our site for free?

We are offering one free sidebar ad for the remainder of June. Want it? All you have to do is Like our Facebook page and follow us on Twitter today.

How?

Just Like our Facebook page and follow us on Twitter on June 9th between 12:00 AM and 11:59 PM (US Central Standard Time) to become eligible. If your name is drawn, we will message you on Facebook and Twitter to let you know that you have won.

After that, you will have until Friday, June 12th at 5:00 PM to submit your advertisement.

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Innermost Monstrous: Mobilis in Mobili

The native people whose ancestors settled the forests of Vex thousands of years ago believe that the mighty River Fleuve is a blood vein of the very planet itself. They say that in the beginning of all things, it cut a path into the very heart of the world, where the gods had imprisoned a beast with no name. This, they say, is how light came to the world and how the stars came to be in the sky, a gift of the River Fleuve and a terrible curse.

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Innermost Monstrous: Cloud Inversion

Not a breath of air stirred as Tinjin walked slowly from camp toward the rim of the canyon. Here and there, the burnt, arid landscape blazed white with patches of melting snow that had accumulated overnight. Tinjin paused, feeling the chill lifting from the morning air as the sun mounted higher in the sky.

It was seven degrees centigrade, balmy for winter. Down in the canyon, however, it was much cooler. The lack of wind prevented the cold, moist air of the inner canyon from mixing with the warmer weather above, and the temperature difference filled the canyon with a thick fog.

Tinjin looked out across this sea of clouds. Spires and long, jagged ridges of rock rose from the vapor, like mountains and ships poised on the ocean. After eight weeks stationed on the rim, Tinjin had surveyed much of this section of the canyon and knew every cliff and crag visible from camp.

It seemed less familiar now, however, cloaked in its strange, white veil of secrecy. Cacti and small, hardy desert mammals native to this region were the only things hiding in that fog, but that knowledge did nothing to prevent a tingle from running down Tinjin’s spine. Or perhaps it was simply the chill in the air.

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New Music, Old Soul: Good Stories We Can Never Tell

By Robert Leo Newton

When I met Tim Brown sometime in 2005 or 2006, Blood Root Mother had a small shack we rehearsed in located in our drummer Brandon’s backyard. With a crudely painted rainbow emanating from one of the sides, we called it the Rainbow Shack. We played loud, loud music in there, then we had little parties. This is where I met Tim Brown, I think he spilled some beer in there.

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Timmy

By Patricia White

We certainly cannot remember everyone we meet. But there are one or two who haunt our dreams in the sense that, even if we don’t see them or speak to them for years, they permeate our unconscious because they have made an indelible mark on our souls.

Tim Rinaldi is one of those people.

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Songs For a Lonely Moon

By Robert Leo Newton

I have known Travis Calhoun for nearly all of my performing career. I met Travis, who performs under the moniker Afterlife, outside Cafe 22, a local haunt in Buffalo, Minnesota, where the local teen bands could play. Over the years I have collaborated with him on various musical projects, spent long nights philosophizing, and watched him in the midst of his creative endeavors.

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Am I The Only One Who Is Tired of Hearing This?

Lately, I have been experiencing a particularly pernicious case of writer’s block, so I decided to write about it. Odd how that works, isn’t it? The first thing that came to my mind was how difficult, perhaps even impossible, it would be to put something on paper with which I would be satisfied. “I can’t do that.”

It occurred to me, however, that maybe—just maybe, there was a more useful perspective I could take. A mental trick I could perform on myself to shift my thinking. Instead of “I can’t do that,” I added a word and made a few other adjustments. The result: “How can I do that?”

It sounded great in my head, and it even looked good when I jotted it down. So, I began to write about it.

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