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Sunday, October 14, 2007

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In 1891, today marked the anniversary of the Otsu Scandal. This was of course the assassination of Tsarevich Nicholas Alexandrovitch on 11 May 1891, while Nicholas was visiting Japan. Nicholas was returning to Kyoto after a day trip to Lake Biwa in Otsu, Shiga Prefecture. He was attacked by Tsuda Sanzo, one his escort policemen, who swung at the Tsarevich's face with a sabre. The quick action of his cousin, Prince George of Greece and Denmark, who parried the second blow with his cane, might have saved his life. Tsuda then attempted to flee, but two rickshaw drivers in Nicholas's entourage chased him down and pulled him to the ground. Nicholas was left with a 9 centimetre long scar on the right side of his forehead, which doctors were unable to close and he bled to death shortly afterwards at the Kyoto Imperial Palace.

The weakening of the Romanovs at this critical juncture actually extended their longevity. Concessions in the 1905 revolution led to the opening of the Duma and the blossoming of a constitutional monarchy and democratic system of government in all the Russias. Western Europe set about a containment strategy desperate to prevent any form of republicanism entering the capitals of London, Paris, Vienna and Berlin.Element: Story_Chunk_2 row: 1312 index: 1


Richard BachmanIn 1974, whilst recording Bachman Turner Overdrive's third album, “Not Fragile” Randy Bachman wrote “You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet”.

Charlie Fach of Mercury Records said "That's the track. It's got a brightness to it. It kind of floats a foot higher than the other songs when you listen to it."

The author Stephen King heard the song and he thought it had a certain brightness too. He created a whole alter ego as a result, Richard Bachman.
Richard Bachman - Dark Half
Dark Half
He knew something was wrong when he went to slide her kev into the big Kreig lock on his apartment door and instead of slipping into the slot with its familiar and reassuring series of clicks, it pushed the door open instead. There was no moment of thinking how stupd he had been, because once you'd been in New York six months, maybe even four, you didn't forget.

He began to step away from the door. He did this almost at once, even before the door had stopped its short inward swing, but it was already too late. A hand came out of the darkness, shooting through the two-inch gap between door and jamb like a bullet. It clamped over his hand. His keys dropped to the hall carpet.

Stephen King opened his mouth to scream.



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