如有需要，用戶可把信箱複製至 PC 硬碟，在伺服器上只儲存重要的郵件，而較次的則存放在自己的硬碟內。此做法的好處是減少信箱於伺服器上的容量，而又能保全所有信件，缺點是在 PC 硬碟內的信件不會有備份。
做法是：
在選取了信箱後，選<檔案>→<資料庫>→<新複製>，之後在標題上加上「備份」（其他欄位不用理會），然後按<確定>。
電腦會替用戶把伺服器上的信箱抄至用戶硬碟（注意，用戶硬碟至少要有和信箱容量相同的空間），完成後用戶的工作頁面上會多了一個「＜用戶名稱＞的備份在本區」的圖示（本區即用戶硬碟）。
之後，用戶便可把＜於Mailserv＞上的信箱中不重要的信件刪除（因信件已在本區），及在＜於本區＞則刪除必須存在於伺服器內的信件。完成後的 Mailserv 區及本區兩個郵箱的信件等如原先電郵主機上的全數郵件。
日後用戶可用
There is still light in your eyes. I look around and that's disappearing, but you still have light, life, dream, hope...in your eyes. I can see fear, but not defeat. There is a lively soul in there. There's curiousity there. In a lot of people, that had already died.
Why do we fight for peace when we know there there will never be any real peace? Why do we attempt to eliminate hate when there will always in hate? Why do we try to be generous when we are selfish? Why are we trying to do the impossible? Attempting at impossibilities? Put ourselves in the work of self-defeating causes?
Tears of China flow for Liu Xiang
11:59 PM Sun, Aug 17, 2008 | Permalink | Yahoo! Buzz
Kevin Sherrington E-mail News tips
Liu Xiang was China's greatest hope in these Olympics, and because of it, no athlete here carried a greater burden.
He was on the cover of Newsweek and the Chinese edition of Sports Illustrated.
But now his Games are over, and the emotions are spilling out everywhere.
The defending gold medalist in the 110-meter hurdles, Liu pulled up lame in his heat today with an apparent injury to his Achilles tendon. At a news conference afterward, one of his coaches attempted to talk and then broke down. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head.
"Three doctors on the field tried to help him," the coach said, "and no matter what they did, they could not help him stand."
Asked how the Chinese people would react to the news, another coach cited a poll taken six months ago. In it, fans were asked what their reaction would be if Liu did not win a gold medal. Sixty percent said they would understand, which the coach considered favorable.
"I believe all the Chinese people will understand," he said, "and encourage him to overcome this problem and run track again."
The coaches said they expect Liu to miss the upcoming European season.
Comments
Posted by Doug Doodlebug @ 12:55 AM Mon, Aug 18, 2008
I hope he's not faking it. That is, I will be thrilled to see China out of the picture.
report as objectionable
Posted by Mr Dallas Cowboys @ 1:04 AM Mon, Aug 18, 2008
they can use CGI to show the chinese viewers he actually won gold.
report as objectionable
THE PEOPLE OF GERMANY
A number of people have come from Turkey to work in Germany. Some are second- and third–generation now, perhaps more. They have, in many instances, melted their beautiful skin tones, black hair, and blazing brown eyes into the already-beautiful peoples of the Nordic countries. There doesn’t seem to be a “typical” German, nor has there ever, I suppose, been. Blonds, brunettes, and occasional redheads. Talk, lean, angular men and women. Shorter, thick-chested robust types appear to be able to lift their own weight in gold or work endlessly.
There is a Muslim population even in the smaller towns, so women are often seen in the customary Muslim attire, complete with head cover. We find the clothing interesting and often, beautiful. In platz life, the only thing that appears to be different is that they may wear head covers or other clothes of their customs, but they talk and intermingle with those who do not, and the camaraderie is returned, as though no differences exist. Perhaps differences really don’t exist. Unless we make them.
I like the way men dress here. They often wear casual sport coats, slacks, and you don’t often see — except, occasionally, in the teenage segment of the population — “sloppy” dress on the streets, the baggy shorts or pants, the sweatpants, teen-sneakers, the sort of things you see men wearing in public places in parts of the U.S.
It’s not pretension. It seems just to be a slightly higher degree of pride in one’s appearance.
In any case, the elderly here are robust, and continue to be mobile well into their late years. The young and middle-aged people are, suffice it to say, beautiful, no matter the genotype.
WALKING
I speculate that, due to the nature of this walking culture, body types remain the same longer than in more sedentary or automobile-driven cultures. A walk each day is almost mandatory, and not just a stroll, but long casual, well-paced foot tours. This means the pedestrian streets are always full of people strolling, marching, moving at what proves to be — if one tries to match it — nothing less than a brisk pace.
A note here. The other day, we were trying to cross a wide street, and the light was soon to change. I tried to hurry, quickened my pace, but I swear to you, not to make a joke of it, that I was beaten across the street by a heavy-set disabled person who had both arms engaged in a walker. That’s not saying much for me, is it? I can’t keep up with them. But pounds mysteriously melt away, despite the enormous amounts of food we eat here.
DONNER AND BLITZEN
Did you know that two of Santa’s famous reindeers are named Thunder (Donner) and Lightning (Blitzen)? The significance of donner and blitzen is this: The other day, on a perfectly normal day, we took the bus downtown, walked around the (I’m running out of adjective here) magnificent miles-long park near downtown. We fed the ducks that live in the river, we sat in the shade, mesmerized by the views of mountains and parks and vineyards and river valley. Then, when the notion of eating came to us (which it often does), we walked back to town and sat at an outdoor restaurant right on the river and ordered food.
It was my birthday. The plan had been to go to Cologne, but we’d expended just a bit too much energy the day before and needed a bit of down-time. So the day in town was a nice way to spend #66.
The food was perfect, as was the river view, but as we sat there, the skies began to darken. An almost imperceptible rumble rolled across the valley. “Was that thunder?” I asked. Dalia said she wasn’t sure. But there was no question about the next sound. As we sat there, under the huge industrial-strength umbrellas, the ducks became agitated, a breeze picked up, and the sky darkened more. Then the flashes began. How fun is this!? I LOVE thunderstorms and so does Dalia. What a nice way to punctuate the afternoon, my birthday, a great day in Europe.
The storm intensified. The ducks vanished as the water began first to dapple with raindrops and then appear as if it were under attack by millions of Gatling guns. Lightning ripped the sky all around us. One bolt was so close, you could actually hear the electricity in it. The smell of ozone began to intensify. Soon the rain was so intense the water was splattering everywhere, so we, and three other couples who had been dining, made a dash for the covered bar area, one couple at a time, ushered by a brave waitress with an umbrella.
For another hour, we sat at the bar listening to and watching the storm with the others. We chatted with a couple from Holland who were biking through the area.
For another hour we sat, thinking the storm was one of those transient cells that attack with violence and retreat with humility. But, no, this one outstayed its welcome and the couples at the bar, we included, began to get chilled. Yet, for us, it was no less a perfect way to spend not only an afternoon, but it seemed to be an appropriate caveat to my birthday. (Thou shalt live a while longer, but not without surprises.)
After almost three hours, the rain, the thunder, and the lightning subsided and we were able to go back into the streets, which, immediately upon completion of the storm, were being attacked by hoards of store workers who used the opportunity to clean the area even beyond its usual cleanliness.
That night, back at the apartment, another storm rolled through, this one of furious intensity. The light show from the apartment window was hypnotic and even a bit of hail pelted the building. Off and on the next day the storming continued, but by Sunday, the sun came back to reclaim the Rhine valleys and we were off, on another Rhineland adventure.
ENERGY USE
I came closer to an understanding of why some Europeans are a bit miffed at people in the U.S. because of their gratuitous energy consumption. I’m not sure I can explain it well enough, not to have it come off as sour grapes, or a change in my own thinking (though I’m certainly reconsidering a lot of things), so bear with me while I have a go at it.
Extreme energy conservation is normal in Germany, as is extreme recycling. People walk where they can (some ride bicycles; even the elderly are often seen peddling effortlessly about town), and where they can’t walk, they use public transportation. That is not to say there aren’t cars in Germany, but when the family has a car, it is most often a small one, economical on petrol, because what we call gas in the U.S. is, here, the equivalent of well over $8.00 a gallon.
It’s normal for people to walk miles here, to pull along behind them little shopping carriers (they look like little suitcases with a flap on top), and you do not get bags at grocery stores. If you don’t bring your own bag, you’ll find yourself walking to the parking lot with arms full of your groceries.
It is normal here to conserve.
On the other hand, people who live in the U.S. tend to believe that, if they can afford gas, use it and drive. This is not without necessity in far too many cases, because our country, by contrast to Germany, is huge, spread out, with small towns, bedroom communities, and unavoidable long commutes in some areas. The open road is consider by many to be one of the essential freedoms.
So when you have a German who’s just pulled a shopping basket two miles home, or navigated a rather intricate bus route, and that person sees or knows of Americans who drive three blocks to the store, or 40 miles to work each day, you can see why they might be a bit confused (to put it lightly) as to our intentions.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/7424782.stm
"This week, in Wiesbaden, and other places in Germany, they’re commemorating the Berlin Airlift that took place 60 years ago, just a few years after the war ended, when other countries might still be carrying a major grudge and trying to hurt their former enemy any way they could. That’s what the Soviets did. But the Americans came to keep the people of Berlin from starving, by making an heroic series of flights that have never been equaled. The flights were what the German kids back then called the “candy bombers,” because the pilots would always throw candy out of the big planes as they passed over. Americans have a right to be proud of what they did. But, building pride wasn’t their objective; their main objective was to get food and fuel to the Germans so these former “enemies” could make it through a brutal winter.
I remember, even as a kid, being extremely proud of the fact that Americans would do such a thing — reach out to people and try to save their lives — even if they weren’t Americans, even if they’d once been “enemies.”
A lot of us vets paid big prices for the freedom of other people, and we’d do it again in a heartbeat. But to hear people in the U.S. talk today, no one has any responsibility to anyone else, except themselves. That’s not what our founding fathers said. They said that all people — not just Americans — are created equal. And I still feel it’s our responsibility to reach out and help — with our own lives, if necessary — other peoples of other countries realize their dreams of freedom.
The help can go both ways.
I went over a bump today with my walker today and my canes went flying. A lady, not self-conscious or hesitant at all, came running over and picked them up for me. It feels to me like there’s still a sense of neighbor-helping-neighbor over here — helping each other survive, even when they might not know each other. Are we losing that in the U.S.? I hope not.
When we got back to the apartment this afternoon from walking around this beautiful little city, I was exhausted and I fell asleep, just lying there, listening to all the children playing outside of the apartment complex, playing games like we used to do when I was a kid, with all ages of kids participating. I can’t think of a more wonderful thing to fall asleep to that kids playing. Germans, Turks, blacks, Muslims, all children, all playing like the world hadn’t a care in it.
We could learn a lot from playing children. I walked by a one-year-old today who was sitting in a stroller while his mother shopped. His eyes followed me so intently, so I slipped in a little wave and a wink and a smile at him. He responded with a smile that spread quickly to its breaking point and then he erupted into a peal of laughter. For no reason than just the joy of life, I guess. Joy, just for joy’s sake.
And we could learn what real peace really looks like simply by looking at the face of a sleeping baby.That’s real peace. That’s the peace the world needs."
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://williamroddy.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/candy_bombers.jpg&imgrefurl=http://williamroddy.com/index.php%3Fpaged%3D2&h=373&w=600&sz=87&hl=en&start=5&um=1&tbnid=tmXvkI-WKSf-RM:&tbnh=84&tbnw=135&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dberlin%2Bairlift%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:zh-TW:official%26sa%3DN
Life is just somewhat meaningless in the way I am living it. Well not meaningless, but so shallow and unfullfilling (much better word). The best part of my day is spent sitting in office doing my best to concentrate while thinking or dreaming of doing other better things. After work, I struggle and rush home to eat...dinner to spend time with my family. It's like a ritual. And that's it other than watching television. And then go back to sleep. It's a sick life and such a waste of human potential. Of course, work is somewhat meaningful in which I am helping to compile a textbook for high school students. Yet it's not very fullfilling. Maybe because there's little result and feedbak.
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