The tentacled flathead (Papilloculiceps longiceps) is a species of marine fish belonging to the flathead family, Platycephalidae. It is found in the western Indian Ocean, including the Red Sea, and also in the Mediterranean Sea, probably as a result of migration through the Suez Canal. The tentacled flathead is a well camouflaged, ambush predator of fish and crustaceans, living near coral reefs on sand or rubble substrates at depths of up to 15 metres (49 feet). The species has an elongate body, with a maximum published length of 70 centimetres (28 inches), although 50 centimetres (20 inches) is more typical. It has a depressed head with five prominent nuchal spines, ridges on its operculum and preoperculum, a spine on the rear of the suborbital ridge, and smaller spines elsewhere. The body is mottled brownish or greenish dorsally, and whitish ventrally. There are three or four dark bands on the caudal fin, and the other fins are marked with large, dark blotches. This tentacled flathead was photographed in the Red Sea in Ras Muhammad National Park, off the southern coast of the Sinai Peninsula in Egypt.Photograph credit: Diego Delso
... that the Korean War allowed Don Bragg to set a UCLA basketball record for the most rebounds by a varsity freshman, which stood for almost 40 years?
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It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!