Jual Sparepart Genset Perkins di Malang Hubungi : 0821 - 1310 - 3112/(021) 9224 - 2423 PT. Tribuana Diesel Adalah penjualan Generating-Set (genset) berkualitas import (builtup) bagi anda yang membutuhkan product berkualitas serta pengadaan yang cepat urgent tanpa berbelit-belit, Genset kami di lengkapi dengan dokumen Certificate Of Original , Manual book engine dan manual book generator, Kami sediakan Genset kapasitas 10 Kva - 650Kva (ANDA PESAN KAMI ANTAR).
Jual Sparepart Genset Perkins di Malang Kami juga menerima pembuatan box silent dan perakitan diesel generator set. Produk kami meliputi berbagai diesel generator set model open, silent lokal yang ukuranya menyesuaikan lokasi pondasi genset, mobile/ trailer . Sebagian besar mesin kami menggunakan Merk : Perkins, Cummins, Deutz, Lovol, Isuzu Foton dengan generator Leroy Somer, Stamford, kualitas terbaik brushless alternator. Jual Sparepart Genset Perkins di Malang
Jual Sparepart genset LOVOL OPEN DAN SILENT KAP 45KVA -175KVA bergaransi dan berkualitas di Musi Rawas Hubungi : 0821 - 1310 - 3112/(021) 9224 - 2423 PT. Tribuana Diesel Adalah penjualan Generating-Set (genset) berkualitas import (builtup) bagi anda yang membutuhkan product berkualitas serta pengadaan yang cepat urgent tanpa berbelit-belit, Genset kami di lengkapi dengan dokumen Certificate Of Original , Manual book engine dan manual book generator, Kami sediakan Genset kapasitas 10 Kva - 650Kva (ANDA PESAN KAMI ANTAR). Jual Sparepart genset LOVOL OPEN DAN SILENT KAP 45KVA -175KVA bergaransi dan berkualitas di Musi Rawas
AMPLOP KE PENGHULU MASUK GRATIFIKASI
saco-indonesia.com, Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (KPK) telah memutuskan pemberian ucapan terima kasih berupa uang atau barang da
saco-indonesia.com, Komisi Pemberantasan Korupsi (KPK) telah memutuskan pemberian ucapan terima kasih berupa uang atau barang dan biaya transport kepada penghulu nikah termasuk gratifikasi. Hal itu telah diputuskan oleh KPK setelah mengadakan rapat koordinasi dengan Kemenag, Kemenkokesra, Kemenkeu, Bappenas, yang telah membahas soal praktik pelaksanaan nikah oleh KUA di berbagai tempat.
"Dari rapat hari ini telah disepakati; praktik penerimaan honor, tanda terima kasih, pengganti uang transport dalam pencatatan nikah adalah gratifikasi sebagaimana yang tertera dalam pasal 12B UU Tipikor," ujar Direktur Gratifikasi Giri Suprapdiono di KPK, Rabu (18/12).
Giri juga mengatakan anggaran operasional di KUA akan dinaikkan guna untuk mencegah para penghulu menerima ucapan imbalan dari pasangan yang dinikahkan. Sebab, menurutnya, uang operasional sebesar Rp 2 juta per bulan dianggap tidak dapat mencukupi biaya transport.
"Anggaran operasional cuma Rp 2 juta perbulan, tahun depan Rp 3 juta perbulan itu pun juga digunakan untuk operasional kantor. Maka dipandang biaya tersebut tidak dapat memenuhi transport pengulu," ujar Giri.
Pihaknya telah memahami banyak penghulu yang tidak memiliki transport untuk bisa datang ke tempat pernikahan. Hal itu yang dapat menjadi celah untuk penerimaan gratifikasi.
"Hanya sedikit yang punya alat transport, pada dasarnya gak ada sarana dan prasarana penghulu untuk bisa mendatangani pengantin, inilah yang jadi celah untuk penerimaan gratifikasi," ujar Giri.
Giri juga menambahkan jika nanti ada penghulu yang menerima honor, tanda terimakasih, atau uang transport, dari pengantin, harus segera dilaporkan kepada KPK.
"Setiap penerimaan gratifikasi harus dilaporkan kepada KPK dan untuk bisa memudahkan akan diatur mekanisme kemudian," tambahnya.
Selain itu, biaya operasional pencatatan di luar jam kantor, akan dibebankan ke APBN. Untuk itu, pemerintah juga perlu mengubah PP Nomor 7 Tahun 2004.
"1. Biaya operasional pencatatan di luar kantor, luar jam kantor dibebankan ke APBN. 2. Perlu ubah PP No 7/2004 paling lambat 2014. 3. Menunggu peraturan yang baru, Kemenag akan keluarkan peraturan menteri," pungkasnya.
Editor : Dian Sukmawati
7 JAM NIKITA MIRZANI DIPEIKSA POLRESTA BANDUNG
saco-indonesia.com, Setelah korban melaporkan penyidik ke Propam Polda Jabar, artis seksi Nikita Mirzani yang juga sudah menyand
saco-indonesia.com, Setelah korban melaporkan penyidik ke Propam Polda Jabar, artis seksi Nikita Mirzani yang juga sudah menyandang status tersangka baru bisa menjalani pemeriksaan di Sat Reskrim Polresrtabes Bandung, Selasa malam.
Nikita telah diperiksa dalam status tersangka kasus penganiayaan terhadap korban Yun Tjun di tempat hiburan di Dago Bandunbg, beberapa bulan lalu.
Nikita yang didampingi oleh kuasa hukumnya telah menjalani pemeriksaan hampir tujuh jam. Dia juga menghadap penyidik pukul 17.00 dan baru keluar hampir pukul 22.00. “ Kami telah memeriksa Nikita sebagai tersangka dalam kasus penganiayaan atas nama korban Yuin Tjun,“ kata Kasat Reskrim Polresdtabes Bandung AKBP Trunoyudho, Rabu (18/12).
Dia juga menambahkan, materi pemeriksaan tiada lain hanya sebatas konfrontir antara korban dengan tersangka. Kedua duanya hadir. “ Dalam kasus ini juga ada dua tersangka satu pelapor. Tersangkanya Nikita!n dan temannyan“ tanbah Kasat.
Nikita dan temannya juga sudah hampir dua bulan ditetapkan jadi tersangka. Penyidik baru bisa memeriksa tadi malam terhadap Nikita dengan alasan artis itu sulit dihubungi dan sedang bulan madu. Saking jengkelnya, pelapor Yun Tjun yang didampingi oleh kuasa hokumnya Andrea Sukmana, telah melaporkan penyidik ke Bidang Propam dengan alasan ketidakprofesionalanya dalam menangani kasus tersebut. Dikabarkan pekan depan Nikita akan dipanggil kembali untuk dapat menjalani pemeriksaan yanhg kedua kalinya.
Editor : Dian Sukmawati
Tribute for a Roller Hockey Warrior
Hockey is not exactly known as a city game, but played on roller skates, it once held sway as the sport of choice in many New York neighborhoods.
“City kids had no rinks, no ice, but they would do anything to play hockey,” said Edward Moffett, former director of the Long Island City Y.M.C.A. Roller Hockey League, in Queens, whose games were played in city playgrounds going back to the 1940s.
One street legend from the heyday of New York roller hockey was Craig Allen, who lived in the Woodside Houses projects and became one of the city’s hardest hitters and top scorers.
“Craig was a warrior, one of the best roller hockey players in the city in the ’70s,” said Dave Garmendia, 60, a retired New York police officer who grew up playing with Mr. Allen. “His teammates loved him and his opponents feared him.”
Young Craig took up hockey on the streets of Queens in the 1960s, playing pickup games between sewer covers, wearing steel-wheeled skates clamped onto school shoes and using a roll of electrical tape as the puck.
His skill and ferocity drew attention, Mr. Garmendia said, but so did his skin color. He was black, in a sport made up almost entirely by white players.
“Roller hockey was a white kid’s game, plain and simple, but Craig broke the color barrier,” Mr. Garmendia said. “We used to say Craig did more for race relations than the N.A.A.C.P.”
Mr. Allen went on to coach and referee roller hockey in New York before moving several years ago to South Carolina. But he continued to organize an annual alumni game at Dutch Kills Playground in Long Island City, the same site that held the local championship games.
The reunion this year was on Saturday, but Mr. Allen never made it. On April 26, just before boarding the bus to New York, he died of an asthma attack at age 61.
Word of his death spread rapidly among hundreds of his old hockey colleagues who resolved to continue with the event, now renamed the Craig Allen Memorial Roller Hockey Reunion.
The turnout on Saturday was the largest ever, with players pulling on their old equipment, choosing sides and taking once again to the rink of cracked blacktop with faded lines and circles. They wore no helmets, although one player wore a fedora.
Another, Vinnie Juliano, 77, of Long Island City, wore his hearing aids, along with his 50-year-old taped-up quads, or four-wheeled skates with a leather boot. Many players here never converted to in-line skates, and neither did Mr. Allen, whose photograph appeared on a poster hanging behind the players’ bench.
“I’m seeing people walking by wondering why all these rusty, grizzly old guys are here playing hockey,” one player, Tommy Dominguez, said. “We’re here for Craig, and let me tell you, these old guys still play hard.”
Everyone seemed to have a Craig Allen story, from his earliest teams at Public School 151 to the Bryant Rangers, the Woodside Wings, the Woodside Blues and more.
Mr. Allen, who became a yellow-cab driver, was always recruiting new talent. He gained the nickname Cabby for his habit of stopping at playgrounds all over the city to scout players.
Teams were organized around neighborhoods and churches, and often sponsored by local bars. Mr. Allen, for one, played for bars, including Garry Owen’s and on the Fiddler’s Green Jokers team in Inwood, Manhattan.
Play was tough and fights were frequent.
“We were basically street gangs on skates,” said Steve Rogg, 56, a mail clerk who grew up in Jackson Heights, Queens, and who on Saturday wore his Riedell Classic quads from 1972. “If another team caught up with you the night before a game, they tossed you a beating so you couldn’t play the next day.”
Mr. Garmendia said Mr. Allen’s skin color provoked many fights.
“When we’d go to some ignorant neighborhoods, a lot of players would use slurs,” Mr. Garmendia said, recalling a game in Ozone Park, Queens, where local fans parked motorcycles in a lineup next to the blacktop and taunted Mr. Allen. Mr. Garmendia said he checked a player into the motorcycles, “and the bikes went down like dominoes, which started a serious brawl.”
A group of fans at a game in Brooklyn once stuck a pole through the rink fence as Mr. Allen skated by and broke his jaw, Mr. Garmendia said, adding that carloads of reinforcements soon arrived to defend Mr. Allen.
And at another racially incited brawl, the police responded with six patrol cars and a helicopter.
Before play began on Saturday, the players gathered at center rink to honor Mr. Allen. Billy Barnwell, 59, of Woodside, recalled once how an all-white, all-star squad snubbed Mr. Allen by playing him third string. He scored seven goals in the first game and made first string immediately.
“He’d always hear racial stuff before the game, and I’d ask him, ‘How do you put up with that?’” Mr. Barnwell recalled. “Craig would say, ‘We’ll take care of it,’ and by the end of the game, he’d win guys over. They’d say, ‘This guy’s good.’”
Meet Mago, Former Heavyweight
GREENWICH, Conn. — Mago is in the bedroom. You can go in.
The big man lies on a hospital bed with his bare feet scraping its bottom rail. His head is propped on a scarlet pillow, the left temple dented, the right side paralyzed. His dark hair is kept just long enough to conceal the scars.
The occasional sounds he makes are understood only by his wife, but he still has that punctuating left hand. In slow motion, the fingers curl and close. A thumbs-up greeting.
This is Magomed Abdusalamov, 34, also known as the Russian Tyson, also known as Mago. He is a former heavyweight boxer who scored four knockouts and 14 technical knockouts in his first 18 professional fights. He preferred to stand between rounds. Sitting conveyed weakness.
But Mago lost his 19th fight, his big chance, at the packed Theater at Madison Square Garden in November 2013. His 19th decision, and his last.
Now here he is, in a small bedroom in a working-class neighborhood in Greenwich, in a modest house his family rents cheap from a devoted friend. The air-pressure machine for his mattress hums like an expectant crowd.
Today is like any other day, except for those days when he is hurried in crisis to the hospital. Every three hours during the night, his slight wife, Bakanay, 28, has risen to turn his 6-foot-3 body — 210 pounds of dead weight. It has to be done. Infections of the gaping bedsore above his tailbone have nearly killed him.
Then, with the help of a young caretaker, Baka has gotten two of their daughters off to elementary school and settled down the toddler. Yes, Mago and Baka are blessed with all girls, but they had also hoped for a son someday.
They feed Mago as they clean him; it’s easier that way. For breakfast, which comes with a side of crushed antiseizure pills, he likes oatmeal with a squirt of Hershey’s chocolate syrup. But even oatmeal must be puréed and fed to him by spoon.
He opens his mouth to indicate more, the way a baby does. But his paralysis has made everything a choking hazard. His water needs a stirring of powdered food thickener, and still he chokes — eh-eh-eh — as he tries to cough up what will not go down.
Mago used to drink only water. No alcohol. Not even soda. A sip of juice would be as far as he dared. Now even water betrays him.
With the caretaker’s help, Baka uses a washcloth and soap to clean his body and shampoo his hair. How handsome still, she has thought. Sometimes, in the night, she leaves the bedroom to watch old videos, just to hear again his voice in the fullness of life. She cries, wipes her eyes and returns, feigning happiness. Mago must never see her sad.
When Baka finishes, Mago is cleanshaven and fresh down to his trimmed and filed toenails. “I want him to look good,” she says.
Theirs was an arranged Muslim marriage in Makhachkala, in the Russian republic of Dagestan. He was 23, she was 18 and their future hinged on boxing. Sometimes they would shadowbox in love, her David to his Goliath. You are so strong, he would tell her.
His father once told him he could either be a bandit or an athlete, but if he chose banditry, “I will kill you.” This paternal advice, Mago later told The Ventura County Reporter, “made it a very easy decision for me.”
Mago won against mediocre competition, in Moscow and Hollywood, Fla., in Las Vegas and Johnstown, Pa. He was knocked down only once, and even then, it surprised more than hurt. He scored a technical knockout in the next round.
It all led up to this: the undercard at the Garden, Mike Perez vs. Magomed Abdusalamov, 10 rounds, on HBO. A win, he believed, would improve his chances of taking on the heavyweight champion Wladimir Klitschko, who sat in the crowd of 4,600 with his fiancée, the actress Hayden Panettiere, watching.
Wearing black-and-red trunks and a green mouth guard, Mago went to work. But in the first round, a hard forearm to his left cheek rocked him. At the bell, he returned to his corner, and this time, he sat down. “I think it’s broken,” he repeatedly said in Russian.
Maybe at that point, somebody — the referee, the ringside doctors, his handlers — should have stopped the fight, under a guiding principle: better one punch too early than one punch too late. But the bloody trade of blows continued into the seventh, eighth, ninth, a hand and orbital bone broken, his face transforming.
Meanwhile, in the family’s apartment in Miami, Baka forced herself to watch the broadcast. She could see it in his swollen eyes. Something was off.
After the final round, Perez raised his tattooed arms in victory, and Mago wandered off in a fog. He had taken 312 punches in about 40 minutes, for a purse of $40,000.
In the locker room, doctors sutured a cut above Mago’s left eye and tested his cognitive abilities. He did not do well. The ambulance that waits in expectation at every fight was not summoned by boxing officials.
Blood was pooling in Mago’s cranial cavity as he left the Garden. He vomited on the pavement while his handlers flagged a taxi to St. Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital. There, doctors induced a coma and removed part of his skull to drain fluids and ease the swelling.
Then came the stroke.
It is lunchtime now, and the aroma of puréed beef and potatoes lingers. So do the questions.
How will Mago and Baka pay the $2 million in medical bills they owe? What if their friend can no longer offer them this home? Will they win their lawsuits against the five ringside doctors, the referee, and a New York State boxing inspector? What about Mago’s future care?
Most of all: Is this it?
A napkin rests on Mago’s chest. As another spoonful of mush approaches, he opens his mouth, half-swallows, chokes, and coughs until it clears. Eh-eh-eh. Sometimes he turns bluish, but Baka never shows fear. Always happy for Mago.
Some days he is wheeled out for physical therapy or speech therapy. Today, two massage therapists come to knead his half-limp body like a pair of skilled corner men.
Soon, Mago will doze. Then his three daughters, ages 2, 6 and 9, will descend upon him to talk of their day. Not long ago, the oldest lugged his championship belt to school for a proud show-and-tell moment. Her classmates were amazed at the weight of it.
Then, tonight, there will be more puréed food and pulverized medication, more coughing, and more tender care from his wife, before sleep comes.
He half-smiles, raises his one good hand, and forms a fist.