divimg alt="" src="http://hits.guardian.co.uk/b/ss/guardiangu-feeds/1/H.15.1/72775?ns=guardianpageName=Life+and+style%3A+Health+threat+from+beauty+parloursch=Life+and+stylec3=The+Observerc4=Beauty%2CHealth+%28Society%29%2CHealth+and+wellbeing+%28Life+and+style%29%2CLife+and+style%2CSociety%2CUK+news%2CObserverc5=Society+Weekly%2CFashion+and+Beauty%2CNot+commercially+useful%2CHealth+Society%2CHealthc6=Denis+Campbellc7=2008_11_23c8=1122498c9=articlec10=GUc11=Life+and+stylec12=Beautyc13=c14=h2=GU%2FLife+and+style%2FBeauty" width="1" height="1" //divpA scandal of second-rate care in parts of the beauty industry has been revealed today by health and safety officials, who have even highlighted cases of women suffering with paralysis of the face, burnt scalps and lost fingernails. /ppIn the worst examples badly trained staff and cost-cutting managers are exposing clients to the risk of infection because waxings, anti-ageing treatments and body piercings are not carried out properly. The warning comes from the Chartered Institute of Environmental Health. Its members, environmental health officers working for local councils, have uncovered a range of dubious practices in nail bars, beauty salons, hairdressers and sunbed parlours. /pp'I'm sure there's a perception that anything that goes on in a shop on the high street is well regulated and entirely safe,' said David Newsum, a health and safety policy officer at the institute. 'But it may not be. People have been injured by a badly applied hair treatment, or by a cosmetic treatment, such as facial paralysis from Botox, or by being burnt in a sunbed salon. /pp'It could be that a treatment is in itself intrinsically dangerous or it is the way it is administered. While the vast majority of premises are giving customers safe treatments, we need to root out places that are causing real problems.' /ppWhile the number of people who complain after having a bad experience is small, environmental health officers believe the true figure may be much higher because many incidents go unreported. 'There's a growing concern about the need to look into this whole area,' Newsum added. /ppThe institute's findings and concerns were echoed by the Local Authorities Co-ordinators of Regulatory Services, which represents officials who carry out enforcement duties for local councils. /ppNail bars are a particular cause for concern, said Karen Ashdown, the organisation's health and safety licensing officer. Some are using acrylic nail products containing methyl methacrylate (MMA), a chemical that has been blamed for causing lung, kidney and liver problems, asthma, and allergic reactions. It is far cheaper than the much safer alternative, EMA. More than 30 states in America have banned MMA. /pp'The trouble is that it is a permanent bonding agent, so women can't easily remove their false nails,' said Ashdown. 'They can still prise them off, but it will often pull off their real nail too. Real harm does happen sometimes.'/ppSome women have ripped open the top of their finger after getting their false nail caught in clothing because it was glued on so tightly. /ppIncreasingly popular waxing procedures run the risk of spreading infections such as herpes and the contagious skin complaint impetigo, she added: 'Bacteria can start to live in the wax if a spatula is used to apply it to two or more clients. A spatula should be single use, but sometimes it's not. Some people have ended up in hospital with an infection, including septicaemia, after having a tattoo or piercing. Some henna tattoos that use the wrong type of henna can burn the skin.' /ppBurgeoning demand for laser treatments to remove unwanted hair and blemishes and injections of anti-wrinkle substances such as Botox is also a problem, because clients could be burnt or infected, Ashdown added./ppAlthough such premises are meant to register with the Healthcare Commission, not all do. The Health and Safety Executive has published two reports this year highlighting risks to nail-bar staff. One found the nail technicians' work with chemicals and potentially hazardous dust and vapours left them with 'a statistically significant increased prevalence of work-related symptoms, including nasal, neck, shoulder, wrist/hand and lower back problems, as well as headaches and upper back, leg and foot problems. Ventilation needed to reduce exposure may not be effective, the HSE found. /ppIts other report, based on inspections of 205 hairdressers, beauty salons and nail bars, found that staff there were 'at potential risk of developing skin and respiratory ill-health conditions if good working practices and effective exposure control methods are not applied'./ppMany hairdressing staff also suffer from dermatitis because their hands are often wet and handling chemicals in dyes, bleaches and shampoos. /ppThese concerns about the beauty industry come after a drugs watchdog last week warned the public not to use an injectable tanning aid called Melanotan. The tan jab is an unlicensed medicine that is being sold illegally in some tanning salons and body-building gyms, as well as over the internet. The powder, which is mixed with water, has not undergone safety checks and has been linked to increased blood pressure. /pp'We don't know what the side-effects are, so it could do harm to your short-term or long-term health. Users are taking a gamble with their lives,' said a Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency spokeswoman./pdiv style="float: left; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"ullia href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/beauty"Beauty/a/lilia href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/health"Health/a/lilia href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/healthandwellbeing"Health wellbeing/a/li/ul/divdiv class="guRssAdvert"a href="http://ads.guardian.co.uk/click.ng/richmedia=yessite=Lifeandstylecountry=(none)spacedesc=rsssystem=rsstransactionID=1227399527287112300260553996"img src="http://ads.guardian.co.uk/image.ng/richmedia=yessite=Lifeandstylecountry=(none)spacedesc=rsssystem=rsstransactionID=1227399527287112300260553996" border="0" //a/diva href="http://www.guardian.co.uk"guardian.co.uk/a copy; Guardian News Media Limited 2008 | Use of this content is subject to our a href="http://users.guardian.co.uk/help/article/0,,933909,00.html"Terms Conditions/a | a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/webfeeds/1,,1309488,00.html"More Feeds/a

pimg class="float_right" src="/~~/f?id=49276bd214b9b9e600412105maxX=250maxY=333" border="0" width="250" height="333" /Rock Band and Guitar Hero co-creator Alex Rigopulos scored part of a a href="http://www.alleyinsider.com/2008/11/rock-band-creators-score-300-million-plus-payday-via-"$300 million-plus payday/a when he sold his gaming company Harmonix to Viacom (VIA) in 2006, but he's not resting on his laurels. Speaking at the new Wired Store in New York's Flatiron district on Friday, Alex said he's looking to expand his "rhythm action" game empire to new platforms -- like Apple's (AAPL) iPhone./p pBut Alex impressed on us he's not some callow businessman -- he wants to make emart/em. "If we made a move to the iPhone, I would want to take an ambitious step in that direction, rather than just do a kind of port to the platform," Alex told SAI./p pBut what about the iPhone rhythm game Tap Tap Revenge, which is already available and popular? Not a threat, Alex says. Alex told us it was hard for him to get into the game because of its limited music catalog, and he only began to enjoy playing Tap Tap Revenge once a special edition featuring Nine Inch Nails came out./p pThe iPhone's low barriers to entry -- cheap software, easy distribution, no plastic guitars to sell -- means Harmonix's version can do well even if Tapulous has a headstart of a year or more. "Maybe we'll get there [to the iPhone] late. But if we get there with something that's better, for five dollars, we can probably sell it."/p pstrongSee Also:/strongbr /a href="http://www.alleyinsider.com/2008/11/rock-band-creators-score-300-million-plus-payday-via-"Rock Band Creators Score $300 Million-Plus Payday /abr /a href="http://www.alleyinsider.com/2008/10/the-beatles-come-to-rock-band-before-itunes-erts-via-"The Beatles Come To Rock Band Before iTunes /a/p pa href="http://feedads.googleadservices.com/~at/G-thaI5VqlTF4rXqu11iDHcXoCw/a"img src="http://feedads.googleadservices.com/~at/G-thaI5VqlTF4rXqu11iDHcXoCw/i" border="0" ismap="true"/img/a/pdiv class="feedflare" a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=hoGgqzmd"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?i=hoGgqzmd" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=AFn4aTeC"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?d=52" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=dliWHfmh"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?d=80" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=RJXjAwa2"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?i=RJXjAwa2" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=lqvSIkDn"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?d=131" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=Vnxvmx7h"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?d=336" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=iIibTfH1"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?d=41" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?a=NtisOvgI"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider?d=50" border="0"/img/a /divimg src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/typepad/alleyinsider/silicon_alley_insider/~4/1OoXRBcCTn0" height="1" width="1"/

pimg src="http://cache.gawker.com/assets/images/gizmodo/2008/11/emc2pwned.jpg" width="756" height="300" style="display:block;float:none;" /Believe it or not, but it has taken 103 years and the combined power of various of the world's top supercomputers to prove Eintein's biggest equation right, resolving e=mc2 at the scale of sub-atomic particles. The feat has been achieved by a team of French, German, and Hungarian physicists led by Laurent Lellouch at the Center for Theoretical Physics in France, and has finally answered a question that has puzzled scientists for decades: The Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Atom Mass!/p pbThe Mysterious Case of the Disappearing Atom Mass/b/p pThe night that frenchy called me I didn't had any plans. Susan took the day off for shopping. Something about new stockings. I said yes. She never seemed to have enough of those. I never had enough of her in them either. Taking her down to the club for the usual bourbon and dancing was out of the question. Maybe that's why I said yes to Lellouch. I never was fond of the froggies. Not even while I was shooting Nazis in Normandy./p pLaurent Lellouch. That was the name. I liked it as much as the sound of the case he wanted me to take: Nothing at all. Something about a war between gangs of prussian gangsters, the Neutrons and the Protons. I didn't know them. It was all weird and related to that stuff they did at Los Alamos and then dropped in Japan. I knew Uncle Sam wasn't going to be far behind this one, but Louis said he was ok to trust him. A bit. I didn't had anything better to do, anyway. Pork chilli down at George's while listening to what Lellouch had to tell me was a better plan than going with the boys to the 42nd. I looked out the window and saw it was still raining nails. Hot chilli was it./p pWhen I arrived, Lola nodded behind the bar and looked to the table where the guy was waiting. She roller her eyes and shouted the usual order to George at the kitchen. The french was nervous, mumbling something about international conspiracies and computers and that guy from Germany who turned everything outside down with his theories. That equation. E=mc2. The told me about the Protons and the Neutrons. While I was downing my chilli he went on and on about it. Inside those families there were iquarks, which are bound by gluons/i. I didn't have a clue about what he was talking about. The imass of a gluon is zero/i, he said, while the mass of the quarks is only five percent. So, iwhere is the missing 95 percent?/i/p pMaybe he was onto something. I finished my chilli, dropped a couple of Washingtons, and went on to see Janos, the Hungarian. He wasn't going to talk. Fortunately for him, I'm a reasonable man. It was nothing that a simple knuckle kiss couldn't fix. Ten minutes and three teeth later he spilt. The key is in the iquantum chromodynamics/i, something about equations running at the sub-atomic level. More gibberish, but I know he was telling the truth. I left him trying to fix his bloody nose and went to meet the Germans. I knew that if anyone had the answer, it was going to be Otto./p pI was right. He knew about Janos, so I didn't had to get nasty again. Too bad. I was thinking about how much I wanted to see Susan in her new stockings. Wasting my time listening to this was making me angry. Otto said that the unaccounted mass came from the energy from the movements and interactions of quarks and gluons. iThe computations involved envisioning space and time as part of a four-dimensional crystal lattice, with discrete points spaced along columns and rows./i/p pI still didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but I crossed the street to call the frenchie. I had his answer. When he picked the phone he was excited like a little girl in her first date at the back of the movie theater. He wanted to meet right away. Get all the details. I just wanted to get my money and go meet Susan at her place. I told him to meet me at the park, at the corner of the Fifth and the 64th./p pHe was there when I arrived, sitting on a bench with a stupid smile in his face. He had a lead overdose. Someone got him before I could tell him that Einstein was right. E=mc2 was corroborated for the first time thanks to those computers they stole from the Germans and the Hungarians. I don't know who killed him. Probably the CIA. Or the KGB. Maybe the Italians. Or all of them. I knew it was time for some silk and alcohol. I got the envelope he still had in his coat and closed his eyes. There are things that mere mortals don't need to know. And none of them were Susan's legs. [a href="http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20081120/sc_afp/sciencephysicseinstein_081120235605"AFP/a]/p br style="clear: both;"/ a href="http://www.pheedo.com/feeds/ht.php?t=camp;i=fedb98eed932642aa3ec80e5234263fdamp;p=1"img style="border:0;" src="http://www.pheedo.com/feeds/ht.php?t=vamp;i=fedb98eed932642aa3ec80e5234263fdamp;p=1" border="0" //adiv class="feedflare" a href="http://feeds.gawker.com/~f/gizmodo/full?a=YMCPkSHy"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/gizmodo/full?d=120" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feeds.gawker.com/~f/gizmodo/full?a=e9vAGPLn"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/gizmodo/full?d=41" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feeds.gawker.com/~f/gizmodo/full?a=UfoUhMFD"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/gizmodo/full?i=UfoUhMFD" border="0"/img/a a href="http://feeds.gawker.com/~f/gizmodo/full?a=mXYj4Px7"img src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~f/gizmodo/full?i=mXYj4Px7" border="0"/img/a /divimg src="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/gizmodo/full/~4/g5Vxv3ybKXE" height="1" width="1"/

To put Chinese Democracy in some perspective: it arrives 17 years after the twin Use Your Illusions, the last set of original music by Guns N’ Roses. Seventeen years prior to the Illusions, it was 1974, back before the Ramones and Sex Pistols, back before Aerosmith had Rocks and Toys in the Attic, back before Queen had A Night at the Opera — back before almost anything that Axl Rose worships even existed. Generations have passed in these 17 years but not for Axl. He cut himself off from the world following the trouble-ridden Illusion tour, retreating to the Hollywood Hills, swapping every original GNR member in favor for contract players culled from his mid-’90s musical obsessions — Tommy Stinson from the Replacements, Robin Finck from Nine Inch Nails, Buckethead from guitar magazines — as he turned into rock’s Charles Foster Kane, a genius in self-imposed exile spending millions to make his own Xanadu, Chinese Democracy.

Like Xanadu, Chinese Democracy is a monument to man’s might, but where Kane sought to bring the world underneath his roof, Axl labored to create an ideal version of his inner world, working endlessly on a set of songs about his heartbreak, persecution and paranoia, topics well-mined on the Illusions. Using the pompous ten-minute epics “Estranged” and “November Rain” as his foundation, Axl strips away all remnants of the old, snake-dancing GNR, shedding the black humor and blues, replacing any good times with vindictive spleen in the vein of “You Could Be Mine.” All this melodrama and malevolence feels familiar and, surprisingly, so does much of Chinese Democracy, even for those listeners that didn’t hear the portions of the record as leaked demos and live tracks. Despite a few surface flourishes - all the endless, evident hours spent on ProTools, a hip-hop loop here, a Spanish six-string there, absurd elastic guitar effects - this is an album unconcerned with the future of rock & roll. One listen and it’s abundantly clear that Axl spent the decade-plus in the studio refining, not reinventing, obsessing over a handful of tracks, spending an inordinate amount of timing chasing the sound his head - that’s it, no more, no less.

Such maniacal indulgence is ridiculous but strangely understandable: Rose received unlimited time and money to create this album, so why not take full advantage and obsess over every last detail? The odd thing is, he spent all this time and money on an album that is deliberately not a grand masterpiece — a record that pushes limits or digs deep — but merely a set of 14 songs. Compared to the chaotic Use Your Illusions, Chinese Democracy feels strangely modest, but that’s because it’s a single polished album, not a double album so over-stuffed it duplicates songs. Modest is an odd word for an album a decade-plus in the making, but Axl’s intent is oddly simple: he sees GNR not as a gutter-rock band but as a pomp-rock vehicle for him to lash out against all those that don’t trust him, whether it’s failed friends, lapsed fans, ex-lovers, former managers, fired band mates or rock critics. Chinese Democracy is the best articulation of this megalomania as could be possible, so the only thing to quibble about is his execution which occasionally is perplexing, particularly when Rose slides into hammy vocal inflections or encourages complicated guitar that only guitarists appreciate (it’s telling that the only memorable phrases from Robin Finck, Buckethead or Bumblefoot or whoever are ones that mimic Slash’s full-throated melodic growl). Even with these odd flourishes, it’s hard not to marvel, either in respect or bewilderment, at dense, immaculate wall of god knows how many guitars, synthesizers, vocals and strings.

The production is so dense it’s hard to warm to, but it fits the music. These aren’t songs that grab and hold, they’re songs that unfold, so much so that Chinese Democracy may seem a little underwhelming upon its first listen: it’s not just the years of pent-up anticipation, it’s that Axl spent so much time creating the music — constructing the structure then filling out the frame — that there’s no easy way into the album. That, combined with the realization that Axl isn’t trying to reinvent GNR, just finishing what he started on the Illusions, can make Chinese Democracy seem mildly anticlimactic but Rose spent a decade plus working on this — he deserves to not have it dismissed on a cursory listen. Give it time, listening like it was 1998 not 2008, and the album does give up some terrific music - music that is overblown but not overdone. True, those good moments are the song that have kicked around the internet for the entirety of the new millennium: the slinky, spiteful “Better,” slowly building into its fury; the quite gorgeous, if heavy handed, “Street of Dreams;” “There was a Time,” which overcomes its acronym and lack of chorus on its sheer drama,; “Catcher in the Rye,” the lightest, brightest moment here; the slow, grinding “I.R.S.;” and “Madagascar,” a ludicrous rueful rumination that finds space for quotations from Martin Luther King amidst its trip-hop pulse. These aren’t innovations, they’re extensions of “Breakdown” and “Estranged,” epics that require some work to decode because Axl forces the listener to meet him on his own terms. This all-consuming artistic narcissism has become Rose’s defining trait, not letting him move forward, only to relentlessly explore the same territory over and over again. And this solipsism turns Chinese Democracy into something strangely, surprisingly simple: it won’t change music, won’t change any lives, it’s just 14 more songs about loneliness and persecution. Or as Axl put it in an apology for canceled concerts in 2006, “In the end, it’s just an album.” And it’s a good album, no less and no more.

In celebration of its semisesquicentennial1, Esquire magazine shares the seven greatest stories ever told in the pages of their magazine and has published them online in their entirety. (See also Esquire's 70 greatest sentences.) Get a load of these initial paragraphs.

The School by C.J. Chivers:

Kazbek Misikov stared at the bomb hanging above his family. It was a simple device, a plastic bucket packed with explosive paste, nails, and small metal balls. It weighed perhaps eight pounds. The existence of this bomb had become a central focus of his life. If it exploded, Kazbek knew, it would blast shrapnel into the heads of his wife and two sons, and into him as well, killing them all.

The Falling Man by Tom Junod:

In the picture, he departs from this earth like an arrow. Although he has not chosen his fate, he appears to have, in his last instants of life, embraced it. If he were not falling, he might very well be flying. He appears relaxed, hurtling through the air. He appears comfortable in the grip of unimaginable motion. He does not appear intimidated by gravity's divine suction or by what awaits him. His arms are by his side, only slightly outriggered. His left leg is bent at the knee, almost casually. His white shirt, or jacket, or frock, is billowing free of his black pants. His black high-tops are still on his feet. In all the other pictures, the people who did what he did -- who jumped -- appear to be struggling against horrific discrepancies of scale. They are made puny by the backdrop of the towers, which loom like colossi, and then by the event itself. Some of them are shirtless; their shoes fly off as they flail and fall; they look confused, as though trying to swim down the side of a mountain. The man in the picture, by contrast, is perfectly vertical, and so is in accord with the lines of the buildings behind him. He splits them, bisects them: Everything to the left of him in the picture is the North Tower; everything to the right, the South. Though oblivious to the geometric balance he has achieved, he is the essential element in the creation of a new flag, a banner composed entirely of steel bars shining in the sun. Some people who look at the picture see stoicism, willpower, a portrait of resignation; others see something else -- something discordant and therefore terrible: freedom. There is something almost rebellious in the man's posture, as though once faced with the inevitability of death, he decided to get on with it; as though he were a missile, a spear, bent on attaining his own end. He is, fifteen seconds past 9:41 a.m. EST, the moment the picture is taken, in the clutches of pure physics, accelerating at a rate of thirty-two feet per second squared. He will soon be traveling at upwards of 150 miles per hour, and he is upside down. In the picture, he is frozen; in his life outside the frame, he drops and keeps dropping until he disappears.

What Do You Think of Ted Williams Now? by Richard Ben Cramer:

Few men try for best ever, and Ted Williams is one of those. There's a story about him I think of now. This is not about baseball but fishing. He meant to be the best there, too. One day he says to a Boston writer: "Ain't no one in heaven or earth ever knew more about fishing."

"Sure there is," says the scribe.

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

"Well, God made the fish."

"Yeah, awright," Ted says. "But you have to go pretty far back."

Frank Sinatra Has a Cold by Gay Talese:

Frank Sinatra, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other, stood in a dark corner of the bar between two attractive but fading blondes who sat waiting for him to say something. But he said nothing; he had been silent during much of the evening, except now in this private club in Beverly Hills he seemed even more distant, staring out through the smoke and semidarkness into a large room beyond the bar where dozens of young couples sat huddled around small tables or twisted in the center of the floor to the clamorous clang of folk-rock music blaring from the stereo. The two blondes knew, as did Sinatra's four male friends who stood nearby, that it was a bad idea to force conversation upon him when he was in this mood of sullen silence, a mood that had hardly been uncommon during this first week of November, a month before his fiftieth birthday.

M by John Sack:

One, two, three at the most weeks and they would give M company its orders -- they being those dim Olympian entities who reputedly threw cards into an IBM machine or into a hat to determine where each soldier in M would go next, which ones to stay there in the United States, which to live softly in Europe, and which to fight and to die in Vietnam.

The Last American Hero Is Junior Johnson. Yes! by Tom Wolfe:

Ten o'clock Sunday morning in the hills of North Carolina. Cars, miles of cars, in every direction, millions of cars, pastel cars, aqua green, aqua blue, aqua beige, aqua buff, aqua dawn, aqua dusk, aqua aqua, aqua Malacca, Malacca lacquer, Cloud lavender, Assassin pink, Rake-a-cheek raspberry. Nude Strand coral, Honest Thrill orange, and Baby Fawn Lust cream-colored cars are all going to the stock-car races, and that old mothering north Carolina sun keeps exploding off the windshields. Mother dog!

Superman Comes to the Supermarket by Norman Mailer:

For once let us try to think about a political convention without losing ourselves in housing projects of fact and issue. Politics has its virtues, all too many of them -- it would not rank with baseball as a topic of conversation if it did not satisfy a great many things -- but one can suspect that its secret appeal is close to nicotine. Smoking cigarettes insulates one from one's life, one does not feel as much, often happily so, and politics quarantines one from history; most of the people who nourish themselves in the political life are in the game not to make history but to be diverted from the history which is being made.

[1] That's seventy five years, yo. Quattuordecennial is the anniversarial name for fourteen years. Others. ↩