#only money is the only way to do something shameless at all costs wit

[wenguiguo]

[sixkl]

#GuoWengui   In the eyes of Guo Wengui and Bannon, only money is the only way to do something shameless at all costs wit

[politicaltheatre]

Depraved Indifference

"I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn't lose any voters, OK? It's, like, incredible."

- Donald Trump, at a campaign stop at Dordt College, Sioux Center, Iowa, January 23, 2016

This quote didn’t find its way into the second impeachment trial of the now-former President, but it should have. In a better world it would have, but in that better world a man such Donald Trump would not ever have been elected to any office, let alone one as powerful as president. And yet, somehow he was.

Donald Trump is no longer president, something his defenders, standing before the Senate and sitting among the trial’s jury, have taken great pains to try to focus our attention on.

Note how they talk about the importance of “moving on” and getting over it, thereby distancing us and, far more importantly, themselves from what was done.

Note how they try to frame the charge against Trump - “inciting violence against the government of the United States” - as merely “partisan” and “political”, something devoid of any legal justification or standing, as if the crimes were not witnessed by billions around the world in real time.

Note how, when faced with having to face the morally depraved actions they either encouraged or enabled in Trump and those who followed him, and having to defend their own complicity in the indefensible result, they turn to not even a little bit thinly veiled threats against those daring to accuse. Any retribution, they do declare, any continuation of violence against Trump’s declared enemies, that will be on you.

This has all the subtlety and predictability of a trial in the Jim Crow South, and, given the number of Confederate flags waving inside the Capitol on January 6th, that really isn’t too strong a comparison.

Trump, as anyone anywhere in the world even casually paying attention should know, is entirely guilty of inciting that riot. He spent years cultivating doubt in the electoral system, months casting doubt on the 2020 mail-in voting results, and, finally, weeks spreading blatant lies about voting fraud, ones that he continues to tell to this day.

He did all of this while encouraging and enabling exactly the kind of violence done on his behalf that we all saw on the 6th and, as the House impeachment managers have helpfully shown at length, in the days, weeks, months, and years leading up to it.

“Stand back and stand by”, right? The Proud Boys stuck that on t-shirts.

If the videos the House managers have played have failed to persuade, we tell ourselves, perhaps the evidence of Trump’s Defense and Justice departments undermining the Capitol police and National Guard’s response will. How about a timeline of Trump’s fiddling while the Capitol burned and his own Vice President quite literally ran for his life? No? Really?

You don’t need a lot of time to prepare a case when the defendant has been caught, figuratively, thousands of times in the middle of Fifth Avenue with a smoking gun. Trump’s thumbs offered up hundreds of smoking guns to choose from. Videos of his post-election rallies do, too. The ones he posted that day, hours after the breach, calling the men and women hunting “traitors” of both parties and battering Capitol police with American flags “patriots”, well, that’s a prosecutor’s dream. Or should be.

So, yes, he is guilty. Very, very, very guilty.

Ah, but so are at least three of his jury members: Josh Hawley, James Lankford, and Ted Cruz. They all gave credence to Trump’s lies, they all gave weight to those lies by demanding that the Senate investigate them once more and yet again before confirming the election, and that day they all cynically and repeatedly called for the rejection of President-elect Joe Biden’s victory.  Well, Hawley and Cruz did; Lankford was trying to when he was evacuated.

They were no less guilty of trying to profit from the misplaced and misguided rage of those storming the Senate chamber than Trump, and, if the rioters’ own social media accounts are to be believed, Hawley and Cruz at the very least were no less accountable for them being there. Lankford, it seems, needs to up his social media game.

Those three senators, of course, are not on trial. They are merely jurors charged with deciding the guilt or innocence of Donald Trump for doing what they did themselves. They will be joined in their guaranteed “No” votes by at least 41 other Republican senators who, like them, once again voted to claim that, despite over 200 years of clear legal precedent, this impeachment trial is “unconstitutional”.

It’s no shock that the House managers’ detailed legal history lesson fell on deaf ears, nor is it that those three and other Trump Republicans were caught “reading” during the presentation of evidence. Rand Paul, whose own ridiculous claims about the election and trial have been followed by threats of retaliation, was caught doodling like teen stuck in detention.

This, not anything said by Trump’s crack legal team, is the argument for the defense: they know what Trump did, they know it was wrong, they know what they’re doing, and they know that’s wrong, too. And they do not care. They do not care.

These aren’t stupid people, they’re just dishonest. More specifically, they’re corrupt. What they believe, what they take as a matter of faith, is that they’ll face no real consequences for anything they’re doing or anything they’ve done.

And who’s to tell them they’re wrong? What’s the worse Hawley or Cruz will face? Censure? You can’t shame the shameless. They’ll wear their censures the same way Trump would, as a badge of courage on which they can raise campaign money and, they hope, draw out votes from Trump’s millions of rabidly loyal supporters.

For Hawley, Cruz, and others already campaigning for 2024, that’s all that matters. For them, this is just an opportunity, a means to an end, as they pursue their highly profitable careers in politics. It’s just business. For them, Trump, and every other one in Congress, on TV, and on social media who chose to ignore what people might do if they lied to them and wound them up, and for all of those choosing to ignore the consequences of it now, that’s all this is: just business.

And that’s the problem.

Politics shouldn’t be a business. We know that without even having to be told. When we talk about it, we do so in terms of “service” and “doing one’s duty”, words and phrases that romanticize the selfless nature we want to see in our politics and our politicians. We don’t just do that because that’s how we’ve always heard it spoken of, we do that because we know that the ones who embody that ideal are rare. There’s just too much evidence to deny it.

Go back far as you want, there have been men and women seeking power for the purpose of defending themselves and their friends from accountability. Back in the day, they sought appointments through connections or simply joined the clergy. These days, they run for office.

The political party in this country that currently stands against accountability is the Republican Party. Sure, the Democratic Party has its own sizable share of complicity for allowing the country’s drift into right-wing aggressive selfishness, but, lucky for us, it hasn’t been able to rid itself of its accountable members the way the Republican Party has. Of course, that’s only natural, given the importance of accountability to the political Left.

The last two Republican presidents were elected in no small part because they had a background in business. Yes, they each ran their businesses into the ground, but they ran them.

George W. Bush came into office as a “corporate” president, one who would, we were assured, delegate to those more experienced and skilled in areas where he was…lacking. We waved away his inadequacies and were somehow shocked when he failed in exactly every one of those areas. Still, he and his friends made money hand over fist, so the corporate presidency was good for business, big business, in particular, which got a big bailout.

Donald Trump should have inspired even less confidence, but confidence man that he is, he played enough suckers to get him in the White House. As much pain, suffering, and death as he has caused in four excruciatingly long years, he and his cronies have made out like gangbusters, too. The government they were hired to manage, not so much.

From the start, he and his cabinet secretaries lived by the old rule, “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to get permission”. Not that they asked for forgiveness. That’s for losers. They broke laws, fleeced taxpayers, and resigned knowing that whatever penalty they might face would pale compared to the profits they took with them.

This is the mentality that drives corporate decision making around the world. For them, the adage is a bit more like, “better to settle a lawsuit than risk profits”. They, too, avoid apologies whenever possible. That keeps the damages paid to to victims and their families lower.

Currently, there are companies selling cars, drugs, baby food, and other products that they know are defective and a threat to the people using them. They know this. They know there’s a high risk that people will die, and they do it anyway. Instead of recognizing the threat and stopping, they do cost-benefit analyses to determine the number of deaths from their products they can afford.

This, it’s worth stating, is not capitalism. We may tell ourselves that it is, but that’s just us looking for an easy answer, a scapegoat for our own failures. In fact, this pattern was just as common under communism, too; just ask anybody who used to live near Chernobyl. Mistakes are hidden, a given number of deaths are accepted, and the perception of success and prestige is maintained.

This is corruption, and deaths and suffering caused by a lack of accountability are what corruption does. A death is a symptom, a great, big red flag, something to tell you that something is very, very, very wrong, but how many of those red flags do we see and ignore before we finally stop to ask what it is we’ve been seeing?

How many smaller red flags, such as poverty, racism, anti-semitism, police brutality, injustice, and sexual abuse, do we pass because we’ve just become so used to seeing them? Do we tell ourselves that there is nothing we can do? Do we even ask if there is anything we can do? Or do we, as so many senators are now preparing to do, instead embrace corruption as a virtue.

This is the real threat, a system that accepts this and holds no one accountable, and a culture that pushes back against demands for accountability, embracing the very worst of who we are and what we can do to others just to prove that we can. The result is a flood of childish acting out and a loss of trust in products and services that we must be able to trust because they are supposed to keep us safe.

Is this as great a threat to our society as the January 6th attack on the Capitol? This is that attack. The product failures that led to the attack were political. We have watched as our political and government institutions have failed. We have watched as those entrusted to deliver a product that works and keeps us safe have, again and again, deliberately or not, betrayed that trust. As with any other product sold, each breach of trust carries over into the next, accumulating and compounding, eroding not just our ability to trust those products but all products like them.

Think of the doubts Americans have about the safety of vaccines? Sure, we can chalk that down to internet conspiracy theories and echo chambers if we like, but would they have gained the traction they have in a world in which we weren’t inundated with ads featuring paid-non-attorney-spokespersons asking us if we or a loved one took this drug or that and had experienced one or more life threatening side effects? How many of us heard about the Covid-19 vaccines and asked, How long before we see the ads for that?

For decades, we have allowed ourselves to become a nation of beta-testers, taking on the cost and burden of quality control that the companies releasing and profiting from these products, and these class action lawsuits have become big business as a result. Every new pharmaceutical product that hits the shelves, part of us is just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Time and the success of these vaccines should put an end to that, at least for this pandemic, but that we have to do so should tell us about the work we have to do to repair our society, or to build one that can exist without absolving us from being accountable to each other.

Until then, we have other kinds of corruption to face, including one that may be more destructive than anything we’re seeing in the Senate this week.

The Reddit-GameStop insurrection might have been fun to watch from the sidelines, a bit of schadenfreude for those of us on the outside of Wall Street, looking in, but the truth is the hedge fund villains still made their money, and the systemic fault lines this episode exposed should have us all scared and paying attention.

Our economy is overly concentrated in Wall Street’s product and therefore overly dependent on its success and stability. A loss of faith in its product has been underway for years. That’s how you get to day traders trying to take on hedge funds the way they did. This wasn’t David vs Goliath, this was guerrilla warfare over who gets to make the quick and easy profits.

The upside of that is that some of the “little guys” seem to win something; the downside of that is that it does nothing to fix the problems we have with Wall Street. Rather, it only makes them worse, by highlighting how easy it is to manipulate stocks and commodities and how few get to do it and get away with it.

What happens, then, when no one has any faith left in Wall Street? What happens when everyone believes it is nothing more than a casino designed to take money rather than make it?

Well, we’re almost there. We have a massive, growing online gambling industry, and with it an online gambling problem. Sports leagues, some with their own recent histories of cheaters (and worse) getting away with it, have turned their own fans onto gambling as part of the sport. How many of these people, blowing their money on bad beats, think of it as no different than investing on Wall Street stocks?

A better question: What happens to all of those stock prices when everyone, including the crooks on Wall Street, lose faith in that system, take their profits, and leave? An even better question: What happens if they do that all at once?

The answer is: Lost jobs, pensions, food and housing security, and hope.

In other words, 2020 on steroids. That’s what you get with corruption, an environment in which politicians like Donald Trump, companies willing to harm consumers, and right wing domestic terrorists thrive. As long as they aren’t held accountable, they will.

“Bad for the country”, indeed.

- Daniel Ward

[cheezritsu]

Atsumu Miya || Unravelling

[Uhn•rav•uhl] verb, informal. to take apart; undo; destroy

Warnings: implied sex, mentions of sex, quick depiction of self harming behaviors (not explicit.) Inspired by SZA’s Supermodel

It must be considered deviant and demonic how the constant the thud thud THUD! Rings out with an even pace in the hallway of Tokyo’s finest apartment complexes. If it weren’t for the fact that calling the police would no doubt result in a press field day none of the residents of Park Mansion Akasaka wanted, someone would have filed a noise complaint. It’s a shame they did not—perhaps there might be a certain clout that comes with exposing MSBY setter Miya Atsumu’s intimate life, but it would also have saved time, money, and tears in the long run.

But, the residents of the 9th floor could not see into the future. They were instead, attempting to mind their business and not be bothered by Miya trying to make back beats by fucking someone into a mattress.

That little comparison was Osamu’s first scathing critique, until he froze completely. The disgust melted into horror as he turned his head to his companion.

“Hey-,” he starts, but as he catches the expression, the words dry up.

Yes, it would have been nicer—no, merciful—if the residents of the 9th floor had called the police when this happened, if only to spare you from witnessing it yourself.

Your hands get so clammy, the plastic bag in your hand nearly slips out. You catch yourself before the beer bottles can shatter on the marble floor that costs more than your entire block. It’s an easy clean up, but it would probably be very sticky, and disastrous, you think. Almost as disastrous as—

It starts up again, rhythmic and constant like an orchestrated performance. You and Osamu are mere steps outside the apartment, and you can hear the manic, frayed screams coming from the walls. It sounds like they’re in pain; just the way Atsumu likes it.

“Y/N,” Osamu tries once again to get your attention. The pity in his voice is unmistakable, and you hate that of all the emotions the usually stoic twin shows you, this is the one he’s chosen. Pity. Sympathy.

“Guess that’s why he didn’t pick up the phone,” you remark casually, refusing to look Osamu in the eye. “I’ll just leave it by his door with a note.”

Osamu says your name, this time with a firm edge that demands attention. You don’t give it to him. You’re too busy trying not to actively throw the takeout and beer you bought out of your measly paycheck to help your friend (attachment, entanglement, dick appointment, are all better words than friend) feel better after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Saitama Spears. (Crushing, like his hands must be around her neck for the moans to sound so strangled.) No matter, you say to yourself, hands shaking as you send him a text. Something cute and sweet with a properly sickening amount of heart emojis, like any good (not quite) girlfriend would do. Whatever it takes.

Ignoring how the click of your heels mesh with the steady thrum of Atsumu’s two thousand yen headboard against his 100 million yen walls, you march back the exact way you came; down the white, sterile hallway and passed the doors that housed the rest of the 9th floor, who would, unknowingly, pay for the mistake of not asking the shameless Atsumu Miya to please, please keep his fucking at a tolerable volume. Fame and infamy come with perks, one supposes, but they also come with karma.

You’re not thinking of revenge, though. You’re wondering how you’ll make it to the elevator without completely coming apart at the seams. Something in you unravels, much like it might if Atsumu were playing you like the fool you were; perfectly manicured setter hands curling, scratching, plucking at all the right places. No, this unravelling is much slower, much more painful, as if the single thread that creates your existence is being snipped in half. When you push the call button for the elevator, you think the thread is severed completely, because you have to lean your head on the cold steel to steady yourself.

Osamu’s approaching footsteps really only register in the very depths of your mind. The heavy breathing doesn’t really sound like yours—how could it be anyways, when you were miles away from your body, floating in the ether like a ghost; forgotten, discarded, alone. Untethered.

You lift your head up only to bang it against the wall. The soft thud is reminiscent of the moment that just transpired, and you—subconsciously, like you were possessed—start bashing your forehead to the same piledriver waltz Atsumu had played.

“Y/N!” Pity. Bang! Worry. Bang! Sympathy. Bang! Could you crush your skull this way? The mystery woman’s screams tangle in your brain like an earworm, the salacious sounds on repeat. Bang!

When Osamu’s hand lands on your shoulders, it feels like he’s tethered your soul back into your body. You wrench yourself out of his grip.

“Don’t!-” you begin to scream, but you catch the look he gives you. His grey-brown eyes are wet with concern, darting between the growing red spot on your forehead to the watery snarl on your lips. You take a shuddering breath to keep the hysteria from bubbling into your tone. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

Osamu doesn’t even raise an eyebrow in pretence. His mask of neutrality and sarcasm is completely gone, replaced with anger. “You were banging your head into the wall like a patient in a psych ward.”

“That’s unnecessarily stereotypical, Osamu. I thought you were better than that.”

Crossed arms. He’s seconds away from blowing his lid. “Yer not funny.”

You wonder what would happen if Osamu blanked on you in here. Would these good-for-nothing neighbors actually call the police then? What a headline: Miya twins apprehended in two separate noise complaints. Kita would probably stop sending Osamu rice out of embarrassment.

You don’t want to fight Osamu anyways. It’s not his fault that the bearer of his face is fucking another girl as you speak.

The elevator dings, and you step inside. It’s fortunately empty. Osamu stands right next to you, hovering like an overprotective parent. The chrome doors of the elevator slide shut and you’re face to face with your own reflection: hollow, sunken eyes the most expensive concealer can’t fix; posture hunched from years of slaving over work and school; nails short and busted from part time jobs that barely pay the bills. Nails that have been raked down the chiseled, marble back of a man who didn’t belong to you, and never did.

Her nails were probably nicer. Probably manicured. Maybe he paid for it. You can’t even see your nails anymore, because your head is in your hands, shielding your ugly cries from Osamu, who bears the face of the man who doesn’t love you.

“I should have just taken the fucking hint,” you sniffle, wiping the running eyeliner from the corner of your eye. “Shoulda left him alone.”

Osamu just hums. You wished it was anyone else but him. Osamu isn’t bad at a lot of things, but comfort was one of them. He just stares vacantly at the doors, a grimace replacing his usual thin lipped look, but other than that he appears unbothered.

And then, like he’s reading condolences off a list, he says: “I’m sorry.”

The words in their sincerity sound foreign on his tongue. With one big sniff you pull the thread keeping you together tightly, gathering yourself. “What’re you apologising for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry my brother is a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, we both knew that, didn’t we.”

Osamu can’t place what he dislikes about that phrase, but the elevator interrupts his thought process. The doors open to reveal one of the security guards eying you two up and down. His eyes narrow for a moment on Osamu’s face, and then dip down to yours.

“There a problem here, Miya-san?”

On any other day he might have pulled a fast one on this guard, but you promptly walk out of the elevator, leaving Osamu to follow your lead wordlessly. The world outside the Park Mansion Akasaka is still turning, still bustling with people catching trains home from work, their patent leather shoes from office jobs clicking on the sidewalk to a rhythm you can’t match. The thud of the salarymen’s briefcases hitting their legs echo like the headboard off Atsumu’s walls. It’s everywhere, everywhere, and your insides churn sickeningly.

You stop, one hand leaning against the glass. Osamu catches up, hands halting just before they reach your back. “Stop running away from me, name,” he says softly, exasperated. “I’m trying to help.”

“How long.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

You’re nearly doubled over with nausea, your free hand pressed flat against your chest to keep your lungs compressing. “How long has he been with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me-“

“(Name) I would never do that to you.”

The promise doesn’t reassure you. Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. And I’m not going to say anything—“

“Like what?” You look at him over your shoulder, eyes squinted in malice. “Like I told you so?”

Your insolence is wearing out Osamu’s sliver of empathy. You’re unbearable like this, you know that, and Osamu is less tolerable than most. “Your words, not mine.”

“Your brother is cheating on me.”

“You’re not together.”

“There it is!” You let your head fall back in rumbling, humorless laughter. “I was waiting for that.”

“I don’t want to be a dick right now.”

“Too late, ‘Samu.” You haul yourself up, buttoning the front of your coat. “Go home, work on your winter menu. I’ll be fine.”

The statement is met with rightful skepticism, but when you start to walk away, Osamu doesn’t follow. You can’t decide whether or not this hurts, because the all encompassing pain finally registers to the rest of your body. You try to numb yourself, dissociating as every step towards home becomes a blur. Akasaka’s beautiful lights and towers fade into lesser Tokyo’s decrepit neighborhoods, with sketchy alleys and dimly lit streets. Your apartment complex is a shoebox to Atsumu’s tower residence, and it feels just as claustrophobic when you step into your crowded, tiny apartment.

It’s nicer than what your friends can afford, but that doesn’t make it any better. Your couch is also your bed, and your desk faces the window even though you can’t properly study this way. The kitchen is perpetually clean because you can’t cook anything in it. You’re sure the fridge is empty, but it’s fine, because you simply peel off your clothing and curl into a ball on your bed.

It’s not even late. You have work and assignments to do, but as you check the time on your phone, you’re immediately taken to your camera roll, where a picture from several days ago stares back at you mockingly.

It’s from his bathroom, the one that has a television screen by the bathtub, the one with hotel lighting that makes you look glowy and ethereal no matter what. You’re half dressed, in the middle of putting on your morning skincare when Atsumu comes up behind you, arms around your waist. Your face is obscured, but you remember how happy and loved you felt to have his lips pressed against your temple, the heat of his body in your side. How surrounded and safe and warm you felt.

But moments are as fleeting and fragile as glass. The illusion has been shattered, and you’re left in a cocoon of blankets nowhere near as satisfactory as his body heat, in a dark and dingy apartment you will probably stay in for the rest of your life.

Just as you’re about to set your alarm for the morning, a notification pops up. The sparkles around his name indicate that Atsumu has finally, finally texted you back.

✨T’sumu✨: sorry I missed you babe I was not in a good place

✨T’sumu✨: you got work tmrrw? You always know how to cheer me up

It’s as if your heart has been snatched out of your rib cage; your chest hollows and collapses as a sob hiccups in your throat. Something wet slides across your temple. It’s not Atsumu’s lips, not even close. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand, and throw your phone across the room.

It shatters.

[beginagainbugle]

An Essay in Response to "On Diplomacy: A Manifesto by Magneto" & the newly Ratified Accords

The Daily Bugle received this letter only a day after Secretary Ross and Agent Ross announced the new amendments to the Accords. It seems not everyone appreciates the olive branch – and money – thrown their way. But we’re an honest source of news here at the Bugle! We’d be remiss if we didn’t show you this shocking story just as we received it! – J. Jonah Jameson

First and foremost, I feel the need to start off by quoting an old friend of mine. Several weeks ago, an anonymous source delivered quite the message from him and his words were as follows:

There are those amongst us who believe that diplomacy is the answer to the conflict between mutants and humans. I regret to say that there can be no diplomacy.  Diplomacy and negotiation are predicated on the very simple idea that two opposing parties have some measure of equality; that one can offer something to the other and gain something in turn.  Further, both parties must have a degree of respect for the other party, something that will hold them to account for any agreement reached.

There is no equality, and there is no respect…

I ignored his speech because I know him. We never agree on anything these days and even if I hope to reason with him, nothing I say will ever change how he feels about you people. The two of us — and I mean not to sound boastful — but we have been tasked with leading a sizable amount of mutants with each group strongly believing in one idea or the other. In Magneto’s case, I refer back to the quotes above and in my case, I have always given you a lot more credit than you probably deserve. My ideals and the ideals of many who look to me as their leader, all revolve around finding a peaceful means to end the conflict that you started between those with ‘gifts’ and those without. I am the person he refers to in his point about diplomacy.

However Mr. Secretary, if I am to be completely honest, my old friend has a point. It almost pains me to agree with him on anything these days because in order to see his side of the coin, that means I must face the reality that my ideals fall on deaf ears sometimes. I had hoped it would not come to this; that I wouldn’t have to leave the shadows and safety of the school I protect in order to speak on the hypocrisy within the propaganda you keep shoving down the American people’s throats, but it would seem you have left me no choice in the matter. Let us begin…

Agent Ross starts his foray into this shameless propaganda that means to justify discrimination of mutants and those like us by offering a rather smooth, backhanded compliment ——as if he has ever been in the presence of a mutant as opposed to the heroes he/they once hailed that are the primary reason for these Accords in the first place.

“There are those among us who have incredible gifts. Dangerous gifts. A brave new world.”

Dangerous, Agent Ross? Our ‘gifts’ are incredible, but dangerous? We do not need your backhanded compliments. Call it what it is. You all think that we are something to be feared and leading your speech with such nonsense is an insult to our intelligence. Your words are but a subtle jab; a way to incite fear into average person, but I digress. There’s more, my fellow mutants.

“The secretary says that I’m ‘uniquely qualified,’ because I’ve seen it. Not because of my training or my expertise. Not because of the missions I’ve flown or the lives I’ve saved. But because I was there, when Superheroes fought. And I gotta tell you –” He laughed again. “It’s amazing.”

Just what exactly have you seen Agent Ross that uniquely qualifies you to speak on behalf of mutants? Aside from Dr. Banner ( a special case I will not dive into today ), how many mutants have you seen up close? How many have you actually met in person and conversed with in some lengthy form? How many have you seen in combat against ‘your kind’? One experience with a bunch of heroes that — at one time — could freely walk the streets without being persecuted does not make you uniquely qualified to do anything on our behalf. All the people have is your word on your experience, but who’s to say your word wasn’t fabricated for a moment such as this?

You go on to describe what you saw in Wakanda as a beautiful dance that left normal people in awe of what you were witnessing. You practically ooze saccharine as it pertains to our unique abilities but then you swing the hammer in such a way backwards that I have to wonder if my hope is wasted on the likes of you homo sapiens.

“…the dance has to end… the dancers have to come offstage, and into the audience…. We have to learn how to share that world. It needs to be safe for everyone who lives here.”

Agent Ross… Mr. Secretary, it is rare that I read something that isn’t written by Magneto and feel the need to react harshly, but this is one of those times I cannot let your unfairness go unaddressed. I will not reduce myself to inciting a war you all cannot win, but I will say this:

You claim that the ultimate goal of these Accords is so that we can all share the world and feel safe while doing it, but what you fail to understand is that we mutants have wanted this all along. Not the Accords, but the permission to live among you as regular people. We all bleed the same thing Mr. Secretary, but I cannot help but point out the hypocrisy of your words. Furthermore, who are you to tell those with gifts they were born with to ‘get off the stage’, as if this stage was one many mutants asked for. Even IF we register; take off the masks and reveal our locations to you day and night, what are we truly accomplishing here? Registering our names won’t make anyone feel any safer. All this does is allow you easy access to us. Should you decide in your next speech that the best thing for the entire world is to eliminate those pesky dancers then we are but sitting ducks — something I hope has never even crossed your mind.

Persecuting people… telling the public that we’re all dangerous mutants that need to be put in check is not how you make the world a better place. You hardly know us, Mr. Secretary. You’ve never once sat down with us nor taken the time to reach out and actually educate yourself about what you are truly dealing with.You are operating on assumptions; using your irritation at the Avengers for costing you billions of dollars by assuming all of us are exactly the same. 

Not all of us are like my old friend. A vast majority of us are living every single moment alone and in fear; fear of you and the world that continues finding ways to paint us out as horrible people. Instead of trying to find common ground that does not include throwing us in holding cells for not bending to your will, you and Mr. Stark — who likely hasn’t met many mutants either — decided that we needed to be checked; never mind the fact that most of us haven’t done a single thing to deserve this treatment except exist in a world that has never taken kindly to anything different. My mutants are not suiting up everyday fighting aliens on your behalf. We’re not costing you billions or embarrassing you on national televisions with our heroics. The true embarrassment is you, Mr. Secretary.

“We made these rules for one reason, and one reason only. To prevent terrible intentions from becoming unbearable realities.”

What intentions do you speak of? Even though I do not know the Avengers well enough to speak on their behalf, I think it’s safe to assume that all they’ve ever done is use their abilities on behalf of humanity. I’ve never met Captain America but of all the Avengers, I admire him the most. Not only did he help save your sorry hides from an alien invasion, but he walked away with no bloodshed after the very people who made him turned their backs on him. If that is how you treat one of your own, I shudder to think how you would treat people like us. Speaking of us and your so-called rules…

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws. —Article 14; the US Constitution

The rules of governing citizens as stated in the Constitution apply to all and we mutants have never questioned it. Many of us walk the straight and narrow; we obey the laws despite being forced to remain in the shadows due to the prejudices you keep pumping into the media. A majority of us have never broken any of the laws and on the off-chance you happen to catch an occasional rule breaker, it’s often because of something your people have done first. Left unprovoked, we go about our business. When provoked, well… 

My point is that despite the clear violation of the Constitution that these Accords are in direct opposition of, we mutants carry on anyway with the hope that things will change for the better. Your latest stunt does nothing but further HIS argument — that you not only see us as monsters, but as something other than rightful citizens who are awarded the same protections by the Constitution as everyone else. Yet you extend a hand to us as if things are going to magically change with the signing of our names yet in the same breath, we are to be taken by deadly force if necessary; killed, chained or even locked away without any kind of trial if we oppose you.

And if I am mistaken and by rules you meant the Accords, then I must sincerely apologize. The rules placed in society are meant to be followed if the government and the people governed are meant to coexist peacefully. However, when the rules are unfair and unabashedly biased, the people… the citizens of that society, have a right to push back. I’ll not deny my mutants that right.

Mr. Secretary, up until now, all I’ve ever done is try from behind the scenes to see both sides of the coin. I have done nothing but train my students in the art of peaceful coexistence. Nothing good can come from fighting our own people. In the same breath, it would seem that the world I’ve been fighting for all my life seems ever more out of reach with each law you pass. It’s a shame we are all being forced to suffer on behalf of your ire with others, but shame on me for expecting more from a government who — historically — has a nasty habit of destroying the things that make them uncomfortable or feel inferior.

This new law you have passed will only incite the rage of the one who continues to be a thorn in your side. This is my final plea to see reason. At the end of the day, when you finally grow tired of ratifying papers and decide you wish to solve the issue in the same manner you have solved all of this country’s issues in the past, I will go silent. I will stand aside and let things unfold, no matter how much it may pain my heart. 

TO MY FELLOW MUTANTS,  my final message to you all is to survive; to use your common sense when presented with scathing propaganda like this and proceed in a manner that allows you to live with no regrets down the road. I will never fully relinquish my faith because it is my hope that someday the people in power will realize their mistakes. It’s never too late you see. However, my loyalties have always been first and foremost, to my fellow X-Men; my mutants and my family. I will NEVER encourage you to retaliate with violence, but I will understand if you see things HIS way as opposed to my own, especially now.

In closing, Mr. Secretary, I will NOT be registering under your Accords and neither will the children left under my legal guardianship. Do what you must, but heed my warnings: even the most docile of creatures will fight back when backed into a corner. I pity anyone who comes at me or my students looking to collect when we’ve done nothing wrong. When you are finally ready to accept just how wrong you are and agree to work with me on an answer that doesn’t just benefit your side, give me a call. You won’t find me or my school, but finding you — wherever you are in the world — will never be a problem for someone like me. My powers are something that should keep you and your entire staff awake every night, but is it not fortuitous that I have always been on your side?

Sincerely,

          Professor X & Leader of the X-Men

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #146

“peace sells, but who’s buying?”

Have you ever been arrested? For what?  No. Do you like Pres. Obama? Why?  Don't even fight me, dude was funny.  From a political position, I can't answer.  I didn't pay enough attention to form a well-supported opinion. Do you know how to change the oil in your car?  Nope. At what age did you obtain your driver license?  I don't have it yet, but I do expect to probably get it this year. Do you like Slim Jim’s?  g i m m e What are you favorite kind of chips?  Spicy Cheetos. Are there any plants in your house?  I think there's none... How important is it for you and your partner or friends to share a similar taste in music, movies, shows, etc?  Not very important at all. What sort of compliments make you feel the best?  Because I'm a self-conscious piece of shit, calling me pretty or something of the sort and actually sounding sincere can brighten my whole day.  Also just a compliment on my behavior means a lot. If you have a pet, do they sleep with you at night?  Roman does. <3  He sleeps on my hip, arm, or curled beside me. What is the climate and geography like where you live?  Usually warm, humid as fuck in the summer...  We live in a pretty flat area.  Farming terrain. Do you have a Facebook? If no, then why not?  Yeah. Has there ever been a murder in your town?  Yeah. Are you someone who has to analyze everything?  AAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Are you too sensitive for your own good? YUP. Do you still have pictures of you and your ex best friend?  I'm sure in old photo albums Mom keeps. Where does your grandma live?  My only living one technically lives in Florida, but she stays in NY with her son's family a lot.  Probably doesn't much now that she's married, though. Is there a mirror in your room?  We have one we need to put up on my door. Have you ever done hard drugs before?  No. Have you ever lived with a roommate before? Jacob and Amanda when I was in the apartment with Jason. What's the littlest you have slept in?  Naked accidentally lmao. What is your favorite juice? Mixed ones.  Particularly mango ones. Do you love one parent better than the other?  Yeah, admittedly.  But I adore them both. What’s the best club you’ve ever been to? Never been. Do you prefer hardly toasted at all or burnt toast?  You will never see me eat burnt toast. Are there any forms of Art you personally find pointless?  I will never in my entire life understand why scribbles a two-year-old could make sometimes sell for thousands.  But for the artist themselves, if it's therapeutic, then, *shrugs* Have you ever been told you naturally tilt your head a certain way?  YUP and my mom would always try to fix it.  I still do it. Who were the last two girls you texted?  Sara and Mom. When was the last time you completely broke down?  Uhhhh I'm unsure. Have you ever gone to court?  Yeah, but only to explain to a judge why I felt I should be released from the mental hospital sooner.  Won.  They wanted to keep me for a whole month and I was like um fuck no, especially when your facility sucks. When was the last time you felt left out?  *shrugs* Do you know if women in your family tend to get gray hair early? Have you yourself ever had a gray hair?  Idk, and no. Who in your family has the longest hair? How long is yours? Nicole easily has the longest.  The longer side of my hair just barely passes my ear. What professional teams do you and/or your family root for? Dad's for the Carolina Hurricanes and Cleveland Browns. How many people have you truly fallen IN love with? Two. What’s your favorite bird?  Barn owls. Does your car have an alarm?  I don't have my own car.  Mom's doesn't. What about your house?  No, but Teddy and Bentley suffice well. Have you ever seen your siblings naked?  As kids, sure, and then Nicole has like zero shame walking around the house naked after a shower to get clothes. Did you ever really believe in the tooth fairy?  Lol yeah. Would you ever get your legs waxed? No, sounds painful as fuck.  Especially when your hair's as thick as mine. @_@ Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? HELL NO.  It looks n o t h i n g like me. Have you ever had surgery or stitches? Both. Are you unemployed?  Yeah. Do you think the govt has a cure for cancer, but is hiding it from public? Tbh maybe.  Like, have you not heard the billion ideas that could cure cancer, but these ideas are never pursued?  And even those that have been, I would not at all be surprised if one way or even multiple have been found but kept silent because the world runs on money.  Might as well let people stay sick and milk millions out of them, right?  I don't trust the government for shit. Do you have a Mexican friend?  Yeah. Are both of your parents still alive?  Thankfully. Was your ex born in America?  All but one, although I really don't even consider us as ever dating. What popular social media platforms AREN’T you on?  I don't have a personal Instagram, no Snapchat, and I literally only have a blank Twitter to like Mark's shit get on my level. What was the last thing you were stressed about? Uhhh how am I blanking on this. Would you rather have a trampoline or swimming pool?  Pool.  I could never handle a trampoline again with my knees, plus it just doesn't entertain me as it did as a kid. Do you have the same favorite colors you had when you were a kid?  Yeah.  My favorite color has always been hues of red. What do you like to put in your tea? I hate tea. Who have you been told you look like? My sisters, at least somewhat.  And Mom and Dad. What color are your doorknobs?  Gold. Do you own a bobblehead?  No. What do you make wishes on?  Nothing. What is your city known for? "You mean Tennessee?" What is your state known for? Mountain Dew, Pepsi, Bojangle's, probably half of all country bands... What’s your favorite Paramore song?  "That's What You Get." What was the subject of your last photo shoot? I couldn't tell you the last time I was in what I'd call a "photo shoot," not since I was a kid...  The most recent one I did was of Colleen and her son. What are some of your favorite sounds?  Wind chimes, waves, fire crackling, the breeze through leaves, sARA'S SINGING YOU GO AMY LEE... lots of things. When two family members are fighting, what do you usually do?  There's a chance I'll be dumb and butt in if I think I could defuse the situation, but I'll sometimes just awkwardly stay silent. What’s your all time FAVORITE freezer food? Do you eat that a lot?  I dunno, that's broad as hell... If you had to choose, would you rather be an alcoholic or pothead?  The latter. What are you listening to?  A Jeffree Star video oops I've fallen in love with him tbh. What if someone asked you to be in a relationship with them?  I'm already happily in one so the answer would be no. What will your next piercing be?  It's probs gonna be my collarbones. Your phone is ringing. It’s your ex. What do you say?  Well I know none of my ex's numbers but Girt's, but I'll just say I knew them.  Aaron, I'd be very confused considering we haven't talked since like freshman year, but greet him like I would any old friend.  Juan or Tyler, wouldn't answer.  Girt, answer like normal.  Jason, tbh I'd answer and do whatever I could to show how much better my life is without him.  Bitchy but idc.  After the shit he shoved me into, I want him to know I came out better than ever. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed?  Quite a few times but still not enough weeps. Will you kiss that person again?  YEAH. Do you like champagne?  Never tried it. Do you like cinnamon on your apple pie?  I hate pie. Do you clap or cheer when at a concert?  Only been to one, but yeah. Do you use a comb or brush?  Mostly a comb now that my hair's short. Do you eat the crust of your sandwiches?  It's the part I eat first. Have you ever had a vacation where you stayed in a cabin?  No, I wish. Would you rather call or text?  Omfg do not call me. What color would you dye your hair right now if you could, and it was guaranteed to look good?  Okay so currently I'm dying (hawhaw) to get this mostly peach color, but have it fade to fiery, reddish-orange on the longer side.  It's based on a picture and would cost over $100, so.  Guess who's not doing it anytime soon lmao. Do you like the way you look naked? PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. Have you ever dissected an animal?  In high school. Do you believe that humankind has a future in space (will we live there some day)? Maybe.  Probably, actually. What (not who) do you care about?  Gay rights, animal rights (no, not to PETA degree), equal human rights in general, the first amendment, maintaining peace/pacifism, conservation efforts... I'unno, lots of stuff, if you want the answer to be like, big topics. Who or what is really the absolute root and source of all evil?  Discontent.  Now this itself doesn't always lead to evil actions, but just about any malevolence I can think up stems from that. Has anyone ever led you on? No. Would you rather date someone 4 feet tall or 9 feet tall? The former. What is the one thing you do that your friends wish you didn’t? I've heard "don't be afraid to reach out first" a billion times. Do you believe you have a soul?  Yes. Would you rather have a child that is more confident or more curious? Curious.  Ask questions, learn things. Who influences you to be the way you are?  LOTS of people! What is one idea that you live by?  Yikes, that's hard.  But I suppose one of the biggest is that caring about the world and what's within it does wonders. How can people act to make you want to get to know them? Be super open, honest, and shameless of yourself.  See the positives, SHOW you clearly care about others, have passion... and if you're funny, that's a bonus. When are you at a loss for words?  It's honestly rare I seriously am.  If I in person was to witness something like abused dogs screaming at being pet for the first time, that'd almost definitely get me. What is the worst time to be alone? When suicidal.  You.  Need.  To.  Talk. What do your parents do that you will try never to do?  I'll never smoke like Dad.  And I'm never having kids, but if I did, I would never, ever spank them like Mom did me and my sisters. Who is your favorite visual artist?  Some folks on deviantART.  The three probably in a tie are NukeRooster (I prefer lots of her older stuff, though; also got permission to tattoo one of her paintings one day yeets loudly), sandara, and Culpeo-Fox. What is the most magical thing that has ever happened to you?  I'm fucking pathetic that time Mark reblogged my gif lmao my soul evacuated my body and left me for dead for like three days & nothing felt real.  Whenever that gif comes up in my activity now, a single tear falls. Do you have high blood pressure? No, it's usually kinda low. Have you ever pumped gas?  No.  I'm 22.  Weeps. Do you have any appointments this month?  I have a therapy and psychiatry appointment monthly, so yes. Do you like bras that have removable straps? h u n n y I ain't in the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee so it makes no difference to me, me wearing bras without straps is a danger to society. What are you the most sensitive about? Can we like never comment on my weight.  Actually, scratch that, that's not the worst.  I would probably rip someone's eyes out and sob for a week if someone claimed I did Jason wrong.  I'd fucking lose it. Have you ever left a mean unsigned note? No, I don't think I've ever left a mean note. What are three things that you try not to think about?  Perhaps more than anything is the fact one day, I may become immune to the medications that played a big role in saving my life.  I try really, really hard to never think about that.  I do pretty well at that, thankfully...  Two others are hazards of me driving and the possibility of getting another job that only flops. Is casual sex acceptable for you? Abso-fucking-lutely not. What form of sexual protection do you use? Being in a gay relationship lmao.  Okay but seriously I take birth control, but for my period. Do you believe in the need for political correctness? It's gone way too goddamn far jfc. Does anyone have a video tape of you doing something embarrassing?  Mom probably lmao. What is the worst fault a person can have?  Abusive. Who have you read a biography about?  Ozzy Osbourne. What do you find yourself encouraging others to try?  BELIEVE IN YOUR CAPABILITIES!!! Are there any animals you flat out refuse to touch?  Maggots, slugs, some spiders and insects, centipedes... If it were legal would you own a human slave (race unimportant)?  Nope. Do/did you always say goodnight to your parents before bed?  No. Are there any holidays you don’t celebrate?  It'd be easier to tell you what we do celebrate.

[bravonovel]

From Rags To Riches: https://www.bravonovel.com/from-rags-to-riches-7894

From Rags To Riches novel is an urban story. The novel From Rags To Riches tells the legendary story of Qin Ming.

You can read From Rags To Riches novel full story on Bravonovel website and app.

From Rags To Riches novel Trial Reading

Inside the cafeteria of Hua Sheng University of Technology at Guang City, a third-year university student, Qin Ming was working part-time to earn his living allowance. His movements froze halfway through while wiping the table.

The man saw a couple on the table nearby, and he knew the both of them.

The guy was his close friend from the same hometown, Yang Wei while the girl was his girlfriend that he had been dating for the last 2 years, Li Meng.

Li Meng was unboxing a gift as she said surprisingly, "Wow, it's really the new iPhone! I've wanted this phone for so long, thank you so much Yang Wei! You're treating me so well." The girl pecked a kiss on that boy's cheek.

Qin Ming felt a heart-wrenching pain as he witnessed his girlfriend, Li Meng kissing Yang Wei in public. His eyes widened with rage.

Yang Wei smiled smugly. He put his hand under the table and slid underneath Li Meng's skirt to caress her thigh. He then continued to say, "Li Meng, I am a man of my words. This phone that costs over ten thousand meant nothing to me. My family earns more than five hundred thousand annually. You will be able to live a good life now that you're my woman."

Qin Ming squeezed the tablecloth in his hand; he was trembling with anger.

They are cheating behind my back here, in public?!

He then grabbed a plate and tossed it in their direction. The plate crashed onto the couple's table.

Yang Wei was startled as he screamed out loud, "Are you crazy? You stupid dishwashing boy.... Oh, it's you. Why are you're here, Ming?"

Li Meng held her new phone in her hand. She felt anxious after being caught cheating by her boyfriend. But the girl quickly calmed herself down.

The girl then asked Yang Wei with concern, "Wei, are you alright?"

Qin Ming felt his heart being torn apart at the sight of his girlfriend comforting another guy while ignoring his presence.

The next second, Qin Ming scolded loudly in rage, "Li Meng, I am working so hard because I wanted to buy you the new phone that you wanted so badly. How dare you cheat on me behind my back? Yang Wei, do you think what you're doing is right? You stole my girlfriend! You're no longer my friend now!"

The commotion attracted everyone's attention in the cafeteria.

Li Meng was angered too. She linked her arms around Yang Wei and spoke proudly. "Yes, I've fallen for another man. But it's all because you're poor. I can't stand being with such a poor man like you anymore. You don't even deserve me! Ha, to think that you're even scrubbing plates in the cafeteria now. You're really useless except for that face of yours. A true man should be like Yang Wei. He's the son of a wealthy family, unlike you!"

Yang Wei wiped away the stain on his face. He had decided to burn the bridges with Qin Ming now that his affair with Li Meng had been exposed. He spoke. "Qin Ming, why don't you look yourself in the mirror? Do you think you deserve a beauty like Li Meng? Do you even have the money to fulfil her needs? You are just a part-timer here in this cafeteria! A nobody that scrubs dirty plates behind the kitchen! Wake up, Qin Ming! You think that I am your best friend? The sole reason I befriended you in the first place was to get close to Li Meng."

Qin Ming did not give up on his relationship. "Li Meng, I am your boyfriend."

Li Meng scoffed. "That's true. I was bewitched by that handsome look on your face initially, but after seeing the way you do all the humiliating odd jobs like washing cars, being a security guard and scrubbing dirty plates, your face disgusts me now. You are a good-for-nothing piece of crap that doesn't deserve me! Maybe you're not embarrassed by yourself, but I felt shameful to even stand beside you."

Good-for-nothing piece of crap?

Li Meng's cruel words stabbed the soft spot in his heart. Qin Ming had lost all the hope that he harbored towards the girl.

The other students in the cafeteria were mocking Qin Ming as well. "That's true. You can't blame her for loving another person due to your incompetence. We're living in a modern world now, so it's only normal for everyone to love freely. That's basic human rights, bro."

Someone spoke with a pitiful tone. "Well, it's your fault for being poor. Your girlfriend would not have left you if you're capable to buy that new iPhone for her, right?"

Another person butted in. "Just accept the fact that your girlfriend cheated on you, bro. It's better for you to move on."

"You should just stay single if you're poor. Don't be a hindrance for that pretty girl seeking happiness."

Yang Wei was amazed that the bystanders were speaking up for him. 

Well, can't say that I'm surprised. At this age and time, being poor is the worst sin one can commit anyway.

He let out his laugh. "That's right. It's your fault for being poor. How much are you earning for every dirty plate that you scrubbed? Li Meng made the wise choice to ditch you and become my woman now. My family is rich, and I can give her everything that she wants. What can you provide for her?"

Li Meng said disdainfully, "I wanted to end things with you peacefully so that you wouldn't feel so bad. But I guess that's not needed now. You should just get lost, you poor bastard."

Qin Ming felt a heart-wrenching pain. I don't deny that my family is poor. I worked day and night just so that I can buy Li Meng the things she likes. I've spent at least twenty thousand in the last 2 years that we've been dating in order to please her. What did I get in return? Li Meng ditched me after she was done using me, and now she attached herself to a richer guy.

Yang Wei had been bullied by the other kids from our hometown since he was young. I was the one that took care of him. He used to follow me around like my lackey, but that guy had changed since he entered university. However much he changed, I never expected him to be so shameless as to steal his best friend's girl!

"Hehe....Hahaha......" Qin Ming was brokenhearted. He shook his head as he no longer harbors any hope for the couple in front of him.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke without a care. "Li Meng, do you like money that much? Were you ever sincere towards me?"

Li Meng responded. "Yes, you can say whatever that you want. I wouldn't have left you if you're rich, but ask yourself this: Are you rich? I've been together with you for 2 years and you're simply a good-for-nothing. Oh, how regretful I am feeling right now, for wasting 2 years of my youth with you."

Yang Wei held Li Meng by her waist and spoke arrogantly. "What's the matter, Qin Ming? Li Meng is free to choose the man that she likes. You should know civil rights since you're a university student as well. Let me give you an advice as we did share the same hometown. Don't you dare come close to Li Meng again, otherwise I might just let you suffer the consequences. Your father worked as a store manager under my father. I can get your father fired with just a single phone call."

Li Meng kissed Yang Wei affectionately again as she said, "Wei, you're really so cool. I'm so lucky that I made the right choice to be with you."

The two was about to leave when Qin Ming suddenly shouted. "Hold up. There's something else that I have to say."

The other students thought that the drama for today had ended. But Qin Ming seemed to have another trick up his sleeves? What kind of counter can he make in the face of a powerful and rich person like Yang Wei?

Qin Ming took a deep breath. The doubts in his eyes had turned into sheer determination.

He said coldly, "Alright, now that we've broken up, I think that I should pay up for the service you've rendered me last night. I don't want you to spread false rumors around saying that I've exploited you without any remuneration."

Qin Ming took out a piece of fifty and threw the money on the ground.

"What's that? A fifty break-up fee?"

"This is the cheapest break-up ever in the history of mankind. Is this guy losing his mind after being dumped? He must be kidding, right?"

One of the students in the cafeteria mocked Qin Ming's actions. Li Meng became more arrogant now, she scorned. "Pffft, that's all that you have? You're even worse than a normal cafeteria part-timer. Don't make me laugh with that petty amount of break-up fee. What do you say if I reimburse you another 100? Think of it as a contribution."

Qin Ming said in a deep voice. "Oh, don't you mistake that as a break-up fee. This is your allowance for sleeping with me last night. We've been together for 2 years, so that's about 730 days. We had sex for 4 times a week on average because of my heightened sexual desire and I've spent about twenty thousand on you since we started dating. That's roughly 48 for every night that you've serviced me. Thank you for providing me with such a bargain. Take these 50 as your allowance, think of the extra 2 as your tips."

......

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[antoine-roquentin]

The superficial “downtrodden Trump voter” story has indeed become an unproductive cliché. And upheavals in industries with larger, more diverse workforces than coal, such as retail, deserve close attention as well.

But our decades-long fixation with Appalachia is still justified. For starters, the political transformation of the region is genuinely stunning. West Virginia was one of just six states that voted for Jimmy Carter in 1980; last year, it gave Trump his second-largest margin of victory, forty-two points.

More importantly, the region’s afflictions cannot simply be cordoned off and left to burn out. The opioid epidemic that now grips whole swaths of the Northeast and Midwest got its start around the turn of the century in central Appalachia, with the shameless targeting of a vulnerable customer base by pharmaceutical companies hawking their potent painkillers. The epidemic spread outward from there, sure as an inkblot on a map. People like Frank Rich may be callous enough to want to consign Appalachians to their “poisons,” but the quarantine is not that easy.

We should be thankful, then, for what Steven Stoll, a historian at Fordham University, has delivered in Ramp Hollow: not just another account of Appalachia’s current plight, but a journey deeper in time to help us understand how the region came to be the way it is. For while much has been written about the region of late, the historical roots of its troubles have received relatively little recent scrutiny. Hillbilly Elegy, J. D. Vance’s best-selling memoir of growing up in an Appalachian family transplanted from eastern Kentucky to the flatlands of southwestern Ohio, cast his people’s afflictions largely as a matter of a culture gone awry, of ornery self-reliance turned to resentful self-destruction. In White Trash, the historian Nancy Isenberg traced the history of the country’s white underclass to the nation’s earliest days, but she focused more on how that underclass was depicted and scorned than on the material particulars of its existence.

Stoll offers the ideal complement. He has set out to tell the story of how the people of a sprawling region of our country—one of its most physically captivating and ecologically bountiful—went from enjoying a modest but self-sufficient existence as small-scale agrarians for much of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to a dreary dependency on the indulgence of coal barons or the alms of the government.

Stoll refuses to accept that there is something intrinsically lacking in Appalachians—people who, after all, managed to carve out a life on such challenging, mountainous terrain. Something was done to them, and he is going to figure out who did it. He links their fate to other threatened agrarian communities, from rice growers in the Philippines to English peasants at the time of the Enclosure Acts. “Whenever we see hunger and deprivation among rural people, we need to ask a simple question: What went on just before the crisis that might have caused it?” he writes. “Seeing the world without the past would be like visiting a city after a devastating hurricane and declaring that the people there have always lived in ruins.”

The missing history is above all a story about land and dispossession. For roughly a century, starting before the country’s founding, the settlers of central Appalachia—defined by Stoll as the southwestern corner of Pennsylvania and most of West Virginia—managed a makeshift life as smallholders. The terms of that “holding” were murky, to say the least: property claims in the region were a tangled patchwork of grants awarded to French and Indian or Revolutionary War generals and other notables, which were commonly diced and sliced among speculators, and the de facto claims made by those actually inhabiting the land. In some cases, those settlers managed to get official deeds by the legal doctrine of “adverse possession”; in many others, they were simply allowed to keep working the land by distant landlords who had never laid eyes on it.

Regardless of the legal letter, the settlers carved out their “homeplace,” as Stoll calls it. He is evocative in describing their existence, but stops short of romanticizing it, and takes pains to note that their presence was itself founded on the dispossession of the natives. They practiced “swidden” agriculture—burning out one clearing for cultivation, then letting it regenerate while rotating to another area—likely introduced by Scandinavians mixed in with the predominant Scots-Irish. Survival depended on shared use of the boundless forest beyond one’s own hollow or ridge—the “commons”—for hunting game, raising livestock, small-scale logging, and foraging bounties such as uganost (wild greens), toothworth, corn salad, and ramps. “People with control over a robust landscape work hard, but they don’t go hungry,” remarks Stoll.

Yet it was the area’s very natural bounty that would ultimately spell the end of this self-sufficiency. The Civil War’s incursions into the Shenandoah Valley and westward exposed the region’s riches in exactly the minerals demanded by a growing industrial economy. (By 1880, there were 56,500 steam engines in the country, all voracious for coal.) “Her hills and valleys are full of wealth which only needs development to attract capitalists like a magnet,” declared one joint-stock company. In swarmed said capitalists, often in cahoots with local power brokers from Charleston and Wheeling.

The confused legal property claims offered the aspiring coal barons a window: they could approach longtime inhabitants and say, essentially, “Look, we all know you don’t have full title to this land, but if you sell us the mineral rights, we’ll let you stay.” With population growth starting to crimp the wide-ranging agrarian existence, some extra cash in hand was hard to reject. Not that it was very much: one farmer turned over his 740 acres for a mere $3.58 per acre—around $80 today. By 1889, a single company, Flat Top Land Trust, had amassed rights to 200,000 acres in McDowell County in southern West Virginia; just thirteen years later, McDowell was producing more than five million tons of coal per year.

The coal industry had a positively soft touch in the early going, though, compared to timber. Stoll describes the arrival of the “steam skidder,” which “looks like a locomotive with a ship’s mast.” It “clanks and spits, chugs steam, and sweats grease from its wheels and pistons” as workers use cables extending from the mast to grab fallen trees, “pulling or skidding the logs hundreds of feet to a railroad flatbed.” The steam skidder crews would cut everything they could, “leaving the slopes barren but for the stumps, branches, and bark that burned whenever a spark from a railroad wheel or glowing ash from a tinderbox fell on the detritus.”

The harvest was staggering: “Of the 10 million acres that had never been cut in 1870, only 1.5 million stood in 1910.” Stoll quotes one witness from the time: “One sees these beautiful hills and valleys stripped of nature’s adornment; the hills denuded of their forests, the valleys lighted by the flames of coke-ovens and smelting furnaces; their vegetation seared and blackened . . . and one could wish that such an Arcadia might have been spared such ravishment. But the needs of the race are insatiable and unceasing.” Indeed, they were. As one northern lumberman put it: “All we want here is to get the most we can out of this country, as quick as we can, and then get out.”

Such rapaciousness did not leave much of the commons that had sustained the makeshift agrarian existence. Of course, there was a new life to replace it: mining coal or logging trees. By 1929, 100,000 men, out of a total state population of only 1.7 million, worked in 830 mines across West Virginia alone. But it is in that very shift that Stoll identifies the region’s turn toward immiseration. With the land spoiled and few non-coal jobs available, workers were at the mercy of whichever coal company dominated their corner of the region. They lived in camps and were paid in scrip usable only at the company store; even the small gardens they were allowed in the camps were geared less toward self-reliance than toward cutting the company’s costs to feed them.

Stoll quotes a professor at Berea College in eastern Kentucky who captured the new reality in a 1924 book: The miner “had not realized that he would have to buy all his food. . . He has to pay even for water to drink.” Having moved their families to a shanty in the camp, miners owed rent even when the mine closed in the industry’s cyclical downturns, which served to “bind them as tenants by compulsion . . . under leases by which they can be turned out with their wives and children on the mountainside in midwinter if they strike.” As Stoll sums it up, “Their dependency on company housing and company money spent for food in company-owned stores amounted to a constant threat of eviction and starvation.” Of course, Merle Travis had this dynamic nailed way back in his 1947 classic, “Sixteen Tons”: “You load sixteen tons, what do you get? / Another day older and deeper in debt. / Saint Peter, don’t you call me, ’cause I can’t go, / I owe my soul to the company store.”

Nor did the industries bring even a modicum of mass prosperity to compensate for this dependency. By 1960, more than half the homes in central Appalachia still lacked central plumbing, helping give rise to all manner of cruel stereotypes and harsh commentary, such as this, from the British historian Arnold Toynbee: “The Appalachians present the melancholy spectacle of a people who have acquired civilization and then lost it.” An extensive 1981 study of eighty Appalachian counties by the Highlander Research and Educational Center in Tennessee confirmed that, in Stoll’s summary, coal company capital had brought “stagnation, not human betterment,” and a “correlation between corporate control and inadequate housing.”

“Banks in coal counties couldn’t invest in home construction or other local improvements because the greater share of their deposits belonged to the companies,” Stoll writes. “No sooner did that capital flow in than it flowed out, depriving banks of funds stable enough for community lending.” Not only had the coal industry, along with timber, supplanted an earlier existence, but it was actively stifling other forms of growth and development.

Stoll recounts a scene from 1988, when a man named Julian Martin got up at a public hearing to oppose a proposed strip-mining project in West Virginia. Martin described the disappearance of Bull Creek along the Coal River, which he had explored as a kid decades earlier. He pointed out that places that had seen the most strip mining had also become the very poorest in the state. “My daddy was a coal miner, and I understand being out of work, okay?” Martin said. “I’ve been down that road myself. And I know you’ve got to provide for your family. But I’m saying they’re only giving us two options. They’re saying, ‘Either starve—or destroy West Virginia.’ And surely to God there must be another option.”

It’s a powerful moment, and it captures the tragic political irony that is one of the most lasting fruits of the region’s dependency: despite all the depredations of resource extraction—all the mine collapses and explosions (twenty-nine killed at Upper Big Branch in 2010) and slurry floods (125 killed in the Buffalo Creek disaster of 1972) and chemical spills (thousands without drinking water after the contamination of the Elk River in 2014)—many inhabitants, and their elected representatives, remain fiercely protective of the responsible industries. Even the empathetic Stoll can’t help let his frustration show, as he urges the “white working class of the southern mountains to stop identifying their interests with those of the rich and powerful, a position that leaves them poorer and more powerless than they have ever been.”

Well, yes, but many a book has been written to explain why exactly the opposite trend has been happening, as Appalachia turns ever redder. It shouldn’t be that hard to make sense of the coal-related part of this political turn, and voters’ rightful assessment that coastal Democrats are hostile to the industry. The region has been dominated by mining for so long that coal has become deeply interwoven with its whole sense of self. Just last month, I was speaking with a couple of retired union miners in Fairmont, West Virginia, who are highly critical of both coal companies and Trump, and suffer the typical physical ailments from decades spent underground. Yet both said without hesitation that they missed the work for the camaraderie and sense of purpose it provided. Their ancestors identified as agrarians; they identified as miners.

Stoll is on more original and compelling ground as he tries to determine what that “other option” might be for the region. He imagines a “Commons Communities Act,” under which land would be set aside for shared use, not unlike the great forests of old—farming, timber harvesting, hunting and gathering, vegetable gardening, cattle grazing—by a specified number of families. Residents would own their own homes and could pursue whatever sort of work they cared to beyond their use of the commons. Social services and education in the communities would be paid for by a surcharge on the top 1 percent of U.S. households and an “industrial abandonment tax” on any corporation that “closed its operations in any city or region of the United States within the last twenty years . . . and moved elsewhere, leaving behind toxic waste and poverty.”

It is an admittedly fantastical vision that will fare better with Wendell Berry than with Congress or the West Virginia legislature. But in one sense, it is not so far-fetched after all. Coal is on the wane in central Appalachia, however much uptick it enjoys in the Trump era. Not only is it being undercut by natural gas, but the easily obtainable reserves are gradually tapping out, at long last. Coal’s decline is having wrenching effects on its dependents, not least the depletion of local government and school coffers. Something will have to replace it, and the odds of Amazon picking Morgantown or Charleston for its second headquarters are slim. West Virginia’s population has fallen by nearly 10 percent from its peak in 1950, a reversal of the crowding that helped bring the agrarian existence to an end more than a century ago. So perhaps it is not so crazy after all to suppose that a region so proud of its heritage could reach back to an earlier, almost-forgotten part of it, before the steam skidder showed up, and lay new claim to its land.

[fitnessexpert00-blog]

The 5 Most Shameless Money Grabs By The Fitness Industry

New Post has been published on https://fitnessqia.com/must-see/the-5-most-shameless-money-grabs-by-the-fitness-industry/

The 5 Most Shameless Money Grabs By The Fitness Industry

By now, most of us have given up on our annual January attempts to shed some of the excess weight our rampant holiday feasting slapped on us. We’ve given dieting a shot. We’ve hit the gym. The most desperate of us may have even dabbled with fucking CrossFit. Yet as the weeks go by, we’re slowly adapting to our new, slightly portlier figures and learning to embrace the additional padding.

At least, that’s how most of us function. A select few will take one last, sad step and decide to give working out at home a try. You know, because the driving to and from the gym is what really sucks about working out. Not everyone can afford to shell out for their own cardio machine and an array of weights, though, and opt instead to pay still-obscene dollar amounts for useless machines that promise a shortcut to health and fitness. For example …

#5. Osim iGallop

Do you like horseback riding, but hate the idea of owning and caring for a giant animal? That … actually makes sense. Riding’s pretty good exercise, but horses are a hassle unless you happen to have a handy stable nearby, which you don’t. Also, a horse eats and poops, and keeping up with both costs about as much as a car payment each month.

Way less sad to put a bullet in your car when it breaks down, though.

It’s not the ideal setup for the occasional 20-minute workout, is what I’m saying. So why not get a fake horse? I’m not talking about kids’ rocking horses, or one of those mechanical bulls western-themed bars are so fond of (although if you have the room and money, holy shit, absolutely buy a mechanical bull). There are devices out there that simulate your body’s movement during riding, minus the “hanging on for dear life” part — which, come to think of it, is roughly 99 percent of the exercise you get from horse riding. Oh well. Still, maybe products such as the iGallop aren’t a complete waste of time. Let’s see what the ads say it can do:

… um. Ma’m? I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but there’s no way you’re performing in an advertisement for a fitness product. Maybe that’s what you were hired for, but that’s either a Jessica Simpson video or the first minutes of a softcore porn flick. There’s no way whatever the hell you’re sitting on is a machine for “exercise,” and even less of a chance said machine doesn’t vibrate.

OK, maybe I’m being a little unfair. Maybe that tacky GIF is just an anomaly, and the product’s official promo pictures don’t make it look like an orgasmatron.

Wrong!

I’m not saying this is necessarily a bad product. Few things that are designed to make your ass slimmer are without at least a little inherent value. Still, I don’t care how great a core trainer this thing is — if you’re willing to throw $400 at it, you might as well stick it in a place of honor in your living room and maybe glue a few dildos on it. Because there’s no way in hell anyone who sees it is going to believe it’s anything but a fancy Sybian.

#4. The Face Trainer

SkyMall is a gift that keeps on giving for enterprising comedy websites. Their sales are comprised of 70 percent panicked gift orders, 30 percent irony, and 100 percent being so bored and/or drunk that ordering wine glass holder necklaces for your entire extended family seems like a hilarious idea. Still, at least the company generally limits its antics to the sort of clever-but-not-quite-useful stuff Billy Mays might have peddled back in the day. It’s not like their target audience is too into the fitness marke–

Oh, god dammit.

Yes, that is a workout mask for your face muscles. And yes, it works by applying “proven principals of resistance training to facial muscles” — which, let’s face it, is just a fancy wording for “It’s a really fucking tight mask, and now you have to make faces. Give us money.” The Face Trainer promises to take years off you, which is a claim I actually fully believe, because there’s no way you won’t get chased off a cliff by a torch-wielding mob if you go out in public wearing this thing, doing frantic Frankenstein faces to keep it from suffocating you.

Unfortunately, it looks like the product was too stupid for even SkyMall, since it’s nowhere to be found on their site today. Or is it? A search with the keyword “trainer” gives me a bunch of Mad Max-themed neon trikes, terrifying elliptical trainers with random cords, a Star Wars “Force trainer” because of fucking course, and … the “Tribal Style Giraffe Mask.”

Look at the Tribal Style Giraffe Mask. Look at it:

Somewhere, the Jigsaw Killer is furiously masturbating.

There’s no way that thing won’t slim the shit out of your face the second you try it on, likely bear-trap-style. And you will try it on, if only to silence its constant whispering in eldritch tongues.

#3. ViPR

So you’re walking down the park early in the morning, doing something I generously assume is not crime-related, when you suddenly come across a group of creepy fitness types waving huge logs around. (Oh, get your mind out of the gutter.) Like so:

“You won’t get away this time, Cobra Commander!”

Hahahahahaha! What the actual fuck is going on? Did you stumble upon a Warriors-style territorial battle between two 1980s-themed CrossFit factions? A no-budget Masters Of The Universe LARP?

Nothing that sane, I’m afraid. You’ve just witnessed the ViPR in action, and things aren’t going to get any better once those people actually start moving.

If you didn’t watch that video, two things. One: Please do; you owe it to yourself. Two: That exact same sentence, only much louder.

The ViPR infomercial is a simple piece of work at heart.

Indeed.

Basically, it’s several spandex-clad fitness enthusiasts doing the Stormtrooper stun baton spin …

No need to click that link. It looked exactly like this in the movie.

… mimicking everyday activities such as shoveling …

I think?

… and even clumsily engaging in some of that bullshit Klingon pretend fighting in which they slap each others’ bat’leths and expect people to be impressed.

Nerds!

Only they don’t have stun batons, or shovels, or unwieldable blade things. They’re doing it all with a fucking log. Called ViPR. I mean, I think the log is called ViPR, but maybe I misread something and it’s actually the true name of the entity that possesses all these people and forces them to do stupid shit for our amusement.

Example.

Again, I’m not saying this stupidly-named fucking thing is necessarily a bad product at heart. It has a number of holes that it claims makes it fully compatible with a number of other incomprehensibly-named gadgets the more impressionable gym might sport, so I guess you can at least join all those bullshit things into a giant Voltron of uselessness when you inevitably get bored with it. It’s just that if you’re trying to get in shape, I’d wager there are better ways to go about it than an exercise tool that makes you look like the Star Wars Kid grew up and joined a fraternity.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/

[csrgood]

Support Growing for Prominent U.S. Attorney Who Took on Chevron and Was Deemed “Threat to Public Order” by State Bar Officials

Support is growing from across the United States and Ecuador for prominent corporate accountability attorney Steven Donziger following the “shocking” decision of the New York bar to suspend him as a “immediate threat to the public order” without a hearing after he played an instrumental role in winning a landmark $9.5 billion pollution judgment on behalf of Ecuadorian rainforest communities against Chevron. 

Richard Friedman, a nationally-known Harvard-educated trial attorney from Seattle who has represented Donziger, joined several members of the legal community in criticizing NY bar staff attorneys Jorge Dopico and Naomi Goldstein for characterizing Donziger as an “immediate threat to the public order” based on the erroneous and disputed civil findings of New York federal Judge Lewis A. Kaplan, which relied largely on false testimony from an admittedly corrupt Chevron witness (Alberto Guerra) paid $2 million by the company. In 25 years of law practice, Donziger has not received a single client complaint and has been honored with numerous testimonials for his public service work.

(Here is a detailed documentation of Chevron’s witness fraud and bribery of Guerra. Here is a criminal referral letter to the U.S. Department of Justice of Chevron and its lawyers at the firm Gibson Dunn & Crutcher for bribing a witness to present false evidence. Here is background on Gibson Dunn’s many ethical violations, including the fabrication of evidence in a prior case. Here is a summary of Chevron’s intimidation campaign written by Greenpeace co-founder Rex Weyler.)

In comments last week, other attorneys and activists – including esteemed First Amendment lawyer Martin Garbus, Harvard Law Professor Charles Nesson, human rights lawyer Aaron Page, and Greenpeace Co-founder Rex Weyler – said they were “shocked” by the New York Bar’s decision to suspend Donziger. The designation as a “threat to the public order” allowed the bar staff attorneys to short-circuit the legal process and deny Donziger a hearing, despite his attempt to submit extensive evidence about how the full body of evidence undermines Kaplan’s findings. Donziger’s position that Chevron dumped billions of gallons of toxic oil waste into the Amazon to save an estimated $5 billion in costs has been validated by 17 judges from three appellate courts in Ecuador, including in an 8-0 decision by the country’s Constitutional Court issued days ago. Chevron had insisted the trial take place in Ecuador and had accepted jurisdiction there. 

Friedman, the author of four bestselling legal books and the former President of the prestigious Inner Circle of Advocates, said the designation of Donziger as a “threat to the public order” serves Chevron’s interests in trying to taint the Ecuador judgment and suggests political behavior by the staff attorneys more in keeping with an authoritarian dictatorship where opponents of the establishment are designated as enemies of the state and denied the opportunity to work or earn a livelihood.  By taking away Donziger's law license, it will be difficult for him to continue to earn a living and fight for his clients in Ecuador, which was Chevron’s goal all along, said Friedman.

Friedman added that he was “utterly dismayed” by the bar’s decision to deny Donziger the opportunity to present the ample evidence available to challenge Kaplan’s findings before imposing punishment.  “This type of decision not only violates fundamental due process, it is not in keeping with the American tradition of using judicial processes as a truth-seeking exercise,” said Friedman. “It reminds me of something that might happen in Russia under Putin or Turkey under Erdogan, but it should not be happening in New York.  The goal of the New York bar staff attorneys seems to be to suppress evidence that might prove Judge Kaplan got his decision wrong, not to seek the truth or ensure a fair adjudication.  That’s a sad commentary on the state of the New York bar and unfortunately our legal profession because Steven Donziger should rightly be regarded as a hero for his work in Ecuador. This reflects far more poorly on the New York bar and Judge Kaplan than Steven Donziger, a person whom I deeply respect.” 

Donziger submitted in his defense a 12-page letter, lengthy legal brief, and hundreds of pages of exhibits but all were discarded by Dopico and Goldstein, who refused to engage Donziger or even interview him. Despite having at least 20 staff attorneys in the office, the pair also appointed as special pro bono “prosecutor” of Donziger in the bar disciplinary process a private corporate defense lawyer, George Davidson, from a corporate law firm with extensive ties to the oil and gas industry. Further, five judges of the First Department – an intermediate appellate court that oversees bar discipline in Manhattan – also ignored Donziger’s submissions in issuing a terse and perfunctory one-page order on July 11 validating the bar grievance committee’s request for Donziger's immediate suspension.

It turns out that six of Judge Kaplan’s colleagues on New York’s federal trial bench in Manhattan, led by Judge Kevin P. Castel, had sent a referral letter urging Dopico to disbar Donziger without a hearing based on their colleague's findings.  Donziger said the Castel letter, which ignored the many problems with Kaplan’s decision, was not in keeping with the judicial obligation of impartiality and was highly inappropriate, although it created enormous pressure for the bar staff attorneys to move against him.  

“Bar staff attorneys answer by and large to judges,” he said. “When six federal judges are urging disbarment based on a high-profile decision of a colleague that has been contradicted by courts in other countries and whom they are obviously trying to protect, I would imagine it would be difficult for a bar staff attorney to resist the pressure. But that does not excuse the bar for refusing to give me a hearing where I can present critical and highly probative evidence.”  

Friedman was blunt in his assessment.

“This decision by the New York bar affects the due process rights of all lawyers, everywhere in the country, and it should not be allowed to stand,” he said.  “It is patently unfair to impose any sort of automatic discipline on a lawyer, much less a suspension, based on civil findings made without a jury and without giving that lawyer a chance to present evidence challenging those findings in the bar disciplinary process – especially when those findings already are disputed by the findings of other courts and Chevron’s own star witness admitted he perjured himself on the stand.”

“Even worse, I know from personal experience and from studying the case closely that there is ample evidence to prove Judge Kaplan’s findings are either false, based on witness testimony paid for by Chevron, or the result of a completely decontextualized reading by Judge Kaplan of foreign law in Ecuador,” said Friedman, who noted that Kaplan also refused to consider any of the environmental evidence against Chevron relied on by the Ecuadorian courts for their decisions against the company. “What is undisputed is that three layers of courts in Ecuador that had access to far more evidence than Judge Kaplan contradicted his findings.  The fact the bar grievance committee doesn’t want to grant a hearing given this extraordinary context not only is unfair to Steven Donziger, but it threatens the due process rights of lawyers everywhere.” 

Although cited by the Bar to suspend Donziger without a hearing, Kaplan’s decision has been largely disproven after evidence emerged that Chevron paid the exorbitant sums to Guerra, a former Ecuadorian judge booted from the bench after he admitted taking bribes. Guerra was moved with his family by Chevron to the United States and later admitted lying on the stand after being coached for 53 days by Chevron lawyers headed by Randy Mastro at Gibson Dunn firm.  Kaplan based his core findings largely on Guerra’s false testimony. 

In response to the Wall Street Journal, whose editorial page lauded the bar committee’s decision to suspend Donziger, Friedman wrote: “There are those who believe American corporations should be able to treat the people and environment in less-developed countries as ‘disposable,’ as unworthy of care or respect. They believe our own economic interests justify whatever harm we do to others. And then there are those, like Steven Donziger, who believe this entrenched attitude needs to change, or we will destroy the world.  

“Like many leaders in the abolitionist, suffragette, union and civil rights movements, Steven Donziger has paid (and will pay) an enormous personal price for trying to change our culture. But our culture will change, and he will rightly be regarded as a hero.”

Rex Weyler, the co-founder of Greenpeace and another friend of Donziger, also called Donziger a “hero” for standing up to Chevron. “This is always the way the status quo power structure protects its own,” said Weyler. “The more frightened they are by the truth, the greater their lies. They did this to anti-slavery activists centuries ago, to the suffragettes, to Ghandi and Martin Luther King, and to Indigenous leaders throughout the world.

“This shameless pandering by the NY judiciary to power and money will be exposed in time,” said Weyler.

In Ecuador, several leaders of the rainforest communities have sent letters of support to Donziger, who remains a member of the District of Columbia bar and who plans to appeal the New York decision.

One such letter came from Carmen Cartuche, a community leader who serves as President of the Amazon Defense Coalition In Ecuador – the grass roots organization in the rainforest that brought suit against Chevron. She wrote to Donziger, who represents the group as it seeks to collect the Ecuador judgment in Canada: “As the representative of the FDA, I cannot hide my indignation over the injustice that American courts are committing against you. You have dedicated more than 25 years of your career fighting for and defending human rights, especially for the Amazon communities in Ecuador who continue to be gravely harmed by the actions of Chevron.  I simply do not understand how U.S. ‘justice’, instead of condemning the company that has caused so much damage to the natural world and to the lives of so many peoples, sanctions the person trying to protect the natural world and the victims of Chevron. It is a very poor reflection on the United States of America, but perfectly consistent with the values of the Chevron Corporation as we know them.”

In a statement issued on July 11 in response to his interim suspension, Donziger said, “The case on which the New York bar rests its decision to suspend me without a hearing is based almost completely on false testimony paid for Chevron and presented by an admittedly corrupt witness coached 53 days by company lawyers. The entire case before Judge Kaplan was designed by Chevron to retaliate against me for my role in holding it accountable for the deliberate dumping of billions of gallons of toxic waste in Ecuador, decimating Indigenous peoples and creating an environmental catastrophe that continues to cause grave harm to vulnerable communities.  I will continue to fight for my clients while appealing this decision.”

The NY bar also announced the appointment of Paul Doyle, a corporate defense lawyer who represented Union Carbide in the Bhopal disaster, as the “referee” to determine whether Donziger will be disbarred based on Kaplan’s findings. Donziger said he is assembling a legal team to defend him in his appeal of the bar’s decision.

source: http://www.csrwire.com/press_releases/41230-Support-Growing-for-Prominent-U-S-Attorney-Who-Took-on-Chevron-and-Was-Deemed-Threat-to-Public-Order-by-State-Bar-Officials?tracking_source=rss

[sixkl]

#GuoWengui   In the eyes of Guo Wengui and Bannon, only money is the only way to do something shameless at all costs wit

[politicaltheatre]

Kill The Messengers, pt.2

We expect to be lied to. It isn’t something we have to be taught. At birth, we are vulnerable, at the mercy of everything around us, including those upon whom we most depend, our parents or guardians.

We play games in which they surprise us, and we delight in being surprised, but that delight only comes because we know with them we are safe.

The first actual lie we catch is a shock. It is in the recognition that it is not a game, or that we are not part of the game but outside of it. We are not safe. We have been made vulnerable again.

As the saying goes, trust, once lost, cannot be regained. Not in full. Perhaps that’s why we work so hard not to lose it in those we look up to. We make excuses for their behavior. We re-interpret what they say and how they say it, editing it for content, rewriting it in our memory, attacking those who try to get us to remember it in a way we don’t want to.

Lies, we come to accept, are perfectly acceptable so long as we can feel that we are inside, safe and protected, rather than outside where we are not. So, we lie. We lie to ourselves, and to sell that lie we lie to others.

Our complicity in the lies we’re told isn’t exactly a secret or a mystery. That we hold on to lies so long and so fiercely shouldn’t be, either. The length and ferocity of our denial is, naturally, dependent on the depth of our investment in the lie.

What does it get us? How does it give to us and reinforce our identity? How does it keep things we don’t want to see and hear far away? These are the questions we ask without thinking. They are instinctual. They are transactional.

Transactional thinking is all about lies. We’re giving something to get something; that what we’re giving may be harmful to others is something most of us seem willing to accept, at least as long as we aren’t forced to admit that that’s what we’re doing.

This past week has challenged us in no small part because we have been forced to face lies head on and ask ourselves questions we would rather never ask.

The impeachment trial looms large, as it should. Donald Trump, with a little help from his friends, has taken the traditional lying of all politicians and weaponized it.

His supporters all know on some level that he is lying. For almost all, that level is the surface. They hear the obvious lie and laugh at the obviousness of it. That he lies and gets away with it makes his supporters feel stronger and safer for supporting him. They are children on a playground, cowed by a bully and eager to show their support.

The Republicans in the Senate, who should be strong enough to stand up to a bully, have shown themselves to be fully complicit in his bullying. Mitch McConnell is the bully’s sidekick, enabling and taking advantage for his own profit.

Republican senators’ transactional votes, both to block witnesses and documentary evidence from being introduced in his trial and, next week, to acquit him, lay bare the lies they are willing to accept and the lies they are willing to tell in order to justify it.

This is no shock. It has been entirely expected. The Republican Party has been corrupted so completely by this transactional culture that Republican senators will be guaranteed of keeping their constituents and benefactors happy only by continuing it. It is a culture of short term thinking, of instant gratification, and a vote for the man who lies shamelessly to gain solely for himself presents a model of selfish behavior without shame for people who are deeply ashamed of their own selfishness. Believe the lie and live one more day justified in living for yourself and yourself alone.

Of course, this week wasn’t just about Trump the bully and his Republican enablers. There was Kobe. And the Super Bowl.

The death of Kobe Bryant, his daughter Gianna, and seven others was truly a tragedy. Had none of them been famous it still would have been. Bryant, however, was famous and will be for decades after the manner of his death is long forgotten by most. He was legitimately one of the greatest players the sport of basketball has ever seen. Even outside of Los Angeles, where he played an impressive 20 years, he is thought of as a contender for the greatest player of all time. All true.

And yet, among the remembrances of his life this past week were a few who could not help but point out that he raped a young woman in 2003. This is also true. He was not convicted of rape - his victim, outed and bullied prior to the trial, opted not to testify - but he did pay a sizable settlement to her and did admit in his written apology that she did not consider that her consent had been given.

Again, all true. Bryant himself likely would not have denied it had he ever been asked. Of course, after 2004 he never was. If anyone had, it likely would have been the last question they ever asked him, and quite possibly the last they got to ask anyone in the sports or entertainment industries.

We could chalk this up to an unwillingness on his part to talk about it, but even if that was the case it was equally an unwillingness on our own part. What answer could he have given that an adoring public would want to hear? The instant gratification provided by his performances served to silence us as much as anything. We gave up having an uncomfortable conversation in exchange for feeling good about ourselves for being part of a team, however indirectly a fan can be part of a team.

That is how we talk about our teams, right? “We” and “Us” are the pronouns of choice. We win. We lose. They are our players. We celebrate our championship season, and we suffer our final defeat.

It’s a shame that Bryant was never asked to talk about what he did in full, the way we ask someone of his stature to stop and talk about where they might play next season. It would be nice to think we place that much importance on it, but we clearly don’t. Not yet.

Kobe Bryant wasn’t alone in this. This kind of transactional relationship applied to any athlete on any team in any sport, and still does. Alex Rodriguez, who was twice caught cheating in baseball with performance enhancing drugs, and Sean Payton, a coach who gave bonuses to his football players for injuring players on other teams, were both part of Fox Sports’ Super Bowl pregame show yesterday.

Both were suspended from their sports for a year for their wrongdoing, a punishment that once would have stayed with them and perhaps ended any sense of a public life. No one seems to care about it now.

Why? Our culture has changed significantly, and the moral and ethical value of an individual is currently as transactional as anything.

Athletes make their employers, clothing companies, sports equipment companies, and the media companies selling air time way too much money to do anything but look the other way. A championship winning head coach who keeps his team in the playoffs year after year is no less valuable.

Cities and states looking for tax revenue are no less complicit in applying double standards, and why wouldn’t they be? Everything costs money, and those who make money and encourage others to spend money get a pass until they no longer hold that value.

Rodriguez was part of a generation of baseball players who juiced and got paid for it. They put up gaudy numbers and made their employers enough money that they gladly looked the other way, until law enforcement made that impossible. Nobody got hurt, right? Well, except for the fans who saw the price to watch games skyrocket.

Rodriguez will likely make the Baseball Hall of Fame. He may have to wait a year or two - he was caught, after all - but people still love him and enough voters have shown a willingness, even a need, to look the other way that he will surely be elected by year two or three. In the meantime, he will have to remain content to be a star sports commentator and owner of the Mexican beer company he bought with the hundreds of millions his efforts paid him.

Like him, players on the now notorious, garbage can banging, 2017 Houston Astros will likely get a pass. At least, the ones still capable of giving their fans thrills and making their teams money. The management responsible for the team, being the cheap and replaceable scapegoats that they are, have been fired, but the players, who have hundreds of millions in guaranteed contracts and a forgiving, thrill-seeking fanbase, are simply too much of an investment, both literally and figuratively, to punish.

Fans of other teams may take satisfaction in calling them the “Asterisks”, but the 2017 championship and inflated statistics will remain theirs, along with those massive contracts. To date, no position player - pitchers on the team did not bat - has apologized, and if Rodriguez serves as a model of how to behave for them none of them ever will.

That seems to be the lesson of transactional cultures: have no shame. Rodriguez, the Astros, Sean Payton and his Saints, they all were caught, but their shamelessness in the face of condemnation seems to be what has kept them marketable. They have maintained value in the eyes of their fans because to admit wrongdoing is to admit weakness, and the fans don’t want their team, the one they belong to, to be weak.

“Everybody does it”, Astros fans now say. That’s what fans of A-Rod and other steroid cheats said. That’s what we expect to hear now whenever anyone gets caught doing anything we know is wrong. It’s what you hear from a small child who doesn’t want to have to follow the rules. If we’re all cheating, then nobody is.

Do we really want to live in world with rules set by small children looking to get away with something? We can see what that looks like just by looking at the Senate Republicans bending over backwards not to convict a man of naked corruption.

So, when it comes to Kobe Bryant, no, the world doesn’t need another celebrity torn down, not even to make a good point or to start a long overdue discussion on the way we treat others. We do, however, have an opportunity now to reframe the discussion about sexual assault in a way that could be helpful, that could tear down the need to defend him as though he was innocent, and that could prevent the attacks we saw this past week not only against those bringing up what he did but against the woman he did it to.

That is what we want, isn’t it? Redemption? That’s what we say we want. Shamelessness is attractive because it tells us we do not need to feel shame ourselves, but if what we do harms others, shouldn’t we feel it, and shouldn’t we want our leaders and role models to feel it, too?

We want to be strong, and when we are faced with our own weakness we seek out those who seem strong. A strong man admits his weakness. A strong man admits his failure. A strong man understands shame for what it is, an alarm that something is very, very wrong. He is strong because he knows that admitting these things will not break him.

Isn’t that what we should expect? Isn’t that who we want to be?

- Daniel Ward

[mcrpg-archive]

DAISY ADAIR

"Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd."

a f f i l i a t i o n : The Mona Lisas

If La Juve had a celebrity living within its city limits, then that celebrity would be none other than Daisy Adair. Or, at least, that’s how Daisy sees it, or thinks of it. Within the limited world she operates in, Daisy... is practically a celebrity... or a Goddess... or a Demon -- depends on who you ask. She is airy, teasing, light, beautiful, tantalizing, and infuriating. She is affectation that is fully conscious of itself, and flippancy that delights in its own irreverence. Daisy is completely sure of her feminine power, and the flocks of suitors that seem to line themselves just outside her residence for even a fraction of her attention, has given her the lines to justify her assurance. A gifted witch, she knows her power and can laugh off comments by others who think she's harmless. She more than anyone knows her delicate appearance can throw off everyone else... and she definitely prefers it that way. Daisy considers herself an actress and frequently tells stories of her alleged sexual escapades with actors and celebrities. She can be sweet and charming, but there can be acid and irony in her wit... and, sometimes, it can manifest itself in her actions and schemes. Take care not to let Miss Daisy charm you too much, as you'll find out the hard way it's best not to get too involved at all. She has a reputation for revenge and malice when it comes to men -- particularly those with whom things didn't quite pan out the way she'd hoped... It's like they say, the more beautiful the woman, the crazier they are...

NEED TO KNOW

The rebound girl of Parrish La Voisin. The two were set to be married, but something gave Parrish cold feet and he left her standing at the altar.

Kind of really batshit crazy.

Power hungry and controlling, she might not be a master manipulator, but she does seem to always get what she wants -- using any means necessary. Even if she has to do so by force.

Needless to say, this little darling is not afraid to kill a man -- or woman. And she's left quite a trail of blood behind her... one the Mona Lisas are starting to get tired of cleaning up.

Believing herself to be the best and most dedicated Mona Lisa, it's no surprise that she has been getting rather restless under Blue's authority. The girl can't even do any magic. But she? She can do a much better job at governing the Mona Lisas.... or, at least, that's her opinion. And she's just waiting for the opportune moment to make that known... even if it means poor little Blue has to befall some sort of accident to make it happen.

Very, very pushy. Controlling, Bossy and demanding. She's not afraid or ashamed to bark orders at anyone -- even if she doesn't know them.

Vain. So, so vain. She can spend hours in the mirror just looking at herself or getting ready... However, she sometimes falls victim to bouts of inadequacy and, if she doesn't look 100% absolutely perfect, her entire mood can be shot to the point that she'll refuse to go out in public -- going so far as to even avoid any guests in her own home when she feels this way.

The epitome of femininity and beauty. She loves all things girly and is a huge fan of jewelry, dresses, makeup and perfume. This, of course, also means her tastes can be quite expensive... don't be surprised if she happens to run your card up a few... thousand dollars -- at least!

Typically dates only those with money because she isn't willing to give up her gifts.

Shameless flirt. She'll flirt with just about anyone, money or no money. She just won't date you if you don't have any.

Her home might not be very pretty, and her district isn't known for very clean or lavish houses, but inside her home is a different story. This... tends to make her a target for robberies. Especially since she has a bad habit of flaunting her material things.

Really just out for herself and doesn't care who she has to step on to get to where she wants to be.

A very powerful witch, though, some might say she puts too much of herself into her spells and that's why they're so potent.

Super emotional, and just... dramatic. She is definitely one to exaggerate things... especially stories of how things happened, so she wins the audience's favour. Yes, she's that girl trying to get a sympathy vote.

Thanks to a deal negotiated by the Mona Lisas on Daisy’s behalf, she is not allowed to step foot in South District unless she's traveling straight to another District. This is to avoid certain conflict with Parrish -- who tends to avoid her at all costs.

Not one to keep her thoughts to herself, she is always voicing her opinion, even when it's not wanted or necessary. This is particularly true when it's regarding something for herself and whatever it is just isn't up to her (very high) standards.

Heavily based on Daisy Adair from Dead Like Me. (We’re so creative with names, obv)

Faceclaim: Amber Heard - negotiable First and Last name: negotiable

[clubofinfo]

Expert: “He may be a son-of-a-bitch, but he’s our son-of-a-bitch” – this is what U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt is rumoured to have once said about Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza. We examine how the western media, always so full of editorials and columns praising western values (whatever those may be), have covered the Syrian opposition during the Syrian war, focusing on three groups in particular. A closer look at the falsehoods that have been peddled, the inconvenient truths that were left unsaid, and the contradictions that emerged due to low journalistic standards, reveal the shameless and spineless support for western imperialism that has become the norm. ***** A war outsourced to al-Qaeda The coverage of the Syrian war reached deafening tones during the recent government recapture of East Aleppo. Who can forget hearing over and over that the “last hospital” in East Aleppo had been destroyed? This entire coverage, orchestrated with a multitude of hidden backers, had the goal of convincing western readers that this had been a collective failure of humanity, that the west had done nothing to prevent it and that it thus needed to do more. This myth of western non-intervention has been thoroughly debunked, even if far away from the mainstream press. But nobody put it better than Rania Khalek: […] the US government outsourced its war against the Syrian government to Al Qaeda, and Americans have no idea, because corporate media continue to promote lies about Obama’s so-called inaction. The way in which al-Qaeda’s Syrian affiliate, Jabhat al-Nusra, has been portrayed in the western press will one day be part of journalism courses. It is truly unbelievable that the Syrian branch of) al-Qaeda, a group that was declared public enemy #1, the main target of the open-ended “war on terror”, the existential threat to western civilisation, would end up spearheading the U.S. regime change operation in Syria. Throughout the Syrian conflict we have mainly seen three ways of incorporating al-Qaeda into the mainstream narrative. One is to simply not mention their presence. When the propaganda goes into overdrive we start reading only about “rebels”, with no mention whatsoever of their nature. And thus we heard of the plight of the “rebels” in East Aleppo over and over again. The contrast with the coverage of the operation to retake Mosul, or with previous operations against al-Qaeda in Iraqi cities, could not be starker. The second one is to mention that, even though a given operation is led by the Nusra front and their jihadi cousins of Ahrar al-Sham (more on them later), there are also plenty of moderate rebels around. The myth of the moderate rebels became ever-present in the western media, David Cameron claimed there were 70.000 of them! While the Russians and Syrians claimed they were bombing terrorists, western governments cried in outrage that moderate forces, standing side by side with extremists, were being attacked. At this point there is an obvious question to be asked: if they are standing and fighting next to al-Qaeda, how moderate can they really be?1 Additionally, the west has been supplying weapons to these groups via regional proxies. Does this not just simply amount to an indirect supply of weapons to the Nusra front, which is where they naturally ended up? Press conference announcing the Nusra front’s rebranding as Jabhat Fateh al-Sham And the final tactic is what is employed by low-cost airlines after a plane crash: changing the name. This has arguably more to do with the regional sponsors of extremism, Saudi Arabia first and foremost, but also Qatar, the UAE, and to some extent Jordan and Turkey2, in that they need to at least pretend that they are fighting extremism in the region. Therefore we have seen multiple rebrandings and regroupings of the Nusra front. There was the umbrella Jaish al Fatah (“Army of Conquest”), there was the official split from al-Qaeda with the blessing from al-Qaeda and the renaming as Jabhat Fateh al-Sham. While any serious journalist would remind readers that this was the regrouped/rebranded al-Qaeda affiliate, it was not uncommon to find cases where we are just presented with the new names and no background. We also witnessed a situation where, under the cover of these rebrandings, a Saudi official pretty much admitted that the Saudis were supplying weapons to the Nusra front. His blushes were spared by the low journalistic standards of the BBC but not by the Intercept. All in all, it seems like Bin Laden only needed to survive a few more years, move to Syria and get a new logo, and he would be back working with the Americans just like in the good ol’ 80s. An islamic state through the ballot box Another group in Syria3 whose trajectory in the western media is worth analysing is Ahrar al-Sham. It is known that it began forming brigades well before the official start of the Syrian “Revolution” in 2011, and this seriously undercuts the theory that the Syrian uprising was entirely secular and progressive from the start, only to be hijacked by jihadists, or forced in that direction by the government response, later on. When the group first emerged as a serious player the coverage rule book had yet to crystallise, and western journalists sometimes fell into old habits of doing actual journalism. Reporting facts, verifying stories, that sort of thing. At the time it was plainly said that Ahrar al-Sham were a jihadist group full of foreign fighters which fought side-by-side with al-Qaeda. When it became clear that these groups were the big players in the Syrian opposition, the tune needed to change, at least in the newsrooms. Intelligence agencies had long known of this risk as weapons and money had been flowing from the west and regional allies. But while al-Qaeda had an unfixable PR problem, there was still hope for Ahrar al-Sham. So we witnessed a scramble to merge the “democratic, secular forces we said we supported” and the “bin-ladenites we actually support”. The BBC needs to be credited with a quite remarkable piece of journalism. When describing Ahrar al-Sham, they wrote that they were: * “An ultraconservative Islamist, or Salafist, rebel group that aims to topple Mr Assad and build an Islamic state; * Has vowed to achieve the latter through the ballot box and not force” Among the multiple journalists and editors, not to mention whoever told this to a reporter, surely someone must have thought this was a bit hard to believe. Here we have a group that wants to create an ultraconservative Islamic state, ban music, install religious courts, stone adulterers, kill non-believers and all that, and the BBC thinks they will just put this as an option in a ballot. Ahrar al Sham speaking to the press, assuring them that there were no terrorists in Aleppo The campaign to whitewash the group was a full-blown PR effort, with sponsors such as Qatar swearing on the moderation of the group. The face of this sanitisation for western consumption was Ahrar al-Sham’s foreign policy chief, Labib al-Nahhas. Soon enough he was given op-eds in mainstream outlets, claiming that contrary to all previous reports of his group fighting side-by-side with al-Qaeda and sharing its ideology, including in those same newspapers where the floor is now ceded to him, accusations of “organizational links to al-Qaeda and of espousing al-Qaeda’s ideology” could not be “further from the truth”. And the absorption into the mainstream was complete when, beyond giving a column to Ahrar al-Sham, western outlets started basing their editorial lines on the opinions of the group. The case in point is the Shia bogeyman, Iran’s alleged masterplan to re-engineer the demographics of the region, something regularly peddled by the most sectarian regimes in the region, Saudi Arabia and the Gulf Monarchies, and by the always loyal DC think tanks. What is most remarkable is that a journalist in a supposedly serious newspaper would base his geopolitical analysis on the views of a group he himself not so long ago labelled as “jihadi“, “conservative salafist” and “sharing much of al-Qaida’s worldview“. If we cannot work with child beheaders, who are we left with? The episode that most gruesomely captured the contradictions of western foreign policy and media coverage took place in Aleppo in July 2016. A sickening video was released showing a group of men taunting and then beheading a young boy. The perpetrators were from Nour al-Din al-Zenki, and the boy was a 12 year old Palestinian whom they accused of belonging to a Palestinian militia that fights alongside the Syrian government. This was immediately followed by the damning revelation that this group had been vetted by the U.S. and received weapons. And while in reaction to previous episodes of this sort, though arguably none as reviling as this one, we witnessed widespread condemnation and defiant proclamations that evil would not triumph, this time what transpired was a damage control mission. From absurd claims that the boy was actually 19 and had stunted growth, to justifications that this was an individual act that would be punished by a “judicial process“, even attempts to deflect the blame onto the Assad “regime”. But for some even this episode was not enough to conclude that western powers should not be allied with this kind of groups. Sam Heller argued that the U.S. will only achieve its goals in Syria by backing groups such as Nour al-Din al-Zenki. If you can only achieve your goals by working with child-beheading jihadis, maybe the goals are not worth pursuing in the first place? This question never seems to pop up in western media. Sam Heller defends working with groups like Nour al-Din al-Zenki while Charles Lister spreads lies about the victim. Another fierce advocate of Nour al-Din al-Zenki has been Charles Lister of the Middle East Institute. He shamelessly tried to downplay the heinous crime by claiming the victim was a “child fighter“, while in truth he was nothing of the sort. In the past Lister had advertised the group as “moderate“, but he is also on record saying that 50% of the rebels in Syria are moderate and that ISIS was created by the Syrian secret services. Recently Lister declared that, even though the group was moderate, it had become disgusting and he no longer supported it. So either a long history of extremism, abuses and coordination with al-Qaeda was out-of-character behaviour from a moderate group or Lister was blatantly lying all this time. As for Nour al-Din al-Zenki, it has joined the latest rebranding/regrouping of al-Qaeda in Syria. Jihad made in USA If we contrast the official discourse of the U.S. and other western powers with regard to the Middle East, always full of uncompromising pledges to defend freedom, democracy and human rights, and the nature of the groups and countries in the region that are allied with western interests, there is a glaring contradiction. The media, instead of exposing this hypocrisy, have chosen to bridge the gap through omission, obfuscation and outright fabrications. In reality this contradiction is only apparent. There is a long history of western empires finding the most extremist islamist groups as their most useful allies. The Taliban in Afghanistan and Bin Laden are probably the most emblematic of recent examples. But this goes back decades, for instance, to the British manoeuvres to put the Saud clan in power. When there was a struggle for hegemony in the Middle East between Gamal Nasser and the Saud family, it was crystal clear on whose side the west was on. And even recently John Kerry admitted that the U.S. had hoped ISIS advances could be used as leverage against Assad. Any truly progressive regime in the Middle East, past or present, will invariably find itself at odds with western interests in the region, from natural resources to the occupation of Palestine. This history of contradictions and weaponisation of Islamic extremism by western powers, along with the way it has been presented to western audiences, is explored in the recent book Jihad made in USA by Gregoire Lalieu (available in French and Spanish). • First published at Investig’Action * On a related note, western journalists do not seem to find any inconsistency in (supposedly) democratic, secular, feminist groups being backed by Saudi Arabia! * There is also a lot to write about Israel’s involvement in all this, from their détente with extremist groups right on their doorstep (the occupied Golan Heights), sometimes even allowing fighters to receive hospital care in Israel, to their constant violations of international law when they bomb targets in Syria. * It would be lazy and inaccurate to call them “Syrian groups”, since there has been a tremendous influx of foreign fighters. http://clubof.info/

[sixkl]

#GuoWengui   In the eyes of Guo Wengui and Bannon, only money is the only way to do something shameless at all costs wit

[sixkl]

#GuoWengui   In the eyes of Guo Wengui and Bannon, only money is the only way to do something shameless at all costs wit