Bratara + cercei – ochi de pisica mov si crem – 11 lei

Bratara cerc – cristale negre si accesorii metalice – 8 lei

Bratara si cercei – cristale si bilute filigranate argintate – 12 lei

Bratara si cercei – cristale + ochi de pisica + bilute metalice filigranate – 12 lei

Bratara cerc – sidef turcoaz si bilute metalice filigranate – 10 lei

It lied there. Forgotten, caked in the dried blood of what may have been a Russian Cossack, or a British Dragoon. Perhaps, it was the blood of a general or, perhaps, just of a simple infantryman. The soft grey blade rested amongst the stems of grass, it’s grim ornamentation glistening in the noon sun.
I touched the hilt and felt the twisted leather’s rough texture underneath my palm. I pulled it free from it’s prison and raised it above my head. Unlike what I had heard from those who tell stories, it did not shine brilliantly. The only thing that happened was that more light was cast upon the scratched, bloody surface.
I wondered, with some childish excitement, who could have held a sword as fine as this. It could have been a  mounted cavalryman or an officer, perhaps even a general! I lowered it and dragged it’s edge along the grass, watching the grass bending underneath the blade. Holding it in my hand, I could feel the power, the essence of it’s glorious owner overtaking me. I imagined that I was the Emperor himself, riding into battle, the cavalry of the Guard struggling to keep up with me and artillery firing in the distance, the loud explosions frightening man and beast alike. Of course, that’s not how it happens. He doesn’t ride into battle like a suicidally brave soldier. He stays behind the lines and plans, thoughts and strategies swirling in his mind, until he comes up with something so perfect that it cannot fail. And, usually, it doesn’t. He has tasted defeat, of course, but not nearly as much as his enemies.
Slowly dragging the sword behind me, I left the field and stood on the road that led to a city. I imagined that along this road with me walk the grenadiers, fusiliers and many other soldiers, the music of the drummers ringing in my ears, the song of these frightening citizen-soldiers striking fear into the hearts of the enemy.
I sang with them that day. I walked along the dusty dirt road and sang every song I knew, whether it was a marching song I heard from the storytellers or a lullaby my mother taught me.
I could see the ghosts of the past coming back to life in the fields around me. Tens of thousands of soldiers rose from the fields, like armies doomed to fight for an eternity. To my sides stood the fusiliers, the glorious Guard, the cuirassiers  and carabiniers with their shining armour. On the opposite side stood the the vile enemy, who only come to burn the land, steal treasure and enslave us.
As quickly as they appeared, the ghosts vanish. I sit down in the shade of a tree and wait, minutes passing slowly as I lean on the sword, staring at a ditch in front of me. Perhaps, this reality is better than the one I imagined. It is peaceful now. The sea is not far. Birds sing as they soar across the sky and the lazy spring dust settles upon the road I’ve walked since I was born. The snow had already melted and the may sun sends it’s warmth down to us earth dwellers.
I heard something and looked to the skies. It sounded like a dragon, roaring and spitting fire, but there was nothing.
I stood once more and walked into the centre of the road. Dust was  being raised in the distance.
This was something I had not seen before.
Slowly, it was moving towards me – the cloud of dust, so thick I couldn’t see anything. It was frightening, but I held firm the sword and stood my ground. It was closer now and I could make out what was coming.
Barrels jutted like spikes from the cloud as the tanks neared, the black crosses on their sign appearing as the eyes of the beast. Tracks pressed into the dirt, but the war machines moved swiftly.
My father had spoken of them. He saw some, in the War. The roaring returned and I looked up. This time, the sky was filled with dark shapes. Many dark shapes, similar to still birds, their wings extended. Hundreds, maybe.
The dust cloud was now only a few kilometres away and I could see the trucks, the war machines, artillery. I stood on the side of the road, to let them by.
The steel beast passed me, it’s dark grey frame like a monster from ghost stories. They were all grey. The machines, the trucks, the artillery and even the soldiers. A single man broke off the final column and approached me. He asked me what was I doing here and I answered, with unnecessary bravado, that I was watching for the enemy and defending my homeland. He just laughed.
He removed a small blue helmet from his side and placed it on my head. Now, I was a real soldier. With another laugh, he stood back up and appeared much taller than he was before. He grinned down at me and said, with a heavy accent:
“To protect your homeland, you’ll need a lot more than a stick and a helmet.”
And then he left, running after his platoon. I dropped the stick, which until now was a sword, and ran towards home. That day, I learned a lesson. Sometimes, the enemy is far closer thank you think. And sometimes, he is not even my enemy.

Toxicity—we’re surrounded by it, infused with it, breathe it, drink it and live with it on a daily basis.  This has been the way it’s always been (pretty much from the beginning of “life on earth”).  It’s part and parcel of  balance and homeostasis: there are the creating or nutritive elements of life, and then there are the destroying or toxic elements.  All part of the ebb and flow of the cyles of life.

However, in recent years, starting about 200 years ago with industrialization and intensifying greatly about 60-70 years ago, toxins have played an increasingly important role in the “cost-benefit” analysis of life on earth, including our own health.

Toxins

A toxin is basically any substance that creates irritating and/or harmful effects in the body.  Toxins come from external sources (like air pollution) and internal sources (like cellular wastes).

Toxicity can occur from the side effects of drugs or from patterns of physiology that are different from our usual functioning.

Most drugs, food additives, and allergens can create toxic elements in the body.  In fact, any substance can create toxic elements in the body if overindulged or used in an unbalanced manner: even basic substances such as water, sodium, and almost all nutrients under certain circumstances.

Traditions of Detoxification

Purification/cleansing processes have been around for thousands of years.  Techniques include fasting, saunas and sweat lodges, herbs, water, rest and meditation, enemas, exercise, and a variety of bodywork techniques.

Detoxification occurs on many levels:

• –Physically: Assists the body in clearing congestion, illnesses and disease potential.  It can also improve energy
• –Emotionally: Helps uncover and express feelings, especially hidden frustrations, anger, resentments, or fear, and replace them with forgiveness, love, joy and hope.
• –Spiritually:  Many people experience new clarity and/or an enhancement of their purpose in life.

Ayurveda (India) Perhaps the oldest organized health system around, the word means “wisdom” or “science” of health and teaches that the fundamental cause of disease is toxins in the system and has two types of treatment for eliminating toxins:

• –Pancha karma: Physical elimination processes such as purgatives and medicated enemas
• –Palliation:  Therapies that neutralize toxins such as fasting, herbs, exercise or sunbathing

Hippocratic Medicine (Greece) started about 500 BC with the beginnings of western philosophy and ideas, and grew into the first principles of western scientific medicine.

• The Hippocratic Greeks  believed health depended on an equilibrium between the four humors: blood, phlegm, yellow bile and black bile.
• Early treatments (such as bloodletting, massage, and fasting) focused on cleansing and balancing techniques to reestablish humoral equilibrium.

Purification Rituals (Native America)

• Sweatlodge: An enclosure physically similar to a steam sauna that induces sweating and therefore the release of toxins.
• Smudging: Smoke from burning sage is waved around a person to eliminate negative energy.
• Fasting: Used to purify oneself before ritual ceremonies .

Where toxins go in the body

While toxins can be, and are, stored in every one of our 10 to 40 trillion body cells, some parts of the body are especially problematic.  These include our fat cells (where many types of toxins are put in storage), liver cells (which has so much to do with detoxifying processes), our skin (the largest organ of our body and where many toxins migrate), our brain (so important for all nervous system processes and made up mostly of toxin attracting fats), and the cell membranes of all of those trillions of cells (cell membranes are also predominantly made up of fatty acids).

Organs and systems of detoxification

Because of the natural balance between nourishing/metabolic support and cleansing/catabolic processes, many of the body’s organs and organ systems are involved with detoxification.

These include the organs of elimination such as the lungs, the digestive system (especially the stomach and colon), the urinary system (comprised of the kidneys and bladder and very importantly, the skin).

It also includes the internal “freeway” systems of the body, made up of the cardiovascular system, the lymphatic system, liver, gallbladder, and the multifaceted immune system.

So, what is detoxification, anyway?

Right out of my classes in Nutritional Therapy come the Big Ideas of Detoxification:

        1.  Detoxification is a parasympathetic process

–this means it works most effectively while we’re sleeping at night and when we’re in a calm and relaxed state

        2. Detoxification frees vital cellular and organ activities to function productively and efficiently

–this is kind of like clearing out your closet to make way for new clothes; as long as physiological “clutter” clogs up our cells and cellular processes, our systems can’t function in an optimal way

        3. NEVER, ever, ever, detoxify without addressing The Foundations first (digestion, sugar handling, hydration, mineral needs and fatty acid balance)….ALL elimination pathways must be open –Otherwise systems will back up and create even more problems (don’t attempt a major detox if you’re constipated, your bile is not moving, you have serious bladder infections, etc.).  Moving into gentle detoxing, as I’ll explain later, though, can be extremely helpful.

Next time we’ll look at the effect of toxins on the main foundations and discuss some gentle, yet powerful, detoxing regimins that I think you’ll all find very helpful in reducing toxic build-up and keeping the toxins in us to a minimum.

“ A memória implica em um certo ato de redenção. O que é lembrado foi salvo do nada. O que é esquecido foi abandonado. Se todos os fatos são vistos instantaneamente fora do tempo por um olho sobrenatural, a distinção entre lembrar e esquecer se transformar num ato de julgamento, na execução da justiça, e assim o reconhecimento estará próximo de ser lembrado, e a condenação está na iminência de ser esquecida.”  Berger, John – Sobre o Olhar. 1980

I can be described as decent, logical being. Most people can. However, the person who is responsible for Zardoz may be the weirdest, most scatterbrained human that ever existed.  Instead of the usual tirade, I will start with summarizing the film immediately and I’ll also do it in one word – confusion. In fact, a more apt description would be “utter bloody confusion”. Why? I’ll explain it in the next few paragraphs, trying to painfully, with surgical precision, remove every ounce of the film from my poor, tortured mind.
There are so many inconsistencies and problems with this film that I could write an entire book the length of War and Peace just by making every scene I had a problem with into a chapter. However, before I get on with the rampaging rhinoceros that I like to call critique, I’d like to first tell you the positive aspects of the film. One is that it is unintentionally hilarious at quite a few parts, which really makes it a somewhat worthwhile experience. The sets are quite good for their time too, even if they do give me the impression that this film was shot in Switzerland, in some abandoned town.
The first thing that is wrong with this film is, perhaps, the inclusion of Sean Connery, who I hail as one of the greatest actors in the 20th century. I have to ask why. Why Sean Connery? Why the greatest James Bond? I don’t understand why would Sean Connery even took this. From the first page of the script (where they list the cast), this film is already terrible.  It’s so confusing and so illogical that it makes my brain shut down repeatedly even thinking about it.
Now, onto the incredibly confusing plot of this science fiction horror we do not even mention. (Especially in the context of Sean Connery’s greatest work). The film takes place in AD 2293. How do I know this? I checked Wikipedia just after watching the film, because I apparently missed a tiny bit of text that says that in the most awful position possible, also known as the bottom right hand corner, obscured by the corner of the screen. It’s also a post-apocalyptic Earth, but we’re never given an explanation as to what happened, why, how, when, who and so many other questions are left completely ignored and out in the cold.

There are social classes in the world that are called the “brutals”, also known as normal people; the “exterminators”, who have the express permission the “eternals” to kill all the “brutals”, because the “brutals” multiply. Why is this bad, we are never given an explanation. All I understood is that Zardoz thinks that the penis is evil and the gun is good. No, really. That’s a paraphrased quote directly from the film itself.  So, somehow, Sean Connery gets inside the giant stone head we know as Zardoz, which is filled with grain and naked people in plastic wrappers.

If you can stomach that, I applaud your tolerance for stupidity. Ahem. As you can see, this plot is, even without spoiling it too much,  quite insane and incoherent. Not only is the film filled with obscenities (such as a 15 minute sequence of studying Sean Connery’s genitalia), but it also makes no sense, gives no explanations and leaves us completely cut of from anything this film may have meant in a philosophical context. It is so immensely difficult to wrap around and enjoy that I would call the plot of Transformers 2, a film that had no plot what-so-ever,  superior, because at least it isn’t there for me to not be able to comprehend.

I have to say that I despised the costumes. They are, by far, the worst I’ve ever seen. They’re not only increasingly disgusting and filthy, but they are also some of the most revealing or, in other cases, are completely not befit the gender they are assigned to. Just by seeing a picture of this film, we are almost always given the still shot of Sean Connery in bright red underwear in thigh-high leather boots and with two bandoleers across his chest, also bright red. That is probably the single most demeaning costume that great actor ever wore. This isn’t just disgusting, this is on the edge of becoming an obscenity. However, seeing as this is an adult (possibly?) film, I’m going to halt the demand for censors.

The actors, apart from Sean Connery, are the ugliest I’ve ever seen, making me cringe whenever any one of them is on screen and not only are they physically unattractive, but they are also some of the most wooden, stilted and sans personality humanoids I have ever had the displeasure of seeing. The women in the film are also what I like to call the black hole, since it seems that they completely tear away and destroy any talent that could have entered the scene, but, in fact, didn’t and was merely, once more, thrown outside as something unnecessary to this, er, piece of “art”.

The direction is also very, very poor. The only thing the director effectively manages to film is probably the landscape scenes, which are somewhat passable, even though I would still consider about one fourth to one fifth of them being just terrible. He also seems to have trouble focusing on the action, as we are constantly changing views, shifting and moving and, again, completely unable to understand what is going on in this film. I would argue that even Uwe Boll, a man I despise greatly, has better directorial abilities and potential than John Boorman, the visionary director, writer and producer of Zardoz.

The sound is also quite awful, with most scenes having incredibly poor sound quality and some just having no sound at all, even though we can see that sound is necessary to understand what is going on.

In the last 30 minutes, I suppose, the film just gets in the back seat and takes a lot of mescaline, as it goes completely of the rail of boredom into the realm of toying with the viewer’s mind, as the film becomes a lot more confusing, a lot more fast-paced and, while I will admit that the effects are quite good and the action is decent, it’s just so confusing that I cannot fathom what kind of brain thought this up. It seems inconceivable that a human with an ordinary, even a visionary mind, could make this pile of manure on the pavement.

Now, the evaluation. I have only a few words for the viewer who wishes to see Zardoz – DO NOT SEE THIS FILM. I apologise that I had to type in what young people these days call caps, but I had to get your attention.

the only good thing the smiths ever did was not reform. when that day comes as far as i’m concerned my personal seventh seal is broken. not just because i have a pathological loathing for all things smithsian but also because i have a pathological distrust for band reformations. a peculiarly new phenomenon ( i think…) within the indie world. i’ll lazily lay the blame at all tomorrows parties circle-jerking feet. it continues apace with recent pavement and public image ltd reunion tours announced. all good bands split up. all bad bands eventually reform. that’s a ninety nine percent fact.

the one percent exception to this rule is mission of burma (and to a lesser extent dinosaur jr. coz the new stuff’s pretty ace and it does mean less time available for lou barlow to release dreary fucking indie pop solo albums). in essence what i expect, nay demand, is that you continue as you were, as a working band. write, release, tour etc. not to be some fucking nostalgia act, some slick karaoke kash kow, touring festivals, playing older fatter versions of your classics at gigs attended by thirty-something mid-mid-life-crisis twats trying to reclaim their youths from a mediocre stereophonicked adult life. paying yr forty quid gets you the pixies in some giant soulless corrugated warehouse playing a greatest hits set (ie doolittle and a handful of songs from other albums) and a desperate yawning void inside that says you’ve been so fucking had, here’s yr entirely unironic ‘ha ha we’ve reformed for the cash’ ironic t-shirt. is this different from bananarama or inxs without the dead guy? no. accept the fact your time has come and gone. yr just dying with a little less dignity, a little less of your scrawny black souls in tact, with yr trousers round your ankles like some fat balding indied version of the king…

anyway, bile spewed, rant over. back to the main event folks.

mission of burma’s third album proper since the regrouping. it’s slightly unsettling to think that signals calls and marches and vs. are twenty seven years old. but they are. and the sound the speed the light comes on like it’s nineteen eighty two all over again. with maybe even a nod to this on ssl83?

it’s the spikiest spunkiest record of the three newbies. fairly unrelenting in it’s boisterous pace and with that rather tasty mix of brains and brawn, noise and melody, that made me fall in love with the buggers’ music all those years ago. it is, reduced, a straight forward (punk?)rock record. relatively speaking. you can still see the minutemen-style we jam econo in them. not so much in the music but certainly in the attitude, the aural politics the sheer bloody belligerent verve and nerve of them.

opening with the wordily humorous – one, don’t look at anyone / two, drink only when drunken to – decidedly tuneful and frankly singalongable power pop of 1,2,3 partyy! is a bold move. kindof reminded of the newer buzzcocks albums on this one. the video’s below.

and from there on in it’s the usual mix of miller, conley and prescott’s differential aesthetic poise. and it’s this meshing of the divergent styles that makes mission of burma so fucking great. whether it’s peter prescott’s percussive intensity and more overtly confrontational writing as heard on good cheer with it’s occasional link wray distorto twang and shouty thumping rockerry. or clint conley’s brash melodic bombast (who oddly also provides the record only slowish moment with feed). or roger millers more intricate numbers, dense and tense and wiry textured, building like the feast of angled geetar scratch (plus a fuzzy delight of a solo) and ferocious drum rattle and thud that is possession.

everything on here stands up to the ballad of johnny burma or that’s how i escaped my certain fate. an indication, i think, of how good this shit is. so treasure them while they’re still at it because prescott stated last year that they only had a few more years left in them. as burma anyway.

exceptional stuff gentlemen.

mission of burma / matador

“PSD votează cu bilele la vedere”

Asta e titlul mare prin ziarele online. Dar e ceva normal, nu? Bine că nu au scris “Parlamentarii PSD votează cu bilele la vedere”. Cine dracu ar fi vrut să îşi imagineze aşa ceva ?

Şi ne mai mirăm că se duce pe apa sâmbetei cultura românească, nu?

A Vietnamese National Assembly (NA) member recently urged South Korea’s Ministry of Environment to prevent its citizens from getting involved in illegal bear bile sales in Vietnam.

Bear raised in cages at a farm in Quang Ninh Province (Photo: Tuoi tre)

South Korea’s JoongAng Daily published Nguyen Dinh Xuan’s letter, an NA member of the Science, Technology and Environment Committee, saying that Korean businesspeople and tourists violate the law when they are involved in illegal bear bile sales in Vietnam.

He sent the letter to the ministry on August, 2009, urging the ministry to instruct the Korean public not to get involved in such illegal trade when they travel to Vietnam.

Koreans are advised not to purchase bear bile, which is thought by some to boost health or sexual prowess.

Mr. Xuan said he has not received any official feedback from the South Korean government, though he noted that both countries observe the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (Cites).

However, Korean environmental police have questioned some Koreans for involvement in international rings that sell bear bile.

Kim Won-tae, a senior deputy director of the ministry, said Mr. Xuan said many bear farms in Vietnam are allegedly run by Koreans.
 
Around ten bear farms in Ha Long City, Quang Ninh Province – a famous tourist destination, are keeping hundreds of bears in cages, where bile is harvested and sold. 

Through a survey conducted by the environmental group Education for Nature-Vietnam, more than 100 tourist buses transported around 1,500 Korean tourists to bear farms in the span of just ten days in April and August this year.

The newspaper quoted Mr. Xuan’s letter that he hopes the Korean Embassy, environment agencies and media will help solve the problem.

Bookmark & Share

Today I feel a sense of inspiration that one can only feel related to resolution as a result of shameful behavior. I threw up yesterday. It goes to show that when one is feeling the most invincible or at least the most bored that one finds oneself in mid-bend over the toilet saying, “You know, I really don’t care to do this.” But then you do it anyway because you might as well, and tomorrow is a new day.

The addiction of resolution is part of what makes the eating disorder so appealing. One can, daily, feel resurrected. As one stands upright, we emerge from the tomb- wash our faces: wash away our sins. Imagine salvation daily. Or for those non-spiritually minded: everyday is New Years Eve- we hold to the promise of tomorrow: the dreams of a trimmer figure, more self-discipline. The manifestation of inspiration is in it’s purest form, uncorrupted by the fall of mankind: the Garden of Eden is perfectly still. Until you take the bite from the apple.

The perfection will inevitably be spoiled, and it precedes the shame. That’s the beauty of salvation: the continual begging for forgiveness- the red washed white: a warm bath after a long day, or a cold drink of water when one is most parched. It is the build up and release- the binge and the purge, the foreplay and the orgasm- the rebellion and the resolution to never do it again.

I have learned to stop saying that I will never do it again. I don’t expect a miracle. I don’t expect to pray the right prayer at the right time with the right amount of faith and expect my slavery to be abolished. If salvation were not more than a snap of the fingers, than wisdom and strength would be near impossible to obtain. I don’t use this as an excuse to practice my eating disorder when reality becomes to impossible to face, but rather they are goals and a reason to do everything within my power to resist temptation and face the anxiety.

Today, I feel inspired, not because I promised to never purge again, but because I am glad that yesterday is over. I look back to what happened yesterday, and instead of one-dimensional prayer for thinner days, I see where my first mistakes were. I see that there were events that lead directly up to my missteps, and the choices that I could have made that would have produced different results. I don’t look at yesterday with regret, but with hope that I will know how to behave differently when those situations come up again. If I do make the same mistake again in the future, then at least I can always hope for tomorrow.

You know what I love? Coming back from hiatus to an inbox stuffed with fan mail. Like Jay, who wants me to watch him jerk off on webcam. Or SandyBunny, who wants to buy the exercise machine I’ve been trying to unload since spring. But you know what’s even better? The hate mail. There’s nothing that reaffirms a catty, insensitive bitch’s self-value like catty, insensitive diatribes from random bitches. So lets dip into the pot of festering cock-envy and pull out a few gems.

One loyal reader that we’ll call “Jen Connors” (“417 Elm St, Dansing, Connecticut”) just had to weigh in on the overall tone of my blog. She says it’s “adult” and may offend young web surfers. Well, Jen, I think it’s pretty apparent that I didn’t write my piece on Craig’s List whores for a bunch of whiny slit kittens still dangling from a wet placenta. But if they happen on it, fuck ‘em. They’re gonna learn about the birds and the bees somewhere. Might as well be at the hands of a nymphopedobeastialnecrophiliac with an untraceable IP. If you don’t want your cabbages to read, blind them. Bonus: You don’t have to lock them in the closet while you shoot heroin. If they don’t actually witness it, they can’t testify.

I’ve had a universal call for blood over my use of the word “fag” in September. Intellectually, I understand that the word has evolved from an English slang term used to describe elderly and unpleasant women (like we use “canvas-cunted circus whore” today). It is best used to describe a feminine subject with undesirable traits. Like emo kids. On the other hand, I don’t owe anyone an explanation or apology. Within my dominion, I am god. If you didn’t think it was funny, blame it on having a sense of humor like whipped diaper-pail cream, not on my unwillingness to pander to it. And if that doesn’t work, I can always use the “I’m part of the GLBT community, so I can say it” card. Either way, fuck off.

But this is my absolute favorite. I consider the post itself to be a mild boil-over, but the comment I received is priceless. Thank you, Lola, for setting the record straight. Of course we wouldn’t be nearly as shocked if we knew that the woman was practicing adult neurology without a license. And we should, of course, always think of the children. But only select children. Because the children of the patients she treated have no right to be upset that some unqualified psycho was living her dream by poking around in their parents’ heads without any training whatsoever. Oh, and avoid any attempts at spell-check. Perfect. Any other limp-wristed twat waffles want to prove my theory of human inferiority?

So, it’s back to the grindstone… I just hope I still have some spleens to grind. You may not know this, but ground spleen is a proven homeopathic supplement that curdles bile into an ink-like substance. Doesn’t hurt if you harvest your organs from wayward nuns. In an alley behind a deli of ill repute. Under a full moon. While incanting. But watch your incantations. If you end up summoning Count Chocula, you’re just stupid. But if you find yourself staring into the endless face of Nyarlathotep, you’re fucked.

Bir fikrim daha var

Bu Fikri-m de bir web projemi açıklamak istiyorum bir dönem ciddi ciddi düşündüğüm ama sonradan fikir çöplüğüne gönderdiğim bir proje..

Projenin konusu gezmek evet çok basit gezmek. Her insan gezmeyi sever yeni yerler görmeyi yeni insanlarla tanışmayı kısacası yenilikleri sever bazı insanlarda biraz daha çok sever bu gezme işini bende onlardanım sanırım, ama malesef gezme hobisi eğlenceli olduğu kadar masraflı bir iştir yani düşünsenize herkez amerikaya gitmek ister amerikaya gidiş bileti ise 1.200 olduğuna göre ki buna pasaport, vize ve vergileri katmıyorum gitmesi bile insanların 1 ay boyunca ev geçindirdiği bir paraya tekabul ediyor orda kalması, gezmesi, yemesi, içmesi ve geri dönmesi ayrıyetten tartışılacak bir konu ama isterseniz şöyle bir yolda izleyebilirsiniz

- Gidiş parasını toparladınız ve gideceksiniz ama gidiş parasından başka cebinizde başka para kalmadı üzülmeyin sizde oraya gittikten sonra onunuze gelen her bayana evlenme teklif edebilirsiniz kalıcı bir çözüm olacaktır..

Şimdi gelelim fikrimizin aslına, düşleyin mısıra gitmek istiyorsunuz ama cebinizde 50 kuruş var bununla hemen bir internet kafe ye gidiyorsunuz ve web sitesine giriyorsunuz, girdiğiniz sitede biri sizin yol masraflarınıza sponsor oluyor, başka bir yardımsever insan ise yanında kalmanız için yer veriyor tabi yardımsever insanımız yemek masraflarınızıda karşılıyor (Varmı öyle biri ?).. uluslararası bir site olduğunu düşünürsek türkiyeden amerikaya fransada rusyaya hindistandan meksikaya kadar herkes biryerlere gitmek istiyor.

Bu nasıl olur diye bir düşünürsek yanında kalabileceğiniz insanları bulmak çok zor olmasa gerek yani bi rus 3 4 aylığına bizde kalsa memnun bile oluruz mahallecek . Sponsor işini ise gittiği ülkede bir marka karşılasa orada kaldığı süre zarfında markanın reklamını taşısa üstünde t-shirt vs. olarak, tabi markayı bu konuda ikna etmekte zorlanabiliriz neüdübelirsiz bir insanın yapacağı neüdübelirsiz bir reklam için vereceği 3 4 miliyarı olmayabilir ama her insan ikna edilebilir..

Sonuçta 50 kuruşa istediğiniz bir yeri gezmiş durumdasınız.. İlginç Başka “Bir FİKRİM var !” da görüşmek üzere.

Ahmet Enes DABANLIOĞLU MIWtech Inc. YKB

If the mountain will not come to Muhammad…

I started this blog because I was desperate. I was in Canada for family reasons. I was trying to make something work that just would not work. That is all over. Having only Skype and Christmas and birthday presents to connect me with my children isn’t the disaster I thought it would be. I am in Belgium, as I have been for the last year and a half. Life is still tough, but it’s not a dead end any more. Albeit in the slowest of trickles, I am starting to do create my own performance work again. In other words this blog is obsolete.

I would delete it right now were it not for the fact that someone has added some informative comments about Ian Hinchliffe under one of the posts. I can’t remember whether my real name can be connected with this blog. I shall google it shortly. If it can, then I may need to delete this anyway because it probably won’t help me when a potential employer looks me up. This is called freedom of expression and it something we learn to live with.

The modern world today was shaped by almost two hundred years of almost constant conflicts. Perhaps it was Napoleon Bonaparte and his Grand Army, perhaps it was Gavrilo Princip the assassin, Perhaps Rommel or MacArthur. None can say who did the most influence towards the current state of our existence today, but there is a certain ideology, a certain form of inherent altruism that shaped and still shapes our world. We know it by many names, but perhaps the most striking of which is “Nationalism”.

While nationalism itself sounds like a good thing to most of us mere mortals, who only scurry around the toes of a heathen God, but to me,  it is like an obscenity that lurks in the mind of every person, young and old, even me, even you. Sometimes, we all want good for our people. Sometimes, we all want that our nation would be prosperous. However, it is this irrational form of good will that allows the governments of the world to scramble and wrap their tentacles around our necks, gripping ever tighter and tighter. “For the good of the Nation”, they say, “For the good of the People”.  They lie through clenched teeth and fixed smiles, while taking away our personal rights one by one, all ‘for the good of the nation’.

Nationalism is not something any sane man would want. Yes, it is fine to believe in ones Nation or to be proud to be of a certain nationality and culture. It is not, however, fine to give up yourself, your interests, your rights and your way of life for the Nation. Let us remember that these nations exploit this arbitrary belief, this simple do-good philosophy. The wage war and enlist, or draft, if you prefer, the young, the old – all who are afflicted with this irrational bug in the system to their destructive marches all across the face of our wonderful planet. Not only that, but it allows the government to exercise the vilest functions it can – censorship, affirmative action, application of socialism and creation of the welfare state.

What was the chief cause of the Great War? Was it an assassination of a small, practically irrelevant soon-to-be king? Or was it the agreement between the people and the ruling classes that they (the people) would march against those who killed their king? Is this not a form of nationalism in effect? Again, this is what the government, the people who abuse us, our rights and our economy, do.  I’m not opposed to the idea of a government, but not this excuse for a government. The government should do no more than protect the rights of the individual, regardless of his sex, age, gender or race.

But let us skip my rambling thoughts and let us give another reason why nationalism is something we should avoid. This time, let’s focus on the humans. As we know, nationalism often gives rise to false theories of superior races, superior ethnicities, thus starting a slow descent into, at first, racism, eventually foaming and reaching boiling point, which we know as “genocide”. Given the chance to let this happen, this natural progression will almost always be present. It may move slowly, it may move quickly, but the progression rarely changes and remains similar across the board. It doesn’t matter how it is explained, but eventually, nationalistic ideas form in a certain fashion to somehow create an opinion that one’s own people are better than others. Nations that we’ve seen this happen in are few and far between, but there are two examples that are only slightly similar.

The first one is, of course, National-socialist Germany. This rotting carcass was one of the vilest nations created, found on a strong platform of nationalism and left-wing philosophy, two of the world’s greatest evils that mixed together created a fascinating, although terrible country. The second one, surprisingly enough, is Japan. The nation of robots and “technological advance” is one of the only countries today that have rampant nationalism. This results in Japan being one of the most xenophobic nations on earth, much like many of the Asian nations. However, unlike most, Japan also has instilled a strong belief amongst it’s people that they are superior to westerners, which is, again, a cause of friction between the East and the West.

That is another point I wish to bring up. Nationalism is a massive strain on business relations across the world. The simple incompatibilities of cultures and races all add up to use this inherent altruism to disallow the full functioning of any economy, especially the greatest one – capitalism. Based on the free market, it’s ineffective when the free market is limited by wanting to do good for one’s country. Business is business and it should be noted as such.

That is why, in my opinion, nationalism is a stain upon the morals of the world. I do not agree with cosmopolitanism, it’s well worth to note, and do support the idea of independent nations, however, nationalism, in it’s purest form, is a strain on international relations and trade, as well as being an easily exploited motivation for our country to neglect and limit our rights, as well as make armies filled with children, elders and all manner of people who strongly believe that helping one’s country is good. Remember that your rights and your life is far more important than any nation.

Have a nice day.

The internet is a funny old place.
As regular readers (or the regular reader – Hi Mum! at least) of this blog will know I’ve long been fascinated by the sort of comments people post on the Internet. There seems to be something about the anonymity avalible on the internet that causes commenters to type things online about people which they’d never dream of saying to their face, and transforms those who are charming, civilised, Doctor Jeckyll types in everyday life, into foul, foaming-at-the-mouth abusive Mr. Hydes when sat in front of a computor screen.

I noticed a good case in point yesterday. Frittering away time on Youtube, I watched this disturbing video of a pram with a one-year-old baby inside rolling under a moving train at Ashburton Station, Melbourne. Amazingly, due to the train driver swifly applying the brake, the child actually escaped with only a small cut to the head. The CCTV video was then released by the Australian train network to remind parents about the importance of safety when taking prams on trains. (Not that this incident was in any way the mother’s fault!)

I then watched this linked video of a young boy sharing his thoughts on the ‘miracle’ with us.

He doesn’t say anything particularly insightful, and I doubt he’s ever going to be elevated to the role of public intellectual on the model of Bertrand Russell et al, but I don’t find anything particularly offensive about the video, although I’m slightly unsure whether its extremely earnest tone is mean to be tounge in cheek.

Then I read the comments…
In the day since in was put up, the video has collected 262 comments. In general, they range from the rabidly ranting, to the merely abusive.

The boy’s admittedly striking resemblance to Ron Weasley in the Harry Potter films is frequently referred to:

‘Ron Weasley!’
‘Ron Weasley…. if you are tht magic.. you should have prevented this….. YOU SCUMBAG!!!!!!’
‘shut the fuck up ron weasley’
‘Ron Weasley!’
‘hahaha you look like ron weasley’
‘Ronalld Weasley!’
‘ron weasleyh, lol video was boring’
‘RON WEASLEY in a way u kinda remind me of him just the face part’
‘Lol looks like Ron Harry potter’
‘omg he does look like ron weasley aye’
‘holly shit its the kid from harry potter’ [Would that be Ron Weasley?]
‘RON WEASLEY’
‘tell me, what’s is like have sex with Hermoine?’
‘zomggg. it’s ron weaslyy!! he is!! he really does exsist!! its just he doesn’t have a british accent. oh a let down. but anyways, hey ron?? where’s harry??’
‘You really like Ron on the Harry Potter movies…’
‘Hows Harry Potter doing dude??’
‘Yeah, he look like Ron from Harry Potter’
‘Shut the fuck up Ron Weasley!’
‘lol, It’s Ron Weasley.’
‘Go wave your magic wand and disappear back to Hogwarts Or get a hair cut.’
‘HE LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE RON FROM HARRY POTTER’
‘Sorry if this has been said a bajillion times but my god you look like Rupert Grint!’ [No, only 21 times.]

Many comments also speculate about his sexuality, the politer ones saying things like:
‘faggit’
‘Shut up fag!!’
‘Gay’
‘fag’
‘If sucking cock could prevent babies from being pushed in front of trains; this kid would be Superman!’
and ‘Who cares what gay Ron Weasly thinks?’

His ginger hair is also remarked upon:

‘lolol your ginger’
‘Ginger minger’
‘Haha your ginger!’
‘Shutup you ginger cunt’
‘Ginger bastard’
‘Shut up you ginger fag’
‘AHHH GINGER KID WTF KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT OMG thats fucking disgusting’
‘who cares about what you think carrotface.’
‘Ginger minger’
‘Ginger Mop Head.. How far apart are your eyes. You sad Fuck.’
‘was the baby a ginger? cuz the mom was probably trying to kill it if it was’
‘damn ginger kids…always want attention.’ [From someone constantly commenting on Youtube...]

Some of the comments are just rather odd:

‘If its God performing a miracle like i have said before then please throw your baby off that same platform and in the same area. Are u willing to do it or not ?’

‘To me this is a classic case of carelessness. The mother had faced the stroller directly towards the train tracks whilst she hoisted up her pants. People don’t realise that such acts of carelessness happen all the time and many are not so fortunate as to live. She should be punished.’

‘I like your vidoe. Let me know if you ever want to meet three women who want to give a ginger boy a good time!!!!’ [As another commenter says’ HAHAHAHA thats the best... most pedophile like comment ive ever seen!’]

‘And also? Did you hear about the miricle man? Search him up on google. He got in a plane crash. Broke every bone in his body. The doctors said for the rest of his life he could not breath cause his lungs were fucking dust. [I do hope they used those very words. ‘I’m sorry Sir, your lungs are fucking dust.’] Than one night, he tried to breath without his machine. He did breathe.’

But most comments are remarkable, only in the level of their anger and abusiveness. There are far too many to repeat, but to share a small sample:

‘How utterly moronic.’
‘you are stupid ‘
‘You fukin idiot why would you actually think that ANYONE cares what the fuck you think you horrible little ming’
‘Have some issues, loser?’
‘Fuck you…i don’t care!’
‘STFU NOW!’
‘your a fucking idiot. You suck’
‘Die!!!!! Please!’
‘wtf bitch…the mother wasnt orderin tickets..and the baby wasnt in the stroller…watch the video again he fell out dats how he got the bump!! not a cut…damn u fucked up the story u fuckin rednut gay’
‘No one gives a shit what you think’
‘stick to your own views of yank shit, nobody wants to hear a studip red headed yank cunt talking shit he doesn’t even know Remove yourself from the internet NOW you ranga fag’
‘i wish a train hit you ‘
‘Who Care’s For Your Comments U Ginger Fuck’
‘Shut the FUCK-UP!!!!!!! You stupid little bitch. No shit this a miracle. Are you fucking retarded. Get a life, you fag. DICKHEAD’
‘NERD!’
‘Hey…fuck you little guy!’
‘News flash: We. Don’t. Care. About. Your. Opinion.’
‘who gives a fuck about what you think you shit?’
‘Thanks for giving us a play-by-play on the fucking obviously retard…’
‘hey listen up you little red headed shit stain. no one, absolutely no one gives a god damn rats ass what you think about anything. you sound like a god damn moron and dont’ know how to explain how a baby got a cut on the head. go die, your mom would be very pleased
and p.s. she wasn’t buying train tickets you fat sack of shit’
‘Ur a fuk’

As I say I’m fascinated by internet comments and feel they’re a much under-researched sociological phenomenon.

This is what I posted at the CLeansing Forum under the Colonics/Enemas Board: Again, please note that I dont’ use “caps” or spell-check at the forum:

friends – you know i’m a believer in saline enemas, but i was skeptical about coffee enemas. and since i dont’ drink caffeine i couldnt’ imagine what kind of hit i would get off of a coffee enema.

lately i’ve been feeling sooooo toxic and bloaty, i’ve even had some edema which i only had during pregnancy. i knew something was up – but my usual tricks weren’t working as quickly or effectively – and i also felt like this stuff had to do w/my lymph and liver. literally, this post-swine flu experience (again, not sure if that’s what i had -but it was a strange flu)…really attacked my lymph about 3 weeks after having it. and it just brought me down.

so today i decide to an enema, and for whatever reason, i grabbed the rest of hte coffee from hubbys coffee pot, mixed it 50/50 with a saline solution and held it for about 20 minutes. i could feel my liver seeming to light up, and radiating warmth to my body. i was having so much more sensation and feeling in my feet, legs, and knees – and i could feel this warmth traveling up to my heart and to my throat.

and i held it for at least 20 minutes. one quart and it was EASY.

so i did some reading on coffee enemas – appraently they’ve been around for centuries.

i’ll give you a quick summary on how i think they work given all of the stuff i read -

apparently the lower colon, the sigmoid colon – holds the most toxins in the body as does the liver and bile. (did you know that bile contineus to recycle thru our bodies?).  when you feel sick and have the urge too poop and then feel fine afterwards, it’s bc the accumulated toxins in the sigmoid colon are starting to circulate thru your entire body.

now, the sigmoid colon and liver are tied directly when it comes to circulation. the caffeine in the coffee serves to dilate liver and gallbladder, as well as stimulate the colon. there are some specific amino acids that are hugely abundant in coffee – and this triggers an enzyme with the liver to detoxify and clean up. somehow this amino acid triggers the bile to be released, and then more enzymes and amino acids are created to BIND to the bile, and then it is dumped into the small intestine and then released out of the body instead of recirculating over and over.

that’s why you instantly feel better with a coffee enema, the toxins get bound, the caffeine and other coffee constituents help to filter the blood thru the liver – remember the circulatory system is directly tied w/the sigmoid colon to the liver – blood is recycled thru the liver ever 3 minutes, so the longer you can hold a coffee enema, the better for your blood – and cleansing your blood.

i held mine for 20 mintues and it was easy. enemas are also easier for me when they are room temperature, and my body heats them up.

i’m such a believer in coffee enemas. my new way to enemaize!

xo
regina

A bag like the one mom cut open and poured into a bowl tonight.

Before I left tonight to go to a meeting and then head to White Center to videotape Katharine Hepburn’s Voice at Full Tilt Ice Cream (I ate a scoop of the Blue Moon because there is simply not enough blue food in the world and this tasted of Fruit Loops and was the color of a Tiffany’s bag!), I left Bix’s food in a glass bowl atop an Ice-Brix ice pack that I had placed inside of another bowl. See, if I leave Bix’s dinner in the fridge Cleopatra will forget it is there because she won’t see it and then Bix doesn’t get a meal and then he gets an acidic stomach and throws up a pool of neon Chartreuse bile.

So I come home and there in the glass under bowl that I’d placed it in were the innards of an ICE BRIX FREEZER GEL PACK  — “The leak proof gel refrigerant!”  Yeah? Well, it isn’t leak proof when you slice it open across the top! Mom had cut open the thick plastic bag and emptied the weird grainy white translucent blob of refrigerant into the bowl. It sat there shining and was still COLD AS HELL! Glad she didn’t try to feed THAT to the dog (Bix would have eaten the Brix!). What is that stuff, anyway?

ICE-BRIX®is a viscous gel refrigerant specially formulated with food safe non-toxic materials, and hermetically sealed in a heavy plastic pouch that stays colder than ice.

Now I am only down to plastic bottles filled with water and frozen. No more freezer packs for this household it appears.

Most would, most certainly, assign me to the category of a man who can tolerate immense amounts of stress and pressure. However, War of the Worlds (Released in 2005 and directed by Steven Spielberg) was probably the most distressing film I have ever seen.
Now, naturally all this moving picture business is still relatively new as an art form, but is it true that no matter the age of the medium the quality of the package must be maintained to the fullest extent? “Most certainly! ” shout I, the film-goer. “Indeed!” shout I, the critic.   “I agree with the previous two!” shout I, the person.

Let me begin by saying that I will not spoil this film, if you haven’t seen it, just provide a general and unbiased take on it. I begin with the first error the film-makers made – they chose Tom Cruise as the main character. Now, honestly speaking, he is not a “bad actor” per se, but he is not the one you want for a science fiction film. I’ll explain why in a second, once I explain the other bad choice in the casting department – Tim Robbins, the man from The Shawshank Redemption.  Now, one cannot disclose that he is rather fond of Tim Robbins, but I do believe that he is just not right for this film. He could have been an absolutely fantastic supporting character if the film adhered to the story closer and was set in Victorian England. But, unfortunately, it’s not. Back on to the topic of Tom Cruise, what I meant to say was that he has this ghastly affliction of not being able to act properly around creatures created by modern technology we call “computer generated imagery” or CGI for short. In fact, almost 10% of the film is made up solely of close shots of his face while his jaw is slightly lowered and he stares, unconvincingly, at machines that aren’t really there.

But, let’s return to the complaints, shall we? My main problem with the film is not the casting or the conspicuous plot, but it’s the ever present understanding that this film is, for all intents and purposes, pointless. Now, you might stand up and say “Nay!”, but allow me to elaborate. Firstly, the main point of the 1898 science fiction masterpiece written by H.G. Wells was to explore the topics of the society of his day and age and it doesn’t translate well to screen. Most of the material, such as commentary on colonialism, religion, Darwinism , science and evolution, as well as a great many others, is rendered meaningless.

The film is set in present (of course) and revolves around an alien invasion of the United States of America (of course). This is a tolerable setting, but it could’ve been a lot better if the just made it different by setting it as in the original tale, a setting that is so utterly unfamiliar to us film-lovers that we would have forgiven some of the faults for the shiny and unique presentation.

The film is almost two hours in length and it’s so immensely long that I almost fell asleep while watching it. It could have been cut short by removing almost half of the incredibly disgusting and thought-absorbing scenes they probably intended to portray as “characterisation”.  It is not. And it will never be. Along with that we can remove the prolonged shots of people staring at random objects, the sky, other people. (They make up a majority of the scenes that don’t involve the enemy.)

Now, another big rift that breaks and tears this film apart is the acting.  I cannot stress enough how acting is important to every film, but this is a film that is primarily based not on the action, but on the characters and their experience during an alien holocaust. While the supporting characters are generally good for their parts, the main characters are utterly terrible. Even Dakota Fanning, who is excellent in Man on Fire and I am Sam, is a blubbering, screaming child who either looks too scared or not scared enough and cannot imitate a facial expression to save her life. Tom Cruise is stilted, uninteresting and so run-on-the-mill that I could only hope he was crushed by an alien. (Which never happened. Damn you, Spielberg!). The other main character, Robbie, is so utterly bland and unnecessary that I learned his name only on the third or fourth repeated viewing of the film. I can understand adding characters for modern people to relate to, but this isn’t as much relating to the youth culture as providing two characters that are so incredibly bad that even Jean-Claude Van Damme would have been a better choice.

As for the story, it takes bits from the original story and improvises repeatedly, which, in this case, is criminal. They have given us the hypothesis that the aliens have been on earth for a long, long time, which makes me question why they weren’t discovered. Certainly excavating happened on top of them, certainly metal detectors were passed over, certainly the area was explored.  Now, while that is bad enough, they also portray the aliens as small three-legged creatures that drain human blood and live in giant tripods that sustain life by draining blood from humans and consuming said humans via two large anal orifices (or, at least, they seem to be similar). “all-powerful”, though, by the end we’re shown that they can be destroyed by human technology. (Very technologically advanced they’re not, then.) They’re “indestructible”. It is eluded have originated from Mars (that’s what the intro transitions would lead us to believe), but they show no connection and we’re never given an explanation on where they come from. The ending is, as in the novel, mostly brilliant, but the heavy reliance on footage of humans being heroic distorts the meaning.

The good parts are definitely the action, which for the most part is beautiful and exciting, with large tripods performing grandiose scenes of destruction or grotesque acts involving human devouring through the “anal-like orifices” of the aforementioned tripods, and the slight comedic touch with one of the most notable scenes being the main character throwing a sandwich against a window and it sticking. That had me in stitches for a few minutes, but is it really good when the comedy interrupts scenes of, ahem, “character development”? I thought not.

In my opinion, if you like action and you want to be entertained by the mere shots and buzz of combat, you might want to see this film, but if you prefer a deep storyline of good acting, you might consider skipping this all-together.

Have a nice day.

Oh, I am just so clever sometimes I almost can’t stand it.

So let’s talk about how ailments were treated in the Elizabethan era. We’ve all learned about the “four humors”, but what were they? What did they relate to? How was a problem with them treated? My mother works for a holistic clinic, and the chart I found about the four humors actually looks a lot like something we might see on a chart in her office:

Weird, huh? The thing is, since we know this is from “back in the day”, we can easily dismiss it. But what if you saw this chart in your own doctor’s office? You’d be way more likely to take it seriously, perhaps even ask about how you can get your humors checked and taken care of.

This is where bloodletting got really popular…and for whatever reason, that practice stayed popular for a really long time, even after its three contemporaries faded out of the spotlight.

So, back in Shakespeare’s day, if you were pale, an insomniac, and proud, you probably had too much phlegm, black bile, and yellow bile. I have yet to see a downside to too much blood – why the bloodletting? If having too much blood makes you prone to being “cheerful, courageous, agreeable, or lustful”, the only one that’s not awesome is being “lustful” (though I imagine if you were male this might be considered okay…no way if you were female!), but I’m sure there were exceptions to that as well. Apart from the whole “it’s a sin” thing.

I’ve been sick lately, and if I had to diagnose myself based on the above chart, I’d say my doctors were wrong. It’s not mono/anemia/thyroid stuff…I definitely have too much black bile and phlegm.

ooh what a palaver!  daily mail readers campaign for right to call anyone brown skinned paki.  bloody pc brigade.  can’t call my dog nigger.  get back to your own country.  bbc run by militant leftie homosexuals proffering hard core communist pornography to yr kids while handing ten pound notes out to anyone NOT WHITE!  racism excused by either laziness (pakistan is too long a word to say) or if yr a nice handsome man-dancer who wears shirt and trousers.  people too frightened to look up in case they’re mistakenly branded a child molestor or racist.  gotta love this paper and it’s wonderfully liberated readers.  all comments below are real including spelling mistakes and wanton stupidity…

it’s all a load of rubbish.  i had a dog called nigger once and i got told to rename him because somebody thought it offensive.  i’ve seen tv shows from america where balck people call white people ‘honkies’ but no-one complians about that.  can’t wait to see cameron get in – the common little people who have ruined our country can stand by!  i wouldn’t like to be a teacher or blood-sucking civil servant now! – melina stools, upper crumpton.

first off… he did NOT “call her a paki” he said she LOOKED like one! secondly…..how come that there are loads of websites run by these people with the word paki in the web address?  they can call themselves pakis but not us?  i am sick to death of this pc business…..it has ruined our country.  i just wish they would all go back to their own country as they obviously don’t like us!

the asian lady on gmtv who said that brice forsyth needs to learn about how to speak was highly offensive.  she needs to learn that bruce is a british institution and to have a verbal attack on him is taken very personally by british people – he is part of our cultire if you like and she needs to have some respect for him – not the other way round.

the problem we have in this country is the politcions due thing to suit the ethnics purly for ther vote, i lived in spain for ten years and you have no rights spain is for the spainish you will not get a job in the hospitals the post office the police let alone become a politcion

no surprise there – anyone who is able-bodied, white, male & hetrosexual will infuriate the clowns at the bbc.

so let’s sack every white person for making an ‘offensive’ comment at some time in their lives, leaving the ethnics with all the jobs and in charge – just like what the labour government would like i bet.

anton du beke is a gentleman (any man who engages in lengthy training and rehearsal in a shirt and tie should be admired) and the beeb should be thanking him for, what will be, a timely boost to the ratings.

so khalid mahmood member for perry barr thinks our brucie should go on a race awareness course.  makes you sick to the stomach doesn’t it that a british institution our bruce forsythe is should come under attack from this left wing immigrant from pakistan

if i was a pakistani, i would only take “paki” as an insult if i thought there was shame in being a pakistani.  as it is, i don’t find “brit” offensive becuase i’m still proud to be british despite all the stupid political correctness this country generates.

good on ya brucie.  too much misery came into these islands in the past 50 years.  it should be sent back where it came from.

because of political correctness i always try and make sure i’m using a non-pc term like paki.

bernard manning would have been so proud of bruce if he was still alive to witness how far this pc nonsense has got out of control.

pakis is not an insult, it is just an abbreviated word for pakistani, mostly because people are too lazy to say the full word, the same as in most nationalities.

this country is insane, too pc by a long way.  in business it is very hard to discipline or remonstrate with anyone of darker skin, if your white!  you have to be whiter than white (sorry for the pun) and it really is all stacked against the white man.

hmmm…  i have always wondered, what word the pakistanis call us in their language.. ?????? anyone know….. ??????? they can say what they like… and we do not know what they are saying… get the point…

i feel claustrophobic.  i used to walk freely down the street.  now if i walk down the street and see a person of a different race, i put my head down so not be branded a racist for looking at them.  if i see a child, i put my head down so not to be branded as a paedophile for looking at the child.  i don’t want to be made to feel like this.  WOULD EVERYONE STOP BEING SO PC!!

the pc brigade should stop this sort of nonesense.  these people arn’t as sensitive as they make out.  look at the hiddious things they are able to overlook in their own culture.  that’s how sensitive they are.

there i’ve said it – paki paki paki – sue me!!

‘the word paki is so hurtful’ just makes me think your not proud of who you are!

this won’t get printed but as a woman, i blame women for alot of this nonsense as so many are incapable of answering back with a witty remark. its so easy.

i am sick of this country, if it was not for so much hate due to the immigration levels and the favours that they seemingly receive on entry to our country people would not be so screwed up about it, we have all become a nation of bitter and twisted xenophobes, created because the indigenous population feel so threatened by the apparently “minority races” walking all over us.  “paki” would not evoke such strong feelings if the british public had a sense of being.  we are being hoofed out of our own country – no where else in the world would you get this level of misplaced injustice – in dubai recently – british women have to abide by their culture and yet here in the uk we are the ones who have to change – you would not see a church being built in the middle east to accommodate british nationals…..

if we outlaw paki, brit and fin, what is next?  burning books in the street?

if people carry on like this enoch powell may appear to be prophetic, now we don’t want that do we?

but to be honest i am a redhead and i can not tell you the abuse i have got over that!  no one gives a stuff about our feelings! … including being told that as a redhead i smell more, etc etc.

if your parents are of indian – moroccan origin and you have to apply fake tan as this silly female seems to have done then surely you’re asking for comments to be made.

here we go again on the “political correctiveness” merry go round .  why don’t we just give up britain to the ethnic population who live here that are so ultra sensitive……………oh , i forgot , we already have ………

• japanese war effort: paki dot
• black flag: white minority
• the flaming lips: man from pakistan

Un sogno di qualche giorno fa si va demolendo, prima che decida di ricordarlo più a lungo.
Questa una parte del sogno:

Davanti a me, a poca distanza, un cammello è tenuto fermo da alcuni uomini. Tramite delle corde che formano una sorta di bardatura intorno al corpo lo costringono a stare giù; vedo un uomo di lato tendere la corda per impedirgli di alzarsi. Alle sue spalle qualcun altro stringe una sorta di cappio che lo strangola. Sembra un rito sacrificale compiuto però nella meccanica indifferenza di un’uccisione da macello. Nessuna aurea di sacralità; quegli uomini sono lì semplicemente per fare il loro dovere, un lavoro come un altro.
Io osservo con un certo disgusto. Il boia stringe il nodo per finirlo. L’animale sussulta, gli occhi gonfi di terrore; ma non ha scampo. Gli uomini ai lati lo trattengono giù. Le forze esplodono caotiche: un po’ nel tentativo di ribellarsi e fuggire, un po’ come reazione inconsulta. In breve tempo rimane sopraffatto, tra spasmi violenti. Io vivo empaticamente la paura e il dolore dell’animale sulla mia pelle. Alla fine, all’apice della strozzatura, l’aria fuoriesce completamente dai polmoni. Insieme alla vita. Il vuoto trascina con sé, in un ultimo scambio, un liquido bilioso.
Gli aguzzini, pronti, sono lì per quello: nel momento estremo uno di loro estrae un pentolino e lo sporge vicino alla bocca dell’animale morente. In breve la pentola si riempie di un liquido vischioso, biancastro, dal tono madreperlaceo.
Una voce mi confida che tutto è avvenuto per la raccolta della bile. Nessuno mi spiega perché e a cosa serva.