www.beast1333.com

Nu mai suport camera asta în care nu se întâmplă nimic. Vreau să se întâmple ceva, orice, numai să se întâmple. Şi nu doar aici, la mine în cameră, ci în general, acolo unde merg eu, unde sunt eu, nu se întâmplă nimic. Totul devine aşezat şi potolit. Începe să mă irite asta. E bine că măcar pot asculta ce se întâmplă în jur, numai că vreau să mai fac şi altceva.

Ce tăcere. S-o tai cu cuţitul. Şi e seară. Şi azi, chiar dacă m-am gândit la ea, m-am gândit spălăcit şi fiert, nu obsesiv. Poate începe să nu se mai întâmple nimic nici cu ea. Ha! Cred că ar muri să nu i se mai întâmple nimic. Da, cred că pentru ea asta ar fi pedeapsa capitală. Să nu i se mai înâmple nimic. Aş vrea să fiu Dumnezeu. Şi nu sunt primul care vrea asta – dar dacă vine curând Al Treilea Război Mondial, pot să fiu ultimul. Asta m-ar face mai interesant?… Nu ştiu… Na, am ajuns la ultima. E bine, am mai scăzut din ele. Trei pachete în două zile. Mai puţin de două pe zi. Până şi bricheta îmi funcţionează bine. Nu mi se întâmplă absolut nimic. Nimic, nimic.

Dar… ce gălăgie e asta? De unde vine? Ce bine că e din beton blocul şi e prost izolat, dacă îmi pun paharul de sticlă la ureche aud tot. Nu, nu e vecinul cu multe prietene arabe. Şi asiatice. O fi baba? Ce-o fi păţit? Ah! Nu, nu e nici ea. Pe scări? Nu, nu se vede nimic prin vizor. Dincolo nu am vecin. Ia, ia, la ăia de deasupra? Nu, n-am mai auzit plodul de câteva zile, sigur sunt plecaţi. De la cinci?… Ah! Na, l-am spart! Şi era singurul de sticlă. M-am mai şi tăiat. Uh… dar poate dacă îmi lipesc urechea de podea…

Doamne, ea e! Ea e! Mă urmăreşte! Oh, fă-mă o pisică şi lasă-mă să mă sui pe candelambru! Nuuuu!!! De ce vine aici? Ce vrea? De ce mă chinuie? Ştiu sigur că ştie că stau aici. Şi mă urmăreşte, mă urmăreşte să mă tortureze cu râsul ei şi cu veşnica ei viaţă şi îmi flutură zâmbetel prin faţă. E sâmbătă seara, de ce nu mă lasă în pace?…

Poate se pregătesc să plece, poate pleacă în oraş. Aşa fac când pleacă în oraş? Parcă s-a desfăcut tot iadul acolo, aşa gălăgie fac!

Mi-o şi închipui. A luat liftul. A intrat în scara mea, în singura zonă în care încep să mă simt ocrotit. A păruns aici, cu paltonul ei verde şi părul care nu i se mai termină sub el şi geanta ei cea gri. Şi a început totul să miroasă a clorofilă în jur. Şi a stat în faţa liftului, şi a aşteptat să coboare liftul, a întins mâna şi a tras de urechea uşii, să se deschidă, şi a intrat în lift. A doua oară, în liftul meu. Ce urmează? Să-mi smulgă cu mâinile inima? Nu mi-a smuls-o de am crezut că leşin data trecută când mi-a folosit liftul? Vai, tremur tot! Am crezut că îmi vor ajunge aceste ţigări, dar am nevoie de încă un pachet. Dar să plece ele prima dată. Tremur tot! Îmi simt pulsul prin vene, sângele mi-a luat-o din nou la goană prin mâini şi mi le mişcă bezmetic prin păr şi pe stomac, care şi el mă ustură.

Fă-o să plece, fă-o să plece! Fă-o să moară! Da, să moară! Să pice din lift şi să îşi rupă gâtul ca un pui despănat şi fiert şi să-i curgă subţire sângele de la un etaj la altul. Să moară, pentru că mă chinuie atâta cu prezenţa ei. O urăsc!
Şi după ce a intrat în lift, a apăsat uşile una într-alta şi a apăsat pe cinci. Ah, auzi-o cum râde! Mă suge de viaţă, îmi ia orice firimitură de puls din minte şi mă doare capul îngrozitor. E cristalul meu, my nemesis, my never. Râde! Râde! Şi răsul ei e ca o drujbă care îmi intră adânc în carne şi îmi rupe bucăţi din carne şi îmi smulge tendoanele şi le mănână de faţă cu mine. Mă pune într-un blender, cu un gălbenuş de ou şi o banană cu lapte şi mă face shake. Mă dezintegrează şi mă bea. Nuuuu!!! Make it stop, make it go away!

Şi acum râde, mă suge de viaţă… când va pleca… nu va mai sta atât de central în lift, pentru că va fi cu fata cealaltă. Dar tot ea va apăsa pe buton. Şi poate azi nu are blugii gri pe ea, poate îi are pe cei negri…. Sau poate are una din fustele ei scurte cu talie foarte joasă, care mă încălzeşte brusc chiar dacă o văd numai cu un colţ de ochi când apare… Şi poate merge şi stă toată noaptea în Sequoia, acolo unde îi place să danseze desculţă şi unde toată lumea e a ei… Acolo unde am văzut-o prima dată şi am urât-o pentru rochia ei galben-lămâie de blugi… Post-modern „Dancing Queen”… And the lights grew low and she keept shining în the dark… şi-apoi a lunecat… pe inima mea… şi mi-a şifonat-o… şi mi-a prins-o… între pietrele de gresie… a ringului de dans… şi vârful tocului ei galben… O urăsc…  O urăsc… o urăsc…

-          NU!

Ce?

Ha! Ce s-a întâmplat? Ce caut aici? Ah, mă doare demenţial capul. Ce naiba fac pe jos? Am picat din pat ca un bostan… Am adormit. Ce linişte. Ah, şi ce vis aberant. Cine visează aşa ceva? Chiar, cine visează aşa ceva? Sunt nebun? Da, chiar am visat asta, am visat că făceam dragoste cu ea. Uh… mi-e scârbă, am să vomit şi se va împuţi toată casa cu miros de vomă. Ştii cât de rar mi se întâmplă? Foarte rar! Eu foarte rar visez. Şi mai asta trebuia, să risipesc un vis cu ea, cu vampira aia.

Nu mai am ţigări… Shit!… Măcar o cafea… E patru noaptea. Şi e linişte. Or fi plecat? Da… sigur au plecat, până acum trebuia să se întoarcă. Cum să aflu? Pot să-i arunc în geam ceva, să văd dacă răspunde. Nu, e o tâmpenie.

Cum am putut să visez aşa ceva? Mă simt violat! De ce? De ce? Ah, şi vocea acum îmi sună a bocet şi mă detesc când mă plâng şi când îmi plâng de milă, mă urăsc când fac asta.

Eram într-un câmp verde, abia cosit. Şi mirosea a clorofilă şi pământ plouat, ravăn, şi stăteam liniştit la soare. Şi am vrut să mă întorc pe cealaltă parte. Şi m-a prins de mâini şi s-a întins lângă mine. M-a imobilizat. Şi şi-a împlântat buzele în gâtul meu, pe venele mele, şi mi-a supt un sărut fix pe venă şi mi-am pierdut controlul. Şi am prins-o de mâini şi am strâns-o până când a început să geamă. Şi i-am muşcat urechea stângă şi a gemut mai tare, lăsându-şi capul pe dreapta; şi cred că i-am muşcat apoi umărul, înainte să îi simt dinţii în gât. Dar nu e vina mea! Ea m-a atacat, m-a întors pe cealaltă parte şi m-a provocat, mi-a făcut o cumplită groază apropiindu-se de mine. Îmi aud şi acum inima în ureche, aşa cum am simţit-o în somn.

E o prostie, numai pentru că se simte bine fata, nu înseamnă că mi-ar face asta. În fond, nu am văzut-o niciodată cu un bărbat. Numai cu asta de la cinci şi încă vreo trei. Poate chiar… Poate chiar ce? Nu, nu trebuie să uit, e o curvă care îmi suge viaţa din vene, şi acum mă stoarce atât de adânc încât am ajuns să o şi viez, undeva în diagonala minţii, unde nici eu nu o pot controla. E o curvă pentru că eu vreau să fie o curvă. Şi vai, în ce hal gemea şi cât de bine mi-au prins ureletele ei, cât de bine a fost să mi se întâmple ceva. Măcar în vis, ceva să se întâmple. Înghit în sec acum, când mă gândesc la ce i-am făcut în vis. Oare atât de fragedă îi e carnea în realitate? Aveam senzaţia că o să rămân cu o bucată de carne smulsă de pe pulpa ei dacă o mai frământ, şi costele se mişcau atât de uşor sub piele încât credeam că voi putea să o desfac exact ca pe un cort de piele şi să îi sărut oasele – sau să i le muşc, tot una. Şi claviculele alea care nu se potoleau o clipă din zbatere, şi linia maxilarului care mă privea lovindu-mi creştetul capului în timp ce îi sfârtecam coşul pieptului. Ah… m-am hrănit din ea, în vis! Aşa cum ea se hrăneşte din mine în fiecare zi şi mă îngrozeşte cumplit cu acele culori turbate şi expansive. Şi dacă aş putea, i le-aş da jos, numai pentru că mă sperie cumplit curcubeul ăla de haine al ei; şi dacă aş vedea-o rămasă fără armele ei din garderobă, asta i-aş face, aş spulbera-o într-un câmp gol, fără muchii şi margini, şi m-aş hrăi din ea ca un câine dintr-un hoit, aş muşca-o de glezne până i-ar pocni sângele pe gură.

Trebuie că o urăsc deosebit de mult. Niciodată nu am vrut să omor pe nimeni. Ei i-aş dori cea mai dezgustătoare dintre morţi. Dar fără să mă vadă… – şi dacă aş putea să o omor mereu şi mereu, şi ea să tot mai aibă câte o viaţă, şi fiecare să fie ultima. Şi să o am aici, să o omor de fiecare dată când vreau şi să o trezesc apoi, ca să o iau de la capăt. Şi tot timpul să se întâmple câte ceva aici, iar ei să îi placă să o omor în sărutări şi muşcături. Poate chiar m-aş lăsa şi eu odată omorât, numai pentru ca să văd cum e. Dar asta nu schimbă faptul că o urăsc foarte mult şi detaşat şi bazat pe motive reale.

Jeudi 26 novembre, vêtu de rouge à lèvres et de son manteau noir, Nez Bavard se rend au 15 square de Vergennes, Paris 15e.

Serge Lutens a en effet choisi cet endroit comme lieu de présentation pour sa nouvelle création : L’eau Serge Lutens. Construit en 1932, c’était, à l’origine, l’atelier du Maître verrier Louis Barillet. Le bâtiment, qui fut repris par Yvon Poullain par la suite, est aujourd’hui ouvert au public : on peut venir y admirer un fonds permanent d’œuvres de l’artiste Yonel Lebovici, mais aussi visiter un espace dédié à des expositions éphémères…

Le lieu explique le parfum. Ou plutôt l’inverse, je ne sais pas trop. Mais pour ma part, je n’ai réellement compris cette nouvelle création qu’après avoir visité l’espace réservé à l’artiste sculpteur Yonel Lebovici. On peut y voir un certain nombre de pièces portant sur la démesure et le détournement d’objets du quotidien, l’ensemble n’étant pas dénué d’humour.  Vous trouverez notamment une pince à linge (Pince à Linge, 1978) de 2 mètres de haut, une lampe torche Maxi (Maxi, 1978) de 65 cm sur 15 qui fait de la vraie lumière, ou encore une pince à documents réarrangée en fauteuil à bascule (Pince sans rire, 1986). C’est cette option du gigantisme qui semble avoir été choisie par Serge Lutens pour cette fragrance :  la composition reprend dans sa construction un élément du quotidien, et l’amplifie dans des proportions inhabituelles de façon à en modifier la perception…

Ici, on parle de l’odeur du propre. Dans notre quotidien de tous les jours, qu’est-ce-que le propre ? C’est quelque chose de lavé et de parfumé. Aujourd’hui, le propre ne se dissocie plus de cette dimension “parfumée” qui est utilisée pour accentuer la sensation, et pour rejeter ou masquer les odeurs organiques naturelles (voir ici). C’est à cette intrusion excessive du parfum dans tous les recoins du quotidien qu’a voulu réagir Serge Lutens :

“Cette Eau est une réaction, une action, une volonté : être propre, trancher avec la fausse odeur qui règne sur tout.”

A l’image des oeuvres de l’artiste exposé au 15 square de Vergennes, l’Eau Serge Lutens accentue, exagère, amplifie l’idée du propre . Ce que l’on a l’habitude de sentir lorsque l’on sort de la douche et que l’on passe une chemise propre est gonflé pour devenir un géant, qui vient souligner l’absurdité de ce monde hyper-propre et hyper-hygiénique. Alors, quitte à vouloir sentir bon le propre, autant ne pas y aller de main morte et porter un parfum qui sent la lessive. Attention cependant, il ne s’agit pas d’un simple fantôme de votre Ariel préféré, la composition est plus élaborée. Car cette eau est un concept, une non-odeur : c’est l’agrandissement de l’odeur du linge propre sur la peau, ou de la peau en sortant de la douche. Cet anti-parfum n’a plus vocation à parfumer, et atteint le stade de l’hyper-fonction : vous plonger dans une idée, dans l’univers de la chemise blanche. L’accueillir comme un parfum serait une erreur, car cette eau n’a pas été conçue comme un parfum et n’en est pas un. L’Eau Serge Lutens sonne pour moi comme un pied de nez, un rire ironique large et bruyant envoyé à ce monde parfaitement propre, toujours frais, toujours parfumé, ayant perdu un rapport naturel avec lui-même. L’énormité et l’absurdité de la chose sont là pour nous faire prendre conscience de la dérive et nous rappeler le vrai plaisir du parfum : ” Un anti-parfum, non pas celui qui s’y substitue mais celui qui en redonne le goût “.

Dans la collection actuelle, c’est un ovni… Un virage à 180° que l’on attendait pas, mais qui pouvait se laisser deviner peut-être avec un Nuit de Cellophane qui tranchait déjà avec l’univers familier de la maison. C’est une ouverture, le début d’un chemin différent de ceux déjà explorés et qui montre peut-être l’envie de se renouveler et de découvrir de nouvelles choses et de nouveaux lieux. Cela n’a pas été affirmé, mais il est plus que probable que l’Eau Serge Lutens soit la première d’une (longue ?) série.

Et donc, que sent-elle cette eau ?

L’empreinte est résolument moderne et lumineuse, les sensations se rapprochent assez d’Essence de Narciso Rodriguez mais la construction de l’Eau accentue des éléments différents et prend une autre tournure. En tête, des aldéhydes, mais l’aspect savonneux est remplacé par l’impression de cristaux de soude, un côté crissant et très lumineux lié à un côté juteux et fruité. Pour ma part, la tête me fait invariablement penser à “Ô oui” de Lancôme, un parfum que j’ai longtemps porté jeune fille et qui rendait lui aussi une impression de fraîcheur et de propreté. Durant un moment, le parfum reste assez froid et distant, puis peu à peu, une sensation de confort s’installe, un métallisé cotonneux toujours très clair et aérien. L’odeur en elle-même reprend le thème de la lessive, un aspect savon-soude très présent avec une odeur terriblement musquée : des muscs blancs aux facettes cotonneuses, cristallines, métalliques, mais aussi fruitées. Il ne faut pas voir cette référence de façon péjorative, la lessive est représentée dans cette création, mais de manière idéale puisque l’on recherche l’odeur du propre, les aldéhydes et les muscs accentuent et appuient l’impression de clarté et de fraîcheur, si bien liée à la propreté. Bien que la maison communique sur un parfum majoritairement construit à partir d’ingrédients naturels, ce n’est pas la sensation qui s’en dégage. Passée la tête, l’évolution est relativement monocorde et laisse sur la peau une continuelle sensation de fraîchement lavée. C’est résolument une eau de confort, qui se mariera avec une envie de simplicité, comme un beau maquillage nude.

Je ne peux m’empêcher de trouver dans l’atmosphère et la présentation de cette eau, un univers très japonisant ayant la classe et l’élégance naturelle de la simplicité. Cette empreinte avait toujours été présente dans la présentation des flacons chez Serge Lutens, mais ici, c’est simple d’une autre manière…

L’Eau Serge Lutens, disponible à partir du mois de mars aux Salons du Palais Royal et à l’export. 100 ml / 100 €

Cruciate Ligament Surgery Patient courtesy of Flickr

Local medical tech startup gets funding! I can see Charleston drawing on its strong industry clusters: Medical research (MUSC), military (CAFB, SPAWAR, NWS), logistics (PORT), tourism and now also aeronautics (BOEING)!

“Mount Pleasant-based Ion Surgical Technologies has received $200,000 in its first investment of startup funds from SC Launch.

Ion Surgical, which was started in October, has developed products that aid in the healing from injuries the rotator cuff and the anterior cruciate ligament. The two main products are the PassTech Rotator Cuff Repair Kit and the PassTech ACL Fixation Kit…”  Read the full article, as published in the Charleston Regional Business Journal.

Boy, I bet some of my close friends just fell out of their chairs. Clemson University (Home of the Tigers) are the arch-rivals of the team I support, the University of South Carolina. But it is only fair to give credit where credit is due: Clemson is going to be the home of a new research facility that will develop a center for Tissue Regeneration. Researchers from the University of South Carolina and the Medical University of South Carolina (MUSC) will collaborate. The University has also landed a grant to study reconstructive breast surgery – using artificial tissue that is resistant to cancer!  Hopefully when that breast cancer raises its head for the second time, this new tissue will slap it right down!

Clemson’s Department of Bioengineering began in 1963 and has provided the building blocks for engineered knees, hips, tissue, and hearts. From what I understand (and I do not understand this science very well at all!) they take small samples of real tissue and grow it in a controlled environment. They can use artificial tissue as a “framework” to make it grow into a certain shape and/or enhance the growth rate in some fashion.

Perhaps the day will come when our weak hearts will contain a patch of bioengineered tissue that would make it strong again. And if that were my heart, I wouldn’t mind one bit if that patch had a little Tiger Paw logo on it somewhere!

GradExpo2009

MUSC GradExpo2009 was a success from my point of view. We have a number of people in the faculty of science coming together, sharing their research idea, exchanging questions.

Comments and feedbacks have been on the positive side. The analysis of the evaluation forms might be available later. I would expect to see suggestion that ask for a similar event in the next year.

SC STAR or Faculty of Science Students with Talent and Achievement in Research presentations were brilliant. The commentators at the end of each student were even better and informative.

Plenty of research posters were available outside of the Lecture building. Not enough time to see all of them.

My favorite part have to be the Grad Expo Night, a party that have Moo Kra Ta (self-fried pork on Korean-style pan) and Karaoke singing contest as the main event.

More information on the event can be obtained from the official website.

What a week! My Wednesday night was consumed with Pecha Kucha. Can I just state — on the record — how awesome it was??

I dragged my “husband”, Edward Jones the third (yes I write it out), with me as I had no other hopefuls lined up. No offense Edward…really, you were my first pick!  He had no idea what he was getting in to, but when I said “free beer” he was in…no questions asked. So he picked me up around 6 and off we went!

We arrived at the Music Farm (the secret location that was announced only days before the event) at 6:35 to find out that the doors wouldn’t open till 7. So what else would we do besides go to Chais to have a nice glass of wine. While waiting for the doors to open, Edward continued to call the event Pikachu…yes, I am referring to the yellow haired animal on Pokemon.  While sipping my wine (him = beer) we admired the fabulous poster & invitation that my friend, Jay Fletcher, designed! He is an AMAZING designer who I admire & hope to one day make pieces half as amazing!  Check out the poster (of which the photo was snagged off his site)!

A photo of my fabulous date (taken by nothing other than my iPhone)…

Of all the fabulous presenters at Pecha Kucha 4, my most favorite was by Sideshow Press. I admire these women SO much! Their letterpress work is awe inspiring and truly inspirational. I have loved letterpress since the first day I saw it years ago and their work is above & beyond perfection.

Needless to say, I was thrilled when I saw my AIGA INSHOW Awards Gala invitation which was beautifully pressed by them! Such a clever idea & I am thrilled to be going to the same event as the creatives behind it all: Sideshow Press, Stitch Design Co, Sandy Lang, and Wentworth Printing.

Stay tuned as the Pajama Run will be held THIS SUNDAY! There is still time to register & donate, so please do your part to help cancers below the waist with MUSC’s Hollings Cancer Center! If you register, you will receive a tshirt with my design on it…what more could you ask for?

See you in your pajamas!

Peyton (my Son) will be three this coming January.  Since his birth we have had to take him in for three surgery’s. Two of them them was for ear tubes due to ear infections and the latest was for a slight hernia.  At the time of this writing we are sitting back at our house after making the one and a half hour drive to MUSC for Peyton’s surgery and then back.  Thankfully it was an outpaitiant procedure and was able to make the one and a half hour drive back home so that he could be in his own surroundings.  Other than some discomfort he seems to be doing well.  He is a trooper and has handled each surgery quite well.  I can’t say enough good things about the staff and care of the doctors at MUSC today who were with Peyton from the moment we arrived until they walked us out the doors.  Here is a quick video that I caught on my blackberry right after the staff gave him some meds to help him relax. Enjoy.

Porte-parole de la virilité et fervent défenseur de la pilosité masculine, je prône au quotidien l’exposition de l’homme affirmant sans crainte l’étendue de sa masculinité au grand jour, n’allant point, toutefois, jusqu’à inciter à exhibitionnisme. Un torse velu et une barbe fournie ne sont toutefois que des éléments clés, souvent considérés comme étant des clichés, dans l’obtention du statut d’homme de qualité. Une foule de facteurs, pouvant aller du regard carnassier au type de pantalons portées (attention, amateurs de velours!), influent sur le charisme et l’attitude du mâle contemporain (thème philosophique: l’homme entant qu’homme). Au-delà de la perception visuelle de la masculinité réside toutefois une caractéristique souvent négligée par la masse: l’odeur.

L'original

Tandis que la femme, toute en douceur, se pavane en laissant derrière elle quelques arôme sucrés ou floraux en émettant de petits sons aigus, l’homme dominant qui se respecte doit opter pour un fumet plus viril, mais quoi? Bien que la senteur du mâle travailleur et/ou sportif puisse être attrayante, dans une certaine mesure, pour la dame en quête d’une chaleur alimentée par la passion primitive, elle est néanmoins à éviter pour des raisons évidentes. Lorsque l’homme sent aussi fort que son fromage ou qu’il évoque le chacal chez ses convives, l’heure est à la baignade puisqu’il vaut mieux attirer les cougars que les vautours! Bien que le parfum soit souvent à l’honneur chez celui qui désire séduire, il ne faut pas négliger la puissance du traditionnel savon et c’est ici qu’intervient la légendaire barre de savon Irish Spring (remarquez le lien subtile avec le texte de ce billet).

Créature impitoyable

À l’instar du musc qui, chez certains animaux, dégage une forte odeur dont le but est de stimuler le sexe opposé, le Irish Spring émane cette puissance animale et ce désir perpétuel d’accouplement. Il est d’ailleurs légitime, dans cet optique, que l’Homme aie utilisé le musc dans la composition de certains parfums. Celui-ci est produit par le chevrotain mâle, animal brutal et intimidant également appelé porte-musc vivant dans les montagnes d’Asie à plus de 2000 mètres d’altitude et reconnaissable à ses canines longues de 5 à 7 centimètres (ces informations ne provenant probablement pas de Wikipédia). Dans un souci de perfectionnement et parce qu’ils étaient las de combattre jour et nuit les hostiles chevrotains à grands renforts de lances, haches de guerre et, éventuellement, d’armes automatiques, les parfumeurs parvinrent à élaborer une formule mystique, probablement en vendant leur âme, qui leur permit de concevoir les produits Irish Spring et, pour ceux dont l’âme valait moins cher, le Brut.

Carcajou

Repoussant les émanations nauséabondes aussi sûrement qu’il attire la gente féminine, Irish Spring est l’ultime rempart odorant contre la métro-sexualisation. Purificateur des narines impies, il enveloppe d’une aura mystique de pilosité éthérée celui qui est digne de propager ses effluves bienfaisantes. Tandis que fondent les adeptes de « Ma Romance Chimique » et que se révulsent les yeux de celles dont le manteau d’hiver ne couvre pas le ventre, les dignes se reconnaissent et s’apprécient. Le Sergent Slaughter et les carcajous utilisent Irish Spring.

Dans un monde dominé par les normes esthétiques douteuses et par les tendances hygiéniques qui s’y rattachent, il est important de demeurer fidèle à soi-même tout en se préservant de la masse intransigeante et corrompue de la « normalité ». C’est en revêtant la peau d’un inconnu et en acceptant de sentir comme les jumelles Olsen que l’on se réveille un beau matin avec pour seul vêtement un mince drap de soie rose et que l’on constate, en titubant vers la salle de bain, que l’on porte un rouge à lèvres grossier et un tatouage de pénis sur la fesse droite.

There is a reason the POLICE are called PIGS and FIREMEN are called HEROS. Police are morons; Firemen save lives.

In the case of the naked man with the tiny penis at the Coachella Music and Arts Festival inApril who decided to take off his clothes and was tazed by one crazy cop over five times. That tazing machine is painful and the guy took it with his screams of “freedom of speech”. The victim has a case against these cops but the pitful part is that out of people watching, they only stood around him, taking video on cell phones and cameras and doing nothing to help the guy or stop the officers from hurting him.

His hands are pinned behind his back, his face down on the grass that fucking pig of a cop tazes him. There are rights this man has that that cop refused to recognize. In the 60s when this type of thing happened and it did often at music fairs the cops would just drag the person off into a police wagon and take ‘em to jail. Now that they are allowed to torture their victims indescriminately they do so with glee.

I dislike the police force and think most of them have a collective IQ of a rock. A rock carrying around a loaded weapon – dangerous.

—-Bonju Patten

Early this morning, I (Valerie) had the honor of photographing a newborn baby girl, just minutes after her birth! The kind doctors and nurses at MUSC L&D unit even let me inside the delivery room! Here are a few pics, first one of me and then a couple of precious baby Julieanne with her parents:

Το πλέον ανάλαφρο και super καλοκαιρινό hit που λιώσαμε να ακούμε σε club, beach bar, walkman, ipod, ντιβάνια, κρεβάτια, καρέκλες, πολυθρόνες, καναπέδες.

Γαμώτο, ήταν ανάγκη να τελειώσει το γρήγορα το φετινό καλοκαίρι;

Και ένα who is who όπως το βούτηξα από το επίσημο κανάλι του στο Youtube (σε ελεύθερη μετάφραση βέβαια):

O Edward Maya είναι ένα ολόκληρο μουσικό πακέτο από μόνος του (παραγωγός, performer, συνθέτης, μουσικός) και μας έρχεται τη Ρουμανία. Σε ηλικία μόλις 19 ετών έκανε την παραγωγή του Tornero (Mihai Traistariu – Eurovision 2006) το  οποίo έλαβε την 4η θέση στον τελικό.

Μετά από αυτή την επιτυχία άρχισε να δουλεύει με Ρουμάνους καλλιτέχνες όπως οι Akcent, Ionita, Cassa Loco.

Το 2008 έκανε την παραγωγή του άλμπουμ “Fara Lacrimi” για τους Akcent, με τραγούδια όπως το “Stay with me”, “That’s my name” και “Lover’s Cry” που γνώρισαν μεγάλη επιτυχία στην Ευρώπη.

Ευχάριστη έκπληξη για τη μουσική σκηνή ήταν το καλοκαίρι του 2009, όταν ο Edward Μάγια (ως παραγωγός και καλλιτέχνης) κυκλοφόρησε το “Stereo Love”, ένα τραγούδι που γρήγορα έγινε super hit, με είσοδο σε dance και club music charts σε πολλές χώρες ευρωπαϊκές και μη (Ρουμανία, Ελλάδα, Ρωσία, Πολωνία , Κάτω Χώρες, την Αίγυπτο, την Ισπανία, την Ιταλία και την Τουρκία).

p.s. i so so so miss mykonos

]]> http://pinckneyplace.wordpress.com/2009/09/05/welcome-to-the-new-pinckney-place-blog/ Sat, 05 Sep 2009 17:23:42 +0000 pinckneyplace http://pinckneyplace.wordpress.com/2009/09/05/welcome-to-the-new-pinckney-place-blog/

There has been a lot of activity lately…5 homes have sold since March of this year, and by the end of November, we’ll have at least 8 families living in the neighborhood.  Yea!  You can see the neighborhood starting to take shape, and we’re so excited about  the changes.  There are 4 houses currently in various stages of construction, and one spec that is (mostly) completed and serving as our new “model” home…this is the little blue Edisto Cottage located at 1632 Ware Bottom Lane (See the photo).

The Edisto Cottage at Pinckney Place

The quality construction, great location in the heart of Mt. Pleasant, and the value of the homes seem to be the major appeal for buyers.  Though the development is starting to look and feel more like a neighborhood, the homes are still priced well for the quality of construction and finishes…nothing in the area compares to these homes  at these prices.  We have worked hard to price the homes well so that there is less concern on the part of potential buyers of whether or not they are making a good investment.   But never forget that buying a house is more about making a home for you and your family than about making an investment.  And the time is great for both…historically low interest rates, great inventory and incredible value.  Please stop by or contact us if we can help you learn more about becoming a part of Pinckney Place.

Okay, this song is totally out of the blue. Just after arriving home from Australia, I lived for a year in a farmhouse outside of Orangeville, Ontario. While there, I learned to chop wood well (for my woodstove), began to sing my songs in front of another person, met and started playing with the Houseplants, and I also learned of Stina Nordenstam, amongst others. My friend Gordon lent me a copy of this CD of hers, and this immediately became one of my favourite songs from the album.  Just wait until you hit the 1:00 mark! Okay?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Poq2x_Em5Pg

(I keep thinking to put fun songs, party songs, groovin’ songs  on here, and it’ll happen one of these days!)

Where / is indicated this means the next speaker speaks over the lines of the previous speaker.

Trafalgar Square, 10pm. Jez, wearing a grey flat cap, granite grey t shirt and blues jeans, is slowly lowered into view on a green cherry picker with him is a man in a red t shirt wearing a radio on his belt. A woman dressed in the body of an Orang-outang costume stands in the middle of the plinth gently leaning on a golf club with a backpack slung over her shoulder. There is a metal pole embedded in the surface of the plinth. In the distance we can hear the final chime of Big Ben.

Jez: How can I follow that?

Woman (with her back to us): Don’t worry. (after a short pause we hear Jez laugh) I’m so hot.

Jez (as he takes a photo of her, laughing): I’m glad about that.

The man in the red t shirt opens the gates of the green cherry picker as the woman gestures to the pole.

Woman: Do you want your pole?

The man in the red t shirt gestures for the woman to step onto the cherry picker, she moves on.

Jez: You might as well leave it there, if it’s there I’ll, yeah, yeah. (To Woman) I can’t follow that though.

Woman: Oh don’t worry.

Jez (to the man in the red t shirt walking onto the plinth): Cheers. Thank you very much.

We hear a man cheer from the crowd just off as the man in the red shirt closes the gates to the cherry picker. The Woman places the head of the Orang-outang costume on. The cherry picker starts to reverse. There’s a smattering of applause and whoops as Jez places a dwarf sized chair just in front of the metal pole. He throws his coat onto the floor as he gestures behind him to the Woman and speaks to the crowd:

Jez: I can’t follow that. He puts his bag on top of the coat. Me legs are wobbly. Jez makes several “whao” noise as he sits. Right. He looks at the crowd who have come to expect some kind of gift from him. I’ve got nothing for you. The crowd make a feeble disappointed noise which Jez mimics. Oh, what? He gestures in front of him. I’m going to talk to the/ cameras.

Man: Do a jump/.

Jez: Do a jump? Er, I might do. Jez fiddles with his iphone. I might just jump actually. This revelation provokes cheers from the crowd. You’ve got to catch me. Yea- jump in the net. Don’t tempt me, I’m telling you.

Another Man (inaudible at first):  Sing a song. Louder: Sing a song.

Jez: Sing a song? Which song?

Another man makes a suggestion which can’t be understood.

Jez: Which song do you want? Jez is clearly confused by not hearing the suggestion, the brightness of the lights and the height. I can’t hear you. Gimme a song. Whilst he waits for a suggestion he can hear Jez uses his iphone to take a photo and puts it into his right pocket. What song did you want? I was going to… talk… I was going to stick to what I was going to do. To another man: It is pretty boring, yeah, I have to be honest. But if you can see my legs going now, you wouldn’t be too bad.

In the background we can hear the regular beep-beep-beep of a lorry reversing.

Hello everyone watching on the web, it is I, Jez C from Birmingham. Er, the lights are brighter than I thought. You can see I haven’t prepared anything. I had a couple of ideas… there’s the family down there. Hello. He waves. There’s quite a crowd, obviously who, er, He chuckles There was a gorilla hitting golf balls with pennies in and I’ve, er, come up with a wooden chair that doesn’t do anything. And, errr, I think people are quite, er, quite disappointed really that I’m not doing anything. So I’m going to carry on and do what i said I was going to do and that is: move back a bit. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose gently. It’s not too bad actually, if I jumped off there, I’d be alright.

So anyway, I’m just going to steady myself here, I’m getting a bit, er, /well.

Yet another man: Louder.

Jez: I was going to say, I’m going to quieten down as I’m getting a bit dizzy now. This is a struggle with heights.

Man 4: Inaudible

Jez: You what? He ignores man 4 and speaks more to himself than the crowd. I’m trying to steady myself. To the crowd: This is going to be very boring for people down there.

Woman 1: You alright mate?

Jez: Errr… no. But if I look this way and don’t do anything. And look ahead, I should be alright. My legs are a bit wobbly.

Woman 1: You’ll be ok. It’s not very high up. From the crowd there starts a slow hand clap which slowly speeds up over the next section.

Jez: It’s not very high, no but it’s er… sorry? I’m going to talk about me and me Mum. I’m gonna talk about music. The clapping dies off. Me Mum is a fantastic woman and the idea, I’m going to share some recollections and reminices. I’m forty in a couple of weeks time so I was going to use this time just to, er, reflect really. And say all the things I should say to my Mum that I don’t say. And my sisters and my wife and my kids. So.. who are down there. He points. That’s my wife and kids, I should say, not me Mum. So if I keep talking then I find I don’t get dizzy, do this for an hour.

As I said, my name is Jez, I’m from Birmingham. 40 in a couple of weeks time. I want to spend this period of time up on the plinth… Plinths are normally reserved for heros, you know, statues are a way, a visual representation of people we consider to be heros. So it’s a bit of a cheesy link but, er, my hero is my Mum. Bernadette Collins is her name. To someone just in front of the plinth My Mum. She’s back at home in Birmingham. I’m not sure if she’s, er, watching this or even aware of how to get it but I wanted to just talk about what’s she’s done for me and for our family.

She’s one of nine children, there’s my Aunty Jemma, my Mum and this is where I forget them, Albert, Rita, Mary, erm Trevor, Patsy and a few have passed on. She came from Ireland in the 50’s and she’s worked and worked and worked to better herself, not in terms of material wealth but in terms of intellectual wealth and cultural wealth where she’s got to the point now where she has a great understanding of the world and I think she’s put that into me. I’m talking more quietly now as there’s loads of people screaming and shouting and I’ve lost the thread of what I was going to say, it is a bit higher than I thought. But, when I was younger my Mum and Dad parted, when I was 8 and that was 1977 ‘78 which was quite an unusual thing to do at that period in time, there weren’t many single parent families. She had me and my sister Hattie. It was tough financially and economically and this is really high. She worked as hard as she could to look after us. I remember she was Irish, Irish Catholic, and when she most needed the church to help her and look after her, the church let her down. I couldn’t believe at that moment in time when she needed someone that they could do that, a real hard blow for her. She perservered and met a fantastic person called Roger who really helped and looked after my Mum in the most amazing way, really encouraged her to go to university, to take education and to better herself. Again, not to material wealth but through cultural and intellectual wealth and he was very proud of that. My Mum had a brilliant sister called Alice with Roger, so there was me, Mum and Roger. I was about 16 when Roger got ill, I didn’t understand what was going on, I thought I could look after the family. As a young lad I thought I was looking after the family, I was probably taken aback when Roger came. Roger was great and fantastic for us.

Roger got ill and unfortunately passed away. He was a real good bloke for my Mum. What I really regret and should have said years ago and I’m saying now is, I didn’t understand what was going on at the time in the way I should have done and I should have been there for you and Hattie and Alice. If I look back on it as I get older I realise I was a bit selfish… To man in crowd: Why am I here? To Camera: Hold on Mum.

To man: I’m here, I was gonna, er, I love Antony Gormley’s work, he’s a sculptor who’s ideas this is. Sorry? He pauses. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to be part of a living piece of art. There are only two and a half thousand people being selected for this and to be part is fantastic, if you don’t know Gormley’s work you should check it out. One of my favourites is from my home town, in Birmingham and it’s called the Iron Man, it’s not one of his better known pieces but it should be. It was one of his early pieces that I became aware of. So I’m here to do that and what I’m doing on here tonight is I’m talking about, I’m 40 in a few weeks time, I’m taking an hour out to relax in a world we don’t often get the time to look back and be by ourselves, although he chuckles, I’m not really by myself and to reflect and to talk about things that matter to me. And I’m also here to make sure I look that way he gestures at the National Gallery and not that way he gestures behind himself because if I look that way I get very dizzy. How I’m going to get off here, I’m not quite sure, so that’s why I’m here really and I’m just talking about the influence my mother has had on me and to tell the things I don’t often say enough to her. So, I don’t know if you can hear me down there, I’m not quite sure but that’s what I’m doing.

To his Mum: And as I was saying, I obviously didn’t realise the severity of Roger’s illness and I wish I had and I wish I could have done more to support you. You’ve been an absolute constant and I wasn’t ignoring your text the other night when we met for lunch the other day, and me Mum sent me a text saying “You’re such a secure unit and family” I didn’t respond because I didn’t want to give an inkling of really what I was going to do or give away…

Jez’s son, Sonny, calls up from the crowd.

Sonny: Da-ad?

Jez: Yes mate?

Sonny: Daddy?

Jez: Yes mate?

Sonny: inaudible.

Jez: I’m not looking up, I’m looking straight mate, my legs are a bit wobbly at the moment and I think I’m going to have to crawl off this plinth.

Another man: Inaudible.

Jez: You what mate? You want a..?

Another man: Inaudible.

Jez: How’s your head for heights? Mine’s bad. My legs are bad, I tell you and they get you to talk for ages in there. Very dry. I’m quite glad it’s dark, if I have to be honest. I wish these lights would go off. But it’s good, good in a way. I hope the hour goes quickly, I might have to put my headphones on in a bit and listen to music to completely lose myself. It’s not that high down there, I know that, my head tells me I could just jump off there and hang down and I’d be fine. But I’m struggling to get through this and there’s a certain sense of vertigo going on. It’s a battle to be able to do it and keep talking. Apologies for being boring.

Jennie, it’s a good job I didn’t have the camera.

Jennie shouts something reassuring from the crowd.

Jez: So am I. Apart from the golfing…

One of Jez’s kids shouts I love you from the crowd.

Jez: I love you mate, I love you. I love you too. I love you, Scout. It’s all very good… I’ve got to keep my head up as my legs are going ten to the dozen. If I look that way (Jez gestures away from the National Gallery towards Canada House.)  its not too bad either. What was I saying? What I’ve said to my mum goes to my sisters, Cassie and Alice. I take for granted what you’ve gone through. I think about Matty and Laura and what they’ve been through and because you’re my sister it just should be natural. I probably don’t tell you enough that I just can’t probably comprehend how you feel. I love you to bits. I’m always there for you, you’ve only got to ring whenever you need something, I’m so proud that you’re in Vietnam and you’re having a good time. It’s great that you’re doing it, I didn’t think you would, I have to be honest, I didn’t think you would but I’m really proud of you for doing it and any time you need me I’ll be there. I’m a cranky old bugger sometimes with work and that sort of rubbish and kids and it’s never meant, you know, you just have to ring and where ever you are I’ll be there. You’re just fabulous anyway. Hattie, for those of you that don’t know, is the golden one, she’s fabulous.

To watch Jez’s time on the plinth go to: http://www.oneandother.co.uk/participants/Jezc

the thread of love ! LA CHAÎNE DE L’AMOUR !
Le principe est simple, si tu es invité/e à la chaîne de l’amour :

1. Dessine, illustre ou raconte avec des mots une histoire, une scène d’amour et j’ajoute une PL (je parle d’amour au sens large, ça peut aller de l’amitié en passant par la romance jusqu’à l’amour charnel) ! Et recopie les règles de la chaîne ci-contre.
2. Fait suivre la chaîne à 3 ou 5 personnes de sexe opposé (sauf pour les homos qui peuvent choisir des gens du même sexe ; sauf aussi pour les bi’s qui peuvent choisir des gens des deux sexes, youhou) !

Cette chaîne m’a été donnée par Aurel !

Ma première rencontre avec les 2 derniers opus de Serge Lutens fut assez expéditive, un amateur de parfum ayant eu la gentillesse de nous les faire essayer sur touches à moi ainsi qu’à d’autres bloggers.

Ma sensibilité personnelle tomba d’abord sous le charme (évidemment) de Fille en Aiguilles. Un délice d’arrogance et d’élégance. Des matières en surdose, du corps, de la profondeur, du Lutens signé. Bref, de quoi ravir Nez Bavard. Fourreau Noir à côté restait un peu discret et un peu trop propret sur le carton pour faire un véritable effet et me transporter ailleurs. Apprenant que c’est ce dernier qui allait sortir dans la collection des Salons du Palais-Royal, alors que Fille en Aiguilles, lui, sortirait pour la gamme export, je suis restée un peu perplexe.

Mais sur la peau, toujours, il faut essayer.

Fille en Aiguilles tient ses promesses jusqu’au bout. Une pinède entière se trouve sur vos poignets, vous entendez au loin le sac et le ressac de la mer… Il fait bientôt nuit,vous êtes assis autour d’un feu de bois, dans lequel vous jetez des aiguilles de pin et d’où s’élèvent des volutes d’encens délicat. C’est dans ce parfum que j’ai trouvé la plus belle reconstitution de l’odeur d’église, celle d’un mélange d’encens et de cire de bougie, celle qui imprègne les pierres, les bancs et la lumière. Avignon de Comme des Garçons offre lui aussi une belle représentation et ce fut ma première référence en matière d’odeur d’église, mais  il se trouve au coeur même de l’encensoir, alors qu’ici on se trouve plus dans l’atmosphère et l’évocation. La douceur balsamique de la sève de pin s’étire sur votre peau, recouvrant l’encens et le vétiver. Un parfum qui vous demande toutes les heures ce que vous pouvez bien faire à Paris…

Fourreau Noir est une autre histoire. Celui-ci n’évoque plus un lieu mais bien une peau. On est d’ailleurs quasiment immédiatemment précipité dans l’accord de fond qui se contruit autour d’un musc poudré et blanc (le même que celui de Kiki dans Vero Profumo) et d’une fève tonka épaisse. Pas de spectaculaire ou de théâtral : la fragrance est douce, caressante, elle reste proche et intime à la peau. Elle développe un moment un stade qui fait penser au Mâle de Jean-Paul Gaultier : une touche de vanille, un musc poudré et une friction de lavande fraîche  plus tard, on retrouve l’évocation d’une peau chaude et sensuelle. D’une grande douceur, il peut être surprenant de savoir que l’on ne pourra le trouver qu’aux Salons du Palais-Royal, étant donné qu’il est tout de même moins surprenant que le premier. Mais peut-être la diffusion (commerciale) a-t-elle voulu s’accorder à l’univers plutôt intimiste du parfum ?

2 nouveaux parfums à paraître en septembre donc, deux univers très différents à découvrir, dont l’un est peut-être plus dans la “tradition Lutens” que l’autre.

Antidepressants For Women of Childbearing Age
(What Big Pharma Wants)

Fred A. Baughman Jr., MD
Director of the National Foundation, March of Dimes, West Michigan Birth Defects Clinic, 1965-1975
Author: The ADHD Fraud
www.Trafford.com

(1193 words)

In the Women Speak blog from Obstetrician-Gynecologist, Dr. Tameeka Law of the Medical University of South Carolina, (MUSC), addresses the question: ‘Can I Continue to Take Antidepressants in Pregnancy?’ http://tinyurl.com/mlyjqc

Dr. Law’s first obligation, like that of every prescribing physician involved in the care of women-of-reproductive-age is to the physical-medical health and well-being of possibly-pregnant, pregnant, or just-delivered women, whether nursing or not, as well as to the embyo, fetus or baby in the equation.

And yet we find Dr. Law espousing views about psychiatry and psychiatric drugs not consistent with her Hippocratic obligation to assure the physical-medical well-being of the patient or patients—mother and embryo, fetus or child.

Consider at the start that Dr. Law and I, and all physicians, regardless of what specialty we enter—go to medical school for 4 years, study all thing normal (biological chemistry, anatomy and physiology) all things abnormal (pathology, diseases) and, in their clinic years, how to tell those who are normal, disease-free, from those who are abnormal—diseased. The other thing we learn going through medical school is that there are no physical abnormalities-diseases in psychology and psychiatry. There is no such thing as a mental, psychological, psychiatric ‘disease.’ But this is not the impression one gets today as the almighty pharmaceutical industry (big pharma) with its bought-and paid for control over psychiatry, the entire medical profession and its medical schools and faculties insists, commands that all things emotional, behavioral, psychologic and psychiatric be called diseases or chemical imbalances so the public will see no logic but to forego “strength of character,” ‘pulling oneself up by the bootstraps,” love, talk therapy, etc, and commit to the drugs, pills, and ‘chemical balancers’ for ‘chemical imbalances’ of the brain they are, drum-beat, told they have (by virtually all of their physicians, joining the making “patients” of normals) and have come to believe they have.

And now, back to Dr. Law and the pregnant mother’s question “Can I continue to take Antidepressants in Pregnancy?”

Having said “depression affects 10 to 15% of pregnant women (how many million in this ‘epidemic’?) Dr. Law admits depression’s symptoms are “difficult to differentiate from normal changes of pregnancy.” In fact depression is a blue, dark, or melancholy mood to which all human beings are subject, from which virtually all emerge. Appropriately, Dr. Law lists the psycho-social factors that can lead to depression but claims that depression alone, as if a disease, “is associated with an increase in such negative physical outcomes of pregnancy as prematurity, low birth weight, and poor fetal growth.” Has Dr. Law been ‘bought,’ influenced? Has her department? Medical school? Is she stacking the deck in favor of antidepressants, in favor of the psychiatry-big pharma cartel—the biggest drug cartel of all time?

Next, ignoring the well-known physical-medical reproductive risks of SSRI antidepressants, Dr. Law says “overall antidepressants are safe to use during pregnancy” (for mother, developing embryo, or fetus) or while breastfeeding (for mother and nursing infant) and their use has not been shown to cause birth defects” Quite a blanket exoneration—this.

As if a salesman, Dr. Law continues to minimize the well-established, well-known risks of SSRI antidepressants for all women of child-bearing age. She continues: “… approximately 1 in 10 women will have major or minor depression sometime during pregnancy and the postpartum period.” Again, a target population of millions as is the well-worn strategy of “biological” psychiatry.

Contrary to glowing assessment of Dr. Law, numerous studies have shown that exposure to SSRIs late in pregnancy has been associated with complications in newborns that include jitteriness, seizures, respiratory distress, rapid respirations, weak cry, poor muscle tone, and an increased rate admission to the neonatal intensive care unit (meaning, in essence that their life is in the balance). Further, the use of Paxil (paroxetine-Prozac like) during the first trimester of pregnancy has been associated with an increased risk of congenital heart malformations leading the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to issue a public health advisory and require the manufacturer to change its pregnancy category from “C” to “D” meaning the drug has been found to be harmful to human fetuses (refers to the unborn from weeks 7-9 of pregnancy to delivery)

We begin to get a different picture than that painted Dr. Law for the pregnant women of South Carolina. The mother’s symptoms from SSRIs antidepressants can include insomnia, rashes, headaches, joint and muscle pain, stomach upset, nausea, diarrhea; reduced blood clotting increasing the risk for stomach or uterine bleeding; diminished sexual interest, desire, performance, and satisfaction, and, finally, the increased risk that antidepressants will incite violent or self-destructive actions (toward any and all present–family members, the embryo, fetus or newborn). When compared with a sugar pill, a.k.a. placebo, all antidepressants, including SSRIs, seem to double the risk of suicidal thinking, from 1%–2% to 2%–4%, in both children and adults.

And what of this? With all these side effects, SSRI antidepressants are no more effective that the sugar pill-placebo in curing depression.

In December, 2006, pro-psycho-pharmaceutical drugging statement, the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists said to the women of child-bearing age of America that decisions about depression treatment should involve the obstetrician and the mental health clinician (MFCC? Psychologist? Social Worker?) along with the patient, ideally prior to pregnancy. However, the ACOG recognized the inconvenient truth that “because approximately 50% of pregnancies are unplanned, preconception planning for women with depression will not always be feasible, and treatment decisions about SSRIs will undoubtedly occur during pregnancy,” i.e., after mother and the already-conceived, embryo, fetus, child-to-be has been intoxicated, poisoned by the antidepressant which is not known to target a defined abnormality/disease, not in anyone.

Given the facts above, we have every reason to believe nothing would be better than to return to the un-perverted medical science and ethics of the 1960s and 1970s, which would dictate that there being no such thing as a psychiatric disease, there is no such thing as an essential psychiatric drug, especially not for women who are pregnant or could possibly be.

There is no group or classification of psychiatric drugs proved to be without physical-medical risk, short-term or long, to the embryo, fetus, newborn, nursing newborn, nursing infant, or nursing toddler and, for that matter there is no group or classification of psychiatric drugs known to be without physical-medical risk, short-term or long- for their mother or father or for any member of the human race. Look at the rates of Sudden Cardiac deaths with antidepressants (Whang, et al, 2009), Ritalin and all ADHD psychostimulants (Gould et al, 2009), and antipsychotics (Ray et al, 2009). After all they are exogenous compounds, foreign to the body, with no abnormality to make normal, no abnormality to make less abnormal. They are, like all drugs—poisons.

What’s more all physicians, especially those at the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists know this. But knowing this their industry economic ties are such that they, like Dr. Law, can no longer speak the truth, not even to their patients: mothers who will give birth to children—healthy and whole or defective, deformed, subnormal, who–whichever they are–that parent will have to care for all of their life.

To restore both the scientific basis of its medical practice and its conscience the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists should immediately acknowledge there is no such thing as a psychiatric ‘disease’ or an essential psychiatric drugs and immediately re-write its ACOG’s Committee Opinion #354, “Treatment with Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors During Pregnancy,” published in the December 2006 issue of Obstetrics & Gynecology, to read “the best possible, psycho-social-familial management should be assured in every case, eschewing all non-essential (including all psychotropic medications) medications.

Seattle Times

The pairing of Mavis Staples and Allen Toussaint at the Woodland Park Zoo is a gift for new and old fans of two American musical treasures. Staples turns 70 soon, Allen is 72, and both recently put out recordings that lovers of the blues should savor. Listening to these artists on disc is a treat. But seeing them perform live on the same bill? Priceless. Mavis Staples and Allen Toussaint play today at ZooTunes at the Woodland Park Zoo, at 5 p.m.