#Lorenzo Berni

[lorenzoberni]

Nora’s lips.

October 2023, London.

@rubysartistry___

@norandronaco

@lorenzo_berni

[nevalizona]

Lorenzo the Strongman also gets his own tent since he's a top billed performer. His tent is decorated just enough. He has his workout things and a couple of his hobbies. He keeps his tent neat and orderly. He enjoys having his own space. Back in the day, he used to share a tent with Bernie the Mime. Bernie was a fine tentmate! He just didn't talk much. Lorenzo likes being around people, but he likes being able to let his guard down even more.

[thejellybeanboys]

I know this isn’t a Valentine’s Day ask but…do any of you got pets? Asking cause I recently got a dog and I’m curious if any of you do? (I mean you can also celebrate Valentine’s Day with the pets you love so it counts too right?)

Luis: “Em--thank you, but yes pets count! I was rudely censored talking about them before but as you know I have dogs--five of them to be exact.”

Codey: “I would prefer if you didn't waste time again infodumpig about them so I think instead... if you have a pet and you want to talk about them here. (Codey picks up some of the Valentines cards from the floor that Luis left) You can draw or write about them here on these.”

Luis: “Hey!-- I still haven't found the card yet.”

Codey: “Too bad, you took to long and made a mess, this is one way we'll get to use these wastes of the planets resources.”

(Some take the cards and start drawing. 15 minutes pass)

Jeremy: “I'm done with mine. Um I really don't consider him a pet really... he's actually my best friend but here's Pepeino! He's a rat, the coolest rat of them all.”

Luis: “There's no way he also wearing a jacket like your's...and also is standing like that. Are you sure this is your pet rat or like....a furry OC?”

Jeremy: “Ugh He's real!! He's just not here because I left him home.”

Cecil: “I think he's pretty cool! Can't wait to meet him one day!”

Jeremy: (blushes)

Cecil: “I'm also attached to rodents, but um well I did have a pet... unfortunately he's no longer with us. I had Lorenzo when I was 12 and still in Puerto Rico, he was such a sassy eating machine but guinea pigs don't live that long. I hope he's doing good in guinea pig afterlife.”

Codey: “I mean we're mainly talking about pets we have rn but uh... I guess Lorenzo is okay to still mention.”

Benny: “Aww r.i.p Lorenzo :'((”

Wil-Liam: “I got a pet too. They're name is R.O.C look at them gooo!”

Luis: “...That's just a rock with sunglasses..”

Wil-Liam: “And? You got a problem with pets having drip? You uh... Dripless boy?”

Luis: “ ....JKJJAKAJJGH-- uh Whatever man” (tries to hide more of his laughter)

Benny: “And oh that Bun Bun is not really mine, I actually don't have one right now...um a real one, but my mom says when I'm a bit older I could and want one that looks just like that one.”

Codey: “Okay we have gone from pets that are passed away to ones that are imaginary...”

Luis: “Anyway everyone shut up cause here's a almost accurate drawing of my babies...

They're my dogs! Duke is a Tibetan Mastiff. Bernie is a St. Bernard, Spruce is a Bernese, Beast is a Husky and the photobomber is Gustavo the Samoyed.”

Wil-Liam: “Ohh woah such cool little guys!! They're awesome.”

Luis: “Of course they are.”

Leroy: “I definitely wouldn't describe them as 'little' Wil, they're all intimidating big boys and girls who are capable of suffocating you if they even try to sit down near you.”

Luis: “Get over it Roy it only happened one time and Duke said he was sorry.”

[jacopocioni]

Firenze e sport, il legame tra la città e i suoi sportivi

In queste settimane sta tenendo banco la discussione circa la necessaria ristrutturazione dello stadio Artemio Franchi, storico palcoscenico sul quale si esibisce la squadra cittadina. La struttura sarebbe infatti stata esclusa dalla possibilità di beneficiare dei fondi europei destinati a opere di riqualificazione urbana e sociale: nonostante il sindaco Nardella abbia comunque confermato le intenzioni di procedere anche in autonomia alla tanto agognata ristrutturazione, prendendo in considerazione l’ipotesi di calendarizzare interventi divisi in due fasi ben distinte, quello che attende la casa della Fiorentina è un futuro che appare ancora incerto nonostante ottimismo e buona volontà. Uno scenario che stride con una tradizione sportiva cittadina che è di primaria importanza grazie ai numerosi atleti fiorentini che, nelle più diverse discipline, hanno portato Firenze nell’Olimpo degli sport. Avendo citato il Franchi, impossibile non partire proprio dai calciatori: Firenze e dintorni hanno dato i natali, oltre che a numerose squadre, a numerosi professionisti del pallone che hanno giocato ad alti livelli. Uno fra questi sicuramente Andrea Barzagli, nella rosa dell’Italia campione del mondo a Germania 2006: il difensore, che ha legato il proprio nome alla Juventus con la quale ha vinto otto campionati consecutivi di Serie A fra il 2012 e il 2019, è oggi assistente del settore giovanile della nazionale. Anche Tommaso Berni, classe 1983, è ormai un ex calciatore: portiere, ha definitivamente sfilato i guanti nel 2020, dopo aver giocato da titolare solo due stagioni con la Ternana tra il 2004 e il 2006 in Serie B. Per il resto una carriera da girovago e, soprattutto, ricoprendo il ruolo di terzo portiere all’Inter: figura amatissima nello spogliatoio, gli va riconosciuto anche il poco invidiabile record di due espulsioni senza mai essere sceso in campo nell’ultima stagione da calciatore. I due, tra l’altro, figurano anche fra i vincitori del premio Col Viola Nel Cuore, riconoscimento cittadino conferito nel 2014 a quei calciatori fiorentini che non abbiano mai indossato la maglia viola.

Anche il nuoto vanta diversi nomi di spicco, tra i quali quello di Lorenzo Zazzeri: classe 1994, alle ultime Olimpiadi di Tokyo ha vinto l’argento nella staffetta 4x100. Con i suoi compagni il fiorentino ha così messo la firma su un risultato storico, facendo parte della prima staffetta medagliata a un’Olimpiade e registrando il nuovo record italiano. Nei precedenti Giochi, quelli di Rio de Janeiro del 2016, era stata invece Rachele Bruni, classe 1990, a portare a Firenze una medaglia d’argento. Tra i nuotatori fiorentini spiccano anche Anna Chiara Mascolo, del 2001, e Filippo Megli, del 1997: entrambi hanno partecipato a Tokyo 2020. C’è poi l’altro recordman, Simone Ciulli: il classe 1986 ha partecipato alle ultime Paralimpiadi, dove ha vinto l’argento nella staffetta stile libero segnando il nuovo miglior tempo europeo. Anche negli eSport il legame tra Firenze e lo sport emerge sotto diversi punti di vista. La Fiorentina vanta un comparto di videogaming competitivo particolarmente attivo, come emerge dal video di presentazione fatto in occasione dell’arrivo dei pro player Alessio “GodMode” Carbone e Francesco “Virgil” Allocca al centro sportivo viola. Si può poi menzionare Andrea Benelli, classe 1981 e giocatore professionista di poker. Anche il poker sportivo, infatti, può tranquillamente essere considerato un eSport: approcciarsi alla sua versione videoludica comporta la necessità di studio, allenamento e preparazione, aspetti che lo accomunano a qualsiasi altro videogioco che ricada nella categoria di eSport. Affacciatosi al circuito professionale nel 2008, il toscano è uno dei più vincenti pokeristi italiani, e vanta partecipazioni anche ai più importanti tornei live come le World Series of Poker e lo European Poker Tour. Guardando ad altri sport spunta il nome di Lorenzo Bacci: del 1994, è stato fra i partecipanti al tiro a segno alle ultime Olimpiadi. Nelle precedenti edizioni, Londra 2012 e Rio de Janeiro 2016, altri tre ori nel tiro a segno erano stati vinti da Niccolò Campriani: il classe 1987, ormai ex tiratore, a Londra aveva centrato anche un argento. A Rio 2016 Firenze è salita sul gradino più alto del podio anche nel tiro a volo grazie a Gabriele Rossetti: il classe 1995 nell’Olimpiade brasiliana ha vinto la medaglia d’oro nello skeet, centrando tutti i bersagli della finale. Nel canottaggio spicca Francesco Fossi, del 1988, che ha partecipato alle Olimpiadi di Londra nel 2012. Insomma, Firenze vanta una schiera davvero nutrita di atleti nei più diversi sport. Caterina De Rosa Read the full article

[plusdigital]

El triángulo de las mordidas

El caso Mediador es una trama triangular con el diputado Juan Bernardo Fuentes Curbelo en el vértice superior y, en la base, el general de la Guardia Civil retirado Francisco Espinosa Navas y el a la sazón director de Ganadería del Gobierno de Canarias, Taishet Fuentes Gutiérrez, sobrino de Tito Berni. En el centro del cotarro trapicheaba el empresario Marco Antonio Navarro Tacoronte, que acumulaba seis delitos desde el año 2000 por los que había sido condenado a más de diez de prisión. La juez de Santa Cruz de Tenerife María de los Ángeles Lorenzo-Cáceres tira de la manta e inspecciona el colchón para desentrañar los resortes de la corrupción.  

[peachtree-dish]

A Te Che Sei Il Mío Grande Amore

Chapter 3: Senza che tu mi dica niente tutto si fa chiaro

Luglio 01, 1969

Luca’s birthday rolled around faster than anyone expected, the day arriving with clear skies and high temperatures. Luca awoke to his mother’s voice echoing through their home as she prepared breakfast. Stretching, the fifteen-year-old shook his nonna as gently as he could to wake her. She grumbled at his attempts and swatted at his claws.

“Nonna,” he sighed, shrugging with a smile and swimming into the kitchen to greet his parents. During his time in Porto Rosso, Luca enjoyed every moment he could swimming and spending as much time in the water since he couldn’t do as much in Genoa. He, along with Giulia and Signora Mia, had snuck to the shoreline in the early hours of the morning every few weeks or so just so Luca could refresh his scales and get the nutrients he needed. It was especially necessary when the temperature had become too cold and made him lethargic and ill. Luca shook his head softly, sending bubbles rippling above him in search of the surface. Signora Mia had been just as kind as Massimo, and just as headstrong in a lot of ways. He made a silent promise to call her with Giulia to make sure she was doing well, even if he were sure nothing could fell the infamous Mia Berni.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Daniella kissed Luca’s cheek and handed him a plate full of seaweed and fish flank on his way to the table. Returning the sentiment, the youth sat beside his father and informed his parents that grandma had decided to sleep in a little longer.

“Ugh, she does this every time. MA!” Daniella shouted in frustration, only to be startled by her own mother swimming around the corner.

“You’re being dramatic, dear. I only do it when I think it will annoy you.” The elderly sea monster smiled toothily at her disgruntled daughter who muttered, “Which is every day,” and finished setting the table.

“So, how does it feel to be another year older, son?” Lorenzo floated a piece of fish to his mouth and chewed animatedly, his gaze never leaving Luca’s. Luca shrugged in response and picked at the seafood drifting across the coral table.

“Not any different than last year, honestly. I still feel like I’m fourteen, so nothing special.” He slurped the seaweed into his mouth, much to his mother’s chagrin, and instantly missed the taste of pasta.

“Fifteen is a pretty big deal, though, you’re becoming a young man and that means changes and more responsibility.”

“I hardly think now is the time to discuss any of that at the table.” Luca’s grandmother scoffed before he could reply.

“What, it’s just the basics; Longer tail and fins, not to mention attracting the pretty lady gills, eh?” Lorenzo nudged Luca in the side who nearly choked on his food and spluttered white bubbles over the table, his scales flushing darkly.

“Lorenzo!” Danielle cried, her claws slapping the table in mortification.

“What? We were around his age when we met. If I remember correctly, you thought I was quite the catch.” He batted his eyes at her, pursing his lips teasingly.

“I was young and silly; I didn’t know any better.” Try as she might, Daniella couldn’t stop the smile that threatened to break her scowl. She busied herself by shredding the fish flank and wrapping it in seaweed. Undeterred, Lorenzo lifted from his chair and leaned in closer, trying to further fluster his wife.

“Yeah, maybe, but you still accepted my courting pearl after the Spring Swim Festival.” Lorenzo pulled a reluctant Daniella out of her chair and began to lead her around the room in spins and pivots, grinning madly as she shrieked with laughter. Luca watched with a mixture of amusement and confusion, his discomfort fading as he pushed the idea of ‘lady gills’ far from his mind. When he peered at his grandma, she appeared nonplussed and continued munching on her food although a genuine smile lifted her aging scales.

“You were skinnier and more handsome then, of course, she fell for you.” Lorenzo pouted at his mother-in-law and led both he and Daniella back to the table.

“I simply grew into my man body,” He emphasized his point by sticking his gut out even farther and patted it proudly. The table burst into laughter and Luca quickly finished eating after, his stomach nearly as full as his heart.

After he finished, he turned to his mother and asked, “Is it ok if I go visit Alberto and Giulia for the afternoon?”

Daniella conceded with a content nod, “Just don’t forget about our dinner tonight at Massimo’s, we don’t want you kids to be late.” Luca agreed cheerfully and kissed each family member on the cheek before swimming out the entrance.

“Hey!” Luca turned mid swim to see Daniella at the entrance. “I love you.”

“I love you too, ma!” Grinning, Luca took off, the water gliding past him as he made his way to the surface and his friends. As he leaped through the blue waves, he imagined he was like the superhero from the newspaper comics that Giulia and Mia both read. Pointing both fists forwards, Luca broke the surface with a whoop, water streaming behind him like a cape.

When he arrived at the Marcovaldo residence, the only beings there to greet them were Machiavelli and a few of his kits, each of whom wanted his attention and brief affection. Finding some of his spare clothes in the drawers of Alberto and Giulia's shared room, Luca quickly left the house and wandered the streets, eager to find his friends. Judging from the sun, he knew the morning fishing trip had come to an end not too long before which should mean Giulia, and Alberto was out delivering. Walking through the town square, Luca waved to a few of the patrons he recognized, mentally wincing as he remembered his first attempts at greeting Porto Rosso’s patrons. If anyone had been the stupidi, it had been them.

Chuckling as he went up the city’s hill, Luca caught sight of two familiar heads of curls along with two faces he was not expecting. Tensing at the sight of Guido and Ciccio, Luca prepared himself for a fight and made to run the rest of the way before he heard laughter. Guido was laughing at something Alberto had said and lightly touched his shoulder. Somehow, the movement was worse than if he had punched Alberto instead. A dark and ugly feeling reared its head within Luca’s belly, causing his face to burn and his hands to clench. Clenching his teeth, the young sea monster marched up the cobblestone pathways, intent on not showing his discomfort.

“Ciao,” he muttered shortly, arriving beside Alberto, and instantly causing Guido to lift his hand from Alberto’s shoulder. Giulia nodded hello from her seat on the bike as Alberto wrapped an arm around Luca’s shoulder.

“Oh, hey Luca,” Alberto cheered even more so upon seeing Luca. “You remember Guido and Ciccio, vero? I helped their families in the off-season while you were away.” Luca looked at the two teens who stood abashedly in front of him and offered his hand after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s good to see you both again,” Not, he thought as he shook the brunette’s hand. Ciccio spoke up, his round features coloring.

“We realize we never officially apologized to you before you left, si? We’re really sorry about last summer, Luca.”

“Si, Ciccio, and I were very foolish and ignoranti, we hope you can forgive us, and we can start again.” Guido smiled warmly, his gaze sincere. Taking a deep breath, Luca felt his earlier feeling of… whatever it was, fading away. If Alberto and Giulia both felt they could trust these boys again, then he could follow their lead.

“Lo apprezzo. I know being around Ercole wasn’t the easiest either, it’s all water under the bridge now anyway.” He smiled genuinely this time, heartened when the two ex-henchmen immediately relaxed.

“Bah, no lie, I’m so happy to be rid of that jerk,” Guido nodded at Ciccio who nodded and twisted his hands anxiously.

“He ate so much of my family’s bread,” Ciccio whispered horrified, his gaze wide. Giulia shared a weirded-out expression with Alberto who only shook his head.

“I didn’t know your family baked,” Luca interceded, ignoring his friends’ lack of subtlety Snapping back to the present, Ciccio grinned widely showing his perfectly white teeth.

“Oh, si, Pasticcini al sale Marino is the pride and joy of Porto Rosso and my family. Our baked goods bring customers from miles around; you should see the line of people who want to buy my mother’s Sfogliatella.” He leaned in conspiratorially to whisper, “My siblings and I have been helping since we were little, so only we know the recipe.” He puffed his round chest out proudly, only to be poked by both Alberto and Guido.

“Knowing a recipe and following it correctly are two different things, Ciccio. Your batter was not very good the last time you tried to make Bombolini.” Guido teased and Alberto nodded knowingly.

“I still don’t know how you mixed up salt and sugar,” the older sea monster screwed his face in disgust, remembering how the supposedly sweet treats and mistakenly been made with copious amounts of salt. “Seriously, Ciccio, even the ocean’s not as salty as those things were.” Ciccio pouted good-naturedly as the group laughed.

“It’s still not as bad as the time Guido set the auto garage on fire,” the blond argued mildly to which said boy grimaced.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again; I thought my papa was going to skin me alive.”

The teens chatted a bit more and Luca began to warm up to the two boys who had hurt him so much the past year. Perhaps, he reasoned, they had been good all along and had simply needed the chance to prove themselves.

Bidding Guido and Ciccio farewell, Luca joined Alberto and Giulia as they made the rounds. Luca asked a question that had been on his mind since arriving in Porto Rosso.

“So, whatever happened to Ercole? I haven’t seen him since we’ve been in town.” Alberto placed the cash from his previous sale into the leather pouch of the cart before answering.

“Honestly, the guy kind of disappeared after the race. I think he was embarrassed enough to keep his head low for a while, but other than that, I’m not sure. Maybe he left?” Giulia thought for a moment, her gaze focused on the road ahead.

“Maybe, I don’t think he went away to university, but he could have. His family is really wealthy, so they could afford it no matter the grades he got.”

Luca kicked a pebble, his thoughts skipping back to that one word: university.

“What’s the point of grades anyway, doesn’t that, like, stress you out more?” Alberto mused.

“It certainly does for me,” Giulia huffed. She bid Buongiorno to a young mother who bought the last of their fish and both Luca and Alberto filled the empty space as they headed back down the hill.

“I think it’s mostly competition, to see who really wants to be an academico or no,” she contemplated. “Sometimes if you have really good grades, the universities will pay you to study in their schools. That happened to mama when she moved to Genoa.” Alberto winced slightly at the mention of Giulia’s mother, the story of her separation from Massimo fresh in his memory.

“I wonder if I was good enough, they’d do that for me?” Luca hummed, his eyes following the drains that spread across each building they passed.

“Well, duh, they’d be stupid not to; you’re better than good enough right now,” Alberto bumped his shoulder with a smile. Luca blushed and tossed his friend a grin.

“Hey, happy birthday by the way. It’s about time you got to my age,” the older boy winked and wrapped his arm around Luca again, causing Luca’s skin to hum with energy.

“Oh, yeah! Are you excited for tonight?” Giulia asked over her shoulder.

“Thanks, you guys, really,” Luca felt warmer with Alberto’s arm around him, and he was sure it had nothing to do with the afternoon sun. He wondered briefly if said boy could feel how hard his heart was pounding. “Should I be excited, I thought we were just having dinner?” Luca asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He twisted around to face Giulia as she pulled into the plaza and made her way towards the small coastal home. Alberto lifted his arm when Luca turned away, causing him to feel its loss.

Giulia glanced at him and grinned excitedly. “Papa saved some fireworks from the Festa Della Repubblica since we were in Genoa, and he wants to set them off for tonight.” Luca gasped and jumped in his seat.

“Santa mozzarella! Are you serious?!” He shared an animated glance with Alberto who smiled as he hopped off the cart.

“Of course! I mentioned to him how much you had enjoyed the fireworks during Vigilia di Capodanno last December. He decided that would be his gift to you this year.” Giulia locked the bike and carried their bag of earnings inside, the two boys following after her.

Inside they found Massimo at his stove, his presence filling up the majority of the room. He turned to greet them as they entered, placing a kiss upon Giulia’s curly head.

“Buon cumpleanno, Luca. May you live to see many more,” Massimo rumbled fondly, patting Luca on his checkered shoulder. Luca returned the sentiment and wrapped a short hug around the large man, his arms too small to wrap fully around him.

“Grazie, Massimo. For your wishes and for your surprise gift,” Luca pulled away while Massimo smiled happily, his eyes disappearing behind his bushy eyebrows.

“Giulia,” Massimo chided lightly, turning to his daughter who was counting out money, “I thought we agreed to keep it a secret until after dinner?” Giulia smiled apologetically.

“Scusa, papa, we were just too excited,” She and Alberto began counting the coins on the table while Massimo ushered Luca over to the stove.

“Come, Luca, you will help me prepare dinner,” Massimo handed him a bag of clams and ordered him to wash them thoroughly in the sink. Luca would be the first to admit he was not a cook, but Massimo was gentle in his orders and easily guided Luca in making a perfect pasta dinner.

Once the Paguro family arrived along with Ciccio and Guido, once again to Luca’s surprise, the night was filled with much laughter and filling food. The linguine pasta alle vongole was instantly a hit and paired nicely with the red wine Ciccio had brought on behalf of his family. To the teens’ disappointment, the adults were adamant that they were still too young for alcohol. At one moment, Lorenzo laughed so hard, he inhaled his pasta and sent part of it into his nose much to the delight of the children. After dinner, the group trouped outside with fireworks and dessert in hand. While Massimo and Lorenzo set up the fireworks near the edge of the waterline, Daniella, Giulia, and Ciccio helped serve gelato and watermelon.

With a happy sigh, Alberto nestled himself into the sand alongside Luca, happily chewing on the red-fleshed fruit. Luca’s eyelids were drooping as his body felt full and warm, accompanied by his own friend’s radiating heat. His gaze lingered as Alberto licked gelato from his lips, the cream dripping from the corner of his mouth. Forcing his eyes to look anywhere else, Luca shifted closer to Alberto. Instead, his gaze landed on his father asking animatedly about the fireworks in Massimo’s hand, the larger man looking both confused and entertained by Lorenzo’s energy.

“I know I already said it, but happy birthday,” Luca dragged his eyes back to the tanned boy next to him and smiled. He jumped slightly at the first explosion, watching in delight as the light of the fireworks made his friend’s skin glisten with multicolored hues.

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” He replied easily. Neither made comment as their arms brushed or as their hands splayed out behind them with barely any space between. Up above the merry group, bright color after bright color bloomed across a starlit sky, the stars twinkling their own delight.

[unknown-songs]

BLACK LIVES MATTER

A list with black artists who have a song in the Unknown Songs That Should Be Known-playlist (Can be a black artist in a band or just solo-artist) (no specific genre)

Bull’s Eye - Blacknuss, Prince Prime - Funk Aftershow - Joe Fox - Alternative Hip-hop Strangers in the Night - Ben L’Oncle Soul - Soul Explore - Mack Wilds - R&B Something To Do - IGBO - Funk

Down With The Trumpets - Rizzle Kicks - Pop Dans ta ville - Dub Inc. - Reggae Dance or Die - Brooklyn Funk Essentials - Funk FACELESS - The PLAYlist, Glenn Lewis - R&B Tell Me Father - Jeangu Macrooy - Soul

Southern Boy - John The Conquerer - Blues Hard Rock Savannah Grass - Kes - Dancehall Dr. Funk - The Main Squeeze - Funk Seems I’m Never Tired of Loving You - Lizz Wright - Jazz Out of My Hands - TheColorGrey, Oddisee - Hip-Hop/Pop

Raised Up in Arkansas - Michael Burks - Blues Black Times - Sean Kuti, Egypt 80, Carlos Santana - Afrobeat Cornerstone - Benjamin Clementine - Indie Shine On - R.I.O., Madcon - Electronic Pop Bass On The Line - Bernie Worrell - Funk

When We Love - Jhené Aiko - R&B Need Your Love - Curtis Harding - Soul Too Dry to Cry - Willis Earl Beal - Folk Your House - Steel Pulse - Reggae Power - Moon Boots, Black Gatsby - Deep House

Vinyl Is My Bible - Brother Strut - Funk Diamond - Izzy Biu - R&B Elusive - blackwave., David Ngyah - Hip-hop Don’t Ever Let Nobody Drag Your Spirit Down - Heritage Blues Orchestra - Blues Sastanàqqàm - Tinariwen - Psychedelic Rock

Disco To Go - Brides of Funkenstein - Funk/Soul Circles - Durand Jones & The Indications - Retro Pop Cheesin’ - Cautious Clay, Remi Wolf, sophie meiers - R&B Changes - Charles Bradley - Soul The Sweetest Sin - RAEVE - House

Gyae Su - Pat Thomas, Kwashibu Area Band - Funk What Am I to Do - Ezra Collective, Loyle Carner - Hip-hop Get Your Groove On - Cedric Burnside - Blues Old Enough To Know Better - Steffen Morrisson - Soul Wassiye - Habib Koité - Khassonke musique

Dance Floor - Zapp - Funk Wake Up - Brass Against, Sophia Urista - Brass Hard-Rock BIG LOVE - Black Eyed Peas - Pop The Greatest - Raleigh Ritchie - R&B DYSFUNCTIONAL - KAYTRANADA, VanJess - Soul

See You Leave - RJD2, STS, Khari Mateen - Hip-hop Sing A Simple Song - Maceo Parker - Jazz/Funk Have Mercy - Eryn Allen Kane - Soul Homenage - Brownout - Latin Funk Can’t Sleep - Gary Clark Jr. - Blues Rock

Toast - Koffee - Dancehall Freedom - Ester Dean - R&B Iskaba - Wande Coal, DJ Tunez - Afropop High Road - Anthony Riley - Alternative Christian Sunny Days - Sabrina Starke - Soul

The Talking Fish - Ibibio Sound Machine - Funk Paralyzed - KWAYE - Indie Purple Heart Blvd - Sebastian Kole - Pop WORSHIP - The Knocks, MNEK - Deep House BMO - Ari Lennox - R&B

Promises - Myles Sanko - Soul .img - Brother Theodore - Funk Singing the Blues - Ruthie Foster, Meshell Ndegeocello - Blues Nobody Like You - Amartey, SBMG, The Livingtons - Hip-hop Starship - Afriquoi, Shabaka Hutchings, Moussa Dembele - Deep House

Lay My Troubles Down - Aaron Taylor - Funk  Bloodstream - Tokio Myers - Classic Sticky - Ravyn Lenae - R&B Why I Try - Jalen N’Gonda - Soul Motivation - Benjamin Booker - Folk

quand c’est - Stromae - Pop Let Me Down (Shy FX Remix) - Jorja Smith, Stormzy, SHY FX - Reggae Funny - Gerald Levert - R&B Salt in my Wounds - Shemekia Copeland - Blues Our Love - Samm Henshaw - Soul

Make You Feel That Way - Blackalicious - Jazz Hip-hop Knock Me Out - Vintage Trouble - Funk Take the Time - Ronald Bruner, Jr., Thundercat - Alternative Thru The Night - Phonte, Eric Roberson - R&B Keep Marchin’ - Raphael Saadiq - Soul

Shake Me In Your Arms - Taj Mahal, Keb’ Mo’ - Blues Meet Me In The Middle - Jodie Abascus - Pop Raise Hell - Sir the Baptist, ChurchPpl - Gospel Pop Mogoya - Oumou Sangaré - Wassoulou Where’s Yesterday - Slakah The Beatchild - Hip-hop

Lose My Cool - Amber Mark - R&B New Funk - Big Sam’s Funky Nation - Funk I Got Love - Nate Dogg - Hip-hop Nothing’s Real But Love - Rebecca Ferguson - Soul Crazy Race - The RH Factor - Jazz

Spies Are Watching Me - Voilaaa, Sir Jean - Funk The Leaders - Boka de Banjul - Afrobeat Fast Lane - Rationale - House Conundrum - Hak Baker - Folk Don’t Make It Harder On Me - Chloe x Halle - R&B

Plastic Hamburgers - Fantastic Negrito - Hardrock Beyond - Leon Bridges - Pop God Knows - Dornik - Soul Soleil de volt - Baloji - Afrofunk Do You Remember - Darryl Williams, Michael Lington - Jazz Get Back - McClenney - Alternative Three Words - Aaron Marcellus - Soul

Spotify playlist 

In memory of:

Aaron Bailey Adam Addie Mae Collins Ahmaud Arbery Aiyana Stanley Jones Akai Gurley Alberta Odell Jones Alexia Christian Alfonso Ferguson Alteria Woods Alton Sterling Amadou Diallo Amos Miller Anarcha Westcott Anton de Kom Anthony Hill Antonio Martin Antronie Scott Antwon Rose Jr. Arthur St. Clair Atatiana Jefferson Aubrey Pollard Aura Rosser Bennie Simons Berry Washington Bert Dennis Bettie Jones Betsey Billy Ray Davis Bobby Russ Botham Jean Brandon Jones Breffu Brendon Glenn Breonna Taylor Bud Johnson Bussa

Calin Roquemore Calvin McDowell Calvin Mike and his family Carl Cooper Carlos Carson Carlotta Lucumi Carol Denise McNair Carol Jenkins Carole Robertson Charles Curry Charles Ferguson Charles Lewis Charles Wright Charly Leundeu Keunang Chime Riley Christian Taylor Christopher Sheels Claude Neal Clementa Pickney Clifford Glover Clifton Walker Clinton Briggs Clinton R. Allen Cordella Stevenson Corey Carter Corey Jones Cynthia Marie Graham Hurd Cynthia Wesley

Daniel L. Simmons Danny Bryant Darius Randell Robinson Darius Tarver Darrien Hunt Darrius Stewart David Felix David Joseph David McAtee David Walker and his family Deandre Brunston Deborah Danner Delano Herman Middleton Demarcus Semer Demetrius DuBose Depayne Middleton-Doctor Dion Johnson Dominique Clayton Dontre Hamilton Dred Scott

Edmund Scott Ejaz Choudry Elbert Williams Eleanor Bumpurs Elias Clayton Elijah McClain Eliza Woods Elizabeth Lawrence Elliot Brooks Ellis Hudson Elmer Jackson Elmore Bolling Emantic Fitzgerald Bradford Jr. Emmett Till Eric Garner Eric Harris Eric Reason Ernest Lacy Ernest Thomas Ervin Jones Eugene Rice Eugene Williams Ethel Lee Lance Ezell Ford

Felix Kumi Frank Livingston Frank Morris Frank Smart Frazier B. Baker Fred Hampton Fred Rochelle Fred Temple Freddie Carlos Gray Jr.

George Floyd George Grant George Junius Stinney Jr. George Meadows George Waddell George Washington Lee Gregory Gunn

Harriette Vyda Simms Moore Harry Tyson Moore Hazel “Hayes” Turner Henry Ezekial Smith Henry Lowery Henry Ruffin Henry Scott Hosea W. Allen

India Kager Isaac McGhie Isadore Banks Italia Marie Kelly

Jack Turner Jamar Clark Jamel Floyd James Byrd Jr. James Craig Anderson James Earl Chaney James Powell James Ramseur James Tolliver James T. Scott Janet Wilson Jason Harrison Javier Ambler J.C. Farmer Jemel Roberson Jerame Reid Jesse Thornton Jessie Jefferson Jim Eastman Joe Nathan Roberts John Cecil Jones John Crawford III John J. Gilbert John Ruffin John Taylor Johnny Robinson Jonathan Ferrell Jonathan Sanders Jordan Edwards Joseph Mann Julia Baker Julius Jones July Perry Junior Prosper

Kalief Browder Karvas Gamble Jr. Keith Childress, Jr. Kelly Gist Kelso Benjamin Cochrane Kendrick Johnson Kenneth Chamberlain Sr. Kenny Long Kevin Hicks Kevin Matthews Kiwane Albert Carrington

Lacy Mitchell Lamar Smith Laquan McDonald Laura Nelson Laura Wood L.B. Reed L.D. Nelson Lemuel Penn Lemuel Walters Leonard Deadwyler Leroy Foley Levi Harrington Lila Bella Carter Lloyd Clay Louis Allen Lucy

M.A. Santa Cruz Maceo Snipes Malcom X Malice Green Malissa Williams Manuel Ellis Marcus Deon Smith Marcus Foster Marielle Franco Mark Clark Maria Martin Lee Anderson Martin Luther King Jr. Matthew Avery Mary Dennis Mary Turner Matthew Ajibade May Noyes Mckenzie Adams Medgar Wiley Evers Michael Brown Michael Donald Michael Griffith Michael Lee Marshall Michael Lorenzo Dean Michael Noel Michael Sabbie Michael Stewart Michelle Cusseaux Miles Hall Moses Green Mya Hall Myra Thompson

Nathaniel Harris Pickett Jr. Natasha McKenna Nicey Brown Nicholas Heyward Jr.

O’Day Short family Orion Anderson Oscar Grant III Otis Newsom

Pamela Turner Paterson Brown Jr. Patrick Dorismond Philando Castile Phillip Pannell Phillip White Phinizee Summerour

Quaco

Ramarley Graham Randy Nelson Raymond Couser Raymond Gunn Regis Korchinski-Paquet Rekia Boyd Renisha McBride Riah Milton Robert Hicks Robert Mallard Robert Truett Rodney King Roe Nathan Roberts Roger Malcolm and his wife Roger Owensby Jr. Ronell Foster Roy Cyril Brooks Rumain Brisbon Ryan Matthew Smith

Sam Carter Sam McFadden Samuel DuBose Samuel Ephesians Hammond Jr. Samuel Hammond Jr. Samuel Leamon Younge Jr. Sandra Bland Sean Bell Shali Tilson Sharonda Coleman-Singleton Shukri Abdi Simon Schuman Slab Pitts Stella Young Stephon Clark Susie Jackson

T.A. Allen Tamir Rice Tamla Horsford Tanisha Anderson Timothy Caughman Timothy Hood Timothy Russell Timothy Stansbury Jr. Timothy Thomas Terrence Crutcher Terrill Thomas Tom Jones Tom Moss Tony McDade Tony Terrell Robinson Jr. Trayvon Martin Troy Hodge Troy Robinson Tula Tyler Gerth Tyre King Tywanza Sanders

Victor Duffy Jr. Victor White III

Walter Lamar Scott Wayne Arnold Jones Wesley Thomas Wilbert Cohen Wilbur Bundley Will Brown Will Head Will Stanley Will Stewart Will Thompson Willie James Howard Willie Johnson Willie McCoy Willie Palmer Willie Turks William Brooks William Butler William Daniels William Fambro William Green William L. Chapman II William Miller William Pittman Wyatt Outlaw

Yusef Kirriem Hawkins

The victims of LaLaurie (1830s) The black victims of the Opelousas massacre (1868) The black victims of the Thibodaux massacre (1887) The black victims of the Wilmington insurrection (1898) The black victims of the Johnson-Jeffries riots (1910) The black victims of the Red summer (1919) The black victims of the Elaine massacre (1919) The black victims of the Ocoee massacre (1920) The victims of the MOVE bombing (1985)

All the people who died during the Atlantic slave trade, be it due to abuse or disease.

All the unnamed victims of mass-incarceration, who were put into jail without the committing of a crime and died while in jail or died after due to mental illness. 

All the unnamed victims of racial violence and discrimination. 

...

My apologies for all the people missing on this list. Feel free to add more names and stories. 

Listen, learn and read about discrimination, racism and black history: (feel free to add more)  Documentaries: 13th (Netflix) The Innocence Files (Netflix) Who Killed Malcolm X? (Netflix) Time: The Kalief Browder Story (Netflix) I Am Not Your Negro

YouTube videos: We Cannot Stay Silent about George Floyd Waarom ook Nederlanders de straat op gaan tegen racisme (Dutch) Wit is ook een kleur (Dutch) (documentaire)

Books: Biased by Jennifer Eberhardt Don’t Touch My Hair by Emma Dabiri Freedom Is A Constant Struggle by Angela Davis How To Be An Anti-Racist by Ibram X. Kendi I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou Me and White Supremacy by Layla Saad So You Want To Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo They Can’t Kill Us All by Wesley Lowery White Fragility by Robin Deangelo Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge Woman, Race and Class by Angela Davis

Websites: https://lynchinginamerica.eji.org/report/ https://museumandmemorial.eji.org/ https://archive.org/details/thirtyyearsoflyn00nati/page/n11/mode/2up https://lab.nos.nl/projects/slavernij/index-english.html https://blacklivesmatter.com/ https://www.zinnedproject.org/

[theculturedmarxist]

Tolkien is deserving of some serious criticism, don’t get me wrong. I adore his works and will defend them to my dying breath, but they aren’t perfect or absent any (ugh) “problematic” elements.

Much more significant than the brainlet accusations of “racism” however is Tolkiens stance towards deliverance, or salvation, rescue, whatever you want to call it. In his works, salvation from Sauron (the evil of Evils™) requires The Return of the King, ie, the legitimate ruler of Gondor, based on bloodline and so forth, for Evil™ to be defeated once and for all (in its material sense, since Sauron’s evil and the taint of Sauron and Melkor lingers on forever after) requires a singular, special individual.

Traditionally this is a rather commonplace concept. The nature of the Sagas from which Tolkien is drawing inspiration tend to emphasize the actions of the individual (or their bloodlines) on the course of history. As a simple piece of fiction, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, fits perfectly within the pre-medieval tradition from which Tolkien draws.

Tolkien is basing his narrative off of the root of a tradition which existed before, well, all which came after. Whether this makes it “innocent” or not, I frankly do no care. What I think is more relevant is how it fits into our modern ideological framework.

What racists call “white culture” or “white history” is in fact “bourgeois culture” and “bourgeois history.” The bourgeoisie emerge as a distinct class via the European Medieval period, particularly of Middle and Western Europe. The Feudal system ensured that occupations were (more or less) inherited. The sons took on the father’s business, and so forth. The reactionary fiction that Jews control finance has its roots in these circumstances where the lending of money and drawing interest on it were occupations relegated to Jews due to a Christian prohibition against the practice. Parenthetically, this is how Jewish people would end up on “both sides” of class struggle, with some Jewish families emerging as wealthy and influential financiers, and the majority of Jews obliged to take the same industrial jobs of their gentile counterparts.

To make a long story short, the extreme Individualism™ we see today has its roots in these hereditary occupations, and the wealth passed from one generation to another. The bourgeoisie benefited from the perception of individual members of their dynasty as being exceptional (just take Lorenzo “The Magnificent” for example).

Just like today, in the medieval world and beyond, if you wanted to boss people around it had to be justified in some way. Today it’s “democratic will,” and in the Saxon traditions from which Tolkien draws it was a kind of proto-Divine Right. Aristocrats traced their lineages back to gods such as Odin, or with the advent of Christianity, as close as fucking possible to Adam and Eve.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, is a product of this tradition. In the story, Aragorn enjoys a storied ancestry connected to some of the greatest and most powerful figures of his world. The stewards that reigned in the stead of the True King, the one rightful ruler, were as good and brave and competent as can be, but the kingdom which they run is one ever waning in the face of the onslaught of Evil. Only when the One True Ruler returns to his rightful place is Evil defeated, and the retreat of the kingdom reversed into a greater glory than which preceded it.

Modern Bourgeois society plays off of similar tropes. Take “the Founding Fathers,” of US tradition for example. As it is portrayed, the Colonies are more or less content to suffer in subservience to England until The Founding Fathers emerge, and their ideas, which are so much better and greater than that of the rabble and which elevate them, spread and the idea of rebellion and the desire for Freedom™ takes hold. The American Revolution, for all its significance, is rendered not as the confluence of man, ideas, industry, and circumstance that it was, but more simply of the product of the Will of a certain number of individuals.

More recently, the resurgence of the working class and their political engagement has been painted as being the product and responsibility of Bernie Sanders. Rather than a broad, massive movement, made up of countless individuals with names and histories and desires, the desire for qualitative change is reduced to the noisome rabble rousing of a single individual. This isn’t without precedent. Martin Luther King, Jr. is another outstanding example. For all his contributions, MLK didn’t originate the struggle for civil rights or economic equality, but simply among the most prominent figure among a sea of prominent figures. According to Bourgeois History his death marks the end of the Civil Rights Movement, as is only proper since it “belonged to him.”

This is the same ideology which the Democrat and Republican parties rely on every election cycle. There is Evil™, which the voting populace can only be saved by electing The Right Candidate™. The fact that any one of these candidates has a cabinet of advisers, countless individuals serving under them, many distinct yet affiliated lobbyists, “contributors,” etc, is as a matter of course ignored.

The expectation of deliverance is a falsehood which the working class clings to like a dying man amidst the storm-tossed waves. Liberals especially are suckers for this maneuver. Bush II taking the White House helped to shape the basis for this delusion, as though anything would have been different had Gore won. Obama being swept into office and all the “good” he did (far from the eyes of the majority of liberals) essentially confirmed it. The final nail in this ideological coffin was the election of Trump. Rather than the product of decades of economic devastation and Democrat incompetence, this result was framed as the Stupids not knowing what was good for them and electing The Wrong Candidate—the Steward instead of the King (or Queen, in this instance).

The Lord of the Rings is excoriated as racist on only the most superficial observations. One of the fundamental themes of the books is disparate races, with longstanding racial and cultural enmity, setting aside race-hatred in order to overcome evil. More pertinent by far I think is the Savior Worship that is also inherent in the books, of the need of certain special individuals in order to lead all the base, common folk to The Promised Land.

The Working Class won’t be emancipated or delivered by some condescending Savior. For deliverance to come, we must deliver ourselves. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for, and we cannot afford to wait much longer.

[wherethespiritmeetstheboneposts]

Lorenzo Berni

#lorenzo berni #fashion photography

[lorenzoberni]

From the Reflect Eyewear "Changes" campaign.

Shot by Lorenzo Berni

[fuckyeahjeremyclarkson]

When I was a small boy, we’d eat out once a year, always at the Berni Inn in Doncaster. The choices were not extensive. To start, it was either grapefruit juice or pineapple juice, and then it was breaded plaice or steak. Mind you, customers were able to choose how they’d like their meat cooked. For an hour. Or for much, much longer. The vegetables, meanwhile, went into the pot when you booked the table.

I knew this was wrong, even when I was only six, because my dad was a fanatical cook. He would cook for people all day. He cooked for the postman. He cooked for the women who worked for my mum in the barn at the bottom of the garden. And when he ran out of people to cook for, he’d make elaborate cakes for the birds.

He would rise at six so he could start cooking and I still yearn for some of the things he made. Tripe in a simple milk sauce, especially. And his roasted heart was one of the cornerstones of my childhood. Alongside Mungo Jerry, being bullied and the hedgehog-print jeans my mum made for me because Levi’s were too expensive. And which were the root cause of much of the bullying.

Later, in my teens, he would take me to London occasionally, and we’d go to a restaurant at 235 King’s Road, which was called 235 King’s Road. Or an Italian place on the Earls Court Road called Il Palio, where Bruno the owner and his chef would have furious rows all night long. And then at lunchtime, he’d take me to a place he knew in Marylebone for a salt beef sandwich.

Later, as my mum’s business started to become more successful, we’d go to San Lorenzo in Beauchamp Place and Odin’s, which belonged to Peter Langan. And I didn’t like the food they cooked because it wasn’t plain. It wasn’t simple. It wasn’t tripe in a milk sauce. It wasn’t roast heart.

Much later, AA Gill did his best to make me understand food and cooking. He would take me to places where the rabbit tasted like bacon and the pigeon like ham, and he would swoon and kiss the chef on the mouth. And I’d stare wistfully at my pigeon, thinking, “If I’d wanted something that tasted like ham, I’d have ordered ham.”

This is why I despise all provincial restaurants today. And please don’t write to tell me about a place your daughter-in-law has just opened in Penrith, because I won’t like that either. In restaurants outside London, it’s always about the chef’s ability to create a visual taste sensation. No one’s allowed to talk. You are expected to sit there in reverential silence, marvelling at how the single piece of cress is a perfect accompaniment for the bubbles in the broth.

And it’s bollocks. When I go out to eat, it’s because I can’t be arsed to do the washing-up. I want exactly what I’d make at home, only without the faff of making it. Shepherd’s pie. Spaghetti bolognaise. Lamb chops with new potatoes. And no effing sauce. I also don’t want a new concept, where I order 876 little things and then share them all with the people on the table by the loo. Or plates made from wood, or metal. I swear to God, restaurants that do this always provide cutlery that you can’t hold properly, so you can’t stab the waiter.

What a whopper: Clarkson lovingly cradles a marrow grown in the new kitchen garden at his 1,000-acre farm in Oxfordshire

What I hate most of all, though, is travelling with film crews. Because when we are abroad, they treat food as fuel. Which means we never walk the streets looking for the sort of restaurant that does home cooking well. They just eat whatever is provided at the hotel, which is almost always like the sort of food you get in Birmingham.

Nicola Formby — aka the Blonde made famous by AA Gill’s reviews — is always suggesting little places in back streets that do great gnocchi on a bed of lightly killed rattlesnake, but I don’t want that. I want simple. I had roast grasshoppers in Cambodia and Burma and they were terrific. I had a trout, plucked from the stream next to my table in Croatia, and then grilled. And that was even better. But the absolute best food I’ve ever eaten was a bruschetta in Bologna. Bread. Olive oil. Tomatoes. Basil, probably, and maybe some balsamic vinegar. I can’t be sure because after smoking half a million cigarettes, my taste buds have the sensitivity of steel. All I knew is they were really good tomatoes on a really nice piece of bread.I can add another couple of things to this list of culinary triumphs. The chicken pho by a chef called Ms No at the Six Senses Con Dao island resort off Vietnam. And the Denny’s breakfast experience in any of those Reacher towns in the red bits of America.If you break a perfectly poached egg, and in Denny’s the poached eggs are always perfect, onto their hash browns, I swear you end up with a taste sensation that would stop Jesus in his tracks. I have searched the world for hash browns made the Denny’s way, but when they’re offered, the chef has always suffused them with his own twist. By which I mean “ruined them”.

I have a similar global quest to find a better eggs benedict than the one I was given at the then Regent Hotel in Hong Kong, back in 1988. So far, it’s no dice. No one gets the simplicity right. Simplicity is always the key to my enjoyment of food. It’s why, when I cook, I never use cheese unless what I’m making is cheese on toast or a cheese sandwich. This is because cheese is a powerful flavour that sits in the pan like the Russian president sits in a room full of diplomats from former Soviet states. It’s the same story with bacon. Pop that into the mix and what you always end up with is something that tastes of bacon.

“Are you not getting the delicate hints of pomegranate?”

“Nope. Just bacon.”

All of which takes me back to my dad’s roast heart. I sometimes look online for how this might be made and what I get is “roasted ox heart stuffed with a mushroom duxelle” or “beef heart braised in wine” or “lamb’s heart stuffed with lemon thyme and streaky bacon”. No. And then no again.

And nor can you serve them with a Dover sole so you have the chance for a jokey “Heart and Sole” offering in the menu. I just want heart. I like the taste of it as it is. I like the texture and all I want added is a spoonful of mashed potato to mop up the blood.

I’ve just started an internet thing called FoodTribe, on which people can share thoughts and ideas on food. And I’m going to be sharing this quest for simplicity a lot. I may even go further and start turning the stuff I grow on my farm into straightforward food that I can sell in my simple, straightforward, unheated shop.

As I write, I have three sheep that are due to go “down the road”. I feel sad in some ways, but I’m cheered by the fact that I can have their hearts. And even more cheered by the fact that I’ve accidentally grown 20 tons of potatoes. It’s going to be a supper that makes me feel young again and it will be the first I’ve grown entirely by myself.

Yes. I started a kitchen garden earlier this year and have spent the past few months taking a weird pride that the spring onions, and the carrots and the peas and especially the golden beets, all of which were grown by my own . . . ability to tell girlfriend, Lisa, and gardener, Josh, exactly what I like.I don’t know why we enjoy eating vegetables that we’ve grown ourselves more than those grown by some disinterested Mexican on minimum wage. Maybe it’s because we know we haven’t urinated on them. Or because we know that no carbon was burnt in their trip from the soil to our table. But whatever the reason, we do. And I cannot wait to do that with meat as well. It’s simplicity in its purest form.

Jeremy’s recipes will be added to the next post to avoid this one turning into an enormous monster

[chibikinesis]

my brain one minute: really sweet scene with Jack and Emogene having a really nice bonding moment

my brain the next minute: Weekend at Bernie’s but with Lorenzo’s corpse

me:

[vintagebiker43]

Le hanno detto che, a 69 anni, era "troppo vecchia" per correre alla Casa Bianca (e a nessuno è venuto in mente di dirlo a Joe Biden, che di anni ne ‪ha 76‬). Le hanno detto che "non avrebbe retto il ritmo" (come, tre anni fa, a Hillary Clinton), che era troppo progressista per essere una candidata credibile (mentre per Bernie Sanders evidentemente non è un problema). Trump la chiama sprezzantemente "Pocahontas" per le sue radici Cherokee da nativa americana. Lei, Elizabeth Warren, ha ascoltato tutti. In silenzio. Poi, ‪il 9 febbraio‬ di quest'anno, ha rotto gli indugi e annunciato la sua candidatura alle primarie democratiche per la presidenza degli Stati Uniti d'America. E anche in quel caso nessuno l'ha presa sul serio. Il sondaggio più incoraggiante la dava 10 punti lontana da Sanders, addirittura 12 da Biden. Lei ha alzato le spalle e si è messa a fare l'unica cosa che le ha insegnato la sua famiglia operaia dell'Oklahoma: mettersi a lavorare. Come ha fatto per una vita intera. Senza lamentarsi. Senza recriminazioni. Senza badare ai numeri. Lei, senatrice, docente di Diritto commerciale ad Harvard, già a capo della commissione di supervisione economica sul sistema bancario a Wall Street, una vita spesa nella lotta per l'estensione dell'assistenza sanitaria e la difesa dei diritti di tutte le minoranze. Un mese fa, in Iowa, le hanno chiesto cosa avrebbe fatto per i diritti LGBTQ, una volta eletta alla Casa Bianca. "Non ho intenzione di dirtelo - ha risposto Elizabeth - Te lo faccio vedere." E ha incominciato ad elencare una lunga lista di nomi che nessuno aveva mai sentito prima, in un silenzio da brividi: “Dana Martin, Jazzaline Ware, Ashanti Carmon, Claire Legato, Muhlaysia Booker, Michelle Washington, Paris Cameron, Chynal Lindsey, Chanel Scurlock, Zoe Spears, Brooklyn Lindsey, Denali Berries Stuckey, Pebbles LaDime “Dime” Doe, Tracy Single, Bailey Reeves, Bee Love Slater e Ja’leyah-Jamar. Vi chiederete chi sono. Sono tutte le donne trans di colore uccise nell'ultimo anno negli Usa. È tempo che un Presidente degli Stati Uniti d'America pronunci i loro nomi." Via via, sondaggisti ed elettori hanno cominciato ad accorgersi di questa combattiva senatrice che vince ogni confronto, domina ogni dibattito, che sfonda sui social come una influencer di 20 anni e parla ai giovani e alle donne come nessuno ha mai fatto prima. Qualche giorno fa, durante un dibattito sui diritti civili andato in onda sulla CNN, il Presidente della Human Rights Campaign le ha chiesto. "Mettiamo che in campagna elettorale un suo sostenitore le si avvicina e le dice: 'Senatrice, sono all'antica, e la mia fede mi insegna che un matrimonio è tra un uomo e una donna.’ Lei cosa risponde?” Elizabeth non si è scomposta di un centimetro. "Beh, immagino che sia un uomo a fare la domanda, e quindi gli direi: ‘E allora sposa una donna. Mi sta bene... Sempre che tu riesca a trovarne una.’ E la platea è venuta giù. Letteralmente. Un giorno dopo l'altro, Elizabeth ha scalato tutti i sondaggi, fino a superare addirittura Bernie Sanders e arrivando a un passo dalla cima, appena due punti dietro un Biden che per tutti avrebbe dovuto fare corsa a sé. Alla faccia di chi le diceva che era troppo vecchia, troppo progressista, troppo liberal, troppo indigena. Ma solo perché non avevano il coraggio di dirle in faccia l'unica cosa che tutti realmente pensavano: "Troppo donna, Elizabeth, sei troppo donna." Ma ormai lo avrete capito: lei non li avrebbe ascoltati. Sarebbe andata avanti per la sua strada comunque. Non si arriva fino a questo punto ascoltando voci e cattiverie. Nessuno sa se nel 2020 gli Stati Uniti avranno finalmente la prima Presidente donna della loro storia. Di sicuro non c'è donna o uomo che meriti quella poltrona più di Elizabeth Warren da Herring (Oklahoma). Una donna che non ha paura di pronunciare i nomi. Una Donna. Punto.

@Lorenzo Tosa

[mypickleoperapeanut]

"Pinocchio, molto più che una favola per ragazzi"

il Premio Pinocchio è una tradizione che dura da 10 anni, giovedì 24 novembre 2022, nella bellissima Sala Dino Campana della Biblioteca delle Oblate, l’Associazione Pinocchio di Carlo Lorenzini, con la Presidente Anna Iacobacci, ha celebrato la ricorrenza della nascita del celebre autore delle avventure del burattino più amato al mondo.

Come consuetudine, a ricevere il riconoscimento sano state personalità che hanno saputo distinguersi in ambito economico, universitario, culturale, professionale, industriale, artistico, artigianale e sociale.

L'evento è stato presentato dalla Giornalista Storica Elena Tempestini e dal Conduttore televisivo Stefano Baragli, che con la professionalità e l'eleganza che caratterizza i due professionisti, hanno annunciato i vincitori selezionati dalla giuria presieduta dal Marchese Lionardo Ginori.

La peculiarità di questo prestigioso Premio è quella che ai premiati vengono consegnati i rispettivi premi che associano il nome del vincitore ad uno dei personaggi del romanzo.

Premio Pinocchio, all'attore Pierfrancesco Favino, Premio Geppetto all'imprenditore di profumi Lorenzo Villoresi, Premio Grillo Parlante all'editore Angelo Pontecorboli, Premio Mangiafoco al Direttore Generale del Teatro della Pergola Marco Giorgetti, Premio Albero degli Zecchini al Presidente della Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio Luigi Salvadori, Premio Colombo alla Presidente Aidda Antonella Giachetti, Premio Osteria Gambero Rossolo allo Chef della legalità Filippo Cogliandro, Premio I Carabinieri all'amministratore delegato del Corpo dei Vigili Giurati di Firenze Emilio Berni, Premio Gatto e la Volpe al Professor Massimo Ruffilli, Premio Fata Turchina all'imprenditrice Lucia Caponi, Premio Paese dei Balocchi al Direttore del Museo Novecento di Firenze Sergio Risaliti, Premio Pesce Cane al Presente Mercafir Scpa

Una bellissima manifestazione, molto partecipata che ha visto la presenza del Governatore della Regione Toscana Eugenio Giani e molte altre personalità.

Firenze 24 novembre 2022

Riccardo Rescio (Italiaefriends)

Elena Tempestini

Stefano Baragli

[intermilanfr]

Voici la liste des joueurs convoqués par Luciano Spalletti pour l’Europa League ! Liste A 1 Samir Handanovic 6 Stefan De Vrij 8 Matias Vecino 9 Mauro Icardi 10 Lautaro Martinez 11 Keita Balde 13 Andrea Ranocchia 14 Radja Nainggolan 16 Matteo Politano 18 Kwadwo Asamoah 20 Borja Valero 21 Cedric Soares 23 Joao Miranda 27 Daniele Padelli 33 Danilo D'Ambrosio 37 Milan Skriniar 44 Ivan Perisic 46 Tommaso Berni 77 Marcelo Brozovic 87 Antonio Candreva 93 Raffaele Di Gennaro Liste B 40 Lorenzo Gavioli 59 Vladan Dekic 60 Thomas Schirò 64 Ryan Patrick Nolan 65 Maj Roric 67 Gabriele Zappa 99 Niccolò Corrado http://bit.ly/2tfeQHY

[corallorosso]

Le hanno detto che, a 69 anni, era "troppo vecchia" per correre alla Casa Bianca (e a nessuno è venuto in mente di dirlo a Joe Biden, che di anni ne ‪ha 76‬). Le hanno detto che "non avrebbe retto il ritmo" (come, tre anni fa, a Hillary Clinton), che era troppo progressista per essere una candidata credibile (mentre per Bernie Sanders evidentemente non è un problema). Trump la chiama sprezzantemente "Pocahontas" per le sue radici Cherokee da nativa americana. Lei, Elizabeth Warren, ha ascoltato tutti. In silenzio. Poi, ‪il 9 febbraio‬ di quest'anno, ha rotto gli indugi e annunciato la sua candidatura alle primarie democratiche per la presidenza degli Stati Uniti d'America. E anche in quel caso nessuno l'ha presa sul serio. Il sondaggio più incoraggiante la dava 10 punti lontana da Sanders, addirittura 12 da Biden. Lei ha alzato le spalle e si è messa a fare l'unica cosa che le ha insegnato la sua famiglia operaia dell'Oklahoma: mettersi a lavorare. Come ha fatto per una vita intera. Senza lamentarsi. Senza recriminazioni. Senza badare ai numeri. Lei, senatrice, docente di Diritto commerciale ad Harvard, già a capo della commissione di supervisione economica sul sistema bancario a Wall Street, una vita spesa nella lotta per l'estensione dell'assistenza sanitaria e la difesa dei diritti di tutte le minoranze. Un mese fa, in Iowa, le hanno chiesto cosa avrebbe fatto per i diritti LGBTQ, una volta eletta alla Casa Bianca. "Non ho intenzione di dirtelo - ha risposto Elizabeth - Te lo faccio vedere." E ha incominciato ad elencare una lunga lista di nomi che nessuno aveva mai sentito prima, in un silenzio da brividi: “Dana Martin, Jazzaline Ware, Ashanti Carmon, Claire Legato, Muhlaysia Booker, Michelle Washington, Paris Cameron, Chynal Lindsey, Chanel Scurlock, Zoe Spears, Brooklyn Lindsey, Denali Berries Stuckey, Pebbles LaDime “Dime” Doe, Tracy Single, Bailey Reeves, Bee Love Slater e Ja’leyah-Jamar. Vi chiederete chi sono. Sono tutte le donne trans di colore uccise nell'ultimo anno negli Usa. È tempo che un Presidente degli Stati Uniti d'America pronunci i loro nomi." Via via, sondaggisti ed elettori hanno cominciato ad accorgersi di questa combattiva senatrice che vince ogni confronto, domina ogni dibattito, che sfonda sui social come una influencer di 20 anni e parla ai giovani e alle donne come nessuno ha mai fatto prima. Qualche giorno fa, durante un dibattito sui diritti civili andato in onda sulla CNN, il Presidente della Human Rights Campaign le ha chiesto. "Mettiamo che in campagna elettorale un suo sostenitore le si avvicina e le dice: 'Senatrice, sono all'antica, e la mia fede mi insegna che un matrimonio è tra un uomo e una donna.’ Lei cosa risponde?” Elizabeth non si è scomposta di un centimetro. "Beh, immagino che sia un uomo a fare la domanda, e quindi gli direi: ‘E allora sposa una donna. Mi sta bene... Sempre che tu riesca a trovarne una.’ E la platea è venuta giù. Letteralmente. Un giorno dopo l'altro, Elizabeth ha scalato tutti i sondaggi, fino a superare addirittura Bernie Sanders e arrivando a un passo dalla cima, appena due punti dietro un Biden che per tutti avrebbe dovuto fare corsa a sé. Alla faccia di chi le diceva che era troppo vecchia, troppo progressista, troppo liberal, troppo indigena. Ma solo perché non avevano il coraggio di dirle in faccia l'unica cosa che tutti realmente pensavano: "Troppo donna, Elizabeth, sei troppo donna." Ma ormai lo avrete capito: lei non li avrebbe ascoltati. Sarebbe andata avanti per la sua strada comunque. Non si arriva fino a questo punto ascoltando voci e cattiverie. Nessuno sa se nel 2020 gli Stati Uniti avranno finalmente la prima Presidente donna della loro storia. Di sicuro non c'è donna o uomo che meriti quella poltrona più di Elizabeth Warren. Una donna che non ha paura di pronunciare i nomi. Una Donna. Punto. Lorenzo Tosa