#rue landau

[whenweallvote]

Just some of last night’s historic wins 🥳

[whifferdills]

🎉

[eriegaynews]

Ode to Rue Landau http://dlvr.it/SylrGD

[yes-bernie-stuff]

Cette réflextion est rrés intéressante.

Ce qui suit est une copie d'un article écrit par l'écrivain espagnol Sebastián Rodríguez Vilar et publiée dans un journal espagnol . Il ne faut pas beaucoup d'imagination pour extrapoler le message au reste de l'Europe - et éventuellement, au reste du monde. Ce n'est guère de la propagande, les faits parlent d'eux-mêmes. A méditer ....

Par Sébastien Vilar Rodrigez

Je marchais dans la rue à Barcelone, et soudain je découvrais une terrible vérité - L'Europe est morte à Auschwitz... Nous avons tué six millions de Juifs et nous les avons remplacés par 20 millions de musulmans.

À Auschwitz, nous avons brûlé une culture, la pensée, la créativité, le talent. Nous avons détruit le peuple élu, véritablement choisi, car ils ont produit des gens formidables et merveilleux qui ont changé le monde.

La contribution de ce peuple se fait sentir dans tous les domaines de la vie : science, art, commerce international, et surtout, comme la conscience du monde. Ce sont les gens que nous avons brûlés.

Sous prétexte de tolérance et parce que nous voulions prouver à nous-mêmes que nous avons été guéris de la maladie du racisme, nous avons ouvert nos portes à 20 millions de musulmans qui nous ont apporté la stupidité et l'ignorance, l'extrémisme religieux et le manque de tolérance, la criminalité et la pauvreté, due à un manque de volonté de travailler et de soutenir leurs familles avec fierté.

Ils ont fait sauter nos trains et ont transformé nos belles villes espagnoles dans le tiers monde, noyé tout dans la crasse et la criminalité.

Enfermés dans les appartements qu'ils reçoivent gratuitement du gouvernement, ils planifient d'assassiner et de détruire leurs hôtes naïfs.

Ainsi, dans notre misère, nous avons échangé la culture pour de la haine fanatique; le savoir-faire créatif pour des compétences destructrices; l'intelligence pour le retour en arrière et la superstition.

Quelle terrible erreur a été faite par la misérable Europe.. .

La population mondiale comprend 1,2 milliards d'islamiques ou 20% de la population mondiale

Ils ont reçu les Prix Nobel suivants :

Littérature :

1988 - Najib Mahfouz

Paix :

1978 - Mohamed Anwar El-Sadat

1990 - Elias James Corey

1994 - Yasser Arafat:

1999 - Ahmed Zewai

Économie :

(Zéro)

Physique :

(Zéro)

Médecine :

1960 - Peter Medawar Brian

1998 - Ferid Mourad

TOTAL : 7 (sept)

La population juive mondiale est approximativement de 14.000.000, soit environ 0,02% de la population mondiale.

Ils ont reçu les Prix Nobel suivant :

Littérature :

1910 - Paul Heyse

1927 - Henri Bergson

1958 - Boris Pasternak

1966 - Shmuel Yosef Agnon

1966 - Nelly Sachs

1976 - Saul Bellow

1978 - Isaac Bashevis Singer

1981 - Elias Canetti

1987 - Joseph Brodsky

1991 - Nadine Gordimer mondiale

Paix :

1911 - Alfred Fried

1911 - Tobias Michael Carel Asser

1968 - René Cassin

1973 - Henry Kissinger

1978 - Menahem Begin

1986 - Elie Wiesel

1994 - Shimon Pérès

1994 - Yitzhak Rabin

Physique :

1905 - Adolph von Baeyer

1906 - Henri Moissan

1907 - Albert Abraham Michelson

1908 - Gabriel Lippmann

1910 - Otto Wallach

1915 - Richard Willstaetter

1918 - Fritz Haber

1921 - Albert Einstein

1922 - Niels Bohr

1925 - James Franck

1925 - Gustav Hertz

1943 - Gustav Stern

1943 - George Charles de Hevesy

1944 - Isidor Rabi Issac

1952 - Felix Bloch

1954 - Max Born

1958 - Igor Tamm

1959 - Emilio Segre

1960 - Donald A. Glaser

1961 - Robert Hofstadter

1961 - Melvin Calvin

1962 - Lev Davidovich Landau

1962 - Max Ferdinand Perutz

1965 - Richard Phillips Feynman

1965 - Julian Schwinger

1969 - Murray Gell-Mann

1971 - Dennis Gabor

1972 - William Howard Stein

1973 - Brian David Josephson

1975 - Benjamin Mottleson

1976 - Burton Richter

1977 - Ilya Prigogine

1978 - Arno Allan Penzias

1978 - Peter L Kapitza

1979 - Stephen Weinberg

1979 - Sheldon Glashow

1979 - Herbert Charles Brown

1980 - Paul Berg

Sellam Mickael Elie, [23-Oct-22 8:18 AM]

1980 - Walter Gilbert

1981 - Roald Hoffmann

1982 - Aaron Klug

1985 - Albert A. Hauptman

1985 - Jerome Karle

1986 - Dudley R. Herschbach

1988 - Robert Huber

1988 - Leon Lederman

1988 - Melvin Schwartz

1988 - Jack Steinberger

1989 - Sidney Altman

1990 - Jerome Friedman

1992 - Rudolph Marcus

1995 - Martin Perl

2000 - Alan J. Heeger

Économie :

1970 - Paul Anthony Samuelson

1971 - Simon Kuznets

1972 - Kenneth Joseph Flèche

1975 - Leonid Kantorovitch

1976 - Milton Friedman

1978 - Herbert A. Simon

1980 - Laurent Robert Klein

1985 - Franco Modigliani

1987 - Robert M. Solow

1990 - Harry Markowitz

1990 - Merton Miller

1992 - Gary Becker

1993 - Robert Fogel

Médecine :

1908 - Elie Metchnikoff

1908 - Paul Erlich

1914 - Robert Barany

1922 - Otto Meyerhof

1930 - Karl Landsteiner

1931 - Otto Warburg

1936 - Otto Loewi

1944 - Joseph Erlanger

1944 - Herbert Spencer Gasser

1945 - Ernst Boris Chain

1946 - Hermann Joseph Muller

1950 - Tadeus Reichstein

1952 - Selman Abraham Waksman

1953 - Hans Krebs

1953 - Fritz Albert Lipmann

1958 - Joshua Lederberg

1959 - Arthur Kornberg

1964 - Konrad Bloch

1965 - François Jacob

1965 - André Lwoff

1967 - George Wald

1968 - Marshall W. Nirenberg

1970 - Julius Axelrod

1970 - Sir Bernard Katz

1972 - Gerald Maurice Edelman

1975 - Howard Martin Temin

1976 - Baruch S. Blumberg

1977 - Roselyn Sussman Yalow

1978 - Daniel Nathans

1980 - Baruj Benacerraf

1984 - Cesar Milstein

1985 - Michael Stuart Brown

1985 - Joseph L. Goldstein

1986 - Stanley Cohen [& Rita Levi-Montalcini]

1988 - Gertrude Elion

1989 - Harold Varmus

1991 - Erwin Neher

1991 - Bert Sakmann

1993 - Richard J. Roberts

1993 - Phillip Sharp

1994 - Alfred Gilman

1995 - Edward B. Lewis

1996 - Lu RoseIacovino

TOTAL : 129

Les Juifs ne font pas la promotion du lavage de cerveau des enfants dans les camps de formation militaire.

Ils ne leur apprennent pas à se faire exploser et à causer le maximum de mort de Juifs et d'autres non-musulmans.

Les Juifs ne détournent pas des avions, ne tuent pas les athlètes lors des Jeux olympiques, et ne se font pas exploser dans un restaurant allemand.

Il n'y a pas un seul Juif qui a détruit une église.

Il n'y a pas un seul Juif qui proteste en tuant des gens.Les Juifs ne font pas de trafic d'esclaves, n'ont pas de dirigeants qui appellent au Jihad et à la mort

de tous les infidèles.

Peut-être les musulmans du monde devraient considérer à investir plus dans l'enseignement ordinaire et moins à blâmer les Juifs pour tous leurs problèmes.

Les musulmans doivent demander «ce qu'ils peuvent faire pour l'humanité » avant d'exiger que l'humanité les respecte.

Indépendamment de vos sentiments à propos de la crise entre Israël et les Palestiniens et les voisins arabes; même si vous croyez qu'il y a plus de culpabilité de la part d 'Israël, les deux phrases suivantes disent vraiment tout :

«Si les Arabes déposaient les armes aujourd'hui, il n'y aurait plus de violence. Si les Juifs déposaient leurs armes aujourd'hui, il n’y aurait plus d' Israël.»

Benjamin Netanyahu

Le général Eisenhower nous a averti : c'est un fait historique.

Lorsque le commandant suprême des Forces alliées, le général Dwight Eisenhower a trouvé les victimes des camps de la mort, il a ordonné de prendre toutes les photographies possibles du peuple allemand, des villages environnants; de leur faire visiter les camps et même enterrer les morts.

Il a fait cela parce qu'il a dit des mots à cet effet :

«Rassemblez tous les dossiers et documents maintenant - saisissez les films - faites parler les témoins - parce que quelque part sur la route de l'histoire quelques bâtards vont se lever et dire que cela n'est jamais arrivé..»

Récemment, le Royaume-Uni a débattu pour savoir s'il fallait supprimer la Shoah dans son cursus scolaire, car il «offense» la population musulmane qui affirme que cela n'a jamais eu lieu.

Sellam Mickael Elie, [23-Oct-22 8:18 AM]

Ce n'est pas encore supprimé... Cependant, c'est un signe effrayant de la peur qui paralyse le monde et combien il est facile pour chaque pays d'être paralysé par elle.

Cela fait plus de 60 ans après que la Seconde Guerre mondiale a pris fin en Europe..

Ce courriel est envoyé comme une chaîne commémorative, en souvenir des 6 millions de juifs, 20 millions de Russes, 10 millions de chrétiens, et 1900 prêtres catholiques «assassinés, violés, brûlés, affamés, battus, humiliés et ont servi de cobayes, tandis que le peuple allemand a regardé ailleur.

Maintenant, plus que jamais, avec l'Iran, entre autres, revendiquant que l'Holocauste est «un mythe», il est impératif de s'assurer que le monde n'oublie jamais.

Ce courriel est destiné à atteindre 400 millions de personnes... Soyez un maillon dans la chaîne de mémoire et aidez à distribuer ce message à travers le monde.

Combien d'années faudra-il avant que l'attaque du World Trade Center «n'ait jamais eu lieu» parce qu'elle offense les musulmans des États-Unis?

Ne vous contentez pas de supprimer ce message...... cela ne prendra que quelques minutes pour le faire passer.

[pdj-france]

Les rues ont été en effervescence pour un Imbibitor Lunae jouable pratiquement depuis le lancement de Honkai: Star Rail. La prochaine version alternative 5 étoiles du personnage de départ Dan Heng était l'un des secrets les moins bien gardés du jeu, puisque nous avons déjà pu jouer en qualité de version d'essai de lui pendant le chapitre Xianzhou Luofu. Alors oui, d'accord, nous savons depuis des lustres que le grand, sombre et maussade garde archiviste-train slash de l'Astral Express était en fait beaucoup plus important sur la scène galactique qu'il ne l'avait laissé entendre auparavant. Mais l'important désormais, c'est que son incarnation extra-forte sera bientôt jouable en permanence — à condition de pouvoir gagner un test de chance au gacha, bien sûr. Vous n'aurez pas non plus à attendre beaucoup plus longtemps pour lui, car la bannière de Dan Heng Imbibitor Lunae sera diffusée pendant la phase 1 de la version 1.3, qui sera lancée le 30 août. La phase 2, prévue le 20 septembre, verra le lancement de la bannière de Fu Xuan, de même que l'introduction de Lynx. Si vous avez raté le livestream, tant pis ! Vous pouvez regarder la VOD ci-dessous. N'oubliez pas d'employer ces codes de diffusion en direct avant qu'ils n'expirent demain : Imbibitor Lunae aura un kit complètement différent de la version 4 étoiles de Dan Heng qui rejoint votre équipe gratuitement au début du jeu. Ils ont même des éléments différents et suivent différentes disciplines de bataille, avec Imbibitor Lunae représentant une option DPS imaginaire indispensable pour les joueurs, grâce à son alignement avec le chemin Destruction. Comme Imbibitor Lunae, la Maître Diviner Lady Fu Xuan sera un visage familier si vous êtes tous pris à travers l'histoire de Xianzhou Luofu, et sera le premier personnage de Quantum Preservation sur la liste. en attendant, Lynx est un personnage de Quantum Abundance et la sœur cadette de vos vieux copains Serval et Gepard Landau. Grâce à sa rareté 4 étoiles, elle sera beaucoup plus facile à tirer du gacha que Fu Xuan, et finira par rejoindre le pool de disponibilité standard plutôt que de rester exclusive à l'événement. D'autres nouvelles fonctionnalités de la V1.3 incluront une mise à jour du contenu de l'univers simulé (la réponse de HSR aux donjons de pillage, qui vous place dans le rôle d'un testeur bêta pour un jeu dans le jeu). De plus, une refonte bienvenue du système Trailblaze Power signifie que vous n'êtes plus pénalisé par les ressources perdues si vous ne vous connectez pas au jeu tous les jours. Cela a été une grosse semaine pour les nouvelles de HSR : si vous suivez les comptes officiels de Honkai : Star Rail sur les réseaux sociaux, vous aurez certainement remarqué que la dernière vague de marketing au goutte-à-goutte pour le jeu a été moins un filet et plus un flash. inondation. De nouvelles annonces de personnages sont arrivées quotidiennement pratiquement toute la semaine : Jingliu le mardi, Topaz et Numby le mercredi et Guinaifen le jeudi (oh mon dieu) ! Alors que nous sachions qu'aucun d'entre eux n'apparaîtra dans la version 1.3, il y a de fortes chances que certains ou tous feront leurs débuts dans la version 1.4 (attendue vers le 11 octobre). Honkai: Star Rail Version 1.3, "Celestial Eyes Above Mortal Ruins", sera lancé le 30 août.

[c-etait-ailleurs]

Quand ma mère ou l’une de mes quatre tantes voyaient une femme pousser un landau dans la rue, il n’était pas rare qu’elles récitent ce poème, appris sans doute avec leur propre mère. “D’où viens-tu, cher petit ?  Sorti de nulle part pour arriver jusqu’ici.”

Stephen King, Si ça saigne, LdP p. 637

[brandedcities]

Rue Landau poised to make history on Philadelphia City Council

But before Rue Landau secured one of five nominations for city council's at-large seats, she was already making history.

[pashterlengkap]

“The L Word” cast & creator join White House press briefing to celebrate Lesbian Visibility Week

In celebration of Lesbian Visibility Week, the cast of The L Word joined out White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre to kick off yesterday’s press briefing. Jean-Pierre was joined at the podium by the show’s co-creator Ilene Chaiken, as well as actresses Jennifer Beals, Katherine Moennig, and Leisha Hailey, who respectively play beloved characters Bette, Shane, and Alice in both the original early 2000s series as well as the 2019 The L Word: Generation Q reboot. --- Related Stories Out civil rights warrior Rue Landau is running to make history on the Philadelphia City Council “I stand on the shoulders of the their greatness,” Landau said of the closeted leaders who came before her. --- Jeane-Pierre introduced the L Word team by acknowledging the massive impact the show has had on generations of queer women. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Leisha Hailey (@leishahailey) Jean-Pierre spoke about how the show has saved lives and how she attended the filming of last year’s episode that featured a marriage between two iconic characters, “a moment that meant so much to queer women across the country,” she said. She spoke about feeling “alone and sometimes invisible” growing up as a young queer woman of color. “For so many people in our community, The L Word‘s impact cannot be understated. Being able to see diverse narratives that reflect our lives is incredibly important.” “From book bans to don’t say gay laws, MAGA extremists want to roll back the visibility we fought so hard to achieve, but LGBTQI+ youth are resilient… they are fierce, they fight back, they aren’t going anywhere.” She emphasized that people in the Biden administration “have their back.” View this post on Instagram A post shared by Kate Moennig (@kateomoennig) Chaiken and Hailey also spoke. Chaiken acknowledged the immense power of speaking alongside the first out lesbian press secretary in U.S. history who is also serving the most pro-equality president. “We learned by the beautiful response to our show how important it is for people, particularly young people, to see themselves reflected in our entertainment culture and to know that they’re embraced, valued, and not alone,” she said. “We’re painfully aware that our struggles are far from over… We’ve been fighting this fight for generations, and we’ll never stand down. They may try to erase our stories from classrooms and libraries, but we’re here…and we won’t be erased.” Hailey then added, “I’m standing here today because as a young gay girl in Nebraska who raced soap box derby cars and wore rainbow suspenders, I was seen by my family. Their love and support gave me the courage and confidence to live my life openly.” “Visibility is not just the act of being seen,” she continued. “It is the ability to see.” She went to express to the queer people fighting for their right to exist every day, “We see you.” After the briefing, the cast met with LGBTQ+ members of President Joe Biden’s administration to discuss efforts to advance LGBTQ+ equality. On Instagram, the stars celebrated their appearance at the White House. “It is a once in a lifetime event for an actor to be part of a project that offers up measurable good, meaningful healing for so many,” wrote Jennifer Beals, alongside the video of the cast and Jean-Pierre strutting down the White House halls to Beyonce’s Run the World (Girls). “It starts with visibility. Knowing your story-whether in part or parcel-deserves to be told, matters. It is an honor to be an ally to the brilliant, diverse, intrepid #LGBTQIA+ community. I have gained so much more than I have given. What an honor. Lucky me.” View this post on Instagram A post shared by Jennifer Beals (@thejenniferbeals) http://dlvr.it/Sn6H5q

[catherine-geoffray]

20-01-23 Alors que je suis installée avec des amis à une table ronde dans un restaurant, un gang de femmes chinoises fait irruption dans la salle. A l’aide de longues seringues sans aiguille remplies d’un produit laiteux, elles nous menacent. Je me lève d’un bond pour éviter à tout prix les jets. Seules quelques éclaboussures m’atteignent, que je chasse d’un geste nerveux. J’ignore tout du degré de toxicité du produit. Elles repartent et reviennent à plusieurs reprises. Je fuis le restaurant par une ruelle qui longe les tables en terrasse. Je vois se diriger vers nous un couple de chinois. Avant qu’ils aient le temps de dégainer leurs seringues, j’enfonce mon parapluie pliant dans la gorge de l’homme jusqu’à entendre le craquement sinistre de son larynx. Mon mari fait de même avec la femme. Nous fuyons loin vers le centre-ville. Une voiture pile. Les quatre portes s’ouvrent libérant un nouveau gang. Je cours le plus vite possible poursuivie par l’un d’eux, mais je n’arrive pas à avancer car mes gestes ne sont pas coordonnés. Je ne sais plus courir. J’agite mes membres mais je ne progresse qu’au ralenti. Je double une mère de famille qui tient devant elle un landau arrêté devant un hôtel. En me courbant masquée par la capote, j’enjambe la fenêtre à guillotine du hall. Je m’accroupis sous l’allège tout en surveillant la rue dans l’interstice laissé par le voilage. Soudain, mon regard croise celui du chinois qui vient de s’immobiliser devant la vitrine. Je baisse la tête, mais trop tard : il m’a repérée. Je suis terrorisée.

[layral]

De l’amour, de l’art Quoi d’autre? Exposition du 21 Janvier au 5 février 2023 Vernissage le vendredi 20 des 17h À Plateforme Paris 73 Rue des Haies 75020 Paris Commissariat Laurent Quénéhen Avec : Sarah Barthe, Lina Batov, Myriam Baudin, Nathalie Bibougou, Dominique Chazy, Anne Cindric, Matthieu Crimersmois, Ayako David Kawauchi, Marielle Degioanni, Laure Djourado Kramer, Delphine Epron, Marion Expert, Awa Fijolek, Raziye Ghadimi, Fanny Gosse, Coralie Grandjean, Anthony Gripon, Maria Ibañez Lago, Edith Landau, Cendres Lavy, Layral Sébastien, Sophie Lecomte, Monique Lucas, Hélène Milakis, Tristan Mory, Marie-Christine Mozas, Nancy Caramello, Kim Nezzar, Rosalie Oakman, Muriel Patarroni, Jean-Baptiste Perrot, Eric Pougeau, Sophia Proença, Jeanne Rimbert, Auréline Roy, Céline Turlotte et Jérémy Bindi, Elizabeth Saint-jalmes, Clotilde Salmon, Delphine Sandoz, Vanda Spengler, Magali Suire, Zazoum Tcherev, Yves Tenret, Doina Vieru, Jojo Wang, G.Wen, Sophie Yin. Amours IV Quatrième salon sur le thème de l’amour. A l’instar des salons sur les réseaux sociaux, des liens s’établissent entre les oeuvres, des connexions visuelles et cérébrales. C’est une immersion dans un salon sur l’esthétique de l’amour à Paris en 2023. Beaucoup de femmes artistes sont présentes, peut-être est-ce la reconnaissance d’une féminitude dans l’art, à l’instar de ce que Aimé Césaire évoquait de la négritude ou Jean Dubuffet de l’art brut. L’art est peut être plus du côté féminin, même chez les hommes, comme on n’y trouve pas cette volonté de destruction de l’humain bien réelle et plutôt masculine que l’on constate dans la guerre. Poutine n’est pas un artiste. Hitler a malheureusement très vite compris qu’il n’en était pas un. L’art est une tentative de connexion, de communion, qui va au delà du genre, de l’âge, du niveau social et des frontières et il est aussi imprévisible que l’amour. Quenehen Laurent (à Plateforme Paris) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnTw733robS/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Thursday 7 June 1838

8

11 50

very fine morning – Carré (coiffeur) at 8 ½ as yesterday – breakfast at about 10 – F66° at 9 am dressed – ready at 11 – took the 2 servants, and Lefevre, laquais de place, 1st time and off at 11 40 in landau to St. Cloud by the avenue Charles X thro’ the bois de Boulogne – at the palace at 12 35 – the royal family to be there today .:. could not see the interior of the palace – alighted – walked about – went to the top of the observatory and to see the cascade and got into the carriage again at 1 40 – en passant called on Madame de Bourke no.53 r. du faubourg St. Honoré – very glad to see me – but almost immediately came the duchess of something and her 2 daughters and a gentleman the d....... I suppose and I took my leave – Madame de B- said there was a letter for me, and shewed me to Miss Gassy who gave me the note from Miss Ferrall and gave me an address to a dressmaker and to a carossier letter of horses and carriages and on hearing of my going to St. Sauveur, said she would give me letters (she is from near Tarbes) si cela ferait plaisir – thanked her and said yes – A- had waited for me in the carriage – then to the bank (Ferrère Laffittes’) and exchanged at 25/40 two circulars numerous 4921 and 4922 – they looked at their books from 1831 and my Paris (ill dated) plate had never passed thro’ their hands at all from that time to this! then to the passage des panoramas and bought rebounds and came away at 3 50 – then to R. de Richelieu no.40 [Bonhorne] Steiger and ordered 2 pair gaiters 1 pair for A- 1 pair for me hers to lace mine to button, to come on Sunday at 9 am – then to Madame Contant

SH:7/ML/E/21/0118

and ordered mantelet for A- and shawl for myself (same étoffe black silk) with black lace at 6/50 l’aune = 8 aunes for me – same for A- to go to Madame C- at 1 or after tomorrow and to have shawl and mantelet and French cachemere [cashmere]  shawls for A- to look at etc. – then to Wallrands’ for note-paper etc. Rue de la paix – she mentioned an apartment to be let for 300 for 1 month 500/. for 2 months and 700/. for 3 months in r. d’Aujon – very good apartment and well furnished plenty of room for us – and knows of man and woman servant married and ditto man single – said I would apply to her for an apartment another time before my arrival – but this was said un peu légèrement – not likely to be acted upon off from Wallrands’ at 5 ¼ - then to Houbigant for toothbrushes for A- and pomatum for us both - and then to Madame Figarols’ for a minute or 2 - home at about 5 ¾ - Oddy and George who had left the carriage at Madame de Bourkes’ door to come home to luncheon and then go to the coiffeur, could not find the way! – dawdling over 1 thing or other with A- till dinner at 7 – then after 8 had the ladys’ maid (a Swisse from Neuchatel) recommended by Madame Figarol – she would not take less than 400 or 500 fr. a year – she did not make less at Madame de (comtesse de) [Pourpris’] she had lived with an English woman aetatis 40 (serious – pious) before coming to Paris 8 years ago – thought she should not be dull in England – liked gaiety, but did not see it – said I would let her know in a day or 2 whether I thought of engaging her or not – just went out to Oddy for  a minute and found A- (at 9) going into bed – poorly all today – my note from Miss Ferrall (vid. last p. of this volume) affectionate and kind for all of them (the Bluchers’) – much pleased with my letter tho’ afraid I should not think so from the time she had been in answering it – her note dated May 1837 – Mr. de Hagemann not happy tho’ he had got [they]  the princes had refused his invitation to dinner and de H- now wished he had not acted so foolishly they are all sorry for Lady Harrietts’ sake – A- is terrible what shall I do with her I might as well have a millstone tied round my neck   I must men this some way  go to the Pyrenees and to Montpellier and see how I can live there – had just written so far at 10 pm fine day tho’ rain-threatening a few drops as we returned home near to Paris – I have just given her the last of our cherry brandy  I perpetually think of Stephen’s that I should have a deal of rouble with her  he was very right but I will be off some way or other – Had Oddy - at accounts – till now 11 10 pm F66° at 11 20 pm

[timebird84]

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @bozzleboz​

A light dusting of snow had begun to fall across the streets of Paris as the man, known to most of the inhabitants of the Palais Garnier as The Perisan made his way past the grand entrance and dodging the steady stream of carriages now pulling up to the bottom of the steps, and headed in the direction of the Rue Scribe entrance.

 He pulled his thick wool cloak about him, and shucked the strap of the cumbersome canvas satchel that hung over his shoulder beneath it.  All around him patrons flocked in fancy furs and mufflers, their bright steps ringing on the pavements as they sprang from barouches and landaus, a flash of gloved hand and quick peep of ankle punctuating their movements. The air rang with halloos riding on a current of excited chatter.  A few of them cast furtive glances his way, sharing sly whispers behind their hands. He pulled the collar of his cloak up further and pressed on.

 They would soon all be thronging in the grand stairway of the Palais, expensive furs hastily discarded at the coat check to reveal the latest fashions, dripping in jewels, fans whirring frantically amongst the hubbub.  Watching and being watched - that was the purpose of the thing wasn’t it? He wondered how many of them actually cared for the opera they were there to listen to, beyond the opportunity it afforded to see, be seen and to gossip with the great and good. Some nights he enjoyed it as much as the best of them, that circus of fashion and flesh, but tonight he was in the mood for less egregious company, and where he was going he would most likely need to keep his furs on.

 ‘The Persian has the evil eye’ - that’s what they said about him.  He had heard it many times of course, the ballet girls gasping and tittering, and the stagehands touching whatever piece of iron they could find to ward it off.  There were times when he cursed the day he came to this wretched country and missed his home with an ache that went deep into his core.  It was especially so at this time of year, when all of Paris was taken up with celebrations for festivities which he felt he had no part in. The irony of the fact that these moods drove him to seek out the company of the very man who caused his exile was not lost on him. Still, if there was any man who understood the sensation of feeling desperately lonely and misunderstood, whilst simultaneously craving and loathing the company of one’s fellow man, it was Erik.

 He reached the Rue Scribe entrance and kept walking, stopping instead a grate a short distance beyond and surreptitiously glancing over his shoulder, before pulling it open and stepping inside.   The air outside had been crisp and chill, but inside it felt dank and cool, and he was immediately grateful for his thick winter clothing.  He rustled beneath his cloak, pulling a small brass lamp and an ornate box containing a strike light from the bag concealed there. With deft hands he lit it, sending a dim light bouncing off the mildew stained walls of the passageway.  He did not take any pains to conceal his arrival from his friend. Erik would know of his presence by now anyway, he always knew.  It was far better to arrive with as much clatter and fanfare as possible, any attempt at stealth might otherwise prompt some of his strange friends more twitchy reactions.  Besides which, he had had enough run-ins with Erik’s traps and ‘doorbells’ to know that it would be beyond foolishness to traverse these passages blind.  

The descent to the edge of the lake was slow and arduous, and not for the first time the Persian found himself marvelling at the strength and fortitude of the strange man who lived below.  While he himself grew stouter and slower with every passing year, Erik, despite his emaciated frame and sickly pallor seemed to retain that strange spider-like grace and energy that he had possessed when they had first known each other in their youth. More than once he felt his foot skid from beneath him on the damp uneven passageway, and he had to fling out an arm to brace himself against the wall.  He muttered a string of curses under his breath.  He would never understand why the man insisted on holing himself away underground like this. With his skills he could easily have designed himself a dwelling above ground which was just as secretive and solitary as he desired, but he suspected that something in the inconvenience and squalor of this arrangement suited the man’s aesthetic.

 At length, he came to the edge of the vast underground lake, and stopped, the sound of his heavy breaths echoing all about him.  Before long he heard a rhythmic splashing, and at last a pair of glowing yellow eyes became visible, scowling at him through the gloom.

 ‘Daroga,’ came the voice, smooth and seductive, but with an air of danger and threat to it. ‘To what do I owe the honour of your presence tonight?

 A brief shiver ran across the Persian’s skin. It was one of the cruelest ironies that his strange friends should possess such a beautiful voice. A bird of paradise trapped within a hideous, rusted cage. It had been one of his most potent weapons in their time in Persia. It’s silken tones hypnotising and subduing before the masked assassin made his mark. In another world, or another time that voice, and the brilliant mind that went with it could have achieved great things. Perhaps they already had achieved great things, terrible, but great, and yet nobody now but himself was alive to know it.

 ‘Good evening Erik,’ he replied, trying to keep his tone bright, cheerful and unthreatening. ‘A social call, nothing more.’

 ‘Hrmph’ hissed Erik from the gloom, the lamp like eyes squinting suspiciously. ‘So you have come to check up on me, have you Daroga? To ease your conscience and make sure that Erik has not gotten himself into any mischief, I presume?’

 ‘Come, come now,’ the Persian replied brusquely.  ‘May I not pay a simple social call to an old friend during the festive season?’

 The splashing ceased, and the boat bumped against the rough stone quayside of the passageway.  The Persian raised his lamp, and its dim light revealed to him the strange figure of a man, tall and thin, to the point of looking stretched, leaning almost jauntily on the pole at it’s bow, his head cocked to one side.  As always he was impeccably dressed, in full evening attire, with his best opera cloak on, the jeweled shoulders twinkled in the lamplight. His face was covered in a black mask, a thin wisp of silk covering the mouth area.  Not for the first time, the Persian wondered whether the man dressed in such a state of formal readiness all year round, or if, despite his frequent protests, he too anticipated and looked forward to these visits in his own way.

 ‘You know I do not celebrate, Daroga,’ the man said dryly.

 Carefully stepping into the boat the Persian pulled his cloak aside, revealing the bag concealed beneath, from which with a quick rummage he pulled the neck of a bottle of spiced cognac.

 ‘Nor i,’ he said smiling, ‘neither, as you well know, am I supposed to drink. And yet here we both are…’

 The masked man inclined his head, the fabric in front of his mouth fluttering briefly as if he had released a silent chuckle, and with a lithe movement and strength that was belied by his wispy frame, he punted the boat away from the quay and back across the lake.  

 They reached the opposite shore in silence and the masked man sprang out, leaving the Persian to stand wobbily as the boat bobbed in its moorings.

 ‘Careful there Daroga,’ his companion chuckled. ‘We would not want you to damage your venerable knees, old man.’  

 ‘You are the very picture of consideration, Erik,’ he replied, reluctantly taking the proffered hand and pulling every so slightly harder than required as he stepped out. If he hoped that it would unbalance his slender friend he was sadly disappointed however. Instead he seemed to stick to the slick rock with the dexterity of a spider, immediately dropping his hand as soon as the Persian’s feet made contact with solid ground, and stalking away on long limbs toward the door of his lair.

 He threw the door to the house on the lake open with a theatrical flourish, ushering the Persian over the threshold before divesting himself of his own cloak with a dramatic flick.  The Persian removed his own wrappings at a more leisurely pace, shivering slightly as the cold air of the room seeped into his clothing.

 The sitting room before him was as it always appeared. Fastidiously neat except for a desk in the corner which was piled high with sheaves of paper which always threatened to topple at the slightest movement or breeze and yet somehow never did. A low fire burned in an ornate fireplace, and beside it two well stuffed easy chairs were arranged beside a set chess board.   The Persian smiled and strolled toward the fireplace, rubbing his hands in front of it, before idly bending to select two large logs from the basket beside it and throwing them on the fire, stirring it vigorously. The masked man simply settled in one of the chairs with a slow and deliberate movement, watching his every move with a sardonic eye.

 ‘This room never gets any cheerier Erik,’ he commented. ‘I shall never understand why you chose to lock yourself away in this damp and miserable hole when you could have designed yourself the most comfortable rooms in the whole of the city with your talents.’

 ‘My dear Daroga,’ Erik replied wearily. ‘We have covered this before, and I have already informed you that this is perfectly adequate for my needs.  It is quiet, and private, and,’ he continued with emphasis, ‘Erik likes to be left alone.’

 At this the Persian simply smiled and strolled over to the two crystal cut glasses carefully set out on the sideboard.  He withdrew the bottle of cognac from his bag, uncorking it and pouring two generous measures, before lifting his own glass and swirling the liquid within it by way of salute.

 ‘Nobody ought to be alone this season,’ was his simple reply.

 ‘This season, and every season,’ came the brusque reply. ‘The less time I have to spend entertaining meddlesome boobies like yourself, Daroga, the more I can spend on my great work.’

 ‘Ah, yes!’ cried the Persian clapping his hands together and settling into his own chair, ‘The Opera!  How is it coming along?’

 ‘It would come along much better without interruption,’ he harrumphed in reply, pushing a pawn across the board with a long, thin finger

 The Persian threw him a sidelong glance, but from the way Erik’s hands now twisted together he knew that the man had something praying on his mind. He did not require any encouragement to unburden himself.

 ‘Did you know that those fools of managers are considering retirement?’ he barked.

 The Persian simply inclined his head and continued to consider his own move.  He had heard rumours of Debienne and Polongy’s intended departure for some time now, and who could blame them. Managing an Opera House was, of itself, no mean feat, but he suspected that the task was not made any easier by the constant attention and interference of the fabled Opera Ghost.

 ‘Indeed?’ was his only reply. He lifted his own piece and moved it onto the board deliberately.

 ‘Indeed!’ cried Erik, leaping to his feet and pacing. ‘It is most inconvenient.  It has taken me some years to train him in running my theatre in the proper way, and now I am to be forced to begin the process anew again. No doubt with some bumbling fool with money to burn who cannot tell an overture from an aria!’

 He flung himself down again in the armchair, pushing another piece across the board with unnecessary force and the Persian smiled quietly to himself.

 ‘Perhaps this might be the perfect opportunity for you to adopt a more honest system of dealing with the opera house management?’ he suggested tentatively.

The subject of Erik’s so called arrangement with the opera management had long been a bone of contention between the two of them. It was extortion on the most spectacular level, and the fact that the management had chosen to pay it was testament to both the success of the Palais Garnier, and to Erik’s not inconsiderable talents as a troublemaker.  He could not fathom what the man did with the money. Nothing about the appearance of the house on the lake had changed in the years since had been visiting it.  The furniture remained the same, as did the structure, and his friend hardly kept a sumptuous table. Indeed the man’s appetites were so small that the Daroga had long since taken to bringing his own refreshments with him during his visits for fear of otherwise going unfed.  He was not sure if it made the act more deplorable, or impressive that he seemed to rely very little upon his gains, seemingly only drawing them as a point of principle rather than necessity.

 The reaction to this question therefore came as no surprise.

 ‘I warn you Daroga,’ the masked man growled, ‘do not interfere! Erik’s business must remain Erik’s business, or it will be a good deal to pay for you and them, I tell you! I will not tolerate any meddling.’

 The Persian merely inclined his head again, and steepling his fingers, waited for this strange companion to make his next move.  

 For a time the two men sat in silence, idly moving pieces about the board and sipping at their cognac, until at last, the silence was broken by a loud rumbling from the Persian’s stomach.  From across the board the masked man rolled his eyes dramatically, not lifting his gaze from the board.

 ‘Apologies my friend, if my digestive processes inconvenience you.’ The Persian bent and rummaged in the bag at his feet, pulling out two tightly wrapped and sweet smelling parcels. ‘However, I have taken pains to ensure I supply the remedy. If you would be so kind?’

 Erik rose with a fluid motion and took the parcels from his hands, crossing the room in the direction of the kitchen.  Despite his studied indifference, the Persian knew that his companion had a sweet tooth, and never turned down the chance to partake of the Halva and Zoolbia that he brought with each visit.  A memento of their time together in Persia. It was another part of their strange rituals together. Never acknowledged, and never requested, yet always there.

 To his surprise, the masked man came back bearing a tray laden not only with the sweets he had supplied, but also a supply of Macarons, and a rather liberal selection of biscuits and cheeses. The bottom fringe of his mask was removed, revealing his thin lips, set among yellowing skin and stretched across a toothy jaw.

 ‘You eat too many sweets, Daroga,’ was his only explanation.  The Persian simply smiled.

 They continued on in silence, until the board was played, and their glasses and plates were empty, and at last, the Persian made to stand.

 ‘I must thank you for your hospitality again, Erik,’ he said.  His companion merely harrumphed in acknowledgement. ‘Perhaps one of these days you will see fit to visit me? You are always welcome.’

 ‘Erik is far too busy for social frivolities.’ He replied brusquely.

 Once again, the Persian nodded, and collecting his bag from the floor, rummaged in it once again.  From within it he withdrew a series of small figurines, a baby, a crib, a donkey… He placed each one carefully on the mantelpiece, ignoring the growing look of incredulity which radiated from his companion, despite the mask which covered his face.  When at last he had finished, he stepped back and admired them.

 ‘What, please tell, is that?’ spat Erik.

 ‘It is a creche,’ he replied simply.

 ‘I can see that. What on earth possessed you to bring such a thing into my home and place it upon my mantel?’

 ‘It is a gift, Erik,’ the Persian replied wearily. ‘If you must know, I was accosted by a precocious young child whilst shopping at the market, who informed me that they were quite the thing, and that they were the ideal gift for a loved one for the festivities. I did my level best to explain that I did not traditionally partake in festive celebrations, and had no friends of relatives who did. She was, however quite insistent, and somehow I came away having purchased one for my ‘nearest and dearest’, which, it turns out with no small measure of irony, appears to be you.’

 The masked man made no answer to this, and instead moved in the direction of the mantel with a strange urgency.  For a moment the Persian thought with a sinking of his stomach that the man was making to cast the figurines into the fire, but he simply reached out and seized one of them, a white cloaked angel playing a lyre, and held it appraisingly between his long fingers.

 ‘You are a sentimental fool Daroga,’ was his only reply.

 ‘It would seem so.’  

 He gathered his cloak and hat, slipping them back on as he made his way towards the front door.

 ‘And I mean it when I say you are welcome to visit. Truly Erik, it does you no good to always be so alone.’

 The masked man smiled, and still considering the wooden angel between his fingers, followed him to the doorway, neglecting to put on his own cloak.

 ‘Would it please you to know that I am considering an honest occupation to fill my time, Daroga?’ the man asked, an unsual note of excitement in his voice.

 ‘If it were truly honest, then yes, it would please me greatly.’

 The two of them stepped into the boat, and the masked man slipped the wooden angel into the pocket of his trousers, before taking the pole and punting them away from the shore.  He raised his eyes, his gaze meeting the Persians for almost the first time that night, a strange glint lurking within their glowing depths.

 ‘I am considering taking up teaching,’ he declared, almost grandly. ‘So you see, I shall not be s much alone.’

 ‘Teaching?’ asked the Persian incredulously.

 ‘There is a singer. She has much potential, but she lacks refinement. Under Erik’s guidance she could become something brilliant.’

 There was a spark of life in his face that the Persian had not seen for many years, not since the man had been absorbed in his architecture, or possibly even since he was so absorbed with his activities from the before times. He did not care to think too carefully about what that meant.

 ‘And this student, how did you meet her?’ he asked cautiously.

 The masked man muttered and hunched over the pole, withdrawing his eyes and refusing to meet his gaze.

 The Persian sighed, the boat bumped into the opposite shore, and he prepared to step out. As he stepped onto the rough quayside and shouldered his bag, he turned and looked at his trange friend with a stern eye.

 ‘Do not do anything rash, Erik. I shall be watching you.’

 The masked man let out a soft chuckle. ‘I would not expect anything less, my dear Daroga. Until next time…’ and with that, he pushed off from the pontoon, gliding back into the gloom of the lake like a ghost.

 The Persian shivered and pulled his cloak about him. He groped blindly for his lamp, finding it still resting where he left it on his arrival, and pulling out his strike he lit it once more.  As he began the ascent to the word above he tried to quell the rising sense of unease which was building in his stomach.  Perhaps this new student would do his strange, melancholy friend some good. Perhaps this time he truly did intend to go about things in the right way.  He could only hope, but, as he stepped out into the cold snowy streets that surrounded the Palais Garnier and began his way back across town, he could not help suspecting that he was going to be spending much more of his time at the opera in the new year than he had previously.

[alexar60]

Dans mes bagages

Nous avions décidé de profiter de quelques jours de vacances pour s’organiser un voyage et le temps ensoleillé se prêtait à partir vers le bord de mer. Sans savoir où aller, nous décidâmes de laisser le sort choisir pour nous. Alors, après notre coup de tête, nous quittâmes son appartements avec pour bagage un sac à dos contenant le minimum pour notre périple. Durant notre marche, nous pariâmes sur le train qui se proposerait en premier. Je pariai sur les Sables d’Olonne, la Vendée. Elle pensa à Pornic et son petit train de campagne. Je me moquai d’elle persuadé qu’il n’y a aucun train pour là-bas, c’était trop près de Nantes. Elle assura que j’avais tort.

Nous traversâmes le jardin des plantes situé en face de la gare. Il y avait dans ce parc une magie faite de douceur et de volupté. J’aimais perdre mon temps à lire assis sur un banc tout en regardant les gens passer. Il y avait le joggeur classique avec ses écouteurs dans les oreilles, qui courait tout le temps et dans tous les sens ; à croire qu’il passait sa vie à courir. Il y avait le couple d’amoureux, souvent des étudiants ou lycéens scolarisés à Clémenceau juste à côté. Je voyais aussi la jeune maman qui promenait son petit encore dans un landau. Elle aussi s’asseyait sur un banc pour profiter et donner le biberon au bébé dont les cris effrayaient  les pigeons. Il y avait surtout à certains endroits un gars ou deux qui me zyeutaient pensant obtenir avec un clin d’œil dès que je regardais dans leur direction, un rendez-vous plus intime. Mais toujours, ils étaient déçus en comprenant que je n’étais pas là pour ça.

La traversé se fit tranquillement, main dans la main. Nous profitâmes du parc et des senteurs des arbres fleuris. Nous marchâmes dans ce dédale de chemin cerné de gazon fraichement tondu. Les jardiniers s’activaient à rendre l’endroit superbe. Une fois la grille franchie, nous retrouvâmes les bruits des voitures ainsi que du tramway qui s’arrêta devant nous. C’est dingue comment la magie opère dans ce jardin devenant une bulle insensible au quotidien de la rue.  Quand nous pénétrâmes la gare, elle dit avec sourire : « Suspense ! » et tout à coup, son regard s’émerveilla quand nous lûmes sur le panneau d’affichage que le prochain départ pour la mer était celui en direction de Pornic dans une demi-heure. Je toussotai en acceptant ma défaite puis nous partîmes vers les guichets et achetâmes un billet.

Le wagon n’était pas rempli. Assis l’un à côté de l’autre, sa tête sur mon épaule. Elle voulait se prélasser et montrer aux autres que nous étions ensemble pour toujours. Je pouvais sentir le parfum de ses cheveux dont quelques mèches légères chatouillèrent mes narines. Comme un lapin, je gigotai mon nez afin d’éviter l’éternuement. A l’extérieur, les champs se succédèrent les uns après les autres. On était loin de croire que le train allait nous amener vers l’Océan Atlantique tellement le paysage était verdoyant. Je regardai quelques bois perdus dans le bocage quand elle demanda qu’est-ce que j’emmènerai si je partais sur une ile déserte. « Je ne sais pas » répondis-je immédiatement. Puis un souvenir récent revint. Un souvenir de quelques jours quand nous avions été pique-niqué dans un autre parc nantais.  Après notre déjeuner, nous nous allongeâmes sous un arbre, et somnolâmes pendant que nos amis jouaient au football. J’avais aimé ce moment. Elle, sa tête endormi sur ma poitrine, son souffle qui traversa mon t-shirt, sa main qui parfois caressait mon ventre et la mienne qui frôlait délicieusement son bras et sa hanche. J’écoutai les oiseaux chanter en me demandant ce qu’ils pouvaient raconter. Peut-être parlaient-ils de nous ?

Soudain, elle leva la tête et reposa la question avant d’ajouter qu’elle me prendrait ainsi que le soleil afin de ne jamais avoir de mauvais temps entre nous. Je ris et dis: « Alors moi, je prendrais un arbre pour nous mettre à l’ombre et des oiseaux, des geais parce qu’ils font un joli bruit.» Elle connaissait l’animal et annonça préférer écouter les rossignols. Mais j’intervins en précisant que si le rossignol chante, le geai cageole. « Et je préfère de loin cajoler que chanter » ajoutai-je. Elle soupira, je sentis ses paupières se fermer puis elle murmura : « Alors, dans une autre vie, nous deviendrons des geais pour cageoler ensemble. »

Alex@r60 – avril 2020

[creepingsharia]

Congressmen Demand Answers About Muslim Kids “We will chop off their heads” Video in Philadelphia Islamic School

Muslim school kids: “We will chop off their heads … we will lead the army of Allah fulfilling his promise, we will subject them to eternal torture...”

Two U.S. congressmen are asking the Philadelphia Human Relations Commission to reveal the details of its investigation into the April 2019 video of Muslim children from a Philadelphia mosque performing anti-Semitic skits and singing violent songs.

The shocking video was presented by the Muslim American Society Islamic Center and Masjid A-Hidaya Mosque in Philadelphia in celebration of “Ummah Day.” As reported at the time by The Daily Wire, the video featured Muslim children singing,

We will chop off their heads … we will lead the army of Allah fulfilling his promise, we will subject them to eternal torture … we will defend the land of divine guidance with our bodies … sacrifice our souls without hesitation.

Following multiple press articles, the Philadelphia Commission on Human Relations announced an investigation into the event.

But more than five months have elapsed — with no follow-up from the Commission regarding its findings. Recently, Rep. Lee Zeldin (R-NY) and Rep. Scott Perry (R-PA) sent a letter to the Commission’s executive director, Rue Landau, requesting an update of its findings and asking whether further investigation needs to be made by the U.S. Department of Justice.

The letter also informed Landau of the Muslim American Society’s (MAS) role as an “overt arm” of the Muslim Brotherhood and notes that “several senior members of the Muslim Brotherhood are designated as terrorists.” Perry and Zeldin also noted that, given the Muslim American Society has 50 chapters throughout the United States, the results of the Philadelphia investigation are of national importance in trying to understand the role played by the organization and similar groups in indoctrinating American Muslims children towards extremist Islamism.

Contacted about the letter, Landau did not respond.

The disturbing video received both local and national attention at the time, but why is there only continuing interest in the results of the Commission’s investigation from a congressman from New York and a congressman from Dauphin County, Pennsylvania?

Where are the voices coming from lawmakers in Philadelphia — or the voices from local Muslim organizations purporting to be advocates for human rights?

The Philadelphia City Council has not taken action, either. While Philadelphia Councilman Curtis Jones prepared a city council resolution in outrage over Pennsylvania Representative Delegate Stephanie Borowicz’s references to Jesus in a State House invocation during the swearing-in of Muslim State Representative Movita Johnson-Harrell, there has been no similar resolutions or outrage over the Muslim American Society’s promotion of songs about beheading Jews. Calls and emails to Jones and other councilmen asking if they too would add their voices in requesting an update from the Commission were ignored.

The Masjid Al-Hidaya Mosque, where the video was filmed, sits in the congressional district of Congressman Brendan Boyle and neighbors the district covered by Congressman Dwight Evans. Calls to each congressman’s local office revealed no awareness of the Zeldin/Perry letter, although staffers suggested they would investigate the matter further.

The Council on American Islamic Relations (CAIR)’s Philadelphia chapter responded to MAS’ head-chopping video with a press release at the time: “Muslim Community Condemns Anti-Semitism.” CAIR-Philadelphia executive director Jacob Bender was careful to add: “We should be careful, however, not to conflate criticism of Israeli policy towards the Palestinians with anti-Semitism. Thousands of American and Israeli Jews like myself are critical of the oppressive policies of the government of Benjamin Netanyahu.”

The CAIR-PA’s weak response is a reminder of the historic relationship between MAS and CAIR. As federal prosecutors have previously argued:

CAIR and MAS omit reference to a shared background that limits their membership to those of a particular political bent, and undercuts their credibility. The Muslim Brotherhood is a generally covert international organization whose credo is ‘Allah is our goal; the Qur’an is our constitution; the Prophet is our leader; Struggle is our way; and death in the path of Allah is our highest aspiration.’

CAIR-Philadelphia has a history of running substantial campaigns whenever they wish to highlight issues of concern to them. That includes a recent effort targeting Starbucks over the name on a Muslim man’s coffee cup. But they have issued no apparent follow-up regarding the MAS video — or the remedial training CAIR was supposed to have provided to following the incident.

The Zeldin/Perry letter seeking disclosure of the Commission’s findings regarding MAS is a worthwhile effort. It’s a shame that local officials do not seem nearly as motivated in responding to an incident that has tarred Philadelphia’s reputation and raised serious questions about growing levels of Islamist anti-Semitism in the City of Brotherly Love.

[thecuriouscreepyfriendlywitch]

La fée amour

Je la traiterais bien de pute Elle qui s’est penchée à même mon landau Pour me bénir de ridicule

Je lui cracherai bien son don à la gueule Cette foutue bouche Et mes seins ronds Rompant la tendresse Je n’en veux pas Je ne veux plus Tomber amoureuse à chaque coin de rue C’est bon pour les trottoirs C’est mauvais pour les habitudes

Je lui rendrais bien son titre de marraine  Empire de tous les coeurs  Je résonne à toutes les demandes Mendie sur toutes les langues

Qu’elle s’en prenne à d’autres moins fertile Pour faire taire mes amours nautiles Naviguer sur des eaux plus tranquilles

Je veux la paix Au singulier Cesser de m’essouffler Cesser de soupirer des soupirants sulfureux Des amis amants amoureux Aimant de tous mes voeux Les fées se jouent de nous Furieux le hochet Poussière de sentiment Sentier inquiétant Droguée aux dragées léger Que sont les corps des autres

Fée maudite Rend moi mon désert J’ai bien assez d’oasis

[your-fave-is-catholic]

Your Fave Is Catholic: Bela Lugosi (real name: Béla Ferenc Dezső Blaskó)

Known for: Hungarian actor who was best known for playing the most iconic version of Count Dracula in the 1931 film adaptation of Dracula, as well as for roles in various films by director Ed Wood later on in his life. Early on in his career, he starred in silent films & also performed as a stage actor, & it was his performance in the play adaptation of Dracula that earned him his role in the classic horror film. Since then, he was sadly typecast as a horror film villain for a good chunk of his career (his heavy accent did not help matters), & he was often in the shadow of fellow horror actor Boris Karloff. His career started to decline, until he was eventually relegated to doing B-movies. It was during this time when he became friends with director Ed Wood, who let him star in his films & helped him rediscover his passion for acting, even if the films were considered absolutely terrible. Besides Dracula, his other films include The Silent Command, He Who Gets Slapped, The Veiled Woman, The Thirteenth Chair, Renegades, The Black Camel, Murders in the Rue Morgue, White Zombie, The Death Kiss, The Whispering Shadow, Night of Terror, The Black Cat, Mark of the Vampire, The Raven, The Mystery of the Mary Celeste, The Invisible Ray, Son of Frankenstein, Black Friday, The Devil Bat, Invisible Ghost, The Ghost of Frankenstein, The Corpse Vanishes, Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman, The Return of the Vampire, Zombies on Broadway, Abbott & Costello meet Frankenstein, Glen or Glenda, Bride of the Monster, & Plan 9 from Outer Space. He was also a major player in Tim Burton’s biopic film Ed Wood, as played by Martin Landau in an Academy Award winning role.

Evidence of Faith: According to Gary Rhodes biography Lugosi: His Life in Films, on Stage, & in the Hearts of Horror Lovers, it states that he & his sister Vilma were both raised in a Roman Catholic family. Additionally, his burial site is at the Catholic cemetery Holy Cross Cemetery in California, & his headstone is engraved with a Catholic cross. You can see his grave here.