Sunday, July 22, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Attorney-General Jarrod Bleijie Favors Obsolete Gay Hate Law – Queensland Australia
Apparently Australia has its own version of a “Stand
your Ground” right to murder law. In Oz, all you have to claim is that a supposedly gay person grabbed
or propositioned you to justify beating that person to death. The “gay-panic” defense claims that the mere
exposure to gayness causes temporary insanity that lead to justified homoside.
I smell the stench on this one of Cardinal Pell’s foul black
robes regarding Jarrod Bleijie’s pussying out, backing down on ridding Queensland of this gay
hate law.
Maryborough priest Paul Kelly, who was one of the first on the scene when Mr Ruks died, was so affected by the man's death that he launched an online petition to remove the defence, that has since gathered signatures from all over the world.
In January this year, in what was hailed as "a victory for common sense", the former state government decided the Criminal Code would be altered to ensure that unwanted sexual advances could not be used to claim provocation, unless in exceptional circumstances.
Following the election, new Attorney-General Jarrod Bleijie said he had requested a brief from the department on the issue and would consider the recommendations made by the former Labor government.
But the Attorney-General announced this week that he would not be making the planned changes to the code, and the defence would still be available in violent crimes.
Fr Kelly and Ms Kujala have criticised the decision, saying it was out of touch with the community's expectations.
"This is not a matter of gay rights, it's a matter of human rights," Ms Kujala said.
.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Michele Bachmann – Batshit to Apeshit Crazy in One Easy Step
What ever happened to “God told me to run for
President.”?
Now I guess God has told her to strap on a dildo and
pretend to be Joe McCarthy?
She wants to investigate the less than white skinned
assistant to Secretary Clinton for being
what she is - of Middle Eastern descent. How do you spell racist?
We won’t go into her husband’s Store Front sex shop “therapy”
racket.
This is pure crazy. Lock her up in Bedlam. Learn how to behave or is this just typical acceptable GOP congressional behavior?
But how do you spell Straight Jacket?
For instance, Bachmann's former campaign manager, Edward Rollins, said in a Fox News opinion piece that his onetime boss is being extreme and dishonest.
“Having worked for Congressman Bachmann’s campaign for president, I am fully aware that she sometimes has difficulty with her facts, but this is downright vicious and reaches the late Senator Joe McCarthy level,” wrote Mr. Rollins on Thursday.
Heterosexual Oath of Loyalty Now Required for Employees of Chick-Phil-A
Company Memo
From: On Top
Subject: Employee Oaths, CONFIDENTIAL
...
With the
guarantee at Chick-Phil-A that no queer chicken is sold at our pure Christian
franchise outlets, employees, besides being forced to the sign the Manhattan Declaration of Christian Bigotry pledge to gain or retain employment, must now
sign a Heterosexual Oath of Loyalty to the company. ...
...blah, blah, blah, etc.
In other words you must now swear:
… I have
always been 100% of my time since birth of the Heterosexual persuasion…
… That I
have never engaged or fantasized about non-Heterosexual activities…
…And that
if I am not now engaged to or married to a Heterosexual Christian, that I will
save my body juices for the Honeymoon coupling without birth control on my Christian wedding night….
…That I
will spy and make notations of all movements of fellow employees and customers
into and out of our Heterosexual Only bathrooms…
…Etc…
…so help
me, the one true pure white meat Christian Chicken god!
(Sign in
ink, blood optional.)
“This in
order to best serve our 100% pure white meat luvin Christian Heterosexual customers with
only the best hand-made artisan raised, killed, plucked and cooked chicken.” As
currently updated and noted in our Chick-Phil-A employee manual.
_____________
This Page Left Intentionally Blank______________
.
Ross Douthat’s Poison Pen on Religion – New York Times - “All the news that’s fit” to be bought
If you
can define the parameters of an argument, you will likely win the argument.
There is
a poison in American Religion. It is politics.
It
started in the eighties when one third of a modern day version of an Anti-Christ
in the form of Ronald Reagan, an actor, was helped into his cushy CEO crony job
with the aid of southern bigots aka as “born again” Christians in the form of
Jerry Falwell Incorporated.
The
television evangelists labeled their Edsel version of religion televangelism. There were no warning labels on the make it
up as you go along programming and or snake oil product and the resulting wealth
brought out the vote for a washed up black and white film “B” Hollywood Actor in
1980. Every marketing success spawns repeat and imitation.
There is
a poison in American Religion. It goes
beyond the Bush “Black Purse” ongoing bribe given to churches to dole out soup
but not condoms to the poor.
There
used to be a fairly decent Religion section the British Newspaper The Guardian.
It disappeared one night that coincided with the visit of King Benedict the
German of the Vatican 108 acre based money laundering empire.
In fact,
I don’t recall The New York Times ever being big on religion or where religion
would be booked except in the leisure section is in fact it ever existed.
I guess
no doubt the editorial staff heard about all the Religious Politics or is it
Political Religion that has poisoned the modern and or virtual American Town
Square. FOX NEWS moronity sells papers so to speak and attracts sponsors.
On to the
scene of the past few years is the Harvard educated Conservative Ross Douthat
to explain modern religion to a seemingly godless liberal New York Times readership.
No truth to the rumor that the NYT needed an emergency midnight loan to survive
one day back when and the Knights of Columbus, the Roman Catholic Church’s “Black
Banker” came through in a pinch, and Ross now has a bought desk, boutique
stall, at the grand old lady of news as a concession or condition of that emergency
Vatican backed loan?
Anyway, I
keep seeing wanna be memes popping up from time to time based on the NYT Vatican
Desk in the form of "TC" theologically correct Ross Douthat articles on a truly
global news site that has room even for a token puissant or is it pissant opinion pundit like
Douthat.
Memes
flow through the blogosphere. There are whole chucks of Catholic and or right
wing “Born Agains” or the new flavor of the month title is “evangelicals” blogs
that repeat, reverberate and praise the Douthat Vatican echo chamber.
There was
quite a stir about the dangerous “Pantheism” theology threat of the Movie
Avatar that Ross probably got nominated for a Pulitzer on. Straight off the secret? GOP/RCC daily
talking points sheet. Wink. Nod.
In a way,
Douthat is the Ivy League version of the Beer and Sauerkraut Bill Donohue at
the Catholic League directed toward the Church Militants, “igorant enlightment”
for the lower classes on the right and wrong American Catholic PC political
opinion and positions of the hour, day and month these days. It is not like the Catholics ever read the NT.
Which
brings me to the latest politically labeled religion piece by Ross trying to
piss on Mainstream American Protestantism.
I have
read many blogs in response of this piece of political trash masquerading as
religion.
Give it a read and form your own individual opinion while you still have that option in a "free" America.
When did
any Christianity become “Liberal” or “Conservative”?
Those are
political terms!
And once
this form of "Boutique Journalism" courtesy
of the RNC and Ross Douthat interjects terms like liberal or conservative into
the opinion page of the Beard NYT, then the parameters of the argument are
already set. The argument is won by the controlling out of touch corrupt 1% elites trying to use one more ploy to prostitute religion into a political matrix of the 2012 election.
Christianity
is neither liberal or conservative. It just is.
And for
those of you that need a visitor’s guide to Christianity, take the Douthat tour
and drink in his religion and in the end wake up in bed with dross of the soul.
Your
soul.
.
Labels:
Boutique Journalism,
Catholic League,
conservative,
Jerry Falwell,
Knights of Columbus,
Liberal,
loans,
New York Times,
NYT,
Outsourced Journalism,
religion,
Ross Douthat,
Vatican,
Vatican Desk
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Borgia Porn! - Pharisee Ray Burke Gets Off on Ritual and Not the Message of the Gospels - The New RC Church
Latin Mass Porn!
Jesus may or may not have been gay, but he was no gold encrusted Vatican/Pharisee Bishop!
.
Sausage Fest - Penn State Board of Trustees
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Sausage
fest BTW is an urban street term by where a bunch of males get together to do
whatever and their number far exceeds any number of possible females present.
Kinda like a motorcycle club.
There
are 32 members of the Penn State Board of Trustees. With the Governor and State
Cabinet members automatic appointees along with the Governor crony appointees,
that makes 11 out of 32 or one third of the Board of Trustees beholding to Tom
Corbett, the Republican Governor. No
wonder he can be an absentee member at most meetings. His buddies have got his back. ( All guys by the way, no females, sausage
fest?…)
Then
you have about one third of the Trustees appointed by the Alumni. ( 9 seats – 3 females )
Then
the agribusiness people get 6 votes.
Penn State was the original Farming College of the State of Pennsylvania
before MasterCard and Visa took over. ( 6
seats – 1 female )
And
the last 6 seats are for business and industry – CEOs/Wall Street – ( 6 seats –
2 females )
That
makes 6 females out of 32 or 19% of the Board of Trustees.
But
not to worry about the guys outnumbering the chicks. The University sets aside
$10,000 out of student activities fees for the one Saturday in November “Cunt Fest”
that actually has females trying to address legitimate female issues on a largely
outnumbered in the Board Room atmosphere at Penn State.
In
a preliminary response to NCAA inquiries, the Board has already set aside $2.6
million dollars of taxpayer's money as a penalty of sorts for the whole Sandusky/Paterno Sausage Fest S.N.A.F.U. situation over at the Athletic Department. The
money is earmarked for Pennsylvania groups dealing with female rape and child abuse
issues.
As
for the daily and weekend Keg Fest that makes Penn State the drunkest University
in the nation, Playboy’s top ten list of Party Colleges does not list Penn
State because the top ten list has to do with amateur level and not “professional” industrial strength institutions on the matter of alcohol consumption. Whatever.
All
in all a very large isolated dysfunctional secretive male dominated
organization funded mostly on the taxpayer’s dime and setting the standards of
excellence regarding child rape and criminal cover up etc. in house.
Just
a normal slice of 21st Century Corrupt Crony Corporate American Pie.
Have
a nice day.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Take the Statue Down Penn State!
http://content.usatoday.com/communities/campusrivalry/post/2012/07/airplane-banner-joe-paterno-statue-/1#.UAYhwLRfFP0
Residents of State College could look into the sky and find one person's opinion on whether Joe Paterno's statue should stay outside the Penn State campus.
An airplane banner was being flown Tuesday morning with the message, "Take down the statue or we will."
What is the Carbon Footprint of the extended Romney Family?
What is the carbon footprint on Planet Earth of the extended Romney rabbit hutch, hutches?
I think it a fair question. What is the footprint of empty nesters
Mitt and Ann?
What is the carbon footprint of his Trust Fund Sons and their
spouses? (His Trust Fund grand kids?) :
Tagg (Taggert) and Jenn (Jennifer)
Matt (Matthew) and Laur (Laurie)
Josh (Joshua) and Jenn II (Jennifer)
Ben (Benjamin) and Ande (Andelynn)
Craig (Craig) and Mare (Mary)
What is the carbon footprint of Mitt (Willard) and Ann (Ann)’s
twelve to fifteen grandkids? I lost track, don’t want to waste my time in
researching their name tags, and for the sake of politics, they should remain
out of any direct political spotlight? The grown sons and spouses are a
different matter.
What is the carbon footprint of Mitt (Willard)’s - how many are
there - car elevators? In how many mansions?
His automobiles?
His private jets?
His private jets?
His horses?
His illegal grooms, gardeners, housekeepers and nannies?
The family seems to gravitate between Boston and San Diego, two
sons each, and one in Salt Lake City. What is the carbon footprint of a Romney
Family Thanksgiving get together? Holy Cow! Etc.
I know it is not right to ask these non-PC questions about wealth. The new philosophy, civic, Robber Baron American market economy religion says to respect without question what any MAN can steal and keep for his daily bread, even it is a trillion loaves of bread. I perhaps disagree with that on many levels.
I don’t have the answer to the carbon footprint thing. In a way I
never thought about it much until I saw a family portrait of Mitt’s extended
brood, combined with his money and I suddenly think that the planet may really
be in danger of tipping over into some future cosmic abyss considering the
possible scale of electricity and carbon fuel consumption in America with the
Romneys as typical example. I could be wrong.
Somebody tell me I am wrong and tell me that the Romney/Bain
fortune is being used to Green the world and the future of mankind. How perhaps
idealistic of me and how perhaps none of my business?
What is the destructive power of money, robber barons compared to
the people who have lost their lives, dignity and purpose in life for the sake
of Bain Profits?
What does it profit a man if he gain the whole world and suffer
the loss of his Bain Dividend?
But it all balances itself out in the third world. Right?
What Romney and his dynasty use up in earth’s resources, those same resources can
be denied to starving or better yet never to be born children on the other side
of the planet?
It all balances itself out. Right?
It all balances itself out. Right?
.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Tribute to Vandana Shiva - The Poison Seed
THE POISON SEED
Her grandfather, who
had raised her, was exclaiming something loud in the back garden as we toured
all the structures that now were built on the once empty patch of land.
The old man had been allotted this fairly large plot of land by the state. It had been sold to him very cheaply. I estimated the original lot to be about three quarters of an acre.
On that lush tropical landscape had once been many more trees than were now present and situated in between structures. Even so, the existing species of large trees grew avocados, mangoes and bananas. These had helped feed a large family on a state road worker's salary.
The main house was plain. Large dormitory like rooms were where the boys and girls had sleep. There was a common room or living room and a small kitchen. This structure had been built wall by wall, room by room, over the years. Extra savings went into concrete blocks on a regular basis.
The back of the property had once housed a large pig sty. Pork had been the cash crop that supplemented tropical fruits and the staple rice and beans diet. Pork had helped purchase the blocks. Piglets had been temporary play companions to poor children.
In fact, she had told me that as a child, the only dolls she played with were homemade things made of corn husks, the corn of which had fed the pigs. Corn silks adorned the corn husk dolls as hair.
The old man was quite animated.
The land now held five houses where at one time stood one.
As the nearby town grew outward, modest houses started to dot the countryside. Streets were paved. Second generations built a second story onto parents' houses.
Zoning laws changed in the expanded town. No pigs could be raised within the new city limits. Now only a few old hens pecked at the ground and made the occasional stew.
I asked for a translation. What was the old man shouting about?
Her cousin had inherited a one room house on the back of the property. He had recently married and his new bride had planted some shrubs to decorate this desolate corner of the original lot.
The literal translation of the bride's plantings came to words translated as "poison seed".
"It is a poison seed!" was what he repeated over and over again in Spanish.
The old man was upset. Everything on his property in terms of plants had been always been edible. Now, a stranger, the wife of a grandson was planting a decorative plant and not an edible one.
The old man's bubble had burst. The world outside his front porch could have changed in some measurable way over the years but it somehow had not touched a chord.
His sons had gone to college. One daughter was a registered nurse. The ones who had emigrated to the mainland had their own measure of material success in the post World War II boom in America.
He had at least thirty grandchildren and umpteen great grandchildren. All the changes over the last half a century registered in some proportion that matched the land that he stood on and owned.
Now, on this day, paradise seemed corrupted and lost. The people on the land now did not understand his vision for the land. The land must feed his family. A plant, a foreign seed from the outside world had invaded.
The seeds of the destruction were planted. His vision, his temporary footprint in the scheme of things, was disappearing before his eyes. So he shouted in his own way.
His time had passed. Now he knew and recognized that fact.
This he expressed with great passion.
The old man had been allotted this fairly large plot of land by the state. It had been sold to him very cheaply. I estimated the original lot to be about three quarters of an acre.
On that lush tropical landscape had once been many more trees than were now present and situated in between structures. Even so, the existing species of large trees grew avocados, mangoes and bananas. These had helped feed a large family on a state road worker's salary.
The main house was plain. Large dormitory like rooms were where the boys and girls had sleep. There was a common room or living room and a small kitchen. This structure had been built wall by wall, room by room, over the years. Extra savings went into concrete blocks on a regular basis.
The back of the property had once housed a large pig sty. Pork had been the cash crop that supplemented tropical fruits and the staple rice and beans diet. Pork had helped purchase the blocks. Piglets had been temporary play companions to poor children.
In fact, she had told me that as a child, the only dolls she played with were homemade things made of corn husks, the corn of which had fed the pigs. Corn silks adorned the corn husk dolls as hair.
The old man was quite animated.
The land now held five houses where at one time stood one.
As the nearby town grew outward, modest houses started to dot the countryside. Streets were paved. Second generations built a second story onto parents' houses.
Zoning laws changed in the expanded town. No pigs could be raised within the new city limits. Now only a few old hens pecked at the ground and made the occasional stew.
I asked for a translation. What was the old man shouting about?
Her cousin had inherited a one room house on the back of the property. He had recently married and his new bride had planted some shrubs to decorate this desolate corner of the original lot.
The literal translation of the bride's plantings came to words translated as "poison seed".
"It is a poison seed!" was what he repeated over and over again in Spanish.
The old man was upset. Everything on his property in terms of plants had been always been edible. Now, a stranger, the wife of a grandson was planting a decorative plant and not an edible one.
The old man's bubble had burst. The world outside his front porch could have changed in some measurable way over the years but it somehow had not touched a chord.
His sons had gone to college. One daughter was a registered nurse. The ones who had emigrated to the mainland had their own measure of material success in the post World War II boom in America.
He had at least thirty grandchildren and umpteen great grandchildren. All the changes over the last half a century registered in some proportion that matched the land that he stood on and owned.
Now, on this day, paradise seemed corrupted and lost. The people on the land now did not understand his vision for the land. The land must feed his family. A plant, a foreign seed from the outside world had invaded.
The seeds of the destruction were planted. His vision, his temporary footprint in the scheme of things, was disappearing before his eyes. So he shouted in his own way.
His time had passed. Now he knew and recognized that fact.
This he expressed with great passion.
LA SEMILLA DE VENENO
Su abuelo, quien la
había criado, exclamaba a un ruido fuerte en el jardín de atrás, como hicimos
una gira por todas las estructuras que ahora se construyeron en el parche una
vez vacío de la tierra.
El viejo había sido
asignado esta parcela bastante grande de la tierra por el Estado. Se había
vendido a él a precios muy bajos. Estimé el lote original de estar cerca de
tres cuartos de acre.
En ese paisaje
tropical había sido muchos más árboles que ahora estaban presentes y situado
entre las estructuras. Aun así, las especies existentes de árboles de gran
tamaño creció aguacates, mangos y bananas. Estos habían ayudado a alimentar a
una familia grande en el salario de un trabajador por carretera estatal.
La casa principal era
evidente. Dormitorio grande como las habitaciones donde estaban los chicos y
chicas tenían el sueño. Había una habitación común o sala de estar y una cocina
pequeña. Esta estructura había sido construida la pared por pared, habitación por
habitación, en los últimos años. Ahorro extra entró en bloques de hormigón
sobre una base regular.
La parte trasera de la
propiedad había albergado una vez a la pocilga de gran tamaño. Carne de cerdo
ha sido el cultivo comercial que complementa las frutas tropicales y el arroz
de primera necesidad y la dieta judías. Carne de cerdo había ayudado a comprar
los bloques. Los lechones habían sido compañeros de juego temporales a los
niños pobres.
De hecho, ella me
había dicho que cuando era niño, las muñecas sólo jugaba con las cosas fueron
hechas en casa hechas de hojas de maíz, el maíz que había alimentado a los
cerdos. Sedas de maíz adornaban las muñecas de hoja de maíz como el pelo.
El anciano estaba muy
animado.
La tierra ahora en
manos de cinco casas en las que en un momento se quedó uno.
En la cercana ciudad
creció hacia el exterior, casas modestas comenzó a aparecer en el campo. Las
calles estaban pavimentadas. La segunda generación construyó un segundo piso en
las casas de los padres.
Las leyes de
zonificación cambiado en la ciudad ampliada. No hay cerdos podría plantearse
dentro de los límites de la ciudad nueva. Ahora sólo unas pocas gallinas viejas
picoteó el suelo e hizo el guiso de vez en cuando.
Le pedí por una
traducción. ¿Cuál fue el viejo gritos?
Su primo había
heredado una casa de una habitación en la parte posterior de la propiedad. Se
había casado recientemente y su nueva esposa había plantado unos arbustos para
decorar este desolado rincón del lote original.
La traducción literal
de las plantaciones de la novia llegó a las palabras traducidas como
"semillas de veneno".
"Es una semilla
veneno!" era lo que repetía una y otra vez en español.
El viejo estaba
molesto. Todo en su propiedad en términos de las plantas había sido siempre ha
sido comestible. Ahora, un extraño, la esposa de un nieto estaba plantando una
planta decorativa y no un hongo sano.
Burbuja del anciano se
había reventado. El mundo exterior porche de su casa podría haber cambiado de
una forma medible a través de los años, pero por alguna razón no había tocado
la fibra sensible.
Sus hijos se habían
ido a la universidad. Una de sus hijas era una enfermera registrada. Los que
habían emigrado al continente tenía su propia medida del éxito material en el
post boom de la Segunda Guerra Mundial en Estados Unidos.
Tenía por lo menos
treinta nietos y bisnietos incontables. Todos los cambios a lo largo del último
medio siglo registrados en una proporción que coincide con la tierra que se
encontraba en la propiedad y.
Ahora, en este día, el
paraíso parecía dañado y perdido. La gente en la tierra ahora no entendían su
visión de la tierra. La tierra debe alimentar a su familia. Una planta, una
semilla extranjera del mundo exterior había invadido.
Las semillas de la
destrucción fueron plantadas. Su visión, su huella temporal en el esquema de
las cosas, fue desapareciendo ante sus ojos. Así que gritó a su manera.
Su tiempo había
pasado. Ahora que sabía y reconoció ese hecho.
Esto lo expresó con
gran pasión.
जहर के बीज
उसके दादा, जो उसे उठाया था पीछे बगीचे में जोर कुछ चकित था के रूप में हम सभी संरचनाओं कि अब देश के एक बार खाली पैच पर बनाया गया था का दौरा किया.
बूढ़े आदमी राज्य द्वारा देश के काफी बड़े भूखंड आवंटित किया गया था. यह उसके लिए किया गया था बहुत सस्ते में बेच दिया. मैं बहुत मूल के एक एकड़ के तीन तिमाहियों के बारे में होने का अनुमान है.
कि रसीला उष्णकटिबंधीय परिदृश्य पर एक बार बहुत से अधिक पेड़ से अब मौजूद थे और संरचनाओं के बीच में स्थित किया गया था. फिर भी, बड़े पेड़ों की मौजूदा प्रजातियों मक्खन फल, आम, केले और बढ़ी. इन मदद की थी एक राज्य सड़क कार्यकर्ता वेतन पर एक बड़े परिवार को खिलाने के.
मुख्य घर सादा था. कमरे की तरह बड़े छात्रावास थे जहां लड़कों और लड़कियों की नींद था. एक आम कमरे या कमरे में रहने वाले और एक छोटा रसोईघर था. इस संरचना दीवार, कमरे से कमरे से किया गया था दीवार पिछले कुछ वर्षों में, बनाया गया है. अतिरिक्त बचत एक नियमित आधार पर ठोस ब्लॉक में चला गया.
संपत्ति के पीछे एक बार एक बड़े सुअर शूकरशाला रखे था. पोर्क नकदी फसल है कि उष्णकटिबंधीय फल और प्रधान चावल और बीन्स आहार पूरक किया गया था. पोर्क मदद की थी ब्लॉक खरीद. बेबी सूअरों गरीब बच्चों को अस्थायी खेलने साथी गया था.
वास्तव में, वह मुझसे कहा था कि एक बच्चे के रूप में, केवल गुड़िया वह साथ खेला घर मक्का कोर किए गए बातें, जिनमें से सूअरों को खिलाया गया था मकई थे. मकई रेशम बाल के रूप में मकई भूसी गुड़िया सजी.
बूढ़े आदमी काफी एनिमेटेड था.
भूमि अब पांच घरों जहां एक समय में एक खड़ा था का आयोजन किया.
पास के शहर के रूप में जावक वृद्धि हुई है, मामूली घरों के ग्रामीण इलाकों डॉट को शुरू कर दिया. गलियां, पक्का थे. दूसरा पीढ़ियों के माता पिता के घर पर एक दूसरी कहानी का निर्माण किया.
भवन निर्माण कानूनों का विस्तार शहर में बदल दिया है. कोई सूअरों नए शहर की सीमा के भीतर उठाया जा सकता है. अब केवल कुछ पुराने मुर्गियाँ जमीन पर उठाया है और कभी कभी स्टू बनाया है.
मैं अनुवाद के लिए पूछा. क्या बूढ़े आदमी के बारे में चिल्ला रहा था?
उसका चचेरा भाई संपत्ति की पीठ पर एक कमरे के घर विरासत में मिला था. वह हाल ही में शादी की थी और अपनी नई दुल्हन कुछ झाड़ियों मूल बहुत से इस उजाड़ कोने को सजाने लगाया था.
दुल्हन लगाए झाड़ियों के शाब्दिक अनुवाद "जहर बीज के रूप में अनुवादित शब्दों के लिए आया था.
"यह एक जहर का बीज है!" वह क्या दोहराया और स्पेनिश में फिर.
बूढ़े आदमी परेशान था. पौधों के मामले में उसकी संपत्ति पर सब कुछ हमेशा किया गया था खाद्य किया गया. अब, एक अजनबी, एक पोता की पत्नी एक सजावटी पौधे रोपण किया गया था और नहीं एक खाद्य.
बूढ़े आदमी बुलबुला फट था. अपने सामने पोर्च के बाहर की दुनिया कुछ औसत दर्जे का रास्ता में पिछले कुछ वर्षों में बदल सकता है लेकिन यह किसी भी तरह एक ही राग नहीं छुआ था.
उसके बेटों को कॉलेज के लिए गया था. एक बेटी एक पंजीकृत नर्स थी. जो मुख्य भूमि के लिए कूच किया था के बाद अमेरिका में द्वितीय विश्व युद्ध के बूम में उनके सामग्री सफलता के अपने खुद के उपाय था.
वह कम से कम तीस पोते और अनेक महान पोते था. पिछली आधी सदी से अधिक सभी परिवर्तन कुछ अनुपात है कि कि वे देश पर खड़ा था और स्वामित्व मिलान में पंजीकृत.
अब, इस दिन पर, स्वर्ग और भ्रष्ट लग रहा था खो दिया. भूमि पर लोगों को अब देश के लिए उसकी दृष्टि समझ में नहीं आया. भूमि उसके परिवार को खिलाना चाहिए. एक संयंत्र है, बाहर की दुनिया से एक विदेशी बीज पर आक्रमण किया था.
विनाश के बीज बोए थे. उनकी दृष्टि, उसकी चीजों की योजना में अस्थायी पदचिह्न, अपनी आंखों के सामने गायब था. तो वह अपने तरीके से चिल्लाया.
अपने समय के पारित किया था. अब वह जानता था और है कि वास्तव में मान्यता प्राप्त है.
यह वह महान जुनून के साथ व्यक्त किया.
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In Honor and in Tribute to the work of activist Vandana Shiva on behalf of the poor voiceless people of the world.
(As I stated previously, William Blake already beat me to the title The Poison Tree. I change it gladly to The Poison Seed in order to help the poor of this planet achieve Nutritional Freedom.)
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Tribute to all the Victims of Sexual Violence at Penn State - Known and Unknown
Tribute to all the Victims of Sexual Violence at Penn State - Known and Unknown
FLY!
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Monsanto – The New Bread of Life – God? – Vandana Shiva thinks not!
I ran into Bill Moyers Journal with the Indian Activist Sandana Shiva and my
third eye opened up in terms of putting the Global concept on the individual
level that I try to follow and document.
But the disturbing thing is how International Corporate Agri-Business is
gobbling up the third world like in India and killing off hundreds of thousands of
farmers through suicide who can no longer live or compete on their small plots
of once fertile and plentiful food producing land. They can’t compete with the
new God Monsanto – and its patented re-definitions of Food and God.
I am getting old. I can remember
when Monsanto was a chemical company primarily into the production of linoleum.
Linoleum? What’s that? Told you I was old.
But my getting old is not the issue. The issue is how the global
corporations are taking the global concept to a control all level of the
human existence. Humans no longer count
in the Agri-business global model.
Humans and Farmers – being tossed off the Global Corporate Spreadsheet genetically
engineered at Wharton, Brown and Harvard.
Monsanto is not God! Though it is trying to play God all over the planet
with its genetically altered food, patenting it and monopolizing worldwide food
production in that only its patented seeds are the only seeds available now to many
farmers in the third world.
That lies that genetically altered seeds produce more food, greater
yield, are even believed by fools like Bill Gates of Microsoft. Bill better get off his high horse if he
genuinely wants to help humanity and not corporations.
Harden Up Penn State! Joe Paterno just like RC Bishops – Coward and Child Rapist Enabler – Nothing More
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| Face of a Hero or an Enabler? |
It
is difficult for people who only knew Joe Paterno through the lens of football
to use other language to describe him.
And
in a way if that was all he did with his prestige and power, then football is
all he would want or deserve to be remembered for now. But he enabled Sandusky and any accomplices
he had, to systematically glean the countryside for boys without fathers to
befriend victimize and rape these children for decades through the Second Mile tax free charity.
What
Joe Paterno knew was more than the “I am innocent, he was a saint “ statements
coming out the mouths of his family at present, a family that benefits from the
millions of hush money Joe demanded from the Penn State Board of Trustees and
got to take the truth to the grave with him.
His wife’s church on campus is a chantry, a
place with masses will be said forever for the soul of a corporate bastard that
cared only about himself, his job and his phony reputation as a nice guy. Tell
the families of all of Jerry Sandusky’s rape victims that Joe Paterno was
basically a nice guy. Yeah right. Bastard!
His
statue at Beaver Stadium is the last vestige of the innocence of the public and
the public’s interest in football and the myth of Joe Paterno. That is why it is so hard to scrap the statue
at a junk yard where it now belongs.
That and the fact that the fat cat donors coming into home games in
their private and corporate jets want the myth of Joe Paterno to surround the
surrealistic feel good world of Saturday afternoon college football. They don’t want to hear about victims. They
don’t care about victims.
That fat cat rich donors, some of them, are just as guilty
as Jerry, Joe, and the Board of Trustees for letting child rape be something
that poor boys had to endure at the expense of the corporate greed, power and
prestige reality of American College Football.
In
a sense the scandal, as a mild term or descriptive, the crime of child
trafficking of the Second Mile Charity for Sandusky and possibly his friends and
rich Penn State donors, is a criminal matter in secular terms.
It
is difficult for people also who have only known their parish priests as
patriarchs, mentors or even friends but the bottom end of a hierarchical ladder
that claims monopoly on the divine, to recognize that in the ranks, some
priests are rotten apples and that the whole institution to protect itself will say anything, do anything, spend anything in order to protect the prestige of the religious
institution.
That
is why the American Bishops are trying to reopen the contraception matrix, to
change the subject, in order to hide the
ongoing buggery behind the scenes in the Church that the Bishops refuse and or
are incapable of dealing with in human terms, not institutional terms.
I
think that a lot of people are cowards that cannot give up the myths and fantasies
that hurt others while they gluttonize on their favorite desserts of Football or God.
Football is nothing more than a game. But Sandusky raping young boys is a matter of life and death, of innocence lost.
In the aftermath of Sandusky's arrest, Paterno was treated as a victim, a man who was caught up in something he wasn't aware of. Now we know that was a lie.
Freeh produced the documents showing Paterno, his family and his legion of supporters lied in order to protect Paterno's name. All he cared about was breaking the all-time record set by Grambling State head coach Eddie Robinson.
Paterno, and the other Penn State lackeys, had to know that turning Sandusky in could prevent "JoePa" from breaking that record. So they all stayed silent, and all the while young boys suffered in their own silence.
When it's time to name the great coaches of college football, Robinson, Bear Bryant, Amos Alonzo Stagg and Knute Rockne will certainly be mentioned. Prior to the Freeh report, Paterno would have been on that list. But his actions in the Sandusky affair destroyed everything he accomplished in his career.
Great coaches make the tough calls. When Paterno failed to make the toughest call of his life -- to the police to turn in his longtime friend -- he did more than cost his team a victory. Young boys lost something they can never recover.
That's what cowards do, and Joe Paterno was a coward.
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