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Archive | August, 2013
Shifty Shades of Gay. By Steve Swindells.
Shifty Shades of Gay. By Steve Swindells..
via Shifty Shades of Gay. By Steve Swindells..
Shifty Shades Of Gay
By Steve Swindells
Amongst the many tribes, creeds and nationalities of the so-called 'black community' – which is just as heterogeneous as the so-called 'Gay Community' – there exists a mysterious, cultural curiosity known as DL.
This is an acronym of Down-low, which is a term pertaining to masculine, black men who like to have sex with men, but who generally pretend to be straight – especially to themselves. They're often in relationships, or even marriages, with unsuspecting women, who would probably never even imagine that their big, 'butch' blokes like cock and ass. After all, gay men are just a bunch of girly men, aren't they? And there's no such thing as a gay, black man, right?
HAH! What planet do you, or they, they live on?
There was an American TV series called 'The DL Chronicles', which I've never seen. I can only hope it's better than that appallingly awful US show 'Noah's Arc' which, unfortunately, I have seen a couple of episodes of. It features a bunch of stereotypical, black queens swishing around and being…well… queens. A cringe-making, gay-blacksploitation embarrassment, as far as I'm concerned,
My favourite black, gay character on TV is definitely the handsome, masculine, wise and intelligent cop, played by Mathew St Patrick, who's the boyfriend of the badly-behaved, gay son in the brilliant and much-lauded 'Six Feet Under'. In the series, he's most definitely not on the DL. What a great role-model for young, black men who think that they may be gay.
My good friend Monty has been homeless for a while and is sofa-surfing with friends and family in London. He stays with me quite regularly and is mostly a total pleasure to spend time with – unless I happen to trigger his tumultuous temper, which has, unfortunately, happened on a couple of occasions, usually when we've had a few drinks, thereby triggering my equally tempestuous temper! Thankfully, these rare explosions end as swiftly as they begin, and we always end-up apologising to each other profusely and giving each other big, conciliatory hugs.
Monty is a thirty year-old, gay, multi-mixed-race (Lebanese/South African/Trinadian/Tunisian), black man who's about to finish a course in massage therapy. He's planning to get a job working for one of the major cruise lines in the Caribbean – his tutor has already sent him to an informal 'open-day' interview with one of biggest tour operators, who informed her thereafter that they would definitely offer him a job, once he's qualified, which he will be next month. Monty evidently charmed the pants off them, though not literally, of course. That might have qualified as a corporate-cruise orgy!
Monty is charming, articulate, complex, intelligent, funny, immaculately-dressed and extremely good-looking. And, in case you're wondering: no, we haven't and nor will we. He's not my type – despite his looks – and I'm not his. End of, as the saying goes.
I've met Monty's mother – we took her to GhettoFabulous, London's biggest and best monthly, 'urban', polysexual (but mostly gay-black) club in South London. It's about the only club I go to these days. Not only is the music – R&B, house and various variants of reggae – fantastic, but the eye-candy count is usually around sixty percent – which is incredibly high – and Monty is certainly in the top-ten percent. He's as handsome as his mother is beautiful (she's only forty-eight). She chatted to me as we smoked a joint (made with herbal tobacco, as I gave-up smoking many years ago) on the large, heated, 'smoking terrace', and explained that Monty was actually christened Montgomery, after her favourite actor, Montgomery Clift.
'It's a shame he turned-out to be so ugly,' I quipped – Monty's mum looked momentarily non-plussed – 'but at least he's got a sense of humour, that's why I call him Monty Python!' Then she roared with laughter – a great big, throaty chuckle – and gave me a hearty high five… then slipped me an E, with a conspiratorial wink. What a naughty mum!
Sometimes, Monty randomly shows me pictures of stunningly beautiful, masculine-looking, muscular, mostly mix-race guys, with their tops off, on his smart-phone. He enjoys clocking my reaction (which is mostly jaw-dropping), I reckon. At first, I assumed that they were perhaps porn stars and/or models (many of them are indeed the latter), but it soon transpires that they are either his 'exes'; people that he's recently met – or what us poofs refer to as fuck-buddies. He certainly is a magnet for beautiful, masculine men. Unfortunately, many of them are apparently on the DL.
A couple of months ago, when he started his Level Two course (he's now on Level Three), he'd told me that there were several 'hotties' studying massage as well. One in particular had caught his eye – and, apparently, vice-versa: 'Apart from being stunning-looking, with an awesome, muscular physique,' Monty had told me, 'he's black, but with huge BLUE eyes!'
"You're kidding!' I'd responded, 'Are you sure they're not tinted contact lenses?'
'Deff not,' said Monty, 'he's mixed-race: Greek-African, and he's called – are you ready? – Apollo. He makes sure that he sits beside me all the time in class and is always volunteering to massage me, and yesterday, he walked me to Baker Street Station, even though his station is Marylebone Overground. And, he also asked for my number.'
'Hmm, 'I said, stroking my goatee in an ironic fashion, 'I suspect that your gaydar monitor is off the scale!' Monty nodded and smiled; then I added: 'Greek-African – that's highly unusual – although, strangely enough, I had a boyfriend who boasted exactly the same exotic, mix-race parentage, in the 80s – he didn't have blue eyes, but he rejoiced in the name Achilles, I kid you not, and I used to refer to him as a Bleek.'
'I'll bet he was a bit of a heel,' quipped Monty, as his phone pinged, indicating that he'd received a text 'but why Bleek?'
'Black-Greek, of course, just like Blindian is Black-Indian,' I said, then added, 'I was with Achilles for over two years, but he wasn't a heel per-se, perhaps more of a high heel!
'Duh… obvs! That's brilliant, I'll ask Apollo if anyone has ever referred to him as Bleek at college tomorrow,' said Monty, chuckling, then suddenly gasped and pulled an exaggerated jaw-drop face, looked at me with a broad grin, handed me the phone and said: 'You are so not going to believe this – I wonder if you can guess who it is…'
I have to confess that my eyes popped out of my head as I clocked the photo of an incredibly beautiful, muscular body (the head was deliberately out-of-shot, a typical DL trait) – obviously taken in a gym – with an impressive hard-on poking into a strategically-placed, white towel, on which he'd scrawled with a large felt-tip pen: Go Obama!
Monty carried on grinning, as a psychic thought popped into my head: 'OMG, it's Bleek, the godlike Apollo, isn't it?'
'It sure as hell is,' he replied, his head now shaking in an I don't believe it fashion, 'and he's invited me over to his place in Hampstead on Friday!'
He then showed me a picture on his phone of yet another stunning and muscular (this time much-tattooed), mixed-race man who was posing topless with a combat rifle, wearing camouflage fatigues, in what looked suspiciously like Afganistan.
'Bloody hell – who the fuck's this bloke, giving it loads?' I asked, handing him back his phone, wondering if I might run out of exclamatory words or phrases – other than 'Wow!' – in reaction to this procession of beauties that were waltzing before my eyes like actors in an imagined play, featuring the most beautiful, masculine, black men in the known universe.
'Oh, that's Paolo,' said Monty nonchalantly, now texting away again on his phone, 'he's a Blatino, with Brazilian parents'
A thought occurred to me that Brazil is one of the few genuinely multi-racial, 'rainbow nations' on this earth, along with South Africa, The US, Cuba, Canada (just) and The UK. Then I asked: 'And who might this stunning-looking man be to you?'
'Oh, Paolo is, or was, a fuck buddy, he's in the army and is also a model' he said, tapping away on his phone from the chill zone in my living area; 'but he lied to me.'
'How so?' I asked through the open door of my studio, where I was multi-tasking away, checking my emails and advancing various, creative endeavors. 'So, that pic was taken in Afganistan – and how did he lie to you?'
'Yes, he was in Helmand province for a six-month tour of duty – and he still has his fantastic legs.'
'Dark,' I commented drily, whilst uploading one of my latest mixes on Garage Band * subliminal commercial break alert* a cool collaboration with a soulfully talented Israeli girl called Hadas Balas, whom I'd met and jammed with – instant rapport – at a house-warming party for my new neighbour Doctor Clive – who has his own circus, as you do, and is also a real doctor – earlier this year *commercial ends*.
'Quite,' said Monty in his usual sprightly fashion, then continued: ' Well, we'd been fucking for a while – and he really is a fantastic shag – but he's on the DL. He's not even out to his friends – even the army guys who he has sex with… and there are several – he's shown me pics'.'
'Damn…' I said (inadvertently crashing my MAC by being impatient – and through having way too many windows and tabs open. Firefox is usually the main culprit), 'that's pathetic!'
'It is a bit,' said Monty, with a kind-of rueful disdain, then added:' Anyways, I kind of gave him an ultimatum. Either he came out to his friends, colleagues and family, or he wasn't gonna get any more of my ass! So he promised me he'd start by telling his parents. I was pleased, and naively thought we might be heading into a genuine relationship as a result, especially as he'd finished with his long-term girlfriend, ostensibly to be with me. But I was wrong. On the night that he'd supposedly confessed all to his parents, in Surbiton, I was supposed to go over to his place in Kilburn, after his return. But he was suddenly unavailable. When I texted him to ask why, he said that he was hanging out with his army mates and 'chilling'.
'That was somewhat insensitive.' I suggested.
'Indeed it was,' agreed Monty; 'he insisted, however, that he'd told his parents. But my instinct, however, told me otherwise. So I went over to his place at One in the morning and banged on his door until he opened it – looking fabulous as ever in a pair of running shorts. I dismissed all thoughts of lust, and, when we went inside, I accused him of lying just so that he could continue to have sex with me. He tried to deny it, but his eyes told me the truth, and I promptly left.'
'That's really sad,' I said, as my MAC stuttered back into life, 'that's DL for you. Perhaps it should stand for damn lies. Looks like he wanted to have his cakes – and to eat them too!'
'You know what I'm saying?' Said Monty, slightly plaintively. His phone pinged again and his eyes widened as he read the text: 'You're not going to believe this…'
'Paolo's asked you to marry him?' I suggested, jokingly.
'Nope, but Apollo the Bleek has asked me over right now, says he's got a bottle of voddy and some nice skunk. I'm gagging!'
'Just as well you've got the day off tomorrow then.' I said drily.
The next day, Monty rolled-in at around 2pm and slumped onto my chill-zone-come-guest-bed in the living area. 'God! I'm hungover!' He moaned, rolling his eyes.
'So… what happened?' I asked.
'He got me really drunk and vaguely seduced me, in a clumsy sort of way, then laid-back and let me do all the work!
'Typical behaviour of a DL!' I said, before Monty promptly fell asleep.
A few days later, he came 'round after college and exclaimed:' The Bleek is, as of now, excommunicated!'
Why, what happened?'
'All the guys were in the showers (the course took place in an up-market health club in Marylebone) after a work-out, and he made that typical oh-so-straight, alleged joke, you know: be careful you don't drop the soap in the shower guys! Everyone laughed, except me; I was furious with him. It's a matter of principal, you can't be hypocritical like that, it makes me fuckin' sick! '
'Did you express your disgust in front of everyone?' I asked.
'Nearly… I had to bite my lip to stop myself, but nah, I told him when he tried to walk me to the station, and stated in no uncertain terms that I don't live a lie, and I don't wanna be friends with people who do, and walked off.'
'Good on ya!' I said, giving him a hug, then simply said: 'respect!'
More recently, during his Level Three course, Monty reported a frisson of flirtation with a great big black hunk, a semi-pro rugby player called Mack, who was showing interest in being his 'new best friend'. Monty told me that Mack was an awesome figure of a man, and that the gaydar needles were seemingly flickering on the dials as well. Or was he fooling himself?
The funny thing was that Bleek was also on the course – and was apparently watching Monty and Mack like a hawk.
'Did you say 'hi' to Bleek?' I asked Monty.
'Yeah – of course,' he replied, 'But, I was just polite and kept my distance. Then Mack asked me to be his partner in a stretching session in the gym and… well, I do believe that there was a level of tumescence in his shorts.'
I laughed and said: 'All hail the latest admirer!'
A few days later, we were having dinner (my new signature dish of salmon fillets marinated in lemon, honey, coriander, soy sauce and sesame seeds then char-grilled with courgettes, red onion and baby corn) and Monty received a text. He turned to me with a serious jaw-drop look and passed me his phone. The pic' was of a stunningly beautiful, black body – but with no head (no surprise there then). The guy had a huge hard-on poking through a white towel in what was obviously a gym. 'Is this history repeating itself,' I asked Monty. ' who the fuck is it this time? Mack?'
'You got it babe.' Replied Monty, with his winning smile.
The next day, after college, Monty reported back to me that he'd informed (a no-doubt slightly shocked) Mack that he simply shouldn't send pictures like that, as nothing was going to happen; but that it was cool to be friends. Mack apparently took this in stride, was not freaked-out, and was even more indulgent towards Monty as the day carried on – with Bleek observing their every move. I suggested to Monty that this might be… well, perhaps less of a DL situation than usual. Was my sixth sense smelling a burgeoning relationship – or just willing it to happen?
Mack is totally Monty's type. He loves those big, masculine, muscular guys, especially if they're intelligent and happily gay… and not on the DL.
Steve Swindells © 2013. All rights reserved
Tags: black, black-gay, closet, DL, Down-low, gay, London, mixed-race
Categories gay, Literature, Short Story, Writing
Another Entry In The Journal Of An Eternal Nocturnal. By Steve Swindells.
Another Entry In The Journal Of An Eternal Nocturnal.
(The stairwells – one already stripped of glass bricks – at the complex where I live)
For the fourth day on the trot I was rudely awakened, at 8.30am, by a loud, motorised buzzing noise as a hydraulic platform rose to the top of the stairwell which is on the Northern-western side of the gated enclave where I live in a so-called 'gritty area' (although now no doubt 'up and coming', being so close to Notting Hill), in North West London. This was followed by several, deafening thuds from a sledgehammer. A workman whooped as he threw the first of hundreds of dislodged glass bricks into a skip three stories below, with the inevitable, jarring crash of breaking glass. Despite my annoyance and irritation at this intrusion, I couldn't help inwardly smirking as I recalled an unusual, hit song by Nick Lowe from the late 70s called 'I Love The Sound Of Breaking Glass', featuring that most excellent and radically 'different', jagged piano solo, played, I think, by Chaz Jankel of The Blockheads. Correct me if I'm wrong (I've googled it big-time, but have been unable to find the answer).
I grabbed some pathetically ineffective orange (why?), foam earplugs from the bedside table and, despite the morning heat of the first day of August, closed the window, hoping that the ineffective double-glazing of my New York loft-style apartment – in an apparently jerry-built complex – might help shut out this appalling, galling, teeth-gnashing intrusion into my hitherto sweet dreams.
This being the journal of an eternal nocturnal, I'd been trying – with the help of some prescribed Zolpiden sleeping pills (having been previously informed about ' the upcoming works' in a 'round-robin' to all twenty five apartments) to adjust my body-clock back to what many disapproving 'normal' people would describe as 'conventional' hours – that is, going to sleep around midnight, or soon after, and waking up at around 8am. Hah! Dream on (as it were)!
I need lots of sleep because of my various illnesses (the main ones being chronic pancreatitis and emphysema), but – being an artistic polymath – there's nothing I like more than dancing with my muses, when most of the world around me is asleep, and the spirits are buzzing like cicadas around a secluded, funky beach house in some imagined sub-tropical paradise – with no neighbours to complain about the noise.
The complex where I live was seemingly jerry-built about twelve years ago, as all the huge, external, steel frames and double, glass brick-clad stairwells of this U-shaped building (which acts as a natural amplifier of sound – any sound – like a residential, whispering gallery) are covered in rust. Major rust – not just little blemishes. This signifies, as my landlord explained when I moved-in just over four years ago (although the flat itself is my current apogee regarding my dream-home), that the company which constructed the building had obviously used cheap steel to save money and, that there was an ongoing, insurance claim taking place.
(My kitchen-dining area)
This was only recently settled – hence my peace now being disturbed – and it transpires that both stairwells are apparently going to be totally rebuilt and the work is scheduled to take TEN bloody weeks. Nightmare. Teeth-gnashing, angle-grinder hell to follow, no doubt. I have a horrible feeling that I'm about to morph into Dustin Hoffman being cruelly, dentally tortured by Lawrence Olivier in the film Marathon Man – for TEN, agonising weeks.
Xxxxxxxinnnnnnnnngggggggg arrrrrrgh!
Then there's also the sound of drilling and banging and crashing emanating from the flat next door, through the thin, breeze-block wall behind my bed- head. This is because another apparent corner-cutting aspect of the construction of these otherwise fabulous, spacious, apartments, with their high ceilings, etched-glass panels and industrial detailing, is that the walls separating each flat are only one block thick! This means that if there are any noisy sexual antics taking place on either side, then all parties can hear every grunt and gasp, or screams and wails.
(My living area)
So, with the ridiculous orange earplugs stuffed in my ears, I tried to grab maybe another hour of sleep. It didn't work. The earplugs fell out (I'm a 'tosser and a turner', especially when aurally disturbed), and simply couldn't go back to sleep because of all the noise around me. Was this a karmic punishment for some vile crime that I'd committed in a past life? Could I have been Hitler, Dracula, Attila The Hun, or other evil villains in history – or just just some badly-behaved, low-life scoundrel? Answers on a psychic postcard from beyond the grave please.
I threw on my favourite pair of Nike, pale-green swimming shorts – this meant that I would be going swimming in them later – a nice, refreshing thought – took my wake-up handful of meds washed down with effervescent vitamin C; inhaled twice from my steroid inhaler (two in the morning, two after dinner); fed almighty JJ the God-cat (he must have Egyptian roots); then fired-up my MAC PRO (about ten years old and slightly knackered – but still somehow, mostly rocking) and checked my emails.
Glad to be reminded that my Linkedin.com connections have passed well-over a thousand people (many of them seriously influential) and that I was in the top 5% of profiles viewed last year.
Before you jump down my throat with any figurative, judgmental disapproval about my braggocio; may I simply inform you (not justifying anything – I NEED this kind of feedback) that I am a songwriter who's had much artistic and critical acclaim, but who has hardly ever made money out of this all-or-nothing career (despite covers from Roger Daltrey – he's done four – Lulu and Hawkwind – how's that for eclectic?). So, therefore I'm suffering under the possible illusion that online, social networking might help lead me to finally attaining some sort of 'hit' (via a cover version – I'm way too old) or enjoying having a big song in a hit movie. My songs tend be evocative and cinematic. Wide-screen. So, the latter is perhaps more probable.
I am sixty, after all. But I write songs right across the board, even R&B (are you shocked, maybe because I'm white? Why?). I am not hidebound by homogeny. Having said that, I suppose that my most successful song to date is 'Shot Down In The Night', from 1980, and I'm very proud of it. Did you know that there's an excellent, brand new CGI video of my original version of the song (as opposed to Hawkwind's cover version), which was created by the very talented Phil Gornal, on You Tube?
Talking of moving pictures, a few months ago, an American guy called Damon White inboxed me on Facebook and explained that he had written, and was also directing, a film called Holy Galileo, which he explained had been inspired to an extent by The Who singer Roger Daltrey's cover version of my song 'Martyrs And Madmen', which was released in 1982 (along with my song 'Treachery', that were the two 'bonus' tracks on Daltrey's compilation album 'Best Bits'. The two songs also made it onto his 'One Of The Boys' compilation, when it was reissued in 2006).
Damon then added that he had been unaware of my original, 1980 recording until I'd recently added it to my soundcloud and 'shared' this on FB and Twitter. The remastered track was taken from my double CD The Lost Albums, which was released in 2012 on Flicknife Records. Damon stated that, having suddenly discovered it, he really liked my original version, and wondered if it would be possible to use it in 'Holy Galileo', which he was shooting in Texas, Pisa, Florence and LA. He also suggested that he'd like to interview me on-camera when he visited London in the fall, to capture my back-story about how the song came about and why the follow-up albums to my 1980 release Fresh Blood (now available on CD and iTunes folks!) were never released: for the documentary about the making of the movie.
I replied that, in principal, that would be fine, providing that we could sort out a mutually acceptable deal regarding him using the song in the film, and assured him that I could guarantee 'fast clearance', as I now owned 100% of the publishing.
This helps to explain why, as an artist, I tend to put so much faith in social media. How would Damon have come across my original version of the song (as sung by Daltrey), which helped inspire his script, if it weren't for FB (Facebook)? How would I have collaborated with Jay Tausig in the US, and Pigs Of Oblivion in Canada were it not for FB? Many fresh opportunities are also arising through Linkedin.
As I continued my inadvertently early (thanks to the destruction of glass bricks), bleary-eyed, morning routine, I noted that I had 58 emails – mostly from peeps posting on Mixcloud (block-up my inbox, why don't you?), along with notifications, messages and requests from my large number of friends on Facebook, including Damon White.
Being in Pilot ('76) and Hawkwind/Hawklords ('78) then getting my second major, solo record deal with Atco/WEA (Warner Music) in '79 (I was signed in person by Doug Morris, who is now the all-powerful president of Sony Music), makes me wonder why good, even great, songs should not prevail in this corrupt and corrupted thing which we still refer to as 'the music industry'.
All you need is one big CHART hit and then you're set-up for life. Not me though. Still wishing and… hoping (as the great Dusty Springfield once sang).
Read/answered all my emails. Played with my Words With Friends 'opponents', then also online Scrabble; freerice.com (English vocabulary being my chosen field, starting at level 21); followed by Cryptoquote and Multipopword to wake up my brain – as is my wont – whilst drinking endless cups of black, minty tea (from a teapot, of course… I am British, after all).
I then checked my editing and proof-reading of Chapter Two of 'Mitty In India', the second volume of my mother's most excellent historical trilogy (I've already edited the first – 'Mitty's Letter' – which you can read chapter-by-chapter as a blog here.
Re-read the lyrics of 'Damage Limitation', my new transatlantic collaboration with Ralf Lenz, of Pigs Of Oblivion. What a wonderfully daft band name. I'm hoping to sing all the vocal parts in my digital, home studio tomorrow afternoon. The track is rocking. My lyrics are about an evil PR company called Cosmo Nought that exists only in space and is therefore beyond jurisdiction. Have I now invented vaguely poetic, political space rock?
Carried-on proof-reading Chapter 11 (will it be the final chapter?) of my good friend Thom Topham's multimedia autoBLOGography 'My Unplanned Obsolescence'. In this, he's been taken to New York City for the first time by an Italian Count in the fall of 1979, and he lands a major record deal within three days, leading to the 1980 album 'Torn Genes'. Thom is going to feature my 2010 remix of the title track in this chapter, he tells me.
This must have been the hottest day of the year so far. I put a clean towel, T-shirt and underpants into my new, Adidas knapsack (Argos – £17.99) and got lucky with the immediate arrival of the 206 bus, which stops right outside my home, and headed for Willesden Sports Centre. Ten Minutes.
(A random shot – nice back eh? – taken on my mobile phone outside the sports centre that day)
I didn't need socks because I was wearing ten year-old, velcro-fastened-open-toed sandals that I bought in a shopping centre in Bangkok in 2003 for £3. 'Woolfies', as X , my ex-best-friend, had dubbed them, having insisted that I was evidently a German paedophile. Silly man. I miss him so much. But the 'Wolfies' are still going strong after ten years – unlike our previously, rocket-fuelled friendship, which he decided to end in 2009. Only he knows why: Cue sad shrug. I sincerely hope that all is well with him and his lovely dad. I wish that he misses me too.
Free bus ride (thanks to my over-sixty-Oyster-photo-pass card – or whatever it's called). Free swimming (also thanks to being 60).
I headed for the male changing room, which was deserted apart from a grossly obese, hairy white man who was scrubbing his pubic area with long-handled brushes in the shower (obsessive or what?) and then took a shower myself, wondering why there are no sinks where you might shave, for instance, or something as obvious as drinking fountains. I guess the sports centre hopes to boost their meagre, municipal budget by selling mineral water from vending machines?
The faintly homoerotic smell of a male changing room – fresh sweat and socks – tripped my mind back to when I was a six year-old and used to go to the municipal swimming baths in, yes – Bath (the city) – most Saturdays. I usually went with my older brother Rob and sometimes on my own. Kids, it seems, were far less supervised in the oh-so-innocent, late 50s.
Audrey, my mother, had walked-out on the father of us three boys (I am the second), when I was five, in Handsworth Park in Birmingham, and had somewhat reluctantly, having no other viable option, taken us all to live with her parents – who lived their lives in some kind of eternal 1930s, Ivor Novello fantasy-land – in a spacious, three-bedroomed, third floor flat overlooking the Roman Baths, opposite a Chinese laundry, in Swallow Street, a narrow thoroughfare of tall, mostly warehouse-type buildings, in this beautiful city.
The laundry's chimney constantly pumped-out strange-smelling – but not unpleasant – steam. My olfactory recall is one of cleanliness, but also a certain pungency. My aural recall is of my mother and my grandmother having endless, screaming rows.
Many years later, my mother and my stepfather Harold (whom she married about a year after our arrival in Bath) had 'gone halves' with Nana – who lived to receive the famous, signed card from The Queen when she passed her centenary (although these days you have to request it) – and GP, as our Grandpa was dubbed, to buy a capacious, ground floor flat in a classic Georgian house overlooking Victoria Park in Bath, as GP, who'd been a heavy smoker of 'roll-ups', was having difficulties with all the stairs leading up to the flat in Swallow Street, which they'd rented for years. My parents and grandparents had inherited £3000 each, after the death of an elderly, female relative in Bournmouth: this was a large deposit at the time. My brother Rob, having recently passed his driving test, got the ancient Austin 7 (therein lie many more exuberant teenaged tales – and this vintage car didn't even have a clutch!).
After Nana died, my parents sold this centrally-located flat for a tidy sum.
This triggers another, more recent flashback. I was on tour with The Hawklords in 2011 – it was very heavy going for me because of my health issues – and I used to share hotel (well, Travel Lodge) rooms with Ron Tree, the singer. He's from the Bath area, and is now living in the boho, arty town of Frome. I was reminiscing with him one night, as we drank red wine after a gig, about how fate had brought me to Bath at the age of five and told him about my grandparents' flat in Bath, opposite the Chinese laundry and over-looking the Roman Baths. His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he said: 'You'll never guess who squatted in that flat for a few years, back in the day…'
'You're right, I said, I won't.'
Well, it was me and a bunch of n'er-do-wells!' Exclaimed Ron gleefully.
'No! Coincidence or what? You really couldn't make that up!' I responded.
The municipal swimming baths in Bath were a short walk away, through elegant and visually-pleasing streets. I can distinctly remember admiring naked men in the changing rooms and finding them – well, some of them – attractive. Mostly the olive-skinned, brown-eyed, masculine and athletic-looking ones. My eyes were also drawn to their dicks (mind you, all men's eyes always are, it's only natural) and some kind of inner voice stated: 'You seem to like men'. I just knew, even at that tender age (but only confirmed it to myself, as it were, when I was a pupil at The Bristol Cathedral School, aged fourteen, as I was now regularly having sex, of sorts, with school-friends and so forth. And girls. I was never short of admirers).
One man in particular – he rather resembled a young Sean Connery – used to encourage me to hitch a ride in the water on his muscular back, and seemed to enjoy my vague, boyish attempts at humping his pert, round, muscular bottom, as we did laps. I was a little… fucker! Looks like my preference was almost pre-determined. But I wasn't abused per se at the pool… only on paper.
I enjoyed it – there was no trauma. It was almost as if was in control of the situation. Never under-estimate the power of precocious young boys who know in their hearts and souls that they're 'gay' (in my case, way before the word was brought into general use in the late 70s).
After our saturday swims, me and my brother Rob would invariably head to Evan's, a large fish and chip shop just off Abbey Green, around the corner from Nana and GP's flat. We used to have chips, served 'open', in newspaper, and always asked for free 'scrumps', the crunchy bubbles of batter that had been left in the fat-drainers after the fish had been served. Freshly fried, hand-cut chips (and scrumps) always tasted doubly delicious after swimming, with salt, malt vinegar and tomato ketchup, when your skin tingled and you felt pleasingly hungry.
When fate decided many years later that my younger brother Frank would find himself living in a double-aspect, second-floor flat overlooking Evan's chip shop on one side (Abbey Green was on the other) about twelve years ago, it was still there.
Sometimes we would be treated to a proper, ice-cream milkshake at Hand's Dairy (which was also still going the last time I looked – maybe it still is), opposite the Abbey Churchyard, which was utter heaven for us kids. 'Yum yum, pig's bum!' we used to chorus before noisily sucking the utterly delicious, creamy concoction through straws; then giggling as we reluctantly reached the bottom of the glasses and enjoyed deliberately exaggerating the loud, gurgling noises that we made sucking up the foamy dregs. My favourite flavour was strawberry.
There used to be a tiny antique/curio shop, with a bow window, in the pedestrian street to the side of Hand's Dairy, which led into Abbey Green. I used to gaze longingly at a large, red crystal bauble which was in the centre of its window, which was displayed in an ivory-coloured, silk-lined case (I'd decided that it was definitely magical), and eventually saved up enough of my pocket money to buy it. It was all very Dickensian: maybe it was even called The Old Curiosity Shop. I do believe it might still be there.
As I disrobed in the bland changing room at the Sports Centre, I noticed a few, small, blue-ish-yellow bruises around my arms. Where the fuck did those come from, I wondered. Then I recalled that last Friday, after I'd invited six people – all immediate neighbours – over to dinner (emphatically NOT a dinner party, what a horribly bourgeois concept, but we had a wonderful night – I'd served my own-recipe, deluxe Shepherd's Pie Provencal) – that way too much red wine had evidently over-reacted with my various medications and that I must have fallen over or something, after everyone had left.
The next day, I was surprised to find that what I'd dubbed the 'Madmen (the cult TV show set in an advertising agency in New York in the 60s) tribute, 60s coffee table' which I'd found in the street in Willesden Green in 2006 was smashed and my beloved Mathmos, rocket lava lamp was broken. No memories. Just bruises.
(My dinner guests, having 'a fag break' outside the flat next door)
This was not good. Luckily, I have another, fabulous retro-modern table – German, branded underneath as from 1960 – which I'd picked-up in a charity shop in West Hampstead in 2006, for £25. It has a black glass top, which is etched with thin strings of electric yellow and blue and is inset with tiny, jewel-like, iridescent rectangles of Nacre (more commonly known as mother-of-pearl).
(my 'Madmen' tribute table, mark two)
As I headed for the pool from the changing room, a squealing cacophony assailed my ears. Just what I need, I thought, after my unwanted, wake-up call of sledgehammers and broken glass.
The main area of the pool appeared to be packed-full of scores of very noisy little tadpoles – mostly black, but some brown and white, all squirming and splashing about and squealing.
There were two lanes for swimmers, such as myself, who wished to do laps. Medium and fast. Clockwise and anti-clockwise. All the 'lane swimmers' were, for some unknown reason, doing the opposite (had they recently arrived from Rumania or Latvia perchance?).
I clocked all my fave bodyguards and swimming teachers. There are at least four guys who work at the sports centre who tick my various boxes. It's encouraging to have some eye-candy to spur-on your physical efforts, I always say, although I can only see fuzzy beauty without my glasses. I was vainly hoping that they might have been impressed by my backwards froggy-swim, which is quite original. I swim like a frog… on its back. But I don't, or won't, croak. Yet.
Then I always do a breast stoke for the next length, trying to remember to do that seemingly unnecessary dip-your-face-in-the-water-then–breathe-when-you-resurface thing. What's that all about?
I'd swum ten lengths, and was sitting on the edge of the pool, thinking of leaving, when a beautiful black man, perhaps about twenty five years-old, swam towards me, then touched the pool's edge beneath me, breathing heavily with evident triumph (perhaps he'd beaten his own record?), then smiled at me with warmth and… something.
Obviously, I grinned back at him, and he returned my grin.
You may have gathered, by now, that I'm mostly attracted to black, or mixed-race men. Don't ask me why. It just evolved organically after I opened my first successful, polysexual-but-mostly gay, one-nighter The Lift, at the deservedly legendary Gargoyle Club in London's Soho, in 1982. The music we played every Thursday night in this wonderfully wacky space (art deco-meets-60s) on the top two floors of a building on the corner of Dean and Meard streets, was a heady mixture of seriously streety black music (mostly American) and English Electro. The Lift was an instant hit and ran successfully for about five years in various venues, after The Gargoyle sadly closed down in 1983, despite the efforts of the various promoters (myself, The Mudd Club, The Language Lab, The Bat Cave etc) who ran nights there, tried unsuccessfully to raise the money – which was, as I recall, £75K – to buy the lease.
I swam another two lengths, perhaps in honour of the black swimmer's fineness, noted that he'd disappeared, then headed back to the Spartan, pale-blue-tiled, male changing room, which was deserted, as ever (most people use the cubicles in the so-called 'changing village'); then showered, dried-off, got dressed and wandered back home in the hot sunshine, feeling energized and refreshed, wondering what fate might have in store for me next time at the sports centre; now that I've vowed to go at least twice a week.
As I headed home, I was musing about surreptitiously putting a print-out over the new 'do not enter' signs on the three floors of the North-western stairwell.
It would have read: 'People who live in stone houses should not throw glass (bricks)'.
But, wishing to preserve the peace (if not 'my peaceful sleep'), I reluctantly decided against it.
© Steve Swindells. 2013. All rights reserved.
Tags: Angle grinders., Blockheads, Chaz Jankel, Dustin Hoffman, gay, Glass bricks, Laurence Olivier, Loft apartments, London, Marathon Man, Nick Lowe, Nocturnal, Notting Hill, NW London, Swimming, The 80s, The City Of Bath


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Karnataka: 4 students suspended for 'burqa' dance
The Mangaluru college administration took the action after a video of their performance at a college event went viral on social media.
Visuals from the videoANI
MANGALURU: Four students of a Karnataka college were suspended for dancing in their 'burqa', an official said. The Mangaluru college administration took the action after a video of their performance at a college event went viral on social media.
The four students dancing to a Bollywood number triggered outrage as they were dressed in long, loose garments covering them from head to toe called burqa.
The engineering college authorities tweeted the action taken by the institute authorities and also issued a media statement. St Joseph Engineering College, Mangaluru, tweeted from their official handle (@SJEC_Mangaluru) on Thursday and said: "The video clip being circulated in social media has captured a part of the dance by students of the muslim community itself who barged on stage during the informal part of students association inaugural.
The video clip being circulated in social media has captured a part of the dance by students of the muslim community itself who barged on stage during the informal part of students association inaugural.
— St Joseph Engineering College, Mangaluru (@SJEC_Mangaluru) December 8, 2022
"It was not part of the approved program and the students involved have been suspended pending enquiry. The college does not support or condone any activities that could harm the harmony between communities and everyone (sic)." Principal in-charge Dr Sudheer M also issued a statement to media on the same. Further details are awaited.
Mangaluru college
Burqa dance
College students suspended
St Joseph Engineering College
Burqa issue
Burqa dance issue

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


One of the most common questions we're asked is, "When can I get RootsMagic on my phone or tablet?" The answer is, "Today!" We're pleased to announce the official release of RootsMagic for iPhone, iPad, and iPod touch; a free companion app to our RootsMagic desktop genealogy software.
Now you can easily take and show off your family history with you wherever you go. RootsMagic lets you carry your genealogy on your iPhone, iPad, and iPod touch! It's fast, easy, and free!
We see this as our first step into the mobile world and we're interested in seeing how people use this app and evolving it to meet their needs.
And before we get swamped with e-mails accusing us of neglecting owners of Android devices, rest assured that a version of the app for Android devices will be available in the near future.
This is really great. Now I have somewhere to send my Windows-using friends who want a desktop app that works with their iPad. I don't think there was a really integrated Windows/iPad genealogy app until now (there are several for Mac).
Next step – RootsMagic for Mac. When will that be ready? And will it fully support importing Reunion files?
This is wonderful!!! Any way it could become available for other tablets, like Amazon Kindle or Barnes and Noble Nook?
Hi guys, this downloaded and installed fine, and the upload of the whole database was fast…like two minutes for 41,000 people.
The one problem I had was reading the directions – had to use a magnifying glass on the iPhone. I couldn't expand the text. The second issue is with the attached documents – same problem, I can't expand them to see them. Is that the intent? Will you improve this in the future?
Oh Happy Day! This is indeed great news. I was one of those asking for an iPad app, starting at least 1 1/2 years ago. Many many thanks!
Excellent! I use an Android.. and wonder, which is easier a Droid or iPhone for this App? I dislike touchscreen only. Wish I could find a Ph with both TS & a keyboard. I currently have the ancestry application. Runs very slow.
Excellent. Ready for Android. Thanks!
As promised! This is great news. I'm hoping to see the Mac application of Roots Magic soon, and to use this iPad version with it. That will be the final step for me to persuade me to abandon Legacy, which I run in virtualization.
Can't wait for the Android version!
Great news.. I hope this means and Apple version is coming soon.
I, too, wish I could get Roots Magic on my Kindle. Is that a possibility? Thanks.
Looking forward to an Android app!
Was happy to see rootsmagic has an app for ipad only thing is that you can not edit your file using the ipad. Please work on this. Your app looks so nice.
The Kindle uses the Android operating system so it will not work with the RootsMagic App for the iPhone/iPad/iPod Touch. We are currently working on the Android version of the app.
The app for iPad is certainly welcome.
When will we be able to edit on the iPad and link to Family Search?
Looking forward to Android app. Don't forget to allow for rotation and those of us w/ docking keyboards.
Thanks for adding this. This is a great capability and makes Rootsmagic even better.
I am looking forward for Rootsmagic to have a Mac version. That would be wonderful.
I, too, am waiting for the Android app.
This is great. Hopefully you are working on Roots Magic for Mac.
Please hurry with the Android version. Thanks!
This is great. Now that you have done this, I hope to soon see a version for the Mac.
I am new to RootsMagic and am taking a class through the local university to be able to use it to its full capability. I am excited that I can load it on my iPhone. I would love to have it on my Nook, as well. Is that in the works?
Yes, echoing that of others, please hurry up with the Android version.
You must get Android app, it is slowly catching up.
still waiting for android app but i won't wait forever.
I'd like to join the others and ask when your projected date for the Android version will be available.
Soon, I hope! I'm really looking forward to it.
to get GP set up to work between my desktop and Kindle and so far just can't make it work.


Symbolic of hope and promise, kites are also synonymous with the power of the human spirit. Their ability to soar to the highest height is a testament of empowerment. Reach for the sky and let the wind move you in the direction life offers.
ALEX AND ANI will donate 20% of the purchase price with a minimum donation of $50,000, between January 2018 and December 2019, to Flying Kites, who provides a transformative education to vulnerable and critically-poor children in Kenya empowering them to build strong families and prosperous communities. *Purchase price includes sales to ALEX AND ANI retail and web customers, and authorized retailers.
Charm Dimension: 1.2" x 0.46"


The owners of OTEC Cayman Ltd., in Grand Cayman this week for a renewable energy conference, told the Cayman Compass their consultants have completed the required environmental studies, which will be submitted to the Environmental Assessment Board in the coming weeks.
The company signed a power purchase agreement with the Caribbean Utilities Company last year for 6.25 megawatts of energy. In the long term, they believe the floating power plant, connected to a shoreside facility by underwater cables, could be scaled up to provide up to 25 megawatts – around a quarter of Cayman's peak power requirements.


A brand new class of the small arms, the MP-7 Personal Defence Weapon (PDW) is intended to be a defensive sidearm for second-line troops, vehicle crews and other military personnel. The MP-7 was first announced in 2000, entered into production in 2001 and has been adopted by some German special units according to some sources, in addition to being offered for export sales and for NATO-trials as an another could-be NATO PDW (the only other competitor is the compact yet much bigger FN P-90).
The MP-7 is designed as a compact submachine gun, with the magazine being inserted into pistol grip, and folding forward grip with retractable stock. All these features are ideally replicated in the Tokyo Marui's model and make this a perfect backup weapon, or a primary CQB weapon! Being a high performance submachine gun, the MP-7 real steel is exceptionally lightweight (1.7kg), and Marui's replica (1.4kg) comes pretty close. The gun can be fired single-handedly, or with two hands, either like a pistol or as an SMG when using a front grip. Retractable stock can be extended to give additional stability. With stock and front grip collapsed, the MP-7 can be carried like any big pistol and is super compact - perfect as a full-auto backup weapon! For skirmishes, the MP7 is great for shooting around corners and spraying your opponents to the moon!
The very first batch of the Marui MP7A1s will be launched in Japan on 8th February, and are scheduled to arrive RedWolf Store one to two days later on 9th-12th. If you can't wait and want to ensure you get one of the first batches of this initially limited masterpiece, RedWolf is accepting pre-orders! Our package includes the gun, standard 50 rounds magazine, 7.2V micro battery EX and 110V EX charger. Furthermore, all our MP7A1 pre-order customers will be awarded a spare magazine FREE OF CHARGE! This free magazine offer will end upon the arrival of the MP7 into our store so hurry and take advantage of this promotional offer.
What are you waiting for? Limited initial supply means that pre-ordering will secure yourself one! PRE-ORDER YOURS NOW!
Tokyo Marui New Pro Sight - (TM-ACC-NPSIGHT) - Already in stock!!
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Azerçay Rosehip tea is a very high quality product. Because of its rich content, the Rosehip tea has a lot of benefits for human health. Rosehip tea is rich with vitamins A, B1, B2, P, K and C, protein, minerals, potassium, sodium, magnesium, calcium and phosphorus. Since the Rose Hip tea is rich in vitamins, it is a prophylactic for a healthy body and a very useful recovery remedy for the diseased body.
Put Azerçay Rosehip tea teabag to the a cup of boiling water, you can drink it after 2-3 minutes. The recommended daily usage is 2-3 cups.
Azerçay Rosehip tea is presented in weight of 40gr (2gr * 20 pcs) tea bags.


text:
Home Submarine US and Japanese ships conduct anti-submarine warfare exercises in South China Sea
US and Japanese ships conduct anti-submarine warfare exercises in South China Sea
The USS Milius (DDG-69) and an unidentified Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force submarine on November 16, 2021. Photo JMSDF
KUALA LUMPUR – The Japanese and US fleets met this week for a first-ever anti-submarine warfare exercise in the South China Sea, the Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force announced today.
JS destroyer helicopter Kaga (DDH-184) and JS destroyer Murasame (DD101) with their on-board SH-60J helicopters, an unnamed Oyashio-class submarine and a P-1 maritime patrol aircraft conducted an anti-submarine warfare exercise in the South China Sea with the destroyer USS of the US Navy Milius (DDG-69) and a US Navy P-8A maritime patrol aircraft on Tuesday.
This is the first time that a JMSDF submarine has conducted an anti-submarine warfare exercise with the US Navy in the South China Sea. The two Kaga and Murasame had conducted an exercise in the South China Sea with Milius last week and then made a stopover in Subic, Philippines, over the weekend. Departing from Subic, the ships conducted an exercise in the South China Sea with the Philippine Navy frigate BRP José Rizal (FF-150).
Japan's Indo-Pacific Deployment 2021 (IPD21) task force left at the end of August and is expected to return to Japan by November 25. The task force also includes the JS destroyer Shiranui (DC 120), but Shiranui, like the Oyashio-class submarine, operated largely separately from Kaga and Murasame and only join the other two ships on specific exercises.
The JMSDF has issued two press releases on the upcoming exercises in Japan. The first statement, released on November 9, announced that the JMSDF would conduct both an internal mine warfare exercise and a bilateral mine warfare exercise with the US Navy from November 18 to 28 in the Hyuga Nada Sea off Kyushu. . Bilateral exercises will involve 17 JMSDF minesweepers, one minesweeper tender and two JMSDF MCH-101 mine countermeasures helicopters (MCMs), while the US Navy will deploy 2 MCM ships as well as two MH-53E helicopters.
The second statement, released Tuesday, announced that from November 21 to 30 in the waters around Japan, a bilateral naval exercise between the JMSDF and the US Navy will take place, as well as two multilateral exercises. The first multilateral exercise will include the JMSDF, the United States Navy, the Royal Australian Navy and the German Navy, while the second will involve the JMSDF, the United States Navy, RAN and the Royal Canadian Navy. A total of 20 JMSDF ships and 40 JMSDF aircraft, 10 US Navy ships, two RAN ships, one RCN ship and one German Navy ship will participate in these exercises.
Currently, the frigate RAN HMAS Warramunga (FFH152) and the German navy frigate FGS Bayern (F217) are conducting surveillance and control patrols in the East China Sea in support of United Nations sanctions against North Korea, while Canadian HMCS Winnipeg (FFH338) is on a regional presence deployment and currently on a stopover at White Beach Naval Facility Okinawa. destroyer RAN HMAS Brisbane (D41) is also currently near Japan.
Meanwhile, the U.S. Navy on Monday began Cooperation afloat Readiness and Training Exercise (CARAT) Brunei, which takes place both in the South China Sea and virtually. US Navy assets participating in the five-day engagement include the USS Jackson (LCS-6) and a P-8A Poseidon aircraft, as well as sailors from Special Operations Command Pacific, Naval Special Warfare Command, Special Boat Teams and members of the US Coast Guard.
An unidentified Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force submarine on November 16, 2021. JMSDF
The exercise focuses on the full spectrum of naval capabilities and features cooperative evolutions that highlight the ability of the United States and Brunei to work together towards the common goal of ensuring an Indo-Pacific maritime security environment free and open, according to a press release from the U.S. 7th Fleet.
"As the 27th edition of the CARAT exercise series, 2021 underscores CARAT's long-standing role in meeting maritime security interests shared among partner navies," said Captain Tom Ogden, Squadron Commodore. destroyers (DESRON) 7, in the press release.
Brunei and the United States will conduct the at-sea portion of the exercises in the South China Sea, according to the 7th Fleet.
"During the maritime phase of the exercise, the two countries will demonstrate their ability to work together through numerous events, including divisional tactics designed to improve communication as ships navigate together in complex maneuvers, an exercise monitoring aimed at increasing the ability of the two navies to track and pursue objectives through the coordinated deployment of surface ships and maritime patrol aircraft, and search and rescue exercises, "the press release said.
Previously, the US Navy conducted Exercise CARAT Indonesia virtually, in Surabaya and in the waters and airspace of the Java Sea from November 1-11. US Navy assets participating in the exercise were Jackson, USNS Expeditionary Fast Transport Vessel Millinocket (T-EPF 3) and a P-8A Poseidon. The Indonesian navy ships taking part in the exercise were the Indonesian navy frigate KRI I Gusti Ngurah Rai (332), corvette KRI Diponegoro (365) and KRI fast patrol boat Ajak (653).
Meanwhile, in Manila, the Russian Navy corvette Gremyashchiy (337), submarines Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky (B274) and Volkhov (B603), petroleum Pechenga, and tug Alatau arrived at the port on November 16 for a refueling visit. The corvette and submarines were previously part of the Russian Navy's Baltic Fleet and are now on their way to their new home bases as part of the Russian Pacific Fleet. A press release from the Russian Defense Ministry said Manila will be the last foreign port the ships will call on during the trip to their new home base.
South Korea to launch advanced submarine rescue ship
South China Sea: Damaged US Navy submarine operating in one of the world's most difficult underwater environments
Royal Australian Navy cleared to purchase 12 additional MH-60R submarine fighter helicopters | New
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From the perspective of a Vietnam veteran, President Bush's military background and present governing philosophy are consistently disturbing.
The willingness of the current president, and his father, to send other people's family members to war, while making sure that they do not undertake any risks themselves, is reprehensible.
I did not want to go to Vietnam, and would have joined the Guard if the waiting lists did not make that option prohibitive.
Then-Congressman Bush arranged to have his son jump over 500 people on such a waiting list, and get into the Guard, while at the same time the former and present Presidents Bush were speaking and voting in favor of the war in Vietnam.
I never had a problem, before, during or after my Vietnam service, with those who took a principled stand against the war.
Just like Senator Kerry , I joined Vietnam Veterans Against the War when I returned because I knew firsthand how the government was lying to the public and the troops about its activities in Vietnam.
Wanting no one to go to a futile war is an acceptable position, but wanting others to go while you stay at home safely is pure hypocrisy.
Even today, President Bush denies he went into the Guard to avoid Vietnam service.
However, all of us that lived through the era know that that was the only reason that people went into the Guard.
Now, the privileged son is sending other people's sons and daughters to fight and die unnecessarily. And, of course, there are no Bush warriors.


(Sanskrit for 'great soul' or 'venerable'). He established the principles of non-violent protest & revolution and liberated the country of India from British colonial rule.
Links are provided below for further investigation.
connected with the revolutionary "Working Minds Philosophy of Empowerment" created by G.E. Nordell.
"When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won.
"If you don't find God in the next person [that] you meet, it is a waste of time looking for him further."


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Knee Jerk Reactions to Week 17: Patriots vs. Jets
Jerry Thornton12/31/2018 3:03 PM
Things to consider while taking dead aim on the playoffs and hitting center mass:
–So after everything, all the talk of rifts and conflicts, of benched cornerbacks and exiled trainers, of pliability wars and skipped workouts, of free agents lost and superstars almost traded, of palace intrigue and talk show fodder about power struggles, of Facebook documentaries and cryptic Tweets, of declines and cliffs, after all that, here's where we find ourselves. Back to the bye. Needing one win to get back to their EIGHTH straight conference title game, with two weeks to prepare.
–All that noise of the last 360 days just amounted to a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Once again, the Pats are one of the top four teams of the regular season. Just like every year since 2010 – all those other years that had none of 2018's drama – they earned a playoff bye. And they did it by playing their most complete game of the season. Dominating in all three phases for four full quarters with no let downs.
–To the haters who are so bizarrely obsessed with the idea of this dynasty's decline that never seems to happen for them, I'll concede that the Jets are objectively horrible. They played like their coach was about to be fired, the team bus was running and their bags were packed. But I concede nothing else. This team was one once-in-a-generation fluke play away from being the one-seed. There isn't any peasant uprising against their evil overlord coach. There's no giant moral failure or crisis of confidence going on here. They lost some games because they played like deep fried crap. It happens. They also beat four playoff teams. And are the only team in the league to go 8-0 at home. That almost never happens. It sure as all hell doesn't happen to teams as they fall apart the way the haters claim this franchise is. So if that's you, or you're one of the jagoffs who call me a homer for refusing to give up on this team – and I say this in the spirit of the holiday season – go stick your dick in a wall outlet.
–The weirdest thing about the Patriots five losses is that none of the teams that beat them made the playoffs. What does that mean? Damned if I know. Maybe beating them is a like a bee sting. It hurts a little but it's fatal for the bee. What I do know for sure is that giving names to regular season plays doesn't age well if you're a non-playoff team.
Cringe.
–One note before I get into the actual game is that this was one of the rare times I was at the game. I almost always watch from home because I can write about it better from the perspective of the guy sitting on his couch, rewind plays, bitch about the broadcast and so on. But my son is home for Christmas break and asked if we could go because he hadn't been to one since he was like 9. So if I get a name or a play wrong, you'll just have to deal. Also, when it comes to talking about how terrible Dan Fouts was and how hideously corny Ian Eagle's puns were, you're on your own. I had the week off from them.
–That said, I wonder if it translated to TV just how dominant the Patriots defense was. They played mostly Cover-1 with Duron Harmon as the lone deep back and Devin McCourty dropped down into the Robber (sometimes called the Rat) position, in the middle of the field watching Sam Darnold's eyes for curls, in-routes and crosses. And when Devin was out, Jason McCourty played it, which is an interesting callback to preseason when he was finishing games at safety with all the scrubs. At the time it looked like punishment duty or that he'd be a camp cut. Now it just looks prescient.
–On the outside it was mainly Stephon Gilmore on Robby Anderson like a regrettable tattoo he couldn't get lasered off, with JC Jackson taking either Chris Herndon or Deontay Bennett. I know those three aren't going to make anyone forget the 1999 Rams and Anderson has some of the worst hands in the NFL and catches balls almost by accident. But still. Gilmore and Jackson are locking receivers down. And with J-Mac as a depth guy and Jonathan Jones coming in for subpackages, they are as good 1-through-4 at corner as any Pats team since Revis, Browner, Arrington and Butler.
–But really what stood out to me was the play of the linebackers. They went with a ton of 3-LB sets, with Dont'a Hightower up on the line as the Will and Kyle Van Noy and Elandon Roberts at the second level. Unlike the Pittsburgh game a few weeks ago, these three were stringing plays out sideline-to-sideline and the Jets could never get a ballcarrier around the corner. On that red zone stop when it was 21-3, Hightower drove a blocker into the backfield as Jackson made the tackle. And on 4th down, Van Noy shot the A-gap into Darnold's grill mix (as the youngsters like to say) to force the throw that hit Gilmore in the back.
–Van Noy in particular was all over the field. At midfield he and Roberts came up to the line on the outside, he took on a pulling tight end to turn Elijah McGuire inside and create a tackle for a loss. He penetrated enough to disrupt the play enough for Derek Rivers to pick up a sack. One play before his scoop & score he was a good 30 yards up the sideline in coverage on Trenton Cannon. There might have been times this year when the linebacking corps looked slow or overmatched. But it was not this day.
–Another guy who stood out was Danny Shelton. Mainly owing to the fact that he was on the field for one of the few games all season. And he played a lot, as a major part of a rotation inside that also included Lawrence Guy and Malcom "Autocorrect's Bane" Brown. I saw him get moved fairly easily from his 1-tech spot on one long Jets run, but for the most part he looked like he did in camp. And was in on most, if not all, of those two red zone turnovers on downs, including a 3rd & 1 when he get into the backfield on Brian Winters to blow up the play along with Guy. I shouldn't be as excited as I am about Shelton because he's been a major disappointment. But right now he feels like a great late season acquisition.
–Speaking of major disappointments, a guy tailgating not far from me was wearing a $99.99 Josh Gordon jersey. We all make mistakes, but if you blow 100 bucks on a college bowl game, you don't wear the betting slip on your back.
–Offensively, this was the perfect game plan. Which is not to say they didn't leave any points out there or fail to finish some drives. They did. Some of which the Jets were only too happy to help them out with and the Pats graciously accepted. What makes this so perfect is that they no only scored a bunch, more importantly they put stuff on tape that will make them a nightmare for whatever defensive coordinator they face. To the point the coaches breaking down this one might have to resort to Sandra Bullock blindfolds.
–They've been using the Jet Sweep all season long, mostly as a way to utilize Cordarrelle Patterson and as a constraint play to keep opponents from loading the middle of the box. But yesterday it was a primary weapon. Twice early on they used it as a Play Action fake, then threw to the receiver they faked the handoff to, first to Julian Edelman and then to Phillip Dorsett. Then they ran it with Edelman after faking the inside handoff to Sony Michel. Later they set up their last touchdown by running it with Edelman, then to Dorsett, then back to Edelman again, behind Gronk as he pulled and wiped out the end who had collapsed in. Now assume they'll have Corduroy back two Sundays from now. They've established they'll run the Jet Sweep with any of their receivers, fake it and run Play Action, fake it and run inside with Michel once you're spread out wide, or any of a dozen or so variations. This is just another wrinkle they've added. Which is why we're back into Josh McDaniels Head Coaching Rumor SZN, despite the fact he had the Colts screaming their Safety Word while he fisted so badly last winter.
–Another thing McDaniels did a lot of was spread out his power-running personnel, with James Develin outside the numbers as much as I think we've ever seen. Good luck matching up with that when, if you put a linebacker on Jimmy Neckroll he can beat the coverage, and if you defend it with a dime package, Brady can always kill the play, motion everybody in and ram the ball down your throat like they did to Buffalo last week.
–Yesterday also gave me reason to hope that maybe, just maybe, they've been holding Gronk in abeyance a little bit, preserving him for the playoffs. His numbers wouldn't be enough to get even Miami or Pittsburgh to call it #TheStatLine, but he looked almost like his old self. He ran well. Had that spectacular catch & run that got called back thanks to an OPI on Dwayne Allen. (Jealous much? That penalty cost Gronk more yards than Allen has on the season.) He had that one play where he scraped along the line behind the linebackers and fought off Jamal Adams to pick up the 1st. He drew the safety which left the middle of the field open for James White to run a little slant in for the first touchdown. Just as importantly, he was using his whole body to block and driving with his legs instead of just reaching for guys with his arms like he's been doing. I know everyone is ready to take Old Yeller out back behind the barn, but he looked like a guy who could give them 100 yards in a playoff game.
–Speaking of someone who's not ready to be put down, aside from overthrowing Chris Hogan in the end zone, can somebody please show me where Brady's "cliff" went to? Because I think he painted a tunnel on it and a train came out and flattened all the haters. He was shooting sniper rounds all over the place. Spread the ball around, including three to Hogan on the final touchdown drive. Made quick audibles to get the ball out to his wideouts when the corners were in off coverage. Recognized before the snap he had a linebacker iso'd on Rex Burkhead as Edelman drew the safety with a skinny post and dropped a perfect touch pas into his arms. And moved as well as he ever has in his life, away from the dance floor. Ten years ago, Brady wasn't making that escape-the-pocket, full-sprint rollout throw to Dorsett on the back line of the end zone. If Aaron Rodgers had done that, every analyst on TV would've had to be wearing a condom.
–This Week's Applicable Move Quote: "It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. " – Sam, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
–A holding call or two aside, this was as good a game as the offensive line has played all year. White had that pitch that went for like 20 yards not only because Hogan ran Frankie Luvu deep into the backfield, but because Joe Thuney was a good 10 yards upfield running defenders into the portable heaters.
–But the guy I don't think I've mentioned enough all year has been David Andrews. (Other than that time I said he looks like Grawp from Harry Potter, which I probably shouldn't repeat, no matter how true it is.) I saw a graphic on an analytics site that said the Patriots have 16 rushes of 10-plus yards straight up the middle this season, which is almost as much as all the other spots along the line combined. And they added at least one yesterday, on a Michel run late in the game. Center is the ultimate full time job for not getting noticed unless you screw up. Andrews has not be screwing up and deserves to be noticed.
–JC Jackson helped make that first red zone stop by peeling off his man to make the tackle that set up the 4th & inches. Malcom Brown penetrated from a 5-down lineman front with no linebackers in the middle to make the tackle for a loss. But without Jackson, that would've been 1st & goal.
–You can always count on the Jets to do Jets things, like that Roughing the Passer to keep a drive alive. What I'm not used to seeing from them is receivers completely unaccounted for in the end zone, which we saw happen with Gronk, Hogan and Edelman's touchdown. Say what you will about Rex Ryan, but you never saw breakdowns like that from one of Shrex's defenses. I'm sure they'll hire some QB Whisperer to replace Todd Bowles. But somehow hiring good coordinators on both sides of the ball is somehow beyond their capacity as an organization. And I'd like them to keep that tradition going.
–This whole year has felt like one long, tedious, depressing Very Special Episode of a 90s sitcom. And this was the perfect game to end it on.
–We're onto the Bye Week. No. Days. Off. Except for next weekend.
chris hogan+ 13 Tags


Temple defensive tackle Michael Dogbe visited the Atlanta Falcons on Monday. Each team may have up to 30 players visit leading up to the NFL Draft on April 25, 26 and 27 in Nashville.
A 6-foot-3, 286-pound graduate student from Morris Plains, Dogbe will reportedly attend the Giants' local pro day on Friday. He led Temple with seven sacks in the fall, and was third with 63 tackles.
Dogbe had seven tackles (3.5 for loss), two forced fumbles and 2.5 sacks against Maryland on Sept. 15. His sack in the last minute of regulation to force overtime against Cincinnati on Oct. 20.
Dogbe finished his college career with 77 solo tackles (19.5 for loss), 8.5 sacks and five forced fumbles in 54 games.
"It just comes down to how bad you want it," Dogbe told EaglesWire. "I had a lot of motivation going into my senior year, because my junior year I got hurt. I missed a few games and I wasn't myself for most of the season. I just wanted it bad enough, I wanted to be great, I wanted my legacy to be a lot better than how it was coming out of my junior year. I just took it upon myself to work really hard over the offseason, just dedicating myself to football. I just took it upon myself to stay in the weight room, extra sessions stretching, doing yoga - doing all kinds of things to make myself an elite football player. Having done that all throughout the offseason, I just had a confidence in my craft that every time I stepped on the field, I'm the best player."
Dogbe, who bench pressed 505 pounds during preseason, is projected as a fifth-round pick by NFLDraftScout.com.


Maayan Nidam released her first album in six years last month. Titled Sea Of Thee, and available now via Perlon, the release was the result of an extremely creative two-week period, itself sparked by the end of a romantic relationship. In a rare media engagement, Nidam invited William Ralston to sit down with her to hear the deeply moving tale behind her latest work and the drastic life changes it has inspired.
Wrapped up warm in a long, camel coloured coat, Maayan Nidam arrives to meet me at one of her favourite cafes in Kreuzberg, Berlin. She strolls along with her hands tucked deep in her pockets and employs a baseball cap and some reflective aviator sunglasses to mask her face from the sun; her pristine pink Adidas trainers are the exception to an otherwise understated wintery outfit. Once settled in the shade, she removes her accessories to expose her newly straightened jet black hair and a pretty smile, borne from nerves, one would assume. We begin with a light conversation about Sea of Thee, her third full-length effort, her first on Perlon, and order a large coffee and a pot of Moringa tea for me and her respectively. It's a light-hearted and necessary exchange, the prelude to a sensitive and deeply moving story that she wishes to divulge. While the hypnotic techno aesthetic of her latest release might be what we've come to expect from Nidam, it is also emblematic of her significant transformation.
Evidence for such is plentiful. On a professional level, Nidam has joined Yoyaku, the Paris-based booking agency, and has since found herself playing out more, as a DJ but also a live act, especially at more techno-orientated events, two long-standing objectives. It has taken some time for promoters in these circles to familiarise themselves with her deeper, darker aesthetic, and also for her to fine-tune her live act, but she's now seeing a return on her investment. She's also started her bi-monthly Hellium night at Renate and will soon relocate it to Tresor; meanwhile, plans are in place to start a label of the same name. On a personal level, however, these changes are more subtle. Nidam, an intensely guarded individual, keeps news close to her chest, especially that of a more personal nature, speaking only with a select few with whom she feels comfortable; besides her booker, Tracy Bakala, and a handful of friends, she confides in her two sisters and her parents, who reside on the outskirts of Tel Aviv, Israel, the place of Nidam's birth. In our conversations, however, it's clear that something is different: though as softly-spoken and make-up-free as always, she's energetic and fresh-faced, smiley and easy-going despite the challenging subject-matter; by and large, she appears more at ease with herself than I've seen her before.
The experience she describes is one of disconnect between herself and the person making the music. "Maybe it was like this higher self that was still there, like a part of my consciousness that was still taking care to make sure I was alright, giving me a guiding hand," she explains. In terms of melodies and arrangements, she recalls that they sounded like her in a "parallel universe"; meanwhile, the lyrics—including those on the album opener, "Dust and Dirt"—only really made sense to her several months after she'd recorded them. Instead of judging the music, she tried to accommodate it by adapting her studio setup accordingly. She returned home after two weeks, exhausted, with the creativity subsiding. Even now, when she hears the music, she doesn't recognize who made it.
That creative release inspired a drastic change of tack in Nidam's life. She recalls how a vivid realization, like "someone tapping me on the shoulder," that she was "daydreaming while driving" led her to take things into her own hands. The music gave her strength to fix her life, to start work on the depressive episode; to have "one last try at being happy," she adds. Although she doesn't say it explicitly, it becomes clear just how riddled with hopelessness this period was. As with any true artist, self-doubt has always been a part of Nidam's life, but her fondness for the fruits of her two-week staycation replenished her self-worth. On a deeper level, play-back of the album communicated a message that she should trust in "just getting out of the comfort zone and doing something wild," she recalls. She decided to apply this to her life outside of the studio by getting out of the "frame that is holding me back," she says.
Her early research suggested that she had chronic inflammation that affects the mood, more common than one may think, and so she undertook a 10-day water only-fast, aiming to disrupt her system and cleanse the mind and body. She sought to let go of her disappointment, anger, and frustration to which the ego was attaching.
Among her areas of interest were indigenous medications and micro-dosing. She began reading studies and books on LSD and psilocybin, the psychedelic compound found in magic mushrooms; until the mid-1960s, when the Nixon administration shut it down, research had illustrated that psilocybin can offer a cognitive tool for combatting depression and addiction. It's only over the past decade that research has continued and Nidam found herself enthralled with these findings. Noted writers and journalists on addiction, mental health, and spirituality, among them David A. Kessler, Sam Harris, Michael Pollen, Johann Hari, and Rupert Spira became reference points for her explorations. Meanwhile, Robin Sharma's quote "the mind is a wonderful servant but a terrible master" became her foundation.
The first step was to disrupt her stagnant thinking patterns, "the self-absorbed, self-judging, self-hatred-infused thoughts," she says. Removal of cigarettes and, more notably, alcohol, on which she had never been too far from dependent, was a great way of breaking free: barring one hiccup, Nidam hasn't had a drink since Christmas day 2017, a remarkable achievement given the industry's widespread encouragement of intoxication. While the commitment exacerbated problems to begin with, bringing dark recollections to the surface and removing her numbing agent, it's now having a tremendous affect on her physical and mental health; long-gone is the fatigue that has plagued her existence. She looks happy and light, and those who know her tell me that she's "more welcoming" and "open to ideas." Our exchanges reveal something similar; she's much more easy-going than I can recall.
In many ways, sobriety is emblematic of her work, a daily reminder of her commitment to the cause; but, more importantly, it offers her clarity of mind, self-awareness, and self-control, all fundamental when it comes to training the brain to pursue positive thinking patterns. The example she uses is as follows: at a gig, she can either focus on the drunk person at the front, fooling around, which makes her feel too old or inadequate; or she can focus on the fans at the front, many of whom have travelled a long way to see her play, which make her feel strong, fortunate, and free to experiment with the abstract records she keeps in her record bag for those occasions when she feels comfortable. Inebriation makes her vulnerable to negative self-thought that draws her focus to the former and, worse still, reinforces these pathways.
By and large, Nidam also stays away from narcotics. The only caveat is her research into "Amazonian medicines" that has been invaluable in managing her depression because such mind-altering substances offer a "new experience" and a "feeling of wonder" that combat the self-absorption around which her condition orbits.
It's a practice that Nidam describes as "dissolving the ego." Research dictates that sufferers have a tendency to wallow in self-destructive thoughts because the brain doesn't allow them to perceive much else; in essence, the ego attaches itself to negative thought patterns, trapping the sufferer in a race to the bottom. Psilocybin offers a profound connection, breaking "your addiction to yourself," says researcher Bill Richardson, and, in doing so, one's addiction to the ego. It does this by weakening the mechanism that controls how much information comes into the brain, opening the gates for more stimuli, negative and positive. While the former brings more pain, it has allowed Nidam to see the pain of others, bringing her out of her self-absorbed patterns; and the latter helps to lift the spirit. The challenge comes with focusing on these positive thoughts, hence the importance of being healthy and sober. As a result, she finds herself "surrounded by love" that until now her condition had rendered her oblivious. "I believe all that love from around me was there but I just didn't see it," she says. Regular meditation allows Nidam to preserve and amplify these breakthrough moments.
It goes without saying that such adjustments haven't come easily. Nidam began touring heavily again at the start of this year, and initially struggled with the expectations of others, many of whom assumed she wanted to drink as normal. Nowadays, as people learn about her steps, it's becoming easier for her to stick to them, though it remains a work in progress. Anxiety attacks still come and go—perhaps a natural part of being a vulnerable and self-critical female in a sociable world—but Nidam recognizes that this is her mind adapting to sobriety. "Beforehand, when I felt uncomfortable, I would have a drink to relax but now I have nothing but my breath to calm me down," she says, "but I am learning how to manage them [attacks]." Moreover, sobriety makes her feel self-conscious because she doesn't want people to think she is judging them because they're drinking, but she has to constantly remind herself that she cannot afford to make compromises to make others feel more comfortable about their habits. Instead of shrinking to fit the expectations of promoters and fans, she'll drink coffee or green tea, and return to the hotel when she feels tired.
At home, however, the cloud is lifting. It's not been easy for her to socialize because the Berlin lifestyle, and being surrounded by musicians, brings with it ample temptation and it can be hard to feel involved at events without a drink in her hand. Close friends Vera Heindel and Fatima Camara have been supportive in this sense, inviting Nidam out for tea or walks, distanced somewhat from Club der Visionaere and Panorama Bar, her jaunts of life prior. She's also trained herself to enjoy hanging out sober at parties, enjoying the conversations and trying to be similarly uninhibited without alcohol or drugs. Meanwhile, she spends her extra hours, once reserved for recovery, sleeping, learning German, making films, or jamming away in the studio, where she says she's getting more enjoyment than ever before because she is no longer so limited by time. In doing so, she has more freedom to experiment, to try new things, and this inspires a higher level of creativity than before.
It's been nearly three years since I first met Nidam in the Bikini Waxx record store. Back then, all that time ago, I was struck by many things, among them a masked fragility that became more exposed as our relationship grew; as she let me in. One morning, as I stumbled out of Kater Blau, I recall her sending me a private Soundcloud link to a delightful techno track that she had produced in 2013 during a comparable period of anguish that also stemmed from a relationship gone sour. Its title, "Forever Present," was drawn from Nidam's intentions: struggling mentally, she'd began to focus on mindfulness, on drawing her attention to the present moment rather than the pain of the past. It was this period that inspired her to strengthen her meditation and yoga practice, part of a routine that also includes swimming and eating well. Nidam perceives See Of Thee as the full stop to the period since then, and included "Forever Present" as a symbol of this sentiment. It precedes the album closer to mark it as the destination, or the underlying objective.
I've been as close as anybody during these periods, watching Nidam seek answers, learning, journaling, researching, and figuring out what's best for her at different times, all in the aim of contentment, of being mindful, of making her life more meaningful. For much of this time, it's been missing; while there have certainly been the "ups"—a booking request, a holiday, a romantic evening stroll—it's hard to escape the feeling that there has always been a transience clouding these moments of bliss. Often this would manifest itself in various behavioral traits that Nidam herself tried to understand, a darkness perhaps.


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text:
Il gemello scomodo (Steal Big Steal Little) è un film statunitense del 1995 diretto da Andrew Davis.

Trama
Due gemelli, uno buono e uno cattivo, vengono adottati da una ricca vedova. Alla morte di questa il buono eredita, ma l'altro non la dà per vinta.

Collegamenti esterni

Film commedia

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
The 'Man Of Steel' Blu-Ray Combo Pack Is Pretty Underwhelming
Kirsten Acuna
We've been waiting to get our hands on the "Man of Steel" Blu-ray for a long time.
So I was really excited when Warner Bros. sent over a review copy earlier this week.
The film won't be out on Blu-ray and DVD until next Tuesday, November 12, so here's a sneak peak at what to expect.
First, the cover featuring Superman's logo front and center.
Kirsten Acuna / Business Insider
And the back!
Here are the special features on the disc:
Behind the Scenes: Journey of Discovery: Creating Man of Steel — You can watch the entire film but with added commentary from director Zack Snyder, cast, and crew to point out items you may not have noticed the first time around.
Planet Krypton — a mock documentary on Superman's home planet, himself, and his people.
No deleted scenes. No gag reel.
Granted, it does look like there's concept art from Krypton cleverly interwoven into the "documentary," but it would have been nice to see it in addition as its own feature.
While the behind-the-scenes featurette looks great, overall, I'm pretty underwhelmed. It's a rather bare-bones special features disc compared to others the studio has put out.
From Entertainment Weekly, it sounds like the 3-D Combo Pack has a few more features on it, but not much.
That's surprising because normally, the special features fan out on a Warner Bros. disc to show a wide array of folders to scroll through.
Here's what the "Man of Steel" special features menu looks like:
And here's "The Dark Knight Rises" special features menu:
While yes, I'm sure having the entire film on the special features disc probably limits how much more you can showcase, considering it's the Man of Steel's 75th anniversary, you would think the studio may have thought to go all out or take this as an opportunity for added features.
For fans eagerly awaiting news on the impending Batman / Superman film, sorry, but there are no immediate hints dropped anywhere on the disc. Again, it seems this could have been a great opportunity to tease what's next for Superman provided he'll be teaming up with the Caped Crusader in 2015.
On the flip side, Disney's been making sure to remind its audience every chance it gets about future Marvel films with each of its new releases.
I'll take a closer look at what's on the disc over the weekend. I'm sure there are great gems in here, but overall, having seen what Warner Bros. can do with extra features with their other mighty superhero (Batman), this was a let down.
On the plus side, we were sent a cool infographic with more on Krypton which you can find below. It seems like the items are exactly what would have been cool to explore in the special features — info comparing Superman's planet to our own, detailed info on Kryptonian weaponry, and more.
Instead, almost as a companion, Warner Bros. has set up a website LearnaboutKrypton.com to delve deeper into learning about Superman's home.
While there are some interactive videos worth checking out on the culture and weapons of the planet, the rest of the information on the site is taken straight from the infographic, too small to read in a normal-sized window without zooming in on your browser.
batman batman superman movie blu-ray dvd man of steel movies superman the dark knight rises thewire-us


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Sorted by date Results 1 - 25 of 280
By Preity Upala Politics June 27, 2019
The Biggest sporting event in the world just took place over the weekend and it was a thriller!
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Politics June 3, 2019
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By Simina Mistreanu and Politics June 1, 2019
Thirty years later, Tiananmen Square Protest survivors seek truth and change from China
Thirty years ago on June 4, the Chinese army opened fire on student protesters in Tiananmen Square. The government has attempted to erase the "incident" from history, but victims and some...
By Gretel Johnston Politics May 31, 2019
Democrats ramp up calls for impeachment after Mueller breaks silence
Washington (dpa) - A powerful House Democrat said Wednesday special counsel Robert Mueller might be finished with his investigation but Congress is not, as several prominent party members called for...
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Trump "was actually sticking up for Sleepy Joe Biden . . . . Kim Jong Un called him a 'low IQ idiot.'"
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Politics May 29, 2019
Boris Johnson Seems Poised to Lead Britain Out of the European Union
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"This is How it Starts:" United States Deploys 1500 Marines to Middle East to Counter Iran
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After 4 Failed Attempts at Brexit, Theresa May Resigns as British Prime Minister
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By DPA Politics May 29, 2019
In World's Biggest Election, 400 Million EU Citizens Elect 751 Members of European Parliament
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Spanish King Juan Carlos Withdraws From Public Life Five Years After His Retirement
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