The city’s kinda dead in the summer because all the students are gone, but it’s actually really nice. Plus all the people that I care about have been here for the most part. So, I dunno. I am excited for fall semester to get rolling though.
Almost three years later and 15 miles away, James Eagan Holmes was filling his home with armament. Hehad regular deliveries of ammunition for a military-style AR-15 rifle, two handguns and a shotgun he purchased over the course of 60 days. There were about 6,000 rounds in all, another 300 shotgun shells and a high-capacity drum for the rifle. In all, it amounted to more than 200 pounds of ordnance.
All of it legal. None of it, apparently, noticed by or reported to police. None of it the slightest bit disconcerting to ammunition suppliers, delivery drivers or neighbors.
Acknowledged in the article is the fact that “marriage” was code for suicide bombing.
Terrorizing to think this guys had roomates. I would not be roomate with somebody with an arsenal or even a gun for that matter.
“Il filo conduttore per ostacolare il libero arbitrio è sempre lo stesso, dall’aborto alle unioni civili: vietare il riconoscimento giuridico di tutto ciò che è peccato. Che poi quel “tutto ciò” si verifichi comunque e al di fuori del l’alveo legale - con tutti i rischi annessi e connessi - non è argomento di interesse. Vietare l’aborto, tanto per fare un esempio, non lo ostacola (basterebbe dare un’occhiata ai dati dall’entrata in vigore della legge 194) ma priva solamente le donne dell’assistenza medica mettendo a rischio la loro stessa salute. Impedire la regolamentazione delle unioni di fatto non significa che le persone rinuncino a vivere insieme, o che gli omosessuali ricusino la loro vita affettiva o, nel caso dell’ultima sparata, che i poligami diventino monogami. Significa solo continuare a privare le persone dei loro diritti fondamentali, primo tra tutti quello di scegliere, in perfetta autonomia di coscienza, la vita che vogliono per sé.”—cronachelaiche.globalist.it | Unioni civili, l’ultima crociata (via poliamore)
“Let’s say R.E.M. went for twelve years, from 1981-1993, and broke up before putting out Monster (I dream of this possible past at least once a year). By 1999, we would have been ready for a comeback, and I have to wonder, if you took all the money they’ve made off their output from ‘94-‘06, if it wouldn’t be comparable to the profits from a reunion that everyone longed for. Think of how many fans they’ve lost in sticking around. Every one of them would be front row center, screaming for a reunion bid, as would the generation they’ve raised. Look at R.E.M.’s tour-mates Mission of Burma. There are plenty of precedents here, from Elvis to the Clash to U2 and the Cure (who blew a great opportunity with “End” and could have reformed cleanly in 1999). What kills all the bands that don’t break up and don’t let it go—and their fans too—is that they never close the loop. They never put childish ways behind them, or at least they never lock the closet, playing with the same toys, the same songs we mowed lawns and made out and made up to. We all do this, we keep listening to the same songs, but when the bands are still playing them—older, fatter, slower—there’s no vacuum for nostalgia to fill. You can never return to the place where you started and know it for the first time if you never leave, so the act of listening to R.E.M. when they’re still around is tainted by what they are still trying to represent. You can’t remember R.E.M. circa ‘83 or ‘87 or ‘92 because of R.E.M. 2006. You can’t remember the band fondly, because they still exist: you can only remember the time period, and wonder, “What’s with the eye makeup these days, Mike?” R.E.M. still made money through 2011, of course, but they made less history. Their mark continued to blur and bleed out from a once-brilliant point until it became a huge, hideous Rorschach blot, and nobody saw the same thing.”
“La Curia di Milano boccia il progetto di Palazzo Marino sul registro comunale delle coppie di fatto. Un progetto fortemente voluto dal sindaco Giuliano Pisapia, all’indomani della sua elezione al sindaco, e che per la Chiesa milanese, retta dall’arcivescovo Angelo Scola, comporta “il rischio che la voluta equiparazione tra famiglia fondata sul matrimonio e unione civile porti a legittimare la poligamia: l’uomo poligamo immigrato a Milano, di fatto, potrebbe richiedere il riconoscimento della propria convivenza con tutte le sue mogli come unione civile, posto che il registro non limiterebbe tale unione solo a quella tra due persone. Il Comune di Milano, che non si propone solo di registrare bensì anche di tutelare e sostenere le unioni civili, finirebbe così per tutelare e sostenere un istituto quale la poligamia che nel nostro ordinamento è ritenuto contrario all’ordine”.”—
It’s a vagina. I have one. 154 million Americans have one. 197,000 soldiers have one. 111,000 police officers have one with a badge. When surveyed, all the Republican women who hold elected office reported having a vagina. I’m pretty sure Sarah Palin has a red, white and blue one. I honestly can neither confirm nor deny the existence of Ann Coulter’s vagina but I am quite certain Elisabeth Hasselbeck’s ate a rat on national tv.
Sometimes we call it a hoo ha, but really if Representative Brown had said hoo ha when discussing a piece of Republican legislation written to limit a woman’s access to a safe, legal abortion, I think women everywhere would have been embarrassed for her. I admit that my generation for many years denied its existence but eventually the women’s movement taught us that the correct term for our privates was in fact vagina.
For the record men don’t have one. They talk a great deal about them and pass a whole lot of legislation pertaining to them, but at the end of the day they have a wee wee not a hoo hoo. Newt Gingrich has cheated on at least two vaginas that I know of, but I think he refers to them as ex-boxes. Rush Limbaugh hates vaginas, but rumor has it he smuggles Oxycontin in his maid’s vagina so I guess he just calls it a pill box. Mitt Romney used to call them vaginas and actually gave them all the rights and privileges afforded to them under the law but now he simply refers to them as votes he has alienated.
For the record, my vagina pays taxes. My vagina is registered to vote. This year about 8 million more voting booths will have vaginas in them than talleywhackers, which is odd because the United States still ranks 70th in terms of vaginas in elected office. Vaginas comprise 52% of the population in the United States yet vaginas only hold a quarter of elected offices. I think maybe it’s time for A Million Vagina March. Does anyone else agree?
Il problema è soprattutto quando te ne accorgi. Poi, un po’ come per i condannati a morte, te ne fai una ragione. Stai sempre per morire, e non è propriamente una bella notizia ma, come Invito a una Decapitazione di Nabokov, cerchi e trovi tutti i tuoi perché. La critica musicale in Italia è…