dichotomized
dichotomized:

Rosalia Lombardo died of pneumonia in Palermo, Siciliy on December 6, 1920, at the tender age of 2. Her heartbroken father, a well-to-do general, enlisted the services of Alfredo Salafia, the country’s best embalmer. General Lombardo also secured Rosalia the honor of one of the last spots in the Capuchin Catacombs. To this day, Rosalia resides in a small chapel, within a glass covered coffin, and is considered the best-preserved child corpse in the world. Salafia’s embalming techniques and recipes are studied the world over, but it seems he might have done his job too well. Numerous visitors, lingering overlong in her burial chamber, have sworn that every once in a while little Rosalia opens her eyes.

dichotomized:

Rosalia Lombardo died of pneumonia in Palermo, Siciliy on December 6, 1920, at the tender age of 2. Her heartbroken father, a well-to-do general, enlisted the services of Alfredo Salafia, the country’s best embalmer. General Lombardo also secured Rosalia the honor of one of the last spots in the Capuchin Catacombs. To this day, Rosalia resides in a small chapel, within a glass covered coffin, and is considered the best-preserved child corpse in the world. Salafia’s embalming techniques and recipes are studied the world over, but it seems he might have done his job too well. Numerous visitors, lingering overlong in her burial chamber, have sworn that every once in a while little Rosalia opens her eyes.

canwerunaway

I’m not that girl your mother warns you about. I won’t break your heart or kiss your best friend.
I won’t make you choose between me and others.
I’m not cold or reckless or a bitch.

I’m the girl your father sometimes mentions when your mother isn’t around.
I will love you more than anything or anyone.
I’ll be there to hold you when you cry.
I’ll stand by you no matter what; until you decide you want other things.

And you’re just like your father so you will.
You’ll let me go and you’ll lose me.
I’ll miss you more than anything.
And you will too.
I know you will, but you won’t do anything about it.
And just like that we’ll never speak again.

kateoplis
kateoplis:

"[W]hen Lacy auditioned for the Oakland Raiderettes a year ago, she made the squad. And the Raiderettes quickly set to work remaking her in their image. She would be known exclusively by her first name and last initial — a tradition across the NFL, ostensibly designed to protect its sideline stars from prying fans. The squad director handed Lacy, now 28, a sparkling pirate-inspired crop top, a copy of the team’s top-secret “bible” — which guides Raiderettes in everything from folding a dinner napkin correctly to spurning the advances of a married Raiders player — and specific instructions for maintaining a head-to-toe Raiderettes look. The team presented Lacy with a photograph of herself next to a shot of actress Rachel McAdams, who would serve as Lacy’s “celebrity hairstyle look-alike.” Lacy was mandated to expertly mimic McAdams’ light reddish-brown shade and 11/2-inch-diameter curls, starting with a $150 dye job at a squad-approved salon. Her fingers and toes were to be french-manicured at all times. Her skin was to maintain an artificial sun-kissed hue into the winter months. Her thighs would always be covered in dancing tights, and false lashes would be perpetually glued to her eyelids. Periodically, she’d have to step on a scale to prove that her weight had not inched more than 4 pounds above her 103-pound baseline.
Long before Lacy’s boots ever hit the gridiron grass, “I was just hustling,” she says. “Very early on, I was spending money like crazy.” The salon visits, the makeup, the eyelashes, the tights were almost exclusively paid out of her own pocket. The finishing touch of the Raiderettes’ onboarding process was a contract requiring Lacy to attend thrice-weekly practices, dozens of public appearances, photo shoots, fittings and nine-hour shifts at Raiders home games, all in return for a lump sum of $1,250 at the conclusion of the season. (A few days before she filed suit, the team increased her pay to $2,780.) All rights to Lacy’s image were surrendered to the Raiders. With fines for everything from forgetting pompoms to gaining weight, the handbook warned that it was entirely possible to “find yourself with no salary at all at the end of the season.”
Like hundreds of women who have cheered for the Raiders since 1961, Lacy signed the contract. Unlike the rest of them, she also showed it to a lawyer.
ON JAN. 22, Lacy T.’s attorneys filed a lawsuit in Alameda County Superior Court alleging that the Raiders fail to pay their cheerleaders minimum wage for all hours worked, withhold pay until the end of the season, require cheerleaders to cover their own business expenses, don’t provide lunch breaks and impose fines for minor infractions — all of which, according to the suit, constitute violations of the California Labor Code.
The provocation was unprecedented. When pro football’s first cheerleaders took the field in the 1920s, rah-rahing on the sidelines was a volunteer position, usually occupied by local high school and college cheerleaders interested in performing on a bigger stage. But as TV began to outpace radio, more and more teams stocked their sidelines with flashier — although still unpaid — performers. In 1972, Cowboys GM Tex Schramm upped the game. He’d seen Bubbles Cash, an artificially augmented local stripper, make the news after cameras caught her shimmying in the stands with a stick of cotton candy, and he wanted similar assets at his games. So he replaced his cheer director — a local high school teacher — with a Broadway choreographer, dismissed his squad of coed teenagers to make way for a team of (barely) legal women in stomach-baring tops and began paying them a meager salary. By 1976, they’d become a trademark part of a franchise. That year, Super Bowl X marked not only the end of the Cowboys’ season but the beginning of modern professional cheerleading: 73 million viewers watched as one cheerleader turned to the camera and winked, launching the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders as bankable stars of team-approved posters, calendars, public appearances and reality TV. These weren’t just cheerleaders; they were what Schramm called “atmosphere producers.”
But even as collective bargaining has caused players’ salaries to skyrocket, cheerleaders are still treated with the expendability of borrowed college students. Of the 26 teams that employ cheerleaders, only Seattle publicly advertises that it pays its squad an hourly minimum wage. The tenuous position of NFL cheerleaders is exacerbated by the fact that six teams don’t fork out any cash for squads. The Packers occasionally employ the services of a local collegiate squad. Other teams, such as the Lions, Browns and Giants, rely on unofficial squads willing to finance themselves through public appearances and calendar shoots for the opportunity to dance in a high-profile setting.”
Read on: Just Cheer, Baby | ESPN

kateoplis:

"[W]hen Lacy auditioned for the Oakland Raiderettes a year ago, she made the squad. And the Raiderettes quickly set to work remaking her in their image. She would be known exclusively by her first name and last initial — a tradition across the NFL, ostensibly designed to protect its sideline stars from prying fans. The squad director handed Lacy, now 28, a sparkling pirate-inspired crop top, a copy of the team’s top-secret “bible” — which guides Raiderettes in everything from folding a dinner napkin correctly to spurning the advances of a married Raiders player — and specific instructions for maintaining a head-to-toe Raiderettes look. The team presented Lacy with a photograph of herself next to a shot of actress Rachel McAdams, who would serve as Lacy’s “celebrity hairstyle look-alike.” Lacy was mandated to expertly mimic McAdams’ light reddish-brown shade and 11/2-inch-diameter curls, starting with a $150 dye job at a squad-approved salon. Her fingers and toes were to be french-manicured at all times. Her skin was to maintain an artificial sun-kissed hue into the winter months. Her thighs would always be covered in dancing tights, and false lashes would be perpetually glued to her eyelids. Periodically, she’d have to step on a scale to prove that her weight had not inched more than 4 pounds above her 103-pound baseline.

Long before Lacy’s boots ever hit the gridiron grass, “I was just hustling,” she says. “Very early on, I was spending money like crazy.” The salon visits, the makeup, the eyelashes, the tights were almost exclusively paid out of her own pocket. The finishing touch of the Raiderettes’ onboarding process was a contract requiring Lacy to attend thrice-weekly practices, dozens of public appearances, photo shoots, fittings and nine-hour shifts at Raiders home games, all in return for a lump sum of $1,250 at the conclusion of the season. (A few days before she filed suit, the team increased her pay to $2,780.) All rights to Lacy’s image were surrendered to the Raiders. With fines for everything from forgetting pompoms to gaining weight, the handbook warned that it was entirely possible to “find yourself with no salary at all at the end of the season.”

Like hundreds of women who have cheered for the Raiders since 1961, Lacy signed the contract. Unlike the rest of them, she also showed it to a lawyer.

ON JAN. 22, Lacy T.’s attorneys filed a lawsuit in Alameda County Superior Court alleging that the Raiders fail to pay their cheerleaders minimum wage for all hours worked, withhold pay until the end of the season, require cheerleaders to cover their own business expenses, don’t provide lunch breaks and impose fines for minor infractions — all of which, according to the suit, constitute violations of the California Labor Code.

The provocation was unprecedented. When pro football’s first cheerleaders took the field in the 1920s, rah-rahing on the sidelines was a volunteer position, usually occupied by local high school and college cheerleaders interested in performing on a bigger stage. But as TV began to outpace radio, more and more teams stocked their sidelines with flashier — although still unpaid — performers. In 1972, Cowboys GM Tex Schramm upped the game. He’d seen Bubbles Cash, an artificially augmented local stripper, make the news after cameras caught her shimmying in the stands with a stick of cotton candy, and he wanted similar assets at his games. So he replaced his cheer director — a local high school teacher — with a Broadway choreographer, dismissed his squad of coed teenagers to make way for a team of (barely) legal women in stomach-baring tops and began paying them a meager salary. By 1976, they’d become a trademark part of a franchise. That year, Super Bowl X marked not only the end of the Cowboys’ season but the beginning of modern professional cheerleading: 73 million viewers watched as one cheerleader turned to the camera and winked, launching the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders as bankable stars of team-approved posters, calendars, public appearances and reality TV. These weren’t just cheerleaders; they were what Schramm called “atmosphere producers.”

But even as collective bargaining has caused players’ salaries to skyrocket, cheerleaders are still treated with the expendability of borrowed college students. Of the 26 teams that employ cheerleaders, only Seattle publicly advertises that it pays its squad an hourly minimum wage. The tenuous position of NFL cheerleaders is exacerbated by the fact that six teams don’t fork out any cash for squads. The Packers occasionally employ the services of a local collegiate squad. Other teams, such as the Lions, Browns and Giants, rely on unofficial squads willing to finance themselves through public appearances and calendar shoots for the opportunity to dance in a high-profile setting.”

Read on: Just Cheer, Baby | ESPN

inothernews

A shooting Wednesday night left at least one person dead and at least 14 others wounded at Fort Hood, the sprawling Army facility that in 2009 was the site of the deadliest mass shootings ever at an American military base, law enforcement officials said.

There were conflicting reports of whether the gunman was dead. One senior federal law enforcement official said the gunman was a member of the military and had been killed. Another official said the gunman “has been neutralized,” although he would not say whether that meant he had been killed or was under arrest. Military officials would not confirm the status of the gunman.

The Fort Hood Press Center said that the injured were being treated at the Carl R. Darnall Medical Center on the post and at other local hospitals.

The shooting that sent Fort Hood in Killeen, Tex., into a lockdown sparked a massive police response and brought back memories of the deadly rampage there in November 2009. On Nov. 5, 2009, Maj. Nidal Malik Hasan opened fire inside the Soldier Readiness Processing Center, shooting unarmed soldiers and commissioned officers as they tried to hide under desks and tables. Major Hasan, a Muslim military psychiatrist, shot and killed 12 unarmed soldiers and one civilian while wounding or shooting at 30 other soldiers and two police officers.

The New York Times, "Fort Hood Shooting Leaves One Dead, 14 Injured."

Jesus Christ.

(via inothernews)
americas-liberty
americas-liberty:

Read the Powerful Letter a Fort Hood Solider Penned Asking for His ‘God-Given Right’ to Arm Himself on Base

My name is First Lieutenant Patrick Cook of the 49th Transportation Battalion, Fort Hood, Texas, and this past Wednesday I found myself trapped in an enclosed room with fourteen of my fellow Soldiers, one of whom was barricading the door against a madman with a .45 pistol when he was fatally shot.
Through what I can only describe as a miracle, he somehow found enough strength to continue pushing against that door until the shooter gave up and went elsewhere, at which time he collapsed, Nearly a week later, I can still taste his blood in my mouth from when I and my comrades breathed into his lungs for 20 long minutes while we waited for a response from the authorities. This Soldier’s name was Sergeant First Class Daniel Ferguson, and his sacrifice loaned me the rest of my life to tell this story.
But I write to you today not to memorialize this brave Soldier, nor to tell a war story about how we made the best of a losing situation, but to express the part of that story that some in high positions of power clearly do not want told: I knew this was going to happen, I had been saying for five years that Fort Hood was a tinderbox of another massacre waiting to happen. It had to happen, because our betters failed to learn the obvious lesson of five years ago. Worse yet, I know it will happen again. More will die, more will be wounded, more families will be torn apart, needlessly. It happened again, and will happen again, because Fort Hood is a gun free zone.
When the first shots rang out, my hand reached to my belt for something that wasn’t there. Something that could have put a stop to the bloodshed, could have made it merely an ‘ugly incident’ instead of the horrific massacre that I will surely remember as the darkest twenty minutes of my life, stripped of my God-given Right to arm myself, the only defensive posture I had left was to lie prostrate on the ground, and wait to die. As the shooter kicked at the door, I remember telling myself, ‘oh well, this is it.’ It is beneath human dignity to experience the utter helplessness I felt that day. I cannot abide the thought that anyone should ever feel that again.
At the point blank range at which this shooting occurred, anyone with an M9 and some basic instruction could have ended the mayhem as quickly as it began, an MP by trade and a CHL holder, I am convinced that concealed weapons would have stopped it, but openly carried side-arms, like the ones carried in a law enforcement capacity, could have prevented it entirely. Instead, many more died because of the fatally misguided restrictions on the carrying of arms, which obviously the madman did not respect.
I shall conclude by restating my warning. This will happen again, and again until we learn the lesson that suppressing the bearing of arms doesn’t prevent horrific crimes, it invites them. To those of you who hold elected office, if you hear nothing else I have told you, hear this: you have the power to stop the next massacre from happening, you have an opportunity to restore the sacred Right to bear arms, which has been either stripped entirely or unjustly relegated to the poor substitute of a probationary, government-issued privilege. For God’s sake, do the right thing.

americas-liberty:

Read the Powerful Letter a Fort Hood Solider Penned Asking for His ‘God-Given Right’ to Arm Himself on Base

My name is First Lieutenant Patrick Cook of the 49th Transportation Battalion, Fort Hood, Texas, and this past Wednesday I found myself trapped in an enclosed room with fourteen of my fellow Soldiers, one of whom was barricading the door against a madman with a .45 pistol when he was fatally shot.

Through what I can only describe as a miracle, he somehow found enough strength to continue pushing against that door until the shooter gave up and went elsewhere, at which time he collapsed, Nearly a week later, I can still taste his blood in my mouth from when I and my comrades breathed into his lungs for 20 long minutes while we waited for a response from the authorities. This Soldier’s name was Sergeant First Class Daniel Ferguson, and his sacrifice loaned me the rest of my life to tell this story.

But I write to you today not to memorialize this brave Soldier, nor to tell a war story about how we made the best of a losing situation, but to express the part of that story that some in high positions of power clearly do not want told: I knew this was going to happen, I had been saying for five years that Fort Hood was a tinderbox of another massacre waiting to happen. It had to happen, because our betters failed to learn the obvious lesson of five years ago. Worse yet, I know it will happen again. More will die, more will be wounded, more families will be torn apart, needlessly. It happened again, and will happen again, because Fort Hood is a gun free zone.

When the first shots rang out, my hand reached to my belt for something that wasn’t there. Something that could have put a stop to the bloodshed, could have made it merely an ‘ugly incident’ instead of the horrific massacre that I will surely remember as the darkest twenty minutes of my life, stripped of my God-given Right to arm myself, the only defensive posture I had left was to lie prostrate on the ground, and wait to die. As the shooter kicked at the door, I remember telling myself, ‘oh well, this is it.’ It is beneath human dignity to experience the utter helplessness I felt that day. I cannot abide the thought that anyone should ever feel that again.

At the point blank range at which this shooting occurred, anyone with an M9 and some basic instruction could have ended the mayhem as quickly as it began, an MP by trade and a CHL holder, I am convinced that concealed weapons would have stopped it, but openly carried side-arms, like the ones carried in a law enforcement capacity, could have prevented it entirely. Instead, many more died because of the fatally misguided restrictions on the carrying of arms, which obviously the madman did not respect.

I shall conclude by restating my warning. This will happen again, and again until we learn the lesson that suppressing the bearing of arms doesn’t prevent horrific crimes, it invites them. To those of you who hold elected office, if you hear nothing else I have told you, hear this: you have the power to stop the next massacre from happening, you have an opportunity to restore the sacred Right to bear arms, which has been either stripped entirely or unjustly relegated to the poor substitute of a probationary, government-issued privilege. For God’s sake, do the right thing.

devin-distortion

TO ANYONE WHO IS MILITARY & LIVES IN TEXAS: THIS IS URGENT

devin-distortion:

On main Fort Hood, there is an active shooter, phone lines are down, so if you can Facebook the ones you loved, best way to get to them.
One person is already been confirmed shot and dead. eight injured 
There are two confirmed shooters, they attacked a medical area on Fort Hood.
Signal boost this…..people need to contact their loved ones. Even if you don’t live in Texas, your followers might…
I’ll bring more news as it comes.


I know this all because I’m here…I live on Fort Hood..

Entry one

After five years of wondering what to do next, I’ve decide to write it down, instead of orally ramble on to whoever will listen in my life. I am young for my thirty years, having to have grown up at such an early age. My parents, if you can call them parents, we’re incarcerated on and off throughout my younger years and imprisoned for my entire teenage years. I have two younger siblings who also shared the same foster home as I during the whole ordeal. I was making scrambled eggs for them since I can’t remember when. Today, my mom is on her back into the prison system for an automatic 6 months sentence because of her habitually failing to follow the laws man has created. She stole hamburger meat from the local grocery store. I have managed to escape the in and outs of jail. I have absolutely no idea how, but I have. I rebelled as soon as I got out of foster care, but was a minor in picking up most of my charges. I received a DUI after losing my husband when I was 24, lucky to have only that. And somehow it never shows up in California, where I live now. My sister, one year younger than I, has cleaned up a bit in recent years. Amanda was thought to be the one no one would worry about, yet has just as many felonies as my mother. In the end of our stint in foster care, she was like a straight A student, but soon after I was placed in a juvenile detention center, she began running around with all my friends, who were really just trouble. Eric,the baby of us, was just a baby when we went in, so his memory of them is almost obsolete. He’s 17 now. Gearing up for what I fear to be a disaster. My parents (degenerates) have condoned drug use and alcohol consumption for him an his friends for at least one year. Hard for me to tell being some 3,000 miles away. I was just able to get him out here and asked him to look for jobs, post ads on Craigslist for possible roommate situations, of which he did nothing but play video games and want to go to the boardwalk downtown. It was his Spring Break he said, no work. I told him he should probably join the Army for a little guidance. As much as I’d Iike to take him in, I can’t afford him. I live in Santa Cruz Ca living with a Cali boy who seems to have been raised to not help others just because while going through college classes at the local Community College. He spends his money on the things he feels money should be spent on, not like raising someone else’s kid, he says. I understand completely since he’s the bread to this basket I can’t ask him to pay for my kid brother.