What is this, 1960?
A Philadelphia private club with “open membership” recently kicked out children from Creative Steps Day Camp because they were black.* The day camp had paid over $1900 so that its 60 children could have a place to swim over the summer. They were asked to leave on their first day there:
“I heard this lady, she was like, ‘Uh, what are all these black kids doing here?’ She’s like, ‘I’m scared they might do something to my child,’” said camper Dymire Baylor. [...]
I don’t know what’s up with the formatting on this post. Sorry.
Bravo’s new reality show, NYC Prep, looks like a real gem. So many words of wisdom are shared in this clip:
I really, really was not pleased by this Virgen Angelina thing:
Artist/Title unknown.
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But this carving in an Albuquerque cottonwood tree is awesome:
© ybonesy at RedRavine:
The story goes that in 1970 a parishioner of the 300-year-old San Felipe de Neri, Albuquerque’s oldest Catholic parish, carved the image of the Virgen de Guadalupe into the open wound of an ancient dying cottonwood. The Virgen saved the tree’s life.
Isn’t that one of the coolest things ever?! Read the full post here.
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Fatima, the Virgen of Abu Ghraib by Kim Alphandary
This painting is dedicated to Fatima, an Iraqi woman who was held in Abu Ghraib Prison.
Fatima was arrested sometime in 2004 and managed to smuggle a letter out to her family. Here is an excerpt from her heart-wrenching letter:
“… I am your sister in God (Fatima). They raped me on one day more than nine times. Can you comprehend? Imagine one of your sisters being raped. Why can’t you all imagine it, as I am your sister. With me are 13 girls, all unmarried. All have been raped before the eyes and ears of everyone… Brothers, I tell you again, fear God! Kill us with them so that we might be at peace. Help! Help! Help!”
Fatima’s elder brother organized a hundred men and launched an attack on the prison; Fatima was struck fatally in the head during the bombardment and died on December 21, 2004.
***
“I believe we need to spend a little more on illegal immigrants. Get them the hell out of our damn country and close the borders down. We can do it. We’ve got the greatest military in the world and you’re telling me we can’t close our borders? That’s just ridiculous.”—Joe the Plumber, Great American Patriot, celebrating the best July 4th in human history with a little nonpartisan opinionating on the pressing issues of the day. He added that he would also like to see the US government “pull its head out of its butt.”
I don’t know who I hate more: McCain for bringing this dumbass into the national spotlight, or the media for giving said dumbass more air time almost a year after he proved himself to be a complete dumbass.
But seriously. He’s called Joe the Plumber, for God’s sake.
***I’ll be posting every Sunday afternoon, sticking to the spoiler lines.***
I thought this section was gonna be rough. I kept staring at the Marathe section, rereading the same couple of sentences over and over, with nothing gelling. Part of it, I think, is that espionage-type stuff puts me to sleep. Though the concept of wheelchair assassins was somewhat amusing, it apparently wasn’t amusing enough. It was painful.
But then something clicked.
I think it was the herd of feral hamsters who got me back on track (you may have noticed by now that I seem to have an affinity for all things feral). And with that, I suddenly just blew through the book, even though I’d been stuck on those initial 3 or 4 pages for 3 days.
As to endnote 304, am I the only one not reading it yet? I was mulling it over, but I took endnote 45 to just be some kind of little heads up. Like, “Yes, there’s a great back story coming your way later about this train incident. Don’t forget it!” Kind of like a teaser or movie trailer or something. I figured if DFW wanted us to know that story at that time, he would’ve just made it endnote 45. Skimming the forums, it seems everyone is diving right into 304. But I think I’ll wait. I kind of like being left in the dark until the big unveiling (and judging from the length of that endnote, that is one hell of an unveiling).
The bad:
The good:
The great:
On holding in massive farts (possibly sharts) while competing:
‘You let it out come what may?’
‘A la contraire. I let it ride around inside all day if I have to. I make an iron rule: nothing escapes my bottom during play. Not a toot or a whistle. If I play hunched over I play hunched over. I take the discomfort in the name of dignified caution, and when it’s especially bad I look up at the sky between points and I say to the sky Thank You Sir may I have another. Thank You Sir may I have another.’ (120)
Thank you DFW may I have another!
I really wish Arizona’s Sheriff Arpaio would take a cue from Salt Lake City police chief Chris Burbank:
The Salt Lake Tribune via ImmigrationProf Blog
The essential duty of modern law enforcement is to protect the civil rights of individuals while providing for the safety of all members of the communities we serve, equally, without bias. Asking local police agencies to enforce federal immigration laws, as Utah’s new law does, is contrary to our mission, marginalizes significant segments of the population, and complicates and ultimately harms effective community policing. We function best when we are part of, not apart from, the community.
Police officers should not engage in civil immigration enforcement. However, local law enforcement should diligently continue to arrest serious criminal offenders and, as appropriate, refer dangerous criminals to federal authorities. Civil immigration enforcement is a federal responsibility, and it is paramount to the well-being of our neighborhoods that the federal government maintains accountability. [...]
I will refrain from snarking.
Have fun, don’t drink and drive, and to my fellow Texans: we all know no one gives a shit about fireworks ordinances. Just don’t pop ‘em where there’s a possibility of a brushfire, m’kay?
Happy 4th!
So. I had an embarrassment-to-La-Raza moment Monday night when “La Bamba” came on the radio and I could not for the life of me remember the name of the singer. (Shoutout to Stacia for shaming getting me back in line on that one). [Note to self: Ritchie Valens, Ritchie Valens, Ritchie Valens. Not Frankie Valli, you halfwit. --ie V-- is not gonna cut it.]
Anyway. I swear to god that sometimes my Spanish horizons are broadened further than Devendra Banhardt’s “Carmensita.” Case in point: Sixto Rodriguez.
Okay, so I know his music is in English. But his parents immigrated to Detroit from Mexico in the 1920s, and Sixto went on to create awesome often-political folk music about the hardships faced by the poor and working class. He started in the late 60s and was forgotten by the early 70s, but apparently he was huge in places like South Africa and Australia. Long story short, the music kicks ass, and his two albums, Cold Fact and Coming From Reality were recently reissued.
