In an effort to cheer up Hillary, someone should reminded her that Nelson Mandela wasn't elected president until after he had served 27 years in prison.
Wouldn't it be great if we could put ourselves in the dryer for ten minutes; come out wrinkle-free and three sizes smaller!
I don't need anger management. I need people to stop making me mad!
Old age is coming at a really bad time!
The biggest lie I tell myself is..."I don't need to write that down, I'll remember it."
Lord grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can & the friends to post my bail when I finally snap!
The kids’ text me "plz," which is shorter than please. I text back "no" which is shorter than "yes."
I'm going to retire and live off of my savings. Not sure what I'll do that second week.
Why do I have to press one for English when you're just gonna transfer me to someone I can't understand anyway?
World Begs U.S. To Use Military Force in Syria So They Can Bitch About It Later
NEW YORK — World leaders met at the United Nations today to beg the United States to use military force to stem the ever-growing humanitarian disaster in Syria, knowing full well they will then turn around and blame the US shortly thereafter.
UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon said, “We call upon the world’s greatest nation — the United States — to help bring peace to this terrible civil war, because, fuck it, none of us want to.”
“And the best part is, when this whole thing goes to hell in a handbasket — which, quite frankly, happens almost every time you intervene in a multi-sided civil war in a God-forsaken third-world country — none of us are responsible for it!” Ki-Moon added.
The “Blame America First” policy is a time-honored tradition in international relations, dating back to the outrage over the US Air Force’s targeted bombing campaign against the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, followed by consternation over America’s idleness while the same Khmer Rouge murdered millions of their own countrymen.
“It’s pretty shameful, but hey, it got me a Pulitzer prize,” said Sydney Schanberg, whose two-faced coverage of the war in Cambodia in the New York Times inspired the Oscar-winning film, The Killing Fields.
“Amateurs tend to blame America first and then they’re done with it,” said anti-war MIT Professor Noam Chomsky. “Just this past week, Vox’s Amanda Taub blamed the U.S. for the entire Syrian Civil War instead of blaming, well, the Syrians themselves.”
“But that’s the type of ‘Blame America First’ coverage that gets you a few thousand clicks at best,” Chomsky continued. “If you really want Oscars, Pulitzers, and charity donations, you have to sucker the US into intervening, then blame America!”
“Just look at Somalia: Send the U.S. military to help deal with a famine, then, boom! A firefight, a downed Black Hawk helicopter, and before you know it, a blockbuster movie from Michael Bay!” he concluded.
Schanberg pointed to the fact the “Blame America First” strategy hasn’t always mired America in pointless tribal conflicts.
“We thought we had a real winner with the whole ‘Stop Kony’ campaign, and even the whole ‘Bring Back Our Girls’ thing. But the US just responded with a whole bunch of Twitter hashtags,” Schanberg said.
“Which just goes to show you, for Obama, black lives just don’t matter, I guess.”
British Labour Party candidate Jeremy Corbyn had already prepared a statement denouncing U.S. actions should it, indeed, be suckered into sending military forces to resolve the Syrian refugee crisis.
“The U.S. has flagrantly placed its flag all throughout the world: invading Iraq, Afghanistan,” Corbyn said. “Just who do they think they are? Britain?”
I'm Glad I'm A Man
I'm glad I'm a man, you better believe.
I don't live off of yogurt, diet coke, or cottage cheese
I don't bitch to my girlfriends about the size of my breasts
I can get where I want to - north, south, east or west
I don't get wasted after only 2 beers
and when I do drink I don't end up in tears.
I won't spend hours deciding what to wear,
I spend 5 minutes max fixing my hair
and I don't go around checking my reflection
in everything shiny from every direction.
I don't whine in public and make us leave early
then when you ask "why", get all bitter and surly.
I'm glad I'm a man, I'm so glad I could sing
I don't have to sit around waiting for that ring.
I don't gossip about friends or stab them in the back
I don't carry our differences into the sack.
I'll never go psycho and threaten to kill you
or think every guy out there's trying to steal you.
I'm rational, reasonable, and logical too
I know what the time is and I know what to do.
And I honestly think its a privilege for me
to have these two balls and stand when I pee
I live to watch sports and play all sorts of ball
It's more fun than dealing with women after all
I won't cry if you figure out it's not going to work
I won't remain bitter and call you a jerk.
Feel free to use me for immediate pleasure
I won't assume it's permanent by any measure.
Yes, I'm glad I'm a man, a man you see
I'm glad I'm not capable of child delivery
I don't get all bitchy every 28 days
I'm glad that my gender gets me a much bigger raise
I'm a man by chance and I'm thankful it's true
I'm so glad I'm a man and not a woman like you!
I'm Glad I'm A Woman
I'm glad I'm a woman, yes I am, yes I am
I don't live off of Budweiser, beer nuts and Spam
I don't brag to my buddies about my erections
I won't drive to Hell before I ask for directions
I don't get wasted at parties and act like a clown
and I know how to put the damned toilet seat down!
I won't grab your hooters, I won't pinch your butt
my belt buckle's not hidden beneath my beer gut
and I don't go around "readjusting" my crotch
or yell like Tarzan when my head-board gets a notch
I don't belch in public, I don't scratch my behind
I'm a woman you see -- I'm just not that kind!
I'm glad I'm a woman, I'm so glad I could sing
I don't have body hair like shag carpeting
It doesn't grow from my ears or cover my back
When I lean over you can't see 3 inches of crack
And what's on my head doesn't leave with my comb
I'll never buy a toupee to cover my dome
Or have a few hairs pulled from over the side
I'm a woman, you know -- I've got far too much pride!
And I honestly think its a privilege for me
to have these two boobs and squat when I pee
I don't live to play golf and shoot basketball
I don't swagger and spit like a Neanderthal
I won't tell you my wife just does not understand
stick my hand in my pocket to hide that gold band
or tell you a story to make you sigh and weep
then screw you, roll over and fall sound asleep!
Yes, I'm glad I'm a woman, a woman you see
you can forget all about that old penis envy
I don't long for male bonding, I don't cruise for chicks
join the Hair Club For Men, or think with my dick
I'm a woman by chance and I'm thankful it's true
I'm so glad I'm a woman and not a man like you!
Issue of the Times;
In Iraq, I raided insurgents. In Virginia, the police raided Me By Alex Horton
Alex Horton is a member of the Defense Council at the Truman National Security Project. He served as an infantryman in Iraq with the Army’s 3rd Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division.
I got home from the bar and fell into bed soon after Saturday night bled into Sunday morning. I didn’t wake up until three police officers barged into my apartment, barking their presence at my door. They sped down the hallway to my bedroom, their service pistols drawn and leveled at me.
It was just past 9 a.m., and I was still under the covers. The only visible target was my head.
In the shouting and commotion, I felt an instant familiarity. I’d been here before. This was a raid.
I had done this a few dozen times myself, 6,000 miles away from my Alexandria, Va., apartment. As an Army infantryman in Iraq, I’d always been on the trigger side of the weapon. Now that I was on the barrel side, I recalled basic training’s most important firearm rule: Aim only at something you intend to kill.
I had conducted the same kind of raid on suspected bombmakers and high-value insurgents. But the Fairfax County officers in my apartment were aiming their weapons at a target whose rap sheet consisted only of parking tickets and an overdue library book.
My situation was terrifying. Lying facedown in bed, I knew that any move I made could be viewed as a threat. Instinct told me to get up and protect myself. Training told me that if I did, these officers would shoot me dead.
In a panic, I asked the officers what was going on but got no immediate answer. Their tactics were similar to the ones I used to clear rooms during the height of guerilla warfare in Iraq. I could almost admire it — their fluid sweep from the bedroom doorway to the distant corner. They stayed clear of one another’s lines of fire in case they needed to empty their Sig Sauer .40-caliber pistols into me.
They were well-trained, their supervisor later told me. But I knew that means little when adrenaline governs an imminent-danger scenario, real or imagined. Triggers are pulled. Mistakes are made.
I spread my arms out to either side. An officer jumped onto my bed and locked handcuffs onto my wrists. The officers rolled me from side to side, searching my boxers for weapons, then yanked me up to sit on the edge of the bed.
At first, I was stunned. I searched my memory for any incident that would justify a police raid. Then it clicked.
Earlier in the week, the managers of my apartment complex moved me to a model unit while a crew repaired a leak in my dishwasher. But they hadn’t informed my temporary neighbors. So when one resident noticed the door slightly cracked open to what he presumed was an unoccupied apartment, he looked in, saw me sleeping and called the police to report a squatter.
Sitting on the edge of the bed dressed only in underwear, I laughed. The situation was ludicrous and embarrassing. My only mistake had been failing to make sure the apartment door was completely closed before I threw myself into bed the night before.
I told the officers to check my driver’s license, nodding toward my khaki pants on the floor. It showed my address at a unit in the same complex. As the fog of their chaotic entry lifted, the officers realized it had been an unfortunate error. They walked me into the living room and removed the cuffs, though two continued to stand over me as the third contacted management to confirm my story. Once they were satisfied, they left.
When I later visited the Fairfax County police station to gather details about what went wrong, I met the shift commander, Lt. Erik Rhoads. I asked why his officers hadn’t contacted management before they raided the apartment. Why did they classify the incident as a forced entry, when the information they had suggested something innocuous? Why not evaluate the situation before escalating it?
Rhoads defended the procedure, calling the officers’ actions “on point.” It’s not standard to conduct investigations beforehand because that delays the apprehension of suspects, he told me.
I noted that the officers could have sought information from the apartment complex’s security guard that would have resolved the matter without violence. But he played down the importance of such information: “It doesn’t matter whatsoever what was said or not said at the security booth.”
This is where Rhoads is wrong. We’ve seen this troubling approach to law enforcement nationwide, in militarized police responses to nonviolent protesters and in fatal police shootings of unarmed citizens. The culture that encourages police officers to engage their weapons before gathering information promotes the mind-set that nothing, including citizen safety, is more important than officers’ personal security. That approach has caused public trust in law enforcement to deteriorate.
It’s the same culture that characterized the early phases of the Iraq war, in which I served a 15-month tour in 2006 and 2007. Soldiers left their sprawling bases in armored vehicles, leveling buildings with missile strikes and shooting up entire blocks during gun battles with insurgents, only to return to their protected bases and do it all again hours later.
The short-sighted notion that we should always protect ourselves endangered us more in the long term. It was a flawed strategy that could often create more insurgents than it stopped and inspired some Iraqis to hate us rather than help us.
In one instance in Baghdad, a stray round landed in a compound that our unit was building. An overzealous officer decided that we were under attack and ordered machine guns and grenade launchers to shoot at distant rooftops. A row of buildings caught fire, and we left our compound on foot, seeking to capture any injured fighters by entering structures choked with flames.
Instead, we found a man frantically pulling his furniture out of his house. “Thank you for your security!” he yelled in perfect English. He pointed to the billowing smoke. “This is what you call security?”
We didn’t find any insurgents. There weren’t any. But it was easy to imagine that we forged some in that fire. Similarly, when U.S. police officers use excessive force to control nonviolent citizens or respond to minor incidents, they lose supporters and public trust.
That’s a problem, because law enforcement officers need the cooperation of the communities they patrol in order to do their jobs effectively. In the early stages of the war, the U.S. military overlooked that reality as well. Leaders defined success as increasing military hold on geographic terrain, while the human terrain was the real battle. For example, when our platoon entered Iraq’s volatile Diyala province in early 2007, children at a school plugged their ears just before an IED exploded beneath one of our vehicles. The kids knew what was coming, but they saw no reason to warn us. Instead, they watched us drive right into the ambush. One of our men died, and in the subsequent crossfire, several insurgents and children were killed. We saw Iraqis cheering and dancing at the blast crater as we left the area hours later.
With the U.S. effort in Iraq faltering, Gen. David Petraeus unveiled a new counterinsurgency strategy that year. He believed that showing more restraint during gunfights would help foster Iraqis’ trust in U.S. forces and that forming better relationships with civilians would improve our intelligence-gathering. We refined our warrior mentality — the one that directed us to protect ourselves above all else — with a community-building component.
My unit began to patrol on foot almost exclusively, which was exceptionally more dangerous than staying inside our armored vehicles. We relinquished much of our personal security by entering dimly lit homes in insurgent strongholds. We didn’t know if the hand we would shake at each door held a detonator to a suicide vest or a small glass of hot, sugary tea.
But as a result, we better understood our environment and earned the allegiance of some people in it. The benefits quickly became clear. One day during that bloody summer, insurgents loaded a car with hundreds of pounds of explosives and parked it by a school. They knew we searched every building for hidden weapons caches, and they waited for us to gather near the car. But as we turned the corner to head toward the school, several Iraqis told us about the danger. We evacuated civilians from the area and called in a helicopter gunship to fire at the vehicle.
The resulting explosion pulverized half the building and blasted the car’s engine block through two cement walls. Shrapnel dropped like jagged hail as far as a quarter-mile away.
If we had not risked our safety by patrolling the neighborhood on foot, trusting our sources and gathering intelligence, it would have been a massacre. But no one was hurt in the blast.
Domestic police forces would benefit from a similar change in strategy. Instead of relying on aggression, they should rely more on relationships. Rather than responding to a squatter call with guns raised, they should knock on the door and extend a hand. But unfortunately, my encounter with officers is just one in a stream of recent examples of police placing their own safety ahead of those they’re sworn to serve and protect.
Rhoads, the Fairfax County police lieutenant, was upfront about this mind-set. He explained that it was standard procedure to point guns at suspects in many cases to protect the lives of police officers. Their firearm rules were different from mine; they aimed not to kill but to intimidate. According to reporting by The Washington Post, those rules are established in police training, which often emphasizes a violent response over deescalation. Recruits spend an average of eight hours learning how to neutralize tense situations; they spend more than seven times as many hours at the weapons range.
Of course, officers’ safety is vital, and they’re entitled to defend themselves and the communities they serve. But they’re failing to see the connection between their aggressive postures and the hostility they’ve encountered in Ferguson, Mo., Baltimore and other communities. When you level assault rifles at protesters, you create animosity. When you kill an unarmed man on his own property while his hands are raised — as Fairfax County police did in 2013 — you sow distrust. And when you threaten to Taser a woman during a routine traffic stop (as happened to 28-year-old Sandra Bland, who died in a Texas jail this month), you cultivate a fear of police. This makes policing more dangerous for everyone.
I understood the risks of war when I enlisted as an infantryman. Police officers should understand the risks in their jobs when they enroll in the academy, as well. That means knowing that personal safety can’t always come first. That is why it’s service. That’s why it’s sacrifice.
Quote of the Times;
Most things which are urgent are not important, and most things which are important are not urgent. - Eisenhower
Link of the Times;